Cursed Earth (Kat Drummond Book 12)

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  “I will, rabbi. But, for now, I need to get back to headquarters.”

  The three bid me farewell and led me back to the entrance of the synagogue, re-warding the chamber before exiting the tunnels. Treth seemed eager to be back by my side. It appeared my ghost had separation anxiety.

  As the fresh air greeted us, and the rabbis closed the door behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “What are you thinking, Kat?” Treth asked.

  “I’m thinking their ward failed, temporarily, and a mage got in. But, as they were dispelling the ward on the altar, they tripped and skinned their leg on the desk. We should really weaponise reading desks. Sharp corners.”

  Treth frowned. “That simple?”

  “Well, still need to find out which mage.”

  “What’s this about mages?” A voice belonging to someone I wanted to punch asked, as a brown-haired man with his arm in a sling stepped out from behind a wall.

  Agent Phillip Brown. The last man I wanted to see.

  Chapter 7.

  Authority

  “Agent,” I glowered, not even trying to hide my displeasure. Phillip should know exactly where I stood with him. “I see you were also caught in this midday’s festivities.”

  “I was entering the foyer as the bomb went off, Ms Drummond. Apparently, you were in the thick of it. And, without a scratch on you! But you are the Last Light, after all. Can anything kill you?”

  Despite his injury, he seemed in high spirits. But Agent Phillip Brown’s real mood was always a secret. Sincerity was anathema to him.

  I sighed. “What are you doing here, Phillip?”

  “We on a first name basis again, Kat?”

  “We never were. Brown is just a colour, not a name. What are you doing here?”

  “I ask you the same question. Your parents were Catholic. And you don’t strike me as the type to become a born-again Jew.”

  “Last I checked, my religious views were none of your business.”

  “You’re Hope City’s biggest asset! Of course your views, political, religious, social, and even your favourite flavour of ice cream, is my business. So, tell me, what are you doing visiting the golemancers of Hope City?”

  His self-assured smile didn’t drop, but there was an unmistakable level of frustration in his voice. Like that of an adult scolding an unruly child. He believed it should be self-evident that my every preference be his concern. Right to privacy be damned.

  I gritted my teeth, fighting off a retort that I might regret. Oh, how I wanted to punch this man again!

  “An exorcism,” Treth reminded me, seeing that I was losing my cool. I slowly unclenched my fists.

  “The rabbis hired me to help with an exorcism. A complex one.”

  “I didn’t take you for an exorcist, Kat. It’s far too…slow.”

  “My first job for Conrad Khoi was an exorcism. Thought you’d know that.”

  He shrugged. “Seems that I don’t know everything. I should request a demotion.”

  “Now, your turn, Phillip. What are you doing here? I don’t see a kippah.”

  He nodded towards the street by way of reply. A black car, with fully blacked out windows, was parked just outside the synagogue.

  “My aunt told me to never get into cars with strangers.”

  “Cute. But we aren’t children here, Kat. No matter how much you like to hide behind your youth. There’s someone in the car eager to speak with you. I suggest you don’t keep them waiting.”

  “Are you head of my fan club now?” I jabbed, ignoring his initial insult. “Organising fan meets? I’m busy, agent.”

  I started walking towards my bike. Phillip stepped in front of me.

  “You will want to see who it is, Kat. It will only take a moment.”

  I expelled an exasperated sigh. I wanted him to know the extent of my displeasure. I wasn’t scared of abduction, of course. Even if they somehow knocked me out, Treth would protect me. And they wouldn’t try. I just didn’t want to waste time on Phillip’s games. I had a golem script to track down and a Necro Lord to slay.

  I reluctantly followed the agent to the black car. I noted that there were no other cars in the quiet street. Old Town seemed mournful after the terrorist attack.

  Phillip tapped on the blacked-out window three times in a sort of pattern. Slowly, it opened.

  “Hello, Drummond,” Riaan Haggenort, Chairperson of Hope City, greeted. There was no hint of warmth or his nervous stammer. Just irritation. “Will you join me for a chat?”

