I shrugged, a little uncomfortable with thanks. He had risked so much to save my life, and I didn’t like the thought of him going into danger. “Well…Ricci was an asshole, and he got what he had coming.”
Riordan nodded. “You’re all right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. I’m fine.”
***
Chapter 2: The Storm Behind Her Eyes
Nadia was lying. She wasn’t all right. Riordan was certain of it.
There was a look she got when the evil mood came on her, when something reminded her of the Eternity Crucible a little too much. Nadia had distinctive gray eyes, and back when Riordan hadn’t known her real name, and the Firstborn had ordered Riordan to find her, they had referred to her as the “gray-eyed thief.” He had looked into her eyes when they had been warm with happiness, hurt with sadness, cold and flat with rage.
Now they looked a little…crazed.
Like there was a storm inside her head, and it was about to burst out.
Riordan wished that he hadn’t brought her along on this job. She had asked to come, and if he had refused, she probably would have argued and cajoled until he changed his mind. The hard truth was that it had been logical to bring her. She was extraordinarily good at this kind of covert work, and she was one of the most powerful human wizards on Earth. They had taken down Ricci and his little coven in a single night with no casualties, and that had only been possible with Nadia’s skills.
Riordan didn’t regret asking for her help. But he still worried about the cost it might have for her.
He had been married once before, a long time ago, and it hadn’t ended well. Back then he had first been a man-at-arms in service to Duke Tarmegon of Houston, and then he had been recruited into the Wizard’s Legion. During his absences, his wife Miranda had joined a Rebel cell and decided to prove her commitment to the Rebel cause by murdering an officer of the Wizard’s Legion when he came home on leave.
Specifically, her husband.
Riordan had survived. Miranda hadn’t.
A few years after that, he had joined the Shadow Hunters, and he had met Sasha. She had looked a lot like Nadia, pale with dark hair and a cutting smile. Riordan had fallen for her, hard. But Sasha had been a new-made Shadow Hunter, and she hadn’t been able to handle the Shadowmorph’s dark impulses. She had become a serial killer, and Riordan had stopped her.
That still haunted him. Riordan also wondered if affection had blinded him, if he would have been able to save some of her victims if he had seen the truth earlier.
After that, he decided to remain alone. Given how disastrously his marriage and his relationship with Sasha had ended, that was the better choice.
Then he had met Nadia, and she had given him her phone number and said that she would really like him to call her.
As it turned out, he had really liked that, too.
And he had almost lost her twice. Once to the Eternity Crucible, and once to the Sky Hammer. Riordan had failed so many times in his life, and he didn’t want to fail Nadia.
She looked calm as they stood in the warehouse yard, waiting for Nora to bring the van around. Yet he saw the way she kept twitching, the way she looked around as if expecting anthrophages or wraithwolves to leap from the shadows. He knew the fight would have reminded her of the century and a half she spent in the Eternity Crucible, that it would have dragged those memories to the forefront of her thoughts.
He suspected she was going to have a nightmare tonight, a bad one.
Riordan wanted to ask if she was all right, but he knew that she wasn’t, and anyway he had already asked. If he kept probing, she would just get irritated.
“I wonder where Ricci found that copy of the Summoning Codex,” he said instead. Partly to distract her, and partly because he wondered that himself.
Nadia shrugged and tugged her coat tighter around herself. “Hell if I know. Maybe he thought it was an antique cookbook or something.” But she frowned as she considered the problem. “I’d bet he found it in somebody’s attic or something. The book looked old.”
“It is old.” Riordan held it up. He would take it back with him to the Sanctuary of the Shadow Hunters to be analyzed and then destroyed. “It’s not like they put publication dates on these things…”
Nadia snorted. “On account of it being illegal and all.”
“But this book is at least a hundred years old.” He flipped through the pages. “The paper is yellowing, and it smells like mothballs. It probably was in someone’s attic until Ricci found it.”
