Cloak & Ghost: Rebel Cell

by Moeller, Jonathan

  It wasn’t half-bad coffee, come to think of it, and I felt better at once. A psychosomatic reaction, no doubt, but I would take what I could get. I told myself to calm down. Maybe I was overreacting. Perhaps tonight was nothing more than a boring party for a pompous prick of an Elven noble, and that would be that.

  “Nadia?”

  It was a woman’s voice, clear and calm with an accent like a British newscaster.

  I turned in surprise, the half-finished cup of coffee still in my hand.

  A woman approached. She was a few inches taller than me, her height further enhanced by her high-heeled boots. Her outfit could be best described as “Corporate Power Bitch,” with a white blouse, a black jacket, and black slacks, her black hair bound in a bun with a pair of black lacquered sticks. She had icy blue eyes in a sharp-featured face, but she was smiling when she saw me.

  And unlike everyone else in Baron Kaldmask’s mansion, I could see her ring.

  She wore a ring identical to mine on the third finger of her right hand, a golden band set with a crystal that looked like a ruby but wasn’t because it had been made from her heart’s blood.

  Her name was Caina Amalas, and like me, she was a shadow agent of the High Queen. And unlike me, she was a valikarion, able to see magical fields. She was also immune to mind-effecting spells and illusions, and she bore a sword that could pierce any spell.

  And if Caina was here…

  “Oh, boy,” I said. “There’s going to be trouble, isn’t there?”

  ***

  Chapter 3: Trouble

  Caina looked at Nadia MacCormac.

  She was surprised to see Nadia here.

  Though Caina had to admit that Nadia didn’t look out place. As Caina had observed during their earlier meetings, Nadia cleaned up nicely. With her sleek black dress, heels, makeup, and jewelry, she looked rather striking. She looked like someone’s pretty wife.

  Except for the crazed look in her gray eyes.

  Hiding a look like that was hard. Caina understood. She sometimes saw something similar when she looked in the mirror.

  Nadia took a quick look around. “Did our…um, mutual employer send you?”

  “No,” said Caina. She blinked. “Did she send you?”

  “Yeah,” said Nadia. “We should probably talk.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Caina, and she got herself a cup of coffee. “What’s going on?”

  “This morning our employer sent me a message via the ring,” said Nadia, waggling the fingers on her right hand. “She wanted me to come here tonight, to keep an eye out for anything unusual, and then report back to her.”

  “That’s it?” said Caina. “Nothing else?”

  “No,” said Nadia. “That was it. No other details. It was really frustrating.” The Midwestern twang in her voice got sharper when she grew agitated.

  “I’m afraid our employer is occasionally enigmatic,” said Caina.

  “Occasionally?” said Nadia. “My first job for her, she put you on it as well. And she didn’t tell either of us.”

  “It worked out in the end,” said Caina.

  “I got shot in the shoulder.”

  “Except for that,” said Caina. “I…saw your chat with the Baron. What did he want?”

  “Honestly?” Nadia scowled. “I don’t know. I think he saw me on the Sky Hammer video, figured out who I work for, and freaked out. He cast the mindtouch spell and looked into my head.”

  “Really?” said Caina. “That was quite a breach of public decorum. And you fought him off?”

  “Yep.”

  “How?” said Caina. She had known Nadia was a powerful wizard, but strong enough to fight off an Elven noble…

  Nadia grinned. It wasn’t a pleasant expression. Her gray eyes had gone flat and cold. Caina saw a sudden faint aura of magic around her as if Nadia had started subconsciously holding her power.

  “I had a bad day once,” said Nadia, her voice soft. “I just showed him that.” She took a deep breath, and Caina saw the effort she expended to pull herself together. “But…why are you here? Did our boss send you?”

  “No,” said Caina. “I haven’t heard from her since our little problem at Kardamnos Memorial Hospital.”

  Nadia nodded. “Then you’re here on business for Ghost Securities?”

