by TR Cameron
“That explains why the Remembrance is so determined to collect them. The power they hold, that is.”
Nylotte nodded. “They are powerful individually, and more so once collected.”
The idea sent a chill through Diana. “You mean they…uh, reinforce one another?”
“Not as such. But multiple beings with such power make life far more difficult for those who oppose them. More tentacles and such.”
The chill became almost icy.
You did that on purpose, elf-wench.
“Well, that’s a bonus.” She noticed her teacher’s odd expression. “What?”
“I’ve heard a rumor.”
“Do you care to share it?”
“There is a set of artifacts crafted to work in cooperation with one another somehow that were fashioned into armor for use in Rhazdon’s first rebellion.”
“Okay.” Diana did not like the turn this conversation had taken.
The Drow shrugged. “After a very long time of hearing nothing about it, in the last weeks, it has been mentioned in my presence more than once. It may merely be a coincidence.”
“There are no coincidences. Bloody hell. How bad is this for us?”
Nylotte stared directly into her eyes, and Diana was shaken to see the depth of the naked concern she showed. “Quite bad, indeed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Sloan hadn’t been in the dive bar this early in the day before. It was not the sort of place one actually wanted to see in bright light. He closed the door carefully behind him to shut out the illumination that revealed the airborne dust and any number of other things he didn’t really want to think closely about.
Teddy sat at the bar, sipping from a tall glass containing either tomato juice or a Bloody Mary. Sloan put his money on the latter. He looked very much the worse for wear, which made sense, given the celebratory mood that had filled the gang since their successful heist several nights before.
He turned his grey beard to Sloan and said, “Hey, Ketch. ’Sup?”
The agent clapped him on the shoulder as he took the tall stool beside him. “Living. Loving. Causing trouble. The usual. You?”
Teddy raised his red drink in a toast. “Holding down the fort and getting my energy back.” Sloan noticed belatedly that there was no one behind the bar.
“You’re working here?”
The man waggled a hand in the air. “Not really. More filling in while Geetch is out buying supplies. It’s not like anyone comes in this early.”
Sloan made a show of looking around. “Yeah, and you can see why. When’s the last time they deep-cleaned in here?”
The older man gave a scratchy laugh. “World War Two, probably. But the booze is good and cheap, and no one bothers us.”
“Y’all should get a clubhouse. A base of operations.”
Teddy shrugged. “Here works. For now, anyway. Maybe soon, things will change a little.”
“How so?”
He took a long swig of his drink and swiveled on the stool to face Sloan. “We have something bigger than usual on the way. Mur is setting it up with some friends of his. It’s gonna be a good payday.”
Sloan grinned. “Another break-in? That was smooth as silk the other night.”
“Kind of. He’ll be here in a few to explain it, along with the rest of the boys.”
“Did I screw the time up?”
“No. I wanted you here a little early so we could have a word.” He seemed uncomfortable, and a flash told Sloan he had some uncertainty about something. He took a guess at what it might be.
“Is this about the gun? It’s okay that it misfired. No harm, no foul.”
That should make him think I don’t suspect a thing.
Teddy gave him a half smile. “Good. I felt bad about giving you a piece that didn’t work.”
“It’s not like you had a way of knowing. Sometimes stuff goes wrong.”
“True enough.” Any further words were rendered inaudible by the sound of the front door banging open, and the offensive-lineman-sized leader of the group pushed through. Teddy stood. “Hiya, Mur. Drink?”
The man shook his head. “No time. Places to be. Let’s go back.”
Teddy moved past the newcomers and locked the door. Sloan trailed him as he followed the others into the rear of the bar, where they gathered again around the card table. This time, he was the one left without a chair, which suited him fine. The other two men had been on the heist with them, but Sloan hadn’t been introduced. They stared at him with a mixture of distrust and a distinct lack of welcome.
“We have a gig working for some friends of mine.” There were supportive nods, the kind that followers gave when sucking up to a leader who calculated loyalty minute by minute.
Sloan added his own slight nod but wasn’t about to play the pandering wannabe. He sensed the man’s respect wouldn’t be won by over-subordination. “It’s nice to have friends, like you said.”
Teddy laughed uncomfortably, and his voice cracked from the alcohol he’d already consumed. Mur looked at Sloan but didn’t reply. For his part, the agent maintained eye contact and gave them what he thought of as his blank face. Finally, the leader broke the silence. “It is, indeed, Ketch.” He turned to the group. “We’ll hit the University. They have a special collection on exhibit in the Library—some old books from this world and the other one. It should be a score that gets us some good cash.”
Sloan frowned.
Odd.
“What do your friends need a bunch of books for?” He injected a note of bewilderment into his tone.
Mur frowned at him and leaned back to stare. “I’m not sure why you care, new guy, but the answer is I don’t know. And I don’t want to know, either. They’re the kind of friends that when they ask you to do a thing, you do it.”
He held up a hand in apology. “I’m not criticizing, only curious. Is there anything else in there we can grab while we’re at it? Do they mind a little freelancing?”
The leader’s lips spread in a cautious smile. “Now that’s the first useful question you’ve asked. It seems like you’re the right person to find out. Does that sound good?”
