Savage: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Solumancer Cycle Book 2)

by J. C. Staudt

  As I descend the ladder to the ground floor, the wererat and the gargoyle speed off in one of the milk vans. I pace the floor until the van returns, skidding into the garage and rocking to a halt. Baz gets out and opens the rear doors for Fremantle, who emerges carrying a blindfolded and surprisingly docile Quim. She stands him in front of me, dusts off her hands, and leaves the garage without a word.

  I remove Quim’s blindfold. “Hey, buddy. How you doing?”

  “I want that tip on the Red Wings game. What’ve you got for me?”

  “No tip. Sorry. I only said that to get you here.”

  Quim’s normal response would be to throw a tantrum and complain about how I’m always lying to him. Instead he grunts his indifference. “I’m going back to sleep.”

  He turns toward the open garage doorway as if to walk home. I circle him to block his way, but he sidesteps me and keeps going.

  “Baz. Close the door, would you?”

  Baz hits a button on the wall, and the door rolls down.

  “Quim, don’t leave.”

  “I’m tired, Cade.”

  “We’ve got plenty of beds for you here if you want to get some shuteye.”

  “Take me to one.”

  “There’s something I need from you first.”

  “What?”

  “Calyxto’s ring.”

  Quim snorts. “No.” The Nerve Ring pulses on the middle finger of his right hand. He’s still wearing a bandage on his left.

  “You don’t want that thing. It’s making you think you want it, but you don’t. This is not you, Quim. You’re a caring individual. You have feelings, and you want to feel them.”

  “Not caring is the best. Especially when you’re in love with someone who thinks you’re a tool.”

  “What Felita thinks doesn’t matter anymore. You two went your separate ways. You can’t put off dealing with it forever.”

  “Yeah I can. Thanks to this.” He wiggles the corresponding finger.

  “Quim. Do you realize what that thing is doing to you?”

  “Helping.”

  “Wrong. Are you familiar with somatization? It’s pain in the physical body caused by the inability to express emotional pain. By wearing that ring, you’re compounding the potential for immense suffering.”

  “I feel fine,” Quim insists. “Great, even.”

  “Please take it off. This is the most I’ve ever needed you. Lorne Savage might be a vampire’s thrall, and the only way we can free him is by finding and killing his master.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  “If I’d known this ring would turn you into an intolerable bastard, I would’ve swallowed it before I let you put it on.”

  “It’s mine now. You can’t take it off. Only I can.”

  “Think again, buddy. We’re in a hospital. Janice has a strap-down operating table and a surgical saw. Do the math.”

  “Who’s Janice?”

  “The undead doctor who’s going to relieve you of your jewelry.”

  Quim laughs. “The ring is magical. She can’t cut through it.”

  I look him in the eye. “She doesn’t have to cut through the ring.”

  Quim’s mouth twitches. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Turns out even when you can’t feel, threats of dismemberment still register. I’ve never threatened lasting physical harm to my best friend before. But then, he’s never done something this aggressively boneheaded before, either.

  “You’re a changeling,” I say, easy-breezy. “Grow a new finger.”

  “I can’t. Not a permanent one. I’d have to concentrate on it like any other transformation.”

  “Dark times ahead for you, my friend. Baz, help me bring Quim to surgery.”

  Baz hesitates. “I’d rather not, your highness. This is a dispute between friends, and I ain’t so good with taking sides.”

  “This issue is of direct concern to the Guardians of the Veil, Baz. Are you a Guardian, or are you a sewer rat with big dreams and opposable thumbs?”

  Baz wiggles his nose. “I ain’t no sewer rat, your highness. I mean, I am, sometimes. Just not the kind who’d hang his friends out to dry.”

  “Good man. That’s what I like to hear.”

  We flank Quim and take him by the arms. I’m expecting him to crack before we get to the operating room, but as Baz and I drag him through the hospital he offers no sign of a weakening resolve. The ring has lent him some backbone, that’s for sure. When we throw him onto a gurney in the supply room and tighten the nylon straps around his chest, waist, and knees, his breathing quickens. His eyes flit around the room, but he doesn’t break.

