Wander-A Night Warden Novel

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  Cole grabbed the bottle and put it under the bar. I examined the extent of the strike and saw that it was contained to the bar. Java had done a good job with the defensive runes. The last time Frank unleashed a strike, we were dealing with fires and structural damage.

  “Are we really just going to storm this Shadow Helm on our own?” I heard the tinge of fear in Koda’s voice. “Wouldn’t it be better to call the NYTF at least?”

  “What did I tell you?” I pulled out my phone and pressed a speed dial. “No one’s got your six.”

  “So we’re going to die,” she said, her voice tight. “This is insane.”

  “I may be insane, but I’m not suicidal.”

  The call connected.

  “Are you on your way in again?” Rox said with a sigh. “Should I prep your usual room?”

  “Not yet.” I paused for a few seconds. “I need a favor.”

  “You need a what?” she asked, surprise evident in her voice. “Mr. ‘I work alone and I’m too badass to ask for help’ is asking for a favor?”

  “Yes, I’m attacking the lower levels of Shadow Helm tonight,” I said, my voice tight. “I need your destructive duo and their devil dog. Can you call them?”

  “Grey,” Roxanne answered, sounding serious, “Shadow Helm was destroyed. The lower levels are sealed. There’s nothing down there.”

  “Lyrra and her renegade Night Wardens are down there, along with who knows how many rummers and Redrum ogres.”

  “Redrum ogres?”

  “I’ll meet them at the 86th Street entrance,” I said. “Eleven sharp. By that time the streets will be clear. If they’re late, I go in without them.”

  “If you’re right, this is suicide, Grey,” she said. “Call the NYTF or the Dark Council.”

  “This is Night Warden business,” I answered. “You know the NYTF and Council will show up after everything is done, if they show up at all.”

  “I don’t know if Tristan and Simon will be enough,” she said. “You’re storming what I assume to be a fortified position.”

  “Can you call them?”

  “Are you sure you want Tristan there?” she asked. “You two don’t exactly get along.”

  “He may be a royal pain, but he’s good at destruction.” I glanced at Koda. “Right now I can use all the firepower I can get. Call him.”

  “Did you bond to the sword?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to.”

  “I’ll call him and prep the room.” She hung up.

  I looked at Cole and nodded.

  “Ghost Protocol?” he asked.

  “You don’t hear from me in two days max—Ghost Protocol and have Cecil pick up the Beast for decommissioning.”

  “I’ll get on it now.” He nodded and left the bar, heading to the back room to prep.

  “You have everything you need?” I looked at Koda. “I don’t want to hear you left a fan behind or something.”

  “Funny. What’s Ghost Protocol?”

  I headed to the door and she kept pace. The Beast rumbled as I started the engine.

  “Exactly what it sounds like.” I closed my eyes and let the purr of the engine wash over me. “If I don’t show up or contact Cole in two days, and he ghosts The Dive and everything in it.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  WE ARRIVED AT 86th Street with thirty minutes to spare. I stepped out of the Beast and checked Fatebringer. I had ten speed loaders filled with an assortment of rounds but heavy on the negation. I faced the street as Koda walked to the wall that bordered Central Park.

  “Do you think they’ll come?” She looked down Central Park West. The traffic was light. “I don’t think I would if I were them.”

  “Even if we get Tea and Crumpets, it’ll be better than just us.”

  “You don’t like him, do you?” she asked.

  “I respect him—I don’t have to like him.” I looked up at her. “If things go south, and they usually do, you get your ass out of the park before you get ghosted.”

  “But I—”she started and I glared at her hard, cutting her off.

  “Don’t sass me.” I holstered Fatebringer. “You find yourself in over your head, you run to safety. Clear?”

  “Got it,” she muttered under her breath. “What if you get in trouble?”

  “I’ll get myself out—or I won’t.” I felt the circle before I saw it. “We have company.”

  Koda looked around. “Where? I don’t see anyone?”

