Weapon of Pain (Weapon of Flesh Series Book 5)

by Chris A. Jackson

  Lakshmi must have a bolt hole… The thought of a secret room felt right. What better place to keep a kidnapping victim? But there was nothing behind the credenza save a small niche in the wall.

  Footfalls behind drew her glance; Dee and several others charged into the room. “They went this way, Dee. Come on! Keep up!”

  “I was busy!”

  Digging her hand into the nook exposed by the cast-off credenza, she found a hidden lever and tried to move it. It seemed stuck, and her bloody hand slipped on the metal. Taking a two-handed grip, she wrenched it. Metal screeched in protest, but nothing else happened.

  Mya kicked the wall in frustration and it moved. The locking mechanism was broken, but something was holding it shut. She slammed into it with all her weight, and the false wall swung in and upward. She heard a truncated yelp and glimpsed a figure tumbling down a staircase, arms and legs flailing. Closer at hand stood a second assassin, face contorted in a muddle of rage and fear, a dagger readied.

  “Stop!” he yelled. “I don’t—”

  “I do!” Mya grabbed the front of his jacket and heaved him into the room behind her.

  “Hey!” Dee yelped indignantly as the Inquisitor nearly bowled him over.

  Mya bid him a quick “Sorry!” and flew down the steps. “Come on!”

  “Slow down!” he snapped.

  “Speed up!” She wasn’t about to wait for him. If Lakshmi had the boy below, she might kill him rather than let him be taken.

  Glow crystals lit her way down the long, steep stair, the walls progressing from quarried stone to seamless native rock. She leapt over the fallen assassin, a tangle of twisted arms and legs that still moved weakly. Far below, she could hear labored breathing and the sound of metal rasping metal—a key in a lock. A door scraped open ahead as she reached the bottom of the stair. Two figures stood in the opening, Lakshmi and…

  “Hoseph!”

  The priest started at her shout and glanced back. He looked different, short hair and unkempt facial stubble making him look like a beggar rather than a priest. Rage, fear, and indecision flicked over his face.

  “Come on!” Lakshmi howled, dragging him into the room beyond.

  Mya charged the door.

  Crack! A tiny projectile shot past, but Dee’s bolt stuck into the door as it slammed shut.

  “Not this time!” Mya vowed, sprinting full speed and leading with her shoulder as she heard the lock click home.

  Impact… Splintering wood… Darkness… No pain, but overwhelming dizziness.

  Cool stone pressed against Mya’s cheek. Brilliant stars shot through her blurry field of vision, coalescing into a single bright light that grew in her sight. Blinking rapidly, her heart skipped a beat as she finally distinguished a pearly glow and a leering face.

  Hoseph…and his glowing hand of death.

  I’ve waited so long for this! Hoseph gloated as he approached Mya’s sprawled figure.

  Though the impact had stunned her, the bloody contusion on her temple was already healing, her eyes clearing. He had to be quick. Invoking Demia’s blessing, divine light flared in his palm. Only a moment to release Mya’s soul from her body, and he would be free of her…

  “Hoseph!” Lakshmi struggled to free a young man manacled to a small cot.

  Hoseph ignored her. Once he’d killed Mya, there would be no need to flee. Just one touch…

  Pain blossomed in Hoseph’s left buttock.

  He jerked, stumbling, his head suddenly reeling. His legs folded. Catching himself on hands and knees, he wondered what had happened to him. It didn’t matter. Mya lay only steps away… He tried to crawl forward. I have to kill her.

  Hoseph’s arm buckled, twisting him away from Mya. In the doorway stood a dark-haired man in a long coat, a small crossbow in each hand.

  I’ve been shot, Hoseph realized, poisoned.

  The world began to fade to gray, as if a fog oozed out of the corners of the room. Demia, give me strength! His waning consciousness steadied for a moment, so his plea must have found a sympathetic ear. He turned to look at Mya. Already she was struggling to her feet, murder in her eyes.

  Flee… Get away… But to where? He was poisoned. Without an antidote, he would likely die. But if he stayed here, death was certain.

  The word of invocation leapt into his mind and onto his numbing lips. “Shahallariva.”

