by August Li
A strange sensation overtook me, one I could only explain as a feeling of occupying several different realities—complete with all their variables—at once. When it passed, leaving me wondering if I’d somehow stumbled into a dream, the corpse I expected wasn’t lying in front of me. Instead, a young man who wasn’t Dante but rather one of the people who’d been with him at the hotel took a step toward me and pressed the barrel of his own gun to my forehead.
“Who are you?” His voice was gentle but remarkably clear considering the chaos a few hundred yards away. “What are you doing here?”
I couldn’t see any sense in lying, and I knew I had to talk fast. “You’re a friend of Dante’s. He works for me. Perhaps he’s told you about it. I am an arms dealer, and yesterday, these neo-Nazis hijacked one of my shipments and kidnapped some of my associates. They contacted me. They believe this place is some sort of a bunker, a warehouse where I store my merchandise. I can’t imagine what led them to believe it—”
He shook his head. “Jet.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing.” He lowered his weapon. “I don’t think you have any idea what you’ve stepped in here. You should leave this place.”
I turned away from him in time to see a big man—one of Moirin’s or part of the Polish gang I sold to—take a bullet to the back of the head, blood and brains pouring down his chest from what had once been his face. Again, I positioned myself behind the Longbows and waited. The Nazis were well entrenched behind the truck and shipping container, but as soon as one of them showed his face, I would only need a second—
“You’re the one who should get out of here,” I said to the young man without taking my eye away from my scope. “This is going to be a bloodbath.”
“I-I have to find my friends,” he stammered, the reality of what was happening probably sinking in at last. “Jet and Inky. Dante and his sister. Oh God. The little girl!”
Rosalind was here? Apparently so was Dante—and not just his gun, which this man now carried. It was out of character in the extreme for Dante to surrender his weapon, and his having done so could not bode well. It also meant he had no means of defending himself. What a nightmare. I had only a split second to hope they might find their way to their unusual cat-loving friend before I noticed a trio of men creeping out from behind the truck, brandishing my beautiful handcrafted Puerto Rican weapons and advancing on the spot where some of Devereux’s associates had positioned themselves. I had no doubt that if not for me, they might take my allies by surprise. I got the leader’s head in my crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. His head disintegrated in a red spray. I moved to the next man.
One. Two, three, and done. No one was near enough to gauge my position, so I would get at least a few more shots in. I needed to make them count.
STANDING BESIDE Jet and watching the mortals hurl molten projectiles at one another was entertaining for a brief few moments, but their attacks had no real originality. No creativity. The explosions and blooms of flame produced by the factions closest to the chateau were impressive, but it would simply be a series of repeated maneuvers until either one side or the other retreated or everyone was dead. I yawned and turned to Jet. “You mentioned the arrival of others?”
They grinned. “It should be any minute now.”
True to Jet’s prediction, it was not long before another carriage—this one sleek, shining, and bloodred—turned onto the lane encircling the mansion. It stopped behind the large vehicle towing the metal box, and the silence following was so stark and sudden compared to the previous chaos, my hearing grew instantly acute; I could hear soft sobs inside the building as well as the confused whispers from those who cowered, weapons clutched, near where we now stood—on the steps leading to the chateau’s front doors.
“Why have they ceased battling?” I asked Jet.
“I don’t think it’s by choice. More likely a physiological reaction. Muscle atrophy, fatigue resulting from a drop in blood pressure, paralysis—could be one of a hundred things, really.”
Now that I knew to look for it, I could taste a ferrous sort of magic on the air, something old and steeped in blood. When I saw the pale man and his striking companion wandering slowly up the lawn, her in her sharp suit and perfectly styled hair, him in his furs, I understood the source.
And I understood what else Jet had put in place when we had first met these two far beneath the city. “But why?”
“Even if I blow this place up, I’d be foolish to think it’d be the end of Sekhet-Aaru. This little side project they’ve got going with the Nazis isn’t only unknown to plenty within their own organization, but a total secret to their allies in the other guilds. I want Wú Cháng to see the kind of people they’re working with, the kind of lowlife racist pigs at least a portion of Sekhet-Aaru is. It’s gotta at least instill doubt, maybe cause a rift, right?”
