Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles

by Larry Correia

  “Fine, fine . . . I would reprimand you but I fear it would do more harm than good. You’re my most effective man. I expect better from you. I’ll overlook this, but I want you to be more careful in the future. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Crow had figured he would be all right. He was an integral part of this new operation. Even before the boss had gifted him with such an epic spell, Crow had been a useful clandestine operative, going clear back to making war protestors disappear for the Wilson administration. His talents, ability to keep a secret, and complete lack of moral compunction made him a valuable asset.

  “What’s your next move?”

  “Francis Stuyvesant ran, as expected. I put two layers on him. He’s lost the first, but doesn’t suspect we’re still tracking him. We’ll see what he gets up to. Otherwise I’m prepared to begin phase two.”

  The boss stroked his mustache. “I see . . . So you plan to take them in one fell swoop?”

  “I do.”

  “Very well. Carry on and keep me apprised of your progress. Meanwhile, I have newsmen to talk to. There’s damage control to be done. Dismissed.”

  Crow rolled his chair away from the desk. “I apologize again for my behavior.”

  The boss waved him away. “No need, Mr. Crow. Epic changes take epic work and sometimes lead to epic mistakes. Once every Grimnoir is imprisoned or dead, we’ll look back on this day and laugh.”

  Fairfax County, Virginia

  TORU HAD FINALLY RELENTED to the nagging of his men and eaten. They had brought him rice and fish. Then he’d dismissed them to return to his brooding. The more that Hatori’s memories found their place and became clear, the more concerned he had become.

  The final year of Hatori’s life had been troubled. The ambassador had been privy to reports that a mere Iron Guard had not been allowed to see. The destruction of the flagship Tokugawa had come as a complete surprise. There had been no word from the Chairman. Some had begun to question . . . Was it possible that a Tesla weapon could destroy even the Chairman?

  This was a great cause for concern. There was still an organization in place, but why would an immortal need to choose a successor? Even in the council there were factions vying for different outcomes. If the Chairman was truly gone, there would be a battle between them for supremacy. The matter was discussed. Lots were drawn and sides were chosen, and for one brief instant the future of the Imperium stood balanced on the edge of chaos.

  But in the end, it had not mattered, because the Chairman had come back. Three days after the Tokugawa, he had walked right into the council chambers and taken his customary place to the right of the empty chair that was always left for the emperor, as if nothing had happened. He had gently chided his questioners for their lack of faith, but there was no doubt from his answers that he was truly the Chairman. A direct hit from the most powerful of all Tesla weapons had been but a temporary inconvenience. The Imperium had continued on its mission of purification.

  Yet a few men had retained their doubts. Hatori had been one of them. He was one of Okubo Tokugawa’s oldest friends, and something had seemed off about the returned Chairman. Their few conversations had been strange, as if the Chairman had all of the information, but was processing different conclusions from it than he had in the past. Hatori was stationed in a distant land, and thought that perhaps he had just been away from home far too long. He had never spoken about his doubts to anyone, for the good of the Imperium.

  Until the Grimnoir came, and then Hatori had been forced to face the truth. He could no longer afford to ignore what he’d secretly believed himself for some time. The danger presented by the Pathfinder was far too great. Hatori knew that he had been a coward, unable to face his doubts until it was too late.

  And now his shame had fallen onto Toru.

  The young Iron Guard had just finished his rice when the mirror flexed and the glass rippled like water. The time was at hand. He put his bowl aside, adjusted his uniform, and prepared himself. Toru was mindful of his duty in all things and despite the doubts that Master Hatori had cursed him with, Toru would conduct himself as an Iron Guard should. He went to his knees and put his head to the floor, fully expecting that his death would be ordered.

  The Chairman appeared before him. “I have heard your report, Iron Guard Toru. I am displeased that the Grimnoir escaped, but they are crafty foes. However, you did as I expected with Ambassador Hatori?”

  “No. I have failed in that as well, Chairman.”

  “I see.” He sounded very displeased. “In what manner?”

  “I was commanded not to speak with him. However, he used his Power to send information directly into my mind. He took me by surprise and I was unable to stop him. There is no excuse for my failure.”

  “What did he show you?”

  “Memories of his time with you in Dark Ocean . . .” Toru could not help himself. He glanced up in order to see the Chairman’s face. “And his more recent doubts as to whether you were really alive.”

  The Chairman gave a little smile. “And did he think me an imposter?”

  “He was unsure.”

  “A waste of a good man, demented in his old age. What of you, Iron Guard? What do you think of this tale?”

  His next few words would determine if he lived or died. “His doubts have damaged my faith, Chairman. I do not know the answer.”

  The smile died. “I see . . . You are a brave one, aren’t you, Toru?”

  “No, Chairman, but I am honest.”

  “Have you spoken of these doubts with anyone else?”

  “No.”

  There was a long, painful silence. “I am moved by your sincerity, Iron Guard. You are one of my finest warriors. You were once considered a possibility to be First Iron Guard. However, you have failed me too many times, first in Manchuria and now in America. Your martial skill is unmatched, but your spirit is weak. Some of your brethren have been dispatched from New York to assume your command. You are to remand yourself into the custody of the captain of your guard until then.”

