A sigh escaped my lips. “In other words I give up. I can’t do anything more to save my soul. However, maybe I can use it to save you instead. So take it. Do your worst, I probably deserve it. But in exchange? Please, Lis, save yourself.”
It was probably just a trick of the light, or grime in my blurry eyes. But for a split second it almost looked as though…
Lis’ cheeks turned rosy red?
The sudden clang of a fist slamming into the metal table rang in my ears. In the blink of an eye Lis’ poker face, serene and peaceful, was inches away from mine. Ah, I remember this look well.
“Don’t screw with me, Mortal,” she said, emphasizing each word individually.
Catching herself, Lisistrathiel withdrew her fist from the crater it had formed and paced the room like a caged tiger.
“Don’t mess around, Charlie,” she calmly amended. “This isn’t the sort of thing you joke about.”
“I’m dead serious. The offer stands. Just say the word and--”
“No. I think I’m beginning to understand your game,” Lis cut me off. “Didn’t figure you’d actually get around to trying something like this given how committed you are to not going to Hell though. You’re actually trying to redeem me, aren’t you? You’ve been trying since Shuycha now that I think of it.”
I smiled weakly. The jig was up. “That’s right.”
“Good to know Charlie. Now that the truth’s out I can crush your dreams directly.”
Lisistrathiel planted her hands onto the metal table, flanking my head. The chains on me rattled, joining the screech of razor sharp nails digging deep into the metal table. Her hot breath washed over my lips. Her black locks of hair streamed over my face. Her scent was suffocating.
Intoxicating.
“Charles Montgomery Locke. Our relationship isn’t some feel good parable from one of those darn apostles. And it’s not some prime time drama plot point either. You might be foolishly willing to ‘save me’ or whatever you wanna call it, but the truth of the matter?”
Lisistrathiel leaned her head close and whispered four words into my ear, “There’s nothing to save.”
Of course, the entirety of my plan was balanced atop the twin assumptions that Lis both wanted to be saved, and that she could even be saved in the first place. The revelation that the she-devil spoke chilled me to the marrow.
“Nothing to save?” I echoed, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “You’re lying. There has to be some good left in you.”
“Do I need to swear it to be true?” Lis asked, pushing off me and pacing the room. “Give up. It’s not just wasted charity, it’s wasted effort too.”
“I refuse,” I said. “This is all I have left, what the hell else can I possibly do?”
“You can muster up some courage for one, you massive wuss bag.”
“Courage has nothing to--”
“Courage has everything to do with this,” Lis said, Hellfire dancing in her eyes, “This attempt to redeem me? Lame. Limp noodle bargain bin Saturday morning cartoon lame. Salvation is like Christmas gifts Charlie. It’s the thought that counts, and right here right now? You’re trying to save me for the very same cynical self-serving reasons that I saved you in that warehouse all those years ago.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. I only thought to redeem Lis for my own advantage. I really am a terrible excuse for a Human being. I licked my lips. My brain struggled to barb a reply, a counter attack, anything: “What does it matter? A soul’s a soul, damn you. Just take it.”
Lis shook her head. “No deal. You’re just trying to get out of being stuck in a hopeless situation. Trapped in this abandoned base turned Fairy nest, the easiest out for you would be to bargain away your soul. And I admit, it does look bleak, but…”
I felt my heartbeat quicken. “But?”
“Well, I dunno about you, but my Charlie? My Charlie never gives up. Ever. He’ll be here tomorrow and next year too trying to save people. Wand gripped in hand and a rebel yell on the tip of his tongue, my Charlie will never hesitate to charge head first into grim muddled missions where even Supernatural demigods shy away. Clueless and fooled, uncertain of his enemies much less his allies, he’ll still try and do the least wrong thing he can think of. Even if he’s not always right. Even if he won’t always win. Even if it means that at the end of the day he’ll wind up with more sin than salvation! My Charlie will do it all because he knows trying his best and screwing up spectacularly is still better than sitting on his hands and watching another Vicky sacrifice another somebody on the altar of self worship.”
