Left Hand Magic (34 page)

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Authors: Nancy A. Collins

BOOK: Left Hand Magic
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“I’ve wanted to do that ever since you were five years old,” Esau laughed via his proxy. “Your mother shamed our blood by bringing you into this world, and it’s high time I took you out of it!”
Hexe backpedaled, trying to put distance between himself and the homunculus. The creature lunged at him, coming in low like a grappler. But this time Hexe was ready for him, freezing him in midtakedown.
Esau cursed as he was forced to relinquish control of his living puppet and turned to the demon crouched beside him. “Kill him!”
The infernal gave a frightened squeal and shook its head, as it still wore the wounds from the last time it had crossed Hexe’s path. The necromancer held up the amulet with his free hand and shook it at the reluctant hellspawn.
“By this seal, I
command
you to do as I say!” he shouted angrily. “Kill him—and once you’ve finished tearing him limb from limb, I want you to take his head and show it to his mother before you kill
her.
Then, and
only
then, will I set you free!”
The demon snarled and grudgingly bowed his head in acceptance of his task, his remaining two eyes filled with a hate as hot as boiling lead. The infernal spun about to face Hexe, and with a single leap cleared half the space between them.
As the demon advanced on him, Hexe raised his right hand to his forehead, palm outward, shielding his third eye. A beam of white light shot forth from its center, where the lines of Heart, Fate, Head, and Life intersect, bathing the hellish courtier in its radiance. The demon’s bellow of pain was so loud it shook the dust from the rafters and left my ears ringing. Now I understood the demon’s reluctance to obey Esau’s command. The wounds it had suffered the last time it confronted Hexe had weakened it considerably. Huge blisters rose across the demon’s torso, causing the skin to fall away like handfuls of wet paper. It turned to look at Esau, stretching out a claw in supplication as the flesh was stripped from its body, begging to be released from its torment, but the necromancer merely stared ahead, his face as unreadable as a statue’s.
There was a sudden movement behind Hexe, as Seth and Cain, now freed from their stasis spells, grabbed him from either side, pinning his arms behind his back. The white light winked out as if turned off at the switch. As Hexe struggled to extricate himself, the demon got back onto its crooked hind legs, tossed back its head and made a noise that passed for laughter among the damned.
The hellspawn stepped forward and grabbed Hexe by the throat, holding his head so that he could not look away, and pried his jaws apart with one of its talons. It then placed its face scant inches from his and took a deep, deep breath, so that its chest swelled out like a blacksmith’s bellows, slowly sucking the air from Hexe’s lungs into its own. I watched in horror as Hexe gasped for breath, his eyes starting from his head as his face began to turn blue. His body bucked and twisted mightily, but he was unable to break free from the homunculi’s grasp.
“Your lover is doomed,” Esau whispered in my ear. “And it is all because of you. If you had never set foot in Golgotham, none of this would be happening. Jarl, Quid, Skal . . . all of them would still be alive.”
The only man I’d ever truly loved was dying right before my eyes, and I was powerless to stop it. But what could I do? I wasn’t a sorceress, or a ninja, or a badass street fighter. I had no power in the day-to-day world, much less one full of wizards and demons. I desperately wished I had my cutting torch—at least I’d leave Esau with something to remember me by.
Suddenly there was a loud, high-pitched hissing sound, like a cross between an angry snake and a steam radiator springing a leak, and a loud thud that shook the entire building like a mortar round. The demon stopped to turn and stare at the door, sniffing the air suspiciously. There was a heavy thumping sound from the other side, as if a rhino was galloping full throttle down the hallway, then a tremendous crash as a copper dragon smashed its way through the door.
It was completely unlike any dragon I’d ever seen pictures of, with a squat, turnip-shaped body balanced on three sturdy legs, with lion’s paws for feet, and a long, snakelike neck. With a start, I realized I wasn’t looking at a true dragon, but the maternal furnace I had constructed from Jarl’s blueprints brought to life, just as my old sculptures had been animated by Hexe’s magic.
