Spellbound (52 page)

His lungs ached. It was like breathing fire. The first one was getting up, spitting out mouthfuls of blood and reaching for his gun. Anger filled Francis, and this time his invisible hands reached out, took hold of the man’s eyeballs, and
squeezed.
He screamed, so Francis gave his Power one extra shove and was rewarded with two sickening pops.

He stumbled. He had to stop the bleeding soon or he was going to die.
Closer.
He was next to the truck. Both of the OCI men were screaming their heads off. One blind, one with ruined hands. Francis spotted a pistol on the ground, tugged on it, and it flew over. The driver tried to run, but Francis shot him in the back and he fell. Then he turned and shot the blind one in the head.

Blood was pumping out of his leg. He’d seen enough combat to know that a leg wound bleeding that much was really bad, but he couldn’t stop to look at it yet. There might be more men. Francis made it to the back of the truck. Whatever was back there was heavy, and the big truck was sitting low under its load. The bed was covered in canvas tied shut with ropes. He ripped apart the knots and flung the canvas open with his mind before spinning around the edge. There was nobody back there. He’d gotten them all.

Woozy, Francis slowly lowered the pistol. The truck was packed full of barrels and the whole thing reeked of chemicals. A length of cannon fuse led into one of the barrels.

There had to be a couple thousand pounds of explosives in the truck. It was a bomb. A really
big
bomb.

He found himself facedown. Francis was unsure how he’d gotten there, but the grass was cool and damp against his cheek. Everything else was going numb.
Good work, Francis. You saved the day,
he told himself before passing out from blood loss.

Chapter 20

If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on the human face—forever.

—Eric Arthur Blair,

Editorial in G.K.’s Weekly.
1927

OCI Headquarters

THE UNITED STATES
Coordinator of Information, Bradford Carr, Ph.D., was trapped in his office. He was against one wall, back pressed against a multitude of plaques and awards, nervously sweating, while a Siberian tiger sat on its haunches in the middle of the room, watching him carefully. Carr had inched toward some of the display weapons, but a low growl from the tiger had informed him of what a terrible idea that would be.

“Nice catch, Lance,” Sullivan said as he entered the office.

“Thanks. Big as he is, it would be like eating a water buffalo, which is very tempting right now, you have no idea, but I figured we’d want him alive.”

The esoteric weapons were neat and all, but Sullivan marveled at all of the books. From what he knew about the Coordinator, this place was a treasure trove of information on magic. Hell, he would have done this job just to loot this library, let alone rescue his friends, but first things first.

“Let me go or you’ll regret this,” Carr sneered. “I’ve got a force of robots that will—”

“We already broke them. Your men are either dead or swimming, and we destroyed your pet demon too. So save your breath.” Sullivan turned to Lance. “It looks like Whisper blocked the bridge for now, but we need to get a move on.”

“Francis and Heinrich?” There was dried blood all over the tiger’s face, but none of it appeared to be from the tiger.

There was a rasp from the door. “I am here.” Sullivan turned to see a very battered Heinrich Koenig. His face was swollen with bruises and cuts and his shirt was hanging in blood-stained tatters. He’d found a pump shotgun somewhere. “But they took Francis away.”

It was good to see the Fade had made it. Sullivan had taken a real liking to the tough German. Sullivan strode over and punched Carr in his ample stomach. Sullivan took it easy, but only because he didn’t want to accidently kill the man. Carr sank to the carpet, purple-faced and gagging. “Where’d you take him?”

“Go to hell, Active rabble,” Carr gasped.

“We should question him somewhere else,” Heinrich suggested.

“Yeah, cops are going to be on the—”

“No. There is a black hole growing in the basement of the main building. It is devouring everything and expanding rapidly. We only have a few minutes.”

“A black hole?” It could never be simple.

“I’ve got to get her out of here. I’m about out of Power, and I don’t think you’re going to want her around when I lose control,” Lance said through the tiger. “Catch you boys later.” The animal turned and bounded from the room.

Heinrich calmly stepped out of the way to let the predator pass. “I cannot emphasize this enough. We really must be going as well.”

