“Charge will wear down in a few hours. Tick tock, tick tock. Or you can climb. Climb like a skitter lizard. Skitter, skitter up the pole, little lizard.”
Kiera scowled at Russel and let out an exasperated breath. “Just great.”
***
Langdon, Iggy, and Micah loitered in the shadows of a pair of buildings at one of the intersections leading to Rafferty’s headquarters. Their boss had taken them away from watching Kiera and her crew and stuck them on guard duty. Rafferty said it was not a punishment, but Langdon could not help but feel otherwise.
It was true that Rafferty had increased security around the headquarters in the last two days. Langdon knew there was something big in the works, but although Rafferty was grooming him to be one of his lieutenants, he was not yet an officer or privy to whatever it was he had planned.
A blue light flashed several times in a rapid strobing pattern from farther down the street near the next intersection where another of the crew stood guard.
“Did you see that?” Micah whispered from his position nearby.
Langdon’s eyes scanned the darkness. “I did.”
“What was it?”
“I don’t know. Stay on your toes.”
A moment later, Langdon yelped, jumped half his height forward, and spun around with a dagger drawn when something prodded him in the back. He stared wide-eyed at the boy looking up at him as he willed his heart to slow down. The twins hurried across the street, both gripping truncheons in their hands.
“Hey, it’s the re—Russel,” Micah said.
Iggy laid a hand over his stomach as a powerful feeling of nausea overcame him and he took a step back.
“Russel, what are you doing here?” Langdon asked. “How did you get past the outer guards?”
Russel’s hands danced in the air. “Twinkle, twinkle dazzling star,” he replied, reciting part of a children’s nursery rhyme.
“What? Never mind. What are you doing here?”
Russel unslung his backpack, retrieved an item from inside, and handed it to Langdon. Langdon unrolled the leather bundle and gaped at the bracer with four daggerwing throwing knives strapped to it. Each of the blades contained a polished, faceted piece of mage glass set into the bone near its base. The bracer itself contained four stones, each one matching up with those of the knives, and all connected by techno-scribings drawn in gold wire.
Whatever Russel had made, it was magnificent. Even Iggy overcame his unease and huddled close to Langdon for a better look.
“What does it do?” Langdon asked.
Russel took the bracer and strapped it to Langdon’s forearm. He raised his own arm, and pantomimed aiming it at a nearby barrel. He pressed a spot on the top of his arm that corresponded with the location of one of the bracer’s pieces of mage glass and then repeated the action with a spot on the underside of his forearm as he bent his hand down and then up with clear intention.
Micah said, “Oh, I think he’s saying that the blades shoot out when you press a stone.”
Iggy nodded. “Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t want your hand in the way when you do that.”
Langdon faced the barrel Russel indicated, pointed his arm at it, ensuring that his hand was flexed downward as far as it would go, and touched the stone with his left hand. One of the daggerwing blades flew from the bracer as if launched by a crossbow and buried itself in the barrel with a hearty thunk.
He marveled at the device, his face twisted by a huge grin as Micah fought to free the blade trapped in the barrel. “Russel, this thing is amazing! Where did you get daggerwing blades?”
Russel stared at Langdon for several seconds. “From a daggerwing,” he replied, flapping his arms.
“You killed a daggerwing?”
Russel shook his head, pointed to the four blades, and held up two fingers.
“You killed two daggerwings?” Langdon exclaimed. “How?”
Russel responded with a shrug.
“Russel, this is incredible. Thank you. If you ever need anything, just name it.”
“Protect Kiera.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
Russel pointed at Langdon, then to his eyes, and made a cupping motion in front of his chest.
“I think he wants you to find him a girlfriend,” Iggy said.
Russel shook his head, pointed at himself, raised his hand over his head, then moved it aside and lowered it, and made the cupping motion again.
Langdon nodded. “You’re talking about your brother and Kiera. You want me to keep an eye on Kiera?”
Russel’s head bobbed up and down.
“Yeah, sure, of course. Wait, what is she up to that you need to ask me to watch out for her? You wouldn’t be asking unless you thought our paths were going to cross. Does this have something to do with Rafferty? What do you know, and how do you know it? I don’t even know what he’s doing!”
Even if Langdon understood sign, Russel doubted he could explain to him how everything in the universe was connected, and if a person observed certain actions around them, they could create a mathematical probability equation that had the potential to tell the future. This particular situation was not nearly as complex as others as it only required a few points that were easy to connect. Fred had a lot of money he was spending in order to steal something from someone else. One did not spend more than they were likely to profit from any job, so whatever the item was, it had to be at least twice as valuable as what he was spending to get it.
There were only a few people in the city who would go to such lengths and expense to acquire the arcanstone containing Ashlea’s soul. Since the trade was taking place on the surface, it meant either Rafferty was the one who wanted the stone or someone hired him for security. Regardless of his position on the matter, there was no way something like this could happen without Rafferty being involved.
“Russel, did you hear me?” Langdon asked. “Tell Kiera she needs to stay away from whatever Rafferty is doing.”
Russel wagged his head then drew his thumb across his throat.
