by Lisa Shearin
“A coup implies an illegal and violent takeover of a legitimate government,” Mago Benares said. “My actions are legal, and I would have used violence only as a last resort.”
Yes, he was going by his real name now. Apparently, everyone’s cards were going on the table.
“Fyren Balmorlan was appointed governor by our queen many years ago,” Mago continued. “In light of recent criminal events both here and on our home world, that appointment has been rescinded. I carry a sealed royal warrant for his arrest on the charge of high treason, to be executed at the time of my choosing.” The elven ambassador bowed. “I beg your forgiveness, Lady Sagadraco, for my lack of forthrightness. Had Fyren Balmorlan suspected the real reason I came here, he would have fled. With the potential of an invasion of our home world, it’s imperative that our people have a safe haven, should it become necessary. The invaders have recruited allies from among our own people—most notably members of the Balmorlan and Silvanus families, including Fyren Balmorlan.”
I frowned. “The guy in charge of protecting any war refugees is in cahoots with the people they need protecting from?”
Mago nodded once. “Exactly. My mission is to secure the arrest of Balmorlan and five of his coconspirators on your world. Secrecy, and unfortunately deception, were necessary.”
“Where are these coconspirators?” Ms. Sagadraco asked.
The elf’s expression darkened. “Roaming free in this city, while I am trapped here. Lord Danescu assisted me in securing agents to take them into custody, but we now have no way of contacting them to coordinate their efforts.”
The boss raised a brow. “An elf seeking the aid of a goblin rather than of other elves?”
“Intelligence is scant on how far Fyren and his henchmen’s influence extends. I knew Lord Danescu was not friendly with either the elf or goblin governors, and the director of goblin intelligence told me that he could be trusted.”
“That was nice of Imala,” Rake said dryly.
Mago flashed a grin. “She saved me a lot of time.”
The boss wasn’t letting any of them off the hook yet. “Were your guards truly delayed in arriving, or did you come to the summit without staff to lure Governor Balmorlan into the hotel?”
Mago Benares’s lips twitched and his eyes all but twinkled. “I should have known better than to try to deceive you.”
“Yes, you should have—and now you do.” Ms. Sagadraco turned her attention to the goblin ambassador, shaking her head like a mom who’d caught her kid with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dakarai, you were present at the first summit, and you have known me for even longer. I would ask if you are ashamed of yourself, but why would I, when I know the answer. I assume your king is playing a similar game?”
Dakarai Enric’s impish smile made him look decades younger. “Yes, honored lady. If I had arrived with guards in tow, Gremien Pivaine never would have set foot in this hotel.” His smile vanished. “I had agents staged and ready to step through the hotel’s portal when I was ready to arrest him. We have proof of his treason and collusion with the Khrynsani as well as with the same offworld invaders the Balmorlan and Silvanus families are helping. In addition, we have proof of his guilt of crimes against our people here that are too numerous to even begin to list.”
“Sounds like the elf and goblin colonial governments are a wretched hive of scum and villainy,” I said.
Dakarai smiled. “A perfect description, Lady Makenna.”
“Thank you. But it’s not mine; someone else said it first.”
Ms. Sagadraco turned her attention to Rake. “And you believe the goblin lieutenant governor to be responsible for the murder of your portal mage and destruction of the hotel portal?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And now the lieutenant governor is dead, presumably at the hand of Phaeon Silvanus.”
“Killed with a knife from the hotel kitchen. I believe that Phaeon entered and left the scene through the mirror in the lieutenant governor’s bedroom.”
That got the goblin and elf ambassadors’ attention.
“A mirror?” Dakarai Enric asked. “I knew you did not invite us here merely to confess our subterfuge to Lady Sagadraco.”
Rake proceeded to tell them everything we knew. It wasn’t everything we needed to know by any means, but it stunned Mago Benares and Dakarai Enric.
Apparently mirrors on their world were scary as all get-out.
