Heart of Gold: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Clans of Shadow Book 1)

by J. A. Cipriano

  I had no idea what possible function this room could have had. It was just a plain Jane chamber with two doors on opposite sides of the room. It wasn’t until my brain caught up, while I was pushing up to my feet, that its purpose became obvious. It was just another part of the endlessly repeating hallway. If we opened the opposite door, we’d walk right back into the endlessly repeating hallway we had just stepped out of. Well, screw that.

  “Molly, jam that door now!” There was the hard-ass hiding underneath the kindly grandma. “Frank, help me with Richter.”

  Molly didn’t go for subtlety, opting instead to slam one of her knives into the lock and shout a word in what I could only guess was Gaelic. Sparks flew out of the door jamb and that was that. Meanwhile, Luna and I sat Richter up against a wall.

  He was alive, but a bloody mess. The scary thing was I was pretty sure he could make it out of this if we were really damned lucky. His eye, though, was probably a lost cause. His other eye was shut tight and his teeth were clenched. The kid was likely going into shock fast.

  Luna planted the emerald-topped rod in her hand in the ground, which parted neatly for it. “Bloody hell! I can keep him alive with some trauma spells but–”

  “He’s not going to be fighting,” I concluded. “Yeah, figured.” I reloaded while we had this momentary respite.

  Molly hopped over us to the other door, sheathing both of her knives in favor of her unlocking gadget. “We need a plan. I’ll do my best ta keep the combination cyclin’ so those fuckin’ machines can’t unlock and open it in a jiff, but I’ll bet me last bullet I won’t be able ta hold it fer long.”

  Luna had pulled out a field medical kit (at least I figured it was, the kit we had in the Army sure didn’t have wands, platinum needles, and red glowing vials in them), still focused on Richter’s wounds. “We’re obviously in some kind of spatial or dimensional trap, a very deadly one.”

  “What we’re in is something called a tesseract,” I said with utter confidence. I’ll admit it, I was a bit surprised she didn’t know about them since Abner seemed to know all about them, but maybe she hadn’t read that particular report. “I can get us out of this, but I need to be able to concentrate. Basically, I won’t be good for shit else.” Even through the doors and walls, the sounds of motorized treads were getting louder by the second.

  Matter of fact, I was already putting thought into action, letting that golden filter fall down over my vision. Yep, the tapestry here was being all jumble-fucked by more of those chaos spiders. It was like Abner had said, this was a standard set-up for the Enders. This one was just a lot more of a death-trap as opposed to a holding pattern.

  The redhead and the grandma gave each other only a momentary glance before Luna spoke up. “Right then, there’s only one way we’re pulling this off.” She gently applied a gauze pad loaded with some green, twitching poultice over Richter’s eye that seemed to still his pained thrashing almost immediately. “My Storm Rod seems to fry the little buggers bloody good. I’ll hold here, keep the blighters busy, and keep Richter alive.”

  “But ma’am–” Molly tried to get the whole sentence out, but Luna cut her off.

  “No buts, Molly dear. You know I’m right. You’re just being your typical stubborn Irish self.” The older woman flashed Molly a smile. “Someone has to keep Frank safe while he gets you and him deeper in. The Bearer has to get through. Nothing else matters.”

  While I would like to fuck this Bearer thing right to Hell, and as much as I hated the idea of it, I knew Luna was right. “We’ve got to do this, Molly, or else there’s a kid I promised to save that isn’t coming back home to momma. Luna’s the boss and she’s got this figured out right.”

  Above anything else, I realized these people were going to lay down their lives for me. For whatever reason, whatever bullshit destiny they were fed, these folks believed in me and believed I could save their collective asses. I might have hated the burden of responsibility, but I swore to myself I wasn’t going to let these people down.

  Molly sighed and nodded as the hammering of shotgun pellets and robotic arms on the door we’d come through filled my ears. “You better come back in one piece, ma’am, or else I’ll be comin’ into the afterlife to haul you two back meself, aye?”

  “Understood, dear.” Luna glanced at me. Her eyes were steely and focused, but she had that soft, grandmotherly smile on her face. “Are you ready, Frank?”

