The Corvin Chance Chronicles Complete Box Set

by N. P. Martin

  "Yes, actually, I’ve had to take a fucking job with the Council just to keep you out of jail."

  "What?"

  "You heard me." I sat back fuming in the couch. "That bastard Benedict blackmailed me, can you believe that?"

  "I’m sorry, bro, I didn’t—"

  "Yeah, you’ve already said."

  Monty looked away as he lapsed into silence, as did I. Then after a while, I shook my head and sighed. "Look, I’m not angry at you," I said. "Maybe just a little, though I know you were just trying to help me…"

  "I was."

  "I know you were. There’s just more going on here…"

  "What do you mean?"

  I shook my head. "Something’s happened to Amelia. It’s a long story, but she’s stuck in the Shadow Realm and it’s all my fault."

  Monty frowned as he stared at me. "The Shadow Realm?"

  "We were trying to take down a spirit that lives in her old house in Kilkenny, the partial spirt of her dead parents actually, but anyway, the spirit took her and now she’s in the Shadow and I’m not even sure if she’s alive or dead."

  Monty puffed his cheeks out. "Jesus, dude, I’m sorry. Are you going to get her back?"

  I threw him a look. "What do you think? I have to wait two days first, though, on a fucking full moon."

  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  I shook my head. "Not this time. Dalia and I are going to get her."

  "So am I then."

  "No, it’s too risky. It’s bad enough that Dalia is going, but at least she has powers to protect herself."

  "And I don’t?"

  "Not like hers. Anyway, you need to re-evaluate the way you do things."

  "What?"

  "The Council is well aware of all your transgressions over the years," I told him. "You need to start covering your tracks a bit better and stop acting like you’re a fucking rockstar. This shit is serious. You’ll end up in a cell next to Iolas if you don’t start being more careful."

  Monty stared at me a second and then looked away. "I’ll take it under advisement."

  "I’m not trying to get at you. I just don’t want to see you locked up again."

  We sat in tense silence for another moment, before Monty said, "You look like shit, bro, by the way."

  I laughed slightly. "Thanks."

  "Just saying."

  "Well, I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. On top of what happened to Amelia, some sicko has decided to target me for some unknown reason."

  "What sicko?"

  I shrugged. "I don’t know. Whoever they are, they left ten severed fingers and two eyeballs on the desk in the bookshop. You believe that? As if I didn’t have enough to deal with."

  "Sounds like someone has it in for you, bro. Is there anything I can do to help?"

  I shook my head. "No, not really. Jesus, do you remember when things used to be simple, when all we cared about was playing music and having a good time?"

  Monty nodded and then grinned slightly. "I’m still having a good time, bro," he said. "In fact, you know what we should do?"

  "I can’t go partying, dude, not now."

  "No, I’m not saying now, but when you get Amelia back—and I know you will—we should go to Barbados or somewhere and stay there for a week or two; me, you, Dalia and Amelia."

  "Dalia hates the sun, you know that."

  He shook his head. "We’ll get her an umbrella then."

  I laughed. "And some factor fifty."

  "For sure. She’ll be the only goth girl on the beach."

  "I think you just want to see Amelia in a bikini."

  It was his turn to laugh. "You know me so well, bro."

  I stared at the floor for a moment, imagining sitting on a private beach with Amelia as the waves lapped at our feet. The thought felt good for a few seconds until my mind turned to the fact that such a thing was a long way of, to the point where it seemed futile, and perhaps even vulgar, to even think about it.

  "Anyway, dude," I said after a while. "What have you got going on at the minute?"

  "Not much," Monty said. "I’ve a few hacking jobs to do."

  I gave him a look. "Why do you need to do those jobs? It’s not like you need the money."

  "Because I enjoy hacking, it’s what I do."

  "It doesn’t have to be. Focus on your YouTube channel instead."

  "That’s just for fun, bro. Technomancy on the other hand, is like a drug to me. I need to do it."

