Heart Strings (Black Magic Outlaw Book 3) (16 page)

 

 

 

 

Grettle screeched as she completed her transformation. The tips of her fingers had elongated into stiff claws that she now raked at me. I shifted through the shadow and, thankfully, phased through her attack.

Throok shot past me in a flash and swiped his kukri. Grettle nimbly jumped free and landed upside down on the ceiling. Oh, good. More creepy.

Even worse, she was right. Throok and I were literally surrounded by hundreds of spiders. The ground thickened with scurrying carapaces. I stomped them with my boots so much that their black blood dulled the shiny red alligator hide, and still they kept coming.

Throok engaged the woman, if you could still call her that. She had long arms for her size, but it was hard for anybody to get through a minotaur's reach. He was fast with his weapon and they kept each other at bay.

Instead of risking the shotgun, I withdrew the last of my bone dust. Just two snake fangs. It wasn't as formidable as before, but I didn't need to deal with an army this time. I clapped the powder between my hands and tossed the teeth to the floor. Two deadly cottonmouth spirits formed from shadows in the cloud.

Throok saw my spell. He battered Grettle, forcing her into the dust. The snakes lashed at her with ethereal teeth. She spun, having trouble both swiping them away and fending off Throok's attacks.

A chitinous whisper escaped her mandibles as she waved her hand in a cantrip. The spiders crowding me jumped for her. Some blanketed her back like living armor. Others dove at the ghostly water moccasins. The spiders couldn't latch onto the spirits, but their swipes and bites did scratch at my magic.

Even then, arachnids rushed past my feet. Large ones, tiny ones, raising their height like a flood. The creatures moved to smother my snakes completely.

Grettle, meanwhile, skittered away on the wall, waving one of her four arms and commanding her swarm.

She wasn't just a creepy silvan. She was a spider witch.

My snake magic was too weak to be much threat to the magically inclined. They were a terrifying display, but they mostly drew their power from fear, inflicting real damage after it was imagined. On the other hand, Grettle had an
actual
swarm of
actual
creatures. The spiders fell one by one, swallowed whole or split apart by razor-sharp fangs, but there were simply too many of them.

"Fire," I said, reaching for my spark powder.

Throok screamed as Grettle sliced his arm open, forcing him to drop his blade. Grettle wrapped him up in a bear hug. Okay, a spider hug.

The minotaur wrested himself from her lanky arms, but she pulled him to the floor. They tumbled together, each vying for a superior position. One of my defining rules in life is to never grapple with a minotaur. Considering Grettle had twice as many arms and legs as he did, she had a better chance than most.

She scratched and clawed at his soft flesh, but even without his kukri, Throok had natural weapons himself. A horn gouged into her shoulder as she bit his arm. Between their screams and the legion of spiders crawling around me, I had plenty of motivation to end this quickly.

One of my snakes dissolved in a hiss. The other was in its dying throes. Some of the spiders split off to handle me. I threw the orange powder wide and spun in a circle, blanketing dirt, spider, and snake alike. Dozens of tiny mandibles chewed at my skin as I kneeled and sparked the lighter in my hand.

Flames roared to life all around me, immediately consuming the tunnel from ceiling to floor. I tried to hop through the shadow but, as the fire exploded brightly, I was tugged into the light. My magic had only bought me a second of relief.

Heat scorched my skin, instantly killing the biting spiders even before they visibly exploded. My shirt caught fire and my enhanced skin began to blister.

Nothing for it but to barrel out of the flames and plunge myself into the darkness. When I did, the live fire on me snuffed out. I phased back to the physical world on my hands and knees, breathing heavily and smoking like a giant block of dry ice. I felt worse than I looked.

Grettle wailed. Throok and the witch were well clear of the inferno, but her body shuddered as if she were burning alive. She had some kind of empathic bond with her pets. The minotaur rolled away from her. Grettle moved to regain her hold but Throok deftly scooped up his kukri and cleaved one of her hands off.

She screeched, again escaping to the ceiling, swollen eyes giving her spiderlings one last look. Then she sped down a tunnel offshoot I hadn't noticed before.

I wiped my face. The spiders were just a bunch of charcoal briquettes now. The last one left had just scurried away, missing a hand. I checked the side tunnel, but Throok grabbed me.

"No!" he boomed.

"She's wounded. We should take her now."

