Black City Saint

by Richard A. Knaak

  “What happened back there?” she asked, quietly but firmly. “I saw your face when you came for me. You tried to hide it, but I saw it! What happened upstairs after I left?”

  Tell her at your own peril . . .

  I ignored him. “How well do you know your boss?”

  “I’ve worked for him for five years.”

  “Has he changed in any way?”

  Her expression showed that she didn’t like the direction of the questioning. “No . . . not that I can think of.”

  Either Oberon had made the change subtly, or he had been disguised as William Delke for a lot longer. I thought of the paintings in Delke’s new house and began to wonder if there had ever been a William Delke.

  The black bird alighted on the sill outside, startling Claryce, who knew nothing of this associate of mine. I hadn’t expected the avian here, never having had a chance to alert it to my sudden departure. I could only assume that it’d realized something was wrong and left in time to see me leave with Claryce.

  The black bird tapped on the window once, then looked over its shoulder before flying off. I followed its gaze just in time to see a black Chevrolet Superior go by. The driver had his cap low over his eyes and seemed focused completely on the street ahead. Another hood slouched in the back, but I knew his gaze had been on the coffee shop.

  Again, Oberon had planned ahead. He’d probably ordered them to keep watch for Claryce when she left, and they had followed us. I cursed myself for being so shocked by Oberon’s survival that I’d let this happen. Still, we were safe here, and I was already planning how to evade them, even as I talked with Claryce.

  She, meanwhile, had been putting together the clues from my questions. Brow raised, she finally asked, “Are you saying he’s not William?”

  She already knew too much for me to simply brush off the question. “It could be he’s been William for longer than you’ve known him . . . but he was never born William Delke or any other human.”

  A visible shiver ran through her. I started to reach for her hand, but she grabbed for the coffee first. Taking a large gulp, she murmured, “He’s one of these . . . these Wyld.”

  “Not just one of them. The worst.”

  The brow rose again, but she didn’t look shocked. “The worst . . . What happens to us now, then?”

  “First, we return you to Father Jonathan. Second—”

  “I’m not leaving you alone!”

  A couple of other customers glanced our way at her outburst. Claryce took to her coffee again, while I peered out the window once more. A punk with a matchstick in his mouth leaned against a wall across the street. He was too obvious, which meant that there was another observer—some servant of Oberon and not a human—nearby. I’d already figured that would be the case.

  I tried to deal with Claryce’s safety again. “I only want you to stay there while I go back to the house you were staying at—”

  She shoved aside the coffee and stood. “Let’s go.”

  “Claryce—”

  “I’m going with you. I can’t just sit in the church waiting! Either you take me with you, or I’ll follow on my own.”

  The look in her face told me that she would do exactly as she said. Other than tying her up, I had no way of stopping her—

  Eye can do that.

  Never that! I countered. I would not—could not—use the dragon’s magic on Claryce.

  “All right.” I left money for the coffee, but, instead of leading Claryce to the front door, I headed toward the kitchen.

  “Somethin’ you want?” the waitress asked.

  I said nothing, simply gesturing toward the back. The waitress turned away as if no longer noticing us . . . which she didn’t.

  We walked into the kitchen, where I gestured toward a door in the back as soon as the two men there looked my way. Like the waitress, they turned back to their work as if we were no longer there.

  It was the mildest of the dragon’s magic, but I felt guilty at turning the minds of innocents. This wasn’t a spell of shunning, which simply made others look aside, but one that made these people forget.

  At the back door, I paused to look at Claryce. “Be prepared to run. Even if I fall behind, keep running.”

  “Nick—”

  “Just do as I say. I’ll catch up.” The last was an assumption, not a promise.

  Before she could say another word, I flung open the door. Taking her by the hand, I leaped outside.

  The dragon’s eyes came into play again. In that emerald world, I saw the two large black spots against the right side alley wall. Seeing nothing to the left, I all but threw Claryce that direction.

