“Piss on you, bluestocking, and your chirpy community minded integrity. It makes me want to shit. And I might. How many years has a Malashi operated in Free Reign? Do you know?”
Maeve shrugged.
“You’re the ones obsessed with your own genealogy, you tell me, Fats.”
“Seven hundred years.”
“Well that’s a long stream of stinking piss. What’s your point?”
The Malashi sighed and drew in a little closer.
“My point is, warden, that my shady society is an integrated and useful part of your established society. As much as bakers, or teachers, or fucking mages…or even wardens.”
“You think you’re providing a service?”
“We are providing a service you joyless bluestocking. We help the thin veneer of society hold together. People need and want the outlet of narcotics, prostitution, gambling, and a hundred other things. You think most of my clientele are ditch diggers and tinks? If you want to see appetites for indulgence, you should explore the offices of Wherewithal and the towers on Candlehill.”
Maeve took a step closer.
“If you know about corruption at high levels, it’s your civic duty to report it to the wardens.”
“Oh come along.”
Maeve took a deep breath and flexed out her wiry shoulders. The incense and drug smoke in the room was stinging her eyes.
“What about outlawed thaumaturgy? I hear you’re the man to come to for all manner of outlawed little trinkets.”
The Malashi flashed his odd, corroded copper teeth at her.
“Now that’s a connoisseur’s market. Real collector’s items. You think people go insane for the latest narcotic, wait until you see people scrabbling for the novelty of some hitherto unexperienced taste of sorcery.”
“Like precursor artefacts?”
“Those especially. Virtually priceless. Who do you think has the capital to purchase those sorts of things?”
Maeve drew in close to him despite the stench.
“Are you saying that Jonas Reach has allies within Free Reign? That someone high up is helping him to orchestrate an attack on the city?”
The Malashi glanced around and narrowed his crimson eyes. He lowered his voice to a wet whisper.
“That is what I have heard. And whatever he has he didn’t get it from me. I’m being cut out the deals.”
Maeve softened her voice a little.
“Please Malashi. You know he’s insane, and he won’t hesitate to use any weapon he has against the public. What am I up against?”
The Malashi took in a deep wheezing breath, held it for a moment and then seemed to sag like a deflating balloon.
“It is an object called The Dark. It is very old and very dangerous. They say it arrived here centuries ago from the east.”
“What does it do?”
“I am not entirely sure, but I think it destroys magic. In a city like this…it would mean-“
“-Devastation.”
The Malashi nodded.
“He is being helped?”
“By an anonymous benefactor, but clearly by someone of enormous influence and power.”
“So you’re saying I can’t trust anyone.”
“Well I never have Inspector, so I’m not the best person to consult on that matter.”
“The irony of it, Malashi. Right now the only person whose motives seemed absolutely pure and undiluted is the crazed murderous ghost-summoning Vigilante.”
The Malashi’s eyes flashed and his obese body shivered.
“Inspector, I know your enthusiasm knows no bounds, but I need to know what guarantees you can offer me.”
“I can tell you that I’ll do my job and whatever it takes to protect this city and its residents.”
“I’m a citizen too, Inspector.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I’m cautious.”
“You’re afraid that the Vigilante will also be coming after you.”
“I know he wants Jonas Reach. I don’t know exactly why. But he doesn’t seem particularly discerning who he murders on his way to get there.”
“You seem fairly well protected.”
“Against this one, no one is well protected, Inspector.”
“If you’re saying I can’t even know who to trust amongst the magi on Candlehill, then I need to seek advice outside the city.”
The Malashi stared at her for a moment then dipped his many chins.
“Longforgotten.”
Maeve nodded and then stood up, buttoned her coat and turned to leave. The Malashi called after her.
“Inspector, the Vigilante. He can’t be bribed or bought; I don’t know how to intimidate him. I’m a prime target. What do I do if he comes after me?”
