Whisper of Shadows (The Diamond City Magic Novels) (14 page)

Then Karnickey had fallen in love. The woman had been remarkable in her own right. Lily Enwright James had been cut off by her family in the East and had come to Diamond City with a hundred dollars and a lot of chutzpah. She’d managed to open a general store and rapidly parlayed that into half a dozen stores. She bought a hotel, and then two, and fairly quickly she had her own little empire. She’d been beautiful, with glossy dark hair, a round face, and a lot of swagger. It’s no wonder Karnickey had fallen in love with her. He was famous for writing poetry to her and publicly begging her to marry him. But he had competition.

His main rival for Lily’s affections was Alan Madstrom. Like Karnickey, he’d found a rich diamond mine. Where Karnickey was all rough edges and bullheaded charm, Madstrom was snake-smooth elegance. He liked that Lily came from wealthy breeding, with polished manners and cultured style. She was his ticket into a level of society he couldn’t achieve by himself, and he liked showing her off. Except Lily refused to marry either man. She wasn’t going to give up her independence. Instead, she let Madstrom and Karnickey vie for her affections, promising she’d become the winner’s exclusive mistress.

It became quite a spectacle, with each man trying to outmaneuver the other. It was all the papers had talked about. Eventually, Karnickey started looking like the likely winner. That’s when Madstrom decided to play dirty. He waited until a January storm had snowed Diamond City in. Then he released a tinkered virus into the Burrows. Just about everybody died within a week. After the bodies were cleared out, the place was abandoned. Supposedly it was cursed. That made it a perfect location for my home.

Using all the scrap metal left in the Burrows, plus a whole lot more we’d hauled in, Leo and Jamie had built the house. It was a marvel. The outer walls were made of all sizes of stone mortared together with steel. It had an open plan, largely because I lived alone and didn’t like being closed in. A massive circular fireplace, enclosed by a grill and surrounded by a knee-high stone hearth, rose up through the middle of the house. The grill was five feet tall, and above that the chimney was made of more metal-bound stone.

On one side of it was a living area. The furniture consisted mostly of giant cushions, with a couple of mosaic-topped tables. The kitchen was on the other side. It was much bigger than I’d ever need. I barely had enough dishes and pots to fill a couple of the cupboards, and as far as food went, I had some jelly in the fridge along with some sodas and water, and some peanut butter, ramen, and microwave popcorn on a shelf. I ate most of my meals at the Diamond City Diner, owned by my best friend, Patti, and her business partner, Ben.

Off to the side, between the kitchen and living area and under the spiraling staircase, was a sliding wood door. The wide steps beyond led into a sunken bathroom with a toilet, a natural hot tub, and a massive shower. The pool was filled by an underground spring my brothers had managed to divert and then I’d heated with a spell I’d bought. A round roof with two skylights capped the space. I’d set candles into just about every rocky niche. Broad doors of mullioned glass slid apart onto a little courtyard, maybe ten or fifteen feet wide. Tumbled boulders made a wall around the little space. It was neck deep in snow at the moment, but in the summer, I put out birdfeed next to the little trickling waterfall and shallow pool. It was filled by the same spring that fed my hot tub. I’d leave the doors open and sit in my tub to watch the birds or at night I’d look at the stars.

Upstairs was my bedroom. Like downstairs, it was sparsely furnished, with a dresser, a nightstand, and a low-sitting platform bed piled with a bunch of brightly colored pillows and a down coverlet. Thick wool rugs covered the smooth stone floor. On the other side of the chimney was my work area. Tables and shelves lined the walls. They contained bins full of all sorts of things I could use to make nulls. Most of those appeared innocuous. They were easier to hide in plain sight. On the end were two enormous cabinets, each five feet wide and two feet deep. One contained finished nulls, and the other was packed with other magic spells I’d collected over the years. My kitchen pantry was empty, but I tried to keep my magic pantry well stocked.

Up against the chimney were three wood half barrels I’d picked up at a garden store. I’d attached wheels to the bottoms to make it easier to maneuver the heavy contents within. The first held a giant hunk of silver sheen obsidian. It weighed at least two hundred pounds. The second half barrel contained a green cement toad statue, about four feet tall. It had a silly grin on its face and oversized bug eyes. A solid glass ball about four feet in diameter perched on top of the last half barrel. It was lilac colored and not entirely round. I didn’t care. It suited my purpose well.

