Rodrigo wouldn’t last long against an angry Gryn.
To make matters worse, Gryn disliked Rodrigo, and called him the famous ‘paper tiger’ of The Seven. In Gryn’s defense, he was mostly antisocial, unless he was training someone; then he thoroughly enjoyed pounding on his victims.
To get the Darkin weapon, I needed to convince Rodrigo—who thought I was a menace—to release it to me, as long as Gryn, who he couldn’t stand, trained me in its use. What could possibly go wrong?
I exited Eight and stood outside the building.
“You think the weapon is going to float out to you?” a voice growled next to me. “What are you waiting for?”
I turned to look up at Gryn who towered over me. He stood an easy six and a half feet tall, and looked like a renegade Gandalf. He was dressed in a long coat, which covered a dark gray suit.
“Hello, Gryn,” I said, eyeing his clothing. “You have an interview somewhere today? Or did you dress up special for me?”
“Victoria requested I appear in this getup”—he motioned to his clothing—“and present myself here professionally. As your trainer.”
“It’s a nice change from your scruffy Gandalf look,” I said with a smile. “You almost look decent.”
“No one will ever accuse me of being decent, Claws,” he said with a scowl. “Tori”—as far as I knew, he was the only living being allowed to call Victoria by that name, and survive—“tells me you lost your demon? Cleavers?”
“I didn’t lose him,” I said. “We were attacked in the labyrinth.”
“Best place for it, if facing a demon,” he answered. “Are you sure it was The Cleavers?”
“No, I’m not. The list of people who could pull off that attack is short though,” I said. “I’ll find them.”
“Or they’ll find you.”
“They’re going to wish they never attacked me or Acheron.”
“I see,” he said, heading up the stairs to the museum. “Are you surveying the building? I’m told you need a weapon…let’s go get it.”
“Rodrigo is not going to be happy to see you,” I said, climbing the stairs two at time to keep up with him. “You do recall last time?”
Gryn smiled wickedly.
“I’m not here for a popularity contest,” he said, growing serious. “Besides, it’s not like he’s going to be ecstatic to see you either.”
“True,” I said as we reached the door. “But I’m not a threat to him. You, on the other hand, are.”
Gryn held the door for me as we stepped inside the museum.
“He’s just going to have to get over his insecurities,” Gryn said as the door closed behind us. “My purpose here is to secure the weapon for you. I’m not here for a duel.”
The interior of the museum was a large, open plan with exhibits designed to fool and trick the mind into seeing or believing something other than what they presented. It was a sleight of hand that mimicked the subterfuge The Seven pulled on the world.
The building consisted of stone and marble, heavy on the Roman influence. Gryn and I walked past the exhibits to a small alcove at the rear of the museum. A young woman stood in the alcove. She wore a museum uniform and a small badge that said ‘Information’. Beneath that it read, ‘Lydia’.
To the regular patrons she appeared to be an employee of the museum. She was actually one of the Vault security detail, a sorceress working under Rodrigo to keep the artifacts safe. Gryn approached and extended a hand revealing a sigil. She nodded and turned, walking down a small corridor to the right of the alcove.
“Right this way, please,” Lydia said. “The exhibit you are looking for is this way.”
We followed her down the narrow corridor. When we reached the end, she placed her hand on the smooth marble wall. A section of the wall in front of us opened inward.
“Thank you,” Gryn said. “Is he in?”
“He’s always in,” Lydia answered crisply. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you,” Gryn answered. “I know the way.”
Lydia nodded and left us alone. A few seconds later, the massive door whispered shut behind us as we stood in the Vault. In contrast to the outer museum area, the Vault space was a mix of hi-tech security and minimalism.
This wasn’t exactly the Vault, but more like the vault reception. If you didn’t make it past this area, you didn’t belong in the building.
We stood in a large, empty atrium. I saw cameras mounted in every corner, covering the entire floor space. Under each of the cameras were nasty-looking mini-Gatling guns with oversized magazines. They appeared to be capable of significant damage.