“And that,” Lis said, retrieving a rusty tool from the table, “is what I think I like most about you. Scalpel? To pick the lock on your shackles.”
The words she spoke and the soft, almost sweet smile on her lips reverberated within me. It echoed in defiance of all my despair. Fire burning in my veins, uncertainty banished from every corner of my brain, I nodded my head.
“Scalpel.”
Chapter 55
The shackles were easy. There wasn’t even a laser slowly fixing to cut me in half while I pried the lock open. As I retrieved my wand from the torturer’s table I covertly peered into the hall beyond the interrogation room.
Nothing. Grim rusted pipes wound in both directions along a dark featureless tunnel of concrete. At least I had water drips to break up the deafening silence.
Also Lis.
“You know, I’ve heard a lot about these Rusalkas and I gotta say I’m really looking forward to seeing how you worm your way out of this one,” she said.
“Prepare to be disappointed then,” I replied. “The plan is to get out of here before she shows up.”
“I doubt she’s going to be that obliging.”
“Where did you say we were again?” I asked.
The splash of my foot hitting a puddle echoed eerily through the halls. My ears strained for any telltale humming.
“We’re way up North. It was actually a non negligible challenge for me to keep up with your kidnappers.”
“How far up North are we talking?”
“Uh,” Lis began, grinning wickedly, “Pretty far up there.”
I creaked open a metal door with shredded instructions on it. Bombs and helmets were the only thing I could make out on it. Beware of bombshells. Good advice for dealing with Rusalkas. And Lis. Two things became obvious as I peered past: Just how far away from civilization I was, and why the Rusalka chose this obscure hellhole of all places to set up her lair.
A massive canal spread out before me, flanked by walkways and crumbling safety bars. Half sunken metal hulks drifted ominously in the abyssal murk as the sound of unsettled water washed over my ears. The stench of chemicals and sea salt was almost unbearable.
“This isn’t a military complex,” I whispered. “This is an abandoned submarine base.”
“Same difference,” Lis replied.
“That means we’re on the coast. The Northern one. How the hell did we get up here? We’re closer to Canada than to Moscow goddammit!”
“Correct. Bet you can’t even get a signal down here.”
“Calling for help is the last thing on my mind,” I said. “Though it looks like I’m about to need it.”
Before Lis could reply, I clamped a hand down on her lips. Jagged eyebrows rose high, demanding an explanation.
“It’s her,” I said.
The Rusalka was coming. Her shadow trailed eerily over the canal walls. Seeking. Searching. The hum of her voice echoed through the tunnel and ventilation, accompanied by the percussion of droplets leaking from on high.
This was the opposite of good. Completely lost, Rusalka hot on my trail, my chances for survival were dwindling fast. I cast another furtive glance down the canal, only to find that the Rusalka’s shadow was gone.
“Huh, maybe she gave up,” said Lis.
The sound of splashing water was the only warning I got. I grabbed Lis by the shoulders and pulled her away fr
om the canal side just as jagged claws caked in deadly magics shot forth from the deep.
Chill hair and snow white skin, the Rusalka crawled sensuously out of the snow slushed canal. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned back to the she-devil.
“Hey,” Lis said, glaring at me. “I thought I told you to quit worrying about me.”
A narrow feint spared me from getting impaled on Rusalka claws as the dread Fairy pounced. Gripping Lis’ wrist tight, I ran full throttle down the hall cursing the whole way.
“Complain later, Rusalka now,” I shouted.
The she-devil sighed peevishly. “Fine. Plan?”
My eyes locked onto a sign up ahead. I couldn’t make out the Russian, but I understood the peeling picture next to it perfectly.
Engine bay. Or missile silo. Or rocket launch pad.
“I think I just figured one out. Follow me.”
The submarine base plus missile silo attachment was the ideal place for the Rusalka. Water everywhere. Labyrinthine tunnels. A lot of home field advantage. That didn’t mean there wasn’t anything at all for me to use on her though.
