Devil's Gambit

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  I nodded, reluctantly.

  Conrad sighed. “The Necrolord isn’t our concern, Kat. He is keeping his head down.”

  During my middle-year break between semesters, a cartel of vampires tried to summon one of their dark gods onto Earth. My friend, Trudie, had been one of the sacrifices, intended to coax the Ancient Vampire onto my world. Well, she would have been if I hadn’t gotten to her first. But I didn’t have my detective skills to thank for finding her. I’m a pretty shoddy detective. Rather, I had made a deal with the devil. A necromancer. The same necromancer who had attacked me months before when I was doing a job by the North Road, had given me the information I needed in exchange for leaving them alone. I was desperate. My best friend was missing. Can you blame me?

  Well, doesn’t matter. I blame myself. I let a lot of people die, and now a dark shadow loomed over the slums of Hope City. And it was growing ever larger.

  “Undead attacks have grown rarer and rarer, Kat. Last week alone, the only undead sightings were rift-borne.”

  He frowned as he saw that I was still brooding.

  “The Necrolord is probably dead…”

  “No. Not them. They’re much too big for that.”

  “How do you know?”

  I shrugged. “A gut feeling. I trust my gut.”

  Conrad sighed, heavier than any sigh he’d given before.

  “Things are calm at the moment, Kat. Enjoy it. You must get tired of smelling like rotting flesh and blood all day.”

  Things were calm at the moment. Calm for Hope City, that is. But I couldn’t help but feel this was the calm before the storm, and believe me, a storm was coming.

  Chapter 2.

  Class

  Classes this semester were much more pleasant than the last. They started later, for one. Usually, I’d get a few minutes of sleep after hunting all night and then be woken up for my morning lecture. Sometimes by my alarm, sometimes by Treth, and sometimes by Duer, the pixie who lives in my apartment. But this new timetable was much more forgiving. So, forgiving, in fact, that I had time to go home and wash the stench of fire off me before heading up to campus.

  Secondly, this semester I was studying a module in Vampire Lore. I had previously not been looking forward to it, but after the disappearance of my old lecturer, the university had hired Miriam LeBlanc, an old employer of mine and a world-class expert on vampirism. Her classes were also my reason for getting up in the morning.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have her today. Rather, I was sitting through the drudgery of history. Don’t get me wrong. I love history, but this lecturer was a bore. He made something as interesting and as complex as the Sintari invasion of Auckland into a grind. I should just bunk his classes and read a book about it. Would be much more valuable. But, I always met Trudie for lunch in one of the campus’s cafeterias. It was a tradition that I enjoyed and could sit through a dull class once a day to keep up.

  There was one thing I didn’t like about campus this semester, however. Andy. My one-time crush, and now someone I didn’t want to see - ever. Being on campus, and him being a class mate of both Trudie and Pranish didn’t help my cause. Trudie still liked him, after what he’d done (or more accurately, not done), but she didn’t remember a thing about what had happened. Was unconscious the entire time. All she knew was that she had been kidnapped and that her club buddy, Stephanie, was dead, and there was no body. Pranish, on the other hand, hated the guy. He never said it outright, but I saw it in his eyes. Pranish never showed his anger the way I did. I hit and stab things when I’m angry. Pranish stands up and walks away. He tenses his fist. He avoids eye contact.

  I used to think it was because my friend was weak, but I knew better now. Pranish had helped me save Trudie. He’d flung spells that’s very use hurt his mind and body. And he now lived with the trauma of that day and night. I saw it in his blank stares when he thought no one was looking. I saw it in the way he forgot to smooth his collar sometimes. How Trudie now had to remind him to tuck in his shirt, the way he used to.

  Pranish had been changed. Andy had not. And for Andy’s idleness, we despised him.

  Some would accuse me of holding a spark for Andy, despite his refusal to help us. Some would cite sexual tension and other pseudo-psychological nonsense. They’d be wrong. Andy had betrayed me. I don’t deal with traitors.

  But, I do compromise. And Andy was friends with Trudie. For that, he was allowed to sit at our table. Pranish left when he couldn’t handle it any more.