  “Go!”

  Even as she ran, the spots detached from the wall. They weren’t monstrosities like the thing in the fireplace but rather a pair of spindly figures who, in the shadows of the alley, could just barely pass for human.

  One started for Claryce, while the other lunged at me. As both moved, they each drew a pair of curved swords such as I’d only seen on the other side of the Gate. The black silver blades glittered in the darkness.

  Release me! the dragon roared.

  I ignored him. He was just as likely to tear apart the city block as deal with this pair.

  Pulling free the dagger, I threw it at the one closing on Claryce. Haste made my throw poorer than hoped, but the blade did scrape the assassin’s leg.

  A streak of golden fire burst where the blessed blade touched the Wyld. From the murk that was its face there came a short, shrill sound. The assassin lost one blade and dropped to its knees. Claryce looked back but continued into the safety of the open.

  I barely had time after tossing the dagger to draw the sword and parry one of my own foe’s weapons. When the blades touched, ebony sparks flew. There was no time to take a breath; the second sword sought my stomach. I turned Her Lady’s gift downward and managed to deflect the second blow.

  Both black silver blades slashed at me again and again, creating dark sickle moons of ebony light visible only in the shadows. Her Lady’s gift defended me well against the pair, but I saw the other assassin recovering enough to seize the lost weapon and turn back to me.

  The dragon raged at his impotency, use of his penetrating vision not enough for him in this dire situation. I shoved his demanding voice to the farthest corner of my mind as I lunged at a meager opening.

  Her Lady’s gift cut through the forearm. The spindly limb went flying, but no blood—nothing whatsoever—splattered me. The nature of Feirie was that nothing was natural by mortal standards; a thousand and one types of life existed in Her Lady’s realm, each more bizarre than the previous.

  Unhindered by the loss of limb, the first assassin slashed for my throat. The second attacker closed on our struggle.

  Just before it could reach us, a growling, feral form brought it down from behind. Fetch opened a mouth full of far more sharp and deadly teeth than he usually displayed for me and ripped into the murk that was his prey. An aborted squeal escaped the creature as Fetch did his savage work with far more glee than I preferred.

  My own foe now tried to retreat. I saw no use in taking it alive; Oberon would never let it know anything of value.

  Against one sword, Her Lady’s gift had no peer. I battered away at the black silver blade, then twisted the other weapon downward. I then plunged Her Lady’s gift deep into what passed for a chest on the stick figure.

  Like the other, it squealed as it died. I watched as fragments of the creature scattered in all directions before fading away. Denizens of Feirie did not last long in the mortal world after death.

  The swords were gone, too, though not for the same reason. They had vanished, just like the weapon used by the goon in the stairwell. Oberon continued to cover his trail, even as he mocked my every move.

  Retrieving my dagger, I suddenly thought about the fact that Fetch was here and not with Claryce. “You should’ve stayed with her!”

  “She commanded me here, Master Nicholas! I
didn’t want to go, but she said she would run back to you if I didn’t help! I could say nothing, being so far from you, and so I finally acquiesced!”

  Giving Fetch another scowl, I dismissed the dragon’s eyes and rushed out of the alley. To my tremendous relief, Claryce stood near a lamppost that gave her a safe view of the entrance. Smiling, she walked casually to me. I could see she strained not to run.

  Claryce kept her voice low. “Nick! Are you all right?”

  “I am.” I looked around, but there was no sign of any hoods. “This way.”

  Fetch trailed us. He would stay near until we chose to use a taxi. I thought about the attack behind the coffee shop. It couldn’t have been set up for very long; even Oberon couldn’t have predicted where I’d stop.

  And there was another thing that bothered me. Why set it up at all? Even aware of me all the time, he’d let Claryce and I go. There’d been chances to take us in and near the Tribune Tower.

  A drug store caught my attention. “I need to get to the phone.”