"No," he repeated, grabbing me by both shoulders. "Ceela's the priority. And she's this way." The minotaur headed down the wide tunnel.

I looked after Grettle with distaste in my mouth. I was leaving behind too many loose ends. Loose ends that would bite me in the ass the first chance they got. But Throok was right. Ceela was somebody else's loose end, and we needed to make sure she was safe before they took care of her.

We charged forward. The minotaur's pace made it clear we were only minutes away. Or maybe it had to do with the creatures following us.

"The spriggans," I warned. "They're behind us."

"They won't engage. They fear the black mark."

"But Grettle and the spriggans... Orpheus must be near."

He nodded and pointed ahead. "There! The rabbit hole!"

We raced to the portal. It was a circle of sand in the wall, its tan color a stark contrast to the dull brown dirt. An ancient glyph I didn't recognize was traced into the sand with edges sharp enough to be stone. Somehow, even though the filled-up opening was facing down at an angle, the sand didn't fall out. But then, rabbit holes tend to break the rules of physics.

"Damn it," said Throok, scraping his fingers against the hardened sand.

"What is it? What does it say?"

"I do not know the magic, but this is a Nether gate." Throok grumbled and lowered his head. "I
hate
Nether gates."

I rolled my eyes. "There has to be a way to break it," I said, reaching for the surface. "Anything that can be created can be destroyed."

"You don't need to," said the minotaur.

My hand passed through the sand with ease. As with the whirlpool, I could feel the sand but it was less viscous than it should've been. "What the..."

"This is a powerful defensive ward," he explained. "It will keep any and all Nether creatures at bay, silvan and scourgeling alike. But it's not made for your kind. You can pass through the gate freely."

Ravenous yells echoed in the passage behind us.

Throok lowered his head and spoke with a whisper. "You
must
pass through the gate."

I checked the tunnel, unnerved by the clanging noises. "But—"

"There's no time," he said. "The principesse needs our assistance now. You can provide that. I cannot."

I chewed my lip. "Without the black mark, the spriggans will close in on you. It's too dangerous."

He snorted impatiently. "I would gladly give my life for Ceela's. If this is how it must be done, so be it. You must save her. The Juniper Circle needs their principesse.
Nothing
else matters."

I could almost see his heart beating through his chest. His passion for her was intense. It made me think about the people I once loved. What I would do for them. Anything and everything, including sacrificing myself.

But there had to be another way.

"You won't be able to unravel the glyph," I told him, tracing my finger over it, searching for a way to nullify the ward. "Once I go through this gate, you'll be alone, unable to open the door."

Throok placed his hand on my shoulder. "Then make it count, wizard."

As I should have anticipated, he hefted me through the rabbit hole.

 

 

 

 

I crawled out of a crabhole sheltered under a large rock on a sandy beach. It was still night. Rolling waves whisked over the shore and receded in a lazy rhythm, reflecting the stars above. The small island had a skirt of beach around it before breaking into hedges and palm trees. Dense vegetation took up half the land, shading an inlet, dock, and probably an airstrip. The other half of the island had been cleared for an elaborate mansion.

Columns made of stone supported a roof over a huge veranda entrance sandwiched by a pair of hexagonal gazebos larger than most houses. Behind that facade, the house rose above its two stories in various towers and viewing decks that opened to miles and miles of open sea.

Pizza delivery must've been expensive, but I was pretty sure Connor could afford it.

I triple-checked the coastline for more waterborne silvan surprises, but no mermaid would approach this island. This was a jinn stronghold, an Earthly base for something that didn't belong here.

I'd never seen a compound without walls before. You expect a drug lord to employ outposts and razor wire, but it was a clear fifty yards from the water to the beach to the framed lawn to the veranda. The windows were open glass. I didn't see a hint of security staff. Nothing at all was protected. Something told me the doors weren't even locked.

Halfway through deciding how to sneak in, I stood in the open, wiped the sand off my clothes, and walked right up to the front door. I opened it without a knock.

A black gentleman in a white suit held a silver tray to me, offering a glass of champagne. I waved off the offer. He nodded with a smile then beckoned me to follow. I guess I was expected.

We walked through the center hall of wide stone tiles. Modern electrical lights were recessed in the ceiling, but none of them were on. Instead, a combination of freestanding and wall sconces were outfitted with long, burning candles.

Right. Ifrit.

