“They’re evil,” Ian stated with steel in his voice. “Flat out evil. He’ll turn on us when he gets the chance.”
“I don’t think so,” Sullivan said. “I’m playing a hunch.”
Ian was furious. “Your hunch strong enough to keep us from getting stabbed in the back? Strong enough to keep him from carting off whoever he wants for the Chairman’s Cogs to murder?”
“Yeah.” Sullivan folded his arms. “It is.”
Hammer surprised him by jumping in on his side. “I agree with Sullivan. Toru’s a mean one, but my Power says he’s telling the truth about this.”
“A bunch of you are of the opinion that the OCI declared war on us. Well, in my experience, you want to win a war, you don’t hold back nothing. If that means using an Iron Guard, then that’s what it means.”
Lance sure wasn’t happy about that, but he threw up his hands in disgust. “Fine. You want to play with fire, I’ve got one condition—put that Iron Guard in front, because I sure as hell ain’t turning my back on him.”
Hammer sought Sullivan out afterwards. If she was going to do this, there was no halfway about it. Helping meant being where the action is, regardless of the danger. She figured it was because she was a woman, and this was Sullivan’s misguided attempt to keep her safe, like the rules that kept her from becoming a peace officer, even though she was born with a Power that would make her perfect for that kind of work. She resented being treated like a weakling.
Sullivan was alone in one of the back rooms of the farmhouse. The Heavy had disassembled his machine gun and was cleaning it. The parts were spread all over a card table.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure,” he answered as he inspected a spring carefully. Sullivan struck her as someone with single-minded attention to detail. “Thanks for backing me up on what the Iron Guard said.”
“He was telling the truth, though I don’t think your friends believed me.”
“Most don’t.” Apparently satisfied, Sullivan put the spring back. “We’re not the most trusting bunch. Come by it honestly.” Sullivan looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to say. “But you already know that. Have a seat.”
She pulled up a stool. “I just wanted to—”
“Why do you want to help us?”
The question caught her off guard. “They’re going to kill your friend.”
“And?”
“He’s innocent!”
Sullivan nodded. “That don’t answer why you’re helping us.”
She stood up. “If you don’t want my help—”
“I didn’t say that. Sit . . . please.” The Heavy was embarrassed, so she returned to the stool. “Sorry. I meant no offense. I’m just curious.”
“Saving an innocent man isn’t enough for you?”
“In this world, innocent folks die every day. Why risk your neck to help somebody you don’t even know?”
“How’s that different than what the Grimnoir do?”
He shrugged. “You looking to join up?”
She’d never been one for causes. “Not really.”
He went back to his chore, picked up the bolt, and wiped it down with a rag while he waited for her to talk. Hammer had a feeling that if this conversation came down to a game of patience, Sullivan would win every time.
“All right. Don’t laugh. Since I was a little girl, I’ve had a dream. I’ve wanted to be a lawman.”
“Despite the fact I was a convict, I see lawman, in most cases, as a respectable profession.”
“Not for a lady it’s not. It’s a fluke or a joke when it has happened, and it doesn’t happen anymore. For me . . . well, I was raised by the best marshal there’s ever been.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I wanted to be just like him. Only thing I ever wanted to do. Catch bad men, help folks, keep the peace. I was born for it. I thought maybe working for the OCI would give me that shot. Only they’re doing terrible things, and I can’t tolerate that. Theytyrants hiding behind the law. Maybe I’m naive, but I think that the law isn’t about words on paper. It’s about doing what’s right, and the OCI is not right.”
“No argument from me . . . Garrett told me something you need to know. Helping the Grimnoir is what got your father killed.”
She was quiet for a long time. After Sullivan and Garrett’s discussion she’d figured there was some history. “He was ambushed by a gang of train robbers.”
“Led by an Active criminal. Some of our men wanted to stop them before that got out. Lee Hammer helped us. Garrett didn’t know the details, though General Pershing told him that your father died bravely. Which is why I’m not turning down your help, but I’m putting you on the other side of the river with Faye and Whisper. The Grimnoir already cost one Hammer his life. I don’t want to be responsible for another.”
