Cloak of Wolves

by Moeller, Jonathan

  Fourteen in the Quells’ basement, sixteen on the church steps, and six more with Warren.

  Then where the hell were the other twelve?

  I thought it over while Owen and Giles identified the dead and Alcazar tended to his wounded. An ambulance was on its way. Tyth was making a report to the High Queen of our progress. Riordan stood next to me, a wary eye on the woods as the sun went down and the sky darkened.

  And all at once I figured it out.

  “Oh,” I said. “Shit.”

  I said it over the open channel, so the clearing suddenly went quiet.

  “Mrs. MacCormac?” said Alcazar.

  “Owen, Major Giles,” I said. “Brauner’s charity dinner is a big deal, right? A lot of fancy rich people.” I suppose I was technically a rich person, but I definitely wasn’t fancy.

  “Yeah,” said Owen. “What does…”

  I saw him get it.

  “Will the dinner have a guard of Homeland Security officers?” I said.

  “It will,” said Owen, voice grim.

  “I’m calling them,” said Giles. “Right now.”

  He tried. There was no answer.

  “Okay,” I said. “I know where Warren and the other wraithwolves are. Or where they’re going to be.”

  “We’d better move,” said Owen.

  ***

  Chapter 16: Speed Limits Are For Other People

  I didn’t like working with Homeland Security, but I had made my peace with it, or at least for working with Owen Quell.

  That said, there was one big advantage to working with law enforcement.

  When you’re in a hurry, you can blast the sirens and ignore the speed limits.

  Alcazar, seven of his men, and Major Giles took two of the SUVs, and Riordan, Tyth, Owen, and I piled into the unmarked car, which fortunately had concealed sirens. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t like leaving the wounded men behind, but three of them could still walk, and someone needed to guard the Fusion devices we had taken from the dead officers.

  Besides, Warren wasn’t coming back for them.

  I knew exactly where he was going.

  “I repeat!” shouted Owen into his radio as the car roared at ninety miles an hour down the county highway, its lights flashing and siren wailing. “Terrorists have infiltrated the security detail for Arnold Brauner’s dinner and are planning an imminent attack! We need to warn them now!”

  Riordan was driving, thankfully, which let Owen shout warnings into his radio, which weren’t doing any good.

  Milwaukee’s basketball venue was named the Ducal Arena, and neither Owen nor Giles had been able to get a message to anyone there. Attempting to contact the Central Office or any of the other Homeland Security facilities in Milwaukee had gotten mixed results. I suspected that Warren might have sabotaged the Central Office’s radio dispatch system. Neither Giles nor Owen could use their radios to get through to any other officers, at least not consistently.

  I suspected that it wouldn’t matter. No one in Homeland Security had weapons that could fight the Fusion wraithwolves.

  It was up to us to keep Governor Arnold’s charity dinner from becoming a slaughterhouse.

  Given that a few weeks ago Brauner had tried to pressure me into giving up a piece of my brother’s business to him, I suppose it was funny (in a dark sort of way) that I was racing to save his life. But Brauner wasn’t the only person there. Owen had said that something like five hundred people attended this thing, maybe seven hundred and fifty, and most of them weren’t guilty of anything. Hell, a lot of people brought their kids, and like I had told Owen, people attacking kids just pissed me off.

  And I was going to take out that anger on Warren and his followers.

  “Did you try calling the Ducal Arena directly?” said Riordan. We turned a corner, and Riordan skidded around it, slowing just enough to keep from rolling the car. I was wearing my seat belt, and I was still thrown to the side, almost landing in Tyth’s lap.

  “Yeah,” said Owen, glaring at his phone. “I can’t get through. Number’s out of service, and I can’t get any of the guests. Probably a cell phone jammer. Warren put some thought into this. He wants to make sure no one can warn Brauner or the guests. If we don’t get there in time, this is going to be bad.”

  The problem was that we might not make it in time. Cedarburg wasn’t all that far from downtown Milwaukee (I think it was about twenty miles), but it was still a half-hour drive under perfect conditions. And these were far from perfect traffic conditions. It was 5:30 PM, and we were in the middle of rush hour. The sirens and lights on the SUVs and Owen’s car helped, but there were just too many damned cars.

