She caught it casually and clipped it into place. Just testing.
"I'd hoped we'd put our past behind us," Callin said.
"Spare me," Annalise responded. "You've been summoning predators."
Callin's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. "How dare you say that to me!" He shouted. "To me!"
Annalise started to answer but didn't get the chance. Callin shook another red cloth from his pocket. A burning sigil rushed at us.
Annalise grabbed the lapels of Irena's coat and leaped toward the bed. As she did, she bumped me. I stumbled, off balance, directly into the path of the oncoming sigil.
It was too close. Too close. I could feel the searing heat of it. I felt myself falling forward, into the flames.
There was a wide spot in the design and I dove for it. A flash of heat ran down my arms, hair and face as I lunged. I expected to catch the edge of the design with my shirt tail, knee or shoe, making the flames wrap around me, sink into my body and destroy me.
It didn't happen. I hit the floor and tucked my head, rolling onto my back. My heels swung around and struck the floor. I'd passed through unharmed.
Callin stood over me. "Well!" he said. "No one has done that before."
A glass tumbler struck the side of Callin's head so hard that it shattered into tiny grains of glass. As they fell across my body, Callin tossed a tiny square of blue cloth toward the bed. Bolts of lightning suddenly arced across the room. One struck Annalise and blasted her against the wall.
The lightning set the bed on fire. As I watched, the flames thinned and stretched through the air as though they were traveling up a stream of lighter fluid. The fire swooped toward Callin's back and disappeared, leaving the bed sheets blackened and smoking but the flames had been extinguished.
Callin grabbed my shirt and belt and lifted me as though I weighed as much as a pillow. "Raymond, I've been searching for you everywhere. Even in the daylight." He lifted me over his head and began walking toward the balcony.
He was going to throw me over the rail.
There was no point punching or kicking him. Instead, I closed my eyes and concentrated.
"You have been severely annoying," Callin said as he strolled casually toward the doors. "I admit, I've been half-asleep these past few years; I'm ashamed of the way I let you get to my book. But that will all be over in a moment. Also, please consider my offer of employment rescinded."
I reached for the ghost knife and it sliced free of Callin's pocket. On its way to my hand, it cut a sigil on his waistcoat, then cut through the sigil on the white cloth, then finally his arm.
The strength went out of him, and he dropped me onto the carpet.
Callin staggered toward the dresser, the broken spells on his vest and white cloth sputtering out black steam. He clutched at his arm, his face pale and slack.
Without taking time to get to my feet again, I swept the ghost knife through Callin's ankle. He cried out and fell to the floor.
I jammed the ghost knife part way into his foot and began to slide it up his leg. There was no blood, of course, but the pant leg split apart like a tear-away suit.
Callin's face went blank and his eyes rolled back. I scrambled toward him so I could start cutting the spells on his waistcoat. Then, he spasmed; his arm swung out, striking me a backhanded blow on my solar plexus. There was no pain, of course, but I flew across the room and struck the wall.
I hit side-on, luckily, and didn't snap my neck. I fell half on the desk I'd jimmied open, slamming my thigh against the edge, the I hit the floor in a jumble, my ghost knife still miraculously in hand. Just the day before that swat would have crushed my rib cage, killing me on the spot. Even after being cut with my ghost knife, Callin was terrifying.
I couldn't let him recover or he was going to smear me like jelly. I scuttled toward him.
Annalise stepped over me, her clothes smoldering. She flung a pair of green ribbons at Callin which burst into green fire.
Then, suddenly, the flames became stretched out and thin, streaming over Callin's right shoulder and around to his back. His eyes came back into focus just as Annalise stomped on his chest.
The entire floor buckled and tilted. The glass doors to the balcony shattered. Bottles fell off the dresser and rolled toward the balcony.
Callin twisted onto his side and shoved Annalise away. She tripped over me and fell on her back. I scrambled to the side, not wanting to be near her if lightning bolts started up again. Could I get close enough to cut him again without taking a killing blow to my head?
