A Mage's Stand: Empire State (Malachi English Book 3)

by Andy Hyland

  A figure stepped out of the shadow of the undergrowth over to our left and raised a hand in greeting. I nodded back, and turned to talk to the others, but my phone interrupted with a chirpy ringing. Stacey calling. Great timing, girl. “Talk to her,” I said, passing the phone to Zack. Of the four of us, she’d known him the longest, so hopefully he’d be able to get something out of her. “Stay here and keep your eyes open.”

  “And if there are any problems?” Arabella asked.

  “Run, obviously. But scream first, so I know what’s coming.”

  I walked over to where Larry Dialgo stood in the darkness. He nodded back to the other three. “You don’t like going out by yourself lately? I had you pegged as more of a loner.”

  “Yeah, well. It’s complicated. If I make it through this week alive I’m definitely booking some alone time. Just me, a bed, some beer, and cable television. I want to be bored out of my skull.”

  “Good luck with that. Look, thanks for getting out here to see me. I’ll stick it to you straight. What the hell are your people playing at?”

  “It’s not my people. Or not just my people. You need to stay back.”

  He shook his head at that. “You don’t get it. In the past you’ve flown under the radar. Kept your heads down. Done your dirty work and stayed quiet about it. But this,” he said, waving his hand around in the air, “this shit that’s going down, it’s out of control. We’re getting four or five calls a night. Most people think it’s gang activity. Even had one guy tell us some kids were shooting fireworks at each other. But some of the guys at the station, they’ve started seeing things that can’t be explained away like that. Even without the weirdness, it’s gone too far.”

  “Too far?”

  “National guard too far. Military presence on the streets too far. The mayor’s pissed - the last thing he wants is that kind of publicity. We’ve got a public image to protect. Tourists have dollars. Personally, what they’re suggesting scares me. It’s got no place in my town. So I need you to shut this shit down. Now.”

  “If it was that easy I’d have done it. How long have I got?”

  “Realistically, a day. Nothing more. City hall’s started prepping for a press conference. Nothing’ll happen before that.” He looked down at the ground before glancing back up at me. “This can’t happen, Malachi. Because I’m guessing whoever’s doing all this won’t just stick their hands up and surrender when the military rolls in, will they? You know what we’ll be looking at.”

  I nodded. “Carnage. I get it.”

  “Can you stop this, Malachi? I need to know. Because if you can’t…”

  “We’ll know either way in a day, won’t we? But until then, pass the word: stay down, stay away. No need for cops to die over this.”

  “Gotcha. And speaking of cops dying, a word about that other issue. It’s not going away. The more experienced guys have heard about you, and they’re starting to put the pieces together. As far as they’re concerned, the earlier murders, and now all this stuff…it all points your way. A cop sees you in daylight, you’re coming in. And you won’t have a fancy lawyer to get you out this time.”

  “You don’t know how right you are. There definitely won’t be a lawyer involved. Cheers, detective, and stay safe. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

  I put out my hand to shake his, but instead had to raise it to my eyes as a blinding light cut into them. “Freeze,” someone shouted. “NYPD. Get down on the floor.”

  “Run,” Larry shouted at me. “You won’t get another chance. Go, I’ll stall them.”

  He didn’t need to tell me twice. Ten paces into a sprint, my legs were killing me, sharp pain crackling up my thigh muscles. But I wasn’t stopping. I risked a glance back. Larry was down, face in the dirt, a big cop on top of him, holding cuffs. Larry was trying to speak, shouting about who he was, but nobody was listening.

  A more pressing problem was the two cops still coming after the four of us. One had decided, quite accurately, that bullets go faster than people, and planted his feet, raising his pistol to draw a bead. Once again, air support swept down to save us, although this time Gary and Kevin thankfully went for body shots. Nobody would die, but they wouldn’t get up in a hurry either. Another two assaults that would no doubt be laid firmly at the door of the evil Malachi English, wanton criminal at large.

