Silver Bullet (21 page)

My hands slammed into something solid—a wall. I wedged my foot against the baseboard to give myself a sense of the planes of reality. It made me feel more secure, more
real
, to have something to grip.

I slid along the wall inch by inch.

David Nicholas’s fear grew, gathering at the nape of my neck, squeezing hard on my spinal column.

He was behind me. He was approaching. Needed to escape before he reached me.

I moved faster, but it was like struggling through the icy waters of Lake Tahoe again. I was sluggish. Freezing. Numbing from the outside in. I could feel the chill climbing my knees and hips and chest and I knew it was just David Nicholas’s thrall, I
knew
I was imagining every bit of it, but I still panicked at the idea that I was about to drown.

Where was I? The carpet seemed wrong for the penthouse. It looked like it belonged back home in my shitty one-bedroom Los Angeles apartment.

Wait. I
was
in my apartment.

I could see the hallway around me now. It was nighttime-dark, but not unnaturally so. My bedroom was behind me. Living room to the right. The bathroom door was closed a few feet ahead.

The carpet in front of the door was sticky and red and warm.

I didn’t want to push it open. I knew what would be on the other side.

You’re going to die tonight, one way or another, Agent Hawke
, David Nicholas hissed.

Against my will, I pushed the bathroom door open. I fought the urge kicking and screaming inside my head but my body didn’t obey me. I belonged to the nightmare now. His control was absolute.

David Nicholas was going to finish me off.

But first, he had finished off Isobel.

Her body was in the bathtub. She must have been in there for a while. She had moved beyond rigor mortis to slick-fleshed decay, and I could see all the way through her sucking wounds to the maggots within her body. She had been shot between her breasts. The wound was black and green and bubbling.

Even in death, Isobel reached for me with pleading hands. “You let me die,” she said. The voice didn’t come from her mouth. “You sent me away and he killed me.”

No
.

I spun, tried to escape. And there he was.

David Nicholas descended.

He was not the shriveled, feeble creature I’d first seen chain smoking in the manager’s office at Craven’s. Instead, he was the grinning skeleton on the mast of a pirate ship, draped in barnacles and tattered seaweed, his ribs containing a writhing mass of maggots that consumed dead organs.

His heart pumped. Every beat was as loud as though I were trapped inside a massive drum, forcing my body to pulse in time with the sound, squeezing my skull in an ever-tightening vice.

Each pump sent black fluid gushing over his breastbone. It squirted out from between his ribs, trickled down the backs of the maggots.

It dripped on me. It sizzled.

I tried to scream, but my mouth opened wide and no sound came out.

The Night Hag wants you dead, Hawke,
David Nicholas said, his skeleton teeth clacking together.
It’s time for you to surrender. The sooner you give up, the sooner this will be over.

The sooner you’ll be dead…

He swooped down on me and I jumped away. I tripped over my own feet. My shoulder hit the ground, and I was shocked by how solid it felt. I rolled to my feet. Tried to run down the hallway again. Away from the bathroom and Isobel’s bloated body within.

Something fell out of my pocket as I scrambled. When it hit the ground, it gave a glassy
clink
and spun away into darkness.

Isobel’s going away present. The potion.

She was dead now. Gone. I hadn’t saved her, and I couldn’t even keep track of the last thing she had given me? My need to grab the potion was just as intense as my fear of David Nicholas. Maybe even more so.

Give up, Agent Hawke. Roll over and die.

Skeletal hands settled over my shoulders, touching me from behind. Fear froze my innards.

But I couldn’t succumb. I needed that jar.

I ripped free of David Nicholas’s grip and chased Isobel’s gift as it rolled down the hallway. The ground was tilting, growing steeper underneath my feet. The jar accelerated. It wobbled as it rolled. I pushed myself to run harder, to run faster and catch up with it.

Just let yourself die…

My hand closed around the jar.

David Nicholas swooped down on me. He was so immense, bigger than the darkness, constantly rotting and regrowing and rotting all over again. His heart squirted blood onto my face. A maggot fell onto my cheek and inched toward my nose.

The terror was too much. My heart stopped beating.

Instinctively, with my last moments of strength, I hurled Isobel’s jar at David Nicholas.