“I wonder why anyone bothers printing copies of the Summoning Codex,” said Nadia. “Just save the damn thing as a text file.”
“People do,” said Riordan. “But a paper book can’t be deleted or hacked. It’s easier to break into electronic storage than a physical vault. Some secrets are safer on paper than on a server hard drive.” He tapped the book against his leg. “It’s also harder to corrupt a printed text.”
“Corrupt?” said Nadia, frowning.
“Make deliberate changes to render it useless,” said Riordan. He heard the scrape of the van’s tires against the street. “The Inquisition will sometimes do that with copies of the Summoning Codex and other forbidden books. They’ll release deliberately altered copies on dark web sites and see if anyone tries to pick it up.”
“Wonder if that copy was tampered with,” said Nadia. She gave an indifferent shrug. Riordan knew Ricci’s death would not trouble her in the slightest. “Doesn’t matter. Ricci shouldn’t have tried to summon a maelogaunt.”
“No,” agreed Riordan.
The van pulled into the yard, and Riordan saw Nora behind the wheel, Alex sitting in the front passenger seat. Riordan pulled open the side door and held it open for Nadia. She scrambled inside, and Riordan followed her and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Back to the Sanctuary, boss?” said Nora.
“Yeah,” said Riordan. Nora put the van into reverse, backed into the street, and drove away. Riordan reached into the back of the van, drew out a burner phone, and composed a text message to Homeland Security’s emergency services number, alerting them of suspicious activity at Ricci’s warehouse. Homeland Security would investigate the warehouse, find the corpses and the writ of execution, and that would be that.
“Important question,” said Alex, glancing back. “When do we get paid?” He smirked. “Bet you’d like to take the missus out to a nice dinner after she blew up that maelogaunt for us.”
Nadia didn’t say anything, which was unlike her. Instead, she was staring out the window, her expression tight. Riordan thought for a moment she had spotted more anthrophages, but she hadn’t summoned any magic or said a warning. No, she saw memories inside of her head.
“Tomorrow,” said Riordan. “I have a meeting with the Firstborn. I’ll arrange everything then. It will be a five-way split.”
Alex frowned. “Five-way?”
“You, me, Nadia, Nora, and the Family,” said Riordan. “That’s how it works.”
Alex’s frowned sharpened. “You’re married to her, so maybe the two of you should get a single share. And she’s not part of the Family, Riordan. She’s not a Shadow Hunter. Why should I have to split my money with…”
“Without her help,” said Nora, “we’d have spent another week looking for Ricci’s base. Don’t whine, ace. It’s very unbecoming.”
Alex’s scowl turned in her direction. “I’m just saying…”
“We use consultants a great deal,” said Riordan. “If we get a reputation for not paying our consultants a fair rate, it’s going to be a lot harder to find qualified ones. That’s been the policy of the Family since before either of us were born. If you don’t like it, you can take it up with the Firstborn and the Elders.”
“Hey, Alex?” said Nadia, still staring out the window.
His scowl turned to a smirk. “Yeah?”
“Tell you what,” said Nadia. “Next time we do this kind of thing, I’ll hang back and let you
do all the work. Then when the maelogaunt or the cowlspawn or whatever rips off your head and lays eggs down your throat, I’ll vaporize it, and then I won’t have to share the money with you. That sound fair?”
Nora guffawed. “The tigress has got you there, ace.”
“Whatever,” said Alex, but he shut up.
Nadia kept staring out the window. The tension radiating from her was palpable. Riordan realized that she couldn’t relax, couldn’t lower her guard. At least not yet, anyway. He wished he could have done something to ease her tension, to drain the black memories from inside of her head.
But he could not.
An hour’s drive brought them back to Manhattan and its concrete and glass canyons. It was about 11 PM by then, and the city’s lights shone stark in the darkness. The Family of the Shadow Hunters had been based out of Manhattan ever since the High Queen had chartered the organization soon after the Conquest, and the Sanctuary currently occupied the top several floors of a tall building on the Upper East Side, not all that far from where Riordan owned a condo at the intersection of 6th Avenue and 43rd Street.
