“Language, language. Listen up, son.” Jack went on the offensive, playing out his role in yet another game. “Your crazy sister wanted to cash in on that contract on me. Don’t think you can play me, Malinov. She was after the money. That’s the only reason I got the onsite invitation. She set me up and I fell for the trick. Your customers hear that Orpheus is no longer neutral ground, and that you’ve gone into the bounty-hunting business, you’ll be out of your position and an ash pile by the next sunrise.”
“Gia didn’t need money, asshole, she’s richer than you! We were attacked. It had nothing to do with you. Unless, you were behind it.”
“Word on the street is Gia was buying herself a demon army to come toast your ass and take your seat of power. You want to know who was behind that attack, you need to look closer to home. Real close.”
Malinov swore in Russian. Then Portuguese. Then Russian again. Jack was impressed. The vampire was an excellent actor. He had it on good authority that this information wasn’t new to the Prime. He pressed on. “I don’t hear you trying to dispute it, do I? Face it, I did you a favor. You should be paying me a bounty, not calling me with death threats.”
A chilling laugh echoed across the line. “Gia was after my position. So is every other King and Queen vampire in this country. All the damn courtiers too. Nothing new to me. It’s the laptop I’m going to gut you for, you pig.”
“Now that I believe.” Jack kicked back on his leather couch and put his feet up on the glass coffee table. “I took it for insurance purposes only. I’ve got one contract on my head, I don’t need to be looking over my shoulder for your goons too.”
“No insurance is going to save your pretty little ass.”
“Yes it is. Anything happens to my pretty little ass, or my pretty bodyguard’s very sexy ass, or come to think of it, any body part belonging to me, anyone of my acquaintance or entourage, everything on that laptop goes public. Too all the wrong people. By the way, I had no idea you were watching my butt that closely. When did you start playing for the other team?”
More cussing followed.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jack had cast the line, time to wind it up and reel in the fish. “I don’t know why I’m going to do this for you, since you’re being such a shit to me right now. But I like you. I really do. And I like your club. I’m hoping nothing happened to those tasty little batteries you were auctioning last night, because I’m still in the market to buy. Your sister had an accomplice. And that army is about ninety percent raised, bought and paid for, so you my friend, have bigger blips on your radar to sweat than one missing computer.”
“Who’s your source.” A demand, not a question.
“Come on, dude, you know how this game is played.”
“Give me a name, I’ll give you one of the batteries for free.”
Lying son of a bitch. Vampires were such scumbags. At least he hadn’t figured out the kids were safely stored in Jack’s apartment. Yet. “I want the stone shifter.”
“No. The half-elf.”
“Stone shifter, or no deal.”
There was a long pause. “Okay, Madden. Done. But I have a reputation. Appearance is critical to maintaining power. I need to do something to punish you.”
“No one but you and I know about the laptop. As for your sister, you can write her off once you expose her coup. You should be spending time finding and killing the demon horde that has you in their gun sights. Not bitching at me about your reputation. I’ll text over my source. Don’t give me up to them. I’ve been working them for the better part of two years.”
“When do I get the laptop returned?”
“Never.”
“You—”
Jack cut him off. “I’m a customer, don’t worry, I don’t care about who else you sell to. But I need to know I’m safe. One day, when I feel all warm and fuzzy and secure, I’ll ship it back to you. In the meantime, send over the battery. You can leave it with the doorman.”
Malinov started to speak again, but Jack hung up. Then he texted over name and address information for his source. Who happened to be Gia’s accomplice. That would keep the Prime busy for a while, and off his and Rafe’s backs. That would buy time to get the team and kids off the grid. Nothing better than a nice neat package to neutralize your opponent.
All those years in the Covenant had taught him a thing or two about how to play a game and, more importantly, how to play to win. Hero? Not him. Heroes weren’t winners. He’d learned that the hard way and wasn’t likely to forget the lesson that cost him everything.
