“Not mass murdering people,” I said. “That’s a good thing to care about.”
“Is it?” he murmured.
“I think…”
He moved fast. He was bigger than me, stronger than me, and faster than me. Before I could react, he seized my forearms, pulled me close, and gave me a hard kiss on the lips.
It felt…
It felt really good. Have I mentioned that I hadn’t been touched in a long time? For a moment, the sheer pleasure of it surged through me, but a wave of revulsion overwhelmed the pleasure. I wrenched back, snarling, and my right hand came up, fire blazing to life around my fingers. Nicholas took a hasty step back, his eyes widening, his own hand coming up.
“Don’t,” I growled, “touch me.”
The lazy smile returned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I noticed something. The purple-black fire I had come to associate with the Dark Ones played around his fingers. That meant two things, none of them good.
One, he could use magic. Probably the Knight of Venomhold had taught him as part of their alliance, or maybe one of the Archons.
Two, he was possessed by a Dark One.
We stared at each other as if we held loaded guns. With our magic, maybe we did. Then Nicholas’s lazy smile returned, and he dismissed his power, turned his back to me, and sat back in his chair.
“You know,” he said, “you had me completely fooled.”
“About what?” I said.
“That you could use magic,” he said. “I had absolutely no idea.”
“That was the point. I didn’t know you could use magic, either.”
“Well,” said Nicholas. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I suppose Natalya Karst is a demanding teacher,” I said.
Again, that cold flicker went over his face before the lazy smile returned. “I wouldn’t throw that name around if I were you. The Knight detests gossip, and she’s not shy about making her preferences known.” He leaned back in the chair, relaxed and calm. “When Swathe called and said that Katrina Stoker was here, I almost didn’t believe it, but then I saw you on the security camera. I wasn’t sure if you were the thief the Forerunner found for us, but then you disappeared, and you just about gave poor Swathe a stroke.”
I scowled at him. “If you knew it was me, why did you order the strip search?”
The smile took on a hard edge. “Well, I’ve seen you naked. I thought it was a pleasant sight. Why shouldn’t Swathe have the same pleasure? After all, when you betrayed me to the Inquisition, it was safe to assume that we had broken up. Maybe a man like Swathe is more to your taste.”
“Gosh,” I said. “I would have sent you a text message to dump you, but I was hoping you would get shot and I wouldn’t have to bother.”
“Mmm,” said Nicholas. “That would be more efficient, I admit. Still, it was for the best. I had hoped to recruit you into the Rebels, but as it turned out, you were a bit too…sheep-like for that.”
“Sheep-like?” I said.
“It’s not an insult.”
“Sure,” I said. “Because sheep have so many admirable qualities.”
“Sheep are limited,” said Nicholas. “You sided with the Elves instead of us. That means you are not intelligent enough to see through the propaganda that our oppressors have pumped into our heads for the last three hundred years.”
“I didn’t side with the Elves,” I said. No doubt he had grievances with the Elves, but they wouldn’t match up with what Arvalaeon had done to me. “I sided with not murdering thousands of people.”
“The Elves are our oppressors,” said Nicholas. “We are the oppressed. The people who came to a soccer match sponsored by Duke Wraithmyr were siding with our oppressors. Therefore, they were legitimate targets for warfare.” His smile turned indulgent. “It’s not your fault you aren’t smart enough to understand that.”
“Legitimate targets,” I said, thinking of the women and children who had died at the Ducal Mall. “You’re a mass murderer.”
“No, I’m not,” said Nicholas. God, it annoyed me that he wasn’t getting angry. “I’m a revolutionary. I am the vanguard of the Revolution that is going to free us from the Elven oppressors, and I have the courage to do what needs to be done. You don’t.”
I gritted my teeth. “As fun as it is to exchange insults, maybe we should get down to business.”
“Eventually,” said Nicholas. “First, I need to make sure about you.”
“I just walked past your security and into your office without anyone stopping me,” I said. “Does that pass the audition?”