  “I don’t suppose you could open a rift way?” said Owen.

  Tyth frowned. “To the Shadowlands? Why would that help?”

  “We crossed the Shadowlands to get from Pablo Leon’s hiding place to my house in time to stop the wraithwolves from killing my family,” said Owen.

  Tyth’s silver eyes widened. “You did that? That was, like, really dangerous!”

  “It was,” I said. “We got lucky, and we almost got eaten by anthrophages in the process. I wouldn’t have done it if there had been any other choice.” I shook my head. “But it won’t work now. I’ve never been to the Ducal Arena. We don’t have any physical objects linked to the Ducal Arena, so I can’t follow the path in the Shadowlands. If we try to get there via rift way, we’re just going to get eaten by other Shadowlands creatures.”

  Owen nodded. “I’ll keep trying to contact someone who can help.”

  “Did the High Queen respond?” I asked Tyth.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. If she’s busy with something or her attention is elsewhere, she might not notice the message. Her Majesty told me how the blood ring works. One of her own rings stores the messages from her shadow agents in sort of…telepathic voice mail, I guess. She checks it regularly, but if something is holding her attention, she won’t notice.”

  “Freeway’s coming up,” said Riordan as we followed the two SUVs onto the ramp for I-43 South. “Hold on.”

  The SUVs roared onto the interstate, and we followed.

  There were a lot of damned cars.

  “Oh, I don’t like this,” said Tyth.

  We had one advantage. There were more cars in the northbound lanes than the southbound, as commuters drove home from work in Milwaukee. But not all that many. The SUVs veered across the freeway to drive on the left shoulder, and Riordan followed them.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said to Tyth. The concrete divider between the lanes was maybe two inches outside the left window, shooting by in a gray blur. “We went to Mars together. What’s driving at ninety miles an hour on the interstate during rush hour compared to that?”

  Tyth swallowed. I got the impression she did not like cars all that much. “Well, we walked to Mars.”

  “There isn’t a single naelgoth on the freeway,” I said.

  “True,” said Tyth. “That’s very true.”

  “You went to Mars?” said Owen, glancing up from his phone. He scowled at it and punched in another number.

  “We walked to Mars,” said Tyth. “Through the Shadowlands.”

  “Wouldn’t really recommend it,” I said. “Mars is cold and full of magical traps. These nasty things called azatothi used to live there, and…”

  “I got through to someone!” said Owen, and he lifted his phone to his ear. “Yes, hello?” A short conversation followed. Owen’s tone changed halfway through, going from urgent to respectful. “Yes, thank you, my lord. Thank you. The situation is urgent. I will explain more at the Ducal Arena.”

  “Who was that?” said Riordan.

  “Lord Tyrdamar, the Baron of Wauwatosa,” said Owen. “A friend of mine is his chief of security. I got through to him, and he let me talk to the Baron. Lord Tyrdamar believed me, and he’s bringing some of his knights to the Ducal Arena.”

  “Surprised the Baron isn’t there,” said Riordan.
/>   “He doesn’t like Brauner,” said Owen, and I snorted. “But Duke Tamirlas and some of his knights will be at the dinner. They might be able to put up a fight if we get there in time to warn them.”

  That was something, at least. Tamirlas and his knights could all use magic, so hopefully, they could stop the Fusion wraithwolves. Then again, they wouldn’t be expecting trouble, and Warren and his followers might be able to surprise and kill the Elves. In fact, Warren had planned to target the Elves first to eliminate any threats.

  “Jake?” said Owen, and he spoke into his earpiece for a minute. “Uh huh. Okay, that makes sense.”

  “What is it?” I said.

  “A couple of reports came in from Cedarburg,” said Owen. “Carjackings. Warren and the survivors from the church stole vehicles. Didn’t kill anyone, at least. We could be right behind them.”

