Exercise was my method of choice.
I dressed in running shoes, tight shorts, and a sports bra. It was more revealing than I would wear in public, but it didn’t matter since I Masked myself as an overweight middle-aged man in a tracksuit so no one would bother me. Once I was ready, I went to the motel’s gym and powered through five sets of my favorite strength exercises – squats, overhead lifts, military presses. After the exercises finished, I was sweating and breathing hard, a pleasant quivering exhaustion in my muscles, but I wasn’t done yet.
I hopped on a treadmill, dialed it up to an seven and a half minute mile, and I started running. I got to about eight and a half miles before my knees, hips, and lungs told me it was time to stop. My sweating hand slapped against the control panel, slowing the treadmill to a gentle walk, and I walked until I had stopped wheezing and my breathing and heartbeat were under control again. I wiped down the equipment I had used (no sense in being rude), and returned to my room.
I dropped my Masking spell, stripped out of my sweat-sodden clothes, and ran a bath, as hot as I could manage it. Fresh sweat burst out across my skin as I slid into the hot water, and I floated there for an hour until I had become so woozy and so dizzy that I thought I might pass out. It was a disconcerting sensation, but I felt so relaxed and exhausted that I really couldn’t bring myself to care or worry about anything.
Cheaper than drugs. And better for you.
I got out of the bath, drained five large glasses of water in rapid succession, crawled naked under the blankets of the bed, and passed out.
When the sun peeked through the curtains at about 5:30 the next morning, I had a headache, a bladder full to bursting, and a dry throat, but I otherwise felt rested. I got up, drank some more water, and attended to my restroom needs. A long hot shower was always nice after one of my exercise sessions since I was gross from all the sweat. It took a long time to wash my hair since I had so much of it.
After the shower I blow-dried and combed out my hair in front of the mirror, listening to the radio as I did. The local news didn’t mention anything about the explosion, and most of the rest of the reports were breathless, fawning coverage about the High Queen’s Royal Progress through the United States. I lost interest in the radio, and my whole attention turned to my reflection.
The harsh bathroom lighting made my face look washed out, paler than usual. The dark circles under my eyes seemed more shadowy, my features sharper. Did the light make my eyes glitter in that unsettling way, or was that madness?
I frowned and flipped my hair so it hung down the left side of my neck and chest. That was a good look for me. I wondered what Murdo would think. Maybe if I put on a little makeup, and then…
The last time I had actually worn makeup had been when I had gone out with Riordan for the last time before Arvalaeon found me, and that brought the whole tangle of emotion back.
“For God’s sake,” I muttered, and I finished in the bathroom and got dressed in a fresh T-shirt, sweater, and black jeans. The hotel room had a coffee maker, and I got it started.
Right at 6:30 AM, I heard the sharp knock at the door.
I peered through the peephole and saw Murdo standing there. I cast a quick spell to sense the presence of magic, making sure that his appearance wasn’t an illusion, but I didn’t detect any magic nearby.
“Good morning,” said Murdo as I opened the door. He was wearing a different polo shirt and cargo pants, and the sleeves of the shirt were tight against the heavy muscles of his arm. “Sleep well?”
“The sleep of the righteous,” I said. Or the exhausted. “Find anything useful on the laptop?”
“Yes, I did,” said Murdo.
He stepped past me as I closed the door and dropped a backpack on the desk.
I moved to join him, and part of my mind (or limbic system, really) pointed out that we were alone in a hotel room. I tried to ignore that idea, and almost managed it. The problem was that while my mind was almost a hundred and eighty years old and not exactly stable, my body was only twenty-two years old, and thanks to all the exercise, it was in good shape. And what my body wanted…
Well. Let’s not be coy. What my body wanted was a man. I had really enjoyed my physical relationship with Nicholas Connor, at least until I found out what kind of man he really was. After that unpleasant experience, I had been too cautious to sleep with Riordan.
In hindsight, I wish that I had.
I wished that I had done a lot of things differently.
I told my emotions and my limbic system to shut up. I had work to do.
