The Curse Mandate (The Dark Choir Book 3)

by J. P. Sloan

  And again.

  A kind of war cry roared from my throat as I bashed his face against the carpet.

  Annarose knelt down and lifted a finger. The gesture, and perhaps a good portion of enchantment pouring from her aura, snapped me out of my rage.

  She drew a half-circle in the air with her finger, running it down Zeno’s chin and swiping it up the bloodied space underneath his nose.

  She held out her left hand, cupping it as she painted her palm with Zeno’s blood. She then spat into her hand and mixed her sputum with his blood.

  I dug my knee into his back as he reached up with my darquelle. His angle was too awkward, and as I applied sufficient pressure, he dropped my blade.

  Annarose closed her eyes, lifting just as her eyelids sealed solid white orbs, and began to chant.

  “Portami ai vostri fianchi, O Satana, e mi riempiono di tuo odio.”

  I knew enough Italian to recognize this was an adequately dark working.

  She dipped her finger back into her palm, and reached for Zeno.

  He stiffened, renewed in his fight to avoid Annarose and her magic, but I gave him no room to retreat.

  Annarose painted a simple glyph onto his forehead as he snarled against her.

  She looked up to me, and nodded.

  And I released Zeno.

  His entire frame trembled as he kicked the floor.

  I reached down to reclaim my darquelle, sheathing it as Zeno twisted supine, his mouth gaping. His chest convulsed, fingers ripping away at his shirt to gain air that would never come.

  I crouched down over him as his lips began to turn cyanotic.

  I intoned, “And thus Carruthers will die the same way Julian died.”

  Zeno’s eyes were wide, searching the ceiling for salvation. They paused on me briefly, but I found nothing but inevitability in my heart for this sad sack of shit.

  His entire body lunged up, then crashed against the floor.

  And again.

  The third time, his hands reached his throat before going limp. His spine relaxed, dropping his frame slowly to the carpet. One final breath released before his eyelids went slack. His head dropped to the side, casually inspecting the air between Zeno’s lifeless body and the bookshelf beside us.

  I gripped my fist, rammed it into his chin, then relaxed.

  It was done.

  Julian was avenged.

  I took several deep breaths before pulling myself to my feet.

  Annarose wiped her hand against his sweater vest.

  “Are you sated?” she asked.

  I held my aching ribs, and stared at Zeno’s corpse.

  Was I?

  No.

  I was not sated.

  “Nearly,” I whispered.

  “Is it not over?” she asked with narrowing eyes.

  “There is one more.”

  “And our agreement?” she demanded, taking a step forward.

  I looked up into her face. It shone with alluring wrath.

  “I’ll hold up to my end. Don’t worry.”

  She nodded. “Then, who is your next victim?”

  I curled my fists, unfolded my hands, and replied, “Brown.”

  exler trod into the building with four men in suits and dark glasses in tow. She held out a left hand, three fingers extended, sweeping the energy in the room in an artful manner.

  When she spotted Zeno’s body on the floor, she lifted a brow at me.

  “What happened to him?”

  I responded, “He tripped and fell on a Stregha.”

  Wexler eyed Annarose in the corner, then nodded curtly.

  “How did you figure it out, out of curiosity?”

  “Technically, it was Adrastos’s plan,” I admitted. “I baited the hook with the location of the final node. They may have expected the ruse from you, but not from me.”

  “Was he alone?”

  “Today, he was. He was only an ‘asset,’ as you people like to call us. Not the mastermind.”

  Wexler folded her arms. “I’m going to venture a guess, here. Our friend at Druid Hill?”

  “Had your eye on him, have you?”

  “I had sent Reginald to Baltimore the day he died specifically to follow Clarence. We found Reginald’s car in the Patapsco River. All four tires had blown out.”

  I winced. “Exactly the subtle kind of curse that keeps you under wraps if you’re a closeted Netherworker.”

  “Rather like dropping a half-ton steel window frame on the competition?”

  I pursed my lips to stave off a grin. “Something like that.”