“You’ve confirmed this?” Mago asked.
Rake nodded. “On our way here, I sent a guard with Kenji to check the mirror for a microchip. He found it on the mirror’s lower right corner, all but concealed by the carpet. The chip was identical to the one we found in The Dunmor’s private dining room and the sites of the other manifestations.”
Fear gave way to confusion. Dakarai Enric spoke first. “Rake, my boy, I’m afraid you’ll need to tell us more about this ‘microchip.’”
Rake gave a little wince. “Sorry, sir. I’ve lived here so long, I forget that many of my friends have not.” He proceeded to explain what a microchip was.
“It sounds like some of our magic,” Mago noted. “Though the people of our world consider traveling by mirror or portal to be normal.”
“And we consider that magic,” I said.
“In many ways, the magic of the Seven Kingdoms is vastly superior to our technology,” Ms. Sagadraco said. “They have healers who can repair virtually any injury through touch and an infusion of their will.”
“With touch alone, a master healer brought my cousin back from the dead after he’d taken a crossbow bolt through the heart,” Rake said.
I blinked. “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“The Silvanus family is known for producing powerful mirror mages,” Mago said. “And now a member of the family here has discovered a way for anyone to be able to work mirror magic with any mirror, using these microchips.”
“This is dire news,” Dakarai said. “For our world and yours.”
Ian nodded in agreement. “There are terrorist organizations and governments who would pay whatever Hart Defense Systems asked to get their hands on this technology.”
“Do you think the colonial governors found out you guys were here to derail their gravy train?” I asked.
Mago raised a brow. “Gravy—”
“A saying on this world,” Rake explained.
“If you mean uncovered our intent to remove them from office . . .”
“I do.”
“Then yes, I find the timing of using this ‘technology’ against us highly suspicious.”
“Can this technology be used on our world?” Dakarai asked.
“Unknown,” Rake replied. “We don’t know what Phaeon’s using as a power source. But I would think since he’s testing it on us now, and likely intends to use it in the Seven Kingdoms, that he’s already overcome that obstacle.”
“Say they are able to use this on your world,” I said. “What would the Silvanus family be able to accomplish with it?”
“It would take their use of mirror magic to dangerous levels,” Mago said. “Mirrors would become weaponized. Normal mirrors would become a way in and an escape route for assassins, strike forces, even a small army, if the mirror could be easily defended. They could kill and kidnap, take fortresses from the inside.” The elf paused uneasily. “We know their ultimate goal is to overthrow the elven government and install themselves and their allies in all the positions of power.” He glanced at Dakarai. “Once they’ve accomplished that, they have made no secret of their desire to wipe out the goblin race.”
Silence.
Vivienne Sagadraco stood from where she’d been seated in one of Rake’s throne-like chairs. The three men before her had the good sense to find the carpet at their feet simply fascinating. “The delegates of this summit are in danger due to the actions of the elf and goblin colonial governors, their families, and their henchmen. We are being used to test a weapon that could bring suffering and death to millions on ou
r world and yours, lord ambassadors.” Her blue eyes regarded Rake. “Can we assume that Isidor Silvanus is in some way responsible for the pocket dimension in which we find ourselves trapped?”
Rake nodded. “He is the most powerful portal mage I have encountered, ma’am. With Phaeon responsible for the manifestations, I think it’s safe to say that Isidor is involved as well.”
“What action are you taking to prevent Phaeon Silvanus from using the hotel’s mirrors again?”
“With Phaeon’s device, any mirror has the potential to be an entry point for an attack. Merely covering them won’t work, and I’m not sure shattering them would either, as satisfying as that would be. I had parts of the hotel repainted two weeks ago. I’ve asked my hotel manager to determine how much paint we have left. Once we check a mirror for a microchip, it’ll be painted to render them magically inoperable.”