“Those look painful,” I said, glancing at the guns. “Conventional weapons? Really? I expected something a little more—”
“Esoteric?” Gryn asked as he pointed to the marble floor. “Pay attention. Have you been keeping up with your sigil study?”
“Not really,” I confessed. “Things have been a bit hectic lately. Why?”
“We have to get to the other side of this floor. If you step on the wrong sigil, it’s the last step you’ll take in your life. Step where I step, precisely. Do not deviate from the path I take, clear?”
“Completely, follow in your footsteps like a good padawan, or in this case, a dark apprentice,” I said with half a smile as I examined the blue sigils glowing softly in the marble. “Lead the way, Emperor.”
“Otherkin humor,” Gryn said, shaking his head. “Still atrocious.”
He started walking across the floor. I made sure to follow him exactly.
“Couldn’t someone just memorize these to get across?” I asked as we made our way across. “This doesn’t seem like much of a deterrent.”
“The path changes every few seconds,” Gryn said, looking down. “You don’t know the next sigil until you are on the current one. Oh, and those guns are manually controlled, not automatic.”
“Oh,” I said. “That could be bad. But still, regular bullets? I know a few things that would laugh at regular bullets.”
“Who said anything about normal ordnance?” Gryn asked. “Those guns are equipped with Gorgon rounds.”
“No way,” I said, looking at the guns again quickly. “Gorgons, really?”
“Yes way, really. Now, watch your step. Let’s go.”
Gorgon rounds were officially known as Desiccators. Anything they hit would immediately begin to dehydrate. Within seconds, a few Gorgon rounds could turn a target into a statue and then a dried-out husk. Didn’t matter how powerful you were—if all your bodily fluids stopped being fluid, it was the end.
Someone into Greek mythos nicknamed them Gorgons, and it stuck. They were incredibly dangerous and impossible to acquire—unless you were the sigilsmith of The Seven, it seemed.
“How did Rodrigo get his hands on Gorgons?” I asked. “Those things are banned worldwide.”
“Yes, they are,” Gryn said. “Then again, The Seven doesn’t exist. Who is going to tell them they can’t procure or use them? Who will tell The Seven, ‘no’? They operate with impunity and answer only to themselves.”
“That’s a bad idea,” I said. “No one is watching the warden.”
“Correct,” Gryn said as we reached the other side of the room without incident and faced another alcove. This one was larger than the first one Lydia had stood in. “The general populace is oblivious, and the guards have no oversight. A recipe for disaster.”
“I’ll tell them no,” I said. “No one organization should have that much power.”
Gryn laughed and then grew serious.
“Watch your words in here, Claws. Let’s discuss that after you get what you’re here for.”
I nodded.
We stepped into the alcove, and a wall of blue energy descended behind us, enclosing us in the space. The floor shifted slightly and we began dropping down into the Vault proper.
FOURTEEN
We arrived at the lower level to a glowering Rodrigo.
This level
was similar to the one above. It was a wide-open space minus the Gatling guns and tiles of death. Two large doors sat at opposite ends of the room. The rest of the room was filled with small cases holding various artifacts.
I knew from previous experience that the artifacts in this room were low-lethality items. The dangerous artifacts were kept in a separate area, which only Rodrigo could access.
“We’re here to—” Gryn started.
“I know why you’re here,” Rodrigo answered. “I just got off the phone with Victoria. The answer is no.”
Rodrigo was dressed casually in a black dress shirt and dark jeans. His sleeves were rolled up and I could see some of the sigils inscribed on his arms. His brown hair was cut short, making him look younger than his years.
“Acheron was taken,” I said. “I need to get him back.”
“So, go get him,” Rodrigo answered, standing in front of us with his arms crossed. “He’s a demon. Shouldn’t be too hard to locate him. Or even better, maybe he’s dead by now?”
I refrained from driving my claws into his chest and removing his heart. It would’ve been futile—I seriously doubted he possessed one. I took a breath and calmed myself.