Chapter Nine
The suburbs of Troy were darker and cooler than New York City. Here, autumn was firmly entrenched. Leaves were turned, some trees were bare, and every second house was decorated to the hilt for the coming Halloween. Raine wondered if any of them had any clue how dangerous that night really was. All Hallow’s Eve, when the veil between the worlds went thin, and every boogey man, demon, and bush league wizard tried their hand at magic and mayhem, was no joke.
“What do you think is hidden in the remaining jars?” she asked Jack.
“If they’re really Atlantean in origin, it could be anything.” He turned the SUV off Hoosick Street and the dense suburbs rapidly gave way to wide lawns, long expanses of trees and shrubs, and more rural, secluded lots. “Pieces of the Emerald Tablet. Maps of all the holes in the universe. Chunks of the Philosopher’s Stone. Or nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Nothing?” She snorted in disbelief. “Come on. All this trouble wouldn’t be stirred up over nothing.”
“You think this fuss might be all over nothing? You had the same intel: the mystics pick up the event horizon. It’s tied to the missing artifacts. How can that be nothing?”
“History is full of hoaxes. They all seemed important and real at the time, but were eventually revealed as frauds. The Covenant’s no exception. In this case, it’s very plausible there’s some element of deception or hoax. It doesn’t mean the artifacts don’t come into play with the end-game scenario. Think about it. The artifacts are supposedly hidden from the Gods, right? Why?”
“They’re heavily enchanted.”
“Or, they’re completely inert. If there’s nothing in them that’s magical, and all the mystics and deities are searching for an energy signature, they’re not going to find one. Because one isn’t there in the first place.”
The theory had merit. She found herself enjoying the interchange. It was comfortable and familiar for her. Just like work. Jack was highly intelligent as well as unorthodox in his approach. She found her mind stretching more and more with him as they studied the puzzle.
“That might explain why the mage went after two jars when looking for the Buckle of Isis. If the other jar contained an arcane artifact, wouldn’t he have sensed it, and tried to exploit it for gain?”
“I would.” Jack flashed a mischievous grin. “Then again, if there’s a strong enough enchantment to outwit the Gods and the best mystics, that would work with the mage too. Or he could have put his hands on it, figured out it didn’t hold the artifact he wanted, and set it aside to study later. Only later for him never came. Gideon fried his ass and that was that. The mystery remains.”
“Catch twenty-two and we’re back to square one.”
“We’ve had luck where others have failed.”
That much was true. It made her wonder what he had been like in his prime. As unbeatable as the stories said, and more. “You’re doing mystic retrieval based on the sale of the artifacts and related information, not on the artifacts themselves.”
“Yes. The oblique approach. I usually get more success with that, then driving straight for the objective. It’s kind of like using the back door everyone forgets is there and never remembers to lock.”
“Crafty.” Too crafty. Raine wondered if he was able to pick up other things while using her energy without her being aware. She was new to this whole gig. If he was doing it, she didn’t want to tip her hand by asking him if he coul
d. But who could she ask? “It’s hard for me to accept the Zep Tepi period existed. There’s no real evidence.”
“Thank the Gods for that. They’re the ones who destroyed the good stuff. Or so the stories go. If they had dialed down the screwing around with reality and the timeline, they’d never have erased that section of history from the dimension. Now all we have left are ruins, and lots of mystery and bullshit.”
Ruins, mystery, and potentially artifacts. Artifacts that could rival and beat the powers of the collective Gods. A sobering thought. “We have to secure the objectives. If there’s even the smallest chance they’re Zep Tepi, we have to take them out of circulation.”
“Do you trust the Wardens to do that?”
The question shook her up. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Would you trust Kerr with the power to beat down the Gods?”
She wouldn’t trust Kerr with a box of wet matches. “The Covenant is bigger than Kerr.”
“I disagree, but let’s take that route. Ever been involved in a search-and-rescue op?”
“Plenty of times.” She saw where he was going with this line of inquiry. “I’ve run field teams a hundred times, maybe more, for search and rescue, and each time we’ve brought the missing targets home safe.”