All three were nulls. I’d spent years adding to their power. Each pulsed with captured magic. They weren’t particularly useful. It wasn’t like I could haul them out of here very easily. On the other hand, activating them would wreak havoc with the magic in Diamond City. Once I’d learned the knack of creating a spell sink that would absorb nulled magic and recycle it to reinforce the nulling spell, I’d made sure each of these nulls would do the same. Where binders suppressed all magic in a vicinity, nulls absorbed the active magic like big sponges. When the binders lifted, the magic would return, though it often got shorted out. Binders tended to have that effect. Nulls simply killed the spells until they got recharged.

Activating my three big ones could possibly suck the magic out of the entire city. At least, in theory. They could also overload and burn out, in which case my house and the Karnickey Burrows would be leveled. Not that I planned to set them off. I’ve never had any intention of using them. They’re more vanity spells than anything else. I’d wanted to see just how powerful I could make them. Plus I could siphon power off if I needed it. If I’d had had time, I would have recharged my tattoo nulls, but I didn’t.

The house was comfortably warm, heated as it was by magic. I liked a good fire, but I also liked to come home to warmth, and most of the time I wasn’t around to stoke the fire. I ran up the stairs, leaving Taylor to trail behind. By the time she joined me, I was digging in my closet for an empty backpack. I had several, since I used them with frequency and I didn’t like having to unpack every time I wanted to shift jobs.

I went to my workroom and opened my null cupboard. I grabbed what I needed before moving to the other cupboard. These were spells that I’d purchased. Some unlocked doors, others created faraway sounds to distract guards, some deflected bullets, and so on. All the sorts of things that might be useful for a tracer on the job. I grabbed a few things that might prove useful and stuffed them in with the nulls. I handed Taylor the heavy pack and returned to my closet. I pulled off my boots and peeled off my socks. I put on light wicking socks followed by a pair of thick wool ones. I donned a different, more comfortable pair of boots, and changed my sweaty shirt. Not that there was much point. We’d be traveling underground again. Next, I grabbed a jacket. It was thin and light, but would keep me warm down to fifty below zero. Finally, I grabbed gloves, a fleece balaclava, and pulled a couple of hand warmers off the shelf and stuck them in my pocket. They might come in handy.

Price didn’t have anything to wear. He’d been taken without a coat. I turned helplessly in a circle as I examined my closet. I didn’t have anything big enough for him to wear. Besides, we needed to travel light and move quickly. An extra coat might get in the way. Hopefully we’d find something on the premises.

“Are you ready?” Taylor called.

I stepped out into the bedroom. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

“You’ve got the nulls?”

I nodded.

“That’s what we came for. Let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

We went back downstairs, but instead of going into the basement, we went out through my front door. It opened under a massive slab of basalt that leaned up against the wall of my house, adding to the ruined look. From the outside, my place looked like a pile of rocks. The original buildings had been several stories tall and linked with burrowing hallways and underground tunnels. Leo and Jamie had used the old ruins to disguise my place. I could have all the lights on inside, and nobody down on the road would see. The entire Burrows was shielded with turn-away spells and briar magic that guaranteed no one could just wander in—if its status as a cursed place didn’t keep them away.

Since our next destination was Taylor’s hangar, the number four exit was the quickest. I led the way. We wove through what appeared to be piles of rubble. They were strategically placed and shored up with steel. After about seventy feet, we came to a set of narrow steps leading downward. I sucked in a deep breath and forced myself to go down, fingers gripping tight on my backpack. As I reached the bottom, lights flickered to life.

Another set of tracks and another cigar car waited for us. As I lowered myself into my seat and settled my backpack between my feet, I accidentally let myself notice how low the ceiling was. Instant panic. I gripped the bars on the inside of the car and bent my head down. Taylor put us into gear. As I’d predicted, by the time we stopped, I’d sweated through my shirt yet again.

Escape tunnel four let out underneath the Albert Street subway stop in Downtown. A ladder led up to the platform level through a pipe. We climbed up and into our bolt-hole, with me leading the way. I’m pretty sure that was so Taylor could prod me from behind if I froze up. I climbed on autopilot, my cramped fingers hooking over the rails.