“Someone is making her do something? Who? She should come to me—I mean Rafferty. We can protect her.”
Russel whipped his head from side to side vigorously.
Langdon grabbed a fistful of his hair in each hand. “Damn it, you’re asking me to choose between Kiera and my boss!”
Russel wagged his head to the negative once more and touched the tips of his index fingers together.
“How could their goals possibly be in line?”
The odd boy patted his chest.
“Trust you… I swear, it’s like the two of you are in a contest to see which one gets me killed first. Fine, I’ll do what I can to protect Kiera, but I am not betraying Rafferty.”
Russel flashed him a thumbs up, turned, and walked away.
“Langdon,” Micah said once Russel was gone, “I think we need to have a talk about the direction you’re taking our crew in.”
“What direction is that?”
“The one that leads you into Kiera’s trousers and to our horrible deaths.”
“What? No, it’s not like that!”
“Then how is it exactly?”
Langdon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s…complicated.”
“That’s a funny name for your prick.”
“It’s not…Iggy, you understand. Help me out.”
Iggy shrugged. “I call mine Duke Ironrod.”
“No, not that!” The crew leader threw up his hands. “I’m not trying to get in her trousers, and I am certainly not going to do anything that is going to get us into trouble with Rafferty.”
Micah nodded. “One of those is a lie, and I really hope it’s not the latter.”
CHAPTER 23
The mercenary ship settled into one of Velaroth’s docking cradles early in the evening. A somber crew busied themselves with work while others carried off three corpses wrapped in canvas shrouds. The men’s deaths had been inexplicable to all but one pers
on aboard the vessel. The grey pallor and gaunt visages were unlike any symptoms of the diseases they were familiar with, like dust lung.
Dorian watched the crew take the bodies away under the supervision of the mooring yard’s physicians where they would be quarantined until they could assess the cause of death and whether or not the corpses presented a threat to public health.
The one called Tye was the first to die. Dorian delivered him to his death less than a day after the airship resumed its journey. The man was infuriatingly close and relentless in his desire to talk to him. The Necrophage had already decided that the man needed to die long before he became a threat. His eventual suspicion only hastened his demise.
The others he killed out of a mix of boredom and a desire to steal their life energy. A good soul stone, like the ones he possessed, could contain several lives. However, multiple siphonings posed a risk of fracturing the vessel, which increased exponentially with every addition. His soul stones were flawless, so the danger of housing three souls in it was minor.
Dorian leaned against the deck railing, never taking his eyes from the captain’s cabin. Wherever that box went, he would follow. He was not going to risk taking his eyes off it for a moment. He had learned from his host’s memories that he was one of the captain’s primary fighters, so he was certain that he would be tasked with guarding it. If not, he would find another way to stay close. He would have what was in that box if he had to kill everyone in the city to get it.
Hours passed before Captain Campbell appeared bearing the box. Dorian wondered if there had been a prearranged time for delivery as he had not seen anyone come or go except for those tasked with removing the corpses. That was unlikely given the inexact timetable of airship travel. He must have gotten a message somehow that it was time to make the sale. The fact that Dorian failed to notice any such exchange meant that whoever was to receive the box was no stranger to illicit dealings.
Dorian began to consider that his simple heist might not be as easy as he had first thought. No matter. The sorcerers were dead. There was no one in this city or any other who could oppose him. He had power to spare, and he would unleash it all in order to get what was in the box.
***
Kiera woke with a start. She had not left the airship in days, nor had she been getting much sleep. She cocked an ear and held her breath, trying to locate the source of whatever had woken her from her uneasy slumber. The only sound that reached her ears was Russel’s insistent banging around in his subterranean kingdom, something her mind had learned to tune out long ago. She cast a glance at the floor, her lip curling in annoyance as she wondered if he ever slept.
Unable to discern the presence of an intruder, and with her paranoia insisting that it was not going to let her go back to sleep, Kiera buckled on her belt and felt a small measure of reassurance at the weight of her batons and the grappling gun Russel had made. The device felt odd on her hip, but she had been practicing with it, and the weight of her two batons helped offset the slight imbalance.
Kiera slinked out of her room, one hand gripping a baton, the other held against the pistol’s butt, ready to unholster it and zip away at the first sign of danger. She found Wesley’s room empty and vaguely recalled him mentioning having an appointment. She just hoped he had enough of the drugs Fred had given him to sell to make an actual profit.
The young nightbird climbed the stairs just far enough to scan the deck with her eyes. She willed her vision to pierce the darkness, but the deep shadows refused to reveal their secrets. Niobe, the brighter of the two moons, was in her coy phase, hiding from her mate, Bronte, who was only half present. He did not like Niobe’s game of playing hard to get, his anger showing in the moon’s reddish surface.
Kiera emerged from the hold and onto the deck. She stood near the hatch for a full minute before shuffling silently across the planking, stopping to listen and gaze into the shadows every few steps. Kiera willed her heart to slow and fought to control the slight tremor in her hands. She pressed her back against the splintered mainmast, thinking to use it as a barrier between her and any attacker. It was not.