  An orange circle formed a few feet away from us. I only sensed one signature, but it was impressive. Tristan must have shifted more than one level to register this strong.

  A few seconds later, Tristan stepped from the circle and walked to us. He was dressed in his usual dark suit. I swear it’s like a uniform with some mages.

  “Where’s your partner and his hound?”

  “Simon and his creature are following up on leads in a current case.” He pulled on his sleeve as he looked into the park. “Roxanne insisted that you needed help?”

  “I’m never going to live this down.”

  “Not to worry,” he said with a nod and tapped the side of his head. “You know us mages—memories like sieves.”

  “Hilarious. All the mages I know—present company included—are about as funny as a funeral.”

  “I wasn’t being funny,” he said with a serious look.

  “Right. Koda is topside.” I glanced quickly her way and she nodded. “She makes sure nothing follows us in. You and me go in and erase everything in there that’s not a Night Warden.”

  “This new strain of Redrum… is it—?”

  “Fatal? Yes.” I nodded. “Once they’re turned there’s no antidote. I almost lost a close friend to it today. It has to be caught before the actual turning. Once they’re rummers, it’s too late.”

  “What are we facing?” He pulled out a roll of paper from an inside pocket and smoothed it out on the top of the low wall that surrounded the park. It was a plan of the underground levels of Shadow Helm.

  “Where did you get that?” I looked at the plans, and they seemed accurate. “Only Night Wardens have access to those plans.”

  “Night Wardens and Directors of the NYTF, it seems,” he said. “Who, by the way, know you’re here tonight poking a hornet’s nest.”

  “Should I wait until the NYTF decides it’s time to shut down Lyrra and her army?”

  “Only if you wish to wait a lifetime,” he answered. “I’m letting you know who the scapegoat will be if this goes horribly wrong, and who will take the credit if it doesn’t.”

  “How many more homeless have to die before it becomes an issue?” I asked, getting angry. “How many more attacks before they take action?”

  “Isn’t that what we’re here to do—shut them down?” he inquired calmly and pointed at the plans. “Show me what I’m looking at. How do we get in and— more importantly—out?”

  “We can use this tunnel system.” I traced a finger along the plan. “The underground has three levels, with the deepest being the most complex. If Lyrra is down there, she’ll be on the lowest level. I have a secret way in.”

  “The third level, which I can presume is the most fortified?” he said, pointing to the third level on the plans. “Runic defenses?”

  “None that would be active, but she’s dangerous, so I wouldn’t discount them.”

  “I’ll approach as if they’re in place.” He rolled up the plans, putting them in a pocket. “How many rummers?”

  “I don’t know.” I looked into the darkness of the park. “She’s been taking people off the street and forcing this new Redrum into them.”

  “Rummers unknown, fine.” He adjusted his jacket. “What about these Redrum ogres Roxanne mentioned?”

  “Ogres.” I nodded. “Like your regular ogres—only smarter, with insane reflexes, and fast moving. These aren’t the hulking ogres you’re used to.”

  “So ogres on Redrum have increased lethality.” He rubbed his chin. “Night Wardens
are mages as well, yes?”

  “Only the higher positions, rank and file are closer to apprentices,” I said. “She has three that I know of, not including Lyrra herself, Quinton and the Twins.”

  “I’ve heard of this trio—nothing good,” he said. “Night Warden death squad of some sort.”

  I nodded. “Assassins—and good at what they do.” I nodded. “The Twins use blades primarily but are devastating at hand-to-hand combat. Quinton uses dual pistols, and all three can cast.”

  “And this Lyrra?” he asked. “What kind of threat is she?”

  “Lyrra is a Night Warden, a mage, and a heartless bitch.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Probably not as powerful as you right now, but she fights dirty and isn’t afraid to risk her own life if it means taking yours.”

  “Oh, so she’s a typical Night Warden, then,” he said with a glance into the park. “So, blast first, and examine what’s left afterwards.”

  “She’s one of the best.” I felt the tug of Izanami in the back of my skull—a subtle pulling. “Underestimate her and die.”

