“Correct,” she replied, shooting a look towards the Kikimora’s hiding place.
“What did you have to talk to Abla about?” I asked.
“I’m not cheating on you if that’s what you’re worried about,” Lis said.
“Do I look like an overly controlling boyfriend to you?”
“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t be. For your information I was actually calling someone with your phone,” she said, tossing my cell into my lap.
“My phone?” I asked before sudden chill ran down my back. “You impersonated me.”
“Maybe,” she replied, in my exact voice.
“Who the hell did you call with my cell?”
A knock on the cabin door was my response.
“Charles?” Zophie Nuhl cried out. “Are you there? Open up.”
Chapter 39
Getting out of bed when you’re made entirely out of bruised flesh is approximately as difficult as getting out of bed on a Saturday morning with a hangover. Goddamn I hurt, but I needed to put on a strong face.
I unlocked the cabin door and swung it open. Zophie Nuhl and Father Popov stood beyond with a light layer of snow atop them.
“I don’t believe it,” Popov began. “You actually beat--”
“You’re naked.”
It was Zophie that stated that, and in two words managed to answer the growing question of why I felt a bit chilly.
She wasn’t a hundred percent accurate in her deduction of course. I still had shredded pants on. My suit and undershirt however were torn in half revealing my beach body to the gaping eyes of the female gender. Nuhl watched me like a damn hawk, but I was in too much groaning pain to care.
“Welcome to my winter retreat, Zophie, Father,” I said with mock formality. “Come in, I’ll have my servants see you to the living room where we can sample my collection of wines and talk awhile.”
“You must have hit your head on a nice thick boulder to be this groggy. Did you really manage to defeat the Leshy single handed?” asked Popov.
“I’m sorry to say, Father, but I actually had to use two hands to defeat that damn Ent. You didn’t happen to pack an extra coat or something, Nuhl? If you’re done staring.”
“I’m not staring and no I didn’t. Who’s that?” she said, pointing to Lis.
Say what you want about that Infernal pain in my ass, but Lis had utility value for days. Besides knowing anything about everything and being top shelf arm candy she also had the ability to fly under most people’s radars. Not quite sure how she did it, but the fact remains that only magicians with obscene talent or an extreme sensitivity to magic could so much as notice Lis a second time after I made up a cheap explanation.
“She’s just a good Samaritan. Kind enough to let me take a relaxing rest in her remote cabin. Doesn’t speak a word of English though.”
“Good,” Zophie said, “It can’t all be bad news can it?”
“Take my coat, I’m well insulated and can do without the extra layer,” Popov said.
As the old priest tossed a surprisingly light fur garment onto my head, I made sure to note that despite his introverted and spiny exterior, the elderly man had a certain air of kindness about him. Even though he’d probably hate being called nice. I suppose a certain level of camaraderie has drawn him to us. Getting chased by a Rusalka must have that affect on people.
I buttoned up the beastly fur coat and patted it a few times for good measure. “Thanks very much.”
Popov’s eyes returned to mine, having drifted momentarily to the corner stove and the young woman Lis was pretending to be. He must have a thing for country girls. “It’s nothing. I’m more interested in talking business than playing dress up.”
“Agreed. Let’s step outside.”
The priest’s shoulders were taut, strained even beneath all the layers of winter clothing. Still, he looked like the sort of man who had no problem bearing the weight of the world with little more than a shitty remark every third sentence.
I wonder if he would be able to help me beyond uncovering the Lord Illusionist. He was an Orthodox priest after all. Perhaps he had insight into the inner workings of Devils or redemption that might slip the mind of a simple sinner such as myself.
Sucking in a deep breath of chill winter air, I closed the cabin door behind me. Finally, a solid barrier between me and Lis. Now I could ask Popov for help in privacy.
Opening my mouth though, I hesitated.
No. My Infernal Adversary’s booster shot of paranoia did one thing right, and that was to help me realize that whatever Popov’s stated reason for being here, he was probably still on the same team as the Order of the Black Rose.
