The Corvin Chance Chronicles Complete Box Set

by N. P. Martin

  Sharp-Dressed Man looked over his shoulder at his mate and smiled before looking back to me. "Don’t worry about him. He wants to kill everyone."

  I nodded. "And what about you…"

  "You can call me Jared."

  "What the hell do you want, Jared?"

  "I’m just here to give you some friendly advice."

  "Oh yeah? It doesn’t seem too friendly to me, despite your plastic smile."

  His smile disappeared then as he squinted slightly at me. "Believe me, Corvin, this a lot more friendly than what my friend over there wanted to do."

  "Which was?"

  "Let’s not go there," he said as his smile returned. "Not yet anyway."

  I sighed loudly as I became pissed off with his intrusion and not so subtle threats. "You’ve got thirty seconds to say what you have to say and leave this table, Jared, before I get really angry and do something neither of us is going to like, but you even more so."

  Jared nodded as he looked away for a second. "Are you going to use your magic on me?" He smiled smugly as he looked at me again.

  I said nothing as I stared at him. How the hell did he know so much about me? He wasn’t Touched so he wouldn’t have been able to tell if I was or not. Neither did he appear to be a creature of any kind. He was just a human. "I’m going to ask you one more time," I said in measured tones. "Who are you and what do you want?"

  "I’m merely a messenger," he said.

  "From whom?"

  "It doesn’t matter from whom. The message is that you would do well to stay out of things that don’t concern you, and to leave Kilkenny and go back to Dublin where you belong."

  "What things?"

  "The old Tasar house for one."

  I smiled slightly as I nodded to myself. "I see what’s happening here now. You’re one of them, aren’t you?"

  He shook his head. "One of whom?"

  "The cult," I said quietly. "The one who worships Apep, and who likes to dabble in death magic."

  "I’ve no idea what you’re talking about," he said.

  "Bullshit, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here trying to strong-arm me out of town."

  "No one’s strong-arming anyone. I’m just telling you that it would be in your best interests to leave this place before…" He trailed off, letting his unsaid threat hang ominously in the air.

  "Before what?"

  "Before something bad befalls you. Accidents are known to happen when you least expect them."

  I leaned forward slightly on the table. "You know what else can happen when you least expect it?"

  "What?" he asked, humoring me.

  "Magic." A tiny bolt of lightning energy left my fingertip and hit him on the chest, causing him to wince and jump slightly in his seat.

  As soon as I did it, the man at the bar started walking toward us, but Jared raised a hand and the man stopped walking. "That was ill-advised of you," Jared said. "Especially when I was trying to keep things civil."

  "We are keeping things civil," I said. "I’m being civil when I tell you to fuck off and leave me alone."

  Jared smoothed his suit as if it had been ruffled by the bolt of magic, and then stood up. "You’ve been warned, Chance. Whatever happens next is down to you."

  "That’s right," I said as I stood up to face him. "It is, and you would do well to remember that."

  He stared at me a moment, and then nodded as if he had made up his mind about something. "Very well then. Enjoy the rest of your short time here. Go and see Kilkenny Castle if you haven’t already. It’s quite stunning. You might as well see something of the place before you…can’t."

  "I’ll bear that in mind. Bye, Jared."

  He smiled one last time before turning around and leaving, his heavyset friend giving me a final look of death before the two of them walked out of the bar.

  Chapter 12

  The hotel room was mid-sized and plushly furnished, though I couldn’t care less about how it looked. It was positively luxurious compared to some of the dives I’ve stayed in while on tour. Anyway, the only thing I cared about was the mini-bar, and those little packets of biscuits they leave next to the coffee and stuff. As I munched on a chocolate orange short biscuit, I opened the mini bar and took out a bottle of beer, which I opened and proceeded to wash down the biscuit with, which by the way, wasn’t the best of combinations, and I winced at the taste as I swallowed.

  Lying on the queen-sized bed, I called Amelia again. "What’s happened?" she said when she answered. "Did you get chased by ghosts again?"

