“Yeah.”
“What’s a rakshasa?”
“Creatures from India,” I said. “Or maybe they were before India and the Indians just gave them the name. In their true form they’re supposed to look like a cross between a human and a tiger.” I paused. “Oh, and their hands are supposed to be backwards.”
“Backwards?”
“Reversed. The palms are where the backs should be.”
Luna thought about that for a second, then grimaced. “Creepy.” She held up a hand before I could speak. “I know. Don’t judge by appearances, right?”
“Well . . . maybe just this once it wouldn’t be a bad idea.” I leant against the cold stone, studying the building opposite. “I don’t know much about rakshasas, but none of what I’ve heard is good. They were supposed to be . . . I guess the word would be malevolent. They loved power, especially over thinking creatures. They ruled India once, if the stories are true. They lived in palaces built by their slaves, lords of everything they could see.”
“But that might not be true,” Luna said. “I mean, the apprentices say stuff like that about all magical creatures. Even Arachne. I’ve heard them. And he’s looking after Anne, right?”
“I admit I’m very curious as to what two apprentices like Anne and Variam would be doing with a rakshasa.”
“Maybe there are things he can teach them.”
“Oh, there would be,” I said. “Rakshasas are powerful. The old stories say they were partly divine, not fully bound by the laws of the physical world. I don’t know if it’s true but everyone agrees they’re master shapeshifters. They can change their appearance and form, give themselves abilities that shouldn’t be possible.”
Luna stood quietly for a second. “So . . . how well do they usually get on with mages?”
“Have a guess.”
Luna sighed. “Badly.”
I nodded. “For a long time there was a secret war across the Indian subcontinent. The rakshasas won most of the battles but there were never enough of them. Mages could replace their losses; rakshasas couldn’t. In the end there was a treaty and both sides agreed to leave each other alone. But rakshasas are supposed to hold grudges like you wouldn’t believe. This one, Jagadev, was probably alive for that war. Maybe alive for all the others before it. I doubt he’s forgotten.”
“Oh,” Luna said. She paused. “And this is the guy whose home we’re visiting.”
“Yes.”
“This is going to be one of those eventful nights, isn’t it?”
I finished my search and pulled my attention back to the immediate future. “We’re in the right place. Let’s go.”
* * *
Two drunks slumped in a doorway watched us blearily as we passed. I walked past without a glance as Luna skirted them more carefully. Concrete stairs and a railing led down to a basement level and an open door.
Inside was an anteroom with three security men. Heavy-duty pieces of work, layers of fat covering rubbery muscle, their faces all broken noses and scowls. I came to a stop in front of them. “I’m looking for Jagadev.”
The one at the centre looked at me with shark’s eyes, flat and cold. “Name?”
“Alex Verus.”
He studied me a moment, then jerked his head towards a doorway.
The corridor beyond was old concrete, stained and ugly. “Alex—” Luna whispered.
“Cameras,” I said under my breath.
Luna glanced up. Electric eyes were watching us from both ends of the hall. The door at the end was padded and looked soundproofed to me, but I could feel a vibration through my feet. I opened the door.
Noise washed over us, deafening, the pounding beat of music. We were looking down over a club floor crowded with hundreds of people dancing and moving. The room was huge and dimly lit, red and blue and green lights flickering and clashing, painting some of the room in primary colours and leaving other parts in shadow. There was a wide semicircular balcony above, but it was darkened and anything within was invisible against the flashing lights below. Everything was noise and motion.
Luna said something. “What?” I shouted over the music.
“This is supposed to be a palace?” Luna shouted.
I looked around, scanning the floor. It was too chaotic for divination to be much use, but as I focused I could sense something else. “It’s the right place,” I shouted back.
Luna looked at the crowd. “How do we get through?”
“Follow me.”
We descended into the swirling crowd. Noise pounded around us, the harsh beat of industrial music, a singer chanting words that were lost in the throbbing of the bass. I could have pushed through but Luna couldn’t, not without getting too close. “Hey!” I shouted over the music. “Move!” People turned and I got a lot of angry looks, but enough of a path opened for Luna to follow after. With my mage’s sight I could see the silver mist of her curse swirling tightly around her, held in check by her willpower. The people around us fell back, and Luna and I became the centre of a small empty circle on the dance floor. The clubgoers were young, teens and twenties, wearing clothes that ranged from ragged T-shirts and jeans to goth outfits. Luna and I didn’t exactly fit in but we didn’t look out of place either. Arachne’s good at what she does.
Thin beams of green light danced over us as we made it to the bar. I managed to catch the eye of the barman, a bad-tempered looking guy with greasy hair and a leather jacket. “I’m looking for Jagadev,” I called. The music was a little quieter here—still enough to give you a headache, but it was more or less possible to talk.
The barman flicked a glance at me. “Never heard of him.”
I studied the barman for a moment. “Bullshit.”
The barman shrugged and turned to another customer. I looked around to see that the crowd was looking at us. Not everyone, not even most of them, but a good couple of dozen of the guys and girls had stopped dancing and turned to watch. “You know,” I said to Luna, “I’m getting the feeling we’re not all that welcome here.”