  "It’s a drug that will end up landing in you in jail."

  "Sure it’s no different to what you’re doing these days, running about like John Wayne, landing yourself in hot water all the time."

  "I know," I said, shaking my head as I realized he was right. "I suppose we just do what we do."

  "Too true, bro, too true. Thanks for the heads up, though. I’ll re-evaluate my security protocols in light of what you said. I’ve been working on some new tricks anyway. Maybe it’s time I put them into action."

  "Well, I hope you do something, dude," I said as I stood up. "Because I’d hate to see you getting locked up."

  Monty stood up as well. "Sure you’ll be running the Council here soon," he said with a smile. "You can stop that from ever happening."

  I smiled back as I shook my head at him. "Yeah, I’d just work on those security protocols if I was you."

  "Will do, bro."

  We clasped hands as I said, "Take care, bro."

  "You too. Good luck in the Shadow Realm. You sure you don’t want me to come?"

  I considered his offer for a second before shaking my head. "Dalia and I can handle it."

  "I hope so, bro."

  I nodded and smiled grimly. "So do I, bro, so do I…"

  Chapter 6

  After I left Monty’s place, I drove aimlessly around the city for over an hour as the heavy rain continued to beat down unabated. It was difficult not feel depressed in the face of everything that had transpired lately. My head was spinning so much at one point that I managed to drive through a red light, narrowly avoiding a collision with another car as I sped across the intersection. "Jesus," I said as I drove away, hoping there were no cops around, which there didn’t appear to be, so I continued my aimless journey through the city, thinking about stopping off at a pub a couple of times, but thinking better of it when I considered that my head was messed up enough without adding drink into the mix. Besides, if I was to enter somewhere as dangerous as the Shadow, I wanted to do so with as clear a head as possible, even though the trip was still two days away.

  On the way to the bookshop, my mind turned over what had happened with Benedict. I knew he was the slimy sort, but I hadn’t expected him to blackmail me the way he did. Stupid me thought he had more respect for me than that. Obviously not, though. When it came to the job, there was clearly nothing Benedict wouldn’t do, something I told myself to be mindful of in the future. Shit, I would probably end up just like him anyway, once I started my new position on the Council, a position I still thought was a joke. I don’t know what Benedict saw in me to make him think I could run something like the Council. My heart sank every time I thought about having to deal with endless paperwork and petty disputes between the Touched community in Ireland, disputes which no doubt numbered in the triple figures every year. Jesus, it’s Ireland, I thought. Complaining is national fucking pastime!

  I couldn’t help but smile grimly at this thought as I pulled the Spitfire up outside the bookshop, half expecting the man in the dirty raincoat to be hanging around again, but there was no one, especially with it raining so hard.

  Having no rush to go inside, I continued to sit in the car after I’d cut the engine, turning my head to look out the window at the shutters down over the shop windows, which somehow seemed to symbolize the grimness of everything these days. I felt like running away, as I did after my mother’s funeral. I knew that wasn’t an option, however. Maybe after I freed Amelia from the Shadow, I’d consider it again, especially if she was willi
ng to come with me. She told me she loved me, after all, something that I’m still reeling from. I had no idea she felt that way, and I still wasn’t sure if it was just something she said in the heat of the moment, perhaps thinking she was about to die. Maybe she just wanted to tell someone she loved them before she died. Whatever the case, it didn’t matter at this point. All that mattered was getting her back.

  Sighing, I finally got out of the car into the driving rain, pausing to lock the door behind me.

  Then when I turned around I jumped, because Simoa was standing right in front of me, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

  Before I could even say what the fuck, she grabbed me by the lapels and lifted me slightly off my feet before sweeping my legs out from under me. She did the move so expertly and so swiftly, that before I could even think to defend myself, I was lying on my back in the wet and she had one knee pressing down on my sternum to prevent me from getting up. Then she reached inside her dark suit jacket and pulled out a long silver blade that she put to my throat. Her eyes burned with fury as the rain dripped down off her recently cut short hair, making her look like Amelia’s demented little sister. "How could you?" she hissed as she pressed the point of the knife deeper into my throat.

