Magic and Loss: A Novel of Golgotham (26 page)

As I closed my eyes, the face of Erys flashed across my mind and I quickly exhaled. When I reopened my eyes, the scrying crystal was filled with a swirling, multicolored mist. Within moments the image of Erys appeared, replicated within each individual facet, like the eye of a fly.

Skua placed the crystal on the coffee table and made a couple of passes with her hands, causing the crystal to disassemble into dozens of smaller shards, each holding the image of Erys at its heart.

“Take these with you,” the querent said as she handed the crystals to the others. “This way you will be able to identify who you’re looking for.”

“Be careful—this woman is
very
dangerous,” Captain Horn warned. “She is also wanted for questioning in the murder of Dr. Moot. If you see her,
don’t
approach her or attempt to apprehend her! Instead, simply contact either me or Hexe or Tate, and let us know where you saw her and if she’s travelling with anyone.”

After Hexe and his father succeeded in eliciting a grudging agreement that no one would do anything stupid if they spotted Madam Erys, the assembled volunteers filed out of the house, each carrying the image of the kidnapper in their pockets. After the last one was safely out the door, Hexe turned to look at his father.

“I noticed you didn’t tell them that Erys is, in fact, Esau.”

“I decided your mother is right,” Horn replied. “Revealing Esau’s involvement in this isn’t going to help. It’ll only make matters worse.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner—you deserved to know,” Hexe apologized.

“Damn straight I did,” his father grunted. “But, what’s done is done. To tell you the truth, I already suspected Esau was somehow connected to the SOA. It just seemed like an awfully big coincidence that the Sons of Adam disappeared the exact same time
he
did. I know your mother loved him—after all, he was her brother—but as far as I was concerned he was
always
a manipulative conniver, not to mention an elitist snob.”

“It seems you don’t have a great deal of fondness for my uncle,” Hexe observed wryly.

“I loathe the man,” Horn replied flatly. “And I’ve done so ever since he slapped my mother for not serving him a meal fast enough to suit him, when he was fifteen years old. Syra may have known a different Esau, but I never have.”

Hexe frowned. “Your mother worked as a cook for the Royal Family—?”

Before Horn could reply, Hexe’s cell phone ringtone began to play, alerting him that he’d received a text message.

“Who’s it from?” I asked anxiously.

“It’s from Bartho. He says, ‘I think I found her!’ There’s a JPEG attached. . . .”

Syra, Horn, and I crowded around as Hexe opened the file. Although the screen wasn’t very big, I could make out what looked to be Erys, dressed in the traditional multicolored skirt and patchwork vest of a Kymeran witch-for-hire, standing in front of the Stronghold, the secured pier belonging to the Maladanti, and pointing at its locked gates. It took me a moment or two to realize that parts of her were transparent.

“Is that Erys?” I asked, frowning in confusion.

“No. It’s Nina,” Lady Syra replied. “And it looks like she’s trying to tell us something.”

“A
re you ready to do this?” Hexe asked his mother. Lady Syra nodded, her mouth set into a determined line. “Here goes, then.” Taking up a pen, he flipped over the ransom note and wrote “We agree to your terms” on its back, and signed it. He then moved aside, allowing his mother to add her signature.

Lady Syra picked up a stick of sealing wax and snapped the fingers of her left hand, summoning a tongue of flame, which danced atop her index finger. Once the sealing wax was melted, she plunged her signet ring into the warm red puddle, leaving the mark of the Royal House of Arum: a pair of intertwined dragons.

Hexe took the parchment and placed it on the parlor grate. The tongue of flame flickering at the tip of Lady Syra’s finger leapt into the fireplace, and within seconds the note was ablaze. The smoke from the parchment briefly took on the silhouette of a man, and then fled up the chimney with an unnatural speed and purpose.

“Well, that’s that,” Hexe sighed. “What’s next?”