The slap of bare feet on concrete echoed behind me. It made me up my pace as I felt the Rusalka close in. Just a little further.
“You know Charlie, this is all awfully Freudian now that I get a second look at the situation.”
“What are you on about?” I breathlessly managed.
“Well, I mean, crazy dangerous totally naked babe chasing you through a benighted military installation?”
“You have no one but your damn self to blame if I have any traumas involving crap like that.”
“Such a sweet talker,” Lis gushed.
“When we get into the room please hide.”
“All right. You did say please after all. Good luck Charlie.”
“Thank you very much,” I muttered.
I leveled the rusted door ahead with a kick that shattered lock mechanism and hinges in one hit. Of course the sound of the door hitting the concrete was about as loud as God slamming the car door. Sorcerous ‘secret’ agent.
My eyes darted around the room to find something of use against the Rusalka, but my pursuer was faster than I thought. Suddenly, a whimsical voice echoed through the missile bay. One I knew all too well.
“He said you’d escape. The others didn’t believe him, but I know how good a judge of character he is.”
The Rusalka drew near. I took one more look around the room and sucked in a deep breath.
“Must enjoy being another pawn on the board for the ‘Familiar Lord’. What’s a nigh immortal being like you groveling at a Mortal’s feet?” I asked.
“I’m not a pawn, not in his eyes.”
“Don’t kid yourself. You’re a Familiar. A subordinate to a really talented Illusionist.”
“That might be the nature of my pact with him, child, but even if I were but a plaything to him I’d still do his bidding.”
I narrowed my eyes. Absolute loyalty? How can she be so sure of the Illusionist’s intentions? A man made up almost exclusively of falsehoods, and yet she seemed to know some scrap of truth about Nikita Gogol.
“Did he also say that I’d manage to find a way to kill you?” I called out.
The Rusalka paced around me, predatory eyes fixed on me. “That’s what he wants to figure out, actually. That’s why he entrusted you to me alone. You broke free of your fetters. Routed the Kikimoras. Now it is my turn. Stop me if you can, child.”
Tag. I’m it.
Wand bursting to life, I fended off her rending claws with a slash. Frozen black fingers attached to a snow white arm soared through the air and dissolved into water an instant later. It didn’t even slow her down.
The Rusalka was no amateur at this. She had a surefire strategy that she specialized in. Attrition. Made of water, the Rusalka couldn’t have cared less how many times I crammed my wand-sword into her chest legs, arms, or anything.
But I noticed the larger the body part severed, the longer it took to grow it back.
The Rusalka swung her severed arm, the limb remade just as it reached me. Shit. Shredded coat and undershirt slashed as the Rusalka’s predatory grin widened.
“Stronger men have withered. Wiser men have crumbled. Child.”
Too close. Even a nick would be a death sentence. But keeping her hands off me was a losing game. Though I cut her arms off at the elbow, the unarmed Rusalka stepped past my guard and slammed her head into mine.
Crack.
I saw stars. My back collided with a long forgotten munitions cart. My vision blurred. I barely managed to curl a hand over top of the cart to hold me steady. The Rusalka’s hands had regrown without even a scar by the time I was thinking of getting back on my feet.
Now or never.
Dropping to a knee I swung my wand towards her with all my might. The violet blade shot loose, forming a deadly whirlwind that reached the Rusalka and promptly cut her legs off mid thigh.
The Fairy fell to her stumps, water droplets already reforming her legs.
“Aren’t you tiring of this?” the Rusalka asked. “Even dimwits eventually figure out I can’t be cut. No matter how many times you hurt me, I’ll just get back up like nothing happened.”
“Not trying to hurt you,” I replied matter of factly. “Just need you to hold still for a second.”
Too late the Rusalka noticed the black liquid pooling around her. Or her position beneath a particularly large missile. I pointed my finger at the fuel line my shard had severed, and cast a minuscule bolt of fire at it.
