Hammer of Darkness (Veil Knights Book 8)

by Rowan Casey

  “A sorceress is more what you’re probably thinking of, though I guess, admittedly, the terms are pretty generic. A sorceress may, or may not, make pacts with demonic beings, but mostly they study occult knowledge. This knowledge lets them cast spells, or appear to cast spells, conjure glamour’s, create illusions, yada, yada, yada.”

  “What do witches do then?”

  “You saw for yourself. Male or female, they went down to a crossroads and made a deal with a devil.”

  “The devil?”

  “Not sure, if I’m being honest. Yes, you can make a deals with fallen Seraphim, but I’ve always found the idea of an archangel working crossroads a bit unlikely. In exchange for their allegiance. Or performing a task, or even, I guess, their soul, they’re given power.

  “Almost always the super assassin sort of shit; see better in the dark, increased strength, circus acrobat agility, the whole nine yards. Oddly, at least from my experience, fame and riches aren’t as common as you might think. Now, political power…” I trailed off, surveying my work. “A witch can be male or female, it’s the pact that defines them.”

  “You seem to be taking this all in stride.”

  “Not my first rodeo.”

  “I don’t believe any of this,” he said. “You know that, right?”

  “Sure,” I nodded, finishing off the tourniquet. “They were just kiddy-hookers on PCP.”

  “Seems more likely than witches with demon powers.”

  “You know none of this can go in your report,” I said.

  He looked disgusted. “Yeah.”

  I tried my cell again. It was working. “Your phone should work now,” I said. “That murderous little bitch is gone, I think.”

  He pulled out his phone. He’d have help here in a matter of short minutes. An officer down in the Narrows call looked like the Marines rolling into Kuwait City during the first Gulf War. The distant wail of sirens made me nervous, mostly out of habit, but also because I didn’t want to waste my time with paperwork.

  “How you feeling?” I asked.

  He scowled, obviously in pain. “I’m fine,” he said. Then he surprised me. “SFPD was looking for the girl, too,” he said. “Evelyn.”

  “Sure,” I said. “On orders from District Supervisor Fallows.”

  “Yeah, but the precinct captains were dragging their feet.”

  He had my interest now. Dissension in the ranks? This was interesting. Fallows didn’t tolerate disobedience. He was about as merciful as a medieval warlord.

  “Why is that?”

  He looked away. “Davis said it was because they’re afraid of finding something.”

  “You know somebody they like for it?”

  “There was a person of interest,” he admitted. “I heard as soon as the detectives started sniffing around, the precinct captain shit canned the investigation.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Does the Lady in Black mean anything to you?”

  I let out a long, low whistle. What I really felt like doing was jumping up and down in frustrated rage while cursing in a frenzy. I kept my voice even. “I recognize it.”

  He gave a short, sharp laugh. Like a seal barking, then he winced in pain. “Yeah, so did my captain. Must be one impressive bitch if he’s willing to cross Fallows by dragging his feet.”

  “Fallows has a long reach, but shadows run deep down in the Narrows and the Old Religion reaches farther up into city politics than most are willing to admit.”

  He looked at me, shocked. “Are you serious? You’re saying there’s motherfucking devil worshipers in the city administration?”

  I shrugged and stood. The sirens grew close and I stepped back toward the alley. “It’s not as common as being Methodist, but it turns out religions revolving entirely around the glorification of the self are not totally unpopular in political circles.”

  “I owe you,” he said.

  “I’ll be seeing you.”

  I ducked down the alley and disappeared into the city.

  Chapter 10

  I found Cynthia in an upscale wine bar off Clement. She was with three women her own age and one much younger, maybe someone's daughter. The women's happy, warm laughter died as I walked up.

  "Hello, Cynthia," I said. I kept my voice quiet. I didn't want to startle her or seem threatening, at least not yet.

  "Berk," she said, clearly exasperated. "What do you want with me now?"

  Her friends, and I'm only being partly bitchy when I call them her coven, stared at me like I was something they'd just scrapped off their shoe.

