Cloak Games: Thief Trap (12 page)

Before I could say anything else, before I could even react, he seized my upper arms, yanked me close, and kissed me long and hard upon the lips, and…and…

As it turned out, he was really good at it. 

I had my arms around him a few heartbeats later. That was part of the disguise. It wasn’t because I was really enjoying the kiss or anything like that. Or so I tried to tell myself. He hadn’t been the first man I had ever kissed. There had been a fairly serious relationship when I had been eighteen that I had kept secret from both Morvilind and Russell, a relationship that had ended badly. From time to time I flirted as part of my tasks from Morvilind, and that occasionally had led to a kiss (though, thank God, I’d never had to seduce anyone). So I wasn’t a stranger to this.

Corvus was just really good at it.

The curtain twitched open, and I opened one eye to see three hard-faced men in suits scowling at me. They glanced at us, looked around the alcove, and then let the curtain fall back into place as they continued their rounds. Corvus had been right. The security men were checking to make sure none of the guests had overdosed, and had thought that Corvus and I were a pair of guests who had slipped away for some casual fun. 

So I could stop kissing him now.

Except…I really didn’t want to. 

Then I felt a presence in my mind, thoughts that murmured of hunger and need. Morvilind had taught me the rudiments of mind magic, so I knew how to recognize an intrusion in my thoughts. 

Corvus was reaching into my mind.

For a long, tantalizing moment, the hunger and need seeped into me, and I wanted nothing more than to press myself against him, to rip away the coat and shirt that prevented me from touching him, to pull my dress over my head and then…

I wasn’t going to let anyone have power over me ever again.

I pushed back, breathing hard, and Corvus flinched.

“Stop,” I stammered. “Whatever you’re doing, just…just stop.” 

He stared down at me, and with a shock I realized that his eyes had turned solid black, almost as if they had filled with shadows. Corvus stepped back, his breathing hard and fast, and closed his eyes. Bit by bit he slowed his breathing, the intensity fading from his expression. He braced himself against the wall with his right hand. 

“What were you doing to me?” I said. “I could…feel you in my head. And your eyes…”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “When it starts…it’s hard to stop.”

“Said every man ever,” I said.

He barked out a hoarse little laugh and opened his eyes. They had returned to their normal brown color. “I apologize. It…has been a long time since I’ve done that, and I got carried away in the moment.”

“Um,” I said, fighting off a wave of embarrassment. He might have projected something into my thoughts, but there had been something in my head eager to receive it. “It’s…been a while for me, too.”

Corvus closed his eyes, nodded, and opened them again.

“What happened to your eyes?” I said. “It was like they were full of shadows.”

He said nothing.

“The shadows,” I said. “There are shadows in your eyes, and you don’t cast a shadow. Then you projected lust or whatever into my thoughts. Just…what are you?”

“I am,” said Corvus, “a man on a mission. Just as you are a woman on mission. I suggest we attend to our tasks.” 

I nodded and got control of my emotions. “Yes. Right. Well. Shall we?”

Chapter 7: Rift Way

I held out my left arm. Corvus stared at for a moment, the sighed and threaded his arm through mine. His forearm felt strong and firm through the sleeve of his coat. 

“Care to escort a lady for a stroll?” I said.

Corvus sighed. “Don’t flirt.” 

“Yes,” I agreed. “Clearly I’m much too good at it. I made your eyes turn solid black, and while I don’t know what you are, I suspect it’s a sign of intense arousal and…”

The sound Corvus made was somewhere between an irritated sigh and a laugh. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a smart mouth?” 

“Frequently,” I said. “And often.” 

“That’s redundant,” said Corvus. “Let’s go.” 

He pushed aside the curtain, and we walked arm-in-arm into the main room. The air had taken on a noticeable chemical reek, and more guests lay sprawled on the couches, smoking and drinking as the red-clad slaves circulated with food and drink and recreational poisons. The three security men were on the far end of the room, but they did not look our way as we wove our way past the couches and the gleaming steel tables. We reached the far doorway and slipped into the hallway beyond. 

The corridor did not look nearly as elaborate as the main room. The floor was polished concrete, the walls unadorned cinder blocks. Metal conduits and pipes ran along the ceiling in orange-painted racks. Every few feet a single blue light bulb burned in a metal cage, filling the corridor in long, gloomy shadows. 

