Live and Let Lie Read online

  I guess that’s why it was such a big shock for me to see him lying down in bed. Eyes closed, hair ravaged. He looked like a tired old geezer without his monkey suit on. A feeling of intense sadness washed over me as I reached his side. I sat down next to him, careful not to touch any of the combination of modern and arcane apparatuses surrounding him.

  “What the hell happened?” I whispered.

  “It’s funny you mentioned an Angel in your report, Locke,” Gelwer said, blowing his nose with a handkerchief. “One reference to Heavenly messengers can be easily interpreted as a mistake or an over-exaggeration born of panic, but two?”

  I turned my head to regard the old summoner incredulously. “What do you mean, ‘two’?”

  The Lord Summoner sighed. “The mages that brought Swanquill in swore up and down that he ended up like this because a hostile Angel, different than the one you described, mind you, fought him.”

  “What?” I practically roared.

  “Apparently he killed it. But not without ending up like this.”

  “Of course,” I said. “If anyone could have done it, it would be the master imp jockey himself. I’d expect nothing less from him.”

  A long silence dragged on before Gelwer finally cleared his throat. “You know, in any other situation your actions in Venice would have seen you removed from your duties. Your job gone, your mind fixed by the Egomancers. Whole nine yards.”

  “But?” I asked.

  The old man sighed again, shaking his head, “We’re low on manpower, and despite your disobedience your actions helped more than they harmed. You’re too skilled to make an example out of anyways, in my humble opinion.”

  I nodded, “Let me find the bastards that did this to Phil.”

  “You’re in no position to be making demands, Warlock,” Gilbert’s suddenly snarled. “You’re being overlooked, but not without caveats. Your unpredictability is making even someone like me edgy, and I’ve rolled a pretty pair of dice in my day.”

  Gambling or pen and paper? I almost asked.

  “What would you have me do then, Lord Summoner?” I said instead, ensuring I sprinkled on just the right amount of respect and deference in my tone.

  “Follow your orders. We already have your task set, and we’ve even considered your love of borrowing magical aides to improve your combat.”

  “Did Christmas sneak up on me or something? There’s no way Baltazar would let this fly. What’s the catch?”

  Gilbert laughed harshly. “Oh, there’s always a catch. First off, here.”

  The old man handed me a wound up cloth made of silk. I opened it to reveal a stark white wand. Nine Towers standard. Good, I was wondering where to get a replacement for the one I lost. He then handed me a piece of paper that read ‘Divination, twenty minutes, Zophie Nuhl’.

  I perked an eyebrow high, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. “Who’s Zophie Nuhl?”

  “The ‘magical aide’ I was just talking about. The Lord Evoker certainly has a cruel sense of humor. You ask for magical items to help you out and he hands you an anti-mage. She’ll be your acting superior. Your mission is to assist her in completing hers. The Lady Divination will explain the details.”

  My eyes widened. My heart skipped a beat. “Oh hell no.”

  “Do not fail us, Charles Locke. I’m sure you can guess what will happen if this turns into another Venice.”

  With a snap of his fingers, the Lord Summoner was gone. I had just enough presence of mind to leave Phil’s room before swearing my head off.

  Chapter 4

  Believe it or not I actually prefer to work alone. Not because I enjoy being a lone wolf, but rather because I’ve been told I have something of a reckless disregard for my own well being. Most of my escapes have been narrow and all of my victories hard won and harrowing.

  It didn’t help that I really wanted to avoid anyone dying in one of my stupid plans either. I don’t think I can handle much more blood on my hands, least of all blood belonging to those who come along to try and help.

  Sorry Henry. Forgive me Itabimori.

  The thought of having not only a partner to watch out for but a superior to strictly obey made me want to cough up breakfast. I didn’t even have the spare time to wallow in my despair either. They left me with a twenty minute recess to shake off my craptastic mood and get ready for a worst case scenario.

