Cloak of Dragons
Page 9
“I thought something like that might have happened,” said Riordan.
“Consequently, it’s going to be much, much easier to summon creatures from the Shadowlands,” said Robb. “It will take less magical power, and some wizards may be able to manage it with spells powered entirely by human blood.”
“A grim thought,” said Riordan. That sort of situation was rife for hideous abuse. He had seen it before in some of the Dark Ones cults he had helped shut down.
“It is,” said Robb. “And with the barrier weakened, the Dark Ones will also find it easier to reach into Earth.”
“Weren’t the Dark Ones cults destroyed in Venomhold when the Sky Hammer went off?” said Nora.
“They were,” said Robb. “Most of the Dark Ones cults sided with the Rebels and the Knight of Venomhold. However, a substantial minority did not.” Robb’s smile was thin. “It seems that Nicholas Connor’s rabid Marxism put off a good number of the cults. The Dark Ones cults of Eastern Europe and Russia, or other places that had a historical memory of Marxist regimes, were not enthusiastic about Connor’s plans for Earth after he killed the High Queen.”
Nora snorted. “So those Dark Ones cultists are fine with worshipping monsters from the Void, but they refused to work with Connor because he was a Communist?”
“People are not always consistent,” said Robb in a dry voice. “But considering what happened to Connor, his organization, and his cults, the cults that refused his offer are probably congratulating themselves on their foresight.” He took another, longer drink of his coffee. “The destruction of the Rebels, the Archons, the Knight of Venomhold, and so many of the Dark Ones cults in the space of a month has created something of a power vacuum. I fear that the Forerunner might try to take advantage of this chaos in some way. It would be best for us to get a handle on the new situation as soon as possible, rather than wait to react to whatever stratagem the Forerunner attempts next.”
“Which is why you want us to track down where Paul Ricci found his Summoning Codex,” said Riordan.
“Precisely,” said the Firstborn. “Most probably Ricci found it by accident in an attic or at an art auction somewhere. But if he didn’t, if someone is actively handing out copies of the Summoning Codex to potential wizards, then we need to put a stop to it quickly. This isn’t the only recent writ we’ve had where a human wizard was using the Summoning Codex.” Riordan nodded. “The possibility is small, but the danger is too great to be ignored.”
“Very well,” said Riordan. “We’ll start at once.”
“How will you proceed?” said Robb.
“First, I’d like to take another look at Ricci’s copy of the Summoning Codex,” said Riordan. “It might have identifying marks on it, maybe indicating where he bought it. Then we’ll examine his warehouse again and go over his financial records. Ricci had been using his company’s money to buy things he needed for his summoning circle, so it’s likely he’ll have made the original purchase of the Codex with the same funds.”
“A good plan,” said Robb. “Ricci’s copy of the Codex is in the vault. We haven’t yet destroyed the book since I thought we might need it yet. I’ll have Natalie grant you access.” He rose, signaling that the meeting was over. “If you need any assistance or additional resources, you can have them. I suspect you’ll discover that Ricci found the Codex by accident…but the potential danger is nonetheless too great to ignore.”
“I agree, sir,” said Riordan, finishing his coffee and getting to his feet.
“Nora, you’ll work with Riordan to bring this to a conclusion,” said Robb.
“No problem,” said Nora. “Riordan and I have had one or two good runs together, I think.”
“Here’s to another one,” said Robb, crossing to his desk and pressing a button on his phone.
Natalie entered the office, and the Firstborn relayed his instructions. She led Riordan and Nora through the outer office, down a corridor, and to a locked steel door. Natalia punched a code into a keypad, and a mechanism built into the wall thumped. The steel door swung open, revealing a narrow room that looked like a bank vault. Small drawers lined the walls, and a metal table ran the length of the room. This was one of the vaults the Family used to store dangerous and valuable items. Or, at least, moderately dangerous and somewhat valuable items. The Family had more secure facilities elsewhere.
