by August Li
“Sure, but they don’t have me.” Jet winked a glitter-encrusted eye and stood on tiptoe to kiss me on the cheek. “Keep your head down tonight.” Jet’s eyes were serious now, maybe even scared. “Get the little girl and then get the hell away from here. Don’t wait. Not for anything.”
“That’s got me worried, love. Something I should know?”
Jet shook their head. “Only that these people are filth. They’re cruel and arrogant and selfish, and they place no value on anybody but themselves. They should be wiped out. It would be better than they deserve. And I like you. I like Dante too. I don’t want anything to happen to you, but—I just want you to get away from here as soon as you can.”
Jet’s desires were zinging and bouncing all over the place like a sparkly rubber ball from a vending machine, ricocheting off the silk-papered walls and leaded-glass windows faster than I could close my hand around. Righteous anger, kind of like Dante’s, with the same scent of gunpowder and plastic; a longing for freedom that tasted like ozone as it whisked past my lips; something I could only call a love of chaos, and it was sweaty flesh under vinyl, overheated electronics, stale smoke, old booze, flashes of color like a dozen storms overlapping, trance music, bursts of fat neon kanji, Molly, paint splattered on cement blocks—random, but not. There was a pattern to it all if you looked closely, an elegant equation written in eyeliner and twisted wires and the angles of interlocked limbs. Perhaps Jet’s greatest desire was staring at it until the mechanisms humming beneath the surface took shape—
And then it was gone, replaced by an overwhelming desire for me to be all right, for us to see each other again. Bloody hell. I curled a hand around Jet’s smooth cheek and kissed their forehead. I wanted to see them again too, and not for feeding. It was just something I wanted. And as we stood there in a shaft of silvery light from the ten-foot window, ensconced in the scents of leather and old pages, I knew I had changed. It was fucking terrifying.
Suddenly I wanted to go shag Brandt rotten so I didn’t have to examine this too closely. “I’d better get on.”
“Dante will be taking a cab here this evening. Me and Emrys will be… around.”
“All right. I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Right.” Jet soon disappeared amongst the stacks of books, and when I could no longer hear their boots squeaking against the polished wood floor, I turned to continue on to Brandt’s room, wishing I had said more, but not knowing what.
EMRYS SAID I looked good in the suit Jet had delivered, but I felt like a tool. He also said the hotel where I was getting ready was a rattrap, but compared to our apartment, it was the lap of luxury—clean sheets, hot water, TV, and a heater that worked. So I guessed we weren’t going to see eye to eye on everything. But we had a lot in common, more than most, I guess.
“Stop tugging at it.” Emrys brushed my hand away from the cummerbund.
I scowled into the chipped bathroom mirror. “What the hell is the point of this stupid thing anyway?”
He shrugged. “Tradition, I suppose. Just something that’s expected.”
“Yeah, I’m not so great with doing what’s expected.”
When Emrys looked over, I couldn’t quite read his expression. “Yes, no kidding. I suspect that’s another way in which we are alike. Tell me how you came by your… skills.”
I grunted out a laugh. “You mean shooting shit and beating people’s asses?”
When he nodded, I went on. “You saw where I live. You have to be able to handle yourself just to walk down the street. Add to that a tweaker for a mom who sold it when she had to, and school was no Princess cruise either. Shit, by ten or eleven, most of the boys in my classes had joined up.”
Emrys arched a thick reddish eyebrow. “Joined up?”
“With one of the gangs.”
“But not you,” he noted.
I ran some water on my hand and tried to squash down a point of hair that kept sticking up. “It would have gone easier on me if I had. It puts people at your back, and nobody fucks with you. But…. It’s hard to explain. I didn’t want to owe anybody. I didn’t want anybody saying I got what I had ’cause of them. And I just didn’t want to be controlled.” I shook my head and watched a glob of shaving cream slip toward the drain in the sink. “Wasn’t a bargain I wanted to make.”
