Hallow Point (38 page)

Grangullie let the haft of his weapon slide through his mitts until he gripped it more in the center, the way you’d normally wield the thing. Again, we both locked stares, each waitin’ for the other, each casting quick glances aside to see how Raighallan was managing. I caught him trying to use a small pair of pliers that’d spilled from the table to hold the bracket—and saw him fall back, cursing and screaming, as the tool did him no good whatsoever.

Then Grangullie lunged.

We circled, danced, blades flickering and clanging and bouncing aside before flickering out once again. It was impossible, how swift he was with that thing. The weapon was frickin’ bigger’n he was, and he had the control of a surgeon with it. He had reach on me by a good few feet, and he was stronger’n I was. Even if I hadn’t felt it in the impacts, I’d have known by the freshness of the blood that glistened on his hat and occasionally ran down one cheek.

On the other hand, Grangullie, same as most redcaps, relied on brute force. He didn’t have the know-how I did, and that was enough to keep me from decorating the edge of his pike.

Barely.

It was startin’ to wear on me, though. If I’d
just
been dueling him, that’d be one thing. But I was also constantly feeding mojo through my sword to keep it in one piece, and tryin’ to keep half a peeper on Grangullie’s partner.

Time to try something new, then.

The next time the redcap took a poke at me with the razor-tip of the pike, I moved
into
the thrust while twisting aside, instead of out. Sorta spun along the haft of the weapon like it was a yo-yo string, until I was good’n deep inside Grangullie’s reach, way too close for him to cut me.

On the down side, I’d also underestimated his lunge, so I was too close in to comfortably use the rapier.

Ah, well.

I dropped the sword, grabbed the pike, and shoved it sideways hard’n fast as I could. The back end swung inward and gave Grangullie a nice solid rap across the ribs.

Wasn’t too solid a blow, but he grunted and staggered a step, and that did me fine. I moved in the last couple inches and started landing punch after punch—wand still wrapped in my left mitt, now channeling extra strength and extra
pain
through my knuckles—around his mug and throat.

’Cept near his mouth. Don’t ever take a poke at a redcap’s mouth. Might as well try to survive a bear attack by clogging up its gullet with your head.

Blow after blow, I kept him reelin’, didn’t give him half a breath to get his bearings. He took a few wild snaps at my fists, to trap one or maybe bite it off, but he was dazed enough to telegraph. I saw each one coming long before teeth got anywhere near skin.

My meathooks were startin’ to smart, though. Even with the extra magic
oomph
, I wasn’t gonna beat a redcap to death with my bare hands. Hell, I’m not sure I could beat a redcap to death with the Sears’n Roebuck clock tower.

One more poke; I dropped my shoulder into a half-crouch so I could land one in his gut, putting every last bit of extra sensation into it I could. Grangullie doubled over with some horrid combination of a groan, a growl, and a gag. I kneed him in the forehead, then grabbed him by the collar as the impact straightened him back up.
Another
surge of magic and extra luck, this time to me, and then I lifted him with one hand and hurled him straight
through
several of the shelves.

I hope none of those fossils or samples were irreplaceable, ’cause by the time the crashing and shattering stopped, a guy couldn’t hope to tell the bone fragments from the plaster fragments from the wood fragments.

Pain.

Agony washed over me. Felt like something was shredding through my aura, ripping away the bright spots of my life, scraping at the edges of my soul.

Raighallan. Bastard’d just shot me in the back with his wand.

I dropped to one knee, teeth grinding, and tried to counter him, tried drawing power from around me to replace what he’d just torn away. And if I’d started fresh, I probably coulda pulled it off, but I was already suffering, already drained. I couldn’t focus enough on the L&G to counter him; I just stem the tide a bit.

So I let myself fall forward, and land in a heap where Grangullie’n me’d been sparring.

Oh, and where his pike’d fallen from limp fingers while I was pounding the stuffing out of him.

Came nowhere near actually
hitting
Raighallan. Even if I wasn’t already weak and suffering an acute case of bad-luck poisoning, damn thing wasn’t exactly made for throwing, was it? Still, he flinched back as the pike I’d hurled spun over his head, and one man’s flinch is another man’s opportunity.

This time the L&G fired first.

