The snake spotted me instantly. I backed away and tried to get around the elevator.
And ran straight into the Tongan. Stupid.
He got his arms around me, locking his good hand around his other wrist. Then he squeezed. If he was planning on competing with the snake, he had a good start. Luckily, he was sweating, so he was having a hard time holding on. I started squirming to keep him from crushing my chest. Unluckily, he was sweating, so my back was now covered with his sweat.
The snake came straight for me.
I ducked as best I could and shouted, “TINE!”
The fireball flared up from my hands and the snake came through it headfirst. It hit my shield again and bounced off. The snake fell to the ground and slithered away. Some of the fire clung to it, like napalm. The fire didn’t seem to be affecting the snake much at all. “Not hot enough,” I told myself.
The fire was climbing to spread out across the ceiling. My casting was erratic. I’d need to be free to do it right. The Tongan was only vulnerable in one spot. I kicked my foot backwards and up into his crotch as hard as I could. I heard a grunt and thrashed as hard as I could. I got free.
Sorry Tiny.
I ran across the room. I’d noticed how the snake was so large and thick it needed to move away from me before it could turn and attack. Too close and it couldn’t get an effective strike. So, crazy as it sounds, I ran toward it. The serpent saw me heading its way as it turned and instead of coming at me, it slithered sideways. I changed course as well and sprinted to get at its head. I thrust both hands in front of me, drawing a thread of power into each hand.
I chanted, “Tine, Tine, Tine!” Twin ribbons of narrow fire streamed out, hitting the snake in the head.
Holy crap. It was working.
“Tine, Tine, Tine!”
The snake rolled onto its back. I hit it with fire in its face. It opened its jaws, and I poured fire down its throat. The force of my power kept the snake from biting my hands.
The fire changed from orange to white as I willed the gouts, “Be hotter!”
The snake shuddered. Something inside it broke. It trembled, and I felt the heat coming from inside its body. Suddenly, it vomited a hot stream of silver.
I rolled to the side and brought my hands to bear again. “Tine! Tine! Tine!” White-hot fire shot from the center of my being through my hands, and the upper segment of the snake finally dissolved into a puddle of slag. The mass of the snake began to shrink and at the same time spread across the floor. The concrete beneath it was dissolving, decomposing. On the ceiling, where the serpent’s convulsion of silver had struck, bits of concrete were starting to fall.
I half-heard, half-felt a heavy tread. I turned and dodged the Tongan as his huge arms tried to catch me again. Relentless. I dashed along what remained of the body of the snake. It was still melting, and incredible heat was coming off it in waves all along its length. I saw the tail twitch, and I jumped out of the way as eight feet of silver writhed and spasmed. The tail whipped through the air, visibly hot, and struck the Tongan in the face.
No.
The tail wrapped itself around the Tongan’s neck. The skin of the snake’s tail buckled and cracked under the pressure and silver magma leaked from its core. The air rippled with the release of heat. Then the Tongan’s shirt caught. Flames danced as the snake quivered, the last of its energy being spent in the throes of death. The Tongan staggered under the weight and heat.
I looked around, the room bathed in flickering light, desperately searching for a fire extinguisher or a bucket of water or anything to stop the man from burning.
The Tongan stopped staggering, every muscle in his body taut.
I didn’t want to watch what was happening. The Tongan was shaking. Fire covered him now from his head to his knees. The tattoo on the back of his neck had burned away, or the pain of the fire was enough to bring him back to his senses, because he moaned and then he screamed. It was the only real sound I’d ever heard him make, and it was deep and full of agony.
I was helpless to do anything for him.
The big man’s knees buckled, sending him crashing to the floor. Liquid silver splashed out and started chewing through the concrete. The screaming stopped.
I was inclined to let MacPherson’s building burn all the way to the ground, but there were innocent people below so I had to do something. It wouldn’t be right to let the building fall around them. More innocent people would die.
The superheated silver thrown up by the snake to the ceiling had continued to dissolve the concrete. A flash of lightning startled me and reminded me of the rain.
I softly said, “Tine,” and directed a ball of flame at the weakened spot. The fire spread and chewed through more material. I repeated it several times until I punched through the roof of the building. Rain came in and hissed on the hot metal. Steam rose in little puffs that gathered into broader clouds. I widened the hole with more shots of fire. I was glad for the distraction. As long as I had another task to occupy my attention, I wouldn’t have to look at what remained on the floor.
Once that section of the room was quenched of flames, I moved on to the area by the windows. I chewed through more ceiling with my fire. With practice, I was able to shoot flames that were hot enough to eat through the concrete but not so hot that they wouldn’t be quickly extinguished by the rain when it came through. It took about ten minutes for me to completely douse the flames.
Without the light, it was easier to note the deep gray day outside. It was still midafternoon, but the sun was obscured and might as well have set already. It was surprisingly quiet outside. No more lightning. No more thunder. Just steady rain. Traffic was subdued. I was shocked to find there were no sirens sounding. No fire trucks were approaching although someone surely must have seen the fires burning inside the building. Perhaps the ward prevented anyone from seeing.