  We crossed to the store and headed to one of the three telephone booths in the back, Fetch waiting outside the establishment like the good hound he pretended to be. Unlike the elderly woman in the booth to the left, I did not put in a dime nor ask for an operator. I simply waited, and, as I waited, I peered around the store for anyone suspicious. I wished I could use the dragon’s eyes, but I couldn’t risk someone seeing them.

  “Who is this?” came Kravayik’s tense voice over the receiver.

  “It’s me. Have you noticed anything?”

  “Should I have, Master Nicholas?” he asked in turn, his tone growing more concerned.

  I took his own question as meaning that he hadn’t noticed any intruder thus far. Kravayik had acute senses; even Oberon himself would’ve had difficulty sneaking past his guard.

  Of course, it was still possible.

  “I’m sending Fetch your way. He’ll keep watch from the outside.”

  “Yes, Master Nicholas.”

  I hung up the receiver. Claryce wore a look of exasperation; in the short time she’d known me, I’d left her in the dark about too much.

  “What was that about?” she asked. “Who was that you talked to? You’re not telling me everything, Nick! It sounded as if you know who’s behind this! It sounds as if you know what all this concerns!”

  “I think I do.” I prayed I was wrong, but everything pointed in the same direction. “He wants the card.”

  Her exasperation increased. I wanted to explain there and then—avoiding who I was—but not now and not here. I no longer wanted to go directly back to Delke’s—Oberon’s—house, not until I made a couple of preparations and tried again to keep Claryce safe.

  “I’ll explain, I promise,” I finally told her. “First, let’s get back to Fetch so that I can send him where he needs to go. Then, we’ll return to Father Jonathan—”

  “I’m going nowhere but with you! My entire world’s turned upside down in barely a day or two, and you think I can have patience while gunmen and—and things—”

  A clerk at the soda fountain counter near the front of the store glanced our way. Claryce clamped her mouth shut at that point, but her eyes continued to burn into mine with a fury worthy of the dragon. I considered what more I could tell her that might make her see reason . . . except that reason sounded like nothing remotely connected to the present circumstances.

  I finally surrendered, at least for the moment. “All right, you stay with me for the time being.” Another plan ensuring her safety had already begun to brew, but first I had to make sure certain things hadn’t been compromised. “I’m going to give Fetch some orders. Stay here, at least, until I finish. They won’t be able to do anything in so public a place.”

  She didn’t look at all happy to separate from me for even that long, but she finally nodded. I left her by the phone booth and headed outside.

  Fetch wagged his tail, then trailed after me as I stepped to the side of the building. His demeanor shifted the second we were out of sight.

  “I need you to go to Kravayik and check things out. See if someone or something’s been snooping near him.”

  The shapeshifter’s ears flattened. “Ye think they be after that orchid ye’ve got hidden there?”

  Fetch did not know exactly what I’d left Kravayik to protect, only that it was something of tremendous value and power. “Yes. The orchid.”

  He saw that, even despite me needing him to help out Kravayik, I still wasn’t going to tell him just what his fellow exile had for so long been guarding. Fetch’s ears rose again and he wagged his tail, but I knew that he was annoyed by my lack of trust in this regard.

  “Ye want I should scram now, Master Nicholas?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Fetch twisted around and raced down the narrow alley next to the drugstore, once more running at a speed no hound could match. I felt a sudden regret that I couldn’t have finally trusted him with the knowledge of the card’s hiding place, then refocused my attention on Claryce.

  I’d been confident that she’d be fine where she was, but I still found myself exhaling in relief when I saw her. Claryce also looked relieved, which set my heart pounding in a way I didn’t like.

  And in my head, my omnipresent companion chuckled.

  “It’s done,” I murmured as I joined her. “Now. Is there anywhere you can think of where you might be safe? Family?”

  “No. I was an only child and my parents died in a crash six years ago.”