  “Hoseph!”

  Lakshmi’s cry cut through the fog that shrouded Hoseph’s mind. The Master Inquisitor struggled to pull the Tessifus boy toward him, her frail old frame straining, her free hand reaching out for him. Horror chilled her eyes as the shadows started to consume him. She lunged forward, her bony hand grasping his as the mists took him.

  The Sphere of Shadow swept the fog from his mind as a gale sweeps away an ocean mist. Here, with no corporeal body to be affected by poison, Hoseph’s thoughts cleared. He could feel Lakshmi with him, but… His rage flared.

  Where is the boy?

  The foolish old woman must have left the boy to save herself. He considered letting her go, leaving the Master Inquisitor to drift here as punishment for her failure, but reconsidered. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her. Only she knew where the last Tessifus boy—the most important boy—was being held. Also, she was the foremost Inquisitor in Tsing, the only one fit to train the next Grandmaster. He couldn’t kill her. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he could save himself.

  First things first. He’d die if he didn’t get an antidote to the poison, and there was only one place he knew he could get one. Kittal. With a prayer to Demia, he pictured the Master Alchemist’s headquarters and invoked the talisman once again.

  Pain and nausea, screams, and the concussive roar of an explosion ushered Hoseph back into the physical world. His mind swirled through the oppressive fog, but the shouts, the mayhem… They were under attack. Had Demia forsaken him, dropped him back into the secret room beneath Lakshmi’s headquarters?

  It doesn’t matter… Nothing matters anymore.

  Hoseph no longer had the strength or the will to save himself. The fog enveloped his mind until there was nothing left at all.

  Dee slapped a new bolt into place and raised his crossbow, but it was too late. Hoseph was gone.

  Mya’s foot lashed through the dissipating cloud of black mist. Stumbling with the wasted effort, she glared around the room, her bloody hands clenching and unclenching spastically.

  “Damn it!” Her flinty gaze settled on Dee. “Tell me that the shot you put in his ass was poisoned.”

  “Sorry. You said you didn’t want to kill anyone if it wasn’t necessary.”

  “Stupid me.” She shifted her glare to the two Inquisitors cowering near the Tessifus boy’s bed. “Cover them.”

  Dee redirected his crossbows and steadied his hammering heart with a deep, calming breath. Mya’s close and almost lethal encounter with Hoseph had disturbed him even more than her reckless charge through the Inquisitor’s stronghold. If he hadn’t been right behind her… He shuddered at the thought.

  Blades and Enforcers poured into the small room to take control of the Inquisitors. They surrendered without a struggle, perhaps in response to their mistress’ sudden departure.

  The room looked like a disused wine cellar, cool and dry, lit by glow crystals. The only furnishings were a table and chairs, some cabinets and cupboards, and a narrow bed.

  Mya knelt beside the groggy young man manacled to the bedpost, peering into his glassy eyes. “He’s alive, anyway. This one must be the oldest, the heir. I hope Noncey finds the last boy.”

  “You’ve got blood on your face.”

  She wiped at the blood with her sleeve and grinned at Dee. “And you made it through without a scratch.”

  “You didn’t leave anyone left to scratch me.”

  “I couldn’t have done better myself,” said an admiring voice behind them.

  They turned to see Jolee examining the shattered door. She had a bloody hole in her shoulder, but the bolt had
been removed.

  Flexing one enormous bicep, she nodded at Mya. “Grandmaster, we’ve got everything under control upstairs.”

  “Good. I wish I could say the same about down here, but we missed Hoseph and Lakshmi.” Mya hefted the boy over her shoulder like a sack of grain. “Is the carriage ready?”

  “Ready and waiting.”

  “Good. Get this place cleaned up, Jolee, all the prisoners to Clemson’s. Dee, you’re with me.”

  Dee ignored Jolee’s crooked grin and knowing wink as he followed Mya through the door and up the stairs.

  At the top, Mya said, “I want you to take the brat to the palace. I need to find out what happened at Kittal’s.”

  “Me?” Dee couldn’t believe it. “You want me to go to the palace alone?”

  “Why not? They know you, and I don’t think they’ll complain about who brings the kid back, as long as they get him in good shape.”