“Liftoff,” I said, and threw myself behind the munitions cart.
Chapter 56
For a brief instant, my life resembled a high budget Hollywood action movie. In record time the spark of fire I’d cast fled up the missile’s fuel line, and disappearing from sight. A moment later, the suspended missile turned into a fireball made up of jagged shrapnel, molten metal, and my hopes and dreams.
The conflagration was enough to make any pyromancer green with envy. Debris flew, screws and metal plates lodged themselves into the concrete walls, and despite hiding behind the heavy metal cart I was pretty sure I’d just gained some impressive tan lines.
Medium rare.
“I’m suddenly in the mood for barbecue,” I said to myself.
Rising up from the wreckage, I crammed my nose into my sleeve and made for the door before the stench of flaming gasoline went to my head. Knowing Lis, she’d probably vacated the premises the moment she realized what my plan was. I’d like to see the look on her face after I blew up the Rusalka with a missile.
My quickly dwindling reserves of oxygen, however, put my reunion with Lis on the back burner. Crap. I couldn’t breath. At all. And it wasn’t just the smoke and gasoline because otherwise I’d be coughing my lungs out.
It almost felt like I was being choked.
Gripping my wand tightly, a blade of hard arcana erupted from the tip and slashed in a wide blind arc behind me. Empty air.
Almost empty. Barely visible, a thin misty cloud of vapors was severed in half by my swing, only to rejoin together and rush at me.
Jesus Mary and the Carpenter. She’s not dead.
Fog-like, the Rusalka coiled tendrils of chill vapor around my throat like a noose, squeezing harder and harder. I struggled to pull her off, but whenever I’d tear her tendrils off my neck, slithering smoke rushed up my nose or pushed past my lips.
“Drown. Drown, child. Join me at the bottom of my lake. Join me and my lord and master,” I heard, barely a whisper in my ears.
I couldn’t break free no matter how I struggled. I stumbled against the walls, drunkenly, clattering against carts and rusted sheets. Desperation seeped into me just as surely as the Rusalka’s vapors. My eyes wandered, vision blurring, but just before I felt my consciousness fatally slip from me, I caught sight of a button with a half peeled sign next to it.
Three rectangles spread out in opposite directions. A ripple of circles from small to la
rge encompassing them. The universal symbol for the one thing that would save my life.
Air conditioning.
With the last of my strength I slammed the button to turn the ventilation system on, my heart soaring as I heard the clang of long forgotten fans whir to life. Drawn hopelessly towards the nearest shaft, the Rusalka’s fog was torn out of me with a ghostly howl.
Gasping for air, a hair’s breadth from death, I coughed my lungs out like an asthmatic chain smoker and took a deep breath of sweet air.
“And stay dead,” I said, pushing myself up to unsteady feet.
I found Lis checking her nails just outside the launch bay. Like nothing happened.
“Nice one with the air conditioning. You should really stop bad mouthing your good fortune given how many breaks it throws you, Charlie,” she said.
“Insufficient breath. Scathing reply pending,” I managed.
“You want mouth to mouth or something?”
“Straight to Hell,” I choked out.
Lis smiled sweetly. We sat down side by side in the rotting corridor. The cool concrete felt great beneath me.
“You know, I don’t think even that was enough to kill the Rusalka.”
I gave Lis the meanest glare I could manage under the circumstances. She suppressed a cackle.
“Not saying it to spook you or jinx it, but all you really did was break her apart into tiny bits and then spread her over a wide area.”
“Weird. It’s usually fatal when bombs do the same to Humans,” I retorted.
Lis’ smile widened. “It’s gonna take her years to put herself back together. Decades maybe. I guess what I’m trying to say is, ‘good job Charlie’. This wasn’t killing a Rusalka, but it’s a sight better than what most Mortals could pull off. I am officially impressed.”
“Gee. Thanks. I have a favor to ask, by the way.”
“And what might that be?” Lis replied, her tone suddenly guarded.
Live and Let Lie Page 18