  I pulled a chair from another table and sat down. Our eyes met. I didn't try and pretend I wasn't pissed. The murmur of conversation around us was simply background noise, the glares of her sisters meaningless to me. She and I were speaking to each other, isolating ourselves the way we'd been able to, for a while anyway. Up until I found her in bed with Kay.

  I slid Clarice's drawing across the table to her.

  "You're playing games with me," I said. "Kay's life is in the balance."

  She looked at the sigil and drew her mouth into a flat, thin line.

  "Chaos Magick is de jour," she scoffed. "You're going to find that runic glyph inked in with all the other tribal tattoos on every internet wizard wannabe." Her retinue laughed in support. After Euryale and the cortège, it sounded like hens clucking.

  "Or," I said. "And I'm just throwing this out there for shits and giggles, I could find it etched into brick walls down in the Narrows as ward and warning, and then have it drawn on a napkin, sorta kinda like that one there, by a fifteen-year-old prostitute capable of bringing down three grown men, absorbing half a magazine of geas rune nine millimeter slugs, and then jumping over tall buildings in a single bound to get away." I smiled. "As a for instance."

  Her coven wasn't laughing now. The youngest one looked pissed, but the rest seemed nervous.

  Cynthia turned the napkin over. "You have a real sense of showmanship, Berk," she said. "But if we're being honest, then I think you understand I'm not in Dante Grimm's camp. I don't follow the intrusive, paternalistic, and condescendingly artificial orders of the Merlin any more than I do to your mansplaining bullshit right now. I am a creature of the feminine mystique, I follow a Sapphic pathway to the Mother, and if I have an allegiance of any kind, which I don’t, it would be sympathetic to le Vey."

  "Yes, yes, we all just love Mists of Avalon to death, so empowering,” I shot right back. “But Grimm and LaVey are in accordance in the matter of the Veil." I said. But in my heart I knew LaVey was mostly only ever in accordance with LaVey. I also knew that the working relationship between she and Grimm happened above my pay grade. Down on street level, things played out differently. Just because LaVey had a dialog with Grimm did not mean I, and her servants, or subjects, or disciples, were hand in glove.

  "You gave Kay a name," I said. "A name you didn't tell me. So tell me."

  "Bullshit, I gave you the name you needed," she said. "I think you already know where Fallows was getting his information. You want to follow this lead, you'll need the leave of the Lady in Black," Cynthia smiled at me. "And we know what her price for a boon is. I think you've paid it before."

  I felt my jaw tighten as my teeth ground together.

  "Why?"

  "Because the place you want isn't on this side of the Veil. And the only crossing is deep in the heart of the cortège. Why do you think Fallows fed Kay to her?"

  "That's where you sent her? Nice to know I'm not the only ex you're hard on." The younger woman stiffened as if slapped. I was upset and frustrated so I felt like being a dick. I turned to her, "What? You didn't know that when Cynthia says 'Sapphic path' she doesn't mean exclusively."

  She made to stand up and Cynthia put a restraining hand on her arm. “Maria,” she said in a quiet tone.

  The woman reddened and turned away. The other hens made clucking sounds of disapproval. I knew it was a petty move, but I did it to upset Cynthia. And Cynthia? She had it
coming. Kay and I had been what Kay and I were, nothing more. But she'd been honorable, and brave, tough and capable as they came. A small part of me wondered when I'd given up and started referring to her in the past tense.

  "I did my best to warn Kay off. I warned her what being Grimm's handmaiden would get her. She was stubborn."

  I rose. "Yeah, aren't we all," I said.

  She didn't look upset to see me go.

  Outside, I waited for my Uber. San Francisco was the same enigma it'd always been, at least for me. I could move here, operate here, I had history. But some doors are hard to open, some circles hard to enter.

  My phone rang. I didn't recognize the number but I answered it.

  "Go," I said.

  "Do you recognize my voice?" a male voice asked,

  "Nope."

  "We share an association with a certain young lady you recently entertained at your domicile.”