Maeve lit a rillo and began to walk out the door. When she breathed in the fresh air free of incense and The Malashi’s stench she called over her shoulder.
“Run, Fats. As fast as you can.”
Even as she said the words Maeve knew that if push came to shove, she would probably even save The Malashi if she had to. He was a citizen after all.
I’m not about to tell that fat yellow prick though. Let him stew.
10
The door flew open and Broskott almost fell into the room.
“Boss! It’s him. He’s coming for us!”
Vagranz stood up from his chair. The drug-addicted girl that was felating him gagged and fell backwards. Her head banged off his desk and she vanished from view.
“Fuck the Spark, Broskott don’t you bastarding knock?”
Broskott stood bent with his hands on his knees catching his breath. He watched as the girl crawled to a chair on her pipe cleaner limbs.
“Sorry…boss. But he’s been seen at the gates by the peach tree.”
Vagranz snapped his braces up over his meaty shoulders.
“Who?”
“Him! The fucking Plague Doctor.”
Vagranz stood still for a few moments, clenching and unclenching his jaw. He took a chewed up cigar stub from his pocket and worked his lips around it. He nodded and mumbled to himself.
“Hmmm ok. Ok you spooky bastard. Ol’ Uncle Vagranz is waiting on ya.”
Vagranz purposefully put his cock away and strode over to the glass gun cabinet. He unlocked it and removed a chunky revolver and a cutlass. He turned to Broskott with a grin.
“Make sure all the boys are tooled up. I’m gonna butcher this nuisance once and for all.”
Broskott hesitated for a moment, trying not to show his fear. Then he nodded curtly and drew his sword. “Yes boss.”
Broskott turned to leave and give the men their orders. Vagranz grabbed his sleeve. He spoke low and urgent. Spittle frothed at his lips.
“If you can maim him, do it. I don’t just want this bastard dead. I want to spend a few hours on him with my pliers. You follow?”
Broskott’s watery blue eyes darted over Vagranz’s face for a few moments. Then he set his jaw tight.
“Aye boss.”
Outside the window a shocking flash of light turned the walled garden into day for a few moments. It was followed by a low rumbling boom that shook the walls of the mansion.
Vagranz shielded his eyes and in a crouch moved to the window. In a flickering strobe the grounds were illuminated. People were running. He heard screams. Vagranz narrowed his eyes as they adjusted.
“What the hell?”
Then he saw him.
On the far side of the walled garden, standing next to the old peach tree, was a tall dark figure. In one hand he held a crackling cylinder that lit his shrouded face from below. His mask seemed to be peering up at the window. Vagranz stood wide eyed.
“Bastard’s staring right at me.”
Vagranz gaped as he watched two of his bodyguards run across the manicured lawn, swords drawn and shouting abuse.
The figure flung the fundament stick and it arced through the air with a fizzle and landed right at their feet. The two men tried to
back pedal but the thing exploded and the elemental spark within rose up in a crude net of crackling electricity. The men danced and twitched as the raw fundament wracked their forms. When it extinguished they both stood for a moment, blackened skin stinking of roast pork. Then they fell onto the cool grass.
Vagranz smashed the window with the barrel of his revolver and the cold air hit him mixed with the stench of static and burnt flesh. He shouted out across the grounds.
“You overreached, you dogson! You’re in my manor now!”
He let off a few shots wildly into the night. The stranger did not flinch.
Then Vagranz saw three more of his men run into the light of the lawnlanterns. They racked their repeater rifles and let loose a volley at the stranger.
The masked man did not duck for cover behind the peach tree. He drew another fundament stick from his belt and sparked the fuse with his thumb. It spouted a fine mist of loose earth that trailed behind him in a cloud. Burning rounds ricocheted off the peach tree and the earth by his feet, sending clods of mud and bark off into the night.
The stranger just strode with singular purpose towards the bodyguards. Vagranz felt an odd fear tickle his belly.
“Well I’ll be…Fucker doesn’t care about dying.”