  There were probably more, but two blocks on we found a friendly bar we knew well, and, leaving behind a substantial cash tip, headed through the beer cellar and a largely ignored door at the back. From there, it was a trek along disused subway tracks and then up again to surface in Midtown. South of where we ideally wanted to be, but it beat a jail cell hands down.

  We risked sending Julie into a store for water and chocolate, and then broke into a disused laundry via a sheltered back door. Only when we shut it behind us did we finally relax. I collapsed to the floor, rubbing my legs, trying to get on speaking terms with my muscles again. Zack paced furiously. Arabella and Julie stood in the corner, talking quietly. I couldn’t catch what they were saying.

  “Hey,” I said, “What did Stacey want?”

  “Yeah, that,” Julie said, looking over at me. “It’s a trap.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “This is such a bad idea.” Arabella stared up the street towards Benny’s. Above us in the gray ash sky, the pale disk that passed for the sun in the Fades delivered no warmth and little light. “We’re completely exposed. You get that right? Silvian knots don’t work in the Fades, and Benny said the same thing about the brooch. With everything that’s gone down, the Host know for sure that you’re not locked up in the Library any more.”

  “All very true,” I agreed. “But, Tabbris aside, when did you last see the Host hanging around here? I don’t think it agrees with them. Still, eyes peeled.”

  “You see her?” Zack said. He was facing the other way to us, guarding our backs, checking the rooftops. We could slide out at a moment’s notice if we had to.

  “Not yet,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. I was still very pissed off at him, yet at the same time I knew it wasn’t his fault. Any more than it was the fault of the Mage-born who’d been slaughtering the Aware this past week. But he couldn’t bring himself to see that he’d been played, and right now that made him a bit of a liability. Still, what could I do? Send him away for a bit? That would be a death sentence.

  “And there she is,” said Arabella. Sure enough, Stacey appeared at the door of Benny’s bar and waved.

  “You’re really going to do this,” said Julie.

  “I owe her. Besides, she said I’d get some answers.”

  Arabella snorted. “She sounded like she had a gun to her head. Or worse. She was saying everything she was told to.”

  “You’re probably right. But where’s the harm in it? Once I’m inside Benny’s anti-violence runes kick in and nobody can touch me.”

  “They can drag you to the Library,” said Julie.

  “Like I said, I don’t think they are here. And if they are, well at least there’s an end to it.”

  “You can’t trust demons,” Zack said flatly.

  “You’d think not, but the demons, as far as I know, are the only ones not trying to kill us at the moment.”

  “That doesn’t make them the good guys.”

  “No, but it makes for a change of scenery. I’m going. Deal with it. You three head back to the laundry. If I haven’t slid back and met you in three hours, tops, then go back to the Mal-cave. Make your last stand. Or try to get out. See you later.”

  I stood up, slapped the dust off my jeans, and headed in.

  Benny looked up as I entered the bar. Didn’t speak, didn’t offer me a drink. Just stared for a while, and then nodded towards the back. Several eyes were on me as I went through the door, and a few customers put down their drinks and quietly slunk off back out into the dark streets of the Fades. I doubt the clientele here were overly bothered about some petty war between humans, b
ut the whole angel-murdering thing, and the likely consequences, were making them nervous. That was understandable - I was certainly uncomfortable about the whole thing. There was an outside chance that one of them might go blabbing to the Host about my presence here, but on the whole I doubted it. Still, I felt vulnerable. Hadn’t even been able to slide over without some help from Arabella, and I’d need some help to get back as well.

  Stacey was standing outside the back room, head down. I gently lifted her chin up, then wished I hadn’t. Three jagged claw marks ran down her cheek, eye to chin, and her nose looked broken, congealed blood crusted around the top of her lips. “He did this?”

  She nodded, and tried to force a smile. “It’s nothing, really, hon. I’ll get it fixed. Thanks for showing up though. I think he’d get pretty pissed if you didn’t.”