  By the time we wheel him into Janice’s operating theater, Quim is muttering incomprehensibly to himself. Janice’s back is turned to us as we stop the gurney beside her and step on the wheel locks. She removes the cigar stub from between her teeth and turns to stare down at Quim, whose eyes go wide. When she cackles, Quim screams and struggles against his bonds.

  “Doctor Drummond, meet my best friend, Quimby Takkanopoulis. Quim, this is Janice. She’s going to be helping you with that pesky finger of yours.”

  Quim squirms. “Let me go. I’ll take off the ring. Just don’t cut me.”

  “If I untie you, you have to promise to take off the ring immediately.”

  “Yeah. Uh huh.”

  “You promise?”

  He nods.

  “Say it. Say I promise.”

  “I promise.”

  “You promise what?”

  “I promise I’ll take off the ring. First thing.”

  “Well done, QuimTak. You’ve made the right decision.”

  I loosen the strap holding his wrists against his waist. He reaches across his body and pauses with his thumb and forefinger on the ring, ready to pull it off. He’s in for a world of hurt, but now isn’t the time to remind him of that.

  “How bad’s this gonna be?” he asks.

  “I guess that depends on how much pain you’re supposed to be in.”

  Tears roll down from the corners of his eyes. “I think a lot.”

  “Anything you can give him, Doc?”

  Janice puffs twice and exhales. “Only thing that’ll help this poor sucker is a swift kick in the ass.”

  “You heard the good doctor, Quim. Diagnosis: sack up.”

  “I can’t,” Quim sobs. “I can’t. You do it.”

  “Wish I could, old buddy. It’s up to you.”

  Quim squeezes his eyes shut and yanks.

  His body stiffens; his eyes bulge open. The ring slips from his fingers, slides down the bedsheets, and pings to the floor. He makes a thin wheezing sound, his face a rictus of pain. For a moment he trembles, flexing every muscle in his body. Then he goes limp and passes out.

  Chapter 21

  Quim reverts to his natural form. Milky skin, flowing white hair, and opal eyes.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I ask.

  Janice picks up the ring and hands it to me, then feels Quim’s neck for a pulse. “He’ll be fine. Just fainted from the pain. What’s this ring all about?”

  I hold it flat on my palm. “The half-fiend who owns this ring gave it to a human woman he fell in love with. I don’t know for sure, but I think he was able to tell when she took it off. If I’m right, he’ll be here any second. He promised me a favor, and I want to cash in on it.”

  “Be careful trading favors with fiends,” says Janice.

  “Oh, believe me, I haven’t been.” I show her Calyxto’s mark.

  She clacks her teeth, a gesture I equate to a wince. “Rough work, Kemosabe.”

  “It ought to be. I’m the One Who Suffers, right?”

  “You’re our leader, kid. Sufferer or not, you’re taking over for Ryovan. And you can’t do that until you’re free.”

  “Who says I want to take over for Ryovan?”

  “No one’s asking if you want to. Destiny isn’t a choice. Either you accept it, or you get beat by it. I, of all people, should know.�
��

  “You of all former people.”

  Janice laughs.

  “How did you end up like that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “I do mind. Ask me again some other time.”

  “I’d be pretty happy if I found a way not to die.”

  “You’re doing it right now, kid. Every time the sun sets, you win. Keep winning for as long as you can. People waste a lot of time wondering about the meaning of life. Life only has one meaning, and that’s not dying. Contrary to all the philosophical, theological, theoretical bullshit about the significance of time and growth and existence, nothing matters more than keeping the wheels rolling. That’s all life’s ever been about—staring death in the face and telling it to go fuck itself.”

  “Wow. This conversation just got real.”

  “Real is what I do, kid.”