  "Ha bloody ha," I replied. "That was no laughing matter I’ll have you know."

  "I know, I’m just kidding. What’s up?"

  "I was in the hotel bar earlier when I got a visit from a couple of guys in suits. I thought they were salesmen."

  "Okay, so who were they then?"

  "Members of the cult, I think. They never confirmed it, but I know they are."

  Amelia went silent for a second, then said, "What did they want?"

  "I think a better question at this point is how did they know who I was. I only just got here this morning."

  "Maybe they saw you at the house."

  "How would they have known I was even there?"

  "They could be watching the place. Last time I was there, I got the impression I was being watched by someone."

  "Maybe the ghosts informed them, or bloody Apep."

  She snorted as if it was funny. "Hardly. More like they know who I am, who my parents were, and they got wind I was snooping around town when I was there. They’ve obviously been on alert ever since. Did you notice any cameras around the house?"

  "No, I didn’t, though I wasn’t really looking for hidden cameras, to be honest."

  "Well, however they found out about you, the fact is they did. What did they say?"

  "In a nutshell, that I would meet with an unfortunate accident if I didn’t get out of town soon."

  "They threatened you?"

  "Not in so many words, but they made it clear they didn’t want me snooping around."

  "So they know we’re onto them then. What are you going to do?"

  "I’ll keep up the investigation obviously."

  "Really?" She sounded surprised. "You think that’s wise? It’s not safe. You know what these people are capable of."

  I shrugged as I swigged from the bottle of beer. "I’m sure I can handle whatever they throw at me. Besides, you risked your life for me when you showed up in Cork. I owe you."

  "I already owed you for saving me from Iolas. You owe me nothing, Corvin."

  "Regardless, I want to see these fuckers taken down as well. I’m staying until I find out who the leader is, and where they are. If we take down the leader, the whole cult should crumble."

  "I agree. Do you want me to send down some of the orcs for extra security?"

  "The orcs? Jesus no, they’d stick out like a sore thumb around here."

  "That’s the point, Corvin. They’re supposed to be a visible presence."

  I shook my head at the thought of having a band of orcs hanging around me all day as they gave me stinking looks for not being one of them. "I’ll pass on the orcs thanks. I’ll be fine on my own."

  "Until you’re not."

  "Careful, Amelia," I said. "You sound like you care what happens to me."

  "Of course I care," she said, sounding offended.

  "Relax, I was just kidding. I know you do."

  Amelia tutted down the phone. "Just keep me informed, and at least try and be careful. This cult is no joke."

  "All cults are a joke."

  "You know what I mean."

  "I’ll try and be careful. I thought you were coming down here tomorrow anyway."

  "I might not make it now. One of my heroin dealers got shot this morning. I have to find out what happened."

  "One of your heroin dealers? Jesus, do you know what you sound like?"

  "Like someone in charge of business," sh
e said. "If people want to put that shit in their veins that’s their problem, not mine. And before you say anything else, me pulling out of the drug business won’t change anything either. It will just make things worse in fact. We’ve already discussed this Corvin, I wish you wouldn’t judge me."

  "You’re right," I said. "Fuck it. The world is what it is, and business is business."

  "Exactly. I have to go now. Don’t do anything stupid down there, Corvin. Play it safe until we get more information."

  I would probably have to do the opposite in order to get said information, but I never told her that. "Bye, Amelia."

  "Bye, Corvin."

  I must have dozed off on the bed, for the next thing I knew I was waking up and it was dark outside. Groaning as I now felt like shit, I grabbed my phone from beside me and looked at, noticing that it was after 8.00 p.m. and that I also had a text from Monty saying simply: CHECK UR EMAIL

  When I opened the Gmail app on my phone, I saw Monty’s email at the top of my inbox, with the subject line: THE TASARS.

  In the email, Monty had written:

  Yo bro. Here’s the info you asked for. Sorry there’s not much. There wasn’t exactly any internet back in those days so I did my best for you. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.