He fired down into the garden but his pistol was out of range and he was never the best shot.
The stranger threw his fundament stick at the rushing gangsters. It landed expertly between them and suddenly a huge mound of rocks and earth rose up to engulf them with a rumble like an earthquake. Within moments the three men were encased in a huge termite mound of tightly packed earth. Only their heads stuck out at the top, gasping for breath.
As the stranger passed them and did not break his stride. He just casually drew his pistol and shot each one of them in the forehead as he passed.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
The three shattered heads jerked back and then flopped forward against the soft earth.
Vagranz stared down from his window as the front door creaked open beneath him, casting a rectangle of warm light across the lawn. He saw Broskott running out, moving low with his rifle propped against his hip.
Muzzle flash lit he night as he fired at the stranger again and again, yelling at the top of his lungs.
“You knocked on the wrong door you bastard!”
Vagranz levelled his pistol out the window and joined in the barrage of bullets.
Broskott’s rifle flared once again and the stranger jerked back. A puff of pink mist rose from him and he fell onto the grass. His leg jerked out and he rolled sideways.
Vagranz roared in delight.
“Hah! Flesh and bone you whoreson! You’re ours now. My pliers are waiting for ya!”
The stranger rolled over as the bullets hit the dirt spraying clods of earth up around him. He raised his gun but suddenly three more men ran out of the shadows with sword and club held high. They began to circle him.
Broskott notched his rifle butt in his shoulder and took careful aim but suddenly doubled over as the stranger shot out his knees. Broskott cried out in shock and staggered back.
He fell down onto his rump and stared at his ruined legs and then in fury raised his rifle. The stranger rolled on to his haunches and returned fire. The two men sat there opposite each other not more than fifteen metres apart, firing their weapons.
Suddenly Broskott didn’t have a face.
He fell backwards onto the damp grass as the bullet punched through him and his skull was just a bloody bowl collecting rain.
Up at the window, Vagranz spat fury and reached to his belt to reload his revolver. He muttered to himself as he slotted the bullets in.
“Alright. Alright you fucker. I’m here waiting.”
He began to smile as he saw his three best enforcers close in around the wounded stranger, weighing up their swords. The Plague Doctor got to his feet, clutching the bullet wound in his shoulder. Vagranz had counted six shots and knew that the Vigilante did not have time to reload. He shouted down to his men.
“Cut him up but leave him alive boys! I want meat to play with!”
The three men spread out wide and slowly advanced. The Plague Doctor cocked his bird head to one side and then holstered his gun and drew out two war picks with grimjade crow heads. The bladed beaks gleamed with razor sharp edges. The back of their heads were long hammer points as if the birds wore top hats.
Vagranz could see that he favored his right shoulder and a steady stream of glistening blood soaked his sleeve. He waited there at the window for the stranger to step into range of his pistol.
The three enforcers rushed the stranger at once. He parried one arcing sword and ducked low, thumping the pick into the attacker’s ribs. The other pick swung high and impaled the man right through the top of his skull.
The stranger spun around and used the dead man’s body to absorb the blows from the other two attackers. One enforcer kicked out and caught the stranger in the midriff, sending him staggering back and leaving one of his picks lodged in the dead man’s skull.
The second enforcer ran forward slashing his blade wildly. The stranger leapt back to avoid the blows, ducking and arching his back. Then quickly he closed the distance, darting right inside the swordsman’s guard and bringing his pick up into the man’s abdomen. With a rip he dragged it upwards, spilling the man’s intestines out to steam on the grass. The enforcer fell to his knees and stared down at his new form. Then a swift hammer blow to the head switched him off.
The remaining man was crouched low and twirling his sword. He chewed his moustache and nodded, acknowledging the stranger’s prowess.
Vagranz took his chance and fired his pistol down into the garden. It missed the Vigilante but caught his war pick, sending it spinning from his hand onto the grass. The Enforcer grinned and advanced, spinning his blade.