He cast her a strange, sidelong glance. “And tell me, what kind of collateral damage was wrought while the missing targets were out in circulation?”
“Enough we could contain.”
“You were lucky.”
She agreed. Other teams weren’t as successful. Her rate of case closure was unblemished, and one of the chief reasons she’d risen as far and fast in the ranks. Didn’t matter if it was an artifact, or, a Covenant member gone bad, search and rescue was serious shit. “I imagine these artifacts will rate full decommission.”
“I was framed for a theft of something that rated full decommission. It was supposed to have been destroyed, yet someone got their hands on it, used it and blamed me.” Jack turned the vehicle again. The plots on this block were all secluded behind high pines and thick walls of barren lilac bushes. “What would happen if an Atlantean artifact wasn’t properly stored? Or, was taken, and used, even in the highest interest of good. You know how that always works out so well. Could you sleep at night knowing you delivered that kind of power home, when you had a chance to do otherwise?”
Hell. If this didn’t sound like a pitch to join a conspiracy. Raine’s heart sank. She was hoping Hugh and Kerr were wrong. “What do you propose we do, since this is a team op?”
“I don’t propose we do anything. I like to play devil’s advocate when I run retrieval, or any other mission for that matter. Never hurts to think on all sides of a problem, including all consequence.”
“You? Consider consequence?” She barked out a laugh. “Come on, Madden. You didn’t earn the name Mad Jack because of your superior forethought.”
“Didn’t I? Don’t confuse my unpredictable actions with poor planning.”
There was a catch in his voice. A serious note that brought her up short. Gods, he was a puzzle, one that was in constant motion. His earlier comment, though, made her wary. She decided to test the waters. “So we’re turning them over when we find them, right?”
“We’re completing the mission. You get your glory, I get my vengeance, everyone goes home happy.”
Yesterday, she’d have agreed. Today, the realization that this game would ultimately end, either in death, or success, sat strangely with her. “I don’t want glory.”
“Sure you do. It’s me, Raine. You don’t need to sugarcoat or dissemble. I like to keep it real.” He smiled faintly. “Your heart’s in the struggle, sure. But you want the glory the Order offers, and you want to be able to use that to show everyone who’s ever cut you or considered you unworthy that you are not what they thought. The glory is your elixir. Thing is, elixirs aren’t always what they’re supposed to be. Think of Dr. Jeckyl. If he knew Mr. Hyde was waiting in his shadow…”
Jack’s voice trailed off. “There it is,” he said suddenly, yanking the wheel.
“You’re crazy.”
“Sure am. So are you if you think taking the oath and turning into one of those manic, wild-eyed zealots blindly following orders is going to make your personal demon go away.”
His words were cutting way too close, and pissing her off as a result. All the good will she’d experienced earlier vanished. “What’s petty vengeance going to do to your personal demon?”
“Kick the living shit out of it, if all goes according to plan. I accept I’m a screw-up sometimes, and unlikable others.” The winding drive led them into an open courtyard that flanked a large, Georgian-style mansion. “I’m not waiting around for someone to make me all better. I’m fine as is. Anyone thinks otherwise, they can fuck right off.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Oprah.” She stared out the window and stewed. She wanted to tell him off, but there wasn’t anything to tell. Jack had a point. Not just about inner demons. The suggestion he’d planted powerful artifacts and what they could do in the wrong hands needled the back of her mind, burrowing in and taking a firm hold.
Two men waited by a dark sedan. The shorter one looked like a cop. Raine pegged him as Jack’s contact with Section Seven, the quasi-black ops force run through the FBI that policed the shadow realms. The taller one, far more brawny and imposing, had to be the realtor. Northstar Properties handled “hot” spots, those residences, structures, and lots that traded in the shadows. They dealt as much with Alts, mages, wizards and witches as Section Seven, catering to the clientele that had special needs and the bankrolls to secure those needs.
