by Alex P. Berg
I think it recognized me.
I turned my back to the door and pulled one of the fire bombs and matches from my jacket. “I’m going out there.”
“Are you crazy?” said Steele. “You saw what happened to our officer, right?”
Rodgers knelt behind Shay, a look of fear pitting his face. “You don’t need to be a hero, Daggers…”
I struck a match against the side of the box. Nothing. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m out here doing my job, same as everyone else.”
“Nobody else has a death wish!” said Steele.
I struck another match. Still nothing. “I don’t have a death wish. But we have a duty to defend the city. To serve and protect against all forces that would seek to do harm to the citizens of New Welwic. All forces. Right now, Markeville is the least of my worries. It’s that elemental we need to stop. It’ll tear the city apart if we don’t stop it, and call me crazy, but I think that’s exactly what Markeville wants. But the quickest way to it is through him.”
“You want to kill him?” said Rodgers. “Knock him out? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Fine. Let’s grab a crossbow from downstairs. I’m a decent enough shot. I can pick him off from here.”
The wind roared behind me. I struck another match. It caught.
I lit the cocktail’s wick, which took quickly thanks to the brandy that soaked it. “You saw what the wind did to Djorkert. It can push a crossbow bolt out of Markeville’s path if it wants to. But the spirit is scared of me. I can see it in its face, which means I can take him.”
“Daggers, please…” Shay’s face was wet, but only partly because of the driving rain.
“Do you trust me?” I said.
“Of course.”
I leaned in and kissed her, a quick peck on the lips. “This won’t take long. Promise.”
I plucked a second cocktail from my coat and lit it with the first, then turned toward the door. The wind roared by, swirling before coming to a stop ten paces beyond the exit.
I stepped into the squall with more confidence than I’d thought I could muster. The wind bellowed and blew, but it didn’t push me off my feet.
I took aim at a spot immediately underneath the wind spirit’s hovering face, threw my bomb, and prayed. It flew true, enveloping the face in a gout of flame that licked hungrily up into the sky.
The wind whipped around the fire, the elemental’s face flying with it. The thing’s mouth widened, and the wind slowed.
I pulled the last bottle from my coat, lit it, and tossed the second. The flames engulfed the spirit’s face again. It shrieked, a more high-pitched sound than I’d heard earlier, and it shifted toward the building’s lip. I followed it with my third and final cocktail. The flames licked the edge of the building, and the face shot into the darkness with a panicked whine.
The bright lights of the explosions only now seemed to register with Markeville. He turned as I started to run toward him, calling out through the whipping winds.
“You don’t know when to quit, do you Daggers? Don’t you know when you’re outclassed? Outmatched? Out—”
I hit him at full speed, planting both of my hands square in his chest and pushing with all my might. He flew backward, his arms flailing as he toppled over the edge of the building. His scream cut through the shrieking winds, fading as he plummeted toward the ground.
“Gods, that asshole doesn’t know when to shut up.” I brushed my hands on my pants, hearing another shout somewhere on the wings of the wind.
I turned, wondering what I’d forgotten. That’s when I spotted the makeshift crane and remembered that the mayor was dangling sixteen stories in the air.
40
The wind picked up behind me, and I stopped in my tracks. I turned, wondering why I hadn’t ever considered what might happen once Markeville died. I’d assumed the elemental would flit away, that the winds would die, the clouds would break, and the stars of the night sky would shine down on me like the smiles of ten thousand thankful gods. But what if I was wrong? What if I’d set free a power only one man had figured out a way to control, a power that could blow the entire city to its foundation in a fit of rage, all before the magical Smarties could come to contain it?
Those thoughts and more raced through my mind as the winds whipped and swirled and cried out. With a surge, the air pushed against me like a wall. It forced me onto my bottom with a thud. But it wasn’t the elemental that flowed over the edge of the roof, ready to pick me up and cast me into the eternal abyss.
It was Markeville, born through the air on invisible wings. He landed lightly a few paces in front of me.
