It was almost twenty minutes later when I saw MacPherson and Cuevas coming out. They hurried to their separate vehicles, loading their clubs in a well-practiced routine. Cuevas took off first while MacPherson sat in his car for a few minutes. I wasn’t able to really see what he was doing and the rain was covering the windows with streaks. Finally, he pulled out of his parking space and headed for the road. I followed right behind.
He turned south, and I was glad he was a careful driver. The rain pounded down even harder and visibility quickly became an issue. He wound his way south and west. I concentrated on keeping my quarry in sight. A van, moving faster than it should, nearly sideswiped me and I had to brake to avoid a collision. Oblivious, MacPherson kept going and cruised through a yellow light. I was forced to stop—traffic was heavy and unpredictable and it would have been too risky to run the light.
“Crap,” I said. The rain was coming down in sheets now. The light changed, and I crawled through the intersection. I couldn’t see MacPherson’s car any more. I could barely see down the block. The taillights and headlights and lights from all the signs created muzzy stripes of color everywhere like an impressionist painting. I went for about a mile, changing lanes and scanning traffic, but I decided I wasn’t going to catch him. There was a convenience store on the next corner and I pulled into the parking lot and got out my list of MacPherson’s properties. There were two in this area. He might be going to one of them. Unless, of course, I was entirely wrong and MacPherson had just gone to his office. Or a restaurant. Or maybe Build-a-Bear.
The nearest property on my list was a lot for parking storage containers. They were the same size as the ones loaded a few miles away on transoceanic transport ships, but the sides were painted with the name of a business that would bring a container to your residence so it could be loaded with whatever you wanted to store. Then the container would be brought here until it was needed again.
I drove around the block but didn’t see MacPherson’s car anywhere.
I hurried to the next location as the rain pounded harder.
I found an apartment building at the next address. There was nothing special about the building. Middle-range apartments. Probably eight units per floor. I didn’t feel very optimistic about finding MacPherson here until I spotted his car in the rear lot. I picked a spot at the end of a row and parked. What I could see through the binoculars and the rain wasn’t very impressive. The dark day had triggered the exterior lights, but they were few in number and not very bright. Minimal landscaping. No security on the rear entry.
Some of the apartments had lights burning inside them. Four of the floors were illuminated. But not the top floor.
“B-I-N-G-O,” I spelled.
Great. Why does my brain do stuff like that? Now I’ll have that song stuck in my head for the rest of the day.
I hustled from my car to the door, hoping that anybody who noticed would think I was one of the tenants. The rain in Florida was usually warm compared to other places I’d been, but this rain came down cold. Once inside the entryway, walking towards the hall, I brushed beads of water off my shoulders and when I looked up I was shocked to a standstill.
I saw a little boy, about ten years-old. He was standing in the dead center of the hallway. There was no rain on his shirt so it looked like he lived here. Then I noticed that his shirt was an old-fashioned linen shirt with laces at the chest. He had a circlet Stain of white.
I stayed where I was and said, “Hey. How’s it going?” I kept my voice low.
The boy didn’t move but he looked straight at me with eyes that were somehow familiar.
“Do you know me? Do you know who I am?” I asked.
The boy didn’t respond.
“I think you might have been at my office. Right? Did you go to my office and leave a bullet casing? It was a little brass cylinder about this long?” I held the tips of my fingers apart to show him the length. “Was that you? Do you remember that?”
Again, nothing.
I took a step towards the boy. He immediately held up his hand in the universal sign for Stop.
I stopped.
He pointed up at the ceiling next and shook his head slowly from side to side.
“Do you know about the bad people up there?” I asked.
He nodded.
“You don’t want me to go up there?”
He shook his head again.
“Well, buddy, I kind of have to. That’s my job.” I took another step towards him and he took a step back this time. Again he pointed up and shook his head.