  “Did you bring your weapon?”

  “Here.” I tapped the butt of Fatebringer. “Don’t need anything else.”

  “The DarkSpirit?” He glanced at my holster. “Is it in your bottomless coat?”

  “He has it in there,” Koda volunteered. “He promised not to use it.”

  “Can you leave it in the car?” Tristan stared at me and narrowed his eyes. “No—you can’t, can you? The bond is too strong now.”

  “It’s under control.” I pulled my duster closed and headed into the park. “Let’s go.”

  “Stryder, if you lose it in there…” he began.

  “Feel free to ghost me—after we stop Lyrra.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  CENTRAL PARK AT night is an ominous open space. Shadow Helm used to occupy the center of the Great Lawn, which was dominated by six softball fields now. When it was standing, the Keep allowed the Night Wardens a base of operations inside the park with an extensive network of tunnels throughout the city.

  Until the Purge. The supernatural community felt the Wardens were too much of an obstacle. They joined to combat their common enemy and destroyed Shadow Helm, along with more than half of the Night Wardens, in a bloody year of warfare.

  I’d lost many good friends that year. We finally convinced the supernaturals that it was better to live with us than die by our hands, but the damage was done. The decimation of the Night Wardens forced us into the shadows. Soon after, the formation of the NYTF and the Dark Council made them redundant, and they were disbanded except for a small token force.

  “I thought the Night Wardens were considered obsolete?” Tristan asked as we approached. “What is this Lyrra doing—planning a coup?”

  “The Wardens were shut down after the Purge, but some of us kept patrolling,” I said, irked at being called obsolete. I was only a century older than he was, still in my prime. “Lyrra is insane. I guarantee whatever she’s planning will shed gallons of blood, and give her what she always wanted—power.”

  “An army of rummers and ogres will certainly do that,” he said as we approached the edge of the lawn. “More importantly, how did she manage to modify the Redrum to make them UV-resistant?”

  “She had help.” I checked Fatebringer one last time. “This way.”

  We stood on the center of the field, and I placed my hand on a large stone plaque commemorating the Institution of Night Wardens for their ‘tireless service’ in keeping the city safe.

  “What kind of help?” Tristan stepped back as a large orange circle formed in front of us. “I thought the lower levels were sealed?”

  “They were.” I looked at the circle in surprise, as a large ramp appeared in the center of the lawn ahead of us. “What the hell is this? What happened to the door?”

  The ramp was easily thirty feet across and descended for another forty feet before making a sharp right turn. I could see the dormant runes etched into the stone along the edges. They were designed for enhanced concealment with little to no ambient energy being expended. Lyrra never had the finesse for this kind of rune work.

  “Montague, look at these runes.” I pointed to the symbols in the stone. “This is sophisticated work. Too delicate for Lyrra.”

  “Looks like the work of a Smith.” Tristan knelt down and touched the ramp. “This is a recent construction, but it makes sense.”

  “How does a ramp make sense?” I growled in frustration. “It’s supposed to be a small door.”

  “If I needed to move an army from an underground bunker,” he said patiently, “I wouldn’t use a door.”

  “And to infiltrate an underground bunker—does a ramp work?” I snapped back, upset.

  “Not if you want to use stealth,” he said. “I recall Night Wardens were more the brash and bold type.”

  I nodded. “Brash and bold—reckless even. Not suicidal.”

  “Why aren’t they greeting us with extreme violence?” He looked down the ramp, standing, and dusting off his pants.

  “I hope you’re ready.” I drew Fatebringer and nodded again. “We just lost the element of surprise.”

  “The tablet?” Tristan pointed at the plaque. “Was this your ‘secret’ way in?”

  “Was.” I looked around. “Only one other person knew about that entrance, and she’s gone. It was keyed to our energy signature.”

  “It would seem your secret is out,” he said, forming an orb of flame and releasing it down the ramp. It hovered mid-air near the bottom. “That should give us some warning.”