  “Sure.” Dee didn’t know if the Imperial Guard would be as welcoming of him as they would be of the heroic Miss Moirin, but he couldn’t argue with her. She was Grandmaster and she was right.

  Lakshmi’s office was crowded with Enforcers securing the dazed and beaten Inquisitors. Dee almost laughed at the awe in their eyes when they looked at Mya, but it really wasn’t funny. Though he understood their reaction, he didn’t share it. Watching Mya throw herself headlong into danger felt like a dagger in his gut. On the bright side, the rumors about her would certainly grow after this, which might lure some Inquisitors and Alchemists over to their side.

  He followed her out the soap shop’s back door, where a nondescript carriage waited, an Enforcer holding open the door. The driver, the same one who had taken them to the palace with Wexford, tipped his hat from the driver’s seat. Mya dumped the unconscious boy inside the carriage, then stepped aside to let Dee board.

  He hesitated. “You should probably clean up before heading to Kittal’s, Mya.” Dee nodded to the brightening sky. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

  “Right. Thanks.” She grimaced at the blood on her hands, her own, though her flesh was smooth and unmarred. “Plenty of soap inside. You better get going.”

  “Sure.” He climbed aboard and reached for the door handle, but Mya already had it.

  “And thanks again for watching my back. You did good, Dee.” She grinned at him.

  For once, Dee didn’t doubt her sincerity, but his own assessment wasn’t so forgiving. “Except for Hoseph.”

  “No, especially with Hoseph.” Her face turned serious. “If he’d gotten a hand on me…”

  Dee swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak, but there were no words to express what he was feeling right now. Nothing he could say aloud, at least.

  “Anyway, thanks for that.” Another smile flicked across her lips. “I’ll see you back at the flat.”

  “Right.”

  The door closed and the carriage lurched into motion. Dee checked the unconscious boy’s breathing, then settled back for the ride, struggling to calm his jangling nerves as he looked out the window. Hoseph as still out there, and that was the second time Dee had put a crossbow bolt in his ass. He was going to wake up very pissed off indeed.

  Chapter XV

  Glass crunched beneath Mya’s boots as she rounded the corner onto Flatiron Street. She let out a low whistle. An explosion had blasted out windows from the glassblower’s shop halfway down the block. Acrid smoke still wafted through the still air, reminiscent of the explosions that had rocked the orphanage. She wondered that the entire neighborhood hadn’t burned to the ground.

  Pulling her cap down over her brow and stuffing her hands into the pockets of the loose jacket she had borrowed, Mya joined the crowd of gawkers. The neighbors—some still in their night clothes—chattered excitedly, regaling each other with stories of their rude awakening and speculating on what mishap had befallen the poor glassmakers.

  Mya shifted her attention to where a squad of constables picked through the debris. Though the sun wasn’t yet fully above the buildings, she had no trouble seeing that several bodies had been dragged out to the curb. She recognized no Blades or Enforcers. Thanks to Embree’s reconnaissance. She thanked her lucky stars for the Master Hunter’s defection.

  “Ah, dearie, such a one as you shouldn’t be wastin’ time lookin’ where there’s nothin’ to see. You should be off to your work!”

  Mya flicked a scornful glance at the interfering old woman passing by. A wink of the crone’s wrinkled eye caught her off guard, but a covert flick of gnarled fingers explained all; the woman was one of Noncey’s Blades.

  Ducking her head like a contrite youth caught dawdling, Mya mumbled, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mya followed the old woman at a discreet distance as she toddled down Flatiron Street and around the corner. A block farther along, she approached an tenement house, waved irritably at the drunken sailor lolling on the stairs to get out of the way, then opened the door and stepped inside. Mya followed suit, sidestepping the drunk as she mounted the steps. She recognized him as one of Clemson’s senior journeymen. The reek of whiskey on his clothes didn’t quite mask the scent of smoke.

  “Just upstairs and left,” he whispered as she passed.

  Through the door and up a narrow stairwell she went. At the first landing, Mya spied the old woman at one of the doors along the left passage, fiddling with the latch. As Mya approached, the woman opened the door and entered. Mya ducked in right behind her, and the Blade closed the door behind them.

