by Andy Hyland
“Blissfully so. And if you’re sitting comfortably, then we’ll begin. It starts some months back. Well, no, of course it doesn’t. The events are millennia in the making, and even my part stretches back past human memory. But as far as you are concerned, it started when we met in this room, and I sold you some information in exchange for a knife.”
I remembered. We needed to find Melanie, my ex, and he offered to tell us where she was. All he wanted in exchange was a rather ordinary looking knife that a psychopath called Edwin Monk left behind in my apartment after butchering my newest friend all over my floor. It seemed a reasonable trade at the time, and Eliajel was true to his word. Up until now, nothing about it had come back to bite me. I had a nasty feeling all that was about to change.
“Well, it was an extremely useful knife. The only knife, in fact, that would suit my purposes exactly. I doubt either of us will ever see it again. Either it’s still sticking out of Kushiel’s chest, or they’ll have burned it in disgust.” He looked at me, trying to gauge my response. I was speechless, trying desperately to work out what this meant for me. “The issue for you is, I suppose, that you and your friend both handled it. Your essence would be detectable. Amongst many others, I might add, but then so few others had the opportunity at the right time to stick the pointy end into him.”
“You bastard,” was all I could finally come out with.
He looked puzzled. “This is nothing personal, you know. You were a necessary part of the machinery. Kushiel rarely came to the Library in latter days, and was seldom alone. Your judgement and execution…provided me with an opportunity. His defenses were so far down that they may as well have been nonexistent. But,” he said, pointing a finger directly at me, “you must not take that as any indication of my thoughts or feelings towards you. It is not personal in any way. Please remember that. Particularly since we now need to work together to an extent.”
“But if I was brought there for that, then…”
“I see you’re finally beginning to grasp the scale of things. But please, let me continue. You have to understand that a blade of that nature could simply not be carried into the Library under normal conditions. Even if I were to make my entrance carrying it, the deep protections of the place would send the guards scurrying almost immediately.”
I remembered what Stacey had mentioned, days ago, and put the pieces together. “You were the one who gave her the gig. Taking artifacts between the Fades and Earth. Give her the knife, tip off the Host, and she gets picked up. Nobody picks up on the illicit items because they’re being taken in as contraband anyway.”
“Close enough,” Eliajel smiled. “You can be quite quick when you put your mind to it. For one of your kind anyway. I’m almost beginning to see what all the fuss is about. But you’re wrong on one particular point. Badly, seriously wrong. And that, that is the key to everything.” He sat back. Long seconds passed.
“Are you going to tell me, or do we just sit here?”
“I was so hoping I wouldn’t have to. Very well. You’ll love this bit.”
A brisk knock came at the door. Eliajel froze, then jumped to his feet, and starting twisting his hands in an intricate, flowing pattern.
“Who is it?” I asked.
The door opened a crack and Benny’s head popped round. “Just got your drink, Malachi.”
“My drink?”
“Yes, you know, the drink you ordered.”
As a ruse, it was appalling. Utter crap. He might just as well have given me a wink and a nod.
“Benny,” I began, “seriously mate, listen - please just -”
I never got to complete the sentence. The door slammed back, breaking free of one of its hinges. Benny dived to the side, and Caleb stood there, features contorted in an animalistic snarl. He was whirling a thin silver cord like a cowboy spinning a lasso.
“You fool,” Eliajel screeched at me. “Do you not see what you’ve done?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, jumping between him and Caleb. “Caleb, stand down. Please stand down.”
Too late. Eliajel raised his hands as Caleb threw the cord, and vanished. There was a faint pop as air reclaimed the space where he’d been, and then a sharp snap as the cord flew past it and cracked into the wall.
“You okay?” Benny asked me. “Stacey told me what was going down as she ran out. Thought you might need some help.”
“And I have been after him for a long time,” added Caleb, spinning and slapping his palm hard against the door. “So close. So close.”
