Cloak Games: Shadow Jump

by Jonathan Moeller

  “Rebel attack,” snorted Boccand. “Looks like the Inquisition decided to cover this one up.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “What were they going to say? That the richest man in Minnesota was a cultist of the Dark Ones and managed to subvert an entire branch of Homeland Security? I bet there will be a lot of quiet executions over the next few days. They won’t even put it up on the Punishment Day videos. Executing lone Rebels is one thing. But an entire local branch of Homeland Security? Makes the High Queen look weak.”

  “Do you ever envy them?” said Boccand, staring at the freeway.

  “Eh?” I said. “The Rebels? Hell no.”

  “Not them,” said Boccand. He glanced at Cecilia, where she slept in the middle seat. “You and I and Cecilia…we’re awake.”

  “Cecilia’s sleeping,” I pointed out.

  “You know what I mean,” said Boccand. “We know what the real world is like. Most people…they just go about their lives. They revere the High Queen and the nobles. They go to work, go to sleep, and that’s that. They don’t know the truth. They don’t know what the world is really like.” He glanced at me. “Do you envy them?”

  “No,” I said, though I did, a little. “What I want is enough power to make sure that no one can control me the way Morvilind does.”

  He snorted. “If you want to break free from someone like Kaethran Morvilind, you’ll need a lot of power. More than I can imagine.”

  I said nothing for a while. Maybe I didn’t need to break free. Maybe I needed only to wait until he cured Russell.

  Maybe I was fooling myself.

  “You’re getting out of the business, aren’t you?” I said.

  Boccand glanced at Cecilia again. “I’ve got quite a lot of money stashed away. I think…I think Cecilia and I ought to take the money and go live quietly someplace. Under the radar. Stay away from Elven nobles and Dark Ones cultists and Rebels and Shadowlands lords and all the others. God knows I’ve had ten lifetimes worth of excitement.”

  “I can understand that,” I said.

  “What about you?” said Boccand. “If you have the chance, are you getting out of this business?”

  “I don’t have much choice,” I said. “My employer made sure of that.”

  It was a melancholy thought. I had become a wizard and a thief, but I had not been given any choice in the matter. But what would I have been if my parents had not died and Morvilind had not found me? Would I be one of those people that Boccand had been talking about? Someone going about her life, doing her job and raising her children? Most American women married in their early twenties to bear sons for the High Queen’s armies (or so the Department of Education’s videos claimed), but some were married by my age, even had a child or two already. I tried to imagine my life like that and I could not.

  It left me a little wistful…but there was also a hungry feeling. I had seen too much and survived too much to go back. I had some power, but I wanted much more, enough to keep Russell and myself safe. I couldn’t have that if I lived a quiet life.

  “I suppose not,” said Boccand, shaking me out of my musings.

  “If you think you can get out,” I said, “you should do it. People like us, Boccand…sooner or later we push too hard and get killed.” I shuddered. “Or eaten by a bloodrat.”

  “Cheery thought,” said Boccand.

  “So if you’re not going to steal things,” I said, “what are you going to do instead?”

  “Oh, I’ll think of something,” said Boccand. “I’ve done this and that over the years. Cecilia’s actually a nurse, you know, so once I forge her some papers she can work anywhere she wants. That’s how we met, you know. I was at a hospital when some wraithwolves showed up, and one thing led to another.” He scratched at his jaw. “Maybe I’ll go into network security. God knows I’ve hacked enough computers over the years. Suppose it’s only just that I deal with it from the other end. Or I could become a taxi driver.”

  I laughed. “Just don’t crash the taxi into the side of the freeway.”

  “It’s much easier to drive when no one is shooting at you.”

  “Are you sure you won’t get bored?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Boccand at once. “Five years ago, I would have worried about it. Then I met Cecilia.” He hesitated. “Have you ever been in love?”

  I sat in silence for a while.

  “Yes,” I said. “It didn’t end well.”

  “What happened?”

  “Let’s just say it’s the reason that apartment building blew up,” I said.