  “Looks like he was pretty pissed already.”

  “I think he was just bored on the way here.”

  “Get out. Now.”

  “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  I waited until she’d gone back into the bar before pushing the door open. Benny would take care of her. I would deal with…well, with whoever decided to drag my ass over here.

  He was sitting facing the door, feet propped up on the table, chair pushed back onto its rear legs. I looked him over, and for a moment couldn’t place him. Lank, greasy hair over a pale gray scalp. Long eyes hooded with heavy, drooping lids. The bedraggled face was at odds with the smart pinstriped suit, the jacket hanging open but the vest buttoned up, a golden chain hinting at a pocket watch somewhere around his person. Then it clicked. The last time I’d seen him had been in this very room, but back then he’d been clad in a simple robe.

  “Eliajel, right?”

  His smile widened, lips cracking as it did. More of a leer than anything else. “I am most gratified that you remember me. It warms what passes for my heart, truly it does. Please, would you take a seat?”

  “I think I’ll stay standing.”

  His smile didn’t move, but his eyes hardened. “I think you’ll sit. Coming here has been hugely inconvenient, and not without risk. And the very least you can afford me is a polite and reasonable conversation.”

  “Yeah? Well how about you -”

  “Sit,” he hissed, jabbing a plump finger at the chair opposite. Then the smile returned. “I promise you, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “In case you haven’t heard, I’m busy.”

  “Oh, I heard. These petty conflicts your kind are amusing themselves with.” He waved a hand dismissively, a bloated, black-veined hand that looked like it belonged on the corpse of a fat toddler. “They are of no consequence. You have more pressing concerns.”

  “You mean the Host.”

  He smacked his palm onto the table. “Of course I mean the Host. You’re pottering about like a tin-pot detective over in that awful place you call home, and you’re completely missing the big picture. But I can help. That’s why you’re here.”

  “I’m here,” I said, leaning forward over the table, “because Stacey said you were planning to slit her throat if I didn’t show up.”

  He giggled, and spittle dribbled down onto his chin. “Oh, she is silly. I’d never have done that.” He paused. “I’d put her in a cage. That’s what I’d do. A large bronze cage, deep in the hellplains. Relentless heat and years of nothing but black sand to stare at. It would be deeply unpleasant. Trust me on this. And all of that can still happen. I’m sure I could track her down again if I had a mind to. Now, if you please?”

  I pulled out the chair and sat down, staring at him.

  “You did a number on her face.”

  “Time on my hands. I fidget. It’s a weakness, I know. Are we really going to sit here talking about her? I thought you were…otherwise taken? I’m sure your master wouldn’t approve of such fraternization in any case.”

  “Fine,” I said, ignoring the digs. “I’m here. I’m all ears. Make it quick. This isn’t exactly safe for me.”

  “I assume that since we’re both equally protected from violence by the barkeep’s unusual and backward views, you’re referring to the Host. You needn’t worry on that front. I’ve been avoiding them for a very long time. As long as I’m around, you can consider yourself quite, quite safe. Do you feel better now?”

  “What do you want?”

  He looked at me, amused, and began to tap on the table with his fingers. “First things first. I think you have something of mine. I’d thought it lost forever, but even now I feel it, the pull of it. May I have it back, please?”

  “I have nothing of yours. Trust me.”

  “Turn out your pockets. Trust me.”

  Without taking my eyes off him, I methodically patted my jeans down, then started on my coat, working my way through the normal pockets and onto the more secluded and harder-to-find ones. Nothing out of the ordinary until…I pulled out the silver, blackened chain and horn charm that we’d found in the alley when Hamon evicted us from the Library. His eyes widened. He beckoned with a finger. I slid it over to him and he snatched it, holding it to his chest.

  “Thank you,” he gasped breathlessly. “It is…very dear to me. A gift. The relationship between myself and the giver is strained of late, but that only makes it more precious. Of course, it’s very practical as well.”

