Power Game

by Brad Magnarella

  Arnaud lay there in the aftershock, panting for breath.

  “Sir, are you all right?” the bartender asked, rushing over and stooping for his hat.

  The bartender rose, extending the fedora toward Arnaud, then stopped suddenly. He stammered something nonsensical as the blood left his face. Past his shoulder, Arnaud caught a look at himself in the mirror backing the glass shelves of bottled liquor. A hideous gray head with yellow-flecked eyes stared back at him.

  The Dread Council, Malphas’s voice sounded in his head. Now.

  Another tug of the hooks tore through him. “Yes, yes, all right!” Arnaud screamed.

  He snatched his hat before the bartender could flinch back further, pulled it low over his face, and staggered from his stool. Outside, the dull light stung his eyes as he looked this way and that. Another sharp tug.

  Damn you! Arnaud hissed in his head.

  He stumbled into an alley and found a secluded spot on the far side of a Dumpster. The next tug brought him to his knees. Arnaud tore a jagged line across his wrist and used the blood to smear out a hasty symbol for the Dread Council. When he was done, he fell to his forearms and gargled out Malphas’s true name.

  He felt the air above the circle thicken with his liege’s arrival.

  “Where are you?” Malphas demanded. “What are you doing?”

  “I am faithfully following your command,” he answered in a forced whimper. “I looked for the scepter, but someone has taken it. I had no choice but to commandeer two mortals to assist me in the search.”

  “Two mortals whose souls belonged to me,” Malphas thundered.

  “Y-yes, Great One, but it was necessary. Without them I—”

  “Without them you wouldn’t be sitting on your ass, enjoying a drink?”

  Curse it all! His bond to Malphas was such that he could hide practically nothing when his master came spying. Instead of denying the charge, he fell into deeper groveling. “It was just a short respite, Master. I am not strong like you. Claim the souls from me if you must. I will search for the scepter myself.”

  He knew Malphas wasn’t dumb. The faster Arnaud could find the scepter and dispatch the bastard wizard, the faster he would be able to claim souls for Malphas’s army. And if other demons had come through, time was of the essence. His master’s forces would soon be outnumbered.

  “Keep your souls,” Malphas spat. “I have a more urgent task for you.”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “Find Everson Croft.”

  “E-Everson Croft?” Arnaud’s fear of the city from that morning had been looking more and more trivial in hindsight, but now fresh panic leapt inside him. “But he is the wizard I’ve told you about, the one who can destroy me. Without the protection of the scepter, I have no defense against his power.”

  “Shut up!” Malphas roared. “You needn’t fight him. Find and follow him. It is rumored he knows the location of a powerful vessel named Sefu. Possess the vessel for me, and we won’t need the scepter.”

  A contingency plan. Arnaud liked that, but it would still mean getting dangerously close to Croft.

  “Should you fail,” Malphas continued, “one of our rivals will claim the vessel, and they will destroy us. You told me you once lorded over this city, that you knew it more intimately than anything living or unliving. Now is your chance to prove your boast.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Now go!”

  He expected Malphas to issue a final threat, or at least give their bond a violent tug, but the stakes were threat enough. Fail and they would both perish horribly.

  The pressure over Arnaud’s bowed head released. He peeked to ensure Malphas had left before wiping away the symbol with his hand and pushing himself up.

  As he walked toward the mouth of the alley, he considered his task. He thought about calling his slaves to him. Were Croft to spot him, they would make good shields for an escape. Indeed, he could have used them in East River Park the night before. He went so far now as to access their hollow minds. He’d sent the man to the north of the island, and he was working his way down through Harlem. The woman was presently only a few blocks away, snaking north. But Arnaud stopped himself. Withdrew.

  “Better they keep searching,” he told Zarko. “If they manage to find the scepter before we locate Croft, we will have the advantage after all.” At Liberty Street, where his wall had once stood, he hailed a cab.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  “We’re going to the West Village,” Arnaud said. “Tenth Street.”

