NIghtbird (Empire of Masks Book 2)

by Brock Deskins

  “We were about to leave without you,” Tye said, his grin showing two gold teeth flanked by black spaces. “Thought maybe a horned devil ate ya—or took ya for a mate.”

  Dorian touched the soul stone now set in the pommel of his sword, searching for a response the man he assimilated would make. “Almost, but she saw the size of my prick and got scared off.”

  Tye laughed. “Maybe if she was a skitter lizard!” He squinted at a spot on the side of Dorian’s head. “What’s wrong with your ear?”

  Dorian reached up, felt an odd wrinkle, and tugged the flesh into place. “What’s wrong with it?”

  Tye looked again and noted nothing amiss. “Nothing, must have been a trick of the light. We best get aboard before they leave us both here. You getting sick? Your voice sounds off.”

  “Just the dust sticking in my throat.”

  The two men made their way up the ramp and onto the deck. Several crewmen retracted the gangway and stowed it. Within minutes, the airship lifted off the ground and sailed eastward. Dorian itched to seek out the source of whatever it was that continued to buzz in his mind like an angry hornet, but there was too much activity on board the ship, and he did not want to draw attention to himself.

  He decided to learn what he could about this land, particularly these new weapons and the fate of the highlords. His inspection of the airship’s hold revealed weapons similar to the ones used to bring down his wailing ship, albeit the largest of them was half the size and they numbered only six, a total far fewer than the warship had sported. Dorian took the time to examine one of the two pistols he carried strapped to his chest. They were much like the ship-mounted weapons, using a black powder to propel a small lead ball, or a larger sphere made of iron in the case of the cannons.

  Dorian brought up the highlords during casual conversations with a few of the crew, each of them giving him curious looks but confirming that they were truly vanquished. With the sorcerers no longer a threat, his people’s victory was already well in hand. These new weapons of theirs were no trivial matter, but how the highlords had succumbed to them so quickly was a mystery. Whatever mistakes they had made, he would not repeat them. If they could equip their Ulec with them, they would be unstoppable, particularly if the only magic left in the empire was as feeble as what he had seen from the wind caller.

  Beyond his few inquiries, Dorian kept to himself and avoided the rest of the crew. His disguise, no matter how physically flawless, could fail under close scrutiny by someone familiar with the man whose skin he had stolen. When most of the crew was busy eating their dinner meal, Dorian snuck into the captain’s quarters, drawn there by the mysterious object’s call. He located an intricate box made entirely of void steel. If the metal was as rare here as it was in his own land, the box alone was invaluable.

  Dorian reached out to the chest but held his hands an inch from the onyx surface. Power radiated from techno-scribings inside the box that promised death to anyone who managed to break its seal, or possibly even touched it if not authorized to do so.

  “What are you doing in my cabin, Marlowe?”

  Dorian had been so enamored by his find, he had failed to hear the door open or the captain approach. He stood and spun to face the man, hoping he would not have to kill him. The captain’s death would be harder to overlook, and he might be the only one able to so much as touch the box without setting off its obviously violent defenses.

  “I thought I heard something,” Dorian said, deciding that sticking with a close approximation to the truth was the best course.

  Captain Campbell nodded, his beard sweeping against the collar of his shirt like a thick brush. “It does that. I haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since we brought it aboard. I’ll be damn glad to get rid of it.”

  “Me too. Sorry for trespassing in your quarters.”

  “You know you can’t touch it, right? I’m not sure what would happen unless you actually managed to get it open. That’d blow us all to the Tormented Plane, but best you steer clear altogether. We’re being paid way too much for its delivery for anyone to get the heebie-jeebies and toss it overboard.”

  Dorian ducked his head. “Aye, Captain. I think I’ll keep myself busy and as far from it as I can get.”

  “You do that.”

