Ruby Callaway: The Complete Collection

by D. N. Erikson

  “I appreciate your remarkable restraint.” Serenity walked across the plain room, sensible shoes tapping against the chipped tile. After rummaging through cabinets for a minute, she returned bearing a cluster of syringes. “These booster shots should keep you going—for the time being.”

  “That’s a lot of needles,” I said, staring at the bundle. “Tell me I don’t have to jam them all in my arm just to survive.”

  “You’re out of the woods as far as imminent death is concerned.” She pushed her fingers against my neck a little rougher than necessary. “But you’ll be lethargic if you don’t take one every two hours. Which, in your line of work, is as good as dead.”

  “Point taken.”

  Without warning, she took one of the needles and jammed it into the crook of my arm.

  The phone rang, and Serenity removed her fingers from my neck, apparently satisfied that I wasn’t going to keel over. She placed the remaining half dozen needles on the paper covering the exam table. Then she went to answer the phone.

  I smirked as I counted the syringes. She must’ve checked my watch. Just enough to keep me going during my secret mission. Sliding off the table, I read the wisps surrounding her head. They were quite agitated by elven standards.

  “Is there something else?” I asked.

  Her expression was a mix of anger and fear. “It seems the FBI is outside, ready to pay us a visit. But I’m sure you know nothing about that, Ruby. Right?”

  That was quick. Then again, half the Bureau was probably “investigating” the incident at the Cathedral of St. Peter. If recently deceased Supervisor Emma Janssen’s word could be trusted, a ton of federal agents remained firmly in MagiTekk’s pocket.

  And some of them were coming to retrieve me for Malcolm.

  “You have a back exit,” I said, more a statement than a question. I’d slipped out the back during the time loop. Hadn’t helped me survive then, but maybe that knowledge would prove useful now.

  “If anything happens to the clinic—”

  “Don’t worry, Princess,” I said, smiling as she glared back. “Everything’s gonna be fine. They don’t care about you.”

  “You’re a scourge, Ruby.”

  “Shouldn’t have fucked that vampire, Serenity.” I watched the tips of her exposed ears flush with shameful embarrassment. Our paths would never have crossed if she’d just stayed in the Elven Cliffs. But curiosity could corrupt even the incorruptible. “Actions have consequences.”

  “My life was easy before three weeks ago,” Serenity said with a grimace.

  “You charted this path long before then,” I said. “Back in Seattle.”

  Serenity gave me a final glare, then hurried to the cabinets. She took a larger needle out from the drawer. “For emergencies.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “You’ll find out if you have to use it.” She handed me the syringe, which had a point stretching from my finger to the base of my wrist. “I’ll stall them out front.”

  “How kind of you, doctor.” I slipped the extra needle into my pocket, careful not to jab myself. Then I caught the door behind her and headed the opposite way. “Give them your best Princess smile.”

  She mumbled a vitriolic response unbefitting of a princess or an elf. I rushed around the corner, slipping past a narrow gauntlet of stacked boxes to reach the back exit. The dry Phoenix air sucker-punched me as I headed outside. Low peals of thunder roiled in the distance, hinting at an oncoming storm.

  Past the dumpsters and through the chain link fence, I spotted two black sedans parked along the pitted road. Eight men in black suits exited the vehicles. Six of them strode toward the clinic’s front entrance, while two stayed behind. They stood straight, hands on their service weapons.

  Holding down the fort in case I got past the first wave.

  I headed for the cover of the dumpster, weighing the options at my disposal. Leaving a trail of bodies would bring MagiTekk’s boot down upon Serenity’s throat. No plausible deniability there. The clinic would likely be in ashes within the hour.

  I dug into the pocket of the leather jacket, pulling out the cracked data cube. This was my back door into the FBI’s system. Access to valuable intel awaited inside its digital walls. But, right now, it was more useful as a distraction.

  Glancing around the edge of the dumpster, I gauged the distance to the opposite sidewalk.