Instantly I started to feel better, draining away and reclaiming some of what he’d taken. I kept shooting, blast after blast, knowing if I let up for half a breath, he still had his own, stronger, wand ready.

He groaned, and swayed. I hit him again. He staggered. I hit him again, draining as much luck from him as I could, so that when he staggered a second time…

Zzot!

Gotta be careful where you put your hands when you got something nasty like that bracket lyin’ around, Raiggy.

He folded and collapsed like a sack-full of… well, nothin’ really. Me, I made for his side of the room, ready to get my mitts on the dang thing and get the hell out of—

Wood shrieked, strained, and splintered with an unmistakable
crack
! A shadow, huge but faint in the poor lighting, slid over me, wrapping me in an unwanted embrace. One of the shelves—massive, solid wood, weighted down with all manner of tools and samples—toppled toward me, inexorable as an avalanche. Pretty sure I heard Grangullie yelling “Timber, you fuck!” from somewhere behind it.

A quick “whip-crack” of the L&G snagged as much luck as I could from Raighallan and the room around me; several of the fossils crumbled to dust, the random chance that had allowed ’em to survive the eons suddenly drained. And then, with a mutter that mighta been a prayer, if I’d had anybody specific in mind to hear it, I jumped.

At the falling shelf.

Through
the falling shelf.

Bits and pieces and gewgaws bounced off my noggin and shoulders, a rain of stone and metal hail, but it only stung. None of ’em were big enough to do me any real hurt. The thick wood—the sides of the shelves, yes, but also the two shelves themselves—scraped by me so close, as I passed between ’em all, that it damn near yanked my coat off my shoulders. There was
barely
room for me between those slats—took an astonishing amount of luck pass through unscathed.

But I
had
an astonishing amount of luck. And
aes sidhe
reflexes ain’t to be sneezed at, either.

That same leap carried me higher still, so that I reached the top of the next standing case right about the same time the falling one hit the floor and broke apart.

Grangullie, who really looked better’n he should have after the broderick I’d given him, had stepped aside after he set the case to falling, moving back toward the next row, where I’d launched him through a few shelves of his own. I’d only gotten a slant on him for a blink or two, at the height of my jump, but that’d do. I snagged the top of the shelf with both hands, vaulted up and around without ever setting foot on the wood, and hurled myself heels-first at the gape-jawed redcap.

We both went tumbling good, but I definitely got the better of it—mostly ’cause I wasn’t the one who’d just had an
aes sidhe
dropped on his collarbone. Grangullie struggled upright, but he wobbled, arms windmilling and grabbing at anything around him in hopes of keeping steady.

I rapped him across the temple with the wand, once again drawing everything good and useful from his aura that I could, filling in the gaps with disorientation and misfortune and pain. The redcap collapsed backward, slamming into the half-cracked ruin of one of the shelves I’d tossed him through earlier.

It was a low but terrified cry that distracted me from pounding Grangullie’s face into something resembling peanut butter and jellyfish. Raighallan was making for the door at an awkward waddling jog. Over one shoulder, he hefted the box—keeping his grip good and distant from the bracket. Over the other, he carried the limp and whimpering curator, head bobbing and bouncing, fingers reaching almost idly for anything that might save him.

Well, shit. I hadn’t the foggiest idea what Raiggy had in mind, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to let him outta my sight with the spear, no matter how well sealed it was. I jabbed the L&G hard into Grangullie’s throat, physically and magically both, and hadda hope that was enough to keep him down. Then I was running full out, half-shredded flogger flapping behind me. Think I about tore the door off its hinges, since I just turned my shoulder to it instead of stopping to push it open.

Footsteps echoed, vanishing up the stairwell and I pounded after ’em. But, of course, he heard me clear as I heard him. I dunno if Raiggy’d been making for anyplace in particular or if he’d just wanted to put some distance between us. Either way, guess he figured he wasn’t too keen on me catchin’ him up on the stairs. Just as I’d dashed past the landing on the ground floor, I heard another door slam open a flight’n a half above me.

Next stop, main floor: birds, Africa, Egypt, and scuffling Fae come full circle.
It kinda fit, honestly.

