Spellbound (28 page)

Crow took it and read. Crow swallowed hard when he got to the part where the witnesses reported that the demon had said it was from the government. “Is there any way we can squash this in time?”

“Squash it? That Crackler blasted you so hard it ended a
drought
. They’ve got more rain today than they’ve had in the last six years. Six years! That part of the country has been suffering because of magical
government
meddling since ’27, and as far as the people there are concerned it was ended by someone who proclaimed himself a Grimnoir, who then sacrificed himself to stop a
government
demon.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Crow. You’ve single-handedly made our enemies into folk heroes. Squash it? No . . . A few days ago, the only time the public had heard the name Grimnoir was as a criminal cabal. Now they fight demons and make it rain.”

“Maybe it’s just temporary?” Crow asked hopefully.

The boss shook his head. “A Weatherman’s already checked and said that it feels like the patterns there have returned to normal. There was only a magical blight there before, but it was too strong to break, and nobody was willing to kill themselves trying to drain it. Until you came along.”

“I apologize for my actions. Things got . . . out of hand.”

“Explain yourself.”

Crow placed the telegram back on the table. He knew that he had to tread carefully. If his superior realized how close he was to the edge, he could easily end up in Rockville. “It’s the Summoned. When I take them over, their minds are still inside. Usually that’s no problem, I just push them out of the way, but some are stronger than others. Their personality can start to seep through.” He didn’t mention that it was getting worse all the time. “The Greater Summoned especially . . . I needed something strong that could travel fast. That particular one was . . . aggressive.”

In reality, its rage had consumed him. When he’d forced the form to appear as a man, it hadn’t been too hard, but when he’d let its form free . . . His mind had still been intact, but the demon had taken over his personality. He’d wanted to eat the Grimnoir that had dared to fight him, and he’d wanted to gloat about it.

“Show me your spell,” his superior commanded.

Crow reluctantly opened his shirt to show off the intricate design tattooed on his chest.

The boss shook his head. “My work is perfect. The spell seems to be intact.”

“Of course,” Crow said. Before he’d received that magnifying mark he’d been an ordinary Summoner. It was frightening to think that the boss might have wanted to take that away from him. Being able to put his consciousness right into the body of a Summoned and being truly free was intoxicating. He quickly buttoned his shirt back up.

“Do you think the Dymaxion nullifiers here are affecting you?”

“I can’t Summon while they’re running, but if I’m already in the body of one, I can come and go as I please.” The nullifiers did seem to make his control a bit more tenuous, but the boss didn’t need to know that. The devices were an integral part of their security. He was careful only to be around the Dymaxions while in the body of one of his weaker Summoned, and even then it made it hard to separate himself from the weak creatures. It was hard enough to use one of his powerful demons; possessing one with a nullifier working could be disastrous.

“Fine, fine . . . I would reprimand you but I fear it would do more harm than good. You’re my most effective man. I expect better from you. I’ll overlook this, but I want you to be more careful in the future. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Crow had figured he would be all right. He was an integral part of this new operation. Even before the boss had gifted him with such an epic spell, Crow had been a useful clandestine operative, going clear back to making war protestors disappear for the Wilson administration. His talents, ability to keep a secret, and complete lack of moral compunction made him a valuable asset.

“What’s your next move?”

“Francis Stuyvesant ran, as expected. I put two layers on him. He’s lost the first, but doesn’t suspect we’re still tracking him. We’ll see what he gets up to. Otherwise I’m prepared to begin phase two.”

The boss stroked his mustache. “I see . . . So you plan to take them in one fell swoop?”

“I do.”

“Very well. Carry on and keep me apprised of your progress. Meanwhile, I have newsmen to talk to. There’s damage control to be done. Dismissed.”

Crow rolled his chair away from the desk. “I apologize again for my behavior.”

The boss waved him away. “No need, Mr. Crow. Epic changes take epic work and sometimes lead to epic mistakes. Once every Grimnoir is imprisoned or dead, we’ll look back on this day and laugh.”

