Devil's Gambit

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  We ascended higher and higher, and details became blurrier, but I could see further. The North Road, where I had met the necromancer who tormented me for the first time, and the slums in the distance, covered in a thick layer of magical and non-magical smog. Somewhere in that sea of decay was my foe. The necromancer, now called the Necrolord. They had used me, toyed with me, and they were still out there.

  I looked away from the sickening and distant sight of the slums and looked down at the increasingly steeper slopes of the mountain. They were covered in thriving green foliage and grey boulders. Table Mountain had a strong weyline, and it was easy to see this now. While nature attracted weylines, weylines also encouraged nature. And nature was flourishing here. I wished the windows could open, so I could smell the freshness, but they looked to be bolted shut.

  “Never seen that expression on your face before,” Conrad said. He had sidled up next to me. Charlotte was on the opposite end of the cable car, speaking quietly on the phone.

  “And what expression is that?”

  “Wonder, perhaps.”

  “We don’t spend time around each other much. A lot of new things to discover,” I said sharply. Conrad didn’t seem to care.

  “He’s right, you know?” Treth added.

  “We spend so much time looking at the horror that it is hard to remember the simple things we are fighting to protect,” Conrad continued, staring out into the distance, almost wistfully.

  I snorted. “We both remember to collect the simple things after completion and then deposit them in the bank.”

  Conrad let out a small chuckle. “Profit is one of those wonderfully simple things, but it’s not just that…”

  He looked out onto the city. While he had never seen me show wonder before, I had never seen this expression from him. A forlornness brought about from memory perhaps?

  “I’m not from Hope City, but I’ve been here so long that it is my home. Used to be that I stayed here cause the money was good. But it ain’t as good any more. Then, why do I stay?”

  He was half-talking to himself, in a hushed whisper. He didn’t look away from the city. Before I could say anything, the car heaved to a stop. The hum of its engine ceased and we heard clicks as it locked into place. We were now in a shadow, bringing an unnatural coolness to the car. The hydraulics hissed, and the doors opened. We exited.

  It was windy outside. Hope City was always windy, but this was on another level. Without the resistance of buildings and trees, the wind on the peak of Table Mountain was punishing. My hair, despite being tied up in a ponytail, went crazy, sending wisps of dark chestnut into chaos.

  The shadow, I saw now, was formed by the Citadel itself. Just past another cable-station, identical to the grey block we had just come from, was a looming black tower, casting a night-like shadow over us. I couldn’t tell what material the tower was made from. It didn’t look like stone, brick or metal. The closest thing it could be was void-black marble, yet that also wasn’t right. I had learnt about the magical origins of the Citadel in history, but textbook descriptions didn’t do the structure justice. It didn’t look like it was from this world, yet it had been crafted by human mages. Well, it didn’t come from this world then. Magic was pretty otherworldly.

  There were two more armed guards standing by the car. They weren’t Whiteshield, however, but wore the red of the Titan Cult. They eyed Conrad and me with unrestrained suspicion but didn’t speak or make a move on us. I kept my arms crossed, so not to scare them by having my hands too close to my swords. They looked jumpy. Didn’t want to make them jump at my expense.

  Charlotte indicated for us to proceed by entering through the sliding doors of this station. We followed. Inside this building was a carbon copy foyer of the one below, sculpture and all. We didn’t waste any time, and passed right through, to a windy stretch of shrubbery, rocks and a dirt path leading up to the gargantuan black tower. Charlotte stopped to take off her shoes. The path must be too rocky for high heels, despite her adept balance. She replaced the high-heels with some hard slippers left by the door. She must do this a lot. Appearances were important in her line of business, and she felt high-heels were needed for the image they presented.

  The trip from the station to the entrance of the Citadel was silent. We didn’t speak, as we could not, over the buffeting of the wind. We stopped by the door of the Citadel, a somewhat normal looking metal door with a security camera above it. Charlotte pressed a button by the door and looked up towards the camera. With a buzz, the door unlocked, and we entered.