  “Ah,” said Boccand. “Well. I am sorry to hear that.”

  I shrugged. “Not your fault. And it’s different with you and Cecilia. The man I was with…hell, you risked everything to save Cecilia. The man I was with wouldn’t have done anything like that.”

  Riordan might, though. Certainly he had gambled with his life alongside me as we had faced those two Archons and Sergei Rogomil in the Ducal Mall.

  “I’m ready to settle down, and I want to do it with Cecilia,” said Boccand. “And…forgive my bluntness, I’m not like you.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not the kind of wizard you are.”

  I laughed a little. “What are you talking about? I can’t shadowjump. I can’t use elemental fire like that. I can’t…”

  “Good God, woman,” said Boccand. “Seriously? You have no idea, do you?”

  “Idea of what?”

  “Just how dangerous you are,” he said. “I have never, ever met a human wizard who could cast a Cloak spell. You Mask yourself so effectively it’s like you’re some kind of damned shapeshifter. You can open rift ways, and I’ve never met a human wizard who could do that, either. You can do all this, and you’re what…eighteen?”

  “Twenty,” I said.

  “Twenty,” said Boccand. “You’re a kid. I know you don’t think so, but you are. What will you be like in twenty years if you’re still alive? If you practice your magic that entire time, I can’t even imagine what kind of unholy terror of a wizard you’ll become. God! I don’t even want to think about it.”

  I said nothing for a while. To be honest, I rarely thought more than six years ahead, to the end of the cure spells. But…what if that wasn’t the end? What if Russell was cured and I actually got away from Morvilind?

  What would happen then?

  “And with that,” said Boccand, hitting the turn signal and taking an off-ramp to a rest stop, “it is your turn to drive.”

  “What?” I said. “Already?”

  I saw a WELCOME TO WYOMING sign outside the rest stop.

  “I told you I would drive to Wyoming,” said Boccand, “and it’s only about eighty miles from Salt Lake City to Wyoming.”

  “For God’s sake,” I muttered.

  “Besides, you’re better at it,” he said with good cheer. “You Americans all drive on the wrong side of the road, and you drive like lunatics.”

  “Said the man who crashed a Royal Motors Venator into the side of an off-ramp.”

  ###

  A day and a half later I parked my Caravanserai van in downtown La Crosse.

  We had reached the parking garage without incident, and my van had been undisturbed. After abandoning the truck in a deserted alley, we had taken the van and set off for Wisconsin. I checked my main phone for news and messages, and saw that all the news out of the Twin Cities had gone suspiciously quiet. The Corbisher Group’s stock price had plunged, so I wondered if the Inquisition was executing its way through the company’s upper echelons.

  There was one text message from Riordan, asking if I was free to meet him in Milwaukee in three days. I texted back to accept, and then drove Boccand and Cecilia to La Crosse.

  “Well?” I said once we stepped into the cold December air. I had retrieved my motorcycle jacket for warmth. “Where is it?”

  Boccand spread his arms. “Right here.”

  I looked around, a little confused. We were on a street
in downtown La Crosse lined with shops, pedestrians wrapped in coats and caps and scarves going about their business. It was a very cold day, so we didn’t see many pedestrians, which was just as well.

  “So where is it?” I said.

  “Hiding in plain sight,” said Boccand to Cecilia. “I always said that it’s best to hide something in plain sight.”

  She rolled her eyes, but grinned at him, holding her coat tight against the chill.

  I looked around. We were in front of a bakery, with a little bookstore on the left and a tailor that specialized in dress uniforms for veterans on the right. There were narrow alleys between the shops, and a blue mailbox standing near the curb…

  I blinked. “The mailbox.”

  Boccand grinned.

  I scowled, walked to the mailbox, and squatted, looking underneath it. It was a rectangular mailbox with a rounded top, sitting atop four squat, stubby legs with a small gap between the base of the box and the concrete.

  Boccand had duct-taped the tablet to the bottom of the mailbox.

