Strong Mystery: Murder, Mystery and Magic Books 1-3 (Steampunk Magica) (2 page)

“Shall I post a guard at his door?” she asked.

“No need,” Lee Shen rolled his eyes. “I shall sleep in his room
on the floor. So much for a real bed tonight.”

Jinhao allowed herself a small smile.

“Better you than I,” she turned towards the door. “I had best
see to the others in the stable.” Lee Shen grunted in agreement.

~ ~ ~

Jinhao was just unrolling her sleeping blankets on
the rooftop when she spotted trouble
. While the trail boss had
given her the preferred spot in the stable loft, she had learned that it caused
much less resentment if she was generous in such small matters with the other
guards. Besides, she preferred to sleep in a place that was hard for an
opponent to reach, yet gave her a quick escape should she need it.

Her
Adept
trained eyes saw the shadowy figures stealing
across the main house’s rooftop. She paused thoughtfully, watching them. She
should give the alarm. Stealthy figures sneaking across rooftops were up to no
good. Once again though, she felt the tingly fingers of her intuition across
her neck.

Picking up her sword tack with a sigh, she gathered her Qi and
leaped across the distance from the stable rooftop to the main house, landing
feather-light on the slates. Keeping to the shadows herself, she spied the dark
figures creep forward and silently enter a window. She counted three of them
and frowned. That was too many for common thievery or killing, as one was
usually enough if they were at all competent. These figures moved as if they
were indeed very competent.

She was certain from her earlier reckoning that the window did
not belong to her employer. That should have been the end of her obligation in
the matter. She should raise the house to deal with them by shouting the alarm.
Instead she followed her intuition, drew her short swords and padded forward. A
muffled cry and the flare of light from the window in question caused her to
speed up, diving through the window like a dart towards its target.

Jinhao came up in a roll inside the room, blinking at the
sudden illumination. A ball of light floated in the middle of the room throwing
strange shadows against the walls. She slashed out by instinct as she came to
her feet. One of the shadowy figures from outside crumpled, eerily silent as it
fell.

One of the others, covered head to foot in close black coverings,
turned towards her, drawing dual swords as they crept towards her. Jinhao
spared a quick glance to see the Westerner she had helped out before struggling
with the third assassin. Then she had no more time. Their fellow closed in on
her.

They exchanged a testing pass with their blades. Jinhao was
surprised. Whoever they were they had
Adept
training. No one else could
match her speed and precision without it. Her surprise came from not being able
to sense his Qi. From his movements, she was almost certain it was a man. She
should have been able to do sense his Qi or energy. They circled each other,
still in the same eerie silence as before. Not even the meeting of their blades
produced any sound. It must be some form of
Quizi
sorcery she decided.

She could tell her opponent was also surprised at her
abilities. She wondered who they were, and if she knew them. It was impossible
for her to tell with the head covering, but whoever it was should recognize
her. There were not that many
Adepts
in the hall. If they did recognize
her, they gave no indication of it. Instead Jinhao almost lost her head to a
quick combination move from the monkey form. One blade sliced the air where her
neck had been the moment before.

Her opponent’s miss served like a shock of cold water might,
clearing her mind of idle chatter. Gathering her Qi, Jinhao moved, blades a
blur in the closing moves of the crane form. Her strike landed solidly. Her
opponent’s head rolled free, severed cleanly by the sharp
Adept
-forged
blades. She turned from the kill towards the remaining assassin, snapping her
swords down to clear them of blood. She paused as she saw the Westerner thrust
out with his cane towards the assassin’s chest. A gout of flame sprouted from
the assassin’s back where the cane touched.

As the assassin fell, Jinhao could hear the twin blades fall to
the wooden floor. Whatever the strange sorcery that had kept the deadly fight
silent, it seemed to have died with him. The Westerner looked up at her with
the glowing cane tip pointed towards her. He stood, she recognized, in some
kind of prepared guard pose, similar to a stance she would take before engaging
a foe.

