“I don’t like this one bit.”
The pale children started to advance and Madden leveled his shotgun. “What do the rules of engagement say about shooting children, Major? Seems like we’re being threatened here.”
Steuben chimed in. His voice was grim and hollow. “Better look behind you, Major.”
More children were coming down the steps that the party from the airship had just used. “They seem to have cut us off.”
Raphael knew Argo was sweating the question of what to do. “I’m not about to slaughter children.”
Madden had less compassion. “We gotta do something, boss. They don’t look like they feel the same sympathy for us.”
A small boy leading the creeping advance was baring his teeth at Madden in a grin that was pure infant insanity. At the same time, he made slow slashing gestures with a wicked length of broken glass with a makeshift handle fashioned from tape. Argo shook his head. “I really don’t want to gun down a gang of kids, no matter how strange they look, but…” He took a deep breath and braced himself. “Steuben?”
“Major?”
“Fire a warning burst over their heads to see how they respond. But be ready to fire at will if they keep coming.”
“Yes, sir.”
Steuben raised his Bergman and clicked it to rapid fire, but as he raised the weapon, a tall, thin, and very familiar figure came out of same dark-of-the-tunnel that had spawned the children, gesturing for Steuben to hold his fire. “You’ll rupture your fucking eardrums if you fire that thing in here.”
Raphael, along with everyone else, couldn’t believe his eyes. Steuben lowered the Bergman. “Slide? Yancey Slide?”
Yancey Slide was wearing a new duster coat, off-white and almost clean, with a velvet collar the old one never had. He advanced on the children and raised a hand, flashing small flickers of white fire from his fingers. The children halted. Their eyes grew even wider. He said something in an odd, unrecognizable dialect, at which they fled, silently scuttling back the way they had come. Argo took a step forward, an expression of disbelief still on his face. “Damn me. Am I glad to see you.”
Slide gestured towards the archway under the gas flame. “Let’s postpone the fond reunions, shall we? We’re keeping the Falconetti Family waiting.”
EIGHT
CORDELIA
Cordelia was in that place between sleep and waking where it was hard to tell drowsy thoughts from dreams, and neither the chair in which she sat nor the room she was in were wholly real. Cordelia, Lime, and Sera had drunk cognac, talked, and then talked more, and even called out for another bottle, while they awaited the arrival of the rest of The Four, but The Four had, so far, failed to materialize, and the talk had dwindled into long weary silences. Midnight came and went, as did two in the morning, and the three women found themselves slumped without brains, wit, or willpower. Sera was sound asleep, Cordelia was half asleep, while Lime seemed to have revived and was holding conversation with a materialization of Jeakqual-Ahrach, who was also seated, but in a throne-like dragon chair of her own materializing.
What?
The shock had Cordelia wide awake, and she discovered she had come in partway through a conversation in progress. Lime seemed anxious that either Cordelia or Sera might wake, but Jeakqual-Ahrach had no patience with her paranormal insecurities.
“You said you put them out. That should mean they are out, if you are as proficient as you claim to be.”
“I did put them out.”
“I seem to recall you boasting that it was easy. How did you put it? ‘Once I’ve had the bitches to bed, they are always open to my manipulation?’”
Lime defended herself; the pupil being unwillingly humbled by the martinet teacher. “It’s true. They are always easy after I’ve had them to bed.”
“So why are you so anxious, Harriet Lime?”
“I don’t know the extent of the Blakeney woman’s powers. She’s gifted, and very highly trained.”
Cordelia’s thought was grim. You’d better believe that, bitch. She silently watched through her eyelashes, so busy eavesdropping that she had no time to feel the fury building inside her. She had known there was something less than right about Harriet Lime from the moment that she had met her.
“You think I would trust you to neutralize Cordelia Blakeney on your own? I have her measure. I have her fully contained. She will know nothing of any of this.”
“And Falconetti?”
“She is strong but wholly terrestrial. Should she wake, she would see you talking to yourself. You do have the experience to handle her.”