“Surprised you didn’t draw more attention,” said Corvus.

“Why’s that?” I said, looking back and forth. The distant bass thrum of the music still vibrated through the concrete floor. 

“You were the only one in there wearing cargo pants and running shoes,” said Corvus.

“Considering some of the hallucinogenic drugs the guests have taken,” I said, looking at the pipes, “cargo pants are probably the least strange thing they’ve seen today.”

Corvus snorted. “True.”

“Look,” I said, pointing at the ceiling. “We won’t have to worry about security cameras.”

“No network conduit,” Corvus said.

“Too much concrete and steel in here for wireless,” I said. I reached into my pack and drew out my burner phone to check. It wasn’t getting any signal, and it didn’t detect any local wireless networks. “Nice and private. No cameras, no Internet, no way for anyone to call out.” 

“Indeed,” said Corvus, his tone grim. “Quite a lot of water, though.” He pointed. “Pipes for hot and cold water, and they’re not part of the air conditioning system.” 

I scowled at the pipes. “You think he keeps prisoners back here?”

“Perhaps,” said Corvus. “Though one wonders why a manufacturer of badly-flavored meat products would acquire prisoners.”

“Not a fan of McCade Foods canned meat products?” I said.

Corvus frowned. “I have experienced near-starvation, so while I would prefer McCade’s food products to starving again…”

“Saying food is preferable to starvation is not high praise,” I said.

“No,” said Corvus. “Which way should we go?” 

I shrugged and pointed at the pipes. “Let’s follow the hot water.”

We started forward, making our way down the utility corridor. My running shoes made no sound against the floor. Corvus wore gleaming dress shoes, but somehow he walked in silence as well. That was a neat trick.

“Out of curiosity,” I said, “are you a vampire?” 

He rolled his eyes. “There are no such things as vampires. You’ve seen me in the sunlight. Some of the shrimp puffs I ate had a lot of garlic in them. I didn’t bite your neck and suck out your blood while we were alone.” He opened one of the buttons of his shirt and reached inside, drawing out a slender silver chain. A little golden cross hung from the end of it. “And if I remember my popular fiction correctly, vampires burn at the touch of these.”

“It was resting against your undershirt,” I said. 

He snorted and tapped his finger against the cross, and failed to burst into flames. 

“So you believe in God?” I said. 

“Yes. Not all in my family do, but I do.”

“Peculiar thing for people in our line of work,” I said. The corridor stretched on without any doors, though I did see a corner coming up. 

“You do not?” said Corvus. 

“If God is supposed to be good,” I said, “then why is the world full of people like Paul McCade?” 

“Perhaps it is our task to improve the world,” said Corvus in a quiet voice, “to cut out the evil from among its peoples as a surgeon cuts out a cancer.” 

“What a peculiar thing to say,” I said. “Do you know a spell that can sense anyone nearby?”

“No,” said Corvus. “Do you?” 

I shook my head. “I can detect magic, but that’s all.” 

“I don’t think anyone is around that corner,” said Corvus. “I would hear them otherwise.”

“Really,” I said. “Your hearing is that good?”

“At night, yes,” said Corvus. 

I frowned, working through the implications of that. Did that mean he could hear my heartbeat? Just as well that I had Cloaked when running from him at Niles Ringer’s office, though I wondered if his senses were duller in the sunlight. Corvus struck me as a man who had a practical reason for everything that he did, and he wouldn’t have worn those big sunglasses simply because he liked the way they looked. It was another piece of the puzzle. Maybe if I gathered together enough pieces I could figure out who he was…or what he was.

“Right,” I said. “Let’s put that to the test.”

Corvus gestured, and I peered around the corner. The corridor continued, deserted as before, though I saw a metal door about fifty feet further down the hallway. The hallway ended in a concrete wall perhaps another sixty feet past the metal door.

“That door,” I said. “Our best bet. We should have a look around.” 

“Agreed,” said Corvus. “I think…wait.”

He frowned and stooped, peering at the polished concrete floor. For a moment I thought he had dropped his wallet or something, but I didn’t see anything. His head swiveled back and forth.

“What is it?” I said. 

“Look at that,” said Corvus, pointing at the floor. “What does that look like to you?” 

I shrugged. “It doesn’t look like anything. I think…”

I fell silent as I saw what he had noticed. There were scratches on the concrete, lots and lots of scratches. At first I thought that they had been left by wheels, by a pallet jack or a forklift or something, but they were too long and slender for that. 

