by Martha Carr
Peyton slid his phone out of his pocket. “My search alarm.”
“Oh. Is it that French asshole again?”
“One sec.” Peyton swiped and tapped with a teenager’s frenzy. “No, it’s not Durand.”
“Who is it then?”
“Not a hundred percent sure, but they aren’t looking for you. They’re looking for me. I’m going to have to lay more false trails. It must be my brother’s guys.” Peyton rubbed his temples. “Damn it. I must have fucked up, and someone saw me in Iowa. Shit.”
Shay shook her head. “I’m not all that happy about you wandering off to Iowa by yourself, but it’s a coincidence.”
“A coincidence?”
“Yeah. Come on, it’s not like your brother has a bunch of guys hanging out in Iowa waiting for you.”
Peyton frowned as he tapped through a few more messages. “I should grab my laptop from my car and start handling this crap.”
“Yeah, you should.” Shay shook her head. “But this only makes it clear that you need to decide, Peyton.”
“Decide what?”
Shay locked gazes with him. “You understand what’s gonna happen if your brother finds you?”
Peyton swallowed. “He’ll kill me.”
Shay shook her head. “Nah, always remember he’s too much of a pussy for that. He’s not gonna kill you. I’d have an ounce of respect for him if he had the balls to do that.” She sucked in a breath. “Instead, he’s gonna have you killed. What you need to decide is if you still want your family or if you’re done with them.”
“What are you saying, exactly?”
“I’m saying we can’t even begin to end this shit if you haven’t made up your mind about who your actual enemies are.”
Peyton heaved a sigh. “Screw the laptop. I’m going back to Warehouse Two to set up on my main computer and take care of these assholes.” He shuffled toward the door.
“Think about what I said,” Shay called. She picked up the receiver she’d been cleaning before. “In the end, this kind of shit always comes down to you or them.”
Her phone rang, and she sighed.
“What now?”
Shay pushed into the Leanan Sídhe, a frown on her face. It’d been a while since she’d last been in the pub, and her shoulders and neck tightened at the dense crowd. She wouldn’t have been surprised if some asshole strolled in someday and took a shot at the Professor and escaped because of all the drunks choking the place.
Smite-Williams always appeared at ease in the place, even trusting the owner enough to store some of his delivered artifacts for short periods. Magical defenses must have been set up that Shay couldn’t perceive.
Or maybe the old drunk just really liked the beer here.
The tomb raider maneuvered through the crowd, sparing an occasional glance toward the door. That was the other annoying part of meeting the Professor in the pub. She could almost never practice defensive seating since the man always sat in such a way where he could see the door, but her back was to it.
I swear, Professor, if I end up getting shot in the back, I’ll come back and fucking haunt you until you have to hire a witch to drive off my ghost.
The silver-haired man sat ruddy-faced in his usual booth, a happy smile plastered on his face. Father O’Banion didn’t usually come out during business, but it wouldn’t surprise Shay if he did.
She slipped into a seat across from the Professor and shrugged. “You said it was urgent, so I came.”
“Aye, Miz Carson. It’s urgent. Would you be available to leave for a job tomorrow morning? It’s in Paris.”
Shay leaned forward with a coy smile on her face. Sometimes the Professor shouldn’t have all the power.
“What if I said no?”
The Professor chuckled and took a sip of his beer. “Then you’d be throwing away millions of dollars and squandering some of my goodwill for no good reason.” He set his glass down and shrugged. “Everything is, of course, your choice, as always.”
“Not saying no, just curious about what would happen if I did.”
“I see. Do you want to hear about the job?”
Shay shrugged. “Hard to turn it down or agree to it if I don’t know what it is.”
“Aye, that it would be. Are you familiar with the Order of the Silver Griffins?”
“A little. They were supposed to patrol a lot of this magic shit back before all hell broke loose.”
The Professor gave a curt nod. “That’s a succinct way of describing things. Yes, before every random fool could wander the streets with a wand, the Order aggressively controlled unauthorized magic, including keeping many powerful artifacts stored away. They used to have a vault for magical artifacts in Chicago under the Water Tower.”
“Didn’t that place burn down twenty years ago?”
“It was destroyed, yes, but it was hardly an accident. Further details aren’t all that important right now, other than to note that among the artifacts that returned to circulation following the destruction of the Order’s vault was the Scepter of Dagobert.”
A waitress approached but turned away at the Professor’s nod.
“Scepter of Dagobert?” Shay echoed. “That used to be part of the French regalia, but it disappeared during the Revolution, right?”
The Professor nodded and gulped down some more of his favorite amber liquid. “Aye, but it’s not just a pretty stick, that’s for certain. It’s one of the oldest-known and most powerful wands.”
“But you mentioned Paris. It’s popped back up there?”
“Information has surfaced about a series of unusual occurrences on the streets of Paris, along with at least one sighting of something that resembled the Scepter. I believe that a very, very foolish witch or wizard has gotten their hands on it and are testing it out.” He chuckled. “Unfortunately for them and us, it’s too powerful. They’re likely already channeling more magical energy than can be safely handled, and the consequences and side effects might prove very severe.”
