Shit. Elves.
No way, no how. I slammed the door, but the elves wedged the cart into the door.
Nothing good ever came of supernaturals bearing room service.
Having lost the door, I backed up, Captain with me, growling at the two elves all the way. “Look, guys, can we have a civilized talk about this?”
No answer. As I reached the desk, I grabbed my beer bottle and tried to hit the closest elf over the head with it. He dodged. “Artemis?” I called.
No answer. Probably headed down to the bar. Of all the times I could really use Artemis barging in . . . I turned my attention back on the elves confronting my growling, hissing cat.
“Seriously, I’m not in the mood for this espionage shit,” I said as the two of them closed in. The closest to me, wearing a blue hoodie, carried a rough brown cloth in his hand: a burlap sack.
“Can I at least take my beer?” I yelled. The sack was thrown over my head.
8
ROOM SERVICE
8:00 p.m., Venice: About fifteen minutes away from the hotel, by my best guess.
Hands secured behind my back, I was shoved into a hard chair. Then the bag was removed from my head with a flourish. I blinked after the darkness of the bag and street. Low light courtesy of candles greeted me, so low I didn’t even have to wait for my eyes to adjust to it. I got a vague impression of the building I was in: high rafters, wood ceilings, stained glass. A church. A better-maintained one than the dive da Vinci had been squatting in; the floors and pews were polished and although the church was small, it was well maintained, with no dust to be seen.
I’m an atheist, but even I had to admit the place evoked a hearthlike warmth. There was even a scent reminiscent of green things, forests and trees.
There was a ring of roughly two dozen candles surrounding me, closing me in. Outside the circle I could make out four individuals, their hoodies pulled down over their faces, obscuring what the shadows couldn’t on their own. The four of them were dressed in neutral colors—brown, gray, green, blue, all muted and unremarkable—and nothing looked new. Even odds there were one or two more elves hidden in the church—if I were them, that’s what I would do, conceal my numbers.
I swallowed. “What am I doing here?” I asked when none of them offered me an explanation.
I thought a few glances were exchanged between the hooded figures, but it was difficult to tell with the way they used the mix of flickering candles and resulting shadows to conceal themselves.
I counted a slow five without a peep from my captors. I cleared my throat. “Not that I don’t respect the cold silent treatment, but this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
The tallest of the group, who was wearing a dark gray hoodie and ripped blue jeans, stepped into the circle of candles and pulled down his hood.
If I’d had any question about my captors being elves, they were put to rest. Like Carpe, the one standing in front of me had long brown hair that was tied in the back, and his body was slim—not emaciated but more like lithe. His skin was the kind of pale you got from avoiding the sun or heavily investing in high-SPF sunscreen, not the sickly version I’d also seen on elves. I thought he might have been one of the two who had accosted me at my hotel room.
They were not exactly like Carpe, but the similarities were undeniable—except for the eyes. Whereas Carpe’s were a soft, dark brown, this elf’s eyes were a pale, ghostly ice blue.
Oh yes, and there was the ever-telling glimpse of elongated ears peeking out from underneath his hair that put any remaining lineage questions to rest. Pointed and unmistakably elven.
He regarded me with his head inclined to the side like an inquisitive bird’s, reminding me of another elf with evil red eyes I’d rather forget. There was no obvious emotion on his face—nothing to give away what their intentions might be. That made me more uncomfortable.
He watched me for a long-drawn-out minute, the pale blue eyes burrowing into me, making my skin crawl with nervous energy.
“Where is he?” the elf in the gray hoodie asked. His English was unaccented but had the same undertone of arrogance Carpe was famous for in my books. But he? Shit, the elves must still be looking for Rynn, despite the spectacular disaster that had occurred in Shangri-La, where their plans to make Rynn their living enslaved warrior had failed spectacularly. Fantastic—their entire species was suicidal.