“What did you find?” I said as Murdo unpacked his laptop.
“Quite a lot,” said Murdo, plugging a hard drive into the side of his computer. He had taken it from the laptop I had stolen from the Rebels’ trailer, and while I had exercised and slept, he had looked through it. That was another advantage of working with Murdo in my little war against the Rebels. We could split tasks, and while I was no slouch at finding my way around computer security, he was a lot better at it. “Vogel might have been lax with security, but he kept good records.”
I grunted. “Probably afraid of getting audited by Corbisher.”
“Given that Connor gave Corbisher the authority to shoot anyone who skims off from the Rebels’ funds, that was a reasonable fear,” said Murdo. He was sitting in the desk chair, so I grabbed the room’s easy chair, pushed it over to the desk, and sat down next to him. “The computer you grabbed belonged to Vogel, and he kept a detailed spreadsheet of deliveries.” He clicked the touchpad a few times, and an accounting program opened. Murdo loaded a transaction file, and a general ledger appeared on the display. “Looks like Vogel’s job was to buy weapons and store them at the mine until one of the Gatekeepers got around to opening a rift way to pick them up.”
“He was waiting for a while,” I said, looking at the list of timestamps. “Couple of weeks at a time. It was dangerous to leave all those weapons sitting around.”
“Connor must be working his Gatekeepers hard,” said Murdo. “Buying up lots of weapons and shipping them to Venomhold.”
“Yeah,” I said. I felt a chill. The Rebel terrorists were only a nuisance. They had no chance of overthrowing the High Queen. Everyone knew that.
But everyone knew that because the Inquisition and the Department of Education said so. How many people knew the truth? How many people knew how dangerous the alliance with the Knight of Venomhold had made Nicholas? The Knight of Grayhold knew since he had sent Murdo after Nicholas.
But did anyone else know? Did the High Queen know? Sometimes I wondered if I should call Arvalaeon and tell him what I had learned. I hated the Lord Inquisitor, and the Elves were heavy-handed rulers…but the Rebels would be so much worse.
“Though we might have just cost the Rebels something like a quarter of a million dollars worth of munitions,” said Murdo.
“And whatever Vernon’s truck cost,” I said. “I…wait, is that number right?” I pointed at one of the entries.
“I think it is,” said Murdo.
“God,” I said. If the number was right, then something like fifteen million dollars worth of guns, ammunition, and explosives had passed through that copper mine to Venomhold in the last year.
I had shut down five places like this before I had teamed up with Murdo after the operation at the Royal Bank in Washington DC, and this was the third transfer point we had hit since. And if they all had the same volume of traffic as the copper mine…
“Nicholas really is building an army,” I said, my voice quiet. “And if the Rebels have supply branches in the European Union, or the Russian Imperium or the Chinese Imperium, they could have a mountain of weapons by now. The High Queen’s going to be in for a nasty surprise.”
“She knows,” said Murdo.
“Does she?” I said.
“The Knight of Grayhold said she does,” said Murdo, “and Jacob Temple would know.” His mouth twisted. He was one of the Graysworn, but I don’t think he like
d Temple very much.
“Then why doesn’t the High Queen do anything about it?” I said.
“She can’t,” said Murdo, his voice quiet. “Think about it, Katrina. She can’t attack Venomhold. The Knight of Venomhold is invincible within the bounds of her demesne. The High Queen could go after the Rebels here, but that would unleash the kind of chaos the Archons would exploit. Or one of her other enemies, either on another world or within the Elven nobility. I think by now you’ve realized her grip on power isn’t as solid as the Department of Education likes to pretend in its videos. If the High Queen goes after the Rebels, it might touch off a global war…and then we’ll all be enslaved by the Archons or the myothar or something even worse than them.”
“Then we keep doing what we’re doing now,” I said. “We’ll keep screwing with the Rebels until Nicholas calls me for the final theft of our deal. Once I finish the deal, I’ll kill him, and that will be that. Or I’ll turn his whole operation over to the Inquisition.” I tapped the hard drive connected to Murdo’s laptop. “They can deal with him then.”