“An excellent idea,” Ms. Sagadraco said. “I’d like to take that a step further and involve the delegates. They are the leaders of their respective peoples. They are used to problem-solving. Their fear and anger stem directly from being trapped and unable to take constructive action to free themselves. I propose that we share what we know with them, and recruit them to not only paint the mirrors in their rooms—which will secure this hotel more quickly—but also to help find a way to free us from the pocket dimension. Many are learned in the ways of magic and science. We should take advantage of that knowledge.” Her blue eyes glittered dangerously, and I had to fight the urge to take a step back even though I knew her anger wasn’t directed at me.
“I want to propose an additional task for the delegates,” she said quietly.
Rake stood perfectly still. “By all means.”
“Find Phaeon Silvanus. He left through a mirror in The Dunmor, but he could have returned or simply traveled to another part of the hotel. Paint the mirrors quickly, Lord Danescu. I want him trapped here with us. I want him found. And when he is found . . .” Her voice deepened into a draconic rumble. “I want him brought to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vivienne Sagadraco was a dragon, and dragons were predators, and she’d decided that it was time to turn the tables on Phaeon Silvanus and turn the hunter into the hunted.
Rake and Ms. Sagadraco summoned the delegates to the ballroom, told them everything we knew, and answered any questions to the best of their ability. There was the expected grumbling afterward from some delegates; but for the most part everyone was relieved to know what was happening, who was behind it, and how to take an active part in protecting themselves.
Genvieve, Rake’s ever-efficient and knowledgeable hotel manager, had determined with a few taps on her tablet that there was plenty of paint left over to cover every mirror in the hotel. Within the hour, every delegate of the Centennial Supernatural Summit was given a cup of paint, told to use a washcloth from their bathrooms as a brush, and express their artistic creativity on the mirrors in their rooms.
Hotel employees took care of the public areas of the building, with SPI agents and commandos doing a room-to-room inspection of the entire Regor Regency from top to bottom to ensure that every mirror, even the smallest, had been rendered inoperative.
The photo of Phaeon Silvanus in Rake’s database was distributed to the delegates and printouts were posted around the hotel like good old-fashioned wanted posters. Sure, Phaeon could be glamoured as someone else, but this enabled the delegates to put a face to their imprisonment.
Fyren Balmorlan and his staff had been placed under suite arrest. Their mirrors weren’t painted. Rake, Mago, and Gethen personally removed them all—after Mago had served the now ex-governor with the elf queen’s warrant for his immediate arrest. The goblin governor and his staff were still under “protective custody” in the wake of the lieutenant governor’s murder—by an elf. Under no circumstances did we want to let these two groups anywhere near each other for the duration of our own imprisonment.
Morale was high and the atmosphere in the Regor Regency was approaching party levels—until the next manifestation less than an hour after the hotel had been declared mirror- and monster-free.
The Regor Regency’s pool was less for swimming, and more for believing you’d been transported to a South Pacific island. It featured powdery white sand and palm trees, and a ceiling painted and lit like a tropical afternoon sky. Heck, there was even a warm breeze.
The problem with this little slice of paradise was that it now came with its very own sea monster.
“Well, that answers the question of whether Phaeon Silvanus is still in the hotel,” I said to Ian.
What it didn’t answer was how the thing had gotten here.
The Atlantean delegation had been hosting a pool party for the other water-loving delegates to celebrate our newfound almost-freedom when what we were calling a centi-serpent had appeared in the middle of the pool. It was a cross between a giant python and a centipede. As if a big snake coming out of the hotel swimming pool wasn’t bad enough, this one had a gazillion legs and could chase you.
There were no mirrors anywhere around the pool area. Astute decorating decision on Rake’s part. I mean, how many people, honestly, wanted to see themselves in a bathing suit? There were nearly two dozen witnesses to the manifestation. After chasing the Atlantean ambassador around the pool to the accompanying screams of the other delegates, the centi-serpent had dived back into the pool and vanished as suddenly as it’d appeared.
So much for mirrors being the end-all solution to our monster problem.