“Rynn? I have no idea where he and his circus of mercenaries are. They were in Venice a few hours ago, but that’s about as useful as saying Waldo’s somewhere in that picture— Ow!” One of them hissed behind me, and my chair was jostled. I spilled onto the floor, landing hard on my knees. That was going to leave a mark. “What the hell was that for?” I demanded, glaring at the blue-hoodied elf directly behind me. So much for nonviolence, another of Carpe’s rose-colored descriptions of his kind.
The elf crouched down until he was at eye level with me. There was still no malice or any other emotion on his face. “We have no interest in Rynn,” he said.
My face must have shown just how bewildered I was because he added, “Where is the one you call Carpe Diem? The last time he left us it was to work with you, no?”
Carpe? “He— I . . .” I started, then trailed off. The elf watched me, waiting for my answer, his face intent. I hazarded a glance at the others. The ones I could see were also watching me with just as much intentness.
They looked less like supernaturals and more as though they’d raided a Salvation Army surplus store or a backpacker hostel’s lost and found. Two of the elves held thin rapierlike weapons that glinted in the candlelight.
Friends of Carpe? Possibly, but that didn’t rule out their being foes. Though even my paranoid mind had to admit, it was hard imagining these four as kneecap-breaking debt collectors.
Gray’s brown eyebrows knit together.
Well, I could be certain they didn’t appreciate stalling.
“Look, no offense, but you really expect me to tell you where the elf is after kidnapping me?” I tried to keep a wary eye on all four of them, glimpsing bits of their faces as they exchanged looks amongst themselves.
The fact was that I knew very little about elves; all of it could be summed up between what Rynn had told me and close personal contact with a grand total of two of their kind, Carpe and Nicodemous. Nicodemous had been an ancient megalomaniac set on taking the supernatural world over by enslavement, excessive force, and on the whole dubious means—and Carpe? Well, let’s just say Carpe might not be evil, but his intentions were occasionally suspect and he had a bad habit of choosing the wrong side.
I had no idea how these four would react. The last I’d seen of Carpe was his drawn face as he had pushed me through the Shangri-La portal in some kind of self-sacrificing—oh hell, I don’t know what he’d been thinking . . .
“She’s right,” a woman said this time. I craned my neck around, careful not to make any sudden movements or otherwise spook the elves as I tried to pinpoint where the female’s voice had come from.
The elf in the green sweatshirt and Salvation Army runners and jeans stepped beside Gray Hoodie and lowered her own hood, revealing a shaved blond head covered in tattoos, a collection of swirls and patterns that I suspected held magic.
“We can’t treat her like an enemy and expect her to divulge what she knows,” she said. To me she added, “It was not a unanimous decision to abduct you. Some of us wanted to ask you to a meeting.”
There was a whispered hiss from behind me. It was the red elf, one of the two holding a rapier.
“We also agreed that the incubus made that impossible—and dangerous,” Gray said. “All we want to know is where our friend is.”
That was the other odd thing about this. Carpe had disappeared three months before. Why were they just looking for him now?
Something dawned on me as they waited patiently. Son of a bitch. “Carpe didn’t tell you where he was going, did he?”
The four of them gave me blank stares.
; “Carpe keeps many of his plans and activities to himself,” the green woman said. “We had hoped you would—or could—illuminate our missing friend’s circumstances.”
Goddamn it, Carpe . . . I thought about lying, I really did. That might have been easier for everyone. Send the elves back to whatever grove they lived in and, if Carpe ever resurfaced, make sure to punch him for it.
But looking at them, I couldn’t do it. They didn’t seem like the sort who were planning on killing anyone, let alone Carpe. If anything, as I stared into their faces, I thought they looked desperate. The kind of desperation you’d have if you were looking for a missing friend.
Besides, they hadn’t hit me yet. That went light-years towards earning my cooperation on the supernatural front.
