The sharp metal corners dug through the drywall as he ripped it away.
I pulled the trigger, turning him into a sea of red mist.
Then I retreated, sprinting down the hallway.
I had seconds, not minutes. The blockade had only held because of Marshall’s hope that I could be wooed to the dark side. That hope had clearly died when I’d shot him. Guess this was his way of demonstrating his disappointment.
Had I killed him? The mangy horde had rushed forward too fast for me to tell.
“Serenity.” I pounded on the exam room’s thin door. “Goddamnit, Serenity.”
Not receiving a response fast enough for my liking, I kicked in the knob. The wood splintered and I rushed inside.
“He’s recovering, Ruby.” Her long black hair drifted over her eyes as she shook her head. For his part, Roark looked checked out and immobile.
This was not going to work.
“An hour my ass,” I said.
“Better to underpromise and overdeliver. Especially knowing you.”
I’d have been insulted, but I couldn’t be bothered, what with more pressing matters screaming in the hallway. Serenity heard them too, because her entire body stiffened like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Before, she’d been willfully ignorant, concentrating on the surgery. Now reality flooded her senses, and fear rushed into the corners of her eyes.
I looked at the bloodied bandage on Roark’s back and said, “Can he walk?”
“He’s sedated.”
“Then we leave him.”
“You’re going to—”
A shelf tipped over in the hall. “This isn’t up for debate, damnit.” I figured that, at the very least, the chips being toast meant that our temporary bond was severed.
Nonetheless, I’d be lying if I didn’t mention I had some trepidation about that.
Or maybe those were feelings. Getting torn limb from limb in a time loop wasn’t a friendly fate.
“You’re sure it’s a time loop?” Serenity asked, eyes filled with a second unspoken question.
“Pretty fucking sure.” The scraping and roars grew as the mob fought one another for the privilege of being the first to rip our throats out.
Before I could say anything else, Serenity grabbed Roark’s service weapon, squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger. The gunshots exploded in the tiny exam room, leaving a humming noise in my ears.
I blinked twice, staring at the hole in Roark’s head. I was still alive, at least.
Looked like Serenity had done her job.
She handed me the service pistol and said, “First, do no harm.”
“I guess.” My mind spun for a moment. That was pure compassion, overriding her hatred of violence. I let the shotgun slip from my fingers.
It was useless without shells, and I’d be reunited with it soon enough.
I grabbed her arm and plunged out of the room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a wolf crawling over the debris, another creature at his tail.
I fired two shots, hearing a muted yelp for my troubles.
I cut down the hallway, going left. Serenity resisted my pull. “The exit is the other way.”
“We’re making a stand,” I said. Then I let go of her arm. “You can run.”
She looked hesitant. “Circle back around the front and get them from behind. Better odds.”
“Look at you,” I said, checking the magazine. “A regular little Napoleon.”
“I’ve learned things from you.” Her expression told me they weren’t good things.
“Well, they’re coming in handy now.” Because I wasn’t spending all day getting chased by feral creatures. Dispatch these, and Marshall, and I would have hours of leisure at my disposal. Giving me the opportunity to chase through this sordid mess and figure out how to end it for good.
Playing catch-up was a bitch.
I followed Serenity toward the emergency exit. Bright lights flashed as she thrust her weight against the push bar. An alarm drowned out the rhythmic chant as we plunged outside into a back area. There was a medical dumpster near the door, its presence marked by hazard logos.
“Through the fence.” Serenity raced ahead before I could yell to wait. People not trained in battle did stupid things. Like not allowing those with the guns to take the lead.
This was no exception.
She reached the open chain-link fence, and I heard the bark of a gunshot. Serenity buckled, clutching her stomach. My own turned over, but I didn’t rush over to help.
That was a good way to get killed.
Instead, I crept forward, service pistol raised. Silently, I moved toward the wobbling gate, the rusted metal creaking as I moved across the well-worn asphalt. I watched a shadow approach from around the corner, the swishing hair giving Marshall away. His attention was focused on Serenity, who wasn’t moving.
I held my breath, peering through the corroded metal.
His silver hair came around the corner, and I squeezed off a shot, the diamond-studded round shattering his shoulder with a bracing crack. He crumpled near Serenity, groaning from the pain. Blood streamed from the wound in rivers, but his spasms told me he was still alive.
I rushed over, kicking his gun away. I could’ve shot him again, but some instinct told me that I needed him alive. That, up against death’s door, he would somehow be more cooperative. Sometimes a Realmfarer’s skills were difficult to explain, even to oneself.
Marshall burbled in protest as I kicked him over and planted my boot against his shoulder.
“What are you planning?” I asked.
“We could change the world together, Ruby.” His muscles shook from the pain. Say what you wanted about MagiTekk’s ethics. They made one hell of a supernatural suppression round.
“I’ll pass.” After tossing Roark’s gun away, I reached beneath Marshall and extracted the long curved blade from its scabbard. Pointing the gleaming tip at his throat, I said, “How’s it feel?”
“Less disappointing.”
