Dead Beat (9 page)

By the time I got myself upright again, the panic had set in. No one had ever thrown power like that at me. Stars and stones, if I hadn't been absolutely prepared for that blow…

I swallowed. I'd be dead. Or at best broken, bleeding, and utterly at the mercy of an unknown wizard. One who was still nearby, and probably getting ready to hit me again. I forced thoughts and doubts from my mind and readied my shield, my bracelet already grown so warm that I could feel it through the ugly scars on the skin of my wrist. I couldn't even think about hitting back, because if my shield wasn't back up and ready for another blow, I wouldn't live long enough to get the chance.

Cowl walked slowly toward me down the sidewalk, all cloak and hood and shadows. "Disappointing," he said. "I hoped you were ready for the heavyweight division."

He flicked his wrist, and the next blow howled at me in the freezing wind blowing off the lake. This one came in at an angle, and I didn't even try to stop it cold. I sidestepped like a nervous horse, angling my shield to deflect the blow. Again energy leaked through, but this time it only shoved me across the sidewalk.

My shoulder hit the building, and it drove the breath out of me. I've had shoulder injuries before, and it probably made it feel worse than it was. I bounced off the building and kept my feet, but my legs wobbled— not from the effort of holding me up, but from the energy I'd had to expend to survive the attacks.

Cowl kept walking toward me. Hell's bells, it didn't even look like he was trying all that hard.

I got a cold feeling in my chest.

This man could kill me.

"The book, boy," Cowl said. "Now."

What rose up in me then wasn't outrage or terror. It wasn't righteous wrath. It wasn't confidence, or surety, or determination to protect a loved one. It was 100 percent pure, contrary stubbornness. Chicago was my town. I didn't care who this joker was; he wasn't going to come gliding down the streets of
my
town and push in my teeth for my milk money.

I don't get pushed around by anyone.

Cowl was strong, but his magic wasn't inhuman. It was huge, and it was different from what I worked with, but it didn't have that nauseating, greasy, somehow empty feel that I'd come to associate with the worst black magic. No, that wasn't entirely true. There was a lingering sense of black magic involved in his power. Then again, there's a little of it in mine, too.

The point being that Cowl wasn't some kind of demon. He was a wizard. Human.

And, behind the magic, just as fragile as me.

I poured power down my arm, whirled my staff, pointed it at the car on the street beside him, and snarled, "
Forzare
!"

The sigils on the staff burst into sudden, hellish scarlet light, as bright as the blaze of my shield, and shimmering waves of force flowed out from me. They flooded out over the sidewalk, under the Toyota parked on the street nearest Cowl. I snarled with effort, and the Hellfire force abruptly lashed up, underneath the street side of the car. The car flipped up as lightly and quickly as a man overturning a kitchen chair. Cowl was under it.

There was a crash, and Hell's bells, it was loud. Glass shattered everywhere, and sparks flew out in every direction. The car's alarm went off, warbling drunkenly, and alarms started going off all up and down the street. In apartment windows, lights started blinking on.

I fell to one knee, suddenly exhausted, the light from staff and shield both dwindling to nothing and vanishing. I had never moved that much mass before, that quickly, with nothing but raw kinetic energy, and I could hardly find enough energy to focus my eyes. If I hadn't had the staff to lean on, I'd have been hugging the sidewalk.

There was the sound of metal grating on concrete.

"Oh, come on," I said panting.

The car shuddered, then slid a few inches to one side. Cowl straightened slowly. He'd gotten back to the very rear of the car's impact area somehow, and he must have been able to shield himself from the partial impact. As he straightened he wavered, then braced himself against a streetlight with one black-gloved hand. I felt a surge of satisfaction.
Take that, jerk
.

A low growling sound came warbling out of the black hood. "The book."

"Bite," I panted, "me."

But he hadn't been talking to me. Kumori stepped out of the shadows of a doorway and gestured with a whispered word.

I felt a sudden, strong tug at my duster's pocket. The flap covering it flew up, and the slender book in its paper bag started sliding out.

