The Pit of No Return (The King Henry Tapes Book 6)

by Richard Raley

  Or perhaps it is my fault. Perhaps I am merely unable to tell them in phrases they will understand. Perhaps it is not even my fault, but merely my anima-type. There always seems to be a wall between me and all the other mancers. Every mentimancer feels it, but with me it’s jagged and sharp, just waiting to cut at my hands when I attempt to scale it.

  They all look at me like I’m speaking a different language.

  I do know many languages . . . I wonder if the wall would disappear if I tried to talk to a foreign student . . .

  There was no sun, there had never been a sun.

  No star . . . ain’t that the shits. Wonder if Val teared up when she heard I was hurt. Think I might get some I’m-still-alive sex out of this deal, Athir?

  I’m not alone.

  Not just the voice that shouldn’t be talking, but someone else too.

  It’s not King Henry Price.

  Tall, blond, green eyed, clothed in white. Catherine Hayes. No. That was wrong. But right too. The source of all our problems I thought. “You have to stop,” I said.

  “What did you do, Athir?” Catherine asked me, her voice so sure and strong and different than it usually was when she had no one else to hide behind.

  “I told you, you have to stop. You are . . . you have gone too far,” I replied, trying to appear calm and rational. I’m always rational.

  Catherine swayed forward. “I have it all tied up. No one else will get hurt. You see why I had to do that, right? They were getting close, but now it’s all finished.”

  “Scott Hardy is dead.”

  “I didn’t want to hurt him, but I had to!”

  Catherine stepped closer and I finally rose from the bench. I pooled anima, though I had no idea what good it would do me. Catherine failed to feel it, always deadened to outside influences. “You need help,” I tried to explain, the wall present even here, even with years of familiarity. “He’ll help us.”

  “Who?” Catherine smiled. “Who did you tell?”

  “I wrote King Henry Price a note. He’s coming here. You need to tell him what happened.”

  “No!” Catherine hissed, distraught. “You told him? Why would you tell him of all people!?!? You know how I feel about him . . .”

  Nothing. I really, really hope she feels nothing for me. I’ve anger-banged before, but even I have my limits.

  I’m supposed to be the one talking. You’re supposed to be the one listening!

  What can I say? I fucking hate reruns.

  You’re supposed to stop it!

  “You betrayed me,” Catherine whispered in realization.

  “I haven’t told him yet,” I said. “Tell him yourself, it will be better that way.”

  “No.”

  “Two people are dead. You are out of control. You need to stop this,” I tried. We were friends, but it was always hard when it came to emotion. The wall, even here. Even if I could see through this one to the light beyond. So special and none of the others see it. How I wish I had the words to share what I saw.

  I know she’s special. A special kind of hateful. Don’t know I blame her, but I can’t let her hurt those closest to me.

  Not her . . . you . . . you moron! Why aren’t you seeing what I’m trying to show you?

  Catherine’s eyes flicked into a realm of madness before returning to find my face. I saw in them what was about to happen. I realized my mistake. Realized it’s more out of control than I ever imagined. How? How did it go so wrong, so fast?

  “Me,” Catherine announces happily. “I’m the reason, don’t you see? But I’m not here. I’m never the one to land the strike, am I?”

  The first blow literally cut my heart out.

  More followed.

  As I lie there dying, Catherine laughed over her handiwork.

  Session 174

  Surprise, surprise; woke up feeling like shit.

  Woke up in my prison cell, but not in the bed. Guess the golems must’ve dragged my unconscious body back here and threw me inside like a piece of meat. After Paine was done with me that’s about all I was. Meat. Beat up and bloody meat. Cut, cut, cut the meat.

  Woke up to adrenaline. My hands and feet cold, my heart pumping hard and fast.

  Woke up to a gasp escaping me.

  Woke up to a shudder running down my arms and legs.

  “Fuck me,” I groaned into the carpet. “Fuck this . . . just . . . fuck!”

  My stomach and chest felt hot with bruises, so did the spot in the middle of my back where Salt had pounded on it. Every other muscle was sore, refusing to work after my SDR fried them nerve connections not once, but twice.