Callin got to his feet like a marionette being pulled upright. He reached toward the pocket of his waistcoat and then the tip of a spear suddenly emerged from his chest.
In the corner, Irena took another harpoon from her gym bag. She laid one weak and trembling finger on a sigil just behind the spear point, and the weapon shot out of her hand, rocketing toward Callin's chest. It struck home, piercing his heart.
Callin pulled out both harpoons at once; he looked more annoyed than injured. Annalise rushed at him, and Callin swung one of the weapons at her with blinding speed.
It struck the side of her head and burst into splinters. I heard the point strike the ceiling above like a sniper's bullet. Annalise toppled to the floor and kicked at Callin's legs.
He fell onto his stomach. A third spear slammed through his kidney and wedged into the floor. Callin reached back and snatched the fourth harpoon out of the air, then flung it at Irena. She waved her hand and it halted in mid-air, dropping straight to the floor.
Callin pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, tearing the spear partially out of his body. Annalise stomped on his back, flattening him again. The floor buckled further and the harpoon shattered. The whole building seemed to shudder. The dresser toppled onto its face and pictures fell off the walls. More glass shattered somewhere. The floor beneath me went soft, as though there was nothing but carpet keeping me from falling into the suite below.
Callin tossed a blue square into the air. Lightning bolts blasted out of it, striking Annalise full in the chest. She flew off her feet and went over me, her wrist colliding hard with my right hand--and in the brief instant we touched I thought it might be a good idea to catch hold of her, and Irena's glove made that happen.
I felt myself yanked off the floor as if by a rope. Annalise went straight through the shattered balcony doors, but the sudden addition of my weight changed her trajectory. I was lifted into the air, my heels briefly losing contact with the floor, and just as I landed solidly enough that I could try to backpedal and take control of my momentum, I fell against the black cloth on the railing. I tumbled, and then there was nothing below me but open air.
Blue sky and tall buildings spun through my vision. I reached out with my left hand and touched the edge of the balcony.
The glove held the concrete. At the end of my right arm, Annalise swung out and down, making me twist over the open air. For an instant I expected her to be ripped out of my hand because there was no way I'd have the strength to hold onto her.
But I didn't need it. The glove had her and I couldn't have let go if I'd wanted to. I braced myself, trying to be ready when her momentum pulled my shoulders out of my sockets, but that didn't happen either. None of the force she exerted from the other side of the sigil was transferred to me; I couldn't feel anything except my own weight.
Annalise arced below me and slammed hard against the side of the building. It made a sickening sound, but it didn't seem to rattle her at all.
"Hold on!" she shouted up at me.
"Good plan," I said. "You always have such fantastic plans." She did a one-handed pull up from my wrist, grabbed my belt and then reached up around my neck. I could feel her weight now, and she seemed so startlingly tiny.
I let go of her wrist and gripped the ledge. I was on the wrong side of the railing and the whole balcony was cracked and tilted. It looked ready to fall into the row of Dumpsters below.
I felt Annalise's breath
against my cheek as she climbed over me. For one absurd moment I thought she was going to thank me for saving her life with a kiss, but that was ridiculous. She caught hold of the creaking rail and pulled herself up. I said: "I thought daylight would make Callin weak."
"This is Callin when he's weak." She hopped the railing and ran back to the fight.
"Okay. I'll save myself then," I pulled myself up and peeked into the bedroom. Annalise knelt beside the bed, carefully selecting ribbons from her vest. Irena crouched beside the far wall. Callin stood in the center of the room, and I was startled to realize he had no blood on his clothes anywhere. White spheres the size of small peaches circled him like satellites. Two darted at him and slammed against his back with terrifying force, shattering themselves into dust and white chunks. I recognized the sound as the impacts I'd heard while lying in the dark hallway. Where they cue balls?
Callin had to take a step to shrug off the impacts. "You should not have done this."
Irena drew a claw hammer from her bag.
