City of Secrets (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 5)

by Sonya Bateman

  He went down, and I slammed his knife hand against the stone ground. The weapon fell from his fingers. He twisted sharply, throwing me off balance, and drove a fist into my jaw.

  With a roar of outrage, I grabbed his blade and slashed him open.

  I pushed off, panting, and glanced wildly around. Frost was on top of one, stabbing him repeatedly in the stomach. Sadie had her fangs sunken into the throat of a twitching acolyte. Taeral punched one with his metal arm, driving his fist into the naked chest and splintering bones. Donatti had two caught in conical towers of rock, their slit throats pouring blood down the sides like erupting volcanoes. And Ian had one in each outstretched arm as he crushed their windpipes.

  I spotted an unengaged acolyte and ran for him.

  “Enough!”

  The hollow word came from Zee.

  And just like that, I could neither move, nor speak.

  CHAPTER 45

  I felt strangely calm about dying, but only for a few seconds. Because then I remembered everyone who would die after the six of us, and I wasn’t so calm anymore. Abe. The Boscos and their fosters. Viv Cavanaugh. Alice the morgue security guard. Even Detective Thompson, who I no longer hated for dating Viv.

  Everyone in New York. Everyone in the world.

  I knew everyone else had been frozen and silenced, too. And from past experience, I knew damned well there was nothing we could do about it. Our only choice was to wait and see whether Zee felt like killing us right now.

  Considering he’d already given the order, that was a distinct possibility.

  Zee rose from his throne. Literally. He floated in the air above and just ahead of the stone jaguar, about eight feet up, and the remaining acolytes scurried to attend him. I counted five of them, including the jaguar priest.

  It gave me a small, savage thrill. We’d come so damned close.

  “I still fail to understand why you’d want to stop me.” Zee had morphed from angry god to petulant child in the space of seconds. “Why save the humans? Do you not see what they’ve done?” He shook his head. “Petty, wasteful, violent creatures, all of them. And so loud. The noise they make, the constant noise. It’s maddening.”

  If I was heartless and insane, that would’ve almost made sense.

  Zee gave a deep sigh. “Just look what you’ve done to my acolytes,” he said. “Now, you have all earned the right to die by my hand. All except my brother, of course.”

  He gestured. I couldn’t turn enough to see the rest of them, but after a few seconds, Ian floated up to join him. He was spattered with blood, stippled with bruises — and there was absolutely nothing in his expression that suggested joining Zee for a nice, relaxing float had been his idea.

  “You, I respect,” Zee said. “I would hear you, brother.”

  Ian contorted in midair and let out a gasp. “You have no respect,” he ground out. “For me, or for life. And I have not been, nor will I ever be, your brother.”

  “Be silent! You ARE my brother!” Another gesture silenced Ian again. Zee was almost crying now, with shining eyes and trembling lips. “After all these years, your song is such a relief,” he said. “I will hear it echo through the paradise I create. And you will see how wonderful everything is, even if I must force you to see it.”

  Dread hollowed a pit in my stomach. Whatever happened from here forward, it was going to include pain for Ian.

  Zee turned away from his floating captive to address the rest of us. “I will leave you now,” he said. “I must replenish my acolytes, and prepare to make examples of you all. The world will witness its fate through your glorious deaths.” He grinned his hideous smile. “Won’t that be fun, my worthy sacrifices?”

  Obviously, he didn’t expect an answer.

  Zee clapped his hands. Behind him, a huge square of light formed from nothing and hardened into gleaming chrome. Like a mirror. The remaining acolytes walked into the light without hesitation.

  Giggling like a child, Zee grabbed Ian’s hand and pulled him along through the magic mirror. And it vanished behind them.

  At least the spell that imprisoned us broke when Zee left. That was about the only good thing I could say about what just happened. Even escaping with our lives was bad news at this point, since it only meant we were going to die slowly. And soon.

  Donatti let out a horrible, wounded cry and dropped, slamming a fist into the ground. Chunks of stone flew from the impact. A jagged crack raced along the platform, straight for Zee’s throne.

