Sunrise(Pact Arcanum 2) (2 page)

Beside him, maintaining their defensive wards, Edgar glanced at his watch when it beeped sharply. “Oh, my God.”

Fire faced him. “What is it?”

Edgar’s face was ashen. “My alarm was set for dawn, not sunrise. I forgot about it.
They tricked us!
”

Fire snapped his gaze up to the minaret just as the great illusion spell that surrounded the city evaporated, and the early morning sunlight disappeared, leaving only darkness lit by a glow at the horizon. Three Nightwalkers emerged from behind a shroud of invisibility at the windows of the tower. Fire knew them all: Luscian Firstborn, the Huntmaster of the Court; Aleksei Magister Talizered, his second-in-command; and the Night’s Herald, Chief Inquisitor of the Court’s spy network. Luscian turned his head to stare directly at Fire’s hiding place, and grinned, showing his fangs. The Night’s Herald stepped off the minaret to land lightly on his feet at the end of the square nearest the mosque. Immediately, scores of Nightwalkers emerged from hiding all around the periphery of the square, blocking all the exit routes.

Desperately, Fire reached out to the other Winds, feeling the renewed jumper block snap into existence.
“Brothers, flee!”

Earth ignored him, running ahead with sword in hand to engage the Night’s Herald, followed by thirty battle-tested Sentinels, including Water and Air. The Nightwalkers surrounding the mosque leapt forward in his way, forming a wall of bodies between Earth and the Herald. Meanwhile, the Herald raised his arms to either side, and a vertical sheet of white flames appeared behind him, spreading out along the periphery of the square to seal them all inside.

Antonio staggered, his personality reasserting itself as the Wind Link was severed. He watched helplessly as the Night’s Herald closed his eyes and chanted softly. He couldn’t hear the words, but he could see the spellforms with his other senses.
Radiant Burn.
“NO!”

Edgar knocked him to the floor and cast a shield ward over them. The view of the square was suddenly eclipsed by a blinding white light. The floor heaved under them, and the building shuddered from the shockwave.

Antonio threw Edgar off of him, and stumbled back to the window. The entire square was a glowing red pool of molten glass, though the damage was limited to the area enclosed by the Herald’s containment spell. Nothing from either side remained.

Then the wall next to him exploded inward.
Almost nothing.
Antonio raised his gaze to meet Luscian’s from across the square. The vampire lord raised his hand to cast another spell. Antonio watched it numbly as it took shape.
Fourth-level disintegration pulse. Nice design.

Then Edgar’s teleport spell snatched them both away, moments before the top three floors of the building in which they were hiding crumbled into dust.

PART I:  NIGHTFALL

CHAPTER 1

April 2015; San Francisco, California

Antonio sat at the hotel bar nursing his second scotch and soda when he saw Edgar step out of the elevator with an infant bundled in his arms. A woman dressed in a no-nonsense business suit joined him a moment later, leading a child of about eleven or twelve. The Wind left the bar for the lobby, to get a better look at his former lieutenant. The woman had her arm entwined around Edgar’s as they walked, and her stern expression softened when he smiled at her. Her other hand firmly grasped her son’s wrist. The boy was playing a harmonica with his other hand and dancing in place, tossing his head every so often to clear his floppy blond hair out of his eyes. Edgar was laughing at something the woman said, when he turned his head and caught sight of Antonio standing at the entrance to the bar.

Antonio felt a surge of remorse as he watched the emotions chase across the younger Sentinel’s face. Shock, then pleasure, and finally suspicion. The woman was obviously attuned to his mood, and picked up on his distraction immediately, following his gaze to Antonio. Antonio walked toward them, and Edgar stood frozen in place.
He probably can’t think of a graceful way to get them out of here quick enough.

 Antonio stood in front of the family, and held out his hand. “Hello, Edgar. It’s been a long time.”

Edgar looked at his outstretched palm and for a moment, Antonio thought the younger man would brush him off. Then Edgar clasped his hand and shook it briefly. “Hello, Mr. Martinez. How have you been?” He let go of Antonio’s hand, and turned to his wife. “Claire, this is Antonio Martinez. He was my old boss from back when I worked sales.”

