by M. R. Forbes
Only one person I knew could.
I put my hands in my pockets. One on the mask. One on the dice. The last thing I wanted to do was to have to try to use them against Mr. Black.
“Conor,” Black said. “Go ahead and stand up. I’m not going to hurt you unless you force me to.”
I got to my feet without withdrawing my hands, turning to face Danelle’s father. He didn’t look any different than the last time I had seen him, but it hadn’t been anywhere near long enough since then.
His eyes dropped to my hands. He wasn’t frightened. He was amused.
“They’re powerful artifacts. I’ll give you that. They won’t do a damn thing to me.”
He might have been lying. He might not have been. There was no way to know without making an aggressive move. I wasn’t about to do that.
“Your skill set is getting pretty impressive,” Mr. Black continued. “I’ve spent months trying to track you down, and you’ve managed to stay hidden to me. How did you learn to do that?”
His curiosity was genuine. He couldn’t believe anything managed to get beyond his grasp.
“It’s a secret,” I replied. “Magicians never tell.”
He laughed at that. His attention moved from me to Frank, who had finally gotten back on his feet.
“Mr. Dobson. Arrested for Grand Larceny. One of Newman’s test subjects. How do you like your new form?“
“Screw you, pal,” Frank said.
“I’m sorry for what we’ve put you through, Frank. Don’t worry. The purpose of the research was to find a way to reverse it, and we have. Did Conor tell you that?”
“Yeah. He told me.”
Black looked surprised. “Really?” he said, putting his eyes back on me. “You’ve learned how to tell the truth now?”
“Is there a point to this?” I asked. “You could have teleported me into space by now.”
“I didn’t know it was you,” Black said. “I suspected. But I didn’t know. I thought we could talk.”
“About what?”
“Why you’re here, for one. I don’t know where you got your intel, but I didn’t have a store of your medicine in the house.” He paused. “How do you like the new formula, by the way?”
I made sure to keep my poker face. Did he really think the meds were my motivation for being here or did he know the truth and was fucking with me?
“I feel a lot better,” I said. “Why do you care so much one way or another? Aren’t you better off if I’m not around?”
“I haven’t decided yet. I feel a certain, kinship, to you, Conor. Like I’m looking in an ugly, distorted mirror and at the same time seeing a perfect reflection of myself. I don’t know how else to describe it. It fascinates me, and little else has for such a long time.” He paused as if reflecting on his words before continuing. “I know you met with Tarakona a few months back. I don’t want there to be any confusion about the state of things. You know what my intentions are, and I can understand that you’re only looking out for yourself. I can help you with that. I can heal you. I can rid you of your cancer, and you can go back to whatever kind of life you want. I want to go back to some kind of life as well. You know that I can’t while the world is like this.”
“This is how the world was meant to be.”
“No. It isn’t. This is a mistake. Do you really believe people like you should still be alive, defiling souls to use them as decoys and distractions instead of passing on?”
I shrugged. It didn’t matter if I did or didn’t. The argument went beyond the personal. He was talking about genocide.
“So what do you want from me?” I asked.
“You know what I want.”
“Tarakona.”
“Yes. You’ve spoken to him. You visited him. One day soon I’ll be able to reverse almost everything else. I can’t simply undo a dragon.”
I heard Frank snort behind me, surprised by the reveal. I hadn’t been sure Black knew what he was dealing with. Tarakona had thought he did. Now it was confirmed.
“I was in his lair, ” I said. “He made me forget.” There was no point in lying about it.
“I can fix that, given a little bit of time. Let me bring you in, Conor. We can do this together, and when magic is gone from the world we can go out and get a beer as two regular human beings. As equals.”
“What if I say no?”
“I’ll kill you.”
“I thought you said you were fascinated by me.”
“My fascination only goes so far. I need this to end. For me, yes. For everyone else as well.”
“That isn’t much of a choice.”
“Choices are for the strong.”
“What about Frank?”
Black looked over at the trogre. “He’ll be taken care of.”
“I don’t want to be plain, old Frank Nobody again,” Frank said. “I hate you for what you did to me. The way you used me.” He flexed his muscles. “I like this body.”
Mr. Black smiled. “Well, whoever would have thought that? I’m sorry I’ll have to disappoint you again, Mr. Dobson. This world is a mess, and it’s my responsibility to clean it up.”
“Yeah? Who gave you that job, pal?”
“I don’t have the power of a god for nothing.”
“So you’re God now?” Frank said.
I enjoyed the fact that he wasn’t backing down.
“Enough,” Black said. “What’s your choice, Conor?”
Because he had to make it sound like there was one.
23
The choice
I could feel the smooth bone of the dice in one hand. I could feel the rougher cut of the mask in the other. I had power if I wasn’t afraid to claim it from the thing that lived inside the artifacts. Mr. Black said it wasn’t enough to hurt him, but there was no way to know if that were true or not.
Whatever the demon was, it had passed beyond any realm of regular mortality. Even Black couldn’t say that. Did that make it stronger? Did I want to find out?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Black said.
