by Domino Finn
Damn, she was talking about the dawn of America. A part of me wondered if she'd been around for it, but people don't live that long.
"The Society of Free Thinkers was formed at a time when the only other choice was extermination. Extinction. And yes, our collective didn't shy from battlegrounds. The only way to get anything done back then was to fight for it."
"And now?" I asked.
"I won't debate moralities with a thug. The Society is no longer an army. We no longer preach Manifest Destiny. In today's world, being territorial means having influence. We will always make sure our ilk has influence."
"I'm still waiting for the part where you explain why Connor Hatch is a necessary evil."
Margo lifted her chin. "I wouldn't expect such a coarse instrument as yourself to understand the delicate surgery with which we affect the world, but it is sufficient to know that we didn't create Connor Hatch. Whatever or whoever took control of the Caribbean would've been a big enough player to participate in open dialog with the Society, because we, like you, are a casualty of circumstance."
"Circumstance didn't make me, Lady Gray."
"Perhaps," she hedged. "But then, circumstance hasn't made us enemies, either. That is the result of your doing. But it doesn't need to be so."
I was dying to get to the point, but I knew Margo had to do things her way. I waited. It's not that I bought into the good-cop act. A chair and civilized conversation weren't gonna flip my perspective, but at least I wasn't getting tortured.
The door cracked open. The man in black spun around and warded off the intruder, but Simon scowled and pushed past.
"Ma'am," he called, holding up a phone. My phone.
"What is it?"
"A call," he said, "for our guest."
She turned to me. I shrugged. Margo held her hand over her shoulder and waved him forward.
The enforcer stomped up to me, wondering what designs I had. But there were no tricks—at least not yet. I knew what was going on less than they did. He handed me the phone and backed away.
"Uh... Hello?" I said, holding the phone a couple inches from my ear in case this was some sort of practical joke.
"Cisco!" cried Milena, relieved to hear my voice. "You didn't have anything to do with this, did you?"
Margo and Simon watched me curiously. I pulled the phone flush to my ear. "With what?"
"Where are you?" she asked.
"I... I can't really get into that right now. Did I have anything to do with what?"
"Dios mío. You don't know?"
"Know what, Milena?"
Her voice hitched. "It's all over the news, Cisco. Your daughter, Fran—she's been kidnapped!"
My heart flushed with heat. It turned over on a spit. "What?"
"It's on the news right now," she said. "I only noticed because I saw Evan's picture. They're saying a police officer's daughter was stolen right from her bedroom as she was going to sleep. Nobody saw anyone or knows what could've happened. I thought..." Her words turned to stutters.
My grip on the phone tightened. "Petrovic." I said plainly.
That was what Petrovic had referenced back at the Port. He'd been attacking ancillary connections to me, like Hernan. Apparently he hadn't had the go ahead to go after the Covey. But I'd backed the jinn into a corner. Made him desperate. He'd taken his gang of assassins off their leash.
Emily had given the last ten years of her life to the drug lord. She'd been an unwilling participant, a victim of the heartstone. She'd sacrificed everything for him. Including her sister. And Connor Hatch had just green-lit her daughter.
I shook against my chains. Simon hopped backward but Margo just watched. They were all inconsequential. I barely registered them. All I saw was blood and blackness seeping over my thoughts.
"How's Hernan?" I asked.
"He's okay. But you shouldn't worry about me right now. You should worry about your daughter. Evan and Emily."
"Get to their house as soon as possible," I told her. "Tell Emily I'm on my way."
"Whatever you need." She paused a moment. "I'm scared, Cisco."
My fist began to shake in my white-knuckled grip. "They're the ones who should be scared."
Simon tried to pry the phone away. The call was over and he didn't want me getting worked up. He leveraged both arms against me. I released the phone and lifted my head square with Margo.
"I need to get out of here," I said flatly.
She studied me in silence.