  “Okay,” I said, rubbing a hand through my hair. There were too many variables moving. Would we get to the Ducal Arena before Warren? Would Lord Tyrdamar arrive? At this time of day, it would take too long to get from Wauwatosa to downtown Milwaukee. And some of Warren’s followers were already at the Arena. They might decide to start killing before their leader arrived. Warren had cut off communications to the Arena, but he might still be able to contact his followers.

  Too many different pieces were in motion.

  I should have known. Solve a murder, the High Queen’s message had said. Simple, right? Solve a murder…and a few days later I was racing to stop insane hybrid wraithwolves from slaughtering hundreds of innocent people. How the hell did I keep getting into these situations?

  The High Queen hadn’t been kidding when she said that she wouldn’t give me the easy jobs.

  Then I saw the flashing yellow lights ahead.

  “Riordan!” I shouted.

  We were driving on the left shoulder, and ahead of us was a semi, its hazard lights flashing. It must have had engine trouble or blown a tire. The two Homeland Security SUVs had dodged it, but we were coming up fast.

  Riordan jerked the wheel hard to the right. We skidded off the shoulder and onto the left lane with a screech of overstressed rubber. I caught a brief glimpse of the truck driver, illuminated by his cab’s headlights, his mouth hanging open in surprise. We missed him by like three inches, and then we veered back onto the shoulder, still following the SUVs.

  “Holy shit,” I said. “That was a good recovery.”

  “Thanks,” grunted Riordan, watching the road. “Too bad Nora isn’t here. She loves breaking the speed limit.”

  “I really don’t like cars,” said Tyth.

  I blinked at her. “Didn’t you crash a municipal bus into a tree in front of my house?”

  “Why do you think I don’t like cars?”

  We reached downtown Milwaukee a short time later, but it felt like an eternity. It was another gray November night, with a tinge of icy mist in the air. The tall buildings of downtown glimmered like candles in the gloom, casting city glow against the cloud cover overhead. I spotted the building that held the Doyles’ condo, and I remembered the odor of blood and chemicals. Ronald Doyle had been an idiot to make a deal like that with the mysterious Mr. Hood – but he hadn’t deserved to die for it, and his family sure as hell hadn’t.

  And a lot more people might suffer those horrible deaths if we didn’t get to the Ducal Arena in time.

  I gritted my teeth and held on.

  About eight minutes later, through a combination of reckless driving, ignoring stoplights, and flagrant abuse of every traffic law in existence, we skidded to a stop in front of the Ducal Arena. It was a big building with a curved roof and walls of glass and steel and giant green banners for Milwaukee’s professional basketball team. I couldn’t remember their name off the top of my head – the Deer? The Antelopes? The Caribou? I don’t know, something with hooves, I don’t really care.

  There was valet parking in front of the building, but there were only a few cars in sight. I checked the time – 5:48 PM. Brauner’s dinner was going to start officially at 6, though this kind of event always ran a little late.

  Warren and the Fusion wraithwolves might be killing the guests even now.

  We clambered out of the vehicles. Two security guards and a uniformed valet approached.

  “Sir,” said one of the guards. “You can’t park…” His eyes widened as he saw soldiers in full tactical kit getting out of the SUVs.

  “Homeland Security,” said Owen. “This is an emergency. We need to talk to Governor Arnold and Duke Tamirlas right away.”

  “They’re in the main arena,” said the guard, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

  “Stay here and if anyone else shows up tell them to go home,” said Owen. “We…”

  His voice trailed off, and I saw two uniformed Homeland Security officers hurrying from the main doors towards us.

  “Can you tell if they’re wraithwolves?” said Giles.

  “Quick and dirty way to do it,” I said, pulling together power for a spell.

  I cast the Seal of Shadows over the two officers, the symbol of blue light appearing beneath their feet. I could have produced my aetherometer from my bag or cast the spell to detect magic, but that would take too long. This was faster, and as an added bonus, if the two officers were wraithwolves, the Seal would stun them.

  And as it happened, the officers did have Fusion devices.

  The two men froze in place and began screaming in agony. One of them, quicker on the uptake than the other, threw himself clear of the Seal and started to transform, claws sprouting from his fingers. Fortunately, Alcazar and his wizards were ready. A volley of fire and lightning ripped across the two Homeland Security officers and dropped them dead to the sidewalk.

