by TR Cameron
Dreven’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he flicked his wand and a gentle wave of force radiated from it—not enough to be rude and only enough to draw attention. “Keep it polite, please.”
The gnome declined to speak, but the witch’s sultry voice asked, “What of your lieutenant, the one we gifted with the artifact? Did he perform as expected?”
Dreven turned with his servant as Nehlan turned to face her. The illusion she displayed was flat and disguised her true beauty, but his subordinate’s response carried a note of respect, nonetheless. “It worked as you said it would. It made him increasingly pliable the longer he wore it. By the end, I believe he would have killed himself or anyone else at a word from me.”
The witch inclined her head, and it was again his turn to speak. “Wait for me beyond the circle, Nehlan.” The elf walked away, and Dreven parted the shield momentarily to allow him to exit.
The dwarf’s growl was satisfied. “The alterations we have made to the artifacts are working, then.”
The gnome nodded. “They certainly appear to be. It was an inspired thought.” He acknowledged the witch beside him, and she grinned as her perfect red lips tilted in a smile. “My idea, but all of our efforts. So long as they continue to only influence willingness to serve but not thinking ability, they can only make the Remembrance more powerful.”
Dreven stuck his hands in the pockets of his outer robe. The cold radiating up through the stone had become an irritant, and he tried to keep his annoyance out of his voice. “The failure to abduct the ambassador is but a minor setback. Several paths branched forward from that moment, and we have simply been redirected onto a different one. Unknown to my underlings—and something I have not yet shared with you—is that I have been aware of this new organization for a while. Our source in another of their agencies was quite irritated about them and spoke at some length.” He rolled his eyes, and the others laughed. “We have interfered with their supply shipments and put plans in place for attacks on their leaders. However, it will take weeks for those to fully develop.”
“And what of the new prison?” the dwarf asked.
Dreven nodded. “Yes, the new prison. It is controlled and operated by this same group. Plans are in motion for that, as well. Our minions have inflamed the city in opposition. However, it is time to make a statement, as we agreed.” He stared across the circle at the Kilomea. “Are your people ready for the event?”
She bared her sharp teeth with a decisive nod. “We are. When the humans riot, we will use the chaos to launch a strike against the facility.”
The witch folded her arms and shook her head. “I must reiterate that I dislike this plan. It is too conservative, doesn’t address the Kemana beneath the city, and doesn’t end the larger threat of this opposing group. It is a symbolic action and a waste of our time and resources.”
Dreven shrugged.
We’ve been over this too many times already.
“Does anyone other than Iressa desire to change our direction?” The circle remained silent, and he nodded. “Then, Pesharn, I wish you greater luck than my subordinate had.” The Kilomea inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Now, you all must excuse me. I need to have a serious conversation with Nehlan about his failure.” The other members of the Remembrance chuckled as he turned and dropped the shield.
A very serious conversation.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vincente sat behind the battered metal desk in his office and admired the objects before him. There had been unexpected treasures among the artifacts. Some were items he had yet to deduce the purpose of and others were clearly Rhazdon artifacts he would be obligated to surrender to those above. His hands itched with the desire to claim one for himself. Once he had, though, only death could steal it away. He pulled the offending member back, cognizant of the fact that those above would not hesitate to spend days killing him for being so bold as to claim one for himself.
As a distraction, he selected one of the clear crystals scattered among the other treasures and held it to the light. The most unexpected bonus was the gems used to counter magic. He would leave them unreported to those above and use them to the benefit of his own branch.
Perhaps, with a few more successes, I will be granted an artifact all my own.
As his fingers stretched toward them again, he shook his head and covered the powerful items with a black cloth. He bound it tightly around them so they couldn’t tempt him further.
The coin in his hidden pocket warmed, and he swallowed hard. Without delay, he scooped up all the items on the desk and carried them to the safe. He spun the lock quickly and yanked the handle to deposit them inside. Then, he withdrew the small figurine his superiors had provided and placed it on the desk in front of his chair, retrieved the coin, and set it on the base. He rotated it so the tiny raised bumps were in the proper position. The crystals in the artifact glowed to indicate the activation of the device, and shortly after, an image materialized above the statue.
In the foreground was his master, the wizard Dreven. Behind him, a strange elf writhed in agony under the ministrations of the rippling tentacles that held him suspended a foot off the ground. The one across his mouth muted the screams, but they still caused Vincente to cringe each time the tortured being expelled them.
The image spoke in a deep, resonant voice. “Greetings, Vincente. Allow me to introduce you to another of my most trusted people.” He gestured at the being behind him. “He failed me and failed the Remembrance. Because of his previous successes, he will be allowed to live and atone for his mistakes. Possibly, anyway.” The tentacles squeezed harder and drew a second round of anguished screams from the tortured elf.
Dreven shook his head as he turned back. “I share this knowledge with you because the organization that interfered with his success is present in your city as well. You must account for them in your planning.”
“We are aware of them, master, but we’ll redouble our efforts where they are concerned if that is your will.”