Simon backed away, checking the phone number. "Sorry, buddy. It ain't gonna happen."
I growled. "I'm leaving here with or without your blessing."
He snickered and looked at Margo. "What did I tell you about this guy? Cockiest son of a bitch I've met." He leaned toward me (but made sure to keep out of my reach). "Explain it to me. How're you gonna meet this girl when you're locked up here?"
If I could hurt with my eyes, he would've been pushing daisies. "They kidnapped my friend's nine-year-old daughter."
Their eyes widened. It was the first time I'd seen an emotion on the Gray Lady's face. Simon backed away and cleared his throat, but he shook it off. His rationalizations returned.
"Sick fucks. It wouldn't have been my course of action—even I'm not that much of an animal—but you did screw with a jinn. What did you think was gonna happen?"
I lunged at him. He was close and I was fast, but he was faster. The streaks of lightning darted from his fingers and engulfed me. I screamed as they met my flesh. I tried to bowl through them. I didn't care how much it hurt as long as I got to this asshole. For a second, I thought I could make it.
Then my head jerked backward as the steel around my neck caught. I stumbled and kicked out my legs anyway. It was a feeble shot that barely brushed the lightning wizard.
Everything was too much, then. The choking. The strain of his spellcraft. I collapsed backward, breaking the chair as I fell on it.
"Simon!" snapped Margo sharply. Her nameless assistant was already at her side, attempting to pull her away. She stood and brushed off further attempts at retreat.
I hung close to the floor, trying to roll over and catch my breath. As I did, Simon pitched my burner to the concrete. It shattered. Then he stomped it under his wingtips until it exploded into circuits and plastic.
"You can't..." I snarled, pushing to my feet. "The Society doesn't want to be a party to this kidnapping."
Margo crossed her arms firmly. "We certainly do not, Francisco. I give you my word that we had nothing to do with this. Like I've said, there are plenty of bad people in this world without us."
"Your word's not good enough," I returned. "You need to let me go. I need to deal with them."
The Gray Lady lifted her eyebrows. "I don't need to do anything," she corrected.
"You told me you weren't villains. You told me we didn't need to be enemies. Prove it. Let me go and we can pick this up later."
She frowned at the broken phone on the floor. Then considered me. "I'm afraid I can't do that." She moved for the exit. Simon and the man in black followed.
"You have to let me out of here!" I screamed. The Gray Lady didn't even turn around. They left the room and locked it tight, leaving me in isolation.
Harried conversation erupted on the other side of the door. I couldn't make it out. I couldn't hear any of it.
My thoughts were too loud now. They were berating me for letting this happen. Wailing for being too dumb, too slow, too tainted.
Me. My family. My friends. They all suffered because of me.
And it was happening all over again.
Chapter 33
My chains didn't break. The beam didn't budge. My metallurgy was useless. I struggled in vain for what seemed like forever but was probably ten minutes. Then I fell against the shelving. My body was exhausted but my mind was racing. By the time the metal door opened again, I was a broken wreck squinting against the light.
The Gray Lady marched in followed by the troupe of Society animis
ts. Something was up. They stopped a good six feet away. Instead of causing a scene, I quietly lifted my head.
"I see that you've composed yourself," she said.
Composed. That was a funny way to put it considering the mess I was in. Blood staining my shirt. My neck and wrists bruised to hell. Char marks dotting my flesh. I was soaking in a sheen of my own sweat, half exhausted and probably half dead.
"I have a solution for you," she started. "No one wants to see a child harmed. We'll bargain with Connor on your behalf."
I spat on the floor. Not out of contempt, but because there was too much bloody saliva in my mouth. I would've choked otherwise. "Out of the goodness of your heart, huh?"
"Out of common decency," she returned. "But we need to know we can trust you. That we are allies." She cocked her head. "If you provide us with some form of trust, we'll know we can rely on you. Say, the Horn of Subjugation?"