  The throne exploded into rubble.

  Jaw clenched tight, Donatti straightened with eyes of pure ice. “We have to get him back,” he said. “Now.”

  “We will,” Taeral said roughly. “But we’ve no idea where he’s gone now. If Zee is gathering more acolytes, he is likely in hiding.”

  “I don’t give a fuck! He wants to hide, we’ll seek his twisted ass!”

  “Maybe he’s not hiding.” I waited until Donatti looked at me. “He said the world will witness its fate through us. He’ll need a very public place for that,” I said. “One that’s close.”

  Sadie let out a snarl. “Great. It’s not like all of Manhattan is basically a public place.”

  “I can contact my people.” Frost sounded completely shaken, but determined. “If he’s out there in the open, they’ll be able to find—”

  Donatti’s agonized scream cut her off. He stumbled and abruptly dropped, his arms crossed tightly over his stomach, and knelt there shivering.

  “What happened?” I nearly shouted as I rushed over to him.

  “Not me. Ian,” he ground out. “Feels like … blood is burning. All of it. Fuck.”

  The soul bond. He’d said when this happened, they could see through each other’s eyes.

  Horrible as it was, maybe we could find Ian like this.

  “Can you see anything?” I said.

  Donatti’s eyes opened, but they weren’t focused on anything. “Stone walls,” he rasped. “Corridors. There’s a … bronze carving. A gryphon? Arched windows. Balcony, I think. And a big—”

  Whatever he planned to say, it was lost in another drawn-out cry. He curled into himself, every muscle straining, and finally relaxed with a gasping cough.

  “Can’t see anymore.” He struggled to rise, and I helped him to his feet. “He kicked me out. Stubborn bastard. But … it was a castle,” he said. “Goddamn it. Wherever they are, they’re in an actual castle.”

  “Shit! Are there even any castles in New York?” Sadie said.

  “Yes, there are.” In fact, there happened to be one in the middle of the place where all the awful things in my life tended to happen. “Could you see anything through the windows?” I asked Donatti.

  He closed his eyes. “Some. There was a whole bunch of trees, most with the leaves off. Think there was a lake in there somewhere. And … buildings?” He looked up and nodded. “Yeah, big buildings. All around the trees.” He paused. “That’s backwards, isn’t it? Usually the trees are outside the buildings.”

  “Yeah, not so much in this city,” I said. “That’s Belvedere Castle. In Central Park.”

  And if Zee really planned to kill us there, he’d get every bit of attention he wanted.

  CHAPTER 46

  Every minute we spent getting out of the Hive and back to the city was an eternity. Especially for Donatti. The whole process took far too long — walking the subtunnels, riding the subway, a cramped cab to the park — and Donatti suffered at least five more agonizing phantom attacks along the way.

  If I didn’t know Ian was immortal, I would’ve assumed he was dead by now. And in reality, he probably wished he was.

  I knew something was very wrong the instant we reached Central Park. Four in the morning, in the middle of winter, and there were people everywhere. They were standing in groups, walking slowly, or in some places practically streaming. All in the general direction of Belvedere Castle.

  The harsh whap of a low-flying helicopter buzzed overhead. I glanced up, thinking
it was a police chopper. But there was a local news station logo emblazoned on the side of the craft.

  That was much worse.

  “We have to hurry,” I said. “And I need to make a call.” The five of us were already half-jogging, threading through the bizarre and spotty crowds. No one looked twice at us.

  I got my phone out and called Abe.

  He answered in half a ring. “Oh, good,” he said. “You’re still alive.”

  “Yeah. What the hell’s going on in Central Park?” I mostly knew, but I wanted to hear what the rest of the world thought. Abe was the fastest way to do that.

  “Christ, you’re there?” he said. “Some psycho with freak-ball eyes is holding hostages at Belvedere Castle.”

  I couldn’t even make the appropriate shocked noise. “And?” I said. “What’s being done about it?”

