by Rowan Casey
Having no ticking clock, figurative or literal, hanging over me felt strange. Now that I could finally relax, my body didn’t want to. We must have talked until three in the morning, going over the Contest move by move, her wanting to know every thought and emotion, making me repeat the exciting parts. The rest of the time we talked about the Sirens, what role they played in not only this, but maybe the bigger picture. We talked about all the things we now knew and compared that to all the things we still didn’t know. She told me stories about dragons and quests and a Woodnymph King who raised a human boy who became an archer who became the source of the Robin Hood legend and I started to wonder just how many years of life this young woman with green skin and blue hair had seen. Were Imps immortal? Another topic I scrupulously avoided.
I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke it was almost noon and Pip wasn’t there. I had just finished cleaning up and getting dressed when Grimm showed up. He knocked once before letting himself in.
“I hear you have something for me,” he said in a voice that might have sounded pleased, but was hard to read. “Excellent work.”
I pointed to the corner of my office behind him. The chest sat there, the bent piece of iron that may or may not have been one of the nails from the Crucifixion balanced on top of it.
“Maybe next time you can task me with something easier,” I said, resting my arms on my desk. “Like the labors of Hercules.”
“Obviously, you were up to the challenge. Your father was right. He knew what you were capable of.”
My head bobbed without actually nodding. “Well, I had help. A lot of help. Somebody on the phone. Guy who knew a lot about chess. And who just happened to give me great hints that enabled me to figure out how to win. Except, it turns out the guy I was talking to was never was on the phone. Pip couldn’t reach him, so she called you.”
Grimm continued to look at me without any discernable reaction. He had a way of making everything seem appropriate, even his silence.
“So, what I want to know is, why the hell did you keep me in the dark? If you knew what the damn Contest was, why not tell me? How much else do you know that you’re not letting on? What the hell is your game?”
“That’s an awful lot of questions. I’m not even sure how to answer them. Why do you believe you are being kept in the dark?”
“Why? Because you always seem to know more than I do, even from the start, even though I was the one running around trying to find first the Key, then the chest. I can’t shake the feeling you could have done all this yourself, in half the time and a tenth of the risk. I don’t like being jerked around.”
“Is that what you think I was doing? Jerking you around?”
“What else do you call it? Why did you pretend to be Pops on the phone?”
“Pops? Oh, you’re talking about Mr. Morales. Glad you reminded me.” He reached behind the lapel of his coat and retrieved a full-sized envelope, tossed it onto my desk in front of me. “I just met with him. At the park. Charming, curmudgeonly fellow.”
The envelope wasn’t sealed. I opened the flap and pulled out a tri-folded document.
“He signed a three-year lease extension, seemed very pleased about it, though he continued to curse a great deal during the conversation. I took the liberty of having my lawyer draw it up. I explained to him that it still needed your approval, however. It does, just so you know, carve out this floor.”
I stared at the first page. The first line of the title read, Commercial Lease. The second line read, Novation, Renewal and Extension Agreement. In the first paragraph, it listed an LLC as the tenant and had my name identified as the landlord.
“I don’t understand,” I said, still staring at it.
“It’s not very complicated. You seem to have developed a fondness for this space. Perhaps, subconsciously, you see it as a way of paying your dues. But the situation was far too precarious, with the primary lease term about to end and you merely a subtenant. So, I bought the building. I titled it in your name. It closed this morning, that’s why I visited Mr. Morales. You’ll still need to get his wife’s signature, since she was also a guarantor on the original lease. The deed should be in there with it.”
I lifted the top document. Behind it was another, this one titled Special Warranty Deed.
“This means I…”
“Own the building. I assumed you’d want to keep the current retail tenants, which is why I met with Mr. Morales. He told me about the phone call with you. I believe he was under the impression you were forced to play chess with mobsters at gunpoint or something. Anyway, if you don’t believe it was him on the phone, just ask him. I’m sure he’ll remember it vividly.”
“Oh,” I said, looking down to the document. “I’m sure he will.”
“Remember, you still have to sign the extension yourself. If you want them to remain as a tenant, that is. It’s up to you. As far as the other half of the building, I figured you could make up your mind on your own schedule. It is your building, after all.”
I yanked my eyes from the paper. “Wait, the other half?”
