Except now I was one of those rich women.
How the hell had that happened?
Well, I knew how it had happened since I had been there for all of it. But I had expected it to end with me dead in a nuclear explosion and Russell dying of frostfever. Instead, Russell was cured, the war with the Archons was over, and I was married to Riordan.
Though I did have a hundred and fifty-eight years’ worth of horrible memories inside my skull.
But it could have been worse. It could have been so much worse. Ashes and bones, that was what the High Queen had said. New York had nearly been reduced to ashes and bones.
“Nadia?” murmured Riordan.
Hell, was I crying? Damn it, I had teared up a little bit. All the bad stuff in my head tended to come out at odd times. Which was damned inconvenient, let me tell you.
“It’s the wind,” I said. “Makes my eyes dry out.”
He gripped my hand. I wasn’t fooling him. “I thought it was your shoes.”
“My shoes?” I said. “They’re not exactly comfortable, but it’s not like they actually hurt.”
“That’s good,” murmured Riordan, quiet enough that no one else could hear. “Because they make your ass look amazing.”
I laughed, despite myself. I could see what Riordan was doing. He had gotten good at noticing when I was starting to sink into an evil mood and derailing my train of thought. But even if I knew what he was doing, it still worked, and I was grateful for it.
“Yeah, well,” I said, “if you keep sweet-talking me like that, maybe when this is done you’ll see me with the shoes on and nothing else.” I blew out a breath. “Suppose we should pay attention now. In case there is trouble.”
“Yes,” said Riordan. “Plenty of time to flirt later.”
But there wasn’t any trouble, at least not yet. I didn’t say anything as I looked at the crowd making its way through the doors. Mostly local dignitaries. Business owners and politicians and actors and the like. I suppose at least some of them had to be corrupt or on the take, but they didn’t seem like the sort of people who would make trouble at an Elven lord’s birthday party. But appearances can be deceiving.
At last Riordan and I reached the head of the line. Two security men in suits stood there, both middle-aged men with the grizzled look of former men at arms. Riordan produced his invitation from inside his coat, and one of the men scanned it with his smartphone. The device beeped, and the man nodded.
“Welcome to Baron Kaldmask’s celebration, Mr. Lock,” said the guard.
“Thank you,” said Riordan, and we entered the hall.
It was a big space, at least as large as a mid-sized sports arena. The floor was polished, gleaming hardwood that made a resonant click against my heels with every step that I took. There was a big balcony on the left-hand wall that ran the length of the hall, but it looked like it had been closed for the party. On the main floor, hundreds of round tables had been set up and covered with white tablecloths, gleaming place settings, and elaborate centerpieces with glass beads and candles. On the far left side of the hall, I saw a small army of caterers laboring with steam trays. Already a good-sized crowd of guests stood speaking in low voices, and black-clad servers moved among them with trays of food and drink. At the far wall was a dais where Lord Kaldmask and his various knights and retainers would sit. So far it was empty. The Baron would likely not put in an appearance until the party began. Some Elven nobles mingled with their subjects before the party started. Kaldmask did not seem like that kind of man.
A smiling woman in a black uniform took our coats and presented Riordan with a pair of receipts for them. I tucked the receipt into my clutch bag. One downside of dressing up – no pockets anywhere. Maybe Riordan was right, and the dress and shoes might have made my ass look amazing, but there was no place to conceal a gun anywhere.
Not that I needed a gun to kill anyone.
“Now what?” I said.
“We mingle,” said Riordan.
“God help us,” I said. “You know, I’ve been to these things a hundred times. But it was always to steal something. I kind of wish the High Queen had given me something more specific to do. I think I’d rather steal something than mingle.”
“Well,” said Riordan, “that’s the mayor of New York over there. That’s the governor of New York state. I think that’s the head of Homeland Security for Brooklyn. And that’s the CEO of New Robotics Corporation, the place that’s building all those automated tractors for Kalvarion.”
“Man,” I said. “Now I really wish I was here to steal something. I’d make a killing.” I glanced up at him. “Do you enjoy these things? Parties like this?”