We didn’t have long to wait, as there came a familiar tapping on the parlor window frame, signaling the return of Esau’s familiar, Edgar. This time the raven flew in and perched on the mantelpiece. Beanie charged forward, stiff-legged, barking furiously at the feathered intruder, until Edgar cawed loudly and flapped his soot-black wings in consternation, sending Beanie scampering behind Scratch, who spread his own, leathery wings in challenge.

Edgar clattered his beak in what passed for laughter, and then turned his beady, ruby-red eyes to Hexe. The voice that issued from the familiar was that of Madam Erys, but the intonation and inflection were unmistakably Esau’s: “Midnight at The Lucky Fool. Come alone. No PTU. No familiars.”

“Understood,” Hexe said with a solemn nod of his head.

“We will be there,” Lady Syra promised.

Having delivered his master’s message, the familiar cawed a final time and flew back out the open window, but not before soiling the hearth on the way out.

“You know it’s a trap,” Horn said flatly. “He plans to kill you both—possibly even the baby—and paint the portal’s lintel with your blood.”

“Of course, but Esau isn’t aware that we know about his plan,” Hexe replied.

Horn glanced at me. “And you’re good with letting them do this?”

“It’s not just them. I’m going, too.”

“But you’ve just had a baby!” Hexe protested in alarm.

“Yes, one that is being held for ransom by a murderer!” I reminded him. “And if you think I’m going to stay behind while you try to rescue him, you
really
haven’t been paying attention over the last year. And for your information, Mr. ‘You Just Had A Baby,’
you’ve
just had your
hand
cut off! So just
try
to keep me from being in on this!”

“She’s got you there, son.” His father chuckled.

“But—it’s going to be dangerous!”

“If I have learned one thing about dealing with strong-willed women,” Horn said as he slipped a paternal arm about Hexe’s shoulders, “there’s no point in arguing with them once their minds are made up.”

“Your father’s right, Hexe,” Lady Syra nodded. “Believe me; he’s learned the hard way.”

“So what’s this Lucky Fool?” I asked.

“It’s a gambling house operated by the Maladanti—cards, Russian roulette, dice, that kind of thing,” Captain Horn explained. “It’s located down on the river. I’m not surprised Boss Marz is involved in this business.”

“He’s more a part of it than you realize,” Hexe said dourly. “The reason I was wearing the Gauntlet of Nydd in the first place is because Marz kidnapped me the night of the Jubilee and smashed my right hand with one of the Witchfinder instruments stolen from the museum.”

Lady Syra gasped so loudly I thought she was about to scream, while all the color drained from Captain Horn’s face and his eyes narrowed into slits. When the PTU chief finally spoke, his words were as cold and hard as a lead pipe. “I’ll kill him.”

“Not if I get to him first,” Lady Syra said, the deadly calm of her voice belaying the fury in her golden eyes.

“The time has finally come to bring down the Maladanti, once and for all,” Horn said. “But it’s going to take more than the PTU to take them out. We’re going to need a small army.”

“We already have one combing the streets,” Hexe said, holding up his cell. “All you have to do is say the word. They’ve been waiting for an opportunity to strike back at Boss Marz and his croggies.”

“In that case,” I said, “we need to stop by the museum. There’s something there that should come in handy.”

•   •   •

The Lucky Fool was within smelling distance of the East River and looked like a run-of-the-mill gin joint. The only evidence of it being a casino was the neon sign above the door, which depicted the familiar image from the Tarot deck, bindle on his shoulder, blithely strolling off the edge of a cliff, eyes forever skyward.

A Maladanti croggy with magenta hair and a badly fitting tuxedo standing at the door stepped forward to greet Hexe, Lady Syra, and me as we approached. “We’ve been expecting you. Follow me, Your Majesty.”

The interior of The Lucky Fool proved a little more upscale than its exterior, but not by much. A pall of cigarette smoke thick enough to part like a curtain covered the central room, which had the ugliest wall-to-wall carpeting I’d ever seen. The front of the house was full of loud slot machines and video poker, with craps, blackjack, and Pai Gow toward the back. There were plenty of gamblers, most of them human, wagering at the tables. None of them looked up from their bets as we were escorted to the back of the house.