That meant it was seriously bad. Heinrich certainly wasn’t the dramatic type. Diamond had secured the building that Lance had said housed the other prisoners. There was nothing else keeping them here. Sullivan looked sadly at the shelves of books. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

Toru appeared behind Heinrich so silently that he even made the Fade jump, and that was saying something. “Sullivan, your prisoners have been freed and are being taken to the boats, but something strange is happening at the main building—”

“Told you,” Heinrich said as he studied Toru suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“That’s our new Iron Guard,” Sullivan said. “He’s okay. I’ll explain later.”

“I am imprisoned for a brief time and everything goes to hell.” Heinrich shrugged. “Very well. I am Heinrich Koenig.”

“Toru.” The Iron Guard nodded. “You seem more accepting than the others of your kind.”

“Oh, I despise all Imperium scum, but I have had a very difficult day. I will worry about it when we are not being sucked into a magical vortex, which will be happening very shortly. Speaking of which . . .”

Sullivan grabbed Carr by the neck and hoisted him to his feet. He gave a quick pat-down but the Coordinator seemed to be unarmed.

“You’re Heavy Jake Sullivan, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“I was afraid of that,” Carr muttered. “You have a considerable reputation in some circles.”

“You picked the wrong man to slander. Come on.”

“Wait, Mr. Sullivan. I know you’re a student of magic. If he is telling the truth about our impending destruction, there is something priceless we must take with us. I have in my possession here the singlemost valuable magical tome in existence. To lose its knowledge would be a tragedy for the entire human race.”

It went against his better judgment, but Sullivan let go long enough for the Coordinator to pick up a large book off of his desk. If he’d so much as made a move for a drawer that could conceal a gun, he’d have gotten himself Spiked to the roof. “Give me that.” Sullivan snatched the book away. Flipping through the pages, he didn’t recognize the language, but it was absolutely
filled
with complicated spells. They looked legit. “My God.”

“I knew you would understand. If you didn’t have such a reputation for stubbornness, you are exactly the kind of man that I would have approached concerning my grand vision.”

Vision? Sullivan snorted. Just like the visionaries of the Imperium, the Kaiser, the Soviets, Carr’s vision was just another group of assholes wanting to control everybody else. Sullivan was sick and tired of visionaries. “Shut up.”

Toru had moved to the wall of weapons and picked out a long Japanese sword. He set the 1919 down long enough to draw it from its black scabbard. It was a foot longer than the other Iron Guard swords that Sullivan had seen. “Magnificent.”

“And very valuable. That nodachi is said to have belonged to Sasaki Kojiro,” Carr said. “It was restored and given to me as a gift by Chairman Tokugawa personally.”

That seemed to surprise the Iron Guard. “One of my father’s blades? This is no accident.” Toru had to blink away tears of emotion. He smiled as he slid the blade back into the sheath. “Even now he guides my steps.”

“Well . . .” Carr had been ambassador. Of course he had souvenirs. It was obvious from the walls that he loved them. The big sword just seemed like a coincidence to Sullivan, but he’d actually talked to the dead man in question on the spirit phone. Who was he to judge things like signs of approval from beyond the grave? “Good, I suppose.”

“The Tokugawa family is reclaiming this blade, Doctor.” Toru ripped a strip of silk from a robe in Carr’s display and used that to quickly tie both ends of the scabbard so he could throw it over his shoulder. Carr cringed at the defacement of one of his artifacts. “Attempt to stop me and I will spill your bowels with it.”

Sullivan shoved Carr toward the exit. “Walk.”

“Do you intend to kill me?”

“If you don’t tell me where you took Francis, you’re gonna wish I had.”

“I can cut off his feet,” Toru offered. “I have found that makes men talkative . . . briefly.”

Carr’s lip quivered beneath his gigantic mustache, but he didn’t speak.

As they hurried toward the outside, a trembling could be felt through the floor. This bunker had been meant for the command staff of the old Peace Ray project, so it had been built solid, but the whole place was shaking like it was about to fall down. Heinrich had talked about some sort of hole, but Sullivan really didn’t know if that could be causing an earthquake. He got his answer when they made it out into the courtyard.