“It seems a reasonable strategy.”
“I knew you’d see it my way. I… also might’ve led them to believe that they’d happened upon some emails between high-ranking members of Sekhet-Aaru detailing how they would bring Wú Cháng under their heel, how they didn’t deserve a place in Sekhet-Aaru’s new world order because most of them are Asian. But I clinched it by going after the one thing Wú Cháng really values: their money. I made some easily traceable—but large—transfers from one of their import businesses to a PAC known to be controlled by Sekhet-Aaru. One with close ties to well-known white supremacists.”
“Clever.” The way Jet’s mind worked fascinated me. I’d never met a mortal quite like them.
“Really, I figured, if nothing else, I could blow up a couple of these creepy bastards too. It would’ve been a feather in my cap; these jerks are nigh-impossible to kill. I… kind of can’t believe they only sent a pair.”
“Should I kill them now?” I asked. “While they’re not expecting it?”
Jet shook their head. “Let’s see what they’ll do. I doubt I’ll ever get a chance to tap into their organization again, and they’ll have updated their security by now. It’d be ideal for them to take word of Sekhet-Aaru’s ties to the Nazis back to the rest of their people, and a war between the two guilds, even a cold one, will save me a lot of work. I can concentrate on taking out some of the really awful research they’re doing while they kill each other’s soldiers. I couldn’t have done it without you, by the way.” They kissed the apple of my cheek.
“I still have not decided to let you live,” I reminded them.
“Well then at least let me bask in what I’ve done here. This was a lot of effort, a lot of risk.”
The man and woman passed us and stopped halfway up the stone staircase.
The man reached into the pocket of his fluffy coat, withdrew a small gold case, and lit a clove-scented cigarette. The smoke curlicued up to mingle with the wavering sulfurous sheet the mortal weapons left hanging about the building and grounds. He breathed in some of the sweet smoke and exhaled theatrically, basking in the imposed attention of everyone else. “Well, well, well,” he said, pale lips drawing back to reveal long white teeth. “This is quite some gathering. An interesting collection of… individuals. We have questions. You.”
He pointed, and a man in a brown leather jacket and black beanie looked around as if surprised he had been chosen. No one else had regained the ability to move. For a few moments, only the smoke curtaining the estate moved, nudged to and fro by the breeze, supplemented by the puffs of frozen breath supplied by the captive audience. Then the man screamed, and the woman in her sharp suit said, “Those stomach cramps you feel are only the smallest sample of what I can do to you. Now, unless you want me to pull your innards apart and leave you to die slowly as your bleeding intestines leech away your vigor and bloat your body, step forward and answer our questions.”
Unsurprisingly, the man came a little shakily to the base of the stairs, his beefy arms still entwined about his torso.
What happened next was much more unexpected: a soft swish, and two
projectiles struck the woman, one landing almost perfectly between her eyes and tearing away the back of her skull upon its exit, the other slicing across the side of her neck and drawing a spectacular font of blood. Her ruined head lolled to the side like a flower too heavy for its stalk, and the body dropped amidst a cloud of snow.
My erstwhile chauffeur had chosen a fortuitous target, and I couldn’t help a grin. This would certainly affect the situation in unexpected ways.
The man in white screamed “No!” and flung himself over the body of his companion. With their famed anatomical prowess, these mages could likely pry the doomed from death’s rigid grasp, but in this case, there was nothing left to save. At the height of my power, I could’ve chased the essence of life—what mortals call the soul—through the in-between realms, but there was nowhere to return it, not with the vessel so irreparably damaged. And homing it elsewhere…. Well, that was a specialty not even I possessed, and one not without serious disadvantages.
The man seemed to come to the same conclusion, and as the combatants, newly freed from the spell, took up their arms and joined the fray again, he also entered the battle. The first man he reached dropped to his knees and clutched his chest, shortly to expire, judging from the blood frothing from his mouth.