"Ack," I managed, which was all the repartee I was up for at the moment. I rolled and trapped the book between my body and the ground.

Kumori extended her hand again, and more forcefully. I slid two feet over the concrete, until I braced a boot against an uneven joint in the sidewalk and saw movement behind the two figures. "Game over," I said. "Stop it."

"Or what?" Cowl demanded.

"Ever see
Wolfen
?" I spat.

Wolves appeared, just freaking
appeared
out of the Chicago night. Big wolves, refugees from a previous epoch, huge, strong-looking beasts with white fangs and savage eyes. One was crouched on the wrecked Buick, within an easy leap of Cowl, bright eyes fastened on him. Another had appeared behind Kumori, and a third leapt lightly down from a fire escape, landing in a soundless crouch in front of her. One appeared on either side of me, and snarls bubbled out of the night.

More lights were coming on. A siren wailed in the night.

"What big teeth they have," I said. "You want to keep going until the cops show up? I'm game."

There wasn't even a pause for the two cloaked figures to look significantly at each other. Kumori glided to Cowl's side. Cowl gave me a look that I felt, even if I couldn't see his face, and he growled, "This isn't—"

"Oh, shut up," I said. "You lost. Go."

Cowl's fingers formed into a rigid claw and he snarled a word I couldn't quite hear, slashing at the air.

There was a surge of power, darker this time, somehow more nebulous. The air around them blurred, there was the sudden scent of mildew and lightless waters, a sighing sound, and as quickly as that, they were simply gone.

"Billy," I said a second later, angry. "What the
hell
are you doing? Those people could have killed you."

The wolf crouching on the wrecked car looked at me, and dropped its mouth open into a lolling grin. It leapt over the broken glass to land beside me, shimmered, and a second later the wolf was gone, replaced by a naked man crouching beside me. Billy was a little shorter than average, and had more muscle than a Bowflex commercial. Medium brown hair, matching eyes, and he wore a short beard now that made him look a lot older than when I'd met him years ago.

Of course, he
was
older than when I'd met him years ago.

"This is my neighborhood," he said quietly. "Can't afford to let anyone make me look bad here." He moved with quick efficiency, getting a shoulder under one of mine and hauling me to my feet by main strength. "How bad are you hurt?"

"Bruises," I said. The world spun a little as he hauled me up, and I wasn't sure I could have stood on my own. "Little wobbly. Out of breath."

"Cops will be here in about seventy seconds," he said, like someone who knew. "Come on. Georgia's in the car at the other end of this alley."

"No," I said. "Look, just get me to my car. I can't be…" I couldn't be seen with him. If Mavra was watching me, or having me tailed, it might mean that she would release the dirt she had on Murphy. But I damn sure couldn't just explain everything to him. Billy wasn't the sort to stand by when he saw a friend in trouble.

And I was damned lucky he wasn't. I hadn't had much left in me but some hot air when Cowl had stood up again.

"No time," Billy said. "Look, we'll get you back here after things calm down later. Christ, Harry, you crushed that car like a beer can. I didn't know you were that strong."

"Me neither," I said. I couldn't get to my car on my own. I couldn't afford to be seen with Billy and the Alphas. But I couldn't allow myself to get detained or thrown into jail, either. Never mind that if Cowl and his sidekick had found me, there might be other interested parties after me, too. If I kept showing my face on the streets, someone would tear it off for me.

I had to go with Billy. I would cut things as short as I could. I didn't want them involved in this business any more than they already were, anyway, as much to protect them as Murphy. Dammit, Mavra would just have to show some freaking understanding. Maybe if I said please.

Yeah, right.

I might already have blown it and doomed Murphy, but I didn't have much choice.

I leaned on Billy the werewolf, and did the best I could to hobble along with him down the alley and off the street.

Chapter Nine

Billy probably could have picked me up and carried me at a flat run if he needed to, but we had to cross only about fifty yards of alley and darkened street before an expensive SUV, its lights out, cut over to the curb and made a swift stop in front of us.

