Trust me on this.
“Here I was worried to death about the Magi causing Nine Towers more trouble, but it seems that it was all for nothing.”
One of the figures nearly jumped out of his skin. The other two went for their focuses. More necromancer mercs. Like the one I cut down. All this time I’d been worried about the big bad Magi, but between fighting Tlatani and brute forcing through all the traps in Xibalba, they’d spent every last bit of their resources.
Just one thing left to confirm.
“Where’s Ajay?” I asked.
The necromancers shot each other looks before the one with the deep voice spoke up. “Ya just missed him, man.”
“He teleported out, I bet. With a lodestone. Abandoning you all without a second thought,” I said.
“Don’t gotta pay mercs that don’t survive, right?” shrugged the necromancer.
Ajay didn’t make it to the lofty rank of Baron by putting his ass on the line too many times. He’d probably already conjured up an excellent excuse as to why the plan fell through, brought back some consolation prizes to his bosses, and decided to cut his losses. Between me and the Nagual things must have gotten too dicey for him.
A wise coward.
“Tell me what you know and I’ll let you all go,” I said.
“Charles. Charles!” I heard a nearby hiss. Itabimori. She worried way too much.
“It’s fine. You can come out.”
“But they’re bad guys,” she said, despite coming out of the shadows. “How can you trust them?”
“I’m not trusting their moral compass. I’m trusting their business sense. No one’s paying them to kill us anymore. And even though I’m apparently infamous, I doubt anyone’s going to pay them for my head if they take the initiative and kill me first.”
“We risked our lives too many times already today,” said the necromancer. “There was twenty eight of us at the start. Now there’s only four.”
“Three,” I replied. “Your guard didn’t take kindly to me wanting to go by.”
“Gano’s dead?”
“He was an asshole anyway,” the deep voiced necromancer waved his comrade off. “Your offer still good, agent?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. Tell me what you know and I’ll let you go,” I said.
“Deal,” said the deep voiced necromancer. “The storm ain’t natural. That’s what the boss said before he got offed.”
“Ajay?”
“I said the boss, not the paycheck. Boss leader.”
The mercenary captain. Good distinction.
“What else did he say?” asked Itabimori in her most threatening voice.
“Well, he dead so,” began the necromancer. “If you ask me, I’m gettin’ a whiff of somethin’ more than just death magic. I got a good nose. And I’m smellin blood in the air. More than death the farther we go.”
“Blood too. Makes sense, but more blood magic than death magic?” I asked.
“If ya see the Crooked Man, you can ask him about it, we’ll be leavin’ now.”
Crooked man? Oh.
“The Nagual,” I said.
“That’s what they called him. Peace.”
No back stabbing. No turning around at the last moment and opening up a salvo of death magic. No thralls ambushing out of the dark or zombie were-jaguars. They just left. I let out a sigh. Finally, some good news.
“The storm isn’t natural. Does that mean the Nagual summoned it up? With blood magic or something?” Itabimori asked.
“Doubt it,” I replied.
“Huh? Why?”
“He specializes in body magic. There’s no way he’d be able to make a hurricane. Totally different discipline. That means someone else fronted the magic to create the storm raging above us now.”
“But what would anyone gain from making a crazy storm like that?” Itabimori asked.
“There’s only one word that stuck out to me from all I’ve learned. Lis mentioned it. The Nagual spoke it with reverence. Sacrifice. Take a life and give it to a divinity, I said. “I still have to confirm it myself, but if my hunch is right, then we’d better hurry up. The longer we wait, harder it’ll be to overcome all this.”
“Lead the way Charles. I’m right behind you.”
I nodded, trying to stop the warm fuzzy smile from crawling onto my face. “Yeah, we should walk. But while we do, I have something to talk about.”
“Talk?” Itabimori asked.
“Yes. Just me and you.”
Chapter 37
Torrents of water cascaded from on high. The holes in the ceiling of the sprawling cavern spewed rainwater like a hose at a three alarm fire. It was equal parts fantastic and foreboding.