“You can’t read minds.”
“I don’t need to. I can see it in your eyes. You’re wondering if your toys can overpower me.”
He started walking toward me until he was twenty feet away.
“Go ahead, Conor. Roll the bones. I won’t retaliate. Once you understand how things are, it will make it easier for you.”
I lifted my hand from my trench, clutching the rounded squares. I brought them to my lips. “Can you kill Mr. Black?” I asked them.
The dice always told me when they were ready by becoming warm with the magic that powered them. Not only did they remain cold - I couldn’t sense the demon at all.
Was it hiding from him?
Black laughed. Not a menacing laugh. A short, triumphant chuckle. “I told you, Conor.”
A single, sharp echo sounded in the otherwise silent night.
A bullet came to a stop centimeters from Mr. Black’s head.
His smile turned into an angry, curled snarl. “You little-” he started to say, his hands coming up toward me.
I did what any sane person would do.
I hit the dirt.
I fell to the ground, whispering and casting out the death magic at the same time, hoping that Frank was following my lead behind me. Whoever had just shot at Black, all they had managed to do was piss him off.
Fucking great.
I felt the extreme force of his magic as it launched forward. My effort to dispel it was like a piece of paper against an oncoming freight train. It managed to eat away at the leading edge, maybe just enough for me to clear the area before it whooshed over my head. I heard a hissing and popping behind me a few seconds later, and the line of trees at my back turned from fully living to ash in a fraction of a second.
I grabbed the mask, pulling it over my face, still holding the dice.
Everything was in chaos now, as an entire army of ghosts entered the clearing, shooting at Black
’s men. I caught a glimpse of Black standing in the center of it, deflecting every effort to reach him as though it were a lame joke.
“Come on, you son of a bitch, wake the fuck up,” I said to the demon.
It was silent. Vacant. What the hell?
Then a hand grabbed my arm and lifted me to my feet.
“We gotta get out of this mess, pal,” Frank said. “What’s with Halloween?”
I was surprised to find I was happy he survived.
Black noticed me moving. I could see his attention shifting from the rest of the assault back to me.
“We’re going to die,” I said.
But we didn’t. A streak of golden flame came from somewhere to my left, hitting Black’s magical protection hard enough to knock him back a few steps. I had never seen anything able to push him off-balance before.
I lost that observation a moment later, as I felt the static charge of energy gathering near us. I threw my hand out in its direction, passing the death magic through my fingers. It spread out ahead of me as the lightning slammed into it, vanishing into a sea of darkness.
“I got this,” Frank said, rushing out ahead of me.
“Frank!” Damn him.
Zero was a dozen yards away. Frank was closing on him in a hurry, but the user was already motioning to send another blast at the trogre. The dice were still cold in my left hand.
That didn’t mean I was helpless.
I reached under my coat, pulling my gun like an Old West gunslinger, firing in one smooth motion.
The shot hit Zero in the leg. The aim was lousy, but it did its job. He lost his concentration, and a second later Frank barreled into him, hitting him in the head so hard I could hear the crack of his neck across the distance and above the fray.
I immediately turned to where Black had been standing, ready to make another meek attempt to defend myself.
He was gone. So was everyone else on his team that wasn’t dead. Unless all of them were dead. A tense silence fell over the clearing. I reached up and pulled off the mask, dropping it back in my pocket. Worthless piece of shit.
“Baron,” a voice said, approaching from behind me.
I spun around, gun still in hand.
“What the hell is going on here, Peter?” I asked. I felt a sudden urge to cough.
Tarakona’s wizard looked neat in a dark suit that hadn’t gotten at all ruffled during the fight. He was flanked by an older woman with green eyes and salt and pepper hair.
“I should ask you that,” Peter replied. “From what I understand, you aren’t currently assigned to any jobs.”
“You know?” I asked.
He smiled. “Tarakona knows. Despite Sandman’s insistence that he shouldn't. He isn’t as distracted as Mr. Black is these days.”
I allowed myself a half-smile. “She’s afraid Tarakona is going to imprison her. Is he?”
“I don’t know. What does it matter to you?”
“Maybe I’m getting a little tired of the Houses making decisions for other people.”
The woman took a slight step forward, extending her hand. “Baron, is that right?” she asked.
“It is,” I replied, not taking her hand just yet. “Who are you?”
“I’m Mrs. Yellow,” she replied.
I looked from Yellow to Peter, to Yellow, to Peter, and back to Yellow. I was trying to decide how apologetic I should be. My mood had gone awful since the second I’d busted through the gates.
“You threw the magic fire at Black,” I said.
“Yes. An act of war that is going to be the death of my House if we don’t act quickly.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just openly attacked the most powerful wizard on Earth,” Yellow said. “He knows it, and soon enough all of the Houses will know it.”
“Then why did you do it?”
“I think you know why. He wants to undo magic, and from what Sandman has said, he can.”
“Only if he can get every user on Earth to take one of his pills.”
“No, Baron,” Peter said. “Perhaps his trial delivery method is an injection. He’s a wizard. When the formulation is complete, he’ll make it airborne.”