We entered a spacious hexagonal living area with mile-high windows. The view must've been amazing during the day. For now the scene they framed was black, mirroring the candlelight within. Low couches and pillows of every fabric and color littered the room like an opium den. Bookcases lined the walls. Low display cases contained arcane items, each dramatically lit: a cracked obsidian mask, a Taíno zemi, a half-burnt effigy of a multi-headed god. There were larger presentations as well. Tall china cabinets with various ornaments and statues, crude weapons and flags hanging on the upper walls—this room was designed to impress.

At the window was a table of colored glass and ornate metalwork. It felt small compared to the rest of the room. Sitting casually with his legs crossed, swiping his cell phone on his lap, was Connor Hatch. He spoke without looking up.

"Is the light okay? I've always been more comfortable with the old ways."

He was letting me know he was a powerful being, much older than me. I didn't answer and approached the table.

"You humans and your electricity," he said, still tapping his phone. "I'd always seen it as such a waste. Instead of tapping into the Intrinsics, you capture energy from heat, of all things. How inefficient. But then I see curiosities like this. Computers. Software. It will be a magic of its own soon enough."

I stood at the chair across from him but didn't sit. He was playing Candy Crush. You gotta be a confident motherfucker to play a color-matching puzzle game while talking to someone who wants to kill you.

"Magic," I said. "Like a genie's wish?"

He finally turned to me. "Please don't use that word."

"Is it offensive?"

"No, it just makes you look like an idiot. But at least you know what I am, so you're not completely ignorant."

"First time for everything."

He smiled and returned his attention to his phone. "As a people, we're not supposed to cherish physical items. Really. It's one of our defining characteristics. Jinns don't hoard treasure. Rather, we value the intangible. Bonds of trust. Bargains. That sort of thing. More ephemeral, perhaps, but much more valuable."

I arched my neck, looking around the room. "I dunno. Looks like you've got a bunch of stuff to me."

The jinn chuckled. "True. The Aether is a place of spiritual being, but I count myself among those who indulge in Earthly pleasures. I wouldn't have created this empire otherwise."

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be impressed.

Connor turned the screen off and set his phone on the glass. "I'm glad you're here. Do you need anything? Champagne? A glass of wine?" He studied me and leaned forward. "A Quesalupa Crunch Supreme?"

Whatever that last one was, it sounded good, but I shook my head firmly.

The jinn waved his hand and the man with the silver tray bowed and left the room, closing the double doors behind him.

"You see that?" asked Connor with pride. "Service. Another ephemeral treasure. Nothing says trust and loyalty like serving another, no matter your personal beliefs. Your kind used to value the same in the time of kings. But now humans have perverted the concept of service. What was once a pure ideal is now looked down on, seen as menial labor. No longer is working a noble pursuit. Now it comes with a price tag."

I shrugged. "Unions."

I wanted to use my shadow sight, to scan the room and look over the artifacts on display for a threat, but there was too much candlelight in here. I'd blind myself. While Connor was still reflecting on the virtues of butlers, I blew out the nearest wall sconce.

He turned to me with a curious expression.

"Where's the princess?" I asked heavily.

"Princess? That explains a few things." He relaxed and took a sip of champagne. "It is funny, don't you think, that a mongrel race such as the silvans presume to have royalty."

"So says the exalted drug peddler. Or is it extortionist? Killer, maybe?"

He shrugged casually. "You don't look like the type of person who likes to bullshit, so I'll be straight with you. I do a little of everything. And business is always expanding."

"Your money and bravado might be a force in the Caribbean, but how far do you think that will fly in the States?"

"That's what the Society is for," he answered. "They're a Yankee organization. Besides, the United States are floundering. An oversized country with a morality complex. One hand slapping the other. Tell me the truth, if you lived on an island like this, would you give a shit about the United States?"

"You want this little island? Fine." I took a step toward him. "But Miami's mine."

"I'm sure we could share."

"Where's the princess?"

He sighed. "Here. Clearly."

I strolled away from him, walking along the windows, studying everything I could. He was up to something.

"I don't know what your interest is in her," he continued. "But we can come to terms and you can have her, unharmed." He checked his phone and I blew out another set of candles.

"And Simon?" I asked, turning back to him.

"The wizard's long gone. He delivered my insurance and left me to watch over it. His people don't like confrontations."

"Could've fooled me. Though he certainly ran fast." I walked past a china cabinet. Glass shelves held a cigar box, a crystal sphere, a bowl of sparkling rocks, and other valuables.

