Alex Verus 5: Hidden

by Benedict Jacka

  “His lab. He went in after he got back from the party.”

  “What’s he working on?”

  “I don’t know. Doesn’t tell us about research. Stays in there for days. Doesn’t tell us why.”

  Ji-yeong was watching me closely, holding very still. I couldn’t sense any deception, and from the futures it looked as though she was going to cooperate, at least for now. Blood was dripping from my chin; that last slash had scored along my cheek. I brushed it off, leaving a messy red streak along my hand. “Crystal found us. How?”

  “A focus. Time magic. She didn’t—”

  “Where in the keep is she taking Anne?”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Bullshit. Maybe Crystal didn’t trust you with her plans, but you’re smart and bored and you just told me you had nothing better to do than figure out what they were up to. Give me your best guess.”

  Ji-yeong hesitated. I twitched the sword again. “All right,” she said. “Wait. The sub-basement.”

  “Where?”

  “The northeast corner. There’s a backup—Sagash used it, for experiments, before he moved up to the second floor. It’s got the most defences.”

  “What kind?”

  “Shadows. Fixed attack wards. And barriers, and locks.”

  And Crystal and Darren and Sam behind them. I felt a sinking feeling. I couldn’t get through that.

  I looked down at Ji-yeong. I don’t know what she saw in my face, but it made her flinch. Her cuts had all stopped bleeding and she was breathing smoothly again, but she couldn’t move, not yet. “Who else is in the keep?”

  “I don’t know about anyone else. I swear.”

  “Are we going to have any more trouble?”

  Ji-yeong hesitated. “No?” she said at last. She sounded as though she was hoping very hard that was the right answer.

  I looked down at Ji-yeong a second longer, then turned and ran, heading towards the stairs up and the long winding path that would take me back up to the castle.

  | | | | | | | | |

  I kept running until I found an empty building, then hid in the shadows and path-walked, sending my future self racing back the way I’d come.

  Nothing. The windmill was empty. I couldn’t find any trace of Crystal or Anne, and Darren and Sam were gone as well. The skies above the castle were clear. Everything I could find confirmed what Ji-yeong had already told me: They were back in the keep.

  Fear and worry nagged at me but I pushed them back, trying to focus. Crystal had Anne. What was she going to do with her?

  She’d want to use her in her ritual, the same one that Vitus Aubuchon had been midway through when we’d stopped him the last time. I didn’t know what details Crystal might have added or changed, but I was absolutely sure that it would end with Anne’s death.

  How fast would Crystal do it?

  I had the ugly suspicion that it would be soon. So far, Crystal had kept this whole scheme a secret from Sagash. Doing all this right under Sagash’s nose in his own shadow realm could not have been easy. No matter how good Crystal was at double-dealing, she’d want to finish this quickly, before Sagash caught her out.

  And that meant I didn’t have long. Hours, maybe.

  What was I going to do?

  I paced, walking back and forth in the shadows. My bruises from the fight still ached, and pain pulsed from the shallow gash along my face. I could fight my way into the keep, try to break Anne out. It was the classical heroic thing to do, and it was pretty much guaranteed to fail. If I was strong enough to take them all on by myself, Anne wouldn’t have been captured in the first place.

  I could sneak in. Bypass the shadows, find Anne . . . except that finding Anne would also mean finding Crystal. All that would achieve would be to start a fight in the heart of Sagash’s fortress. And again, inevitably, I’d lose.

  I made a sound of frustration, putting a hand to my forehead. No matter how I weighed the odds, I couldn’t see how I could win this. On one side was me, and maybe Anne if I could find her. On the other side was Crystal, Sagash, Sagash’s apprentices, Sagash’s constructs, and God only knew what else. This was his place of power, where he was strongest.

