“Yeah. A whiskey, neat. I really, really need a drink.”
chapter
10
SPARKS LEAPED UP FROM THE surface of the CZ 75’s slide as I ran the electric engraving pen along its surface. I’d etched the runes I’d need to use into the slide using graphite beforehand, though at this point I didn’t really need the guide. I’d been doing this sort of quick and dirty work for years, even before the Trust had recruited me into their ranks.
Back when I’d been a college co-ed, I hadn’t known just how unique my ability was. I’d taken it for granted that most mages could enchant everyday objects. Everyone in my family could do it, with varying degrees of success. The books I’d grown up with were littered with flying carpets, crystal balls, and enchanted swords.
Come to find out that most people couldn’t enchant anything with significant iron content. Ferrous metals resisted enchantment. It was why they were so effective at warding off the fae and other demi-humans.
My first introduction to the Trust seemed so innocent in retrospect. I’d been handing out cheap bangles etched with a charm for good fortune at La Universidad de mágica Guadalajara when Professor Roland Preston had drawn me in after class, asking where I’d gotten them. As a retired warrior of the Trust member and the founder of the Five, I’d been pretty sure I was about to get my ass reamed for doing something illegal. Instead, I’d been given my first introduction to Dominic Finch.
He’d seemed like a God to me. My teenage imagination added inches to him that he didn’t need, given that he was well over six feet tall already. His hair had been dyed blonde then and had contrasted distractingly with the dark, earthy brown of his eyes.
I’d been eighteen and, though he had only nine years on me, he’d seemed impossibly old and wise. My crush had been instantaneous and irrevocable. No matter how much we snarked at each other over the years, I never really lost that girlish flutter of first love. That was until he’d taken that affection and trust and ground it to dust beneath the heel of one big, black combat boot and kept right on walking.
“Bastard,” I muttered, drawing my hands away from the heated metal with a hiss of pain.
What I was placing on the slide of the gun was far from a simple good luck charm. It was a complex lattice of spells carved over and over again into the metal. This was the third time I’d applied the spells to this handgun and I was still far from finished. Seven was the most powerfully magic number, and that was how often I etched the sigils into my weaponry. I found that they kept for far longer that way.
Half the Trust was armed with weapons that I’d fashioned. It irritated me beyond any rational capacity that the miserable old windbags had tossed me out on my shapely behind and still had the audacity to use the tools I’d designed for them. The tool was only as effective as the mage holding it, and none of them worked as well in the hands of others as they did for me. But I’d designed many pieces to augment the powers of the guards that guarded the Trust’s inner sanctum.
Before me, all weaponry had been slow, or weak, or fragile. Non-ferrous metals didn’t hold up well in the long run. Stone was unwieldy and heavy. Wood was easily broken and if not properly enchanted it would burn out after just a few years of use. Wands had to be replaced regularly. My guns didn’t.
The piece Anton had in his shop was nine years old now and still worked as well as the day I’d enchanted it.
The only other option for defense was regular, everyday guns, which wouldn’t be much use against most demis. Also, many witches and wizards disdained the thought of killing in such a bloody and uncivilized fashion. Snobs.
Halcyon rubbed his sharp little body along one of my arms, letting out a contented sound as the heat from my work washed over him. His scales tore the fabric of the polyester shirt I wore and left little knicks in my skin. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to be mad at him.
I set the etching tool aside for a moment and reached down to seize the baby dragon around the middle. He was about the size of a well-fed house cat. Unsurprising, given that house cats were generally his favorite prey, when he could sink his talons into them.
I set him on my shoulder and patted his snout. “You’ve never actually seen me working, have you, Hal? That was over a long time before you came to room with me.”
I picked up the cooling slide and dunked it into a sludgy gray potion to seal the enchantment. It smelled like ripe garbage but it was effective. I picked up the next CZ 75 and field stripped it to its most basic components, selecting the magazine and the slide. I brought it up to Hal’s eye level and watched in amusement as he sniffed it. He sneezed contemptuously at it after a moment.