I blasted through those doors, too, just in time to spot Raighallan crouching beside one of the free-standing displays. Couldn’t really see what he was up to, but he had the box in his hands, and Lydecker’s feet were sticking out from behind the small pedestal.

He heard me comin’, started to turn, clutching the box under one arm and drawing his wand with the other…

I didn’t bother stopping to use my own magics. I just threw myself at him in a tackle I’m pretty sure woulda been illegal on any rugby or football field. I wrapped my mitts around him as we rolled, and leaned aside to steer us a little. He smacked me once in the ribs during that tumble, sending a shock of pain all through me, but I wasn’t gonna let it slow me any. I came outta the roll back on my feet, hefting the bastard in both hands, and hurled him hard as I could at my old elephant buddy’s tusks.

What can I say? The trick hadn’t worked with Herne, but I felt it still had some potential.

Unfortunately, if it did, that potential wasn’t realized tonight, either. Even as Raiggy hurtled on his way, I could feel the spiritual wound from his wand, the gobbet of raw luck he’d ripped away from me.

And with that extra luck, he managed to raise the box over his head, now braced with both hands (though at least he’d hadda drop the wand in the process). The long wooden crate slammed hard into both tusks, cracking one of ’em—and more importantly, keeping Raighallan from being impaled on either, or even from hitting the big bony head between ’em.

I charged, aiming to grab his wand, see if I could make this more of an unfair fight. He dropped to the ground in a half crouch just as I neared, but there was no way he could get to his weapon before I did…

’Cept he didn’t try. Instead, he gripped that damn box at one end and clocked me something fierce with the other.

The end with the bracket, of course.

Zzot.

My whole body went stiff and limp, burnin’ and freezin’ at once, and if that don’t make any sense to you, imagine how
I
felt. I hadn’t even realized I’d been thrown or staggered back until I crashed into the wall between two massive archways. Not sure how I’d kept hold of the L&G, but I wasn’t complaining any.

Well, you know, about
that
part of it.

I thought the faint sizzling was all in my head, at first, leftover from the phantom shock I’d just got, but no. My thoughts cleared some, ears stopped ringing, but it was still there, loud as day (um, so to speak): the drunken honeybee buzz of the bracket’s awakened power.

I righted myself, pushing off the wall with one palm, and it was then that I saw just why Raighallan had scooped up poor, dumb, greedy Lydecker.

The curator—or former curator, to judge by the open, sightless blinkers and slowly blackening splotches on his skin—was bent around the bracket at the waist. Raighallan wrenched the body back and forth, basically using Lydecker as a real large and awkward oven mitt.

No, I can’t tell you why the energy didn’t conduct through the body the way it had the tools downstairs. It wasn’t real electricity, after all, just sorta a spiritual equivalent. Maybe once it got grounded in flesh or soul it didn’t pass through any further? What the hell do I know?

I knew it was working, though. I heard more scraping on wood, saw the prongs sliding back and forth. Slow going, sure, but given a minute or so, Raighallan was gonna have the damn thing open.

So, no finesse. No careful manipulation of chance. I aimed, braced myself, and blasted him with every last bit of agony, mental darkness, and sheer power the L&G could take in a single shot.

Raighallan arched back, screaming, stumbling—and since I hadn’t been mucking with things, I can only call it
genuine
good luck that Lydecker’s limp body crumpled one way while the box toppled the other. Even if Raiggy could gather himself, he couldn’t reach both at once.

I didn’t really mean to let him gather himself, either.

No running, now. I advanced on him at a steady walk, and with every other step, I shot him again. Again. And again. He reeled back, and I kept coming. He fell. Crawled. Whimpered as he dragged himself across the floor, desperate to escape the pain I kept pumping into him.

And you know what? I’m honest enough to say I enjoyed it. Reveled in it, even. He had it comin’ to him, this and so much more.

Maybe, in that moment, so did I.

In my advance and his crawl, we’d moved past the box and the body, see? Not far, just a few paces, but far enough.

I heard Grangullie’s scream of fury, spun in time to see the pike rise up, up, only to come crashing back down.

On the bracket.

The redcap staggered back from the phantom shock, but the damage was done. The impact of the enchanted blade knocked the metal from the box, sending it flying amidst a flurry of wooden splinters.