Veiled (28 page)

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Let's take stock, shall we? First, the White Rose plant amongst your Keepers tries to kill me during that fight with the double. When that doesn't work, Vihaela tells you to bring me here, out in the middle of nowhere, where no one knows where either of us is, to a mage who specialises in torturing people for information. This isn't setting off any flags to you?”

“That's not going to happen,” Haken said sharply.

I shrugged. “Well, since we're on the same team, I guess you won't mind if I do a little solo recon.” I turned to leave.

“Verus,” Haken said.

I started walking. I didn't look back. All my attention was on the futures ahead. They were shifting, changing . . .

“Verus,”
Haken said. And I felt the futures settle.

I paused, turned. Haken was standing side-on with one arm raised. A dull red glow had gathered at his palm, casting him in an ominous crimson light. “Come on, Haken,” I said. “If you love someone, set them free.”

“Yeah, well the version I heard of that saying ends with ‘if they don't come back, hunt them down and kill them.'” Haken gestured with his other hand. “Get back here.”

I looked down at the spell in Haken's hand, then up at him. “I have to warn you, I think this is going to put a serious damper on our relationship.”

“Here. Now.”

I shrugged, took one step towards Haken, then burst into a sprint.

Haken snapped something, but I wasn't listening. I was focused on the presence behind me, the same person who'd tried to kill me back in Bank and who'd been eavesdropping on us ever since we arrived. He was silent and invisible, undetectable by sight or by sound, but no matter how well you hide yourself in the present, it doesn't hide the actions you're going to take in the future. I dodged left and a gun fired, the bullets whipping away into the night. Bushes loomed ahead and the futures of the next few seconds
forked. Haken had two spells ready: one to block me in, the other to kill. He had only a second—

A wall of fire roared up in front of me, thirty feet long and ten feet wide, dazzlingly bright. It was just barely far enough away that I'd have enough time to stop. I took a breath, clamped down on the animal instinct to shy away, and ran straight into the flames.

The heat rose—and stopped rising. Flames licked hungrily at my skin, but the heat was drawn away, sinking into the stone at my neck. It lasted only a second, and then I was through and into the bushes. The fire-hunger stone was pulsing with heat and magic, but I was alive and unburned. My eyes were swimming with white-purple spots and my night vision was gone, but my divination still worked and I picked out a path over the broken ground, ducking and swaying out of the way of the branches. From behind me I heard a shout and felt the wall of fire vanish. I kept running, coming out of the bushes to swerve into a copse of trees. I knew that I was slightly faster than the two mages behind me. I also knew that if I kept going, they'd inevitably catch me. Mages have a lot of ways to track people.

And so instead of continuing to run, I ducked behind a tree, reached into my pack, and pulled out my hole card.

Most people don't really get how defences work. Every culture has a version of the Achilles myth, where someone's immune to every form of harm except getting shot in the heel, or hit with a dart of mistletoe, or having their hair cut off, or being stabbed in the left butt-cheek with a tuning fork while balancing one-legged on an aardvark, or something similarly stupid. In every single story, some dick goes out of their way to make sure all these ridiculous conditions are satisfied, and the supposedly invulnerable guy dies as a result. If you ask most people what the moral of the story is, they'll say, “No one's invincible,” or “Everyone has a fatal flaw.”

In my opinion, the
real
moral of those stories is: if you have some special ability that protects you, make damn sure people don't find out about it.

My reactive armour is really useful. Only problem: Haken had already gotten a look at it. He knew what it could do, and he'd already have figured out exactly how much extra power it would take to blast through it. Which was why, for this mission, I hadn't taken my armour at all. Instead I'd taken something that Haken
didn't
know about. The loose bundle I drew from my pack was soft cloth, coloured a neutral grey, long enough to fall to my ankles and with a hood to shield the head. I pulled the mist cloak around my shoulders, stepped back into the shadows, and held still.

My mist cloak was made for me by Arachne, and it's very good at what it does. When wrapped around a wearer, it functions as adaptive camouflage, changing its colour to blend with whatever's behind it—it's not invisibility, but if you keep still and stay in the shadows it's pretty close. More importantly, it blocks magical senses. Most magic types have some way of finding people who are trying to hide from them, and mist cloaks cause you to drop right off their radar. It's very, very useful, and it's saved my life more times than I can count.

It also nearly
ended
my life, or the next thing to it at any rate. The last time I used my mist cloak I made the mistake of wearing it too long, and bit by bit it started hiding me
so
well that no one would have been able to find me, ever. The thought of that still creeps me out, and I'm not sure what would have happened if Arachne hadn't pulled me out of it. I'd checked and rechecked obsessively with my divination, and I was as sure as I could be that as long as I only used it for a little while, the same thing wasn't going to happen again.

Probably.
I pressed up against the tree and held still.

