“Wait,” I said. “There are such creatures as dragons?”
“Oh, yes,” said Murdo, voice quiet. “You wouldn’t want to meet any of them.”
“There are at least several dozen living in disguise on Earth,” said Vander. “They are creatures of immense power and age, but for the most part, they dislike showing themselves openly and prefer to act through proxies and servants. In the United States, several of them own the large corporations the High Queen allows to operate. Overseas, they prefer to take human form and assume positions of power. I think a dragon is actually the interior minister of the Russian Imperium. Not that anyone but the High Queen and her trusted nobles know that.”
I frowned. “And the High Queen allows this?”
Vander shrugged. “Easier to work with the dragons than to fight them. They’re greedy, but so long as they can make a profit, they’ll follow the High Queen’s rules. War is bad for business. And archmages like the High Queen and Lord Morvilind and Lady Kathromane,” Murdo frowned at the name for some reason, “can treat with a dragon as an equal…but that’s much harder for the rest of us. It’s better for everyone if the dragons and the High Queen get along.”
“Right,” I said. It didn’t matter. “I don’t suppose you happen to have a dragon pearl back at that clinic of yours?”
“Yes, I left it in my chest of gold, jewels, and magical relics,” said Vander in a dry voice. “They’re incredibly rare and valuable. Dragons don’t part with them willingly.”
“But if I get you a dragon pearl,” I said, “then you’re willing to do it? You’ll cure Russell?”
“Of course,” said Vander. “It would take about five minutes.”
I let out a long breath, the idea burning in my head. Without false modesty, I could say that I was one of the best thieves in the world. I had a better chance of finding and stealing a dragon pearl than anyone else. But I could worry about that later, once I had dealt with Lorenz and Morvilind’s deal with the Forerunner.
“Okay,” I said. “One more question.” Vander nodded. “How the hell did you get mixed up with Russell?”
Vander grunted. “Suppose you had better talk about that with your brother.” He looked at Russell. “I think the two of you have things to discuss.”
“Russell,” I said. “What’s going on? How did you find Vander?”
Murdo snorted. “Maybe it’s better to ask how Vander got mixed up with Russell.”
He had a point. I didn’t think Vander was dangerous. I mean, he was a former Archon and all, but he just seemed…defeated. Defeated, and kind of cynical. But he had gone out of his way to help Jill Rusk and Felix Ross, and I had the feeling he did that kind of thing a lot.
“Okay,” said Russell. “It was last summer. You remember how I worked at Sergeant Bob’s Shooting Range And Dining Club?”
“Um,” I said. It took a minute for the memory to come into focus. “Yeah. I remember now. Place in Wauwatosa.” Come to think of it, the owner had hit on me a few times when I had dropped Russell off for work.
“One day Riordan came to the club…” started Russell.
“What?” I said. “What the hell was Riordan doing there?” He had never told me about that. I had always thought that he and Russell talked a lot without my knowledge, and I suppose this proved it.
“I’m getting ahead of myself,” said Russell. “Uh. There was a disguised cognophage at the club, and it was feeding on people. You’ve heard of them?”
“Creature from the Shadowlands,” I said. “Anthrophages eat flesh. Cognophages eat memories, more or less. The victims look like they’ve had a debilitating stroke.”
“Yeah,” said Russell. “The Shadow Hunters sent Riordan to kill the thing. I saw that he was there and invited myself along.” Murdo snorted. “Mr. Vander worked at Sergeant Bob’s over the summers, too, and he was trying to find the cognophage. Riordan thought that Mr. Vander might be the cognophage…”
“So I had to tell him the truth,” said Vander. “An angry Shadow Hunter is a formidable sight. The human version even more so than the Elven one, I think.”
“Riordan killed the cognophage, I assume,” I said.
“He did,” said Russell. “Vander told me the same thing that he just told you, that if he could get a dragon pearl, he could cure my frostfever. I knew Lord Morvilind makes you do dangerous things, and if I could find a dragon pearl, I could get us out of it.”
“Russell,” I said. “You’re a sixteen-year-old boy. How the hell are you going to find a dragon pearl?”
He shrugged. “There’s always a way. I just had to find it.” His face tightened. “But then I got distracted.”
I nodded. “You started dating Lydia Valborg.”
“No, I broke up with her last year,” said Russell.
“Why did you do that?” I said.
“Because I needed to keep my grades up,” said Russell, “so I didn’t get into trouble with James and Lucy, and since all the rest of my time was going into finding you, I couldn’t afford the distraction.” He shrugged again. “She cried a lot, but…well, you do what you have to do.”
“Why were you looking for me?” I said.
For the first time, Russell looked taken aback. “Because you disappeared without a trace.”