Sloan nodded. “I know some people. Not friends, not really, but also not above trading inside information for cash. I’ll check in with them.”
Mur nodded. “We’ll do the heist one night next week. Everything has to run like clockwork. We’ll go in when the library closes, right after midnight. The books will be in the secure exhibit on the fifth floor. I already have a contact to let us in.” He snapped his fingers and turned to Teddy. “We gonna need stun guns for this one. We'll blast him so there’s no suspicion afterward, and any other resistance will be only students and rent-a-cops. There’s no reason to bring heavy hardware.” Unsaid was the fact that if they were arrested, they’d get a lighter sentence if they carried only non-lethal weapons.
Somehow, I doubt Mur will go in unstrapped, though.
The meeting adjourned and the others took their leave. Sloan was left with Teddy and the man still seemed uncomfortable. As he had on many occasions before, the agent wished he could summon his magic at will.
Heh. Maybe the scary elf everyone talks about can train me next.
But his mundane senses screamed that something was up, and his mantra in situations like that was to get simple, get clear, and get clean. He raised a fist for a bump, and Teddy met it with relief in his eyes. “Text when you need me, bruh. Y’all are my main job right now, and I’m up for whatever. I’ll go see what I can find out about the library.”
He nodded and unlocked the front door to let Sloan out into the sun. Outside, he squinted at it and looked around as if deciding what to do next. Down the hill and to the right, the road led to a string of more dive bars and a strip club that touted itself as the best place to watch sports in town.
Sports, right. Sure.
To the left, the long walk through the strip district would return him to the city proper. His dingy hotel stoo
d about halfway between here and there, but he wasn’t sure it would be smart to go there immediately.
He ambled slowly down the hill, slipped on his sunglasses, inserted his earbuds, and looked at his phone. A few swipes activated the AR functions, and he left the camera on to feed into the eyewear’s display. He swung his arms as he walked to make sure the lens had a look in all directions and finally spotted the tail. The two other men from the bar took turns to stay close while one paralleled him a block away on either side.
They’re trying hard not to spook me. And they’re not terrible at tracking, either. A point to them.
He had several options available. A simple set of counter-surveillance moves would lose them, but it risked them realizing that he’d made them.
So, that’s out.
He could pretend to notice them by chance and confront them about following him. That might increase his standing with them, and maybe Mur and Teddy, but it could also have the opposite result and increase their suspicions. He certainly wouldn’t let them trail him to the hotel. His mind sifted through other possibilities, but they were all risky, and he didn’t want to jeopardize his connection to the gang.
Only one option remained. He boarded the next bus and dropped his fare in the till before he shuffled to a seat at the back. While he bounced his head in time to the music playing in his ears, he typed a text to the operations number, which would be monitored by whoever was in the base at the moment.
Heading to someplace called Homestead Waterfront. Bus 5349. Need a tail check.
The encrypted message sent and vanished seconds later, while all record of it was wiped from his device.
The response was immediate.
Ops. K.
So, Kayleigh.
Check inbound.
A dozen minutes passed before he received a one-word follow-up.
Clean.
She must have detailed a drone or two to follow him and make sure his watchers had been left behind.
He typed again.
Cool. Ride?
Her answer was brief and brutal.
Bus trip back is as scenic. Enjoy.
He shook his head. The tech was a tough cookie, but he’d win her over eventually. So far, she’d proven immune to his charms, but then again, he hadn’t really tried yet.
You know, what I truly need to make this cover persona work is a girlfriend. I wonder how easily we could disguise her.
He spent the rest of the trip considering options to improve Tommy Ketchum’s viability, only a few of which involved the hyper-intelligent blonde technician. But the ones that did were his favorites.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Vincente’s office was as dark as he could make it. The doors were closed and the lights turned off. Blinds covered the windows he so often paced in front of to shut out the rest of the warehouse. The only illumination came from the statuette before him via a soft glow that never left the crystal at the top.
His coin felt heavy where it burned against his chest, signaling his superior’s desire for communication. The wizard sighed, withdrew the object from the small pocket inside his shirt, and slotted it into place at the base of the sculpture. The device performed its magic, and a three-dimensional image of Dreven appeared and hovered above the crystal.
“Master.” The artifact within him seemed to twist, disliking any act of subordination. Whispers from the entity—it seemed appropriate to call it that—had assaulted his mind at random times. It demanded that he seize power and spun plans to ascend in the ranks. It didn’t have the best understanding of the situation at hand, but it was very committed to the idea of becoming the most powerful being around.
In time. For now, we must serve.
The image nodded. “Vincente. What is the status of your team?”
Lousy, thanks for asking. How’s yours?
He cleared his throat. “As expected, Sarah has…recovered from her experience in the World in Between. The humans still lack a leader with Marcus locked in the human prison.” He schooled his voice to contain the hope he felt. “Will we attack the installation to rescue our people in the near future, Master?”
Dreven nodded. “Soon, but not yet. We have another objective in the interim.”
“And my people will be a part of securing this objective?”
