Cloak Games: Shadow Jump

by Jonathan Moeller

  I walked to the window, climbed up one of the metal shelves so I could see, and flipped open the cheap binoculars. Through them I looked across the street and I saw Boccand sitting at the bar, watching the soccer game on one of the big TVs. I wondered how much of a bribe it had taken to get the bartender to switch the channel to soccer. On the other hand, I suppose there weren’t many American sports playing in December. Basketball, maybe?

  I dropped away from the window and pulled on a ski mask and goggles. The mask had a foam-padded plastic cup to cover the face and mouth, and combined with the goggles it did an excellent job of concealing my features. I faced the anchor and drew the stun gun in my right hand, my finger resting upon the trigger. With my will I reached out and gripped the latent Seal of Shadows upon the floor, preparing to activate it, the stun gun trained on the anchor resting in the center of the invisible Seal. In my left hand I lifted the second burner phone. I tapped out the number of the first burner phone and hit the CALL button.

  I waited.

  The phone started ringing. I counted the rings, resisting the temptation to look over my shoulder at the sports bar. If this was going to work, I needed split-second timing. I set the phone on the shelf behind me, keeping the stun gun trained on the anchor, both hands settling around its grip.

  Three rings.

  Four rings.

  I wondered if I had made a mistake, if I hadn’t wired the phone to the blasting caps properly…

  Then I heard the noise.

  God, but it was even louder than I had expected.

  The noise of the firecrackers and the blasting caps going off was loud enough that I still heard it, even across the street and the cellar. In the enclosed space of the sports bar, it must have been thunderous. I watched the anchor, fingers tight against the stun gun’s grip. I realized I didn’t know what a completed shadowjump looked like. When Boccand had shadowjumped away from Castomyr’s vault, he had vanished in a flash of gray light and a swirl of dark smoke. Would it look the same from the other end? Or would he just appear out of nowhere?

  There was a flicker of gray light, and a blur of dark smoke, and Armand Boccand appeared next to his anchor, his eyes wide, his breathing rapid with surprise.

  Everything happened very fast.

  Boccand stumbled, looking around with astonishment, and his eyes fell upon me. As he did, I focused my will upon the Seal of Shadows.

  It blazed to life beneath us, a symbol of harsh blue light written upon the gritty concrete floor, throwing stark shadows across the metal shelves. Boccand staggered, shielding his eyes, and he lifted his hand, light gathering around his fingers. The Seal of Shadows would keep him from shadowjumping, but it wouldn’t stop him from working other spells.

  So I shot him with the stun gun. The needles burst from the end of the weapon, the wires unspooling, and a faint buzz came from the weapon. Boccand let out a strangled gasp, his eyes widening, and he stumbled and fell, his hip bouncing off his anchor as he hit the floor.

  That looked like it hurt.

  I knelt at once, yanking out the zip ties as he thrashed, and I flipped him onto his back, tying his wrists and ankles together, and then tying the two together, leaving him hog-tied. I pushed him onto his back and straightened up. The needles had fallen out of the stun gun, and I shoved another cartridge into the weapon and pointed it at Boccand’s chest.

  Bit by bit the shock started to wear off, and Boccand’s eyes focused on me.

  “Got you,” I said in a quiet voice.

  Chapter 7: Blackmail

  It took Boccand a few minutes to get his breath back, but once he did, he started shouting.

  “What,” he bellowed, “the hell are you doing?”

  I started to answer, but he kept talking.

  “The meetup was supposed to be tomorrow,” he said. “I worked out all the details with Corbisher’s people. Did he change his mind? Did he just decide to kill me the way he murdered his father? Won’t do you any good. Kill me and you’ll never, ever find the damned thing. I’m the only one who knows where it is, and I’m the only one who can get it.”

  I stared at him in puzzlement…and then the truth hit me.

  He thought I was working for whoever had hired him to steal the tablet.

  This could come in handy.

  “The arrangement has changed,” I said, speaking in a gruff voice. Not that it mattered. The jacket fit well enough that he would know I was a woman, but I didn’t want him to recall the voice of “Anna Rastov”, though. “We know you were planning to double-cross us.”

