by S. C. Stokes
The Shinigami likewise didn’t cause her to lose any sleep. For New York to be saved, there was a price to pay. More would be required to thwart them, that much she was sure.
The Night Crew had been the first Kasey had actively sought out. They were not self-defense. Self-preservation perhaps, but not self-defense. It had bothered her less than she had expected. She’d seen enough bodies in the morgue to know the price their drug trade was taking on the city. The victims got younger and younger as dealers pushed products laced with deadly chemicals. College students were dying in the war on drugs and the single greatest contributor to that loss of life was the Night Crew. Truth be told, when Kasey considered the lives she’d taken raiding their stash house, she felt entirely justified. She wasn’t losing any sleep over their loss, either.
She stopped and stared at the full-length mirror hanging on the wall.
What have I become?
“Penny for your thoughts?” Sanders asked. “You’re looking a little grim.”
“I was just thinking about the past few months. Only months ago, I’d never killed anyone. I’m not even sure how many people I must have killed last night. The grenades alone must have taken a dozen. All told, it could have been as many as thirty people. I tell myself they were drug dealers making millions off others’ misfortune, but what does that make me?”
“It makes you a hero, Kasey,” Sanders said softly. “Without you, many more would have died. Danilo, the thieves at the Gala, the Shinigami, and even the Night Crew. If you’d not intervened, the loss of life would have been considerably more. We may have been motivated by survival rather than the greater good last night, but the fact remains, we just dealt the single largest blow to the Night Crew that has been struck since they took up residence here in New York City. That makes you a hero. Don’t ever forget it.”
“So the end justifies the means?” Kasey asked, not looking at him.
“In this case, yes,” Sanders replied. “It’s not a time for half measures. Think about what will happen if we are caught. Who will remain to stop the Shinigami’s plot? The ADI? No, they will be dancing like puppets on a string, unaware of the usurper in their midst. The police? I’d like to hope so, but even your friends are helplessly outgunned by the Shinigami’s arcane might. If we do not survive to thwart their plan, everyone you know and love in this city will die. I shouldn’t need to tell you. You’ve seen it.”
Kasey hesitated. She’d witnessed it dozens of times over the years. There was no doubt of the widespread devastation the city would face.
Finally, she said in a low voice, “Yes.”
“Then steel yourself, Kasey, because there is every chance the worst is still to come.”
Chapter Nine
Kasey followed Sanders into the bar. The room itself was unremarkable; only a few patrons sat at the counter, draining their sorrow. Sanders ignored them and headed past a set of pool tables to where a row of dingy jukeboxes and photo booths lined the back wall.
Sanders parted the curtain on the photo booth and motioned for Kasey to get in.
Pressing a hidden button beneath the photo booth’s dash caused the wall to open, revealing a bar that had seen better days.
The decor seemed almost willfully run down. Perhaps to ensure that any who stumbled across it, didn't bother to remain. Those frequenting the bar looked like they belonged in the police line up at the Ninth Precinct.
Kasey suspected most of them had done time, be it Rikers or elsewhere. Where exactly the Arcane Council locked its troublemakers up was a question she'd yet to find the answer to.
Sanders guided her through the pub to a hallway which ran past a series of restrooms and a stockroom. Without reference to anyone, Sanders simply pushed open the door to the stockroom and wandered in. Stacked behind a row of kegs and liquor was an unmarked flight of stairs that simply plunged down into the darkness.
Kasey followed Sanders down the stairs.
Trusting in Sanders, Kasey made the descent. After what seemed like several stories and more stairs than she cared to count, dim LED lights flickered along the ceiling, providing faint illumination as they continued downward.
Deep beneath the city Kasey and Sanders made their way down the seemingly endless set of concrete stairs. With each flight, the raucous din from below grew in intensity. Exuberant cheering filled her ears as they descended deeper and deeper beneath the city.
“What is this place?” Kasey asked, shouting over the din.
When Sanders didn't respond, Kasey grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him.
Sanders turned. “What?”
“Where are we going?” Kasey asked again.
“A gathering place of sorts. Somewhere the seedier element of New York City is happy to congregate. Believe it or not, there are plenty of people who prefer to live their life on the out with the Council and the ADI. Most of them pass through here.”
“If so many of them are all in one place, why doesn't the Council take them out?” Kasey asked.
Sanders laughed. “For much the same reason that the Night Crew still exist, I suppose. Large numbers and a predisposition toward violence. For the Council to try and regulate this place, it would require they expend lives to try and bring it under control. It would be open war. Not a healthy proposition for anyone.”
Kasey nodded. It made sense. Often, law enforcement had to take a similar view when the resources to end a particular issue outweighed the upside for doing so. Sometimes, the potential costs were too high, as was definitely the case with the Night Crew. Wiping out their scourge would doubtless cost the lives of dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of officers. It was a price the city wasn't willing to pay at the present time.
“I'm told there are other entrances to the underground, but this is the only one I know of. I suspect that there are tunnels and bolt holes scattered all over the city. Another reason the Council doesn't bother. By the time we win control of it, the most wanted criminals would likely have gone to ground, anyway.”