The main building was gone. In its place was the top half of an expanding ball of black. It cast off an eerie light that seemed to make light colors glow. It was forty feet tall and lightning played back and forth across its curved surface. Wind howled past them as it was gobbled up. On one side, the darkness reached the outer wall of the bunker and the bricks immediately began to dissolve into it, while on the other it reached one of the ruined trucks. The front end lifted into the air as the rear dropped into space. Within seconds it had consumed the entire truck.

“Is this your doing?” Sullivan grabbed Carr by the jacket and shook him hard.

“I don’t know what that is!” the Coordinator gaped at the blackness. “All my work . . . All of my research was in there. It’s all been ruined.”

More like all of the evidence of your wrongdoing’s been erased.
They especially had to keep Carr alive now. Without physical evidence to turn over to J. Edgar Hoover, they were still in hot water, probably more so now since they’d just attacked a government facility and killed a mess of government employees.

“I believe Francis may have been responsible for this one,” Heinrich said.

The dome of death had expanded another few feet while they were standing there gawking at it. It was time to go Sullivan said. “Me and that boy are gonna have a talk.”

They ran for it. Carr walked with a bad limp, so Sullivan used his Power to make the Coordinator lighter and dragged him along. He didn’t want to help the man. He wanted to toss him into the black hole, but he needed the fool’s testimony.

Faye popped into existence ahead of them. “Mr. Sullivan! Over here!”

They reached the gap in the wall. “Is everybody else out?” he shouted to be heard over the wind.

“Yes. We’ve already filled up one boat and sent it toward Mr. Browning,” Faye responded. “Oh, Heinrich! I’m so glad to see you! Where’s Francis?”

“We don’t know, but he does.” Sullivan pushed Carr to the ground. “You know about me, Coordinator, so I’m assuming you know about Traveling Faye here, and no, the rumors haven’t been exaggerated.”

Carr’s eyes grew large. Apparently he had heard about her exploits. It was sad when a teenage girl had more intimidation power than an ex-con Heavy or an Iron Guard.

“What do you mean, he knows where Francis is?” Faye stepped toward Carr, grey eyes gleaming. She reached behind her and pulled out a Bowie knife. “What did you do with my boyfriend?”

He couldn’t have planned it better if they’d rehearsed it, only Faye certainly wasn’t acting. She was about the single nicest human being he’d ever met, but she’d kill anybody she considered a bad man faster than a farmwife would wring the neck of a chicken. With Faye, once you crossed a certain line, your life was worth nothing.

“Talk, Coordinator, or I leave you with her.” It was a bluff, but Carr had no way of knowing Sullivan’s deal with Hoover.

Faye reached down and grabbed Carr’s tie. “Let’s toss him in the big sucking thing. I want to see what happens when you put a person in it.”

“It is rather unnerving,” Heinrich stated.

“Fine! I’ll talk. Just give me your word you won’t hurt me.”

Sullivan looked back toward the dome. They’d better hurry. “We won’t kill you.”
But I sure hope you enjoy prison.

“Stuyvesant was taken across the river in a boat. There is a truck bomb there. It is to be detonated in the marchers’ camp.”

“The antimagic march?” Sullivan asked, shocked at the barbarity. “Those are your allies.”

“Useful idiots.” Carr ground his teeth together. “Their deaths will be the final catalyst for ensuring that magic is properly controlled in this nation forever.”

Faye shrieked. “That’s it! He goes in the sucking thing!” Sullivan reached and blocked her with one hand.

She was the only one that could get there in time. “Get Francis,” Sullivan ordered. “Stop the bomb.”

The Traveler pointed at Carr. “I ain’t done with you!” Then she disappeared.

“Stop staring at me. If those marchers knew what their deaths will cause they’d be glad to make the sacrifice. I’m doing you people a favor. Your way, magical
freedom
”—Carr practically sneered the word—“leads only to chaos and anarchy. My way leads to order and prosperity for all. Every man has a place in the order of things. Actives subvert that natural order.” Sullivan was too disgusted to respond. He dragged Carr to his feet and set out for the boat. “You have gifts and it is selfish for you to do only what you want with them. You people must be utilized properly. Actives must be given order, they must be controlled. You must be used where you are most valuable to the collective.”