“You can clearly cast the Cloaking spell,” said Nicholas, “which is what I need for my next operation. However, it is a not a question of your skill. It is a question of a peculiar coincidence.”
“And what coincidence is that?” I said.
“The last time I saw you,” said Nicholas, “you betrayed me to the Inquisition. Three years later, here you are again. How do I know that you’re not an Inquisition agent?”
“I’m not,” I said.
Nicholas laughed. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then don’t. If you don’t accept me, then my bargain with the Forerunner is broken, and you can deal with your problems yourself.”
“If I don’t accept you,” said Nicholas, “you’re not leaving my warehouse alive, Kat. I’m afraid you won’t even be leaving this room alive.”
“Oh,” I said in a quiet voice. “You’re going to threaten me? Is that how this is going to go?” I stared into his eyes. “You want to fight? Then take your best shot, Nicky, and see what happens.”
For a moment, we stared at each other, the tension winding tighter and tighter. I wondered which of us was going to blink first. Because I wasn’t going to back down. If Nicholas attacked me, I was going to kill him and as many of his goons as possible. Vaguely I wondered if killing Nicholas in self-defense would be enough to invalidate Morvilind’s bargain with the Forerunner.
“Your presence here,” said Nicholas, “is already a threat.”
“Explain,” I said.
“You can Cloak,” said Nicholas. “If you wanted, you could turn invisible, walk out of here, and make a phone call to the Inquisition. That in itself would not be alarming, but you obviously hate me, since you still carry a grudge after I broke up with you…”
“You broke up with me?” I snapped.
He kept talking as if I had not said anything. “You have a petty personal grievance against me, and you can do me a great deal of harm. Your very presence here is a threat, Kat. So. Convince me otherwise.”
I glared at him, thinking hard. The problem was that he was right. I did hate him, both personally and what he stood for, and I did plan to screw him over at the first opportunity. Come to think of it, why was he talking to me at all? He knew I was a danger to him. Why hadn’t he tried to kill me?
Because he needed me to steal something for him.
Whatever he wanted me to steal, he must need it badly enough that he was willing to work with me. Which meant that he wanted to be convinced that he could…not trust me, not exactly, but that we could work together long enough to achieve his goals.
And that meant I had to give him a little bit of the truth, but to cast it in a way that would protect Russell and the Marneys.
Because if he wanted leverage against me, Russell was the biggest lever he could find.
“Fine,” I said. “You want me to convince you, then shut up and listen. Are you familiar with the concept of a shadow agent?”
“I am,” said Nicholas. “I assume you are an Elven noble’s shadow agent?”
“Yep,” I said. “Where do you think I learned the Cloak spell? Off the back of a cereal box? No. An Elven noble recruited me,” an idea came to me, “and she trained me in magic. The Forerunner has a deal with her, and so she told me to come here and steal three things for you.”
“Which Elven noble?�
�� said Nicholas.
“Like I’m telling you.”
“That is still not a satisfactory answer,” said Nicholas. “I trust that you have realized you could easily hand over your patron to the Inquisition? The High Queen is utterly ruthless when it comes to any Elves who deal with the Dark Ones or the Archons. Hand your Elven noble over to the Inquisition, and you could have your freedom.”
I made a shocked face, letting my jaw fall open. “What? Oh. My. God. I never even considered that! My God, Nicky, you’re the great genius of our age.”
“Snide sarcasm does not answer the question,” said Nicholas.
I sighed. “Why do you think I’m not going to betray her? She has my family.”
He leaned forward a little, unable to conceal his interest. “Your family?”
“My husband and son,” I said.
A flicker of surprise went over his face. “You got married?”
“Yeah,” I said. “After Los Angeles, I found a man who wasn’t an asshole. We got married, and I have a toddler now.” I smiled. “I didn’t name him after you.”
He scoffed. “I suppose you married some former man-at-arms, an oaf full of patriotic devotion to the High Queen and pious devotion to the imaginary God.”