Nora pulled into the building’s subterranean parking garage and drove to the lowest level of the ramp. The Family owned the entire third sublevel of the garage, using it to store their vehicles and equipment, and had also paid (too much in Riordan’s opinion) to have an express elevator installed that led directly to the top of the building. Nora parked the van, and they got out.
“You coming up with us, boss?” said Nora, pausing with Alex by the elevator door. Her voice echoed off the concrete floor and walls.
“No, we’ll go home tonight,” said Riordan. There had been a time when he would join the other Shadow Hunters after a job and drink and talk with them. That had been before he had gotten married. He glanced at Nadia, and her face seemed pale and washed out in the harsh lights of the garage. “I’ll be back tomorrow to report to the Firstborn. He doesn’t like to be awakened after 10 PM for anything less than an emergency anyway.”
“Roger that,” said Nora.
“I’m going to go get drunk,” said Alex. “Maybe find a woman. Or two.” He started to smirk at Nadia, saw Riordan looking at him, and then promptly changed his mind. “We have a successful writ to celebrate.”
Nora snorted and hit the elevator button. “That’s what you’d do anyway.” The elevator pinged, and the doors hissed open. “See you tomorrow, boss.”
She and Alex got into the elevator, the door sliding closed behind them.
Nadia snorted. “I definitely married the nicest of the Shadow Hunters, didn’t I?”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Riordan. “Want to go home?”
“God, yes.” They walked to where Riordan had left his black SUV parked by a support column. Shortly after they had gotten married, Nadia had pointed out that the SUV was proof that Riordan had a lot of money. Not the fact that he owned the vehicle, but that he could afford to park it in Manhattan. A small car would have been more efficient, but Riordan sometimes needed to transport large quantities of weapons and equipment for the Shadow Hunters. Though he would have preferred a pickup truck.
An old, old memory flashed through his mind. He had been home on leave, a man-at-arms only nineteen years old, and he had used some of his earnings to make a down payment on his first pickup truck. He had always wanted one, but Miranda had laughed scornfully at him, asking if he intended to become a goddamn hog farmer once he finished his service in Duke Tarmegon’s forces, and if he did, she wasn’t lifting a finger to help in the work.
In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t all that surprising his first marriage had ended with his wife trying to kill him to gain full membership in a terrorist cell.
“What do you think of pickup trucks?” said Riordan as he unlocked the door, mostly to distract Nadia, but partly to shake off the black memory of Miranda trying to kill him.
She blinked in surprise, startled out of her black mood. “Well, they’re expensive, but what if you need to move a couch?” She made a vague gesture. “Or, like, a room full of books or something. You have a lot of books.”
Riordan laughed, and she smiled. That was his wife. Practical to a fault.
“Also,” said Nadia, “it’s nice to sit that high off the road.” She scowled. “Not that I get to experience the sensation of height all that often.”
He hid his smile at that. Practical to a fault – and not so much insecure about her height as she was annoyed at it.
They got into the SUV, and Riordan left the parking garage. Traffic was as light as it ever was in Manhattan, given the late hour, and Riordan made good time towards his condo.
“Besides,” said Nadia. “When we go back to Wisconsin, you’ll have plenty of room for your truck.”
He glanced to where she sat staring out the window. “You’re looking forward to it?”
“Yeah,” said Nadia. “New York is nice and all, but it so damn expensive. And Russell’s back in Milwaukee, and the Marneys. Plus, I can help Russell with his business.”
“Technically, it’s half your business,” said Riordan.
“He does most of the work,” said Nadia. “I just help out.” She settled back in the passenger seat and closed her eyes, though she kept talking. “He’s working towards this test. Apparently, there’s a legal provision that you can test out of high school early with a diploma, and he wants do that so he can work full-time on the business.”