  The small flat was empty of furniture, but crowded with Blades and Enforcers, some lying injured, others tending to the wounded. Four blanket-draped shapes were stretched out in the far corner. The scent of scorched meat, hair, and leather wrinkled Mya’s nose.

  Noncey stood from where he knelt beside a badly burned man. “Grandmaster.”

  “I went by Kittal’s place. It looked like you walked into a mess.” She looked around at the injured and dead. “Is this all the damage?”

  “No. These are just the worst off. We lost six in all, and there were maybe ten more injuries. I’ve called for a healer who works for me on occasion to come here and tend to the wounded.”

  “Did you get anything?” Mya asked hopefully.

  Noncey shook his head, his eyes heavy with regret. “We captured a few of Kittal’s people, took them to Clemson’s headquarters, but we found no boy.”

  “Lakshmi had a secret room where she was hiding the Tessifus boy. Might Kittal have had one, too?”

  “Possible, I suppose. I can’t give a definite answer. Everyone in the building was either killed or captured, but there wasn’t time to search the place thoroughly enough to find a secret room. The explosion drew constables like shit draws flies.” He grimaced helplessly. “I’m sorry, Grandmaster.”

  Mya waved off his apology. “If I hadn’t actually seen the secret passage at Lakshmi’s closing, we might not have found it either. What about Kittal?”

  Another shake of the head. “Close, but no luck.” The Master Blade gestured for her to follow him to a big man seated with his back against the wall, a swatch of cloth pressed against his face. “Bratt, tell the Grandmaster what you told me.”

  The man started to stand, but sank back as Mya crouched down and motioned him to remain seated. Removing the cloth to speak, he exposed red, blistered skin that was already beginning to slough off.

  “I busted into the room that Embree told us was Kittal’s office. I was by myself because my partners,” he frowned as he jerked a thumb toward the blanket-shrouded bodies, “went down to a bomb hidden in the hallway. Kittal was there, and Lakshmi, and…Hoseph.”

  “Lakshmi and Hoseph were there?” Rage burned Mya’s cheeks and she gritted her teeth. How many times would this priest slip through their fingers? “And I supposed he spirited the masters away, dissolved into that godsdamned mist of his!”

  “Well, yes and no, Grandmaster.” Bratt swallowed, his voice thick and his eyes wide as he watched her with alarm. “He and th
e masters vanished, but it was Kittal who did it. He swallowed some potion that was hanging on a chain around his neck, grabbed the other two, and they all puffed into smoke right there in front of me.”

  Mya rocked back on her heels in shock. “Kittal can travel magically?”

  Noncey shrugged. “I’ve never heard of him doing it, but who knows what kind of concoctions he brews.”

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t Hoseph,” she asked, “disappearing as a black mist?”

  The assassin set his ruined features firmly. “No, it was a whitish smoke, and it was definitely Kittal. Hoseph was on the ground, looking…well, he looked dead.”

  “He was drugged,” Mya explained. “Dee shot him, but it was only anesthetic. He got away with Lakshmi before I could kill him.”

  Bratt frowned, wincing as the gesture tugged his burned face.

  “Don’t worry, Bratt. You did fine.” She stood, trying to calm her temper. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t fault Bratt for not killing Hoseph, considering her own failure. “It’s hard to catch smoke with your bare hands.”

  “That it is.” Noncey patted Bratt’s shoulder and turned to her. “Orders?”

  “Regroup. Take care of your people, get things settled, and I’ll visit you at Clemson’s this evening. I want to talk to the prisoners.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster. I’m sorry we failed to retrieve that last boy.”

  Mya shrugged and smiled reassuringly. “He’s safe for now. They’re not likely to hurt their only remaining hostage. We’ll just have to find where they’re keeping him. And now that we’ve got Hunters on our side, we’ve got a definite advantage. We’ll talk tonight.”

  “Yes, Grandmaster.”

  Mya left the flat and strode quickly toward home. It had been a hell of a day, and she hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

  Pain clawed at Hoseph’s sanity like razors shredding a thin tapestry.