The Left-Hand Path: Disciple

by T. S. Barnett

  He took his place beside Nathan, who seemed to have acquired a crossword book in his absence, and watched the women from the corner of his eye as they stood together in the boarding line at the next gate. They had finally released each other and now stood more casually while they waited. Elton kept them in his periphery until they disappeared beyond the gate doors, and he allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. That was two people, at least, that the Magistrate wouldn’t be “processing” today.

  “Feel better?” Nathan asked without looking up from his puzzle, but Elton ignored him.

  He checked the address on the Magister’s resume against the map on his phone and studied the area until it was time to board their flight, then followed Nathan to the gate with his suitcase rolling behind him. As he handed the attendant his boarding pass, a brief, smothered shout caught his attention, and he and Nathan both turned to look. Down the corridor, behind a thin, iridescent sheen of blue that the mundanes around them walked blindly through, a pair of Chasers had a young man on the ground, arms twisted behind his back by their binding spell. The boy was shouting, but the rest of the travelers in the concourse passed him by without notice, even when one of the men kicked him in the side of the head to silence his voice.

  Nathan’s hand fastened firmly onto Elton’s bicep, keeping him in place before the blond even realized he was moving forward.

  “Peace, darling,” Nathan murmured. “Remember that we’re aiming for the heart of the hydra and not its innumerable heads.”

  Elton didn’t quite relax in the other man’s grip, but he did stay put. He watched the boy, lifted in rough arms and carried down the corridor, until Nathan nudged him into the gate. They couldn’t waste any more time.

  ***

  The address on Winnick’s resume led them to a towering building of white concrete and pale glass, shaped into a concave arch that formed a courtyard of palm trees edging to the curb of the street. The narrower building beside it seemed like it had been taken from the center of its mate, all rounded glass and sleek walkways leading to a delicately-formed dome at the apex. Nathan and Elton had found a hotel to drop their things—Nathan had “settled” for the Four Seasons—and now the pair of them stood on the sidewalk across the street from the shining bank office.

  “This is where our dastardly villain is?” Nathan asked, leaning back to see the top of the building and shielding his eyes with one hand. “At the bank?”

  Elton breathed out the line of smoke he’d been holding in his lungs. “What, you’re surprised the villain is a white guy in a suit?”

  “Said the white guy in a suit,” Nathan snorted.

  “I’m sure plenty of people think of us as villains.”

  “Fair enough.” Nathan dropped his hand and gestured toward the bank. “Shall we see if the boss is in, then?”

  “No plan, just walk in and ask to talk to the CEO?”

  “I would have been happy to make a plan with you, darling, if you hadn’t spent the entire flight snoring.”

  Elton sighed. “Well, we can at least check it out. See how easy he is to get to.”

  “That’s the spirit. You see? Another handful of days with me and you’ll be comfortable with completely winging every murder.”

  “Great.” Elton took another final drag from his cigarette and put it out on the nearest trash can on his way to the crosswalk, Nathan trailing behind him like a lagging child all the way to the bank’s broad walkway.

  The slick floors clicked under the heels of Elton’s dress shoes as he crossed the sprawling lobby, the sunlight shining in almost-solid beams angled sharply from the windows to the polished stone. Solid glass formed the span of an entire wall, showing the workings of dozens of workers in their exposed offices, and beneath, a long marble counter ran the length of the room, attended at intervals by attractive female tellers in matching dark blue blazers and low ponytails. They almost seemed to move in unison, poised and politely smiling at the customers who stood at their stations.

  “Cheery,” Nathan muttered, and Elton grunted his soft agreement. At least it was busy enough that their entrance had gone unnoticed—though neither of them were as immaculately dressed as the majority of the clients and employees who bustled through the lobby to and from the elevators.

  “We’re going to be recognized if we just walk up to the counter. You are, at the very least. I assume we’re already on camera.”

  “If we know where we’re going, I can get us there without being seen,” Nathan offered. “If even you couldn’t seek me out, I have faith in my ability to fool simple machinery.”