“That’s funny—I don’t see a roulette wheel,” I commented as I glanced at the games on display.

“Oh, we have roulette,” the pit boss said with an unpleasant smile as he opened a door that said
LUCKIEST FOOLS ONLY
.

As loud and crowded as the gaming floor of the casino was, it was nothing compared to the back room. At each of the numerous tables were seated between two to six players, each and every one of them sweating through their clothes. It wasn’t until I noticed the snub-nosed revolvers sitting on lazy Susans set into the middle of the felt that I realized what the plastic sheeting draped over the chairs and covering the floors was for. Each table was crowded by throngs of men, and some women, shouting and waving fistfuls of money like stock traders trying to corner the market on hog bellies. My stomach tightened as I remembered the crowds screaming for blood at the pit fights, and wondered how many of those same people were now wagering to see who would be the last to blow their brains out. As the pit boss opened yet another door, there came the sound of a single, muffled gunshot from somewhere behind me, immediately followed by a roar of excited voices. I did not turn around to look.

The second door opened onto the stairs that led down to the boiler room. Standing in front of yet another door was Marz’s lieutenant, Gaza, and some nameless croggy.

“I’ll take ’em from here,” Gaza said with a smirk, eyeing where Hexe’s right hand should have been. “Follow me, Your Highnesses.”

The Maladanti opened the door behind him, revealing a low, brick-lined tunnel lit by a chain of witchfire, which cast an eerie blue glow. We walked single file for what seemed like at least two city blocks before reaching the end of the passageway, which led to a wooden stairwell. As we came to the top of the stairs, I recognized our surroundings as the same warehouselike building Hexe and I had been shanghaied to months ago.

•   •   •

“Welcome to the Stronghold, Your Majesties,” Boss Marz’s deep voice boomed out. The crime lord was standing in the middle of the warehouse, surrounded by several dozen of his minions. Next to Marz was an old-fashioned hanging cradle, and perched atop its peaked hood was the familiar, Bonzo, clutching a baby bottle. The sight of the hell-ape so close to my child filled me with a terror that made an attack by a demon seem like a ride on a roller coaster. “You do me great honor,” the crime lord said.

“There is no honor in this place,” Lady Syra retorted. “And I thought you said no familiars.”

“The instructions were that
you
not bring familiars,” Erys replied, stepping out from behind one of the pillars that supported the warehouse roof. “I said nothing about myself and my confederates.”

“You are much changed since last I saw you, Esau.”

“So you recognize me in this form?”

“Of course; who else would be walking around in your dead wife’s body?”

Erys turned to Marz, speaking to him as she would a servant. “Make sure Her Majesty isn’t wearing an ivory necklace or bracelet.”

Marz nodded his understanding, motioning to one of his men to search Lady Syra. As the Maladanti reached out to frisk her, the Witch Queen drew herself up to her full height, peering down her nose at him with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Cowed, the gangster had to satisfy himself with a visual inspection of her wrists and neck.

“She’s clean, Boss.”

Just then the baby started to cry, galvanizing every muscle in my body. I stepped forward, eager to answer his call, only to have Gaza block my way.

“Let me go to him!” I snapped, more command than plea.

Bonzo shrieked and hurled the baby bottle at me, and then began rocking the cradle faster and faster, causing my son’s cries to grow more and more agitated.

“Get that thing away from my child!” I shouted.

“Now, now,” Boss Marz said, clucking his tongue. “Is that any way to talk to your babysitter?”

“You’ll get your brat back, soon enough,” Erys replied, “but not before the abdication decree is signed.” She pointed to the table that had served as a torture rack for Hexe, which now bore an old-fashioned inkstand and blotter, as well as an elaborately calligraphed document written on parchment.