  “Sort of,” Caina confessed. “We haven’t taken any contracts from the Baron. To be frank,” she lowered her voice, lest someone overhear her and level an accusation of elfophobia, “he’s too mercurial and too erratic. And our headquarters is based in Queens, not Brooklyn, so he doesn’t have any authority over us. But I thought it wise to attend anyway, lest he notice our absence and take offense.”

  “Smart,” said Nadia.

  “Also,” said Caina, “I hate to admit it, but I did have a personal reason for coming.”

  “Did you?” said Nadia. She smiled for the first time. “You don’t have a date, do you? Because if you do, that is a terrible outfit for a first date. The guy will think you want to audit him.”

  “I don’t have a date, no,” said Caina. Truth be told, she hadn’t been on a date in a long time, nor really felt any need to do so. Maybe that part of her had died with Corwin Aberon. “Have you ever heard of a writer named Malcolm Lock?”

  A strange look went over Nadia’s face. “I have. You were reading one of his books at the hospital.”

  “I saw that he was on the guest list for tonight,” said Caina. “And…I thought, well, if I have to show up tonight and listen to the Baron’s interminable speech, I might as well see if I can meet Mr. Lock.”

  “No way,” said Nadia.

  Caina raised an eyebrow. “You know Mr. Lock?”

  “I do,” said Nadia. She grinned, and this time there was actual mirth in it. “What the hell, you’re a friend. Maybe I’ll see if I can introduce you tonight.”

  “That would be quite kind,” said Caina. “Is Riordan here?”

  “Yeah,” said Nadia, craning her neck. Caina followed her gaze and spotted Riordan talking to a man on the far side of the hall. “I just went to get some coffee to settle my thoughts after his lordship the Baron decided to rummage around inside of my skull.”

  “I must say,” said Caina. “Your husband fills out a suit rather nicely, doesn’t he?”

  Nadia gave her a suspicious look. “He’s mine. Get your own.”

  Caina laughed. “Don’t worry on my account. I’m afraid he’s not my type.” For that matter, she wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with a Shadow Hunter, with someone that powerful and dangerous. But Nadia was powerful and dangerous, so it balanced out.

  “That’s good to know,” said Nadia. “What is your type, anyway?”

  A memory flashed through Caina’s mind of Corwin, dead in London saving her life two and a half years earlier.

  “I’m afraid I’m really more of a loner,” said Caina.

  “Ah,” said Nadia. “So you haven’t called Kylon Kardamnos yet?”

  Caina gave her a sharp look. “What? How did you…”

  Nadia grinned. “See, you’re not the only one who can be observant. That was part of the reason Andromache Kardamnos was mad at you. You have a thing for her brother.”

  “I do not have a thing for her brother,” said Caina. “His fiancée was a necromancer, and I helped stop her, and…why are we even talking about this?”

  Nadia shrugged. “You brought it up.”

  “This is vengeance for noticing that your husband looks good in a suit, isn’t it?” said Caina. “Well, I retract my observation. He looks like a used car salesman.”

  Nadia laughed. “No, he doesn’t. But I can’t blame you for being observant, can I?” She sighed and took a sip of coffee. “I’m being rude. I mean, that’s my default state, but having someone poke around inside my head makes me cranky. Not that you have to worry about that.”

  “No,” said Caina. If Kaldmask tried to look inside her head, he would be surprised when the spell failed. But she would pr
efer that as few people as possible knew that she was a valikarion.

  “The dinner’s going to start soon,” said Nadia, glancing around the hall. “Why don’t you sit with Riordan and me? If there’s going to be trouble, we can keep an eye out for it together. Though it doesn’t seem like there’s going to be any problems. We can be bored and watchful, and you can talk to Riordan about Malcolm Lock books.”

  “He’s read them?” said Caina.

  “He’s somewhat familiar with them, yeah,” said Nadia. Which was something of a peculiar answer, come to think of it. “Come on.” She turned towards the table with the coffee makers. “I promised Riordan I would bring him a cup of coffee. Can you believe that Baron Kaldmask doesn’t like coffee?” She glanced around, likely fearing that someone would overhear her criticism of the Baron’s beverage preferences and accuse her of elfophobia. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

  “Priggish arrogance combined with thin-skinned insecurity?” said Caina.

