Shadowstrut

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “A small flaw?” Koda asked. “How small?”

  “If they suffered catastrophic damage, they would implode.”

  “That doesn’t sound so—”

  “Swallowing everything and everyone in proximity,” Frank added, his voice grim. “Starting with the Warden wearing the bag.”

  “What the fuck?” Koda said, looking at me. “And you want this bag, why?”

  “Frank missed a few features,” I said, looking at the lizard hard. “Didn’t you, dragon?”

  “Nope, can’t say that I did,” he said, flicking his tail nervously. “Portals, containment, offense, and defense. Covered it all.”

  “I’ll take it from here, Professor Omission,” I said. “Warden bags were keyed to each warden. No two bags were the same, and you could only use your own bag. They also had the capacity to act as translators, null zones with camouflage, and signature masking.”

  “Like a cipher?” Koda asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Exactly like a cipher, just not built in like you have it,” I said. “They also—if the Night Warden was a powerful enough mage—allowed the Warden to plane-walk without casting.”

  “That does sound sweet,” Koda said. “As long as it doesn’t implode on you, you’re golden with a bag like that.”

  “One more thing,” I said, looking at Frank, who glared back. “Each bag was a repository for the spells you knew. More than that, it could store knowledge and make it accessible to the owner.”

  “How much knowledge?” Koda asked. “How many gigabytes?”

  “Gigabytes?” I asked. “This isn’t a computer. It’s a—”

  “It was the equivalent of one zettabyte of information,” Frank answered. “That’s what made it dangerous. All that information contained in one place with few fail-safes, except the warden who owned it? What do you think happened? Want to share that part, bag-boy?”

  “What happened?” Koda asked.

  “Tell her how the bags helped destroy the Wardens and cost you…everything.”

  “Grey,” Koda started. “You don’t have to…I mean if it’s that bad.”

  “No,” I said, keeping my voice steady and shoving the memories away. “He’s right, you should get the entire history.”

  “It’s okay, really.”

  “Some of the stronger, more powerful Wardens wanted more information,” I said, my voice hard. “Spells they didn’t have access to. A group of them formed, and started stealing bags.”

  “I thought you said each bag was keyed to its owner?”

  “I did.”

  “Oh…shit.”

  I nodded. “In order to get the information, they tortured the weaker wardens to force them to divulge the knowledge of each bag.”

  “Did it work?”

  “It was too much information,” I said. “The tortured wardens could barely remember their own names, much less the information in the bag.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They crossed a line that shouldn’t have been crossed,” I replied. “They used a siphon spell, one of the darkest spells known to mages, to basically ‘download’ the information directly into their own bags.”

  “That worked?” Koda said. “Damn, what the hell was wrong with them?”

  “It did,” Frank said, looking at me. “Except for one thing. The siphon worked too well. It left the subject-warden braindead. It was too much for them, and their minds broke. Another group of wardens got together to stand against the greedy fuckers. They ended up casting an entropic dissolution.”

  “That was—?”

  “Yes,” I said with a nod. “We stopped them, even though we couldn’t save or revert the tortured wardens. Then we lost control of the spell.”

  “This is why you don’t need a warden bag,” Frank said quietly. “You have your coat. What else do you need besides deep pockets?”

  “There was one more feature, but it was only a rumor,” I said. “Some of the most powerful bags, the ones with the accumulated knowledge of several wardens, began to evolve, connecting rudimentary spells into deeper unknown spells—powerful spells.”

  “What the hell do you need an evolving bag for?”

  “To deal with evolving rummers, and other creatures living in the darkness,” I said with steel lacing my words. “The Dark Council, NYTF…none of the other groups are capable or willing to meet the threat on the street. Even D13 is staying out of it.”

  “Have you tried the other Council?” Frank asked. “You may as well if you’re going to see Honor.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” I said. “They have a KOS order on me.”

  “You really do know how to make friends,” Frank said. “I may know someone who can get you a bag, or at least make the introduction.”

  “Who?”

  “Are you sure you need this bag? Notice I didn’t say want.”

  “Yes,” I said, after a moment of thought. “A warden bag would make the patrols easier. They carry everything I need and more.”

  “You sure I can’t convince you to wear a utility belt?”

  “Warden bag, lizard. Not utility belt.”

  “No need to get personal,” Frank said. “I’m just asking, and it’s a ‘no’ on the other Council?”

  “I’d rather not test if the ‘Kill on Sight’ order is still active, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Just asking.”

  I glared at him. “It’s going to be a ‘yes’ on shooting you, if you keep this up.”

  “Once I start this process, there’s no halfway, understood?”

  “Understood,” I said. “This had better not be sending me to Tessa.”

  “You’re going to wish it was at the Moving Market.”

  “Where and who?”

  “You need to go to Fordey Boutique,” Frank said. “Speak to LD and TK if you really want a warden bag. If anyone has one, it would be them.”

  “Fuck me,” I said, as Cole appeared behind the bar. “Are you serious? Fordey?”

  “The only place,” Frank said. “Still need a bag?”

  “If they have one, yes,” I said. “Find out if they really have one, and I’ll make the trip.”