  “Jesus Christ!” said one of the security guards.

  Owen jabbed a finger at him. “Shadowlands creatures disguised as officers are about to attack the dinner. The Wizard’s Legion is here to take care of it.” Technically true, if an oversimplification.

  “Man,” said the valet as Alcazar relieved the dead men of their Fusion devices. “This was supposed to be my night off. I knew I shouldn’t have traded shifts!”

  “The three of you stay here and keep any other guests from coming in,” said Owen. “Also, Lord Tyrdamar of Wauwatosa is arriving with reinforcements soon. When he does, send them in. Got it?”

  The three men bobbed their heads. I gave it a fifty-fifty chance that they were going to run like hell the minute we went inside. Not that I could blame them. I really wanted to run right after them.

  “All right, people, let’s move,” said Owen.

  We hurried into the lobby of the Ducal Arena. It was a big place, all polished concrete and steel, with ticket stations and a long concessions counter, currently closed. Though the neon beer signs still glowed behind the counter. Maybe basketball games were more enjoyable when you watched them while drunk. Beyond the concession counters were doors leading into the arena proper, and we jogged into it.

  The arena was a huge space, with rows of tiered seats descending to the basketball court. I remembered hearing that the arena could hold twenty thousand spectators. Brilliant lights glowed overhead, and over the center of the court hung an enormous four-sided display for showing the score and game highlights and probably beer commercials. Right now, the screens showed CONQUEST YEAR 316 THANKSGIVING CHARITY DINNER – GOVERNOR ARNOLD BRAUNER WELCOMES YOU! The screen changed to show an image of Brauner in a hard hat and an orange fluorescent vest, standing alongside a bunch of construction workers with optimistic expressions. BUILDING AFFORDABLE HOUSING FOR OUR VETERANS, the caption read. Probably a slideshow of all the various charitable things the Brauner Foundation did.

  Instead of tall men in jerseys and shorts, the basketball court currently held rows of tables covered in white cloths, fancy plates, and silverware. Hundreds of guests were seated below, men and women in black evening clothes. Under the basketball hoop on the right of the court, a small stage had been set up, and a lo
ng table faced the others. Duke Tamirlas was sitting there, along with Arnold Brauner and Martin Brauner, who was the current Governor of Wisconsin, though everyone knew that Dad really ran the show.

  There were no screams, no blood, no dead bodies, and no two-legged wraithwolves killing at random.

  We’d arrived in time.

  But how long did we have until Warren showed up and started killing?

  ***

  Chapter 17: Governor Arnold Brauner Welcomes You

  Owen looked around, trying to spot the blue uniforms of Homeland Security officers.

  He could see six of them, standing guard at the various aisles descending to the court. The Wizard’s Legion soldiers had killed two of the Fusion wraithwolves on the way in. That meant if their count was accurate, there were potentially as many as sixteen hybrid wraithwolves somewhere in the Ducal Arena.

  “Nadia,” he said. “Those six?”

  “On it,” said Nadia. She produced the bronze disk of her aetherometer from her bag, which was slung crosswise over her chest, and scowled at the dials. “Hang on…yeah. All six of them have Fusion devices. I can’t find any other ones nearby.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Sometimes the aetherometer doesn’t always detect things that I can’t physically see. The High Queen called it…”

  “Quantum uncertainty,” said Tyth. “The act of observing an object changes the object being observed. It’s sometimes a difficulty in creating powerful magical artifacts.”

  Owen had an instant to consider that hearing someone discuss quantum physics in a thick California accent was somehow surreal, and he thrust the thought of out his head.

  “Should I use the Seal of Shadows on them?” said Nadia.

  “No, not yet,” said Owen, thinking fast. “They’re spaced around the arena, see? Covering all the entry aisles. You can’t hit them all at once, and if you expose one, the others will transform and start killing. We need to get these people out of here, now, before Warren shows up.” He nodded. “I’ve got an idea. Follow me.”