  That’s why I found myself standing in front of an old worn door down a hall that most people tried hard to forget about. The bickering voices of women echoed past the thick slab of wood. Sucking in a deep breath, I knocked. An annoyed groan from within was my response. The knob rattled. The portal opened.

  “Well, well, well,” spoke a scrawny, pale woman. “If it isn’t the Flukemeister himself.”

  “Sauerkraut,” I replied. “I’ve got about ten minutes to kill. Decided to check up on you to see what sort of toil and trouble you’re up to.”

  “It’s gossip time with the girls so no toil. Just trouble for boys like you,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

  “No need to be suspicious. I’m good with girls, Fran.”

  “That’s exactly the problem,” she replied. “But fine, whatever, you’ve already got your foot in the door so you might as well come in and give us all cooties.”

  “It’s nice feeling welcomed.”

  Francisca Sauer was an old friend of mine. Even though she’s not a part of the magical nobility, they gave her a desk job far away from the everyday danger that was the average warlock’s life because of one simple fact: She specialized in binding spirits and getting them to tell her all about what they see or hear while they’re haunting places. Naturally, this rare talent was utterly priceless when it came to information networking. The fact that she was a sickly slip of a woman with a terrible personality was probably why her office was at the ass end of the most cobwebbed hallway that could be found.

  “Any interesting rumors?” I asked, sitting down next to Fran’s fellow gossipers.

  One was a tall, red headed woman with a fancy amulet around her neck. The other had a white chipmunk asleep on her lap. Her Familiar, surely. They both shot Fran searching looks.

  “Don’t worry, he won’t ruin our fun,” Fran said. “Fluke, this is Mel and that’s Jane. If you even think of getting their numbers I’ll have you haunted by so many ghosts your life will become a triple-A horror flick.”

  “My heart flutters whenever I hear threats like that Fran. You really put the romance in Necromancer.”

  The scowl that curved her lips downwards was enough to give a ghost chills. “So to what do we owe the displeasure of your visit?” asked Fran.

  “I’m getting put under Zophie Nuhl’s command.”

  Dead silence, then Fran burst out laughing. She sounded exactly like one of those cackling witches.

  “You? Partnered with Nuhl?” she howled. “What kind of sick joke is that?”

  I perked an eyebrow high, “You know her?”

  “Know enough to stay away from her,” Fran said, her eyes filled with morbid joy. “She’s an anti-mage. With the Unblinking Eye. You know, a mage cop? If you’d bother to socialize with people other than me once in a while you’d figure this sort of thing out yourself.”

  “What, and miss an opportunity to inject excitement into your life?” I asked. “I take your happiness seriously, Fran.”

  The Necromancer snorted in response. “Whatever. If you’re done trying to damage control me, the door’s over there.”

  I hid a smile. Despite her harshness, Fran looked thrilled to have a chance to back and forth with me, otherwise she wouldn’t have so studiously ignored her gossip buddies. I guess showing affection is hard for Necromancers.

  “Actually, Fran, I came by here to ask a favor,” I said.

  “Denied.”

  “What if I told you you’re the only one who has the skill to pull something like this off?” I added.

  Fran pursed her lips. “What is it, Fluke?”

&n
bsp; I drew in a deep breath before I spoke. “You ever get the feeling NT has taken more than its fair share of blows lately? Confidence getting shaken? Questionable morality in the leadership? Barbaric magical duels between feuding families being invoked instead of taking the time to solve things civilly?”

  Fran and her two fellow gossipers turned and stared at each other in disbelief before fixing their eyes back on me. The woman with the albino chipmunk was the first to break the silence.

  “Woah. That’s what we were just talking about,” she said.

  Chapter 5

  As soon as chipmunk chick spilled the beans, Fran practically exploded with info. “The Michaud-Straumer feud is just the top soil of the grave, Fluke! There’s been all sorts of infighting. Tensions are at an all time high and all the big families are shoring up their armories. I even heard rumors that the whole Russian Coalition is splitting off.”

  “They’ve been threatening to split for decades,” I replied.

