Black City Dragon

by Richard A. Knaak

  Claryce entered, carrying a tray with not just three cups of coffee but a couple of plates of food as well. “Bacon. Eggs. Toast. A little late in the day, but I knew you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  She started spreading around the food. “Tell him, Fetch.”

  “We tried, Master Nicholas. Like trying to raise the dead, but not as successfully.”

  “You’ve been through a lot,” she went on. “Eventually, it had to catch up.”

  I supposed I couldn’t argue with that. Despite my stomach rumbling, I went straight for the coffee.

  Claryce shuddered. “And on an empty stomach yet.”

  “Works best that way.” Next to me, Fetch was eagerly lapping up whatever was in his cup. “Just what’s in yours that’s so good? Beer? Whiskey?”

  Long tongue flickering over his muzzle, he answered, “Nay! No hooch for me! Something far better!”

  “Believe it or not, warm honey with a little water stirred in to keep it liquid,” Claryce explained with a chuckle.

  “Looks awful dark for honey.”

  “It’s buckwheat. You might like it. It’s pretty strong. I bought it in a shop. Opened the jar while you were asleep and the next minute I know, Fetch is at my side begging for some.”

  “Much better than any giggle water!” Fetch offered.

  I noticed a slight difference in the way he talked. “Better be careful, Claryce. I’d almost swear he’s getting drunk on it.”

  “Oh, dear. I’ll go seal the jar.”

  As she went to do that, I eyed Fetch. With a guilty look, he moved on to devouring his meal.

  As soon as we were finished, I made a quick call to Barnaby. To my relief, not only did Joseph not answer instead, but Barnaby assured me that his son had remained perfectly docile.

  He then went on to tell me what he’d divined about the charts. While he hadn’t figured out the point of focus—the spot where all this preparation was to benefit someone—he’d come up with a short list of locations matching up with the dots in the diagram.

  The third one caught my attention. “What was that again?”

  “The address is 2139 North Clybourn. It’s a church now, but in 1919—”

  “Never mind. Are we talking about St. Mary’s? A Romanian Orthodox church?”

  “Yes.”

  No. Definitely not coincidence. I let him read off the rest. “Thanks, Barnaby. We’ll talk again soon.”

  I hung up to see Claryce staring at me. “Did he really say St. Mary’s? The same St. Mary’s where I bought the brooch?”

  “Could just be coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  I could hardly argue. “Listen. I didn’t want to say anything, but Galerius has evidently had his hands in matters for decades, even longer. The illusions I faced might’ve been old, but they still dealt with relevant situations. One particular situation, in fact.”

  “The Clothos Deck. Have you talked to Kravayik?”

  “I wasn’t sure how best to. I’ve every reason to believe Galerius knows where it is, but the fact that he doesn’t go after it bothers me. The Galerius I knew didn’t let anything get in the way of his ambitions.”

  “So, what do we do first?”

  “First, Fetch and I go to St. Mary’s. It very likely might be a trap—” She interrupted me with an exasperated sigh. “Nick. Do you think I’ll let you and Fetch go without me?”

  “This is different.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, my home is already marked.”

  I forced myself to my feet. I hadn’t recuperated as much as I pretended, but I couldn’t show her that. “I’ve a theory on that. I don’t believe that was done by Galerius. I believe it was done by that trio.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Honestly, I think they may be at odds with Galerius. At the theater, I got the feeling that they followed me there. They certainly didn’t act in step with the old illusion I encountered. If they are at odds, that just might work to our advantage.”

  “How so?”

  I shrugged. “That, I haven’t figured out yet.” She gave me a look.

  “Grab your coat, then,” I said, “but, again, assume this is a trap.”

  As she turned away, she commented, “I always do. I treat everything I do or everywhere I go as leading to a possible trap.”

  “Welcome to my world.”