Emrys surprised me by saying, “Smart. It’s quite similar with the guilds. I know my life would be easier, not to mention safer, if I became a member. And some of them, like ESM, aren’t actually terrible. But there’s a sacrifice of individuality there that for some isn’t a bad thing. Perhaps it’s even positive, being a part of something. But I don’t want to be a part of anything. I’ve tried to explain it to Jet, who doesn’t understand why I won’t put the pin on my lapel and be ESM in name only. They say ESM won’t restrict my freedom, that they’ll only ask for some work now and then, that my life won’t be much different. But that’s not really the point. I can’t make Jet understand, but I’m betting you do.”
“Yeah.”
We spent the rest of the time it took me to get ready in silence. Then we went back into the main room to wait for the Uber that Emrys ordered. I eyed my gun lying on the stand between the beds. I knew without asking that I couldn’t carry it, but somebody might as well.
I handed it to Emrys. “Know how to use a gun?”
“Midwestern farmer’s boy, remember?” he said as he put it into his coat pocket.
“There’s some extra ammo in my jacket.” I jutted my chin toward the leather coat hanging from the doorknob. “Can’t hurt.”
As much as I wanted him to tell me it wouldn’t be needed, I sure as hell didn’t expect him to. And I wasn’t wrong.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
AFTER STOPPING at my home for weapons and supplies, we drove to the Poconos. I left the vehicle hidden on what was likely an old logging road and changed into military-issue cold-weather gear designed to camouflage me in the snowy woods, including a thermal hood that covered everything but my eyes, and, of course, a Kevlar vest. Then I armed myself and prepared for the trek of several miles. It would exacerbate the pain already shooting up my leg, but it was necessary. I needed every advantage I could get; I couldn’t relinquish the element of surprise over some discomfort.
Finding a defensible position from which to observe Gardegris Towers presented its own challenge, as the terrain was flat for probably a mile in every direction. I finally decided to position myself in a fairly thick copse of hemlock trees maybe nine hundred yards from the front entrance.
I spread out a piece of white plastic to keep me dry, watched all the while by my unsettling new companion, the cat still perched on his shoulder. It hadn’t taken me long to discern his assistance was far from guaranteed. Trying to ignore him, I located some thick branches and piled them up as a prop for the two sniper rifles I’d selected: Dakota T-76 Longbows that fired .338 Lapua Magnum rounds. They’d allow me to thin the enemy’s ranks considerably—but only if I stayed hidden. I spread a second tarp and began covering it with evergreen fronds, snow, dirt, and clumps of frozen leaves.
“What are you doing?” Blossom asked, standing with his arms crossed, apparently uncaring if he was seen. I was afraid to reprimand him.
“I’ve explained. People are coming here to hurt me, a lot of them and with a lot of weapons. I need to get entrenched so I can kill as many as possible before I’m discovered.”
“It’s odd.” He took a few steps toward me, his pointed-toed boots not breaking the icy crust over the snow. “Mortal thugs, who have nothing whatsoever to do with mages, who probably aren’t even aware of the existence of mages, coming to a gathering of so many mages.”
“Mages?” I asked. “No, they’re coming here because they believe I’m using this place to stockpile weapons.”
“It hardly changes the fact that there’s an intense amount of magical energy building here. I sense dozens of magic users. So I have to wonder: Why the convergence? Can it possibly be coincidence? A qu
estion I asked myself recently, I might add. What could bring all of this together, anticipate all the variables?”
His speech—his very presence—gave me a headache, and not figuratively. A dull pain pulsed behind my eyes, and it worsened the longer I looked directly at him. His appearance felt like a filament, an image projected over something else without quite concealing it. When I caught a glimpse of him from the corner of my eye, I saw… something else. “What did you… conclude?”
“Conclude? Oh. Nothing. My incubus thought it was the girl. The girl.” He shook his head, pale hair swinging back and forth, releasing a smell like crushed leaves, like summer. Out of nowhere, he bounced on his toes and chuckled. “Well, this proves me right! It wasn’t the girl after all; it couldn’t have been. If the force that brought those pieces together is the same as the one collecting these pieces—and one must assume it is, as the likelihood of two such forces is even more ludicrous—then clearly the girl is not responsible! Because the girl is not here! Ha-ha!” He twirled around on the ball of one foot, the cat mewling and holding on for dear life.
