My plan had originally included Fetch, who was expert at digging, of course. Unfortunately, he’d not been in the Packard when I finally returned to it. He’d seen the argument between Claryce and me and no doubt hadn’t wanted to risk being on the receiving end of my bitterness. That’d probably been a wise choice.
I could’ve asked for the dragon’s aid, but I didn’t. I grabbed a shovel left by a worker and dug deep into the ground where they were just beginning to outline the foundation. When I thought I’d dug deep enough, I grabbed the long, wrapped parcel in the auto and brought it to the hole.
Ten minutes later, I had the spear securely buried.
“It will be a fine church,” Diocles declared.
I didn’t flinch. “Hasn’t even been built yet and you’re already haunting it?”
“It has been chosen to be a holy site and has been made more so by what you have placed here.”
“Hmmph.” I put the shovel back where it belonged.
“You sent her away, did you not?”
I wanted to ignore him, but his bringing Claryce up was too much. “I did the right thing. You know that. You know how all the others died . . . I can’t lose Claryce!”
His brow furrowed. “‘Claryce’? Not Cleolinda? A bit different this time, I think.”
I started back to the auto.
“Georgius! You know what I mean! This is—”
His voice cut off just as I knew it would. The moment I’d left the grounds set aside for the church, his link to it had vanished. He was now back in St. Michael’s, which I intended to avoid for at least a day or so until I got my bearings. This was twice in the space of hours I’d rejected Diocles’s attempts to build on his efforts to protect me and the card, and while I felt guilty I wasn’t yet ready to let our ancient past die.
Climbing into the Packard, I peered at the dark area where soon the new version of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church would soon rise. I said a silent prayer to her and asked that she might find a way to watch over Claryce. Whether or not the shunning erased her memories of me, I swore I’d make sure that I’d never let us meet again . . . even if she hoped otherwise. For me there was only my eternal duty to the Gate. Nothing more.
The dragon chortled.
I tried not let his abrupt reaction disturb me as I drove off. I tried very hard.
However, if I’d known that the moment Claryce finished speaking with the police that she’d hailed a taxi and given the cabbie the address to the house recreated by Her Lady, I’d have not bothered trying at all. I’d have just continued to be very worried about her future, especially the likely brevity of it.
And if I’d also known then that Detective Alejandro Cortez hadn’t gone home to his Maria but instead followed Claryce without her being aware of it . . . I’d have been worried about much, much more . . .
But I didn’t know any of that just then. The only significant thing I knew that bore watching at this point was whether there’d be any reaction by anyone other than Claryce come morning when daylight shone over Chicago. Before coming here, I’d made a detour to the Delke offices just in case there was something that needed to be removed from mortal eyes. I’d found very little to worry about inside, but there’d been one major surprise confronting me even before I’d parked.
The Tribune Tower’d changed. Saarinen’s smooth, simple design was gone. What loomed over the skyline was a neo-Gothic giant replete with buttresses, crown, and even gargoyles. It reminded me of what I’d heard about the second-place winner in the contest.
I wondered what else had been altered just by that one card. I suspected I’d find out before too long.
And I suspected that at least something caused by that alteration would come back to haunt me and maybe offer the dragon another chance to free himself again . . . even if more than a city burned next time . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to the people at Pyr Books for bringing this novel to publication. I would specifically like to thank my editorial director Rene Sears, Editor-in-Chief Steven Mitchell, cover designer Jacqueline Nasso Cooke, and the publicity team!
I’d like to also thank all those who have had my back for so long. You know who you are!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard A. Knaak is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of The Legend of Huma, WoW: Dawn of the Aspects, and nearly fifty other novels and numerous short stories, including works in such series as Warcraft, Diablo, Dragonlance, Age of Conan, and his own long-running Dragonrealm saga. He has scripted a number of Warcraft manga with Tokyopop, such as the top-selling Sunwell trilogy, and has also written background material for games. His works have been published worldwide in many languages.
In addition to Black City Saint, his most recent releases include The Horned Blade—the final volume in his Turning War Trilogy for the Dragonrealm—and Wyrmbane, his first entry into the Iron Kingdoms world from Privateer Press. This year will also see a collection of his earlier works through Permuted Press. He is presently at work on several other projects, among them, Knights of the Frost for the Dragonrealm and a new Pathfinder novel. Future plans also include an intended sequel to Black City Saint.
Currently splitting his time between Chicago and Arkansas, he can be reached through his website, http://www.richardaknaak.com. While he is unable to respond to every e-mail, he does read them. Join his mailing list for e-announcements of upcoming releases and appearances. Please also join him on Facebook and Twitter.
Black City Saint Page 36