Kasey nodded, following Sanders into the bowels of the Earth. In the dim light, she examined his disguise. Today, he looked like an army veteran. At a glance and without knowing any better, Kasey would have pegged him to be in his late forties, rapidly approaching his fifties. His hair was styled into a short crew cut. He wore a simple T-shirt and khaki pants.
Kasey’s illusion was a touch on the younger side. To others, she would seem a woman in her later thirties. She'd retained much of her trim figure. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled back into a single sporty ponytail. Her wardrobe consisted of some athletic wear and sneakers.
They had the appearance of a couple out for an evening jog, but their plans this evening were more ambitious. The disguises served two purposes. First, it would allow them to travel the streets undetected. The routine changing of their identities ensured the ADI remained oblivious to their presence. Looking for them now would be like tracking an invisible needle in a mountainous haystack.
The second reason for the disguise was Sanders’ position in the magical community. As the former head of the ADI, it would not serve them for anyone in the underground to recognize him. Between those who would want his head and those who would want to turn him in for the reward, there would be a lineup of those wishing to take a shot at them.
Their current identities marked them as Ben and Jenny Kaswell.
Sanders had suggested that traveling as a couple might help throw them off the scent. Kasey agreed. She would take any edge they could get right now.
Not for the first time, she found herself thinking of Sanders.
His name is Noah.
When she had first met him at the Arcane Council, his omnipotent attitude and outright dismissal of her story had enraged her, but as she had gotten to know him better, she'd found that her earlier impressions were wide of the mark.
He truly was a gifted wizard, well-studied and creative in his use of his arcane powers. His unfailing desire to serve the greater good even whe
n it threatened to imprison or execute him was something she could admire. Most would become jaded by their own organization turning on them. Sanders was simply galvanized and determined to make a difference. He would clear his name and protect the Council, even if it killed him.
Every time Kasey thought she had her bearings, her life was turned upside down. At least this time, some good had come from it. In the last two weeks, her biggest detractor on the council had become her greatest ally.
And my husband. Kasey found the corners of her mouth creasing up into a smile at the thought. He’s not hard on the eyes, either.
“What are you smiling at?” Sanders asked.
Kasey snapped out of her momentary daydream and caught Sanders’ gaze. “Nothing. It's just nice to be out of the hotel.”
“Sure is,” Sanders replied as they continued downward.
Kasey thought of John, who she hadn't spoken to in days. The last she'd seen him, she had told him that his father was going to be murdered in the cathedral at St Patrick's. It would be difficult to explain to John why she had been spotted breaking into the ADI with Sanders. John might very well think she had turned against him and his father. After all, John had no idea his father was already dead, and that the man with whom he was currently reconciling was none other than the Master of the Shinigami.
The Master had stolen his father's place almost a year ago. Kasey had wanted to tell John, but it was too dangerous. Any misstep might see John dead, just like Theo Getz. The stakes were just too high to risk it.
As Kasey thought of John and Noah, she felt conflicted.
Men, they complicate everything.
To her relief, the next step leveled out onto a concrete landing. The landing opened into an immense concrete tunnel.
Kasey crept forward, Sanders next to her. Reaching the end of the dark passage, they found a steel door set in a concrete wall. It looked like a nuclear bunker taken out of a Hollywood movie. Before the door stood two burly bouncers in leather jackets that struggled to contain their impressive forms.
The first settled his gaze on Kasey. “What do you want?”
“What everyone wants,” Sanders replied, holding up a roll of cash he’d brought from their supply. “We want to have some fun.”
The bouncer nodded and held out his hand.
Sanders peeled two hundreds off the wad and gave one to each of the bouncers. “Two Benjamins for the two of us.”
The bouncer eyed the notes hungrily and took them. After pocketing the note, he pulled open the heavy vault-like door.
The door swung open as the noise inside reached a crescendo.
The crowd was chanting wildly.
“Dozer, Dozer, Dozer.”
It was deafening. Kasey passed through the door and found herself in an immense underground cavern. Ten feet in front of them, the concrete ended abruptly, a crude steel rail preventing anyone from falling over the edge. Kasey approached the rail.
Her eyes widened at the spectacle that greeted her. The vast underground opened beneath her. The piece of concrete she stood on was actually something of a balcony. Two more tiered balconies stretched out beneath them.
At the center of it all stood a large steel cage. Razor wire was coiled around it, leaving an empty space ten to fifteen paces wide. The no-man’s land separated the dense mass of people from the action in the steel cage.
The entire underground was packed with spectators cheering at the commotion inside the cage. Bookies hustled through the crowd taking bets on the outcome, but as Kasey studied the cage below, she realized the outcome had already been decided.
Dozer was easily identifiable. The stocky barrel-chested thug with biceps the size of Boston stood in the center of the ring. His over-muscled torso seemed to blend seamlessly with his head, giving the illusion that the man had no neck whatsoever. Dozer’s opponent, a Caucasian man in his thirties, was well over six feet and probably a good six inches taller than his brawny foe. He was well-muscled himself but paled next to Dozer.
It seemed he had made the fatal mistake of letting Dozer get within his reach. Now, he was being held aloft over Dozer’s shoulders as some kind of bizarre trophy.