  I hid my dismay at hearing about her parents. The crash might’ve been an accident, but I knew Oberon well enough to know that he would be willing to set plans into motion years ahead if he thought it’d achieve his goals.

  Why not take her home?

  It was as much his tone as his question that made me nearly swear out loud at the dragon. He knew that there were a score of reasons I didn’t want to bring Claryce there, even though it made the most sense.

  She put a hand on my arm. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. If you won’t go back to the church, there’s one other place. Mine.”

  “Yours?” Claryce instinctively hesitated, for which I couldn’t blame her. Claryce was hardly like the flapper I’d seen while in front of Mrs. Hauptmann’s. The church no doubt sounded a lot better now.

  Voices rose from near the soda fountain. I looked over my shoulder.

  Two hoods faced the anxious clerk. I couldn’t hear what the one asked, but his thick Irish brogue was giveaway enough, even if I didn’t also recognize his voice from Delke’s home.

  “Keep back . . .” I whispered to Claryce. I was astounded that Oberon intended to press the hunt so much that he would risk a scene in a public establishment. True, these thugs were only human muscle, but Wyld generally did not like any sort of attention turned their way.

  I considered the exits. The front was out of the question. That left the back, which suggested a repeat of the earlier trap. I’d never known Oberon to be the unimaginative sort, but perhaps it was another sign of his impatience. He desperately wanted the card . . . but why?

  And then, to my surprise, the two hoods turned and left the drugstore.

  I waited until they were completely out of sight, then made my way to the clerk. As I approached, I heard him humming an old ragtime tune by Joplin. Pieces like that weren’t so popular anymore, what with jazz taking over the scene around the end of the Great War, but the tune wasn’t what bothered me. Instead, I wondered why he was acting so “copacetic”—as Fetch would have remarked—after just being harassed by the pair.

  I leaned on the counter. “Excuse me?”

  The clerk, in his early twenties but already with thinning blond hair, smiled companionably at me. “Sarsaparilla? Root beer float?”

  Shaking my head, I bluntly asked, “What did those two want?”

  Instead of answering, he first glanced at a couple of young women sitting on stools and enjoying their orders. “Root bee
r floats, both of ’em. You want—”

  “I don’t mean them. The two men. The two Micks.”

  Despite my bluntness this time, all I received from the clerk was a look of puzzlement. “What two men?”

  I straightened. “Never mind. My mistake.”

  Claryce frowned as I returned. “What happened there? I couldn’t make out what you two were saying, but you didn’t look happy.”

  “Did you see the two thugs?”

  “How could I miss them?”

  “Well, apparently you and I were the only ones. The soda jerk acted as if they’d never been here.”

  “William . . .”

  I gave her credit for making the connection immediately. “Exactly. The question is, why just barge in and harass the clerk, then make him forget?”

  “To play with us? To keep us on edge?”

  A clever one she is, Eye say . . .

  It was a trait all Cleolinda’s incarnations had shared, and one that bothered me. That cleverness, that adaptability to accept the elements of Feirie as real, had only served to lead each variation that much quicker to her doom.

  When I didn’t answer, Claryce then asked, “Do we leave through the front door?”

  We had no choice but to do so. I still couldn’t believe Oberon would be desperate or impatient enough to try a snatch out in broad daylight. Even still, I undid my coat a little more. If it came to it, I’d use Her Lady’s gift in the open and damn the centuries of secrecy.

  And again the dragon chuckled. This is the human thing called love . . .

  I led Claryce to the door. As we passed the soda jerk, he looked up, smiled, and called, “Come back again soon . . . and I hope you like the tour!”

  We hesitated. Claryce took the lead. “Tour?”

  Still with a grin on his face, the clerk replied, “You know! The show at the Art Institute!” The balding young man indicated me with a thrust of his chin. “The one he asked me if I knew was any good . . . not that I did. A little too ritzy a place for me to go!”

  The clerk returned to his work, leaving Claryce and I to stand silently by the door.