I focused back on Alexander. No illusions about Alexander having any feelings remotely resembling guilt either—but he did care about his own neck.
“You’re going to start a goddamn zombie apocalypse, Alexander,” I told him.
“She’s raving,” Cooper said. “Barely knows what she’s talking about anymore, last stages of the curse.”
“You know what, Cooper? Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”
He smiled and crouched down in front of me. Odawaa’s grip on my hands tightened. “You want to know why you’re still alive, Alix?”
“Because you traded me and my cat to the idiot vampire?”
Cooper laughed. “Because I still need a sacrifice for this whole thing to work,” he said.
Sacrifice? I didn’t remember anything about a live sacrifice from the inscriptions . . . just a lot of dead or dying bodies . . .
Shit.
I nodded my head at Odawaa. “Somehow I don’t think this guy will take kindly to being skewered in some ancient ritual—and he does have a lot of guns.”
He smiled. “You know me, I hate to risk anything. No, my sources say the sacrifice has to be real specific. Someone who’s been mortally betrayed. And let’s face it, as far as stacking my deck goes, you’re about as betrayed as they get.”
Mortally betrayed? That wasn’t in the instructions—“Hey, Nadya, do you remember anything about betrayed sacrifices?”
She shook her head.
I wondered just how far off the temple script Cooper was going—and how much was courtesy of his supernatural benefactor, who’d known exactly what to bait Daphne and Alexander with. Come to think of it, that’d been the underlying theme of this entire disaster. Lady Siyu got the opportunity to make my life miserable, the IAA had me to go after as their thief, Alexander and the siren were being offered something that could take down their betters; hell, even me with the gold cuffs in Algiers. At some point we’d all been offered something we couldn’t pass up . . .
“What were you offered, Cooper? Money? A promotion?”
He laughed and pushed me to my knees with one of his gloved hands. With the other he took the bronze sword and held it against my forearm, angling it carefully over the bowl. “Here’s the thing, Alix. You were never any good at figuring out people’s motivations. Mine are real simple. I’m ambitious, and I’m the best at what I do. No one has ever gotten supernatural magic to work—if I’ve got to do it through raising an army of zombies, so be it. And as far as being the best? You still breathing, even as a thief on the IAA’s most wanted list, puts that in jeopardy. Tough, but them’s the breaks.” He winked. “On top of that, I want to see just how much the IAA will let me get away with.”
I got a chance to see where everyone was as Cooper pushed my head onto the bench and held it down. Carpe and Nadya were still held by two of the pirates near the mausoleum wall, and the remaining two had their guns trained on Daphne and Alexander standing at the edge of the bridge—not that guns would do them any good.
Odawaa, deciding I was no longer a running risk now that I had a knife at my throat, stood between them and Cooper.
I checked Captain’s tombstone, and for a second I wondered whether the gunshot had sent him running. I caught white fur skulking at the edge of the water. Captain crawled out onto the grass and gave himself a shake before crouching down out of Cooper’s line of sight right behind me.
I looked at Captain and mouthed, “Wait.”
Cooper lined up the knife, and I felt the cursed bronze burn into my skin. Reflex made me jump back.
“Hold still,” Cooper growled.
“Hey, Odawaa!” I yelled. “You might not believe in the supernatural—and to be honest, I don’t blame you—and the whole denial thing seems to really be working in your favor. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t your problem.”
Odawaa’s smile was cruel and manic. “And why might that be?”
“My cat believes in vampires and is pretty sure one’s standing behind you.”
Odawaa frowned.
“You’re in his way.” I jerked my head around and nodded at Captain. “Now, Captain!”
He let out an ear-shattering howl and launched himself across the lawn. Odawaa didn’t react fast enough. Captain’s claws latched onto Odawaa’s chest. He crawled up Odawaa’s face in an attempt to scale him to get to Alexander.
