The Mirrored City (24 page)

Sword was nuzzling with a woman, Rebekah, by one of the podiums, whispering things into her ear and kissing her bare shoulders. She was easily twice his current physical age, but then Sword was older than ten generations of her family so it was creepy either way.

Maddox rubbed the back of his neck. “Does she need to be here?”

Rebekah folded her arms and looked at him. Her eyes were lined with dark makeup, and her fingers were covered in rings. “I do, ‘Archwizard.’ Even if you are consulting with the Inspector, I’m taking a big professional risk letting you use this circle.”

Sword may have embellished that last part, but like Heath, Sword had none of the moral issues with lying that her Veritas Seal would detect.

Sword wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. “We’ll be quiet.”

Maddox shut his eyes. They were safe and topside. Sword was getting a bit too comfortable in his new body, and Maddox wished they could just merge already. The Sword was pushing Maddox away. Heath was pushing the Sword away. And if Heath were there, he’d probably push Maddox away.

He took out his new stylus and began his inscription by drawing a perfect circle on the white marble. The gem tip of the stylus glowed, and his will became a smooth black mark on the tile. The freehand circle was his most impressive trick, but the new stylus took a lot of the fun out of it. It was like it could draw the seal itself.

Rebekah took Sword’s arms off her body and stepped forward, intently watching.

Maddox smirked.

He consulted the drawing of the Seal of Felice, the warden. He knew the thirteen seals by heart; he had studied them for years. But he had always had it drilled into his head that he needed a reference. He wondered how much of that advice had been total crap, intended to scare mages from ever trying. He shut the book and started to draw.

He realized it had been almost a year since he had worked the stylus, and doing it here in the binding circle brought back a deep and forgotten love of craftsmanship and precision. Drawing was the only time, aside from drinking, that he felt whole.

His hands worked quickly, laying down strokes in a rhythm that felt organic and natural. He had nothing to lose—if he fucked it up, he could just off himself and his body would resurrect as a virtually blank slate. The emblem of Felice formed under his steady hand; it looked like a stylized shield, radiating or repelling intervening lines of energy.

The Guides, or aethersprites as the less superstitions ancients called them, started to appear. They were motes of twinkling light that danced on an invisible current. Thousands shimmered into existence, undulating through the space in the circle like a flock of starlings. He wiped his eyes. He was crying for some reason.

He smiled and slammed his hand down on the seal. The lights followed his hand and streamed into the seal. The now-glowing pattern transferred to his hand, and he pressed it to his chest, next to his Seal of Ardiel.

Rebekah clapped. Her jaw was slack with naked awe. “That was incredible! You did that in less than thirty minutes.”

“I’m rusty,” Maddox admitted. “The next one I can do in five.”

“Wait—you’re doing
another
seal?”

“The Seal of Pyrael, Incendium.”

She stepped toward the circle. “You can’t—we haven’t even verified the last one.”

Maddox was already drawing. Rebekah backed off. She couldn’t interrupt the inscription once it started. Although he didn’t do it in five minutes, he did do it in under an hour. As before, the sprites appeared. And when it was finished, he placed the seal on his chest next to Ardiel and Felice, forming a triangle. His golden Seal of Sephariel needed to remain set apart on his left pectoral.

Rebekah gasped. “Soren, are you watching this?”

Sword’s head jerked, and he blinked his eyes. “What happened? Are we done here?”

“Were you sleeping standing up?” Maddox asked.

“Patrean trick I learned for getting through boring guard duty. Pretty good, huh?” Sword seemed inordinately proud of his accomplishment.

Rebekah shook her head. “We need to verify the seals.”

Maddox held out his hand, and a ball of fire winked into existence. It was different from anything he had done before. Telekinesis was just like having an extra appendage, which was weird at first but basically worked like a part of his body. The fire came from somewhere else inside him. He had no better way to explain it.

“That works,” Maddox said. “Now we need to test my ward.”

“I’ll do it!” Sword said cheerfully, bounding toward Maddox and winding up for a punch. Sword fell back on one leg and raised his heel as he turned his torso back and readied his fist.

Holy crap, he’s trying to knock me out,
Maddox thought
.

Maddox’s first instinct was to use his mind to push Sword away. If this were a real fight, Maddox could have tossed Sword off the building and been done with it. But Maddox called on the Warding Seal. It manifested as a jiggling, rubbery vibration in front of him. Sword’s fist connected with the air and stopped. The invisible barrier rang like a muffled bell and flashed with a light that radiated from the point of impact, dissipating rapidly.

Sword shook his fist. “Nice.”

Without warning, he punched again. He moved faster, in a greater flurry of blows. He added some kicks into his attack rotation. Maddox stepped back on instinct as Sword worked at the defenses. The boy, Soren, had probably never fought in his life. Sword, on the other hand, had a thousand years of collected skill and muscle memory, and he was unleashing it.

Without warning, Sword tumbled to the ground, rolled and jumped to his feet, bringing his arm back. Maddox caught it out of the corner of his eye as Sword slammed his elbow into Maddox’s head. He went sprawling to the floor. Sword had already drawn his blade and held it at Maddox’s throat.

“The fuck?” Maddox exclaimed.

Sword shrugged and sheathed his weapon. “The defense works, but you need to consider all sides. Or just keep your back to the wall. And don’t flinch.”

“Ow.” Maddox grabbed the side of his face. “We’re just testing a seal. That’s going to leave a bruise, asshole.”