"Quick," I said, still panting, "to the Woof mobile."

Billy helped me into the backseat, followed me in, and before the door was even shut the SUV began accelerating smoothly and calmly from the scene. The interior smelled like new-car-scented air freshener and fast food.

"What happened?" asked the driver. She was a willowy young woman about Billy's age, somewhere around six feet tall. Her brown hair was pulled into a severe braid, and she wore jeans and a denim jacket. "Hello, Harry."

"Evening, Georgia," I replied, slumping back against the headrest.

"Are you all right?"

"Nothing a nice long nap won't fix."

"He was attacked," Billy supplied, answering the first question. He tugged sweats and a T-shirt out of an open gym bag and hopped into them with practiced motions.

"The vampires again?" Georgia asked. She turned on the headlights and joined other traffic. Reflected streetlights gleamed off the diamond engagement ring on her left hand. "I thought the Reds were staying out of town."

"Not vampires," I said. My eyelids started increasing their mass, and I decided not to argue with them. "New friends."

"I think they must have been other wizards," Billy said quietly. "Big black cloaks and hoods. I couldn't see their faces."

"What set the police off?" she asked.

"Harry flipped a car over on top of one of them."

I heard Georgia suck in her breath through her teeth.

"Yeah, and I'm the one who
lost
the fight," I muttered. "Barely even rattled his cage."

"My God," Georgia said. "Is everyone all right?"

"Yeah," I replied. "The bad guys got away. If the Alphas hadn't come along when they did, I'm not sure I would have."

"Everyone else scattered, and they'll meet us back at the apartment," Billy said. "Who were those guys?"

"I can't tell you that," I said.

There was an empty second, and then Billy's voice turned cautious. "Why? Is it some kind of secret, need-to-know wizard thing?"

"No. I just have no freaking clue who it was."

"Oh. What did they want?" Billy asked. "I only showed up at the end."

"I picked up a rare book at Bock's. Apparently they wanted it."

I could have sworn I heard his brow furrow. "Is it valuable?"

"Something in it must be," I answered. I fumbled at my pocket and drew out the book to make sure it was still there. The slender volume looked innocent enough. And at least it wouldn't take too long to read through. "I appreciate the assist, but I can't stay."

"Sure, sure," Billy said. "What can we do to help?"

"Don't take me to your apartment, for one," I said. "Somewhere you don't go as much."

"Why not?" Billy asked.

"Please, man. Just do it. And let me think for a minute," I said, and closed my eyes again. I tried to work out how best to keep the Alphas from getting involved in this business, but my weary, aching body betrayed me. I dropped into a sudden darkness too black and silent to allow for any dreams.

When I jerked awake, my neck was aching from being bent forward, my chin on my chest. We weren't driving anymore, and I was alone in the SUV. The hollow weariness had abated significantly, and I didn't feel any trembling in my limbs. I couldn't have been out for very long, but even a little sleep can do wonders sometimes.

I got out and found myself in a garage big enough to house half a dozen cars, though the SUV and a shiny black Mercury were the only two vehicles in it. I recognized the place—Georgia's parents' house, an upper-end place on the north side of town. The Alphas had brought me here once before, when they helped rescue me from the lair of a gang of psychotic lycanthropes. Susan had been with me.

I shook my head, took up my staff and the little book, and walked toward the door to the house. I paused just before I opened it, and heard voices speaking in quiet tones. I closed my eyes and focused on my sense of hearing, head tilted to one side, and the sound of the voices became clear and distinct enough for me to understand. It's a useful skill, Listening, though I couldn't tell you exactly how to do it.

There was the sound of a phone being returned to its cradle. "They're all fine," Billy said.

"Good," Georgia replied. "Something's going on. Did you see his face?"

"He looked tired," Billy said.

"He looked more than just tired. He's afraid."

"Maybe," Billy said, after a second of hesitation. "So what if he is?"

"So how bad must things be if
he
is afraid?" Georgia asked. "And there's more."