“Well, no one’s perfect.” I gave him a sunny smile. “His stamina is a lot better than yours, though.”
His lazy smile didn’t change, but a muscle near his eye tightened for just a moment. Yeah, that one had annoyed him.
“So,” I said. “Those are my cards. I have to steal for you because if I don’t an Elven noblewoman will murder my husband and my baby. Any questions?”
“Several,” said Nicholas, “but for the moment, they are irrelevant. You’re obviously lying to me, but I think you told me more of the truth than you intended. For now, that is enough.”
“Well, goody,” I said. “So. Business. What do you want me to steal for you?”
“In time,” said Nicholas. “Perhaps it will please you to know that your actions will help ensure your son grows up a free man rather than the slave of the High Queen.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but based on what I’ve seen of the Rebels, I’d rather he grow up a slave of the High Queen than a slave of whatever psychopathic Rebel winds up in charge if you guys win.”
Nicholas scoffed, got to his feet, and paced to the window. He did look impressive standing there, like a king surveying his domain. Though his kingdom was filled with shipping containers. “You have no vision. Once I institute my political program, you will understand.”
“Your political program?” I said. “What, do you have a pamphlet you want me to read? A newsletter you want me to subscribe to?”
“Not yet,” said Nicholas. “Tell me, are you familiar with Marxism?”
“Yeah,” I said. I knew a little bit about it. A lot of the Rebels were Marxists of some kind or another, and according to Arvalaeon, the Archons believed something similar. “Uh, it’s the idea that there’s two classes, the oppressed and the oppressors, and that the oppressed will rise and up kill the oppressors and everything with be peaches and sunshine.”
“A crude summary of a profound and beautiful political theory,” said Nicholas, and I rolled my eyes. “But, for the purposes of this discussion, close enough. Do you know why pre-Conquest Marxist governments always failed?”
I shrugged. “Because when the oppressed took over, they turned out to be just as nasty as the oppressors.”
“No,” said Nicholas. “The Conquest exposed the flaw. Marxism failed because there is only one class. There is only one humanity. The wars of the oppressor and oppressed were the squabbles of siblings. It took the arrival of the Elves, the alien, contemptible Elves, to show us what true oppression really was.” He looked at me, his cold eyes blazing. “Humanity is the oppressed class, and the Elves are our oppressors. Marx was just five hundred years ahead of his time. The oppressed humans will rise up and overthrow the Elves.”
I remembered the speech he had given at Venomhold. “And you’ll do it with the help of the Dark Ones.”
His eyes narrowed. “How did you know about that?”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I’m an idiot, Nicky,” I said. “That black fire around your hand? I’ve seen it before. You’re possessed by a Dark One.”
He snorted. “Possessed? Such a judgmental term. The Dark Ones aren’t demons.”
“If they aren’t, they come pretty close.”
“They are the reason I shall free mankind,” said Nicholas. “One of the flaws of pre-Conquest ideology was the assumption that the oppressors would fall simply because of the arc of history. Pathetic. No, the Dark Ones shall give us the power to overthrow the High Queen and the Elves, and all of mankind shall be brothers in freedom.”
“That’s a really stirring speech,” I said. “You know, you almost make me believe it.”
“Do I?” said Nicholas.
“Yeah,” I said. “Except I know you. I know you tried to murder tens of thousands of your ‘brothers in freedom’ to get at Duke Wraithmyr.”
“Revolutions are not won without sacrifice,” said Nicholas.
“No,” I said, “you don’t care about that. All you care about is the legend of Nicholas Connor, the great hero of the Rebels. Don’t throw your own bullshit at me. I can see through it. I know you too well for that.”
He stared at me for a while.
“Why are you wearing that coat?” he said at last. “And a sweater? Even with the AC on it’s still seventy-five degrees in here.”
“What can I say?” I said. “You leave me cold.”
He snorted, turned his back to me, crossed the desk, and picked up the phone.