  Did I have a choice?

  Phillip opened the door, as Riaan moved over. I noted that there was no driver. Phillip, despite his injured arm, was probably doubling up as his chauffeur. Perhaps he’d already been demoted.

  Phillip closed the door behind me but didn’t enter the car. I suspected the car was soundproofed. Perhaps, this was a conversation Phillip wouldn’t hear. But I wouldn’t put it past him to bug his boss.

  “You were present at the terrorist attack earlier today,” Riaan said, calmly. It wasn’t a question., but had the tone of prefacing something else.

  Even so, I nodded in acknowledgement.

  “At the scene, you won many hearts and minds through your courage and insistence at saving as many people as you could.”

  “It’s nothing. Just doing my job.”

  “Oh, I wish that were so. It’s already made front-page news. Well, homepage news. But, I suspect that every paper in Hope City will have a photo of you glowing gold, healing the sick, come print time. If only there were some lepers available for you to heal.”

  Riaan rambled. Delaying. He didn’t want to say what he needed to say.

  “The point, Chairman?” I asked, trying to make my tone as polite as possible. I didn’t respect this man. Far from it. But, he held a position of authority in my city. Needed to play nice. And, in a way, I felt sorry for him.

  Riaan, finally, sighed.

  “Hero of this fair city, or not, you took evidence from the scene. A piece of metal with a message.”

  My breath caught and my cheeks heated up.

  He knew! But how? Did someone see Ari pick it up? I hadn’t been thinking at the time. I had just felt anger and devastation.

  Before I could reply, Riaan continued.

  “We know the contents of this message. And, despite it being addressed to you, it is still evidence in an act of terrorism. You committed a crime taking it from the scene…”

  I grew tense. Tenser still as Riaan went silent. And then, finally, he sighed. He slumped back in his seat, all his previous strength seemingly gone. Like magic.

  “But none of that matters. You are the hero of this city. And I’ve resigned myself to allowing you to take the law into your own hands. You are bigger than I am. Bigger than the Council, perhaps. But I am still the Chairman of the State of Good Hope, and I need to be able to defend my home.”

  The defeat in his voice mingled with the sincerity in his words. Riaan was not a strong man. He had won his position by default, after all. He shouldn’t have been Chairman and he knew that. But, he was trying his best. I may have disagreed with him about many aspects of hunting and the governance of the city, but he was right. I shouldn’t be above the law.

  “I know it means little now, Chairman, but I fully intended to present the evidence to the police. I took it thoughtlessly and presented it to the Crusaders, as is my habit. But, before this contract distracted me, I was going to contact the police with the intel.”

  Silence. Riaan didn’t indicate if he believed me or not. The silence grew longer and tenser, until…

  “Do you remember our discussion before you went on your expedition to New Sintar?” Riaan suddenly asked.

  I hesitated but nodded. “The gist.”

  “The undead have risen. Instances of necromancy have risen, and the intensity of the necro-cartels has increased tenfold. Yet, the number of necromancers has declined. We had our suspicions as to the cause. Your colleagues in the Crusaders,
per our consulting arrangement, agreed that it suggested the consolidation of a single necromancer warlord. A necrolord, if you will. And now, we know. The attack at the embassy wasn’t the only act of necro-terrorism today. Key CDF positions around the city and near the Three Point Line were targeted in a similar manner. The death toll is in the dozens. Hundreds wounded.”

  That explained the morose atmosphere of the city. It wasn’t just one bombing. It was a war.

  “Could it be the Empire?” I asked. “Gangsters, including necromancers, seldom attack CDF. It attracts the wrong sort of attention.”

  “While it could be a deception, and the Empire may be behind this, I doubt it. That isn’t their MO. No. We suspect that this is the Necrolord. He is back. And it seems this person wants you dead.”

  “It’s not the Necrolord,” I answered, almost instinctively. Treth shook his head, embarrassed on my behalf. It seemed my fatigue and frustration were making me speak first and think later.