  Dorian hastened from the cabin and did as he had said he would by taking up a position near the bowsprit. He leaned on the rail and took in several deep breaths to clear his head and steady his nerves. As hard as it was to believe, he thought he knew what was in the box—a soul, and a very powerful one at that. More powerful than any he had stolen and stored in a stone. Dorian thought about the power he would have if he was able to wield it and shuddered.

  CHAPTER 16

  Wesley had returned from making his first payment to Fred for the drugs he had borrowed. While there, he was supposed to get the current layout of the counting house’s interior, particularly the security and number of men Kiera might find inside when she made her run against him tonight. In typical Wesley fashion, she was having a hard time getting a coherent response from him, and she was rapidly losing her patience.

  “You’re sure Fred’s there?” Kiera asked.

  “He was there when I made my payment,” Wesley replied.

  “So you paid Fred directly? You put the money in his hand and saw his face?”

  Wesley squirmed under Kiera’s probing. “I didn’t technically put the money in his hand.”

  “What did you technically do?”

  “Well…I paid Top Hat, and he gave the money to Fred.”

  “But you saw him give the money to Fred?”

  “Technically?”

  Kiera’s face turned a familiar shade of crimson and her fists clenched. “I’m going to technically kick your ass if you say technically one more time and you don’t tell me that you know for certain Fred is at the counting house and has his money with him!”

  “OK! I gave Top Hat the money, but he did meet me at the counting house.”

  “Define at.”

  “Outside.”

  “So you didn’t see Fred or the chests?”

  “Tech—”

  Kiera scowled and gripped the baton at her side.

  “No, I did not, but I’m sure Fred was there.”

  “You were supposed to go inside and give Fred the money so you could tell me how many men he has with him. He could have moved an army in since you last saw him.”

  “I tried, but Top Hat wouldn’t let me.”

  Kiera threw up her hands. “Great, I’m going in blind!”

  Wesley giggled. “Not me, I can see like a daggerwing.”

  The young nightbird put her face near Wesley’s and stared into his glazed eyes. “You better not be using what you’re supposed to be selling.”

  “I’m not…technically.”

  Kiera’s baton was out, and a meaty slap echoed across the derelict airship’s deck as it impacted against Wesley’s shoulder.

  Wesley grabbed his wounded appendage with his free hand and hopped around. “Ow, damn it, Kiera!”

  “What did we learn?”

  “That you’re an angry, violent little prat—nothing that isn’t common knowledge.”

  “And that my threats are promises.”

  “My threats are promises,” Wesley mimicked in a mocking tone. He leapt back when Kiera raised her baton for a second strike. “I don’t think he has many men with him. He’s still trying to keep a low profile.”

  “How many?”

  “I’m pretty sure it isn’t more than three plus Top Hat. I stuck around a while and that’s all I saw go in or out of the building.”

  Kiera sighed. Top Hat was enough to make her doubt her plan. The man was as dangerous as he was ridiculous. Still, if she did her job right, it wouldn’t matter who was there or how many men Fred had. She would be gone without them knowing she was ever there.

  “I’m still going.”

  “Are you sure? There are an awful lot of unknown variable
s.”

  Kiera crossed her arms and looked away. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Sure we do. I can keep selling drugs to my clients.”

  “Even if, and that’s a big if, you could sell enough to do better than break even, we’d be working for Fred, and no way am I working for that lunatic. I’d rather throw my lot in with Rafferty.”

  “Then maybe we should do that instead.”

  Kiera shook her head forcefully. “No, I haven’t worked this hard to be someone else’s flunky. I’m doing this.”

  Having made up her mind, Kiera shinnied down the side of the airship opposite the ramp leading up to the deck. She couldn’t imagine someone wasting time spying on her, but she did not want some scavenger seeing her and for word to get back to Fred. She could not afford to leave even the slightest trail that could lead back to her.

  Navigating the maze of rubble and trash, Kiera made her way toward Midtown. Near the border of her garbage dump leading into Blindside proper, she thought she spotted some dark shapes moving between the mounds. It could have been phantoms conjured up by her anxiety-laden mind, but she took a roundabout route around them anyway.