Jinhao, to her chagrin, giggled. She supposed that given the
circumstances she should be impressed by the figure he cut. After all, with the
sorcerous light overhead, together with the smell of human death that began to
fill the room, it made for impressive surroundings. However, the Westerner was
wearing some absurd white robe that flapped around his knees and made him look
quite ridiculous. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Well,” he said, lowering his cane, “either you are brave
enough to laugh when death looks you in the face or you are no part of whoever
they were.” He gestured at the dead bodies. “In any event, I like a brave person.
So, are you friend or foe?”

Owen Strong
, she remembered his name, and such a strange
name it was too. She forbore from giggling again. Really, her tendency to
giggle at inappropriate moments was her bane. It was simply that others didn’t
see the humor that she did in life. Instead she sheathed her swords across her
back, looking at him squarely.

“I am not a foe,” Jinhao said clearly in English. “I am not
certain I am a friend, but I am not a foe.” She knelt and pulled the face
coverings free of the one she had beheaded. She let out a sigh. She did not
recognize him, although that might mean nothing. There were whispers of
disaffected recruits who had failed to complete their training. She supposed
this was one such. The Westerner, Owen Strong she reminded herself, came to
kneel beside her.

“You reacted then as if you expected to know him,” he remarked.
Jinhao stood abruptly.

“You do not know anything about me,” she said shortly.

“True,” he said rising more slowly. “In fact, I do not even
remember your name from earlier. And do you?” Jinhao frowned in confusion. Was
he asking her if she remembered her own name?

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Do you know him?” he asked patiently, leaning on his cane.
“And also, what
is
your name?”

The frown lifted from her face as she nodded in understanding.

“No, I do not know him,” she said. She tossed her head. “You
may call me Jinhao.”

He bowed.

“Well, Jinhao,” he said, “it seems I owe you again for help.”
She waved his comment away.

“I needed the exercise,” she said. “And what made the silence
around them?”

“Ah,” he raised a finger. “That I may have an answer for.” He
knelt again by the man he had been fighting and felt around the corpse’s chest.
He gave an exclamation, gingerly holding out a piece of chain. At the end of it
was a melted bit that might have been a medal at one point before his fire had
struck the man.

“I suspect that this was the culprit.” He frowned as he
examined it. “It was made by a powerful Sorcerer too. It is too damaged to
discover who it was though by its resonance alone.” Jinhao nodded.

“So this is a Western magic thing that is in the possession of
expensive Han assassins,” she said darkly. “Do you have such persons come after
you often?”

He grinned at her ruefully as he stood up.

“Not really,” he said. “In fact, this is the first time.” He
looked down at the dead man contemplatively. “If I did not know better, I would
think this Uncle Stephen’s handiwork.”

He shook his head at her questioning regard. “Oh, he isn’t
really an uncle, that’s just what we called him.” He stopped whatever he was
about to say and looked attentively at the wall as if seeing something there
invisible to anyone but himself.

“Hmm…” he said sharply. “Did you bring a guest?” Jinhao
frowned, trying to see what he meant. All she could see was the wall and the
open window she had come through.

“I do not know what you mean,” she replied. Owen Strong cocked
his head to one side as if listening to something. He made an arcane pass with
his cane. A line of red light no thicker than a thread came from out of the
window to touch her on the head.

“Yes…” he said absently. “Definitely a sending, definitely not
European, and just as definitely aimed at you.” He looked at her quizzically.
“Have you run afoul of a Sorcerer? I do not even know if the Han have Sorcerers?
Do you?”

Jinhao’s eyes narrowed in thought. It must be the slimy court Sorcerer,
Xu, who was a pet of the Empress. She had no idea that her rejection of his
amorous advances would lead to his sending some evil magic after her though. If
he had sent a Court Demon, it was most serious.

“Come, come,” Strong said impatiently. “You clearly know
something. Out with it. I cannot help you if you will not share what you
know!” 

“Yes, Han do,” she said hesitantly, “Very rare. The Imperial
Court employs one such. His name is Xu. He will have command of the Imperial
Demons. They are very dangerous.” The man, Owen Strong, rubbed his hands
together smiling. Surely he could not understand the danger they were in!