The dusky weight of the day outside perfectly matched my mood.
There was tragedy here. Enough for the sky to weep.
Soon, I knew, my sadness would turn to anger. There had been no need for the Tongan to die. In my mind, I could picture myself going to MacPherson’s home with Nat and confronting him, fire in hand. Surprise him. Blow that smirk off his face. Figuratively. Maybe literally. It would be a stupid thing to do, and I’d never follow through on such a petty urge. Probably.
I kept the dark shape on the floor at the edge of my vision. Aware of it. Not looking directly at it. I didn’t even check to see if his Stain was gone. I forced myself to think of the Tongan alive and stoic, as I’d seen him at the spa. Wearing that stupid Hello Kitty t-shirt. I’d force myself to bring that image of the man to the front of my thoughts anytime another image tried to take the stage. I’d force it.
There was rain on my face. It was soothing.
On the floor, splashes of silver, dappled with rain, cooled in the dark of the storm. The Tongan’s hand, the one that wasn’t broken, rested near a piece of silver. I focused on the metal, refusing to look any closer at his body. Refusing to feed my memory any more ugly images. The silver was shaped somewhat like a dagger with a wavy blade. A ceremonial knife. I touched it and it felt warm. I picked it up and held it. In it I could see my reflection as a darker shadow in a world of shadows.
I put the piece of silver in my pocket.
I stood again, turned away from the scene gradually being cleansed, and looked up. I looked closely at the edges of the ceiling. There was no shimmering ward covering the roof. Or maybe it had just expired. I couldn’t see the ward along the wall any longer either.
The silver weighed especially heavy as I walked out of the building to my car.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Invitation
“It was amazing. A portal and assault-snake in one creature. I had no idea how . . . awesome and . . . elegant magic could be. Of course, Amad is a complete psychopa
th. We have to stop him. And we only have two days. I’m just praying it’s two days in this realm. Time goes slower here.”
Erin was at my house and I was describing what had happened. It was almost midnight. I’d spent most of the evening brooding. I’d had a few drinks, and then I’d sat at the piano and played some Bartok and then Mahler’s “Piano Quartet in A Minor,” which was incomplete without the string parts, but that was okay because I felt incomplete myself. Then I’d had more to drink and then I’d called Erin.
She’d come over and we watched the late night news. There was a story about the fire and the reporter noted that the roof had collapsed in an “Act of God” and the rain had doused the fire, which had saved the building from total destruction. The building was evacuated briefly but the fire marshal had let everyone back inside after an hour. The reporter mentioned a single fatality but the identity of the victim was not released pending notification of the family.
After that, Erin listened to me. And listened some more.
“I called from a pay phone about the fire,” I said. “The building could have been unsafe.”
Erin replied, “You did the right thing.”
“I don’t know what they’ll make of what they find. I guarantee they’ve never seen a crime scene like that before.”
“A few centuries of contact between Eternals and mortals has taught us how adaptable human beings can be. They’re very good at finding a rational explanation for almost anything. And if they find something they can’t explain, they ignore it.”
I laughed and the sound was bitter to my ears. “You’re probably right.”
Erin caught the emotion behind the words and put a hand on my shoulder. “You couldn’t have saved him. If you had done anything else, you would have died too. I’d have been devastated.”
“You would?”
Maybe she hadn’t intended on revealing so much or maybe she just wanted to give me a hard time. “Of course. And Chief Cuevas would have been crying his eyes out.”
Snort.
I laid the piece of silver on the table. “This is from Amad’s cane. Part of the silver snake. I melted it. Foom. Call 9-1-1.”
Erin looked at it like she expected it to bite her. There was a tightness around her eyes. “Is it possible to find out where Amad plans to construct the Jeweled Gate?” I asked. “Can you use this to find him?”
Erin took a dozen heartbeats to answer. “Maybe,” she said. “Getting a reading from a common object is easy. Getting a reading from a magical object is more complicated . . .”
She trailed off and I filled in the blank. “And dangerous?”
Erin nodded. “It’s like a bottle of liquid with a cork in it. It looks like water. But it could be vodka. It could be poison. Could be flammable. To find out, you pull the cork. You still may not know what it is, so you drink it. Once you drink it, you’ll find out what it is all right, but if it’s lethal, it’s too late. Common objects are water for sure. Not harmful. Magical objects, on the other hand, could have all kinds of hidden properties.”
I looked at my reflection in the metal and then I put the silver piece back in my pocket. “Not worth the risk then. We’ll find out what we need to know some other way.”
“We don’t have much time. Keeper might be able to tell us more,” Erin offered.
“That’s all right. We’ll think about it tomorrow. If Amad meant two days in the Eternal realm, it would be over already.” I looked at the tightness around Erin’s eyes and realized it was fatigue. “You’re dead on your feet. You got up too early, and I kept you too late.”