  With a strong heave, I tossed the cube over the agents’ heads. It shattered across the street, puncturing the dusty tranquility. I watched as the agents whirled around, guns drawn.

  And then I slipped through a gap in the rusty chain link, racing up the street and around the corner. My phone buzzed as I sprinted.

  Alice had found a video clip, and sent it to the major media outlets.

  And, oh yeah: there was someone who could crack the enchantment on the note.

  But they wouldn’t come cheap.

  Then again, nothing these days ever did.

  I checked over my shoulder before entering the crumbling building. What had once been a magnificent home worth north of a million dollars was now a ruin in danger of being reclaimed by the desert. I gingerly let the door shut behind me, but it still sounded like a creaky gunshot.

  Dusty light streamed from the cracks in the yellowed ceiling.

  One hand on the shotgun, ready to draw, I made my way into the cavernous dining room. The place settings were still out, covered in a thick layer of grime. Ready for a meal that would never be served.

  “You are the half-vampire’s friend?” The voice came from behind me. Instinctually, I spun around, shotgun already drawn. The woman didn’t react. “Yes, I see that you are her friend.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She told me that you carried a big gun.” From the woman’s aura, I sensed she was a sorceress—and a powerful one at that. “I am Aiko.”

  “Ruby.”

  She gestured for me to sit at the table. I did, but brushed away some dust before doing so.

  “Young Alice explained my fee?”

  “She only said you were expensive.”

  Aiko sat down across from me. Her black hair was streaked with gray. It hung over her eyes, giving her an air of deceptive mystery.

  “That is true. But I do not traffic in money.”

  “Name your price.” I removed Harcourt’s note and pushed the thick piece of stationery across the dirty table. “It’s urgent.”

  “A woman who wastes no time with negotiation.” Aiko gave no indication that she was going to pick the note up. “I like that.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page.” I nodded toward the paper. “If you’d be so kind.”

  “You will deliver me payment later, then.”

  “If you say so.”

  “The enchantment seal on this is complex,” Aiko said, still not moving.

  “You haven’t even touched it.”

  “One does not rely on their senses when they achieve true mastery of their craft.” She looked at me from behind her dark, streaked hair. “But I can perform such theater if you would prefer.”

  “I just want results.”

  “Then you shall wait here.” Aiko plucked the note from the dust and left the room without further explanation. I wanted to call after her and ask, for how long, but it seemed like a pointless question that would be answered only with riddles.

  So, like a true slave to the Information Age, I pulled out my phone and checked the news. This time, however, the dopamine rush paid off: the media had already taken Alice’s story and ran with it. Sprinted down the street. Blasted it out of a damn cannon.

  The video clip was everywhere, showing grainy footage of FBI officials, MagiTekk’s CEO, and Donovan Martin engaged in clandestine conversation within the bowels of the Cathedral of St. Peter.

  The irony was rich. MagiTekk had essentially been launched in the aftermath of a similarly grainy video: one of Kalos Aeon, half-demon extraordinaire, immolating a wave of murderous daywal
king vamps. That their undoing would arise from something similar was poetic justice.

  I checked their stock. It was down more than 20%, and plummeting fast. The numbers were moving so quickly that even the internet was having trouble keeping up. At this rate, within the day, MagiTekk wouldn’t exist.

  Not that I had any delusions about that stopping Malcolm Roark. He—and MagiTekk—were still dangerous, even when they were bleeding out on the floor. I needed to drive a stake through their heart as soon as possible.

  My phone refreshed with more breaking news.

  Malcolm Roark assumes MagiTekk CEO role in stunning move

  “What the hell?” My stomach turned over as I re-read the headline.

  I clicked the link, but details were sparse. In the wake of the scandal, MagiTekk’s current CEO, Eldric Dobson, had been relieved of his duties by a unanimous board vote. In his stead, the capable Malcolm Roark—described in the brief article as “imperious and orderly”—had assumed the role of interim CEO to steady the sinking ship.

