“I’m on board with that plan.”
“Even if it means letting me die.”
I averted my gaze and said, “Eden.”
“Promise.”
“I can’t do that.”
“If Malcolm survives, then my brother’s death was for nothing. All of it…” She reached for the whiskey, the tumbler clinking sharply against the carafe. I watched her pour the glass half full. She choked it all down, making a bitter face.
“Cheers.” I removed the vial of blue liquid from the pantsuit and tipped it into my mouth. I immediately puckered, since it was more sour than the strongest lemon.
After washing the taste out with water, I assessed the change. The wisps faded into faint disarray, then into nothingness. Aiko’s little potion had worked. My aura was suppressed. My powers were gone.
And I was on my own.
“Sense anything?” I asked.
“You feel human to me,” Eden said. “Do we have a deal?”
She wasn’t going to let it go, so I said, “I promise.”
“Good.” Eden put the empty tumbler down and blinked. “How do I look?”
“Stunning,” I said. “But not my type.”
“You really need to forgive Colton.”
“Is Alice telling everyone?” I wrinkled my nose. “I’ll decide his fate when I’m good and ready.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Eden said. “Your life can vanish before your eyes.”
“So I hear.”
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?” I asked, watching as the crowds along the sidewalk began to thicken. We were approaching the MagiTekk district, ready to be taken by helicopter to Malcolm Roark’s desert mansion. In the corner of the window, I saw the glint of the solidified rift.
It made my skin crawl.
It was time to seek my truth and put a bullet in Malcolm Roark’s head.
“Stare death in the face and not even blink.”
“The same way anyone does anything.” The crowd reached a thrumming crescendo as the limo slowed to a halt. “Belief.”
34
Eden and I were shuttled quickly through the crowd by MagiTekk security. The public’s love affair with her hadn’t ended during her seven-year hiatus. If anything, her absence had made her even more famous. Women young and old alike shrieked around us, straining for a glimpse as we rushed to the waiting helicopter.
Even as Malcolm Roark threatened to end the world, it was good to know some things didn’t change. People would never have their priorities straight, for one. They all stood before a gaping rift, where the restorative ocean was almost stripped bare by a series of pumps.
But all they cared about was Eden.
The helicopter quickly charted a course for Malcolm’s spread outside the city, some twenty miles away. Easier than driving, since the land route would have us trekking through the Mud Belt. The higher-ups must’ve thought Eden Marshall wouldn’t appreciate a trip through the slums.
I reviewed the plan in my mind as the chopper bore down on Malcolm’s estate. Get the three of us alone. Present the contract for a series of commercials and branding campaigns starring Eden. And then, with his attention diverted, stab him in the neck with the hidden blade.
Justice, considering he had indirectly killed his own son by helping Solomon Marshall return from the Underworld.
After that, we’d be on our own.
A few minutes later, the chopper set into a gentle descent. Eden and I shared a knowing glance as we touched down. The pilot—this was one of the few machines apparently not guided by robots—cut the engine.
I watched, spine crawling, as Malcolm Roark emerged from his mansion. He fastened the top button on his trim suit as he walked. I noticed, just behind him, the television crew ready to film this historic event.
His home was more of a compound, with the rift in the backyard pumping water into a moat—a chasm, rather—that ringed the massive property. Around the estate lay nothing but barren, sunburnt desert. But within that ring sat a veritable desert oasis. Grass as soft as the Tributary, the smell of vibrant life drifting through the hot air.
This was the first I’d seen of Malcolm in person for two weeks. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I watched his stiff shoulders move through the elysian meadow. I couldn’t read his aura, due to the potion’s blocking effects, but his demeanor was different. More powerful.
It could be the new CEO job. But if I was a betting woman, I’d have laid my money on the water. Malcolm was sampling the source’s wares.
My muscles tensed as he approached, ready to pounce. But now wasn’t the proper time. I’d fired my shotgun at him at the abandoned construction site, but the shells had simply dropped to the ground. A head-on assault would be rebuffed by whatever biosynthetic upgrades he had enjoyed.
The element of surprise was key.
Malcolm didn’t smile as he greeted us. “Miss Marshall. Ever the picture of beauty.”
“You’re looking trim yourself, Mr. Roark.” Eden shook his hand and gave an elegant curtsy. Statecraft and media optics. Not quite my bag. Malcolm didn’t give me a second glance—nor did the television crew.
“Malcolm. Please.” The elder Roark gestured toward his sprawling four-story estate. Its marble exterior was trimmed in classical influences. In terms of visual splendor, it could give the Tributary’s city on the hill a run for its money.
For all intents and purposes, this was fast becoming the new city on the hill, after all.
I trailed behind the media throng, hoping it would soon disperse. But the crowd of reporters and cameras only seemed to thicken, enveloping Malcolm and Eden as they walked through the glittering structure. The elder Roark had accumulated quite an art collection, funded by his cushy position at MagiTekk.
The two of them traded small talk regarding favorite artists; Eden was partial to Rembrandt, Malcolm to Van Gogh’s latter period—when the madness came through his work. The people at home were surely lapping this trivia up, even as multiple Realms stood on the edge of destruction.
