The only man I’d ever truly loved was dying right before my eyes, and I was powerless to stop it. But what could I do? I wasn’t a sorceress, or a ninja, or a badass street fighter. I had no power in the day-to-day world, much less one full of wizards and demons. I desperately wished I had my cutting torch—at least I’d leave Esau with something to remember me by.
Suddenly there was a loud, high-pitched hissing sound, like a cross between an angry snake and a steam radiator springing a leak, and a loud thud that shook the entire building like a mortar round. The demon stopped to turn and stare at the door, sniffing the air suspiciously. There was a heavy thumping sound from the other side, as if a rhino was galloping full throttle down the hallway, then a tremendous crash as a copper dragon smashed its way through the door.
It was completely unlike any dragon I’d ever seen pictures of, with a squat, turnip-shaped body balanced on three sturdy legs, with lion’s paws for feet, and a long, snakelike neck. With a start, I realized I wasn’t looking at a true dragon, but the maternal furnace I had constructed from Jarl’s blueprints brought to life, just as my old sculptures had been animated by Hexe’s magic.
The copper dragon opened its jaws, releasing a plume of steam, and then snapped them closed onto one of the homunculi. It whipped its serpentlike neck back and forth, worrying the artificial humanoid like a terrier does a rat.
Esau cried out, his shriek melding with that of the homunculus as the copper dragon broke its spine, and abruptly let go of my arm. I quickly grabbed the talisman hanging from his neck and yanked as hard as I could, breaking the golden chain. As I ran toward Hexe, the copper dragon slammed its tanklike body against the remaining homunculus, crushing him into a paste against the brick wall of the warehouse.
I looked around the chaos, trying to find Hexe, only to spot him doubled up on the floor, desperately trying to suck air back into his lungs. As I made to rush to his side, my path was blocked by the Infernal Knight, its wings spread and talons bared. I did not flinch or scream, but instead held up the talisman for it to see. The demon’s snarl disappeared and it bowed its head in acknowledgment.
“What do you command of me, Mistress?” the infernal asked.
“Go to hell. And take that chuffer with you when you leave,” I said, pointing to Esau.
The demon squealed in glee, its remaining eyes lighting up with an unholy fire. It leaped straight up and over me, like Jack jumping over the candlestick, and landed beside its erstwhile master, grabbing him by the hair.
“Let go of me!” Esau shouted as the demon dragged him to the middle of the pentacle. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Witch King! In the name of the Left Hand, I command you to release me!”
The demon laughed and a tongue of hellfire sprang into being at the topmost vertex of the pentacle and then raced down its edges, until the entire pentagram was ablaze. Esau cried out in fear and tried to break free of the infernal’s grasp as the floor beneath his feet began to bubble like a tar pit, but the demon held him tight, all the while continuing to laugh.
I helped Hexe back onto his feet, and together we watched as Esau was pulled inexorably downward into the bowels of whatever hell awaited him, alternately begging for mercy and cursing us. Once the duo had disappeared beneath its surface, the hellfire extinguished itself and the floor returned to its previous solid state.
“Is he dead?” I whispered.
Hexe shook his head. “No. But he’s going to wish he was.”
I glanced over at the copper dragon, which stood nearby. It had reverted to its previous inanimate state, with only a few dents and an unsightly bloodstain or two as proof of its brief, miraculous life.
“How did you manage to animate that thing?” I asked. “I thought that required a specific ritual?”
“This isn’t my magic,” he replied. I could tell by the way he was squinting that he was trying to decipher the signature on the spell, which would identify whoever had enchanted the piece of alchemical equipment.
“Well, whose is it, then?”
His golden eyes widened in surprise. “It’s yours.”
Chapter 28
“Welcome back to the Two-Headed Calf!” Chorea smiled as she greeted us from the newly installed hostess station. Although she still wore a wreath of ivy in her dark hair, the maenad was no longer dressed in the diaphanous chiton and leopard skin of her cult. Instead, she wore a contemporary, if equally revealing, cocktail dress and high-heeled shoes.
