He unfolded himself from the car. A fountain bubbled nearby. It was a giant gold fish spitting water straight into the air at a golden UBF-style passenger blimp. The illusion created was that the water spout was holding up the dirigible, but Sullivan found the whole thing gaudy. Heinrich began to unload the luggage from the trunk. Sullivan had no bags at all, just the clothes on his back. He didn’t need much, though he did miss his Lewis gun. It had sentimental value.
A group of people came out onto the front porch. An absolutely gorgeous blonde in a white bathing suit came running off the porch. He recognized her as the Healer from the stolen blimp. Dan Garrett broke into a huge grin, opened his arms, and the blonde jumped on him, showering the pudgy little man with kisses. He looked over at Heinrich. The German just shrugged. Go Dan, Sullivan thought.
“I’m so glad you’re home!” she said, squeezing Dan tight.
“It’s good to be back,” Dan answered as she broke free. He had to adjust his glasses. “Jake Sullivan, this is my fiancée.”
The blonde turned to him. Sullivan tried not to stare impolitely, but he hadn’t seen a woman that attractive in a bathing suit, even a very modest one, for a long time, as in ever. “Jane,” she said, holding out one hand. Her nails were painted bright red. “What have you done to yourself this time? Every time I’ve seen you, you have more holes in you! Hang on.”
Sullivan’s hand suddenly felt very warm. The heat rolled across his body, and seemed to collect in his injuries. His lungs filled with fire, and he jerked his hand away. “What’re you doing?”
Jane looked offended. “Well, I was trying to help you, but I suppose I should save what Power I’ve got left for today in case the General has any more attacks. I’ll fix you right up tomorrow.” She studied his chest. “And stop smoking, or you’ll develop miserable emphysema in three years, and be dead in six.”
The heat seemed to dissipate except in the spots where he’d recently been hurt. Those bits were so hot that he started sweating profusely. “Well, thanks . . .” He’d never actually met a real live Healer before. “But if I schedule a regular checkup with you, can I keep smoking?” Jane just sniffed indignantly.
Two men came off the porch, shaking hands with Dan and Heinrich. The first was a squat, but powerfully built man. Sullivan recognized the beard from the salt circle on the train. The second was tall, extremely thin, and completely bald. He would have made a convincing undertaker. He looked familiar, and Sullivan could almost swear that he’d seen his picture in a book.
“John Moses Browning?” he asked.
“Indeed. Hello, Mr. Sullivan.” The tall man came over and shook his hand. His grip was firm and callused.
“But you’re dead.”
“Greatly exaggerated,” he said with a smile.
Sullivan was not an emotional man, but he couldn’t help himself. “Sir . . . I just have to tell you that the M1911 is the finest fighting handgun in the history of the world. It’s an honor. I killed a mess of Germans with one of those. It was very dear to me.”
“Thank you, sir.” Browning looked a little embarrassed. “Hmm . . . I’ll have to show you my workshop then. I have some new prototypes that I think you would like.”
The short man came over with a pronounced limp. When they shook hands, it was obvious that he was trying to put some extra squeeze in there. “Lance Talon. Good to meet you, Sullivan.” Sullivan squeezed back. Both of them were too strong to hurt the other. Finally Lance grinned at him and let go. “Welcome to the Grimnoir. The General’s looking forward to seeing you.”
“Wait . . . Talon? The famous hunter? I read your book about Africa.” Sullivan didn’t admit it, but he’d thought the whole thing had been fabricated. Lance Talon just sounded like too much of a radio serial hero’s name to actually be a real person.
“Glad somebody read it.” Lance turned back toward the porch as the doors opened. “And here are the others that are staying with us. I believe you know Delilah?”
She was standing there in the doorway, watching him carefully, wearing a short grey dress with her hands resting on her hips. She was just as beautiful as the day they’d met. As pretty as the night he’d tried to arrest her . . . he lowered his eyes, uncomfortable. When he looked up, she was still smirking at him, and he had no idea what to say.
