The creature surged forward, pincers and tentacles reaching for Corvus. He leaped to the side, moving with the inhuman speed granted by his Shadowmorph, but McCade kept pace with him. One of the tentacles lashed across Corvus’s chest, opening a gash and knocking him back several steps.
I grabbed the clip the security guard had been trying to load. I ejected the empty clip, slammed the new one into the gun, and took aim. A deep breath, and I emptied the clip into McCade, aiming for his…well, the thing that had been his torso. I suppose it was his center of gravity now. I wasn’t the best shot, but McCade had gotten a lot bigger. All nine bullets tore into McCade, staggering him. He let out a hideous scream of rage and fury that sawed into my head, black slime spurting from the wounds. Yet it didn’t slow him. He resumed his pursuit, his tentacles and pincers reaching for Corvus.
I looked around, frantic. Part of my mind pointed out that I could take the duffel bag and run, leaving Corvus to his fate. He had been willing to take the tablet, which would have condemned Russell to death. But he hadn’t known that, had he? He thought he had been doing the right thing, and as annoying as it had been, I couldn’t blame a man for that.
A more practical part of my mind pointed out that McCade had seen my face, that he would realize that I had stolen his tablet, and that I had just pissed him off by shooting him nine times. Even if I ran, once he finished Corvus, he would hunt me down and kill me.
If Corvus and I didn’t kill McCade now, I was going to die.
But I had no idea how to kill him. He had shrugged off nine bullets, and I had no spells that could hurt him. I racked my brain, trying to think of an idea. I didn’t know anything about the Dark Ones, save what I had learned today, but Morvilind had taught me a little about summoning spells. Summoning creatures from the Shadowlands took tremendous amounts of magical power. If the Dark Ones came from the Void beyond the Shadowlands, then presumably it would take even more power to call up a Dark One.
So where had McCade gotten that power?
I cast the spell to sense the presence of magic again. I still felt the dark power radiating from the tablet in my duffel bag, and the malevolent auras around the dagger and chalice upon the altar. I also sensed the tremendous power radiating from the circle. It had been latent before, but McCade had activated it by crossing the boundary.
It was identical to the power within the chalice, the dagger, and the tablet. I suspected McCade had used the items to open the way to the Void, to make contact with whatever Dark One he worshipped. To do so had required a spell of great power.
And like many spells of great power, it was fragile.
I needed the tablet. I didn’t need the chalice or the dagger.
I seized both items from the altar and flung them into the circle. There was a snarling flash of ghostly green flame, and a howling nothingness appeared into the center of the circle, a void that swallowed the chalice and the dagger whole. A pulse of dark magic washed through the temple, and the floor shuddered and groaned. A ribbon of green fire burst from the circle and wrapped around McCade, and the hulking creature screamed. He staggered, his pincers and tentacles lashing at the air, and Corvus regained his balance, his sword of dark force coming up in guard.
The darkness and the green fire winked out, and McCade screamed again. He shrank, withering and diminishing, and the hideous creature vanished. In its place stood a naked, slightly overweight middle-aged man, his eyes bright with madness and pain, a keening scream coming from his lips.
The Dark One had been banished, and McCade had returned to his normal form.
Though it looked as if the Dark One had taken McCade’s sanity.
Paul McCade screamed in fury, gibbering and laughing, and flung himself at Corvus.
He got maybe half a step before the dark blade lashed out, taking off McCade’s head. The body collapsed at the Shadow Hunter’s feet, while the head rolled down the stairs of the dais. Corvus looked at the corpse, breathing hard, and closed his eyes for a moment.
I took the opportunity to pick up my duffel bag, slinging it over my shoulders. It felt like the tablet was still intact. I doubt Morvilind would have been forgiving if I told him I had broken the tablet over the head of a security guard employed by a Dark One-possessed food magnate.
Corvus opened his eyes, his shadow-filled gaze falling upon me.
“Be sure to get the bullets,” I said.
