“As it happens, yes, we are,” said Riordan.
“Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?” said Nora.
Neil sighed and rose to his feet in a single fluid motion that belied his battered and weary appearance.
“You have pretty eyes,” said Neil.
“Thank you,” said Nora, giving him a cautious look.
“And I really, really wish you hadn’t said that,” said Neil. “My orders are clear. I’m sorry about this.”
He moved in a blur, his left hand dipping into his coat and coming up holding a peculiar, boxy-looking pistol. The weapon looked like it should have been too heavy to support one-handed, but Neil spun with fluid grace, the pistol’s muzzle tracking towards Nora.
But Riordan and Nora were already moving, drawing on their Shadowmorphs for speed and strength. Neil squeezed the trigger, and Riordan expected to hear the crack of the shot, the whine of the bullet, the twanging noise as it ricocheted off the pavement.
Instead, the pistol made a dull howling noise and spat a bolt of something that looked like red-orange fire. The bolt struck the ground and blasted away a plate-sized chunk of concrete, and the harsh smell of vaporized rock filled Riordan’s nostrils.
For a single instant, his mind froze. In a century of life, Riordan had never seen a weapon like that. It was almost like a powerful magical spell. Nadia could probably summon enough power to blast a hole in concrete like that, but it would take all her strength and concentration to do it. Neil had just pointed his strange weapon and pulled the trigger.
But Riordan had his own weapon, and so did Nora. They drew their pistols and started firing, the muzzle flashes brilliant in the twilight gloom. Neil twisted and threw himself to the side, off the concrete platform of the loading dock and onto the truck ramp. Riordan didn’t think they had hit him.
He glanced at Nora and gestured. Nora nodded, and they started forward, spaced a few yards apart so Neil couldn’t get them both with the same shot. Riordan watched the corner, expecting any moment to see Neil poke his head around the platform and start shooting. Riordan had to take him down first. He suspected a single shot from that strange fire-pistol would be fatal, even for someone with the recuperative powers of a Shadow Hunter.
Then Neil opened fire, but he wasn’t shooting around the corner of the platform.
He was shooting through it.
At the corner of the loading platform, the concrete was only a few inches thick, and his weapon was powerful enough to penetrate. The first shot went wild, blasting a fist-sized hole in the concrete.
The second hit Nora right in the stomach. She fell backward with a cry of pain, and the sudden odor of burned flesh filled Riordan’s nostrils. The concrete of the platform had soaked up most of the bolt’s power, or else it would have sawed her in half. As it was, she landed with a groan, her gun falling from her hand.
Riordan’s initial impulse was to help her, but Neil sprang around the corner of the platform, the fire pistol in hand. Another half-second, and he would shoot both Riordan and Nora.
Riordan sprinted forward, firing his pistol one-handed and casting a spell. Shooting a pistol while running was terrible for accuracy, but it forced Neil to duck. Riordan saw one of his bullets strike Neil’s right arm, tearing through the sleeve of his coat, but it ricocheted away with a whine. Did he have some sort of armor beneath his clothes?
Riordan finished his spell, and a pair of lightning globes leaped from his left hand, their light harsh in the twilight gloom, and hurtled towards Neil. The gunman twisted his body, turning his right side towards Riordan, and clenched his right arm. There was a strange thrumming noise, and a round shield of harsh blue light appeared over Neil’s arm. The lightning globes struck the shield and shattered into brilliant sparks.
Neil stumbled, and Riordan sprang on him. His fist connected with Neil’s left wrist and the strange pistol clattered to the ground. Neil recovered his balance and punched with his right hand. Riordan’s first instinct was to block, but something in his mind screamed a warning, and he dodged instead.
The action saved his life.
Neil’s fist blurred past Riordan’s head with the speed of a bullet, and it struck the side of the loading dock with enough force that it tore a crater into the concrete, jagged chips raining in all directions. Had Neil punched Riordan in his face, his skull would have exploded like a pumpkin thrown from a rooftop.