  “That sure sums it up.” Nadia reached for one of the empty white cups. “We…”

  The lights flashed once, and a calm voice came over the speakers.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said an announcer, “please rise for the singing of ‘God Bless America’ and the Baron’s address.”

  “Aw, damn it,” muttered Nadia. They would have to stand here for several minutes. It was customary for the Elven nobles to begin their birthday celebrations with a brief address. “Do you see where Riordan went? There must be two thousand people in here.”

  “No,” said Caina, giving a quick scan of the vast room. “We’ll find him after the song and the Baron’s speech is done…”

  Music started playing over the speakers, and Caina was obliged to put her right hand over her heart and sing “God Bless America And God Save The High Queen” with the rest of the Baron’s guests. Which felt a little odd, since she was British, but that didn’t matter. Whether in the US or the UK, failing to participate in these occasional public displays was an excellent way to get investigated for elfophobia. Caina couldn’t sing very well, and she couldn’t remember all the words anyway, so she mouthed along for most of the song. Fortunately, most of the people in the hall did know the song, and they sang with gusto. Caina glanced at Nadia and saw that she was mouthing the song as well, her eyes never ceasing to move over the crowds. Either she was looking for her husband or watching for trouble. Both, most likely.

  The song ended, and Baron Kaldmask strode onto the stage, flanked by some of his vassal knights, and started making a speech.

  “Thank you all so very much for coming,” said Kaldmask, making no effort to hide his sarcasm. “I am sure you would all have places you would much rather be, but have deigned to visit your overlord and eat his food and drink his wine…”

  With that cheery introduction, Kaldmask launched into a long, rambling, passive-aggressive speech that bordered on the whiny. The Baron complained that his human subjects did not appreciate all that he had done for them. He ranted that the other Elven nobles (he was at least wise enough not to give names) did not understand his wisdom and courage. Kaldmask also complained now that the Day of Return had come and Kalvarion and Earth were united under a single ruler, both Elves and humans would continue to fail to appreciate his immense achievements and neglect to give him the recognition he deserved.

  The crowd listened in polite silence.

  “Dear God,” murmured Nadia. “Is he ever going to stop talking?”

  “Soon, I hope,” said Caina. She kept herself from sighing. “But he’s probably going to talk for at least an hour. We…”

  She frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” said Nadia. “Do you…” She fell silent, her eyes widening as she felt what Caina could see with the sight of the valikarion.

  Someone was casting a powerful spell in the dining hall. Caina looked back and forth, trying to find the source of the arcane currents. Even as she looked, there was a flare of blue-silver light in the center of the room, and suddenly a huge glowing symbol covered the floor in patterns of swirling lines and sigils.

  It was a Seal spell, a warding spell designed to cover a specific area. Specifically, it was a Seal of Unmasking, a spell that would prevent any illusion magic from functioning within the warded space. Caina thought it covered the entire dining hall, and perhaps some of the surrounding rooms of Kaldmask’s mansion.

  “What the hell?” said Nadia. The irritated boredom had vanished from her expression, and now she looked ready for a fight. Already Caina saw the glow as she drew in magical power for a spell.

  “I don’t know,” said Caina, looking around. “Someone just cast that…”

  “What is this?” shouted Kaldmask, his voice thundering over the speakers. “Who dares to interrupt the speech of your Baron? Who…”

  “Caina,” said Nadia, “we need to find Riordan right…”

  The explosion interrupted the rest of her sentence.

  The wall behind the coffee station ripped apart in a blast of fire and debris. Caina was standing closer to the wall than Nadia, and the shock wave from the blast slammed into her back and side. Her last thought before the explosion took her was that there had been other explosions, that she saw a half-dozen more fireballs blooming around the dining hall.

  Then Caina hit the floor hard, and everything went black.