I laughed hysterically. The tracking program pop-up flashed in my mind. "Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I don't have it."
The air in the room went bad. As if the stink of sweat and blood wasn't enough, now their desperation and disappointment added to the mix.
Simon scoffed. "You're all talk, aren't you? You thumb your nose at the greedy and corrupt, but here you are, playing your cards close to your chest when a child's life is on the line."
I laughed again. Perfect. They didn't believe me. Of course they didn't believe me.
It was clear they weren't going to let me just walk out of here. But then, I'd already figured that part out.
"You really wanna help me find her?" I asked.
"Yes," answered Darcy quickly.
Margo glared at her sharply for speaking out of turn and then turned to me and resumed her smile. "We can try."
I reached into my back pocket for my ace. When I was searched, Shen hadn't noticed it because it was paper thin. He couldn't feel it against my jeans. I flashed Petrovic's card between my fingers.
"You know what this is?"
Simon went to grab it but I snatched my hand away. He teetered on the edge of my reach, unwilling to get closer. After a grumble, he glared at the doorway. Darcy had already left the room. Shen realized his failure to properly search me. He kept his eyes down and retreated to the corner. He sat and crossed his legs. Simon muttered something about kids and finding good help. Then he turned to me cautiously.
"What is that?"
I held the symbol up to the light so they could see. "Kree," I said.
Margo's eyes widened. "The Vucari."
"Yeah," I answered. "You know who they are?"
"Of course. Do you, Francisco?"
I grimaced against the chains. "Slavic reject mercenaries."
"That is what they are, not who." She studied the card carefully. "They were human once, from a line of Slavic pagans. They honored several patrons as gods. The sect worshipped Dažbog in its early days, but a fringe group fractured the line and took over. The new Vucari call themselves the Sons of Van."
I furrowed my brow and mouthed the word, wondering if it was useful to me. "Van."
She smiled politely and continued when she didn't see recognition on my face. "Van is the scorned son of Dažbog. Caught between a stringent father and a bitter mother, he was often used as a pawn. Van is the son of Life and Death. Loved by neither, empowered by both. Devout followers of Van reject that anything on this planet is meaningful. Everything is expendable. Nothing is sacred."
I ground my teeth hard.
Simon shook his head in mock sympathy. "Sounds like you got a real psychopath on your hands, brother."
I remained perfectly still, but my eyes found him. I waved the card in the air.
The enforcer slowly raised his hand, like he was facing a gun. "Hold it, now. That's a lodestar. A beacon. If you use it, you'll rain hell on all of us."
I glowered. "Maybe that's what we all deserve."
Simon's face slackened. He turned to the Gray Lady. She narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't."
"I don't have a lot to lose, lady." I stood, leaning sideways so as not to pressure my neck. "You left me with a lot of time to think," I told her. "And not a lot of possessions. You took my fetishes, my weapons, but you didn't take the card. So I thought about it. The character, Kree. It's Proto-Slavic for blood. At first I thought it was a threat, like things would get bloody if I didn't show myself. True enough, but I realized it was simpler than that. More direct."
They both took a hesitant step away from me.
"This is a calling card," I explained. "Activated by my blood. And thanks to your friends, there's plenty of that to go around." I spat on the floor again. It wasn't enough blood but it made my point.
Simon grasped for the card again. I drew it away. Protected it with my body. Let him shock me all he wanted but I was gonna hold onto that card.
I stared him down. "Give me the key to get out of here and none of us needs to find out what hell feels like."
Simon froze. The Gray Lady lifted her chin. "Impossible."
I hissed. I didn't have a lot of time and the old lady was stubborn. "Give me my dog collar then."
Simon snorted. "That's not gonna save you, brother. Now look, if you don't give me that card I'm gonna take it." He was talking tough, but hesitation weakened his voice.
"Try it and the signal fire goes out," I warned.
The enforcer nodded and chuckled as a nervous release.
"Do it," said the Gray Lady.