He could even be planning to sell me and Nuhl out should things get too hot for him. I couldn’t trust him, especially not with something as precious as helping Lisistrathiel see the light.
“So then, let’s begin,” the old man said.
Zophie jumped to, “Recapping what we know so far…”
Nuhl was another kettle of fish. Her talent in anti magic would certainly help me to illustrate Lis’ weakness, and the importance of coming to terms with her devious ways before she dies deeper in the mire of sin than even I’m stuck.
“Nikita Gogol, the Lord Illusionist, was born in the town of Shuycha, and was either raised exclusively, or mostly, by the fairies of the nearby moots. It was here that he likely developed his preference for Familiars, and likely how he acquired the name of Familiar Lord,” Zophie said.
However, the problem with her was similar to Popov’s. Her anti-magic and womanly nature would certainly be a boon to me in understanding as much as possible about Lis and the way she operates, but the rewards just didn’t match the risks.
“We have a close understanding of his capabilities. He likely uses a brand of illusion magic similar to Fairies. Trickery, escape, and illusory images, but nothing of substance. He relies on his Familiars to do the heavy lifting. That’s exactly what’s going to make bringing his head to Nine Towers on a silver platter easy.”
Nine Towers was precisely the problem. Besides Philestos Swanquill and Fran I rarely ever saw eye to eye with my fellow mages. Some would probably attack me on sight if they knew I more or less worked for a Devil like Lis. Nuhl was loyal only in so far as her orders demanded her to play along with me.
“Our objective now is to uncover Nikita Gogol’s current location. If we can discover where he is we can cut him down and head home. Easy peasy. Nine Towers will have its rebellion quashed, and the Order of the Black Rose,” Nuhl said, turning to Popov, “Will have their Supernaturals thrown into disarray. A complete victory.”
Even if her frigid professionalism had dulled a bit, three days ago she wouldn’t have blinked twice sacrificing me to complete our mission. She couldn’t be trusted either. I was alone in this.
Guess I should be used to it by now.
“The problem now is actually finding the bastard,” I spoke up, “Otherwise he’s going to throw Familiars at us until we either die of old age or get drowned in Fairy tale creatures. I don’t suppose you’ve got any more leads, Popov?”
“I’m drained dry for information. I know exactly what you know. In fact probably less.”
“What now then?” Zophie Nuhl began, throwing her hands up, “We can’t just wait around for a master wizard to slip up. We need to know where he’s striking and we need to know now.”
“I told a contact of mine at HQ to keep an eye open for me. Perhaps there’s been a development that we’re not aware of.”
“What a stretch. You might as well buy lottery tickets,” Popov grumbled.
“Story of my life,” I replied.
“Do it Locke,” Nuhl ordered. “It’s better than nothing. Meanwhile, let’s make our way back to the car.”
I punched in Francisca Sauer’s number. I jumped a little in my skin when she picked up halfway through the first ring.
“I thought you were a Necromancer, not a psychic,” I said.
&n
bsp; “Don’t scare me like that asshole,” Francisca cursed into the phone.
“What, were you about to call me to whisper sweet nothing’s into my ear?”
Given who I was dealing with, those sweet nothings were more likely to be unsettling chants half heard through cemetery trees.
“Yeah, actually. I’ve got a problem. I’ve got an update,” she said, tripping over her own words. “Fluke, something is going down.”
“Something? What do you have for me?” I said.
I could feel Nuhl and Popov’s eyes as they bore into the back of my skull. I clicked a button and held the phone between me and the others.
“You’re on speaker. Tell me Fran.”
“Well. An entire Order of the Black Rose stronghold went dark about thirty minutes ago.”
“Not unusual,” Nuhl said, shaking her head. “Standard procedure before a big operation. We do it too.”
“Yeah, well aware,” Fran’s voice crackled through the comm. “Except when I say dark I mean dead.”
“Preposterous,” Popov muttered. “Are your contacts trustworthy? Who is feeding you this information, girl?”