“I’ll be all right,” she said. She yawned.
Sandretta stood in the hallway. She already knew what I had in mind.
“You’re staying here tonight.” I said it with as much finality in it as I could manage.
“No, I’m . . .”
“Too tired to drive. You had some wine. The guest bedroom is in its own part of the house. You’ll have the whole place to yourself.”
“I can’t . . .”
“You can’t say no. Sandretta’s ready to show you to your room.”
Erin looked at Sandretta who raised a hand in gentle invitation.
Just then, Max appeared at the entry on the other side of the room. “Mr. Luck, there’s someone outside asking for you.”
“Outside?”
“At the end of the drive. I tried to coax him inside, but he won’t come any closer. He has a letter. Addressed to the both of you.”
Curious. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
I had to wonder if it was Amad or MacPherson. Or an attorney. Or a cop.
“I think he is afraid of the wards,” Max concluded.
Max didn’t seem too concerned. Erin and I walked out to the driveway together.
It wasn’t an attorney. Unless you can get a law degree by the age of ten.
It was my little friend in the Renaissance shirt.
I knelt in front of him. “Hello. What is your name?”
The boy held out an envelope almost the size of a pizza box. In a sickeningly ornate script, the envelope said:
Their Highnesses
Prince Goethe Luck
And
Princess Fáidh Bean O’Connell Luck
Whoever sent it was guilty of using royal titles without a license.
“Thank you,” Erin said. She held out her hand and let the boy place the envelope across her palm. She put her other hand on top of the envelope so it wouldn’t fall on the ground. The boy took a step back.
“Can you speak?” I asked.
The boy didn’t say anything. He saluted. I’m pretty sure he was issuing a salute to sarcasm, not me. Then he disappeared. Blink. Gone.
Erin looked at me. “That’s the boy you told me about? At your office and then at the apartment building today?”
I nodded. “Same kid. Keeps disappearing like that. You haven’t seen him before, have you? In the Behindbeyond?”
Erin was examining the envelope but she heard me. “No. I haven’t seen him anywhere.”
We went back in the house and looked at the envelope some more. “Anybody think it’s dangerous?”
“Don’t think so,” Erin said.
“No,” Max said.
Sandretta shrugged.
I opened it. Inside was an invitation.
Dearest Goethe and Fáidh,
You are cordially invited to a dinner in your honor.
At Ail Bán Dearg upon the rise of the new moon.
Burn at the hearth to accept.
Love,
Béil
“Well, I will just have to check my social calendar,” I said. “Oh shoot, I’m busy that night. What night is it again?”
Erin sighed. “It’s tomorrow night. We have to go.”
“We do?”
“Yes. It’s the Fae equivalent of a wedding reception.”
The surprises kept on coming. “Really?”
“Yes. New marriages are celebrated at the new moon in the Behindbeyond. It’s traditional for the couples’ closest family member or friend to have a dinner for them. People bring gifts. Leave their good wishes. Lots of blessings for, um, fertility.”
“I’m good with all that except Béil being our closest friend.”
“She’s taken it upon herself. It’s a chance for her to claim some honor. It’s politics. It will make her look good.” Erin touched my shoulder and led me back to the house. “I need to do a better job of keeping you informed. There’s a lot to know, and I forget this is all new to you. You’ve had to adapt so quickly.”
“You’re doing fine,” I said. “Do you know where this is?”
She read the invitation again. “Ail Bán Dearg.” It sounded pretty when she said it out loud. “That will be wher
e Béil lives.”
“Not lives. Roosts.” That made Erin laugh. “Have you been there?”
“Why would I go there?”
“Good point. Betcha my raven can find it for us.”
Back in the house, Max had a modest fire going in the fireplace.
We decided to drop the invitation in the fire together. We knelt on the floor. We each held a side and we counted to three and let go. The paper fell into the flames and was consumed instantly. Curlicues of flame and smoke rearranged themselves in the air above the fire and created a vaporous face. Béil. The face smiled and winked, then the fire flared out while the smoke rose up the flue and disappeared.
“Guess we’re committed,” I said. “Or should be.”
Erin’s wan smile let me know she was really exhausted now.
“C’mon, let Sandretta take you to your room.”
Erin got up from the floor. She put one arm across her stomach and one hand on her hip. And she started chewing her lower lip, which was something I hadn’t seen her do before. Not that I could remember.
“You okay?” I asked.
She glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. “I need to tell you something,” she replied.
I stood up and reached out to her. “I’m sure it can wait,” I said.
“No. I want to tell you now.” She seemed ready to change her mind but at the same time didn’t want to.
“Okay.”
She retrieved her purse and leaned back on the table as she looked through its compartments. She produced a piece of paper, folded in thirds. She held it for a few seconds and stared at it. Then she extended the paper to me.
“Whatever this is,” I said, taking the paper. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
I opened the paper and gave it a cursory review.
“Petition for presumption of death?”
Got Luck Page 20