  “Why do I get the feeling you already knew about this?” Abe practically groaned. “Well, kid, they’re doing pretty much nothing. No one can get near the place. The psycho’s standing on the balcony, making some crazy speech. It’s all over the news.”

  Damn. That’s what I was afraid of. “How did the media get hold of this at four in the morning?” I said, skirting around a slow-moving cluster of people.

  “From what I’m hearing, this nut job called them up personally and said he was holding a press conference. With live executions.”

  Okay. I’d figure out how the hell Zee got his hands on a phone, and news outlet phone numbers, later. Much later.

  After a pause, Abe said, “You happen to know who he’s planning to execute?”

  Yeah. Me. No way I’d say that to Abe. “Listen, that’s the killer,” I said. “The blood-draining, heart-ripping one. Abe, you have to clear out the park. Right now. All these people here … ” I shivered mid-jog. “If they stay, they’re going to die.”

  “You think I’m not trying?” Abe’s voice was heavy with anguished frustration. “The goddamned chief refuses to pull any other precincts,” he said. “I’ve got maybe two dozen guys there. They need help, and they’re not getting any.”

  Someone tugged on my arm. I glanced aside and saw Frost keeping pace with me. “What’s he saying?”

  “Hang on,” I said to Abe, and moved the phone aside. “The chief’s not cooperating,” I told her. “Won’t give him any more manpower than he’s got.”

  Frost snatched the phone away from me.

  “Hey! What—”

  “Captain Strauss?” she said into the phone, completely ignoring my protest. “Special Agent Frost, NSA. Get your people ready to move. I’m calling the commissioner right now.”

  My admiration for her shot up a few notches. I decided to let her talk.

  “Yes, that’s right. I know,” she said. “No, I’m not going to arrest him.” She smiled at me.

  Thanks, I mouthed at her, and gave her a thumbs-up.

  She nodded. “All right,” she said into the phone. “Give me five minutes.” Then she cut the call and wiggled the phone at me. “May I?”

  “Go for it.”

  She was pretty much dialing before I agreed.

  After maybe ten seconds, she said, “Commissioner Slade. No, now. NSA clearance code alpha-echo-two-two-one.” A pause. “Thank you.”

  “What is she doing?”

  Donatti’s voice beside me made me flinch. “Calling the police commissioner,” I said.

  “Holy shit. She can do that?”

  “Looks like.”

  “Commissioner, this is Special Agent Frost. Yes, that one.” She narrowed her eyes at me and Donatti. “We need Central Park cleared of civilians, and your chief is not cooperating.” After a beat, she flashed an exasperated frown. “Subject has gone public,” she said. “This is a full-blown Code Blue situation. Yes, I’m serious. Thank you.”

  She hung up and handed my phone back. “They’re on the way.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Can I have your clearance code?”

  Her smile temporarily banished everything else. “No, you can’t. Let’s move.”

  Somehow, we managed to pick up the pace.

  CHAPTER 47

  By the time we could see the castle — the real one, not our repurposed hotel — the sound of sirens filled the air. Enough flashing lights were converging on Central Park to send the winter-bare trees into an illusion of motion as shadows and light flickered through the jagged limbs.

  Belvedere Castle rose above an angular outcropping of rock, four connected sections increasing in height from the courtyard and pavilion on the right, to a wide single-story section where the entrance stood. A smaller, two story square pressed against it, and finally at the left, a grand turret tower. A large pond at the base of the rock formation glinted beneath the moonlight, and a few fringes of dried brown grasses clung to the low wire fence separating the pond from the lawn.

  Several hundred people stood on the expanse of grass that rambled away below the castle in a widening wedge. They weren’t moving or speaking, but there was no magic involved. They were struck with sheer astonishment at the sight before them — something even New Yorkers had never seen before.

  Zee stood on the balcony above the two-story section in the space between two turrets, still dressed in ceremonial glory, and very clearly not human. The jaguar priest had taken position on his left. To his right was a bloodied, barely conscious figure tied to a thick wooden pole. Ian.

  Two news helicopters circled the structure, loud metal vultures with electronic eyes projecting the spectacle to the world.