“What . . .” Luna said, frowning as she looked at the crowd. “Who are they? There’s something . . .”
“Adepts,” I said. “You’re feeling their magic.”
“All of them?”
“Could be.”
“Hey you,” a voice with a Liverpool accent said from the side.
I turned. The man—boy, really—was twenty or so, with brown-tinted skin and rasta plaits. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of a leather jacket and he was scowling. I looked back at him. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for someone,” I said. “Maybe you can help us out.”
“Think you took a wrong turn, mate,” the boy said. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
I glanced around. “No, I’m pretty sure this is the place.”
The boy’s face darkened and he took a step forward, his fists coming out to hang by his sides. Without looking I could sense that a half circle had formed around us. The barman had made himself scarce. “Fook off, mage. Go back to your fancy restaurants.”
I looked at him, then deliberately turned away to look at Luna. “There are two more of them in the crowd,” I said quietly. “Short-haired brunette in white over my shoulder and the skinny shaven-headed kid with the hoodie to your left.”
Luna’s eyes flickered, and she nodded. “What are they going to do?”
“They’ll come at our backs as soon as this guy kicks off. Watch yourself.”
“Oi!” the boy with rasta plaits said angrily. “I’m talking to you!”
Luna’s eyes went over my shoulder. “Um, Alex?”
“I know,” I said absently. “Just trying to figure out what these guys can do.”
Rasta Plaits grabbe
d my shoulder and spun me around. “I said—”
I moved with the spin and kicked him in the balls. Rasta Plaits’s eyes bugged out and he staggered back; I hit him again in the gut and as he doubled over I hammered a fist down onto the back of his head, sending him sprawling.
“Alex!” Luna shouted.
I jumped left and something exploded into the bar, throwing out splinters. I looked up to see the shaven-headed kid. He was wearing a dark hoodie that looked too big for him and he was holding two metal balls, one in each hand, each one about midway in size between a marble and a pool ball. I felt a surge of force magic as he flicked one at me.
It should have been a weak throw but the ball shot through the air as though it had been fired from a gun. No reflexes could have dodged it, but my precognition had told me where to go and I was already sliding aside as the ball flew over the bar and exploded a vodka bottle into a spray of liquid and broken glass. The kid jerked his wrist and another ball dropped from his sleeve into his hand, and then he twisted and threw two more, one after the other.
This time the second shot was aimed to catch me dodging the first and I had to drop and roll left. The balls whistled over my head and smashed splinters out of the bar. I came up, about to rush him, but he was already backpedalling out of range and as he did I caught a flash of danger on my precognition. “Luna, move!”
Luna obeyed instantly, jumping to one side, and the girl who’d been sneaking up behind her stumbled past as she missed. Before she could turn on Luna I was on her, pushing her back. I moved in for a grab—and pulled myself back just in time, skidding to a stop as I saw what would happen. One touch and I’d be writhing on the floor.
The girl saw me and gave me a catlike smile. She was dressed all in white, with a PVC jacket and leggings. She came at me, hands swinging with fingers curved into claws, and I jumped out of the way. I could feel the spell she was using, a malign form of life magic designed to wrack a body with pain. But just like Anne’s magic, it needed her to touch me to work. As the girl advanced on me I looked into the future, gauging her reach, then as she came in with fingers extended I put a side kick into her body.
It connected with a solid thud. My legs were longer than her arms and she went flying back, but her fingers brushed my leg as she fell. Agony shot through me, my muscles cramping and spasming. I lost my breath in a gasp and fell awkwardly, but it was over in a second. I pulled myself to my feet, shaking my head muzzily. “Alex!” Luna called, moving towards me. “Are you—?”
Rasta Plaits came up behind Luna and hit her in the back. Luna’s head jerked back as she went flying to hit the floor hard. All of a sudden I forgot about the pain in my leg. I was on the guy in two strides.
He swung and went over my head. I came up, let him miss with another punch so I could get into position, then hammered a blow into his side just below his rib cage. The floating ribs are one of the vulnerable points on the torso and I hit with enough force to break them.
It felt like hitting a wall. Pain shot up my arm and Rasta Plaits didn’t even flinch. He just grinned at me, then grabbed me and threw me into a table.
People scattered as the table and I went over with a crash. I hit the floor hard but ingrained reflexes turned the fall into a roll and I was up on my feet in an instant. A wide space on the floor had cleared and as I looked around I saw that both Rasta Plaits and the girl were coming around the overturned table towards me. The thrower was back too, manoeuvring around for a clear shot. Behind them I could see Luna pulling herself to her feet. For an instant there was a pause.
I looked slowly across the three of them. “You have no idea who you are fucking with.”
Rasta Plaits and the girl laughed and jeered. I didn’t listen to the words; I couldn’t get both myself and Luna out and that meant they had to go down. I tuned out the voices and the music, focusing only on my opponents.
Rasta Plaits attacked, his swings powerful but clumsy, and I moved away and let the attacks breeze past. As I studied him I realised he was using earth magic to harden his body, toughening skin and flesh to the consistency of rock. Hitting him would just bruise my hands.