  As Arnaud closed the door behind him, he ignored the perplexed look of the driver, whose eyes were searching the backseat for a second passenger.

  “We’re checking in on an old friend.”

  Arnaud peered up. From his position in the alleyway, he could just make out the top of the four-story building. In his last life, he had sent his slaves here many times to keep tabs on Croft. He had even visited the apartment himself once when he’d duped the young wizard into issuing an invitation.

  Now his gaze traced the upper ledge for the large feline who occasionally acted as sentry, but there were only pigeons. He circled to the front of the apartment, sniffing carefully. On the street, he stopped as he caught Croft’s scent.

  “He’s been here recently,” he whispered to Zarko.

  He could smell the large feline too, as well as a third party he couldn’t place. A musky cologne covered a vaguely leathery scent. It could have been a passerby, but the threads of their scents seemed to intertwine. Yes, the medley ended at an empty space on the street, suggesting they’d departed together in a vehicle.

  Arnaud turned to the building. The invitation Croft had extended him was almost two years old, but perhaps it still held power over his wards. While waiting for Croft that night, Arnaud had perused his loft. Behind a veiling spell, he had discovered a journal in which the wizard recorded almost everything.

  “The whereabouts of Sefu might be in there,” Arnaud whispered. “In which case, we won’t need to chance an encounter with the wizard.”

  At the door to the building, Arnaud hovered a finger over the lock. Infernal magic explored inside. A moment later, the bolt thunked back, and he drew the door open. He climbed the three flights, backtracking along Croft’s scent trail, which was already going stale.

  At the top floor he had only gone a few steps down the corridor when he observed the forcefield pulsing over Croft’s door. Arnaud shied back as if the sun had broken from a bank of clouds right in front of him. Even from here the field made his insides squirm.

  Like Croft’s power, the wards were much stronger than he remembered.

  He retreated, not realizing he’d fallen to his hands, until he was back in the stairwell. He straightened quickly. With the apartment too well defended, he would have to do what Malphas had said:

  Find and follow him.

  “But where has he gone?” he asked aloud.

  “Perhaps to his detective friend’s,” Zarko answered.

  Arnaud nodded. “Yesss, I was thinking the same.”

  21

  Shit, I thought as we pulled up in front of the Vegas’ house and I spotted Carlos’s car.

  “Everything good?” Bree-Yark asked as he engaged the brake on his Hummer. His legs were too short to reach the pedals, so he’d had his ride modified to operate gas and brake with his oversized hands. He was actually a good driver, and I wondered if Gretchen was using him as a chauffeur too.

  “Super,” I said. “Would you guys mind waiting out here? This could get thorny.”

  I braced for flak from Bree-Yark about not wanting to introduce a goblin to Vega’s family, but he only nodded and turned on the sound system. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but definitely not the New Age music that piped from the speakers. “It’s world music,” he said preemptively. “It relaxes me.”

  I craned my neck around to find Tabitha asleep in the backseat.

  “Could you keep an eye on her?”
/>   “No problem,” Bree-Yark said. “Just jiggle the blinds or something if you need backup.”

  I could see by his face he wasn’t joking. It was a shame he hadn’t been here last night.

  I got out and made my way up the walk, already scanning the wards I’d placed over the doors and windows. They were still working, but they could stand more power. The problem was Carlos. Having to explain what I was doing and why was only going to reinforce his belief I was a danger to his sister and nephew.

  The gutless course of action was for me to stay outside, charge up the wards, and then check on Tony last—which was the course I chose. At least I didn’t drink a stealth potion, which I’d considered. Moving to one side of the porch, I began to incant. Naturally, the front door opened a moment later.

  Just please don’t be…

  Carlos’s head peered around the corner of the porch.