  Attached to the email was a text document which I opened straight away as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Monty wasn’t kidding when he said there wasn’t much. He wrote the following:

  Faelyn Tasar, birth date unknown, died 1987 (?), worked as an accountant, involved in some capacity with the Elven Council.

  Shaerra Tasar, birth date unknown, worked as corporate lawyer according to some records, name on various other small businesses as an investor. Died 1987 (?).

  I’m afraid that’s all I could find, bro. Digital records that far back are few and far between, plus it seems these elves keep their business locked up tight. If you wanted to find out more, you would have to access the pointy-eared one’s own records. Maybe Amelia could help you out there?

  I shook my head and sighed as I finished reading the email. What a waste of time, I thought. I should’ve known Monty wouldn’t be able to find much. Of course, I could call Amelia and ask her to give me whatever information she had on her parents, but I doubted she knew much more than what Monty uncovered. She was just a kid when her parents were alive, after all. Not only that, whatever documented history there was of her parents, it was no doubt either erased or covered up by Iolas after he killed his brother and sister-in-law. Speaking of which, it still wasn’t clear exactly why Iolas had killed Amelia’s parents. Was it because of what they were doing with the cult, or was it because of something else, something unrelated?

  Whatever the case, there was only person who could answer those questions and possibly possess some helpful information regarding not only Amelia’s parents, but also the cult, and that was of course Iolas himself. It hit me then that I would have to talk to him in person at some point, assuming that firstly, he was still in Ireland, and secondly that he even agreed to talk to me at all, considering it was me who got him locked up in the first place. If I was Iolas, I would hate me, and certainly wouldn’t want to help. But I knew Iolas would know a lot about the cult we were dealing with, so I had to at least try and make contact with him.

  Picking up my phone again, I found Benedict Bonneville’s number and gave him a call.

  "Corvin Chance," he said upon answering. "I’m surprised to hear from you. I thought you had all but forgotten your responsibilities."

  I frowned. "My responsibilities?"

  "To the Council, of course."

  "I don’t have responsibilities to the Council. What are you talking about, Benedict?"

  "No, but you should have. A man of your skills and talents should be working for the greater good."

  "I’m already doing that, on my own."

  "Ah yes, Chance the lone wolf," he balked in his clipped English accent. "You’d achieve a lot more as part of a pack, you know."

  "As part of your pack, you mean?"

  "Of course."

  "I’m happy as I am, Benedict, for the time being at least. I’ve got my own stuff going on at the minute anyway."

  "Of course you do, which is why you are phoning me now, isn’t that right? You need something."

  "I do actually."

  Benedict chuckled slightly. "So you won’t come and work for me, but you are okay with phoning me every time you need something?"

  I shook my head. "It’s not like that, Benedict. This is for the greater good, as you said."

  "Whose greater good? Yours?"

  "Don’t be a dick, Benedict," I said, annoyed by his attitude. "This is important, and doesn’t concern me at all. People have died and will continue to die if I don’t do something."

  He sighed down the phone. "Okay, Corvin, I’ll play along. What is you need?"

  "A sit-down with Iolas Tasar."

  Benedict went silent for a minute and then laughed as though I’d told him some funny joke. "A sit-down? You realize you are the last person on Earth Iolas would want to see?"

  "Is he still here in Ireland or have you moved him to some black site somewhere?"

  "Black site? We’re not the bloody C.I.A. Corvin."

  "So he’s still in Ireland?"

  "Yes."

  "Where?"

  He went silent again, then said, "What is this about, Corvin? It would have to be important for me to sign off on this."

  "I just told you lives are at stake."

  "At stake from whom exactly?"

  I shook my head, unwilling to go in too much detail with him. "A cult who uses kids for human sacrifice in masses to Apep. You ever hear of anything like that?"

  "Apep, eh? A nice character to worship. No, I’ve never heard of such a cult. As small as your country is, you have a lot going in it, much of which is unknown to the Council. You Irish are a fiercely independent lot."