“Yes. You own the whole thing. The adjacent space? You own both sides. The retail tenant next door seems to be doing a bang up business, so I’m sure you can negotiate something favorable. That lease is up in three months. Maybe use the income to remove the dividing wall and join the upstairs as one large office. Have a waiting area. The building comes with parking privileges, too. Rents won’t be enough to get rich off of, but it should net you a few grand a month. Maybe more.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Why?” He looked at me as if mine was the most puzzling question he could have been asked. “Because I pulled you off the street and told you the world needed you. I offered you nothing. You asked for nothing. It is clear you never trusted me, and, to be honest, I never gave you a reason to, because building trust is a luxury the circumstances didn’t allow. In short, you had no reason to do anything asked of you, other than a sense of honor. And maybe a taste for adventure. That makes you worthy of your legacy.”
“I guess I should say thank you, then.”
He shrugged. “Don’t thank me. Before he died, your father gave me some cash for safekeeping. In trust, you might say. He asked for me to hold on to it until I knew the time was right.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. When my father died, there was practically nothing left. He had liquidated his assets years earlier, house, investments, antiques. There was little more in his bank account than it cost to cover a small funeral. I think I received just over four thousand, after all was said and done. It was what I used to get my license and begin my life as a PI.
“Look at it this way,” Grimm said. “It’s not a reward. I was given complete discretion. It’s an investment. I am sure I—we—will be needing your skills again. This isn’t the end. I expect you to be there when I call. If not for me, for the others. They are all working and sacrificing just as much as you have. Putting their skills to the service of what needs to be done, which is why those skills exist in the first place.”
“About those skills…honestly, Dante, you talked that day about us having an avatar. I have no idea what mine is. I don’t think I have any. Fast reflexes aren’t exactly a superpower. I barely survived. Most of it was luck.”
“Was it? Killing a dragon, killing a manticore, escaping the Serpent Queen, resisting the Sirens and defeating a Contest that was designed to be unwinnable, you call that ‘luck’?” You’ve always known you were blessed with quick reflexes. But it’s not entirely accurate to think of that as your true talent. It’s not your avatar, it’s a symptom of it. Your gift is perception. You react quickly because you perceive quickly. Only you could have figured out how to win that Contest.”
“But, I didn’t figure it out. It was you. You knew what it was all along, and you knew how to defeat it. Yet you let me go into the quest, into the Contest, blind. Why?”
“Let’s say that were true. Let�
��s say I did know. The only way one could know would be through sorcery. Magic. And from what I heard from your squire, the game would not allow any advantage to be gained through magic. Nothing known that way could have been passed along to you, and if things were as you say I could not have helped you. But you talking to someone like Pops about the rules of chess? That wouldn’t be magic, now, would it? Especially not if no answers were given, no hints. Just a natural conversation. No magic anywhere near the board. No magic affecting the play.”
“You expect me to believe that was Pops on the phone?”
“Ask him yourself. He’ll recite the whole conversation to you, if you like. He remembered it quite clearly and colorfully when I met with him.”
“Like I said, I’m sure he will.”
“Anyway, if that is all, I have many other issues to tend to. You’re not the only one who’s been busy fighting to finish their quest. I should be going.”
As he started to turn, I said, “Where’s Pip? Is she back with you?”
He let out a breath through his nostrils that I could hear. “Penelope was never ‘with’ me. I disentangled her from an unpleasant situation some time ago, and ever since she has insisted that she repay her debt, even though I repeatedly told her there was no debt. When I began to become aware of our current circumstances, I acquiesced. I told her I had a raw, young knight who would need guidance and support. She volunteered. My only condition was that once she did this, she would no longer contend that she owed me anything. She agreed to that, if reluctantly.”
“So where is she now?”
“How should I know? She’s your squire.”
With that, Grimm walked over to the chest and placed the key in his pocket before hoisting it up by the iron rings on each side. He dipped his head in my direction, then headed for the door.
As he set the chest down to reach for the knob, I said, “Tell me the truth, Dante. Did you ever even meet my father?”
His cheeks tugged the corners of his mouth wider. “You did a good job, Rex. Your father would be proud.”
I sat in the chair after he left staring at the documents he gave me, trying to process it all. What he did, buying this building, was incredibly generous, but was there a catch? Was it even more manipulation? He all but admitted he hadn’t told me everything, and the only thing I was certain of was that there was more he wasn’t telling me. Was it really my father’s money? Would I ever know? Should I care? Did it even matter?
I pondered those and other questions for hours, with only additional questions to show for it. Mostly, though, I thought of Pip. I wasn’t sure why.
Out of curiosity, I scrolled the local newspaper online to see if there was anything in it about the fire. Sure enough, I found a small piece reporting the arrest of one Karen Wynne, 27, of Santa Monica. She had been found a few blocks from the scene, wandering down the middle of the street, telling police when questioned she had a vague recollection of setting a fire, but didn’t know why, or even how she’d gotten there. She’d never heard of the museum before.