  Managed to roll over on my stomach, gasping in pain again. Still dark in the room, so it must be before the wake up bell. Struggled for awhile. Finally managed to reach into my coat pocket and pulled out my Magic Wand. Struggled more over clicking the switches, but finally lit it.

  At least Paine left me that.

  Stole everything in my lockbox. Guess that means they’re forfeit, don’t it, Massey? Good luck claiming them now . . .

  More adrenaline flared through me as I hurriedly patted for the World-Breaker in its hidden seam. A sigh of relief escaped me when I felt it’s length. Same size and shape I hated most days. Annoying to carry, annoying to hide, even with a geomancer’s coat. Grunting with the effort and the pain as my muscles resisted more movement, I managed to pull it out. Managed to collapse back down so the World-Breaker was in front of my face. The jade looked alive in that Magic Wand light. Alive from within.

  “Thank the Mancy.”

  If he found it, then you never would’ve woken up, dumbass.

  And Susan . . .

  Susan.

  My stomach heaved and everything inside of it spilled out on the carpet. Not the first time in my life I’ve woken up seconds before puking my guts out, but it was the first time alcohol wasn’t involved. Just nerves. Just worry and emotions and . . . all the stuff I’m bad at. Stuff I don’t have most days . . . until I have too much of it on my hands.

  Overwhelmed, I felt overwhelmed.

  Overfilled.

  Consumed.

  Guess what, Val? Finally found a new reality I can’t instantly accept.

  Paine had Susan.

  Paine wanted the World-Breaker . . .

  Paine wanted me at his mercy. Set it all up, all this time. Circling each other in the fog. Saw his future. Me kneeling down, handing over the Jinshin Ken. Ceinwyn, Val, all the allies I could manage to scrounge up watching on. Maybe he does kill me. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he lets me live on defeated.

  Megalomania unbound.

  All to call out one truth to the unprepared world: Obadiah Paine has returned.

  Tremble in awe. Take note of what happens to those who dare oppose him. Look on King Henry Price, the defiant one brought to his knees. Bow in turn or you’re next.

  Or he kills me.

  And whoever I bring with me.

  No witnesses that way, but corpses are pretty good exclamation points for any argument.

  Rather . . . final.

  Stomach already empty, I dry heaved for the next minute.

  When I stopped, nothing escaped me but a whimper.

  This was so bad.

  I’ve fucked up before, but . . .

  Never this bad.

  Magic Wand in one hand and World-Breaker in the other, I staggered away from the puddle before it made me dry heave again. Yeah, it’s just that smell, lie to yourself about that too. Ain’t anxiety. King Henry Price don’t know what anxiety means. Or its big brother: fear. Somehow, I stumbled the rest of the way to the cabinet where I’d kept the artifact lockbox, finding it predictably open and empty. Stole my SDR, stole the One Second Blade, stole Poug’s dagger . . .

  What else did Paine do in here?

  Hurriedly, I lurched across the room to another hiding place. Okay . . . bug sweeper was still there. Need to do that before I did anything else, especially before I started figuring out how to survive the next
seventy-two hours.

  Easier said than done.

  What usually took me a couple minutes took closer to fifteen. Muscles just didn’t want to work. Especially when my short ass had to stretch for the top shelves or up near light fixtures. Room to room, sweeping, grunting as I cramped up time and again. All that work and I came up blank.

  At least I know it’s clear.

  Next I reached out with the Mancy, feeling for anima. Still harder than normal with the Pit Wave surging through every thirty seconds, but I’d gotten somewhat used to it. Had even started to feel how the Pit Artifact folded the anima in on itself to make it thicker.

  Nothing. No hidden artifacts or spying fairies.

  Has the security golems on his side, could have loose fairies on his side too.

  Last bit of paranoia: I put on my Anima Detection Lenses and did a turn around the apartments again. Paine hadn’t stolen them, or broken them. Wouldn’t put it past the spiteful fucktard.

  Nothing.

  Still nothing.

  “All alone,” I mumbled, an involuntary shiver racing through me.