  Wexler turned and barked orders to the men, two of whom gathered Zeno’s body, spraying the blood on the floor with a potent bleach solution. The other two advanced to the summoning circle.

  “I’d watch your ass in there,” I grumbled. “It’s active.”

  One of the men reached inside his suit and produced a long, machete-length blade inscribed with ornate runes.

  Wexler said, “I think they can handle it.”

  “You people get the best toys,” I muttered.

  “Doesn’t have to be ‘you people,’ Lake. Adrastos is serious about you joining.”

  Annarose shifted in the corner, before exiting the room.

  I waited for her to step out of earshot, then whispered to Wexler, “The question you’ll need to ask yourself, Deborah? Is it too late for you to leave?”

  She blinked, then laughed. “We’ve stopped the attacks on the nodes.”

  “But is it already too late?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Listen,” I said, stepping to her side to avoid the men dragging Zeno’s bagged corpse out of the room. “They’ve already taken out all but one of your nodes. You haven’t lost your entire power base, but the Presidium is weaker than ever before. It may be enough to attack.”

  “Not all.”

  I peered at her.

  “Besides Marshall, there is one more node.”

  “I checked the map,” I blurted, wishing I had the map now. “All of the nodes of the sephiroth were accounted for.”

  She grinned. “One of us has actually studied Qabala, Mister Lake. I suspect I’d trust her opinion on the matter.”

  “Okay, what’s the other node?”

  “Tiferet,” she said. “The Balance. It’s one of the internal vertices of the Tree of Life.”

  I nodded with a frown. I had forgotten the center, itself.

  “Tiferet is the headquarters, isn’t it? The home base for the Presidium.”

  “We are not as weak as you may think we are.”

  “Aren’t you?” I countered. “You’re down from ten to two nodes, and they are oblique nodes. No direct paths of power.”

  “If the L’Enfantines want to take us on in our own seat of power, then let them. They’ll be crushed.”

  “You keep thinking the L’Enfantines are outsiders. They’re not. They are Presidium. They’ve been there. They know the wardings, the traps, the loyal members, the splitters. They know more than you do, and they’ve been planning this for a long time.”

  Wexler looked away with ambivalence.

  “Brown may have accounted on Zeno failing, here. It was a gamble, and I wager it was personal against me. Nothing about this assault on the Presidium was haphazard. What’s more, if his people have set up their own geomancy over the original L’Enfantine nodes, they may have you out-gunned already.”

  “I should call Joe.”

  “You’ll need help,” I declared as she lifted her phone.

  “Only the first five circles of the Presidium are allowed inside the Sedem Regni. You can’t help us.”

  I sighed, then shook my head. “The Presidium can’t save itself. That’s my point. Even the L’Enfantines had to hire outside help. We ‘assets’ aren’t the pawns in this game. We’re the goddamn Queens.” I winced. “Okay, so I tortured that metaphor, but you know what I mean.”

  Wexler dialed the phone.

  “It’s me. Yes
. It’s done.” She looked over to me. “Still alive. I did. Joe? He’s convinced it’s de Haviland.” She lowered the phone. “Did you get confirmation?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes, it’s certain. I told him, but he’s insisting. Oh.”

  She lowered the phone again.

  “The Ipsissimus is requesting your aid one more time.”

  “Well, he didn’t get to be Ipsissimus for making stupid decisions, I suppose.”

  She spoke into the phone, “He graciously accepts.”

  After she had hung up, I asked, “Okay, so, where is this Sedem Regni, exactly?”

  “Washington’s Masonic Tomb,” she said.

  “Isn’t that a public building?”

  “We have a hidden complex beneath. Besides, hiding in plain sight is our modus operandi.”

  I turned as an electric whine buzzed from the ritual room. One of the suited lackeys had a hand-held vacuum and was sucking up the chalk art.

  “You’ll keep me on speed dial?” I asked. “We won’t have the element of surprise anymore. Not with what happened here. Brown’s going to have lost contact with Zeno, and he’ll know I’m still alive.”

