Blood Hunt (Secret Magent Book 3) Page 11

  Silence on the line, and then, “Locke. It’s Smith. Cazador won’t agree to it, so that means it’s up to me. I hope you’re sitting down, because I’m about to lay all the cards on the table.”

  Chapter 28

  If Nine Towers’ warlocks were a class of third graders, Sibyl Smith would be the tomboy girl that always left an apple on the teacher’s desk and broke up fights like it was her God given duty. She was Cazador’s partner when it came to field missions, she was surely born in some hick town in Texas, and most importantly of all she was a reasonable team player.

  Oh, she also happened to be a gun mage by specialization. Anti-material rifle, enchanted bullets, even half a grimoire worth of ritual circles on her gun. The real deal.

  The fact that she was the one calling me instead of Cazador or some other official was enough to make me break out into a cold sweat.

  “What’s happened?” I asked.

  “You got it wrong,” came her terse reply. “Nothing’s happening that isn’t already in motion.”

  “Ah,” I said, realization dawning upon me. “What did Cazador decide to keep me out of the loop of then?”

  “Smart man,” Smith said. “The short version is that you’re the horse we’ve bet the farm on.”

  “That’s the closest Nine Towers has ever come to appreciating the work I do for them,” I replied.

  “Charles, Nine Towers is losing control of the territories throughout Central America. We’ve been dangling on a dagger’s point change for the last decade, and now with Xibalba on the line, we could stand to lose everything.”

  “Already know all about it. Also, dagger’s point? I’ve never heard you so poetic. You haven’t dropped a single military jargon on me yet either. Tell me how this situation got all FUBAR Smith. I’m listening.”

  “More SNAFU than FUBAR,” Smith corrected. “The whole region is resting on Xibalba. One of the head lore jockeys informed the Lord Summoner that in ETA twenty four hundred the three day celebration of the dead, AKA Dia de los Muertos will be over, and with it, any opportunity to access Xibalba.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked.

  “This is why Cazador dropped the deadline on you.”

  “But if you knew this ahead of time why didn’t you just tell me dammit?” I demanded.

  “Dia de los Muertos was originally a Spring time holiday for the Mesoamericans hundreds of years ago. We thought that access to Xibalba, their underworld, would only apply to the old dates, however--”

  “However, the opening of Xibalba doesn’t coincide with the date, but with the celebration of the dead itself,” I said, realization washing over me.

  “If we don’t find Xibalba and secure the Teotl for ourselves, then by next year? This might be Mabinoy territory.”

  “Or the personal empire of a Genius Body mage,” I said. “Or crawling in were-beasts.”

  “You understand the urgency then,” Smith said.

  “I do. If this doesn’t pan out, things are going to get very exciting for us, and even more exciting for the Vanilla Humans stuck in the crossfire,” I replied.

  “But Charles,” Itabimori called out. “Sorry, I uh, didn’t mean to listen in but, this is bad, isn’t it?”

  “Hang on,” I told Smith, before turning to Tab. “What do you mean?”

  “Bonampak is close to the Guatemalan border, remember? It would take twenty four hours just to drive there.”

  I cursed underneath my breath. “Goddammit. Smith did you hear that? Tell me we have a plane to come pick us up or one of our teleporters on hand.”

  I heard fumbling on the other line, Cazador saying something in the back and then, “That’s a negative, Charles Locke. No assets to reach you at your current coordinates.”

  Sibyl Smith spoke a very unlady like word into the receiver before kicking something loudly, “Charles. There’s nothing.”

  “I’m not out of tricks yet. Sibyl, do you have a computer in front of you?” I asked.

  “Not sure if it’s working after I kicked it,” came her reply.

  “Access the files. Tell me if anything comes up for a man named Francisco Garcia,” I said before turning to the three pairs of breasts crowding me.

  “Girls, I hope you’re ready for a road trip, because unless this trick of mine pans out, we’ll be trying for the land speed record to get to Bonampak,” I told them.

  “Great. Another road trip,” Narani muttered.