“How’s the AA going, Chory?” I asked.
“One day at a time. I’m making my meetings, and I haven’t had a drink in three weeks,” she said proudly. “Just ask Faro.” She pointed to her husband, who waved at us from his seat at the horseshoe-shaped bar, hoisting a glass of club soda in salute.
“I’m glad everything is working out for the two of you.” Hexe smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek.
After a month of remodeling to repair the damage from the riot, the Two-Headed Calf was ready for business. While the official grand reopening was scheduled for the coming weekend, tonight was what Lafo called a “special pre-reopening” for his friends, family, and longtime customers.
I scanned the downstairs bar area, trying to discern what changes had been made to Golgotham’s oldest dining establishment. Outside of new tables and chairs and a couple of brass ceiling fixtures to replace the ones that had been destroyed, the only real difference was that the small stage at the back of the room was now noticeably bigger, with a professional lighting system and mixing board safely ensconced in its own booth.
“Thanks for showing up, guys!” Lafo said, throwing his arms about us in welcome. The Calf’s chief cook, bartender, and bottle washer was dressed in a raspberry sherbet–colored zoot suit and had braided his long red beard in honor of the occasion. “It really means a lot to me.”
“I’m just glad you’re back in business,” Hexe told him.
“Not half as glad as I am!” Lafo said with a chuckle. “Getting trashed in the riot was a huge pain in the ass, but there was a silver lining to it. Since I had to shut down to remodel the downstairs, I decided to go ahead and upgrade the kitchen and make some improvements to the dining room upstairs. It’s already paying off—Talisman has booked their record release party here, and the Herald is sending a reporter to cover the official reopening this weekend.”
“Congratulations! That’s wonderful news!”
A beeping sound started coming from somewhere inside the restaurateur’s voluminous jacket. “Excuse me, please,” he said as he deactivated the timer on his smart-phone. “I need to get the seal flipper pie out of the oven!”
As Lafo hurried off to the kitchen on the second floor, I saw Captain Horn sitting in one of the booths, talking to Lady Syra. She must have said something funny, because his poker face suddenly split into a grin. There was something oddly familiar about the way he laughed, but I could not exactly put my finger on it. The moment the PTU officer spotted Hexe, he instantly regained his usual sober composure.
“Ms. Eresby, Serenity,” he said, rising to greet us. “I trust you are no longer plagued by demons, now that Skal has fled Golgotham?”
“Haven’t seen a hair on its demonic chinny-chin-chin in weeks, Captain,” I replied.
“Good. I want to assure you that we will find Skal, and eventually bring him to justice. After all, he’s not just wanted for the attack on you—he’s also the prime suspect in the disappearance of Esau. I was just talking to your mother, Hexe—as Esau’s next of kin, she went through your uncle’s accounts and informs me that a good deal of money is missing from the KUP coffers. No doubt Esau caught Skal embezzling and the young punk did something to him. I don’t care if his mother works for the GoBOO; I never did trust that kid.”
“Are you sure you’ll be able to catch him, Captain?” Lady Syra asked. “Granted, Esau and I have not been close for some time, but he is my brother.”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness. There are only so many Kymeran enclaves scattered about the w
orld. He’s bound to show up in one of them. It’s just a matter of time. As soon as I can spare a couple of agents from the SOA Task Force, I’ll be sending them down to Faubourg Cauchemar in New Orleans, and overseas to Limehouse and the Pigalle, to look for him. Well, I think I’m going to hit the bar. . . .” The PTU officer took a couple of steps, then turned back around, as if he had just remembered something. “Oh! Speaking of the SOA, Serenity—one of my officers busted a leprechaun on a D and D who claims he saw you chase a human in a ski mask out into Pearl Street, where he was trampled by a Teamster. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“It’s certainly news to me, Captain,” Hexe replied.
“I thought as much,” Horn grunted. “No doubt my informant was mistaken—not to mention three sheets to the wind. I would have known if a dead human dressed like a member of the SOA showed up in our morgue. It’s still my job to ask questions. No offense, Serenity.”
