by Hazel Hunter
Someone who controlled fire.
• • • • •
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Natalie said, but in Conleth’s voice. It boomed over the PA system, the words echoing back from all around. “Never in the history of magic had such a feat ever been attempted!”
Her transformation only needed to last a few more minutes, but she’d already broken out in a sweat. Not that the majority of the crowd could see. If she had to guess, she'd have put the number at 25,000. As twilight had approached, they'd arrived by the carloads. All along the top of Hoover Dam itself there was standing room only. But the adjoining walls of the narrow canyon were also lined with cars. The switchback roads that climbed the steep sides were packed. Even the suspension bridge in the distance was full. If Conleth had wanted the show to end all shows, he had it. He was waiting in the intake tower to take over the PA system and then make his surprise appearance.
“Lock the bag,” Natalie told her two volunteer assistants.
Strapped into the straitjacket, she sat down in the bag, and glanced at Naldo. He was in position and ready. As soon as this was over they'd head to the police station and post bail. In a way, she was glad Matteo wasn’t here to see this.
Her view disappeared as the black sack was raised over her head. The two men cinched it tight, then the lock clicked into place.
“Light the ropes!” she said in Conleth’s voice.
They’d already been treated with acetone to make sure they caught fire and stayed on fire. Though she couldn’t see it, the rumbling reaction of the crowd told her they must have lit.
On cue, the crane began to lift. With her feet in the suspension boots, all she could do was lay back. But as she did, she transformed into her own body with a sigh of relief.
• • • • •
Matteo’s mind calmed as he watched Heller open the interrogation room door.
“Sergeant,” Heller said, “escort our friend here to the holding tank.” He motioned Matteo through the door. “You can cool your heels until you feel like chatting.”
“Le vostre cose tutte hanno lor morte,” Matteo said quietly as he passed him. “It was good to know you, Mike.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Heller said, patting him on the back. “We’re not done. I’ll be seeing you later.”
Except Matteo knew he wouldn’t. Compared to the castle strongholds he’d once known, the police building was a pathetic bit of low security office space. On his way in, Matteo had automatically surveyed it for ingress and egress. The stairway was just up ahead. A uniformed officer was taking a cup of coffee from a machine in an alcove to their left. Beyond the door to the stairway, two more were in conversation. None of them would be a hinderance.
Heller had not cuffed him. Whether it was because he knew Matteo wasn’t guilty or if there was some modicum of trust, Matteo didn’t know. But he doubted the detective would ever make that mistake again.
Matteo straightened and, as he did, he threw his elbow back. It landed solidly in the middle of Heller’s face. The man didn’t even cry out. As though Matteo’s arm had ricocheted off the detective, he punched the back of the sergeant’s head. His fist landed with a thud that sent the man sprawling forward. Matteo was by him in an instant, part flight, part sprint. Before the shouts of alarm had even been raised, he was through the door and into the stairwell.
He launched, directly up the middle. Below, police stormed into the bottom floor, but Matteo was already at the top, three stories up. He swerved sideways, put his shoulder down, and smashed through the rooftop access door. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he sped horizontally across the gravel roof, hovering only inches above it. The entire area was protected by a high wall. Though Matteo doubted there were cameras in the stairwell, he was positive there’d be cameras on the rooftop. He couldn’t fly over the wall. Instead he grabbed its top, pulled himself over, and dropped down.
The parking structure was across the street, as he knew it would be. He dashed the short space to the edge of the station building and jumped. Throwing his arms and legs forward as though he were a long jumper, he sailed over the street below. Though he let his feet touch down on the asphalt roof, it was only for show. As fast as flight could take him, he swerved around the few parked cruisers and raced to the opposite side. Next came the apartment buildings they’d passed on the way to the station.
He jumped again, racing from rooftop to rooftop until he was two blocks away. He doubted the police had yet to emerge from the stairwell. As he left the last apartment rooftop, he shot upward. He had to get to the dam.
26
WHEN THE CRANE came to a stop and she swung back and forth, Natalie knew she had to be over the edge of the dam. Though she couldn’t see through the black bag, an image of the immense drop flashed in her mind. For a moment it was if she could feel the distance below her.
Fifty seconds.
The jacket was just about off. She pulled it free and let fall below her head. No sooner was she out of it, than she removed the titanium ring from her finger and released the spring shim. Although the two men who had cinched the bag closed had pulled it tight, the bunch of fabric always left a little room. She got a few fingers through the hole, grabbed the lock and brought it to the opening. She inserted the shim, but it stopped. Quickly she repositioned it and inserted it again. It stopped again.
Was it jammed?
Despite the fact that she couldn’t see it, she looked in its direction. This time when she withdrew the shim, it stuck before it finally came out. She inserted it again, this time with a little twist and shake. It got stuck again.
“What is this?” she muttered.
Though the black bag had never bothered her before, she was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. The last thing she wanted to see was the sheer drop down the face of the dam, but she needed air. The discarded jacket got in her way, tugged by gravity to the bottom of the bag. She shoved it aside with one hand, and brought the small hole of the bunched fabric to her mouth. Just as she inhaled, a sudden realization dawned.