  I could hear Zee easily over the choppers. His words were loud, clear, and animated with an almost religious fervor. But they made absolutely no sense, and for a minute I couldn’t even figure out why.

  I turned to Donatti. “That’s not even English, is it?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s the djinn language.”

  “What’s he saying?”

  A dark look came over him. “You don’t want to know.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” I scanned the silent crowd with increasing frustration. “We have to get up there,” I said. “Should we just shove through all these people, or…”

  Zee was still droning on, seemingly oblivious, when both helicopters veered suddenly and took off, heading away from the part in opposite directions.

  He stopped talking. Anger infused the lines of his body as he glared at the skies.

  At that moment, the cavalry arrived.

  Police streamed into the clearing from three directions. Some in uniform, others in SWAT gear. The crowd shook itself awake and started filtering away from the castle while the cops urged them to move along.

  Zee loosed a frustrated bellow that practically shook the ground. A few people seemed to react to that with wide eyes and a slightly hurried pace.

  But they weren’t moving fast enough.

  I looked around and saw Frost talking to one of the SWAT guys, obviously explaining through gestures that we were exempt from being herded out. Donatti was right next to me, and Taeral and Sadie stood a few feet away.

  As the crowd thinned, Zee finally spotted us. And he obviously wasn’t going to invite us in for tea.

  “So, you found me already,” he boomed out across the pond. “Very well. We’ll take care of this now. I have not yet gathered new acolytes, so I’ll simply supply myself with these stupid sheep who’ve come for the promise of bloodshed.”

  The cops reacted with a burst of activity. A few shouted into megaphones for Zee to stand down. More gathered in groups and huddled together, obviously planning how they’d take down the terrorist.

  And there were still people in the clearing. Dozens, maybe as many as a hundred.

  “Get them out of here!” I shouted. “Everyone!”

  A few cops glanced my way. One of them with a megaphone started toward me. But Frost grabbed him, pulled him aside and flashed her badge. She spoke a few angry words I couldn’t hear.

  He handed her the megaphone.

  “Officers
! This operation is an NSA classified situation.” She held her badge over her head and waved it around. “Commissioner Slade’s orders are to clear this park of all civilians and NYPD personnel. That means you as well, ladies and gentlemen. Now, everyone out.”

  Finally, the exiting tide moved a little faster.

  The pace increased even more when Zee’s soul-shriveling laughter washed over the park. “You truly believe that walking away will save your worthless lives?” he thundered. “You will taste your end here and now, and spread the fear of my coming to every corner of this world!”

  He said something to the jaguar priest, who turned and walked into the castle. Then he threw his arms out and started lifting them slowly, the way he had when he yanked all the blood out of Gilmore.

  Jaw set, Donatti turned toward the moving crowd. “You people need to run, goddamn it!” he shouted.

  A few did. But most of them continued their exodus reluctantly.

  The danger wouldn’t be immediate enough until someone exploded in a cloud of blood.

  Sadie seized Taeral’s arm and pointed to a pair of fat pigeons bobbing around on the lawn, oblivious to the crowds. “Remember Chinese New Year on Fifth Avenue?” she said breathlessly.

  He started to frown, but a sarcastic smile replaced it. “Aye, I do,” he said. “We caused quite the panic, didn’t we?”

  I would’ve asked what they were talking about, but Taeral seemed about to demonstrate. He held his metal arm out toward the pigeons. The runes carved into it blazed with light, and the pigeons started getting bigger. And changing shape.

  Within seconds, two snarling white tigers stood where the birds had been. They loosed identical roars and dashed past us, headed for the knots of people.

  Suddenly, there was a lot of screaming and running.

  “Holy shit.” Donatti stared slack-jawed after the tigers. “You can transform animals?”

  Taeral lifted one shoulder. “It is merely a glamour,” he said. “The birds will believe they are tigers until it wears off, but they’ll not be able to harm anyone greatly. Though some of these people may find themselves confused, should a tiger attempt to peck their ankles.”