  Even taking as many shortcuts as she could, it still took her an hour to reach the counting house. Kiera hid in the shadows of nearby buildings, making a slow, stealthy circuit around her target. She saw only two men outside the counting house, but knowing Fred, there were more within shouting distance—a lot more. He might not want a lot of men around his hideout, but he would never leave himself unprotected.

  The nightbird flitted between the surrounding buildings and found an old boarding house with a man standing near the door. It was late, but Velaroth was not without a nightlife, except on the block the counting house and boarding house occupied. Kiera found that suspicious enough to warrant further investigation.

  She scampered up the side of the boarding house as quiet as a shadow. Choosing the window of a nearby room, she peered inside. The silhouettes of several sleeping forms confirmed her suspicions. There was not a doubt in her mind that these were more of Fred’s men. They could pose a problem if things did not go according to plan.

  Kiera slithered along the roof until she reached the front and crept to the edge. She began tossing small pebbles off of the porch, the stones creating a rhythmic tapping when they struck the street.

  The man guarding the only door followed the curious sound and stepped out into the street to investigate. The moment the man’s head hove into view, Kiera leapt from the roof, her baton held high. The man glanced up at the dark shape plummeting toward him and had just enough time to twist his face into a look of surprise before Kiera struck him between the eyes.

  Kiera squatted next to the body, listening for any sound of discovery as she held her breath. Failing to detect any alarm or rousing of the men inside, she dragged the man off the street and into the shadows, her eyes constantly flicking toward the counting house, certain that at any moment one of the guards would come around the corner to investigate. None appeared. She found a few coins on the man and slipped them into her pocket. With any luck, everyone would just think that he had been robbed and never know that the real target was across the street.

  Slipping off her pack, Kiera retrieved a piece of flat steel the length of her forearm. It was bent into the shape of an ‘S’ with one of the curved ends twisted forty-five degrees from the other. She slid one end of the bar beneath the door and rotated it so that it stuck straight up while the other lay perpendicular to the outside wall. She secured her end of the doorstop by running a screw through a small hole in the metal and into the wall. It would not hold for long against a concerted effort, but the delay it caused could mean the difference between escape and getting caught.

  Kiera stalked back to the counting house, repeating her previous circuit, hoping that the guards were still standing in the same place so she could get onto the roof and slip inside without anyone knowing. Her heart beat a little faster when she found the back now unguarded. She tried to calm her nerves by convincing herself that he had probably just joined the man at the front to relieve his boredom.

  She skulked around the large building to the front and her heart rate redoubled. There was no one there. Where had they gone? Granted, Fred did not employ the most competent men in the world, but this was subpar performance even for them. Kiera made a second round and even scouted the surrounding buildings but found no sign of the men.

  Where were they? She glanced back to the boarding house but there was no sign of them or any indication she had been found out. Kiera considered aborting, but she knew she was unlikely to get a better opportunity. She prayed the men’s disappearance was purely incompetence and had nothing to do with impending disaster.

  Kiera scampered up the stout metal drainpipe running up the side of the building, grabbed the gutter at the top, and heaved herself onto the roof. Slate shingles clacked under her footsteps no matter how softly she walked. She just hoped that everyone inside was asleep and that they were not easily woken.

  Several skylights adorned the roof in an effort to minimize the need for candles or other sources of illumination during working hours. She crept between them, wiped away the dust, and peered inside. Niobe was full and Brontes waxed at half moon, which allowed just enough light to shine through the skylights and give a dim view of the interior.

  She found two men sleeping in the same room at the far end of the building on the second floor. Given that she could hear their snoring even from her high vantage point despite the thick glass between them, she understood why they weren’t closer to their boss. Midway down, Kiera was sure she spotted the chests Wesley had mentioned, but she couldn’t be sure if they were the ones containing coin or drugs. She would have to pick one and hope she got it right the first time.

