by Karen Kincy
Konstantin glanced sideways at her and mouthed, Where?
She didn’t know, but she pretended she did and braved ahead. Along the far wall, stairs spiraled up to a row of elevated offices. Windows overlooked the factory floor so supervisors could watch their underlings from on high.
Maybe she could see the TNT from that vantage point or find a plan of the factory.
“Wait here,” Ardis whispered.
Konstantin nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow.
She climbed upstairs, her hand on her sword, careful to test each step with her boot before putting her full weight down. Her pulse throbbed in her throat. At the top, a hallway stretched ahead, electric lamps unlit on the wood-paneled walls. She wondered if they wanted the manual laborers to feel humbled when they ascended to their superiors. She scanned the doors, inspecting the nameplates.
“You!”
Ardis whirled at the shout. A guard stepped from a doorway, reaching for his gun–
She rushed him, flames igniting down the length of Chun Yi, and stabbed him in the shoulder before he could fire. The gun clattered on the floor. With a grunt, the man recovered his balance and grabbed a knife from his boot.
She wrenched her sword free and blocked with the flat of the blade. Twisting into the parry, she lunged onto her toes and angled Chun Yi toward his neck. He ducked, stumbling back, before he turned to run down the hallway.
No. She had to stop him before he sounded the alarm.
She glanced at the gun. Too loud. Gritting her teeth, she broke into a sprint. The man had almost made it to the end of the hallway.
Ardis pushed herself to run harder, her calves aching, but the man was faster than her.
He wrenched open a door, slowing down for a second, and burst into another stairwell. His footsteps rattled the steel steps. She chased him down, spiraling, before she had enough of this and vaulted over the railing.
Her boots clanged as she landed in front of the guard.
Bleeding, breathing hard, he faced her with his knife. “Who are you?” he gasped.
“Nemesis,” she said.
Now she had to kill him. Leave no witnesses.
Ardis lunged and sank her sword between his ribs. Chun Yi’s flames shimmered in the darkness as the blade savored blood. The guard stared into her eyes, gurgling, before he dropped to his knees and tumbled down a flight of stairs.
He landed, motionless, at the bottom. Chun Yi’s fire burned the blade clean.
“Ardis!” A voice echoed down the stairwell.
“Wendel?” She ran back upstairs to the floor of offices, but she could see no sign of him. “Where are you?”
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. “There’s been a change of plans.”
The legs in her muscles tensed. “What happened?”
By the light of Chun Yi, his shadowy form wavered along the wall. “Put away your sword.”
She had to trust him–or to test him. Slowly, she sheathed her sword. His fingers closed on her wrist. Darkness crawled from his skin to hers, but she still couldn’t see his face. Wendel led her along the hallway, down the stairwell where the dead man lay, through a back door into the night. Rain hissed onto the city.
“We have to go,” Wendel said, urgency in his quiet voice.
“What about Konstantin?”
A pause. “Konstantin can take care of himself.”
He pulled her onward, along this side of the factory. A man’s body lay in the dirt, rain pattering in a growing pool of blood.
Was it one of the guards? Or one of the men from Nemesis?
“Who did this?” she said.
“I don’t know.” Darkness swirled over Wendel’s face.
Ardis gripped his hand tighter, her nails biting his skin. “Show yourself.”
He didn’t let go. “We have to stay hidden.”
As they rounded the corner, she found Manfred. The man stared at her with round eyes. Blood trickled from his mouth.
“What happened?” she said.
Manfred spoke slowly, as if around a thick tongue. “Attacked.”
Wendel’s breath escaped him in a hiss. He dragged Ardis away from Manfred, heading for the street beyond the factory lot. When the light from a lamp reached them, he looked away, but not before she saw his face.
Ardis wrenched free from his grip. “You aren’t the Wendel that came here with me.”
Twelve
Shadows evaporated from Wendel’s skin. He stared at her with a hard mouth, his eyes glittering. “Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same question,” she said.
“Let’s not be clever.” His voice sounded harsh. “You joined Nemesis?”
“To find you. You left me and Wendel I–”
“Wendel I.” He sneered. “He’s first in line to get himself killed.”
“If he dies, so do you.”
“Exactly.” He glanced back at the factory. “Where is he?”
She stared at him as rain slicked his hair. “Do you even know why we’re here?”
“To destroy the munitions factory. I overheard some of Nemesis’s schemes.” He pointed at her. “But you aren’t supposed to be helping them.”
“Manfred’s dead, isn’t he?” Realization dawned on her. “You revived him?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s not be clever,” she repeated, with more venom. “What the hell do you want, Wendel? Tell me the truth.”
“To save you.”
The frightening part was, she believed him. “Why?”
“You shouldn’t be here. Wendel I isn’t even protecting you.”
“I beg to differ.” Wendel I stepped from the darkness. “Why are you out here, killing guards and Nemesis alike?”
Wendel II shrugged, his eyes hollow. “Both were in my way.”
Ardis shuddered. While she fought one man, he had been quietly eliminating the rest. “Did you kill them all?”