With the Magi out of the picture, my aching body shouted at me to let my guard down for the first time in a long time. Itabimori looked like she was about to collapse too.
“Catch our breath before the main event?” I asked her.
Itabimori smiled, and sat down beside a ruined wall. The stones were a bit damp, but the closer to the main temple we got, the more pronounced the elevation became. Cracks spread out from the earth beneath too, but that didn’t stop the snake woman from huddling up next to me.
“I’ve given it some thought, Tab,” I told her.
“About what?”
“I know a few people who will owe me favors after today. If I pull on their beard hairs
hard enough they’ll make you my partner. If only out of gratitude for your help here today.”
The way her face lit up wasn’t something a man like me sees very often. The oppressive atmosphere of Xibalba did nothing to lessen her looks, or her cheer.
“Does that mean you really like me too?” she asked, a mischievous grin on her lips.
“Let’s not over exaggerate,” I said in response.
“Charles, it might take a long time, but I’m going to crack through that outer shell of yours and eat up that warm chocolate center of yours.”
“Good luck,” I replied.
Despite my response her smile didn’t fade, and as I rose up to my feet, I realized that I was smiling as well.
“How’re we gonna tackle all this, Charles?” she asked.
“I’ve beaten were-beast cults with my magical hands tied behind my back. We’ve overcome the best and the brightest the Magi had to offer and their mercenaries. This Nagual and his Hun Came? A walk in the park. Just follow my lead.”
I knew it wouldn’t be that easy, but with Itabimori here, I felt more than confident. I felt invincible.
Bursting past the last half crumbled wall before the temple grounds, a stone staircase led up to a platform. At the very top, I saw at last the big picture. The answer to all my whys.
“Pretty smart for a body mage,” I muttered.
“What is that?” Itabimori asked.
The torrential downpour was definitely not natural. It had been called there. Summoned. I wonder how many lives the flash storm had taken as it made it’s way inland?
From a hollow high above the central altar, howling winds wreathed in ashen wisps came shrieking down from on high. It took me a moment to figure out just what the wisps were until I saw one of them open up it’s mouth in a cry of dismay as it funneled down into a great stone slab in the middle of a blood stained elevation.
Soul storm.
“It would seem the winners of this little race have come at last,” spoke a hoarse voice. Down from a stone ledge leaped a crooked shape, landing with a crunch upon the platform before the altar.
Not a platform. An arena.
“You’ll have to forgive my master’s lack of politeness, but you’ve caught him at dinnertime,” he spoke.
“I had a feeling you’d teamed up with someone else. But to think that it was a God that summoned the hurricane?”
The Nagual half coughed, half laughed at me, before casting off his mask and overcoat. No need for the trappings of civilization to slow him down anymore.
I’d had ple
nty of time to prepare myself for whatever freak show was beneath the curtains, but I still reeled when finally forced to face it. Disgusting. Peeled dirty skin, stained with blackened veins and blood stains. The Nagual’s face was the stuff of nightmare. A cautionary tale of what befalls those who abuse magic. The Nagual must have stood eight feet tall unhunched. His fingertips reached down all the way to its knees, and the monstrous frame crackled with every step as warped bones cracked and knit back together in seconds.
“I’m not so mighty as to call a hurricane myself, agent of Nine Towers. Hun Came summoned it himself. I merely provided the caviar to the dish, and the ingredients for the buffet to come.”
“The innocent souls gathered up by the hurricane are going to feed Hun Came. And as a bonus, the blood of the mages you strung along on your little race for seasoning. A race to find Xibalba? You’d found it first and lured us all here as a snack.”
An appetizer. A promise of more and better food to come.
“Very good, Señor Locke. Any questions before I… prepare you for the main course?” the Nagual asked, calm and collected.
“Just one. What’s with the bird?” I asked.
The altar wasn’t empty. It had bird bones on it, and not the sort of bones left over after wings night at the pub. The skeletal remains belonged to a creature about the size of a Greyhound bus. Ragged feathers stained royal blue and crimson clung to delicate wing bones and fluttered in the wind.