  No ignorance here.

  No blissful.

  Hard truth.

  Paine had Susan.

  Paine had my sister.

  Was using her as a living anima battery. Patient Thirty-Seven. Was the only thing keeping her even a little sane. Keeping her from becoming just like Mom. The flood of emotion and the fact I was so suffused with geo-anima from all the realm-jumping gave me enough of a jolt that I pooled fast enough to beat even the Pit Artifact. A single iron fist in less than thirty seconds. I slammed it into a wall as hard as I could, screaming out in rage.

  Fuck the old plan.

  Fuck stealing the truth.

  Fuck Massey.

  Fuck it all.

  New mission: save Susan, keep the World-Breaker, and outsmart Obadiah Paine.

  Even better mission: kill Obadiah Paine with your bare hands.

  Only . . . don’t see how I can without killing everyone who comes with.

  Fine.

  Save Susan. Keep the World-Breaker. Outsmart Obadiah Paine. Live to fight another day. Deal with the consequences after. Have to be enough. As T-Bone would say: keep it on hardcore, don’t go permadeath too.

  “Time to start thinking outside of the box,” I told myself.

  Made me feel a little better.

  “Time to blow the fucking box up.”

  [CLICK]

  For the first time during my stay at the Pit, it wasn’t Watson who opened the cell door with my breakfast. Just a new guy. Same uniform, less of an asshole. When I asked after him, the Replacement Guard told me that Watson had traded for a later shift. Traitorous fuck knew I’d kill him this morning whether I need him or not. Didn’t really need Watson to escape the Pit of course, had the World-Breaker for that. A fact best to not let Paine suspect. Paine had to believe everything was coming up rose thorns.

  My old plan: fucked.

  His plan: dominant.

  My new plan: on the down low and in development.

  Meant I had to wait for tonight before I could make my escape. Pretend I needed Watson. Escape when he wants me to escape. Then . . . throw a pebble in the works at just the right moment. Until then . . .

  Old Plan so fucked!

  So much for playing it cool with Massey, so much for leverage being my main concern, so much for keeping everything nice and steady. Boom went the old plan, Fate throwing the electric nipple clamps right in my face. A dozen hours from now I’ll be an escaped convict. Pretty sure that would count as negative leverage.

  Worry about that mess if you live long enough to see it.

  Yesterday, Alexander Massey was on the top of my shit list.

  Today, he barely rated me pissing on him to put out a fire. Paine has Susan. Paine has Susan. Paine has Susan.

  Paine.

  Has.

  Susan.

  PAINE HAS SUSAN!!!

  Stuck in my head. Ringing over and over again. Paine has Susan. Paine has someone you love. Paine has a bargaining chip. Paine has you. Best part about the woman I love being a badass pyromancer . . . never had to worry much about her getting captured. If Val ever does get captured, we should probably feel bad about what’ll happen to the stupid fucks tried to hold her.

  Never worry about Val like this.

  If anything, she’s usually the one rescuing my dumbass . . .

  Needed to talk to her. Needed her input. Had some ideas on how to pull this off, but not a one that wouldn’t end at least a little bloody. Gonna end bloody, you fucktard, no way around it. Submit or there will be blood. Ain’t ever submitting, so . . .

  What a bloody fine day, gents!

  I devoured my breakfast without any comment.

  Dry toast and a half a pot of coffee.

  Massey’s bullshit continued. His own attempt at leverage. His own attempt at turning the screws on me.

  Should take a lesson from Paine. There’s a man knows how to do some screwing.

  I know cuz I’m feeling pretty screwed right about now.

  “Can’t do it,” I eventually admitted to myself once the coffee was gone. “Can’t give him the World-Breaker, even for Susan. Not even for a minute.” Meant I had to get Susan away from him somehow. Imagining just attacking straight up, blitzkrieging Paine’s ass felt good, but was stupid. Be worse than bloody then. Be surrounded by dead friends. Plus, as far as I’ve come, not sure I could best Paine. Surely not best him quickly enough to get Susan out of danger.