“Okay,” I said. “I promise I’ll be careful. I’m just going to see if I can sneak in and listen to what they’re saying. Can you stay right here? I need to talk to you, all right? But first I need to go upstairs.” I took another step and the boy just vanished. There was no sound, no flash, no evidence to indicate that it had been something other than a mirage. Or maybe I was just losing my mind.
I tried to shake off the feeling that maybe I should follow the boy’s advice. He had been helpful before, assuming it was the same kid. It had to be the same kid, right?
The building had an elevator, but I favored taking the stairs. Stairs didn’t make noise and they didn’t stop functioning in the middle of a rainstorm. The rainstorm was making noise to cover any creaks as well. As I climbed the first set of stairs, there was a flash and a boom as lightning struck. Not far away either. I wondered if the words “omen” and “ominous” were derived from the same root or not. Heh. That brain of mine.
There were no doors at the landings, so it wasn’t hard to quietly scamper up the stairs. I didn’t see anyone on the way up. I got more cautious at the fourth floor. The flight of stairs going up to the top was cordoned off with wide yellow tape that had “Under Construction” printed on it. I ducked under the tape and proceeded around the first half of the flight to get a peek at the top. Plywood had been nailed into place to cover the top of the stairs, but there was a makeshift entry covered in sheets of plastic. “Do Not Enter” had been spray-painted on the plywood. Through the plastic sheeting, I could see a shadow moving. Another lightning strike threw an exquisitely bright light across the plastic.
I heard a voice and knew my hand grenade at the golf course had paid off. It was MacPherson.
“I’m telling you, he knows things,” MacPherson was saying. “He knows you and Milly were at jewelry stores where diamonds were stolen.”
The voice that responded was both melodious and harsh. “He knows nothing,” he said. I’d only heard Amad say maybe half a dozen words before, but I had to believe it was the same guy. He went on, “Of course I’ve been in jewelry stores. Part of my assigned duties. And, of course, some of those stores experienced losses. All stores do. Connecting the two events is an entirely different matter.”
“He seemed pretty sure.”
“Look, the one time we were searched, they didn’t find anything, remember? Let Luck find that report and he’ll give it up. Besides, I haven’t stepped inside a jewelry store for two years. It’s a dead end.”
“I still think you should take him out. As a precaution.”
Jerk, I thought. First time I could remember overhearing someone planning my demise.
“We tried and it didn’t work out. We can’t try again. He’s off limits.”
“I don’t understand why,” said MacPherson. He sounded petulant. Childish.
“Trust me. It would cause more problems to kill him than it would solve . . . hold on.”
I felt a sudden tingle as if I’d just been covered in a spider web and then the web was electrified.
“He followed you,” said the voice who was Amad.
“What? He couldn’t have!” MacPherson’s protest was heated.
The plastic covering the plywood slid to the side.
“Would you care to join us, Mr. Luck?”
; I stood there near the top of the stairs. I looked up. Off to the side. Behind me.
“Mr. Luck?” Amad repeated.
“I was hoping for some more lightning right then, you know?” I said. “The timing would have been perfect. You throw the plastic open like that, and say, ‘Would you care to join us, Mr. Luck’ and there should be lightning.”
Amad looked at me like I was standing on the steps of the short bus.
I made a shooing motion at him. “Go back and try again. Maybe there will be lightning this time.”
Amad brought his other hand through the plastic and I saw he had a gun. That’s when I remembered I’d left my gun in the car.
I’m an idiot.
I showed my hands and followed Amad through the plastic. Amad had his serpent-headed cane hooked over his arm so he could hold the plastic with one hand and the gun with the other. I’d forgotten he walked with a limp.
The top floor of MacPherson’s building was almost completely open. The elevator was in the middle and there were support columns but there weren’t any walls. It looked like it was being renovated to make it a single living space. The view wasn’t bad.
MacPherson watched me come in. “Hey!” I said, “Are you thinking about renting here too? Nice place.”
