Spellbound (42 page)

Whisper squealed and jumped as a gigantic barn rat scampered in front of her shoes. “Relax,” the rat and Lance said simultaneously. “You got a critter yet, Ian?”

The curtains rustled as if there was a light breeze, but the windows were all closed. “Yes.”

Sullivan spun the ball again. They all looked at the rodent expectantly. The rat turned to Sullivan. “I feel fine.”

“You can’t see it, but the spirit I called up is floating right over there,” Ian said. “That ball only stops magic from happening, it doesn’t banish something that’s already in effect!”

The rat did a couple of back flips to prove the point. “Yep. Looking good.”

“Neat! Can you make him dance?” Faye asked. Whisper was cringing. “You can toss fireballs at a super demon, but you’re scared of a big mouse?”

Her “
S
” sounds were even more pronounced when she was upset. “Because it is disgusting. Yuck. Look at it. So vile.” Faye had to wonder how much of that was an act. It was almost like Whisper wanted folks to think she was softer than she really was; she just did it automatically. It was as much a mask as her makeup. Faye had seen her standing in the middle of a raging firestorm ready to fight to the death, and that sure wasn’t sissy behavior. Whisper was an odd one.

“Oh well. I grabbed the prettiest one in the bunch, too.” Lance let go of his Power and the rat panicked and fled the room. Whisper stood on her chair and didn’t get down until she was sure it was gone. Faye didn’t mind rodents. They made decent enough company as long as they weren’t eating your food or giving you plagues.

Sullivan put the nullifier box away. “We can work with that. We know Crow used one of these on Francis, so unless that was his real body, we can assume that’s how Crow’s magic works too.”

“Good, but if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. I’m tired of wasting my talents on puppies, vermin, and livestock,” Lance said. “I’m in the mood to run something mean, something carnivorous.”

“For the rescue, but in the meantime—”

“I know, I know. Rodents and birds . . .” Lance looked over at Ian. “Sounds like me and you are going on a little scouting mission, kid. We’ll leave at sundown.”

Ian looked pained at the idea. Serves him right, Faye thought. Ian liked to be bossy, but nobody could boss Lance. If Lance decided he respected you enough, like Mr. Sullivan for example, he’d listen, but anybody else who told him what to do was likely to get a punch in the mouth. Lance didn’t take no guff off anyone. Working with him would be good for Ian’s attitude.

“Well, that’s two that aren’t completely useless. What about the rest of us?” Dan asked.

Sullivan went back to staring at the map. “We’ll figure something out. We always do. Any word back on our request for reinforcements?”

“Browning is on his way with one other knight. No idea what he can do. As for the other groups, not yet,” Dan answered. “I think the elders are inclined to have everyone lay low.”

“Damned cowards,” Lance spat. “Fat lot of help they’ve ever been.”

Ian’s temper got the better of him. “Now hold on. They’re anything but cowards. There are more battles going on than just the ones you know about.”

“They got something more pressing than my friend getting hung? Maybe some party to attend? Let me check my social calendar.” Lance folded his thick arms and glared at the younger knight. “We’re going with or without them and they damn well know it. If they don’t have the spine to help, that makes them yellow.” Faye resisted the urge to clap. For once Ian had no response. The Summoner was surly, but he was
nothing
compared to Lance Talon. “They need to wake up and realize that if we fail here, everyone in the world is in big trouble. They pin this particular crime on us and get away with it, the whole Society is done forever. We need help and we need it now.”

Whisper had returned to her chair and was straightening the dress she’d borrowed from Jane. It was baggy on her. She seemed to be intrigued by what Lance had just said. “What kind of help would you like to have them give, then?”

Lance looked to Sullivan. The big man shrugged. “Men. Weapons. Plenty of each. More Powers that we can use to take out these nullifiers, and more Powers we can use to fight our way in and then back out. Then resources so we can get away. It’s hard to say when you don’t know what you’re facing and the whole thing might just be a trap.”

“It isn’t a trap!” Pemberly was exasperated. “I’m sick of telling you, I heard what I heard. He was telling me the truth.”

“I didn’t say you were in on it.” Sullivan’s voice was flat. “But you’re assuming that you’re smarter than this Crow fella. Don’t underestimate the enemy.”

