“Lucifer said something about raising an army against him. He was not pleased.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be either,” she says, “but that Dagger is useless on this plane without the Codex Malum. Not to mention water from Styx.”
At that, I feel a small twinge of fear at the base of my spine. “What do those things look like?”
Mina gets up and moves to one of five filing cabinets that line the wall off to the left. She yanks open one of the drawers and begins to flip through papers that are stuffed in there to bursting. “Nope… Nope… Nope… Yes.”
She turns with a flourish and brandishes a black and white photograph. It shows a book the size of an encyclopedia, but with a cracked leather cover and a circular symbol branded on the front. “That’s the Codex Malum. And the water from Styx is the color of dried blood. Almost black. And it shimmers.”
“Like with sparkles?” I say, sounding ridiculous even to myself.
“Like with the salty tears of the damned,” she responds drily.
In the nine years that I’d worked for Lilah, she’d ordered me to hand-deliver the goods I’d stolen directly to her estate a handful of times, and only after I’d back-tracked and circled around and made completely sure that I hadn’t been followed. She’d brought me inside to a place she’d dubbed the Artifacts Room, which, now that I think about it, resembled Nico’s secret back room. Her display cases housed knick knacks and texts rather than weapons, though, and it seemed a bit museum-like. I had figured the few things I’d delivered there had been for her personal collection rather than resale.
Those two items are in that room. I’m certain of it.
“She has the book and the water,” I say.
Mina lets out a low whistle. “You’re certain?”
“I’m the one who stole them for her.”
“Well, that certainly makes things a bit more interesting. And by interesting I mean you’ve convinced me to help you, if only because I’m not looking to die today.”
She shuts the drawer of the cabinet with a bump of her hip and crosses the room to what looks like an old-school library card catalog.
“You’re not immortal?” Nico had said the creatures in Counterfeit City could be killed, but Mina seems special. Otherworldly even by these new standards I’m slowly growing accustomed to.
Mina sifts through the cards in the small drawer with one hand while she gives me a so-so gesture with the other. “Yes and no. Very few Counterfeits are immortal with a capital I. There are plenty of ways to take us out if you know how, and raising a demon army is right up there.”
She pulls a small index card from the drawer, snatches a pair of glasses off of the top of the cabinet, and slides them on. The lenses flash briefly as she moves to the wall with the maps, and she runs her finger along the boundary lines and checking and re-checking the index card in her hand. She is a tornado of electric energy, and I find myself feeding off of it. Getting tense and ready to take on what comes next.
She spins, whipping the glasses off, and points them at me. “You want to know where the Dagger is going to be, and when, then you’re going to do something for me.”
Just like Nico said, she delivered. I don’t like the idea of having to owe her something, but I have no choice but to agree.
I nod. “You give, I give.”
She smirks as I toss her line back at her. “Once you finish your mission from Hell, assuming you do finish your mission without any unfortunate incidents, you are going to bring me that book you stole for Lilah. The Codex Malum.”
Normally, stealing something back from Lilah would be an impossible task, not to mention a death sentence when you were caught. Seeing as how I’m planning to kill her, that shouldn’t be a problem for me anymore.
“Done,” I say.
Instead of giving the card to me, she flicks it between her fingers. “The Dagger is part of a shipment of religious relics that are arriving at the Port at about…” she checks her watch, “now.”
Anxious, I hold my hand out for the card, but she snatches it back and leans close. “Do. Not. Go. There.”
“Then how am I supposed to get it?”
“You’re good, but you’re still basically human good. There’s no way you’ll survive against the Pixies bringing in the cargo down there. Vicious bastards, they are. Wait ’till you have a few more decades under your belt for that.”
She finally hands over the card, and I frown. It’s blank.
“Yeah, you can’t see anything on there without the glasses. You just seemed like you wanted to hold something.”
I toss the card on her desk and she begins to pace. “The Dagger’s headed to the ossuary at the Eternal Cemetery on the other side of the city. That’s your best shot. But don’t go running off yet,” she says as I’m halfway out of my chair. I sink back down. “An artifact like that? You won’t be the only one looking to take it. You’ll probably still get killed. No offense. I just wanted you to know.”
“I’ve had competition on jobs before.”
“Not like this.”
She says it like it matters. Whether my adversaries are human or otherwise, it’s irrelevant. They are the obstacles that I have to get through to get the job done. Same as always.
“I’m dead either way, aren’t I?”
Mina shrugs. “Fair point. Give me a sec.”
She moves back behind the desk and picks up the receiver on an old rotary phone the likes of which I haven’t seen in decades. Dials a number. Waits. “Hi. Yeah. I need one. Yeah. And I’d better see your ass in here for a drink before the next full moon. Yeah, yeah. Later.” She drops the receiver back into the cradle and winks at me. “Your chariot awaits.”
I’m to the door and just about to step over the threshold when she calls to me. “Hey, what’s your name?”