  I shook my head. The damned thing had been here the entire time. Hiding in plain sight, indeed.

  I pulled it free. He had secured the tablet in a padded envelope, the sort used to send fragile items. Postage had been applied to the package, and it had been addressed to a PO box in Omaha.

  “That was the backup plan,” said Boccand. “If someone found it, say, an inquisitive postal employee, he would have assumed it had been lost and would drop it in the mail. But no one found it, did they?” He had that smug look again.

  “Someone might have sensed its aura,” I said, tucking the tablet underneath my arm.

  Boccand gestured. “Who in downtown La Crosse is likely to walk around casting spells detecting the presence of magic?”

  He had a point.

  “It worked, so I won’t complain,” I said. “Guess this is goodbye, then. You know where you’re going from here?”

  “Absolutely,” said Boccand. “Someplace quiet. Don’t worry about us. I’ve been getting ready to do this for years. All the preparations are in place.” He grinned. “See, you did your magic trick in front of Corbisher. Now I’m going to do my own, and just…disappear.”

  “Good luck, then,” I said.

  To my surprise, Cecilia stepped forward and hugged me.

  “Thank you,” said Cecilia, stepping back. “We wouldn’t have escaped if not for your help, Miss Rastov.”

  “Thank your boyfriend,” I said. “He kept his word.”

  Cecilia smiled. “I don’t think you’re as cold-hearted as you pretend.”

  Boy, was she wrong about that.

  But I liked her, and I didn’t want to be ungracious.

  “Anything’s possible,” I said.

  “True,” said Boccand. “I never thought I would do something like this, either.”

  He handed me a little slip of paper.

  “What’s this?” I said.

  “A phone number,” said Boccand. “If you get in a jam and need some help.”

  I blinked, surprised. “Why?”

  “Because,” said Boccand. “You did save our lives.” He shrugged. “And call it an apology for leaving you here to die. I was desperate…but I suppose you would have been justified in leaving me for Corbisher.”

  “No,” I said, tucking the paper away. “No, I understand desperation. Just as well as you, I think.” I stepped back, the tablet tucked under my arm. “Good luck, you two. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

  “Good luck,” said Boccand. He hesitated. “Be careful. We made a lot of enemies.”

  I shrugged. “They can wait in line.”

  Boccand gave me a jaunty little salute, took Cecilia’s hand, and walked away. I watched as they went. God, what a mess this past week had been. But it had worked out, hadn’t it? I had the tablet.

  It felt very heavy under my arm.

  A tablet that let anyone summon a Dark One.

  Why did Morvilind want the damned thing?

  Not my problem.

  But maybe, a little voice in my head whispered, maybe whatever he intended to do with the relics I had stolen for him would become my problem…

  I shoved the thought out of my head and texted Rusk, letting him know that I would arrive tomorrow afternoon with the tablet.

  ###

  I could have arrived first thing in the morning, but Morvilind had given me until New Year’s, and the last several days had been stressful. So I drove to my apartment and slept late, and started the day with strength training and a nine mile run, followed by a long hot bath. A long job from Morvilind always played merry hell with my workout routine, and I hoped I would have time for regular exercise for at least a few weeks.

  It always made me feel better, and when I was tired after a workout, for a while I couldn’t worry about anything. And my little jaunt to Venomhold had given me a new set of bad memories.

  After drinking a pot of coffee, I started up my old brown Vaquero sedan and drove to Shorewood, and Rusk admitted me to Lord Morvilind’s library.

  “Rise,” said Morvilind, standing at his work table. I stood up, feeling the strange pressure from the Cruciform Eye on its pedestal.

  Morvilind turned. The colors of his black robe and red cloak made me think of blood flowing through ashes, and for a moment I could not shake the image from my head. “You have the tablet?”

  “Yes, my lord,” I said.

  “Give it to me,” he said, extending one bony, blue-veined hand.

  I held out the envelope. It was heavy, but despite his apparent frailty, Morvilind took it without difficulty. He opened the envelope and pulled out the tablet, considering it for a moment, and then set it upon the table.