Faye chimed in. “I’m just hoping he underestimated us!”

This visit had been expected. Toru opened his eyes to see that Sullivan had entered the barn. He stayed seated on the dirt. The Heavy leaned against the pickup truck and studied him. “I need your help.”

“Are you ready to learn more of the Pathfinder?”

“Believe me, nothing I’d like more, but I’ve got to handle some business first.”

“Very well. Come and get me when you are ready to learn. Otherwise, leave me be,” Toru closed his eyes and pretended to go back to his meditations. He was curious to see what the Heavy would do.

As expected, Sullivan was persistent. “You swore to help me.”

“To help you defeat the Enemy in order to fulfill my father’s final wish. I do not care about your petty Grimnoir struggles. If your government destroys the Grimnoir, so much the better for the Imperium. They have always been a small, but annoying, thorn in our side.”

“I thought you weren’t Imperium anymore?”

“There is a difference between a warrior without a master, and a traitor . . . I am no traitor.”

“Neither am I. Accusation hurts though, don’t it?”

An unexpected tack. Sullivan was more perceptive than he looked. “Yes.”

“You’ve seen a lot of war, haven’t you, Toru?”

“All Iron Guards know is war. It is what we . . .
They
do.”

“Now some fraud has taken your honor away . . . Been there myself. Hurts.”

We are not the same.
“What do you know of honor?”

Sullivan did not respond. The truck springs creaked as the Heavy shifted his weight. A match was struck and Toru could smell the smoke from Sullivan’s cigarette. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Nothing you do here makes a difference, Sullivan. Your troubles now are insignificant compared to what is coming.”

“I know.”

Curious.
Toru opened his eyes. “Then why do you waste your time? We should be preparing for the war against the Pathfinder. We should be building a new Dark Ocean.”

“With who?”

“Any one who is worthy, of course.”

“A bunch of worthy folks are going to die if I don’t help in this fight.”

“Then they should be stronger!” Toru snapped. “Leave me be.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head, feigning disinterest. This was not Toru’s war. Sullivan was a fool to even think that Toru would lower himself to fighting the wretched Grimnoir’s battles.

The cursed Heavy stuck around. “I got a question for you . . . Been nagging me since you got here. Why else did you leave the Iron Guard?”

“I told you. I have an obligation to Okubo Tokugawa.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean ‘what else?’ That is all that matters.”

“Before all this, how’d a Brute like you get put in the diplomatic corps? Strength, speed, damn hard to kill—Brutes are the top tier of combat-capable Actives. Why’d the Imperium take you off the front lines? You’re still young enough, healthy enough, and you act like you’re always looking to fight. The Imperium’s fighting in how many countries right now?”

“Six,” Toru answered sullenly. “If you count the Chinese and Thai rebels.”

“Seems a waste to pull a fighter, with an Active talent that’s practically born for war, off the line and send him to an embassy a couple thousand miles away from where the action is.”

“If you are trying to get me to slip up and admit to knowledge of covert Imperium operations in the United States, I will not do so.”

Sullivan chuckled. “Oh, of course not. I was just wondering how you fucked up bad enough to get kicked out of the meanest army in the world. Maybe you weren’t tough enough . . . You bastards worship strength.” Sullivan made a big show of reasoning it out. “But since you’re a Brute, it couldn’t have been physical toughness you lacked. Cowardice?”

“Go away.”

“Incompetence?”

“I said
go away.
”

“Had to be something.”

Manchukuo.
The competitions, who could collect the most peasants’ heads in an hour? Who could make the biggest pile of ears? He remembered watching the starving prisoners fight for the officers’ amusement, the pleasure women with their blank expressions and eyes where the soul had long since fled, the Cogs and their infernal sculpting of flesh. Manchukuo had been a dark time. It had not been a war befitting the Imperium that he believed in. It had been madness. Toru had disapproved of the troops’ bloodlust. His disgust was taken for weakness. His questions caused dishonor. His hesitation to obey his superior’s orders had brought him shame.

“Maybe you just lacked the stomach for it—”

It was too much. Toru surged to his feet, covered the distance in a split second, and grabbed Sullivan roughly by the collar. “I will not be questioned by the likes of you!”