The Atlanteans had felt responsible for the safety of their party guests, and had offered to search the pool for one of the mysterious microchips. They had enormous eyes that could detect virtually anything underwater, so if there was a chip to be found, they’d be the ones to find it.
I didn’t feel bad about leaving the scene. Ian had assigned two of our commandos to guard the Atlanteans. And so far, with the exception of the grimtogs, no monsters had put in a repeat appearance after their initial rampages.
We were leaving the pool area when one of the fey delegation came flying toward us. The boss had enlisted them as messengers. Yes, the hotel phone system was up and running, but we were going from one incident to another, so good luck finding us that way. As a combination of bloodhounds and carrier pigeons, the fey had been worth quadruple their weight in gold.
They were less than a foot tall with hummingbird-type wings and a hummingbird’s voracious appetite for all things sweet. Living in the vicinity of people had given them an addiction to caffeine as well. These little guys would do anything for a Mountain Dew. Kenji had been sharing his stash with them.
The fey held out a Tootsie-Roll-sized cylinder of paper to Ian.
My partner unrolled it and read the message. “Best news all day,” he said. “Roy’s awake.”
We had checked the mirrors in Roy’s room for a microchip, but there wasn’t one. The room had been sealed as a crime scene since the attack, but we now knew that Phaeon Silvanus didn’t need a door to go anywhere in the hotel he wanted to. He could’ve easily have reached back through the mirror, plucked off the microchip, and no one would’ve been the wiser. I couldn’t think of a reason why he would’ve done that. At that time, he hadn’t been in danger of being found out. Unless he had a limited number of those microchips, and was conserving his resources.
But none of that changed the fact that Phaeon Silvanus had deliberately targeted one of our commando team commanders.
Roy Benoit was our best chance of having an experienced eyewitness to the actual arrival of a monster. He wouldn’t have been freaked out by a scorpion climbing through a mirror. Roy shrugged off any monster-themed funkiness the universe threw at him. Then he killed it.
Roy was sitting up in the narrow hospital-type bed. He’d always been an outdoor guy, and had a permanent tan to show for it.
Now, he nearly blended in with the bedsheets.
But Roy’s eyes told me he was going to be just fine. They were th
e eyes of a raptor. A really pissed-off raptor.
“I’ve been briefed on the situation,” he said. He swallowed painfully and reached for the water by his bed. He took a long drink, his hands shaking slightly. “Damned respirator,” he managed. “Scratched the hell out of my throat.”
That right there told me how close we’d come to losing him. He hadn’t been able to breathe on his own. If Rake hadn’t had his hotel infirmary outfitted like a hospital ER, Roy probably would’ve died. I took the cup from Roy’s unsteady hands when he’d finished, and vowed to myself that Phaeon Silvanus and anyone who’d helped him do this would pay dearly.
A glance at Ian told me there’d be a line.
I perched on the edge of the bed, and Ian pulled over a wheeled stool.
“You need to rest,” Ian told him. “So, I’ll get to the point. Where did the scorpion come from?”
Roy shook his head. “I didn’t see where it came from. I was out like a light when my head hit the pillow. I woke up to something scrabbling around on the floor.” He gestured to me for the water and I quickly complied. He swallowed and winced. “Thanks, Mac,” he rasped. “I felt it tug on the bottom of the bedspread, like a cat would do. That got me on my feet. I thought it might be one of those grimtog things.”
I didn’t wait for him to ask for water again. I put the straw back in front of his mouth.
He drank and gave me a thankful nod.
“I got my gun and moved around the bed. There wasn’t anything there—because the damned thing had run underneath and gotten behind me. That’s when I heard the claws clicking. I spun around, and it was growing. It was between me and the door. I tried shooting its eyes out, but it was fast enough to dodge bullets. And when I did hit it, they bounced right off.” He stopped and drank again. “That’s when it stung me. I don’t remember much of anything after that. Sorry, I’m not of any help.”