“That’s . . .”
“Selfish? I suppose. I’ve led men into battle enough times to recognize our odds, and without our magic, they ain’t good.”
Even though she disagreed with his logic, she could respect how he’d come up with it. Once again, Sullivan surprised her. “I thought it was because you didn’t trust me, or maybe because I’m a woman.”
“Even Faye thinks we can trust you now, and hell, far as trust goes, I’m taking an Iron Guard along, though Brutes get a pass ’cause they can punch out elephants, so they’re handy for this sort of work. As for being a woman . . . yeah”—Sullivan looked back down at the gun parts—“That’s kind of hard to miss. You’re quite the woman.”
“Why, Mr. Sullivan.” She used the same flirtatious voice as the first time they’d met. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
She didn’t need her magic to tell that he was attracted to her. “Maybe when this is over . . .”
“For me, this will never be over.” Sullivan chuckled bitterly as he began putting the machine gun back together. “Sorry, Hammer. You’re a smart girl. In another time, another world maybe . . . Now I’m bad luck and bad news. I’ve got a tough road ahead, and it’s only going to get worse. I’ve known a lot of women, but only ever loved one. She had a dream too. Delilah just wanted a life that wasn’t awful, but I ruined that. Now she’s dead because I wasn’t good enough to save her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Naw, Hammer. No need.” When the machine gun was reassembled, he gently set it on the table and looked at her. There was far too much sadness in those eyes. “You can do a lot better than the likes of this broken-down Heavy.”
And the tragic part was that Sullivan believed that to be absolutely true.
Faye picked up the automobiles with her head map before anyone else heard them coming. The first one was easy enough to recognize. Whisper was coming back from the airfield, but she didn’t recognize the second car. She warned everyone else, grabbed one of the Tommy guns off of the big pile of guns in the kitchen, and Traveled into the bushes to wait.
The gun turned out to be unnecessary. Whisper, Mr. Browning, and Mr. Bryce got out of the first car, and the second car was filled with strangers. She Traveled over to see what was going on and caught Whisper just as she was explaining to Lance and Mr. Sullivan, who were the first ones out of the house.
“These knights are from another group, though for secrecy’s sake they are not supposed to share from where they come nor to whom they answer. Their flight arrived before Mr. Browning’s. They are here to help us.”
Suspicious, Lance studied the four men getting out of the second car. “You know that for certain?”
“Yes. I am friends with some of them, as is Ian. He can vouch for their integrity.”
Mr. Browning came over and shook Sullivan’s hand. “I too know some of these knights. They are legitimate. My request for help was acknowledged.”
“We can use them,” Sullivan said.
“It appears as if the elders felt the same way,” Whisper said with a bright smile.
“Really?” Lance was taken
aback. “I didn’t think—”
“No. Of course you didn’t think, because you were far too busy telling us how cowardly everyone else was to have time for thinking.” Whisper could be very mean while seeming perfectly charming about it. Faye marveled at how she could do that so well. “The elders know how important this is, and they do not want to see your friends perish anymore than you do.”
The others came outside. Several gun cases were removed from the trunk of the second car and stacked on the ground as introductions were made. Their leader was a thin, bespectacled man who introduced himself as Steve Diamond, Mover.
Diamond seemed too young and too soft-spoken to be the boss, and Faye figured that for sure that his name was some kind of Grimnoir alias, but she’d already learned to never underestimate any of her fellow knights. Then he proceeded to introduce his team: Dan Mottl who was an Icebox, and Adam Simmons, Torch. They all shook Faye’s hand like she was a man, and even seemed a little deferential. She wasn’t used to that, but apparently word of her exploits had spread.
The last of the new knights was an olive-skinned young man wearing a neatly trimmed beard, and a very expensive suit and silk vest. Diamond introduced that one as Nicholas Dianatkhah, which Faye thought sounded suspiciously foreign, but he talked familiar enough. In fact, he was a little too familiar, as he took Faye’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Miss Faye, the marvelous Traveler that defeated the dastardly Chairman. Your reputation precedes you, even in the distant lands I hail from . . . Though, no one told me that you would be this lovely in person.”
