Lightning Blade (Ruby Callaway Book 1)

by D. N. Erikson

  “He blew the stairs,” I said. “Recently.”

  “Guess he’ll see me coming when I shoot him in his good eye,” Roark said.

  I pushed against the blocks, but they didn’t move. There wasn’t any way for us to keep moving through the stairwell.

  “We’ll have to take the elevator,” I said.

  “It’s out.”

  “I know.” I opened the heavy metal fire door to fifteen, slipping inside a hall. Listening, I could hear nothing but the sound of my own soft breath. Red and gray wisps circled in the air, then trailed off down the corridor, like breadcrumbs leading me through the woods. “Hope you like climbing.”

  “Whatever it takes to get this bastard.” Roark pushed past me, ready to take lead.

  “Wait—”

  They warned me of death.

  I didn’t need my Realmfarer instincts for that.

  Before I could yank him back into the stairwell, bullets roared through the corridor from a rifle hidden behind a painting.

  I slammed into Roark, tackling him to the carpet. As I lay on top of him, I felt something warm and wet seeping through my shirt.

  “Are you hit?” Roark asked, once the gun ran out of munition.

  I tumbled off him, checking myself for holes.

  But it wasn’t my blood.

  It was Roark’s.

  42

  I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that the rifle wasn’t reloading to tear us both to shreds. But a quick look at the ceiling told the story: it was a simple trap, with a wire running straight to the stairwell door.

  Marshall had set the trap.

  We’d pulled the trigger by coming into the hall.

  Roark groaned as he propped himself against the wall. Blood seeped through his black polo. When he touched his fingers to the dark fabric, they came back bright red.

  “That’s not good,” Roark said.

  “You okay?”

  “Been better,” he said, his words sounding tired. His hand still gripped the pistol tightly. “Help me up.”

  “I got this.”

  “Goddamnit, Ruby, help me up.”

  Against my better judgment, I did as I was asked. He leaned heavily on my shoulder. This wasn’t beneficial for either of us, but it felt wrong leaving him behind. This was something he needed to see through.

  But there was no goddamn way he was getting up the elevator.

  “We need to head back,” I said.

  “Just reset it—”

  “We have to end this today.” I didn’t know why. Something about Xeno’s words had gotten to me. Hatred left unabated compounded at a furious rate.

  Soon enough, you had a monster too large to stop. We were right on the cusp of that. My intuition screamed that, after a day or two, we’d have what Alice Conway was worried about all those weeks ago.

  The time loop producing unchecked power.

  I moved toward the stairwell door, but Roark dug his heels into the carpet.

  “No.”

  “You’re going downstairs, you stubborn bastard.”

  “I want to look him in the eye.”

  I let Roark go, and he slumped against the wall, breathing heavily. The rips in his shirt told me he had at least two bullets in his gut. Which meant about fifteen minutes, tops. Twenty if we were lucky.

  He stumbled forward, and I caught him, easing him back to the ground.

  His sad blue eyes stared at me as I worked my hands through his pockets. I brought out his phone and placed it in his lap.

  “Make the call.”

  “Don’t do this, Ruby.”

  “Killing him ain’t gonna bring your brother back.”

  “But maybe it’ll bring me back,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve gotta try.”

  “Take it from experience,” I said, reaching into my back pocket for the list. His eyes bounced to the ragged paper, full of curiosity. “It won’t fix shit.”

  I tore it into tiny pieces, the red-stained paper fluttering to the ground around him. Then I put the phone in his hand.

  “Backup. EMTs.”

  “There’s only one thing that can save me…”

  “Yeah, and it’s the fucking Feds.” I pressed his thumb against the biometric reader, causing the device to chime.

  Reluctantly, his face growing pale, he made the call to his associates. Breathing heavily, he ended the call with a forlorn look.

  “You better not screw this up, partner.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  I went to get up, but his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist with every ounce of strength left.

  “Here.” He handed me the pistol. “Shoot him in the eyes for me.”

  “Sure thing,” I said, standing up and slipping the pistol into my jeans. “Partner.”

  Roark smiled through the pain and nodded.

  Then I walked down the hallway alone to face the necromancer.

  43

  My palms burned from the roughly wound steel elevator cable. But Pearl’s exercise regimen had served me well, allowing me to climb up the shaft and to the seventeenth floor.

  Balanced precariously on the edge, I worked my fingers through the gap in the doors, prying them open. Sweat dripped from my brow, dripping all the way down the endless shaft. My heart slammed in my ears, but it wasn’t for me or about what I’d face.

  I just hoped that backup would arrive in time to Roark.

  Getting the metal jaws open just enough to slip through, I found myself in a nicer hallway with polished bronze fixtures. The aura of death was stronger here, like a dense, foreboding fog. Pistol in my waistband, rifle held in my blistered hands, I crept down corridor.

  It wasn’t quite penthouse level, but it was close. There were only three apartments, all fairly spacious if the distance between them gave any indication of square footage. The first two doors were open, the interiors stripped down almost to the studs.