I wanted to leap the battery of cameras and jam the knife into his skull, but it was hopeless. In addition to the media coverage, I spotted at least half a dozen plainclothes Peacemakers hovering at the fringes of the crowd. And there were a few other trying to blend in as media personnel with notepads and microphones. Their movements suggested they were Ghosts.
I scanned the faces in the crowd, my heart sinking as I recognized one.
Colton Roark. Eden or Alice must’ve tipped him off about the plan. In the past two weeks, he’d gone deeper, trying to earn his father’s elusive trust. I recalled that the Ghosts had tried to recruit him before, even telling him that there was a spot waiting for him. Now, it seemed, he’d seized upon that opportunity.
Roark hung in the corner of the massive living room, behind a 15th-century Venetian sofa. His gaze passed right by me. I held my breath. But he gave no indication that he noticed my presence.
I wasn’t worried about him outing me.
I was worried about him doing something stupid to protect me.
The little merry media tour wound its way through the backyard, where Eden fawned over the rift to the Tributary and pretended to eat up Malcolm’s bullshit promises that the energy within would trickle down to the populace. Afterward, we traveled up an exterior staircase, onto a balcony.
Here, Malcolm lit a cigar, with Eden declining in favor of a cocktail.
They laughed and made small talk on the red-tiled balcony. The media shot from below, some from above, everyone enjoying the spectacle. Maybe people needed it to distract themselves from the obvious truths: that no one was coming to help them. In this new world, they were on their own.
Because this man had plotted and planned for years. Played the long game and then seized an opportunity. Now, he was rapidly solidifying his empire. Building it upon their broken backs. It wasn’t about supernatural or human anymore.
Everyone was going to lose when Mag
iTekk reigned supreme.
Eden suddenly let out a mild exclamation. Her glass slipped off the balcony, shattering on the marble walkway below. A buzz stirred through the crowd. I rushed forward like an elderly matron. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Eden, her complexion pale, leaned up against the iron railing.
Adopting a stern and gravelly tone, I said, “Miss Marshall has had enough sightseeing for the day, I believe.”
“Perhaps it’s something else,” Malcolm said. “More sinister.”
“The only drink Miss Marshall has consumed is yours, so you’d have to be the poisoner.”
A surprised gasp went through the media. Not quite the light fare they’d been expecting. Malcolm Roark maintained an unruffled expression.
“It was a joke. Surely you’ve heard one of those before.”
I turned to face him. Hopefully, the pockmarks and wards would hide the intense hatred. I gauged the distance between us. No more than three or four feet. The blade could be at his throat, blood dribbling across the red tile before he could react.
But then the pincers would close upon us. Maybe I could evade them, but the Ghosts would certainly capture Eden. And despite my false promise, I wouldn’t leave her here to die.
“Let’s do the contract signing and get Miss Marshall some water,” I said, draping Eden’s arm over my good shoulder. She leaned against me heavily, her eyes shut. Maybe the extra drink had gotten to her. But Malcolm’s words echoed in my mind. As I helped her toward the balcony door, the throng of cameras moved in like a swarm of vultures. “She can recover alone.”
Malcolm held the door open. Then the three of us were inside, finally away from the media’s prying eyes.
Taking lead through the wide hallways, Malcolm said, “My office is on the fourth floor.”
“That’s a little far, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know, Ruby. It depends on how resilient your friend is to a little poison.”
The mention of my name made my blood go cold. “H-how?”
“You know, I think the Crusaders were on to something,” Malcolm said. “Crazy, yes. But becoming gods? Immortality? Well, it wasn’t something I’d originally considered. But I got a taste during my trips to the Underworld.”
“So it’s true,” I said. “You brought Marshall back.”
“Arranged it, yes.”
I followed him silently up to the third floor, trying not to show him I was straining. Malcolm took the stairs two at a time. Eden and I were decidedly slower. Finally, I settled on carrying her. Not an optimal use of my remaining energy, but it wouldn’t do for her to die, either.
“And you?” I asked.
“What about me, Ruby?”
“What are you now?”
“Part Shade. A little dash of MagiTekk’s modifications, like the Ghosts.” Malcolm adjusted his silver hair slightly as we walked toward the next flight of steps. “But nothing extraordinary.”
“That’s something we can agree on.” He hadn’t taken the full leap yet. That still gave me an opening.
I set Eden down at the top of the fourth floor. Carrying her would have been strenuous under normal circumstances, but as depleted as I was, it seemed to sap everything from me. Dragging my sensible shoes along the glowing hardwood, I helped her into Malcolm’s office.
Inside, the décor was surprisingly restrained—minimalist, even. White drywall, with nothing hanging. A single solid oak desk.
“Not quite what you expected?” Malcolm sat down in the lone chair and leaned back. “This is where I think.”
“And here I thought for sure you never did that at all.”
Malcolm removed a key ring from his suit jacket and unlocked the desk’s bottom drawer. His hand emerged with two sheets of paper and a pen.
“As agreed,” Malcolm said.
“I don’t understand. You still want to do the branding deal?”
