I’d have to scratch the clothes too. Not that they were much to look at. Bland, serviceable, meant for blending in. I’d buy more. Though I didn’t need it for warmth, I shrugged into my windbreaker for the extra pockets and headed for the only point of entry and exit I’d seen in the rundown structure. It bothered me, being in a place with just one escape route. Made it hard to formulate a backup plan other than get busted or die . . . two alternatives I’d managed to avoid so far. I hoped this time wouldn’t break my record—but I had my doubts.
Outside, a starless night in Middle of Nowhere, New York, waited for me. I tried to remember how far I’d driven from the last insignificant excuse for a town to get here. In my professional estimation, it was pretty damned far. The idea of calling someone for a pickup crossed my mind. I laughed at it, and sent it on its way.
I didn’t just burn bridges. I incinerated them. Everyone I knew had a legitimate reason to hate me—and none of them were my fault. Okay, maybe that thing back in Albany a few years ago was my fault, but everything else came down to sheer bad luck.
In the distance, a long and low howl rode the breeze, frustrated and almost human. I’d heard enough dogs to know the sound didn’t come from a domesticated breed. A coyote, maybe even a wolf. Terrific. For the thousandth time, I reminded myself that I never should have taken this gig. At least, not alone. But with my reputation, only the greenest punks would agree to partner with me, which guaranteed I’d spend more time babysitting than working. I’d been in this game too long to bother breaking in newbies.
There was another reason I should’ve told Trevor to shove this job. It wasn’t his style. I’d gotten a weird vibe when he laid it out—the flashy son of a bitch always wanted high-end vehicles or fine art or precious metals and jewels. But this score was ordinary. Small-time. Wouldn’t fetch fifty bucks on eBay. He’d said it was for his private collection, but even then, the little voice I never listened to insisted there was something fucked-up about the whole thing.
I considered telling Trevor the truth—but hell, I didn’t even believe it. Who’d believe a professional thief lost the item he’d been hired to steal? No way that unforgiving bastard would buy it. I’d seen Trevor shoot his own thugs for picking up the wrong kind of wine. Granted, it had been five hundred cases of wrong, but that was beside the point.
There was still a good ten feet between me and freedom when the drone and swell of an approaching engine sounded outside. Headlights swept the curve leading to the building and swung around to frame the doorway, pinning me in the glare. Hello, sitting duck.
The engine gunned. Tires screamed as the car shot forward. I darted back into the darkness of the warehouse and took a hard left. The car screeched to a halt somewhere behind me. I turned toward the front wall, held out a hand, and walked briskly until I encountered something solid. Flattened with my back against the surface, and waited.
I had a knack for concealment, a trait that served me well on the job. A few ex-partners had sworn I could make myself invisible—especially when they’d gotten caught and I hadn’t.
Car doors opened and closed. I counted four slams. Trevor had sent a lot more muscle than necessary. I almost felt honored, before I realized the son of a bitch probably wanted me taken alive. Should have seen that one coming.
Flashlight beams swept the main aisle. A rumbling bear of a voice delivered an order. “There. Search his car.” I recognized it instantly. Skids Davis, Trevor’s left-hand man. Left, not right, because Trevor only called on Skids when he needed something dirty cleaned up.
So I was dirty now. Fine. I’d been worse.
I held my breath and inched along the wall. The entrance stood five or six feet to my right, within my grasp. With a bit of luck, I could slip out before the creeping thugs reached my car.
A low shape broke away from one of the goons and headed straight for me with disconcerting clicks. Great. They’d brought one of the dogs. Though I couldn’t make out features in the gloom, its build suggested Rottweiler—and its strut suggested human flesh was its favorite meal.
I’d never been bit by a dog during a gig, but they always found me fast. This one was no exception. He padded to within two feet of me and sat down like I’d promised him a snack. His mouth drew back in what looked like a smile. My, vicious animal, what big teeth you have. Please don’t bark.
The dog licked his lips a few times. And barked.