My ghost knife was lying among the broken glass on the balcony. I glanced back at the fight and saw Callin lift Annalise over his head and slam her against the floor, then stomp on her.
The entire hotel seemed to shudder and the balcony suddenly lurched and gave a loud crack. I swung back and forth over the long drop, sure it was about to tear free and drop all the way down to the lot below, burying me.
The side of the building was just a few feet away; I only had to reach it. Then I could stick to it like a fly and climb back into the fight, whether the balcony fell free or not. But first I had to get away from where I was.
I tried to let go of the concrete but the glove wouldn't do it. I tugged at it, pulled at it, strained. Irena's glove stuck to the balcony like it had been welded in place.
I heard the sounds of cracking concrete, as loud as a firing squad. The balcony dropped several inches and then stopped.
"Oh, shit. Please, glove. Please please please let go."
I'd already dropped the ghost knife during the fight, and I'd let go of Annalise when she climbed over me. Why couldn't I let go of the balcony? How did the magic work?
I was too rattled to think clearly, not that I was a master of logic in quieter moments. I pulled myself up and pulled open the glove's Velcro strap with my teeth. It would be better to abandon the glove and try my luck with bare hands and the railing.
But I couldn't slip my hand out of the glove. The spell wouldn't let go of me.
The balcony tipped farther.
I was going to fall.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Something inside the suite crashed like a car wreck. The balcony lurched a little more, and the pitch was far enough that broken glass slid over the edge and fell onto my head. A moment later, Callin's black cloth, whatever it was, followed, fluttering to the asphalt below. I kept tugging at the gloves, mainly because I couldn't think of anything better to do.
I sensed the ghost knife above me and saw it slide over the edge of the balcony. It balanced on the lip for just a moment, then slowly tipped over and fell.
Without thinking, I caught it.
I'd let go of the balcony. I'd wanted to grab something else, and the glove had let go.
I rubbed the Velcro strap against my jaw, closing it, then put the ghost knife into my mouth. I rolled my lips between it and my teeth so I wouldn't bite down on it and destroy it.
I pulled myself up, then picked a spot on the railing I wanted to grab. I did. I pulled myself up again and moved my grip to the top of the rail.
I pulled myself over, feeling almost as though I might live through this whole mess. At that moment, something snapped and the balcony lurched downward.
I threw my body across the broken glass and caught hold of the metal frame of the french doors. It seemed to be on the safe side of the cracking concrete, and I caught hold and didn't let go.
The balcony didn't fall off the side of the building, but the glass I hadn't trapped with my own body fell away. It hung at nearly 90 degrees now, and I braced my foot against the side railing and pulled myself into the room.
Callin held Irena and Annalise by their throats, their feet dangling in the air. Blue lightning arced around all three of them, but only my allies seemed to be suffering the effects of it. Callin's back was turned to me, and I could see that Irena's face was slack, while Annalise was still conscious enough to be in great pain.
As an experiment, I willed Irena's gloves to attach themselves to the air. It worked. My hands were free. Maybe if I willed them to attach to nothing, I would be able to take them off; that was an experiment for later. I took the ghost knife from my mouth and lunged at Callin's Achilles tendon.
The broken floor shifted, emitting a loud crack. Callin spun and dropped Irena onto my arm, pinning me. Then he threw Annalise against the wall. She hit the floor hard and didn't look like she was going to get up again soon.
I shouldered Irena off of me and lunged at Callin, but he grabbed my wrist and dragged me off the floor. He wasn't tall enough to lift me off my feet, but he was strong enough to throw me off balance.
"And now," he said, "I'll deal with this annoying little object."
I tried to twist the ghost knife to cut his hand or wrist, but he grabbed it too quickly, pinning it between his thumb and forefinger. Once he had it, he had control of it. I couldn't pull it free or push it at him,
Callin pulled on the ghost knife, but it wouldn't come free. His brows furrowed and he pulled harder, but Irena's glove held on. I knew he had the strength to pull my hand off at the wrist, but just as the magic in the glove blocked Annalise's momentum, it blocked his strength, too.