“Among many others across many operations, yes. You will be my personal representatives in this undertaking, and as you are in charge of the primary assignment, failure would be…unacceptable, to say the least.” The venom contained in the threat was unmistakable. His artifact bristled, and Vincente’s lips twitched. He covered it with a sneer.
“If there is a disappointment of any kind, Master, it will not come from us.”
The virtual wizard nodded. “Excellent. In preparation for the event, you are to bestow an artifact upon your subordinate.”
He couldn’t contain the grimace. “Do you think that’s wise, Master?”
“Would I instruct you to do it if I did not?”
Vincente sighed. “Of course not. I will do as you say.”
Dreven gave him a knowing smile. “There are reasons for everything, my trusted lieutenant. Have faith.” For a moment, warmth crept into his voice. It vanished as quickly to be usurped by aloof certainty. “The event occurs in less than a week and requires a full commitment from you and all your people.”
“You have it, of course, Master.”
“Once there are details to share, they will be communicated to you. The location is still uncertain, and thus the timing is in flux. Events shall move quickly once these things are known. You must be ready at a moment’s notice.”
“We will be.”
His superior nodded. “I know that you will. Now, empower your second in command and prepare for what is to come.”
“Yes, Master.”
The connection dropped as the image turned to vapor and spiraled away. Vincente withdrew the coin and returned it to the inner pocket, then buttoned his black shirt and smoothed his black tie into place. He had a flash of self-analysis accompanied by a mocking laugh.
Once, there was color in my life, but neither power nor responsibility. Now, I possess those things but have abandoned visual variety for trustworthy darkness.
He laughed at himself again.
Subtle metaphor, man. Real deep.
He stood, walked to the safe, and spun the lock open on the first try. He had changed the combination the day before. Concerns over security even there in his stronghold had grown with the passage of time. Marcus’s absence was a persistent hindrance that required him to interact with the man’s followers far more than he preferred to. Still, every soldier was necessary, now more than ever. He merely wished they could free their imprisoned people, one and all. It irked him that they were so physically near, yet he could do nothing for them. There was an edge of loyalty to the feeling but statistics won over. This was a numbers game, after all. Marcus was worth any five of his disciples, and the gang was ultimately weaker without him.
He opened the door to call for Sarah, but she was already standing on the landing outside. He blinked in surprise but managed not to flinch. The paleness that had marked her return into the world had not changed. Her eyes were still a vivid blue and looked shocking in the colorlessness that surrounded them. Three scars ran diagonally across each cheek, white on white. A healing potion had closed the wounds but failed to remove the reminders. They were lightly touched with scarlet makeup, and a faint red on her lips captured the same hue. He’d begun to think of the whole look as her war paint.
Before the incident, she had possessed a wardrobe of varying colors and styles. Now, she wore only tight black dresses with flowing skirts that reached to her ankles and black boots beneath. Long sleeves covered her arms and looped around her thumbs to keep the fabric taut. She had never been fleshy but had become almost cadaverously thin. Her sharp cheekbones and spindly fingers caused something inside him to recoil defensively. Her grim and knowing smile mad
e it that much worse.
“Sarah. Do come in.”
She swept past him and sat upright in the chair in front of his desk. She stared hungrily at the fabric-wrapped object that rested upon it. A change thrummed in the air as the two came together, including the sensation of a palpable increase in danger. Vincente swallowed hard against the desire to give in to the internal voices that told him unequivocally not to do this thing. He crossed deliberately behind the desk and sat in his chair to lean forward with his elbows on the flat surface.
“My superiors agreed to my request to grant you an artifact.”
That’s mostly true, I suppose.
He had been the one to mention the idea long before. Had it been solely his decision, though, recent events might have swayed him to delay the gift indefinitely. “This is a great honor for you but comes with a commensurate burden.”
Sarah nodded. “I understand. I will use this power—and all my power—in the service of the goals of the Remembrance.”
He wasn’t fooled by her phrasing.
Not for me, and not for those above, but for the “goals” as you perceive them. Truth, but not truth, all at once.
It didn’t matter. No one expected her to act differently, and the artifacts demanded their own loyalty, even before the Remembrance added the not-so-subtle magics to keep their followers in line.
He pushed the fabric bundle across to her without a word. Her hand trembled as she unwrapped the heavy scarlet cover fold by fold. Her breath came faster with each layer removed. She gasped when the full relic was revealed. A spiral snake coiled in upon itself, seemingly asleep. Its scales were jeweled, the body beneath a deep green that made him think of poison. Unlike his own artifact, which had been neutral or even positive toward him before the bonding, this one was unsettling.
Maybe that’s how you feel about all other artifacts once you have one. Who the hell knows? It fits her, though.
She stared at the item before her without blinking, like she somehow communed with it. She reached out tentatively, still shaking, and touched her finger to the mouth of the serpent. The artifact moved as if it had been alive the whole time and merely bided its time. It flowed over her hand to twine around her arm under her sleeve. The traveling bulge was disconcerting. More uncomfortable was the witch’s moan as it climbed and the look of ecstasy the bonding inspired on her pale features. Her expression transformed suddenly to reflect shock and brutal pain, but it subsided in an instant as the artifact sank into her flesh and the bulge vanished.