Billy exhaled. "His hand."

"You saw it then?"

"Yeah. After he nodded off."

"He's not supposed to have any movement in it," she said, her voice growing more worried. "You've seen him on gaming nights. He can barely cup his fingers to hold chips. I heard the wood of his staff creaking under them tonight. I thought he would crush it."

I blinked at that news and looked down at my gloved hand. I tried to wiggle my fingers. They sort of twitched.

"He's been a little different since he got burned," Billy said.

"It's been longer than that," Georgia said. "It's been since the year before. Remember when he showed up to gaming with all those bandages under his sweater? He never would talk about what happened. It was a week after that murder at the docks, and that big terrorist scare at the airport. It's been since then. He's been distant. More all the time."

"You think he had something to do with that murder?" Billy asked.

"Of course not," Georgia said. "But I think he might have been working on a case and gotten involved with the victim in some way. You know how he is. He probably blames himself for her death."

I swallowed and tried not to think of a pretty, dark-haired woman bleeding to death while the hold of her boat slowly filled with water. She'd made enough bad choices to get herself into trouble. But I hadn't been able to protect her from the creature that had taken her life.

"If he's in trouble we're going to help him," Billy said.

"Yes," Georgia replied. "But think about this, Billy. Getting involved might not be the best way to do it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that he didn't want us to take him to the apartment," Georgia said. "Do you know why?"

"No, I don't. Neither do you."

She made a disgusted sound. "Billy, he's afraid the apartment is being watched."

"By who?"

"By
what"
Georgia said. "We haven't seen or heard or scented anything. If there's magic at work here, it could be more than we know how to handle."

"So what are you saying?" Billy said. "That we should just abandon him if he's in trouble?"

"No." She sighed. "But, Billy, you saw what he was capable of doing. We saw him mow through an army at the faerie battleground. And you tell me tonight that he flipped a car onto one of these other wizards, and that the man blew it off. I don't think we're weak, but running off ghouls and trolls and the occasional vampire is one thing. Mixing it up with wizards is something else. You've seen what kind of power they have."

"I'm not afraid," Billy said.

"Then you're stupid," Georgia replied, her voice blunt but not cruel. "Harry isn't what he used to be. He's been hurt. And I don't care what he says, his injured hand bothers him more than he lets on. He doesn't need any more handicaps."

"You want to just leave him alone?" Billy asked.

"I don't want to weigh him down. You know him. He'll protect other people before he takes care of himself. If he's operating so far out of our league, we might not be anything but a distraction to him. We have to understand our limits."

There was a long silence.

"I don't care," Billy said then. "I'm not just going to stand by if he's in trouble."

"All I want," Georgia said, "is for you to listen to him. If he doesn't want our support, or if he thinks it is too dangerous for us to be involved, we have to trust that he knows what he's doing. He knows things that we don't. He's trusted us before, and he's never led us wrong. Just promise me that you'll return the compliment."

"I can't just… turn away," Billy said.

"I wouldn't want you to," Georgia said. "But… sometimes you think with your fangs and not with your head, Will." There was the soft sound of a kiss. "I love you. We'll help him however we can. I just wanted you to consider the idea that he might not need us for violence."

Billy took a couple of heavy steps. One of the kitchen chairs creaked. "I don't know what else we can do."

"Well," Georgia said. She opened the fridge. "What about these masked wizard types. Did you get close enough to scent them?"

"I tried," Billy said. "And I was closest to them. But…"

"But?"

"I couldn't get a scent. Harry did something. He flipped the car over. There was a flash of red light and after that all I could smell was…"

I heard Georgia take a couple of steps, maybe to touch him. "What did you smell?"

"Sulfur," Billy said, his voice a little weak. "I smelled brimstone."

There was silence.

"What does it mean?" Georgia asked.

"That I'm worried about him," Billy said. "You should have seen the look on his face. The rage. I've never seen anyone look that angry."

"You think he's… what? Unstable?" Georgia asked.