“Bullets?” he said.
“The ones that…uh, popped out of you when you healed,” I said. “Once Homeland Security starts investigating McCade’s death, they might use the blood on the bullets to trace you.” His wounds had vanished, healed by the dark power of his Shadowmorph, and a grim thought occurred to me. “When you drank McCade’s life, did you pull in any of the…essence of the Dark One inside him?”
“No,” said Corvus. He lowered his hand, and the sword dissipated into nothingness, the lines of his tattoo across his chest going still. He knelt and retrieved the bullets. “You had banished the Dark One back to the Void, and I could kill him without fear.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well. Good.”
“Thank you for my life, Katerina Annovich,” said Corvus.
“What?”
“I might have been able to take both guards,” said Corvus, “and McCade before he transformed. But once he summoned his Dark One, I would not have been able to overcome him. If you had not acted, I would have died.”
I snorted. “Don’t read too much into it. If they had killed you, I would have been next on the list.”
“Nevertheless,” said Corvus. “You could have abandoned me several times, but you did not. Thank you.”
I shrugged, uncomfortable. I’m not used to being thanked for anything. “Well…you saved my life a couple of times. Guess that makes us even.”
“The tablet,” said Corvus. “Are you still going to take it?”
I tensed. “Are you going to stop me?”
“No.” He watched me for a moment. “But I urge you to leave it behind. You’ve seen the kind of harm it can wreak. McCade must have used it to help contact his Dark One.”
“I can’t,” I said.
“If it is about money,” said Corvus, “I will pay you to…”
“It’s not about money,” I said. I dared not tell him the truth. But he had saved my life. “I…have to do this. I have to steal this stupid thing.”
“Why?” said Corvus.
“Because I have to,” I said. “I don’t want to use it, and I’m not going to sell it. I just…I have to do this. There will be consequences if I do not.”
“Consequences?” said Corvus, and then he nodded. “Ah. Someone has a hold over you. Someone you care about will suffer if you don’t deliver the tablet. A lover, perhaps, or a child or a sibling.”
“Something like that,” I said. “I…really can’t tell you more. Don’t ask, because I can’t tell you.”
Corvus stared at me for a moment longer, and then nodded.
“Want to get out of here?” he said.
“Oh, God,” I said. “I thought you’d never ask.”
###
Despite the death of the host, the gala was still going strong, both the main party in the glassed-in courtyard and the drug-fueled revels in the hidden room. Sneaking through the hidden room proved easy enough, but a man in a bloody tuxedo and a woman in a dirty cocktail dress, cargo pants, and dusty running shoes couldn’t go through the courtyard without drawing notice.
So we went out the window and into the muggy night. We cut across the vast lawn, following a route that avoided the security cameras, and returned to the street. No signs of alarm came from the mansion.
We had gotten away clean, at least so far.
“I guess this is where we part ways,” I said as we reached the sidewalk. “Thanks again.”
“I still owe you something of a debt,” said Corvus. “I wish to repay it.”
“No,” I said. “No, you don’t owe me anything. Just don’t kill me and
we’ll call it even.”
He reached into a pocket of his tattered coat and handed me a business card.
“What, the Shadow Hunters have business cards?” I said. “Call 1-800-555-KILL to arrange an execution?” It was the business card of a coffee shop on Wisconsin Avenue.
“Meet there at noon in ten days,” said Corvus, “and I shall repay you then. If you wish.”
I slipped the card into my pocket. “Maybe. Bye, Corvus. Thanks for not killing me.”
He smiled, gave me a mocking little salute, and vanished into the muggy darkness. I started walking as well, and then broke into a jog as soon as I was out of sight of the mansion. I had stashed my motorcycle off the street a few blocks away, and I climbed atop it, fired up the engine, and got the hell out of there.