  “It’s legit this time. One of my favorite ghost informants used to be a spy for the Russian monarchy and he told me everything. Probably before even the big cowls heard. Do you know what that means?” Fran asked.

  My mind swam with the possibilities. Nine Towers collapsing would be the magical equivalent of America splintering into fifty one states. A major magical superpower would implode, and who knows how many decades, if not centuries of petty tyranny and war there would be before the power vacuum got filled.

  “It means we’re in a lot of trouble.”

  “Well I think it’s a good thing,” spoke up the tall red headed woman.

  “Oh, here we go,” Fran said, throwing up her hands.

  “If the Russian Coalition wants to secede then why should we care?” the red head carried on. “Let them leave. See how long they last without the rest of us helping. They’ll crawl back to us within the year, and then we can negotiate a more fitting master-servant relationship with them.”

  “Master-servant relationships tend to go poorly in my experience,” I replied. “The master obsesses too much with keeping their slaves in check instead of focusing on more important things. Likewise the servant focuses on nothing but liberty from their master at any cost. An eternity of antagonism. You could figure that out reading even the Mundane history books.”

  The red head, Mel was her name I think, glared at me like I just dinged her brand new Lamborghini with a motor scooter. “Just what I need, and coming from a warlock no less. I wouldn’t go against me if I were you, little man. I have my ear to the beating heart of decision making in NT. I’m not spouting horoscopes. I’m stating facts.”

  “Forgive me your majesty,” I retorted without missing a beat. “I didn’t realize that I was in the presence of royalty. Please find it in your heart to overlook my misstep and spare me the hangman’s noose.”

  In case it wasn’t obvious, I put ten percent less than a lethal dose of sarcasm into that reply. I could practically hear Mel’s teeth grinding. “That tongue would be more tame if you knew who--”

  “You’re assuming I give a damn who you are,” I said, cutting her off, “Do you have anything else in the stables besides the high horse you’re on right now?”

  “Smug prick,” she spat.

  “Not impressed.”

  “Talentless weakling,” she tried.

  “Scathing.”

  “Demon Mongering scum!” she screamed.

  She rose up from her chair, stomped to the door, and swung it shut behind her with all her might. Vials and books resettled on their shelves from the force of the slam.

  Hang on, Demon Monger? It wasn’t exactly common knowledge that I had a Devil on speed dial. That means--

  “If I had to guess,” I said, turning to Fran, “She’s probably related to Cazador. He’s the only other ass hat that calls me Demon Monger.”

  “Even worse,” Fran said, her grim gaze shifting away from me. “Cazador is her little brother, sure. The family resemblance is strong between those two. However, her older brother is…”

  “Is?” I asked.

  “The Lord Evoker. Supposedly,” Fran finished.

  I let my face rest in my palms. Just my luck. Running my mouth to a relative of the deadliest sorcerer in Nine Towers, who already had few enough reasons to give me the time of day. Good hustle Charles. You couldn’t have just sat down and read an e-book for your fifteen minute break, could you?

  “Fran, I need you to keep an eye open in HQ for me. That’s what I came to ask,” I muttered.

  “Fine. Here’s my phone, put your number in it,” she replied.

  “Didn’t you say something about having me haunted if I get a girl’s number?” I asked as I punched in my digits.

  “Do you want my help or not, Fluke?”

  “Will get you something nice for your birthday,” I replied. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I opened the door leading back into the dilapidated hallway just as a short tanned woman raised her hand to knock.

  “You,” she said.

  I blinked in surprise. “Me?”

  Fran peeked past. “Well, if it isn’t Zophie Nuhl. Nice timing.”

  Chapter 6

  Being six foot two and athletic, I really notice when someone is trying to outpace me. Man, could Zophie walk fast.

  “Is there a particular reason you’re planning on starting us off on the wrong foot, Miss Nuhl?” I asked.

  “Twelve minutes. That’s the length of time it takes for me to march on up from Divination all the way to the boonies to pick you up like a prom date, and then walk back. We’re officially late because of you.”