“So close,” I echoed faintly as I sat back down. “Damn it, Benny.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I spent a while, too long, filling Benny and Caleb in on recent events. It felt so good to get things off my chest that I forgot the one, the crucial thing, that I should have remembered. With Julie I was safe and shielded by the effects of the brooch, and Eliajel had promised me much the same as long as I was with him. But now I was just Malachi English, alone in the Fades, and exposed to anyone who was hunting me down with any kind of magical tracking.
Benny twitched and jumped a few seconds before the noise came from the bar. Sounded like the main door was kicked into splinters. “On the floor,” someone shouted loudly - a command that carried with it a wave of magic, a compulsion to do exactly that. I nearly dropped to my knees myself, but Benny grabbed my arm and my head cleared. “Get out. Now. I’ll stall as long as I can.” He reached out with a finger, touched my chest, and threw me into a slide.
Luckily the street was deserted Earth-side, and I ran back to the laundry where the others were waiting, sticking to shadows, avoiding the brightly-lit areas. Not, I reflected, that any of that would slow down the Host, but it made me feel better, like I was doing the very best to save my hunted hide.
“Trouble,” I hissed as loud as I dared, bursting in. Zack was asleep but snapped awake and leapt upright. Julie and Arabella were huddled together against the cold, sharing a Snickers. They were slower to their feet, getting their tired, jaded limbs back in action. Zack started calling together a cast, but I shook my head. “Pointless, mate.” I pressed my hands palm-down towards the floor, a silent signal for everyone to get very quiet and very still. We had no viable defense against the Host enforcers. If we fought, they won. If we ran, they’d catch us. If they didn’t find us, though…well, slim hopes are still something.
I closed my eyes, casting out my senses into the street. One by one, bright and burning magical presences slid in. The sound of heavy boots moving at a jog could be clearly heard. I took Julie’s hand. She squeezed hard. Arabella took my hand on the other side. Zack stepped in silently to complete our little circle of hope against hope. They couldn’t sense us, but all they had to do was start kicking in doors like regular cops, and we’d be back in the pit. Or worse.
A loud shout echoed outside. “Guys, over here. This way. Now, before we lose him.”
I opened my eyes, frowning. Julie leaned in to whisper. “Was that Caleb?”
I smiled and nodded. Typical of the guy. He’d caused a problem, however innocently, and now he was doing his best to make it right. Not sure how the Host would react to being duped if they ever found out, but then I was fairly confident that Caleb wasn’t on their Christmas list anyway.
The boots fell into a steady rhythm, moving away, over to the east. “Now,” I said quietly, “would be a good time to head out.”
“What did you find out?” Zack asked. “Back there at Benny’s?”
“Not enough,” I told him. “Let me think it over some first. For now, we move.”
The journey back north to Harlem was long and tedious, with frequent stops. The gargoyles flew high and wide, alerting us not only to the Mage-born and the Host, but also to the cops, who were now clearly after me with a vengeance. Zack was on near-friendly terms with a guy from the same precinct as Larry Dialgo, and put in a call.
“Big news,” the girl told Zack, dropping her voice. Zack raised his eyebrows and moved
the phone closer to the rest of us, on speakerphone so we could all hear. “Perfect record, really effective, tipped for promotion. But turns out he’s a bit too close to some shady characters, especially Manhattan’s current most wanted. They trailed him, nearly got the guy, and now Larry’s cuffed up somewhere getting grilled. Shame. I liked him. Hey, you wanna get together for a drink tomorrow?”
By the time we got back we were dog-tired, but Liberty was on us as soon as we got through the door. “Bad news,” he said, taking my elbow and guiding me towards the far end of the room. “Ollie’s gone downhill. Looks like this is it.”
Ollie was on the one decent makeshift cot in the room, quietly tucked into a corner. A woman crouched next to him, one hand on his brow and the other at his wrist, checking the pulse. Her black hair was pulled back tightly into a sloppy bun, and bright green eyes glared up at me as we approached. “So he’s awake and back with us. The great warrior. The champion of the Aware. The killer.” She was nearly spitting by the time she got to the last bit.