  As I walked past the bronze fixtures, I realized that Solomon Marshall must’ve spent a little of his eight year exile refurnishing this building. It had long ago been looted and picked over by anyone unfortunate enough to live in Old Phoenix.

  I raised the rifle toward the closed door at the end of the hall.

  Before I got the chance to fire, the wisps shot toward the top-right corner. I noticed the small red light of a security camera, and hit the deck just as a barrage of gunfire shredded the front door. With a well-placed shot, I managed to disable the camera, leaving Marshall blind.

  Scurrying on my stomach, I made good time down the wide hall, giving the area directly in front of Marshall’s residence a wide berth. Eventually I found myself pressed against the wall outside his door, waiting for the bullet symphony to subside.

  Marshall may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t a great shot. Hearing the pistol click empty, I rolled around and kicked the shattered door in, my own rifle raised.

  But instead of Marshall, I found myself face to face with a snarling troll. I shot it twice in the chest, but the beast threw its pistol at my head, catching me in the head. My vision blurred in and out of focus as it unleashed a fearsome roar, its long tusks and brawny muscles ready to tear me apart.

  “Well aren’t you a good looking fellow,” I said, fighting the urge to collapse. Aiming was difficult when it felt like I’d suddenly mainlined a jar of grain alcohol. I fired a few errant bursts, hitting windows and picture frames.

  A terrible stench hit me as the troll hissed, incensed by my insult. I felt the ground shake as it clambered forward, ready to relieve me of my head.

  Without any other recourse, I held down the rifle’s trigger in his general direction. The beast barreled into me, his half-ton frame throwing me back into the bullet torn hall. I hit the ground hard, my tailbone feeling it was about to shatter in h
alf.

  A second later, the troll smacked against the carpet. Brackish blood streamed from wounds in his back. Blinking to clear my head, I realized that, by some miracle, I’d hit him about a dozen times.

  All he’d really needed to do was pick up a chair and chuck it at me. Game over.

  Then again, no one would accuse trolls of being smart.

  I pushed myself up with the rifle, resting my chin on the stock as I caught my breath. Head spinning, I recovered just in time to spot the trail of a sprinting vampire.

  I yanked the pistol from my waistband and squeezed off three quick shots, turning the bloodsucker into giblets.

  Breathing heavily, I waited for more creatures to burst out from Marshall’s apartment. After a minute of inactivity, however, I found myself alone. Head pounding, but senses otherwise working correctly, I rose to my feet and slipped inside the apartment.

  A bullet glancing off a nearby light fixture made me duck into the kitchen.

  “You have a decision, Realmfarer.” Marshall let out a high-pitched laugh and shot a few more times. From the gun’s barking report, I figured it was an old school revolver. He’d rather die than use MagiTekk’s superior weaponry.

  Luckily I had no such qualms, leaving me with at least one advantage.

  I crept on my elbows through the kitchen, emerging on the opposite end, where it segued into a living space. Still no sign of Marshall. His voice told me he was further within the apartment, which was actually the size of two units put together.

  “I do not control the loop,” he said, content talking to himself. “You must consider that.”

  “I’ve heard.” And I didn’t want to consider anything but putting a bullet in his head. I wasn’t sure where that would leave me, but I knew one thing.

  It would get Marshall off our backs.

  “I can smell Colton’s blood,” the necromancer said. “All the way up here.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Or maybe I can smell it on you, Realmfarer.” There was a long pause as Marshall fiddled with his gun, reloading it with fresh rounds. I was tempted to take my shot then, but I still didn’t know the lay of the land.

  And he’d trapped us before.

  “I doubt that,” I said, bluffing.

  “I know you care for him.”

  I resisted the urge to yell you don’t know shit.

  “You should understand that I care for him as well.” The revolver’s cylinder snapped back into place. “It is unfortunate that things have turned out like this.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  I edged out of the kitchen, belly flat against the living room floor. He must’ve been hiding in the bed room. I peeked out from behind a sofa. There was a long hallway with no cover that led to the master bedroom.

  Solomon Marshall popped out and fired a few shots, his silver hair streaming down his shoulders. That wild eye burned with intense focus from behind the ski mask.

  “There you are, Ruby.”

  I hit the deck, down from the couch’s pillows raining around me.

  “It’s over, Marshall,” I called. “Unless you’re going to blow us both up again.”

  “Colton hates me,” the necromancer responded. “But it should not be so.”

  “Why don’t you tell him that yourself?”

  “I have tried, in my own way.”

  “I bet.” This standoff wasn’t working for me. I could blind fire into the bedroom, but that had too many downsides—the main one being lack of ammo. If I ran out, I was screwed.

  I slid the clip out, finding I had eight bullets.

  Better make them count.

  “Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Realmfarer.”

  “Neither is you being a prick, but you don’t see me complaining.”

  “You never wondered why I chose Colton?”

  “I figured that bullet entering your brainpan had something to do with it.”

  The necromancer snapped off a couple shots. “I am not insane.”