“Dozer, Dozer, Dozer,” the crowd cheered.
Drinking in their adulation, Dozer did a lap around the cage, his prize still firmly clutched in his grasp. As the crowd reached the zenith of its excitement, Dozer hoisted him up into the air like a barbell and hurled him into the steel cage.
The fighter collapsed in a crumpled heap, battered and broken. At this distance, Kasey couldn't clearly make out the extent of his injuries, but the man wasn't moving.
She had seen enough to know he wasn't getting back up. He would be lucky if he lived at all. The crowd went wild as Dozer threw both hands in the air.
Bookies paid out winnings and shrugged off the bitter complaints of those whose money had been taken as Dozer steamrolled their champion.
Sanders pointed below, and Kasey followed his meaning.
More stairs. Kasey sighed.
Together, they wound their way down the internal staircase. On the ground floor, they shouldered through the masses as they worked their way across the underground. Sanders guided them to a cordoned off cavern that had been carved into the wall.
Red ropes dangled between silver bollards, marked the edge of the arena and beginning of what appeared to be a nightclub. While the bollards might have been ineffectual against the seething masses, the four enormous bouncers guarding the entrance certainly provided a second deterrent. Having just witnessed the brutal bout in the arena, Kasey had little doubt what might happen to someone foolish enough to enter the cavern unbidden.
Regardless, Sanders moved toward it. Clearing his throat, he approached the bouncers.
The first bouncer raised his hand, his palm facing out. “You there. What are you doing? Hell is closed to the public this evening.”
“No worries. I’m not after the bar,” Sanders replied. “I'm here to see the boss.”
The burly security guard raised an eyebrow. “The boss?”
“You heard me,” Sanders said. “I want to see Hades, now.”
The bodyguard stepped away, heading down a hall at the back of the club. He left his three companions to keep an eye on Kasey and Sanders.
Kasey studied the security guards. Leaning over to Sanders, she whispered, “They don't appear to be armed.”
Sanders eyed their muscled forms. “Yeah, no need for guns here. They're probably wizards, just like us. The underground isn’t open to normals.”
Kasey nodded. This was more magical beings than she'd seen in one place since leaving the Academy.
The head security guard re-emerged. “The boss will see you now, but be warned, Hades doesn't like being interrupted, and he hates time wasters even more. This better be important.”
“It is,” Sanders replied.
The security allowed them past, and Kasey and Sanders entered the private club. The only person inside the otherwise empty bar was a handsome bartender in his twenties with a large mohawk. The room had several booths and a hallway leading into the back that disappeared deeper underground.
Flanked by two of the security guards, Kasey and Sanders made their way through Hell, heading for the back of the club. Here in the hallway, the stark concrete was replaced with more elegant furnishings. The carpet was plush and black, and gold-embossed wood panel walls lined each side of the passage. They passed a row of portraits, each depicting a champion standing over his foe in the ring. At the end of the hall they came to a stop before an immense set of double doors. The doors had large glass panels that were heavily tinted.
Security opened the doors, revealing Hades’ private office.
The elaborate room was dominated by a large mahogany desk. An eighty-inch flat screen sat on one wall with several recliners set out like a movie theater before it. A wall of filing cabinets ran along one side. Above them a rack of weapons held several automatic rifles. A pair of doors led deepe
r into the underground complex.
Behind the table, a man sat in a high-backed leather chair, with a woman sitting on his lap. His deep olive complexion complimented his brown eyes. A thick mop of black hair had been cut just above his shoulders. He wore a set of slacks with an open collared dress shirt and suspenders. Tucked under each arm was a holster. At this angle, she couldn't make out exactly what type of pistols they were, but Hades was not making any effort to conceal the weapons.
The woman in his lap wore a set of tight leather pants that threatened to burst at her every movement. The low-cut tank top left little to the imagination. Her black hair was short and styled into spikes pointing every which way. In her hands she held a bowl of grapes.
Kasey caught her gaze, and the woman snarled at her.
Delightful.
Hades looked Kasey and Sanders up and down as they entered, and then pointed to the chairs in front of his table. They took the offered seats.
“So, what do we have here?” Hades said. “Two supplicants come to the gates of hell to speak with Hades himself. What is it you want?”
Oh, boy, what an ego.
Kasey bit off her smart remark as shadows loomed over her. Their escorts had taken up position behind them.
“I have come to talk business,” Sanders said. “You control the underworld, Hades, literally and figuratively, and we find ourselves in need of some muscle. “
Hades eyes continued to rove over them, drinking in every detail of their illusion.
“Well, you might want to start with who you are. I don't do business with strangers,” Hades replied, leaning forward to accept a grape from the woman resting on his lap.
“Sure, I'm Ben and this is Jenny. We've recently found ourselves on the receiving end of some unnecessary oversight and would like to be rid of our oppressor.”
Hades nodded. “I take it you're referring to the Council.”
“Indeed, I am,” Sanders said shifting in his seat. “In particular, a certain member of it. He's using the Council’s resources to retaliate against us, and we'd like to resolve the situation.”