  I sensed the power shift and moved to the other end of the bar.

 

  I knew Izanami would say something…it was only a matter of time.

  “Is that a real question?”

  I noticed Koda glance at Frank. “Sword?” she asked.

  Frank nodded, waving a finger in a circle near his head. “Psychosword.”

 

  She was pretty damn literal for a goddess in a sword.

  “Yes, I do,” I said. “It’s a warden bag, and I’m a Warden.”

 

  “Modest much?” I asked. “It can, and it’s an inanimate object. I don’t have to worry about it one day going on a rampage trying to devour backpacks or clutches.”

 

  “Just got the call,” Cole said, the surprise evident in his voice. “Honor will see you.”

  “If he agreed, I’d better get prepared…just in case he’s feeling nostalgic and wants to blast me. I’ll be down in ten, get ready.”

  “I was born ready,” Koda answered. “I’m waiting for you, old man.”

  “Respect your elders,” I said. “Before I jettison you out of here.”

  I headed up the stairs, and overheard Koda.

  “There’s another Council?” Koda asked, confused. “Since when?”

  “Since he became a dark mage,” Frank said. “And nearly killed everyone.”

  “What did they form, a darker Council?”

  “They created something to deal with the darkness, not embrace it,” Frank answered. “They created the Light Council.”

  FOURTEE
N

  Frank was a master of exaggeration, as usual.

  The warden bags didn’t destroy the Night Wardens. They facilitated the Night Wardens’ undoing, but they didn’t destroy them. If there was ever one event that nearly destroyed the Night Wardens, it was the Purge.

  The supernatural community had felt the Wardens were too much of an obstacle. They joined to combat their common enemy, and destroyed Shadow Helm, along with more than half of the Night Wardens, in a bloody year of warfare. I’d lost many good friends that year. We’d finally convinced the supernaturals that it was better to live with us than die by our hands, but the damage was done. The decimation of the Night Wardens forced us into the shadows.

  Soon after, the formation of the NYTF and the Dark Council made Night Wardens redundant, and they were disbanded, except for a small token force. It was after the Purge that wardens, feeling desperate, started stealing bags.

  The Light Council was not created as a response to my turning dark. It was created as a response to what happened with the warden bags. The Light Council was made up of Mages, Shapeshifters, and Archives. Their existence was less known than Division 13, which made them—for all intents and purposes—non-existent.

  That is, until you destroyed several of the treasured books in their library. Then they were very real, as was the pain they could inflict.

  Honor, who led the Light Council, happened to be a mage and an Archive. Similar to the Living Libraries, Archives could access an immense amount of knowledge.

  Unlike the Living Libraries, the Archives didn’t hold the knowledge in their minds. They managed to access the information with the assistance of a Curator, a mage who created a conduit to the knowledge.

  All of this had to occur in an actual archive building, which was full of fail-safes and deterrents against attack. This meant the archives could access knowledge on many subjects, without being in danger of being attacked or kidnapped. It was the answer to dealing with the danger the warden bags posed. It was a cumbersome and difficult process, but it worked.

  By making the access to information difficult, only the most determined magic-users went in search of it. Aside from your basic spells, and those taught to you by your sect, if you really wanted knowledge, you had to prove it.

  Now, most of the wardens were gone. I wasn’t naive enough to think I was the last warden. I was, however, the most noticeable. I wasn’t hiding. They knew where to find me. Thing was, I was the guard dog everyone hated, but they tolerated me because my presence allowed them to sleep easy at night.

  I knew some were still out there in hiding, or doing the same thing I was doing, acting alone and keeping the streets safe, but when it all eventually went to hell, they were going to be knocking on my door.

  Lyrra had managed to reduce warden numbers considerably, but I knew she didn’t get all of us. I wasn’t in a hurry to locate any of them. It wasn’t like I’d left the Night Wardens on good terms. By the end, they were comfortable with the idea of ghosting me.

  The Light Council was different.

  I actively avoided them, which would have been easier if I knew who they were. Outside of Honor and his place—Dragonflies in the Reeds, the Light Council could be anywhere or anyone. Division 13 was amateur hour compared to them. The fact that they had shapeshifters only made it harder.

  After they’d issued the kill order, I realized that actively looking for them wasn’t in my best interests. I kept away from them as best as I could, and I was sure they kept an eye on me. As long as they didn’t try to actively erase me, we were good.

  Damn, Frank was right, I really needed to work on my social skills.

  I reached the top level of The Dive, and deactivated the runes around my door. Trying to get into my room without shutting down the runes was a futile exercise, unless you were Koda, who could bypass any security measure. Between her and Frank, it was no wonder my headache never left.

  I opened my door, and another set of runes thrummed as I entered my room. It was twice the size of the entire third floor. I’d cheated by using the same runes that made the pockets of my coat larger than they actually were. I opened some of the drawers and removed items I might need.

  I placed the most important object, Ziller’s book, in the center of the pile. For a second, a utility belt didn’t sound like such a bad idea. If the book worked, I wouldn’t need half of the items. If it didn’t, I doubted how long I could hold off Honor. I placed the items in my duster and headed downstairs.