  The Packard looked a little battered on one side, but nothing I needed to be concerned about. I knew Barnaby would take care of it if and when things calmed down. Since I’d first helped him with his son, he’d sworn to pay me back. As far as I was concerned, he’d long ago paid any debt he might’ve incurred. Barnaby, though, felt the opposite.

  We drove off without incident. Before long, however, I grew suspicious. “Fetch, anyone following us? Look far back.”

  He was silent for a couple of minutes, then reported, “Aye, the jalopy is back there. No mistake.”

  “Okay. At the next stop, slip out. Deal with it. We’ll wait for you three blocks down.”

  His canine mouth stretched into a very uncanine grin. “Oh yes, Master Nicholas.”

  We barely reached the stop before I sensed him depart. I gave him a moment, then drove.

  “Galerius’s men?” Claryce asked.

  “No. Quiet. He was waiting for us to leave the apartment so that he could follow us. I suppose he thought we might lead him to some clue revolving around his own search.”

  “I feel guilty doing this to him.”

  I shrugged. “You’re not. Fetch and I are.”

  “Nick!”

  We drove on to where I’d told Fetch we’d pick him up. I’d barely put the brakes on when he climbed back inside.

  “Dealt with?” I asked.

  “I bit two tires, just to be safe,” he replied. “I’ve had hooch that tasted worse.”

  “You’ve earned some of that honey you liked so much . . .”

  He wagged his tail.

  There were no other signs of pursuit. We made good time, despite the streets being still covered in ice in places. However, as we neared Cly-bourn, Claryce started to stare off at the surroundings. I let it go for a while, but as I turned onto the avenue itself, I finally had to say something.

  “You’re remembering things?”

  “Bits and pieces. Sometimes just fleeting images.”

  “Is it getting stronger as we near?”

  She considered. “I think so.”

  “Then we better be even more cautious. That could be something Galerius has in mind.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  I thought of my own experiences with Galerius. “I have to assume so. It’s safer that way.”

  I parked a block from the church. The clouds had thickened and combined with the setting sun to leave us in shadow by the time we got to our destination. The three of us climbed out. Fetch couldn’t enter, but I wanted him scouting the outside in case there was anything suspicious.

  Claryce abruptly paused.

  “What is it?”

  “I think . . . I remember something.”

  “About the church?”

  Shaking her head, she replied, “No. We’re not anywhere near an amusement park, are we?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “I remember . . . it was a fascinating sight. I’d never seen it before. Ferris’s wheel—”

  I tensed. “Wait. You said ‘Ferris’s wheel.’”

  “Right! A Ferris wheel.”

  “No. That’s what everyone says now. You said ‘Ferris’s wheel.’ The only time I heard anyone say it like that was during the Exposition.”

  “But Clarissa wasn’t even born then,” she countered.

  “No . . . but Claudette was alive.”

  Neither of us had known about Claudette, an incarnation who’d existed between Clarissa and Claryce. We could thank Kravayik for that, Her Lady’s enforcer at that time. He’d tried to help
me by preventing yet another of my fruitless encounters with one of Cleolinda’s succession of ill-fated lives, only to fall for her himself. That hadn’t prevented Claudette from being murdered by the Beast of Chicago himself, H. H. Holmes.

  “Claudette . . .” Claryce whispered, almost as if speaking directly to her past life. “Yes . . . you’re right. I remember it was me—her—now.”

  This was racing down a path not to my liking. How far back was she going to remember? Did Galerius have something up his sleeve with this sudden return of memories?

  There were lights on inside the church, but that didn’t necessarily mean something. I went to the door first. As I reached for the handle, there was a faint click as the door unlocked. If I came with good intentions, few churches were barred from me.

  Inside, I was greeted by trappings consistent with most such places. There were, of course, added reminders of the Romanian homeland, including, ironically, an army flag from the Great War with its blue, gold, and red fields upon which was centered the country’s seal or something. I hadn’t been able to lend a hand to the struggle because of my ties to the Gate, but I’d kept up with all the bloodshed. I’d also made special note of those flags now representing the regions I’d once been familiar with when only a mere tribune of the empire.

