Hard Magic (24 page)

Delilah was mad. She ran across the yard, took two big strides, and landed in a crouch on the roof of the porch, two more bounds and she was on top of the shingles with Faye. Brutes could climb
fast.
“Oh, you’re dead meat, you hick.”

Faye waited until Delilah was almost on top of her before Traveling. She landed in the yard back where it all started. “What’re you doing up there, silly?” she called, waited for Delilah’s frustrated scream, then focused hard, appeared in the air directly behind the Brute, and swung the hickory stick with all of her strength. Faye was a skinny girl, but she’d been doing manual labor and bucking hay for three years, and had busted more than a few bulls in the snout with a shovel handle, and she laid into Delilah like she was a particularly nasty Holstein. The stick broke in half, but Delilah rocked forward, off balance, and tumbled from the tall roof.

She landed flat on her back on the tiles next to the pool with a terrible thump.

Faye appeared next to her a second later and squatted down. Delilah grunted as she tried to sit up, her Power momentarily exhausted from hardening her body for the impact. “What was the lesson that time?” Faye asked innocently.

Delilah closed her eyes and sank back to the tiles. She held out her hand in truce, and Faye slowly took it. “The lesson that time is that you aren’t as stupid a hick as you pretend to be.” She actually smiled. Faye could tell that it was a real one this time. She’d made a new friend.

***

Sullivan was impressed, and he didn’t impress easily. The mansion was epic, probably the single biggest house he’d ever seen excluding pictures of palaces and castles from books. He actually recognized the European architectural styles, but since he’d only read the words and had never heard them pronounced, he didn’t even bother trying to say them out loud. He whistled. “Nice digs you boys got here.”

“It belongs to one of our operatives. His family burns money during the winter to keep warm. You might remember him. You shot him in the knee,” Heinrich said.

“Well, I broke your jaw, and we’re best buddies now,” Sullivan responded. “How many of you Grimnoir are there anyway?”

“Not near enough,” Garrett said. “That’s not my place to say. You’ve not taken the oath, so there’s only so much I can tell you. That’s between you and the General.” Sullivan could respect keeping mum for security’s sake. He had no doubt that anyone who showed up on the Chairman’s doorstep with a roster of Grimnoir would be rolling in the green.

Garrett sounded the Ford’s squeaky air horn as they pulled up to the front porch. From the funny markings he’d seen on the way in, he figured that the people inside already knew they were coming.

He unfolded himself from the car. A fountain bubbled nearby. It was a giant gold fish spitting water straight into the air at a golden UBF-style passenger blimp. The illusion created was that the water spout was holding up the dirigible, but Sullivan found the whole thing gaudy. Heinrich began to unload the luggage from the trunk. Sullivan had no bags at all, just the clothes on his back. He didn’t need much, though he did miss his Lewis gun. It had sentimental value.

A group of people came out onto the front porch. An absolutely gorgeous blonde in a white bathing suit came running off the porch. He recognized her as the Healer from the stolen blimp. Dan Garrett broke into a huge grin, opened his arms, and the blonde jumped on him, showering the pudgy little man with kisses. He looked over at Heinrich. The German just shrugged.
Go Dan,
Sullivan thought.

“I’m so glad you’re home!” she said, squeezing Dan tight.

“It’s good to be back,” Dan answered as she broke free. He had to adjust his glasses. “Jake Sullivan, this is my fiancée.”

The blonde turned to him. Sullivan tried not to stare impolitely, but he hadn’t seen a woman that attractive in a bathing suit, even a very modest one, for a long time, as in
ever
. “Jane,” she said, holding out one hand. Her nails were painted bright red. “What have you done to yourself this time? Every time I’ve seen you, you have more holes in you! Hang on.”

Sullivan’s hand suddenly felt very warm. The heat rolled across his body, and seemed to collect in his injuries. His lungs filled with fire, and he jerked his hand away. “What’re you doing?”

Jane looked offended. “Well, I was trying to help you, but I suppose I should save what Power I’ve got left for today in case the General has any more attacks. I’ll fix you right up tomorrow.” She studied his chest. “And stop smoking, or you’ll develop miserable emphysema in three years, and be dead in six.”

The heat seemed to dissipate except in the spots where he’d recently been hurt. Those bits were so hot that he started sweating profusely. “Well, thanks . . .” He’d never actually met a real live Healer before. “But if I schedule a regular checkup with you, can I keep smoking?” Jane just sniffed indignantly.

Two men came off the porch, shaking hands with Dan and Heinrich. The first was a squat, but powerfully built man. Sullivan recognized the beard from the salt circle on the train. The second was tall, extremely thin, and completely bald. He would have made a convincing undertaker. He looked familiar, and Sullivan could almost swear that he’d seen his picture in a book.

“John Moses Browning?” he asked.

“Indeed. Hello, Mr. Sullivan.” The tall man came over and shook his hand. His grip was firm and callused.

“But you’re dead.”

“Greatly exaggerated,” he said with a smile.

Sullivan was not an emotional man, but he couldn’t help himself. “Sir . . . I just have to tell you that the M1911 is the finest fighting handgun in the history of the world. It’s an honor. I killed a mess of Germans with one of those. It was very dear to me.”

“Thank you, sir.” Browning looked a little embarrassed. “Hmm . . . I’ll have to show you my workshop then. I have some new prototypes that I think you would like.”

The short man came over with a pronounced limp. When they shook hands, it was obvious that he was trying to put some extra squeeze in there. “Lance Talon. Good to meet you, Sullivan.” Sullivan squeezed back. Both of them were too strong to hurt the other. Finally Lance grinned at him and let go. “Welcome to the Grimnoir. The General’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Wait . . . Talon? The famous hunter? I read your book about Africa.” Sullivan didn’t admit it, but he’d thought the whole thing had been fabricated. Lance Talon just sounded like too much of a radio serial hero’s name to actually be a real person.