  For a while, she knew nothing more. Some impressions came to her reeling mind. People screaming, women crying, voices raised in command, the crack of gunfire.

  Her mind started to come back into focus.

  She was lying on her side against the wall, a wrecked table in front of her. Caina felt as if she had been in a moderately bad traffic collision. But she didn’t think she had been injured too badly. Everything hurt, but none of it with the agony of a severe injury or a broken bone. There was something wet and hot on her forehead and the left side of her face. Blood, most likely. Her eyes started to clear, and she saw that the main lighting in the hall had gone out. Emergency lights threw their harsh glow from the walls, covering everything in shadow, and more light came from various fires burning throughout the room.

  Noises came to her ears, shouts and screams.

  Then a man shouted, and there was a burst of automatic gunfire.

  “Shut up!” roared the man. “All of you shut up and pay attention!”

  Caina’s eyes swam back into focus, and she took in the scene.

  The guests, thousands of them, were on their knees, their hands laced behind their heads. Over a hundred men moved up and down the aisles, all of them armed with AK-47 rifles, the sort that turned up in police forces across the globe. The men wore a motley array of equipment – tactical vests and pieces of body armor and cargo pants, grenades and pistols hanging from their harnesses.

  “Where is the Baron?” Caina’s eyes focused on the speaker. He stood in the center of the hall, a hard-faced, unshaven man with graying black hair. Her eyes and groggy mind started to sort through details. The man was middle-aged, late forties or early fifties, fit and heavy with muscle. He spoke English with a Spanish accent. Not Mexican or Central or South American, but Spanish. A fact emerged from her memory. Spain had possessed a strong Rebel element, to the point where several provincial and municipal governments had secretly been controlled by the Rebels and Dark Ones cultists. Nearly all of them had rallied to Nicholas Connor’s side, and most of them had been killed in the destruction of Venomhold during the battle of New York back in July.

  Maybe some of them had survived.

  “Where is the Baron?” thundered the Spanish man again. “I will speak to the Baron! Else I shall start executing one hostage every minute until…”

  “Enough!”

  Kaldmask and two Elven knights strode towards the gunman, Kaldmask’s face a scowling mask of arrogant contempt. Caina wondered what the gunman’s plan was. Bullets did not work on Elves. They left a bit of minor bruising and nothing else. If fifty or sixty of the gunmen opened up on Kaldmask
at once, they might cause enough bruising to induce a fatal hemorrhage, but Kaldmask would kill them all with his magic long before it came to that.

  “You are the leader?” said Kaldmask.

  “Correct,” said the gunman, shifting his AK-47 to his left hand and drawing a pistol with his right. “My name is Gabriel Navarre. It is such an honor to meet you, at last, your noble lordship.”

  “You will surrender at once,” said Kaldmask, his sneer intensifying. “You might think to terrorize my subjects, but you have no weapon that can harm me. Surrender now, or else my knights and I shall kill you all…”

  Navarre smiled, raised his pistol, and squeezed the trigger once.

  The Elven knight on Kaldmask’s left jerked back, his forehead exploding in a spray of blood, and fell limp to the ground. Kaldmask’s eyes went wide, his jaw falling open in shock. Under less dire circumstances, his expression would have been comical.

  “I’m afraid your assumption is incorrect, my lord,” said Navarre. “I have a gun loaded with bullets forged from Shadowlands ore, and so do many of my men.” He beckoned, and four more of the gunmen came to join him. “I’m afraid you are our prisoner now, my lord, as are all your knights and guests.”

  “What do you want?” said Kaldmask, glowering at Navarre.

  “Repayment,” said Navarre. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Some rogue and criminal,” said Kaldmask. “Hardly worth my time.”

  “I am the last surviving officer of the Revolution,” said Navarre. “The time has come to take vengeance for our slain leader, vengeance for our comrades murdered in the explosion of the Sky Hammer. One of my men will present our demands to Homeland Security. And until those demands are met, we shall execute one Elven and one human hostage every hour.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” said Kaldmask. “You invite inevitable destruction upon your head…”