  And I’d especially paid attention to those that had at some point in the past laid claim to a portion of Dacia, a place I considered cursed if only because it’d been the birthplace of Galerius.

  Claryce joined me. We took a few more steps forward before I noticed we were no longer alone.

  “Nick . . . I see him again! I see Diocles!”

  I wasn’t surprised. Not after everything else. Diocles gave her a courteous bow, acting like the kindly ghost rather than the specter of an emperor who’d order my execution. However, after what he’d done for us earlier, I decided to give him a break and not make any comments. That didn’t mean I cheerfully greeted him, though.

  “Should’ve known you’d show up here,” I remarked.

  “Where is here?” he asked. “I do not recognize the trappings of this church.”

  “No? You should feel a bit at home. There’s a little bit of Dacia here . . .”

  Something must’ve crept into my voice, because Claryce gave me a sour look. Diocles, on the other hand, simply appeared his sad self.

  “I’d thought that perhaps we’d reached a better point between us,” the ghost muttered.

  “I’m grateful for what you did before, but that doesn’t change certain other things. There’ll always be Galerius between us, and I’m reminded of it more and more standing here.” I felt nothing but cold contempt for him. He was responsible for so much that had happened to me. If he’d had a solid form, I’d have torn into him. I—

  “Nick! What’s wrong with you? Your expression—”

  Claryce’s voice cut through my burst of hate. I hesitated as I tried to make sense of my severe reaction to Diocles. While I might still not be willing to forgive him for my execution, the outburst wasn’t typical.

  My suspicions immediately went to my ever-present companion. The dragon had attempted to toy with my emotions before, fortunately not with longstanding success.

  Eye am innocent, he quickly declared. Eye would know better than this . . .

  Whether or not he knew better, it certainly didn’t feel like he was guilty of anything. I was inclined to believe him . . . this time.

  Only then did I notice a figure sitting in a shadowed pew near the front of the church. I didn’t think. I instinctively drew Her Lady’s gift and leaped.

  The figure didn’t budge. I grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him toward me.

  It wasn’t Galerius. It was some innocent priest. Some innocent priest who sat frozen like a statue.

  The laughter that followed shook me a lot more than I dared show. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how he’d affected me, although it was difficult.

  I spun toward the laughter . . . and the shadowed form of Galerius across from me.

  A form that this time was by no means an illusion.

  CHAPTER 14

  Her Lady’s gift gripped tightly, I took a step toward Galerius.

  He didn’t budge. He didn’t do anything except watch me expectantly.

  I came to a halt. Only then did I notice that the shadows in part obscuring him seemed a piece of him. Even when he casually glanced at Claryce, the shadows remained fixed on the same portions of his face.

  “Ah, we are all here,” Galerius remarked. “The knight errant, the princess, the villain . . .” He made an exaggerated gesture at himself, as if introducing his role to a theatrical audience. “ . . . and even the obligatory ghost.”

  “Galerius . . .” Diocles breathed angrily.

  “Don’t blame me for your sins, Father,” Galerius mocked. “You earned them yourself.”

  “My poor daughter!”

  “She was a useful tool, just as the Princess Cleolinda remains. Useful and entertaining, to say the least.”

  Where I’d been able to hold back, Diocles couldn’t. For the first time I could recall, I saw Diocles the accursed, a horrific shade with the face of death. He lunged toward Galerius, enveloping his former son-in-law and heir. I had to admit the sight of him made me glad I had the sword ready just in case.

  Galerius shook himself like a hound who’d just come out of the rain. In doing so, he shoved the murky figure of Diocles off him.

  “You are nothing,” Galerius told the ghost.

  “Maybe he can’t touch you, but you seem solid enough for this gun,” Claryce warned, the revolver aimed directly at Galerius’s heart.