  "That’s what happens when you have to put up with millennia of terrorism from despot invaders."

  Benedict laughed. "Yes, I suppose so. Us Brits like to throw our weight around, don’t we?"

  "You and many others, but let’s not go there."

  "Yes, let’s not."

  I paused for a second, then asked, "So are you going to help me or not, Benedict?"

  "Yes, why not?" he said. "If it saves lives. That’s what we’re all about, isn’t it?"

  I frowned slightly and shook my head, knowing full well, as did he, that saving lives was not the main concern of the Council. The main concern of the Council, just like any established institution, was self-preservation and the furthering of its own interests, but I wasn’t about to say to that to Benedict, who being no doubt institutionalized himself, wouldn’t hear tell of such heresy. "Yes, it is at the end of the day."

  "I can get you your sit-down as you call it, but there’s no guarantee Iolas will talk to you."

  I nodded. "Just get me a meeting. I’ll worry about the rest."

  "Okay, wait to hear from me, then."

  "How long?"

  "There’s some red tape to cut through first, and since you don’t belong to the Council, there will be more than normal. It shouldn’t take no more than a day or two, though."

  "A day or two?"

  "You were hoping it would be sooner? That’s very naive of you."

  "All right. Just let me know when you get it sorted."

  "Will do. And Corvin?"

  "Yes?"

  "I won’t be doing this out of the goodness of my heart, you know? You’ll owe me after this."

  I nodded, unsurprised. "Fair enough."

  "As long as you know what that means."

  "What does it mean?"

  "You’ll find out when the time comes. It was good speaking to you again, Corvin. Take care now, won’t you?"

  "I’ll do my best. Thanks Benedict."

  When I hung up the phone, I continued to sit on the bed for a while as I contemplated what he mea
nt when he said I would owe him. No doubt he’d have me working for him at some point. If that was the case then so be it. I’d worry about it when it happened. Until then, I would just have to hope that he’d be able to get me in to see Iolas, and that Iolas would talk if he did. Which I was sure he would. If Iolas was locked up 24/7 then he would no doubt relish the chance to talk to someone at length.

  Even if that someone was me.

  Chapter 13

  Rather than sit inside my hotel room all night staring at the walls, I decided to head into town to go and sit inside one of the many pubs there instead. After a brief walk in the chilly night air, I ended up in Kyteler’s Inn, which held quite the crowd as I walked in. The inn used to be the home of Alice Kyteler, whom you may remember I mentioned earlier as being the first person in Ireland to be condemned as a witch. After she fled the country, her home was turned into the watering hole that still stands today, which was all the way back in 1324.

  The inn was high-ceilinged and modestly decorated, having a huge fireplace on one wall, with a suit of medieval armor hanging beside it, as if the ghost of the person who once wore it was still standing guard over the place. Speaking of ghosts, the inn was said to be haunted, and when I walked in I certainly go that impression. My increased sensitivity to these things made me think so anyway, as the hair on the back of my neck stood up while I waited at the bar on my drink. There was definitely an energy in the air, and even though I couldn’t see any ghosts flying over the heads of the customers, I had no doubt they were skulking around somewhere, invisible to everyone here, perhaps looking on forlornly as the living had their fun. One thing’s for sure, I didn’t want to come back as no ghost when I died. Hanging around the same place for donkey’s years, condemned to drift aimlessly around doing nothing was not my idea of fun. Even Hell seemed better than that.

  When I got my pint of Guinness, I managed to find an empty table in the corner of the inn, away from most of the crowd. For the next while, I just sat there quietly drinking as I soaked up the relaxed atmosphere of the place. Until, that is, I spotted someone standing at the bar who kept stealing glances at me. It was a young guy in his early twenties, dressed in T-shirt and jeans despite the cold weather, his somewhat bloated physique bulging against his top as if he’d done too many steroids. His hair was reddish and close-cropped, his face full of acne.