Fairfax County, Virginia

TORU HAD FINALLY RELENTED
to the nagging of his men and eaten. They had brought him rice and fish. Then he’d dismissed them to return to his brooding. The more that Hatori’s memories found their place and became clear, the more concerned he had become.

The final year of Hatori’s life had been troubled. The ambassador had been privy to reports that a mere Iron Guard had not been allowed to see. The destruction of the flagship
Tokugawa
had come as a complete surprise. There had been no word from the Chairman. Some had begun to question . . . Was it possible that a Tesla weapon could destroy even the Chairman?

This was a great cause for concern. There was still an organization in place, but why would an immortal need to choose a successor? Even in the council there were factions vying for different outcomes. If the Chairman was truly gone, there would be a battle between them for supremacy. The matter was discussed. Lots were drawn and sides were chosen, and for one brief instant the future of the Imperium stood balanced on the edge of chaos.

But in the end, it had not mattered, because the Chairman had come back. Three days after the
Tokugawa,
he had walked right into the council chambers and taken his customary place to the right of the empty chair that was always left for the emperor, as if nothing had happened. He had gently chided his questioners for their lack of faith, but there was no doubt from his answers that he was truly the Chairman. A direct hit from the most powerful of all Tesla weapons had been but a temporary inconvenience. The Imperium had continued on its mission of purification.

Yet a few men had retained their doubts. Hatori had been one of them. He was one of Okubo Tokugawa’s oldest friends, and something had seemed
off
about the returned Chairman. Their few conversations had been strange, as if the Chairman had all of the information, but was processing different conclusions from it than he had in the past. Hatori was stationed in a distant land, and thought that perhaps he had just been away from home far too long. He had never spoken about his doubts to anyone, for the good of the Imperium.

Until the Grimnoir came, and then Hatori had been forced to face the truth. He could no longer afford to ignore what he’d secretly believed himself for some time. The danger presented by the Pathfinder was far too great. Hatori knew that he had been a coward, unable to face his doubts until it was too late.

And now his shame had fallen onto Toru.

The young Iron Guard had just finished his rice when the mirror flexed and the glass rippled like water. The time was at hand. He put his bowl aside, adjusted his uniform, and prepared himself. Toru was mindful of his duty in all things and despite the doubts that Master Hatori had cursed him with, Toru would conduct himself as an Iron Guard should. He went to his knees and put his head to the floor, fully expecting that his death would be ordered.

The Chairman appeared before him. “I have heard your report, Iron Guard Toru. I am displeased that the Grimnoir escaped, but they are crafty foes. However, you did as I expected with Ambassador Hatori?”

“No. I have failed in that as well, Chairman.”

“I see.” He sounded very displeased. “In what manner?”

“I was commanded not to speak with him. However, he used his Power to send information directly into my mind. He took me by surprise and I was unable to stop him. There is no excuse for my failure.”

“What did he show you?”

“Memories of his time with you in Dark Ocean . . .” Toru could not help himself. He glanced up in order to see the Chairman’s face. “And his more recent doubts as to whether you were really alive.”

The Chairman gave a little smile. “And did he think
me
an imposter?”

“He was unsure.”

“A waste of a good man, demented in his old age. What of you, Iron Guard? What do you think of this tale?”

His next few words would determine if he lived or died. “His doubts have damaged my faith, Chairman. I do not know the answer.”

The smile died. “I see . . . You are a brave one, aren’t you, Toru?”

“No, Chairman, but I am honest.”

“Have you spoken of these doubts with anyone else?”

“No.”

There was a long, painful silence. “I am moved by your sincerity, Iron Guard. You are one of my finest warriors. You were once considered a possibility to be First Iron Guard. However, you have failed me too many times, first in Manchuria and now in America. Your martial skill is unmatched, but your spirit is weak. Some of your brethren have been dispatched from New York to assume your command. You are to remand yourself into the custody of the captain of your guard until then.”