"You're the psych grad," Billy said. "What do you think?"

I put my hand on the door. I hesitated for just a second and then pushed it open.

Billy and Georgia both sat in a rather roomy kitchen at a small table, with two bottles of beer set open but untouched on the table. They blinked and straightened, staring up at me in surprise.

"What do you think?" I asked Georgia quietly. "I'd like to know, too."

"Harry," Georgia said, "I'm just a grad student."

I went to the fridge and got myself a cold beer. It was an American brand, but I've got no palate in any case. I like my beer cold. I twisted the cap off, then walked over to the table and sat down with them. "I'm not looking for a therapist. You're a friend. Both of you are." I swigged beer. "Tell me what you think."

Georgia and Billy traded a look, and Billy nodded.

"Harry," Georgia said, "I think you need to talk to someone. I don't think it's important who it is. But you have a lot of pressures on you, and if you don't find some way to let them out, you're going to hurt yourself."

Billy said, "People talk to their friends, man. No one can do everything alone. You work through it together."

I sipped some more beer. Georgia and Billy did, too. We sat in silence for maybe four or five minutes.

Then I said, "About two years ago I exposed myself to a demonic influence. A creature called Lasciel. A fallen angel. The kind of being that turns people into… into real monsters."

Georgia watched me, her eyes focused intently on my face. "Why did you do that?"

"It was in a silver coin," I said. "Whoever touched it would have been exposed. There was a child who had no idea what it was. I didn't think. I just slapped my hand over it before the child could pick it up."

Georgia nodded. "What happened?"

"I took measures to contain it," I said. "I did everything I could think of, and for a while I thought I'd been successful." I sipped more beer. "Then last year, I realized that my magic was being augmented by a demonic energy called Hellfire. That's what you smelled tonight, Billy, when I flipped the car."

"Why do you use it?" Billy asked.

I shook my head. "It isn't my choice. It just happens."

Georgia frowned. "I'm not an expert on magic, Harry, but from what I've learned that kind of power doesn't come for free."

"No. It doesn't."

"Then what was the price?" she asked.

I drew in a deep breath. Then I started peeling the leather glove off my scarred hand. "I wondered that too," I said. I slid the glove off and turned my hand over.

The scarring was the worst on the insides of my fingers and over my palm. It looked more like melted wax than human flesh, all white with flares of blue where some of the veins still survived—all except for the exact center of my palm. There, three lines of pink, healthy flesh formed a sigil vaguely suggestive of an hourglass.

"I found this there when I got burned," I said. "It's an ancient script. It's the symbol for the name of Lasciel."

Georgia drew in a slow breath and said, "Oh."

Billy looked back and forth between us. "Oh? What, oh?"

Georgia gave me a be-patient look and turned to Billy. "It's a demon mark. Like a brand, yes?" She looked at me for confirmation.

I nodded.

"He's worried that this demon, Lasciel, might be exerting some kind of control on him in ways that he cannot detect."

"Right," I said. "Everything I know tells me that I should be cut off from Lasciel. That I should be safe. But the power is still there somehow. And if the demon is influencing my thoughts, pulling my strings, I might not even be able to feel it happening."

Georgia frowned. "Do you believe that to be a probability?"

"It's too dangerous to assume anything else," I said. I held up a hand. "That's not hubris. It's just a fact. I have power. If I use it unwisely or recklessly, people could get hurt. They could die. And if Lasciel is somehow influencing me…"

"Who knows what could happen," Billy finished, his tone sober.

"Yeah."

"Damn," Billy said.

We all took a sip of beer.

"I'm worried," I said. "I haven't been able to find any answers. I've gone through spell after spell. Rites, ceremonies, I've tried everything. It won't go away."

"Jesus," Billy breathed.

"An influence like this is detectable, and against the Laws of Magic. If the Wardens found out and pushed a trial on me, it might be enough to get me executed. And if I get near the Knight of the Cross I told you about, he'll be able to feel it on me. I don't know how he'd react. What he would think."