Lady Syra stepped up to the table and took the quill pen from the inkstand and stabbed her forefinger with its sharpened tip, using the blood for her signature, and then helped Hexe by pricking his thumb with the same quill. Hexe’s left hand signature, while nowhere as neat as his old one, was at least legible.

The moment Hexe finished signing his name, I headed for the cradle. Bonzo refused to surrender his perch, and bared his teeth at me. But I refused to back down.

“Get away from my baby, you stupid monkey!”

“Let her have it,” Boss Marz sighed, waving the familiar away with a beringed hand. “Maybe now the damned thing will stop crying.”

The baby was beet red in the face, his eyes screwed shut, and his toothless mouth open wide as he voiced his fear and displeasure to the world, but seemed otherwise unharmed. As I lifted him from the cradle, his shrieks turned into whimpers. It was all I could do to keep from crying along with him as I cradled him in my arms. The terror I had felt from the moment he was taken from me instantly disappeared, but the dread I felt for our lives was still there. I hurried back to Hexe, who pulled us both into the circle of his arms and held us fast.

“Finally!”
Boss Marz exclaimed in relief. “I thought it would
never
stop caterwauling.”

“Place the Royal Seal upon it, and it shall be official,” Erys said as she dripped black sealing wax onto the bottom of the parchment.

As Lady Syra drove her signet ring into the wax, the ring abruptly dropped from her finger, as if it had suddenly grown too big to stay on. Erys quickly snatched up the piece of jewelry, holding it up like a trophy.

“There. It is done,” Syra said in a flat voice. “You’ve got what you wanted. Now let me and my family go.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Syra,” Erys replied with a cold-blooded smile. “This piece of paper is meaningless, as long as my corporeal form remains trapped in another dimension. But, thanks to you and your family, I won’t be there for much longer.” She pointed to a huge, shrouded object at the far end of the warehouse. With a snap of her fingers, the canvas covering fell away, revealing a gigantic stone portal, standing twelve feet high with a lintel fifteen feet long, covered in occult petroglyphs.

“As you see, I have prepared a means of returning not only my corporeal self to this dimension, but for bringing along a host of new friends in the bargain.” Erys then turned and bowed in my direction. “As much as it pains me to do so, nump, I must thank you for consigning me to the Infernal Region. If not for you, I would never have found allies bold enough to embrace my vision of returning the Kymeran race to power by overthrowing humanity. They were even kind enough to teach me the finer points of possession!

“Manipulating homunculi was one thing—but to pierce the barrier between this world and the Infernal Realm by sheer force of will is another matter entirely. Luckily, I knew where to find the perfect vessel for my disembodied spirit—one that would not put up a fight when I moved in.” Erys said, gesturing to her body as if it was nothing more than a suit of clothes. “Besides, it is only fitting that my beloved Nina’s flesh should play a role in the destruction of the human society that robbed her of her future.”

“So what is the Maladanti’s reward for helping you bring this mad dream of yours to fruition?” Hexe asked dourly.

“We will be Golgotham’s new police force, replacing the PTU,” Boss Marz replied with a broad smile. “We will be a scourge to all who would defy the Witch King, regardless of how many fingers they possess.”

“So, it was Esau’s plan to smash my right hand with the witch-hammer.”

“I wish I could claim such ingenuity!” Erys laughed. “Marz came up with that plan all on his own. But I must say, the idea of destroying the one thing you held in highest regard—your Right Hand magic—was absolute
genius
.”

“Thank you, Lord Esau,” Boss Marz said humbly. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“I believe in giving credit where credit is due. In fact, you inspired me to use my Infernal allies to locate the Gauntlet of Nydd. I knew Hexe would do whatever it took to regain his dexterity—his pride in his Right Hand magic was his weakness. I’ve studied General Vlad’s spell books for decades, so it wasn’t that difficult to weave one of my own into the existing enchantment and pass it off as the real thing. The chance to dance my fool of a nephew around like a puppet on a string was too good to pass up.