“Not really,” said Riordan. “But they’re sometimes necessary, I’m afraid.”
My eyes flicked to the side. A man in a suit was approaching us. He looked like he was in early middle age, with graying blond hair, a craggy weather-beaten face, and bloodshot brown eyes. The suit was expensive, but it looked a little out of place on him. Like he was a bar bouncer who had come into some unexpected money.
“Riordan,” said the man, his hard face relaxing in a smile. He had a thick German accent.
“Markus,” said Riordan, and they shook hands. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I was not expecting to be here,” said Markus. Despite his accent, he spoke English with careful precision. “I only returned to the US two days ago. Then the Firstborn asked me to represent the Family at this gathering, so here I am.” His eyes flicked to me, and I had the impression that he recognized me. Probably from that damned video of me shooting Nicholas Connor and throwing the Sky Hammer into Venomhold. “I was not expecting to see you here. Especially with a very charming companion.”
“This is Nadia, my wife,” said Riordan. “Nadia, this is Markus Leyen. We’ve worked together in the past. He handles a lot of the Family’s assets and holdings.”
That meant he was a Shadow Hunter, able to draw on his Shadowmorph for speed and strength. That would also indicate he had excellent self-control. Shadowmorphs fed on life force and transferred some of that energy to their hosts as speed and strength and vitality. Apparently, a Shadowmorph was almost always hungry. A Shadow Hunter who lost control of his Shadowmorph usually became an insane serial killer until the Family hunted him down and killed him.
That had happened to the last woman Riordan had been with before me. She had been a Shadow Hunter, but she had succumbed to her Shadowmorph and tried to kill Riordan. That was why I attempted to cheer up Riordan when that grim look came over his face. I might have been the crazier of the two of us, but he had some bad memories, too.
“Hi,” I said. “Nice to meet you.” We shook hands. He had big hands, callused from a combination of weight lifting and weapons practice.
“Nadia MacCormac,” said Markus, and he pumped by hand once and released it. I had a sudden image of him filing away my picture inside a mental file cabinet. “You are the one our Elven lords call the Worldburner, yes?”
“Yup,” I said. I just managed not to grimace. That damned video. “That was me.”
To my surprise, he smiled. “You are a good match for Riordan, I am thinking. I must confess Riordan was the last man I thought would get married.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, “if a man pulls you out of the Shadowlands at the last second before a nuclear bomb goes off, you know he’s someone you can trust.”
Markus blinked once, and then looked at Riordan. “Does she have a sister?”
I laughed at that and decided I liked him. “No. No sisters.”
“Mmm. Pity. The good ones are always taken,” said Markus.
“What brings you back to the US?” said Riordan.
“Trouble,” said Markus. “We are going to be very busy for a while, I am thinking. The Firstborn and the Elders believe that the Sky Hammer device weakened the wall between our world and the Shadowlands, and most of the Elven nobles are concurring. It is now easier for rift ways to form spont
aneously and for dangerous creatures to slip through.” He frowned. “Additionally, it shall be easier for humans to spontaneously manifest magical powers. Some of them will abuse that power.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, remembering the spiteful Dr. Harper and the twisted domain of Lost Gate.
Markus blinked. “You are familiar with the concept?”
“Last week,” said Riordan, “we encountered a man who manifested magical ability and had a copy of the Summoning Codex. He summoned up a maelogaunt, and it ensnared him. No one else died but the summoner, thankfully, but it was still a mess.”
“Your wife, she helped you?” said Markus, startled.
I gave him my humorless rictus of a grin, the one that seemed to scare people. “I’m good at what I do, Mr. Leyen.”
“Of that, I am not doubting,” said Markus. “That wretched Summoning Codex. It has caused us more problems, and more copies keep…is something wrong?”
He had seen me frown.
“The Baron’s here,” I said, voice quiet.