  I entered one of the smaller cafeterias on upper campus after class to the sight of Trudie and Andy. Pranish stopped beside me. He was in the same class as Trudie and Andy, so must’ve been walking very slowly, waiting for me to arrive.

  “Hey,” I said, cheerfully.

  “Hey,” he said back, not so cheerfully. He was glaring at Andy.

  He leant in. Trudie and Andy hadn’t seen us at the door yet.

  “Why does she still hang out with him?” Pranish hissed.

  “Because she wasn’t awake to be angry. Don’t blame her. She’s innocent.”

  Pranish didn’t respond. Didn’t argue. How could he? We wanted Trudie to be innocent. Well, as innocent as a punky, fun-loving twenty-year-old goth girl could be. Sure, she partied hard, drank as much as she could (very little, she’s a lightweight) and may or may not be doing some sort of semi-prohibited substances, but at least she hadn’t seen what we’d seen. For that, we were thankful.

  “Well, let’s go in,” I said. Pranish grunted.

  Trudie beamed as she saw us, white teeth contrasting with black lipstick. Andy smiled in greeting as well. I sincerely smiled at Trudie and gave a half-arsed smile to Andy. Pranish only smiled at Trudie and avoided looking at Andy.

  Pranish and I sat down, flanking Trudie, with Andy on the other side. Trudie frowned, as it became obvious that we were keeping our distance. But she didn’t mention it. Much too classy for that. Andy did grimace, slightly, but then returned his face to his normal passive smile. I used to find it charming. Now it was just irritating. Insincere. He looked plastic.

  Trudie sniffed and then scowled.

  “You been starting fires in your living room?”

  “Something like that.”

  Thought a shower, shampoo and deodorant would have gotten the stink out!

  “What type of monster makes one smell like fire?” Andy asked, grinning mischievously, the way he used to. When would he get a clue? He wasn’t welcome here anymore.

  “The now dead kind,” Pranish said, considering his sandwich.

  “You know about it?” Trudie asked Pranish.

  Pranish shrugged. “It’s Kat. Obviously, she was hunting monsters.”

  Trudie rolled her eyes. She still didn’t like my work, was worried about me, but had gotten less naggy about it. A shame. I kinda missed the attention.

  “So, Pranish,” Andy said, still maintaining his cordial tone. “How’s your prac going?”

  “Fine.”

  Silence.

  “Pranish is working out a way to program enchantments into code,” Trudie said, trying to enthuse the group and eliminate boundaries. Ah, such a wonderful and innocent girl. Too bad it wouldn’t work to shift Pranish and my sentiments.

  “Very cool,” Andy said. “Doing Shard Industries proud.”

  Andy was referring to Pranish’s family business, a highly successful magicorp – a corporation that specialised in magic.

  “Haven’t told them about it,” Pranish muttered through some mouthfuls.

  Andy, evidently bored with Pranish, turned to me. “So, any good hunts?”

  I tensed my hands underneath the table. Was it any of his business? No! But Trudie was looking at me. Her look was telling me to play nice. I bit down on my temper and replied.

  “Had a sword fight with a wight the other day. He was pretty good, too. Was dressed all up in Renaissance fencing garb. Had a rapier and all.”

  Trudie looked away. She didn’t like me talking shop.


  “What happened?” Andy pressed.

  I shrugged. “I was better. Broke his sword in half and then spit his head on the remains.”

  Trudie’s lip quivered and I stopped. Andy’s face remained unchanged. Did he not notice that this topic hurt Trudie, or did he not care?

  Pranish stood before I could.

  “Got work to do,” he muttered, and left.

  Trudie sighed and stood up to follow him, leaving me alone with Andy.

  Before he could speak, I blurted out some vague excuse that I cannot recall and then departed.

  My phone rang as I left. Conrad.

  “Job?” I asked. No pleasantries.

  “No rush,” he replied. “Finish your classes and whatever and meet me at the Titan Citadel. This is a big one.”

  He hung up.

  It was always a big one, but this time, it must be a really big one. Titanic, even.

  Chapter 3.