I blinked and stared. “How… How did you…?”
Markeville took a step toward me, his hands clenched tightly in fists. “You know, Detective Daggers, I’m finding it irksome that for all the expense they’ve cost me and for all of their power, neither of my pets have been either able or willing to kill you.”
I stumbled to my feet, forcing down my fear. “Incapacitate me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You said you didn’t want to kill me. Not yet, anyway. Stands to reason you wouldn’t demand it of your pets. That doesn’t explain why you sent your basilisk after me, but in retrospect, you didn’t know the ghost in the smoke at the theater was me, did you? And I can only assume you wanted to scare me back at my apartment, not petrify me. What happened? Your pet elemental get too feisty? It blew me out my window before you got a chance to confront me and gloat?”
He leveled a finger at me, the same way a serial killer might threaten a man with a knife. “You angered me at the theater, you know, but I can appreciate it now. Your ability to suppress fear with my pet bearing down on you. You’re a lot like me in that regard.”
“What are you spouting on about, Markeville? I’m nothing like you. You’re a twisted, power-hungry freak.”
“Twisted, perhaps,” he said. “But power hungry? Only in the same way as you. We both respect the power of fear. We’re able to harness it. Use it. That’s how you tricked my elemental. I can see that now, as you can surely see I didn’t kill anyone—the gang leaders, the district attorney, your police chief—out of spite. I don’t dangle the mayor from a harness over a hundred and fifty foot drop out of malice, or push a cyclone into the streets for the sheer joy of it. I do it for the power. The power that fear provides.”
“Sorry to break it to you, but the chief’s alive,” I said. “And you’re wrong. Fear doesn’t grant you power. It only takes it away from others. I don’t use fear as a weapon. I extinguish it.”
I imagine Markeville had quite a speech planned for me, probably to tell me about the love lost between him and his father, his days as a youth being tormented by classmates, the sick pleasures he got out of retaliation, how he’d grown to realize the irrational impact of terror, how Shay’s and my actions with the Wyverns had irked him but only provided a minor roadblock in his power-mad quest to bring the city to its knees.
I surprised him by not giving a shit.
I lunged at Markeville while he was still focused on the remains of his evil monologue. I sailed a punch at his face, but the man ducked and wove out of the way. I followed it with a kick and another punch, both of which he avoided. Apparently, that was enough to piss him off. He stepped into me as I jabbed, landing a hard blow to my ribs.
I grunted but managed to trap his arm under my own. We spun about, each of us throwing punches with our free hands, him using his attacks to free himself while I hung on for dear life, landing short, choppy punches and elbows to his shoulders and chest. The wind swirled around us, whipping rain and debris in a tight circle inches outside our radius, but whether because of fear of me or of hurting Markeville, it refused to interfere.
With a wrench, Markeville pulled free, but I dove on him, wrapping him up by the legs. He kicked at me, hitting me on the forehead and then on the mouth. A sting rocked my lips as my teeth cut into them, and I tasted hot blood.
<
br /> The blows loosened my grip. Markeville pulled away, though I ripped a shoe from his foot in the process. He stumbled to his feet a few paces away, his chest heaving from exertion and his eyes wild with anger.
I spat, my saliva tinged red, and stood, facing off again. Somewhere past Markeville I caught a glimpse of Rodgers in the stairwell. Was he waving at me? “What’s wrong, Markeville? Don’t like your chances against me? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
Markeville laughed again. “Scared of you? Why would I be?”
“I’m stronger, faster, and smarter than you. Without your henchmen and your beasts and the wind at your back, you’re nothing.”
The man cocked his head. “Not faster, surely. And perhaps you’ve noticed, but it’s not as if I have to take the stairs to get away.”
I coiled my legs underneath me, ready to dart after him. “Try me.”
Markeville smiled. “I’d rather not. Besides, you’re going to be too busy to catch me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you’re predictable, Detective.”