That made Faye blush.
“Distant lands . . . We were in Pittsburgh when we heard about the Chairman.” said Diamond, shaking his head. Apparently he was used to that kind of behavior from his companion. “Please excuse him. Dianatkhah here is a Healer.”
Even Sullivan seemed impressed by that. Healers were the rarest of the rare, and now they had two here. The elders had sure sent some powerful Actives to help them. Faye looked over at Lance, but he was still being all stuffy and grumpy. She sort of liked this Dianatkhah, as he was kind of exotically handsome, but Francis was being held prisoner, so she reminded herself to try extra hard not to be flirtatious. People might get the wrong idea.
Faye had already met the glowering Mr. Bryce, and she was interested to note that of all of them, he was the only one that did not say what his Power was. Mr. Browning didn’t seem to be in a hurry to talk about it either, so she didn’t bring it up.
“We were told Pershing’s knights could use a hand. These knights are capable.” Diamond gestured at his men. “What do you need to us to do?”
“Attack the headquarters of the secret police,” Sullivan said.
“Sounds crazy.”
“Yeah. Mostly.”
Sullivan’s words didn’t seem to bother the young Grimnoir. “George Bolander was one of ours. I’m assuming that we’re dealing with the group responsible for his death?” When Sullivan nodded, Diamond smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Wonderful! Let’s get to it then.”
While the other knights were speaking, Whisper caught Faye’s eye and motioned for her to step aside. “Take a walk with me, Faye.”
Whisper was acting funny, like she was nervous about something. Whisper picked a path toward the fields and set out, so Faye followed along. The trees along the trail were old and gnarled. They were missing their leaves now, but Faye could only imagine that in the summertime they would make for nice shade. She waited until the others were out of earshot. “What’s wrong?”
It was like Whisper didn’t want to look at her. She just kept her eyes on the path. “Have you heard of Anand Sivaram?”
“That’s an odd name.”
“He was from India. They say that he was one of the greatest Actives that has ever lived. Before he died, some said that he might have even been like unto the Chairman. They had other names for him too. The Mad Traveler, Warlock, the Spellbound . . .”
“A Traveler? Well, huh. There aren’t very many of us. Sorry, Whisper. I haven’t had time to learn much history yet.”
“Not many know of this history. It is a secret.” Whisper kicked a stone across the lane. “They do not speak of him, lest someone else would be prideful enough to delude themselves into thinking that they could succeed where even one as brilliant as Sivaram had fallen. They are scared that his form of evil could begin anew.”
“He sounds bad.”
“Oh, yes. Very. The man that raised me knows more about the Warlock than anyone else alive. Jacques Montand had to study him in order to catch him. About his strengths, his weaknesses . . . his curse . . .”
Faye was intrigued. “What curse?”
“A terrible spell, one that he created himself and carved into his own body. Awful beyond imagining. He tried to grow stronger than any man ought to, and it ruined him. It twisted his mind until he did unspeakable things.” Whisper stopped in the middle of the lane and wiped her eyes. Was she crying?
“Are you okay?”
“I am fine . . .” Whisper was lying. Faye put one hand on her arm, but Whisper jerked away. “No.” She began walking again. “Warlock was a vulture. A carrion feeder. And when that wasn’t enough, he became a predator. He killed hundreds, perhaps thousands. Men. Women. Children. Always needing more, and at a rapidly increasing rate. If he hadn’t been stopped, it would only have gotten worse.”
“Why are you telling me about this?”
“Because Jacques told me that the Warlock did not start out as a monster. He was once a kind man, motivated by pure intentions.” Whisper still had her back to her, but Faye could see that she’d extended one hand. A tiny ball of fire appeared in her open palm. She held it there, floating just above her skin. “He was innocent too, once.” Whisper laughed bitterly. “So naive. Like unto the children that he massacred.”