“Not shiny enough for you, hm?”
His talons tightened on my shoulder and he let out a little puff of smoke in reply. I waved away the acrid cloud before I could inhale it.
I set the gun back down and went to work on the metal slide again, muttering the incantation as I carved the rune into the surface of the metal. Sparks leaped up in the wake of the pen. I winced when one skittered across my carpet and smoldered on my rug. I slapped it out before it could bloom into a tongue of flame.
Shame squeezed my chest in a vice and drawing breath became difficult.
I’d nearly burned Phillis’ house down during the worst days of my depression after I’d fallen asleep on her couch, a lit cigarette still in hand. Ever since, I’d quit smoking and been diligent to remove all fire hazards before allowing myself to get plastered. The guilt, however, was impossible to shake.
I finished etching the next round of spells into the slide and set it aside to cool. “You see these?” I crooned to Hal, running my finger just above the surface of the runes. “These are activated by the kinetic energy of the bullet when it travels through the chamber. The spell self-charges. Neat, huh?”
Halcyon snorted again and hunkered down, stuffing his head beneath one wing, apparently unimpressed.
“Everyone’s a critic,” I muttered, dunking the fresh slide into the potion as well.
The weight of Halcyon on my shoulder eased the worst of my anxiety. As Findlay’s visit had so poignantly reminded me, I was breaking my parole by doing this. If the Trust caught so much of a whiff of what I was doing, they’d send someone after me. Death would be a mercy, in light of what they’d do to me for my crimes—both real and alleged.
I could only hope that Findlay had been so thoroughly mind-rolled by Ashby before his departure that his recollection of me would be fuzzy, at best. In any case, I was going to be on a plane before he could report to anyone. And I suspected it would take even longer to get word to the two agents of the Five that were guarding the girl. The Trust was notoriously slow at communicating with one another and I doubted that my former comrades in arms would be carrying cell phones. Too easy to track in this day and age, and the vampires made up for their lack of magic by keeping on top of technology.
When I was finished with the last of the slides, I rose from my cross-legged position on the living room floor and surveyed my apartment. I should probably shovel a path through it if I was going to have Phillis room here during my absence. But that still left me with one huge problem.
Findlay might come knocking, along with a couple of friends. I was reasonably sure my wards could stand up to it for a time. But if I was gone for weeks, they might batter their way inside. And that would leave my kindly neighbor at the mercy of the Trust, who viewed just interacting with me to be a condemnable act.
I couldn’t just leave her on her own like this. It really left me only one option. With a sigh, I dug in my drawer until I found the burner phone I kept for emergencies. In its contact list were the people I’d sworn to myself I would never speak to again. I’d renamed all but one of them with insulting or juvenile nicknames. I selected his number and pressed down on the green call button.
His phone rang three times before he picked up. “Hello?”
“Roland?”
There was a beat
of silence on the other end while my erstwhile professor gathered himself. He was making a concerted effort to sound composed. Only a slight tremor in his voice gave him away.
“Natalia. It’s good to hear from you.”
“Is it really?” I couldn’t stop a note of sarcasm from slipping into my voice. “Because I was under the impression I was persona non grata where the Trust was concerned.”
“I don’t serve the Trust anymore, Nat.” His sigh rattled over the speakers. “And I know you too well to assume you’ve called to ask after my grandkids. What do you need?”
“A babysitter. I have a neighbor and a few…creatures that I can’t drag with me across the border in mixed company.”
“What sort of creatures?”
I hesitated. Though the Trust was supposed to take the considerations of all races into account, they were a bunch of purists beneath it all. Demi-humans were scorned and sometimes outright persecuted. But I’d trusted Roland once. He’d stuck out his neck for me during the whole debacle with Dominic. Surely I could trust him with Hal and Horst for two weeks?