“Not yet.” Wendel II scanned the darkness. “Three Nemesis operatives remain.”
That meant he must have killed Manfred and only one of his men.
“What about the guards?” she said.
Wendel II shook his head. “I don’t know how many died. Besides the one you killed.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Wendel I said. “Ardis, while you went upstairs, I was watching Konstantin’s back. He should be done planting the bomb by now. We should leave before 100,000 pounds of TNT explode.”
She started walking toward the factory. “We need to warn Konstantin.”
“No.”
She wasn’t sure which Wendel had spoken, though one of them grabbed her arm, his grip too tight. “Let go of me.”
Wendel II looked at her with a fierce stare. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I was just in the factory.”
“Think of the baby. TNT is toxic.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Konstantin isn’t safe.”
“How selfless of you.” He dragged her away from the factory.
“You’re bruising me!”
“Quiet.” Wendel I sliced the air with his hand. “Both of you.”
Ardis glared at him. “Why don’t–?”
Wendel II cut her off with a hand over her mouth. Both of the Wendels stared into the darkness, watching, and waiting.
“I will send Manfred to warn Konstantin,” Wendel II whispered.
Wendel I frowned. “Won’t the archmage notice he’s, well, dead?”
“Irrelevant.”
She pried Wendel’s hand from her mouth. “I’m doing it myself.”
Before they could reply, Konstantin ran from the factory, clutching his suitcase. He skidded to a halt, staring at them both.
“My God,” he said. “You were right, Ardis. There are two of them.”
“Is the bomb ready?” she said.
He tore his gaze away from the twin Wendels. “Set for te
n minutes.”
“Ten minutes?” Her stomach plummeted.
Konstantin brushed away her comment. “According to my preliminary calculations, we should be fine if we leave now, at an average running pace.”
“Average running pace?” Wendel II said.
“Preliminary calculations?” Wendel I added.
Konstantin nodded. “Every time we double the distance between ourselves and the TNT, the shock wave will only be one fourth as powerful.”
“But it’s 100,000 pounds of TNT!” she said.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” one of the Wendels replied.
Who knew what the average running pace might be, and she wasn’t about to ask. She left the factory at a sprint. The men kept pace easily, their legs much longer than hers, though Konstantin’s suitcase banged against his knee.
Two long blocks away, a stitch cramped her side. Wincing, she slowed to a jog.
“Ardis,” Konstantin said. “Hurry.”
She rubbed her ribs. “You’re the one who set it to ten minutes!”
“Damn it.” Wendel II slung her over his shoulders. “Hold on.”
When he ran, every step jostled the air from her lungs. He carried her another long block before he struggled to breathe.
“Wendel!” she said. “Put me down.”
He let her slide to her feet. Gasping, he turned back to the factory. Konstantin and Wendel I stopped beside them.
“Are we far enough?” she said.
“I think so!” Konstantin said.
Wendel II sucked in air, his ribs heaving. “Quiet.”
Frowning, she shook her head. “You didn’t–”
The factory exploded in an orange fireball, chased by a shock wave that flung her off her feet. Windows shattered, glass spraying onto the street, and she shielded her face with her arm. She hit the sidewalk hard. Stunned, she stared skyward. Wendel II bent over her, his mouth moving without any sound.
She staggered upright, her head throbbing, her ears ringing.
“Wendel?” She couldn’t hear her own voice.
She glanced back and saw Konstantin on his knees, still clutching that ridiculous suitcase, and Wendel I dusting off his hands. In the distance, the factory vanished in an inferno of flames. Black smoke billowed skyward. As her hearing returned, she could hear the muffled rat-a-tat of small ammunition exploding in the fire.
Someone tugged on her hands, trying to drag her onward. Wendel II.
“No,” she said.
She read his lips. Ardis. Run.
Sirens cut through the ringing in her ears. Shattered glass reflected red and blue lights. Wendel II bolted into the night.
“Wendel!” she shouted.
Fingers closed around her wrist. Wendel I met her eyes and shook his head. Konstantin dropped his suitcase and lifted his hands into the air.
The sirens grew louder, until they filled her ears with a deafening sound.
~
“Ardis Black.” Detective Grimaldi threw a folder onto the table between them. “Didn’t learn from your mistakes, did you?”
Under the blank electric lights of the interrogation room, she stared at the manila.
“Open it,” he said.
She flipped open the folder. Her files. They knew everything about the life she left behind in San Francisco, including the man she had killed when he wouldn’t stop. Her eyes blurred, and the words swam like black goldfish in a white pond.
“Do you understand what a double agent does?” Grimaldi said.
His voice sounded conversational, but she recognized the dangerous glint in his eyes. It was the look of a man who found her useless.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“Do you know what you should have done?”
“No, sir.”
Grimaldi’s fist slammed on the table. She jumped but kept her face blank.
“I don’t think you understand,” he said.
She said nothing, her eyes focused on the folder.
“A double agent would have talked to Nemesis about blowing up the munitions factory. Then the double agent would have come back and told us.” Spit punctuated his words. He jammed his face too close to her own. “Understand?”
“Yes.”
“How many tons of TNT did you destroy?”