Faye was growing concerned. “I don’t understand.”
Whisper was letting the fire curl between her fingers. It moved like a snake as it curled around Whisper’s bare forearm. Her head was down, and Faye could see that she was shaking. “I always promised myself that if I had the opportunity to stop someone like the Warlock, I would do so without hesitation.”
“Of course you would. That’s the right thing to do. Heck, I’ve killed oodles of evil folks.”
“But what about before he turned evil? What about before he had turned to spilling innocent blood? Wouldn’t I be a fool if I lacked the courage to strike down a child if I knew that child would someday become a monster?”
“Of course not.” Now Faye was just confused. “Not unless your Power is telling the future . . . Because how would you know?”
Whisper straightened up and sniffed. The fire snake curled around her hands froze.
“I’m not one for all that philosophy and stuff some folks like to quote so they seem smart and all, but come on. I mean, you’re talking about a person, not gophers or rattlesnakes. This one’s easy. I mean, if you killed a kid just ’cause of what the kid might turn into, then you wouldn’t be any better than this Warlock fellow and all his massacring. Then who’s the real bad guy?”
Whisper stood still for a real long time. Faye hadn’t known that fire could just be still like that, but then it just sort of drifted away and disappeared into thin air. Whisper still didn’t turn around though.
Somebody shouted her name. They needed to get ready. “Sounds like we better get going.”
Whisper finally turned. “I’ll be along.” Her makeup was running. She had been crying.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Not really.” Whisper gave her a sad smile. “But I will be eventually.”
Faye just shrugged. “You can be really weird sometimes, I swear. Let’s go.”
Chapter 18
When I began my career, I was told that there was no longer a need for stage magicians in a world with real magic. Yet I knew, as everyone knows, that the easiest way to attract a crowd is to let it be known that at a given t
ime and a given place someone is going to attempt something that in the event of failure will mean sudden death. That’s what attracts us to the man who paints the flagstaff on the tall building, or to the “human fly” who scales the walls of the same building. Bury a Fade alive and there is no wonderment when he escapes, because nothing can hold a Fade. Bury a normal man, such as myself, and the crowds will gather to see if I may die. That, my friends, is showmanship.
—Harry Houdini,
Interview, 1931
Mason Island
LIGHTS COULD BE SEEN down both sides of the Potomac, but the island was only a blacker shadow on the river ahead. Luckily for them, it was a particularly dark night, moonless and cloudy. It smelled like rain. Their oars dipped quietly as Toru steered their tiny boat toward the island. Twenty feet behind, the water could be heard lapping gently against the second rowboat.
Sullivan was in the front, bullpup BAR pointed in the general direction of the island. There was a Maxim sound silencer screwed onto the muzzle. If a sentry spotted them, he’d need to shoot them down before the alarm could be raised. “Ian?”
Their Summoner was at the back of the boat, listening intently. “Molly doesn’t see anybody close to the shore,” Ian whispered. “I’ll have her go further south.”
He’d learned in the Great War that spirits were good scouts, but they often missed things. They weren’t that smart and could be easily distracted. Just because Molly didn’t see any guards . . . didn’t mean there weren’t any there. He went back to scanning the shore.
The first boat carried him, Dan, Ian, and Toru. The second held Diamond and his three knights. All of them had smeared grease on their faces and were dressed in dark, rugged clothing, from Sullivan’s beat-up dock worker’s coat and skull cap to Ian’s brown getup that was straight out of a safari outfitter’s catalog. Everyone was armed with a long gun, extra ammo, a sidearm, and other gear. Under Sullivan’s coat were three canvas BAR gunner’s belts improvised into a sort of crossed bandoleer, one over each shoulder, roped to the one around his waist, and each one was weighed down with spare magazines. That load was nothing compared to the Iron Guard though. He’d lost track of how many weapons Toru had thrown on, including that absurd spiked club riding on his back. He just hoped the Brute wasn’t overestimating how much stamina he would have once the nullifiers blocked his Power.
Spellbound: Book II of the Grimnoir Chronicles Page 35