“My house spirit and a dragon,” I said finally. “Three years old. Just a baby. He can’t even shift forms or breathe much fire yet. He’s just an ill-tempered pack rat at this point.”
Roland’s chuckle took me back to a time when the worst thing I could imagine was failing his class. “Alright, Natalia. I’ll come watch the fae and the little hoarder for you. May I ask where you’re going to be and how long you’ll be gone?”
“It’s better if you don’t. Plausible deniability and all that.”
I could practically see him on the front stoop of his little one-story adobe house. It was perched just a few miles from the US-Mexico border and had a stunning view of the sunset in the evenings. I just knew he was glowering into the distance, chewing on his lip as he fought not to chastise me. He knew better than anyone that it wouldn’t do any good.
“Don’t get caught, Nat. I don’t want them to hurt you.”
“I’m not going to get caught. I wouldn’t do that to you, Roland.”
There was another long beat of silence as he considered what to say to me. Finally, he came out and asked the question I’d been expecting.
“Why?”
“Why what?” I asked, feigning innocence.
He snorted. He knew me better than anyone besides Cat and maybe my erstwhile boyfriend. “Don’t even try to play coy with me. Why are you getting back into the game Natalia? I know that’s why you won’t tell me what you’re up to. The Trust would like nothing better than to have an excuse to get rid of you, so why break your parole now? You’ve kept your nose clean for two years. There are people who are pushing for you to return if you can keep this up. You are not completely without allies.”
As intriguing as that last tidbit was, it wasn’t enough to convince me to give him a straight answer. There were just too many people who’d use the information to hurt us both.
My thumb hovered over the red button. I wanted to disconnect the call so badly my teeth ached. I’d gotten a promise from him. If he said he’d come, he’d come. Halcyon, Horst, and Phyllis would have a minder while I was gone. But I couldn’t actually find it in myself to be that disrespectful to my mentor.
“It’s for Cat,” I finally whispered. “I’ve got a lead. I don’t know if it will pan out but I still have to try.”
There was silence on the other and for a moment I thought our call must have been disconnected. Then Ronald’s voice rattled over the speaker, more sigh than actual speech. “You know I love you both like you were my own kids, Nat. But be careful. I won’t get away with interceding for you again.”
“Understood,” I said. I lost the fight against my twitchy fingers and jammed my thumb down on the red button, ending the conversation without saying goodbye. I was a little tipsy, emotionally wiped out and this was the first time I’d had to seriously flex my magical muscles, so to speak, in years. If I tried to say goodbye to Roland, it would have gotten maudlin fast.
I wiped my eyes and took a deep breath to center myself. I hated crying. It was a useless physical reaction. It made it hard to see, to breathe, and it rarely made me feel any better. Crying wasn’t going to fix any of my problems. Only quick and brutal action could do that.
I stared down at the slides resting in the sludgy potions on my sitting room floor amidst my piles of dirty laundry. I’d been ruminating about that for a few hours now, but couldn’t bring myself to do banal household chores when I was so close to helping my sister. For the first time in years, I knew exactly where to find the information I needed to cure Cat. Maybe even find the asshole who decided to use her as a human voodoo doll for some demonic ritual. It was just locked up in a vampire stronghold.
Why should I have to wait days upon days to see Algerone Lamonia? Up to this point, the vampires had been pressing me to get started. Ashby had stressed that they wanted this girl dealt with as soon as humanly possible. So why was I waiting around until the vamps could throw a little costume party? Ashby had sent me a package with a courier the same night we’d left Gray’s, containing a blood-red evening gown.
I set my jaw stubbornly and glared at the ceiling. I wasn’t going to wait two days. I was going to deposit the ridiculously large check I’d been given, pay off my sister’s balance at Fallen Oaks, and knock on Algerone Lamonia’s door, hopefully interrupting something vitally important to the smooth operation of his house. God knew that I loved to be a pain in someone’s ass whenever I could manage it. It wasn’t a good day until I’d passed on at least a fraction of my misery to someone else.