“It’s not the locating, it’s the extraction,” I said, measuring my words. “Are you planning to help me?”
“To rescue a demon?” he scoffed. “Have you smashed your head into a wall recently? Why would I help you—period?”
“Didn’t think so,” I answered. “Since I’m doing this solo, I’m going to need the weapon.”
“No, absolutely not,” Rodrigo said, shaking his head. “This is the worst idea I’ve heard. How can Victoria be serious?”
He was going to agree…eventually.
Denying my request meant he would have to deal directly with Victoria and Gryn. As a sigilsmith, the vault was his sphere of control. Few people had more authority regarding artifacts than Rodrigo.
I just happened to be sent here by the one person who outranked Rodrigo in The Seven when it came to vault contents, and he was being all pissy about it.
“Are you questioning her judgement?” Gryn asked. “If you like, I could give her a call. I’m sure we could—”
“This Vault is my responsibility,” Rodrigo seethed. “Giving her”—he glanced at me—“an ensorcelled weapon is a recipe for disaster. No, not happening.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said. “I promise not to break your vault.”
“The Vault? It’s not the vault I’m worried about; it’s the innocent lives that will die by you handling this weapon, before you kill yourself.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Gryn said. “If she can’t handle the weapon, I will make sure she leaves here without it.”
“Victoria may have sent you,” Rodrigo asked, turning to Gryn, “but I trust you less than I trust the Otherkin.”
“If I gave your feelings any consideration, I’d be insulted,” Gryn replied. “I don’t need your trust. Just your compliance.”
“Because this hybrid isn’t dangerous enough?” Rodrigo asked, looking at me with contempt. “All offense intended. Now we need to arm her so she can go rescue a demon? I don’t know what Victoria is thinking, but this…this is wrong.”
“Should I call Victoria so she can tell you what’s on her mind regarding this situation?” Gryn asked. “Or would you prefer an old-fashioned brawl? You seem a little tightly wound. Are you getting out enough? I hear fresh air does wonders for the disposition.”
“You think you can take me?” Rodrigo asked. “You’re not as strong as you think you are, not by a long shot.”
“I never claimed to be strong,” Gryn answered. “What I am, is old, crafty, and devious. That makes me dangerous, especially to scholars who would rather bury their noses in books than face real threats.”
“You know what, Gryn?” Rodrigo snapped, pointing a finger in Gryn’s face. “Fuck you.”
“Is that a proposition or a threat?” Gryn answered with a smile. “I’m unclear as to your intent.”
Black energy crackled around Rodrigo’s body. For a few seconds, I thought he was actually going to attack Gryn.
“Rodrigo…” I warned.
Gryn raised a hand, cutting me off.
“Are you certain you want to choose that path?” Gryn said with a smile that never reached his eyes. “Last time, I restrained myself out of courtesy for Victoria. This time, I won’t.”
Rodrigo paused and the energy around his body slowly dissipated. The last time they had faced each other in combat, Rodrigo had nearly died. It had taken him months to recover.
If that was Gryn holding back, I didn’t want to see him cut loose. I was pretty sure Rodrigo wouldn’t survive a no-holds-barred Gryn on the attack.
“Victoria authorized this,” I said, trying to get us back to subtle hostility instead of open warfare. “She knows I’m here. I need your help.”
“Fine,” Rodrigo said, turning away from us. “Victoria wants to give the mutant creature the equivalent of a nuke, so she can unleash death on the streets of the city? This disaster is on her. I’m not cleaning up the mess.”
Rodrigo started walking away to the rear of the floor. He was headed to one of the large sigil-covered doors. This door made the one at the Grimoire look about as secure as wet cardboard.
“Do you want us to join you?” Gryn called out as Rodrigo opened the door and stepped through. “Do you need assistance?”
“Do I look like I need your assistance?” Rodrigo shot back. “Wait here and touch nothing.”