She smiled, and Antonio was grateful for the lie. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jameson. Edgar spoke of you on occasion.”

“Call me Claire, please, Antonio. It’s so seldom that I meet any of Ed’s coworkers from those days, he was on the road so much. I appreciated the money he sent home, of course, but I much preferred when he got a new job with more regular hours. Your loss is my gain, I must say.”

“I’m glad he was able to take more time for his family, finally,” said Antonio. And he found that he meant it. Losing a trusted officer had made reorganizing the Sentinel command structure more difficult, but Edgar had wanted out, and Antonio couldn’t refuse the request from the man who saved his life.

“So, Antonio, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Edgar’s pained expression made it plain that was an understatement. “What are you doing in San Francisco?”

“I live here,” answered Antonio in a bland tone. “You might say it’s my new headquarters.”

“I see. I wasn’t aware of that.”

And you’re not pleased to find out. I don’t blame you.
“Anyway, I heard you were in town, and I thought I would stop by and say hello, for old times’ sake.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, recognizing the tension between the two men, but not the reason for it. “You
heard
? We’re only visiting for a few days to meet Nick’s new music tutor. How could you know we’d be here?”

Antonio shrugged. “I have my spies.”

Claire laughed, thinking he was making a joke.

Edgar turned to his wife. “Claire, would you mind asking the valet to bring the car around, and get Nick and Faith settled? I’ll be along in just a minute.”

She favored him with a concerned expression, but nodded. “Sure. Don’t take too long. Our reservation is for six o’clock.” Then she accepted the infant that Edgar handed to her, and walked the boy toward the front of the hotel.

Edgar turned to face Antonio, his face a mask of fury. “How dare you—”

“You’re an active Sentinel entering a secure territory,” said Antonio in a cold voice. “When my people told me who you were, I ordered them to let me handle you myself. Be grateful you didn’t have a triad waiting for you when you got back from dinner.”

Edgar gave him a sour look. “I am
not
an active Sentinel, my Lord. You agreed to let me retire.”

“And I have honored my agreement. If you hadn’t come to my city, I would never have contacted you.” He sighed. “In case you don’t recall, protocol requires you to check in with the Sentinel command structure when entering a major territory for the first time, so they can call upon you if they require military assistance.”

“Yeah, right. I have no intention of being drafted into that life again.”

“I know, which is why I prepared this for you.” Antonio held out a laminated plastic card.

Edgar stared at the card in his mentor’s hand, inscribed with small pictograms of Arcolin text. “And this is?”

“A writ of free passage. It will allow you to travel anywhere in the United States without further interaction with the local territory leaders, on my authority as the Wind of Fire. I would have given you one when you first retired, but we hadn’t set up national protocols yet for the other territories to accept my uncontested leadership after the battle of Alexandria.”

Edgar reached out and took the card. “Why are you doing this, Antonio?”

“Because you saved my life, and all you asked for in return was to be with your family. Consider this my follow through.”

Edgar slipped the plastic card into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You have what we all dream of, Ed. Enjoy it while it lasts, and live a long and happy life. That’s all I want for you.”

Edgar said nothing in reply, merely walked away.

Antonio sighed, and rubbed his eyes.
I’m too old to let a dismissal from a subordinate sting so much.
Antonio walked out of the opposite entrance of the hotel and out onto the street. He walked down the less travelled streets until he came to an alleyway where he could teleport back to his base unobserved. He stood in the shadows and opened his senses wide, to fix his position and jump back to more familiar settings.

Nightwalker.

Antonio snapped his head to the side and picked out two young men leaning against the wall of the alley, talking. Ordinarily, Antonio wouldn’t have bothered to kill them, but he could feel the three humans coming down the alley from the other side.
This could get ugly.

* * *

It had been a long, hard slog, but finally Nightfall had cause for celebration. The band had put out smaller releases before, of course, but this was their first professionally produced and published album. The scents of cumin and tamarind filled the crowded Indian restaurant, which hummed with a low rumble of conversation as the three wound up their congratulatory dinner.