  “Fine.” Elton nodded toward the mirrored walls of elevators around the corner. “My guess is the top floor. We have a look. Quietly.”

  “Unless we find him alone, in which case we finish up and call Señora Marquez to collect our grateful accolades.”

  “In the unlikely event that the owner of this massive bank is isolated and unprotected somewhere in his own building, yes, we can do that. Let’s just get to the right floor first.”

  “As you wish, darling. Let’s be off.” Nathan held out his hand to him, and Elton glanced down at it and back to Nathan’s face with one eyebrow ticked. Nathan wiggled his fingers at him expectantly.

  “You’re serious?”

  “Can’t do two people without skin contact. Don’t be shy.”

  Elton tried to keep his sigh inside as he reached out to accept Nathan’s hand, frowning as the other man laced their fingers together.

  “Hoona sattaande,” Nathan whispered, and Elton felt a wave of cold flow up his arm from where Nathan gripped his hand, washing over his entire body with a cool, prickling sensation. Nathan led the way across the lobby, striding by the watchful security guard outside the hallway without pause, and touched the button to call the elevator. They stood waiting, Elton struggling not to fidget in the other man’s easy hold, but he did give a firm, warning squeeze when Nathan began to idly swing their hands between them.

  They took a place at the back of the elevator as it opened and filled with passengers, flattening against the wall to keep from touching the people with legitimate business in the building. When Nathan got a chance, he leaned around a woman in a pantsuit and touched the button for the top floor, but it only blinked once and shut off again. It needed a key. Nathan pulled Elton’s hand with him as he edged closer to the console and pressed his palm to the metal, and with a soft, subtle click, the button for the 40th floor illuminated. The woman in front of them glanced briefly at it, but then stepped off at her own floor, leaving them alone in the smoothly rising elevator car.

  “Let’s try to limit collateral damage,” Elton said quietly. “We don’t need to kill secretaries just to get to this guy.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Nathan chuckled, “but you know how I do love collateral damage.”

  The elevator gave a low, dignified ding as it came to a stop at their chosen floor, and the doors slid silently open. Nathan and Elton stepped out into the empty hallway and paused, but Nathan tugged the blond with him to the left as he made a decision. The corridor turned gently around the rounded outer wall of the building and ended in a pair of massive wooden doors. Nathan stopped just in front of them and placed a hand against the carved wood, leaning in close to put his ear to the crack. He glanced back toward Elton and gave a small nod, then finally released the blond’s hand.

  With a single shove of casual impertinence, Nathan opened both doors wide, exposing an expansive office with tall windows and a broad, lacquered desk placed directly in the center. Expensive paintings lined the back wall, framing the pale stone statue of a stag’s head that made up the centerpiece. The man seated in the leather chair behind the desk didn’t look up at the intrusion. Elton recognized him immediately from the photo on Marquez’s paper—he was heavy-faced and slightly overweight, with neatly-cut hair that was more salt than pepper. Winnick finished his in-progress signature in a flourish and set his pen down with an unhurried hand, then looked up at the p
air standing in his doorway and lifted his eyebrows curiously.

  “Ah, you made it,” he said, making no move to rise from his seat. “Did you get lost? I saw you in the lobby some time ago.”

  Elton and Nathan exchanged a brief glance, but it was Nathan who spoke.

  “Not very concerned for your well-being, are you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Winnick folded his hands on the desk in front of him and didn’t take his eyes from Nathan’s face. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?”

  Elton barely had time to register the dull thud that sent Nathan crumpling forward to the floor before a solid blow blackened his own vision, and his knees hit the carpet shortly before his face.