  I grinned wickedly. “I’ll leave the air conditioning on so you don’t overheat in the car.”

  “Charles,” Smith’s voice crackled on the phone. “I’ve got one hit, but it’s for a KIA. Francisco Garcia, age forty eight, was killed three years ago by…”

  “By me,” I finished for her. “Look in the personal notes. What did I say his last words were?”

  A mouse click, and then, “’I’ve found at last my unmarked grave in Mahusco’ are his last words.”

  “That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll be in touch Smith. Give my regards to Cazador.”

  “Wait--” is what Smith almost managed to say before I hung up on her.

  Revenge for keeping me out of the loop. I’m sure we’ll all be laughing it off in a few days. Either back at HQ if I succeed, or in Hell if I fail.

  “Uh, Charles?” Itabimori asked. “What’s going on?”

  I tapped my finger down on the map Lis spread out onto the front of the Ferrari. Right onto the dot marked ‘Mahusco’.

  “Francisco Garcia, a renegade sorcerer I killed three years ago, is going to take us exactly where we need to go in the blink of an eye.”

  Itabimori stared blanky. Narani clapped. “Nice. I didn’t know you could talk to the dead, doomed agent.”

  I shook my head at her comment. “Garcia was a troubled man who never saw eye to eye with formal academia. I forget the exact circumstances of his branding, but he was a renegade when I found him in Mexico City. Talented mage, just didn’t get along with others. One of those abandoned towers in the misty woods type of wizards.”

  “Old fashioned, huh?” Narani said.

  “His specialty was teleportation magics. Hell of a time catching him.”

  “But Charles,” Itabimori practically shouted, “How’s this dead guy going to get us all the way to Guatemala?”

  “Oh, that’s easy Tabi,” I replied. “He owes me a favor for telling Nine Towers I killed him. He’s in Mahusco village, an hour drive to the north. Hop in.”

  Chapter 29

  “Charles Locke, I never thought I’d have a chance to see you again,” said Francisco Garcia. “Come to finish the job?”

  “What, and let Nine Towers have their way?” I replied. “You’re dead in their books. I just checked. I’m actually here on other business.”

  I smiled politely at the middle aged man hiding behind his heavily barred oaken door. He was short, fat, and gray hair riddled his head haphazardly. Clean shaven otherwise, he’d look like a mad scientist if he wore a lab coat instead of his casual slacks.

  “Oh. That’s good. Wonderful. Do come in then,” he said, setting aside his home defense staff and unlocking the deadbolt.

  We were sat down upon a large leather sofa in the middle of a lavish living room. Francisco must be doing well for himself if he can maintain a villa like this.

  “Coffee?” Francisco asked.

  I shook my head. “We’re in a bit of a rush.”

  “Oh, you don’t say. And how might I be of service then, Charles?”

  “Did you ever master that leyline based teleportation magic of yours?”

  Francis let out a dark chuckle wholly uncharacteristic of a harmless middle aged man. Itabimori and Narani turned their heads towards me questioningly.

  “My dear friend,” Garcia began, chuckling villainously. “It’s been three long years. Did you think I begged you to spare me just so that I could go on and squander my vast talents? Not only did I solidify Te’ley’portation, but have mastered the very ebb and flux of the aether!” />
  “So you have it perfected,” I said.

  “I wouldn’t call it perfected,” Garcia quickly amended. “But I’d trust my life on it.”

  That meant he hadn’t tested it fully and was scared to risk his own life to do so. Just what I needed: Leaving something up to my famously bad luck.

  “Leyline based teleportation?” Itabimori asked.

  Garcia looked like a kid in a candy store as he rubbed his hands together and turned towards Itabimori and Narani.

  “My dears,” he began. “Teleportation magic as we have it today is intricate, safe, and disgustingly archaic. It relies on a completely backwards memory based system, wherein specially attuned stones, crystals, or even petrified wood in some circumstances, are used to imprint the location you wish to teleport back to. That’s all. Nowhere else can you teleport except the one place your little stick or stone has memorized. However, those narrow minded fools in Nine Towers could never even dream that--”

  “That leyline based teleportation, might allow us to forego the current limitations and teleport instead wherever there is magic.” I said.