Running footsteps sounded and Haken came into view, red light glowing about his hands. He came to a halt, looking left and right, frowning, and I knew he was looking through the trees, trying to pick out my heat signature. I kept my breathing slow and steady, not letting myself move. Haken stood, listening, and I could guess his thoughts. He couldn't hear me running, he couldn't sense my body heat, so where was I?

There was a soft rustle of movement. Haken turned
sharply, the light at his hands brightening. He stared across the grass for a second, then I saw his stance shift. A shield of fire sprang up around him, and he lifted a hand to point towards an empty patch of grass. “Show your face or I'll burn you out.” His voice was sharp and dangerous.

For a moment the landscape was silent, then a man seemed to fade into view, standing on the grass only twenty feet from Haken. The gun he'd been using was nowhere to be seen, and the glow of Haken's fire magic reflected off his face. “No need for threats,” Cerulean said.

“Why were you shooting at Verus?”

“Because I wanted to kill him,” Cerulean said. He nodded over Haken's shoulder. “Haven't you got something to do?”

Cerulean looked far too relaxed for someone in his situation. Despite everything that had happened there was something bland about him—my eyes kept wanting to slide over him, and I had to keep dragging them back. “I'm getting really tired of your shit,” Haken said. “Give me a good reason I shouldn't fry you right now.”

Cerulean shrugged. “For one thing, you wouldn't make it off the estate alive. Where's Verus?”

“Gone, since you decided to fuck things up.”

“I didn't shoot until he ran.”

Haken swore. “That's how diviners work, you moron. It doesn't matter if you're invisible. All he has to do is look into the future to see what would happen if he runs, and if he sees you shooting, he knows you're there!”

Huh,
I thought.
Haken's got a pretty good understanding of divination.
Would explain how I'd been having so much trouble spying on him. Though right now, I was a little bit
too
well placed for spying on them, at least for my own comfort. Maybe if I waited until they were busy with each other, then edged away . . .

“Maybe you should have used a fireball instead of trying to block him off with a wall,” Cerulean said.

“You know what?” Haken said. “How about you explain to me why you want him dead.”

Cerulean cocked his head, as though listening to something. “Vihaela.”

“She didn't clear that with me.”

“Guess you're not in the loop.”

“Don't fuck with me.” Haken's voice was dangerous. “This wasn't part of the deal.”

“Why don't you tell her that?”

Haken started to answer, then stopped. He looked up, over Cerulean's shoulder, as though he'd noticed something. A second later, I heard it too: people coming closer, lots of people. The wavering white glows of flashlights were showing through the bushes. Shadows moved and Haken took a step back into a defensive posture. Then a woman stepped out into the light.

W
hen I'd seen Vihaela's decoy a few hours ago, I hadn't realised at first that she was a fake. It's hard to identify someone from a picture—you can match the features, but what really sets a person apart is their actions, the way they move and stand and speak. I'd known that there was
something
off, but I hadn't known what it was. Often that's how it happens, when you see an imitation—it doesn't look totally convincing, but if you don't have anything to compare it against, you'll probably accept it.

Until you see the real thing. And then all of a sudden, you can't understand how you could ever have been taken in by the fake one.

Vihaela—and I
knew
this was the real Vihaela, knew it instantly and without needing to check—was tall and dark-skinned, though so perfectly proportioned that the only reason I even registered her height was that standing next to Cerulean, she was taller than him. She wore layered clothes of brown and black and red, with white gloves that stood out in the darkness, and moved with the graceful indifference of a bird of prey. Beautiful, but the kind of beauty
that intimidates rather than attracts. Looking at her, I understood why Leo had been so afraid of her. She scared
me
, and I hadn't even seen her do anything.

This was way more than I'd bargained for. I'd been planning to lose Cerulean and Haken in the darkness, then either call for backup or gate out. All I could do now was hold very still.

“Hello, Haken,” Vihaela said. Her voice was musical, quite pleasant to the ear. “Where's Verus?”

“Gone,” Cerulean said.

Vihaela gave Haken an inquiring look. “He ran,” Haken said reluctantly.

Vihaela turned to Cerulean. “Fetch the sniffers. Take the outer guard. Find him.”

Cerulean nodded and slipped away into the darkness. Beyond the ring of Haken's light, I could hear him giving orders. The men outside the circle drew back; I saw Haken's eyes flick in their direction and he seemed to relax a tiny bit, though he was still on guard. “This would have gone a lot faster,” Haken said, “if you'd just come to talk.”

“Oh, did you like my little surprise?” Vihaela smiled. “Short notice, but I did my best.”

“Hilarious,” Haken said sourly. “You couldn't have just showed up?”

Vihaela raised an eyebrow. “You really thought I was going to surrender to your little task force? I would have thought you and Levistus would be grateful. You wanted a way to wrap this up quietly.”

“Having your constructs come in shooting was not ‘quietly.'”