  “Janice’s blunt morbidity will eventually become one of the things you hate most in life,” says Shenn as she enters the room, now fully dressed with her hair blow-dried and styled. “Who’s this?”

  “This is my best friend, Quim. I’d introduce you, but he’s unconscious. On second thought… Shenn, meet Quim. Quim, Shenn.”

  Shenn’s mouth is a flat line. “You’re hilarious. And your friend is boring.”

  “He’s also close to death. So thanks for the sympathy.”

  “Lorne was close to death when we found him. Coincidence, or do you have a knack for endangering your friends?”

  “Shouldn’t you be at work, selling expensive flooring upgrades to bored executives?”

  “Why did I bother coming in here?”

  “No bad deed goes unrequited.”

  “Talking to you is like eating soup with a fishing net.”

  “Humorous and wacky?”

  “Impossible.”

  “Two sides of the same coin.”

  “Now I remember why I came in here. To remind Janice she needs to give you stitches today.”

  “I don’t need stitches,” I insist.

  “The hell you don’t,” Janice says.

  Shenn smiles. “Bye, Prince Cade. Have a lovely day.”

  “Have fun at your soul-sucking office job,” I fire back as she strolls out.

  Janice’s skull is cocked, her luminous eyes studying me. “What’s going on between you two?”

  “Hell if I know. We went on a few dates. Next thing I know she’s part of this secret society and she hates my guts.”

  “You’re not what she thought you’d be. That’s all.”

  “I’m not what Fremantle thought I’d be, either. Sorry I’m such a disappointment to everybody.”

  Janice puffs her cigar. “Have you read everything on that bulletin board in your room?”

  I shake my head. “I started to last night, but I couldn’t finish.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “I’d rather stay here with Quim.”

  “Time for your stitches, then. I’ve got an empty gurney with your name on it.”

  “Never mind. I’ll go.”

  “I’ll call for you when your friend is stable. You can wheel him to the room next door to yours. Then come back for your stitches.”

  I can’t imagine what the bulletin board has to do with why Shenn is being such a bitch to me, but I nod and head for the door, slipping the Nerve Ring into my pocket. “Let me know if anyone comes around looking for me. Particularly a half-fiend with nubby horns and a smug grin.”

  “Will do, kid. Take care of yourself.”

  I hike a thumb. “Take care of myself? I’m just going down the hall.”

  “You don’t have to go far to find something that’ll knock you flat on your ass.”

  I give her a strange look and head to my room.

  The cards and notes on my bulletin board are signed mostly with names I’ve never heard. Ryovan’s signature is on some of them; Des and Urdal have signed a few. Satielle Ballowes must’ve had someone corporeal sign on her behalf. I scan the unread letters and find them to be unequivocally filled with love and encouragement.

  It isn’t until I’ve unpinned a dozen of them from the corkboard that Shenn’s first offering appears. It’s a picture. A kid’s drawing. Two kids holding hands; one’s labeled Shenn, the other, Cade. Below that is a note. Short and sweet and written in a child’s handwriting.

  Dear Cade,

  I can’t wait for you to be here. I am excited to meet you.

  Love,

  Shenn

  Beneath that is a second letter, tri-folded and stuffed behind the first as if put there in secret. This one’s longer, the handwriting cleaner and more mature.

  Cade,

  I am writing you this letter on Crossings Day, when we celebrate and remember the ones we left behind. It’s mostly for the grown-ups. They tell stories about the old world, if they can remember them. We also pass around names and we each get a name of someone to exchange letters with. Your name has been in the hat every year but someone else always gets it. I was lucky this year. I crossed my fingers when I reached in and what do you know, I got yours! Lucky I guess!

  Even thogh you are not here to give me a note back, but I thought I would write to you any way. I have been wanting to write to you for a long time but I was worried you might think I was wierd when you come here and read my note. Or I mite write to many notes and you would be like who is this wierd girl who writes me all these notes? Haha. I just saw the drawing I made for you when I was little. I am sorry. It sucks. But the rules are we are not allowed to take anything down. If we could I would crumple it into the trash and you would never see it, not in a million years!