  The room before us was a darkly lit space, with rugs and Impressionist landscape paintings spread across the black surfaces, attempting to bring a bit of warmth to the cold area. In the centre of the room was a wooden, crescent desk. At a computer by it, a landline telephone to his ear, was a man in about his thirties, with light stubble, messy brown hair and round-rimmed glasses.

  Charlotte went to him and tapped her fingers impatiently on the desk. He held up his finger, nodded and then hung up.

  “So, Charlotte. Good afternoon to you too,” the man said with a hint of a childlike grin. I decided that I liked this man. He seemed more human than anyone else I’d seen wearing the red of the Titan Cult.

  “Cornelius, these are the monster hunters.”

  He looked past her at Conrad and me, adjusted his glasses and frowned. Frowned at me. Wasn’t the first time it had happened. People weren’t used to a 19-year-old girl slaying monsters. And, while I had a reputation in the monster hunting community, Hope City was a big place and most people had never heard of me.

  The man stood and offered his hand. “I’m Cornelius Black, chamberlain of the Titan Citadel. Please follow me to the briefing room.”

  Charlotte had already left without a word. What an odd lady.

  “Don’t mind Charlotte,” Cornelius said, cheerily, as we walked. “She’s never not working. No time for pleasantries. She is responsible for the survival of everyone in the Citadel, after all. Grocery shopping for two-hundred men and woman is not an easy task.”

  He led us into a small sitting room where I immediately felt something sharp scrape through my shirt and into my arm. I’d felt worse before, but the surprise made me stop.

  “You’re bleeding!” Cornelius said, shocked. “My apologies. The design of this building does not make sense most of the time. Some of the walls have decorative spikes. No one knows why, and we cannot remove them. The materials of this building are indestructible after all. Just what we get for summoning what doesn’t belong into our world…”

  He stopped thoughtfully for a second. I examined my arm. There was an inch long cut dripping blood onto my t-shirt. Didn’t really hurt, but I was upset about my t-shirt. Clothes were expensive.

  Cornelius’ gaze locked onto me and the cut on my arm.

  “Oh! Sorry. Let me get you something for that cut.”

  I put up my hand to pre-empt his fussing. “No, it’s fine. Really. Nothing compared to the usual.”

  He came anyway and, despite my apprehension, wiped the blood off my arm with a tissue. I frowned and then shrugged. Conrad had already taken a seat on a plush, blue sofa.

  Cornelius halted his nervous first-aid and made way for me to find a place to sit. I sat on an armchair near Conrad, leaving another sofa opposite us for Cornelius.

  “I trust that Charlotte didn’t give any details?”

  Conrad and I nodded.

  “Good. Well, I don’t know how she would tell you the details. She doesn’t know herself.”

  “So, this is top secret then?” Conrad asked.

  “Yes, Mr Khoi,” a new voice answered. “Top secret and very, very sensitive.”

  As I turned to see the new arrival, I caught a flash of intense displeasure on Cornelius’ face. Interesting.

  Cornelius stood. “This is the meister of the Citadel, Stephen DuPreez.”

  The man didn’t smile. If anything, his scowl seemed deep etched into his face. He had short, white hair,
yet didn’t look a day over forty. It wasn’t that white of age, but more a snow-white that indicated some sense of wisdom or power. I could feel a distant hum of electricity from him. I often felt it around sorcerers of immense power. The meister was powerful. More powerful than any sorcerer I had ever had the displeasure of meeting before.

  He didn’t offer his hand. Conrad didn’t seem to care. He only reclined further back onto the sofa, looking like he owned the place.

  “Meister, I was just about to explain the…situation…to the hunters.”

  “Don’t you have procurement forms to fill in, Chamberlain?” Stephen said with a hint of finality that overwhelmed the words themselves. He was telling Cornelius to leave.

  I saw Cornelius’ lip twitch, and then he bowed low and left. Stephen took Cornelius’ seat and leaned back, steepling his fingers, while his elbows rested on the arms of the chair.

  “Mr Khoi, it has been awhile.”