I pressed the point into his pale skin hard enough to draw blood. His one good eye blinked back at me from beyond the ski mask, glowing intensely as the shoulder wound stained his cascading silver hair red.
“What about now?”
“You understand that I will be reborn, just like you.”
“Good point.” I brought the sword up for a brief moment, then plunged it into his good shoulder. He howled in pain, his face contorting in agony. “Ready to talk?”
Marshall said, “You do not understand.”
I slid the blade loose and shook the blood from it. “I really don’t have time for this.”
The high-pitched laugh came. “MagiTekk is the source of evil. Not me.” He coughed, still laughing. “I only want to cut the head off the snake.”
“So we’ve covered. I’m sure you’re pissed about the competition winning—”
“This is not about money,” Marshall said. “At least not for me, strange one. For them, who can say?”
This answer was less than impressive, and I let him know by removing some of his fingers. It was odd, seeing him broken like this. But everyone had their tipping point, and most people found theirs long before they expected.
Marshall might’ve been a necromancer, but that didn’t make him brave or a warrior.
Still, he had his crusade all the same.
“If you win, Ruby,” he said, between cries, “you must promise something.”
“I’m not cutting a deal with you.” I raised the sword high, ready to relieve him of his head. For the two times he’d run me through like a stuck pig. His good eye shut tight, body shaking in either shock or fear.
He said in a pleading voice, “Please don’t.”
“You’re not giving me much incentive to keep you around.”
“You must not let MagiTekk win,” Marshall whispered, his haunted eyes looking at me fiercely. “Just as I cannot let you win without a fight.”
Before I could leap out of
the way or put him down, I heard a fatal click.
“Train well, Realmfarer,” Marshall said, a pained grin on his face. “For the game has now truly begun.”
I tried to step away, but he grabbed me with one of his wounded arms. As I tumbled to the pavement, I felt his breath against my cheek as he rasped the fateful words.
“The first rule, strange one.” A hidden button released, signaling nothing good. “Always have a fail-safe.”
And then Solomon Marshall’s body erupted into a sea of flame, taking me with him.
34
1901
Chicago Outskirts
“Again!” Pearl whapped me with the rod, her unkempt black hair streaming around her eyes.
I wiped blood and sweat from my mouth. Dawn light streamed over the horizon, mixing with the smog from the factories. It would coalesce into a bluish haze as the workday began.
But in the quiet of the morning, here on the edge of the forest, I was one of the first awake.
I was always one of the first awake. Even after more than twenty years of training, the routine never stopped.
The rod caught me in the chin, sending me sprawling to the grass.
“This is not a time for thinking, Ruby,” Pearl muttered beneath her breath. “I shouldn’t have helped you escape that wretched Weald. Lazy.”
I kicked my legs out and she crashed in an ageless heap beside me.
“Guess you didn’t see that one coming,” I said, tasting copper in my mouth.
I heard the Seer groan and curse. She was never the fighter, although all this training suggested she could more than hold her own. And, when I was distracted, she liked to remind me of that.
But two could play that game. After all, I’d been through a lot.
Back in 1812, when my name was different—and everything was different, really—my life had changed in a single evening. Never underestimate how quickly things can go from bad to worse. It’ll get you killed.
Well, almost.
It was late in the print shop, the candles flickering down. I had just been about to close when a tall, lean saber of a man staggered through the door. A jagged gash ran down his chest, dripping blood. His sole companion was a talking medium-sized black-and-white border collie.
Kalos Aeon and his loyal dog Argos. I would see them again, many years later. It would seem our fates were somehow linked together.
I had just inherited my recently departed father’s supernatural apothecary business, making me the sole proprietor of both Liberty Printworks and the Callaway Supernatural Apothecary. Father had few rules, but one of them was strict and unbreakable.
He had warned me to avoid treating creatures of darkness. They tended to invite trouble, but at least they paid well.
But, under no circumstances was I to treat demons.
So, naturally, a half-demon needed my services. And deciding to treat Kalos that night had led me on a winding path here, to this patch of grass on the outskirts of Chicago. Through my print shop burning, through being bitten—twice—by an alpha werewolf. Almost dying, and being sent from the Underworld to the Weald of Centurions.
Somewhere in that swirl of events, Rebecca Callaway had vanished. And Ruby Callaway, bold and unafraid bounty hunter, was born in her stead.
The rod came down, but instinct caused me to roll out of the way. I was upon my toes, gravel crackling beneath my feet, glaring at Pearl.
“You are distracted,” Pearl said. “You are thinking of him.”
“You have no idea what I’m thinking of.”
Her cool gaze told me that was a lie. Seers could ascertain much, catching glimpses of the future and the world at large.
“Sentimentality will get you killed,” Pearl said. Somehow, sweat didn’t grace her brow. “There is no saving Galleron.”
“That’s not what I was thinking of.” I had before, of course. But I’d learned that being a hero brings little but suffering upon you. And, after all, I was no hero. Galleron had told me as such on my first day in the Weald, when I had awoken and wondered whether I had died from my wounds.
They still echoed in my ears.