Faye was walking through the house with Delilah. The others had been alerted to something by their rings, and had gathered at the front. Apparently somebody Faye didn’t know was arriving. She was excited to meet these new Grimnoir, as everyone else she had met had been very nice.
Delilah had been talking about fighting, and Faye had only been half paying attention. She knew that she should be trying to learn more, because Delilah was like an encyclopedia of ways to hurt people, but she’d learned so much over the last few days that she felt like her brain was full. She was exhausted, and just wanted to take a nap. It was true what they said: a Healer could fix you, but you still felt the pain for a while after, and every single part of her body hurt from the training.
So she was distracted when Delilah opened the front door. She was saying something about how she was nervous, because one of these new arrivals and her used to be real close, but Faye was too tired to care.
When she looked past Delilah’s shoulder, the world came to a screeching halt. He was there, the thing from her nightmares. Faye froze, suddenly choking on her own terror.
His face was down, covered by a black fedora, but she recognized him anyway, the way he stood, the way he moved. He was huge, his chest wide as two men, arms like tree trunks, and when he looked up toward Delilah, she saw the square profile of the left side of his face.
It was him!
The right side of his face would be a hideous scar and one gleaming white eyeball and Mr. Browning and Lance were standing right next to him, unaware of the evil they’d invited into their house, and she just knew that when that bad eye came around he was going to kill all her new friends just like he’d killed her Grandpa.
Madi!
She began to shake uncontrollably.
Delilah said something to him, and he actually smiled, friendly as could be. His voice was exactly the same, deep and dark as a well, and he even used the exact same slow words as when she’d first met him, when she’d been staring down the barrel of the gun that had killed Grandpa. “Hey, girl.”
“No reason for any more killin’ today. I’m looking for something. That’s all,” he’d said. Faye screamed and the paralysis was gone.
I have to save them. She forced herself to move, reaching into her pocket and grasping the little .32 as she focused, sending her thoughts ahead, discovering that the space right behind Madi was empty, and she Traveled.
Sullivan had tried to think about what he would say to Delilah on the ride here, but he couldn’t think of anything. Words had always failed him when he needed them most. He knew that he needed to apologize, to try to explain, to hope that maybe it could be like it was once before . . .
Delilah finally spoke first. “Hey, big boy.” It was exactly how she had woken him every morning in New Orleans.
“Hey, girl . . .” He smiled. Maybe the two of us will be all rig— Then a terrible pain pierced his back. He stumbled. Confused. The others looked past him in shock. He reached up, trying to feel what had struck him, and something felt like it was stuck, burning, between his shoulder blades. His hand came back covered in blood. A terrible buzzing filled his ears. Delilah leapt off the steps screaming something that he couldn’t understand as he fell toward the soft grass.
Faye jabbed her little gun forward, jerking the heavy trigger. She aimed right for where his heart should be. There was a pop and a puff of smoke. She kept shooting, pulling the trigger as Madi lurched, not even hearing the noise anymore.
The others were shouting. Delilah charged off the porch, obviously burning at full Power. She’d recognize Madi too. She’d help. But instead of tearing Madi’s head off, Delilah caught him as he fell, lowering the giant
to the ground.
His head rolled around. His other eye was brown . . . Not white. His hat fell off. There was no scar.
And she looked up, confused, to see a young man with a blond goatee raise a skinny black pistol toward her. She started to speak, to explain that something was horribly wrong, but the gun barked and he shot her squarely in the chest.
Chapter 12
Man found that he was faced with the acceptance of “magical” forces, that is to say such forces as cannot be comprehended by the sciences, and yet having undoubted, even extremely strong, effects. The false idea of some comprehensive, unexplainable “power” was thus born in the collective unconscious . . . Now that the realm of magic had opened for man, our greatest neuroses are laid bare, so we explain them away with imaginary things.
—Sigmund Freud,
Letter composed just prior to his death
by cocaine overdose, 1925
San Francisco, California
Madi had not wanted to contact the Chairman again so soon. He liked being the one who took care of business on his own and came back with results. Having to cry to the boss all the time struck him as a habit for weaklings, but this opportunity was too good to pass up, and as he stood before Yutaka’s shimmering portal, he could barely contain his excitement. The Edo Court came into focus, clear as day, despite being an ocean away, and there stood the Chairman.