I turn back to her, and finally get a good glimpse of her fully in her element. Maps on the walls. Cabinets stuffed full of file folders containing information she’s gathered over however many lifetimes she’s lived. Stacks of books. She is the one to know if you need to know anything. I’m certain now that the drop of blood the door took as some sort of cover payment to get in here is now filed away with every other patron that has ever graced this place. If she has my DNA, what could be the harm in giving her my name?
“Gray Carver.”
“Well, Gray Carver, you’ve certainly been thrown into the deep end here, haven’t you? Lucifer just tossing you out like that, I’m surprised you made it this far.”
“You wouldn’t be, if you knew me,” I say, and she smirks.
“I’ll tell you what,” she continues, “if you pull this off without getting killed, and you bring that book to me, I’ll give you a Counterfeit education that’ll melt your little demon mind.”
The way she looks at me when she says it, the offer seems like both a gift and a curse.
13
I manage to make it out of the park without incident. It puts me on edge. Nearly every time I’ve stepped foot outside since I was tossed into Counterfeit City, it’s been a fight for my life, or whatever life’s equivalent might be for me now, so the fact that this small part of my journey has been relatively easy has me waiting for the other supernatural shoe to drop.
I cross out of the park’s boundaries and onto a busy city sidewalk. The park sits just above midtown, and even though it must be very early morning, this is the beating heart of the city and it never slows, never quiets.
Groups of college students crawl from bar to bar. Businessmen pulling late nights at the office duck into black town cars. Tourists flock to chain restaurants. Horns honk as cabs gun their motors to try and make it through yellow lights.
From what I understand, there should be someone here waiting to whisk me away to the Eternal Cemetery, but there are no parked cars at the curb and no one idling in the street.
I don’t have time for this.
Darting through the people milling past me, I raise a hand to hail a taxi and
watch as one, two, three pass me by in quick succession.
My anger begins to rise, and then I realize my mistake: they can’t see me. I’m not part of this human world anymore.
I try to figure out my options, letting my gaze float over the throngs of people across the street who move from one destination to the next without having to worry about being literally invisible to human cab drivers.
It takes me only a handful of seconds to realize that a vaguely-familiar man is staring at me. He’s not even trying to hide it.
Well-dressed in an old-fashioned way, he’s leaning back against the glass wall of the bank across the street. People pass in front of him, going this way and that, but he never takes his eyes off of me. And what eyes they are. An old man’s eyes in a young man’s face. I am certain he has seen things that would make the people of this city tremble.
I have seen him before, last night at Bedlam, and though I didn’t know it then, I know it now: he is one of Lilah’s minions, and he is not human. He is a demon, like me.
Last night, though, when I made my last delivery to Lilah, I wasn’t dead yet. I wasn’t part of the Counterfeit City. If humans don’t normally register supernaturals, how could I have seen him?
A tall man passes in front of him, and I use that one second to duck behind a tree that’s been planted in a box on the sidewalk. They’re dotted all over the city, an attempt to beautify and introduce nature into the urban space, but right now it’s going to give me cover.
Sssssk.
Sssssk.
Sssssk.
Leaves fall down around me, and as one floats by I see a bullet hole through its center.
I’m being shot at from above.
Ducking down, I peek around the tree to try and get an angle on where the shots are coming from.
I don’t have a chance to get a good look because a black car screeches to a stop mere inches from where I’m crouched.
MERCURY CABS is slashed across the side in silver paint, and the back door swings open of its own accord.
A voice from inside calls out, “Need a ride?”
Jerking back as a bullet whizzes by my ear close enough to hear the whine, I dive into the back of the cab and yank the door shut behind me.
“Go!”
I crouch down in the black vinyl seat, underneath the ledge of the windows in an effort to conceal myself from the sniper.
Ping!
Daring a glance, I raise my head to find that a bullet has pierced the driver’s side mirror, cracking the glass and putting a hole right through the center.
I’m thrown back against the seat as the cabbie jerks the wheel and tears out into traffic, his wheels screeching. The acrid stench of burned rubber fills my nostrils.
“I should’ve known better than to take a call from Mina,” the cabbie grumbles.
His identification tag hangs from his rearview mirror. It features a picture of him mid-blink and stamped with the name Runner Six. It sways and bangs against the dash as he slides the cab between two cars in a maneuver that no human could pull off.
He flicks a gaze back at me and I’m startled to find that his irises are silver. “You’re new, then.” He knocks a knuckle against the driver’s side window. “Bulletproof.”
There’s no way I could’ve known that but I still feel stupid as I pull myself up to a proper sitting position. I peer out both sides of the cab, then turn to check behind us. “Can you get me to the Eternal Cemetery?”
I slide down the seat and hit the passenger side door as he weaves left. Passes a car. Weaves right. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
The center of the roof dents in as something lands on us from above. There’s no way I’m going to stick my head outside to check out our visitor, so I use the city to my advantage. The skyscrapers and storefronts that line the streets of midtown are all glass and chrome. Our cab is reflected on their surfaces.
So is the demon on the roof.
It’s the man I saw watching me from across the street.
Runner yanks the wheel hard to the left, trying to toss Lilah’s minion from the car, and I slam into the door.
Thk. Thk.