You’re a hunter, Rebecca Callaway. A killer. And that will serve you well in this realm of bones. And perhaps beyond.
I was a Realmfarer, but I didn’t belong in the Weald. And so, he had helped me escape—my first mentor, my first lover.
“Well, there’s no use in goddamn lying to me.” Pearl pointed the metal rod at me, the distant smoggy sunlight glinting off its end. “That shit is just insulting.”
“Language.”
“I’ve seen your doe-eyed games with the gangsters and the sailors, girl,” Pearl said. “I taught you all of them.” She almost smiled. “And you enjoyed them.”
She swung with the rod, and in one smooth motion, I drew down, shotgun in my hands.
Pearl recovered, looking at me with a knowing expression. “Here’s where you make a choice, Ruby.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Upon my escape from the Weald, Pearl had been there waiting. Since that fateful day in 1879—I had learned that each day in the Weald had actually been a year—we had been partners, of sorts, splitting each contract 50-50.
Partners, but not equals.
“Fate doesn’t grant us what we goddamn want,” Pearl said, voice not changing inflection. “It calls upon us to do what others cannot.”
“This is about money.” I racked the slide and aimed it at her head. One trigger pull and I was free.
“Is it?” Pearl shrugged, looking nonchalant. “Time’s wasting, damnit. Make a decision.”
I breathed in deep.
Finally, I lowered the gun.
“Don’t say you knew,” I said. “I know you fucking knew.”
“Language,” Pearl said with sarcasm, raising the rod once more. I felt a trickle of sweat drip down my neck as the day began to heat up. “Are you done with your fit?”
I didn’t answer, blocking the rod as it hurtled toward my head.
This was the life I had agreed to.
And I would see it through to the end.
35
Day 26
I slashed the pen through the fourth name, red ink dripping from the dog-eared paper. My skin was unburnt and cool, but I could still feel the searing heat, my jaw popping from the temperature. With a shudder, I waited for the cavalry’s familiar approach.
A fog at the edge of my mind whispered that the game had changed. The memory of Pearl in that field faded as the room returned to focus. But it felt like it had been dredged up from the centuries for a reason.
As a reminder that nothing was as it seemed. Pearl had always been concerned about money. The next contract. But now, I wasn’t so sure that hadn’t been an act. Live-action training for some greater purpose. Pearl had trained me, watched over me for all those years. She and the Weald had forged me into what I was.
Perhaps I was meant for something more than hunting down creatures, pulling the trigger and collecting bounties.
But none of the past mattered now. The half-demon who had stumbled into the shop. The Seer who had taken me under her wing. The Realmfarer who had been my first teacher, lover and savior.
They weren’t around to help. They wouldn’t stop Solomon Marshall.
Hopefully my skills would serve me in this world, too. Otherwise, things would get worse before they got better.
I blinked at the paper and wondered how Solomon Marshall could live like this for almost a year. Three weeks in and I was ready to scream. But the more I thought about it, the pen shaking in my fingers, the more I realized this wasn’t anything different.
The thought of revenge had kept me going within these walls for more than two decades. And, as I barely aged, those twenty years here in Tempe were little more than an endless loop. The same daily routine, repeated over and over. Carving out the slightest advantages and leads, planning meticulously for days and years for my one shot.
When it came down to it, mos
t of us lived in time loops, one way or another. Running in place without moving an inch.
I craned my neck toward the cabin’s door. It should have come flying inside by now, Captain Stevens ready to jam his rifle down my throat. This was how things went, after all. Nothing could change.
But as the minutes ticked by, punctuated only by the soft sounds of my bunkmates’ breathing, a sickening realization took root in my stomach.
Captain Stevens wasn’t coming.
The necromancer had changed the game, shuffled the deck after I’d solved most of the puzzle. A new day with new rules now awaited, after I’d endured the same bullshit over and over.
I slipped the paper into my pocket and let the pen tumble to the ground. Through the tiny windows, I peered out into the moonlit night. I could see nothing but rows of cabins. Trying the door, I found it locked—typical in the nighttime.
But I had gotten in here only moments—or weeks, depending on how you wanted to look at it—before, defeating the same mechanism. I padded over to my bed, searching beneath the covers for the thin electronic surge strip. Perfect for overriding circuits.
Placing it along the doorjamb, I stepped back and waited.
Nothing.
Lockdown.
Heart rising in my chest, I realized that someone must’ve tipped Captain Stevens off. A call just as he was closing in—a disruption to the normal course of events. Marshall had my tracking data from the one day. And if he worked through it, there was no doubt he could tell that Captain Stevens was the key cog in the machine. The ignition point for everything that followed.
Remove that, and there was no Roark. Nothing that would allow me to exit this room before it was too damn late. By sunrise, Roark and everyone he knew would be dead, or on their way to a grave. MagiTekk’s R&D building would be ash.
And the necromancer would have his own little army to roll over the smoldering landscape.
All while I was helpless to stop anything, trapped behind an electric fence.
Right now, though, my problem was the door. Merely getting outside was a challenge.
Ruby Callaway: The Complete Collection Page 16