  Riaan raised his eyebrow. “We have evidence of a single powerful warlord in the slums who has once again united the disparate gangs. And they use these gangs to back up a horde of undead. It’s the same as the Necrolord you’re familiar with. The same one that disappeared after your eventual escape almost two years ago. And, most convincingly of all, they’re calling themselves the Necrolord. Occam’s Razor suggests that it’s the same criminal.”

  Well, it was too late to back away now. But I couldn’t just tell them about Candace. That I’d worked with the Necrolord.

  “The Necrolord…was obsessed with me…” That was true, but it hurt to admit it. “But not in the way this one is. They didn’t want me dead. They wanted me to join them.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.” Thankfully, I didn’t hesitate. “Stupid question. I fight necromancers. I expect you to know about my past.”

  “I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. But I’m still not convinced. Psychopaths like this Necrolord can change on a dime. Perhaps, his feelings for you have been jaded.”

  “How do you know it’s a he?”

  Riaan looked a bit surprised.

  “Well…it’s just…”

  “You think that necromancers must be men?”

  “Rifts, no! I am perfectly aware that the majority of corruption users are, in fact, female. And dark magic isn’t gendered. But…well, it can’t hurt. The Necrolord contacted us. We heard his voice. It was male.”

  I resisted smiling, triumphantly.

  “The Necrolord was female. I wrote this in my report after my abduction. But, I suspect the report was lost due to Councillor Garce’s views of the case, and his untimely death.”

  “A death you don’t mourn.”

  I shrugged. “He actively tried to destroy me. I tried to save him from the Silver Brotherhood and failed. But I won’t pretend I liked him.”

  “Fair enough. But…yes. I do recall something about the Necrolord being female. Then…this is a copycat?”

  “We can still call them the Necro Lord, but we must emphasise a space for the distinction. That’s what we’re doing at the Crusaders.”

  “Consulting already?”

  I shrugged. “I have not forgotten our discussion. I agreed to work with the Council to end this plague. And I’ll do whatever it takes to end this Necro Lord.”

  For using my name as an excuse to murder children…

  “Passionate, as always, Kat Drummond. But do not let this blind you. The Necro Lord is ultimately a human, so is under the jurisdiction of the police.”

  “Ah, so you would like to repeat the Necrolord case of 2035. Then, we have nothing to talk about.”

  “Don’t play games with me on this. I will probably get impeached, but if you refuse to bow to Council authority on this, I will ensure the Crusaders are hamstrung in their efforts to operate across the city. I can do this. And I can get the legislation wrapped up in so much red tape that it will take three terms to unravel it.”

  “We guard over half the city’s population...”

  “A job the police should be doing. They will live. And possibly save money now that they aren’t being exploited by hunters.”

  “Exploited?!” I gasped. But Treth manifested in front of me.

  “Calm. He’s trying to rile you. Don’t fight. There’s no reason we can’t work together.”

  I stopped, closed my eyes and took a deep breath, before speaking again.

  “It can’t be a repeat of the 2035 case. I will not be abducted again. And I will not allow good men and women to be thrown into traps like chattel.”

  “We can agree on that. Garce and Montague fought that case like a war. Not a police action. That will change.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t get me wrong, Chairman. This is a war. Many people will die. Sacrifices will be made. You don’t dislodge a king from his throne and expect him to not give up without a fight. The Necro Lord has carved out an empire for himself. Functionally, this is not one country. This is the State of Good Hope and, within it is a tract of cursed earth, beset by darkness. And to penetrate it, we will have to fight a war the likes this city has never seen before. But we have no choice. Because if that darkness is allowed to grow, we will all come to beg for the graves denied to us.”

  I only realised that Riaan had backed away once I stopped. I had been giving the Kat death stare. And the words I spoke had felt somewhat foreign to me. But I believed every single one of them.

  “What must we do then?” he finally asked, almost whimpering.