Tiny punctures punch down through the roof as the demon digs its claws in. A terrible shriek rings through the car as, from back to front, long, thin slices appear, letting neon light from the city pour in through the gouged metal.
Despite the chaos going on around me, I’m suddenly very aware of the dagger in my left thigh pocket. It’s grown warmer and seems to buzz against my skin through the thin fabric of my pants. I pull it out. It’s the dagger that called to me at Nicodemus’ shop, with the diamond blade and the Kira in the hilt. Once it’s in my hand the only thing I understand is that I need to use it.
The back window cracks as the demon punches it. He is inhumanly strong. Another hit and the spiderweb pattern in the glass lengthens.
Runner shoots a wild look back through the rearview mirror. Winces as the demon’s fist comes down again. A few more hits and the glass is going to shatter. He turns those silver eyes on me and there is a hysterical edge to his voice when he yells, “What did you do to piss them off?”
We sway again as he dodges another car, but not before getting close enough to the other vehicle to snap the bullet-punctured mirror from the side of his door. “Gods dammit.”
“Just keep going, I’ll handle it,” I say, and raise the diamond dagger.
The back window explodes in on me, sending shards of gummy glass flying into the cab as the demon finally demolishes the barrier between us.
This demon is too strong and too relentless. My only hope is to catch him off-guard, so instead of kicking out in an effort to knock him off the cab, I lunge across the seat and grab his arm, dragging him inside the cab. His legs hang out into the open air, but I only need his torso. I drive the blade down into his chest over and over and over.
Black blood spatters over the interior of the cab. Over the plastic partition. Over me. Over Runner, who tries to wipe the rear view mirror clean with his coat sleeve.
I shove the body back out the window and it slides off the trunk, leaving a wet smear before it tumbles into the street. A sedan rolls over it as if there’s nothing there.
“Hang on!” Runner calls from behind me, and I whip around to see a woman in the same old-fashioned style of clothing standing in the center of our lane fifteen feet ahead. Another demon. She must be, to be so bold.
Runner hits the brakes so hard he pushes himself up off of the seat.
We skid.
It’s too late.
There is no way we’ll miss her.
The demon leaps a dozen feet in the air, briefly getting lost in the twilight sky and the neon signs before she lands directly on the hood of the cab.
I go weightless as we tip forward, balancing on the front fender for a long, surreal moment. The demon daintily hops off the hood just before we go upside down and the cab falls onto its roof with a shattering of glass and a twisting of metal.
There is a terrible, muffled whining in my ears, and my body is made of pain. I call to Runner but I get no response. I am vaguely aware that cars and motorcycles driven by humans pass us by. Pedestrians walk past the blown out windows of the cab. A cyclist whizzes by, unaware of the catastrophic accident inches from his tires.
A faint cough breaks through the ringing in my ears, and I find Runner struggling to pull himself out of the broken driver’s side window. Silver blood trickles down his face and leaks from his ears.
I can’t make my body move yet, so I watch him drag himself away. He flops onto his back and groans, “My car.”
He doesn’t see her coming up next to him, the demon with long blonde hair and steel-toed boots, but I do. I try to warn him, but my throat is raw and I can’t get enough breath to speak.
She kicks him in the face once, hard, and his head snaps towards me.
I hope he is only unconscious.
She is not here for him, though.
; She is here for me.
I shove the diamond dagger back into its pocket and try to get as far from the windows as I can, but she reaches in and grabs my ankle and she is so strong. She yanks me out, dragging my body across the roof and the sharp metal cut by her compatriot’s claws and out into the street. I am covered in black blood, and I can’t tell how much of it is mine.
I blink hard, trying to focus, to get my wits about me to fight, and she finally stops pulling me, dropping my leg to the ground.
Her claws elongate. Sharpen.
In half a blink, she leaps, and it gives me a single split second to roll onto my back, kick my legs out, and launch her up and over the top of me as she’s about to drive her claws into my chest.
She hits the pavement behind me, and though my muscles are screaming and my bones feel broken I pull myself up to standing. I pull the diamond dagger just as she sprints for me. I slice down with the weapon but I am too slow and she blocks the hit, wrenching my wrist backward and sending the dagger skittering along the pavement.
Adrenaline overriding pain, I turn and wrap my arms around her neck, flipping her over and onto the ground. She sweeps out a kick, knocking me flat on my back and driving the air from my lungs.
She scrambles up my body and wraps her black-clawed hands around my throat. Her eyes flash with the colors of the neon advertisements in the heart of the city.
The dagger lies on the pavement to my left. I reach out, the edges of my vision starting to go dark. It is just out of reach.
She sees me struggle for the weapon, and she is delighted. It takes her attention away from my other hand, which is trapped behind my back, where the copper guns are hidden in my waistband.
My vision is a pinhole when I pull out the weapon, put it to the demon’s temple, and pull the trigger.
Her grip goes lax and she collapses on top of me. Struggling to suck in a breath I roll the demon’s corpse off of me as it begins to smoke and desiccate.
I would stand, but I can’t.
A shard of glass from the window of the cab is jutting from my side.
The Counterfeit City Page 7
