Wander-A Night Warden Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “Can’t guarantee safe, but I can do careful.”

  She gave me a quick hug and left the room. I stepped next door to get Koda.

  “You can’t let her scan me again.” Koda’s voice came from the corner. “If she does, she’ll find out I’m a—”

  She dropped her camouflage and appeared.

  “That probably won’t work on Roxanne.”

  “Worked on you and Corbel.” She walked out of the room past me. “I’ll take my chances. She surprised me with the scan last time, but I can’t let her do it again.”

  “Not intending to—let’s go.” I motioned for her to join me. “We have rummers out during the day and a spell in the middle of the city to deal with. Maybe we can kill two birds with one hole.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “THE RUMMERS WE didn’t finish are still roaming the streets.” I started the engine, and the Beast growled before settling into its familiar rumble.

  “Are they attacking normals?”

  “No.” I swerved around traffic with the same nagging thought. “Something feels off about this. They’re only going after magic-users.”

  “They’re not exploding into rummer bits or attacking normals.” I caught her looking at the runes on my hands as the sunlight hit them. “All of it feels off.”

  “What does memento mori mean?” She pointed at my right hand. The runic design was created to be indecipherable, but she read it with ease.

  “You can read that?” I glanced down at the runes quickly. She nodded. Not even Jade had been able to read my runes. I’d have to remember to wear a shirt around Koda. “Remember that you have to die.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean to—” she started.

  “Don’t stress it,” I said with a grunt. “It’s not like I’m going to forget anytime soon.”

  “Where are we headed?”

  “We need to lead the rummers to 42nd Street.” The Beast rumbled and roared as we sped uptown on 1st Avenue. “If they want magic-users, we can use the Dark Council to clean up the stragglers.”

  “Was he really there to ghost you?”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “The other mage—the one with the English accent.” She tapped the side of her ear. I had forgotten about the subdermal communicators. “He sounded serious and dangerous.”

  “He’s both, and you shouldn’t be listening in on conversations you aren’t a part of.”

  “If he had tried to attack you, I would’ve stopped him.” She looked out of the window. “Don’t know if I can take him though.”

  “You can’t, he’s a battle mage—a good one.” I glanced at her to drive the point home. “He would shred you before you got a chance to do your fandango.”

  “My what?”

  “It’s a fan dance that—nevermind.” I pointed at her. “Don’t even think of crossing him. He’s usually cranky and in a bad mood.”

  “Must be a mage thing,” she muttered under her breath. “Can you take him?”

  “He recently shifted, making him a serious threat, but,”—I said with a sly grin—“he really hates being called a wizard.”

  “So you can take him?”

  “I don’t intend on ever finding out. Besides, he rarely fights alone,” I added, shaking away the image of my pushing Tristan’s buttons by comparing him to the wizard who constantly burned down buildings in Chicago, or the one in Missouri who ran around with a werewolf. “His partner is what makes them a force to reckon with.”

  “I thought his partner was human?”

  “His partner can’t die. At least that’s what I hear.”

  “He’s immortal?” she said incredulously. “His partner is stronger than a god?”

  “Even your ex-boss seems to respect them. I don’t know if they’re stronger or not, and I don’t want to find out.” I left out the part about Ebonsoul—Simon’s blade matching the one in my duster. “Hold on.”

  She grabbed the door handle and braced herself as I pulled a tight left turn onto 39th Street and raced across town. I made a right on 6th Avenue and parked.

  “The park is blocks from here.” She looked around. “Why did you stop here?”

  “Something or someone is controlling the rummers.” I got out of the Beast and looked up and down the avenue. “We aren’t here to fight them. I need to find who’s pulling the strings.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” she asked, slamming the door on her side—making me glad the windows were bulletproof Lexan.

  “It’s called the Beast—not the Heap.” I gave her the stink-eye. “Would it be okay with you if we kept the doors attached?”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said with mock seriousness. “Do you think I hurt its feelings?”

  “Would you like to walk back to The Dive?”

  She raised her hands in surrender. “Sorry, really,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be gentle with her.”

  “Him, the Beast is a him.”

  “Not from where I’m standing.” She put her hands on her hips. “Definitely female.”

  She crossed over to my side of the Beast and flicked her wrists, materializing her fans. “I don’t see any rummers.”

  “If I can catch the melody, I can trace it back.” I closed my eyes and let my senses expand.

  “The what?”

  “Active magic vibrates at a specific frequency.” I turned slowly. “Ever since I cast the entropy spell, I can hear it, if it’s strong enough.”

  “You can hear magic?”

  “If you’d stop talking for a few seconds—wait, there.” I opened my eyes and looked west on 39th Street. The sound was a subtle variation on the foghorn of destruction. “That way.”

  “What are you hearing?” she asked, keeping pace. “Is it like a whisper: ‘this way to the dark magic’ or something?”

  “What? No.” I looked at her. “It’s tones and tastes,” I said, automatically and regretted it the moment the words escaped my lips.

  “Tastes? You can taste magic?” She burst into laughter and stopped walking.

  “It’s a side effect of not casting. The magic finds other senses to express its presence.” I looked back at her and kept walking. “It’s not that uncommon.”