Vampire pheromones will dull even the most trained reflexes. Odawaa screamed and batted at his face, letting the gun fall to his side.
Pandemonium ensued. Nadya used the distraction to judo-throw her pirate into the water, and Carpe . . . well, all of a sudden Carpe just wasn’t in that spot. I caught him a few feet away, back on his laptop, crouched behind the mausoleum.
I shook my head. Elves.
Alexander and Daphne were backing away from Captain as he scaled down Odawaa’s back. And me? I did something I’d wanted to do for about two years; I took the lapse to knee Cooper as hard as I could in the sweet spot, and when he doubled over, I connected my knee again, this time with his face. “That’s for shooting my cat,” I said. Cooper crumpled to the grass, not quite sure whether to grab his bleeding nose or between his legs.
My vision clouded with the exertion and wavered for a moment, like I was going to pass out. I shook it off and searched until I spotted Captain.
He was racing down the bridge after Alexander, who was battling Daphne, of all people, to get across—she not wanting to leave the artifacts, her one and only bargaining chip to take out Rynn.
Odawaa was recovering, his back towards me.
The light-headedness hit me again, and I forced myself to search for something, anything to hit him with and keep him down . . . Rope? No . . . Gun? No way in hell I could aim in my state. I spotted a rake leaning against the mausoleum wall. Must have been left by one of the gardeners . . .
I dove, then crawled for it, stumbling over the uneven lawn until it was in my hands.
Clutching the rake, I headed for Odawaa as fast as I could manage. I wound the rake up and made damn sure my aim lined up.
“Alix,” I heard Nadya yell as a shot rang out.
I looked behind me but not before something slammed into the back of my legs, sweeping me over. I landed flat on my back.
Cooper stood over me, blood streaming down his face. “You know, just for once I’d love it if you could stick to the script.”
“Hey Cooper, might have put a damper in your army.” I rolled over onto my stomach and got my legs underneath me. Running was out, but I still had the rake and figured I could use it for balance—or, if I could muster the coordination, to hit Cooper with. The vampire pheromones had to be affecting him by now. He took another step forward, and I stumbled out of his way.
“Not so fast—I still need you,” Cooper said. He tripped me and pushed me face-first into the ground. Something cold and metal burned against my forearm. I kicked, but it did no good, as Cooper drove his knee into my back. I felt the warm blood run down my arm into the stone bowl waiting in his gloved hand.
Shit, the bowl and the knife down—only the flint piece left. “So you’ve got a pocket supernatural?” I said, trying to distract him.
“The dragon’s not the only one collecting archaeologists.”
“What is it then? Vampire, demon?”
“Sorry, not part of my deal.”
I snorted. “You never did play fair.”
“And you were always really naïve—desperate too,” he said.
“Desperate? Seriously?”
“Come on, look at you. Channel eighties action movies much?” He hauled me by my hair to a kneeling position.
I glanced down at my now ripped jeans and T-shirt. “I clean up just fine.”
Cooper patted his heart. “It’s not what’s on the outside that counts, it’s what’s on the inside—and face it, y
our self-esteem sucks.”
A small puddle of blood had gathered in the Neolithic bowl, the flint piece waiting beside it.
“Good thing I don’t play fair anymore,” I said.
I grabbed Cooper’s knee and pulled with every ounce of strength I had left. It was enough. He fell backwards, and I lost no time crawling on top of him. “This is for screwing up my life and trying to turn me and my friends into zombies,” I said, and delivered an elbow to his face, followed by a second and a third. On that last one, Cooper’s eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.
I rolled off him and almost passed out myself. I could hear fighting still going on around me. I needed the bronze sword. That was the only thing keeping me going. I felt my hands clasp around it. Now, stop Cooper’s curse . . .
I searched for the bowl.
Shit.
In my scuffle with Cooper, the bowl had tipped and spilled my blood over the stonework. I watched, helpless to stop the blood trickle towards the flint piece.
Too little, too late.