“Am I to die then?”

“Yes. I give you permission to take your own life. That would be for the best. Should you not, your brothers will do it for you.”

Toru’s ears flushed hot. The shame was greater than his fear of death. “Yes, Chairman.”

“Farewell, Iron Guard Toru.”

Teeth clenched so tight that his jaw ached, a sudden unexpected anger bubbled up from deep within. It was as if the spirit of Hatori was inside, shouting, demanding to be heard. “Father, wait.”

“Yes?”

“So that both Hatori and my spirit may go easily into death, restore my faith, that I may know it is truly you.”

“For your courage, I grant you this last wish.”

The real Chairman would know the words of Dark Ocean, from the time shortly after the defeat of the second Pathfinder, while they were all so devoted to taking power by any means necessary. They’d been forced to work in secret, recognizing other conspirators only through codes and tricks, often in the form of poems personally written by Okubo Tokugawa.

“The life of an echo.

“Perfect sky and mountain firm.

“Fires of purity burn,”

“On a dark ocean,” the Chairman finished automatically. “I wrote that myself, a very long time ago.”

That was correct.
“But what does it
mean
?”

“I . . .” The briefest look of consternation crossed his handsome face. “It means . . .” For the briefest of instants, the Chairman looked away, thinking, and then Toru knew the truth. “We were an image of the warriors that came before, as pure as air yet unyielding as rock, together we would make the empire pure.”

Toru touched his head to the floor. His father, the poet samurai, would never debase himself by explaining one of his poems. The poem’s meaning had to reveal itself. To explain it was to make it impure. The Chairman had told Toru that himself the very first time they’d met.

His real father was dead.

“Thank you, Chairman. I am at peace with what I must do.”

Prince William County, Virginia

SULLIVAN WAS SO CLOSE
that Hammer could smell him.

Not literally. Though that certainly would’ve been a strange Power to have been born with. She’d been compared to a bloodhound a few times, thankfully for skill rather than looks, but what she did was really much different than just following a trail. As a Justice, Pemberly Hammer could see the real truth of things.

She’d been exhausted after driving straight through from New Jersey and using her Power almost nonstop. Having picked up the spot where Sullivan had left the ambassador’s house, it had either been stop and rest or fall asleep at the wheel and crash.

The little roadside motel was quiet by the time she woke up late in the afternoon. A few hours of sleep and a bath worked wonders for her. Soon the chase would be on again, but Hammer needed some quiet time to relax. She really didn’t want to finish this job, but didn’t see much choice in the matter.

Luckily for her, Sullivan had tended to pick a road and stay on it. You could learn a lot about a man by observing his path. Sullivan was straightforward. When she’d first started looking for him to take the call on the spirit phone, some folks had told her that the Heavy was dumb. They’d mistaken his directness for simplicity, and they couldn’t have been more wrong.

A few times she’d driven right past a choice that he’d made and not realized it because she was tired and giving her Power a rest. Then she’d had to backtrack and try again. It wasn’t an easy trick, but it was why she got paid the big money. Sullivan’s choices had led her to some strange places, the spot where the Bonus Army had been driven out, and then out to the country to what she’d quickly realized was an Imperium-owned compound.

Toru Tokugawa had been remarkably truthful for an Imperial. That made her distrust him even more, especially since there was no way that he could have known that she could tell the instant he lied. She couldn’t read thoughts, though she could try to push people into spilling the truth. The man had struck her as so particularly dangerous that she hadn’t dared try. She got the distinct impression that he was someone who could take a human life as easily as a slaughterhouse butcher could plug a steer between the eyes.

Sadly, the Jap was only the second most unnerving person she’d met in the last few days, with Crow taking the grand prize for creepiness. She’d tried to tip the scales to be absolutely certain he was telling the truth, and instead she’d found something alien. Crow was a human shell filled with something nasty, like a rotten egg that looked edible until you cracked it.