“To us.” Takeshi raised his beer. His almond-shaped brown eyes creased with laughter, which belied the somber charcoal suit he wore over a black T-shirt.

Ana tapped her martini against his glass. “Long may we reign.” Straight jet hair framed her face and her bronze skin was flushed from the alcohol.

Rory’s glass of whiskey joined theirs with a clink. “Amen.” He had come directly from work and still wore a simple white dress shirt and tie, his auburn hair tied back in a ponytail.

They knocked back a slug of their drinks before gazing again at the CD on the table before them. It featured a picture of them on stage: Ana on keyboards, Takeshi on guitar, and Rory behind the drum kit. If sales justified it, they had been promised a concert tour of larger venues in the fall.

Rory couldn’t wait. They’d been at this part-time for four years—since their senior year in high school—and it was just starting to get good. They’d already racked up a loyal following on the club circuit, and the doors they had been waiting to open had finally materialized. He sipped at his drink, contemplating his two best friends. Sometimes it seemed like they had been together since they were zygotes. They had somehow picked each other out in junior high, each discovering a common love of music that transcended their diverse backgrounds. Takeshi had lived in the city with his grandmother since he was a child, but Anaba and Rory were transplants, from New Mexico and Massachusetts respectively. They had watched each other’s backs ever since, against all the trials of adolescence, and the idea of forming a band together seemed like the most natural thing in the world. That they had managed to attract a fan base never ceased to amaze him. He was just out there having fun, and people were actually willing to pay him to do it.

I’d be happy doing anything, if it was with Take. And Ana,
he corrected himself silently as he glanced over at his companions.
Damn. I can’t afford to make that kind of slip-up, not even in my own head.
He scowled as the old fear resurfaced, deflating some of the buzz generated by their dinner celebration.
Take would never want me like that. It’s pure masochism to let myself think of him as anything more than my best friend.
He sighed inaudibly. Life sucked, suddenly.

Rory was wrenched out of his sour musings by the object of his secret thoughts tapping him on the wrist. He looked up to find Take and Ana staring at him expectantly. “Sorry, what?”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Take asked why you looked so pissed off all of a sudden.”

Rory reddened. “Um, it’s nothing. Just a passing thought.”

“Care to share with the class?” Take raised an eyebrow.

Rory shook his head, absently brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Guys, I think it’s time to call it a night. We have to work in the morning, at least until the album starts to take off.”

Take, his eyes on Rory’s, just sipped at his beer.

“Fair enough.” Ana checked her watch. “I’ll flag down our waiter and we can hit the road.” Not bothering to signal, she stood, smoothed down her beige suit, and put on the matching jacket. Then she walked over to where the wait staff stood talking quietly.

Rory grinned. Another example of Ana’s classic impatience. Turning his attention back to Take, he found his friend’s eyes completely focused on him. Rory froze, knowing that Take only looked so intent when he saw a problem to solve, and then nothing would get in his way until he had an answer that satisfied him.
Shit.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Like what?” Rory swallowed nervously.

Take frowned, his eyes narrowing. “You keep getting in a bad mood lately, even when we’re having fun.” He leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of him. “And when you do, most of the time you’re looking at me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, Take. Honestly, it’s nothing you did.” Rory’s thoughts turned inward and he silently berated himself for being so obvious. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

Take laid his hand on Rory’s. “Are you sure it’s a problem?”

Rory blinked.
Did he know?
“What?”

Take shrugged. “What’s bothering you—are you sure it’s a problem? Maybe it isn’t as big a deal as you think. If you want to talk about it…”

Opening his mouth to speak, Rory thought better of it. “It’s nothing.” He dropped his gaze.

Take squeezed his hand again and then let go. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He stood. “Are you sure you’re ready to go home? It’s not that late. Maybe we could go to a club or something.”

Rory sighed.
Sooner or later, I really have to grow a spine.
“Okay. Maybe another hour or two, but then I have to go.”