“I’m a killer,” I admitted. “No argument there. But I’ve never claimed any of that other stuff. He’s going?”
She sighed and sat back on her haunches, deflated and worn-out. “I’ve tried everything. Nothing, and I mean, nothing, has worked. Every charm, every counter-hex, every protective rune and amulet I have at my disposal…nothing. I mean, we’re not exactly fully-stocked here, but we’re not short of materials either. I’ve not seen anything like it. And I’ve seen a lot.”
“Josephine’s been with him pretty much constantly,” said Liberty. “Apart from when she was tending to you, of course. There’s no finer mage I could put on the job. I’m sorry, Malachi.”
“For what? You tried, you failed. That’s life, isn’t it?”
Ollie wheezed and bucked. For a moment his eyes opened and he looked directly at me. So much pain. A cry for help. Then all the tension disappeared, and a cloud passed over his vision. Josephine checked his pulse, and after a few moments nodded up at us.
“So that’s it. No happy ending. And no answers,” I said.
“That, er, n-needn’t be the case,” said Eric, gliding up behind us like a specter.
“You leave him alone, you grave-robbing bastard,” Josephine said, jumping to her feet, fists clenched.
“Enough,” Liberty snapped. “Josephine, get some down time. We’ve got two running battles on the Upper West Side, and you’re no good to anyone like this. Please.”
She stared one last time at Eric, who didn’t seem even remotely disconcerted by a gaze that wouldn’t be out of place coming from a gorgon, and stalked off.
“What do you mean, Eric?” Zack said.
“He means,” said Liberty, “that there are certain tests and examinations that can’t be done by arcane means, or without potentially harming the patient even more.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I asked.
“W-well, if you’re thinking that we’re could saw through his s-skull and directly examine the brain,” said Eric, “then yes.”
Even Eric could appreciate that a post-mortem wouldn’t be a great thing to do in front of the injured and dying in the upper room, so we discreetly wrapped up Ollie in his blankets and carried him across the room to the stairs. Several of the patients sat up and touched the blanket as he passed, muttering thanks and blessings. It was a great loss for all of us, and didn’t make me feel any better about what was going to happen.
Downstairs, in the room with the cages, Arabella cleared a worktable, and we lay Ollie on the top. It wasn’t quite long enough and his feet dangled over the edge. Still, couldn’t see that he’d have a problem with that at this point.
We stood around the table, looking down at him. “So, how do we do this?” I asked.
“Well,” said Eric, “in theory -”
“Theory?” Julie said. “I was under the impression you’d done this before.”
“I’ve read several case studies. Some of which had diagrams.”
“Bloody hell,” said Liberty.
“This is his body. We should show some respect,” said Arabella.
“No,” I told her, “it’s an empty shell. We know that better than most. Ollie’s gone now, and he’s never coming back. But if Eric can get something out of it, then Ollie can help us one last time. That’s as good a tribute as we can give him.”
“Agreed,” said Zack, who’s been rummaging through the drawers and cabinets, “but can we do the job with this?” He emptied his arms onto the table. Two small but vicious-looking hacksaws, a chisel, a hammer and a selection of screwdrivers. “Because I know what’s upstairs and down here, and I’m telling you that this is all we’ve got. Unless anyone wants to spend some time going to a hospital?”
Everyone looked at me. I hate it when that happens. “Waste of time and risky,” I said. “And time may be of the essence if we’re going to learn anything useful. Eric, over to you.”
He bent low, examining Ollie’s pale head from only an inch away. “Very well, we’ll b-begin. Can I p-please have a volunteer to hold the h-head.”
It was perhaps the grimmest ten minutes of my life. I looked at a fixed point on the wall, trying desperately to ignore the activity in my peripheral vision. Arabella refused to stay anywhere near, and sat halfway up the stairs. I couldn’t see Julie but I heard her retching three times just behind me. And Eric and Zack engaged in what can only be described as enthusiastic and unskilled DIY butchery on Ollie’s skull.