  Wexler pocketed her phone. “First sign of trouble, you’ll be my first call.”

  I nodded, and turned to rejoin Annarose before she decided this entire intrigue wasn’t worth her involvement.

  Wexler called out as I reached the front door. “I note that you had someone else perform the curse.”

  I turned to Wexler, whose face was filled with thoughtful mirth.

  “Your point?”

  “You have your mandate. You could have killed him yourself. I was just wondering if you weren’t holding out hope.”

  “If you think I’m not fully complicit in this man’s murder,” I responded, “then your understanding of karma is in dire need of readjustment.”

  I stepped out the front door and onto the shade of the long overhang of the front porch. Sure, those words were for Wexler, but they hammered my brain as I sucked in several breaths. This may have been self-defense, but it sure as shit felt like murder.

  And… I didn’t feel the least bit bad about it. What would Father Mark say?

  “You have a storm inside you,” Annarose said from the end of the porch.

  I turned to find her leaning against one of the porch posts, arms crossed.

  “I’m trying to feel guilty, is all.”

  She scowled and paced toward me. “What is this talk about you joining the Presidium?”

  I looked over my shoulder, then reached around Annarose to corral her away from the door. “They’re pushing hard for that, but I’m not biting.” I looked up into her eyes. “You have to believe me. That’s the last thing I want.”

  She turned toward me as my arm gripped her side. Her eyelids drooped as she lifted a hand to my chest.

  “I know how tempting it can be.”

  “What, power?”

  “Safety.”

  A length of her coal-black hair that had escaped her hair tie brushed against my cheek.

  “I stopped believing in safety a while ago,” I said. “We have a job to do, but I’m not sure we can do it.”

  “We can,” she urged.

  “How can you be so sure?” I asked, discretely pulling away from her.

  “You have ability,” she declared. “You’re afraid of it, but you possess it. Perhaps it is time to embrace your power.”

  She looked at me, eyes aflame.

  “Maybe.”

  I phoned Sarah and had her drive up to the property, where Annarose and I met her on the street. As we climbed into her car, I said, “Thanks for doing this.”

  Sarah smiled at me through the rearview as we pulled away. “No problem. I’m thinking about putting you up as an honorary member of the coven.”

  “I thought that was a girls-only thing.”

  “Oh, God. That’s so last century.”

  Sarah drove us back to Baltimore, and I loomed in the back seat, thoughts swimming through my head. Brown would have insiders already at the Presidium HQ. They’d probably already be waiting for some kind of order. The moment Adrastos and Wexler became aware of the attack, it would already be too late.

  Would that be such a bad thing, I wondered? Were it not for the fact that Brown had already indicated a complete willingness, if not an outright desire, to have my ass liquidated, I would have considered the L’Enfantine perspective.

  Oh, hell with them. They put me on the wrong side of their ledger, and they were going to pay for that error.

  When Sarah pulled up Amity, I reached out and touched her shoulder.

  “Hold up,” I said as I spotted two different vehicles parked in front of my house.

  Sarah pulled up to the curb, alas too close to avoid notice.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Looks like a fucking convention,” I grumbled as I stepped out of the car.

  The first vehicle was a very familiar Jeep, empty by virtue that the entire Swain clan was hovering on my front stoop. Edgar lifted a hand at me, and Elle bolted from the steps. I rushed across the street to make sure she didn’t fly into traffic, and braced as she hammered into me with a tackle-hug.

  “Hey,” I wheezed through the pain in my torso. “What’s up with you?”

  She gripped my waist tight.

  I pulled myself away, and lifted her chin. She’d been crying. “Holy crap, what’s this about?”

  Edgar closed the distance between us and the porch, and answered, “She had a freaky-deek feeling, man. Got hysterical, said we had to check on Dorian.”

  Wren added from behind him, “Her exact words were that you had just fallen into darkness.”

  I clenched my jaw, and looked down at Elle.

  “I’m okay, kiddo,” I whispered.