“You see?” said Corvus. “What does it look like to you?”

“Like…claw marks,” I said. “Like something with claws was running through the hallway.” I frowned. “Does McCade have animals? Like, a private zoo, or a kennel or something?” It seemed exceedingly odd for a rich man to build himself a secret zoo inside his mansion, but I had seen weirder things tonight. 

“A kennel?” murmured Corvus. “Maybe. But they would be big dogs. Look at how far apart the clusters of scratches are.”

I shrugged. “So?”

“I see you are a city girl,” he said with just a hint of amusement. 

I let out an exasperated sound. “There’s nothing valuable to steal in the countryside. Stop being all clever and mysterious and tell me what the problem is.” 

“Those claw marks,” said Corvus, spreading the fingers of his right hand. “Look at how far apart they are. Something with big paws made them. Something big and heavy.” He scraped his shoe against the floor. “This kind of concrete doesn’t scratch easily…”

“Then a really big dog?” I said. “Or…maybe a bear? He has a bear back here?” That seemed weird. I suppose a hungry bear might make a decent security measure, but locks and cameras would be less likely to eat their owner. 

“I hope so,” said Corvus. 

I blinked. “Why? What’s the alternative that makes a bear seems like the better possibility?”

“Are you familiar with summoning spells?” said Corvus.

“McCade has been trying to summon creatures from the Shadowlands?” I said. “That’s illegal. Like, get-beheaded-on-Punishment-Day-illegal. It doesn’t matter if he’s friends with the Duke, the Inquisition would kill him for that.” 

“Half the things we have seen here tonight have been illegal,” said Corvus, “and if my suspicions about his book are correct…no matter. Further speculation gains us nothing. I suggest we press onward, but with caution. If there is a wild animal back here, or some creature from the Shadowlands, we will need to be on our guard.” 

I nodded, and we walked in silence down the hall and stopped before the steel door. It was an impressive, solid security door, designed to keep intruders out…or wild animals within. There were no cameras over the door, and I cast the spell to detect magic. Again I felt the same buzzing auras of power I had sensed earlier, but there were no wards or magical alarms upon the door. 

“Say,” I said. “Since you apparently have good ears, can you hear anything behind that door?”

Corvus nodded and leaned against the door for a moment. “Some machinery. A large refrigerator or a freezer unit, I believe. Nothing else.”

Another thought came to me. “You can cast spells, right? How good are you with the spell to detect magic?”

Corvus grimaced. “I am not particularly proficient with it. I can detect auras, and discern their natures, but I cannot focus the spell more than that.”

“Ah, well,” I said. “I suppose the only way we’ll find out what’s behind that door is by opening it.”

“Profound,” said Corvus. “Perhaps you could write greeting cards.” 

I looked at him. He kept a straight face.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are,” I said, and turned my attention to the door as I cast another spell. It was complex and demanded a great deal of focus, merging earth magic with psychokinetic force. I held my concentration, focusing the spell, and the door’s lock released with a click. 

“Impressive,” said Corvus. 

“Thanks,” I said. I reached into my bag and pulled out a pair of black gloves, since we had reached the point where I didn’t want to leave any fingerprints. Corvus followed suit, drawing the gloves from the pockets of his coat, and I pushed the door open.

The faint smell of rotting meat came to my nostrils at once.

I found myself in a large industrial kitchen. A row of stoves and ovens covered one wall, next to the humming walk-in freezer Corvus had overheard. A counter ran the length of the room, and an overflowing trash can stood next to the counter, generating the foul smell. In the opposite wall stood four niches the size of large closets, all of them sealed with sturdy steel bars. It looked like a row of prison cells, or…

Or exhibits at a zoo. 

“Weird,” I muttered. 

“Truly,” said Corvus. 

I shook my head and took a few steps into the room, examining the trash can. It was full of white foam trays, the kind that grocery stores used to hold cuts of steak and pork. Likely the smell came from various bits of raw meat that had fallen into the can. I crossed to the stoves and pulled one of the ovens open. A thin layer of dust covered the burners, and the interior of the oven looked pretty clean. I had spent the last several weeks helping to clean the ovens at Duncan Catering Company’s kitchen, so I knew what a well-used oven looked like, and this wasn’t it.