"Yes," said Connor. "Once Simon saw how formidable you were, he rethought the Society's stance on you." The jinn smiled. "Don't think that means they forgot about you, Cisco. That just means they're holding back. Pooling their resources. And frankly, waiting to see how I deal with you first." He leaned forward. "You'll notice I haven't run."

I turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "So you don't lead the cartel then?"

"Cartel?" he said, laughing. "You mean the Society? I like that. But no. I don't lead them. I have my own cartel to worry about. They call it
Agua Fuego
, if you can believe that."

"Fire water."

He shrugged. "Latin America has a penchant for being literal, I'm afraid."

"So what does the Society want with the new Pablo Escobar?"

Connor smiled. "They're concerned American businessmen and politicians, all protecting each other's interests for the mutual good. I'm part of that mutual good. Businessmen do business, after all. You and I can do business, if you like."

He finished his champagne and I doused a large candle on a freestanding stick. Little by little, our corner of the room darkened.

The jinn leaned forward and said, "I'm just one link in that chain, Cisco. But make no mistake: I'm the strongest link. If you wanted to break their stranglehold, you came at the wrong person."

I stepped away from the smoking candle and shook my head. "I couldn't care less about the Society. This all begins and ends with you."

Connor rested back in his chair. "So said the seraphs when we three were created. But that wasn't quite true, was it?"

The jinn's cell phone chimed. I snuffed out another candle while he checked the screen. The corner of the room was now dim enough that I let darkness bleed into my irises.

Connor's phone rapped on the table. With my shadow sight, I saw a different aspect of the same man. His wild red hair was on fire. His beard hugged his chin in a warm glow, and his features seemed sharper than before. More volatile.

The charm on my eyes was far from able to see into other times or places. I couldn't see through magic or dispel illusions. I couldn't see beings in their true forms. The spellcraft simply reveals faint changes in the Intrinsics, the magical energies that govern the universe. So it surprised me that the jinn's aura was so stark. What had the Spaniard said? Jinns
are
magic.

His phone chimed again. "Excuse me," he said, annoyed now. He picked up his phone and I turned to the room.

The antiquities on display were historical, mostly, but some of them glowed with faint yellow and green hues, pregnant with enchantment. Those didn't concern me. What did were the threads of spellcraft hanging across the room like strings of lights—one leading to a doorway, another through a wall—strong lines of magic that faded and disappeared mid-air. Every single thread led to the cigar box in the China cabinet, where the glow was strongest.

Connor slammed his phone down again. "What is this?" he demanded. He looked around quizzically, then snapped his fingers. In an instant, every single candle I had doused roared to life.

I shook the black drops from my eyes and squinted at the man. His outward appearance was plain, but he was seething under the surface. Power thrummed around me. Every single open flame in the room leaned toward him.

"Something against light, Cisco? You aren't thinking of ambushing me once you've created enough shadow, are you?"

I showed my empty hands and shrugged. The truth was, even full candlelight left me ample shadow to work with. I would just go without my shadow sight and be careful of my positioning. After a moment, the jinn relaxed and the candles idled normally.

He leaned forward. "You can't catch me, you know. The Aether is made of air and fire. I can disappear in a spark."

The jinn's phone chimed again, but he ignored it.

"Let's cut the pleasantries, human. Shall we talk terms?"

Terms. All I could think about were Throok's words.
Never deal with a jinn
.

He got another notification, quickly followed by another. He shook his head and checked his phone yet again. This time I noticed a slight intake of air.

"You may be a traditionalist, Connor, but this is the digital age. You can't just burn everything down with fire. Those were the old ways. Nowadays, everything leaves a footprint."

He swiped and tapped his phone with increasing agitation. I fell in by his side and read "Breaking News" across the screen. "City Scandal." Connor played a video from a news site and the tinny audio came through the speakers. "Lieutenant Cross came forward after, and I quote, 'undeniable evidence came to his attention.' The full scope of the scandal is still being realized, but City Commissioner Rudi Alvarez, a favorite for the mayor's office, is being sought for questioning."

Whoa. This was moving much faster than I thought possible.

Connor pounded his phone onto the table so hard a web of cracks splintered the glass surface. He lifted his head and the rage was finally evident, eyes burning like the surrounding candles.

"What. Have. You. Done?" he growled.