  I could try to call in help from the Council. This was exactly the proof that Sonder had been looking for, and if I could get the message out that Crystal was here, then the Keepers would force their way into this castle if they had to burn down the whole shadow realm to do it. But to get a message out, and convince the Keepers I was telling the truth, and have them get in here . . . even if I could do it, it would take too long. By the time the Keepers arrived Crystal would be gone, and Anne would be dead. If I wanted to help her I’d have to do it myself.

  But how?

  Maybe I was looking at this the wrong way. I couldn’t beat Sagash and Crystal with brute force, but that’s not what I’m good at anyway. What did I have going for me?

  Knowledge. I knew that Crystal had been behind all this from the beginning. She must have been watching Anne, using her pawns to operate at a distance, staying hidden away in Sagash’s shadow realm where she was safe. The last time Crystal had done this, she’d abducted targets from the Light apprentice program, and she’d drawn the Council’s anger. She’d learnt from her mistakes; this time she’d waited until Anne was out of the program and alone.

  But she hadn’t done it with Sagash’s help. If Sagash had bent his full power towards capturing Anne, he could have done it faster and better. Crystal would have known that, yet she’d kept it secret from him.

  She wouldn’t have done that without a reason . . . and I had a suspicion of what that reason might be. The technique Crystal and Vitus Aubuchon had worked out had never been designed for sharing. Crystal might have some sort of research agreement with Sagash, but she wanted to keep the rewards to herself.

  Sagash probably wouldn’t be too happy about that.

  Maybe I didn’t need to break Anne out. Maybe I just needed to break in.

  I walked out of the shadows to the doorway, where the sunlight painted a yellow-gold box on the stone, then knelt on the floor and started going through my pockets. I could probably find an entry to the keep with just my divination given time, but time was something I didn’t have—I needed to get in, and fast. What did I have that would help?

  I was still carrying Ji-yeong’s shortsword. It looked like a low-power dispelling focus, probably designed to cut through energy shields like Darren’s and Sam’s. It hadn’t been much use against my armour, but it should work fairly well against the shadows. I set it to one side.

  My dispelling and stun focuses I set aside without a second glance. Glitterdust, ditto. Two forcewalls, two condensers, a healing salve . . . I should patch up that slash, the bleeding would be annoying. I unscrewed the jar and smeared the paste along my cheek where Ji-yeong’s blade had cut me; it stung and itched. I closed the jar and went back to searching.

  Combat knife, microlight, picks, my phone, Darren’s phone. I went to the pocket with my other one-shots. Signaller. Flash flare. Three gate stones. Pouch filled with . . . dispersion dust? Why do I even carry this stuff? Trail pouch. Probes. Alabaster cat—how did that get there? That’s right, I’d stuck it in my pocket while talking to Luna a few days ago. Designed to summon cats, but it worked on dogs . . .

  . . . would it work on other canines too?

  I stared down at the little alabaster figurine, looking into the future to see what would happen if I used it. Minutes stretched out. Nothing . . . There! A flash of excitement went through me and I focused on the figurine, channelling my magic through it.

  Calling an intelligent creature is harder than calling an animal. A summoning focus doesn’t have the power to compel; the most it can do is send an invitation. I kept the flow of magic to a thread, a gentle suggestion, and waited.

  Five minutes passed, ten. I stayed sitt
ing on the stone floor. After a while, I closed my eyes.

  The flicker of space magic came from my left, then to the right. A pause, then it came again, alternating between directions. The switches were irregular, unpredictable. I knew I was being watched and didn’t move, letting my observer get a good look. At last I spoke. “I’d like to make a deal.”

  No answer. I opened my eyes to see the blink fox half hidden behind one of the pieces of machinery. Hidden in the shadows, its reddish coat looked grey, and its pointed muzzle was tilted down to the stone. Amber eyes reflected the daylight back at me, sharp and watchful.

  I moved around to face it, keeping my motions slow and careful. The fox tracked my movements, unblinking. “I know you can understand me,” I said. “I’m guessing you’re wondering if this is some sort of trap and I’m here to catch you. I’m not. I’m a mage from the outside world, from London . . . come to think of it, you might not know where London is. Never mind. Point is, I’m trying to get out of here, along with my friend, and I could use some help.”