Baron Kaldmask, the Lord of Brooklyn, emerged from a door near the dais and strode across the event hall, his boots ringing against the wooden floor. He was tall, almost seven feet, and wore the long blue coat favored by Elven nobles at formal occasions, high-collared and buttoned to the throat. The Baron also wore the crimson cloak of an Elven noble thrown back from his shoulders. Four of his vassals, Elven knights, walked behind him, clad in similar but less ornate coats.
Kaldmask looked…peevish.
There was no better word to describe it. The Baron had golden hair and silver eyes in a sharp-boned face, the points of his ears rising into his hair, and he had the strange, alien beauty of the Elves. Despite that, he looked as if he had just taken a bite out of a lemon. His eyes swept back and forth as he stalked through his guests, who bowed or curtsied as he passed. Kaldmask ignored it all and then turned past one of the tables.
He was heading right for me and Riordan and Markus.
The Baron stopped in front of us, and Riordan and Markus offered a bow, and I bobbed a formal curtsy. That was one of the very few things I remembered from kindergarten, come to think of it. On the first day, the teacher showed us that video where the High Queen executed the government of the United States on Conquest Day, and then we learned how to address Elven nobles. Though I admit, it felt odd to perform the movement in a tight skirt.
“My lord Kaldmask,” said Riordan, “we are honored to be here on your birthday…”
“Yes, yes, thank you,” said Kaldmask. He had a deep voice, though it was marred with sour annoyance. His eyes fixed on me. “You. I know you.”
That goddamned video. Suddenly the High Queen’s purpose in sending me here became clear. She must have been annoyed with Kaldmask, and it was well-known among the Elven nobles that she had recruited me as a shadow agent after the battle of New York. So Tarlia had sent me to put some fear into Kaldmask…and Kaldmask had seen me come in. Likely he had been sitting in his security room watching his guests arrive through the mansion’s cameras.
Which was a really weird thing to do at your own birthday party.
“I have not yet had the honor of making your lordship’s acquaintance,” I said.
Kaldmask’s sour expression soured further. “She sent you, didn’t she? She sent you to spy on me.”
I glanced around. Everyone was staring at us. That could be a problem.
“I am privileged to attend your birthday celebration, my lord,” I said, thinking fast.
“My lord,” murmured one of the Elven knights. He looked worried. That had to be a common reaction to working for Kaldmask. “Perhaps you could speak with Mrs. Lock privately? There is no reason to mar your birthday celebration with a …unfortunate public spectacle…”
“Silence, Veldrin,” said Kaldmask. “I shall decide what mars my celebration.” He sounded so petulant that I almost laughed. “Why did she tell you to come here?”
I decided to tell the truth. “She told me to attend your lordship’s birthday celebration and make sure there wasn’t any trouble.”
“Trouble?” said Kaldmask. “Trouble? I shall show you trouble.”
“My lord,” said Veldrin, but Kaldmask put his right hand on my forehead and cast the mindtouch spell, looking into my thoughts.
That was a mistake.
For him, I mean.
I was a hundred and eighty years old, but I had spent a hundred and fifty-eight of those years getting killed in various horrible ways every single day. Did he want to look through my mind? Well, he was welcome to sift through some of those memories.
I saw his silver eyes go wide as I seized his mindtouch spell with my will, and I shoved his spell into my memories of my century and a half in the Eternity Crucible.
Kaldmask didn’t like that at all.
He flinched and staggered back, shock flickering across his face. Veldrin and the other Elven knights frowned and reached for the pistols holstered at their belts. I really hoped I wasn’t about to start a fight. Kaldmask had the authority to order my arrest. Which would get him in trouble with the High Queen, and probably cause a conflict with the Shadow Hunters. And the High Queen would be annoyed with me for starting a fight with Kaldmask…
The Baron let out a shuddering breath and released the mindtouch spell. I had a nasty, throbbing headache from the telepathic contact, and it had stirred up all the memories of the Eternity Crucible. Which made me paranoid, made me want to look for anthrophages and wraithwolves in every corner.
“What are you?” hissed Kaldmask.
“I had a really bad day that lasted a really long time,” I said. “My lord.”
I saw calculation flash across Kaldmask’s face, and then he smirked.