  11

  Elton was roused by a rough jostling from behind, and when he opened his eyes, all the aches of his body came flooding back to his attention along with his consciousness. His legs and arms tingled from lack of blood flow, his head throbbed, and his back was soaked with sweat. It was dark, but the moon shone enough light to reflect off of the surface of the lake he sat beside, explaining the damp sand coating his hands and rear. Nothing but dark water and brown, brush-spotted hills surrounded him as far as he could see, only the faint hint of light across the wide lake giving any sign of civilization. He couldn’t even move—his hands were bound tightly behind him with thin cord that kept his elbows flat against his sides, and as he turned his head, he found Nathan, similarly secured and tied back to back with him. It was his struggling that had woken Elton, but now he paused.

  “Still with me, Elton?” he said, craning his neck to look back at the blond. “I wondered if you would wake up.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “You got knocked out.”

  “Oh, just me?” Elton pulled against his bonds to no effect. He could smell the angelica oil soaking the ropes, dampening their magic, and felt the light emptiness of his pocket—they’d taken his paper talismans.

  “This is why I always want to just blow the building up,” Nathan grumbled.

  “What good are you, Mr. Nathaniel fucking Moore? Aren’t you supposed to be better than this?”

  “Hey,” Nathan countered, jerking Elton backward in his own attempt to pull free. “I didn’t expect they’d use their hands. It’s uncivilized.”

  “For fuck’s sake.”

  “Steady on, darling. Give us a moment.” Nathan shifted in the sand, twisting his hand as much as he could in the snug knots, and Elton felt the other man’s fingers brushing his wrist. “Keep still. Don’t want to nick you. Ti kras.”

  A soft rip sounded in the still night air, snapping one of the cords and letting a rush of blood flow back into Elton’s hand, but the binding held fast when he tried to pull away. He settled again with a sigh when Nathan tutted a scolding at him. A small splash in the surface of the water drew their attention, and as they turned to look, a rolling dome of water swelled and burst at the center of the lake, revealing a grey, wrinkled snout. Nostrils as wide as Elton was tall flared and spattered lake water like rain as they snorted. A growing whirlpool roared as more scaled skin appeared above the surface, an endless neck and spines of delicate fins extending above the lake. One slick, webbed hand reached to find purchase on the ground not far from them, claws sinking into the pale sand, and then the beast shook its head, its scales rippling down its neck with the movement. Its whole body seemed swollen and bloated, and bits of algae clung to the gaps in its tarnished silver scales. It tilted one monstrous eye at them, and its slit pupil narrowed in recognition.

  Both men stared up at the creature that towered over them, too stunned to move. Then, as the beast began to pull its long frame from the depths of the water, Elton whispered, “A little faster with that spell, maybe?”

  Nathan hissed out a curse and hurried to cut every cord his fingers could reach, the bindings finally falling to the sand and Nathan scrambling to his feet with Elton half a step behind him. Two, four, then six legs emerged from the lake as the beast clawed its way out of the water, easily closing the distance to its prey even while the two men ran full tilt for the hills beyond the lake. The ground shook under their feet at every step the creature took, and they were both forced to skid to a stop when one clawed hand crashed into the dirt ahead of them. Hot, rotten breath poured out of the beast’s mouth above them, its long, vinelike whiskers trailing in the dust as it bent low to show them its rows of knives masquerading as teeth.

  Nathan reached out to Elton and grabbed him firmly by the arm. “Achòxa,” he said in a rush, and Elton felt himself pulled as if through a flood light, blinded by the flash that engulfed them both. He stumbled at his sudden stop, only staying on his feet with the help of Nathan’s steadying hand on his shoulder. Elton blinked the spots from his eyes and looked down the tall hill toward where the now distant monster howled at them, the ringing vibration of the echo shaking Elton’s bones.

  “Only have a couple of those in me,” Nathan said. Elton’s eyes moved to his companion’s bare wrist—their captors had taken his bracelet as well, which meant maintaining the invisibility spell long enough to be useful was unlikely. “So let’s keep running, shall we?”

  Elton didn’t have to voice his agreement. He didn’t know where they were going, but anywhere in the opposite direction of the monster from the lake seemed like a good enough idea at the moment. He ran with Nathan at his side, only turning his head at the steady pounding that pulsed behind them. The creature had begun to give chase, its long, serpentine body slithering across the ground on its unnecessary number of legs. When it reached the top of the nearest hill, it rose up on its rear four feet, and as it reached outward, thick, sinewy webbing stretched underneath its arms and caught the hot mountain air, pulling the entire monstrous body off of the ground with one solid beat downward.