I felt the ground shake as the shock waves of magic traveled out.
“Owl, tell me that wasn’t the curse!” Nadya yelled.
I opened my mouth to say, We’re too late, but any noise that came out was overshadowed by what sounded like hundreds of feet and hands banging underneath the ground and in the buildings around us. The deafening noise was coming from everywhere.
Maybe there was still something we could do . . . I didn’t know, sound an evacuation? But who the hell besides the handful of supernaturals there would believe us?
Alexander screamed as Captain got a clawhold in the vampire’s hand, and I ducked as a stray bullet hit the grass nearby. Being superstitious, the remaining pirates were unnerved by the banging, but still held it together. Odawaa, on the other hand, was curled in a ball by the mausoleum doorway.
His eyes fixated on me with pure hatred. “You,” he said, “are behind this madness.”
Note: not Cooper, not the supernaturals, not himself for following Cooper—me. People love to blame me for all their problems.
There was a hiss that carried over the banging. A loud, vicious string of supernatural followed.
Daphne froze, and even Alexander—after un-attaching Captain from his hand and flinging him across the grass—stopped in his tracks.
Captain landed nearby, and I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and ducked back under the bench.
I heard the telltale click of heels on the wooden bridge as a very disheveled Lady Siyu strode into the flashlight-lit area. Her shirt was uncharacteristically untucked, and her black hair hung in a thick braid down her back, a handful of loose strands sticking to her face. On closer inspection, I even thought the white buttons were off . . . Damn, Lady Siyu must have been in a hell of a state . . . she looked pissed too.
I narrowed my eyes at an object she was holding—a spear, maybe, but my vision sucked right now . . .
This time that voice I knew so well rang out in English, still managing to carry over the restless and soon to be walking dead. “As Mr. Kurosawa’s representative, I order everyone to cease their activities—now.”
Two of the pirates turned around and aimed their rifles at her. “Get on your knees,” one of them said.
My eyes widened. Shit, that wasn’t a spear—it was a double-barreled shotgun. Lady Siyu smiled as she shot the pirate who had spoken with barely a glance or hitch in her step. As the second pirate raised his gun, she shot him as well. The remaining two looked like they might run.
I started to crawl out. “Damn, I never, ever thought I’d say this—”
“Sit,” Lady Siyu said as she strode across the bridge. Daphne and Alexander retreated a safe distance from her, but not far enough to earn her wrath. I felt arms wrap under mine and pull me out. Rynn. He gave me a quick nod but was more concerned with the color of my skin.
“You’re still alive,” I told him. “I was worried after what Cooper said—”
“I could say the same thing.” I didn’t miss the worry in his voice.
I thought I saw a plot of grass lift by one of the nearby headstones. If anything, the banging had intensified . . . “Ahh, Lady Siyu, we have a problem—” I started.
“I thought I told you to be silent,” she said, and strode over to me and Rynn.
“But the curse—zombies,” I said, nodding at the graveyard.
She glanced at the spilled bowl and blood-soaked flint, then surveyed the graveyard. She said “seereet” under her breath, then pulled a black velvet pouch out of her bag and began to shake a fine, cinnabar-colored powder over the bowl and flint, muttering in supernatural. The cinnabar singed as it touched the blood—my blood—and black smoke coiled into the air.
Where a second before there’d been hundreds of banging feet, now there was nothing. No army, no zombies. Just like that. I knew I should be happy the zombie army had been stopped in its tracks.
I pushed myself up to my knees as Rynn protested and tried to keep me down. “That was it?—shit!”
Lady Siyu placed a stiletto heel on my chest and pushed me over onto my back, then kept me pinned with her heel. She retrieved a glass vial from her purse, along with a handful of thicker, meaner-looking acupuncture pins.
“Whoa—just one sec,” I said, and tried to wrench her foot off.