Vihaela waved a hand. “Relatively quietly. I think you need more realistic standards.”

Haken took a breath, obviously controlling his temper. “I don't have much time here. Can we get down to business?”

“Oh, business?” Vihaela clasped her hands and smiled. “That sounds good. So what does the great Levistus have to say?”

“I think you know. By now half the Light mages in
Britain have heard that those data focuses can be read. More importantly, they know that you
lost
one. Every mage who's used your ‘services' is scrambling around trying to put a lid on things.”

“Sounds very inconvenient for you.”

“Look,” Haken said. “I'm a Keeper. I don't know what you guys have got going on here. What I do know is that because of that focus getting out, a lot of Light mages have got a problem. And because Levistus depends on those mages for support, that means he's got a problem. And since he's got a problem, he makes it
my
problem, which means it becomes
your
problem. So I would appreciate it very fucking much if you could stop doing things like trying to assassinate a Keeper auxiliary in the middle of an operation.”

“Hmm. You're right.” Vihaela tapped a finger to her lips, studying Haken thoughtfully. “You really
don't
know much about what's going on here.”

I heard Haken grit his teeth.

“Getting rid of Verus wasn't my idea, by the way,” Vihaela said. “That came down from Marannis. He thought that with Verus gone, we could pick up his apprentice and find out what he did with that data focus. Or maybe it was his idea of mending fences with Levistus.” She shrugged. “Oh well, who cares?”

“Killing a mage on Keeper business isn't going to mend fences with anyone. You're smart, you'll call off the hunt on Verus now.”

Vihaela sighed. “No, that was what
Marannis
wanted. Try to keep up.”

“I'm not here to—”

“No. You were here to deliver Verus. One simple thing.” Vihaela paused. “Do you have any idea how much work it's been to get you Keepers moving? I'd thought you'd at least make your raid here. Instead you send your whole assault force after the smallest house we have. I suppose I should have expected it, really. Losing a mage seems to be the only thing that motivates you.”

All of a sudden I knew what Vihaela was going to do.
Shit. Who's she really working for?
I very briefly thought about doing something, then abandoned the idea and started looking for ways out.

Haken hadn't caught up yet. “Look, the way Levistus sees it, we can still keep a lid on this. The others think you're dead. Okay, we can work with that. That'll stall the investigation long enough to let us work out something—”

“Sorry, Haken,” Vihaela said. “I'm afraid you and Levistus are a couple of steps behind.”

Haken frowned. “What are you—?”

Light flashed from the small of Haken's back, magic surging at close range. Haken jerked, his spine arching, then collapsed to the ground.

“Fire mages.” Vihaela shook her head, looking down at Haken. “So easy to misdirect.”

Cerulean materialised out of thin air where Haken had been standing, slipping something back into his pocket. His invisibility was flawless: even with my magesight, I hadn't picked up any trace of his presence. Two figures came marching out of the darkness; they were the same humanoid constructs that had accompanied Vihaela's decoy in Bank. “Pick that up,” Vihaela said, pointing down at Haken. The constructs moved to obey and she turned to Cerulean. “Where's Verus?”

“He couldn't have gated,” Cerulean said. The constructs lifted Haken; focusing on him I could tell that he was unconscious but still alive. “Wards didn't trigger. Shroud?”

Vihaela frowned. “This isn't a good time for distractions.”

“I've told the team that Haken's MIA and Verus is the suspect,” Cerulean said. “Should keep them busy a while.”

Well, shit.
That was going to make my life a lot harder.

“Find him anyway,” Vihaela said. She glanced around at the gardens. “You know, I might actually miss this place.” Her voice was thoughtful, and she kept gazing around for a few seconds more before turning to walk away. The constructs followed, carrying Haken between them.

I watched the group disappear into the darkness. As soon as they were gone, I backed slowly away, then turned and
started hurrying through the trees. I could still hear voices in the distance, and the flicker of lights. I wasn't worried about any of the men finding me the regular way, but I was pretty sure a slaver group would have more than just torches.

I ducked into another bush and crouched down in the darkness. I pulled out my phone and started to activate it, then frowned. No signal. I flicked through the futures, trying different numbers—all nothing. They must have a jammer of some kind. I looked into the futures in which I used a gate stone. A minute or two to get the spell working, and . . . oh, goddamn it. Cerulean hadn't been bluffing about the wards either.

I'd suspected that Haken was going to pull something like this—that was why I'd brought the fire-hunger stone and the mist cloak. My plan had been to wait for him to tip his hand, learn what I could, then bug out. Unfortunately, I'd been counting on either being able to gate away, or get a message to Luna and the others.

A sound rose up from the direction of the house, making my head snap around. It was a low-pitched, throaty
arrh-arrh-arrh
, something like what you'd get if you crossed a dog and a giant crow. I remembered what Vihaela had said about “sniffers” and a nasty feeling formed in my stomach. My mist cloak's great against magic, but it doesn't do anything against tracking by scent.