  “Everson,” he said in a kind of stern surprise. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

  I stopped incanting and followed his gaze down to my shoes. I was standing in a flower bed. Making an awkward sound, I stepped back until I was on grass. “Just reinforcing some protections,” I said. There was no point in lying. Though I’d only met Carlos the night before, I anticipated the exact shape of his frown.

  “I see.”

  “Everyone okay in there?” I asked.

  “We’re fine.”

  “All right, I won’t be long.”

  “Actually, we were just discussing you.”

  I couldn’t imagine that was good. “Oh yeah?”

  “In fact, why don’t you come in when you’re done.”

  Before I could respond, Carlos disappeared back into the house. A knock sounded from the Hummer. Through the passenger window, Bree-Yark was asking with gestures if I needed him to come straighten Carlos out. He must have picked up the tension in our exchange. I shook my head and signaled for him to stay put.

  As I circled the house incanting, I managed to block out the annoyance of having to sit down with Carlos afterwards. A couple of times, I caught him watching me through a window. When I was done, I stood back and looked over the energy that encompassed the house. Satisfied that no vampires, demons, or vampire-demons would be getting in, I drew a breath and entered the house through the front door.

  “Back here,” Carlos called.

  I followed the corridor to the living room, where Vega’s four brothers were sitting around the room. A kind of somberness hung over a space that looked more cluttered and less inviting in the light of day. And unlike last night, no one was joking or wrestling. Not a smile to be seen, either, not even on big Teddy.

  “Have a seat, Everson,” Carlos said.

  He gestured to an isolated chair in the center of the room. I could hear the kids behind a door in a back room, playing a video game from the sounds of it. The wives were absent too.

  “Is this where you teach me the secret handshake?” I asked, sitting down.

  Teddy allowed a small smile. Weaks, who was wearing the same white warmups as yesterday, averted his eyes. The Rock pretended to become interested in the football he was tossing up into a little spiral and catching with the same hand.

  Man, even that line would have earned me a chuckle last night.

  “I’ve been talking with my brothers about what we discussed at dinner,” Carlos said. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and he was leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He had that look like he was warming up for a lengthy deposition.

  “Look, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that too,” I said before he could get going. “The fact is, your concern for Ricki and Tony is not only fair, it’s a concern of mine too. You’re right. Over the past couple years, I’ve introduced Ricki to a dimension of the city—a dimension of this world—that multiplies the dangers she already faces. But that was because she insisted. You know how she is. She takes her oath to serve and protect as seriously as anyone I’ve ever known.”

  When Weaks made a sound of agreement, Carlos shot him a stern look.

  “The thing to know about your sister is that while the danger has gone up in the last two years, she’s also helped save thousands of lives. Something she wouldn’t have been able to do going straight by the police academy handbook.” I knew I was taking a risk with what I was about to say, but I forged on anyway. “I didn’t know your father, but Ricki’s told me a lot about him. I think he’d be really proud of her.”

  “You’re right,” Carlos snapped. “You didn’t know our father.”

  The Rock looked over at his younger brother. “Damn, man.”

  “Yeah, c’mon,” Teddy added in his mellow voice.

  But Carlos closed his eyes and shook his head. “No, you guys c’mon. We talked about this. Everson’s association with Ricki is a danger to her and to Tony.” He raised his eyes to mine. “On the surface, it looks like you’ve been good to them, and we’re aware they both think highly of you.”

  “What do you mean on the surface?” I asked.

  “I did some looking around. Last year, Ricki initiated an investigation into one Arnaud Thorne for kidnapping and child endangerment. The victim’s name was redacted, but Ricki works homicide, not kidnappings. I had some suspicions, so I talked with Camila this morning, Tony’s sitter. She told me everything.”

  He was referring to Arnaud taking Tony hostage in a gambit to pit me against City Hall. I hadn’t realized Vega had actually started an investigation into the vampire, though. She’d probably done so during the period we weren’t talking. Arnaud’s death—or believed death—would have made it moot.