MacPherson fixed me with a glare that was cold and sharp. “Cuevas told me you were worthless. And a screw-up. He said you wouldn’t find anything and I’d be able to cut you loose. Looks like he was wrong.”
“You’re welcome?” I said it like a question.
MacPherson looked at Amad. “You’re going to kill him now, right? Blow his brains out?” MacPherson was sure quick to violence. And he always volunteered other people to do the dirty work.
“No.” Amad shook his head. “We don’t really need to kill him anyway. In two days it will all be done. By the time he finds out what’s really going on, it will be too late.” The transformation was incredible. The Amad I’d met before had been halt and servile. This Amad was confident and strong and didn’t really need the cane to walk.
I didn’t want to mention what Keeper had revealed about the Jeweled Gate. Some pretense of ignorance would be prudent at this point. Let the bad guys think they still had their ace in the hole. Maybe provoke them a little. “So, Amad. Or should I say Camel Hair?”
MacPherson jumped to his boss’s defense. “His name among the Fae is Caimiléir.”
Nice. Even put the emphasis on the last syllable.
“A man’s name is important,” MacPherson stabbed the air in front of my face with a stubby finger. “You don’t make fun of a man’s name if you know what’s good for you.”
I thought about that for half a second. “You’re absolutely right, MacPerson. My apologies. Hey! MacPerson! That fits you! Because you’re cheap and you’re made of questionable by-products!”
The stubby finger started to tremble. I ignored it. And the man attached to it.
“So, Camel Hair, how did you get the diamonds out of the stores?” I asked.
Amad smiled. “We don’t have to kill him. But we don’t have to let him go undamaged either. Perhaps a little pain will be a good reminder that he should avoid meddling in the affairs of others.”
There was movement in the corner and Tiny the Tongan stepped out of the shadows. Then there was a flash and a boom, casting the big man in stark relief for the briefest of moments.
“See!” I said pointing at the Tongan. “That’s a dramatic entrance!”
Actually, there was a lot of dramatic going on outside. It was really dark now, and the lightning was hitting every minute or so. I wish I had my gun. Maybe they’d let me go outside and grab it if I promised to come back.
Amad waved his hand and I felt the room change. He’d thrown up a ward of some kind. It wasn’t as elegant as Max’s ward and I could see the pattern across the exit from where I stood. Amad saw me noticing. “Just to make sure you don’t leave prematurely,” he explained. “And you seem to have a knack for problem-solving. So let’s see how you are at multitasking.” Amad rested his hand on the back of the Tongan’s neck. There was a tattoo there. And I swear I saw the Tongan’s Stain twitch. Was his tattoo temporary? Like Mayer’s? Could I erase it somehow and set him free?
“Break both of Mr. Luck’s legs,” Amad said. “Then the ward will dissipate and you can go.” His voice was soft and oily and commanding. Even without a tattoo on the back of my neck, I felt a compulsion to do whatever he asked.
I wasn’t a big fan of pain, and two broken legs would hurt like hell. I moved toward the elevator while I could still walk. He had placed a ward there too. It looked like the ward was barring the windows as well. I remembered that I had Keeper’s amulet. If I pulled the pendant, it would take me back to the safe room in Corrchnámhach.
Amad saw me thinking about an exit. I don’t know if he could tell I was wearing Keeper’s chain and pendant. He was prescient if not, saying, “If you are looking for a way out, there isn’t one. I was very careful to craft just the right ward to keep you here for a while. There is no exit for you, Mr. Luck, magical or otherwise. Only through pain will you be free.” Amad raised his cane to his brow and tipped it back toward me. A gesture of farewell.
Then he dropped the cane to the ground and the thing sprang to life.
The cane turned into a yard-long serpent that slithered across the floor, cracking and shedding its skin of wood. The cane was solid silver inside and its serpent’s head was suddenly real.
“How Biblical of you,” I said.
As the serpent crawled, it grew. I backed away as it came in my direction. It snapped and hissed at me. In moments, it had grown to an alarming size: as thick as my leg and twenty feet long.