  As I lay defenseless on the soaking pavement, all I could do was stare up at her, hoping she wouldn’t put a hole in my throat. "Simoa, calm down," I said.

  She bared her teeth at me. "Calm down? I should kill you right now instead!"

  "I know you’re angry, Simoa—"

  "Angry?" She turned the knife so the blade was now across my throat. "You have no fucking idea."

  "Simoa—"

  "I was supposed to protect her! Nothing was supposed to happen to her as long as I was around!"

  "Simoa, please—"

  "Don’t you speak! It’s your fault she’s gone! Your fault!"

  "We’re going to get her back, Simoa…"

  "No! I’m going to get her back! Not you!"

  I swallowed as the knife edge cut into my skin. "We can all—"

  "No!" She pressed her knee harder into my sternum, making it difficult for me to breathe. "I’ll save her! You…stay away!"

  She got off me then, and I took a choking breath as I sat up, soaked to the skin as the rain continued to fall. "You can’t enter the Shadow unless it’s a full moon," I said.

  "That’s what you think." I was glad to see her put the knife away as she stood and swept her hand through her wet hair.

  "What do you mean?" I asked as I got to my feet. "Do you know how to get into the Shadow before then?"

  "If I did, I wouldn’t tell you."

  "We should be working together on this, Simoa, for Amelia’s sake."

  She smiled tightly as she appeared to stop herself from coming at me again. "You’ve done enough damage. Stay away and let someone competent handle this."

  As she turned to walk away, I said, "It’s not up to you to decide that."

  Stopping, she turned around. "I believe it is. I’ll have her back before any full moon."

  I said nothing more as I watched her walk down the street. She had no idea what she was going to be dealing with in the Shadow.

  But by her words, she would find out soon enough.

  Dripping with rain, I trudged up the stairs to the flat, intending to get out of my sodden clothes and into a hot shower. But as I got to the door of the flat, I paused as I was about to put the key in the lock, for I noticed something on the white painted door. A stain of some sort. Frowning, I looked harder and saw that it was a handprint, as if someone had grabbed the door on the way out to pull it behind them. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that someone had clearly been inside the flat while I’d been gone, the handprint itself was made out of blood.

  Blood which was still wet.

  "What the hell?" I said as I turned the key in the lock, getting my magic at the ready just in case the there was still an intruder inside. As I slowly opened the door, a whiff of something unpleasant hit my nostrils, something that smelled like gone off meat. Dreading what I was going to find, I pushed the door open, but remained on the threshold so I could see into the flat first.

  When the door was opened, the full force of the rotten meat smell drifted out, just before I saw what was in the living room. The lights weren’t on and the flat was gloomy from the lack of light coming through the windows, but I could see that things were hanging from the ceiling. Dark shapes that looked to be suspended from lengths of cord.

  Quietly, I closed the door behind me as I entered the flat and began to walk into the living room with my hands raised slightly in case I needed to blast an intruder. "Hello?" I said loudly. "If you’re in here, you’d better come out, or else…"

  Or else what? I thought as I continued into the living room, realizing how on edge I was, especially when I saw what was actually hanging from the ceiling. Severed hands, that’s what. At least half a dozen of them hanging like ghoulish Halloween decorations.

  "What the actual fuck?" I said, wondering why I was coming home to such gruesome shit, and who would do such a pointlessly twisted thing.

  Turning away in disgust, I checked all the other rooms for signs of an intruder, but there was no one inside the flat. At least not any more.

  Back in the living room, I flicked on the lights and stood looking at the gruesome display before me. On top of the dangling severed hands—a couple of which dripped blood onto the floor—there was also a message written on the wall, in blood, of course:

  Remember what I said?