She'd lost track of the count!
One minute and fifty seconds was all she had. The three ropes that held the metal platform for the boots would burn through in two minutes. By then she was supposed to have freed herself, shed the bag, and used the safety rope to swing free.
Using the shim, she tried to slice through the bag. But the material was too thick and quickly bent the thin piece of metal.
Although she was panting and sweating, a part of her mind was strangely cold. It told her the one thing she didn't want to hear: this wasn't going to work. Anger mixed with her rising panic.
She had let Conleth down!
But now there was no choice. She had to end this.
She inhaled to call Conleth’s name, but gagged. Flame accelerant fumes filled her nose and mouth. Had it run down the ropes? They'd never rehearsed with real fire.
“Help!” She managed to gasp. “Conleth!”
• • • • •
Jude waited for the big moment. From his spot just behind the police tape, he was seconds from the crane. He checked left and right. All eyes were on the ridiculous spectacle. The witch wasn't going to die. She wasn't even in danger, and now he would prove it—in front of everybody.
He glanced at the local news crews, their video cameras rolling. Like the rest of the crowd on the dam, they were at the front side. He edged along the black and yellow tape toward the back. Not only were there fewer people and police, it was where he needed to be, next to the cab for the crane.
He checked left and right then ducked under the tape.
“Time is almost up!” the old man announced.
The bright orange flames that had started at the top of the ropes burned along their entire length now. They fluttered almost gayly.
Jude stayed down, creeping under one of the crane’s giant stabilizing legs. He could see the back of the crane operator up in the cab. There were the rungs that led up the side of it, past the gig
antic tires. Jude inched closer.
“Can we do it?” Conleth asked.
The crowd’s murmur rumbled through the canyon.
“Can I do it?” He asked, louder. “Let me hear you!”
When the crowd roared its answer, Jude leapt. He vaulted up the few rungs and threw himself at the crane operator.
The big man had been watching with his arms folded across his chest, and had been taken completely by surprise.
“Hey!” he managed to get out, but Jude was halfway into the cab.
He hoisted himself up by pulling the man down, shoving him off the machine as hard as he could. But as soon as Jude scrambled into the empty seat and faced the controls, he realized he had absolutely no idea what to do.
He grabbed the biggest lever and slammed it down.
• • • • •
Matteo hugged the shoreline of Lake Mead. He hurtled through the air so fast that his eyelids wanted to peel back and his cheeks rippled. Water and land flew by in a blur as the low gray strip of the dam finally came into view.
Almost there!
The more the pieces had fallen into place, the faster he'd gone. He'd been a fool not to have seen it. The Truccos had been rogues but not murderers. Only one person had stood to benefit from the death of a Magus Corps officer and Natalia’s parents. It's just that he wasn't a Wiccan or a Templar.
Matteo zoomed to the very back of the dam, just above the water. Knowing that everyone would be looking at the front of the dam, he immediately shot upward. As he crested the cement railing, he slowed just to make sure. Not only was everyone’s head turned the other way, they had crowded forward. His feet settled on the top of the low cement barrier, and he paused there. It was chaos.
The enormous arm of the crane was extending. The crowd was shrieking even as they jostled one another for a better look. Over their heads, at the end of three burning ropes, was the bag that hid Natalia.
“Boss!” Naldo yelled. Matteo jumped down to the road, as Naldo shoved through the crowd. “It's taking too long.”
The crowd gasped as one of the ropes burned through, sending Natalia swinging wildly even as the crane raised her higher.
“What is that operator doing?” Naldo yelled.
To Matteo, it didn't matter. As clearly as if it had already happened, Matteo knew what he had to do. But as he took his first step, Naldo grabbed his arm.
“Boss, no! Not in front of the cameras.”
Matteo looked down at his friend. “Start your show.”
Naldo blinked, but Matteo took him by the shoulders. “Start your show.” He turned him around and pushed him back toward the crowd. “Now, Naldo. Hurry while I get Conleth!”
“Conleth?” Naldo said, glancing back. But as Matteo raced toward the intake tower, he heard Naldo somewhere behind him. “Right, Boss, right!”
• • • • •
“Conleth!” Natalie screamed, and then coughed, choking on the fuel. It smelled like gasoline, not acetone. “Conleth!”
But there was no way he could hear if she could barely hear herself. The crowd was deafening.
The crane had stopped moving, so why didn't he take off the bag? Where was she?
Suddenly she dropped, but quickly jerked to a stop. The crowd roared but this time she screamed with them. She was down to one rope.
• • • • •
Jude threw his arms in front of his face as he backpedaled. Although the crane operator was back at the controls, the few bystanders who’d rushed him weren’t done.
“Grab him!” someone yelled.
Jude tasted blood in his mouth and could barely open the one eye.
“She’s a witch!” he yelled, fending off the middle-aged man in front of him.
“Someone call the police!” a woman yelled.