  So I just want to tell you that I think you are great, and I hope my dad can find you soon and that you are ok. Even thogh I have never met you I am your friend and I always will be your friend. It would of been fun for us to play when we were little but I hope we can meet some day and that when you read this you will like it and not think its dumb. Ok I guess that is all I had to say so I hope you are having a good day where ever you are and I hope to see you soon.

  Love Your friend,

  Shenn

  There’s a lump in my throat, and it’s about the size of my big fat clumsy foot. I rush down the hall to Shenn’s room. It’s empty. She’s at work, I remind myself. Her door is open, though, and the wastebasket inside is choked with crumpled paper. Line after line, page after page of her inked handwriting. Janice’s words ring through my thick skull. You’re not what she thought you’d be. That’s all. You’re not what she thought you’d be.

  I want to snatch up every last page and retreat to my room, lock the door and spend the whole day reading. Learning who she is, and who she thought I was. But that wouldn’t be fair. She may have written all these letters, but she never gave them to me. They’re not mine to take. I don’t have to read them to understand their message.

  Shenn has spent her whole life waiting for her prince. Like many young girls, she imagined every detail of what he would be like. She dreamed of romance. A wedding day. A life. So when Ryovan suggested she go undercover as my love interest, I don’t think she objected. Maybe she even suggested it herself. If Tolmyr is a kingdom where betrothal is commonplace, marrying a prince to the daughter of a landed knight in the king’s service wouldn’t be unheard of. It wouldn’t surprise me if Shenn grew up under the impression we’d get married one day.

  Over the years, she got her hopes up. Way up. Then she met me, and cold hard reality karate-chopped her in the throat.

  My sympathy turns to anger. So what if I’m not the guy she expected? Why should I be punished for who I am? Is it my fault she grew up in a cold sterile hospital with no other children her age to play with? Am I to blame for her idealistic fantasies? Reality is never like our dreams. Shenn needs to learn that lesson like everybody else.

  I stand staring at the wastebasket, temptation flooding my veins. It would be so easy to read every word. A scalpel blade in a surgeon’s hand, peeling back the layers. Last night I was on th
e verge of breaking up with her. Now it’s over and I’m obsessing about things I can’t change and shouldn’t have to. What is wrong with me?

  “Prince Cade?” asks Satielle as she floats, phantomlike, through the wall.

  I’m so lost in thought I don’t even jump. “Hey, Satielle.”

  “What are you doing in Shenn’s room?”

  I look down. Somehow I’m three paces inside the doorway. I take two huge steps backward into the hall. “Sorry.”

  “You are, of course, allowed to go into anyone’s room you wish, your highness.”

  “I shouldn’t be. I don’t want you letting me anywhere near Shenn’s room again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, your highness.”

  “Satielle. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “Are you disappointed in me? Am I less than what you expected?”

  She hesitates. “You are my prince.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Did you think I would be more like Ryovan? More like my dad?”

  “You’re you, Prince Cade. That’s all you need to be.”

  I attempt a smile. “Okay.”

  Satielle nods.

  We stare at each other. When she neither speaks nor moves, I turn awkwardly and head down the hall. I guess there’s no point in saying goodbye to a ghost when she can follow you through walls and appear at will.

  Still no sign of Calyxto anywhere. As I pass quarantine, Lorne is lying on the bed in his isolation room. He’s exhausted himself with all the yelling and chair-throwing, and without the IV he’s not getting the hydration his body needs. I wonder if Janice would be opposed to having him sedated. I want to go in there and reassure him that he’s safe here, but I would only be giving him information he could potentially relay to his master.

  Since everyone in this place either doubts me or hates me, I stop by Urdal’s room to see how he’s doing. If anyone deserves to be mad at me, it’s him. So it comes as a surprise when the orc notices me and bursts into a tusky grin. “Your highness. I’m happy to see you.”