Plan C.
I rummaged around in my bag for the serrated blue disc of my communication focus. I channelled into it, strained myself to give it a bit of extra energy, and waited.

A second later I heard Caldera's voice from the disc. “Who is this?”

Damn, that's loud.
I wished this one had a volume control like the later models. “Keep your voice down.”

“Verus?” Caldera sounded suspicious. “Is that you?”

I could hear voices behind me to my left. They were getting closer. “It's me.”

“How do you have a synchronous focus?”

“Not the time. I could really use some help here.”

“Yeah, no kidding. What's going on with Haken?”

“He's in deep shit and I'm not doing so well either. Any chance of some backup?”

“Orders are for you to come in—”

“I know. You got a call within the last half hour, telling you that Haken's MIA and that I'm to be arrested under suspicion of being involved. Right?”

“So are you going to do it?”

“Can't.”

“If you don't—”

“I'm not saying I won't, I'm saying I
can't
. I'm at White Rose's base and they've got sink wards. Listen, I didn't do anything to Haken. He was dealing under the table with Vihaela and got burned. Cerulean's the mole, not me. White Rose has got Haken, and they're after me too. I need you to get the others and gate to the beacon from my communicator.”

“That's not an option.”

A sound went up into the night, the same throaty
arrh-arrh-arrh
. It was closer this time. I looked over in the direction, then huddled down, biting off my words. “Listen. This is me calling for help. I need you guys here.”

There was a silence. It could only have been a few seconds, but it felt like more. “I can't,” Caldera said. “Orders are to bring you in. I can't gate to your position on your say-so.”

“Then call Vari or Landis or someone who
can
!”

“I can't do that either. You're asking me to disobey a direct order.”

“Fuck the orders! If you wait for clearance, then Haken and I are going to be dead by the time you get it!”

I heard a shout from close by. I snatched a look around the tree and swore quietly. Two shapes were moving down the bank, torch beams searching in my direction. They'd heard me talking and I'd been too distracted by the conversation with Caldera to see them coming. “Verus?” Caldera said. “What's going on?”

Caldera hadn't kept her voice down. The torches zeroed in and I ducked back behind the tree before they could blind me. I heard a man's voice, and undergrowth cracked as heavy footsteps headed in my direction.

I took a deep breath and bent my head over the communicator. “Caldera. I know I've done things to piss you off and there have been times I haven't told you everything. But I've never actually lied to you and I'm telling you the truth now. I can't handle this on my own. Please. I don't know how much longer—”

Danger. I dropped the focus and turned just as the first man came around the side of the tree. His flashlight was up: he'd been expecting me to flee, and the ferocity of my attack caught him off guard. I hit him in the stomach twice, then as he doubled over, kneed him in the face hard enough to feel something break. I turned on the second man to see him backpedalling and I closed in on him, swift and wolflike. He struck out with what looked like a club; from the futures in which it hit me I knew it would discharge a stunning shock. I let it slide past and caught the arm. The torches were dazzling but narrow-beamed, and the other man couldn't see what I was doing. I closed my eyes as he shone the light into my face, ducked his attempt to club me over the head, then threw him. The fall knocked the torch and shock stick out of his hands, and while he scrabbled for them I had time to draw my stun focus; he'd just made it to his knees when I discharged the focus into his side. He went down and didn't get up.

Shouts and lights moved through the trees. My fight hadn't gone unnoticed, and others were closing in. I ran back to the tree where I'd been hiding, scooped up my pack, and scanned the futures: there were people coming from behind and to the left, and going right would bring me up against the perimeter fence.
Forward.
I wove through the woods, relying on my second sight to keep me from tripping and falling on my face. A couple of men were at risk of cutting me off: I reached down without breaking stride, scooped up a rock in the darkness, and threw it blind. A few seconds later there was a distant
tak
as it hit a tree. The futures of the men to my left shifted as they homed in on the noise, leaving me a clear path.

I came out of the trees and started up a grassy slope, wind
blowing in my hair, the overcast sky above. To my left, I could see the bright lights of the White Rose estate. These grounds felt like the size of a national park, but it meant that I had more space to hide, and that was to my advantage, not theirs. For a second I thought that I'd lost them.

Then I heard the
arrh-arrh-arrh
sound from behind me, followed by the sound of crashing vegetation. It was close—too close. I ducked behind a bush, blending into the shadows and looking back down the slope.

A shape moved in the darkness under the trees. It looked something like a huge dog, but the proportions were wrong, the shoulders too large. Its lines were solid light in the futures: a construct. There were men with it, though, catching up fast, and they
weren't
constructs. As I watched, the shape came out onto the slope and started trotting uphill, head low to the ground, heading straight towards my hiding place.