With that plan in mind, I pushed up from the ground and strode to my room. I retrieved the dress from where I’d chucked it on the bed, and tore a slit in it so I had easy access to my weaponry. Then I grabbed the lace-covered holster my sister bought me for my twenty-first birthday.
A girl has to stay classy when she’s killing vampires, after all.
***
I was pretty sure I made for an odd sight walking through the doors of Fallen Oaks near midnight, dressed to the…well not the nines. I didn’t carry myself well enough to be that classy. But to the sevens, at least. My hair had been styled for the first time in months, I’d applied enough makeup to keep me from looking gaunt, and I’d swapped sneakers for boots, because there was no way in hell I was walking into a vampire lair in strappy heels.
I’d stowed all my recently enchanted weaponry into a duffel bag for safekeeping. It was currently stuffed beneath the seat of my car. I was pretty sure the hospital staff would not appreciate it if I walked their halls impersonating an arsenal.
I was, however, wearing the black bomber jacket Dominic had given me. I hadn’t dug it out of the pile at the bottom of my closet for purely sentimental reasons. It was almost as good as wearing a tactical vest into the heart of House Lamonia. Safety trumped pettiness in my book every time.
The young man who’d been working the front desk a few nights before glanced up at me, his dark eyes flat and disinterested. I couldn’t tell if he recalled meeting me or not.
“Visiting hours are over,” he said in a droning monotone. “You can come back tomorrow at eight if you want to inquire about the patient you came to see.”
I withdrew the wad of cash from my purse and held it up so he could see. It had been ridiculously difficult to find a bank that would process the transaction before morning. There was no way I was going to let this farce go on for another day longer. The sooner I finished this, the sooner I could have Cat back. And before I risked my life as a paid assassin, I needed to verify that they could deliver on their promise for a cure.
If my experiences had taught me anything, it was that catching someone off guard could result in candor that one might not otherwise get.
The sight of the brick of green bills in my hand was enough to draw a reaction from the bland desk receptionist. For a Fallen Oaks staff member, it was a serious amount of cash.
I was pretty sure I’d just shocked the pants off him. To compound it, I peeled off the total payment for Cat’s monthly bill and slapped it down. I still had half of the stack left. I would have loved to shove it right back at Algerone Lamonia when I saw him, if I didn’t need the money for Cat. Tonight I was after that cure and some damned answers.
I pulled a few extra hundreds from the stack and waved them underneath the young man’s nose. He practically went cross eyed, trying to keep it them in view.
“Apply that sum to Catalina Valdez’s account,” I instructed. “And after you escort me up to see my sister, I’ll let you pocket this. Deal?”
I wasn’t sure what the staff of Fallen Oaks were being paid, but if it was anything like working in a mundane, non-magical hospital, it wasn’t going to be nearly enough compensation for the hours worked. And sure enough, about ten seconds later he gave me a curt nod and stepped out from behind the desk.
“If you get caught by a nurse, I’m not taking the heat for it,” he threw back over his shoulder as he led me toward the elevators.
“Understood.”
It was a quiet ride up to Catalina’s floor. The young man was like a wraith beside me, pale, silent, and empty-eyed. When the doors opened I hopped out at once, eager to get away from him. I shoved the folded bills into his hand before the doors could ding closed. He offered me a smile before the doors slammed shut and it was a little creepy. Never, in the two years I’d come had one of the orderlies smiled at me.
The hall seemed impossibly long as I walked up the length of it to Catalina’s room. My grandfather would have told me that I was inviting bad magic by doing this. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy to wish Cat goodbye, almost as if I was admitting that I might not come back. But I couldn’t leave for this epic flustercluck without talking to her one last time. If all went well, it would be the last time I had to visit her. And if it didn’t…well I’d be dead, so that would be the least of my concerns.
Agent of Magic Box Set Page 10