At the top, I released the trapdoor and flipped it back. Dim lights glowed inside the cramped space, barely bigger than the size of a bathroom. One wall had shelves with a variety of emergency supplies. Taylor climbed out behind me and lowered the trapdoor back into place. It locked automatically.

I grabbed a bottle of water and drank from it, feeling parched. Panic did that to me.

“Ready?”

I nodded. Taylor opened the door a crack and looked out. A second later she swung it wide and stepped outside. I followed, shutting the door behind me. We stood inside a niche in the subway tunnel. The air was cool and smelled of minerals with a hint oil. From the outside, the door we’d come through looked like solid rock.

We went right, guided by the light from the Albert Street platform. Gravel crunched under our feet. Nobody noticed us emerge from the tunnel. I opened the maintenance door under the platform. We stooped and stepped inside a narrow hallway. The walls and ceiling were thick with conduits. We went down to the end and up the stairs, coming out at a nondescript door leading out onto the platform. We slipped out and joined the small crowd waiting for the next train. They ran every thirteen minutes.

Five minutes later the train arrived, and we boarded, taking seats near the back of the car. Taylor and I hadn’t spoken. I kept my head down, my eyes closed, and concentrated on breathing. When the speaker announced the Porter Creek station, I opened my eyes and stood. Just a few more minutes, and we’d be clear of the underground.

Our stop was only ten blocks from the hangar. The wind was blowing, and the cold slapped my face. I pulled my balaclava over my head and stuck my hands into my pockets. The Kensington Bank said it was five below zero. The windchill dropped the temperature another five or ten degrees. The weatherman had promised a storm sometime in the next couple of days.

The sidewalks had been cleared, but patches of thick ice made the going slower than I liked. Taylor looped her arm through mine so that we could balance each other, and our speed increased.

We’d gone two blocks when a limo slid across the intersection in front of us, blocking our path. Dad rolled down the rear window. “I’d like to speak with you. Let me drive you to the hangar. It will be faster.”

I tossed him a glance but didn’t stop. Neither did Taylor. “No, thanks. We’re more likely to get there walking,” I said.

He winced, and the expression was achingly familiar. So many times he’d made that face. It was self-deprecating and apologetic. And probably fake as hell.

“Whatever you want can wait,” I said. Forever, if it was up to me, but I didn’t think it was.

“Feel free to go to hell in the meantime,” Taylor added.

He frowned, the limo coasting along beside us.

“Very well. I will walk with you.”

He opened the door and climbed out, buttoning his knee-length cashmere coat before setting a fedora on his head. He looked like a 1940s detective. A woman came after, and from the other side of the limo stepped a bald-headed giant. Bodyguards. I guess they were worried we might try to kill Dad. Reasonable enough. If looks were anything to go by, Taylor would have gutted him if she could.

The limo pulled away. Dad’s two minions split up, the giant up front, the woman behind. He fell in beside us. We walked along in silence for a half block before he spoke.

“You two should not be out without an escort,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”

“You mean it’s dangerous for Riley,” Taylor said. I was sandwiched between the two of them. “I’m hardly important enough to notice.” Bitterness sharpened the edges of her words.

“I’m sure it seems that way,” he said.

I could hear Taylor’s teeth gritting at that response. I gripped her tighter, wishing Dad would just go back to whatever rock he’d crawled out from under. Dad. I kept thinking of him that way, but he wasn’t my dad. Not the one I thought I’d known, and every time I said or thought the word, it felt like a lie. “What name are you going by these days?” I asked. “Not Sam Hollis. There’s been no record of him since you vanished.”

He nodded. “It was important that no one connect me to you. Any of you,” he added.

“So what should we call you?”

That seemed to take him aback. “Brussard,” he said at last. “Vernon Brussard.”

“Vernon Brussard,” I echoed. I wondered how he’d arrived at that, if it had any particular meaning. Then I dismissed my curiosity. Didn’t matter. To me it was just a strange name for a stranger. Definitely better than calling him
Dad
.

“All right, Vernon. What do you want?” My forehead scrunched. “How did you find us, anyhow?” Then I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity. “Never mind. Stupid question.”