  Francisco frowned at me. “Stealing an old man’s thunder? How cruel.”

  “You’re not that old for a sorcerer,” I shot back.

  He glowered at me before turning back to the girls.

  “Any questions?” he asked.

  “How much time before you can send us flying to Bonampak?” Itabimori asked.

  “Bonampak. Border to Guatemala, yes?” Garcia smiled, “Exquisite choice. Right on a major ley line. Twenty minutes prep. I’ll get started now.”

  Rising up with a grunt, the round man heaved aside a display case of diagrams and magical paraphernalia and disappeared past a trap door hidden behind.

  There’s always a strange thrill to watching deadlines loom inevitably closer. “Eighteen hours until the celebrations end,” I said, checking my Rolex. “And along with them any chance to pass through Xibalba’s barrier.”

  “It’s even worse than that, doomed agent,” Narani eagerly added. “You’ve got eighteen hours to get in and out of there too. Otherwise you’re going to be stuck in there for a whole year.”

  I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “Of course that’s how it works. Are you finally going to explain to me why you’re coming along, Narani?”

  Itabimori smiled knowingly. Narani’s frown deepened ever so slightly. “You know in the old religions dogs were considered the foremost guides of the dead.”

  “So without a were-dog such as yourself, we’d never find our way in there?” I asked.

  “It’s just the initial trap. Total darkness to weed out the unworthy. Only those with a guide or a whole lot of luck and time on their hands will make it past. After that though? You’re on your own with Tabi.”

  I nodded solemnly. That’s what Lis meant when she said she was covering my bases for me. I’ll buy her a batch of those organic apples as thanks.

  “I’m the one that does the beating up,” Itabimori filled in with a big fanged grin. “You get to be the brains, Charles.”

  “So the usual. Good. That answers the last of my questions. Anything to add?” I asked.

  Narani shook her head, but Itabimori hesitated.

  I perked an eyebrow at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I just uh, had a question of my own,” Itabimori said.

  “You probably know more about this than I do, Tabi.”

  “No, not about Xibalba, I mean about you,” she insisted.

  I was very nearly taken aback. “What do you want to know?”

  “Does uh, Nine Towers let Supernaturals join up? To do what you do? You know, so I can come along for another ride?”

  “So that’s why you were all rosy cheeked. Gross,” Narani butted in. “I’m going to go wash my hands for the next ten minutes.”

  “No need,” I replied. “Itabimori, I wouldn’t recommend it. My life is very dangerous and liable to get cut short any day now. You’re strong, talented and--”

  “Don’t care. I’m not giving up on this Charles,” Itabimori replied. The quiet resolve in her voice made me consider her offer more seriously.

  Nine Towers didn’t officiate any Supernaturals, but often had whole spider webs worth of non-humans helping them out in a variety of capacities. If I weren’t so talented at fisticuffs, they’d set me up with thuggish bruisers instead of slim, gray skinned were-dogs that hated the sight of violence.

  How long had it been since my last partner died? Henry Dunkirk. I could hardly recall what it was like to have someone covering my back. Was this fate telling me it’s time to take another chance? With Itabimori?

  “I’ll think about it,” I told her, just as Garcia’s hidden door creaked open.

  “Ready when you are,” he spoke. “Step into my… office.”

  Chapter 30

  Garcia’s basement was not something to show off if he ever put his house on the market.

  Notes lined the walls. Directions were written in English, Spanish and dozen other languages. There was even a quote in Latin with a translation scrawled in illegible handwriting just below it.

  Of course, it was so dark in the room you could hardly see. And of course the floor was drenched in chalk dust and ritual circles that looked like traditional teleportation spells only with several secondary circles that formed a triangle around the main drawing.

  No Frankenstein monsters about to be reanimated though, so I can’t be too upset.