“Why does that matter?” I said, but I felt stupid even as I said. “I mean, I almost killed you. I had to leave so I didn’t accidentally hurt anyone and…”
“But you disappeared!” said Russell. He sounded hurt and even a little angry. “You just disappeared without telling anyone. You didn’t tell me where you went, or the Marneys or Riordan. And something horrible had happened to you, and you wouldn’t talk about it.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“It was obvious,” said Russell. “I mean, you were wearing two sweaters even though it was ninety-five degrees out, you wouldn’t sleep, you wouldn’t eat, and you kept twitching every time someone slammed a car door. And then you disappeared without a trace, and you broke up with Riordan…”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“Because I called him and asked if he knew what had happened to you,” said Russell. “No one knew where you had gone or what you were doing. So, I decided to find you. I started talking to people, and at first, no one would talk to me. But Mr. Vander has this clinic here he uses to heal people quietly, and I found out that people are a lot more willing to talk to you if you do them a big favor first, and introducing people to Mr. Vander can change their lives.” He took a deep breath. “I started backtracking through the people you had talked to and the things you had done over the last year, and…
A deep wave of searing guilt went through me.
This whole mess was my fault.
I had been trying to protect Russell, but I hadn’t realized how he would respond to my disappearance. He had always been one to seize the initiative…and because of that, I had nearly gotten a whole bunch of people killed by Lorenz.
But I was too wound up and upset to articulate my feelings, so instead, I said:
“Why the hell would you do a stupid thing like that?”
Russell blinked as if I had slapped him. “What?”
“I’m dangerous,” I said. “I’m dangerous, and my life is a mess, and Lord Morvilind has had me doing dangerous and stupid things for years. If you dig back into my life, some of that mess is going to splash back on you. And look what just happened! If you had stayed home and stayed out of trouble, then none of this would have happened.”
“But what was I supposed to do?” said Russell. Anger was starting to overwhelm his hurt. “Just pretend like nothing was wrong? Everything was wrong! You and the Marneys are my only family. What, was I just supposed to say ‘Oh, well, my sister’s disappeared, guess I had better not think about it and go sit in algebra class?’ If I disappeared, what would you do?”
I would rip make whoever had taken him regret it in the final instants of
their life.
“You should have stayed at home and stayed out of this,” I said.
“No,” said Russell. “What if you needed help?”
“What?”
“What if you needed help?” said Russell again. “What if you were hurt or sick or something and you needed help? I couldn’t just stay at home and not think about it.”
“He’s got a point,” said Murdo, his voice quiet.
I glared at him and then looked back at Russell. “I don’t need help.”
“Seriously?” said Russell incredulously. “You don’t need help? You disappeared for a year. Before that, you freaked out like something bad had happened to you. And when you do come back, you’ve got orcs and anthrophages and some big bad Rebel boss chasing you, and…you look…you look…”
“How the hell do I look?” I snapped.
“Sick,” said Russell. “Like you’ve lost ten pounds and haven’t gotten a decent night’s sleep or a good meal in a year.”
“I don’t need help,” I said. “I need you to stay safe. I’m doing all this so your frostfever can get cured. If you get yourself killed meddling with this, then none of it would have any point. I…”
“Nadia!” said Russell. “I don’t want you to get killed! You need help. I…”
Anger and fear warred in my chest. He was going to get killed. He wanted to help me, and he was going to get killed by the chaos that surrounded me.
“No,” I said. “This is idiotic, Russell. You don’t know what you’re doing. You’re going to get killed for nothing! And I…”
I couldn’t speak. I was too angry, too frightened.
“I need to look around,” I said. “Just stay here and don’t do anything else stupid.”
I stalked away down the hallway without another word.
Chapter 6: Properly Taught
I heard Russell call after me, but Murdo said something and Russell subsided.
I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t go far in case Lorenz or that Elven necromancer turned up, though I doubted they had followed us here.
But I needed…
Hell, I don’t know what I needed.
Just a minute to clear my head, to sort through the emotions.
I was angry at Russell for putting himself in danger, terrified he was going to get killed…and I couldn’t blame him, could I? Because everything he had said was true. I had disappeared to protect him and the Marneys and Riordan, but I hadn’t thought it through. How the hell had I expected them to react? To sit at home and forget about me? That was what I had thought would happen, but in retrospect that was stupid.
And a lot of the anger was directed at myself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. I hadn’t been thinking clearly after the Eternity Crucible, but I still should have realized what would happen if I disappeared.
I reached the end of the corridor and pushed the door. The crash bar clicked, the door swung open, and I found myself in a large, hot, gloomy space.
The rest of the warehouse. The Graysworn must have just converted the office wing into the safehouse. The warehouse area looked abandoned. Shafts of pale sunlight leaked through the grimy skylights in the roof. Here and there I spotted abandoned equipment – a rusted pallet jack, stacks of empty pallets, a baler still bolted to the floor.
I started pacing, ignoring the pain in my leg. I felt a sudden urge to draw on my magic and start burning pallets to ashes and blasting craters in the concrete floor, but I restrained myself. For one thing, if Lorenz and his necromancer buddy showed up, I would need my magic, and it would be stupid to waste my strength in a tantrum. For another, blowing things up would make a hell of a lot of noise, and that would bring the others running, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone just now.
I needed to think. I had to figure out what I was going to do about Lorenz. He knew about Russell, which meant he also knew about the Marneys. Were the Marneys in any danger? Probably not – Lorenz would only go after them if he couldn’t get to Russell. For that matter, Lorenz clearly had not expected to find me here.