  Citadel

  The Titan Citadel was a huge spire built on top of Table Mountain. It cast a long shadow over Hope City and, if the pre-Cataclysm old timers were to be believed, severely hurt the old skyline of what used to be Cape Town.

  It was a necessary evil, however. Under Table Mountain, awakened by the Vortex that brought magic into our world, was the titan Adamastor, a primordial titan once believed to only be the creation of a Portuguese poet. But the earthquakes that had erupted at his almost awakening three decades ago were anything but poetic. Only the swift creation of the Titan Citadel and the establishment of the Titan Order had saved Hope City, and possibly the world. They kept the titan asleep, for now.

  A cult had since formed around the Titan Under the Mountain, setting up shrines around the mountain and praying for it to continue its mercy and its slumber. They were a bunch of loonies, but I hadn’t been alive to witness the Titan’s fury. They had. So, I gave them a bit of the benefit of the doubt. Even if their chants and preaching kept me awake every Saturday morning.

  Scholars didn’t know if the Titan had appeared after the Vortex or was merely awakened by it, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered to the administration of Hope City and the Titan Magi was keeping the beast asleep, so that the city and the world could survive a bit longer without being stomped on by a storm-bringing colossus.

  I had grown up my entire life with the Titan Under the Mountain. For me, it was as normal as the Capetonians of old waking up and seeing Table Mountain without a dark tower on it. I had always been sceptical of the Titan, the cult and even the cause to keep it asleep but had always had larger concerns. The Council did a lot worse than fund the Titan Magi and there were much more prominent threats to Hope City than state-sponsored sorcerers.

  I met Conrad in a parking lot half-way up Table Mountain, by the cable station meant to take us to the Citadel. The taxi was able to drive up to this point on a mountainside road, dominated by a fortress bustling with red-robed Titan cultists and navy-blue clad cops and security forces. The Citadel was a national key point and was strictly guarded. Only confirmed cultists were given the right to climb to the top of the mountain for their pilgrimage. Otherwise, it was just the Titan Magi allowed to ascend to the top. Well, until now.

  “Excited?” Conrad asked, leaning up against his banged-up Golf – his car and, seemingly, his home.

  I shrugged. “Never thought I’d go up to the Citadel, so never got excited about the possibility. Do you know anything about the case?”

  “Not much. The Titan Magi don’t like tech. Got one of their liaisons to call me. Something about disappearances.”

  I sighed, heavily. “Not another one. That mimic case was bad enough.”

  “Hey, if it is a mimic again, at least then you know how to deal with it.”

  “If it doesn’t eat me when I try to toast bread in it.”

  We left Conrad’s car and proceeded to a two-storey concrete structure reinforced with polished steel plating. A bullet-proof glass double-door at the base of the structured was flanked by two guards. The one was holding onto a sub-machine gun, while the other had his hands in his pockets. His confident smirk and calm manner belied a man who had never had to struggle or work for power. A sorcerer. Both men wore a simple white shield logo on their jackets. As was to be expected from the logo, the pair were from an agency called Whiteshield. While Puretide and Drakenbane were agencies who specialised in monster hunting, Whiteshield specialised against more human targets. The Council used them to guard key points, backup the cops against rioters and act as bodyguards of important figures.

  While the cops were incompetent and corrupt, unable and unwilling to lift a finger to help the people of Hope City, Whiteshield were scarily efficient. Like all private companies, they only got paid when they did their job properly – so they ensured they always did their job properly.

  “Khoi. Conrad,” Conrad said when we arrived at the door. The SMG-wielding guard glared at us while the sorcerer pulled out a tablet computer and slowly scrolled through some apps. He wasn’t in any rush. Was taking his sweet time. It was all an act, of course. He was showing us that he was above us. That he was allowed to waste our time. It wasn’t the behaviour of someone near the site of a monster attack.

  Finally, the guard stopped and pointed at me.

  “Kat Drummond,” I said, not hiding my disdain.

  He inclined his head and indicated for us to pass. The SMG guard opened the door and we entered.