  “We need intelligence. Hard stuff. No traps or diversions. We must find the Necro Lord himself, or the strongholds where he keeps his minions. Then, we must eliminate him and his horde. And, after we’re done with him, we must dedicate law enforcement and MonsterSlayer bounties to clearing out the remainder of his horde. No repeat of what happened after the last Necrolord perished.”

  “Perished?”

  “My report said it all. The Necrolord died in the fires of her keep. I escaped with the help of my friends, who had tracked me down after I had sent them a message after accessing a cell phone.”

  Riaan looked sceptical but didn’t press.

  “The police and Whiteshield will aid in this operation,” he finally said. “And, while we will ultimately be in charge, we will take our cue from you. Is that satisfactory?”

  I inclined my head. “It is. Thank you, Chairman.”

  He checked his watch and sighed.

  “Can I expect you and your colleagues at the Gardens PD for briefing tomorrow? 8am?”

  “Bar Ragnarok, we’ll be there.”

  Riaan nodded, and then tapped on his window. My door opened, with Phillip waiting like a valet.

  “I’d tip you, but I left my wallet at home,” I whispered as I exited. Phillip didn’t scowl or smile as he made his way to the driver’s seat.

  What really was the agent? From orchestrating coups in elven kingdoms to driving his boss around. A fall from grace? Or a sign of trust?

  I didn’t know if I’d ever trust Phillip Brown.

  I watched as the black car departed, scowling as it exited the street. And then, finally, sighing. I was doing a lot of that lately. But my scowl soon returned.

  “What is it, Kat?” Treth asked. “That seemed to go well. I know you don’t like them, but we must all work together to fight this threat. Only when all the people of Avathor worked together did we finally stand a chance against the darkness. But, by that time, it was too late. Earth must not make the same mistake.”

  “I know, Treth. I do. But, cooperating or not, this means something bad.”

  “How so?”

  “He knew what the message said. Which means that the Crusaders have a mole.”

  And, if there was something I hated almost as much as necromancers, it was traitors.

  Chapter 8.

  Intel

  The sun was setting by the time I got back to the HQ, lending a golden hue to Hope City’s deceptively peaceful streets. But, despite the late h
our and the relative tranquillity of the rest of the city, the Crusaders’ HQ was bustling. Hunters, wearing a mishmash of their own equipment and the branded dark grey of the Crusaders, hurried to and from the HQ. The door seldom had a chance to close properly as armed men and women bustled in and out. A few of these individuals weren’t armed, however. And it was they I most feared. A weapon I could see was a weapon I could guard against. But magic was a far more insidious threat. Good thing these sorcerers and wizards worked for me now.

  Even though I had my own power, I still didn’t think of myself as a sorcerer. And I never forgot the privileged position that spark-users had among others in this magical society. I still carried demanzite sachets at the ready. Just in case.

  This level of activity wasn’t unusual. Most monsters came out at night. And, as nocturnal creatures roamed the night, so too did their predators. I only hoped that we turned the monsters into prey before they got to anyone first.

  Back when I was just a part-time monster hunter, I was a purely reactive operator. Contracts were posted up on the MonsterSlayer App and I snatched whatever I could in my area. Sadly, these contracts were usually dispatched after it was too late for some victims. But now things were different. The Crusaders had manpower. Which meant that we could patrol communities to keep them safe. And slay any rift-borne fiend before it could harm anyone.

  Of course, the communities we patrolled paid a fee. The resident associations, or a rich resident, usually paid the costs. Thus, Riaan’s accusations of exploitation.

  But that really got to me. Because his precious police service didn’t patrol those streets. And they still got paid. So, while we were risking our necks on the bloody asphalt wrestling with trolls, he was busy taking the community’s money anyway. Because while we charged, the residents had a choice. No one was giving anyone a choice to not pay taxes.

  The Crusaders near the entrance gave me a wide berth as I entered the front door. Even Jane turned around hastily at my approach. I must be giving the signature Kat Drummond death glare again.