Which, of course, made the situation all the more dangerous. Nicholas had already punished some of his people for going after me without his approval, and I doubted Nicholas had authorized Lorenz’s little excursion here. That gave me some hope. Lorenz probably hadn’t told Nicholas about my real identity or Russell yet. Which meant that if I killed Lorenz and his necromancer, I could wrap up all of this neatly.
I doubted it would be that easy. It never is.
I had been pacing for twenty minutes, trying to think of a plan, when the door to the safe house opened. I looked up, wondering if Murdo or Russell would come out to talk to me, or if Rusk or Robert would come out and tell me to get my act together.
Instead, it was Nathan Vander.
He walked towards me, frowning a little, and stopped a few paces away.
“Let me guess,” I said. “Rory or Russell sent you out here to talk me down.”
“No,” said Vander. “Mr. Murdo appears to be trying to calm Russell down, Captain Ross is trying to keep his wife and son calm, and Jill has fallen asleep with Mr. Rusk sitting next to her. It’s really been quite a trying morning for everyone.”
“Has it?” I said. “I suppose it would. I’m used to this sort of crap.”
“Yes,” said Vander carefully, as if concerned I would explode. A reasonable fear, I supposed. “I suspect you would be. I have a question.”
“You want to know what I’m going to do next or if I have a plan,” I said.
Vander shrugged. “Not really, Miss Moran. I’m old enough to know that plans aren’t usually worth the paper upon which they’re written. The Archons had a plan. The High Queen had a plan. Look how that turned out.”
I snorted. “Spoken like a former Archon.”
“I’m afraid I have become a bit jaded,” said Vander.
“What is your question?” I said.
“Do you want me to look at your leg?” said Vander.
“What?”
“It looks quite painful,” said Vander, “and if you don’t at least clean it out soon, it’s going to get infected.”
“Oh,” I said, glancing at my leg. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I gave him a wary look. Did I really want some Elf I had never met before casting spells on me? But Russell trusted him. “Go ahead.”
“Roll up your jeans leg, please,” said Vander. I nodded and rolled up the left leg of my jeans to the knee, wincing a little. The dried blood had made the denim stick to my leg, and the bullet wound had crusted to an angry, ugly black.
Vander dropped to one knee and scrutinized my leg. “Okay. That’s not too bad, all things considered.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve had much worse.”
His eyes met mine for a moment, dark and intense.
“Yes,” he murmured. “Yes, I rather expect you have.” He began to wave his hand in the air before him with slow, deliberate motions, and I felt the surge of gathering magic. “Hold still. This will feel rather strange.”
The veins in his right hand and forearm started to glow with light the color of blood. Flames of the same color danced around his fingers, twisting around his knuckles like glowing ribbons. Vander took several deep breaths, braced himself, and placed his glowing hand over the cut in my calf.
A chill filled my body, and I shivered as his magic washed through me. It felt a little like the regeneration spell that Arvalaeon had taught me, but it was somehow stronger, much stronger. But unlike the regeneration spell, there was no pain, no agony roaring up and down my veins. Vander left out a shuddering breath and removed his hand, and the chill vanished.
As did the pain in my leg.
I blinked and looked down. The cut was simply gone as if it had never happened.
“Okay,” I said. I took a few experimental steps. My leg felt fine. “I think I see why the High Queen paroled you.”
Vander nodded. “I failed at most things in my life, Miss Moran. But I am g
ood at this.”
“Thanks,” I said. I suppose I could have used the regeneration spell to heal it, but that would knock me unconscious for a few hours, and I didn’t dare spare that time.
“But I do have one more question now,” said Vander.
“Sure,” I said. “Shoot. Well, not literally.”
He smiled a little, but it faded. “How long were you in an Eternity Crucible?”
I blinked at him, a torrent of horrible memories shooting through my mind.
“What?” I said. “How…you can’t, how did you…”
Vander sighed. “When I heal someone, I can see their aura briefly. Yours has been marked by a frankly horrific amount of pain. Also, I just saw you fight. There are only a few human wizards as powerful as you, and only a few ways for human wizards to become that powerful. Combined with your aura and your obvious signs of post-traumatic stress, the most logical explanation is an Eternity Crucible.”
I stared at him.
I had never talked about the Crucible with anyone (and Morvilind didn’t count). I almost told him to go to hell.
But…he had just healed me. Vander quite clearly had been looking after Russell. And I felt something inside me start to shiver, like a rope under too much strain.
“I…” I started, then I swallowed and looked away. “One hundred and fifty-eight years.”
He frowned. “How many times did you die?”
“Um,” I said. “Over fifty-seven thousand times.”
He actually flinched when I said that.
“Dear God,” he muttered.
“Is…that a lot?” I said.
“How long ago did you get out of the Crucible?” said Vander. “A couple of weeks, I assume. No more than a month at the most.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s been almost a year.”
“Oh,” said Vander, surprised. “That’s a good sign, actually.”
I snorted. “How is that possibly a good sign?”
“Because humans almost always descend into homicidal insanity after even a decade in an Eternity Crucible,” said Vander. He scowled. “The High Queen has forbidden the use of Eternity Crucibles on humans.”
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