I saw a pair of meaty hands coming at me and I ducked out of the way. The Tongan was already on the job.
“Can’t you wait until the floor show is over?” I said. For the moment, I could easily outrun the big man. His hand was still bandaged from breaking against my shield. I kept him in my view and tried to see what was happening with the snake.
The snake slithered over to the feet of Amad and his minion, MacPherson. Once there, it curled itself into a circle, biting its own tail. Amad bent down and touched the serpent. Blue light erupted from his hand and cracked around the circumference. Sunlight exploded from the circle and I could see daffodils and butterflies in the other realm.
MacPherson gave me a quick look, filled with ego, condescension, and good, old-fashioned smarm. He tipped into the circle and was gone.
“Until we meet again, Mr. Luck.” Amad said.
Then Amad fell through the gate as well. Gone.
I looked back to the Tongan and said, “Wow. That was cool.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Battleground
The silver snake unbit itself, which broke the circle. The blue light flared out and the gate was closed. No escaping that way. I suspected I could stay away from the Tongan for a while. I didn’t know how long he’d keep going. Maybe until he starved to death. When you’re single-mindedly in thrall, you might keep going until your purpose is fulfilled. I knew from experience I’d have a hard time choking him out by myself. I could stop him from coming after me if I broke his legs before he broke mine, but that was about as likely as me chopping down a tree with my shoe.
I hadn’t counted on the snake having another purpose.
Maybe it was part of the spell that had been cast on it, or maybe it was just bored now that its master was gone, but the thing came after me. The Tongan I could outrun—he didn’t have me cornered this time around—but the snake was faster than I was. I caught it slithering toward me, hissing again, and I backed away. I could keep the elevator between myself and the snake, but sooner or later the snake would get me or the Tongan would. Then they’d both have their way with me.
I pictured myself alive, but with various pun
cture wounds from snake fangs, broken ribs from being squeezed in its coils, and all that on top of the broken legs I’d been promised.
Sucks to be me.
I looked around for a weapon. Some rebar maybe. A two-by-four. Or a stray sub-machine gun. For a construction site, the room was practically spotless. No weapons. Cripes. My heart flipped into my stomach. I was more comfortable with something physical to wield. My only option was magic. If only I knew what the heck I was doing.
Tiny the Tongan came doggedly in my direction, hands outstretched. I couldn’t see the snake. It apparently stopped when it couldn’t see me. The darkness of the day was useful then. But the lightning was more frequent. There was another flash, and before the sound of thunder rolled in, the snake spotted me. It was closer than I’d thought. It struck. My shield held up. The snake bounced away.
Dodging wasn’t going to be a valid long-term solution.
My breathing was coming harder already. I thought about how ridiculous it must look to have me running around with a mind-controlled Tongan and a silver snake in pursuit. It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.
I held out my hand and searched for a droplet of power. The Tongan took another swipe at me. Where had he come from? The power was hard to summon with so many distractions. To use Erin’s analogy, I was trying to sneeze on purpose, but I was trying to do it with a giant and a snake chasing me. The wind and rain pounded the building. The Tongan’s heavy steps were a drumbeat in contrast to the uneven, chaotic roll of the weather. I desperately tried to find my power. I had to be more worried about the snake because it was so fast and potentially lethal. What if it bit me in the neck? I still couldn’t forget about the Tongan.
Another lightning strike cranked up the brightness. I saw the snake and it saw me. I stood my ground and focused.
“TINE!” I cried. Power surfaced as I cast the spell. The fireball that spat out of my hand was twice as large as the one I’d cast yesterday. It streaked across the room, spreading flame across the floor. It hit the ward on the far side of the room and splashed across the windows, blooming out into a wall of fire. It looked awesome and was worse than useless. I’d missed the snake completely but now I’d provided it with a constant source of light to find me.
Got Luck Page 19