  With mixed feelings, I skimmed the article again. This wasn’t quite the change I had in mind. A quick glance back at the financial news showed that MagiTekk’s stock was stabilizing—still down heavily, but no longer in freefall. Investors were curious about this unexpected change in leadership.

  Malcolm had bought himself and the company that most valuable of resources: time.

  An addendum to the article indicated that Malcolm would address the media in a “few hours” with an “earth-shattering announcement.”

  That couldn’t be good.

  “It is done,” Aiko said, rescuing me from the tyranny of the 24-hour news cycle. She entered from the kitchen, note pinched between two fingers. “It is fortunate you brought this to me. This man cast a tricky enchantment upon the seal.”

  “Sounds like Harcourt.”

  “You can read the rest of his message upon the back.” Aiko placed the note before me and turned to exit.

  “About payment,” I said.

  “It will come, in time. The world is changing. Who knows what will be valuable in the coming days?”

  “Just decide what you want by day’s end,” I said. “And I’ll bring it to you.”

  “I will hold you to that, Ruby Callaway.” Aiko disappeared from the room like a wraith, off to some corner of the dilapidated house.

  Feeling surprisingly nervous, I reached for Harcourt’s card and turned it over.

  There was only one sentence on the back.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t open to interpretation.

  Finish the list, Ruby.

  6

  Hour 3

  They say old habits die hard. If that’s true, vengeful ones die harder. It didn’t take much to push me in the direction of the final three names. And the promise of learning more about the Tributary—and where Harcourt had sent Roark—was enough of an added carrot.

  I looked at the broken window and rubbed my bleeding hand from where Carrie Sanderson had clawed at me with her sharp nails. Phoenix stretched below, most of the tall buildings looking like miniatures. Up here, at near-penthouse levels, it was a long way down. A shattered Ming vase lay near the queen bed.

  Death by an antique purchased with blood money.

  That certainly qualified as chaos.

  I’d already taken care of two of the last three people responsible for Pearl’s death. Rupert Bancroft, an FBI agent looped in with Jameson Denton. I’d found him drinking his face off in a Midtown dive bar. A knife to the throat after he’d copped to making the initial call to Pearl for the fake gig had ended his time on Earth.

  Then there was Carrie, a real estate broker living in a posh apartment on the outskirts of the MagiTekk district. Her part of the setup—recommending a complex that would make for a suitable kill and capture zone—had paid off handsomely.

  Oak paneled doors. Exotic hardwood floors. Granite countertops. This life had been her reward for sending Pearl and me into the perfect trap, like cattle into a slaughter chute.

  But she’d paid for it, in the end.

  My watch beeped, announcing the passage of another hour. I pressed it into my arm, feeling the needle’s slight pinch. I stepped over the debris and headed into the kitchen for a glass of water as the effects of the shot rushed through my bloodstream. Taking a breather, I pulled out Malcolm’s note one final time.

  The first two names had been easy. The final one—the mastermind—would prove more difficult.

  Jameson Denton’s address was in the heart of the MagiTekk district. That meant heavier security and more complications. Waltzing through the front door wouldn’t be an option. MagiTekk was a lot of things—but stupid and sloppy weren’t two of them. With an FBI warrant out for my arrest and the recent scandal, they’d be extra careful with their prized personnel.

  Jameson qualified. He’d been the one to put the bullet in Pearl’s head. Spearheaded our capture—a rival bounty hunter looking for a leg up in the business. He’d found it: a handsomely paying gig for MagiTekk, while I rotted inside a camp.

  My phone buzzed as I finished the glass of water.

  It was Alice calling.

  Before I could say a word, she said, “Did you see the news?”

  “Malcolm Roark’s the new CEO.”

  “No, that’s old.”

  I looked at my bleeding hand. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

  “He’s threatening a weapons test against an unspecified target if the investigations continue.” Alice was practically breathless. “He’s crazy.”

  “What?”