Riordan kicked, drawing on his Shadowmorph for strength, and his boot caught Neil in the stomach. The impact knocked Neil back, but it also staggered Riordan. It felt like there was armor plating across Neil’s stomach, beneath his ragged T-shirt. Neil hit the ramp, rolled sideways, and sprang back to his feet, reaching for his dropped pistol as he did.
The Shadowmorph blade extended from Riordan’s right hand as he charged, calling on his Shadowmorph for speed and power as he did. Neil’s eyes flicked wide in surprise for just an instant, and then he raised his right arm in a blocking motion. Blue light flashed around him, and suddenly his arm was encased in a sheath of that harsh blue light. Riordan’s Shadowmorph blade could cut through nearly anything, but it rebounded from the blue light.
But the Shadowmorph blade gave Riordan a longer reach, and he went on the offensive, driving Neil back. His foe was quick and strong, as strong as a Shadow Hunter using his Shadowmorph, but Riordan kept after him. Neil retreated, the blue light flickering around his right arm as he deflected the Shadowmorph blade. Whatever that blue light was, Neil didn’t seem able to sustain it for long periods. A Shield spell, perhaps? Riordan had never seen a Shield spell that acted like that.
Three times his Shadowmorph blade slipped past Neil’s guard to land minor wounds on his chest and hip. The wounds dripped blood, but something strange also came from the cuts, something that looked like a gritty gray paste. Neil looked human, but humans didn’t bleed anything that looked like that.
They fought until they reached the edge of the truck ramp, and Riordan lunged, driving his Shadowmorph blade in a stab. Neil twisted around it at the last possible second, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. The Shadowmorph blade raked across his hip, and Neil stumbled. He turned, did an actual backflip that carried him a dozen feet away, hit the ground, and started running, still moving with considerable speed despite his injured leg.
Riordan started to pursue, then stopped himself. If he ran down Neil, he might be able to overpower the strange gunman and take him alive, forcing him to answer some questions. Or Riordan might have to kill him. Or Neil had gone to get reinforcements and was drawing Riordan into a trap.
And Nora was hurt. Riordan hadn’t been able to help her. Had he taken his attention from Neil for a single second, the assassin would have killed him. But if Riordan didn’t help Nora right now, she might die.
He turned and ran back along the truck ramp, pausing only long enough to grab Neil’s fire-pistol from where it had fallen. The weapon felt strange in his grip, perhaps half again as heavy as a fully loaded handgun. The balance was off, but Riordan supposed the weapon didn’t have any recoil since it didn’t seem to use a chemical propellant.
Riordan stuffed the gun into the pocket of his coat and went to one knee next to Nora.
“Boss,” she croaked, trying to grin. The fire-gun had burned a small crater into her belly, and the stench of burned flesh filled his nostrils. The bolt had gone deep enough into her that it had destroyed a portion of her intestines, and on anyone else, the wound almost certainly would have been fatal.
But Nora was part of the Family, and already he saw the black patterns of her Shadowmorph flickering across her face and hands, stark against her dark skin.
“What the hell was that?” said Nora, her voice growing slurred. Her brown eyes had turned solid black.
“I don’t know,” said Riordan. “We’re getting out of here. I’m going to have to move you. It’ll hurt like hell.”
“Don’t worry,” murmured Nora. Her eyes closed. “Going to sleep now. See you when I w
ake up.”
She let out a breath and went limp, and darkness gathered around the wound in her stomach. When mortally injured, a Shadow Hunter could fall into a coma while the Shadowmorph healed the wounds. If it worked, Nora would wake up completely healed.
Or the Shadowmorph couldn’t deal with the extent of the wounds, and Nora would succumb.
Or she would wake up, but her mind would be destroyed, and she would immediately start killing everyone in sight to feed her Shadowmorph’s hunger for life force.
There wasn’t time to worry about it now. Riordan needed to get her off the street, and he needed to do it before Neil came back. The assassin might return with another fire weapon. Or he might have allies, more men like him. Riordan thought he would have won his one-on-one fight with Neil, but if Neil found allies, Riordan would be in trouble.
Especially if those allies had Neil’s strange abilities.