The glass shattered on his skull. Magic slammed through me as red-gold light flooded the apartment. Glitter exploded everywhere.

And I sneezed.

Hard.

My hearing returned first.

David Nicholas was screaming. The waters of Lake Tahoe crashed against the shore. A helicopter’s rotors pulsed steadily somewhere nearby.

I sneezed two more times before I managed to clear my vision.

The nightmare and I were still tucked away, hiding from the Union snipers among the rocks outside Cain’s cave. I hadn’t been taken back to the penthouse. I had never left the beach. I had, however, managed to hurl Isobel’s sparklebomb on David Nicholas. And she hadn’t been joking when she said that she had tweaked it. The phosphorescent glitter burned, painting the demon in shimmering gold fire that reminded me of rainbows and rubies and Lisa Frank binders.

On me, it would have just looked stupid. On David Nicholas, it looked deadly.

He thrashed as he fell, clawing at his face with his fingernails. He ripped the sallow skin off of his face and it wasn’t enough.

Its self-contained light seemed to burn brighter the harder he fought against it. The potion burned holes through him.

With a shriek of protest, David Nicholas splattered into smoke. The wind carried the last wisps of the nightmare away.

I was alone.

In the silence that followed, I whispered, “Holy
shit
.”

That stupid sparklebomb had broken me free of the thrall, driven David Nicholas away, and saved my life.

I think I owed Isobel an apology.

And maybe a really nice dinner.

A heartbeat later, a pair of Union kopides dressed for combat leaped around the rocks, guns aimed at me. They must have been attracted by all the noise. I shoved my hands in the air over my head. “I surrender!” I yelled. “Don’t shoot me! Director Friederling is alive!”

They didn’t immediately move, and I stared up the barrels of their guns for a breathless moment. My mind flashed back to the two kopides attacking me earlier that night. If these guys were with the Apple, too, then nothing I said was going to stop them from killing me.

A woman I didn’t recognize stepped between the kopides, shoving them aside.

“Stand down,” she snapped. I’d never seen her long, skinny face and floaty blond hair before, but I definitely knew that accent. This was Lucrezia de Angelis. She was over six feet tall in high heels and she didn’t seem to have any problem navigating the rocks in stilettos.

“Fritz is alive,” I said quickly. “Check for a pulse. He just passed out. He’s
alive
.”

Lucrezia’s lips pinched. “Very well. Hupprecht?”

One of the kopides lowered his gun and went to check Fritz. “Yes, ma’am. He is, in fact, alive.”

The vice president put two fingers to her ear. She had an earpiece, too. “Cancel my last orders. Yes, those ones. And have the helicopter stand by.” After a pause, she said, “Yes, you can also release Agent Takeuchi.” She shot me an annoyed look. “Your partner has a lot in common with a rabid Tasmanian devil, Agent Hawke. She didn’t like being restricted from the scene.”

God bless Suzy.

I tensed when Lucrezia thrust a hand at me. It took a full second for me to realize she was offering to help me up.

She was surprisingly strong. She lifted me to my feet effortlessly. The vice president was an entire inch taller than me wearing those shoes, and it was strange to feel dwarfed by a woman. Even her slim-cut black skirt suit radiated intimidation.

I glanced over the rocks. Another pair of agents were hauling Cain—back in his human form, still cuffed, with a black bag over his head—toward the Union boat moored on the other side of the rocky outcropping.

“Thanks,” I said slowly. “Are we…uh…are we cool?”

Lucrezia arched an eyebrow. Her cold expression made me feel teensy tiny. “We’ll have a debriefing tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll allow you to carry Director Friederling to the transport.”

She spun on her heel and walked away. She stepped lightly over the rocks, as if she were floating.

“Wait! Fritz was bitten,” I said. “Isn’t he going to—”

“Most kopides are immune to werewolf bites,” she said without looking back.

I stared after her in slack-jawed shock.

Wait. Fritz is a kopis?

After a moment, I realized that the team was preparing to leave. The boat’s crew were untethering from the rocks, warming the engines, and shouting orders at each other. At this point, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they weren’t going to wait for us.

Nothing the Office of Preternatural Affairs did could surprise me anymore.