  “Wasn’t expecting it to fly!” Nathan called with a laugh in his voice that made Elton want to strangle him. “We’ll have to do better than running, I think!” He slowed to a stop with Elton alongside him and turned to face the approaching beast. “Don’t suppose you have anything useful on you?”

  “They took my papers,” Elton answered, his eyes on the fast-approaching jaws. “And I’m not excited to lay hands on that thing.”

  “Well, then just try not to get eaten.”

  The creature landed almost on top of them, and Nathan stumbled from the impact but reached out his hands toward the maw that opened scant feet from his head. “Konpòte yo,” he growled, his hands twisting and closing into fists as though taking hold of unseen ropes, and as he planted his feet and jerked his arms downwards, the monster’s head crashed to the ground in a cloud of dirt and a vicious snarl. It fought the hold, dragging Nathan forward on his feet, its winged arms thrashing wildly and throwing up dust devils.

  Elton was useless—the only thing left to him was the small wood token in his pocket, too insignificant to be confiscated. It was only good for detecting magic, and he was fairly certain that he didn’t need a seeking spell to find the monster in front of him.

  “Keep running, at least!” Nathan shouted at him, startling him into movement. There was no killing an animal like this, especially not without their supplies. They just needed to get away—slow it down, get it off their trail—Elton just needed to find something to help them do that.

  Elton ran, an angry roar quaking the air around him, and before he got very far, Nathan struck the ground beside him, tumbling backward in an ungainly somersault as he was hurled loose from his spell by the creature’s flinging head. Elton grabbed him by the arm to get him to his feet and keep him moving despite the deep cuts the rocks had made in Nathan’s face and shoulders, but another heavy pulse of wings closed the gap their efforts had put between them and the monster. They were far from the lake now, but the beast showed no sign of giving up its prey. It snapped at them, only diverting at the last moment from Nathan’s quick shout of “sevre” opening a fat cut in its snout.

  In the moments they had while the animal shook
its head and clawed angrily at its injury, Nathan and Elton took the chance to skid down a hill off to the creature’s flank, where a small outcropping of trees offered at least the opportunity to get out of sight. Before they could reach it, a massive, clawed hand slammed into Elton’s back, knocking him face first into the dirt and pinning his legs under damp, putrid scales. His bad shoulder cried out in complaint, but he couldn’t move enough to get his hands under him. Ahead of him, Nathan was still running, and as he slowed to turn and glance behind him, a soft, shimmering ripple of blue rolled outward from him and into the surrounding air.

  A barrier.

  Nathan reached out a testing hand to touch it, sending another wave of light from the space his hand passed through. A barrier for the beast, not for humans. Nathan was beyond it now, safe, escaped—and Elton could feel the monster’s breath above him as it bent lower to close its jaws.

  Elton didn’t dare look up as thick whiskers brushed the ground to either side of him. As the first fat droplet of saliva landed on his back, the beast suddenly seemed forcefully torn away from him, and he flinched at the scratches its claws left down the length of his legs. When he did look up, Nathan was standing over him, blood pouring from his hands into dark puddles in the dirt. One of the cuts in his shoulder had been opened into a wide gash, and as he lifted his hands, the blood came with it, running in thick rivers from his wound to his fingertips. The heat Elton had felt every time Nathan writhed in front of his altar fell from him now like heavy smoke, and the beast retreated as every faint movement of the witch’s hands whipped a lash of blood across its scales. Each line seemed to sink into the monster’s flesh like wire, dragging it closer to the ground with its own dark blood oozing from the cuts. Its wings were bound to its body by straps of blood and its face drawn down to the earth, and though it fought, Nathan remained steady, leaned forward as though to force the animal down but feet planted firmly on the ground.