She shot me a look of death, her eyes now a pair of black slit pupils set in yellow. She pressed the heel harder into my chest, her forked tongue passing over her lips. “I will not warn you again; I am less than patient today for your incessant prattle. You will not like the alternative.”
Rynn stayed nearby but only offered me an apologetic look, whereas Captain just backed the hell up.
“Turncoats,” I said to both of them.
Lady Siyu showed me the two snakelike fangs that protruded over her bottom lip. I gulped and lay where I was as she dipped the handful of pins into the vial of black liquid. After examining the needles with her gold snake eyes, she barked out something in supernatural to Rynn.
“She needs the sword, Alix,” he said. “And whatever the hell you do, don’t stall.” I nodded at the bronze sword beside me. Lady Siyu took it gingerly between her fingers and, with more enthusiasm than I thought entirely necessary, made a second slit down my forearm.
“Goddamn it—you could have warned me,” I said, for both Rynn and Lady Siyu’s benefit.
“Be quiet—I will not tell you again,” she said, a hiss escaping between her teeth as she dipped each of the five needles in my blood that had collected on the sword . . . Oh no—I closed my eyes as she raised the first needle up and stuck it into my stomach, followed by the other four, one each in my arms and thighs.
I breathed in, then out, waiting for something—anything—to happen as Lady Siyu recited a string of musical-sounding supernatural. She removed more powder, white this time, from inside her bag, which she sprinkled over the acupuncture needles of death now sticking out of me. The powder curdled and hissed, giving off an acrid, incense-like smell.
“You need to give something up,” Lady Siyu said.
I stared at her in confusion.
“In order for the anti-curse to work, you need to offer me something of value,” she clarified.
“I’ve got a stockpile of Japanese Asuka-period pottery—one from the royal court of First Empress Suiko. You can have it,” I said.
Lady Siyu isn’t one for emotion—or, well, any expression really . . . except sneering. She’s got no problem expressing that. Her face went blank for a moment as she watched the pins, then gave her head a slight shake. “That is an . . . interesting offer, but inadequate—”
“Inadequate? Do you have any idea how hard it is to come across those pieces?”
Lady Siyu hissed, her old, disdainful expression right back where it belonged. “Something you part with tha
t easily clearly means nothing to you. The magic in the pins cannot be lied to so easily.”
“Oh for—Who the hell made up these stupid rules?”
Lady Siyu leaned in close, her fangs extended, barely holding her human form now. I guess I just have that effect on supernaturals. “If you cause me to fail in Mr. Kurosawa’s task, I will make your last moments on earth the most unbearable you could possibly imagine.” To make the point, she dug her clawlike fingers into my side. I yelled as she hit my bruised ribs.
I was about to tell her she and her damned pins could have the pick of my collection—hell, all of it—but I was wracked with a fit of coughs.
I heard Rynn yell at me somewhere, and Lady Siyu grabbed both my shoulders and shook me. “Agree to give me your most treasured possession,” she said.
Damn it . . . the Algerian cuffs, the ones they used to drag Cleopatra II and her brother in front of the new emperor. The first thing I ever excavated as a grad student. Not a hell of a lot I could do with them if I were dead . . .
Goddamn it, universe, why do you do this to me? I swear, every goddamn time . . .
“Swear it,” Lady Siyu said.
I took as much of a breath as my burning lungs would let me . . . “Fine,” I said as I reached up and grabbed her collar, pulling her in close. “You want my most valued treasure? You’ve got it—take your damn pick. Just get this curse the hell off me.”
Lady Siyu and I both glanced at the pins. The metal began to glow hot white. I screamed as my skin seared.
Lady Siyu smiled. “That will apparently do,” she said, then shook her head in an uncharacteristic show and added, “such a curious specimen of your species.”
I’d have come up with something to say, but the pins began to glow a black red. It hurt—more than you could imagine—but I was too spent to do anything more than whimper. Captain rammed his nose in my face.
Owl and the City of Angels Page 39