Strong arms wrapped her in a tight embrace from behind, and a razor-sharp knife pricked the skin below her jaw. Fetid breath washed over her as Top Hat whispered into her ear.
“Time to go to work, little chicken.”
Kiera’s jaw muscles tightened in a mix of fear and fury, and she spoke through her clenched jaw. “It’s past time for you to brush your teeth.”
Top Hat pressed his beak-like nose against Kiera’s neck and inhaled deeply. “Such brave words, but I can smell your fear. The exchange is taking place in a warehouse not far from the mooring yard. I suggest you hurry. You do not want to be late for the party.”
Kiera took two swift strides away when Top Hat released her and spun around to face him. “That’s the second time you’ve put a knife to my throat. It will be the last.”
Top Hat giggled in response to her bravado, licked the tip of his blade, and receded back into the shadows. Kiera could do nothing but stand and seethe. How could a man so tall and ridiculous move with such stealth, in her territory at that!
Whatever fear she had felt melted in the face of her outrage. She was tired of being on the bottom, the runt skitter lizard always being pecked at by the larger, stronger creatures around her. That was going to change, but to effect it, she had to complete this job.
Focusing her thoughts on the task at hand, Kiera jogged down the gangplank and across her territory. The mooring yards were not too far away, relatively speaking, but as Top Hat had said, she did not want to miss the party.
It took her just over half an hour to reach the warehouse, but she felt something cold and dangerous in the air long before reaching the block upon which it resided. Despite the late hour, there should have been more people about, late-night revelers, drunks staggering home from bars, and at least a few nightbirds like her looking to lift the purses of the former. But there was no one. Someone had put the word out to vacate the area around the warehouse, someone with a great deal of authority.
She had already determined that given the amount Fred was clearly willing to pay to acquire this object, it belonged to someone of wealth and importance. She had hoped it was just some highborn smuggling something valuable but illicit into the city, but given the district’s mass exodus, that narrowed it down to only a handful of people…her people.
Kiera felt like the metal trapped between a hammer and anvil. Regardless of which side she chose, she was going to get beaten. She jumped when someone hidden in a dark crevice between buildings whispered to her.
“Who are you?”
Kiera instinctively crouched next to the building and tried to see the speaker. “I’m here for the job.”
“Which job? Guarding, delivering, or retrieving?”
A queasiness rolled through her stomach, knowing that the wrong answer at this moment would likely result in a swift death. “Retrieval.”
The speaker paused and Kiera feared she had answered incorrectly until he spoke again. “Come over here.”
She obeyed, slinking across the narrow divide between buildings, and hunkered down next to the man. He was older than she was, but probably only by a few years, as best she could tell. He lacked the gruff voice and aura of menace people developed after being in the trade for long.
“No one has arrived yet, but it probably won’t be long. You’re our nightbird, right?”
Kiera nodded then spoke when she realized that it was probably too dark for him to see the gesture. “Yes.”
“Can you get to the roof and come down through one of the skylights?” he asked.
She studied the warehouse across the street and noted the taller building adjacent to it. Her hand touched the grappling gun on her hip, but she pulled it away as the recent memory of her previous rooftop exploit came crashing home.
“Uh, is there somewhere else I can wait?”
“No. We have people inside out of si
ght. The skylight gives you the best vantage to see the exchange. You should be able to drop through the opening and into the rafters without being seen. Can you do that?”
Kiera took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. With the grapnel gun, she might be able to snatch whatever she was supposed to steal right out of the person’s hands, assuming it was small. She doubted Fred expected her to haul off something too heavy for her to carry.
“I can do it.”
“Good. What we are after is inside a blast box. That means you either have to wait until the buyer removes it from the box to inspect it, or you have to get the box and the key. Obviously, the former is going to make the job easier, but you are going to have to be fast. As soon as the item is removed from the box, our people are going to rush in. We are there to create a distraction and take out as many of the guards as we can so you can get the package. That’s your only job. Leave everything else to us.”
“Who are we stealing from?”
“That information is above my position and it doesn’t matter. We’re paid to fight. You’re paid to get the package. It doesn’t get any more complicated than that.”
Kiera pressed her lips together to stifle a rebuttal. She had a strong suspicion that it was going to be far more complicated than he made it sound. Whoever the buyer was, they had wealth and power. Those kinds of people never let something like this go without a violent response. She wagged her head, shaking the thought away. That was Fred’s problem. This was his scheme, and he would be the one in possession of the item, assuming the heist was successful.
She padded across the vacant building fronts, sticking to the shadows. Unholstering her gun, she secured the device to the bracer strapped onto her left arm, aimed it at the roof peak, and sent the grapnel streaking upward. The device latched onto the eaves as securely as if it were part of the construction.
Pressing a button on the side of the gun with her thumb, Kiera flew skyward until the cord fully retracted. She reached up with her free hand, grabbed the roof ledge, and pulled herself over. It took quite an effort to manage the challenging move, and Kiera resolved to work on her pull-ups as she lay on her back catching her breath.
NIghtbird (Empire of Masks Book 2) Page 24