They stood eye to eye. The Heavy did not so much as blink as he rolled his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. “You talk about being worthy to fight the Pathfinder. How am I supposed to know that you really are?”

“I was Iron Guard, the finest warriors in history!”

“So you say. Why don’t you prove it?”

“I can do so very easily.” Toru tightened his grip on the Heavy’s coat. It would be so easy to rip his heart out. Sullivan kept on staring him down, surely ready to fire his own Power. It would be such a satisfying fight. “Here and now.”

The sound of an automatic pistol’s slide being racked came from the loft. “Need a hand, Mr. Sullivan?”

The Heavy looked Toru in the eyes. “Naw, Faye. We’re just talking is all.”

“Okay. I’m gonna hang around for a minute if that’s okay, though.”

“Not like this, Toru,” Sullivan lowered his voice. “I know you can fight. We’re not going to brawl with the Pathfinder and we’re sure as hell not going to beat it in a duel. Show me you’re a
soldier
. You’ve pledged to help me. Prove it. Show me what you’ve got. There’s a fight coming. Show me you can follow orders and function in a unit.” Sullivan spit his cigarette on the ground and smashed it with his boot. “Prove it to me or walk the fuck away.”

The temptation to rend him limb from limb was great, but the obligation was all that mattered. The Chairman’s ghost had asked for this man among the multitude he could have requested among their American foes. He had not asked for a military leader or powerful politician. He had asked for Sullivan for a reason. It was not Toru’s place to judge worthiness, when Okubo Tokugawa had already done so himself.

Fires of purity burn on a Dark Ocean.

Toru let go of Sullivan’s coat. Sullivan shoved him away. The two men glared at each other, nostrils flaring, fists clenched, ready to fight. “I can see now why my father chose you for this mission, though I still do not understand how you could possibly have been strong enough to defeat him. . . .” Toru bowed his head slightly. “I will think about your words.” Then Toru turned, snatched up his tetsubo, and walked quickly from the barn.

“That went well,” Faye said.

Sullivan watched him go.

“About the whole thing with him not getting how come we could beat the Chairman and all . . .” Faye suddenly appeared at Sullivan’s side. “Please don’t mention that was mostly me, okay? He seems mad enough as it is.”

Dan Garrett watched through one of the second-floor farmhouse windows as the Iron Guard stomped away from the barn, red-faced, angry, and with a spiked club in one hand.“What’re you doing?” Jane asked suspiciously.

“Keeping an eye on our friend, the Jap.” The Iron Guard stopped in the middle of a barren field, took a wide stance, raised his club overhead, and then stood as still as a statue. “Right now I think he’s trying to be a scarecrow.”

Jane came over and stood beside him. The Iron Guard wasn’t so much as twitching. “What do you think?” his wife asked nervously.

“About keeping that animal around? I think Jake’s lost his damned mind.”

Suddenly, the Iron Guard moved, striking out at imaginary opponents, moving in a circle, attacking in all directions. “What’s he doing?”

“Practicing how he’s going to cave our heads in when the moment of inevitable betrayal arrives.”

The club came down, back around, and up again. lightning quick. The Iron Guard went through several intricate movements, lashing out, and then leveraging the club as if he was blocking an attack, before returning to the starting position. The constant footwork raised a cloud of dust. It was too far away to hear with the window closed, but from his face it looked as if he was shouting with every swing. Toru was far too graceful for such a muscle-bound hulk and faster than any human ought to be.

Dan was terrified of him, and he had never been kidnapped by an Iron Guard. He could only imagine how his wife was feeling. He reached over and took her hand.

The Iron Guard finished the complicated movements with the club extended in a blow that would pulverize half the bones in a man’s body, and then returned to the same ready position he’d started from. He waited a few seconds and then launched into the exact same series of movements, only faster this time.

“I’m sorry about this, Jane,” Dan muttered. “I know how you must be feeling.”

“I’m fine.”

“With all that happened last year, the very thought—”

“Dan. Look at me.” He complied and stared into her perfect eyes. “What do you see?”

“The beautiful and completely wonderful love of my life?”

“Correct . . .” She gave him a mischievous smile. “And?”