Shay frowned. “What kind of side effects?”
“The death of the wielder, for one.”
“Big deal. We wait until they finish getting off on the big wand and collect it from their corpse.” Shay shrugged.
“There’s a chance they might take Paris with them, either through direct use of the wand or a flare of magic from it.”
“Oh, yeah, that’d suck. I see your point.”
Shay might regret what she was about to say, but she also couldn’t deny its logic.
“What about bringing James in on this?”
The Professor’s brow lifted. “Calling him James now? I see.” A huge grin appeared.
Shay rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is, you’re making it sound like some idiot kid is walking around with the magical equivalent of a nuke, and you’ve talked about them wandering the streets of Paris. This isn’t a tomb raid, it’s a hunt, and he’s useful for that kind of shit on occasion.”
The Professor chuckled. “Aye, the lad is, but he also has all the subtly of a volcano.”
“Not disagreeing there, but what are you getting at?”
“I want the Scepter recovered, but I don’t want to hear on the news about a massive magical battle in Paris. Various people interested in this matter are already having a hard time keeping too much information from leaking to the media.”
Shay snorted. “Big deal. It’s not like the old days. Everyone knows about magic. Why are they bothering to cover it up?”
“Aye, everyone does know about magic, which is why the interested parties have been able to spin the individual incidents as pranks or misunderstandings. But if people realize there’s something more powerful going on, it could cause chaos. Then people will get hurt.”
“Okay, I get it.”
“Not only that, James isn’t that good at keeping a low profile. He’s famous now. If he shows up people will notice and focus on him and the info will come out, or the wielder of the Scepter of Dagobert might fee
l cornered and launch a massive surprise attack. Not only that, James would probably tell someone what he was doing if they politely inquired. You, on the other hand, are good at keeping a low profile and lying.”
“You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, Professor.”
“In this matter, Miz Carson, I can assure you that those are very positive traits. Your…background prepares you for this job in a manner that James’ doesn’t.”
Shay narrowed her eyes. She had always suspected the Professor knew about her first career and true past, but nothing would be gained by confronting him about it right now.
“I get it,” Shay replied softly. “I go to Paris. I find the witch or wizard. Take them out, and recover the wand, all while keeping it quiet. Sound about right?”
“You don’t have to kill them,” the Professor clarified. “But I’m dubious that they’ll give up such a powerful artifact willingly, so we must all do what we need to do to protect innocent people.”
“Okay, and I’m assuming I need to go sooner rather than later. Earlier you mentioned leaving in the morning?”
“Aye. Time is of the essence, Miz Carson. You’re willing to take on the job, then?”
Shay grinned. “Don’t worry, Professor—you had me at ‘millions of dollars.’”
He polished off the last of his beer. “You’ll take commercial supersonic transport to Paris, but I’ve arranged for a private plane flying from a private airstrip for your return trip. It won’t be supersonic, but this artifact is simply too powerful to risk flying around without special precautions. The arrangements I made have you flying out tomorrow morning at nine. That’ll put you in Paris by sunset.”
Shay pushed up from the table with a nod. “Then I’d better gather my shit. I’ve got a wand to find.”
10
Shay would have preferred something a little more fashionable for her trip to Paris, but holsters and knife sheaths didn’t pair well with dresses and heels. She was grateful for the unseasonably cool weather and falling night, which gave her an excuse to wear a stylish leather jacket to conceal her gear.
It was a nice jacket with killer shoulders, but it just wasn’t a nice sexy dress. Fighting in the latter might prove difficult, though.
The need for stealth also necessitated a boring choice of a blue sedan, rather than a sexy convertible like the one she’d driven during her trip to Paris to recover the Golden Owl.
If someone did take note of her, they wouldn’t see dark-haired Shay Carson, but auburn-haired photojournalist Kacy Lamont. She’d never had an opportunity to use the identity in her old killing days, even though she’d used other journalist identities.
She always found them useful. Journalists had an excuse to be wandering in strange places and asking pointed questions. Standing out didn’t make them inherently suspicious.
Shay snorted. What was she thinking? She was having fun just because of some documents, a camera, a wig, and some contacts? The job might pay well, but it was still annoying as fuck.
Hunting down a witch in the middle of a major city isn’t really my thing. If this wand is as dangerous as the Professor says, maybe I should have risked bringing James, after all.
The tomb raider sighed.
No, the Professor was right. He would have ended up doing some chest-thumping shit where he issued a public challenge, and we’d end up in some sort of battle royal with crazy local witches and wizards who wanted the wand, French cops, and who-knows-who-else, burning half of Paris down.
She loved the man, but James was a sledgehammer—and the situation called for a stiletto. Staying under the radar also meant that bringing the tachi was a no-go. She was driving for now, but she’d have to go after the wand wielder on foot once she found them and wandering the streets of Paris with a Japanese sword would attract a few eyeballs.