“No!” Jude screamed. Hands landed on his shoulders, but he spun and blindly lashed out. “It’s not me you want! It’s her!” How could they not see it? “Fools!”
He staggered backward, gaining some distance, and smacked into the railing at the back of the dam. New assailants, a handful of young men, were advancing. Quickly he held out his hand and spat blood on the ground.
“On my blood,” Jude said, “and all that is Holy, I swear to you that woman is a witch.”
“Stay back,” said an older woman, pulling one of the men away. “He’s nuts.”
Fury and pain blended so fiercely that Jude almost leapt at her. His hands balled into fists as he came up on his toes.
“You’ll see!” he screamed, red spittle flying. “All of you will see!”
He jumped sideways and sprinted along the rail.
• • • • •
Feet barely touching the ground, Matteo zeroed in on the intake tower. Angry shouts followed in his wake as he surged through the groups of onlookers in his path. But in moments he was at the small connecting bridge.
The door to the intake tower opened and Conleth stepped out.
Just then a boom sounded from up above. The first of Naldo’s fireworks had exploded. Bathed in red light, Matteo ran and grabbed a flabbergasted Conleth.
“What are you-” the old man said.
Matteo jerked him sideways, almost folding the thin man in half.
“The final show?” Matteo growled.
He rushed the old man to the tower, flung open the door, and threw the magician to the floor. As the top hat tumbled to the ground, Matteo snatched it up, and crammed it onto his own head.
Conleth struggled to sit up. “You can't mean to–”
Matteo backhanded him—hard—and the magician slumped sideways. But before he could hit the floor, Matteo grabbed him and ripped the cape from his neck.
“The show must go on,” he said as he tied on the burgundy mantle and flew to the door.
• • • • •
Of all the ways Natalie had thought to die, it had never been like this. Never in a show. Never for the act. A strange numbness filled her, even as the fireworks that should have ended the show continued to blaze. Through the black cloth and even through her closed eyelids, they erupted in brilliant colors that were surreal.
The panic of the crowd told her that she must still be over the dam. The lopsided pressure of the boots told her that she hung at an extreme angle. It could only mean that one rope remained—and probably not for long.
As the afterglow of the last firework faded, her mother’s sad face appeared.
“Oh,” Natalie murmured. “Mama.”
Slowly her mother shook her head, as her father’s stern face appeared. Then he led her mother away.
“Don't go,” she whispered, but then Matteo appeared.
Even behind closed eyelids she began to cry. So much wasted time. If only she'd told him–
The last rope snapped.
She plummeted, almost glad for the weightlessness—until she landed with a grunt.
“I have you,” Matteo said.
“Matteo?” she gasped, trying to clutch him through the bag.
“Yes, amore mio,” he said. “I have you.”
The way the black material fluttered meant they had to be flying. But that would mean…
“Oh my god,” she cried, “what have you done?”
27
AS ANOTHER BARRAGE of fireworks exploded, Matteo kept his face down and cradled Natalia to his chest. In only seconds, he had her to the dam, then at the tower and through the door. Naldo closed the door after them.
As a bruised and astonished Conleth looked on, Matteo quickly set Natalia on the floor. He picked up the lock at the top of the bag.
“The lock is jammed,” Natalia said. “I…I couldn’t get out.”
Matteo scrunched up the fabric in two fists and pulled. It ripped down the center.
With her face shining with sweat, her eyes and nose red, Matteo had never seen a more beautiful sight. He grasped her face gently and kissed it all over.
“Amore mio,” he whispered, as she looked up at him, staring at the h
at and cape.
Naldo picked up the lock, peering into the keyhole.
“There’s something in there,” the rotund man said. He looked at Matteo. “Looks like a toothpick.”
Matteo caught movement in his peripheral vision. As he jumped to his feet, his hand flew out and latched onto Conleth’s jacket.
“Not so fast,” Matteo growled, jerking him to a stop. “You have one more performance.” He dragged him back to stand in front of Natalia, who stared up at them from the floor. “Tell her,” Matteo ordered.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Conleth said. “And I will thank you to unhand me.”
Matteo took off the top hat and thrust it on Conleth’s head.
“Then I will tell her,” he said, untying the cape. “There is not much time.” He quickly retied the material around the old man’s neck. “Conleth killed the Magus Corps officer.”
Conleth choked a little as Matteo pulled the knot tight.
“Nonsense,” he managed to say.
Naldo helped Natalia to stand. “I…I don’t understand,” she said.
“Because it’s nonsense,” Conleth replied.
Though Matteo kept hold of him, he looked at Natalia. “I think he killed your parents as well.” His eyes narrowed. “Two Wiccans, neither of whom could control fire?” He shook Conleth. “A Magus Corps officer who supposedly shot two Wiccans?” His voice grew louder. “A swan song that included the death of the only person who could reveal the secret of your performances?”
Natalia’s eyes grew wide. “My parents? But why–”
“To have you for his show,” Matteo said. “To have your singular gift.”