It was more of a sneeze, actually—but it sounded louder than a marching band in a tin can. Had the thugs heard that? Not daring to move, I scanned the building, convinced they could hear my eyeballs rotating in my skull. The idling sedan’s headlights revealed just enough detail to count heads. One, two, three...
Something hard and cold pressed against my temple. I sighed. Four.
Thanks a lot, dog.
“Hey, Skids. How’s it hangin’?”
A hand made of gristle and steel clamped on my upper arm. I caught a whiff of sour perspiration and cigarette breath when he said, “Going somewhere, Donatti?”
“Yeah. With you.”
“You’re a smart monkey.” Skids jerked me toward the entrance and thrust me into the glare of the headlights. The semi-automatic trained on my head looked like a cap gun in Skids’ meaty paw. “Unload.”
“Come on, man. I need this shit. Gotta earn a living—”
The gun drifted lower. “Unload, or I ventilate your thigh.”
“Fine.” I emptied my pockets, dropping items one by one on the ground with deliberate slowness. As if buying time would improve the situation. Even with an hour to spare, I couldn’t come up with a way out of this. The other three wandered back toward the car and collected the dog, grinning the universal gotcha smiles of thugs everywhere. “I’m gonna get my junk back, right?”
“Doubt it. You won’t be needing any of this. Unless you’ve got Trevor’s item jammed up your ass.” If Skids was amused, his cold features didn’t betray the emotion. “Care to explain what in the hell you were thinking, Donatti? We know you had it. Who'd you fence it to?”
I added the last of the cash to the pile at my feet and glowered at Skids. “I’m not explaining jack to you. Trevor wants to know, I’ll tell him.”
“You’ll have an easier time if you tell me. Trevor wants to hurt you. Extensively. I’ll just shoot you now and get it over with.”
“I’ll take my chances, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Skids gestured with the semi. His free hand produced a key fob with a fat plastic tag. He aimed at the car, pushed a button, and the trunk popped open. “First class is full. You get to ride coach.”
“Lucky me.” I moved as slowly as I dared, figuring I had two options: climb in the trunk, or run. If I picked the trunk, I’d have to tell Trevor I lost the score. Not that I knew why the bastard wanted the thing in the first place. Taking the trunk meant being taken to Trevor, where I’d be tortured to death.
And if I ran, I’d be shot. Great options.
I concentrated on the exit. To the right of the crumbling drive leading into the place, a few lone trees provided scant cover opportunities. I could run hard to the left, hope the hint of forest in that direction thickened fast. I’d probably take a bullet before I got out of range—if I got out of range—but Skids wouldn’t shoot to kill. At least, not the first time.
Left it was, then. I tensed, slowed to a crawl. And stopped when a long, low shape streaked across the entrance from right to left, impossibly fast, and disappeared. Was it the wolf I’d heard out here earlier? I blinked and glanced at Skids, wondering if he’d seen it—or if I was just losing the few remaining ounces of sanity I possessed.
Skids displayed no reaction. His expression remained immutable. “Get in there.”
I shook my head. Must have been a panic-induced hallucination. I stood in front of the open trunk, poised to climb inside. Drew a breath. And ran.
Gunfire snapped immediately. I lurched aside, hoping for a graze instead of penetration. I heard a faint, wet p
op as a bullet met flesh, but felt no pain, no weakness. I kept moving. Where had he hit me?
An unfamiliar voice rang out. “That hurt.”
I misplaced a foot, stumbled, and went down with a grunt. Rolling onto my back, I located the source of the voice and froze. A tall stranger in a long, weather-beaten duster stood between me and Skids. The bullet had torn through the stranger’s calf. Blood pooled on the cracked asphalt beneath him, thick and black in the red wash of the car’s tail lights, but the stranger showed no signed of distress. He seemed . . . insulted.
Skids didn’t waste words. He shot the stranger in the chest.