  Fallows. He’d given Kay to Euryale to cover his tracks or open a door. Or both. Or it was Erica. Or them both. I admit that part I wasn’t entirely clear on, not yet. But I knew, no matter what, I didn’t like this prick.

  "Ahh," I said. "Honestly, I didn't expect to hear from you."

  "I imagine not."

  "You have my attention," I said.

  "Good," he said. "Then let me get right to the point. Despite whatever our mutual friend might have suggested, I do not need your help."

  "I'm not really doing anything to help you," I said.

  "Don't I know it," he chuckled. He didn't sound amused. "But the decision to bring you into this was ill advised and I'm trying to head off any potential conflict in an amicable fashion."

  "Amicable is good," I said. It’s way too late for it, but it’s good, I thought.

  "Agreed. I know how persuasive she can be. You can only imagine the benefits a for a practicing antiquarian of sharing their bed with a matriarch of the left hand."

  I gripped my phone so tight I heard the plastic creak. "This is starting to feel less amicable," I pointed out.

  He ignored the warning. "So I can count on you not rattling anymore cages?"

  "Oh, I'm sort of a bull in a China shop to be honest. Shit gets rattled even when I'm tip-toeing."

  "Then perhaps you could cease all activity relating to this matter then?"

  "I'm just getting started," I said. “And if Kay’s been harmed cocksucker, kiss everything you know and love good bye. It will all burn.”

  “Don’t threaten m— “he began.

  I hung up.

  Obviously Erica's new beau wasn't done with me. Things were looking quite like crap all the way around. And now, now I had to go make a deal with a devil.

  Chapter 11

  The night was deep by the time I made it to the club. I knew there was going to be an after-hours scene, and Euryale would be right in the middle of it. A real gregarious extrovert, that one. What's a queen without a court?

  I hit the door in an ugly mood. The doorman was having nothing to do with me. The thing splashing under the grate no longer seemed concerned with subtly.

  "Password," that basso profundo said.

  "It's like deja vu all over again," I said.

  "You're not welcome here," he growled.

  "That's not your call ass monkey." I growled right back. "In keeping with the Reconciliation, I ask to speak with Euryale in the name of the Merlin."

  Grimm was good for name dropping purposes. Need into an exclusive restaurant in Vegas or LA? Use his name. Ditto your various cannibal monster enclaves. Beings of the Veil were creatures of transaction, of barter, of deals. The Reconciliation was an old agreement in San Francisco, there since the Great Fire and put in place to stop the chaotic bloodshed that ruled before it was enacted.

  There was silence from beyond the door. Beneath the grate serpentine coils slithered and splashed. Then the sound of the heavy bolt drawing back. The door, made to withstand a battering ram or direct hit by a RPG, swung open. I stepped forward like I wasn't worried, which was an overly optimistic sense of how I actually felt. I didn't feel any better when the door slammed shut behind me.

  I paused for a moment, sensing the doorman looming behind me, his hate rolling off him in undulating waves. "Feeling froggy?" I asked. "Then leap."

  He didn't answer and I moved past the curtain and back into the club for the second time.

  Just like the doorman, who followed at a discrete but obvious distance, the crowd made no pretense at normalcy this time. This deep into the night, past closing time, the place became a cross between Hellfire Club orgy and Mayan sacrifice ceremony. Sitting above them all, goddess upon her terrestrial throne, perched Euryale.

  She watched me cross the floor, the smell of flowing blood filling my nostrils in a coppery bouquet. I stopped in front of her great chair atop the stage. At the foot of the pedestal the cold Valkyrie of a bartender looked at me. She was naked, the slopes of her magnificent breasts painted red with the blood of the two willing supplicants, twins, brother and sister, lying, also naked, at her feet.

  She grinned, revealing a bloody maw with teeth like needles and broken glass. The siblings looked up at me with glazed eyes and the petulant looks of teacher’s pets. I ignored them and turned to Euryale, who regarded me with something like smug satisfaction. Or maybe hunger. She alone, besides the doorman, was not drenched in blood.

  I knew she was an enthusiastic feeder, so for now it seemed she'd satiated herself through voyeuristic means.