Ricci’s copy of the Summoning Codex sat on the table in a clear plastic bag, a label noting its previous owner and the date of its acquisition.
“Thank you, Natalie,” said Riordan, moving to the table.
“I’ll wait outside until you’re done,” said Natalie, and she stepped into the hallway.
“So,” said Nora, crossing to the other side of the table. “What are we looking for here, boss?”
Riordan opened the plastic bag, drew out the old book, and paged through it.
He found what he sought at once.
“This,” he said, opening the front cover and turning the volume around to show Nora. A small plastic sticker waited at the top of the cover. “It’s an RFID tag. Antique dealers and retailers sometimes use them to help with inventory.” He drew out his phone, brought it out of silent mode, and opened its RFID reader app. “If we’re very lucky, we’ll get a company name and an ID number out of it. At the very least, we’ll get an ID number. Nadia said that it looked like Ricci kept good records, and if we can find the ID number in his invoices, we might be able to backtrack to where he bought the book.”
“Huh,” said Nora. “Never knew that.”
“You learn something new every day,” said Riordan. A little spinning ring appeared on his phone’s screen as it read the RFID tag.
“Gonna ask the tigress to help us with this one?” said Nora.
“Maybe,” said Riordan. He paused. “Not if I can avoid it.” Nadia had her own tasks. Russell was starting a new company from scratch, and it was a tremendous amount of work. Nadia had spent a lot of time helping him and doing work remotely with Moran Imports, and Riordan hated to take her away from that. “Only if we really need her.”
“Hmm,” said Nora.
“What?” said Riordan.
“You know, I can’t say I entirely approved of you and Nadia at first…” started Nora.
“Yes, thank you so much for the relationship advice,” said Riordan, but he didn’t put that much sarcasm into the words. Nora’s first year as a Shadow Hunter had been the last year of Riordan’s relationship with Sasha, and she had seen how that had ended.
“But then I slapped the tigress and chewed her out for abandoning you,” said Nora, “and she didn’t immediately blast a hole through my chest.”
“We were a little distracted at the time,” said Riordan. “A nuclear bomb will do that.”
“But I do think the doting husband look suits you,” said Nora.
“Doting?” said Riordan. “A horrible thing to call a man.”
She smirked. “I wouldn’t call someone like Alex Matheson doting. How long is that thing going to take?”
Riordan started to answer, and then his phone chimed.
“About that long, apparently,” he said. “Here we go. There’s an ID number and a text string attached to it.”
“What does the text string say?”
“SONGB.”
“SONGB?” said Nora, baffled. Riordan turned the screen to show her. “There it is. SONGB? It must be an acronym.”
“Could be,” said Riordan. He tapped a button to save the ID number and the text string. “Or a company name, or an inventory code, or a million other things. I can do some searches once we’re in the car.”
“I’m going to drive?” said Nora.
“There’s no point in partnering with a younger Shadow Hunter if I can’t make you drive,” said Riordan. Nora snorted and made a rude gesture. It was an old joke between them. “Besides, you like driving more than I do.”
“That’s only because I’m better at it.”
Riordan nodded
and flipped through the Codex one more time but found nothing else of use. He and Nora stepped back into the hall, and Natalie closed and locked the door behind them.
“Will there be anything else?” said Natalia.
“No, thank you,” said Riordan, thinking about the next steps.
“Good luck in the field,” said Natalie.
Nora grinned at the shorter woman. “We make our own luck.”
Natalie smiled at that and retreated to her office.
“Well, what next?” said Nora as they walked back to the lounge.
“Ricci’s warehouse,” said Riordan. “We’ll give it a once over.” He sighed. “Though I suppose it will be crawling with Homeland Security officers by now. His restaurant and residence, too.”
“Maybe not,” said Nora. “The local Homeland Security branch is still pretty overloaded from the battle.” She shrugged. “Finding four men dead might not be that big a deal. People are probably still stumbling over corpses from the battle.”