Rodrigo stepped into the space behind the door as it closed silently, leaving us in the large space alone.
“Mutant creature?” I asked. “I’m the mutant creature?”
“It would appear so,” Gryn answered. “You’re like that character with the metal claws…what’s the name?”
“Wolverine?”
“No, the other one. The female. Is it Lady Deathsprite something or another?”
“You mean Lady Deathstrike?”
“Exactly,” Gryn said with a snap of his fingers. “You two have that similar fingernails-to-claws thing happening. Maybe Rodrigo doesn’t like your claws?”
“I think he just doesn’t like me.”
“More like he doesn’t accept what you represent,” Gryn said. “You’re not human. Not anymore. On some level, that frightens him. Humans kill what they fear.”
“And now Victoria is telling him to give me some weapon that may alter me into a Darkin,” I said. “Wonderful. All that’s going to do is trigger him further.”
“Correct,” Gryn said, removing his long coat. “I would expect the sigilsmith to be soiling his undergarments at this turn of events—hence the near suicidal outburst earlier. Fear is the only thing I can attribute his lack of self-preservation in challenging me.”
“Were you really holding back last time? He nearly died.”
Gryn glanced at me for a few seconds and then smiled.
“If I was serious, he’d be dead before he traced his first sigil,” he answered, still smiling. “Then I’d have to explain to an upset Victoria why I eliminated her favorite Sigilsmith.”
“She would be so pissed at you,” I said, looking at the door. “She likes Rodrigo, or at least likes him more than most of The Seven.”
“Exactly. His death would only lead to complications,” Gryn said, waving a hand. “Angry agents, then dead angry agents, followed by more angry agents. The cycle would get boring, fast.”
“I thought Victoria called him?” I asked. “Is this weapon that powerful? He’s acting worse than usual, and usually he’s a colossal ass.”
“Must be something you said or did,” Gryn said, looking around the floor. “They really need to get some housekeeping in this place.”
“Something I did? Are you serious?” I asked. “I barely deal with him, or The Seven for that matter.”
“Well it’s not like he’s releasing the weapon to me. Aside from bruising hi
s ego, there’s no reason for him to be upset with me. Logic dictates that you must be the target of his animosity. Makes perfect sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I said, following Gryn’s gaze. “Plenty of sorcerers are thin-skinned egomaniacs.”
“You’ve just described two-thirds of The Seven.”
“Two-thirds? What about the remaining third?”
“Those are the real danger: thin-skinned egomaniacs, with power.”
“Still, I don’t understand why he would react like this,” I stared at Gryn. “I mean aside from your insults.”
“I did no such thing,” Gryn said, raising his hands in surrender. “I merely pointed out the flaws in his thinking. Attacking me would be fatal—for him. Questioning and disregarding a direct request from Victoria is also ill-advised. I think he just needed to flex his sigilsmith muscles.”
“This was a horrible idea,” I said. “What was Victoria thinking? She knows Rodrigo can’t stand us.”
Gryn nodded.
“Could be she wants to see how determined you are to get this weapon,” Gryn said, turning to face the rear door as it opened and Rodrigo re-appeared in the doorway. “If this minor obstacle can deter you, then you don’t deserve to wield it.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call Rodrigo a ‘minor obstacle.’ He is a sigilsmith.”
“I wasn’t referring to him, but rather what he represents.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, keeping my voice low as Rodrigo approached. “What are you talking about?”
“Another time, Claws,” Gryn said, focusing on Rodrigo. “Now, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“I’m going to assume you need the Room,” Rodrigo said, handing Gryn a small flat box. “Is it just the two of you?”
“The Room would be excellent, yes. Just the two of us. Why?”
“It’ll be easy to fill out the report and identify the bodies when she messes up and kills you both,” Rodrigo answered, glancing at me warily. “Just so you know—partnering with a demon is wrong.”
They Bite: A Nyxia White Story (They Bite-A Nyxia White Story-Book 1) Page 8