  "You have invoked the Reconciliation, envoy," she said. "Protocol is now required."

  I kept my face neutral. The situation was changed. I was here officially in Grimm's name, not as an acquaintance of our eternal Lady in Black, Euryale the vampire lordess. I could demand audience where before I could be denied, but now procedure and protocol were what protected me. Break those and I was dead, to the fey and other Veil-breed, justifiably so. There would be no smart ass remarks from me. Life had changed. Hautdesert, knight of the green, seneschal of the Merlin, was here as a diplomatic envoy.

  I bowed my head and took a knee. My pride was not hurt. I’m a lawyer, I know how to behave in courts. Even courts where the law dripped in the blood of innocents as the cortège did.

  "Contessa," I said. "By your leave?"

  "You may speak," she said. She was getting off on this.

  "I know you were not permitted to speak earlier by Concord of Transaction. I know to whom you exchanged vows."

  She seemed almost pleased I’d found out. "Go on."

  "In the name of the Merlin I ask for passage across the Veil and for the return of Kay should she be alive. While your bargain for rite of passage is a strong accord with, you know that in the name of the Reconciliation, the Merlin makes claim to the woman as his vassal. My knowledge renders your vow of silence moot."

  "And of passage through the Veil?" She seemed amused. "Using my doorway has nothing to do with the Reconciliation."

  "That I myself bargain for. Name your price, lady."

  There. I'd said it. God have mercy on my soul. “What is it going to take?” I asked. “What do you want?”

  Euryale smiled her vampire lordess smile, fangs down and glistening wetly. Cold jets of adrenaline bled into my stomach.

  “Why, Berk,” she mocked. Her tongue ran across her lip in a delicate, sensual motion. “I want what I always want.”

  I closed my eyes and all around me the court erupted into laughter, cold, cruel, inhuman laughter, dark beyond the ken of man. Laughter that sent our ancestors cowering deep in their caves eons ago. Stark, alien laughter that echoed off the walls and rolled over me in a Greek chorus of malfeasance.

  I opened my eyes. She looked at me, her icy gaze glittering as she stared. So much as a master can love a slave, she loved me.

  “I accept,” I said. “But not here.”

  “This seems the perfect place,” she said. “It’s sort of its raison d’etre.”

  “I need assurances,” I said. “Your influence is strong
over your brood, your feeding could easily send them into a blood frenzy. I’ve already lived through one of those tonight. Let me have this small concession. My location, and I want Kay there.”

  “I’m going to have to punish you for bargaining with me after the deal has been agreed,” she warned.

  I swallowed. “Just bring Kay. You know where I’m at in the Narrows.”

  “Oh,” she said, voice husky. “I know.”

  Chapter 12

  After returning to my place in the Narrows I didn’t have to wait long.

  Euryale showed up soon enough, with Kay. She walked in carrying the woman like a sack of laundry over her shoulder and dumped her to the floor. I’d missed Kay, I realized. Seeing her brought a lump to my throat.

  She was a warrior, mind to marrow, but she looked brittle and frail. She’d been worked over well and now, still tied naked, bound and gagged, she seemed utterly vulnerable. I hated Euryale for what she’d done to such a courageous individual. But then I hated Euryale for a lot of things.

  Kay looked back, her eyes slits behind a mask of bruises. Kay was not a knight. She had none of our gifts. She was simply an investigator who had proven herself extremely talented and capable in the past. She understood the Veil and its dangers and had earned Dante’s trust as well as mine. She was paying a price for it now. I nodded to her then turned back to Euryale.

  The vampire moved around me, eyeing me like beef. She’d fed some (off Kay I knew, as an insult) and she was warm, her color high. Her touch was death. But seduction was a predatory ability in succubae. My eyes roamed over her figure as she moved, looking of their own accord. I felt myself coming alive in my groin.

  It was a sickening feeling, arousal against your will, but still arousal. My body betrayed me in the face of her elemental intensity. She stepped in close and my nostrils widened, taking in her scent like a wolf after a bitch in heat. I stood very still as her fingers began working my buttons.