Aftermath (14 page)

“That wasn’t too difficult, now was it?” I held out my hand to him. He hesitated for some reason. “Come on, man. Really? After all we’ve been through you still don’t trust me?” I did my best Arnold Schwarzenegger grin. “Seriously, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He finally gave in and I hauled him to his feet. The guy let out a sigh of relief as I released his hand without breaking anything off.

“Now, so I don’t have to call you Ass any more—I feel we’ve come too far for that to be appropriate—what’s your real name?”

“Milton,” he answered, his chin drooping.

I wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed, leading him to the edge of the tower so we could see out over the city. “Well, Milton, I appreciate your candor and now I’ll return you to your friends before they feel it necessary to hunt you down and kick off the hostilities all over.”

He glanced over the edge, and then turned to face me. “Uh, how are we getting down?”

“We fly, of course.”

Then I pushed him.

“You first.”

Chapter Twelve

We stared at the small monitor Mike held out to us as the screen swiveled to the side, an image of an abandoned Old Town side street scrolling past in slow motion.

“I have to agree, Frank,” Rahim said. “This
has
to be a trap.”

“Right? Why else would a pack of misfit weres roll up on me and offer up masked boy’s location so easily?”

Milton had given in way too easily for me to take him seriously. The fact that he and his buddies were out hunting me down in Old Town told me they knew I was there to begin with. They rolled right up on Judas’s vacation hole but no one outside of Marcus, myself, and whoever dug the bastard up knew anything about it. It was all simply too convenient, a word I was getting damn tired of.

“We’ll know for certain soon enough, though the important question will be
why
they felt the need to set a trap. What do they gain from it?”

I really didn’t have a clue.

So far masked boy and his accomplices had been ahead of us at every step, beating us to the punch, winning the battle of attrition, and just plain kicking our asses. Why all of a sudden would they change tactics and try to lure us in. What was the point of it?

“I can sense someone powerful inside the warehouse,” Mike told us over the telepathic link. “Can’t get a bead on his thoughts but if I had to guess I’d say it was our fire giant who’s lurking about.”

“No one else?”

“I’ve the vaguest sense of someone else but his or her psyche is being shielded. It’s like starting into a mirror and trying to see to the other side.”

Rahim’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the monitor. We’d corralled a DRAC operative to spy on the location, using video technology so we could watch the place without getting close enough to set off the trap. The operative, Scott, a human without powers, had crept to a nearby rooftop to surveil the location. Unless the enemy spotted him directly they wouldn’t have any idea he was there, watching them.

“This place looks familiar to me,” Rahim muttered.

“It’s Old Town. One abandoned industrial warehouse looks the same as any other.”

“No, it’s not that.” He shook his head. “We’ve been here before.”

I stared at the screen and shrugged after a few moments, not seeing it. “Have a quiet liaison here one night?”

He grunted, staring harder at the monitor before exhaling loudly. “That’s it.”

“Brown chicken, brown cow?” I wasn’t sure I was up for hearing about Rahim’s romantic adventures but it wasn’t like we were doing anything else right then.

He glared at me. “Not that, Frank. We’ve been here before.”

I just raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate. There wasn’t any place in Old Town I
hadn’t
been.

“This is where you struck down Israfil, the angel whose purpose was to signal the coming of Armageddon. Do you remember that?”

I leaned in closer to the monitor, memories swirling. “Didn’t we end up wiping that place out?”

Rahim nodded. “The building is new, rebuilt since then, but I’m certain this is the same location.”

“Was there anything special about this place to bring them here?” I asked. “I sure don’t remember anything other than Scarlett throwing a hissy fit for me killing her buddy, in self-defense I might add.”

“The death of an angel might well be enough to have drawn them, a sort of psychic residue of the angel’s passing,” Mike said.

“Bad juju just breeds more bad juju.”

“Most certainly.” Rahim examined the scene closer as the operative zoomed in but our discussion as to the relevance of the location became a moot point when Mike set our skulls to ringing.

“He’s coming out!”

It probably wasn’t a good time for a closet joke.