Angry as she was, Cordelia could not help feel herself filled with a suffusion of smug amusement. So Jeakqual-Ahrach thought she had Cordelia Blakeney contained did she? Except the containment was going the wrong way. Jeakqual-Ahrach had screwed up royally, and was seeing an illusion of an unconscious Cordelia, instead of knowing she was listening and watching. Cordelia moved an experimental hand, but neither Lime nor Jeakqual-Ahrach noticed. She could scarcely believe her own luck. Both Lime and Jeakqual-Ahrach were encapsulated and exposed, and without a clue what was happening to them. As Cordelia watched, Jeakqual-Ahrach leaned forward and looked hard at Lime.
“Do you have any other anxieties?”
Lime shook her head. “No.”
“The other three are on their way?”
“They should arrive at any time.”
“And the plan is for them to go to the pyramid?”
“They will believe they are acting as spies or saboteurs.”
Jeakqual-Ahrach seemed satisfied.
“That should allay any suspicions.”
“They don’t know it yet, but that’s how it will be presented to them.”
“The Zhaithan will take them at the pyramid.”
As the conversation continued, Cordelia stood up, but neither Lime nor Jeakqual-Ahrach noticed she had moved. Lime was confused by what Jeakqual-Ahrach had just said. “The Zhaithan will take them? I thought you would take them personally?”
Jeakqual-Ahrach looked away.
“I have procedures I must undergo before I vacate the Residence.”
Cordelia wondered what she meant by procedures, and why they should be more important than her being in at the capture of The Four? Harriet Lime appeared to be wondering the same thing. “But can the Zhaithan handle taking all four of them? The Albany Four have a lot of power when they’re together.”
“The Twins will be there to negate their power.”
“The Twins will be there without you?”
“That’s one of the reasons why I trained you. I won’t play mother to those little monsters, world without end.”
“But…”
“You question me?”
Jeakqual-Ahrach’s face darkened and flames rose from behind her chair.
Lime quickly shook her head. “No.”
“The Twins will shortly arrive at Marseilles on a special galley. They will then be brought to Amiens by road, under special escort. You will be kept informed. I need the Albany Four there by the time they arrive.”
Lime nodded. “I understand. It will be done.”
Like Lime, Cordelia was surprised that Jeakqual-Ahrach was allowing the Twins to operate away from her, and also curious to know what exactly they did. They seemed powerful, but their capabilities were shrouded in mystery. What she was hearing only created a hundred more questions, but the visitation seemed to be ending, and Cordelia made a fast decision. She moved to the chair where Sera was sleeping and picked up Falconetti’s leather coat. Cordelia patted the pockets, and felt the weight for which she’d been hoping. She took out the small lady’s revolver, pointed it at the unknowing head of Harriet Lime, and waited. Cordelia knew she was taking a risk, but she believed the end product would be worth it. Lime and Jeakqual-Ahrach were performing some sort of parting ritual of elaborate and symbolic hand signals. When it was complete, the manifestation of Jeakqual-Ahrach faded to nothing, and Lime sagged back in her chair exhausted, and closed her eyes. It was maybe a minute before she opened them, and saw Cordelia, who relished Lime’s intense surprise. She remembered Hilde, the whore in Boulogne, and the first words she had said to Cordelia. They seemed apt for the situation. “Do one thing I don’t like, sister, and I take your face off.”
Sera stirred. The disappearance of Jeakqual-Ahrach seemed to have lifted whatever was keeping her asleep and oblivious. She took in the scene, and sat bolt upright in her chair. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I just caught Mme. Lime here taking a personal psychic meeting with Her Grand Eminence, to whom she seems totally pledged and wholly in subservient thrall.” Sera reached for her coat, but Cordelia indicated she need not bother. “This is your gun I’m holding.”
“She was talking to Jeakqual-Ahrach?”
Cordelia nodded. “A full-blown, full-color, three-dimensional manifestation.”
“Is such a thing possible?”
Cordelia laughed. “With Jeakqual-Ahrach? Infinitely possible.”
Lime finally found her voice. “Of course it isn’t possible. Lady Blakeney suddenly went out of her mind.”
With the gun held firmly to Lime’s head, Cordelia chanced a glance at Sera. “Do I look out of my mind?”
Sera shook her head. “Not noticeably.”
“She was making the final arrangements to turn me over to the Zhaithan. We are to be taken by them when we go to the pyramid.”
“Who said you were going to the pyramid?”