“He’s either going to be a millionaire by the time he’s twenty,” said Riordan, “or he’ll be bankrupt.”
“Technically, he already was a millionaire,” said Nadia. “He just put all the money into Moran Imports. Veterans get a lot of advantages, and he’ll never be one. So, he’ll have to make his own way in the world.”
“Like you,” said Riordan.
Nadia snorted. “God, I hope not.”
They talked of trivial things as they drove to the condo building. Riordan parked in the subterranean parking garage, and they took the elevator to the top floor, where Riordan had owned a condo for years. One of the side effects of living for a century and investing wisely was a surplus of money. Since he spent a lot of time in New York for the Shadow Hunters, he had decided to use some of that money to buy an actual place to live in New York, rather than staying at the Sanctuary every time he was in the city.
His condo was on the top floor, and the windows in the living room and dining room had a fine view of the Manhattan skyline. Books lined shelves in the living room since Riordan had liked to read ever since he had been a child, even though his father and Miranda had mocked him for it. He had converted one of the bedrooms into a gym, another into an armory and a workshop, and the condo was a comfortable place to live, though it had always felt empty.
It felt much less empty with Nadia here.
“I think,” said Nadia, taking off her coat, “that I’m going to exercise. Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise.”
“Do you want me to spot you?” said Riordan.
She shook her head and managed a smile. “No. I’m fine.” He didn’t believe her. “I just…need to burn some things off. Long day.”
“Shout if you change your mind,” said Riordan.
She did smile at that. “I’ll scream my damn head off.”
Riordan laughed, and Nadia disappeared into the bedroom. He retrieved his laptop from the workroom and set up at the dining room table, sorting through his email. His work for the Family occupied much of his time, but not all of it. There had been some years where he had only two or three writs from the Family, and so he needed something else to fill the time. He had written historical adventure novels for years under the name Malcolm Lock, and they were published in all editions through a company he owned. (His first few experiences with writing, soon after he had joined the Shadow Hunters, had convinced him that nearly all publishers were lying thieves, so he had better start his own company.) He also had shares in numerous businesses in New York and near his house in Texas
.
One of these days he would have to sit Nadia down and make sure she knew where all his (and now theirs) assets were. He suspected she would be vaguely horrified to find out just how much money they had. She had a deep-seated suspicion of rich people, notwithstanding the fact she was wealthy now.
Once he finished answering business-related emails, he worked on his latest book. Riordan could write anywhere, under practically any conditions, a skill he had picked up when he had been a man-at-arms in Duke Tarmegon’s service all those years ago, and he had kept at it since. After a moment he heard the faint thump of Nadia’s shoes on the treadmill. He hadn’t realized he could hear the treadmill in the dining room. But, then, he had spent most of his time here alone before Nadia.
He finished a chapter as the sound of the treadmill halted, and the shower started. About ten minutes later Nadia emerged, her hair wet. She was wearing one of his black T-shirts that she had appropriated as a nightshirt, and she was short enough that it fell to mid-thigh.
He thought about kissing her, about pulling the T-shirt over her head to see if she was wearing anything beneath it. But he was bone-tired, and to judge from her pallor and the dark circles under her eyes, so was Nadia. Riordan knew that she had only exercised to burn off some of the dark memories the fight had inspired, and he hoped she was tired enough that she would sleep well.
“I think I’m going to go to bed now,” she said.
Riordan nodded and closed his laptop. “That’s a good idea.”
“You don’t have to go to bed if you don’t want,” Nadia said.
“I had a long day too, you know,” said Riordan, and she smiled. “What do you say we sleep in late tomorrow?”
Her smile turned to a frown. “Don’t you have to meet the Firstborn?”
“The Firstborn isn’t going to want to talk to me at six in the morning. We can sleep until we wake up.”
Her smile returned. “You know how to tell a girl just what she wants to hear.”
Cloak of Dragons Page 4