All eyes on the screen, we watched as the warehouse door was yanked open with casual ease and our friendly neighborhood Múspellsmegir strode out of the warehouse, slow and casual. Alongside him was a thin man dressed in an expensive gray suit, the giant’s hand wrapped firmly about his neck. Though the man wore a bag that appeared to be made out of silver or some other shiny metal, hiding his face, there was no mistaking him for anyone else. It was Alexander Poe.

“Shit.”

“Indeed,” Rahim said, his voice even deeper than its usual basement rumble. “If there was any question of this being a trap they’ve done their most apparent to confirm it.”

“Maybe I’m an idiot but,” Rahim turned and looked at me and I waved him off before he could confirm it. “It’s a rhetorical statement, Grumpy Bear. Anyway, if giant guy there is looking for a ransom he kidnapped a guy from the wrong team. It’s not like Shaw would ever bargain with the lives of her people. She’d let them kill Poe before giving in to them. Shit, she’d probably help to speed things up.”

“But it’s not Shaw they lured here, is it?”

I groaned, realizing Rahim was right. “Do they think we’ll trade something for him?”

“It’s possible they do, but it would be a poor tactical choice given their methods so far. These are not people to be taken lightly or trusted. They have to realize we won’t compromise our position any more than Shaw would.”

Concern welled up in my throat and I swallowed it back. Whatever masked boy wanted it was pretty damn obvious we couldn’t allow him to have it. If that meant Poe got the short, sticky end of the stick, then so be it. I didn’t like the idea but there was no way we could give into the guys considering everything that was at stake. If Father Lance was right there was something—more likely someone—caged in God’s prison, the interstice as Lance called it, that they wanted. No one would go through all this trouble to free some ancient accountant or past lay. Whoever they were trying to dig up had to be important, and in this world that always meant someone of power.

The giant brought Poe out into the middle of the street and let go of his neck, wrapping his meaty hands around each of Poe’s wrists. Before I realized what was happening the giant raised Poe into the air by his arms, tugging them out to the side so the old mentalist was dangling in the air, feet waggling a yard above the ground.

“Motherfucker.” Poe hung there and the giant just smiled, his teeth gleaming in defiance of the afternoon sun. “He’s gonna turn him into a wishbone.” I started forward but Rahim grabbed me, fingers sinking into the meat of my forearm.

“This is what they want, Frank.”

“But we can’t just let them rip him apart.”

“If they had intended to do so they would have done it already,” he answered. “They need him for something. Don’t validate their actions by charging off half-cocked.”

“Trust me, I’m way more cocked than that.”

“I’m picking up the barest of brain activity from Poe,” Mike said, shutting down our argument. “It’s not enough for me to create a link through the psychic defenses that mask is radiating but I think I can crack it if I get a little closer.”

Before anyone could say anything more, a portal rent the air behind us and Mike stepped through with Rachelle. She looked grim but Mike simply looked determined, his eyes swirling with his power as he pushed to reach out to Poe.

“It’s him, no doubt,” he said, straining. We watched on the monitor as the giant stood there without moving, holding Poe up in front of him.

“We need to get him free,” I said. “Poe’s a tough old bird but that big bastard is gonna end up yanking his arms out of socket if he keeps dangling him like that.”

Mike growled. “I can’t get through the defenses from here.” He turned to Rachelle, pointing to the old rail station a couple blocks from the warehouse. “Open a portal in the tower up there so I can establish a better link.”

“I’m not sure about this, Michael,” Rahim said. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”

“There’s a murmur of Poe’s thoughts coming through but they’re garbled and nonsensical. That means the neural shield is breaking down. If I can position myself closer I can break through it and speak with Poe. He’ll be able to tell us what we’re walking into.”

Rahim sighed but followed it up with a sharp nod. “Do it.”

Not two seconds later Rachelle had opened a gate and Mike had slipped through. She shut it behind him to keep its energies from being easily detected.

“Why Alexander?” she asked.