  The fox didn’t respond. “I’m guessing you aren’t especially thrilled to be here,” I said. “Sagash’s apprentices want to catch you . . . or recatch you? Whichever, I’m sure there’s a reason you’re not hanging out with them. And I doubt this castle is all that nice a place to live. It’s kind of lonely and I imagine you get a bit sick of pigeons. If I get back outside, I could take you with me. Once you got through to the other side of the portal, you could blink off and go wherever you liked. Not like anyone could catch you, once you had space to run.”

  No answer. “So?” I said. “Interested?”

  The fox looked at me.

  “Is that a yes or a no? Help me out here.”

  Silence.

  “Okay, I know you can’t talk, but could you give me some kind of feedback? Bark once for yes, twice for no, that kind of thing?”

  The fox gave me a look.

  “Fine, no barking. All right, let’s try this another way . . . I’m guessing you’re at least a little interested in getting out of this shadow realm. If you’re not, then just walk off.”

  The fox turned its head towards the shadows, paused a moment, then turned back to me again.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Will you help me out?”

  No response.

  “What’s the problem—you don’t think you’re getting offered enough? Well, while we’re here there’s not much I can give you, but . . . I could give you a place to stay, if that’s what you’re looking for. Might even be able to help you find some others like you. You’re not the only blink fox out there.”

  Again the fox didn’t move, not obviously, but something about its posture looked a little more alert. “So what do you say?” I asked.

  There was a pause, then the fox trotted forward, emerging from the shadows and into the light. It moved with the trotting, doglike-catlike gait of city foxes, agile and quick. Now that I could see it clearly I was surprised at how big it was. Orange-red fur covered its back and sides, becoming dusty towards the haunches; the ears, legs, and tail were black with reddish patches, and splashes of white covered its throat, undermuzzle, and tail tip. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could make out a few traces of blood in the white fur of its throat. It sat, tail curled around its feet, and watched me.

  “So, I’m Alex Verus,” I said. “Want to shake paws?”

  The fox gave me a look.

  “Just offering. Okay. I need to get into the central keep.”

  The fox gave a sharp exhale-sneeze and gave its head a quick shake.

  “I know it’s not exactly a safe plan. I’m kind of short on options.”

  The fox looked in the direction of the front gate.

  “Wouldn’t work, there’s a squad of shadows guarding it. Besides, I’m not just looking out for myself. I need to get my friend out too.”

  Head tilt.

  “She’s a human mage, female. You saw her a couple of days ago. She’s Sagash’s enemy as well.”

  Tail flick, another look towards the gates.

  “No, I’m not leaving her behind. I promised I’d help get you out, remember? Same goes for her. I don’t leave people behind if I can help it.”

  The fox tilted its head, seemed to be thinking about it, then twitched its ears.

  “So like I said, I need to get into the keep. Can you get me in?”

  The fox seemed to consider for a moment, then blinked.

  “Is that a yes?”

  Blink.

  “One for yes, two for no, right?”

  Blink blink.

  “Wait, what?”

  The fox let its tongue pant out. It looked like it was grinning.

  “A blink fox who’s a troll. Great.” I stood up, wincing a little at the stiffness in my muscles. The fox watched but didn’t jump back. “You ready to go?”

  I set out southwest towards the keep. The fox trotted behind at a distance.

  | | | | | | | | |

  I spent most of the trip thinking about Richard.

  It had been more than ten years since I’d seen Richard in the flesh, but it felt like less. Last year I’d made a couple of ill-advised trips to Elsewhere, viewing the past through Rachel’s eyes. It had been there that I’d learnt why Richard had vanished all those years ago—he’d used a blood sacrifice to open a gateway to another world. Leaving Rachel in charge of his estate, he’d disappeared . . . until now.