  “You’re serious?” She ran to catch up and stopped laughing when she saw my expression. “Sorry, I’ve just never heard of it before.”

  “I can hear the subtle tone of your magic.”

  “What is it?” she asked, curious. “What do I sound like?”

  “Stand still and close your eyes.” I stopped walking. “I can hear it now—it’s coming through clearly.”

  “What do I sound like?”

  I started walking away.

  “You sound like an idiot who laughs at someone because they’re different or exhibit a trait you’re not familiar with.”

  She caught up a few seconds later. “Shit, Stryder, I’m sorry.”

  “I called you a freak—we’re even.” Her face darkened. I stopped walking. “We all carry baggage, all of us. I’m this way because of a spell, and you were born with yours. Not good or bad. Just different.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ll both do better next time.” I pointed across Times Square and up Broadway. “Over there.”

  Whoever was casting the spell was in the subway.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “THE TONE GETS stronger this way.” I headed to the subway entrance, and she stopped. “They’re in the subway—let’s go.”

  “I can’t.” She took several steps back and I saw real fear in her eyes. “Not down there.”

  “What?” I looked down the stairs. “It’s the subway. I know it’s not the cleanest, but—”

  “No,” she said forcefully and stepped back even more. “I can’t go down there. I can’t go underground.”

  I took a deep breath, calmed myself, and kept my voice even. “You have a fear about being underground?”

  She nodded. “It feels like the whol
e place is going to fall in on my head—suffocate me.”

  The tone was steady and strong, which meant we were close. I pushed it to the background as I spoke to her. Koda suffered from taphophobia—the fear of being buried alive. Which I could see if she were a miner. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t need to—phobias are irrational.

  “You worked for the god of the underworld.” I pointed downstairs. “It’s not that different.”

  “Underworld doesn’t mean underground.” She had a point. Hades usually sent Corbel to the underworld from what I heard. “Besides, you can’t control that weapon.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, trying not to agitate her further. “My control—or lack thereof—shouldn’t affect you.”

  “There’s a crater not four blocks from here because you used that… that thing.” She took a few more steps back. “What happens if you use it down there and lose it again?”

  “I won’t.”

  “You won’t use, it or lose control?”

  “Both.” I walked over to her. “It’ll never leave my coat.”

  She stood frozen and focused on the entrance to the subway.

  “I can’t.” She shook her head, clenching her jaw. “I can make sure no rummers follow you down.”

  She was reaching for a lifeline and I threw it to her.

  “Fair enough.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

  I didn’t bother explaining to her the futility of guarding one entrance. The 42nd Street-Times Square station was spread out over the center of the city. Rummers could swarm me from any number of entrances. Whoever chose it knew what they were doing.

  “Stryder…” she said. I stopped and looked up from the stairway. She still looked tense. Her lips were drawn in a tight smile. Her body was rigid, a cable pulled tight—just shy of snapping. “Thanks for not laughing at me.”

  “Nothing to laugh at,” I said. “If things get bad, head back to the Beast. You remember where it is?”

  She nodded, and I headed down into the darkness. I needed to find a mage weaving a spell in one of the busiest stations in the city. I let my senses expand and listened. The tone was threaded with a sound I didn’t recognize. It reminded me of nails on a chalkboard and set my teeth on edge.

  I walked down the platform and dropped onto the tracks. I didn’t expect to see a Transporter. They were shy, and whoever was weaving this spell would’ve scared them into hiding.

  “Koda, can you hear me?” Cecil always provided top-of-the-line equipment. The communicators would be limited but they should function underground.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Your big friend from The Dive just dropped off one of the Twins with the old mage.”

  They found Street.

  “Can you stay out of sight?” I peered into the darkness. If Thing One was upstairs that meant Thing Two was down here somewhere, or vice versa. “Don’t engage her alone, Koda.”

  “Not planning to,” she said in a low voice. “Your mage friend looks banged up. He’s covered in bruises. They’re heading downstairs.”

  “Stay hidden,” I said. “Her sister can’t be too far away. Stay close in case I need backup.”

  “Backup?”

  “Yes, you know that thing when you come and help me to not die? That backup?”

  Silence.

  “I’ll make sure not to call you down here.” I sighed and kept walking. “Stay hidden and I should be back soon.”

  I sensed the source of the tone farther down the tracks. It was between the stations in a large storage area. A bitter taste hit my tongue as I got closer. The additional saliva forced me to spit. “Great, now I’m Frank,” I muttered.

  Operational awareness was what allowed me to dodge the blast of black energy aimed at my head.

  “Hello, Grey.” It was one of the Twins. “I told Quinton you would come.”

  “What?” I glanced at the smoking wall next to me. “You’re baiting me?”

  She stood inside a circle. Dozens of black tendrils snaked out from her position and rose up and out of the station. The same black energy surrounded her and pulsed every few seconds. I narrowed my eyes and examined the tendrils. She was powering the rummers, but someone else had to be directing them.

  “We need the vial.”

  “What vial?”

  “I told him you would say that too.” She smiled at me, and my stomach clenched. It was the checkmate smile. “Bring him,” she yelled into the station.