No one had an answer. The giant stood there calm and casual while Poe swung in his arms like a rag doll. The old guy had to be hurting something fierce but he wasn’t resisting, trying to minimize the damage. I looked away from Poe to catch the giant sneaking a glance in the direction of the defunct train station.

“Fuck! He knows Mike’s there.”

Without bothering to weigh the consequences I leapt from the roof and streaked across the roofs of Old Town to where the giant cradled Poe, landing a short distance in front of him with a loud
thud
. The giant turned his bright eyes on me and chuckled.

“It’s about time, demon,” he told me, his voice like two glaciers colliding. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m a slow starter.” I motioned to Poe with my eyes. “How about you put the old guy down before you sneeze and break him in half.”

The giant shrugged and did exactly that. Poe grunted behind the mask as he was suddenly free, his arms dropping limply beside him, shoulders sagging. He looked ready to topple over but he managed to stay on his feet.

“That’s a good boy,” I said, realizing once more just how huge the guy was. “Why don’t you and I have ourselves a little chat?”

“Certainly.”

The dude was amenable if nothing else.

“Let’s start with something easy. What should I call you?”

“I am Clintalvulaðrskol, great grandson of Surtr, Warden of the Fiery Vales of—”

“Whoa there, big guy. That’s a hell of a mouthful for a first date. I’m just gonna call you Clint so I don’t feel like I’m deep throating John Holmes every time I need to say your name.”

He shrugged again. “Call me what you will, demon. I care not.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled, I have to admit my curiosity. Why’d you kidnap the old man there? What do you hope to gain from this?”

“He serves a purpose, as do you.” Pretty much confirming this was all a trap.

“You’re not much for words, are you?” I was hoping the giant would let something slip but he went out of his way to say as little of consequence as possible. He was either brain damaged from all the cold Nordic winters or he was a hell of a lot smarter than I’d given him credit for. I tried another tack. “You mind if I check on the suit?” I said, gesturing to Poe.

“He is well.” Clint put a hand behind Poe’s back and nudged him forward. The mentalist stumbled and damn near fell on his face but he caught himself and came to a stop about halfway between the two of us.

“Anything?” I whispered to Mike.

“Almost,” he replied. “There he is! I’ve got—”

His voice cut off mid-stream, and then I heard him again but this time it was through my ears, a long way off. Screaming. I snapped my head sideways to see Mike toppling from the roof of the train station, arms flailing. Before it even completely registered I was moving. That’s when the giant slugged me.

Ever try to catch a comet?

I’d advise against it.

One second I was charging up the batteries so I could catch Mike before he went splat, and the next thing I knew I was colliding with a wall. My whole body shuddered as I hit. It was like teleportation with an extra heaping dose of agony, my ass instantly appearing a dozen yards from where I’d been standing just a split-second before. The whole process happened so fast I wasn’t even sure what had happened until my brain unscrambled. Concrete dust choked my vision and settled heavy in my throat as the wall settled around me. It was all over before I managed to find first gear and start to climb out of the wreckage.

“Ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch.” I could taste copper in my mouth and wondered if I’d bit my damn tongue off there was so much of it.

Back on my feet, every bit of me aching, I blinked away the dust and the start of what was likely a concussion and stared at the giant. He stood in the same spot, grinning without remorse. Deep down I knew I should have run or whipped out my magic and played Hellraiser with his ass but a part of me—a stubborn, stupid part—felt the need for a good old-fashioned beat down. I stomped toward the giant, ripping a street sign loose as I did, a concrete ball at the end ripping loose of the sidewalk with a satisfying
crunch
.

“Yield, I say,” I shouted as I whipped the sign around like a baseball bat.

The giant went to block it with his forearm, laughing the entire time, but I changed directions and circled around his attempted parry, smacking him in the face with the flat of the sign.

There was a loud
clang
, the pole vibrating in my hand, and Clintawhateverthefuck stumbled backward a step with a growl. Still, I wasn’t done. I let momentum bring the sign back around and clocked him again, the sound ringing out across the barren street. If Chatterbox were there he’d be humming a few bars from Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls.”

Unfortunately it would have been me he was singing it for.