  “Am I to die then?”

  “Yes. I give you permission to take your own life. That would be for the best. Should you not, your brothers will do it for you.”

  Toru’s ears flushed hot. The shame was greater than his fear of death. “Yes, Chairman.”

  “Farewell, Iron Guard Toru.”

  Teeth clenched so tight that his jaw ached, a sudden unexpected anger bubbled up from deep within. It was as if the spirit of Hatori was inside, shouting, demanding to be heard. “Father, wait.”

  “Yes?”

  “So that both Hatori and my spirit may go easily into death, restore my faith, that I may know it is truly you.”

  “For your courage, I grant you this last wish.”

  The real Chairman would know the words of Dark Ocean, from the time shortly after the defeat of the second Pathfinder, while they were all so devoted to taking power by any means necessary. They’d been forced to work in secret, recognizing other conspirators only through codes and tricks, often in the form of poems personally written by Okubo Tokugawa.

  “The life of an echo.

  “Perfect sky and mountain firm.

  “Fires of purity burn,”

  “On a dark ocean,” the Chairman finished automatically. “I wrote that myself, a very long time ago.”

  That was correct. “But what does it mean?”

  “I . . .” The briefest look of consternation crossed his handsome face. “It means . . .” For the briefest of instants, the Chairman looked away, thinking, and then Toru knew the truth. “We were an image of the warriors that came before, as pure as air yet unyielding as rock, together we would make the empire pure.”

  Toru touched his head to the floor. His father, the poet samurai, would never debase himself by explaining one of his poems. The poem’s meaning had to reveal itself. To explain it was to make it impure. The Chairman had told Toru that himself the very first time they’d met.

  His real fath
er was dead.

  “Thank you, Chairman. I am at peace with what I must do.”

  Prince William County, Virginia

  SULLIVAN WAS SO CLOSE that Hammer could smell him.

  Not literally. Though that certainly would’ve been a strange Power to have been born with. She’d been compared to a bloodhound a few times, thankfully for skill rather than looks, but what she did was really much different than just following a trail. As a Justice, Pemberly Hammer could see the real truth of things.

  She’d been exhausted after driving straight through from New Jersey and using her Power almost nonstop. Having picked up the spot where Sullivan had left the ambassador’s house, it had either been stop and rest or fall asleep at the wheel and crash.

  The little roadside motel was quiet by the time she woke up late in the afternoon. A few hours of sleep and a bath worked wonders for her. Soon the chase would be on again, but Hammer needed some quiet time to relax. She really didn’t want to finish this job, but didn’t see much choice in the matter.

  Luckily for her, Sullivan had tended to pick a road and stay on it. You could learn a lot about a man by observing his path. Sullivan was straightforward. When she’d first started looking for him to take the call on the spirit phone, some folks had told her that the Heavy was dumb. They’d mistaken his directness for simplicity, and they couldn’t have been more wrong.

  A few times she’d driven right past a choice that he’d made and not realized it because she was tired and giving her Power a rest. Then she’d had to backtrack and try again. It wasn’t an easy trick, but it was why she got paid the big money. Sullivan’s choices had led her to some strange places, the spot where the Bonus Army had been driven out, and then out to the country to what she’d quickly realized was an Imperium-owned compound.

  Toru Tokugawa had been remarkably truthful for an Imperial. That made her distrust him even more, especially since there was no way that he could have known that she could tell the instant he lied. She couldn’t read thoughts, though she could try to push people into spilling the truth. The man had struck her as so particularly dangerous that she hadn’t dared try. She got the distinct impression that he was someone who could take a human life as easily as a slaughterhouse butcher could plug a steer between the eyes.

  Sadly, the Jap was only the second most unnerving person she’d met in the last few days, with Crow taking the grand prize for creepiness. She’d tried to tip the scales to be absolutely certain he was telling the truth, and instead she’d found something alien. Crow was a human shell filled with something nasty, like a rotten egg that looked edible until you cracked it.

  But he also had leverage on her.

  It was difficult enough to become a real professional peace officer as a woman. If word got out about how her Power worked, then that would be the end of her dreams. Considering the level of corruption in the world right now, no real department was going to hire somebody who could sense the internal rot.

  As one who’d made a life out of figuring out the truth, being blackmailed to keep her secrets safe was particularly galling. So now she was hunting somebody who she had a distinct impression was a completely innocent man, on behalf of somebody who, near as she could figure, was completely evil. Daddy would be ashamed. He wouldn’t have let some Yankee thug bully him into dishonest work.

  Hammer sighed and got back to her job. She might not have inherited her father’s integrity, but she had certainly inherited his work ethic. Used to living on the road, packing her bags only took a few minutes. She made a little ritual of checking each of her handguns before stashing them about her person. As somebody who knew just how dishonest the world was, she never went anywhere without protection.

  There was another choice. Hammer pulled her car off to the shoulder and got out. Pretty country here, all farms, fields, and patches of trees wherever it was too bumpy to cultivate. It was greener than where she’d grown up in Texas. There was no traffic, which made her job easier. She walked to the middle of the crossroads.

