by A C Spahn
“More enchanters. How many did Geralt use to put that tattoo on your chest?”
Memories tried to crawl out of their closets, but I stuffed them back down and spoke in a dead tone. “I didn’t see for certain. At least fifty.”
“So if I recruit fifty enchanters ...”
“From where? Almost all of them are aligned with the cults. All the strong ones, anyway. Anyone left in the city with a magical talent probably doesn’t even know it, they’re so weak. The Voids have driven all of our kind away, and this is the result.” The words came out hotter than I intended, my years of hiding in fear for my life painting my tongue red. I gritted my teeth, willing myself to calm down. I wasn’t in danger yet. No need for rash thoughts or actions. “There aren’t fifty enchanters independent from cults and strong enough to help within three states of here. You can’t fight this magic off using magic. It’s just not an option.”
Harrow studied me, his mouth turned fractionally downward.
Before he could speak, crashes and screams came from the coffee shop beyond the door.
Chapter 23
I SPRINTED OUT of the office, already drawing on the magic in my beaded wire-braid ring, preparing to raise my shield of purple light.
Behind the counter, Bethany stood shaking, a metal coffee pot in her hand. The businessman who’d been working by the window cowered behind an overturned bistro table. Dark coffee spread across the floor from a crushed cup, staining the knees of his grey pants. The college student had her mouth open, and her smoothie dripped on her book as she stared toward the door. A lean figure in a nondescript blue t-shirt and jeans was just pushing his way outside.
He didn’t turn; he was too good for that. But I recognized the back of his head. “Vince!”
The blue-shirted man broke into a run.
I dashed around the counter in pursuit.
Desmond vaulted the counter behind me and caught up just as I shoved my way out the door.
“Don’t stop me,” I cried, pushing past him. “This is a chance to catch him again. We have to take it!”
He kept stride with me easily. “I know. I’m helping.”
Up ahead, Vince rounded a corner onto the Embarcadero, the busy street paralleling the San Francisco Bay waterfront. Desmond outpaced me, closing the distance between himself and Vince. I took the corner after them so fast I had to lean into the turn to keep my balance. The likelihood that Vince wanted to lure me away to capture me loomed large in my mind, but in such a crowded district, he wouldn’t be able to manage that without witnesses. I’d put money on his plan being to escape and try again later with whatever he’d been trying to do in the coffee shop.
An orange streetcar chugged along its rails between opposite lanes of traffic. Vince dashed into the street, not waiting for a safe crossing. Desmond tailed him a few paces behind, barely missing getting sideswiped by an SUV. The driver gesticulated angrily, curses muted by raised windows.
Vince cleared the streetcar rails and traffic to flee onto the wide walkway beside the waterfront. Again Desmond tailed him, but I had to stop and wait for the streetcar to pass. While I stood, dancing from foot to foot, I slipped on jewelry from my purse. One piece was a new bracelet, a black braid with carved silver beads, enchanted to make me less noticeable to others. It wasn’t as elaborate as Vince’s don’t-notice-me enchantments from my car, but it should make it harder for him to see me coming.
By the time I managed to cross behind the streetcar, both men were over a block down, almost to the entrance to Pier 39. My shorter legs wouldn’t catch up, but I gave chase anyway. My feet pounded the light tan bricks of the walkway, skirting around pedestrians and tourists. No one paid any mind. People were always in a hurry in the city, and you saw stranger things every day. I prayed Vince would turn onto the pier. He stood a good chance of losing our pursuit at the busiest tourist attraction in the area, but if we could corner him, he’d have nowhere to run.
As if he’d heard me, Vince took a hard left and disappeared around the corner of the visitor’s center kiosk. Desmond sprinted after him.