“This has nothing to do with this silly media game,” Malcolm said. “With or without the public’s support, I’ve already won. You cannot stop progress.”
“If that’s what you call it.”
“I call myself the wealthiest man in the world. In all the worlds.”
“And yet, no one to share it with.”
“That is up to you.” Malcolm pushed the contract forward. “Read the paperwork.”
“Eden is a little indisposed, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Not for the girl.” Malcolm laid his elbows on the table, radiating supreme confidence. “The contract is for you.”
I eased Eden into the corner, making sure she didn’t hit her head. Then I grabbed the contract.
A Blood Oath. Might as well be how this day ended.
I read the terms to the end and said, “Give me a knife.”
“I’m sure you brought your own.” Malcolm drummed his tented fingers together, reading my body language. “No questions?”
“I die, you promise that Roark and Eden get to live.” I didn’t have the energy to be resentful. This was the best deal we were going to get. “Seems simple enough.”
Sometimes, the little guy gets crushed. The heroine falls from the bridge and drowns. There was no karmic guarantee that evil was reciprocated with justice.
I couldn’t fight him any longer.
I looked at my wrinkly hands, feeling every bit as old as my appearance.
This was where my journey would end. Pearl had been wrong.
“I must admit, I thought there would be more hand-wringing. Protests.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I removed the knife from the inner pocket of the wool blazer. Malcolm gave a self-satisfied grin. Guess I couldn’t wipe away enough of Ruby to sell my disguise. Too bad. I would’ve liked to see him dead.
I held the knife over my palm. A pink line from the Oath I’d formed with Odessa stared back at me. Eden stirred in the corner, which made me hesitate.
“You can all die, instead,” Roark said.
“You’d kill your own son?”
“I lost Colton long ago.” The coldness of the words took me aback. “I will watch you die slowly, or I will watch you all die.”
“You promised, Ruby,” Eden mumbled through her closed teeth.
“I guess that makes me a liar.” I slid the knife across my palm, watching the blood ooze through the cut. With a resigned sigh, I handed the blade to Malcolm Roark.
“Who would have thought you’d bend so easily?”
“Some of us have souls.” Blood dripped from my hand, splashing against the table.
Malcolm didn’t smile, but he was clearly enjoying the moment. Yes, in the end, I had lost our standoff. But it felt like I was salvaging some small part of goodness by saving Roark and Eden.
Although the world they’d have to live in would probably suck.
But where there was life, there was hope.
Malcolm brought the edge to his skin. “You won’t have a shred of your soul left, once I’m finished.”
My heart hammered.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I lost count of the pistol shots, but it sounded like an entire magazine being emptied. The knife bounced off the oak desk and clattered to the ground. Blood streaked the white walls as Malcolm sank to the floor of his office.
Without time to react, I didn’t even react. My ears just hummed from the gunfire as I watched the blood stain Malcolm’s perfectly tailored suit.
Roark entered the room and shook me.
“We need to go.” He glanced at his father and fired another shot. The groans stopped. “Now.”
Down on the floors below, I heard the confused media throng stir. An unsilenced barrage of gunfire from the CEO’s office would do that.
I stood rooted to the ground, trying to process the situation. Roark cut in front of me and grabbed the contract from the table.
He skimmed the Blood Oath and shook his head. “Goddamnit, Ruby. If you had just trusted me…”
I leaned forward and kissed h
im deeply. It lasted only a second, but it seemed to stretch on for an eternity, until Eden let out an exasperated moan. “Really, guys? I’m right here.”
“You taste like old lady,” Roark said, his blue eyes seeing me beneath all makeup and castings.
“And how would you know what that tastes like?” I gave him a funny raised eyebrow. “There something I should know about you?”
“It’s totally my thing.” For a moment, I thought he was serious. Then he winked.
I glanced at Eden on the ground.
“We’ll never make it across the desert,” I said, listening to the stomping footsteps below. The Ghosts were responding. They’d swarm the office, soon, and we’d be outgunned.
“We’re not running back to Phoenix,” he said. “We’re heading to—”
“The source,” I murmured to myself. “Where the journey ends.” With that, my mind kicked into overdrive. I reached down and grabbed the fallen knife. Roark handed me his extra service weapon, which I tucked into the waistband of the tight pantsuit.
Kneeling next to Eden, I said, “Can you shift?”
“I never want to do that again.”
“Not even to bring down MagiTekk?”
Eden finally opened her eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I watched as the pretty woman before me shifted into a small coyote, the blue dress falling in a heap around her furry body. Eden shook off the fabric, emerging from the pile of clothing with a yip.
“On my signal, you run like hell,” I said. “Distract the Ghosts. Roark and I will pick them off.”
“You’re the leader,” Roark said.
“I don’t think that was ever a question.” Hand at my waist, I went into the hallway, bringing my best frantic expression out from cold storage. The Ghosts were just reaching the top of the stairwell. I waved my free hand, the other firmly on the gun’s stock, pretending like I was trying to form words to describe the horrors I’d just witnessed.
They lowered their weapons, the lead Ghost saying, “Ma’am, if you could just step—”
I pulled the pistol and fired.
Ruby Callaway: The Complete Collection Page 53