It was about two in the morning by the time I got back to my apartment. I locked the door behind me, dropped the duffel bag on the floor, and leaned my forehead against the wall for a moment, shivering. The reaction always hit me after a job. I had almost been killed any number of times in the last few hours, and I had seen things that would leave me with nightmares.
Oh, but I had gotten lucky.
If I had screwed up even once, if I hadn’t made a deal with Corvus, I would have gotten killed. And if I had gotten killed, Russell would die.
The shaking got worse.
I headed to the bathroom, pulling off my clothes and dumping them on the floor. I turned on the shower and sat beneath it, my legs drawn up to my chest, my head pressed against my knees, and I sat that way until the shaking stopped.
Chapter 11: Fight Another Day
The next morning I brought my motorcycle to a stop in front of Morvilind’s mansion. I peeled off my jacket and draped it over the handlebars, setting my helmet on the seat. I tucked the wrapped tablet under my arm and headed up to the front door.
“Miss Moran.” Rusk awaited me by the doors, stern and formal in his red coat. “Lord Morvilind desires your presence in the library at once.”
“Yeah, I guessed,” I said. “Well, you can get on with escorting me there.”
Rusk shook his head. “You are to go alone, Miss Moran.”
I frowned. “Why?”
Rusk shrugged. “I do not question Lord Morvilind’s commands, Miss Moran. I merely obey. Perhaps his lordship has finally tired of your smart remarks.”
“I’m the very soul of courtesy,” I said, but a fresh shiver of fear went down my spine. Maybe Morvilind had decided to dispose of me, and didn’t want Rusk as a witness. Though if Morvilind did want to kill me, he wouldn’t care if his domestic servants witnessed the deed. None of them would dare betray him.
Rusk only grunted and stepped aside.
I made my way to Morvilind’s library. It had not changed since my last visit, though some of the relics and artifacts upon the tables had been rearranged. Morvilind stood before the table with the three computer monitors, clad in the gold-trimmed black robe of an Elven archmage and the red cloak of an Elven noble.
All three monitors displayed reports of Paul McCade’s death.
“In shocking news,” said one of the talking heads in the news report, “Paul McCade, CEO of McCade Foods, was found murdered in his lakeside mansion. A spokesman for Homeland Security has confirmed that McCade was killed during his annual Conquest Day gala with the honorable Duke Tamirlas of Milwaukee himself in attendance. Homeland Security has released no details to the public at this time, and…”
Morvilind tapped the keyboard with a bony finger, silencing the video.
I knelt and bowed my head. “My lord Morvilind.”
“Nadia Moran,” said Morvilind in his deep rasp. “Rise.”
I stood as Morvilind’s cold blue eyes considered me. He always looked so old, almost withered, as if a stiff breeze could knock him over. Yet I knew he could kill me with a thought, that he could destroy the entire mansion around us with a crook of his finger.
“My lord,” I said, holding out the wrapped tablet. “As you commanded.”
Morvilind took the tablet and gestured, working a minor spell. The brown paper and the bubble wrap crumbled into nothingness, revealing the tablet. Morvilind turned it over, examining the inscriptions. At last a faint smile went over his thin lips.
“Of course,” he said. “I had not considered that possibility. Interesting indeed.”
“Then you are satisfied, my lord?” I said. “I have completed your task?”
“You have, child,” said Morvilind, setting the tablet next to one of his computer monitors. He reached into his sleeve and drew out a small, crystalline object.
It was the vial holding my heart’s blood.
“My lord?” I said in alarm.
“The task was completed satisfactorily, as I expected,” said Morvilind. “Though now I have a few questions for you.”
He cast a spell before I could react. The vial of blood chimed, and I felt a tightness in my veins. He had laid a spell of mind magic over me, a compulsion he had used on me before. While the spell lasted, I would have to answer any questions honestly.
“It is curious,” said Morvilind, “that I sent you to steal the tablet. Do I not instruct you to remain quiet and unnoticed?”
My limbs tightened at the question. The spell felt like my skin was shrinking against my bones, and it compelled me to answer.