  “That’s all the press release mentioned,” Alice said. “Law enforcement is split on the response. Some want to give in. Some want to raid MagiTekk’s HQ right now.”

  That sounded unlikely. But it didn’t make my job any easier. MagiTekk would hunker down in a little cocoon—protecting themselves as the day played out. I had a sneaking suspicion that MagiTekk had become too big to fail. Even wild threats weren’t enough to warrant their demise. Or maybe law enforcement was truly afraid of them. With all the weapons MagiTekk had developed, it would be a bloody fight.

  One that the corporation might even be able to win. Their tentacles were everywhere, and they were the leading weapons supplier worldwide. The supernatural wouldn’t exactly come to the aid of the FBI—the same people who had forced them into shantytowns and internment camps.

  It would be a bloodbath. Total anarchy—three factions, maybe more, fighting it out. The world would be shredded in the crossfire.

  I had to give Malcolm credit for the decisive turn. An hour ago, the question had been whether MagiTekk would survive. Now, the question was much more existential: would the world survive?

  “Well, the silver-haired bastard certainly isn’t wasting any time,” I said, still processing the news. “That why you called?”

  “I was digging for information on your little list, since, you know.” After Aiko had broken the enchantment, I’d called Alice to ask her for alternatives to autocabs, seeing as how I had a target painted on my back. She’d suggested good old-fashioned walking. Anything else was a risk. According to the feeds from my apartment—which she’d hacked—MagiTekk was already ransacking the place.

  Only a matter of time before that blood came into play. Hopefully, Malcolm was distracted by his global threats and had less time for me.

  A girl could dream.

  “I didn’t ask for help.” The list was personal. It had always been personal.

  Alice cleared her throat. “I thought you might need it.”

  “Need is a little strong.”

  “Want it, then.”

  “I’ve been good as a solo act.” An extended silence punctuated the call. “But tell me what you found, anyway.”

  “It’s easier if I show you. Did you bring the cracked cube?”

  “A casualty of war, I’m afraid.”

  “Then we can use your phone as a substitute. Might be a little slow and laggy, but you know, I don’t thin
k you’ll care that much.” That sounded like a veiled insult about my technical naivete. It was hard to catch up to twenty years of progress in three weeks. There was a slight pause. “That place does have a table, right?”

  “Are you tracking me?”

  “I set up your phone, Ruby,” Alice said, as if the answer was dreadfully obvious. Better her than MagiTekk, I suppose.

  “There’s a table.” I saw it in the corner of the vast living room, surrounded by a small jungle of exotic plants. Sniffing them as I approached, I realized that some had even been imported from other Realms.

  Impressive.

  It also suggested that MagiTekk had found a way to traverse at least a few of the nine Realms. Well, seven. The Weald of Centurions had collapsed, and the Tributary was still just a rumor. Still, the thought of MagiTekk soldiers traipsing around the depths of Hell didn’t exactly fill my heart with irreverent glee.

  Brushing aside a Howler Vine—which, as the name suggested, gave a sharp yell when it was touched—I placed the phone upon the table.

  “Now what?”

  “Just let Hiro do the rest. He’ll explain things.”

  “Hiro? Not that horny—”

  The former samurai emerged from the digital ether with a wide smile on his face. His face was slightly grainy, and the image skipped as he spoke. “I heard my name!”

  Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how I looked at it—the audio was just fine.

  The six-inch AI construct had dramatically altered his appearance since our last meeting. He’d shed his traditional samurai garb in favor of a jacket and tie. He held a silenced pistol in one of his hands. The old hair bun had been let out and trimmed—digitally, at least—into a neat side part. Gel glistened in the ether as he floated above the table.

  “What’s with the new look?” I asked, immediately regretting the question.

  “Shaken, not stirred,” he said, affecting a terrible British accent.

  This is what happened when you spent all your time trapped alone. You started impersonating movie franchises that hadn’t existed for two decades.

  “I should’ve guessed.”

  “You are delightful,” Hiro said. “Ravishing.”