  I squinted, no longer in the normal physical world at all. Remembering Abner’s instruction, I found the reality underneath the insane weavings of the chaos magic. “Got it, Luna.” I reached out for Molly’s shoulder, still able to make out my comrades by their own magical presences. “You ready to wreck some shit, Molly?”

  “Oh faith, Frank, I’m itchin’ fer it.” A strange fierceness had settled into her voice, and that scared me a little. It was never good when berserkers became serious. When they did, shit got way worse before it got better.

  Luna injected Richter with a shot of glowing red stuff and grabbed up her Storm Rod. “All right, open the other door. Wait for the thunder and go for it.”

  Molly twisted a crystal on the face of her meter, and the door swooshed open. Magical threads twisted and spiraled around Luna’s rod as she rushed through the open door and back into the tesseract.

  What came next was as textbook as anything possible could be in this swirling mass of magical bullshit. I didn’t need to wait for the clap of thunder. I could see the huge expulsion of magic when Luna brought the lightning down into the hall.

  As soon as I saw that surge of power, I squeezed Molly’s shoulder. “Go time! Into the hall and cut a right!”

  There was no hesitation on Molly’s part, and I had to really pump the old legs to keep up. We rushed into and down what I presumed was the hallway while breathing in lungfuls of burning ozone, slagged metal, and melting plastic. I blocked out the peals of thunder behind me. All I kept my eyes on was the ever-changing weave as shouted out more directions.

  I couldn’t tell you exactly how long it was before the sounds of the thunder faded away. Still, it felt like forever when the tapestry finally righted itself, and I knew we were safe even before Molly shouted, “We made it, Frank!”

  I shook my head, causing the golden overlay of the tapestry to fade away. The real world came back all at once, and I nearly stumbled as I looked around at our unfamiliar surroundings. “Fan-fucking-tastic. Where the hell are we now?”

  “Right where we need to be,” Molly replied. “Ye didn’t think I’d be steerin’ ye wrong, boyo?” The redhead’s armor was scratched and torn up and there was hydraulic fluid and who-knew-what else dripping off her knives. I hoped against hope that Luna and Richter were still alive, but I put the thought out of my mind. Dwelling on them now wouldn’t help. After this was over, well, I’d deal with it then.

  Apparently where we needed to be were the doors to the freight elevator Luna had mentioned earlier. “I won’t doubt you again, kid.” I pushed the up button and nodded. “Well, going up!”

  18

  It’s always a pain in the ass to have to wait on an elevator. It’s a million times more aggravating when you have to wait on said elevator with all the heavily-armed and over-magic’d security guards in the building hunting for you. The damn thing was taking long enough for the adrenaline to start to fade and the pain from my shoulder wound to catch up with me.

  “What’s taking this damned thing so long?” I hissed as I leaned against the wall, pressing my palm against my wound as it oozed golden blood. “Is this really a smart plan? Aren’t they going to shut off the elevators any minute now?”

  Molly sheathed her knives, digging into one of her belt pouches as she came over to me. “As long as we can get in the car, we’ll be fine. I’ve got a million tricks in me bag to keep the old thing runnin’.” She pulled out a small medical kit. “Which is also why the blasted thing is takin’ its sweet time. Might as well patch ye up a wee bit, eh?”

  She
had a sweet smile and a scattering of freckles over a button nose, so I wasn’t going to argue with some TLC right then. Yeah, and a pair of knives that were big enough to butcher an elephant, a fact that put things into proper perspective. I kept my mouth shut for once in my life and nodded an affirmative, keeping an eye open for rude interruptions.

  Once again, I missed Gabriela’s gentle touch as Molly had the bedside manner of, well, a front-line grunt. She cut away the last bits of my beloved APD shirt’s short sleeve and proceeded to prod, poke, and bandage the glittering pellet wounds with business-like efficiency. Despite my best efforts to not look at my own injuries with grisly fascination, I couldn’t help but notice that things looked way better than I thought they should. Sure, it was still a mess, but the golden scabs already starting to form shouldn’t have been there.