“Yes, my lord,” I said.
“Indeed,” said Morvilind. “Did you kill Paul McCade?”
“No,” I said.
“Who did?” said Morvilind.
“A Shadow Hunter,” I said.
Morvilind rolled the vial between his fingers, his cold blue eyes regarding me without blinking. I had the distinct feeling he was weighing my life, deciding if it would be of any further value to him.
“What did you tell him?” said Morvilind.
“I told him nothing about you,” I said. “Only that I had been hired to steal the tablet.”
“Elaborate.”
“He was there to kill McCade,” I said. “McCade had a copy of the Void Codex.”
Morvilind grimaced. “Of course he did. Continue.”
“The decree of execution said that if McCade had a copy of the Codex, then the Hunter would kill him,” I said. “McCade did, the Hunter killed him, and…that was that.”
“Who arranged the decree of execution with the Hunters?”
“Duke Tamirlas,” I said. “At least that’s what the Hunter said. I don’t know if he told me the truth.”
“I see,” said Morvilind. He considered this for a moment. “You told the Hunter nothing of me?”
“No,” I said. “No details.”
“What did you tell him?” said Morvilind.
“We made a deal,” I said. “He helped me to steal the tablet, and I helped him find the Codex. Then we parted ways.”
“Interesting,” said Morvilind. “The Shadow Hunters have always hunted the followers of the Dark Ones and destroyed their relics, even before the Conquest.”
Curiosity overrode my fear. “Before the Conquest?”
“The society of the Shadow Hunters dates back at least forty-five centuries to the rise of Sargon of Akkad,” said Morvilind. “A short time to an Elf, but a large span of recorded human history. It is irrelevant at the moment. Why did the Hunter let you depart with the tablet?”
“I saved his life when McCade called up his Dark One,” I said. “The Hunter seemed…disinclined to argue about the tablet after the fight.”
“Mmm,” said Morvilind. “Did you seduce him?”
“No!” I said. “Well, I did kiss him…”
Morvilind raised a pale eyebrow.
“It was part of a disguise,” I said. “To hide from the guards. I did not seduce him. And we didn’t do anything but kiss.”
“Very well,” said Morvilind, and he waved his hand. The tightness vanished from my skin as he released his spell. “You have completed this task to my satisfaction. You may depart for now. I shall summon you when I requir
e your services again.”
He started to turn.
“Wait,” I said.
Morvilind stopped, those cold eyes falling upon me.
“Why did you want that tablet?” I said.
Morvilind said nothing.
“It’s a thing of the Dark Ones,” I said. “The old Assyrians must have worshipped them. The Inquisition kills anyone dealing with the Dark Ones, the Shadow Hunter said so. Are you…”
Morvilind sighed and tapped the vial with a finger.
And pain exploded through me like a storm, so shocking and sudden that I screamed. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I fell hard upon my side, my head bouncing off the polished floor and sending another wave of agony through me. Morvilind gestured, and the power of his magic seized me and lifted me off the floor. I screamed again as his spell threw me into the air, and I feared he would smash me against the ceiling.
Instead he released the spell, and I tumbled towards the floor. The thirty-foot fall might kill me, or it might break every bone in my body and leave me crippled. At the last minute Morvilind’s magic caught me again, and I hung suspended and upside down, floating a few feet above the floor.
Through it all Morvilind watched me with the same calm, slightly bored expression. He looked like a man attending to a tedious but necessary chore. I hung upside down for a few moments, breathing hard and trying to keep the tears from eyes.
At last Morvilind stepped closer.
“Nadia Moran,” said Morvilind in a quiet voice. “I will only tell you this once. Never mention the Inquisition to me again. Never question me about the Dark Ones again. If you do, I will not let your brother die. I will kill him myself in front of your eyes. It will take days, and I will make sure that he curses your name before at last I grant him death. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
“Say it,” said Morvilind.
Cloak Games: Thief Trap Page 15