I rounded the same corner a minute later and nearly crashed into a family with a double-wide stroller who failed to see me. Rushing apologies, I spun to continue forward, sweeping my gaze across the hectic fray. Shops lined both sides of the pier, forming a wide central walkway built with sturdy wood. Planter boxes, street performers, and vendor carts filled the walkway, and people from everywhere thronged the shops, buying souvenirs, snapping photos, and eating clam chowder out of the city’s signature bread bowls. There were almost as many seagulls and pigeons as people, waiting to snap up dropped edibles. Sea salt tanged the air, mixed with the slightly fishy odor that saturated everything close to the bay.
I saw no sign of my quarry.
Panting, I doubled back to the broad pier entrance, scanning the people leaving for a flash of blue cloth. Plenty of people wore the color, but none matched Vince. Nor did I see Desmond’s muscular form and unruly hair poking above the crowd. Deciding Desmond was probably still behind Vince, I ducked into a narrow passageway between two buildings and emerged on another wooden walkway that edged the pier, allowing pedestrians a view of the boat docks and the bay beyond. If Vince tried to double back this way, I’d head him off.
The city’s famous sea lions sunned themselves on the floating docks set aside for them. Two had entered a shouting match, and their strident barks grated against my ears. Tourists in shorts and sweatshirts held up phones for photos, and children pointed through the wooden railing at the lumbering animals below. I started up the walkway, sweeping my gaze for Vince, or anyone trying too hard to keep their head down. But everyone I passed was busy planning where to eat lunch, chattering about the barking sea lions who had started snapping at each other, or complaining about the cost of downtown parking. I ducked into another alley, crossing back into the wide central area between the rows of buildings, right near the pier’s carousel. Could Vince have evaded Desmond and taken the stairs to the second level? I didn’t see anyone sprinting along the walkways up there, and the pier was so busy that trying to take the stairs would have slowed Vince down too much. Where had he gone?
“Don’t move,” said a familiar voice beside me.
I gasped, my hands balling into fists, my mind instinctively reaching for the magic in my jewelry.
“Careful,” Vince said in a smooth tone. “Plenty of normals around. You don’t want to cause an incident. Someone might get hurt.”
Keeping my face forward, I slid my eyes to peer at him sidelong. He’d donned an “I survived Alcatraz” sweatshirt and a big, floppy mesh hat that completely hid his features. A small black backpack and a rumpled paper map of the pier in his fist made him look every inch the unremarkable tourist. He must have slipped into a store or corner where he’d hidden the disguise, then walked right past Desmond to escape. Slippery bastard. Curiously, a large purple bruise was forming along his hairline.
“Your hat looks stupid,” I told him, keeping the quivering anger and fear from my voice. “What happened to your face?”
Vince laughed softly. “The barista didn’t appreciate my attempt to barge in. She hit me with her coffee pot.”
“I’ll recommend her for a promotion.”
“Do that. It wasn’t my first plan, but it got your attention. I wasn’t sure you’d chase me, since you have so many friends to do things for you now. Even then, I had a difficult time spotting you with your enchantment in play.” He ran a finger along my black bracelet. “Fortunately, I’m trained to look for suspicious signs, including anyone who seems a little too uninteresting. I’m glad you came. I have a message for you.”
“You lured me here just to deliver a message?”
“I wouldn’t want to go head to head with you magically. But I know you won’t try anything with so much collateral damage around waiting to happen.”
I watched a set of twins with matching hair twists ride past on the carousel, squealing and waving to thei
r watching parents in between trying to hang onto the poles of their metal ponies. “I won’t attack you,” I growled through gritted teeth. “Say what you have to say and go.”
He leaned behind me so his lips grazed my earlobe. His breath burned my skin. “The cult is coming for you. They’ll be here within days.”
Hold still, I ordered my muscles. Don’t flinch. Don’t run. “They finally decided you need backup? Not competent enough to get me yourself?”
“Not just backup, little enchantress. The cult.”
Knots formed in my stomach. “Everyone?”
“Everyone old enough to manage their powers.”
“Geralt?”
I could feel his smile curve behind me like a coiling viper. “He’s looking forward to a reunion.”
My knees turned to water. Only locking them kept me standing. “He wouldn’t dare. This is Void territory.”