  “I wasn’t!” said Boccand. “I did everything you told me to do. God knows Corbisher was explicit about what he’d do to Cecilia if I didn’t follow directions. I came straight here and I’ve been waiting for the exchange ever since.”

  “Then why do you have enough guns in your apartment to outfit an army?” I said.

  “Eh?” said Boccand, and he glanced to the side. “Oh, you have my anchor. I suppose that explains a lot. Why didn’t you just…”

  “Answer the question,” I said.

  He sighed. “Because of those damned anthrophages. You idiots think you can control them, but they’ll turn on you. I’ve seen the way they look at you lot, and they’d eat you all if they thought they could get away it. And God knows they have nastier friends, like the bloodrats and the skincasters.”

  “You think the anthrophages will come after you once the deal is done?” I said.

  “Of course they will, you moron!” said Boccand. “And I told Corbisher I trust him as far as I can throw one of his stupid billboards. If he wants the ritual tablet, he’ll get it, but only after I see Cecilia is safe and sound.”

  “Your lack of trust is a problem,” I said, my mind racing. Corbisher’s billboards? Did that mean Martin Corbisher himself was involved in this mess?

  “Trust? Obviously there is no trust!” said Boccand. “Are you blind? I’m a thief and you’re a bunch of damned Dark One cultists. Why on earth would we trust each other? I know the kind of things your sort gets up to.” There was anger in his voice now, and I saw the twitching as his hands moved beneath his back. “If you’ve even hurt Cecilia, then I swear you’ll never see that damned ritual tablet…”

  “Stop,” I said, gesturing with the stun gun.

  “I’m not doing anything,” said Boccand.

  “You’re summoning power for a spell,” I said. “You didn’t soil yourself the first time I zapped you, but you might not be so lucky the second time. Do you really want to press your luck? Those pants look expensive.”

  “Ah,” said Boccand. “You must be a wizard. Makes since, if you cast this Seal of Shadows yourself.” He grunted. “It’s a good Seal. Can’t shadowjump at all.”

  “Thanks very much,” I said, trying to think. Everything I needed was inside of Boccand’s head. All just had to get him to tell me where the tablet was, and then I could get back to Milwaukee and whatever was going on in Corbisher Tower ceased to be my problem. And I really wanted to get out of Minnesota, because Boccand had mentioned Corbisher, and I suspected that he meant Martin Corbisher himself.

  And that, in turn, meant that the wealthiest, most powerful man in Minnesota wanted to acquire a tablet dedicated to the Dark Ones.

  That couldn’t be good.

  “So what do you want?” said Boccand. “What is the point of all this? I’ve kept the terms of our deal. I’ve acquired the tablet. I’ve waited in that stupid overpriced apartment of Corbisher’s. I’ve waited for him to show up in person, and once I see that Cecilia is safe, I’ll tell you where the tablet is hidden. Yes, I bought all those weapons, but for God’s sake! You know what anthrophages are like. So why kidnap me like this?”

  “There has been a change of plans,” I said, trying to think up a compelling lie. I suppose I could shock him until he told me the truth, but if I tried to beat it out of him, he would see through the ruse. “You will tell me where the tablet is, and we will travel to its location. I will call th
e others, and they will bring Cecilia to us.”

  Boccand stared at her. “Why? That’s stupid. Why would Corbisher do that? He’s got his own private jet, for God’s sake. Half the Homeland Security units in Minnesota are on his payroll. Why send one woman to kidnap me and…”

  I saw him figure it out. Crap.

  “Wait,” he said. “You’re not with Corbisher, are you? You’re a freelancer. Oh, bloody hell. You figured out I took the ritual tablet, and you want to steal it before I hand it over to Corbisher.”

  I said nothing.

  “You need some advice,” said Boccand, “because you’re clearly an idiot to get involved in this. Run. Run as far as you can and as fast as you can, right now. You’re in over your head.”

  “Because Martin Corbisher is rich?” I said.