  This was turning into a long night, but I preferred not to keep Honor waiting. I was just as surprised as Cole that he’d agreed to a meet. Besides, if I needed to take a trip to Fordey, I wasn’t going to do that at night. If I tripped their security, not even my duster would survive that encounter.

  FIFTEEN

  I descended the stairs and saw them lined up against the bar.

  Mighty Sam was lamenting over the sound system about the hurt being over. That’s when I noticed the lilies. Cole, Koda, and even Frank held lilies in their hands.

  “Give our regards to Honor,” Frank said, his voice somber. “You had a good run, Grey.”

  “Cut the shit,” I barked. “You”—I pointed at Koda—“get on your bike and follow me. Frank, get me the info on Fordey and the Warden bag. Cole, check on Street, then contact Aria. Tell her I need to see her. We have a monster out there that can make worse creatures and is preying on mages…homeless mages. Get moving, people.”

  They all jumped into action. I tightened Fatebringer’s holster as I stepped outside and headed to the Beast, my senses expanding, and feeling for Darkspirit. Its darkness was a familiar sensation, as I got into the Beast and started the engine. The loud rumble was answered by the Shroud’s engine behind me.

  I looked in my rear-view mirror and saw Koda put on her kinetics and camouflage, fading from sight.

  “Make sure you don’t get hit by a truck or something,” I said, placing my hand on the dash and watching the runes pulse. “Is this still stealth running practice?”

  “Exactly,” Koda said over the comms. “If you can locate me, dinner is my treat. Now, where are we going?”

  “Downtown,” I said. “If you follow me—”

  “Never mind,” she answered quickly. “Found it. Dragonflies in the Reeds takes up half a block on Broadway from Warren to Murray. Right across from City Hall. Meet you there, old man.”

  “How did you…?”

  “Kinetics have an onboard computer with a GPS,” she said. “I just tweaked it a bit.”

  “Wait for me outside,” I warned. “Honor is expecting me. He won’t appreciate you trying to walk in uninvited.”

  “I’ll knock first,” she answered with a laugh. “If his security is anything like yours, I can get in with my eyes closed.”

  Some lessons were best experienced, not explained.

  “If you think you can bypass his security,” I said, shaking my head, “order me a coffee when you get there. Rahbi makes a mean Deathwish.”

  Dragonflies in the Reeds was located in downtown Manhattan. In addition to being a neutral location, Dragonflies—as it was known to the general population—was also the Central Archive for the supernatural community. It contained most of the rare and ancient books Aria didn’t have in the Cloisters, and some she did.

  To call it a library was inaccurate. The Central Archive was a repository of knowledge. It was also the only place outside of The Dive that served Deathwish coffee. That made my schism with Honor all the more painful, but I enjoyed breathing more than I enjoyed Deathwish, but not by much. Breathing just edged out Deathwish.

  I drove downtown, keeping the Beast reined in since traffic was light. The Central Archive, unlike The Dive, was an official neutral zone. As a neutral location, violence of any kind was strictly prohibited within the confines of its walls.

  After our conversation, Honor had implemented a one-time infraction rule. Any rule broken once could result in lethal enforcement. The thought brought a sma
ll smile to my face. Honor must have been pissed when he thought up that one. I pulled up to the front and parked the Beast, her rumble becoming a purr as I stepped out and locked the doors.

  I looked around but didn’t see the Shroud, or Koda. Her being a cipher gave her an advantage, but Honor was no ordinary mage. If anyone could sense her, it would be him. I stepped to the door and let it scan me.

  I noticed the intricate runic symbols on the doorframe. They were designed to prevent anyone from entering or exiting the Archive, if needed. The entrance I used led to the Central Archive coffee shop. If Koda made it in, I’d get my coffee right away. If she’d gotten caught, I’d still get my coffee, but then I’d get to watch her squirm and wonder how it happened. I was really hoping she’d been caught.

  The sweet smell of coffee grounds filled my lungs as the door clicked open.

  The interior of the Central Archive reminded me of a large dojo or meditation hall, with heavy Asian influences focused on empty space and wood. Several tiered levels contained rows and rows of books. The center of the floor space contained neatly arranged desks and large tables for study. On every table sat several bankers’ lamps with green glass shades.

  Most of them were off, and the desks empty. I wondered if Honor expected a repeat of my last visit and had sent everyone home. I stepped into the empty coffee area, which was situated to the rear of the main floor. Behind the counter stood Rahbi, Honor’s right-hand woman.

  If Honor was the hurricane, Rahbi was the eye in its center. She looked up, gave me a nod and a small smile.

  “On the house,” she said, placing a large mug on the counter, and pointed with her own mug behind me. “Friend of yours?”

  I stepped over to the counter and grabbed my mug of Deathwish. It wouldn’t be as potent as the javambrosia Cole created, but it would be close. I glanced at Rahbi and returned the smile. After inhaling the coffee goodness, I turned to see Koda sitting very still behind one of the desks, staring daggers in my direction. I raised my cup in her direction. The smell of cinnamon lingered around me, but I didn’t taste any in my coffee.

  “Thank you. It’s been a while,” I said, turning back to Rahbi and taking a sip. “Good to see you.”