“Seemingly we are going to be persuaded. Are you in on this with her?”
“Of course not.”
“And your father?”
“Our deal was made with Morgana’s Web, with her as their representative.”
Lime again protested. “This is pure craziness.”
Cordelia looked back at Lime. “It’s lame, Harriet, but I guess you were so sure of Her Grand Eminence’s powers, you didn’t think you’d need a cover story.”
Lime looked desperately at Sera. “You believe her?”
“I tend to, especially as she has the gun.”
“You’re both insane.”
Cordelia pressed home her advantage. “So, Sera, either you and I are insane, or Lime has been caught red-handed selling out not only The Four, but also Morgana’s Web and Il Syndicato, and is now tap dancing for dear life.”
Sera stood up and looked down at Lime. “I’m sorry, Harriet, but Cordelia is making more and more sense by the minute.”
Lime snarled. “You’re going to regret this.”
Harriet Lime had said exactly the wrong thing. Sera Falconetti’s face turned cold. “I am? What exactly am I going to regret, Harriet? Cordelia makes perfect sense, while you merely bluster, impugn my mental heath, and now you actually threaten me. Do you remember where you are, Harriet Lime? Or who you’re fucking talking to?”
Cordelia knew she had won at the same time Harriet Lime knew she had lost. Lime cursed. “Damn the both of you.”
Sera looked at her grimly. “And that really clinches it, Harriet. You gave up too fast.” She turned to Cordelia. “What do you want to do with her?”
“Truthfully?”
“Of course.”
“Hurt her until she confesses everything she knows.”
“We have a quiet room for exactly that purpose.”
“I rather thought you might.”
Sera Falconetti raised her voice so as to be heard beyond the door. “Bonaparte, get in here.”
ARGO
“Are you the commander of this army, Gideon Windermere.”
“No, Damon, I’m not.”
The big man, the supposed boss of Paris, turned to Slide. “You?”
“You know I don’t command anything.”
Argo took a deep breath. “If anyone’s in command, I am. The Rangers are under my orders.”
Damon Falconetti motioned to Jesamine and Raphael. “And these are Lady Blakeney’s other two partners?”
Raphael answered for both of them. “We are.”
Now he regarded the Rangers. “I had only expected The Four. Not an Albany invasion force.”
Steuben shrugged, refusing to be in any way impressed by Falconetti and his assembled henchmen. “We weren’t doing anything so we thought we’d come along for the ride.”
The tunnel from the Metro station had opened out into a flagstoned chamber, lit with more gas flames, and Falconetti’s men had been waiting for them, a dozen or more hard-faced rogues, with scars and missing ears, tattoos and strange jewelry, looking grim and professionally intimidating. He could also see, however, that they were somewhat taken aback by the Rangers equally professional confidence and modern weapons. The initial contact had been tense, and in the first half minute, Argo had feared a fire fight might break out. The Rangers had not been expecting a reception committee, and the reception committee had not been expecting visitors with so much firepower. The Parisians had reacted with a combination of distrust and suspicion, and the Rangers had taken all this as hostility, and maybe the preamble to a shootout. Suddenly, fingers were on triggers, and thumbs on safety catches, and all hell was threatening to break loose until Slide, greeting a number of Falconetti’s crew by name, shook hands, slapped shoulders, and managed to circulate the tension to a manageable level, and defuse the possibility of a lethal misunderstanding. “I thought we were here to deal, not to die.”
Only then did Damon Falconetti come into the room, as though he had considered the possibility that trouble might break out, and absented himself until the threat was past. “You expect me to deal with you, Yancey Slide? You’re not even human.”
Slide lit a cheroot. “Something for which I am profoundly grateful.”
Argo looked at Falconetti, and wished that he wasn’t the one the Rangers had selected for command. When he smiled, the big man flashed a mouthful of gold teeth. The ample uniform coat over his barrel chest was covered in unrecognizable decorations, and a long-legged wolfhound followed at his heel. From the way his men deferred to him, Argo knew that Falconetti was the absolute ruler on his own turf, and he was glad that both Slide and Windermere had a prior relationship with him because Argo knew, once the pleasantries were out of the way, and they settled down to serious business, he had more questions than answers, and little confidence that he could in any way handle the big man on his own.