  Jesus, I thought as I shook my head. What the hell is this all about? And who would’ve done such a thing?

  My first thought on that was Simoa. She had been hanging around outside after all, and she was certainly crazy enough to do such a thing, but at the same time, I didn’t think it was her. I didn’t know Simoa that well, but as her behavior outside earlier indicated, she clearly preferred a more direct approach when it came to getting her point across. No, this wasn’t her. This was someone else.

  "Remember what I said…"

  Remember what who said? I wondered as I stared at the message on the wall.

  Then I looked up at the severed hands, and suddenly it hit me who was behind all this. The initial display of severed fingers gave me no clue, but the dangling severed hands certainly did. It was impossible not to look at them and not think about the time I had my own severed, and whose hand I ended up replacing it with.

  Drakkar’s.

  This had to be him. Davey and I had freed Drakkar’s spirit after all. We’d given him a body to move around in.

  Which meant he was out there somewhere.

  I thought back to our final conversation, after he had given me the visions. What was he said?

  "I’m sure we’ll meet again…"

  Yes, that was it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, because I honestly thought I would never hear from him again. It seems I was wrong.

  But what the hell did he want? And why was he leaving these gruesome displays for me to find? Was he killing innocent people just so he could collect body parts and place them for my benefit? How many people had he killed so far as part of this game he was playing?

  Too many…

  "Damn you, Drakkar…"

  That must’ve been him standing outside the window the other night, having obviously procured himself a new body to walk around in.

  I shook my head as I realized I would have to take down the severed hands and clean the blood from the wall and floor. "Why me?" I asked.

  Something told me I would find out the answer to that question very soon.

  Chapter 7

  After performing the gruesome task of taking down the severed hands and putting them inside a black bag, I then spent over an hour removing the blood from the wall. When I’d finished, I stood staring down at the black bag on the living room floor, knowing I would have to dispose of it somehow. There was no point in telling Benedict about it, as I already knew who was respo
nsible.

  Yeah, me.

  It was a sobering thought. I had made a deal with Drakkar to free his spirit, after all. Whatever murders he had committed since then were on me, I knew that.

  I also knew it was on me to stop the bastard. Though how I was going to do that, I didn’t know. And to be honest, I was more concerned about getting Amelia back than I was with taking down Drakkar.

  "Jesus," I said. "What a mess…"

  As if I hadn’t enough blood on my hands.

  Sighing, I lifted the black bag and began to carry it down to the car, intending to take the severed hands somewhere so I could dispose of them. As I was walking down the stairs, my phone beeped in my pocket, and I set the black bag down on the stairs as I took the phone out. On the screen was an email notification from Benedict. When I opened it, I saw the email concerned the severed fingers and eyeballs I had given him. Apparently, the Council labs had run some tests and found the fingers belonged to five different people, all of whom had turned up dead in different locations around Dublin, the bodies severely mutilated. The local cops were investigating and suspected a serial killer, though they hadn’t told the press that yet. The eyeballs couldn’t be traced to anyone, which meant the body was still missing. On top of that, three more bodies with missing hands had just been found in a field outside the city. At the end of the email, Benedict wrote: "If you know something about this, Corvin, you need to let me know. This is too many bodies to keep quiet."

  I stood for a moment after I put the phone away, wondering if I should tell Benedict that it was Drakkar who was killing these people.

  Not yet, I thought. Drakkar obviously wanted something from me, and I intended to find out what that was first. Maybe if I was able to placate him somehow, then he would stop the killing.

  Or things would just get worse.

  Grim-faced, I carried the black bag down to the car. It was now dark outside, and the rain had all but stopped. I opened the trunk and put the black bag inside before closing it again.

  Then something made me freeze for a second, a feeling of being watched that manifested as a chill going down my spine. My gaze shifted up the street a ways, and there, about ten yards away, was the man in the dirty rain coat.