He bowed deeply.
“What is it, my son?”
Madi liked that. Son. The Chairman didn’t say that to any of the other Iron Guards as far as he knew. A smile split his scar. “Chairman Tokugawa. We spotted Grimnoir in Utah.”
“I assume you eliminated them?”
“No, my lord. Better.” He finally looked up from his bow. “I had Yutaka dispatch a demon to follow them. We found one of their hideouts. The Summoned couldn’t enter the property because of the warding spells, but we know about where they are . . . It is only a few miles from where we burned out their last nest in California.”
“Pershing . . .” the Chairman muttered to himself. “Excellent. He may have the last piece of the Tesla device. If it is present, retrieve it. If it is not, try to discover its location.” Eradicating every last Grimmy went without saying, obviously.
Excitement was building in the pit of his stomach. It felt good to feel something. “I would like permission to call up all our reserves.”
The Chairman’s expression didn’t change, but his words indicated his displeasure. “The fiercest warrior strikes and holds nothing back, assuring an enemy’s demise with a single blow, yet wastes all his strength for the rest of the battle. The wise warrior strikes with skill, retaining his strength to fight again.”
Madi bowed in submission. He’d gone out of his lane. It wasn’t his place to jeopardize the Imperium’s many secret operations inside the United States. Madi had only the slightest idea of the number of agents they had in the military, government, media, and industry. America was riddled with corruption, and when the time came, it would fall. “My apologies, Chairman Tokugawa.”
The Chairman appeared deep in thought. “But for Pershing . . . I’ll make an exception. Activate as many cells as wisdom dictates. Make an example of him that will strike fear into the hearts of the few Grimnoir that remain. Yet we must have complete deniability. The time for open war with the Americans has not yet come.”
He did have a plan. Something that had been simmering in the back of his mind, and this seemed like the best opportunity he’d ever have to put it into effect. “I have an idea for something spectacular . . .” Madi said. “It’ll accomplish multiple goals.” Madi outlined what he had in mind. He was rather proud of it. Normally he was a straightforward type, but this struck him as particularly devious. He’d put a lot of thought into it.
“I am impressed . . . Your mind is as fearsome a weapon as your body,” the Chairman said. Madi felt like he could explode.
“I’ll need Shadow Guard.”
“You will have them . . . and my complete faith. Kill them all, my son.” The leader of the Imperium cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something very far away. “I am needed elsewhere.”
The shimmering ball of light flickered into nothingness. Madi turned to Yutaka. “Send a telegram to every cell in five hundred miles. We strike as soon as the Shadow Guard arrive.” He could almost taste the blood.
Mar Pacifica, California
Francis had arrived at the reunion a little late, just in time to see Faye shoot the big man in the back for no apparent reason. Heinrich reacted instantly like the soldier he was and drilled Faye. He was too surprised to act, but then Heinrich stepped forward and aimed his Luger between Faye’s eyes, ready to finish her off.
“No!” Francis shouted, surging his Power. Heinrich was knocked aside as he pulled the trigger, blasting a hole in the dirt next to her head. Francis ran toward them. “Wait!”
“Heinrich, stand down,” Browning ordered. Obviously confused, Heinrich stepped back, lowering his pistol to his side. The entire group was shocked.
“What the hell!” Lance bellowed, dropping down beside the girl. “Faye! Damn it! Stay with me, girl.”
Francis arrived in time to hear Faye whisper something. “Madi. Thought he was . . . Madi . . .” She coughed and blood came shooting from her mouth. Francis dropped down at her side and did the only thing he’d been taught to do in this situation, and put direct pressure on the hole.
“What was she doing?” Delilah screamed, rocking the big man back and forth in her lap. His eyes were open, flickering. They rolled back in his head and he was out. “Come on, Jake, come on.”
“Save them,” Browning said to Jane.