Oh. Yeah. It made a lot of sense. I was an idiot for not realizing it on my own.
“Hey, Co-” Frank interrupted us, coming to a stop next to me. “I mean, Baron. That was some crazy shit, huh?” He paused when he noticed Peter and Mrs. Yellow, putting out his massive hand. “Hey, I’m Frank. Frank Dobson. Nice to meet you.”
The two wizards stared at him in surprise, before each slowly shook his hand in turn.
“Mrs. Yellow,” she said, shaking his pinkie.
“No way?”
“Yes.”
“As in House Yellow?”
“Yes.”
“Co- Baron here has been telling me about the Houses. If you’re aren’t a friend of Mr. Black, you’re a friend of mine.”
“Likewise, I suppose,” Yellow said.
“Peter,” Tarakona’s wizard said, using two hands to shake Frank’s.
“He works for Tarakona,” I said.
“Is he really a dragon?” Frank asked.
Peter nodded.
“Heh. And I thought I was cool to be a trogre.”
“Trogre?” Mrs. Yellow said. “Cute.”
“I thought Tarakona’s true nature was supposed to be a secret,” I said to Peter.
“Things are proceeding faster than we would have liked,” Peter replied. “We didn’t have time to shore up our position or the overall position of House Red. We needed an ally.”
“And you agreed?” I asked, looking at Yellow.
“Mr. Tarakona was rather persuasive,” she said.
“How?”
“Do you know who I was before the reversal, Baron?”
“Nope.”
She smiled. “Neither did anyone else. I was a secretary. A nobody. Then the shift came, and I was special. I don’t want to go back to being nothing.”
“Not exactly selfless.”
“Look who’s talking. I’ve heard of your exploits, Baron. We all have. You’re the last man on Earth who should judge others for the motivations.”
As much as I hated hearing it, she had a point. “Okay. So what does all of this have to do with me?”
“You’re the only one who can get Sandman out,” Peter said.
“Why?”
“Sandman is being held by Mr. Black. All of the locks are bound with magic.”
“Right. So?”
“Peter, we don’t have time for this,” Yellow said. “He could decide to come back.”
“Yes, you’re right, ma’am,” Peter said. He reached out and grabbed my arm. “Tarakona will do a better job of explaining than I will.”
“Hang on a second,” I said. I knew what came next. I drew in the magic and pushed it out along the ground, a thin thread spiking out to the small, dark mass in the center of the field.
Mr. Timms came running over, and I bent down and picked him up as he arrived.
“I can’t leave him behind,” I said. He was my only remaining link to Danelle. “What about my operator?”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Peter said. “You can catch up later.”
Like I had a choice, anyway.
“I have a feeling something new is about to happen,” Frank said, that undefeatable grin back on his ugly mug.
Yellow put her right hand on him, and then took Peter’s free hand in hers.
“You might get a little nauseous,” she said.
I closed my eyes tight.
24
Hot mess
I opened them one breath later, the effects of the travel barely affecting me. I had been carried around the world by Black a couple of times already, so I was an old pro. Frank? He wobbled a couple of steps before falling to his knees and spilling his lunch. His massive lunch.
“Disgusting,” I said, turning away. I was feeling my gut-wrench from my illness and use o
f magic. I had only brought two of the pills with me, and I had no idea how they would react to being out of cold storage.
“Sorry,” Frank said when he was done. “Where are we?”
“Mr. Tarakona’s home,” Peter said.
“Dragon’s Lair?” Frank said. “Will I get to meet him?”
“Yes. The Baron has made you a part of this, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m in, pal. Totally in. I haven’t had this much excitement in my whole life.”
Yellow glanced at me, her expression suggesting that his attitude was somehow my fault. I shrugged.
Peter led us from the nondescript room we had landed in through the corridors of the underground complex. My memories of my first trip here began to rematerialize as we did, the corridors jogging the nascent history that Tarakona hadn’t bothered to steal. Maybe that was what Black had thought he could take?
“How come you didn’t teleport me here the last time?” I asked. We had taken a plane, and then a car. This way was so much more convenient, if not a little disorienting.
“Because Mr. Black may have been watching. Hopefully, he was too busy regrouping to be paying attention this time.”
“Hopefully?”
“There’s no way to know for sure.”
“Was it worth the risk to bring me here?”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “Was it?”
“I didn’t ask for your help with this. Sandman didn’t even want Mr. T to know about it.”
“But he does know, and whether or not you asked for help you clearly needed it.”
I did. Unfortunately. If Tarakona had evil plans for Sandman, for whatever reason, I would have to see what I could do about that when the time came, though the answer was most likely nothing.
“This is so cool,” Frank said behind me.
We passed through the complex, finally reaching the meeting space Peter had brought me to once before. All of the lost memories of the place came flooding back as he pulled open the door, revealing the wall of glass beyond which both Tarakona and his offspring resided.
I didn’t see the elder dragon right away. As I entered the room, Ashiira rose up to the glass, putting his eye against it and squawking when he saw me.