Did Lis forget to mention Hun Came was a bird? No. Was it just a catalyst to empower the ritual? Maybe Hun Came’s pet pigeon?
“You know what?” I said before the Nagual could reply. “I don’t give a damn. I’ll kick your ass anyways. I hope you’ve said your prayers, Nagual, because the only thing you’ll be worthy of is being laid to rest right next to your beloved God of Death.”
Ragged lips peeled back to reveal feral teeth. It was impossible to tell whether he was smiling or snarling. The Nagual’s body bubbled with the latent magic of a master mage, and before I could draw breath, he’d already closed the distance between us.
Fast, but I’d always been a quick study. Before he slashed his claws across my neck, I’d already pushed Itabimori out of harm’s reach and ducked beneath the blow, my wand-sword crackling to life. The Nagual shuddered, pouring magic into his legs. He leaped half the arena back, narrowly avoiding my strike.
I smiled wickedly. It was just as I thought.
Another exchange. Faster this time. The force of the Nagual’s attacks were enhanced, but no matter how fast he swung, he’d still need to move century abused limbs into position before pouring the necessary magic into them before striking with blinding speed.
As long as I watched his shoulders, I always knew where his next attack would come from. Then I could prepare to avoid it. And prepare to strike back.
The Nagual’s body twitched, and again he drew back. Surprise lit his monstrous face up as a stream of blood poured out of the side my wand-sword had caught.
“Do you know why body magic is considered a fringe discipline, Nagual?” I asked. “It’s great on paper, but the unique disadvantages of the discipline come together to make countering it a trivial thing for anyone with experience. No matter how fast your body might be, your reaction speeds are still those of a Human. No matter how much power you pour into your limbs, you’ll pay for it in the long run. It’s my win.”
A raspy, dry cackled escaped the Nagual’s throat. His inhuman head bent back as he howled with laughter.
“You’re right, of course,” the Nagual said. “You don’t out strength a body mage. You out skill them. Out smart them. Well said, but, Señor Locke, no one knows my own weakness better than me. So I had a surprise prepared, just in case.”
Turning around to the soul spattered altar, the Nagual pressed a hand to its side, the wailing spirits of Humans drawing into his body. Ghostly smoke sizzled off of him. Ragged limbs blended with the dark.
The Nagual turned to me and flashed a hungry smile, ropes of saliva dripping from his snout like nose, “Hun Came will forgive his servant a sip from the cup, I’m sure. If only to ensure dessert makes it on time.”
Chapter 38
These days the word blasphemy is thrown around pretty casually. It’s blasphemous for me to jokingly hiss and pretend I’m melting when a priest sprays a bit of holy water on me. It’s blasphemous of me to ask for some butter and cold cuts to go with my body of Christ.
Real blasphemy, however, is cracking a Human soul open like a light beer and consuming the tiny bit of magic at the center for a power boost. Becoming very powerful isn’t difficult for wizards. The trick is getting a whole lot of power without losing your Humanity in the process.
The Nagual consumed the souls of the dead like he was at an all you can eat buffet. And as he did what remnants of Humanity he may have had left in him were completely destroyed. Unbridled Teotl coursed through the creature. Divine mana wracked his flesh as his whole being acted as the medium through which he would express his magical might.
One glance and he was on me. No difference. At least, none I recognized until after our first exchange of blows. The Nagual didn’t even try to defend. I stabbed the entirety of my wand-sword through his chest and instead of him slumping to the floor dead his claws cut into my shoulders and dragged down my chest.
What the hell just happened? I’d have been stuffing my intestine back into my stomach if I hadn’t had my Kevlar still on me.
“I hope it wasn’t too painful,” the Nagual said, his body twitching giddily at the overdose of magic he’d just consumed.