  “Whatever you say.” I listened for sirens or backup as my ears rang. But Old Phoenix was as silent as when we’d first arrived at the crumbling luxury apartment.

  “It was Malcolm Roark who pulled the trigger,” Marshall said. “MagiTekk’s legendary Chief of Security.”

  The disdain in his tone was hard to describe. Venomous, thick like syrup. The hatred tangible enough to descend upon the room like a noxious cloud.

  “So you killed his son and tried to kill the other.”

  “No.” Marshall almost sounded hurt. “I tried to turn them against him.”

  Suddenly, his disappointment and other strange sayings made sense. This wasn’t about killing either me or Roark—not really. If it came to that, Marshall would continue his vendetta alone from the safety of his loop.

  But, really, what he wanted was to pass the baton. To those capable of walking in the light, amongst the mortals. Where he could not freely go.

  In a way, this loop was our training ground—a test to see if someone, anyone out there could pass.

  Lucky me.

  “They’re too big, Marshall.” I gripped the gun tightly. “You lost.”

  “Stranger things have occurred, Realmfarer.” There was a cough followed by footsteps. “You have not wondered about the time loop?”

  “It crossed my mind as odd.”

  A couple more bullets that flew past, breaking pictures on the opposite wall. If I waited long enough, he would run out of bullets.

  I said, “Your sister turned you in.”

  “It was to keep her safe from Roark.”

  The word was said with surprising hatred. I understood why he used Colton to identify my partner—not to be mistaken for the elder Roark, and MagiTekk.

  “You could’ve hired a bodyguard.”

  “I do not expect her, or you, to understand. I fed her and kept her safe.”

  Catching a glimpse of a framed photo on the table—pictures of Eden and her girlfriends—I realized the depths of Marshall’s psychosis. He’d cursed his sister in her shifted state out of a warped sense of love. And then used her old apartment as a base of operations, safely away from prying eyes.

  I guess even a serial killer needed to feel like he was home.

  “You are not curious about the time loop, Realmfarer?”

  “Maybe I just don’t like hearing you talk.”

  “But this information is important.” There was a pause, punctuated by him reloading. “For it involves your noble friend.”

  “Roark?”

  “Colton is a good man,” the necromancer said. “You cannot let him die.”

  “When I was in the Underworld, the man who mentored me, made me into…this being, told me of a buried magic.” Marshall fired a few shots as he walked closer. He’d be out soon, and I could pop up and put one in his head. “An hourglass capable of looping time.”

  “Great.”

  “But one must smash it to activate it. And it is the only one of its kind. So, you see, this is our only opportunity to hide in the shadows.”

  “Who said I was hiding?”

  “If you are not strong enough to fight MagiTekk, then the loop cannot end.”

  “Why’d someone bother to save you, anyway?”

  Marshall laughed, the high pitch sounding sad. “Because the world needs people like us to fight the darkness.”

  I resisted the temptation to burst out from my hiding spot and fire. My shooting skills were better, but he’d have the drop on me.

  “You can let go,” I said, feeling the words as if I were saying them to myself, “it’s all right to let it go.”

  “Do not disappoint me, strange one.” He breathed deeply, only feet away, as if a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “You cannot embark on this journey with
out Colton.”

  For some reason, I felt like I was talking to a wise sage, instead of a deranged murderer who publicly broadcast his executions for all to see. But, then, I guess there was wisdom in everyone, if you looked hard enough.

  The mention of Roark sent my heart racing. Still no sign of backup, as far as I could tell.

  “I don’t plan on it,” I said, closing my eyes and channeling all of my intuition toward the front of my temples. The neurons buzzed with activity, simmering from the overload of energy. Settling into a meditative state, the vision took only a second and came only in a flash.

  But I saw enough to know what I had to do next.

  I mouthed words along with the necromancer as he said, “You must still prove worthy.”

  “No problem.” I reached for my boot, feeling the aura in the room shift. It was now or never. I hurled the shoe toward the kitchen, the heel bouncing off the hallway. The sound was enough for a paranoid Marshall to shoot at the paper tiger.

  Rising up, aiming down the pistol’s sights, I saw his silver-gray hair, death swirling around his head like an omnipresent plague.

  I squeezed the trigger, hitting him in the stomach. Marshall jerked backward, crashing against an antique desk a few feet away from the couch. I vaulted the tattered cushions as Marshall choked on his blood. A surprisingly placid smile spread across his face.

  “You understand what you must do.” The words came slowly, his fierce yellow eye dimming even as it refused to move from my face. The room’s aura continued to shift, the hatred drifting into the ether as if someone had cast a forgiveness spell.

  If such a thing existed, which it didn’t.

  But apparently I had the magic touch.

  “Not for you,” I said, leveling the pistol at his head.

  “MagiTekk is everywhere,” the necromancer said. The ends of his long, silver hair were stained red, strands sticking to his pale lips. “They make money from the illusion of peace.”

  “You’re not going to apologize?”

  “You must end the deception. Ruby,” He coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. “A better man than me will know what to do.”