“None taken, Captain. Like you said, it’s your job.”
“I really do hate lying to him,” Lady Syra sighed as I slid into the booth opposite her. “But Esau didn’t leave us much of a choice, did he? Once things calm down, I’ll let certain members of the GoBOO and the PTU in on the secret. But make no mistake: If the humans ever learn about what he was doing, we really will have a race war on our hands.”
“What about Skal’s mother? Shouldn’t we at least tell her the truth?” I asked, looking across the room at Skua, who was busy talking to Seamus O’Fae. Now that Esau had disappeared from the political scene, the leprechaun leader had declared his interest in running for mayor. All of Golgotham’s previous mayors had been Kymeran, but who knows? Times change. He’s got my vote, at least.
“Better she wonder if he’s an embezzler and a likely murderer than to remove all doubt,” Lady Syra replied. “Besides, it would destroy her career and livelihood just as surely as it would our own.”
“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “I just can’t help feeling sorry for her. Skal was a piece of shit, but his mother still loved him, even though she was no longer willing to shield him. But she doesn’t know what really happened to him, just like Bayard’s family will never know.”
“Speaking of which, I saw to it that the ‘missing funds’ from the KUP treasury were redistributed between the young centaur’s herd and Jarl’s widow,” Lady Syra reported. “Anonymously, of course.”
“What about Gus?” I asked.
“Since he was a Teamster, the union paid for his funeral and the ferryman,” she explained. “But I made sure he will have a proper monument in Necropolis. I did the same for Quid. Hopefully it will be enough to put their spirits to rest.”
“What about Esau?” I asked uneasily. “Do you think he’ll ever come back?”
“That is always a possibility,” the Witch Queen conceded. “After all, he’s not really dead—just trapped in another dimension. A really unpleasant one at that, from what you described.” She clucked her tongue in reproach. “He should have known better than to antagonize a demon, especially a Knight of the Infernal Court. They don’t forget insults, no matter how slight.”
“Do you miss him?”
Lady Syra glanced up at me, surprised by the question. “Yes, I guess I do. But I’ve been missing my brother for a long, long time. The Esau you cast into the hell he so richly deserved was not the one I grew up with. Ever since he lost poor Nita, he was never the same. . . .”
“Yeah, about that,” Hexe said, clearing his throat. “How is it that no one in the family ever mentioned Esau’s wife when I was growing up? It probably wouldn’t have changed how he treated me, but at least I would have had a better understanding of why he was such a miserable bastard.”
Lady Syra took a deep breath and let it out in a long, sad sigh. “It all happened so long ago, sweetie, years before you were born. Nita was a lovely woman, in both body and spirit. She was also a healer, by the way, and worked alongside Esau on his projects. He loved her so terribly, terribly much. When the psychic surgeons pronounced her brain-dead after what happened, he went quite mad for a while. That’s when Father decided to make me the Heir Apparent, of course. Esau recovered somewhat, after that, but he had become an adherent to the Left Hand Path, and we learned it was better never to mention Nita’s name around him. After a while, we stopped talking about her altogether. It was far less stressful that way.” Syra straightened up and clapped her hands, as if to dispel the old memories. “But enough about such sad things!” she exclaimed. “Let’s talk about something more cheerful! So, my dear, I hear you’ve been left destitute!”
“Mom!” Hexe groaned in embarrassment.
“It’s okay, baby.” I laughed. “It’s no big secret that my parents cut off my trust fund. I’ve landed a job working metal at Chiron’s blacksmith shop. It’s hard work, but I think I’m starting to get used to it.”
“It’s good to know that you can still make the rent,” she said with a chuckle. “But look at it this way—you may have lost a fortune, but you’ve gained magical powers! It might not be a win-win, but at least you’ve come out even.”
“Mr. Manto has this theory that my living in Golgotham, surrounded by magic, has triggered some latent ‘uncanny’ trait,” I explained. “He says I am touched by Hephaestus, the Blacksmith of the Gods, and that’s why I have the power to bring anything I create out of metal to life. Maybe he’s right. After all, the first Eresby who came to this country was the son of a blacksmith.”