The copper dragon opened its jaws, releasing a plume of steam, and then snapped them closed onto one of the homunculi. It whipped its serpentlike neck back and forth, worrying the artificial humanoid like a terrier does a rat.
Esau cried out, his shriek melding with that of the homunculus as the copper dragon broke its spine, and abruptly let go of my arm. I quickly grabbed the talisman hanging from his neck and yanked as hard as I could, breaking the golden chain. As I ran toward Hexe, the copper dragon slammed its tanklike body against the remaining homunculus, crushing him into a paste against the brick wall of the warehouse.
I looked around the chaos, trying to find Hexe, only to spot him doubled up on the floor, desperately trying to suck air back into his lungs. As I made to rush to his side, my path was blocked by the Infernal Knight, its wings spread and talons bared. I did not flinch or scream, but instead held up the talisman for it to see. The demon’s snarl disappeared and it bowed its head in acknowledgment.
“What do you command of me, Mistress?” the infernal asked.
“Go to hell. And take that chuffer with you when you leave,” I said, pointing to Esau.
The demon squealed in glee, its remaining eyes lighting up with an unholy fire. It leaped straight up and over me, like Jack jumping over the candlestick, and landed beside its erstwhile master, grabbing him by the hair.
“Let go of me!” Esau shouted as the demon dragged him to the middle of the pentacle. “Don’t you know who I am? I’m the Witch King! In the name of the Left Hand, I command you to release me!”
The demon laughed and a tongue of hellfire sprang into being at the topmost vertex of the pentacle and then raced down its edges, until the entire pentagram was ablaze. Esau cried out in fear and tried to break free of the infernal’s grasp as the floor beneath his feet began to bubble like a tar pit, but the demon held him tight, all the while continuing to laugh.
I helped Hexe back onto his feet, and together we watched as Esau was pulled inexorably downward into the bowels of whatever hell awaited him, alternately begging for mercy and cursing us. Once the duo had disappeared beneath its surface, the hellfire extinguished itself and the floor returned to its previous solid state.
“Is he dead?” I whispered.
Hexe shook his head. “No. But he’s going to wish he was.”
I glanced over at the copper dragon, which stood nearby. It had reverted to its previous inanimate state, with only a few dents and an unsightly bloodstain or two as proof of its brief, miraculous life.
“How did you manage to animate that thing?” I asked. “I thought that required a specific ritual?”
“This isn’t my magic,” he replied. I could tell by the way he was squinting that he was trying to decipher the signature on the spell, which would identify whoever had enchanted the piece of alchemical equipment.
“Well, whose is it, then?”
His golden eyes widened in surprise. “It’s yours.”
Chapter 28
 
“W
elcome back to the Two-Headed Calf!” Chorea smiled as she greeted us from the newly installed hostess station. Although she still wore a wreath of ivy in her dark hair, the maenad was no longer dressed in the diaphanous chiton and leopard skin of her cult. Instead, she wore a contemporary, if equally revealing, cocktail dress and high-heeled shoes.
“How’s the AA going, Chory?” I asked.
“One day at a time. I’m making my meetings, and I haven’t had a drink in three weeks,” she said proudly. “Just ask Faro.” She pointed to her husband, who waved at us from his seat at the horseshoe-shaped bar, hoisting a glass of club soda in salute.
“I’m glad everything is working out for the two of you.” Hexe smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek.
After a month of remodeling to repair the damage from the riot, the Two-Headed Calf was ready for business. While the official grand reopening was scheduled for the coming weekend, tonight was what Lafo called a “special pre-reopening” for his friends, family, and longtime customers.
I scanned the downstairs bar area, trying to discern what changes had been made to Golgotham’s oldest dining establishment. Outside of new tables and chairs and a couple of brass ceiling fixtures to replace the ones that had been destroyed, the only real difference was that the small stage at the back of the room was now noticeably bigger, with a professional lighting system and mixing board safely ensconced in its own booth.