The gunfire resumed, and soon bodies littered the lawn and blood stained the snow. From inside the chateau, mages ran forth, spoiling for a fight, though they did not seem to understand what had happened or who they faced, or even why. They looked silly and lost as they cast their gazes about, crumpled in on themselves in their shimmering garments as the cold ran its brittle nails over their skin.
I had only one concern now. The girl was here, and I had to reach her before she was spirited off somewhere else, forcing me to spend another moon seeking her out.
Besides, much to my regret, I had made a bargain to keep her and Dante safe, and I always fulfilled my oaths.
I secured Charlene inside my coat and touched Jet’s elbow. The orchestration of this mildly entertaining spectacle had eased my ire toward them. Killing them now would be like smashing a graceful iridescent vase. “Come.”
“Where?” Jet asked.
“Inside. I must find Dante and his sister and see them safely away from here.”
Jet shook their head. “Emrys was supposed to be watching from the woods. He’s still out here somewhere. I can’t leave him behind. Besides—” They glanced over their shoulder at the building. “—I have unfinished business. Don’t hang there. Inside, I mean.”
“I won’t be able to spare the energy to keep you under my protection if we separate.”
“I know. I can take care of myself.” They pressed the tips of their cold fingers to my cheek and met my eyes. “You need to do the same. I really did lock you in that cellar to keep you away from these people. I know things, and they have plans for your kind. Getting ahold of you would give them a huge advantage, and I can’t let that happen.” They smiled, but it was forced, artificial. “Besides, I kind of like you. Go.”
I hurried to follow their advice. Not that their speech had frightened me. That would be outlandish. Avoiding the mages inside could only expedite my quest. I’d go around the chateau and search for another entrance.
Chapter Thirty-One
I STUCK to the shadows as I made my way to the back of the house. Some kind of crazy shit was going on out front. First it got dead quiet and stayed that way for probably five minutes, and then the shooting started back up, worse than before. I didn’t know what was happening, and I didn’t care. I couldn’t. I had to get Ros and get her away from here. People were dying, and the cops would be coming. Even out here in the woods, I was surprised they hadn’t shown up already.
I hoped Moirin and everybody else would make it out of this, but I’d have to think about it later. They were grown, and my sister was only a little girl.
The back of the place was like a different world compared to the shit going down out front. Here it was still and quiet, the snow sparkling. I panted out white clouds as I climbed the steps to the kitchen entrance, and just as I reached the door, it flew open. I jumped back, fumbling by my hip for a weapon that wasn’t there. Fuck it. I’d use my fists if I had to. I was fighting my way to Ros if it was the last thing I did.
But I recognized the figure that stepped into the orangish light, and relief flooded me. When I saw what Inky had hugged to his chest, I couldn’t stop my tears. I couldn’t even stop a sob as I pressed my forehead to Ros’s and curled my hand around her little face. She was crying too, her fists wrapped around my lapels as she said my name. Her hair smelled the way it always did, and a few things hit me as I buried my face in her springy curls. One, I hadn’t expected to get her back. On some level, I’d prepared myself to never see her again, never touch her. That made me a piece of shit. Two, Inky did this. I owed this all to him, and I didn’t know quite how to process being able to trust someone to that extent.
But it would have to wait.
“We have to get out of here,” I said. “Now.”
“Can we get to one of the cars out front?” Inky asked.
“No way. It’s a war zone out there. We’re on foot.” I slid out of the tux jacket and wrapped it around Ros. Then I looked out over the grounds. There were some hedges, gazebos, shit like that, then what looked like an orchard. Beyond it, the woods. As much of a city boy as I’d always been, I wanted to make it into those trees where we would have some cover and a place to hide.
“Here’s the plan,” I said. “We make for the woods. Then we can try to find the road from there. There’s a lot of open space between here and there, though, and we’re going to stick out like a sore thumb against the snow. We skirt the edges as much as we can, and we move fast.”