  The entry-hall of the building was big, rising to the second storey. Its floor was mottled tiles and its walls were a smooth black. A sculpture dominated the centre. It was cast-iron, double my size and depicted a muscular and veiny hand grasping towards the ceiling. A plaque underneath read:

  “He sleeps. For now.”

  Very ominous.

  Conrad stared at the plaque for just a little too long. I examined his face and he was deep in thought.

  How old was he? Was he around to witness the Titan’s initial fury? Underneath the cosmetics, how old was my agent?

  “Mr Khoi?” a woman said, sending echoes across the hard floor as she walked with her high heel shoes. Our heads swivelled towards her. She wore a red trouser suit and sunglasses, even though we were indoors, and it was cloudy. Her dark blonde hair was tied up in a short ponytail. On her lapel, she wore an iron pin in the shape of the hand sculpture dominating the hall.

  Conrad shook the woman’s hand.

  “You must be our liaison.”

  She bowed her head and then offered her hand. “And this must be Miss Drummond. I am Charlotte McAbee. Titan Citadel Liaison.”

  “A pleasure,” I said. I felt a tinge of amusement from Treth.

  “Sucking up?” Treth asked, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

  “I act as one of the connections for the Magi to the outside world. Normally, it would be against protocol to bring a non-Citadel or non-Cult member to the peak, but this is an unusual situation.”

  “Tell us what we need to know, Charlotte,” Conrad said her first name as if he was familiar with her, but it was evident that they’d only just met. Was he flirting with her? A small twist of his lip suggested that he was. A time and a place, Conrad!

  Charlotte shook her head. “I will leave that to Cornelius. He is the HR manager at the Citadel. He will explain everything you need to know about the…case.”

  She said the last word very reluctantly.

  “Before then, please follow me. I will explain some crucial information on the way.”

  She eyed my swords.

  “Usually, one would not be allowed to bring weapons near the Magi, but you are a special exception, Ms Drummond. Let us hope that you are a smart exception.”

  “I will behave, Ms McAbee.”

  She stared at my impassive face for a long while and then nodded. She turned and walked towards the opposite side of the hall, through a glass sliding door that opened automatically at her approach. Conrad and I followed.

  “This lady has special permission to bring her weapons
to the peak,” Charlotte said to a Whiteshield guard.

  “This is against proto…”

  “Protocol changes, sergeant,” she snapped.

  The sergeant nodded. Wasn’t willing to argue. Charlotte was his employer. She made the rules – and changed them at a whim, it seems.

  Just past the sergeant and a metal detector checkpoint was a blue metal box with windows. The cable car. Before the Cataclysm, the cable car was a big tourist attraction for foreign and local visitors alike. Anyone wanting to get to the top of Table Mountain, without too much of a sweat, needed to take it. Today, it was the only way to get up to the mountain without being shot at by Whiteshield. Fences and guard posts jealously guarded all the hiking and climbing points up the mountain. It was a shame. I had enjoyed hiking when I didn’t get my exercise in more dangerous ways and had always wanted to hike this prohibited mountain that dominated my city.

  The hydraulic doors of the cable car hissed as they opened. Charlotte entered, and we followed. The inside of the box was spacious, with metal hand-rails by the windows to hold on. Conrad grabbed onto a railing, but Charlotte did not. I followed her example, but as the box heaved, I was almost flung off my feet. Charlotte was busy looking at her phone. How was she balancing so perfectly on this earthquake simulator while wearing high-heels? Madness! I grabbed onto the railing and looked out the window as the car rose from the station like it was ascending to heaven.

  I’d never been this high up before, and we had only just begun the ascent. I could already see Old Town in all its historical splendour and magical prosperity. Its shining blue and steel skyscrapers, pre and post Cataclysm, rose up into the sky, attracting birds and a small group of drakes. Drakenbane was probably en route to exterminate the relatively harmless flying reptiles. Couldn’t have them scaring executives in their high rises. Past Old Town was the ocean and, a bit more inland, the Southern Suburbs, where I lived. It was a mish-mash of newer magicorp towers similar to those in Old Town, and a sea of suburban housing and parks. Despite new developments to tap into weylines, the parks of Hope City survived. These places of nature and joy were necessary for healthy weylines, after all.