  “It has, Steve.”

  Conrad said the meister’s name with a casualness that made the sorcerer flinch. To my knowledge, Conrad didn’t know any wizardry and wasn’t a sorcerer. He wasn’t rich (he lived out of a Golf!) and he wasn’t a good fighter. Yet, he was calling this man who could melt him with his mind “Steve”. My respect for my boss grew ten-fold instantly.

  “Last time we saw each other, you were explaining why I should still pay you and your freelancers for killing that cyclops despite the battle destroying my estate.”

  Conrad shrugged. “You knew my team’s reputation. You chose to hire them in spite of that.”

  Stephen’s scowl deepened. “Ten silver plates were unaccounted for after the battle.”

  Conrad’s mouth almost twitched up into a smile.

  “Collateral damage,” he said, simply.

  There was a tense silence, and then Stephen’s eyes shifted to me.

  “I asked the liaison to contact you because, despite your propensity for theft and vandalism, you get the job done. But if I had known that you were going to bring a high school girl, I would have called an agency.”

  High school girl! I’m taller than most of my friends. The comment didn’t seem to disturb Conrad, however, who grinned subtly, yet enough to ruffle Stephen’s feathers.

  “Kat is already one of my top tier hunters, Steve. She has killed countless undead and vampires, she slew a salamander this morning and put down a necromancer approaching lichdom.”

  Lichdom? That was pushing it a bit. Jeremiah was powerful, but not that powerful. Still, I didn’t tell Stephen that.

  “Besides,” Conrad’s grin became more obvious now. “If you could contact an agency, you would have already. This is too sensitive for that. Too sensitive to let anyone from Whiteshield, Drakenbane or Puretide know about. Perhaps, because the Council has more ears than you’d like – and this is not something you want the Council to know about…”

  The pair locked eyes. Stephen gave in first and looked away. He leaned back in his chair and addressed both of us.

  “For the past few weeks, eight Titan mages have disappeared under violent circumstances. There is no sign of struggle, despite evidence of extreme violence. Our surveillance shows nothing useful and our magic detectors have recorded no use of hostile magic. This leads me to believe that the culprit is a monster.”

  He snapped his fingers and a hazy screen appeared before us, melding into the air. It was surveillance footage, time-stamp and all. It was filmed around 4am. It showed a small but comfortable looking room, with a man sleeping in its single bed. The footage sped up, evident by the time-stamp and the hasty tossing and turning of the sleeper. Then it slowed down. One second, the man was there, the next, he was gone, leaving a blood splattered room.

  Stephen snapped his fingers again and the shimmering, incorporeal screen disappeared.

  “As you said, Mr Khoi, this is a sensitive matter. We cannot let the Titan Cult know about this, much less the Council. If they knew that Titan Mages were disappearing, or being murdered, there would be general panic. Possible defunding. And that is the least of our worries. The Cult is useful for our purposes, but if they believe that we cannot keep the Titan under control, there will be rebellion. Do I need to spell out what that means?”

  No. He did not. Rebellion would mean an end to the tenuous Titan Citadel. And, if they were to be believed,the subsequent awakening of the Titan Under the Mountain.

  “Kat will find your monster, Steve,” Conrad said, without consulting me. “Then, she’ll put it down.”

  I was happy about the confidence he was putting in me, but I wasn’t so sure myself.

  Chapter 4.

  Range

  “I don’t like it, Kat,” Treth said, as we walked up a dirt path towards the sounds of gunfire.

  “You don’t like a lot of things these days,” I responded. Treth was upset about the Citadel case. He thought our time would be better spent slaying the endless undead. I partly agreed with him. I didn’t like these detective-work cases. They took too long. They occupied too much of my mind that should be dedicated to studying. But, more than that, they made me feel powerless. My skill-set was stabbing, not protracted investigation. But, it couldn’t be helped. I needed to be the detective. While I felt unable to solve a case, how did the non-hunters feel? I may not feel suited to this, but I was much better suited to it than they who didn’t know the difference between a ghoul and a wraith.