  I’d known he would smile at her, and he didn’t disappoint. I recalled never trusting Galerius’s smile even before he’d convinced Diocles to slaughter innocents, but now there was some ghastly aspect to it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Galerius went from a stain of a man to something unearthly even Holmes hadn’t achieved.

  “Silver-tipped and either blessed or dipped in holy water?” he asked with a nasty chuckle.

  “Dipped. Not many priests will bless bullets.” Claryce kept the Smith & Wesson steady. “And if they can’t kill you, I’ll find a way to make sure they deal some pain.”

  “You’re remembering. Good. You’re remembering the pain and suffering. Dwell in it. I do. I savor it, princess. I savor each conclusion . . .”

  I suddenly felt as if they were having an intimate conversation, one stretching back through time. “Claryce, what’s going on? What’s he driving at?”

  She swallowed. “He was there, Nick. When that bastard Holmes killed me. I’m only just recalling. He was there. My death was part of some agreement! My death!”

  “The memories are only just stirring, are they?” Galerius asked in amusement. “You need to remember farther back. We’ve had quite some times together, princess.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “What would you like me to call you? There’s some thirty and more names to choose from, after all. Go ahead. Choose one you like . . . I’ve met pretty much every one of them.” His smile grew darker. “Been the death of most of them, too.”

  She came very near to firing. I wouldn’t have blamed her.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Galerius?” I raised my voice not only out of my own mounting anger, but to break the visual hold he had on Claryce. Watching her, I knew he was using whatever force he’d used on me. I could fight it now, but I wasn’t sure what her limits were in this regard.

  “What am I talking about?” All the humor left him. “I’m talking about a little game the princess and I’ve been having with you all these centuries, Georgius. A game where she pops back into your life, gives you hope . . . and then I take both that hope and her away from you. A game I’ve savored each lifetime, if only to watch your suffering over and over and over!”

  I knew what he meant, but I didn’t want to accept it. If he was telling the truth, Cl
aryce’s lives had all been cut short because of a vendetta Galerius had against me.

  “Why?” I finally managed. I could feel the anger he was fomenting trying to completely overtake my senses. Clarissa, Claudette, and most of those before them . . . all victims of this man. “Why, Galerius? You convinced Diocles to execute me and then desecrated my tomb! What more do you want from me?”

  “Far more than you’ve given, Georgius—forgive me, I keep forgetting. Nick.” He started to raise his hand toward Claryce. “And starting with the price I always demand.”

  That was it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I lunged toward Gale-rius, watching all the while to make certain he had no chance to either draw a weapon or use some form of magic.

  He hesitated as I neared. I took that as a hopeful sign he’d underestimated me.

  With every bit of strength I could muster and my full desire, I drove Her Lady’s gift through his torso just under the rib cage. There was a moist sound as the blade not only cut through sinew and bone, but burst out through his back.

  Galerius gaped . . . and then laughed anew.

  “Bravo, Nick . . .” he rasped. “Still the consummate soldier, aiming true and making a swift finish of a foe.”

  I pressed the hilt of the sword against his body, in the process mentally encouraging the weapon to do its foul work.

  But Galerius continued to stand there apparently unharmed.

  “It couldn’t be enough, Nick. It’s all in the cards, after all.”

  Galerius made a sudden twisting motion and tore the sword from my grip. As that happened, his face began to ripple. His eyes, his nose, his mouth . . . everything, including his beard and head of hair, faded away too.

  The faceless figure who’d used a piece of wood to play home run with my head stood before me. I understood now why the sword hadn’t affected him. The thing was a golem, an animated object. It had no life of its own for the sword’s power to touch.

  Claryce fired. Her aim was perfect. The first bullet tore into the golem’s head, the second into his chest.

  Unfortunately, they didn’t do much to stop Galerius’s puppet.

  At that moment, an agonized howl cut through the church.