Rasta Plaits kept punching and I kept dodging. My movements were quick, economical, and I gave only minor glances to his blows to make sure they would miss. For all his power he didn’t have much skill and he was tiring fast. The girl danced around, trying to get behind me. The skinny kid was looking for a throw but with the three of us so close he couldn’t get a shot. I considered manoeuvring Rasta Plaits so that he would eat one of the skinny kid’s projectiles and saw that it wouldn’t work—his skin was so toughened he’d just shrug it off. But it gave me another idea.
A silver mist was clinging to Rasta Plaits, the residue of Luna’s curse. I let him push me back towards the bar. The girl had disappeared from my view and I could sense her at my back. As Rasta Plaits bullied forward she came up behind me, aiming for my neck.
I caught Rasta Plaits’s rush and spun him around just as the girl struck, and as I did I felt the flare of magic as Luna’s curse took, bending chance. The girl’s hand missed me by an inch and got Rasta Plaits in the chest, and with my mage’s sight I saw the green-black ooze of the girl’s spell leap into his body.
Rasta Plaits screamed, convulsing as he crashed to the floor, and the girl fell back, staring in shock. I was already moving away, striding towards the thrower. The skinny kid hesitated, then seeing me coming straight for him he threw at my chest. I sidestepped and the metal ball flew all the way into the wall fifty feet behind. I broke into a run. He flexed his wrists and two more balls dropped into his hands; he threw once, twice, and I dodged both without breaking stride. He had just enough time to get out another set before I caught him by the wrist and pulled him off balance as my right hand slid my knife from its sheath. I dragged the kid up with his arm twisted behind his back and my knife under his chin.
The kid froze. I was standing behind him, holding him by one arm. He couldn’t see the knife but could feel the cold metal against his neck, the point digging in under his jaw. The music cut off and the club was suddenly silent except for the rustle and chatter.
Rasta Plaits was whimpering on the floor. The girl was standing dead still, eyes flicking from me to the knife to the people around. I saw her glance at Luna, who’d gotten to her feet and was a little way to her side. “Don’t,” I told her. I forced the kid forward, feeling him trembling against me. All around, the crowd was silent. “Let’s try this again. We’re looking for Jagadev.”
The girl looked from me to Luna, then pointed at a staircase beyond the crowd, leading up.
“Are we going to have any more trouble?”
The girl shook her head.
“How about you, kid?” I pushed the knife a little bit farther up into his jaw.
“No,” the kid said in a strangled voice.
I looked between the two of them, then dropped the kid and walked away, resheathing my knife as I did. A path cleared for us in the crowd, this time without my having to do anything. Behind us I felt the girl rush to where Rasta Plaits had fallen. The kid slumped over a table, rubbing his neck, and I sensed him think about aiming another shot at my back . . . then decide against it. As we reached the stairs, the music started up again.
“You okay?” I asked Luna once we were out of sight.
“Bruises,” Luna said, rubbing her back with a wince. “I’ll be fine.”
I smiled slightly. “I remember when you’d almost forgotten what it was like to be hurt.”
“Yeah, that changed all right. Seriously, Alex, can’t I ever get dressed up to go out with you without this happening?”
“It doesn’t happen every time we have a night out.”
“Name one time it hasn’t.”
“Um . . . your apprenticeship ceremony.”
“Somebody tried to mug us on the way
back across the Heath.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Who were those guys?”
“Adepts,” I said. “Like you, I guess, but dumber.” I shook my head. “This sort of crap is why adepts end up on the bottom of the food chain. They’ve got just enough power to make them feel tough, but not enough to stop themselves getting flattened when they pick a fight with the wrong guy.”
Adepts are a lot more common than mages, ten times more common according to some estimates. Adepts and mages tend not to get on all that well, and to be honest that’s mostly the mages’ fault. Mage society is based on a hierarchy of magical power and adepts are second-class citizens at best. In most cases adepts choose to stay out of mage business completely and mages generally let them as long as they don’t break any rules. “Do you think that’s what this club is?” Luna asked. “A place for adepts?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But that’s not what’s bothering me.”
Luna looked at me, questioning. “What bothers me,” I said, “is that none of the bouncers did anything to break up the fight.”
The balcony at the top of the stairs was big, more like a mezzanine floor, and it was shaped in a wide semicircle that followed the lines of the room. It was better furnished than the lower level, with sofas and low tables, and something about the acoustics made the music a little quieter. It had the feeling of a place to sit and talk and watch the view rather than the frenzy of the dance floor below. A couple of hard-looking security men watched us as we entered, not speaking, and glancing around I could see that they would have had a perfect view of our fight below. Where were you, I wonder?
I knew we needed to go right, but Luna slowed by the railing. “Alex,” she said, nodding down at the crowd.
“Where?”
“The two by the bar,” Luna said. “I recognise them.”
I looked down and saw two men talking with the bartender. They seemed to be asking him questions, and as I watched he pointed towards the staircase we’d used. There was something familiar about them, and I felt as though I’d seen them before. They made me think of police for some reason . . . and that made me remember. “Great.”
Alex Verus Novels, Books 1-4 (9780698175952) Page 65