I sighed. “Okay, but you’re not going to like it,” I warned them. I began to fill them in on the sordid series of events that had led to Carpe’s disappearance: the elves, Nicodemous, the Electric Samurai, and the eventual trashing of Shangri-La.
I had to give them credit, they didn’t interrupt me once. They listened in silence until I was finished. “I got the impression he wasn’t volunteering out of the goodness of his heart. The elf Nicodemous sent him to keep an eye on his investment,” I finished.
“Why did Carpe not leave when you did?” the woman asked.
I shook my head. “Trust me, I’ve asked myself that enough times.” I held up my hands. I’d come up with everything from thinking he had another exit to he had decided for once to be altruistic or show me some kind of lesson. Or he’d just wanted to get under my skin. I wouldn’t have put it past him.
More whispered exchanges flew amongst them. “Marta has a sense for lies, and she says you tell the truth,” the gray-hoodied elf said.
There was a low hiss that interrupted him. “She’s hiding something,” one of the elves standing behind me said—Red again. “Talking in circles. Remember, Carpe said not to trust her.”
I grimaced. Not to trust me? Why, that no-good asshole . . .
I strained to turn my head so he had to look at me and caught a glimpse of a sneer under the red hood. “Let me guess—first-time kidnapper?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
There was another exchange of glances, more flurried this time, and a flustered look from him. If it weren’t for the uncertainty the candles created, I would have sworn I saw him blush. Regardless, he took a step towards me with the sword’s pointy business end aimed at me.
I raised my hands. “Whoa, it’s okay. No accusations here! I just wanted to point out that most of the time when I’ve been in these situations, the people on your side start with violence, not questions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. It’s a refreshing change.”
The four of them were staring at me now. I pushed on, “Since we’ve already veered drastically from the traditional kidnapper/kidnappee roles here, why not try something new? How about you tell me why it is you want to find Carpe? It’d go a long way towards me figuring out where we all stand—think of it as a trust-building exercise.”
More whispering, louder and more frantic than before. Arguing?
“Why should we trust you?”
The one wearing the ratty blue hoodie spoke—another male, and this one spoke English with less familiarity. The youngest of the group?
Regardless, it was a good question. “You can’t,” I said, going for honesty. “That’s one of the tricks about us humans: you’re never entirely clear or certain when we’re going to lie and why. But Carpe trusted me.” That was a white lie: he hadn’t, which was how we had ended up in this predicament.
More glances and softer whispers. I sighed. This was getting us nowhere. “Look, the point I’m trying to make is that one of us has to start the trusting game—”
“You are wrong. Your assumption is that Carpe is dead—he is alive,” the woman said.
The other elves fell silent. The revelation hit me like bricks smashing through a window. It took me a moment to recover. “Ah—how—” I stammered.
“—do we know?” She arched a blond eyebrow. “He sent us a message a few days ago, asking us to find you.”
My heart pounded as I wrapped my head around that. “What—was the message he asked you to give me?”
The gray-hoodied elf spoke next, shaking his head. “There was no message, no indication where he was, no explanation of what happened. Only the single command to find you.”
The blond, tattooed elf offered me a sad smile. “We were hoping you would be able to shed light on Carpe’s actions—or what had happened. Whether you believe us or not, we are”—she paused as if looking for the right words—“the closest thing he has to family. We’ll leave it at that.”
If Carpe had wanted to get my attention, this was certainly a good way to do it. But that also begged the question, what the hell was he trying to tell me? It was like being thrown a riddle without actually understanding it.
I noticed that the elven woman was still watching me. I sighed and gave her a chagrined smile. “Not a lot of clues to go on.”
She smiled. “Carpe has a bad habit of that.”
With that, the four elves made to leave, resheathing their weapons and fading into the shadows. Whether it was them or coincidence, the candles dimmed.
“That’s it?”
None of them answered. It was as if I had ceased to exist as one by one they vanished. I find out Carpe’s alive, and the elves decide to do a disappearing act before I can question them—
“Seriously? Directions would be useful here—you realize that Venice is crawling with vampires and mercenaries.”