  She found Fred sleeping in a surprisingly nice room given the dereliction of the rest of the building. He lay on a large bed with a thick mattress and covers. The chamber was well-appointed with a wardrobe, dressers, tables, and a desk. It looked almost as nice as any bedchamber in the more respectable homes she’d robbed in the past.

  Satisfied that the counting house’s occupants were all soundly sleeping, Kiera had started to turn back toward the skylight beneath which the chests lay when a flicker of motion drew her attention back to the bedroom below. She could just make out a faint shadow looming over the bed.

  Someone was in the room with Fred. She stretched out, leaning against the skylight to get a better view in hopes of seeing who was casting the shadow. Kiera was just able to make out one side of what she assumed was a man, given his size and shape. It was not Top Hat, of that she was certain. She thought he might be a bodyguard, tasked with watching the crime boss while he slept, but then the figure drew a sword and stalked closer.

  Kiera stifled a gasp. Someone was going to kill Fred right in front of her eyes—and completely screw up her heist. There was no way she could go through with it now. Even if the man killed Fred and made his escape without anyone knowing, she wasn’t going to rob a dead man and take the chance of someone thinking she had done it.

  She started to scoot back off the skylight to make her escape and leave Fred to the assassin, but the fates had other plans for them both, or more accurately, all three. Kiera froze when the wood panes sagged and the glass gave an ominous crack beneath her hands. Kiera willed her body to become light as a feather, but if that sort of magic existed, she did not possess it.

  The glass and wood gave way beneath her and she fell with a startled cry. She landed atop the tall wardrobe, bounced off, and dropped atop Fred’s prone form. Fred sat up and engaged Kiera in a screaming match, each seemingly trying to top the other in volume and pitch. His eyes went from Kiera to the man standing near the foot of his bed with a sword in his hand.

  Fred recovered first, bolted to his knees on the bed, grabbed the girl around the neck and one leg, and hurled her at the sword-wielder. Kiera struck the assassin squarely and they both went down in
a heap. Fred rolled from the bed, flipped open a small wooden box sitting on the nightstand, and clutched a handful of the white powder filling it.

  The drug dealer shoved the powder beneath his nose and inhaled deeply. His fearful scream became a roar of fury and a challenge to all who would face him. The fact that he was completely naked only made the situation that much more terrifying.

  Cleary flung the girl off him with a curse, climbed back to his feet, and sought to complete the task he was there to perform. His eyes shifted about the dim room, but Fred was nowhere to be seen. Kiera hit the wall and rolled to a standing position, her baton poised to strike anyone who came within reach. Cleary was closest, so she determined he would be the first to feel her wrath.

  Another roar sounded and both sets of eyes flicked back to the bed, which was rising from the floor as if it had somehow become animated and decided to join the brawl. Gripping the mattress rails, Fred charged forth with the bed held before him like a massive tower shield and smashed both intruders against the wall.

  Cleary’s face was sandwiched between the mattress and the wall, giving him a good look at the girl, who was identically caught and stared back at him. He was certain it was a girl given the size and what he could see of her face, which was half-covered by a strip of cloth.

  Unable to bring his sword arm up, the assassin pushed against the mattress as hard as he could and raised his pistol. The shot tore through the bed, dusting Fred’s face with bits of cotton and downy feathers. Fred cursed, released his hold on the bed, and darted away.

  Cleary and Kiera both shoved against the bed and sent it crashing back down. Kiera advanced on the man who had just ruined her plans and possibly signed her death warrant if Fred recognized her. Cleary all but ignored her as a threat and sought out his target.

  Fred reached into the nightstand and withdrew a pair of pistols. Clearly threw himself to the side and collided with Kiera, sending them both tumbling to the floor once again. One of the pistols went off, the shot scoring a deep gouge in Cleary’s shoulder. Both intruders fought to disentangle themselves and get back to their feet. The door crashed open and the two men from the other room burst in. Fred, either panicked or high on dream dust, thought they were more assassins and fired his other pistol and shot the first man to come through the door between his eyes.