I figured I’d do at least one more knightly deed and phone in an anonymous tip, fingering Winch for the blaze. I’d feed them some story the gal had been drugged. I made a mental note of it. The logistics of making an anonymous tip these days in the age of digital communication with instant tracing and call registries was difficult. That meant Karen would have to stew a bit. She shouldn’t have made fun of my hat.
That was a joke. Mostly.
Pip returned just as the sun was setting. I tried to hide my reaction, but it wasn’t easy. I was both relieved and buoyed at the sight of her.
“I apologize, Sir Regis. I needed some time to think.”
I sat down on the sagging sofa and thought briefly of Golgameth as I sunk into the middle. But mostly I focused on how hearing someone say they needed time to think rarely preceded good news.
“Think about what?”
“You,” she said, “and me.”
Oh boy, I thought. Here it comes. My palms were sweating and my heart seemed to be up in my throat. What the heck was I so anxious about?
“What about us?”
“I promised Mr. Grimm that I would no longer consider myself bound to any obligations once your quest was complete. He made me swear to him. It was a condition he placed upon letting me be part of the effort. That means I am no longer under a duty as your squire.”
“I see.”
“So, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I decided I would ask if maybe I could assist you in some other capacity. Maybe as an employee? I believe people in your line of work hire others as secretaries?”
“Ask who? Me? Penelope, are you asking me for a job?”
“My name is not really Penelope. Mr. Grimm gave me that name, because to call me by my real name would allow it to be heard, and anyone who knows the true name of an Imp can summon that Imp to appear. To be honest, I rather prefer to go by ‘Pip.’ I’ve become fond of it.”
“Okay. Are you asking me for a job, Pip?”
“I…yes.”
“No, I don’t think that would do at all.”
“Oh,” she said. Her eyes skipped away from mine to a spot on the floor. “I see. I wasn’t certain it was a good idea myself. I wrestled with the prospect all day. My initial thought was to not come back at all. I suppose part of me knew that instinct was correct.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It wouldn’t do at all. You were way too valuable as a squire. I couldn’t possibly employ you as a secretary, or as anything else. You aren’t suited to be an employee.” I watched her, milking the moment. “No, if you want to stick around here, it would have to be as a partner.”
She looked up. “A partner?”
“Yep. Bishop & Pip, Private Investigations. Of course, I’d have to tell people you were traveling the world, even as you were helping me with my cases. Correction, our cases. And getting you licensed may require some ingenuity, but we’ll figure something out.”
“Are you being serious?”
“Absolutely.” I crossed my arms and tightened my lips, though I’m sure I couldn’t keep a smile from sneaking through. “It’s a full partnership or nothing at all.”
“Why, Sir Regis, I…I don’t know what to say.”
“First, you stop saying ‘Sir Regis,’ or the deal’s off. It makes me feel like I’m being summoned to the principal’s office. Second, you say, yes.”
“Yes…?”
“Good. One more thing, I’ll also need a squire, for whenever knight stuff comes up. Someone I can trust. Someone reliable and competent and whose company I enjoy and who knows more about me than anyone. Someone I have no doubts about. Part of this agreement requires you find me someone like that, and until you do, you have to promise to keep filling that role whenever the need arises. Because without a squire like you, I’m pretty much worthless as a knight. Deal?”
Her bottom lip twitched as she bit down on it and blinked.
“Deal,” she said. “But you do understand I don’t know how to be a private investigator, right? The only thing I know about it is from watching you.”
I grabbed my sports coat and popped my hat onto my head. “It’s a beautiful night. Let’s go for a drive with the top down and I can tell you all about it.”
THE END
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The Veil Knights Series
The Circle Gathers (Book 1)
The Questing Beast (Book 2)
Hound of Night (Book 3)
Run of Luck (Book 4)
Cloak of Fury (Book 5)
The Medusa Gambit (Book 6)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rowan Casey is the pseudonym for twelve New York Times, USA Today and Amazon bestselling writers who have come together to create the Veil Knights shared-world experience.
With more than ten million copies of their bo
oks in print around the world, they include Lilith Saintcrow, CJ Lyons, Joseph Nassise, Steven Savile, Annie Bellet, Jon F. Merz, Pippa DaCosta, Robert Greenberger, William Meikle, Steve Lockley, Hank Schwaeble, and Nathan Meyer.
For more information, visit
authorrowancasey
www.rowancasey.com
[email protected]
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
The Medusa Gambit
Copyright 2017 by Rowan Casey
With special thanks to Hank Scwaeble
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Table of Contents
Series Summary
Veil Knights Newsletter
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Veil Knights Newsletter
The Veil Knights Series
About the Author
Copyright Information