  She shook her head. “You aren’t.”

  Wren reached around her and hugged her. “We’re going to get you some training on this. Divination and empathy can be a hell of a combination.”

  Edgar shrugged. “I’m sorry about this, but knowing you, it was a possibility.”

  I glanced over my shoulder to the second vehicle. “Well, do me a favor. Okay? Head on inside the house. Get the kids whatever they can drink and not get us all arrested, and wait for me.”

  Wren set her jaw. “What’s going on?”

  I nodded at the silver town car looming in front of my property. “I think I’m about to have a very interesting conversation. I don’t need help.”

  The dark-laced accent of Annarose’s voice drifted over my shoulder. “That was a lie.”

  The Swains looked behind me to find Sarah and Annarose approaching.

  Wren lowered her brow. “Who’s this?”

  “Oh…” I turned and selected the more diplomatic of the two to introduce first. “Wren, this is Sarah Camp. She’s just opened up a covenstead on the Eastern Shore.”

  Wren’s face broadened into a bright smile, and she reached out a hand to Sarah.

  Sarah shook it with a polite, “Blessed be.”

  “Blessed be, to you!” Wren chimed. “Dorian, you’re finally opening up to Wicca?”

  Annarose snickered, and the warmth in Wren’s face cooled several degrees.

  I answered, “It’s a remarkably long story, but I really need all of you to go inside just right now.”

  Wren eyed Annarose, then asked, “Have you heard from Ches?”

  I blinked away the question. “Uh, no. Please, guys?”

  I nearly shoved them all toward my front walk before they took the hint. Annarose, as it turned out, took the lead, strutting up to my front door. She waited as Edgar produced the spare key to my house from his pocket. The last one inside was Elle, who watched me with dread before Wren pulled her inside.

  When they were all safe inside my wardings, I turned to the town car.

  The driver’s side door opened, and I released a long-held breath as Malosi stepped out.

  “Reed. Jesus
shit, you had me ready for a fight, here.”

  Without answering, he stepped around to the passenger side rear door, and opened it.

  I squared my shoulders as Jean Clement stepped out, his face stony.

  “Or, then again…” I mumbled.

  Clement stepped delicately over the crumbling curb and onto my sidewalk.

  “Lake,” he stated.

  “Jean?” I answered. “Your friends in the Free Market cut you a hall pass?”

  Clement replied without mirth, “We have business.”

  I looked over at Malosi, who remained by the car, arms stiff, eyes moving up and down the street. Yeah, he was on the clock, and probably wouldn’t be much more genial if he wasn’t.

  “Okay. Let’s talk business.” I asked.

  “Reed told me what you said about me. About him. About everything.”

  I nodded. Here it came.

  Clement continued, “And I feel particularly disappointed.”

  “Yeah, well,” I mumbled, “you’re just going to have to get over that.”

  He stiffened. “I’m not accustomed to sterile accusation, Mister Lake.”

  I gave him a squint. “Oh, please. Don’t act like this happened in a vacuum. You know who I’m up against. On some level, you recognize I’m throwing fists with some elegant and dangerous people. They’ve out-maneuvered the entire Presidium so far, and all of the signs pointed to you being involved.”

  He looked down to his suit, brushed off a couple specks that weren’t there, and took a deep breath. “I find it regrettable that we’ve reached this level of paranoia.”

  “Paranoia?” I squawked. “You don’t know paranoia until you have Felix Parrish visiting you every other week to dangle your soul over your head.”

  Clement’s face blanched, and he took a step away. “Did you say Felix Parrish?”

  “Oh. Shit. I keep forgetting who knows what.” I shook my head. “You people are killing me.”

  “I know Parrish,” Clement stated.

  “What? Like, personally?”

  “No. But I have met him before. He attempted to purchase one of my most valued items. I refused, as much because I trusted neither him nor those he represented, but also because an item of such power would have been dangerous in any hands.”

  I considered Clement’s expression. “I keep forgetting you were a Collector.”

  Clement continued, “Parrish swore retribution.”