“I . . . I can’t.” The Healer stood between the two, hesitating. She closed her eyes and held her hands out. “Too much internal damage. I can’t save them both. They’re dead in minutes. I’ve only got enough Power to do one or the other.” She looked to Browning imploringly.
Browning, unsure, stated to speak, but bit his tongue, looking between them.
“Are you insane?” Garrett shouted. “She must be a Shadow Guard. Help Sullivan.”
“No, she’s not,” Francis spat. There was no way that Faye was some sort of Imperium assassin. There had to be an explanation.
“She’s a damned teleporter! She’s a ninja, Francis!” Dan grabbed Jane by the arm and pointed. “Save Sullivan.”
“Don’t you dare use your magic on me, Dan.” Jane ripped her arm away.
Heinrich had holstered his gun, and was walking in a slow circle, rubbing his hands on his face. “Scheisse,” he said, snapping back and moving to Delilah. “Roll him over.” She did, and Heinrich pulled the big man’s coat down, revealing a white shirt soaked red. Blood was pouring from multiple entrance wounds.
Browning spoke. “Which one has less time?”
She stopped at Faye and closed her eyes. “Damage to the aorta.” Then back to Sullivan. “Lung, superior vena cava, spine . . .” She opened her eyes. “Sullivan’s tougher. Faye’s dead first.”
“Save her,” Browning ordered.
Jane shrugged off Dan’s hand and ran to Faye.
“What!” Delilah shrieked.
Browning ignored her. “Do we have time to get him to the hospital, or could you walk us through an operation in time?”
Jane was concentrating on Faye, but she shook her head in a vigorous No.
“Very well. Lance, help me.” The old man removed his coat and tossed it on the ground. “Place him on his back. Heinrich, open his shirt. Garrett, go to the library and fetch the third volume of Rune Arcanium. Hurry!” Dan ran up the steps and disappeared into the house.
“Are you crazy?” Lance hissed. “That never works.”
Browning pulled a small pocketknife and opened it. “The Imperium makes it work.”
“If we screw up even the slightest, it could warp him into who knows what. Almost every Grimnoir who’s tried has died, or worse, and most of them weren’t bleeding to death a
t the time.”
“He’s a very strong man,” Heinrich said.
Lance cursed under his breath. “Blood or Smoke, John?”
“You’ve the steadier hand with a blade. Here, this is finer than yours,” Browning said passing his pocketknife over handle first. Lance took it hesitantly. “Just pretend you’re cleaning an elk.”
“What are you doing?” Francis asked.
“Something stupid,” Lance said as he took a vial out of his pocket and handed it to Browning. “Delilah, don’t let him move. If we get one line even sorta wrong he’s done.” Delilah put her weight down on Sullivan’s shoulders and awoke her Power. Lance kept talking as he put the blade against Sullivan’s flesh. “This is like what the Imperium does to their Iron Guards . . .” Talking seemed to steady his nerves.
Browning unscrewed the vial. Smoke hissed out. “I will attempt to make a pattern in Summoned’s ink while Lance interlocks one into his skin. If we succeed, we will connect a direct link to the Power. This is the old spell for health.”
“Like what the Imperium goons have?” Francis sputtered.
“Something like that, only stronger,” Lance said slowly, cutting an intricate curve deep into Sullivan’s muscle. Dark red blood came welling out from behind the blade. “Except that pathetic scribble wouldn’t survive a bullet in the spine . . . Come on . . .”
“Francis, get a mark of weakness on that girl before she wakes up,” Browning said. “I don’t want her Traveling out of here if she is a Shadow Guard.” He raised the vial, but hesitated, and bowed his head first. Francis realized he was saying a prayer. A second later Browning opened his eyes, and started carefully dripping the smoking liquid. Delilah had to turn her head away as it sizzled on the impacted skin like bacon.
Francis looked for something to write with, couldn’t find anything, realized his hands were covered in Faye’s blood, and quickly drew the simple little mark of weakness on her forehead. All it should do was screw up her access to her magic. He didn’t feel right doing it, but he didn’t know what to think right then. This strange little girl had just murdered another person in front of him.