The stranger glanced down at the massive wound. Blood practically poured from a two-inch hole in his ribs, and the torn flesh revealed a glimpse of bone. He glared at Skids. “I said that hurt, blast you. Do not do it again.”
The fear skittering like June-bugs through my stomach reflected in Skids’ eyes. The gun shook in the thug’s hand. He fired again. And again. The second time, the gun exploded—and took Skids’ hand with it.
Skids howled. He didn’t sound at all like a wolf.
The stranger pointed at me. “I need him.” The disgust edging his tone indicated whatever this guy wanted, it wouldn’t be in my best interests. “Tell your master that Gavyn Donatti is mine. He is not to harm him.”
Outright terror struck when my name left the stranger’s lips. “How the fuck—”
“Be silent, thief.” The stranger whirled to face me, eyes flashing pure hatred. “Unbelievably stupid . . . if I had no need of you, I would kill you myself.”
Car doors slammed in rapid sequence. I stared past my bulletproof savior and saw the last thug dive into the back seat. The engine revved. The vehicle lurched back, executed a rapid single-point turn and peeled away. I watched them go, too shocked to react.
I should have taken the trunk.
MASTER OF NONE
* * *
Available everywhere books are sold
MASTER AND APPRENTICE
Chapter 1
They tell me flying is safer than driving. Every day, millions of people take to the skies and fail to crash and die. Maybe that’s true when flying involves spending hours being delayed in an airport, eating bad airline food, and hoping the person who bought the seat next to yours has showered some time in the past week. Maybe it’s safer being surrounded by an experienced, professional pilot and crew, a bunch of lifesaving devices, and decades of engineering precision.
But when flying means riding piggyback on an airborne djinn who isn’t very good at it, and who might be cranky enough not to notice—or care—if you fall off and drop a thousand feet to your death, it’s safer to swim in a pool full of hungry sharks. When I fly, nobody offers me peanuts or a watered-down drink. I don’t even get a lousy seatbelt.
Lucky me.
“Ian, we’ve been up here an hour,” I shouted. “Where’s this damned cave?”
“Close.”
“You said that the last three times I asked.”
“Then stop asking, thief.”
“You’re lost, aren’t you?”
I felt him tense beneath me. “I am not lost.”
“Bullshit.” We were definitely lost. And even if we weren’t both guys, we couldn’t exactly ask for directions. There wasn’t anyone else flying around the open skies above the Appalachians in Virginia right now. I didn’t bother opening my eyes to see if I could help. Every damned mountain looked the same to me. “You sure this is the right area?”
“Yes. Now be silent. I am attempting to scry.”
“Great,” I muttered. Scrying was basically remote viewing, a mental camera that could travel anywhere and focus on anything magical. A nice trick to know—and yet another type of magic Ian wasn’t good at, and I couldn’t do at all. Ian’s wife, Akila, usually did the scrying for us to find our targets, since it was one of her clan’s strengths. We were never going to find the thing on our own. “Maybe we should land before you try that.”
“Donatti.”
“Fine. Shutting up.” I’d give it a few more minutes before I complained again. My arms ached from the awkward grip across Ian’s chest, and my cramped body begged for a stretch. At least we hadn’t flown all the way here from upstate New York. We had a hotel room in some little village further down the mountain, and when we finished this, we’d use the mirror there to get home the same way we’d come down.
If we finished this at all.
My gut clenched, and not from airsickness this time. We’d dragged out here to kill another Morai. For the past year, I’d been helping Ian hunt down and destroy the snake clan, the djinn responsible for wiping out the Dehbei—his clan. Well, our clan, I guess, since technically he was my great-great-great-you-get-the-idea grandfather. But I was mostly human, and there were at least ten generations between Ian and me.
I didn’t like killing. I assumed the Morai didn’t like being killed. But they were vicious bastards, and Ian’s revenge became mine when their clan leader had tried to take out him, Akila, me, and my woman and son. We’d destroyed Lenka, and had been tracking the rest ever since.