And Morvilind would keep casting his cure spells for Russell.
But uncertainty fluttered through me as I looked at the neat black numbers of the ledger.
What if the Inquisition knew…but couldn’t do anything about it? What if they were too busy with the Archons or the Elven nobles to act?
What if I was helping Nicholas to build the nightmare world he wanted to create?
Maybe I would finish the deal, and Russell would be cured, only for Nicholas to overthrow the High Queen and forge the kind of hellish totalitarian government he dreamed of building.
Maybe Russell would survive frostfever only to die in one of Nicholas’s planned prison camps.
Murdo nodded. “We’ll see how it plays out.” I could never tell if he was more sanguine about the future than I was, or if he had the stoic fatalism of a soldier who expected disaster but did his best anyway.
“Meanwhile,” I said, “this ledger gives us a dozen leads.”
“I think we should investigate this one first,” said Murdo. “You told me how Vernon and Vogel were complaining that Lorenz had taken thirty thousand dollars out of their funds?” I nodded. “They weren’t kidding.” He pointed at the screen. “About two months ago, Lorenz took that money from their account, and he hasn’t returned with weapons or any supplies.”
“Two months?” I said, frowning. “That would have been…right after the Royal Bank, yeah?”
Murdo nodded.
I shrugged. “Maybe he embezzled it.”
“After that show Connor put on with Vass?” said Murdo. I remembered the unfortunate helicopter pilot’s head exploding from Nicholas’s well-placed gunshot. “I don’t think that’s it.”
“Are there any notes in the ledger?” I said.
Murdo tapped the touchpad, and the metadata for the entry came up. “Only that he planned to take the money and buy supplies in Milwaukee, and he might be out of touch for a while…”
Alarm blazed through me, and I kept it from my face with an effort of will.
“Wait,” I said. “Milwaukee?”
“That’s what it said,” said Murdo. He frowned. “Does Milwaukee have some significance for the Rebels?”
It didn’t, as far as I knew. Unless the Rebels were still sore that I had killed Sergei Rogomil there or something. But Milwaukee had a lot of significance for me. Russell and the Marneys lived there. Morvilind lived in a suburb north of the city, though I only cared what happened to him insofar as it affected Russell.
Also, if the Rebels were dumb enough to come after Morvilind, he would slaughter them all.
But I couldn’t tell any of this to Murdo. He knew that I was lying to him about my past, but he understood the reasons why. I had people to protect. He hadn’t told me the entire truth, either. Likely his girlfriend would be at risk if I knew who she was.
“Not that I know,” I said. “They had a big attack there last year, but it got shut down.” I shrugged. “Maybe he’s buying more weapons. There are a bunch of munitions plants in Milwaukee.”
“I think,” said Murdo, “that we had better go to Milwaukee, figure out what he’s doing, and stop him.”
I frowned. “Why? There are a dozen good leads in that ledger. Why go to Milwaukee?”
His black eyes met mine. “Battlespace preparation.”
“You’re about to quote some dead general at me, aren’t you?”
“Okay,” said Murdo. “Look at it this way. You know we’re going to have to fight Connor has soon as you steal the final item for him.” I nodded. “If you know a battle is coming, it’s a good idea to stack up as many advantages as you can. Lorenz has tried to kill you before – I bet he had his hand in the assassination attempts at the Rocky Mountain Mile and Washington DC.” I nodded again. “If we take him out of the fight now, he won’t be around to help Connor when your confrontation comes. Also, Lorenz has gone behind Connor’s back to get at you before. He might do it again. Better to strike first.”
“Yeah,” I said. I’ve said before that I didn’t want to kill people…but the death of Victor Lorenz would not weigh upon my conscience. For one, Lorenz had killed someone to gain the power of the Dark One that possessed him. For another, he was an extremely bad man…and that had been before he had joined Nicholas’s gang.
And he had arranged two hits on me already. Maybe it was time to take a swing back.
“Yeah?” said Murdo.