The green-hoodied woman was the only one left. “Nothing will befall you on the way back,” she said. “But I suggest you do not leave again without the incubus.”
Do not leave the hotel again—it was good to know that the fault was with my choice to come down here with them . . .
“Who are you? If I find Carpe, how do I get ahold of you?”
The female elf paused at the edge of the shadows. “We will find you,” she said, then paused, hesitation in her step. “If I may offer you a piece of advice?”
I nodded, hoping it was cryptic directions back to my hotel.
“We sense you will have two paths, the one more easily traveled and the one that is more difficult. We suggest you choose wisely.”
With that last piece of cryptic advice, she vanished.
The candles went out. All of them. At once. Leaving me in an abandoned church. By myself. Where I couldn’t fucking see to let myself out the door.
I sighed. That was supernaturals for you. They kidnap you, stare at you like the specimen you are, then, once their curiosity is sated, leave you where they didn’t find you.
I pushed myself up, favoring my knees. I banged them into the pews twice, growling a number of curses that were definitely not church appropriate, then found the door and stepped out into the mild, sound-filled evening air. No sign anywhere of the elves.
They were a little weird and misguided, and I couldn’t help worrying what would happen to them if they came into contact with other humans wearing those outfits and carrying swords . . .
I shook my head. Old Polish proverb: not my circus, not my monkeys. At some point I’d have to stop piling other people’s messes onto my plate.
The very least they could have done was leave me with some damn directions. I glanced up at the roofs, searching for a familiar landmark. That proved useless. I focused on the voices instead, guessing that the majority of them would be heading towards the bridge and the piazza.
Goddamn it, I had a long walk back to the hotel. Here’s hoping I wouldn’t stumble across any wayward vampires.
I set a fast pace in the crowd, wondering what it was the elven woman had meant with her warning. One thing was certain: if Carpe really was alive, he’d be getting a big piece of my fucking mind.
9
MALI
9:00 a.m.: A small airport in Timbuktu, Mali . . . I still smell.
I splashed tepid water from the rusty tap over my face. It was lukewarm, tinged brown, and did little to alleviate the sweat due to lack of sleep stemming from the night before. Damned elves . . .
I’d omitted telling Artemis about my unsolicited rendezvous. I wasn’t certain I could make heads or tails of it yet, and I didn’t see the point of confusing things. As I’d said, not my circus . . . I supposed he counted as a monkey I was at least partially responsible for.
Even though the water and the climate were warm, I felt cold descend over me, starting a brand-new round of sleep- and shower-deprived sweat. The one saving grace was that Artemis had been able to make everyone else on the plane ignore us. I hoped he would be able to keep up the trend.
I dried my face with my long-sleeved shirt and tied it around my waist before heading back out into the dusty provincial airport, the only air access to the once bustling Silk Road trade center of Timbuktu. My, how a few centuries could make the mighty fall. Made me wonder what the big US and European cities such as London, New York, and Paris would look like in a thousand years. You laugh, but I doubt the ancient Malinese ever thought that Timbuktu would fall.
Despite its small size and location in the middle of nowhere, the airport was not deserted. A number of foreign backpacker types were milling around, UN aid workers who’d flown out of Mali’s capital, Bamako, to Timbuktu. I wasn’t sure exactly how Artemis had gotten us on board and which of his powers he’d exerted, and I decided this was the one time I didn’t care. If he hadn’t gotten us on the flight, our options would have been a four-day trip up the Niger or risking a trek in a four-by-four. Considering how unstable the region had become over the past few years between religious fanatics and minor warlords, the UN flight had been the fastest and safest option.
I made an attempt to pull back my hair before heading back out of the washroom to find Artemis. A number of the UN volunteers were still milling around. Artemis must have been getting tired because one of them spotted me, frowning, as if trying to place my face.
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