“I’ll have my eye on you, Mrs. Lock,” said Kaldmask. “Best you stay out of trouble. The Baron of Brooklyn is not a man to cross.”
With that, he whirled and stalked away. Veldrin sighed, beckoned to the other knights, and they followed their lord across the hall. And that was that. Evidently, the Baron had decided he didn’t feel like a confrontation.
I sighed, let out a breath, and rubbed my temples.
“What was that all about?” Markus said.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Guess the Baron saw that video and knew who I was, and he wanted to make sure that I wouldn’t ruin his birthday party.”
“Are you all right?” said Riordan. “He cast the mindtouch spell on you.”
“Yeah, he did,” I said. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It just…stirred up my head, that’s all.” I rubbed my forehead again. “Christ, this is a fancy party. Isn’t there any coffee here?”
“There is a drinks bar over in the corner,” said Markus, pointing.
“I’ll go with you,” said Riordan.
“I just need to walk for a bit,” I said. “I'll have a look around. You guys can talk about Shadow Hunter business.”
“Actually, I would like to discuss some problems with some of our holdings,” said Markus to Riordan. “The Firstborn and the Elders would like to conduct an audit of our US accounts, to check for any discrepancies in the general ledger.”
“That sounds thrilling,” I said. “Uh, I’m just going to get some coffee. I’ll be right back as soon as I find some. Do you want anything?”
I saw the conflict go over Riordan’s face, but he nodded. He did have something of an overprotective streak, but he had come by it honestly, considering what had happened to his first wife. And without that overprotective streak of his, I probably would have been killed during Nicholas Connor’s search for the Sky Hammer.
“Coffee,” said Riordan, his voice quiet. “I’d like some coffee. If you want to get some.”
“Sure,” I said. “Seems like a wifely thing to do, right?” I leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. “Be right back.”
With that, I headed off for the far side of the hall. I drew a few odd looks. The hall was large enough and the party big enough that not many people had seen my
peculiar little confrontation with the Baron. But those who had didn’t want to approach me, which made sense. That didn’t bother me since I was basically a loner.
But I had a sharp headache and was tired, and I just wanted to go home.
I looked around as I walked, but I didn’t see anything out of place. Of course, if competent thieves were preparing to raid the Baron’s mansion, I wouldn’t see anything out of place. After all, I had robbed places like this countless times, and I had always gotten away with it, at least until the Lord Inquisitor had caught me. I glanced at the black-uniformed catering workers and servers, wondering if they planned to rob the mansion.
Then I decided I didn’t care. The High Queen had told me to observe any unusual activity and report back to her, but she hadn’t said anything about stopping it, had she? If someone wanted to rob Kaldmask, let the asshole get robbed. It would serve him right for digging around inside my head, for stirring up all those memories of the Eternity Crucible so I saw monsters lurking in every shadow…
Damn it, Nadia! Keep your shit together.
I sucked down a few deep breaths, settled myself, and approached the improvised bar. The caterers had set up several folding tables and covered them with white cloths, and a slightly paunchy man in a vest and a bow tie served drinks. A tight vest isn’t a good look on a man with a paunch, at least not without a sports coat to smooth out the lines.
“Hi,” I said. “I’d really like some coffee. Two cups, please.”
“I’m sorry,” said the bartender. “We don’t have coffee here.”
“Why the hell not?” I said.
“The Baron doesn’t approve of coffee,” said the bartender.
Of course he didn’t.
I just stared at him.
Some of the crazy must have shown in my eyes, because the bartender forced a smile.
“But there is some coffee over there by the restrooms,” he said, pointing. “For guests who prefer coffee.”
“Thanks,” I said. I felt bad for scaring him, so I dug a ten-dollar bill out of my clutch bag and dropped it in his tip jar. I headed towards the restrooms, and I spotted another table holding three massive metal coffee pots, the sort you see in church basements. A row of white cups stood next to the coffee pots, and I grabbed one, filled it up, and took a sip.
Cloak & Ghost: Rebel Cell Page 3