“100,000 pounds.” She met his gaze. “Sir.”
“Jesus Christ.” Grimaldi turned from her like he couldn’t stand looking at her. He paced the length of the interrogation room.
“With all due respect,” she said, “it was a cock up.”
“Why the hell did Wendel von Preussen lie in the hospital, pretending to be shot? Did you bribe the doctors and nurses?”
“Konstantin healed him with temporal magic.”
Grimaldi’s eyebrows bristled in a frown. “That’s another thing I don’t understand. How did you convince an Archmage of Vienna to help?”
“Why don’t you ask him that?” She kept her voice level. “Interrogate him for a change?”
“Oh, we will.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Anything else?”
“You should stick to whoring.” He grimaced. “You make a miserable mercenary.”
“I haven’t whored a day in my life.”
“Lived in a whorehouse. Same difference.”
“Have you ever been to a whorehouse?”
Grimaldi’s face purpled. “You aren’t in a position to find this funny. How about we buy you a train ticket to San Francisco?”
She met his gaze. “I hear the weather’s nice there this time of year.”
“Christ.” His shook his head. “We’re done here.”
~
Ardis gripped the clammy iron bars of her cell. The aroma of the interrogation room clung to her clothes–sweat and stale coffee. Across the jail, in the far corner, Wendel and Konstantin slouched against opposite walls.
“Wendel,” she called.
He moved to the bars of his cell. “How did it go?”
“Not good.”
He glanced at his knuckles. “They wasted nearly an hour interrogating me.” He made it sound like a minor inconvenience.
Konstantin joined him at the bars. His face looked pale as paper. “Am I next?”
“Must be,” Wendel said.
“God.” Konstantin sank onto his concrete bunk. “We’re the only suspects, aren’t we? The rest are charred corpses.”
Wendel curled his lip. “Next time, set the timer for more than ten minutes.”
The door to the jail swung open with the rusty squeal of hinges. Himmel strode inside, escorted by a guard. He glanced at Ardis with an expression to rival any thunderstorm, then strode straight over to Konstantin’s cell.
“Falkenrath,” he said.
“Himmel!” Konstantin leapt to his feet. “Have you come to bail me out?”
“Didn’t they tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“You’re being held without bail.”
The hope on Konstantin’s face crumpled. “I see.”
Himmel’s spine stiffened. “For heaven’s sake, you blew up a munitions factory. You brought this on yourself.”
“Why are you here?” Konstantin said.
“To check on you.”
Leaning against the wall, Wendel rolled his eyes. “How touching.”
“Oh, shut up.” Konstantin gave him a venomous glare. “We never would have joined Nemesis if it weren’t for you.”
“Me?” Wendel spread his hands wide. “I didn’t hold a knife to your throat.”
“That’s enough,” Himmel said, in a low voice.
“Admit it,” Wendel continued, “you leapt at the chance to blow something sky high. Bored after the Archmages of Vienna?”
“Enough!” Himmel gripped the bars as if he wanted to throttle him personally.
Still leaning against the wall, Wendel smirked. “Don’t do anything r
eckless. You might end up on the wrong side of the bars.”
A growl rumbled from Himmel’s throat. “I could care less what happens to you.”
“Really? I recall saving your life on at least one occasion.”
Himmel squeezed his eyes shut with a pained expression. “You tax my patience.”
“Gentlemen,” Ardis said, “could we stop arguing and come up with an escape plan?”
Wendel let out a bleak laugh. “My apologies, but my resume doesn’t include jailbreaks. We may have to wait for justice.”
“Or extradition,” Himmel said. “I’m in contact with embassy of Austria-Hungary.”
“Thank you.” Konstantin’s voice sounded a little hoarse.
“How about the embassy of the German Empire, while you’re at it?” Wendel said. “Repay me for saving your life?”
Himmel stared at him for a long moment. “I’m not sure what they will do with you.”
“Let’s find out.”
Ardis cleared her throat. “I’m hoping they won’t send me to San Francisco.”
Frowning, Himmel looked over his shoulder. “Why?”
“I’m wanted for murder there. Self-defense, though I’m not sure it matters.”
His frown darkened. “I’m not sure I can help you.”
“Thanks anyway.”
“Though I can try.” Himmel strode out of the jail without any goodbyes.
Konstantin slumped onto the bunk. He scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Russia was more hospitable than this.”
“Amazing,” Wendel said.
Silence fell over the jail again, broken only by one of the drunks snoring. Ardis stretched out on the concrete slab of her bunk. She couldn’t help feeling like a corpse on an autopsy table. Her head still ached from the explosion.
Where had Wendel II gone? Why had he abandoned her?
Why the hell was he here?
She stared at the ceiling; she couldn’t stop focusing on the snores. Wendel began pacing in his cell, kicking the bars with every lap.
“Stop!” Konstantin said. “Good God, how are you this annoying?”
“Years of practice,” Wendel said. “It’s a secret tactic taught to assassins.”
Konstantin began to a laugh, the sound verging on hysterical. He hunched in the corner, bracing himself with a hand on the wall.