“Two chaplains, a head librarian and seventeen knights of the Order. They were just there in person, until the very second they got massacred,” Fran smugly replied.
Popov’s eyes grew to saucers. We all asked the same question at the same time: “Where?”
“Librarian informs me it’s Archive Fort Krasny. It’s about--”
“I know where that is. Quickly,” Popov said, wild eyed, desperation settling on him like like chilling snow. “I have to go there. I have to save them!”
I turned to look at Zophie, a single nod was all the confirmation I needed.
“I’ll be in touch,” I said, and cut the call.
Chapter 40
An hour and a half drive with frantic directions being shouted isn’t exactly a pleasant experience. Still, I’ll be damned if we didn’t get where we needed to be in record time. The dirt road we’d taken suddenly came to a dead end of crooked trees. In the distance I could just make out black and gray stones peering over the tree tops. Yeah, this certainly felt like the place. And it looked about as inviting as I thought it would too.
As I got out of the car my eyes drifted upwards. High up in the crooked trees a trio of golden eyed owls, white as snow, stared down at me with inhuman intensity.
Pretty bad omen-y.
The Order’s archive was just up ahead. Hopefully there was still someone alive inside to save. Or at least question.
“I thought it’d be bigger,” I said as we neared.
“It’s likely a knot of winding passages carved deep into the ground if it’s anything like the one I was stationed at,” Popov said, his voice strained and impatient.
“Charles’ contact called it an archive fortress. What exactly were you archiving here?” Nuhl demanded.
“Do I look like a grand master to you?” Popov retorted. “Anything and everything. Supernaturals? Gathered lore? Confiscated paraphernalia and artifacts? All of the above? I’ve only seen Fort Krasny on maps before.”
“And I’m sure info on it was given on a need to know basis only,” I said.
Popov gave me a grim look. “We Russians like secrets.”
“I see that.”
Of course, it just wouldn’t do if the fort were hidden in plain sight within a major city. It had to be out here in the cramped wilderness surrounded by trees for miles and miles.
I began to understand exactly why the Long Hunt had been going on for so damn long. It’s not a Hunt. It’s not a War. It’s a long spate of guerilla skirmishes in the goddamn boonies. Far away from prying eyes and spread so thin that nothing ever came of any victories. I wonder what it started over. I wonder if that even mattered anymore to any of the involved parties.
Reaching a clearing before the low outer wall of the archive, I checked my Rolex. One hour and forty eight minutes after hearing of it, we’d arrived. Not bad. But was it good enough?
“Let’s go. Quickly,” Popov said, but Zophie caught his shoulder before he could take more than step.
“I’ll take point. Locke, back me up. You stay behind us where you won’t get ambushed and die. Or get in our way.”
Popov grudgingly bowed his head to the small woman. With a nod we advanced.
The main door was limp and agape. It led to a long narrow passage made of thick stone, snuffed candles, and which ended in a thick iron door. Majestic hand carved figures populated the gray stone walls on both flanks, making it feel a little like a shrine.
“Nuhl.”
The antimage hadn’t put her hands on the inner entrance’s double door. The second she did, a mechanism clicked and a wrought iron gate slammed down before the doorway, nearly taking Nuhl’s hands off at the wrist. A split second later, another gate came down behind us, cutting off our retreat.
“What just happened? Popov!” Nuhl cried out.
“It can’t be,” Popov replied. “The entrances to all our fortresses are booby trapped of course, but how did the Supernaturals get around our defenses and then reset them?”
“Easy,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “They never even thought of coming in the front way. This was probably part of their plan. Fly or dig underneath the wall but leave the front in tact. What better way to slow down or cripple reinforcements than by using their own traps against them?”
No guards. No bodies. That’s what felt off about it all. I suppose I have the Lord Illusionist to thank for a trick as crafty as this. Clever son of a bitch.
“There has to be a way out,” I said. “A fail safe?”