“Swathe?” he said. “Cancel the security alert. Have the others join me in the conference room in ten minutes. Oh, and tell Hailey to get ready.” He hung up the phone and looked at me. “It’s time to get to work.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure it will be fun.”
Chapter 7: Mindtouch
I followed Nicholas from his office. We got into the elevator and rode down to the first floor.
That was the most awkward elevator ride ever, let me tell you.
Though the time I was with an anthrophage in Corbisher Tower might have come close.
I didn’t really know how to interact with an ex-boyfriend. My childhood and adult life so far hadn’t prepared me for normal human interactions very well. And then I had spent a century and a half in the Eternity Crucible, which hadn’t been good for my social skills or my state of mind.
It helped that Nicholas was an enemy, and I knew that we would probably wind up trying to kill each other. In an odd sort of way, it was comforting. A fight to the death, that was something I knew how to do. It didn’t matter that my enemy was a man with whom I had once been in love and with whom I had been enthusiastically naked.
Because that part was just weird.
“You’ve changed,” said Nicholas.
I looked at him without expression.
“It’s been three years,” I said.
Or a hundred and sixty-one, depending on how you counted.
“In those three years, you acquired a thousand-yard stare,” said Nicholas. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “I wonder what happened to you.”
“You try going through childbirth,” I said, remembering my previous lies. “You’ll have a thousand-yard state, too.”
Nicholas laughed, and I scowled and followed him to the conference room.
Swathe had arrived first. He gave me a scowl and then turned his attention to Nicholas. “Sir, the compound is secure.”
“Good work, Swathe,” said Nicholas, clapping the older man on the soldier. “Don’t trouble yourself about Miss Stoker. She has unusual talents that will serve the Revolution quite well.”
I walked to the far end of the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Swathe glared at me, but Nicholas showed no reaction. He sat at the other end of the table, so we
were staring at each other down its length. Swathe pulled out a chair and sat down halfway between us.
Others arrived. The first was a lean man of middle years with a Mediterranean complexion who looked Italian, his expression a blank mask. He was wearing black trousers, a white shirt, and a black sports coat, and he greeted Nicholas and sat down. After him came a dark-skinned man in cargo shorts and a loud orange shirt. His graying hair was close-cropped, and he had an impressive paunch, but his arms were thicker than my thighs. He offered a wide smile to Nicholas, his white teeth stark in his dark face, and sat down and studied me with open curiosity. A few seconds later came a middle-aged woman with a pinched face and thick gray hair. She didn’t greet anyone, didn’t look at anyone, and sat down in silence.
“This is a merry group,” I said. The newcomers and Nicholas all looked at me. “So, do you have coffee and doughnuts or something, or do you all contemplate the glories of the Revolution in sullen silence?”
Not that I could have kept a doughnut down. I had solved my food problem for now by drinking a lot of vegetable smoothies with protein powder. But I doubted Nicholas would bring me a spinach and banana smoothie if I asked for one.
“We are soldiers,” said Swathe, glaring at me. “Soldiers prefer austerity.”
“I am a helicopter pilot,” said the dark-skinned man, his voice deep and smooth. “Coffee and some doughnuts would not go amiss.”
I decided to test them a bit. “You look like you’ve had one or three doughnuts too many.”
Swathe kept scowling, but the dark-skinned man laughed and patted his paunch. “It is more cushion for the pushing, as my third ex-wife was fond of saying. I should be more than happy to give a demonstration, my dear.”
“Oh, God,” I said. “Where do you find these people, Nicky? I…”
“What the hell?”
I stiffened. I knew that voice.
A man in a suit stepped into the conference room, glaring at me.
When I had met Martin Corbisher in Minneapolis, he had been blond and handsome. He had survived an enraged elder bloodrat in Venomhold, but the experience had left its marks on him. Deep scars crossed his face, and he was missing most of his hair because the scars continued across his scalp. He walked with a limp to his right leg because the bloodrat must have taken a bite out of his thigh.
Cloak Games: Tomb Howl Page 8