Sword through the chest. I know I dealt him that blow, and yet, there wasn’t a scratch on him. The flesh and blood where I’d stabbed the Nagual had turned ghostly blue. There wasn’t a scratch on him. This was new.
This was bad.
“Do you like my new trick?” the Nagual asked, a ripple of ghostly blue flowing over him. “It seems my lord Hun Came has approved of my efforts. I have been blessed, Señor Locke. Rewarded. Let me demonstrate.”
My wand was slapped playfully out of my hand before I could even react, and a razor sharp claw came within an inch of my throat. I’d have been dead for sure, but the Nagual stumbled, his footing failing him.
Black vines had shifted the stone blocks beneath and gripped the Nagual’s limbs in a grim embrace.
Itabimori. Even in the realm of the dead there were still roots and vines. Scraggy, melancholy plants that looked like they’d only obey a mage if he begged them on his hands and knees. For the record, she got them impressively agitated on her own, even though the result was mediocre compared to her earlier shows of force.
Shadow stained roots and tendrils wrapped grudgingly up the Nagual’s arms, holding him back long enough for me to dive for my wand and launch a counter attack.
I cut, sliced, stabbed, and swore while I was at it too. But it was all for nothing. Whenever I struck him, it’s like he wasn’t really there. Like I was fighting a ghost that could selectively choose when it wanted to manifest physically.
Surprisingly fitting for the ancient renegade. Damn him. When good old fashioned violence fails, then it’s time to get creative. But how? I took a step back, my mind searching for an answer. Anything that might work.
Casually shredding the vines that had restrained his feet, the Nagual spoke again in mock politeness.
“You understand now, don’t you? Please, don’t look so surprised. Think: What sort of blessing would a God of Death grant a humble servant? The answer is, of course, exemption from death.”
“Immortality? Bullshit,” I said.
“Come now, agent. What else does an ancient genius body mage like me have left to master except my own mortality? See for yourself,” he said, raking his own claws against his body. Not one new scratch appeared on him. The Nagual grinned monstrously. “No one can harm me. You cannot kill a man favored by the God of Death.”
“Itabimori, stall him!” I roared.
As I shout
ed, the snake woman flung her hands up into the air as a wave of vines coiled around the Nagual’s figure. Like spears, the vines stabbed into him to no avail.
“Children are too energetic, if you ask me. You two make for hungry work,” the Nagual said, bloodshot eyes turning to Itabimori.
The snake woman froze. The Nagual wiped saliva from his inhuman jaws. “I wonder what a Quetzalcoatl tastes--”
Thank God for those little fragments of souls scattered through the air, because without them he might have noticed the flashbang wisp I’d conjured up. An inhuman yelp exploded from the Nagual’s lips as I snapped my fingers, searing his sight.
I grabbed Itabimori by the wrist and put some distance between us and the Nagual as he frantically clawed at his eyes.
“This is bad,” Itabimori said. “How are we--”
“I’ll think of something. I’m not letting this bastard lay a finger on you.”
“It’s a good thing you’re wearing that chest guard otherwise you’d have been shredded to pieces long ago,” Itabimori said, smiling. “Here let me heal you.”
I held up a finger to the snake woman’s lips.
“Itabimori. You’re a goddamn genius.”
The snake woman perked a divine eyebrow. “Huh? I am?”
“Yes. He’s getting out of all those wounds the same way we’ve been all along.”
Itabimori shook her head. “I don’t get it.”
Instead of speaking, I hurriedly took off my Kevlar.
“It’s not immortality. It’s a sort of magical armor. He isn’t dying because he can’t be hurt by bullets or even magic blades. He’s got so much divine mana in his body that he’s more Magic than Mortal.”
Itabimori’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “The thing. The ceremonial dagger Narani gave you. Her ancestors were closely related to death too, so of course the magic item she gave you is designed to--”
I grinned wickedly. “To not just displace mana, but sever it. Just in case someone tries a dirty trick like this. I have a plan, Tabi. Follow my lead and don’t fall behind.”
Blood Hunt (Secret Magent Book 3) Page 14