  Very unprofessionally, I lost my focus for a moment. It was really starting to sink in that I wasn’t the same guy I was before my heart exploded. Yeah, I had come to terms with everything around me changing. I knew intrinsically the world would never be the same for me due to the whole “magic-and-gods-are-real-and-shit,” but I had the stupid notion in my thick skull I was still just a normal Joe caught in the middle of this. If my golden blood told me anything, it was that the time for bullshitting myself was over.

  The sudden onset of self-introspection was thankfully interrupted by the loud chime of the elevator door opening. While I’d been lost in la-la land, Molly had finished my patch job and was keeping a careful watch like a good little soldier.

  “Glad ye snapped out of it, boyo,” she smirked. “Time ta go!” She slipped into the elevator, her universal crystal doodad clutched in one hand.

  “For the record, I still think this a dicey idea,” I muttered as I followed, Mossberg at the ready. The idea of getting into an elevator in a magically booby-trapped building seemed like a horrible idea. I mean, elevators were dangerous enough without magic. That sudden stop at the bottom would kill us just as quickly as any Dalek.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, if ye’d like, ye can take the stairs, all twenty floors of ‘em, and I’ll wait for ye.” She crossed her arms and gave me a look that made me think she seriously doubted my manliness.

  “No, I’m coming just so when this idea blows up in our faces, I can be there to say ‘I told you so,’” I said, hoping it wouldn’t actually be the case.

  The elevator was exactly like so many others I’d been in during my illustrious delivery boy career. Bigger than your average passenger elevator, it was old and a bit dingy, a stark contrast from the rest of the super-clean and shiny tech of the rest of the building. Even the ceiling of the car was higher up. In a better situation, you could have had a pretty sweet micro-party in there. Though there wasn’t a visible camera, it didn’t take a genius to know there had to be at least one hidden in the ceiling panels, not to mention a generously oversized maintenance hatch.

  Molly had already slammed her gizmo right into the control panel. I felt stupid for not asking more questions, but she seemed to know what to do and where we were going. “So we ride up the elevator, step into the big ritual chamber, I rip shit up, you grab Max, and we hope to not be shot to shit in the process?” Yeah, cynical I know, but my confidence in our success had been going down the shitter since we actually got in the building.

  “Ye paint such a bloody pretty picture there.” Molly whispered something soft, almost cooing to the device, and it began to glow a bright red. “Don’t play daft now. I think we all knew this wasn’t goin’ ta be a walk in the meadow goin’ in.” She straightened up and looked at me, her face dead-serious for the first time since we’d be introduced. “Yer not stupid and yer certainly not a coward. Yer here for a reason, so don’t lose yer shit now.” Her eyebrow arched and a mischievous glint flashed in those green eyes. “Or are ye one of those types that bitches up a storm ta hide how bloody nervous ye are?”

  I gave Molly a glare before shrugging it off with a laugh because she was right. I was nervous as hell. Sure, I was good at playing it tough, but already most of our team was down and we hadn’t even gotten to the main attraction. Still, it was better to bitch than to give up the ghost, right? If I succumbed to fear now, I might as well lie down and die.

  “Maybe I am, kid. Got to get the tension out somehow. Helps me shoot straight.” I gave the roof another scan as the elevator lurched into motion. “Can your gizmo do anything about the cameras I can’t see?”

  “Already did, but it’s of only a little help.” She pulled out her knives, fingers clenched through the knuckleduster handles. “They had to have made us the second we stepped into the lift.”

  “Right, so let me add ‘sitting ducks’ somewhere to my little battle plan.” I sighed and shook my head. “Well, fuck it. Better than running up twenty flights of stairs through a hail of gunfire and magical bullshit.”

  “Now that’s the right bit of optimism.” She stepped off to the side of the elevator door across from the controls. “This’ll just be a good bit of fun, eh?”