  “We should be investigating the necromancer,” Treth continued. I frowned. I agreed, but it couldn’t be helped. There were no leads on the necromancer and no one paying me to look for them. I wanted to stop them, but still needed to pay the rent and tuition.

  “Consider this practice, Treth. If we can find an invisible mage murderer, we can find the necromancer.”

  And then what?

  Put them down, like I did Jeremiah?

  Could I kill a human again?

  Would I have a choice?

  The sight of Brett shook me out of my reverie as I passed an open wooden gate and saw the muscle-bound back of my obnoxious friend. He was wearing a tight black AC/DC t-shirt. On his one arm was a tattoo of a skull impaled on a knife. On the other were just the numbers 56-3. His hair was short, making him look the part of a military veteran. I didn’t know much about my friend’s past, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a military background. When we came across the vampire cartel’s ritual to summon one of their dark gods onto Earth, he had not only survived an attack from a pack of monstrous vampires that seemed impervious to harm, but also helped distract the vampires with the adept use of frag grenades.

  Brett was also a monster hunter but worked for the Drakenbane agency. For a long time, he irritated me, but after helping me save my friend, Trudie, from vampires, he was very high up in my books. High enough that I had even asked him to teach me how to shoot. During that escapade with the vampire, I had felt out of my depth. Sure, I can hunt ghouls and stupid vampiric monsters, but these vampires had guns. What would I have done about that if Brett and his partner, Guy, had not come to help me? I’d be dead. And, so would Trudie. And if Miriam and the necromancer who tormented me were to be believed, so would the world.

  So, here I am, a swordswoman about to learn how to shoot.

  Brett had told me to come to this range because it was typically empty during the week. He was right. The small little firing range was located in a quarry, ensuring no misfires found someone to hit. The targets backed onto the dirt-mounds and there was no way to get there unless you jumped the tables by a small sheltered strip, where the shooters stood, and charged across the firing line. Brett and I were alone in the quarry, so I didn’t expect any accidental casualties, unless one of us lost our senses.

  Brett stopped firing and took off his ear-protectors. He was checking over his pistol as I approached. The sound of my shoes on the sand made him twitch and he turned. For a second, I saw a look of grim anticipation on his face, but then it broke. He smiled.

  “Katty! Glad you could mak
e it.”

  He always called me Katty. Probably because he knew I didn’t like it.

  I shrugged. “Of course. Not going to say no to free training and free ammo.”

  “Of course.” He grinned. “No one as smart as you would.”

  “Starting the flattery already, Brett?”

  He put the pistol down on the table. “Only flattery if it ain’t true.”

  “Doubling down?”

  He laughed and fished into a backpack hanging on a hook. He took out a holster containing a pistol. Don’t ask me what type. I’m not a gun person – yet. Ask me about swords though. I can tell you a lot about those.

  “Usually, I’d start a first timer with a lower calibre, but you aren’t in this just to shoot paper targets and birds. So, a baptism of fire is a lot better. 9mm are not too big a jump but will still ring your shoulder the first few times. It’s also the most common calibre you’ll use, so good to get used to.”

  He handed me the gun and holster. I drew it out and examined it. I had seen it before. A lot of cops and monster hunters used them.

  “That’s a Glock 17. 9mm. Semi-auto. That means…”

  “I’ve never fired a gun in real life, but I’ve played enough video games to know what that means.”

  Brett nodded. “It’s a good gun. Not going to put down a zombie instantly unless you get a really good headshot, but you don’t need help putting down zombies.”

  “How will it fare against vamps?”

  Brett looked away, back at his gun on the table. His expression and tone darkened. “Nothing does well against vamps. Best you can do is put in silver shot or a silver hollow-point. Solid silver will go right through and won’t affect their regeneration. Need the silver to stay in the wound to stop it from growing back.”

  “So, how’d you kill those garkains?

  I heard a series of clicks as Brett inserted a magazine into his pistol and pulled back the slide. It gave a satisfying click as the round chambered.