With a final glance around the beach—still no sign of David Nicholas—I threw Fritz’s unconscious body over my shoulder and followed Lucrezia.

WE DIDN’T HAVE THE debriefing the next day. Fritz took a little longer to heal than that. And when I say “a little longer,” I really mean “little.” He was back on his feet by the following night, even if he was still wrapped in more bandages than a mummy.

Turns out that kopides have accelerated healing powers on top of super-strength.

“You never told me,” I said, checking my reflection in the mirror to ensure my tie was straight. The Union was packing up our penthouse behind me and Lucrezia was waiting for us in what had been Fritz’s bedroom.

Five minutes to debriefing, and I wanted to make sure I looked good for it.

“Never told you what?” Fritz asked, bumping me aside with his shoulder to check his tie, too. Guess I wasn’t the only one on edge about Lucrezia.

“I always assumed you were a witch. Everyone else that works in our department is a witch.”

He gave me a thin smile. “You never asked.”

“How the hell does a kopis end up in charge of the Magical Violations Department?”

“Another story for another time, Cèsar,” Fritz said. “Look at me.” I turned to face him. He adjusted my lapels, picked a few hairs off my shoulder, brushed his hands briskly down my sleeves. Felt like being pecked at by a mother hen. “There. You’re very nearly presentable.”

“You kidding? I’m always swanky.”

“I didn’t hire you for your professional presentation. We’ll put it that way.”

“What are we going to talk about in the meeting?” I asked, choosing not to remark on Fritz’s friendly jab. My pride could only sustain so many blows before it shriveled into a whimpering raisin. “Werewolf, right? And the ethereal ruins?” He nodded at both. “What about the Apple?”

He shushed me and glanced over his shoulder. Nobody was close enough to listen in. “That’s a subject strictly for our special team,” Fritz muttered, barely moving his lips. “We’ll discuss it when we get back to Los Angeles. You can be sure of that.”

Did that mean that Lucrezia was suspected to be part of the Apple, too?

“Understood, sir,” I said.

He checked the time on his new BlackBerry then pocketed it again. “Might as well head into the tiger’s den, eh?”

“I can’t wait,” I said. By which I meant,
I am scared shitless of Lucrezia de Angelis and the only reason I’m not running away is because I’m reasonably confident she would shoot me in the back
. Judging by Fritz’s knowing look, I was pretty sure he caught my meaning.

Suzy was waiting for us outside the bedroom door, arms folded and a severe scowl twisting her face. She blocked our path to the door with her body. Petite as she was, Suzy still formed a pretty convincing brick wall between her posture and death glare. “I’d like to protest again that I’m not being included on a critical debriefing such as this.”

“You don’t have the clearance,” Fritz said.

She snorted. “And
Cèsar
does?”

I wasn’t offended. I agreed with her completely. I really, really wished I didn’t have the clearance to be debriefed by Lucrezia.

Taking Suzy by the arm, I gently moved her aside.

“You don’t want to be here for this,” I said. “Trust me on this one.” I put every ounce of sincerity into those words as possible, since I couldn’t tell her the truth—that I had made a call on a secure line and ended up on the Union’s possibly fatal shit list.

Her annoyance faded a fraction. “Yeah, all right. I’ll help move everything down to the trucks. Let me know when you’re done.”

Fritz opened the door. Lucrezia sat at the desk on the other side.

I gave Suzy a last sad look before heading in.

“Please, sit,” said the vice president, gesturing at the chairs on the other side of the desk.

We did.

She steepled her hands in front of her face as she studied us, eyes flicking between my face and Fritz’s for several long, quiet seconds. Her stare made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

As she studied us, I studied her. Did she have a bleeding apple tattooed somewhere on her body, too? Was it really OPA protocol to kill people that violated the rules, or was that cult protocol?

How deep did our organization’s corruption run?

I had a feeling that Fritz and I were going to find out all too soon.

Finally, she broke the silence. “The werewolf has been placed in a Union detention center. He’s been on our list of possible problems for quite some time now. Your assistance in arresting him is appreciated.” She made that praise sound about as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine. Continuing in a clipped tone, she said, “Explain why we surrendered the only piece of ethereal ruin in our possession.”