  I turned to Koda next to us.

  “I’ll understand if you want to bail.” I looked at the ramp and shook my head. “No way can you secure this ramp alone.”

  “I’m staying.” Her voice cut through the night with an edge. “I’ll hold this entrance. Go stop that crazy Night Warden.”

  She flicked both wrists and the fans materialized in her hands. She sat near the top of the ramp and faced outward to the lawn.

  “Remember what I said.” I headed down the ramp with Tristan next to me. “You find yourself in over your head, you cut and run to safety.”

  “Go kick ass, old man.” She kept her back to me and raised an arm. “I’ll make sure nothing gets in. You make sure nothing gets out.”

  “Is she a Night Warden?” Tristan glanced up the ramp at Koda. “She seems tense.”

  “Facing death has a tendency to make most people tense.” I walked around his floating orb. At the bottom of the ramp, a large steel door covered in angry runes faced us. I heard the foghorn of destruction and pushed it to the back of my mind.

  He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “The door is set to detonate if tampered with,” Tristan said, examining the runes.

  “Instantaneous or delayed?”

  “Delayed, if I’m reading them correctly,” he said after a few seconds. “Looks to be about thirty seconds, give or take.”

  “Is that expensive suit runed for protection?” I pointed at him. “Or is that just the height of mage fashion on High Street?”

  “Runed?” He scoffed. “This is a Zegna Bespoke. I wouldn’t allow it to be runed for protection. I’m a mage.”

  I rubbed the material of his sleeve between my fingers and nodded sagely. “That is an exceptional suit.” I lifted my sleeve to compare. “This is off the rack and runed to protect my ass from everything except a nuclear blast or being stomped on by a dragon.”

  “Are you sure it hasn’t been stomped on by a dragon?” He rubbed the material of my duster between his fingers and then rubbed them on the wall next to us. “It’s looking a little worse for wear.”

  “Let’s see who looks better in thirty seconds,” I said and triggered the runes on the door.

  THIRTY-THREE

  LYRRA’S MISTAKE WAS adding a delay to the detonation. My mistake was not listening to my own advice and underestimating her. As soon as I stepped close to the door, a large circle appeared beneath me
, rooting me in place.

  The runes on the door blasted the foghorn of destruction and erupted in orange energy. Tristan looked around the corner and noticed I wasn’t moving.

  “Are you really planning on testing the limits of Aria’s handiwork?”

  “I’m stuck.” I tried shifting my weight, but the circle was made up of a weave of spells. One made me lighter and the other held me in place. I had no leverage to get myself free.

  “Clever—a timed runic stasis,” he said and examined the circle. “Whoever set this trap expected proximity to the door. It should release you in about forty-five seconds.”

  “Glad you can admire the handiwork.” I looked at him. “Forty-five seconds is fifteen seconds too long.”

  “Indeed.” He started gesturing. “I can place a shield in front of you, but I have to assume whoever set the trap would factor that in and act accordingly to counter the shield.”

  “Do it.” He nodded, and I gritted my teeth. I was going to have to cast. Aria knew my limitations around casting. The duster operated on passive magic. The reason Tessa wanted it so badly was because of its active properties. “You’d better get back. I need to cast.”

  “Is that a good idea?” he asked, concerned.

  “Can you stop the detonation?”

  “Yes, if I had thirty minutes instead of less than twenty seconds.”

  “You’d better step back, then.” He stepped around the corner and activated the shield in front of me. An orange arc of energy formed in front of me. I crouched down, raised the coat to cover my body, and braced against the pain I knew was coming.

  I spoke the words of power that activated the coat. The sensation of liquid lava burned through my chest as my muscles seized. The duster went from dark brown leather to black with a metallic sheen. I gritted my teeth against the pain and enclosed myself in the coat.

  The foghorn of destruction rose in a crescendo and the door exploded. The blast of energy buffeted me, followed by hundreds of small impacts I could only assume were projectiles of some sort. It was smart, unexpected, and deadly—just like Lyrra.