  “This has been in the Shadowlands recently,” said Morvilind.

  I tensed. He could tell that?

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Part of your escape?” said Morvilind, looking at the tablet again.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Were you observed?”

  “I…do not think so, my lord,” I said. “I had a mask on the entire time. My rift way wound up taking me to Los Angeles, and I had to drive across the country to get here. I do not think I was observed.”

  He nodded. “Did you kill Boccand?”

  There was no use lying to him. I had deceived him before, but I couldn’t keep this from him, and if he really wanted to know he had a spell that compelled me to speak the truth. “No.”

  His thin eyebrows climbed a little. “Why not?”

  “We had a deal,” I said. “I would spare his life in exchange for the tablet. He kept his word, so it seemed proper to keep mine.”

  Morvilind snorted. “He was coerced into stealing the tablet, was he not? Fool. Who compelled him?”

  “Martin Corbisher, my lord,” I said. I wondered if he even knew who Martin Corbisher was.

  “Luke Corbisher’s brat?” said Morvilind. “Ah, I remember now. That spiteful little puppy. I suppose he finally worked up the nerve to murder his father. Hearken to wisdom, Miss Moran. Prudence and caution should be your watchwords. Martin Corbisher possesses little enough of either, and shall soon destroy himself.”

  “I cannot disagree, my lord,” I said.

  “Why?” said Morvilind. “Is he dead?”

  “He…might be,” I said. “The last time I saw him there was an angry bloodrat chasing him.”

  Morvilind snorted, once. It was perhaps the most amused I had ever seen him.

  “You have performed satisfactorily, Nadia Moran,” said Morvilind, turning back to his table. “You may do as you wish until I summon you again.”

  I hesitated. I wanted to go. But the question burned inside of me. Morvilind had forbidden me to ever speak of the Dark Ones to him.

  And yet…

  Maybe there was a way around that.

  “My lord,” I said. “Before I go, may I ask a question?”

  Morvilind blinked, turned again, and faced me. His cold blu
e eyes seemed to dig into me like knives.

  “Ask,” he said.

  I took a deep breath. “My lord…who is the Knight of Venomhold? Corbisher said he worked for her.”

  For a moment Morvilind said nothing, and I held my breath.

  “A traitor,” said Morvilind at last.

  For an awful moment I was sure he meant me, but he kept talking.

  “When we first conquered your world, we thought that humans had never used magic before our arrival,” said Morvilind. “Upon further study, that proved to be untrue. Magic had been used upon your world in the past, mostly dark magic, in isolated instances. The sole exception was forty-five centuries ago when a man named Sargon ruled a kingdom called Akkad in what is now the central Caliphate. Sargon saw the danger the Shadowlands posed to Earth, and therefore founded thirteen demesnes within Earth’s umbra, demesnes dedicated to defending your world from outside dangers.”

  Given that I was talking to my Elven overlord, clearly they had failed.

  “One by one the Knights failed and were slain, their demesnes absorbed back into the umbra of Earth,” said Morvilind. “Many of the ruins you have seen during your excursions into the Shadowlands were left from those demesnes. Of the remaining two Knights, one has held true to his office…and one has not. I advise you to stay well way from the Knight of Venomhold, Miss Moran. She would not welcome visitors.”

  I nodded, swallowing.

  “Go and rest,” said Morvilind. "You shall need it. I will require your skills soon enough, Nadia Moran."

  He turned back his table.

  I left at once, collecting my boots by the door, and headed for my car. Morvilind had confirmed everything else I had heard about the Knight of Venomhold, but he had not mentioned the Dark Ones even once.

  Why?

  It was a problem for another day.

  ###

  A few days later I went out with Riordan.

  We went to one of the suburban malls in Milwaukee. Not the Ducal Mall, which had too many bad memories, but another one. Some people found the crowds of Christmas shoppers irritating, but I did not. It was nice to lose myself in the crowd, to disappear amongst other people. I walked hand in hand with Riordan.