“Don’t bother forcing the gates,” Popov said. “We’ll need to use our brains.”
“They’re probably made of cold iron. This was meant to be a trap that works against Fairies after all. Enclosed space, Religious symbolism on the walls, cold iron gates. You guys thought of everything.”
“Works just as well against us. Or at the very least will leave us here to starve or look suspicious if more of the Order of the Black Rose come to investigate. Check the walls, there has to be something,” Zophie said.
Our search turned up nothing. Only someone very well acquainted could make head or tail of the symbolic murals that flanked us. And the only one who might have chance was busy trying to stave off panic.
“Dammit all!” Popov swore, looking frantically over the walls. “We don’t have time for this. There!”
I turned to see the priest pointing at an Orthodox crucifix just beyond his reach, spirited away from the mural of a concerned looking gentlemen in the middle of the painting by what appeared to be a bird with a female head.
I reached up to the crucifix and found it easily dislodged from the harpy’s grasp.
The priest heaved a sigh. “Good, very good this is probably the fail safe. Find somewhere to fit it on the other mural. Miss Nuhl, do you see any cross shaped indents over there?”
Zophie shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” he asked.
“I know what a cross looks like priest,” she snarled. “There’s nothing here.”
Nuhl didn’t seem to deal well with situations that can’t be ended in intimidation or kung fu violence. I put a calming hand on her shoulder.
“Let me try. Watch my back and make sure there aren’t more surprises.”
Nuhl glared daggers at me, then let her eyes strayed from mine. She half nodded before storming off to the inner gate, arms crossed over her chest.
The mural on the wall seemed to be related to it’s counterpart across from it. I recognized some of the faces chiseled in from the other mural, though they seemed garbed in chainmail and riding horse now. Over top of dead Supernaturals.
How old was this fortress? Makes more sense that it looks like a medieval castle now that I’m getting acquainted at these murals. The harpy from before was on these illustrations too. Trailing my eyes down to the bottom of the carving, the harpy was
pierced on a sword with a crooked hilt.
“Nothing?” Popov demanded impatiently.
“Something,” I replied. “If you squint your eyes just enough, this sword with the messed up cross guard almost looks like… hang on.”
My heart danced when I managed to dig my nails behind the sword. It came out easily, leaving a hole that looked just like an Orthodox cross.
“Bingo.”
“At last, impressive work Locke,” Popov said. “Good eye.”
“It’s in,” I said. “Let’s--”
The sound the cross made as it slid it into its place could only be described as ominous. The tiny click set off a larger clack, which led to a whirring sound that ended in a clang.
The stone beneath our feet revealed itself to be little more than a false floor. With a curse, we fell into the yawning dark below.
Chapter 41
You don’t really know how good you are at swearing until your solution of a Where’s Waldo puzzle is rewarded with a plummet into the abyss. Despite the harrowing fall that reminded me where all my bruises were, my body decided that it had been too soon since the last time I fell unconscious and decided to keep me awake through the screaming pain.
“Pretty sadistic, this Order of the Black Rose,” I muttered, picking myself off the stone floor.
When eerie silence was my quip’s only response, a dreadful inkling tugged at the back of my mind.
“Popov? Nuhl? Zophie? Zozo?” I called out.
No response. Did they not survive the fall? Impossible, it wasn’t that high up. And it didn’t fit the habits of the Order either. Solving the riddle would have likely been a way to prove your status as not-Fairy. The trap door probably led to holding cells in the bowels of the benighted archive leaving the trespassers primed for questioning at the Order’s leisure.
The trap door probably gave way to three separate funnels that broke us up as we fell. Popov and Zophie were separated, not gone.
“Gotta link back up then,” I said. “That means it’s time to get intimate with the room.”
I pressed my hands to nearest wall and began feeling it up like a hot date. The lack of sight made me think of Zophie Nuhl bent over looking at the mural. It was a momentary glimpse, but for a connoisseur of the finer sex it was more than enough.
Live and Let Lie Page 13