  “Because he worships bad things,” said Boccand, “and if you’re lucky, he’ll kill you. If you’re unlucky, he’ll feed you to the things he worships…”

  “Don’t patronize me,” I said. “I know what the Dark Ones are.” Actually, I didn’t, not really. I knew they existed in the Void beyond the Shadowlands, that they were malevolent and dangerous, but I didn’t know what they were.

  “Then why are you stupid enough to be here?” said Boccand. “If you know what the Dark Ones are, you should have run away. Unless…oh, hell. You’re with a rival cult, aren’t you?”

  “No,” I said. “You should tell me where the tablet is.”

  “Or what?” said Boccand. “You’ll kill me? Start cutting pieces off me? Whatever. If you aren’t a Dark One cultist, there’s nothing you’re willing do to me that will be as nasty as what they will do to me.” His voice shook a little, but he didn’t look away. “Or as nasty as what they’ll do to Cecilia. You’re just an independent trying to turn a quick pound…”

  “Dollar,” I said. “In the US it’s a quick dollar.”

  “Oh, dear, we’ve come to an impasse, haven’t we?” said Boccand. “If you kill me, I can’t tell you where the tablet is. You might be able to beat it out of me, but trust me when I say that it will take some time to confirm whatever I tell you, and if you really are an independent thief trying to snatch away a ritual tablet from a Dark One cult, then you don’t have any margin for error.”

  I stared at Boccand. Maybe I had underestimated him. I had thought him cocky and stupid, and while he may have been cocky and relied too much on his magic, he wasn’t stupid. He had figured out why I was here and what I wanted. I knew what I wanted – I wanted to get that stupid tablet so Morvilind would continue casting cure spells on Russell.

  But what did Armand Boccand want?

  The answer was obvious.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong,” I said. “Corbisher’s Dark One cult kidnapped your girlfriend. In exchange for her life, they wanted you to steal Lord Castomyr’s ritual tablet. But you think they’re going to screw you over, so you’ve been trying to prepare.”

  I knew I had guessed the truth when he glared at me. If I had been wrong, he would have gone along with me, adding on details to mislead me.

  “What do you know about anything?” said Boccand.

  “Because,” I said, “I know exactly how it feels to have a loved one used as leverage against you.”

  Boccand kept glaring. “What do you know about anything?”

  I decided to take a risk.

  “I know,” I said, reaching up and pulling off my cap and ski mask, “a bit more than you might think.”

  Boccand blinked. “You.”

  “Yep,” I said.

  Boccand stared at me for a while. “Okay. I concede that was properly dramatic.”

  I inclined my head. “Thank you.”

  “How…are you still alive?” said Boccand. He looked a little guilty. “I was sure Homeland Security was going to take you.”

  “I’m really good at what I do,” I said. “It took a little work, but I got away.”

  “Uh,” said Boccand. “I see. Uh. How did you find me? I was careful.”

  “No, you weren’t,” I said. “I’ve been following you for the last week. You spend all your time at your apartment, at the Gilded Bean, and that sports bar watching your soccer team. I thought you were an idiot, but I suppose you were waiting for Corbisher to make contact.”

  “No, I mean, how did you follow me to Minneapolis?” said Boccand. “I was sure I wasn’t followed.”

  I considered lying to him, or refusing to share the information, but I decided to take another risk. The situation reminded me of when I had met Riordan for the first time at Paul McCade’s mansion. We could have worked at cross-purposes, but instead we had cooperated, and that had saved our lives. Riordan had even become my sort-of boyfriend.

  Not that I wanted to repeat that particular result with Boccand.

  “This,” I said, drawing out the compass.

  Boccand blinked. “An aetherometer?”

  “A what?” I said.

  “An aetherometer,” said Boccand. “Measures the currents of arcane energy leaking into the local area from the Shadowlands.”

  “I…didn’t know that,” I said, feeling foolish. I had seen Boccand and Morvilind with big metal watches. At least I assumed they had been watches. Had they really been instruments for measuring magic? The thought had never crossed my mind. Evidently Morvilind had decided I had no need of the knowledge.

