Dead of Night (Ghosts & Magic #1) (39 page)

It felt like a warning from God.
 

A warning I was still going to ignore.

I was dead either way, and I had a feeling Matwau and Tarakona would be more forgiving than Black would.
 

"I don't have a choice. You do."

"Don't do that shit."

"Amos, it's suicide. We both know it. Take Prithi and get her out of here. Help her disappear. You might not have been able to protect them all, but you can save one. Bring Dannie back to Chicago and give her the burial she deserves."

He stared at me for a long time, conflicted. For all his talk, he didn't want to throw his life away. I didn't blame him. I wouldn't have done it either.

"Shit." He reached over to the passenger seat and picked up the Mark Six. "At least take this badass."

I shook my head. "No. It won't help. You wasted all the shots with your shitty aim."

He smiled. "Thought you were an asshole the first time I met you."

"I am."

"I know. You're my kind of asshole though." He held out his massive hand. I took it in mine and shook.
 

"Prithi, Amos will help get you out of the spotlight of the Houses. You're going to have to stay off the Machine, at least for a while. I know it's supposed to be anonymous, but I think we've proven that isn't always true, especially if the right people are looking for you."

She nodded and leaned over to hug me. "Thank you for saving my life."

It brought back so many memories. How many lives had I saved, before all of this? Enough to balance out the ones I had taken, I hoped. "You're welcome."

"You got a plan, Baldie, or you just gonna knock on the front door."

"I've got a plan."

"You shitting me?"

"Maybe."

I opened the door of the van and stepped out into the rain. I went around back and into the rear, finding my suitcase resting below Dannie. I unzipped it just enough to grab the photo. I took it out, looked at Karen and Molly one last time, and tucked it in my pocket. Then I leaned over and kissed Danelle on the cheek. "I'll see you soon."

I closed the doors and walked back around to the side.
 

"Amos, thanks for everything. Now get the hell out of here."
 

 
He lifted his hand in a wave, which vanished behind the closing door. I moved away from the van, and Amos backed it out into the street, turning it the other way.
 

Then they were gone.

I stood there for a few minutes, my eyes closed, my senses tuned to the cold moist of the rain slapping my bald head, running down my nose, and from my nose to the ground. I made sure to take the time to savor life.
 

I put up my hood, and started walking.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Smells like teen spirit.

Veronica's brother met me at the gate.
 

He looked just like his avatar in the Machine, right down to the wisp of red hair that fell in front of his right eye. He was all smiles when the heavy iron doors parted, the churning of the chains rising above the soft growls of the ferals on the walls. He was backed by a pair of vampires, their bodies stiff, the motions jerky, as though every instinct told them to attack me, but something was holding them back.

"Out for an evening stroll?" he asked.

I put my arms out to the sides. He punched me in the gut. I bent over, but didn't make a sound.

"That feels so much better in real life. I'd turn you to ash where you stand, but he wants to meet you. He's impressed with you, not only for surviving this long, but also for having the balls to show up here. To walk right up to the gate, no less." He laughed at that. "First, the coat, and your weapons. You can keep the hoodie. We wouldn't want you catching pneumonia before you meet the boss."

I shrugged out of the coat and tossed it to him. Then I slowly took the two guns from their shoulder holsters and handed them over.
 

"Not in the mood to chat?" he asked.
 

I stared at him without saying anything.

"You aren't going to bother me by not talking. This way."

He led me into the yard. There were a dozen or so ferals spaced throughout, mostly werewolves but also a few vampires and one solitary wendigo. Most were sitting on their haunches, staring at one another, or running their claws through the grass, or being otherwise docile and calm.
 

He might have been controlling them, or they might have had free will. Either way, they looked... bored.

"You like the pets? It's hard to bring a feral under control. No magic in the world can do it."

I kept looking at them, remaining silent.
 

"Science. Science is the key to filling the gaps where magic fails. Or perhaps it's the other way around."

We finished crossing the yard, turning left at the base of a thick stone building and walking along the perimeter. We started crossing another part of the yard, towards a tall, square structure on the northern side.
 

"To think. All of these years of plotting, all of these years of planning. The lies, the deception, the money." He shook his head and laughed. "And a single necromancer who isn't smart enough to die when he's supposed to almost fucked it all up." He looked over at the vampires flanking him, as though he expected them to join him in his mirth. Their reaction combined with mine made him uncomfortable. "Will you say something?"
 

I turned my head and smirked. That was the best I was going to give him. I could see it was getting under his skin.

He shoved me from behind, making me stumble for a couple of steps. Then he moved in front of me so he could open the door to the building.

It fed into a large, open inner space. It was a gymnasium. I hadn't realized the yard had been a human prison before it had gone to the ferals.

The lights were off, a dim illumination sourced from a circle of candles in the center of the room. Jin was laying strapped to a gurney in the middle of the setup, her profile visible in the candlelight, covered by a light blanket. She probably would have liked to turn her head to see who had just come in. A strap across her forehead prevented that.
 

The stone rested on a pedestal behind her.
 

It was glowing.

"There he is."

The voice was a deep baritone, smooth and confident. He was approaching from my left, the three guys from the Greens in step behind him. Seeing his face... there was no doubt he was related to Danelle.

He had the same sharp features, the high cheekbones, the olive skin. He was wearing a red silk robe belted at the waste by a brown rope, which also had a small dagger tucked against it. He was short, shorter than Dannie even. Too short to be such an asshole.

Matwau.

"You look like shit, my friend." He smiled. A warm, inviting smile. "Though, I suppose you've had a rough couple of days, have you not? My apologies." His eyes flicked over to Veronica's brother. "Do you have it?"