He paused just long enough to retrieve their pistols, and then Riordan scooped up Nora as gently as he could, his arms under her shoulders and knees. He ran up the access road, back to the street, and down the sidewalk. If he had the bad luck to run into a Homeland Security patrol responding to the sounds of gunfire, there was going to be trouble, but the street was deserted.
He laid Nora in the back of the SUV, climbed into the driver’s seat, and drove away. Should he take Nora to the Sanctuary of the Shadow Hunters? No, if she was insane when she awoke, she might hurt someone. Riordan decided to take her to his condo. If Nadia wasn’t home, it was a quiet place where Riordan could deal with Nora if she woke up insane, maybe talk her down until her self-control reasserted itself. And if Nadia was home, her help would be invaluable.
Riordan tried calling Nadia, but the call went straight to voicemail. He hoped she was safe. His mind brooded as he drove, the weight of the fire-gun tugging at the left side of his coat. What the hell was that thing? In all his experience with violence, he had never seen a weapon like that. And what had Neil been? Riordan suspected that strange shield hadn’t been a product of magic, but of some sort of machine.
It was clear they had stumbled into something far more dangerous than an art dealer selling copies of the Summoning Codex.
About forty-five minutes later, Riordan pulled into his parking spot below the building. He picked Nora up and carried her to the service elevator. If anyone asked, he would say that she had drunk too much and he was taking her home. Fortunately, no one was in the service elevator, and the hallway outside his condo was empty.
He was fumbling with his keys, Nora slumped against his side, when he heard the lock and the deadbolt release, and the door swung open.
Nadia stood on the other side, her face grim and stark. She was wearing a gray sweater and black jeans, and she held a gun in her right hand. Relief went through Riordan at the sight of his wife, followed by alarm.
Why did she look like she expected trouble?
“Oh, thank God, you’re home,” Nadia said. “We…” Her eyes widened. “What happened to Nora?”
“We had a bad day,” said Riordan, lifting Nora and maneuvering her through the door. “I’m going to put her on the couch, and…”
He came to a stop when he saw the scene in the living room.
A woman of stunning beauty lay on one of the couches, her eyes closed. Over her stood a fit-looking dark-skinned young man in a good suit, a worried scowl on his face. At the end of the couch sat a young woman in a skirt and a jacket, watching the sleeping woman with obvious worry.
“What’s going on?” said Riordan.
“Guys, this is my husband Riordan,” said Nadia. “The woman on the couch is Della Sarkany. She’s actually a dragon. That’s Helen Page, her personal assistant, and Shawn Brewer, her bodyguard.” She grinned that mirthless rictus she smiled when stressed. “We kind of had a bad day, too.”
***
Chapter 12: Old Books
I helped Riordan get Nora settled in the guest bedroom.
It didn’t show, but I knew my husband well enough to tell that he was really upset. I didn’t know how long he had been friends with Nora Chandler, but it was a long time. Twenty-five years? Thirty? Given how a Shadowmorph slowed aging, it was hard to tell, and I had never asked.
“She’ll be fine,” I said, looking at Nora’s face. She didn’t look fine. The dark brown of her skin now it had an ashy, gray undertone, and her eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into her skull. “She’s too stubborn to die. She’ll want to wake up and make a smartass remark and call me a tigress or something.”
“We’ll see,” said Riordan. He looked at the wound in her stomach. It was filled with swirling darkness as the Shadowmorph labored to heal her. “But her Shadowmorph will be ravenous when she wakes up, and she might lose her self-control to it…”
“If that happens, I’ll zap her with a lightning globe,” I said. “Just enough to shock her nervous system. Then you can tie her up or dunk her head in the bathtub or something until she gets her wits back.”
Riordan stared at me for a second and then nodded, some of the tension easing around his eyes. “Thank you. That’s a good idea.”
I knew why he was so afraid. The woman he had been with before me had been a Shadow Hunter, and she had lost control of the impulses of her Shadowmorph and had become an increasingly insane serial killer. Riordan had wound up killing her, which had to have been a hideous experience.
He was afraid he would have to do it again with Nora.