  No.

  Can’t play it straight up.

  Got to go for the reach around and not the friendly kind neither.

  Kind that steals your wallet.

  Have to trick him during the exchange, long enough to take control of Big Sis. But how? Fake it again. Like with Annie B when I first stole the damn thing from the Vamps?

  Annie B.

  Did go to see her once in these last six months. Thought she might be helpful in my Massey Baiting. But . . . she wasn’t in a good place. Just out of her glass prison and about as pissed off at the world as I had been as a teenager. Wore a mask. No idea what Inanina or Pwent did to Annie’s shell, but . . . had to be bad to hide it all behind silver. “Six months in glass, all for me. Better to let her heal. Don’t think she’d like seeing me and Val back together either. Don’t think she likes seeing me at all these days.”

  I failed Annie in the same way I failed Susan. Just by carelessness, by ignorance. Never even knew how much they were sacrificing for me until it was too late to do anything about it.

  “Not too late to save Susan’s life,” I mumbled bitterly. “That’s something. She’s still alive. You’re still alive. Keep it that way.”

  You lied to me, Suze, I thought in frustration, back when I saw you at Mom’s funeral . . . wasn’t confusion or disbelief on your face when I asked you about hearing voices, was shock I guessed right on the money. “Damn it, Big Sis, why couldn’t you come clean? Might have been time to help you . . . somehow. Could’ve at least done what Paine’s doing for you. Gonna fight him for you, but would’ve fought the Asylum too. Ain’t no needle ending your divine spark. Ain’t letting you go out that way. Not like . . . not like Mom.”

  Regrets.

  Could’ve consumed me then, more than even the shock had.

  So I didn’t let them.

  No time for regrets, so I didn’t linger. No time for brooding either. No time for looking at my bad luck. No time to complain about Fate sticking her fist up my pee-hole. Yup, not asshole, still the pee-hole. But no time. One day to figure it all out, couple more days to push whatever infernal machine I craft into motion.

  Plan, you fucktard.

  Cuz ain’t just your life that depends on it.

  [CLICK]

  The door to my cell opened, Val stepping through.

  No Ceinwyn yet. That was some luck.

  Val with a smile on her face. Smile even held up after she got her first look at me, slouched b
ackwards in my chair, by one of the wooden desks they had in the greeting room. Greeting room. Had a fountain pen and a stack of paper on it . . . guess no one got the letter about email. Nice desk though. Desk alone was probably worth more than my house back in Fresno. Made me want to break it.

  Just cuz.

  Felt like breaking everything at the moment.

  Except here was Val.

  Couldn’t break her.

  Couldn’t do anything but love her.

  Yup, still sappy.

  “Did you get some sleep?” she carefully asked me. Smile faded now that she got a look-see. Can’t judge people like I can, but she’s not a blind-to-negativity Care-bear like Vicky Welf either.

  “Suppose I did,” I grunted a sardonic bark. “In a manner of speaking.”

  Val glanced downward at my puddle of puke, which I hadn’t bothered to clean up. Yeah, yeah, unsanitary . . . go fuck yourself, I’m trying to piece together a rescue mission here. “You’re not sick, are you?”

  Didn’t answer, just asked my own question, “Is Ceinwyn right behind you?”

  Val blinked at me. I’m always gruff with other people, but very rarely with her. Biggest clue yet to her that something was up. “Councilwoman Dale is taking a conference call with her colleagues, keeping them informed of events and our plans to excise you before you go splat, her words, not mine. She might even be telling the Lady about your updated status. Means no going back, of course. You’re stuck. Recognized. But the Guild Master won’t know what hit him when we finally spring the trap, will he?”

  All I wanted yesterday.

  Didn’t fill me with much joy today.

  Still . . . tried to bring down my asshole meter from Raging Hemorrhoid to Tolerably Itchy. “Massey ain’t important.”

  “An opinion for which you ended up in this cell and are still stuck inside of it for a couple more days,” Val quipped, coming over to feel my forehead despite my insistence I wasn’t sick. “Okay, I give up. What’s the matter with you?”