He nodded and pulled his hand from the pocket of my trench. Red's necklace hung from it. He tossed it to Matwau, who held it up in front of his eyes. The stone shattered in his grip, revealing the small data chip within.
 

In that moment, I understood. He hadn't let me live because he wanted to meet me. He wanted the chip. The access key to gain control of House Red's assets. He wanted to make sure it was still in the necklace before he cast me aside. Had all that bullshit about freeing the original humans, the ferals, been no more than that? When it came down to it, were he and Tarakona nothing more than a pair of thieves?

 
"I've waited a long time for this. House Red and House Black in my hands, the true strength of the ancient world only a few cuts away. My father is a blind, megalomaniacal fool. He tried so hard to keep the House out of my hands. First Danelle, and then Kotori? And if that wasn't enough, he arranged for the House of his mistress, his whore of a mistress to endure by bonding a fucking elf!"
 

His face clenched in anger, and he took hold of the dagger, lifting it from his belt.
 

"Ever since Moutohora, I knew what I had to do. Black doesn't know what's best for this world. He only knows what's best for him." He took a few deep breaths to compose himself and closed his fist over the data chip. "Thank you for this."

"You're welcome." I said, my voice muffled.

Then I spit the dice at him.

Everything stopped. It was as if all of time warped around the pair of bone cubes, as they traveled the six feet between him and me. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. There was no sound, no air, no anything. I wasn't wearing the mask, not yet, but in my mind I could hear the spirit's cold laughter, and the cries of the souls it devoured.

The dice hit him in the chest, and clattered against the planked floor. It was only once they had bounced around and finished settling that the world regained itself.
 

He looked at me, and then down at them. He didn't know how to react. Nobody did. Not until the darkness rose from them.
 

Not until the force of the power lashed out.

Snake. Lightning.

His eyes grew wide, and his lip curled. His body convulsing, his tongue sliding in and out of his mouth, his muscles contracting and expanding, contorting him in a twisted dance of death. Next to me, Veronica's brother was suffering the same fate, as were two of the skinwalkers behind him, and the pair of vampire guards. I had offered up six souls, willing to risk that I would have to be one of them to satisfy the spirit. It had made its choice.
 

It had screwed me.

One of the skinwalkers was still standing, completely unaffected. He stared at Matwau, a look of confusion across his angled face. Then he looked at me.

Veronica's brother had taken my guns and given them to the vamps to hold. I took three quick backwards steps, coming up next to them, punched one hard in a quaking face, and stole the weapon from its hand. The skinwalker changed his shape, from man to something else, something lean and muscular, hairy and clawed. I shot the second vampire in the head, and managed to get my other gun from it while it tumbled to the ground.
 

The skinwalker leaped towards me, and I opened fire, planting an entire clip of bullets into its shoulders, its chest, its face. I saw an eye explode, and it cried out in pain.

It didn't stop coming.

I ducked down, dropping the empty pistol and getting myself behind the dead vampire. Claws sunk into its flesh, and teeth tore into its throat, ripping away in an effort to reach me. I let go and rolled to the side, coming up and firing three more shots at its head. The wound had made it a little more careful, and it put its hands up to protect itself.

I used the precious seconds to reach up behind my head, to where the mask was resting in the back of the hood. I grabbed it and put it to my face, feeling the bones knitting themselves together around me, hearing the screaming and the echoes, the laughter and the excitement.
 

Snake. Lightning.
 

I needed to stay alive for another twenty seconds.

The skinwalker growled and charged again, and I backpedaled away, trying to buy time. I threw myself to the ground to escape a heavy tackle, rolled away and took two more shots that struck it in the neck. It roared in pain, even as I watched the wounds begin to close. I was running out of ammo.

Matwau's knife. It wouldn't do much, but it was a good last resort if I needed to try to stick the other eye. I ran for it, towards the wizard, who was frozen on his hands and knees.
 

I heard it coming, and I threw myself to the ground, momentum carrying me forward and sliding me across the floor. I stopped only a foot away from Matwau, the knife within easy reach. I started grabbing for it.

He looked up at me.

His eyes were burning in flame, his visage twisted. His lips shook, and his tongue hung from his mouth. The rest of him was still.
 

He was overcoming the power of the dice.
 

I took the knife in my hand and turned myself over on my knees, bringing it across and down in one quick stroke. The protruding end of his tongue fell to the floor, and he grunted in pain.
 

That was when the skinwalker hit me.

I felt the claws dig into my side, puncturing flesh and muscle and bone, and throwing me backwards a good twenty feet. Everything exploded into white hot agony, and I tried to cry out, finding my lungs not quite functional. Tears sprang to my eyes from the pain, and I lifted my head, firing the gun towards the approaching mass through blurry orbs, trying to slow it down.
 

Then all I heard were clicks. I dropped the gun, and tried to raise the knife. It must have fallen out of my hand when he hit me. My eyes started drooping closed.

The power of a soul, for the power of a soul.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

What is it with...

"It's about fucking time."

The power fed into me, changing me into someone, and something, else. I felt the strength, the vitality, the energy, the power. I felt my lungs filling, my ribs healing, my skin closing. The skinwalker was close now, so close.
 

He came face to face with another of his kind.

I roared with the power of the beast and threw a heavy fist into its face, the force of the blow casting it aside. It growled and skidded on the floor, righting itself and coming back again. I got to my feet and set myself, catching its claws when they came in at me, turning my hips and throwing the monster again. It rolled and got up, charging back a third time. It was a brawler. I was an artist. As a human I didn't stand a chance. As a skinwalker... I caught its arms in my grip and held it, muscle against muscle, desire against desire.
 

I didn't want to die. I didn't have to die. All I had to do was overpower this thing.