He twisted my hand to look at the sigil on the palm of the glove. From that new position, I was able to bend the back end of the ghost knife just enough to slide the corner into the heel of his palm.
He gasped. His grip on my wrist softened enough for me to pull my hand free. I saw a momentary flicker of apology cross his expression, then it became vague again. I slashed the spell across the chest, cutting deep into his ribcage and bursting several of the designs on his waistcoat.
Callin toppled backwards onto the floor. I dropped to my knees beside him and plunged the ghost knife into his belly. Sigils burst apart. Jets of black steam shot past my face. I leaned away from them and stabbed the ghost knife into Callin's head. His eyes rolled back in his head.
My voice was harsh and low. "You are at a crossroads in your life."
But I was letting myself get clever. There wasn't enough space between winning and dying for me to gloat, and while I was distracted, Callin swung his fist at me, blindly. I rolled away, falling onto my back as the floor shattered under me.
Callin rolled the other way, away from me. What was it going to take to bring this guy down? Then I saw two green ribbons land on his body.
"NO!" It was already too late. I scrambled back as the green fire suddenly expanded around Callin's body. The flames billowed toward me like a sheet blown by the wind, but I just barely managed to retreat beyond it.
Then it did what I feared: it curled up and began to stream toward the flaring sigil on Callin's back.
He was up on one elbow, his back toward me. The green fire stretched like taffy as it streamed over his shoulder and into the sigil. Without thinking, I whipped my hand at him, throwing the ghost knife.
Like a miracle, it passed just above the streaming green fire and cut through the flaring sigil.
There was a sudden concussion, like a small bomb going off, and I nearly fell over. Then Callin screamed, and the stream of fire shot through him like a spike, erupting from his chest like water from a firehose.
It burned a hole through the bed, then through the wall beyond. Callin collapsed onto his back; the fire blasting from his chest scorched a deep gouge into the plaster wall and then punched through the ceiling into the room upstairs.
The flames suddenly grew dark and the harsh sound it made became hollow and echoing, I t
hought I heard voices inside it, whispering.
The beam of fire sputtered and went out, leaving Callin on the middle of the floor, his left arm and head hanging through a burned hole in the unsupported carpet.
Annalise took a set of shackles from Irena's bag and, after dragging Callin to an unbroken part of floor, began to clamp them around his wrists and ankles. The chains seemed too flimsy to contain a man who had smashed that harpoon into toothpicks with a single blow, but I knew it would be the sigils painted on it that would hold him, not the metal.
I got to my feet, feeling raw and exhausted. We had won, and that meant that Jon had won. Maybe now, finally, my debt would be repaid.
The only light came from the daylight streaming through the huge hole in the wall where the balcony door had once been and from the flames of the burning bed. The thick black smoke billowed through the hole in the ceiling like a smoke hole in a tent.
It was time to get out of here. I could have thrown water on the bed or something, maybe checked the room upstairs for injured people, but my instincts told me that it was long past time we got out of the building. A hotel was a trap; once the cops arrived they'd have very few exits to cover and we'd have no way to slip out unseen.
Maybe that didn't matter to Annalise. Maybe she had another grey ribbon for me to use.
I closed my eyes and reached out with my mind. The ghost knife flew into my hand. I looked it over, glad it hadn't been burned by the beam of fire, then slipped it into my pocket. My spell. My power.
The floor beneath me cracked and shifted slightly. I moved closer to the wall where the footing should have been more secure, and that brought me closer to Callin.
From out in the hall I heard someone pounding on the door to the room. Had it been going on for a while? It was possible that I'd missed it in the rush of adrenaline, but I wasn't worried about it. If Annalise and Irena were right, hotel security and the police wouldn't be able to open Callin's door; it was when the pounding stopped and they started peering down through the smoke hole that I'd get nervous.
Twenty Palaces: A Prequel Page 16