  I pursed my lips. Not that it stopped her from ranting right on. “I’ll be frank, Charles Locke. I’ve read your file with a mixture of fascination and horror.”

  “What, did they put my browser history in there?” I replied. “Can’t think of anything else worth calling fascinatingly horrible.”

  A seething glare over her shoulder dug into me like a death ray. I smiled in spite of myself. Oh yeah. I was definitely beginning to understand the exact flavor of person my new superior was.

  “Any insubordination, any acting out of line, Warlock First Class,” Zophie Nuhl said. “If you so much as think about a skirt while on the job I will crush you.”

  “Impressive,” I replied. “Usually it takes me a while to get a bad feeling about someone I’m working with but you somehow managed to set off all the warning bells within two minutes.”

  “I couldn’t possibly care less what you think. We have a job to do and we’re going to do it by the book. Is that understood?”

  “Of course.”

  Short hair. Tiny. She had the tanned skin of a working girl and her well honed figure implied a close relationship with the oft abandoned Nine Towers gym. That being said, she had the unmistakable scent of someone whose desire to get along with others could be expressed as a negative integer.

  Phil on life support. Me on thin ice. Nine Towers shaking with dissent. And Nuhl to pour gasoline onto the fire. Now all I need is some harassment from a certain she-devil and my day will be complete.

  “We’re here.”

  Nuhl’s sharp words brought me back down to earth. My eyes rose to catch the words FATIS LVTVM engraved on an arch overhead. Divination territory. The rooms beyond the entrance hall were notably darker than those before. They looked more like a Necromancer’s lair than a place you’d go to get your palm read.

  The sad silken curtains, almost transparent, gave the deeper halls an antique feel. I could practically taste the urgency coming off Nuhl as we finally reached our destination.

  Fashionably late. I heard a woman chuckle up ahead. The dim light of the vast circular chamber made the laughter echo strangely.

  “Charles Locke. You’re late.”

  “Am I?” I asked.

  “A lot of nerve keeping the Oracle waiting,” Nuhl interjected, pointing a finger at me in accusation. “I will be sure to keep him on a tighter leash next time.�
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  A curvy, feminine figure approached us, ignoring Zophie Nuhl in favor of circling around me. Her fingers playfully rested on my shoulder and trailed down the back of my suit.

  Magic as old as Divination had some pretty specific requirements. Especially in the way the rituals had to be performed. Incense and trance like motions were key. Flawless pronunciation and rhythmic chants were not an option.

  The heart racing, nearly see through togas that the girls wore were also absolutely necessary. Though I’d only ever heard male magicians insist on that.

  Ushering us through curtains that felt more like heavy smoke than cloth, we were brought down into a depression in the center of the room. It looked a little bit like a large ceremonial Jacuzzi. Water rippled at the bottom, and across from us sat a very blind and very old woman, her feet dipping into the pool’s edge.

  “Strange that Divination should give mission details,” I said. “Something’s different than usual.”

  I could just barely make out a weak smile widening beneath the old woman’s veil.

  “Such perception,” the curvy young woman spoke, “Your talents are wasted in the field, Charles Locke.”

  “I’m flattered. Answer the question,” I replied.

  “Let’s just say that the Lady Divination is quite ‘familiar’ with the target of your mission. You’ll understand soon enough,” spoke the aide. “Listen close.”

  The old woman’s smile didn’t fade. She slipped her fingertips beneath the surface of the pool and threshed her hand about with serene slowness. The curvy young lady, spoke for her.

  “A great and terrible bird, daubed in blood both blue and red, eclipses the sun. Through cold tundra it stalks an owl, so white it can hardly be told apart from the snow around it. From above, the dread bird strikes with its twin talons, Charisma and Cunning, as the sun sets upon eternal night.”

  Normally I’d have a clever comeback primed and ready to retort with. However there was something about the deafening silence that filled the void between the woman’s words and our response that made me keep my lips sealed. What the hell was she even talking about? Blood? Eclipses? Owls?