Markeville’s eyes narrowed in focus, and another lightning bolt rent the sky. It hit somewhere behind me, overwhelming me with bright white light and ear-splitting sound. I didn’t want to glance over my shoulder to see what destruction it had wrought. I didn’t want to take my eyes of Markeville, but he was right. I couldn’t help myself. I was predictable.
And then I realized that wasn’t what he’d meant. The makeshift crane dangling the mayor over the edge of the building creaked and groaned, a smoldering black mark spread across its base. A wooden gear at the bottom shuddered and slipped, the spring-loaded finger holding it back crumpled and bent.
I took off toward the crane at a dead sprint. The finger cracked and snapped. The gear flew into a spin, taking with it the length of rope coiled at its side.
I dove and latched onto the rope with barely ten feet of it left in the coil, but the mayor’s momentum refused to cooperate. The rope slipped in my grip, burning my palms and sending knives of pain lancing through my injured hand. I held on anyway.
It wasn’t enough. My feet slipped on the wet concrete. I went down as the rope slipped free of the mangled ratchet system. I skidded across the roof, holding on with everything I was worth as the mayor’s weight yanked me toward the edge.
The homunculus inside me who manned my panic button mashed it frantically, but I refused to give in. Twisting my body, I swiveled my feet in front of me with a foot and a half to spare. I dug in my heels and braced for impact as the soles of my boots hit the roof’s lip. My muscles cried out and cursed my impudence as we made landing. The rope slipped another foot in my hands before I stopped its forward motion. I heard a crack and a twang, and somewhere over the roar of the winds, another panicked scream.
“See, Detective?”
I glanced at Markeville. He stood where I’d last seen him, a smug grin spread across his face. “Told you. Too predictable. See you around, Detective—assuming the storm doesn’t kill you. My pet isn’t fully in control of it, you understand.”
I grunted, my legs straining against the edge under the combined weight of the mayor and whatever contraption they’d strapped him into. It was then I realized Markeville had won. There wasn’t anything I could fasten the rope to. I was lucky to have sunk my feet into the roof’s lip for support, and though I could probably drag the mayor up to safety—slowly, given the excruciating state of my left hand—I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Not from here. Not by myself. None of us would if he could float away on an invisible cushion of compacted wind.
I’d failed. Markeville knew it. That’s why he laughed, that same haunting killer clown laugh he’d burst forth with in the mayor’s penthouse. He laughed as the wind swirled at the edges of the roof, his evil eyes belying the forced humor in his voice.
And than I saw her. Shay, racing toward him from the open door.
I chill ran down my spine, and I cried out. “Shay, NO!” But the wind tore the words from my mouth, casting them into the darkness and rain. Just as they’d cast her over the edge.
I guessed I’d be safe because I’d driven the wind elemental back, because I’d scared it with fire and because I’d do it again with gouts of flame from my handcrafted bombs. But Shay hadn’t done any of that, and I hadn’t made myself clear. I’d simply told her to trust me.
Maybe the elemental had been distracted by my plight, or Markeville’s preoccupation with me bought her some time. She almost made it—but almost only counts in darts and drunken love making.
The wind picked up as she closed on him. He turned and whipped an arm at her, as if directing the elemental’s fury in her direction. The wind lifted her off her feet. She reached out, grasping at Markeville’s arm for purchase, but her hands slipped off his wrist, and the wind carried her up.
And Markeville with her. He cried out as the wind lifted him, too. The pair hovered for a moment, suspended in the air, lashed by winds and rain, and then I saw it. A glint of metal, stretched between Steele’s and Markeville’s outstretched arms. Handcuffs. Shay’d cuffed herself to him, tying her fate to his own.
Or at least to an extent. A rope trailed her from the waist into the stairwell, stretched taut by the wind’s efforts to take her.
Markeville shrieked. The wind set them back down. The madman dove at my partner, but she was ready. Another metallic flash gleamed in her free hand. One of the knives from the brutes downstairs.