“I always thought that Cyber-Panther of yours had a special spark,” Hexe said. “The other sculptures were merely animate, but it seemed to possess something resembling awareness.”
“Well, if your parents are foolish enough to cast you aside, then you’re more than welcome here.” Lady Syra smiled, reaching across the booth and giving my hand a squeeze.
I opened my mouth, but the tightness at the back of my throat made it impossible for me to speak. So I simply smiled, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from my eyes, and squeezed her hand in return.
“So, you’re giving us your blessing? I thought you were worried about the ramifications of the next Witch King taking a human as his consort?” Hexe said.
“That was before you told me you saw a corona about her head,” she replied, her manner suddenly quite serious. “What you described is known as the Crown of Adon. It is a phenomenon that appears only to heirs to the throne and, even then, not to all of them.
“As you know, Adon was the ancient Kymeran goddess of love, mother to the first Witch King and protectress of the royal family. According to the Scroll of the Dragon Oracle, when a Witch King or Witch Queen is in the presence of the one the goddess has chosen for them, the Crown of Adon appears above their head as you described it—but only they, and they alone, can see it.
“Sadly, not every heir to the throne receives this vision. My father did not see a halo above my mother’s head, nor did my grandfather see one above my grandmother’s, and so forth, going back for centuries. Because so many of our ancestors have been denied this vision, the Crown of Adon has been labeled ‘apocryphal.’ But I know it is real, because I saw it shine above your father’s head the first time I laid eyes on him—and I still see it every time I look at him. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that you two are meant to be together, and no one, Kymeran or human, should keep you apart. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I will go take my own advice.” With that, Lady Syra slid out of the booth and made her way to the bar, where she slid her hand through the crook of Captain Horn’s arm.
“My dad’s a cop?” Hexe gasped in disbelief.
“Your mother looks very happy,” I said, reaching over and pushing his jaw shut.
“Yes, she does,” he agreed, slipping an arm about my shoulders. “And, for once, I think I understand how she feels. I believe this calls for a drink, don’t you?” He laughed, motioning for one of the waitresses to come take our order.
The waitress, a buxom nymph dressed in
a short skirt and a tight-fitting T-shirt bearing the Two-Headed Calf’s logo, hurried forward.
“Hi, my name is Eurydice. I’ll be your server tonight. Would you like to see our new menus?” she asked, handing us a pair of laminated trifolds.
Hexe frowned. “New menus?”
“Lafo decided he wanted to experiment with ethnic food,” the nymph said with a shrug. “To each his own, I guess.”
I opened up the menu, glossing over the familiar descriptions for Pig’s Face and Cabbage, Five Kinds of Snake Soup, and Fried Clams Sundae, wondering what could possibly be considered “ethnic food” in a Kymeran restaurant. I got my answer as my gaze dropped to the bottom. I blinked in surprise, my contentment now tempered by a touch of dismay.
Funny how a single word like “cheeseburger” can change everything.
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Golgotham Glossary
Abdabs: The frights/terrors; any number of creatures known for harassing/frightening humans. Used in Kymeran slang to connote annoyance, as in “Bloody abdabs!”
Ambi: Someone who practices both Right and Left Hand disciplines.
Bastet: A shape-shifting race taking the form of different big cats, such as tiger, lion, and panther. Also known as the Children of Bast.
Cacozealot: Someone suffering from misdirected zeal; an extremist devoted to the Left Hand Path.
Centauride: A female centaur; also known as a centau-ress.
Charmer: A wizard who creates charms for a living.
Chuff/Chuffing/Chuffed: Euphemism for sexual intercourse.
Come-hither: A spell that calls a man or woman against his or her will, often during sleep or in an altered state of consciousness. Because of this, the subjects of come-hithers rarely have any memory of what happened to them once the spell is lifted. This spell is a favorite of date rapists and stalkers.
Left Hand Magic Page 25