“You’ve convinced me,” I said. “One problem. How the hell are we going to find him? Milwaukee’s a big place. For that matter, Lorenz took the thirty thousand dollars two months ago. He might have moved on already.”
“There’s a contact in here,” said Murdo, tapping the touchpad again. A new window opened. “No name, just a warehouse manager at this address.”
“I know the place,” I said. I had driven past it a bunch of times when I had still lived in Milwaukee. It was out in Wauwatosa, on the western side of the Milwaukee area, near a bunch of rail lines. Why did that seem familiar?
Oh, yeah. Now I remembered. It had been when Morvilind had sent me to Venomhold to steal the Nihlus Stone from Rosalyn Madero. Riordan and I had been driving on the causeway bridge over the rail lines when the banehound Rosalyn had summoned tried to kill us. It nearly succeeded.
Now, if a banehound tried to attack me, I could dispatch the creature in about two seconds.
“Problem?” said Murdo. I realized that I had been staring hard at the screen while scowling.
“Stray thoughts,” I said. “What do you suggest we do? Track down this warehouse manager and have a chat with him?”
“It’s a start,” said Murdo, leaning back. The cheap desk chair creaked beneath his muscled weight. “We’ll find the address and look around. Maybe we’ll find Lorenz. If we don’t, maybe we’ll find another supply dump we can destroy. And if none of it works out, we’ll follow up on some of the other leads in the ledger.”
I stared at the laptop screen, trying to keep my unease from my face. I hadn’t been back to Milwaukee since I had lost control and almost killed Russell. The closest I had come had been mailing a check to my landlord so I wouldn’t lose my apartment.
I didn’t want Murdo to know who I really was and that my only family was in Milwaukee. It wasn’t that I still mistrusted him, though for me, paranoia was a way of life. No, what he didn’t know couldn’t be tortured out of him, or scooped out of his skull with Hailey’s mindtouch spell if Nicholas realized that he was Graysworn.
But…hell, realistically, what were the odds that I would run into Russell, James, or Lucy? Two million people lived in Milwaukee and its suburbs. It wasn’t like I would simply run into Russell at the grocery store. For that matter, Murdo’s logic rang true. Lorenz had tried to arrange my death twice before, and if he got a chance, he would do it again. If I could deal with him before Nicholas called me to arrange the third theft, that would make my inevitable confrontation wit
h Nicholas easier.
And I didn’t like the thought of a man like Lorenz in Milwaukee. I had grown up there, and I didn’t want a Dark One-possessed Rebel terrorist running his guns and laundered money through the city.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s do it. After I get some coffee for the road.”
Murdo nodded. “Always good to meet a woman who has her priorities straight.”
Chapter 3: Out Of Place
God loves coincidences.
No, wait, that’s not quite right. Some old-time scientist once said that coincidence was how God liked to hide himself. Maybe that’s true, maybe that’s not. But remember that dead general Murdo and Riordan quoted? The one who said that the enemy always gets a vote?
Combine that with coincidence, and that’s how the trip to Milwaukee went.
Yeah.
I’m getting ahead of myself. I should back up.
Murdo and I arrived in the Milwaukee area on the morning of June 16th, Conquest Year 316 (or 2329 AD according to the old calendar).
It was a long, long drive from Albuquerque to Milwaukee, about fourteen hundred miles, and it took us two days to do it. It seemed that we had gotten away clean from the explosions at the copper mine. Neither Homeland Security nor the Rebels troubled us (it probably helped that I was rigid about staying under the speed limit). I wondered if Vernon and his pals had gotten arrested, but most likely they had fled through the rift way and back to Venomhold.
The trip was mostly uneventful. Murdo and I drove, drank coffee, and talked on the CB radio for long stretches of flat countryside.
I say mostly uneventful because late on the first day we saw the Skythrone.
We were on Interstate 30 in northern Texas, heading east towards Dallas. There was a lot of traffic, more than I expected for that late in the day, and I noted with irritation that it was slowing down.
“Think there’s an accident ahead?” I said into the CB microphone, tapping the brakes a few times to slow down. In front of me, the brake lights of Murdo’s SUV did the same.
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