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “I will leave that for you to puzzle over. For now, know that it is mine.” His brow creased as he regarded it. “It is not as durable as I hoped it would be. Still, it has served its purpose.”

  “You’re wasting time.”

  His eyes flicked up at me. “On the contrary, you little fool, I’m giving you important information, if you only had the wit to see it. By the seas of Hell, you are so slow.”

  “Thanks. Look, you’ve obviously got intel on Kushiel’s murder. I need to know who did it.”

  He shook his head. “No. No, you don’t. That’s not really necessary at all.”

  “You think? Knowing that would solve several really big problems that I’m facing.”

  “No. It wouldn’t.”

  I just sat there looking at him, my mouth open. Even for a demon, he was infuriating.

  “Oh fine,” he said, “I give in. If you really want to know who killed Kushiel, it was me. There, happy now? Has that made your life any easier? Have the heavens opened, letting sunlight stream down onto your smiling, happy face? No, nothing has changed.”

  “You?” I wanted to say more, but my mind was churning, and none of the thoughts were getting any traction.

  “Yes, me. You can thank me, if you want. He was an insufferable little prig, wasn’t he? Everyone thinks so. Well, not everyone, but…look, I’ll even tell you how I did it. Will that make it easier for you?”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’ll come to that shortly. For now, please try to keep up.”

  “Before you go on,” I said, putting my hand up so I had his full attention. “I need to know why. And before you tell me that I don’t, I’m telling you that I do. Because if I don’t know why you’re doing this, I have no reason to trust a word you say. You’re a bloody minor demon, for pity’s sake.”

  “Minor demon?” He raised his thin eyebrows and smiled, genuinely delighted. “Is that what you think I am? Well, well. But to answer your question, which I admit is perfectly reasonable, I am helping you for my own, selfish reasons. I have…projects which have occupied me for years. Grand schemes, plans within plans, multi-faceted jewels of stratagems. And all this nonsense going on in your realm at the moment, it’s a threat to them.”

  “Details?”

  “Absolutely not. Minor demons are entitled to their secrets, you know. “

  “Fine. So you want to stop my problems so you can get on with whatever you’re trying to do. Which is no doubt evil and really bad for everyone involved. I can buy that. Go ahead.”

  He paused. “So you’re not concerned that my schemes may be
even worse that what you’re currently facing? I ask out of professional interest, not because I’m interested in changing your mind.”

  I sighed and put my head down, running my hands through my hair. “Quite frankly I don’t see how it can get any worse than it is at the moment. And yeah, I’ll probably regret saying that, and even meeting you. But for now, kicking the can down the road doesn’t seem like a bad option.”

  “How wonderfully short-sighted. But since, for this brief moment of time, our interests are aligned, let’s review those awful, awful events in the Great Library.” He paused, tapping his fingers again. “But before I do -”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake get on with it.”

  “But before I do, I need to check something.” He reached into his suit and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. He carefully spread it out on the table, and pushed it towards me. It was a roughly drawn circle, in red, with a jagged line crossing it, from top right to bottom left. “Have you, at any point, seen this? Had it pointed out to you? Received any documentation with it on? This is important, and, just as I have played straight with you, I need you to be utterly, utterly, honest with me.”

  I looked at it briefly. Truly, it didn’t ring a bell. “No. I’ve not seen it. I’ve not had it pointed out to me, etcetera etcetera.”

  Quick as lightening he reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. I tried to pull away, drag my arm back, but for the moment I was effectively paralyzed from the shoulders down. “Tell me again, Mister English.”

  “I..have not seen it,” I repeated, struggling to get the words out.

  He considered me for a moment, looking straight into my eyes, and, it seemed to me, straight through them as well. Then he sat back, and feeling and movement returned. I rubbed my wrist and tried to assert some dignity and control again. “Happy?”