The only chance I had of making it out of this mess alive was to focus on what I could control and understand. Agonizing over the implications of the rest would only distract me. I turned back to my rifles and used a scope to get a better idea of the lay of the land.
Blossom watched me for maybe ten more minutes before releasing a theatrical sigh. “Well, if I stay here, I shall perish of boredom. And it is not as though Jet Zama will approach such an obvious danger.”
That comment got under my skin even though I shouldn’t have let it. “Obvious? This person you’re looking for will never know I’m here.”
“Hmph. You either underestimate them or overestimate yourself. But it doesn’t matter to me. Come, Charlene. We shall execute our own reconnaissance. The trees will have seen much. They have little else to do as they doze through the dark part of the year.”
When I turned from my scope to say something to him—I don’t know what—he was already gone, and with no trail left to indicate his passing.
I tried to be glad of his absence, but I couldn’t quite get his words out of my mind. I’d convinced him to accompany me in hopes of procuring his aid, but I’d soon realized he was too fickle to rely on. Yet he firmly believed this person, Jet Zama, could be nearby. Dante had been with Jet Zama. Could Dante be here? For what possible reason?
I pulled out the phone Moirin had given me, the one her mysterious technologically adept friend had rigged up to track the device planted in Dante’s gun. Swiping my fingers over the screen, I slowly magnified the map, homing in on the blinking red teardrop.
It was only a few miles from my location.
Dante was here, but why? My first thought was deceit. Had he come with the skinheads who’d hijacked my shipment? Why? Maybe they did have his sister and were using her against him. Or maybe he’d come ahead of Moirin to help me. If he needed power, why had he split from Blossom?
Would I have to kill him? The possibilities troubled me to the point I almost became impatient for the battle to begin, even with the knowledge that I might never leave this little patch of woods.
By evening, dozens of people in formalwear had arrived for some sort of event. Their cars and clothing told me they were wealthy, but they seemed normal enough. Another check of my map showed Dante was here—on the property. By his speed, he was likely on foot and moving through the trees, about half a mile from my position. My palms grew clammy inside my gloves. He could know I was here. He could be trying to take me by surprise, put a bullet in the back of my head before I even saw him.
It would be the last thing he ever attempted. My rifles wouldn’t be ideal for a quick, close-range kill, but I’d anticipated that possibility, and I patted the Sig Sauer P200 Hunter in its holster at my hip. Dante was incredibly skilled, a prodigy, but that couldn’t compete with my years of experience. If one of us would be left to rot on this ostentatious property, I would make sure it wasn’t me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
EMRYS HAD asked our driver to drop him off at the end of the mansion’s long driveway, and he’d quickly disappeared into the trees on the outskirts of the property. As soon as I got to the entrance and found Inky waiting with his client or whatever-the-fuck, I wished I could’ve done the same.
This guy Brandt was exactly the kind of prick I hated most. An entitled bastard who thought having some money made him special. Better than me. He probably never worked a day for it either. Probably fucked people over—drove people out of their homes or jacked up the prices of their prescriptions. The way he was smiling at me, looking me up and down, made me want to yank his guts out with my bare hands. I was nobody’s goddamn merchandise.
When Inky leaned down to kiss my cheek, he whispered, “Calm down, mate. You’re scowling. Going to give yourself away.”
I forced a slow breath out between my clenched teeth. Right. Play along. I could do this. I had to. For Ros. And I did. I smiled and put my hand on the douchebag’s arm when he held it out to me. At least I had the satisfaction of seeing Inky, with his bigass horns and long silver-white hair, as he really was and knowing this tool couldn’t.