“Ghastly thought,” said Riordan. He paused at the edge of the lounge. “Give me a minute. I don’t want to disappear on Nadia.” He lifted his phone, intending to text Nadia and tell her that he might be late for their planned evening out.
But his phone chimed first, and a text message appeared. It was short and to the point, but he nonetheless felt a flicker of fear.
The High Queen had given Nadia an assignment. She didn’t sound concerned, but Riordan knew firsthand that jobs that started out innocuous could quickly become more complicated.
That was how he had met her, after all.
“Doting husband,” said Nora, and then her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Riordan. He tapped out a message telling Nadia that he would be late since he had a job as well, and then put his phone into the interior pocket of his coat. “At least so far. She has a job from her boss.” He would not speak openly of it, not even here. The High Queen was not the kind of woman who would appreciate having her secrets shared.
“Ah,” said Nora. “Guess the tigress won’t be able to help us after all. Don’t worry about her, boss. She can look after herself.”
“She can,” said Riordan. Nadia was one of the most capable people he had ever met. But she wasn’t invincible. He had seen her shot in front of him, and she had almost died when the Sky Hammer had detonated in Venomhold.
And the simple truth was that everyone was safer with someone to watch their back.
“Well.” Nora hesitated and then clapped him on the shoulder. “The sooner we find where that arse Ricci found his book, the sooner you can come home and help out the tigress.”
“That is good advice,” said Riordan. “Let’s go.”
***
Chapter 5: Dragon Bone
I rode my motorcycle across Manhattan to the John Doe Hospital.
The day had turned blustery, with sharp gusts of wind howling through the concrete canyons of the city. I was soon grateful for my heavy jacket and helmet and thick gloves. It wasn’t going to be motorcycle weather for much longer, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed riding my motorcycle, the feeling of speed and power and freedom from it. Plus, there hadn’t been much time for it lately. I had spent a big chunk of the last two years harassing Nicholas Connor’s Rebel organization across the United States, and I had lived out of my old van for most of that. The van was inconspicuous, but motorcycles were not.
So, I enjoyed the chance to ride whenever I could. Even though Manhattan wasn’t exactly the best place for a bike. The crowded streets did not leave much room for accelerating, and traffic was bad, probably because some of the damaged streets were still closed four months after the Rebel attack.
Still, I made my way across Manhattan without undue difficulty and arrived at the hospital.
The John Doe Hospital did not look like a hospital. It looked like an unobtrusive warehouse and parking garage overlooking a wharf that jutted into the Hudson River on the southwestern side of Manhattan. Of course, given how expensive Manhattan real estate was, that should have been a giveaway. Maybe back in the pre-Conquest days, there would have been an actual warehouse here, but not any longer.
But the hospital could afford it.
It was a hospital for people who wanted their injuries and wounds treated quietly, off the books, and were willing to pay for the privilege. Organized crime used the hospital a great deal. The Elven nobles usually allowed organized crime to operate so long as they kept things quiet and orderly and paid a reasonable percentage to the noble in question. Though the minute anything went wrong, the nobles employed the syndicate as a scapegoat. (Organized crime is not a life for the faint of heart.) Several other private organizations used the hospital and paid its subscription fees. The Shadow Hunters were one of them, which was why Riordan had brought me here when I was in a regenerative coma after getting shot four times in Washington DC.
Good times.
I steered into the parking ramp next to the hospital, paid the attendant, and parked my bike. After I clipped my helmet to my backpack, I walked around the block to the main entrance of the hospital, a steel door in a cinder block wall with a sign that said NO SOLICITING and THESE PREMISES ARE UNDER 24-HOUR VIDEO SURVEILLANCE.
The John Doe Hospital wasn’t the sort of place that advertised.
An intercom rested next to the door. I hit the button.
“Yes?” came a woman’s voice after a few seconds.