  I took up my own ambush point at the end of the elevator opposite the door. Taking a knee, I let my sweet shotgun take a rest, slinging it as I woke up Mr. Browning. Giving the high-powered rifle a quick check as we cranked through floors, I flipped off the safety and took careful aim at the door. My low profile would keep me out of the initial sight line of whoever would be on the end of the door when it opened (and I could damned well guarantee we’d have a welcoming committee at the top) and I was sure I could get off a few clean shots before things got into close combat. Once that happened, Molly could take over while I pulled out the Mossberg or the Colt. It wasn’t a great plan, but it was probably the best I could cobble together on such short notice.

  The moments passed slowly, the elevator climbing slowly and surely up through the building. Nothing makes a moment stretch into eternity like waiting on your imminent demise to come into view, and since this was a freight elevator, there wasn’t even crappy music. I could feel the beading of nervous sweat on my brow and the itch on my palms. Even the bouncy, enthusiastic Irish girl was fidgeting from foot to foot, her grip clenching and unclenching repeatedly on the grips of her knives.

  My eyes kept the occasional glance at the digital display above the door, so I can tell you exactly when things went to shit. We were ratcheting up between the tenth and the eleventh floor when the entire car rocked (impressive, considering how rock-steady these heavy elevators were) with a tremendous clang on the roof, metal on metal. I didn’t even think, letting instinct and reaction take over as I dropped to the deck, rolling in mid-fall. Rifle pointed at the roof and the source of that terrible sound, I pulled the trigger and hoped for the best.

  The .30-06 round tore through the roof like butter, and the sound of a ricochet echoed through the car from above. Not one to forget the rules of Zombieland, I did my due diligence and double-tapped, sending another shot to join its brother up above. Its trip ended with that same loud SPANG of a bullet bouncing off metal. That couldn’t be a good sign.

  The bad news compounded a moment later as the right side of the roof deformed with an ear-biting screech of metal fatigue before gauntleted fingers tore straight through. As the metal screech amplified, I rolled and scampered to the left side of the car while Molly did the same with a lot more grace. Whatever was up there was coming in and there wasn’t shit we could do about it now. We didn’t have a long wait. A hunk of the roof peeled away and our latest dance partner dropped down to introduce himself.

  It was a guy wearing black paramilitary gear that reminded me of the rest of the Enders. At least that’s what I thought because he was wearing black metallic armor. Well, it wasn’t just armor, no. Unless you’ve been living in a hole in the ground, you must have seen the military prototypes of the TALOS system. That’s the Tactical Assault Light Operator Suit for folks who just can’t bother to keep up with the news. You know, that crazy exoskeleton thing for soldiers to let them carry crazy shit and march for days, assumin
g they had a big enough battery cable.

  Well, leave it to anti-magic wizards to take it and turn it into the baby Iron Man suit everyone thought it would eventually be. Gone was the power cord hooked to the back. Instead, the big, obvious weak point, along with the rest of the frame, was layered with ceramic bulletproof plates. Strap on some mounted automatic weapons to each arm and etch runes on the whole thing and you’d be almost done.

  The helmet was especially weird, with a relatively open design of what was likely bulletproof glass to give the operator a good field of vision. It was death on two legs, that was for sure, and it, er, he was out for our blood.

  My first instinct was to throw down arms and surrender. My conscience and my sense of pride kicked the shit out of that instinct and made me raise my rifle. “Okay, pal, I’ll give you a chance to turn down your guns and surrender. You’ve got to a count of three, or else we’ll be forced to come in there and get you out the hard way.”

  Molly tensed and lowered into an almost feral crouch. “I dinnae think he’s going to listen, Frank.”

  True to that, those gun arms didn’t lower an inch. Over the growing whine of the elevator’s motor, the armored Ender’s voice blasted out, “I’ll present a counter-offer, Bearer. If you and the White agent lay down your arms now, I’ll take you in with minimal force. Otherwise–”

  I shot Baby Iron Man square in the faceplate. That should have ended the whole discussion right there since Mr. Browning is capable of very persuasive arguments. Unfortunately, bulletproof glass is great, and his helmet was nearly thick enough to stop a rifle round at such a close range. Besides, killing him outright would have made things too easy and that just wasn’t in the cards today. Instead of turning his helmet into a fish bowl full of brain and blood, the bullet flattened on a shimmering field, the same kind as one of the Doc’s protective spells.