When we got inside, I noticed something else about the way I could see now. In the huge main room, probably about a hundred people milled around—all guys in tuxes and women in shiny dresses. Most of them looked the way I would expect, but some of them had this weird glow—an outline of colored light mostly around the head and shoulders, sometimes over the face, almost like a veil. For most of them it was faint and I had to concentrate to notice it at all. But for a few, it was bright enough that I squinted. I don’t know how I knew, but I just knew that colored light meant the person was a mage. Weird. I hadn’t seen anything like it with Emrys or Jet.
Not all of the guests were human either. There was a tall woman with grayish green skin and limbs that seemed to have three joints too many sort of… gliding around, dragging limp, zigzaggy legs behind her, twisted arms up by her chest. What looked like moldy, oily Saran wrap covered her, and now and then a black tongue would dart out and kind of… taste that colored light. I didn’t know what it was, but I was near pissing myself watching.
Then there was a—I don’t know if it was male or female; it had pretty feminine facial features but was lanky like a guy—creature with mottled metallic skin and some kind of feathers for hair. The lady it followed wore a gold-and-black sequin dress in a similar pattern—kind of like couples wearing matching T-shirts. But I didn’t want to think about that too much, so I turned my attention back to Inky and this Brandt asshole, who’d moved next to a table of little appetizers next to the wall.
“It’s still early,” Brandt was saying. “Most of the important guests haven’t arrived yet. In a few hours, they’ll open up all these conference rooms”—he waved his hand to indicate the big sets of double doors around us—“and there will be speeches on various topics. After that, dinner will be served in the hall at the back of the chateau, and then the real fun begins.”
“Wow.” Inky’s eyes were crazy wide as he fawned over this dick. “That’s really something. All of this is so incredible. Isn’t it, Dan?”
It wasn’t until he elbowed me in the ribs that I realized he meant me. “Right.” I pictured kicking Brandt in the nuts as hard as I could and then kneeing him in his smug face when he doubled over, blood and teeth falling on the floor, which allowed me to flash a pretty sincere smile his way.
This sucked. I thought I’d be able to treat this like any other job—watch and listen for anything out of the ordinary, get what I needed, get out. But how the hell could I do that when there was no ordinary? I could barely keep track of which way was up.
But an even bigger part knew that if I failed, no one else would come for Ros or care what happened to her.
Fuck that.
I got through the next hour or so by imagining shooting the people I’d seen in the basement of that mage bar. I bet plenty of
these assholes did the same or worse to entertain themselves in their spare time. Every time Brandt spoke to me, I pictured myself walking up behind one of them and pressing the barrel of my gun to the back of their head. I thought about the sound it would make, what the blood and brains that spewed out would look like in the candlelight. A .45 leaves an impressive exit wound. I predicted how the bodies might fall—forward, off to the side, sort of slumped over on themselves, legs twisted underneath. I guess it was enough to keep me looking reasonably happy, because Brandt kept winking at me and Inky didn’t jab me in the ribs again.
More people were arriving, and though I knew jack shit about tuxedos and ball gowns, even I could tell the ones the newer people wore were better, more expensive. It was in the fit, the way the light hit the material. It was in the way the people carried themselves: confident, carefree, looking at everyone else like we all smelled a little like shit but they were generous enough to allow us in their presence and even smile now and then. These people were used to getting their way in every situation, used to having their asses kissed.
Just the kind of pretentious fucks I hated.
The crowd split into two groups to watch the new arrivals like they were a parade. We were toward the back, farthest from the mansion’s front door, and in the middle of the group, which meant I couldn’t see very well.
I was afraid I would miss my sister being brought in.
I shouldn’t have been.
“BLOODY CUNTING impossible,” I whispered before I caught myself.
It was like looking into the sun. My eyes watered, blurring the party into a mosaic of metallic hues, stinging my retinas. I grabbed hold of Dante’s shoulder so I wouldn’t lose him. He was squinting and looking away while Brandt—and everyone else, from what I could tell with my limited perception—looked on, oblivious. Hard to believe not one mage in here possessed true sight, but there we were, cringing back from the gold ball of energy moving up the aisle.