They got out of the car and Jack made introductions. Matt, the one with the mirrored shades and blond buzz cut, was indeed the cop. Alex, the taller of the two, with the military high and tight and the ice-blue eyes so pale they were nearly colorless, was the realtor. Both were packing.
“The house has a few problems,” Alex said as he opened the front door. “Every once and a while something nasty appears. We’ve had our wizards comb the place and deactivate trigger spells, but we can’t seem to get them all. The previous owner was paranoid.”
“And knew his business,” Matt added. “Don’t get us killed, Jack. My boss will be real aggravated.”
“Tell him to take a number and get in line.” Jack followed him inside. “How come the house is still on the market?”
The realtor made a quick sound, something between a snicker and snort, as if laughing at a joke only he knew. But his face remained emotionless and stone-cold.
Matt took off his shades and gave Jack a look of mock disbelief. “You want to live in a place with a hidden conduit to hell that fires off at random intervals?”
“Sounds high-maintenance.” Jack waited for Raine to join them in the marble covered foyer. “Though I bet some people might consider that an asset.”
“They might,” Alex rumbled. “But we won’t go to contract with them.”
The men continued to banter, but she hesitated in the entry. A chilling, frightful sensation settled over her. Then the memory popped into her head. “I know where it is.”
Jack looked pleased. “Told you. Meant for bigger, better things.”
“Shut up. It’s in the sunroom off the rear garden.”
Alex pulled out his sidearm. “Haven’t had anything show up there. Doesn’t mean we won’t.”
Matt took a similar tact. “Lead on, McDuff,” he said lightly to the realtor. As if they were old friends screwing around over beers, instead of traipsing through the former lair of an evil black magician. It reminded her of the early days in the field, and the camaraderie shared by the strike team soldiers. She’d never fit in with the teams, but from afar, that interaction looked inviting.
The furniture, what was intact, stood sentry beneath stark-white sheets. The rest was strewn around like forgotten dead. Walls and ceilings were scorched and pockmarked in spots. Floor boards were torn in others, and joists and studs e
xposed, sometimes broken like twigs. The place gave Raine the creeps, despite the grand stylish bones of the house.
They reached the custom kitchen, and went through an arch which lead to the sun room. Alex made sure the room was clear of trouble and showed them in.
Bordered on three sides by glass walls, it was brightly lit, and had rattan lawn furniture arranged around a quaint, whitewashed coffee table. The floor was a pleasing combination of variegated colored-slate tiles. She imagined someone sitting out here taking afternoon tea, or reading the Sunday paper. There wasn’t an artifact in site, and no place capable of hiding one. Except for being unseasonably warm, there was nothing unusual about the room.
“Hello,” said Jack. “What do we have here?”
He waved his hand over the tabletop and chanted in monosyllables. The white paint appeared to melt away, revealing a table of solid gold complete with lapis, amber and silver inlay. There was writing etched in the metal, one of the magical scripts, though without her analysis program handy it was hard to tell which one. Like Jack pulling the sword out of thin air, it surprised her when he worked magic without first taking her hand. She was growing used to being a part of the action where he was concerned.
“Impressive,” muttered the realtor. “You do freelance work by any chance?”
“You can’t afford me.”
“I don’t need to afford you, but my clients do, and can,” Alex shot back.
“I have first dibs,” Matt said. He joined Jack beside the table. “I forget how good you are, Madden. You have to come visit more often. I can keep you busy with those kinds of mad skills. Real busy.”
“I don’t do so well with a boss.”
“So send that hot little assistant of yours. Havers, that’s her name. I like brunettes.”
“She’s gone magenta.”
He smiled broadly. “I’m flexible.”
“You’re a dog, Matt.”
“Tell Havers I asked about her. Better yet, give her my number.”
“She’d only give it back.”
Jack reached for Raine, and without hesitation, she joined hands with him. She tried to pay more attention to what was happening as he worked with her energy. It was different this time. Less intense, yet, deeper.
ImmortalIllusions: The Eternity Covenant Book2 Page 15