“Void territory is not so sacrosanct as it once was. Our people are on the rise, little enchantress. You and your pet Voids are just a step we’ll climb on our way.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I spun and faced him, stared into the cold eyes of a killer. “He won’t get me. I’ll run.”
“Go ahead. It won’t stop Geralt’s plans for this city, and it won’t protect you. I may not be the strongest enchanter, but I make good tracking magic, and your apartment gave me access to enough items to hunt you down for years. Run away, and all you’ll do is bring us down on the next place you try to build a home.”
A broad figure appeared on the second level balcony. Desmond spotted me by the carousel, and fury set his mouth in a determined line when he realized who I was talking to. Then his eyes took in the rest of the crowd, the people who would be witnesses if we tried to take Vince down. He worked his jaw and looked at me, his face a mask of questions.
I shook my head silently. Nothing good would happen if we attacked Vince. And we had bigger problems now.
Vince glanced up at the walkway. Tipping his floppy hat, he gave a mocking bow, then started past the carousel back along the pier. Desmond began to follow, but I waved him down. He descended the nearest wooden staircase and came to meet me. Anger clouded his face. “One corner. He rounded one corner, and got away from me. I’m going to kill Harrow. His patrols should have caught this guy before he came near the coffee shop.”
“They didn’t know we were here. And Vince uses disguises. He must have slipped past them.”
“Why aren’t we chasing? He can’t get far.”
“He’s not running away. He was luring us here. Luring me. To deliver a message.” I swallowed, and my knees quivered. Just in time, Desmond guided me to a nearby bench. I sank onto the metal slats, feeling as if a mountain were slowly falling toward me. “Geralt is coming for me, Desmond. Personally. He’s already on his way here, with the rest of the cult.”
Desmond exhaled slowly. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, sure the fear that grasped me must also be settling on his face. But when he tipped my chin upward, his smile had a grim satisfaction to it. “This is a good thing, Adrienne. We can finally end this.”
“You don’t understand.” I pushed his hand down. “Geralt isn’t a regular enchanter. He’s stronger than me, and he has decades more practice.”
“Good thing I’m a Void.”
“I’m an anti-Void weapon, Desmond. He’ll use me against you. He’s an expert at using people against one another.”
Desmond put a hand on my knee and used his other to brush hair from my eyes. “Adrienne, Vince told you this to spook you into doing something panicky, like running out of your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re afraid, and you have good reason to be. But you’re also not exactly clear-minded when it comes to this man. Don’t you think you might be jumping to the worst case scenario?”
“I’m not jumping. This is the worst case scenario.”
“Okay, let’s assume it is. What do you plan to do, then?”
“I can’t run anymore. Vince has been tracking me. And I can’t just wait for the tracking magic to wear off, either. With access to my apartment, he can probably find other things to focus new enchantments. He’ll find a way to hunt me down.” I dropped my head into my hands, letting my black hair fall forward to hide my face. I breathed slowly, filling my lungs to capacity to ward off a panic attack. “I can’t run. I kept thinking of it as my final option, but it’s no longer on the table.”
Desmond swept my hair aside again and leaned over so I had to look at him. “Was it ever?”
To my surprise, an answer popped out of my mouth. “No.” I blinked. The word felt foreign. Facing Geralt seemed like a fantasy from someone else’s life. Yet my heart told the truth. I’d resolved to do this long ago. At some point I’d decided to stay in San Francisco, to fight back, no matter what. This was the city where I would make my stand. “No,” I repeated, wondering at my own resolve. “I guess it wasn’t.”
“You’ve said yourself they’re relentless,” Desmond said. “Whenever they caught up to you, you’d have faced them alone. You have friends here, Adrienne. Allies who will fight alongside you.”
“My magic isn’t working right,” I whispered. “Even if we fight, I might not be able to do anything.”
“All enchanters draw from the same magic in an area, right? So their magic will be just as unpredictable.”
“What if we fail?”
“What if we don’t?” He smiled again, tracing his finger along my cheek. Moisture trailed his touch, and I realized I’d started to cry.