  Still, I wondered why she’d never mentioned it. Maybe she just wanted to forget the whole chapter.

  “I followed up with a search of the news archives,” Carlos continued, “and guess what I found? A story about how the mayor used you as a double agent to take down the same Arnaud Thorne. Are we supposed to believe it was just a coincidence that during the time period you were trying to get close to this man, he also happened to kidnap your girlfriend’s son?”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I said, my face growing hot.

  He sat back and crossed his arms. “We’re listening.”

  The story about me being a double agent had been a fiction to make the mayor look like he’d known what he was doing and to get me back in the city’s good graces. In fact, I had been a pawn in Arnaud’s scheme, almost realizing it too late. But that episode with Arnaud was so convoluted, not to mention fantastical, I wasn’t going to try to explain it in Carlos’s living room court of law. I mean, hell, it would fill two novel-length books.

  “It was an isolated incident,” I said. “Tony was unharmed, and I destroyed Arnaud.”

  “Oh, did you?” Carlos’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “That’s funny, because I heard Ricki on the phone with her department when she came home last night. Thin walls,” he said, rapping a knuckle against the one behind him. “I made out a name: Arnaud Thorne. Only she was speaking about this person in the present tense. Are we to believe this is a different Arnaud Thorne? One who’s still alive?”

  The answer was yes and no—the same Arnaud Thorne, but in a different form.

  I gave the next best answer. “He was presumed dead.”

  “Oh, okay, so it is the same person,” Carlos said with a kind of callous satisfaction. “And from Ricki’s side of the conversation, it sounded like you two engaged him last night?”

  “We had an encounter, yes,” I said.

  “And this Arnaud Thorne escaped that encounter?”

  I held Carlos’s prosecutorial stare, but I could feel the weight of the other brothers’ gazes on me.

  “We have people looking for him,” I replied.

  “You see where I’m going with this, don’t you? If he took Tony once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?” He gestured toward his brothers. “Or taking any of the other kids for that matter?”

  The fact was, I couldn’t give him any assurances. He was askin
g the same questions I’d been wrestling with myself.

  “That’s what I was doing outside,” I said.

  “Putting up protections?” Carlos asked thinly.

  “It’s nothing personal against you, Everson,” Teddy cut in.

  “Yeah, man,” Weaks added. “You seem like a cool dude. It’s just that we’ve got families to look out for.”

  The Rock stopped tossing the football and held it to his chest. “And the thing about Ricki… Well, she has this way of bending in her relationships. We’ve all seen it. She starts out tough, but before long, she starts making one compromise after another…”

  I’d been willing to absorb the accusations and insinuations against me, but when I felt the blame shifting to Vega, rage bloomed hot inside me. “If you’re suggesting Ricki would endanger Tony or your children, you’re way, way out of line.” Though I was jabbing my finger at the Rock, I looked around to include all of them, my eyes falling on Carlos last. “Let’s keep the focus on me, all right?”

  “Did you know Tony’s father is a convicted felon?” Carlos asked coolly.

  The words arrived like a slap. Vega had said little about Tony’s father other than he was no longer in their lives, and I had never pried. Now I lowered my finger—or rather let it fall like a flaccid balloon.

  “No,” I admitted. “But that’s her business, not mine.”

  Even as I said it, I caught my mind shuffling through the possible scenarios in which Ricki Vega of the NYPD would knowingly have a child with a felon. I couldn’t come up with any. My mouth burned with the acid bite of adrenaline.

  “In a close family like this one,” Carlos said, “we make it our business. The bottom line is she’s too wrapped up in whatever the two of you have going to see the threat you pose. Like Gabe said, it’s a pattern.”

  There it was, more fucking insinuations against their sister.

  “If that’s all,” I managed as I stood, “I have to get back to work.”

  I was too enraged to trust whatever I might say if I stayed.

  “That’s not all,” Carlos said, his eyes cutting over to Teddy.