He turned to her, puzzled.
"Do it," she repeated. "The steel will keep him bound. His shadows are nothing to me."
Simon took a moment to show his displeasure but went to the shelf and grabbed the dog fetish. "Even trade," he said. "We both hand it over at the same time, right hand to left. No tricks."
"No tricks," I agreed.
I held the card out. He lifted his hand to take it and offered the fetish. We snatched the objects from each other.
"Stupid prick!" he yelled in relief. He backed away and flipped the card in his hand, examining it. I hastily wrapped the collar around my wrist.
"It's genuine too," he continued. Simon ripped the paper card and let the shreds flutter to the floor. "Well, that was your chance." He scattered the paper with his shoes. "You're not getting that back."
I bedeviled him with a smile. I lifted my shirt and showed them my side. A long cut ran across my ribs, deep enough to well with considerable blood. "Then it's a good thing I activated it ten minutes ago."
All the tart smugness in his face dried up. Their eyes darted to the piece of circuit board on the floor. A piece of my phone. I had sliced myself open with it.
Cracking glass echoed in the large warehouse. Within seconds it was followed by others. The windows along the street were breaking. The Vucari were here.
Chapter 34
Shen sprang to his feet. The door swung open. The animists spun around, their hands at the ready. Darcy and two men in black rushed in with pistols drawn. Margo motioned them to cover the door, and they wordlessly obeyed. Their fire was precise and coordinated.
"Get me out of here," I urged. "I can help you fight."
Simon scoffed. "You made this bed, partner."
One of the men at the door tumbled backward, tackled by a flash of movement. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen. A foggy, translucent darkness, dotted with sparkles. It reminded me of the night sky and twinkling stars, except this image came in the shape of a raging wolf. The beast moved in a blur. It ripped the assistant's throat out.
So the Sons of Van had spellcraft of their own. Pagan animists, Margo had said. They were some kind of Serbian wolf cult and we were now seeing what they were capable of firsthand.
Another hooded figure fired at the manifestation. His bullets didn't harm the magical being. It spun to face the new threat.
Darcy thrust her statue forward and catapulted the animal back through the door. Multiple howls came from outside.
"Spectral wolves!" announced Marg
o. "Fight them with spellcraft! Drive them out into the night, where they can be dispelled!"
Simon fell in at her side, working up a wall of white-hot energy to cover their movement. They charged through the open doorway. Shen Santos readied at their back.
I struggled against the steel. "Shen. Let me help you."
The illusionist paused and turned to me. Unlike the more experienced animists, he was scared. He worked his jaw. Then he shook his head. He followed Darcy to the exit. Shen was the last of the group heading out.
"So be it," I muttered.
I raised my right arm, now sporting my studded dog collar. A tendril of shadow caught Shen's neck and jerked him toward me, slamming him on the floor. I reeled him in like a panicking fish without his companions noticing.
Suddenly, Shen disappeared. He flashed out and three versions of him stood over me, pulling pistols.
I shut my eyes. I reached for the tip of my shadow until my hands clasped the man's shoulders. That was real. Everything else was his illusion, trying to throw me off.
I scratched at him, feeling for his neck. A stray kick caught my side. I leaned into him as much as my collar allowed. Keeping my eyes shut, my grip came up with his tie. I yanked him into me and slammed my forehead into his.
The kicking stopped.
I looked again. The multiple Shens were gone. Now he was just a dazed man in my arms. I found Shyla's key dangling on a chain around his neck. Then I realized someone was watching and spun toward the door again.
Darcy stood boldly, eyes wide, Hecate pointed at me.
I froze, but it was of my own volition.
Slowly, I rested Shen on the floor. Gently. He rolled over, stunned like a grounded boxer. I waited another moment, the chain dangling from my fingers. Darcy had the statuette drawn but wasn't making a move. Once I realized that, I lifted the key to the bar on my neck and twisted it open.