“Well, it’s only fair,” I said. I wanted to distract Riordan from his fears, and we had to decide what to do next anyway. “I mean, I brought an unconscious dragon and her retainers to your condo without asking first. It’s only fair that I help you with your friend.”
Riordan snorted. “Technically, it’s our condo.”
“Yeah, but if we’re gonna have houseguests, seems like I should mention it to you first,” I said. “Just to be polite and all.”
“That goes for me as well. We should decide what to do next,” said Riordan.
I nodded. “We can include Helen and Shawn on that.”
Riordan frowned. “Can we trust them?”
“To a point, I think,” I said. “They’re both devoted to Della and will do whatever she tells them. They won’t leave until she wakes up.”
“If she wakes up,” said Riordan.
“That burn on her shoulder has already disappeared,” I said. “I think dragons can heal a lot faster than humans or Elves. If we wait long enough, she should wake up.”
“Maybe she knows what’s going on,” said Riordan.
“I don’t think anyone knows what’s going on except Max Sarkany and the guy with the blaster,” I said. “And Malthraxivorn is dead in the basement of the John Doe Hospital, and the guy with the blaster isn’t going to answer any questions.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But maybe between us, we can figure it out.”
Riordan nodded, and we walked to the living room. Helen still sat at the end of the couch, watching her unconscious mistress. Shawn stood guard over them both.
“Any change?” I said.
Helen hesitated. “The wound on her shoulder is gone, and her breathing and pulse are better. I think she’s recovering.”
“Thank you for your assistance, both of you,” said Shawn, looking from me to Riordan. “That assassin would have killed our mistress without your intervention.”
“I think we’re all in the same boat here,” said Riordan. “That gunman tried to kill your mistress, and he almost killed my friend and me. I think we had better pool our information. We might be able to figure out where this gunman is hiding and why he tried to kill Delaxsicoria.”
“And why he killed Malthraxivorn,” I said. “Because I’m pretty sure he’s the one who killed Malthraxivorn.”
“All right,” said Riordan. “You go first.”
I told him about my investigation into Sarkany’s death, how Della had found me, and how we had driven to Malthraxivorn’s warehouse together. Riordan told
me how he and Nora had backtracked Paul Ricci’s copy of the Summoning Codex, and how the man who called himself Neil had tried to kill them outside of Malthraxivorn’s building.
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said. “Malthraxivorn shipped a bunch of stuff from Russia. Specifically, five crates from Chel…Cheer…”
“Chelyabinsk Oblast,” said Riordan.
“Yeah, there,” I said. “These five crates apparently have something to do with Catalyst Corporation, an old business that the High Queen shut down a hundred and eighty years ago. These crates came with copies of the Summoning Codex. Someone, possibly Malthraxivorn himself or one of his employees, sold those copies to Anthony Watkins, who then sold one to Paul Ricci. Both of them got killed for it. Meanwhile, our friend Neil the Blaster Boy killed Malthraxivorn, and then followed Della to the warehouse and almost killed her.”
“Do you think he was there to kill Lady Delaxsicoria?” said Riordan. “Or was he guarding Malthraxivorn’s warehouse? He only opened fire when we approached.”
I thought it over. “He was probably there to kill Della. He didn’t talk at all when we approached. And I think he was smoking that cigarette so she wouldn't smell his machine parts from a distance. When you ran into him, I think he was guarding the warehouse. You said he only attacked when you mentioned you were investigating Max Sarkany’s death?” Riordan nodded. “I bet that was what set him off. If you had told him you were there to inspect the gas lines or something, maybe he wouldn’t have cared.”
Riordan sighed. “Hindsight is always clear.”
“Yeah,” I said, and I squeezed his arm. I looked at Shawn and Helen. “Do you guys have any idea why Neil went after Malthraxivorn and Delaxsicoria?”
“None,” said Shawn with a shake of his head. “If you had asked me if Lady Delaxsicoria had any enemies, I would have said she had rivals within the music business. But the worst they could do is make up false stories and leak them to the press. They wouldn’t be able to send an assassin with some sort of superweapon after her.” His eyes drifted to the blaster, which Riordan had set on one of the end tables. “I’ve never seen a weapon like that.”
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