Suddenly the Vigilante rolled forward on the grass and grabbed the pick lodged in the dead man’s skull. He wedged it free with a crunch and spun onto his knees. Then he threw it and it whirled through the night and into the forehead of the swordsman. He toppled face first onto the lawn with a half formed word on his lips.
The Plague Doctor stood up and calmly collected his crow headed war picks. He wiped the blood on his jacket and then looked up at Vagranz. The crime boss snarled and started firing his pistol down into the garden. Tufts of lawn flew up around the feet of the Vigilante but he did not move. He just drew his revolver and steadily began to slot bullets into the drum. Vagranz roared at him.
“What’s wrong with you? You fucking freak! You can’t take us all down at once!”
The Vigilante looked up from the lantern-lit garden and his voice was a strangled croak.
“One at a time.”
Vagranz felt his blood chill. Then he had a moment of hope as he heard the kennel master coming round the side of the house. His hounds were barking themselves up to frenzy.
Vagranz chuckled. “Finally. Let’s see you try to spook these fellas out.”
The kennel master appeared. He was a huge bearded man and his ropey forearms rippled as he tried to hold back the Carvenwolves that strained against their leads.
Yellow fangs flashed, huge shaggy coats shook in rage as the hounds caught his scent. The kennel master snapped off their leads and crouched next to the largest one’s ear.
“Go get him boys.”
The Vigilante stood there peering at the advancing beasts. He did not raise his gun. Vagranz just stood at the window grinning. He had seen his pets make good work of several intruders in the past and they were his preferred way of disposing of bodies without a trace.
“You’ll be dogshit by dawn, gunman.”
Something suddenly swept across the lawn like a dust devil. It was like a being hidden within a cloud of swirling smoke. It raced past the peach tree and came to a halt on the lawn in front of the Vigilante. Vagranz raise his pistol but was too shocked to fire.
“Well colour me amazed. It is a ghost.”
&nbs
p; The Wraith stood there in the garden, wisps of incorporeal mist swirling around its feet.
It faced up against the Carvenwolves, who were now in full attack mode and uncontrollable. The Wraith crouched down and extended a knife-fingered hand in greeting.
Suddenly all three Carvenwolves stopped running and sat down, whimpering like happy puppies. The Wraith gently stroked their noses with her lethal fingers. The hounds pined in delight. Then the Wraith whispered something to them and they turned around and hunched down, staring back towards the kennel master. The big bearded man stood shocked for a moment as the creatures began to slowly advance towards him. Then as he saw their lips draw back he turned and ran full pelt around the side of the mansion. The beasts followed at a snarling pace.
The Vigilante turned and looked up at Vagranz. Vagranz looked down.
Then the stranger gave a little nod and strode towards the open doorway of the house.
Vagranz spun from the window and crouched down with his back against a book case. He held up his pistol and noticed that his beefy hand was shaking. He wiped the greasy sweat from his head and started muttering.
“Come into my house. My house. Fucking nerve. Well he’s just meat and bone. Goes down like any other. Ghost or no ghost.”
Suddenly the office door flew open. The solid oak thumped into the wall and sent books flying off the shelves. The Plague Doctor and his Wraith stood there in the doorway. His guns were raised and he was shooting out the windows above Vagranz’ head. The glass came splintering down on top of the big crime boss, forcing him to shield his eyes from the razor shower. He dropped his gun onto the carpet.
When the dust settled and he opened his eyes, he was staring right into the masked face of the Wraith.
“By the Spark leave me alone! Get it away from me!”
The Wraith drew in close and sniffed. Then it withdrew and hovered behind the Plague Doctor’s shoulder like a faithful shade.
The Vigilante stepped in and crouched in front of Vagranz. The green eyes glowed dimly beneath his hat.
Vagranz pressed his back harder against the book case.
“There’s a safe over there on the wall. Got about thirty thousand in it. Jewelry too. You can take it. It’s all for you.”
SMOKE AND BLADES Page 7