“And I think that’s…it,” said Zack, and despite myself I looked down. Shit. Ollie’s face was rolled halfway down the front of his skull, but his eyes still stared straight up. All skin and hair on top of the head had been discarded, and sat in a bloody puddle on the floor. Eric eased the top of the skull backwards and with a sick plop it came away.
“Do I have to still be here?” I asked weakly.
“No, job done I think,” said Zack.
“Great.” I promptly went to a corner and vomited up everything I’d eaten over the past three hours. When I’d finished I sipped some water that Julie handed me. “If we don’t find anything, I’m going to be very, very upset.”
“It’s s-something. Certainly.”
“I know you don’t want to,” said Zack, “but you really all have to see this. You really do.”
I looked at Julie. “I will if you will,” she said.
“Can’t really back out now.”
The inside of Ollie’s skull was so freaking strange that any queasiness I still felt headed straight out the door. “What the hell is that?”
The brain, of course, I was expecting. I knew what a brain looks like. I’d seen pictures. And in two particularly brutal encounters, I’d seen it on walls. But there was something else. It looked like it was made of the same puffy, soft tissue, but it was slicker, bulging and pulsing like an elongated grub, snaking from the very front and centre to the middle of the right side, where it appeared to dive further inwards.
“Does anyone know what that is?” I asked. The silence was telling. “Eric?” I looked up at him. He didn’t speak but his eyes were flashing, his mind working furiously, searching his own personal archives of information.
“No,” he said, finally. “I don’t.”
“Let’s get it out,” said Zack. “Get a better look.”
I nodded, and he passed me a screwdriver. I tentatively pressed it beneath the undulating form and wiggled it inwards. Then I pressed down, using the frayed edge of the skull as a fulcrum. The thin tissue pulled away slightly, then burst with a loud pop. And suddenly there was nothing there anymore.
“Shit, you broke it,” said Arabella.
“Did you feel it?” Zack asked me.
I nodded. In the instant it disappeared, the moment the tissue ripped, there was a spark, an unwinding of magical energy. But that didn’t tell us much. We’d just had an important clue right before us, only to have it snatched away before we could investigate it fully.
/> “What was it? Where did it come from?” said Liberty.
“We don’t know either of those things,” said Zack. “It’s a bust.”
“Not true,” said Julie, and placed something on the table in front of us. The small, mother of pearl egg-thing we’d found in the basement where Ollie was being held. I cursed myself for not being sharper, not thinking of it sooner. I needed to get back on my game before people got hurt.
“Oh, my word,” said Eric, stroking it gently.
“You’ve seen it before? You know what it is?” I asked.
“Yes, to the f-first question, but no to the s-second. Look.” He turned round, and stepped over to the storage racks at the side, where he reached out and very gently took down an open-topped container. We peered in. Two dozen perfect, un-cracked copies of the egg.
“Becky,” I murmured, “what the hell were you doing here?”
“Most of the cages have droppings or carcasses,” said Liberty. “Some of them were recognizable - literally lab rats, stock of that nature. Others were…well, ask Cadence if you get a chance. She knows more about this area than I do.”
“Turns out everything died before we found the place,” said Arabella. “No water, no food. Nasty way to die. The rats started eating each other.”
“Some of the other things did the same thing,” Zack said as he started trying to put Ollie’s head back together. “Shame. It would have been good to see what they actually looked like. I’d guess that Becky was breeding standard rodents but altering the DNA with magic. The things we didn’t know about that woman.”
“But we have something to work with,” I said, pointing at the eggs. “If one of those became whatever it was inside Ollie’s brain, then we’re halfway to knowing what Patrick did.”
Liberty walked off and started a conversation on his phone.
“You’ve gone pale,” said Julie, staring at me.
“Lightweight. Weak stomach,” said Zack, pulling Ollie’s face back up the skull.