  “Really?” said Boccand. “You knew about the Dark Ones but you’ve never heard of an aetherometer? I know the Elves like to keep their secrets, but there are some appalling gaps in your education, dear.”

  “I know what a Seal of Shadows is, don’t I?” I snapped back.

  “Mmm,” said Boccand. “Good point. So if you have no idea what an aetherometer is, how did you find me with that one?”

  “It points at you,” I said. “Wherever you go. Evidently it was configured to do so.”

  Boccand blinked several times, fresh fear going over his face.

  “Oh, hell,” he said. “Hell, hell, hell. Bloody hell.”

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re one of Morvilind’s shadow agents,” said Boccand.

  I hadn’t expected him to deduce that I worked for Morvilind. That could be a problem. Morvilind hadn’t cared that Riordan knew I worked for him. He might take exception that Armand Boccand knew I worked for him.

  “I never would have guessed,” said Boccand. “Morvilind usually prefers to use men as his agents, not short girls.”

  “I guess he was short-handed when we met,” I said. I choose to overlook the wisecrack about my height. “How much do you know about Morvilind?”

  Boccand scowled. “Enough to know that demanding more money from him was a bad idea. He had me steal a book from a library in Germany, something from the fifteenth century…”

  “By chance was it called the Void Codex?” I said, remembering the book Riordan and I had found in Paul McCade’s secret temple.

  “No, it had some long German word for the name,” said Boccand. “Anyway, it turns out that the book is illegal and the Inquisition arrests anyone, human or Elf, with a copy. Because it was all illegal and such, I decided to extort some more money from Morvilind.”

  “And he didn’t kill you?” I said. “If anyone else tried to extort money from him, he would probably kill them on the spot.”

  Boccand smiled. “I took precautions. I bought a burner phone, composed an email to the Inquisition explaining what had happened, and I left it in a locker in the Milwaukee train station on a timer. If Morvilind killed me, he wouldn’t be able to stop the message. He was not happy, but he paid me and that was that. I got away with it…but since you’ve got me tied up, I suppose it came back to bite me after all.” He grunted, shifting a bit. “There’s been a lot of that happening lately.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “So. What did you do with the tablet?”

  Boccand frowned. “Do you even know what that thing is?”

  “Let’s assume that I don’t,” I said.

 
; “It’s called a ritual tablet,” said Boccand. “I think it’s Assyrian or Babylonian or something like that, something from ancient Mesopotamia. Apparently some of the ancient Assyrian kings worshipped the Dark Ones and tried to summon them. Usually, you need magical ability to summon a Dark One, and the spell is nearly impossible to cast. You have to punch through to the Shadowlands, and then to the Void beyond the Shadowlands. Not many wizards can pull it off, even among the Elves.”

  “So what does the ritual tablet do?” I said. “Is it an aid to make summoning a Dark One easier?”

  “No, it’s worse than that,” said Boccand. “The spell on the tablet lets anyone summon a Dark One, not just a wizard. All it takes is a ritual to activate the tablet. The ritual varies from tablet to tablet, but it usually requires some kind of human sacrifice, or at least a lot of blood.”

  “I see,” I said.

  I thought he was telling the truth…and I didn’t like it. Morvilind already had one ritual tablet, and he apparently wanted a second one. But why? Was he a worshipper of the Dark Ones? I supposed that was possible. It explained why he had reacted so badly when I had asked him about it. Yet Morvilind was so…rigid. So conservative. The Archons worshipped the Dark Ones, and he hated the Archons.

  But if Morvilind didn’t worship the Dark Ones, why did he want the ritual tablets?

  It didn’t matter.

  “Right,” I said. “I don’t care what it does. I need to get my hands on that tablet.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to go anywhere near the thing,” said Boccand.

  I snorted. “Do you think I have a choice in the matter? If I could walk away, I could. But I can’t, so…”

  “A loved one,” said Boccand. “That’s it, isn’t it? You have a loved one, and that’s the lever Morvilind has on you. I had heard that was how he compelled loyalty in his shadow agents.”

  “You’re very well informed,” I said, which was as close as I would come to telling him that he was right.