  I heard a scuffle, and another figure came into view. It was Street, followed by the other twin. He was pale and his eyes were unfocused. I saw the bruises and some of his fingers bent at unnatural angles, making it impossible for him to cast. His clothes were torn, and he looked dirtier than usual. She held a blade to Street’s neck and dug it in deep enough to draw blood when I stepped closer to her.

  “Please, come closer.” She pressed the blade in again and drew more blood. “This old mage should be retired anyway.”

  I stopped walking.

  “Let him go.” I reached slowly into my pocket. I felt for the fake vial and pulled my hand out slowly—holding it between my thumb and forefinger. “This is what you want.”

  Behind me, the Twin in the circle muttered something under her breath, and more tendrils formed. I kept my eyes on the Twin in front of me. She stretched out a hand.

  “Hand it here.”

  I opened my coat and made sure I could reach Fatebringer. The moment I gave her the vial, she would try to ghost Street. I had about three seconds.

  “Give me the old man first.”

  She laughed at me. “How stupid do you think I am?” she said. “I give you the old man, and you blast me with your gun. No fucking way. Hand me the vial, or I hand him to you with his throat slit. He’s dead either way—your choice.”

  I narrowed my eyes and examined Street. Something was wrong. I could see the same black tendrils forming in his chest. The Twin next to him laughed.

  “What have you done?” I said, my voice a jagged growl.

  “The vial—now.” I placed the fake vial in her hand. She grabbed it and shoved Street forward. I caught him as he fell into my arms. “You’d better hurry. Quinton gave him an extra dose. I wonder what happens when a psycho mage drinks Redrum?”

  Her laughter followed me as I scooped up Street and ran out of the station. A few seconds later, I heard the muffled explosion. She must’ve opened the vial.

  “Good for you, bitch,” I said as I climbed the stairs.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE BEAST RUMBLED outside as I reached the top of the stairs. I placed Street in the back. Koda moved over to the passenger side and strapped in.

  “Will he make it?” she said, her voice tight as she looked in the back seat at a sweating and mumbling Street. “He looks bad.”

  “Quinton gave him Redrum.” I pulled out my phone and speed dialed the only person I knew who could help.

  “Are we going to Haven? He really needs to go to Haven.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think Rox can deal with this.”

  I sped across town until I hit the West Side Highway. I pulled a hard right and raced uptown. A voice answered a few seconds later.

  “Hello, Grey.” It was Aria.

  “Street’s in trouble.” I jumped onto the Henry Hudson Parkway and blasted past traffic. “He’s been given Redrum.”

  “How far away are you?”

  “I’m on the Henry Hudson. Twenty minutes.”

  “Has he exhibited any symptoms?” she asked. “Do you know when he was given the drug and how much he was given?”

  “No to all three.” I swerved around several cars and pushed the Beast faster. I flipped a few switches and primed the nitrous oxide. Koda stared at me, wide-eyed. “He’s not dying on my watch.”

  “I know this may be a long shot, Grey,” Aria said after a pause, “do you have any of the Redrum he was given?”

  “Yes, I think?”


  “I’ll get the rooms ready. Drive faster, Grey.”

  Aria hung up, and I glanced at Koda. “Hold on.”

  A flick of another switch, and the hydraulics lowered us to almost an inch off the road. Koda glanced at me as I hit the nitrous and the Beast roared. The velocity pushed us back in our seats as the needle on the speedometer arced to the right and stayed there.

  “Hold on, Street.” I white-knuckled the wheel and muttered under my breath. I dismissed the pain that shot up one side of my face.

  “Stryder,” Koda said, worried, “what are you doing?”

  “Driving faster and saving his life.”

  The nitrous boost finished as I released the spell I had primed. The Beast suddenly became hundreds of pounds lighter as we sped up the parkway.

  “You’re casting?”

  I clenched my jaw against the pain as runes flared inside the Beast. “We’re almost there.”

  I pulled off the Henry Hudson and shot up the side street that led to The Cloisters. The Wordweavers had taken ownership of the property from the Metropolitan Museum several decades back. They had kept the museum open, but sealed off one side and the top floors for themselves.

  Aria stood at the entrance. She wore her usual white robe covered in silver runic brocade. Several assistants rolled out a gurney as I pulled up the cobblestone driveway.

  I stopped the Beast, and she motioned to the weavers beside her to get Street. Koda bounded out and rushed to the driver’s side as I stepped out. I promptly fell on my ass as someone pulled the road out from under my feet. Koda helped me stand unsteadily.

  “Stryder, your nose.” She pointed at my face. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Give me a moment.” I wiped my nose and came away with a bloody hand. “Shit, that can’t be good.”

  “Grey, you need assistance,” Aria said, looking back to the entrance of The Cloisters. Two more weavers came out with another gurney. “Take him to the runic dampener.”

  They nodded and wheeled me in.

  The Cloisters contained architectural elements from four French medieval abbeys. What’s not written in the tourism pamphlets is that these four abbeys were also ancient Wordweaver hubs of power. By combining, these four elements, the site became a nexus of power.