Markeville howled as it bit into his side. Steele pulled back for another stab, but Markeville used her cuffing trick against her. He pulled her in using their tethered wrists, catching her free hand in his fist. He swept his legs underneath hers, and the pair crashed to the concrete, Markeville on top.
Cold dread poured through me, nothing at all like the panic I’d faced with the decision to save the mayor or capture Markeville. This was far worse. Now a new choice bared its yellowed, rotten teeth. A choice between lives. The mayor’s or Steele’s.
I grunted and strained, straightening my legs. The rope moved with me, but it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t drag the mayor to safety. Not in time to save them both.
Markeville slammed Shay’s blade hand against the concrete roof. The blade clattered to the side, and his hands shot to her throat. His eyes widened into saucers of hate, his teeth a snarling vice as he squeezed.
The mayor’s screams drifted over the edge of the roof, high-pitched and frantic. I tried to let go of the rope, tried to force my aching hands apart, but they wouldn’t budge. His death would be on my hands. I’d have made the choice. Me, and no one else.
Then Markeville stiffened. His face froze, and blood seeped from between his teeth. Steele wasted no time, slamming her palms into his chest. He toppled, falling face first to the concrete at Shay’s side. A feathered bolt protruded from his back, over his left side a few inches down from his shoulder blades. A perfect shot to the heart.
Behind him, crouched in the stairwell, Rodgers tossed his crossbow to the ground and darted toward Shay. He made it halfway before the wind started to weep.
41
It began as a soulful dirge, a reedy song filled with sorrow. It whistled through the wind, coming from before me and behind me, over the edges of the roof and down in the black ink below, from everywhere all at the same time. The elemental face I’d seen raced through the rain and darkness, its features wide, stretched either by pain, sadness, or ecstasy.
The face blurred as it circled me three times in quick succession. I felt the winds strengthen with each of its passes. The reedy whistle grew in intensity, focusing into a dangerous whine.
I cried out to the others. “Rodgers! Steele! Get down!”
They’d felt it, too, the swirling winds growing stronger and pushing in. Rodgers dove to the ground, latching onto Steele’s tether.
I didn’t have any such luxury. With the rope still clutched between my aching hands, I flattened my back against the co
ncrete, willed as much strength into my legs as I could, and said a prayer.
I’d never been the religious sort, but this time I meant it.
The wind swirled, pushing harder and harder, whipping faster and faster. The whine turned into a shriek and the shriek into an apocalyptic roar. The winds tore at my clothes. My jacket’s hem slapped back and forth, battering me with blows. The wind pulled at the rope, forced itself into the crevices at my back. Beside me, the remains of the crane groaned, creaked, and pulled free, disintegrating into pieces as the winds blew them off the edge of the roof and into the night.
I closed my eyes and pressed harder into the concrete underneath me, picturing myself as a pancake or a slug or a puddle of molasses. The rope strained in my hands. My muscles screamed. Maybe I did, too. I didn’t want to die. Not with so much of my life ahead of me. Not at the hands of a degenerate like Markeville. And I certainly didn’t want to die knowing Shay awaited the same fate as me.
I’d do anything for her. Anything.
My body lifted off the concrete. Air fluttered the clothes at my back, and I knew it was over. But as suddenly as I’d been lifted, I fell.
I smacked back into the roof, my head spinning as it bounced. With a deafening roar, the winds abandoned me. I cracked my eyes. In the distance, I saw the face, stretching and fading as it careened toward the heavens, taking the anger of the winds with it.
I twisted my neck toward Rodgers and Steele. They were still there, hobbling to their knees. Somehow they’d made it, too. I’d been too scared to look. The rope had held tight, I guess.
As I gawked, my own rope slipped. I clenched with all my remaining strength. My forearms burned with exertion, and I heard the mayor scream. “Guys? A little help?”
Rodgers stumbled to his feet and ran over. I think Shay would’ve too if she hadn’t still been tied at the waist and shackled to Markeville’s corpse.