“Thanks for showing up, guys!” Lafo said, throwing his arms about us in welcome. The Calf’s chief cook, bartender, and bottle washer was dressed in a raspberry sherbet–colored zoot suit and had braided his long red beard in honor of the occasion. “It really means a lot to me.”
“I’m just glad you’re back in business,” Hexe told him.
“Not half as glad as I am!” Lafo said with a chuckle. “Getting trashed in the riot was a huge pain in the ass, but there was a silver lining to it. Since I had to shut down to remodel the downstairs, I decided to go ahead and upgrade the kitchen and make some improvements to the dining room upstairs. It’s already paying off—Talisman has booked their record release party here, and the
Herald
is sending a reporter to cover the official reopening this weekend.”
“Congratulations! That’s wonderful news!”
A beeping sound started coming from somewhere inside the restaurateur’s voluminous jacket. “Excuse me, please,” he said as he deactivated the timer on his smart-phone. “I need to get the seal flipper pie out of the oven!”
As Lafo hurried off to the kitchen on the second floor, I saw Captain Horn sitting in one of the booths, talking to Lady Syra. She must have said something funny, because his poker face suddenly split into a grin. There was something oddly familiar about the way he laughed, but I could not exactly put my finger on it. The moment the PTU officer spotted Hexe, he instantly regained his usual sober composure.
“Ms. Eresby, Serenity,” he said, rising to greet us. “I trust you are no longer plagued by demons, now that Skal has fled Golgotham?”
“Haven’t seen a hair on its demonic chinny-chin-chin in weeks, Captain,” I replied.
“Good. I want to assure you that we
will
find Skal, and eventually bring him to justice. After all, he’s not just wanted for the attack on you—he’s also the prime suspect in the disappearance of Esau. I was just talking to your mother, Hexe—as Esau’s next of kin, she went through your uncle’s accounts and informs me that a good deal of money is missing from the KUP coffers. No doubt Esau caught Skal embezzling and the young punk did something to him. I don’t care if his mother works for the GoBOO; I never
did
trust that kid.”
“Are you
sure
you’ll be able to catch him, Captain?” Lady Syra asked. “Granted, Esau and I have not been close for some time, but he
is
my brother.”
“Don’t worry, Your Highness. There are only so many Kymeran enclaves scattered about the world. He’s bound to show up in one of them. It’s just a matter of time. As soon as I can spare a couple of agents from the SOA Task Force, I’ll be sending them down to Faubourg Cauchemar in New Orleans, and overseas to Limehouse and the Pigalle, to look for him. Well, I think I’m going to hit the bar. . . .” The PTU officer took a couple of steps, then turned back around, as if he had just remembered something. “Oh! Speaking of the SOA, Serenity—one of my officers busted a leprechaun on a D and D who claims he saw you chase a human in a ski mask out into Pearl Street, where he was trampled by a Teamster. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“It’s certainly news to me, Captain,” Hexe replied.
“I thought as much,” Horn grunted. “No doubt my informant was mistaken—not to mention three sheets to the wind. I would have known if a dead human dressed like a member of the SOA showed up in our morgue. It’s still my job to ask questions. No offense, Serenity.”
“None taken, Captain. Like you said, it’s your job.”
“I really
do
hate lying to him,” Lady Syra sighed as I slid into the booth opposite her. “But Esau didn’t leave us much of a choice, did he? Once things calm down, I’ll let certain members of the GoBOO and the PTU in on the secret. But make no mistake: If the humans ever learn about what he was doing, we really
will
have a race war on our hands.”
“What about Skal’s mother? Shouldn’t we at least tell
her
the truth?” I asked, looking across the room at Skua, who was busy talking to Seamus O’Fae. Now that Esau had disappeared from the political scene, the leprechaun leader had declared his interest in running for mayor. All of Golgotham’s previous mayors had been Kymeran, but who knows? Times change. He’s got my vote, at least.
“Better she wonder if he’s an embezzler and a likely murderer than to remove all doubt,” Lady Syra replied. “Besides, it would destroy her career and livelihood just as surely as it would our own.”

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