Ian assured me that after this one, we only had 78 or so more left. At the rate we were going, I figured I’d probably be ancient and drooling in my oatmeal when we caught the last one. If I lived that long.
“There you are, snake.” Ian spoke softly, but I heard him just fine. The venom in his voice would’ve transcended a tornado. Louder, he said, “We are landing now. Hold tight.”
“Like I’m not doing that already.” Still, I shifted and locked my hands together. I felt him slowing, losing height, and finally we landed with a dull thud. I opened my eyes to make sure there was ground beneath us, then let go and stumbled back a few steps while my legs remembered how to stand. “There’s gotta be a better way to travel,” I said. “Any suggestions?”
He ignored me. I would’ve been insulted, but I was used to that from him.
I let out a sigh and scanned the area. This was just about the summit of the mountain. In front of us, a jagged opening in the rock face revealed a deep cavern, dappled with sunlight that streamed through what I assumed were holes in the ceiling, and fading to black beyond. Cool, dank air wafted from the mouth of the cave like an ancient breath. Anything could be hiding in that patchwork of light and shadow.
With my luck, it’d be something with teeth.
It actually took me a few seconds to find Ian again. Nature wasn’t my element, but he blended right in. As always, his clothing was earth-toned, dirt brown everything—boots, pants, vest, no shirt. He hated shirts. The leather duster he always wore, no matter the temperature, had rumpled a bit during the flight. Standing perfectly still, staring into the cave with coiled bloodlust in his eyes, he looked every inch the predator he was. A wolf ready to strike.
I cleared my throat. “Maybe we should wait a while before we go in there.”
Ian’s black-ringed eyes narrowed, and his lean features drew into a scowl. “Are you afraid, thief?”
“Ex-thief,” I said automatically. “I’m retired, remember? And no, I’m not scared. Unless there’s bears. But my point is, you’ve been flying forever, and you scryed too. You can’t have much juice left.” Djinn magic drained when they used it in the human realm, and it took time to recharge. “I won’t be able to save us if things go wrong.”
Ian snorted. “This one is still sealed inside his tether. Nothing will go wrong.”
“Those sound suspiciously like famous last words to me.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” I shook my head. Once he decided on something, that was what’d better happen. We were going in. The great Ian had spoken. “Look, when we’re through here, do you think you could show me a couple of useful spells? I can do the invisible thing, and turn knives into different knives. I’ve got mirror bridges and tether destruction down. But that’s it. I can’t defend myself against these guys, and I’m human. Unlike you, I’ll die.”
So
mething that resembled surprise eased over his face during my rant. “I have told you, he is sealed. And djinn cannot kill humans.”
“No, but they can cause death to happen. And they aren’t all going to be sealed.”
Ian frowned. “We will discuss this later.”
“Yeah. Sure we will.” I knew a dismissal when I heard it. With a scowl of my own, I crossed my arms and nodded toward the cave. “Confident assholes first.”
He looked like he’d say something else. Instead, he gave a careful shrug and walked inside.
I gave it a few seconds and followed. Wasn’t quite as pissed as I made out, but I was getting a little tired of feeling like a fourth-rate lackey. We’d gone into some nasty fights with the Morai over the past year, and my little handful of pathetic tricks never prevented me from coming out banged up and bloody. Ian or Akila always healed me afterward, but there had to be a way to avoid the pain in the first place.
A quick glance around revealed rocks and more rocks. “Remind me what we’re looking for again,” I said.
“It is a bracelet.” Ian stirred a pile of stones with a foot and avoided looking at me. “Thick, tapered. Likely gold.”
“Got it.” I moved toward the left-hand wall, where the most light came in. Ian had the senses of a wolf, and could see in the dark. I couldn’t. The thought strengthened my resolve to push the issue of learning more magic after we killed this guy.
Snake, I told myself. Not guy. I had to think of them as snakes pretending to be human-ish—it was the only way I could go through with destroying them. I didn’t believe in murder. At least if Ian was right, this time would be a little easier. I’d only see the tether.
The Getaway Page 6