  Sometimes when her quarry had to make a choice, she didn’t even have to use her Power to tell which was the true way. Some roads passed by, but there had been no real choice to make there, so her quarry had just kept on going. Sometimes she just knew, because she understood the people she was hunting. Other times, when it wasn’t clear, where there were a few possible paths, that was when her Power came in.

  Hammer slowly turned in a circle. West, south, east. She’d come from the north. She pushed her Power, and could feel it inside her chest, ready to hunt. It was like she could hear her daddy’s words, clear and true as the day he’d taught her. Know the outlaw. Know his mind. Know what he wants. Then your magic will show you the truth.

  She opened her eyes and knew that Sullivan had gone south. Hammer started walking back to her car.

  There was a sudden noise, like the rustle of a vulture’s wings.

  She turned to see a man in black standing behind her. The Bisley Colt came out of her coat in a flash.

  Crow tipped his hat in greeting. “Hammer.”

  She didn’t lower the gun. “Where’d you come from?”

  “I was born in Philly,” he lied. He saw her frown. “Just testing you. Put that away before you hurt somebody.”

  Reluctantly, Hammer lowered the revolver, though she kept it in her hand. There were no cars in view. He had come out of nowhere. How had he found her? “You scared me.”

  “That’s my job.” That time he was telling the truth.

  “Are you a Traveler or something?”

  “Or something.” Truth, and Hammer cursed herself for wasting it on a stupid question. “Your current assignment can wait. I’m assuming you can pick up the trail later.”

  Truth was harder to see, the older it got, but he didn’t need to know her limitations. “Sure.”

  “I need you to meet me at the courthouse in Alexandria. I want you to listen to something.”

  “Can’t you just tell me here and save us the trouble?”

  “I need your professional opinion. Can you tell if somebody is lying from a recording?”

  “Usually . . . How did you find me?”

  “Trade secret. Meet me there in an hour.”

  Hammer turned and gestured at her car. “How’re you—” but by the time she’d turned back, Crow had disappeared. She turned in a quick circle, but he was nowhere to be seen. Feeling stupid, she put the Colt away.

  “Well . . . Looks like I’m working for Old Scratch,” she muttered.

  Daddy would not be proud.

  The OCI agent manning the courthouse door knew right away who she was and led her to a small room by the judge’s chambers. Crow had been there waiting for her with an audio tape already threaded into a complicated player. He didn’t bother to greet her and she didn’t bother asking how he’d gotten there so quickly. There were already four fresh cigarette butts in the ashtray. “Close the door.” Crow gestured for her to pull up a chair, then he flipped a lever and started his machine.

  Hammer had to tilt her head closer to the speaker horn. She could recognize Crow’s voice. “I want to talk to you about the Grimnoir Society.”

  “I do not know this thing you speak of.”

  “Spare me the lies, Fade. I’m familiar with your little club and my assignment is to destroy it.”

  “Torture me all you want, I have nothing to say.”

  Crow turned a knob and stopped the player. “This is one of the Grimnoir we captured, a German immigrant by the name of Heinrich Koenig. He was there at the assassination attempt. The rest of his gang think he’s dead. I want you to tell me when he’s lying.” Crow turned the knob and the tape began to turn.

  Hammer listened carefully. Detecting lies was the easiest use of her Power. She’d practiced it so much that it was automatic, unconscious, and barely even drew on her supply of magic. The Grimnoir was truthful. He was scared for his friends and loyal, but she didn’t need magic to tell her that. Crow, as usual, was a bundle o
f deceit.

  “That is ridiculous. I tried to save the man, not kill him.”

  Crow’s voice came on next, but the man quickly turned the knob and stopped the tape before she could hear what he had to say in response to that. “So, professional opinion?”

  “Magic evidence isn’t admissible in court, but this man’s innocent. That’s plain as day.”

  Crow took out another cigarette and a matchbook. “I’ll pass that along.”

  “So what are you going to do with him?”

  “He’ll get a fair trial.” Another lie. Crow sighed, “All right, you got me . . . Can’t lie to a Justice . . . The German is to be executed as soon as my superiors are certain that he’s outlived his usefulness. National security matter. It’s out of my hands.” He struck a match with his thumb and lit up. He shook the match out and tossed it in a waste pail. When he returned the pack of cigarettes to his pocket, he made a big show of finding something inside. “Reminds me . . . While you’re looking for these Grimnoir, watch for these.” He produced a ring and handed it over.

  Hammer tried not to let her surprise show when the gold and obsidian ring landed in her palm. She’d seen this exact type of ring before.

  “This was found on the assassin. The German wore one of these, too. All the Grimnoir have one. Even if they don’t have it on, they’ll have it nearby. Keep an eye out for anyone wearing one of these. If they’ve got this ring, they’re the enemy.”

  Reluctantly, she gave the ring back.

  There was a hard knock on the door. “Come in,” Crow ordered.

  One of the OCI men stuck his head in. “Mr. Crow, you’ve got an important call from headquarters.”