  Why had he come back? I didn’t even know enough to make an educated guess. I’d never really understood Richard—what he wanted, what kind of person he was, what his ambitions were. The ease with which he’d been able to find the two of us had shaken me. If he’d wanted us dead or captured, he could have done it without lifting a finger.

  But he hadn’t. He’d offered us a chance to join him, and walked away. Why?

  No matter how I thought about it, the only answer that made any sense was that he’d meant it. He really had been offering us the opportunity to join his team. And when we’d said no, he’d let us go . . . leaving the door open for the future.

  His last words had been next time. Richard could be a lot of things, but one thing I’d never known him to be was inefficient. If he did something, it was for a reason. And that meant that he thought next time, I might say yes.

  The thought of that was so terrifying that I almost didn’t want to get out of the castle. Crystal was dangerous, Sagash was deadly, but both of them put together didn’t scare me even half as much as Richard did. Crystal was a known quantity—she was a plotter and I wasn’t going to underestimate her, but I’d beaten her once before. And while Sagash might be pretty terrifying in his inhuman way, he didn’t have much reason to notice me. Richard did.

  And then there was the lurking fear underneath: that Richard’s offer had been our only way out. That by saying no, I’d guaranteed that neither of us would get out alive. The plan I had in mind was very dicey. If it didn’t work, then my choice to turn Richard down might end up being the biggest mistake I’d ever made . . . and one of the last.

  Well, at least if I get killed doing this I won’t have to deal with Richard afterwards. That’s a plus.

  I’d make a really bad suicide counsellor.

  I shook it off and kept walking. One way or another, this would be over soon.

  chapter 11

  Sagash’s keep looked even more intimidating up close. Black walls stretched up to the sky, battlements topped the towers, and small arrow-slit windows peeked out over nearby courtyards. The main entrance was a small inset door. Looking at the keep from here, the out-of-place feeling was stronger. The rest of the castle might be ancient, but it was cohesive. The keep didn’t fit; it felt darker, colder. Two shadows stood guard outside.

  A quiet whine made me turn aside from where I was crouching, overlooking the front gate. The fox looked towards the ga
te, looked back at me, and blinked twice. “I’m not even thinking about it,” I said. “Even if I got past the shadows, they’d see me coming.”

  The fox trotted a few steps away, then looked back at me again. “That way? Okay . . .”

  The fox led me down some steps, around the corner of a building, through a ground-floor window into a room filled with wooden crates, and to a dark stairwell leading down. It trotted down two steps and then looked back, amber eyes shining out of the blackness. I followed it down.

  The steps led down into tunnels. It looked as if it had once been some sort of sewer, but the tunnels were bone dry and covered in dust. The fox led me left and right and left, winding back and forth, and before long I’d lost all sense of direction. The tunnels were pitch-black and I used my torch to navigate, freeing up my divination magic to try and map out the maze. The fox led the way, slipping through narrow passages, pausing at intersections for me to catch up. Twice I had to squeeze through gaps that were roomy for a fox but only just big enough for a human, the second of which had been caused by a very unstable-looking rockfall. I held my breath the whole way through.

  At last the fox led me to a solid wooden door, dark brown in the glow from my torch. I tried the handle; it didn’t open and I inspected the keyhole. “Looks like it’s locked”—I glanced down at the fox—“not that you care. Is it bolted or barred?”

  The fox seemed to think about this for a second, then winked out in a flicker of space magic. A few seconds later it reappeared, then blinked twice.

  “All right.” I set to work with my picks. Lockpicking isn’t a specialty of mine, but I keep my hand in. The lock was stiff, but its design was old and simple, and after a few minutes there was a scraping sound and a click.

  The door opened into an ancient storeroom. It didn’t look very different from the tunnels, but I knew I was getting close. A ladder led upwards, and I could feel the presence of a gate ward above.

  I closed the door without locking it. This time the fox didn’t move ahead, staying by the door. “I know,” I said. “You don’t want to go into the gate ward.”