Rebekah stared at Sword, her expression concerned. “Soren… where did you learn to fight like that?”

“The Sword I’m carrying—it has magic. Also I’m a Patrean incubus, and the Palace of Keys is secretly a nest of inhuman parasites. They had Lawrence killed by some three-headed monstrosity, and we’re off to avenge his murder,” Sword explained.

“You’re telling the truth,” Rebekah said. With her Veritas Seal, these off-hand revelations must have been shocking. “Are you certain there’s no way you could be mistaken?”

Maddox interjected, “Guides straight up told me they were involved in these murders somehow, and a Traveler confirmed it.”

“Shit. I really liked that place.” Rebekah’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll go with you. Maybe I can help.”

Sword took her hand and kissed it. “It’s too dangerous. Just tell Inspector Collette what we told you is true according to the Veritas Seal.”

They left the Magesterium and made their way to the Palace.

“So you’re keeping the body?” Maddox asked.

“It’s Soren’s fight as much as it is yours,” Sword said. “I might be the most dangerous thing in this city, and we’re going up against some nasty shit. Are you ready for a little rough and tumble?”

“We should wait for the Inspector,” Maddox said warily. He had never been in combat, as himself anyway. “We get some Fodders, a couple more wizards, healers for backup—”

“If we bring them in, they’ll get killed. Maybe not all, but some for sure. We can handle this. Come on… you’re my battle buddy. I’ll tell you everything you need to do every step of the way.”

“You want payback on those things.”

“Big time. But also glory.” Sword smirked.

“Can we please go get a drink first?”

He wrapped his arm around Maddox. “Maybe after. I think that’s a better incentive for you. Now let’s go to the Palace of Keys. Those monsters still owe Soren his last week of pay.”

Maddox felt a sense of cold dread as they marched toward the building. In daylight, it seemed ordinary, and no one guarded the front entrance. Sword pried the heavy metal door open with his blade, slicing through the locking mechanism. Maddox followed inside.

He walked into the Palace atrium. His eyes lingered on the green door upstairs, and his skin crawled with the memory of the worms slipping into his body. The place was empty, except for a dark-haired woman writing in a book on the sofa. They made it halfway through the door before a handsome dark-haired man stormed out of an alcove up to Sword. The man wore the same sleeveless leather getup as Soren.

“Soren? Where the fuck have you been? They put me on key duty because they said you ran off with a client! Is this him?” The man’s green eyes were narrowed in rage.

“Keltis!” Sword spread his arms broadly. He waited a second and punched Keltis in the face.

The young man wailed in pain, his hands clutching a bloodied and most likely shattered nose.

“What the fuck?” Keltis whined pathetically.

“That was for the orphanage, picking on the skinny sickly boy because you were bigger. Not so tough now, are you, asshole?”

“You broke my fucking nose!” Keltis screamed, his face twisted with rage. He looked ready to fight, so Sword kicked Keltis in the stomach and sent him tumbling to the floor.

“Yeah, I did.” Sword kicked Keltis again.

Keltis moaned miserably, and Sword answered with a more sympathetic kick to the man’s ribs.

The dark-haired woman ran toward the back, but Maddox waved his hand and the door slammed shut in front of her. She covered her head with her arms and hid behind a couch.

Maddox said, “These people are innocent, Sword.”

“Innocent?” Sword asked, his eyes hot with rage. “This fucker knew what went on here when he got me this job. Didn’t you?” Sword bent down and grabbed Keltis by the collar, hoisting him in the air. “Didn’t you?”

Keltis sobbed. “You were living on the street—”

Maddox grabbed Sword’s arm. “He’s not one of them, Sword.”

Sword tossed Keltis onto a settee. “Sorry. You want to play good interrogator with this sack of garbage while I chat up the Turisian lady?”

“Not… really,” Maddox said as Sword marched toward the back and warmly greeted the cowering woman.

Keltis, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen if he was a day, clutched at his broken nose and sobbed fearfully. Maddox wasn’t Heath and didn’t know the first thing about running an interrogation. Maddox’s people skills were marginal at best, something in which he took a peculiar sense of pride.

“You want something to drink?” Maddox offered.

Keltis whined. “If I didn’t find someone else, they would have taken me. I told them I was more valuable as a recruiter, you know? I came from nothing. I just wanted a decent life for myself. Please don’t kill me.”

Maybe this isn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.
Maddox waved his hand, and a bottle floated from one of the shelves. The cork popped out, and he took a swig. It tasted like wine. He plopped down next to Keltis.

“Look, my dad did way worse to me when I was a kid. My aunt Cara used an herbal poultice remedy—it will heal, and you’ll be fine. I had my nose broken a bunch of times.”

Keltis’s wet eyes gazed at Maddox, uncomprehending. “But your nose wasn’t perfectly symmetrical.”

Maddox glared at the man. “You vastly overestimate your attractiveness.”

Keltis glared right back. “I need a healer.”

“Fuck that.” Maddox handed Keltis the bottle. “I can set a broken nose. You’ll need to drink that.”

“I’m not letting you touch me, you—”

Keltis howled in agony as Maddox used his seal to straighten the nasal fracture. The Backwash was a rough part of town, and he had learned early in his career how to clean up after a bar fight. Keltis, after he was done screaming, gasped and chugged half the bottle. He looked truly miserable in his blood-soaked finery. Maddox felt sorry for the asshole.

Maddox snatched the wine back and examined his handiwork. “You’re welcome.”