  “Each of you must remain wholly within each of the outer circles. Anything outside the diameter of the ritual will not be transported with you.”

  “Keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all time,” Itabimori said. “Got it.”

  “Very well, primed and ready for Bonampak. Say when, Charles,” Francisco said.

  The graying mage waited patiently by an as yet undrawn line in the ritual. Mages called it the trigger line, especially for pre-prepped rituals like these.

  Nothing left to do but cast the dice. “Do it.”

  “Good luck,” Francisco called out. “Be sure to tell me when you land if your appendixes were teleported with you or not.”

  Of course he’d say something like that at the last minute.

  The air suddenly grew greasy. Heavy almost. A common symptom of unrefined or experimental magic. Comfort and convenience came later. Just as the stifling crush of magic became unbearable, I felt myself weightless, floating in the sky.

  Sharp green tinged with purple as far as the eye could see. Like staring at a marble up close, my sight could not make heads or tails. That’s when the dizziness hit me. Like a roller coaster ride without any safety measures. My heartbeat quickened, my ears rang, and my skin crawled.

  Floating disembodied whispers, the dripping of water and the chime of bells came from the deafening ringing, and I dared not keep my eyes open for anything. Just as I began to wonder whether or not I’d make it without showing everyone what my last meal was, I suddenly came to an awkward crash onto hard stone.

  The room spun around. Leering faces and blood letting, battle and death, bones and rebirth, all flitted across my waking sight like stars in the night sky. It was almost too much.

  I closed my eyes again. I forced myself up to a sitting position, and then I marshaled my thoughts. I found my center. Never was much for meditation, but the style that Lis taught me was quick and efficient. And certainly didn’t include any of that ‘finding myself’.

  Slowly, my faculties returned to me. I opened my eyes to see Narani and Itabimori in groaning piles of their own.

  Leyline based teleportation. Never again.

  Peeking outside of the temple, I saw the sky blackened by storm clouds. Thunder boomed somewhere not too far away, and the first drops of rain fell from on high. If we didn’t solve this last leg of the journey and pinpoint Xibalba’s entrance, all would be lost.

  “Cho, take a look at this--”

  “Relax, doomed agent,” Narani said, one hand he
ld out to stay me and another nursing her stomach. “No need for tricks. I’m fluent in apocalyptic prophecy.”

  Very Mayan.

  As Itabimori rose up with a groan, shaking her head, Narani scanned the enclosure.

  “Say what you want about the ride, but Garcia has precision in spades. Not only did he get us to Bonampak but managed to land us in the temple antechamber,” I told Itabimori.

  “It can’t all be bad luck,” I said. “Get ready. As soon as Narani figures out what’s written here, we’ll-- Narani?”

  Narani’s eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she fell to the floor like a sack of organic dog treats.

  “What the hell happened?” I demanded, springing to action.

  “She just fell she…”

  “Narani’s not breathing,” I said. “Stand back.”

  “But Charles,” Itabimori hesitated.

  “I have this.”

  Itabimori obeyed. I checked my surroundings and double checked her lack of breathing by placing my ear up close to her nose and mouth. Nothing. I drew in a deep breath.

  I checked her pulse. I pressed a few fingers to her throat, and counted to ten, my ear held against her chest.

  “Heart not beating. CPR time.”

  Believe it or not, you don’t take swim classes only to spend time among scantily clad women. You do it for the CPR as well. I got my hands into position and started doing compressions on her chest.

  “Come on damn it,” I muttered.

  Three rounds of chest pumping, mouth to mouth, and then finally, like a great big shock, Narani gasped long and loud, her claws digging painfully into my arm.

  “Narani!” Itabimori practically wailed when she saw the were-dog regain consciousness.

  Narani looked terribly bemused, her chest rising and falling slowly. The slightest hint of red colored her cheeks as she looked up to see me steadying the back of her head.

  “Hey. Doomed agent,” she said, a weak whisper. “Your ability to give and take life really, really turns me on. Just so you know.”