“Demon, eh?” he nodded briskly towards the window. “Well, my
wards should keep it out.” As if to underscore his statement, a very brief
flash of light came from the window. “Well, at least for a while,” he amended. 

Jinhao thought that she could faintly hear the snarling of some
beast like
thing
. She shivered despite herself.

No steel nor
Adept
powers could stand against the claws
of a Court Demon. The power to summon such things was reserved for use only by
the Throne alone. Or, she thought hotly, the corrupt Sorcerer of a corrupt
Empress bent on a shameless revenge for an imagined slight of the heart. The
Westerner, Strong, looked at her again.

“See here,” he said earnestly. “Do you care about this Xu at
all?”

“No!” she replied fiercely. “I loathe him! It is because I do
not care for him that he has sent such a thing I am sure!”

Strong nodded briskly.

“Right then.” He looked around the room in the glow of light
cast by the globe of mage light overhead. He rummaged in a pack beside the bed.
With a cry of triumph, he waved a pair of writing brushes over his head. He
thrust one of them into Jinhao’s hand.

“Here is what we do,” Strong said to her. The flash of light
and almost subliminal growl came again. Strong looked in the direction of the
window.

“Hungry little bastard. Where was I?” He held up a brush,
gesturing emphatically. 

“Ah yes! Here is what we do. Take your brush and dip it into
some of that blood oozing everywhere. Draw a circle with it that is about so
big.” He vaguely gestured at the floor of the room. Jinhao looked at the brush
with some distaste.

“That seems disrespectful,” she said. Strong had already begun
drawing the circle on the floor. He looked up at her with an arched eyebrow.

“Is a Demon sent by this Xu likely to be respectful?” he asked
mildly.

“No.” she agreed reluctantly. She knelt to begin the macabre
task. Bright flashes and a louder audible growling from the window saw her
finish her task, with her half of the circle meeting the half drawn by Strong.
Owen hopped around her to draw strange symbols against the edge of the circle.

“There,” he said with a satisfied air. “Now stand here,” he
pointed with his cane at a spot farthest from the window. She promptly moved to
stand where he directed. Strong moved to stand near the window, brush in one
hand, and cane in the other.

“Should we not be within the circle?” she asked. All the
pictures she had seen of Western Sorcerers showed them standing within a circle
like the one they had drawn on the floor. Owen spared her a glance over his shoulder.

“No, we are exactly where we are supposed to be,” he said. He
rolled his shoulders as if preparing to lift a heavy weight. “This is a
different type of circle. I intend to lower my wards and invite it in. No
matter what you may see or hear, stay where you are, and
do not cross the
circle
no matter what.”

Jinhao opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. What
was she to do? This was a type of fighting that she was unfamiliar with.
Despite his strange British ways, he seemed to know what he was doing. She drew
her swords, despite knowing they would do little except to provide her with
something to clasp with her hands. She had seen the aftermath of a Demon attack
before. Still, if this Owen Strong was wrong, she would at least go down fighting. 

The ending appeared, at first, to be almost anti-climactic.
Strong, still in his ridiculous nightgown, raised his arms, chanting in a
strange language Jinhao did not recognize. The flashes of light and the
growling stopped suddenly. Strong hopped to one side and with a quick swoosh of
his brush closed the last arc of the circle. He then came around the circle to
stand near her.

“Now watch,” he said breathlessly. “And remember what I said,
do
not cross the circle
.”

Jinhao watched the empty space enclosed by the blood circle. A
tall shape gradually formed in it, scaled and crocodile-snouted, with sharp
horns and far too many teeth. A wave of sulfur-tinged stink accompanied its
appearance. To her horror, the thing had no eyes, only blank flesh where they should
reside above the snout. The thing seemed to snuffle around blindly until it
reached the edge of the circle where it was met by another flash of light. The
monster shrank back as if wounded. Owen straightened beside her, his voice
booming at the towering thing.