“Can you still hear me, Peyton?” Shay murmured into her throat mic as she entered a roundabout.
“Yeah, I can hear you. And your position from the GPS transponder is clear.”
The mic was linked to a dedicated transmitter that interfaced with a VOIP comm line, and the earpiece was all but invisible. She could wander Paris talking to herself, and almost no one would notice unless they were right next to her.
“I like this,” Peyton continued.
“Like what?”
“Riding shotgun on the mission.”
“You’re not riding shotgun. You’re thousands of miles away.”
“But I’m feeling it, you know? Controlling a drone, helping you navigate.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “If I already knew where the mark was I wouldn’t be doing this.”
“Let me have my fun. Maybe someday I’ll be hitting the streets with you.”
“Not fucking likely.”
Peyton muttered something under his breath.
“According to the follow-up info the Professor sent me,” Shay began, “our boy or girl is mostly active at night.”
“Makes sense, if they are trying things out and worried about someone coming after them.”
Shay snickered. “Someone like me?”
“Well, yeah. Though they must be getting pretty cocky to draw that much attention.”
“If someone handed you the ultimate magical tool, you’d be insufferable.”
“At least I’d look good.”
“That’s a matter of opinion.”
“You know you love my outfits.”
Shay snorted. “Only because they keep you from being naked.”
She exited the roundabout and did a quick one-handed pat-down, as if her gear might spontaneously teleport while she was driving. Pistol and mags, check. Adamantine knives, check. Low-power frequency jammer, check.
A magical lockpick would have been useful just in case, but the Professor’s insistence that she leave all but immediately had prevented her from checking in with Tubal-Cain and informing him about the gnome colony in Iowa.
I’ll worry about that after I’ve grabbed the wand. I bet it’ll blow his little gnome mind that we found his cousin so quickly.
Shay turned onto a narrow tree-lined street. It’d be so easy to take out a car with an RPG or fireball on a street like that. Every time she came to Paris, she marveled at all the wonderful ambush locations the city presented. She’d taken advantage of several in her old career.
Guess it’s a good thing they don’t know I’m coming, so I’ll be the only one getting the drop on people.
Shay slowed the car, taking in the view of a tall church in the distance. “The Professor’s incident list is from all over Paris, both tourist and non-tourist places. Our wand-wielder sure gets around.”
Peyton’s keyboard-pounding was perfectly audible over the comm. “One second,” he muttered. “Just let me re-check this list and the times of the events. Maybe I can see something you didn’t.”
“Not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.”
Shay pulled into a small parking lot outside a café and idled while she waited. A few teenagers sauntered by but didn’t even bother to glance her way.
It’s the car. It’s too damned boring. Sorry, guys.
“No pattern,” Peyton offered after a few minutes. “But some of this stuff was close together and some across town. I mean, like our wizard or witch was across town minutes after doing something.”
Shay drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Which means she’s got mobility. Flight, maybe teleportation. Fuck, super-speed walking. None of the shit the Professor told me about indicates any of that. You’d think people would notice a flying person or someone zooming through the city.”
“She might be able to turn invisible.”
The tomb raider groaned. “That would be annoying.” She glanced in the back at a box of equipment. “Don’t know if infrared on the AR goggles will spot all types of invisibility, but it’s at least worth a shot if it comes down to it.”
Peyton laughed. “I’m so damned good.”
“I think you’re getting a
little too excited about your invisibility theory.”
“No, no. Nothing to do with that. I’m monitoring all sorts of sources for strange events. Just got a hit.”
Shay pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the street. “Where and what?”
“Some chatter on social media about a ghost sighting in District One.” Peyton rattled off the address.
Shay’s heart raced, and she grinned.
Just like old times. Maybe I shouldn’t like hunting someone down so much.
“On my way.”
Shay pulled up to the address. A crowd of curious people with their phones out surrounded a floating apparition of a young girl in a raggedy dress.
The girl floated back and forth, mouthing words silently.
“Wonder if this is an actual ghost or just an illusion?” Shay mused.
“Got another hit. Police reported a woman claiming that…” He laughed.
“What?” Shay snapped.
“She claims an anvil appeared out of nowhere and fell on her car.”
“An anvil? As in a blacksmith’s anvil?”
“Yep. In District 20.” Peyton rattled off the address.
“Fuck, that’s across town.”
Peyton laughed. “You better get going, then.”
Shay stood in front of her car and stared at the huge iron anvil now embedded in the hood of the very angry woman’s car. The woman gesticulated wildly in front of a tired and confused-looking police officer. He looked like he wanted to retreat home and down a bottle of wine.
The tomb raider shook her head and slipped back into the driver’s seat of her rental.
An hour later had brought with it several more incidents. No injuries, but definite damage, including a suspicious lightning strike.
“This shit is so random,” Shay commented.
“Maybe they are just trying to see what they can do?” Peyton suggested.
“That’s assuming they are actually planning any of this, and it isn’t all weird side effects.” Shay shook her head. “But we need to get ahead of this somehow. I can’t just drive around the city all night.”