Inky nodded, looking more serious than I’d ever seen him. “Let’s go.”
To the left stood some tall bushes, and we stuck close to them, running as fast as we could in dress shoes, bent almost in half to keep low. It was slippery as hell, and I hated having my back to all those guns. Keeping Inky in front of me, I pressed for that orchard, and when we got to the rows of what looked like apple trees, I took Ros from him, and we spent a few minutes catching our breath. So far it didn’t seem like anyone had tailed us, but a blind idiot could follow our tracks, and I didn’t want to take any chances.
We kept running, and my luck ran out and I fell once, tearing my pants and ripping up my leg. But I kept Ros from getting hurt, and with the adrenaline, it just felt kind of warm and throbby. I was still moving, which meant nothing was broken, and the woods were getting closer. Damn orchards had to stretch for two miles, and at the end was a steep slope I hadn’t seen from the house. I had to swing Ros around piggyback so I could free my hands to grab for rocks and roots to help me make it up. I didn’t notice until I got to the top that I’d fucked up my knees even more than I had the first time and there was blood running down both my legs.
Inky was panting, holding his ribs. “Fuck me, we made it. Oh shite. Sorry.”
I waved him off. Ros had heard worse. “Come on.” Once we made it a few dozen feet in and some evergreens provided shelter and shadow, I felt safe to lean against a trunk.
We’d made it. “Are you okay, baby?” I asked Ros. “You didn’t get hurt when I fell?”
“I’m okay. Just cold. I want to go home.”
“Me too,” I said, holding her close. Almost the second I felt safe, the pain in my beat-up legs started to make itself known, and I wasn’t sure I could keep walking. I actually wanted to lie down for a while, even here in the snow. But that wasn’t an option.
Inky put a hand on my shoulder. “You all right, mate?”
I wasn’t, but saying so might scare Ros. “We need to find a way out of here. Do you have a phone?”
He shook his head. “Lost it fighting my way out of there. Our best bet is to get to the road. If we’re lucky, someone will pick us up. If we’re not, we’ll have to make our way back to the motel. At least from there w
e can get an Uber. Listen, why don’t you relax here and I’ll take a look around, see if I can get an idea which way we need to go?”
“Yeah.” It was all I could manage.
He disappeared into the trees, and I brushed some snow off a log so I could sit down. Ros cuddled against me, and I closed my eyes, just for a minute.
When I opened them again, Inky was tapping my shoulder, smiling down at us. “Could be worse. I found a dirt track close by, and it looks pretty well traveled. Looked open at the end, and I’m betting it joins up to the road.”
“What are we waiting for?” I got to my feet and my aching knees almost gave out, but I made myself stay upright. This damn nightmare was finally almost over, and that room back at the Rodeway Inn sounded more heavenly than any castle.
“I can walk myself,” Ros said, and her sassy tone made me smile. She didn’t like being treated like a baby, even now.
I looked at her dainty little shoes and shook my head. “Maybe when we get to the main road, where your feet won’t get wet. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
I felt the scabs that had formed while I was sitting break open when I started to walk, the fresh blood warm against my chilled skin. I tried to ignore it. In a few hours at most, I’d be tucked in a motel bed with Ros, watching TV and eating candy from the vending machine. Inky would be in the other bed, and that made me feel good too. It was enough to keep me taking one step and then another.
BLEEDING WOODS again. Fuck me. But it could’ve been worse. At least we’d made it out of there mostly in one piece, though Dante was clearly in pain even if he was too proud to admit it. At least he didn’t argue when I offered to take Ros. I hoisted her up onto my shoulders, and she giggled when she grabbed hold of my horns. Shouldn’t have surprised me that she could see them back at the chateau—or that they hadn’t fazed her. Kids were adaptable like that.
Luckily I was right about the dirt track, and after walking it a quarter mile or so, we reached the tarmac. I looked left and right. In one direction the road sloped down some, though that meant fuck all to me. I had no idea where we were or what direction we needed to go. I looked to Dante.