The wizard nodded his approval. “I have the details for your next task.”
Vincente suppressed the desire to stand and pace and leaned on his desk instead. Pain throbbed in the back of his skull and beat in time to the screams of the tentacled figure behind his master.
“The humans provided useful cover for your operation with their protest of the prison. Now, we must build upon that success and turn them into a mob. Others have begun this process, as you have doubtless noticed.”
He nodded.
Even if I hadn’t, I sure as hell wouldn’t admit it.
Of course, he’d seen the lawyer speaking on television and had discerned the hand of the Remembrance pulling his strings.
The wizard continued. “Mixed with the humans, your people will break into the prison and do whatever damage you can. Sow chaos in all directions. Most of all, attempt to discover the weaknesses of the place and of the organization behind it. If it is possible to destroy it, do so, but it is our belief that this occasion will amount to only a probing attack. The information gained from the guard we took is incomplete. It seems their compartmentalization is significant.”
Vincente scratched at the back of his head to sooth the banging pain. “Their defenses are sure to be impressive, master.”
The wizard grinned. As usual, the elf’s eyes always seemed to stab directly into Vincente’s brain to probe his deepest thoughts. “Your thirst for power is a testament to your ambition. You may claim one of the Rhazdon artifacts as a reward for your efforts and as our commitment to your future successes.”
Now, he grinned in return. A wave of pleasure suffused him at the thought of the strength such a boon would bestow.
“We may provide one to your second-in-command as well. However, we must…empower it additionally first.”
His eyebrows drooped in confusion at his superior’s words, but he quickly banished the worry. I’ll have an artifact. That’s what’s important here.
“You mus
t create a spectacle of the attack on the prison. Draw as much attention as possible.”
Vincente grinned. “The man who leads the human side of my organization is very good with explosives. I will have him find others with similar skills. As the humans like to say, we will light up the night.” He paused to consider whether asking his master for anything else would be a smart idea. To be presumptuous could leave him in a similar situation to the elf. But then again, it might be worth it, and he was still needed for this mission. Having weighed his options, he shrugged and proceeded. “We’ll need inside information beyond that which we have.”
Dreven waved a hand. “Magic, treasure, force—do what you must. Our time in the shadows is at an end. This action will be the true unveiling of the Remembrance. Today, the worlds will learn of us. Tomorrow, they will fear us. Soon, they will serve us.”
He nodded. Chills coursed through him at the weight of the threats implicit in those words. “Yes, master.” The image dissolved, and his fingers trembled in anticipation as he returned the coin to its hidden pocket. He crossed to the safe and spun the dial carefully. It took him two attempts to successfully open it.
He set the statue back in its home, then unfolded the black cloth and withdrew the artifact that had intrigued him most. The object was a piece of flat metal adorned with small jewels to represent the eyes and scales of a snake. It was a thing of beauty, as gorgeous as any artwork he had ever seen. He carried it reverently to the desk and sat, unable to pull his gaze away from the item.
“Now, where to put you for the bonding?” he muttered. Most selected arms, but Pittsburgh summers were hot and he didn’t want to be restricted to long sleeves.
Unless the artifact enables me to regulate my temperature.
He chuckled at himself. There was no telling what powers might be gained, but he was fairly sure that something so mundane would not be at the top of the list. Finally, he unbuttoned his shirt and leaned back.
He placed the snake diagonally across the hard muscles of his stomach. Nothing happened, and he considered that maybe he should’ve asked his superior for instructions. He sent his intention to the item with a mental plea.
Come on. Whatever you require, I will provide. Together, we will show these humans what magic power truly is.
Vincente screamed as the artifact came to life and sank into his skin. He felt like his stomach had been bathed in acid. His hands clenched on the arm of the chair as he held himself rigid and struggled to control his thrashing as much as possible. The burning spread throughout his body, and he growled and hissed to vent his frustrations.
Worth it. It…will…be…worth it!
He had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that the pain had finally ceased. Once this fact seeped into his consciousness, he panted and stood unsteadily, then wiped the sweat from his brow. The angry red skin on his stomach faded to reveal an incredibly realistic tattoo of a snake. The head pointed directly at his heart as if reminding him of his mortality. He nodded, and his voice emerged in a hoarse whisper. “Believe me, I am well aware.”
New strength surged through him with every step as he crossed to the tall windows. He stared at the broken remains of his teams and the prideful stances of his seconds as they worked with their people. The image of the battle ahead brought a grin to his face. “We’ll need fresh blood.”
The artifact throbbed an agreement, and a sibilant, Yesssss, hissed through his mind. Time to cause some trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The narrow alley ran between the rear facades of short apartment buildings on either side. Needless to say, it wasn’t a place for cars to play chicken. Diana hoped devoutly that no such traffic would arise as she moved in a crouch behind Tony to remain below the top of the four-foot-high wall that ran along the left-hand side.
Her comm came to life with Cara’s voice. “In position in the front. No sign of activity.”