I slid closer to him and buried my face in his chest. “How can I want to fight back, but still feel so afraid?”
His arms tightened around me. “You may have powers the rest of us can only dream of, but you’re still human.”
“I never wanted this. I didn’t want to put you in danger. Or Kendall, or Sam. Or even the Void Union. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”
“Even knowing what was coming, I still would have decided to hire you.”
“You didn’t hire me, I rent space from you.”
“Semantics.”
“You’re trying to make me argue, to make me feel better.”
“I’m not trying. I’m succeeding. By the way, that weird string thing you made for the art show looks like a mop.”
In spite of myself, I smirked. “It’s macramé, you heathen.”
“That sounds like a French dessert.”
“Maybe you should taste it. It’s probably the right culinary level to appeal to your base palate.”
“I’ll take a bite. After I finish eating woodchips.”
I pushed myself off him, brushing away tears and no longer trying to hide my smile. “All right, fine. My lingering anxiety about Geralt may not be entirely rational. I still don’t know if we can defeat him. But we have to try.”
“Fortunately we have someone on our side who was raised in his cult.” Desmond gave my hand a squeeze. “We’ll need a plan. What do you suggest?”
My thoughts turned inward, dredging my memories for what I knew of Geralt’s personality, his habits, his abilities. “He sent Vince with that message for a reason. He wants to spook me. Maybe he’s trying to make me run, so I’ll be easier to grab. Or maybe he wants to drive me to the Union, to put me in their midst so it’s easier to detonate me and kill them. Either way, his goal is to terrify me.”
“All right. How do we use that?”
“We let him think he’s succeeded,” I said slowly. “We’ll need to talk to Harrow and the others to get everything set up. But I know our starting point. We know somewhere he’s going to be.”
“Where?”
“Wherever he can find me.”
Chapter 24
I HACKED MY KNIFE through thick folds of crimson cotton, savoring the ripping sound as the blade opened gashes in the cloth. A standing fan on a chair by my worktable blew the tattered edges, making them flutter in the midnight gloom. I paused to watch the butchered fabric dance. As soon as I did
, fear tried to surge up and drag me into a place darker than the night choking the street outside.
I stabbed back into the cloth. My craft knife stuck in the twisted ball of sticks over which I’d draped the fabric. I wrenched it free, unleashing a shower of tiny splinters. Again I attacked the display.
The plan was in motion.
Bane Harrow was informing the other Voids at the Union and preparing them for battle.
Desmond and Kendall had a list of tasks to accomplish at Haven. They had waited for nightfall, parked the truck behind the store, and had then proceeded to make as much noise as they could for as long as possible, to give the best chance that someone would notice what they were doing. Even now they were packing up my pieces for the art show, along with my most-used art supplies, my box of enchanted jewelry, Desmond’s current carving projects, the store computer, and shipping labels and boxes for filling our online orders. To anyone watching, it would be obvious they were preparing for a long absence. During the day I’d hastily crafted some defensive enchantments, tied to objects that could be set around the store. When Desmond and Kendall left, they’d set them up to prevent unwelcome visitors.
Veronica was packing up her surveillance outpost equipment, since the coffee shop had been compromised. It could no longer serve as a monitoring station, but Veronica had promoted Bethany to manager for the girl’s quick thinking. At least its income could be salvaged.
Everybody had their tasks, and had set about them with a will.
Except me.
My job was to stay in a secluded hotel room, well-guarded by Voids, and get some sleep in preparation for tomorrow possibly being my last day alive.
At least Harrow had provided me with art supplies. Mangled red fabric strips fluttered in the fan’s breeze, their ends slapping the surface of my worktable. Draped over the ball of sticks, which was mounted on a small metal stand, the strips looked like a fire burning upside-down. I couldn’t see any places left to slash, so I dropped the knife and picked up my hot glue gun, along with a fragment of amber lace from a pile on the hotel desk. I started gluing lace to the fabric monster haphazardly, not thinking about my work but letting emotion dictate what I stuck where.