“I’m here to see Dr. Morgan about Max Sarkany,” I said. “He should be expecting me.”
There was a long pause. “A few moments, please.”
I waited for about five minutes. Towards the end of the fifth minute I started thinking about how I was going to break undetected when the locks clicked, and the door swung open.
A man stood just beyond the threshold, and I took an involuntary step back in alarm.
It was a Knight of the Inquisition.
The Elf was tall, with sharp, alien features, pointed ears, and dark hair. He had bright bronze-colored eyes, and he wore the crisp black uniform of a Knight of the Inquisition. The Inquisition was the High Queen’s secret police and personal enforcers, and though they focused on the Elven nobles, sometimes they dealt with troublesome humans.
Like illegal wizards.
I had just started to pull together power for a spell when I remembered that I wasn’t an illegal wizard any longer.
The Elf’s eyes narrowed, and then he nodded.
“I remember you,” he said in the Elven language. “The Worldburner, and the retainer of Lord Morvilind who accompanied him to the Mage Fall.”
God, I hated that nickname. “Do you, Lord Elf? I don’t recall where we…wait.”
Oh, hell. I remembered him now.
Right before the battle of New York had started, a pair of Inquisitors had detected the rift way Riordan and Russell and me had used to escape the Shadowlands. They had ignored our warnings about the Sky Hammer and tried to arrest us. Since Nicholas had been about to nuke New York, I had overpowered both Knights of the Inquisition, and we made our escape.
“Hi,” I said, trying to smile. “Sorry about bouncing your head off the wall and stealing your motorcycle.”
“You gave me a concussion,” said the Inquisitor. He glared at me for a moment, and then almost smiled. “But I saw that video of you and the bomb. Since you stopped the Rebels from nuking the city and saved my life in the process, I suppose I cannot be ungrateful.”
“I like to think that’s a very healthy and magnanimous attitude, Lord Elf,” I said.
The Inquisitor snorted. “I expect you will have identification.”
“Yeah.” I concentrated on the ring on my right hand. The blood ring shivered against my finger, and it projected a translucent image of the High Queen’s seal, an elaborate thing with a crowned lion and a lot of roses and swords and things.
“Very good,” said the Inquisitor. “I received orders to expect someone like you. This way, please.”
“Thank you, Lord Elf,” I said.
“Politeness does not come naturally to you, I suspect” he said, that flicker of amusement going over his alien face once again. “You may address me as Sir Vormythar, Worldburner.”
“Thanks,” I said, and we started down the corridor. He was so much taller that I kind of had to crane back my head to look at him. Why was everyone taller than me? “Uh, do you know why I’m here?”
Vormythar inclined his head. “Our sovereign has dispatched you to investigate the murder of the dragon Malthraxivorn.”
I decided to be bold. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions about that?”
“As you wish. Though I know little. I helped transport the body to this facility but have done nothing more. Soon my duties will take me elsewhere. Which is why I imagine the High Queen has dispatched you here.”
“Did you notice anything strange?” I said.
Vormythar opened the door to a stairwell at the end of the corridor and paused. I wondered why and realized that he was holding the door for me. The courtly gesture surprised me. Or maybe I was so much shorter that he figured I couldn’t get the door open. Elves sometimes have odd ideas about humans.
“The fact that Malthraxivorn was murdered at all was unusual,” said Vormythar, following me into the stairwell. “Dragons, by and large, are not violent creatures. They are immensely powerful and dangerous, but prefer to get what they want through commerce, manipulation, and proxies.”
“You don’t think another dragon murdered him?” I said as we started up the stairs.
“Likely not,” said Vormythar. “Among humans and Elves both, the normal motives for murder are money, sex, and ambition. Dragons will only fight when their spheres of influence come into conflict and they are unable to resolve the matter through their traditional methods of competition.” He shrugged. “And given their power, when two dragons fight, the resultant battle would have leveled a large portion of this city.”