Diana tapped her glasses to register a double-click in response. All three had assumed their bounty hunter disguises. Their official IDs had come through only days before and displayed the faces created by their illusion necklaces. They worked cover stories up that earned Cara and Diana class-three licenses and a class-four for Tony. They decided that would be a range high enough to apprehend the targets they selected but low enough to not attract unwanted attention.
The bounty was one they’d arranged based on information gleaned from the battle at the museum. SWAT had recorded the image of an enemy who fled the scene, and they tapped into the city’s surveillance grid to find her. Tony stopped at the end of the wall, and Diana whispered, “Nice job getting this witch set as a bounty, Tony.”
He sounded pleased but dismissive of his own success. “It’s legit. She’s clearly a menace. Someone should get paid. The police chief says it’s federal dollars at this point, anyway. But it does mean we need her alive.”
“Pity,” Cara replied.
Diana hefted her nonlethal rifle. Its weight was annoyingly noticeable.
We’ll have to make some custom lookalikes that weigh less.
“Hooray for stun guns. Final check.” She looked down to ensure the AR-15 was properly strapped across her chest. The Sig-Sauer rode at her right hip. Since she’d had to leave her favorite boots behind after Cara had pointed out they were unique enough to be identifiable, the Ruger was tucked into a waistband holster at the small of her back. The others were similarly equipped. Each also wore a dark-blue button-down with the security company’s logo on it—two solid circles in red and black—that mostly overlapped to cover the ARES vests underneath.
Tony had prepared the brief for the op, so it was his task to review it before they went in. “So, the expectation is that Susan Cheri—clearly an alias—is inside.” Diana laughed quietly at their target’s name choice, while Tony continued. “She owns the building and lives on the top floor. There are two apartments on the second level and another two on the first, plus storage in the basement.”
“Residents?” Diana asked.
“The last one left about twenty minutes ago,” Cara interjected. “Recon from the last couple of days puts them all at either work or school. We have about an hour before the early shift usually gets back.” They’d done their homework this time and mounted cameras all around the location several nights before.
“If my contact at the PD is accurate, we have at least five on the top floor,” Tony warned.
“I wish that drone was still here,” Cara complained.
She could almost hear the shrug in Tony’s voice. “Any longer and the deviation from its planned route would’ve been noticed. At least it gave us a good, if quick, look inside the windows.”
“We need our own drones.”
Diana sighed. “I’ll add it to the list.”
Tony grinned over his shoulder at her. “And someone to run them.”
She shook her head. “Stop. Let’s get to this, preferably before my head explodes from all your complaining. There’s nothing here to change our plan, so Tony and I will go up the back to the top floor and enter that way. Cara, keep your eyes open while you clear the lower floors. There’s no guarantee we have the whole picture here.”
The ex-marshal’s voice was all business. “Affirmative.” After the museum battle, Cara and Tony had made the choice to resign from their other positions.
I couldn’t have chosen better people.
Diana led the way up the rear staircase, which switched back on itself in the middle of each story. The wooden planks were old, weather-beaten, unpainted, and unstained.
Maybe we can add poor landlording to her charges.
She snorted internally as she imagined how Lisa would jump at the chance to do the same to her.
They ascended to the top of the basement level before she found the first trap—a simple tripwire attached to a collection of tin cans hanging nearby. It was more an alarm system than a death machine, but it would still cause problems if someone triggered it. She pointed i
t out to Tony and stepped over the wire. Her AR glasses identified the infrared beams stretched across at rib and shin height about halfway to the landing. Fortunately, they were at least able to afford the tech necessary to take care of this one. Compared to the magic deflectors, the sticky reflectors were a dime a dozen. She applied the two devices simultaneously to each side, first low, then high, to turn the beam back on itself.
The staircase connecting the second level to the third was where things became truly dangerous. She found the alarm trap easily but almost missed the next tripwire, which was attached to a grenade.
Damn. I hope the lower ones dissuade any ordinary burglar from making it this far. Getting hit with an explosive when you’re simply trying to do a simple B&E could really ruin your day.
Time slowed with her next step, and she looked around carefully. Her foot froze in midair. She sensed a vibration from the stair she was about to traverse—a shimmer maybe?—and pulled her leg back.
Alert and focused, she peered at the step from every angle she deemed safe but couldn’t identify the danger. She decided avoiding it was the smart way to go, and time resumed its normal speed. “Trap on the next step. We’ll jump over, then move fast in case it’s bigger than we think. Stay right on my six and put your feet where I do.” He nodded but looked appropriately nervous.
Cara’s voice crackled over the comms. “Basement is clear. Moving up to the first floor.”
Diana swung to face the proper way, took a deep breath, and jumped over the troubled stair. She pounded up the rest of the flight in a rush, then switched directions on the platform. The grip on her stun rifle was rigid and unyielding as adrenaline surged with her heartbeat. Time slowed again, and another step looked suspicious. She repeated the procedure and leapt over it and the one after that for good measure. Tony arrived safely on the top platform a moment after she did.