“Glad somebody read it.” Lance turned back toward the porch as the doors opened. “And here are the others that are staying with us. I believe you know Delilah?”

She was standing there in the doorway, watching him carefully, wearing a short grey dress with her hands resting on her hips. She was just as beautiful as the day they’d met. As pretty as the night he’d tried to arrest her . . . he lowered his eyes, uncomfortable. When he looked up, she was still smirking at him, and he had no idea what to say.

***

Faye was walking through the house with Delilah. The others had been alerted to something by their rings, and had gathered at the front. Apparently somebody Faye didn’t know was arriving. She was excited to meet these new Grimnoir, as everyone else she had met had been very nice.

Delilah had been talking about fighting, and Faye had only been half paying attention. She knew that she should be trying to learn more, because Delilah was like an encyclopedia of ways to hurt people, but she’d learned so much over the last few days that she felt like her brain was full. She was exhausted, and just wanted to take a nap. It was true what they said: a Healer could fix you, but you still felt the pain for a while after, and every single part of her body hurt from the training.

So she was distracted when Delilah opened the front door. She was saying something about how she was nervous, because one of these new arrivals and her used to be real close, but Faye was too tired to care.

When she looked past Delilah’s shoulder, the world came to a screeching halt.
He
was there, the thing from her nightmares. Faye froze, suddenly choking on her own terror.

His face was down, covered by a black fedora, but she recognized him anyway, the way he stood, the way he moved. He was huge, his chest wide as two men, arms like tree trunks, and when he looked up toward Delilah, she saw the square profile of the left side of his face.

It was him!

The right side of his face would be a hideous scar and one gleaming white eyeball and Mr. Browning and Lance were standing right next to him, unaware of the evil they’d invited into their house, and she just knew that when that bad eye came around he was going to kill all her new friends just like he’d killed her Grandpa.

Madi!

She began to shake uncontrollably.

Delilah said something to him, and he actually smiled, friendly as could be. His voice was exactly the same, deep and dark as a well, and he even used the exact same slow words as when she’d first met him, when she’d been staring down the barrel of the gun that had killed Grandpa. “Hey, girl.”

“No reason for any more killin’ today. I’m looking for something. That’s all,”
he’d said. Faye screamed and the paralysis was gone.

I have to save them.
She forced herself to move, reaching into her pocket and grasping the little .32 as she focused, sending her thoughts ahead, discovering that the space right behind Madi was empty, and she Traveled.

***

Sullivan had tried to think about what he would say to Delilah on the ride here, but he couldn’t think of anything. Words had always failed him when he needed them most. He knew that he needed to apologize, to try to explain, to hope that maybe it could be like it was once before . . .

Delilah finally spoke first. “Hey, big boy.” It was exactly how she had woken him every morning in New Orleans.

“Hey, girl . . .” He smiled.
Maybe the two of us will be all rig—
Then a terrible pain pierced his back. He stumbled. Confused. The others looked past him in shock. He reached up, trying to feel what had struck him, and something felt like it was stuck, burning, between his shoulder blades. His hand came back covered in blood. A terrible buzzing filled his ears. Delilah leapt off the steps screaming something that he couldn’t understand as he fell toward the soft grass.

***

Faye jabbed her little gun forward, jerking the heavy trigger. She aimed right for where his heart should be. There was a pop and a puff of smoke. She kept shooting, pulling the trigger as Madi lurched, not even hearing the noise anymore.

The others were shouting. Delilah charged off the porch, obviously burning at full Power. She’d recognize Madi too. She’d help. But instead of tearing Madi’s head off, Delilah caught him as he fell, lowering the giant to the ground.

His head rolled around. His other eye was brown . . . Not white. His hat fell off. There was no scar.

And she looked up, confused, to see a young man with a blond goatee raise a skinny black pistol toward her. She started to speak, to explain that something was horribly wrong, but the gun barked and he shot her squarely in the chest.

Chapter 12

Man found that he was faced with the acceptance of “magical” forces, that is to say such forces as cannot be comprehended by the sciences, and yet having undoubted, even extremely strong, effects. The false idea of some comprehensive, unexplainable “power” was thus born in the collective unconscious . . . Now that the realm of magic had opened for man, our greatest neuroses are laid bare, so we explain them away with imaginary things.

—Sigmund Freud,

Letter composed just prior to his death

by cocaine overdose,
1925

San Francisco, California

Madi had not wanted to contact the Chairman again so soon. He liked being the one who took care of business on his own and came back with results. Having to cry to the boss all the time struck him as a habit for weaklings, but this opportunity was too good to pass up, and as he stood before Yutaka’s shimmering portal, he could barely contain his excitement. The Edo Court came into focus, clear as day, despite being an ocean away, and there stood the Chairman.

He bowed deeply.

“What is it, my son?”

Madi liked that.
Son.
The Chairman didn’t say that to any of the other Iron Guards as far as he knew. A smile split his scar. “Chairman Tokugawa. We spotted Grimnoir in Utah.”

“I assume you eliminated them?”

“No, my lord. Better.” He finally looked up from his bow. “I had Yutaka dispatch a demon to follow them. We found one of their hideouts. The Summoned couldn’t enter the property because of the warding spells, but we know about where they are . . . It is only a few miles from where we burned out their last nest in California.”

“Pershing . . .” the Chairman muttered to himself. “Excellent. He may have the last piece of the Tesla device. If it is present, retrieve it. If it is not, try to discover its location.” Eradicating every last Grimmy went without saying, obviously.