To Kill a Sorcerer (34 page)

“Are you crazy, Sebastian?” He started toward the other side of the room again. I grabbed his sleeve just as Kanga raised his hand.

“We can’t do anything for her right now! If you don’t stop, Kanga will kill you.”

“Succinctly put, Mr. Montero,” Kanga said. “Do you wish to die tonight, Mr. Hamilton? I would be happy to arrange that.”

I began pulling Hamilton out of the room. Kanga’s booming laughter followed us. “Remember, if you do not cooperate, I have a knife for her heart . . . after she has satisfied me.”

“Sebastian— . . .” Hamilton said.

“Not now!”

Kanga held up Aliena’s cell phone. “Please call for reservations so I may have the vampire ready for you.”

As we exited the room, I looked reluctantly in Aliena’s direction. She watched us leave, her eyes wide with horror.

“Please, Sebastian,” she said. Her naked shoulders shook, and more blood tears coursed down her cheeks. “Please don’t leave me alone with him!” she begged, her voice breaking.

Backing out of that chamber and leaving my darling Aliena, pleading and terrified, with the monster Kanga, was the most difficult thing I have ever done in my immortal life.

6:19 p.m.

When we got to the car, I stopped.

“What?” Hamilton said.

“Just making sure the doll is in place. We can’t have him listening to us with his astral body.”

“Christ,” he said, wheeling to look at the house. “We have to get Aliena out of there! We can’t just leave!”

“We must. Not now! Get in the car! We don’t have a lot of time.”

We roared off, kicking up dust.

“Why does he want your blood?” Hamilton asked as we sped through the trees.

“For his potions probably, or his ceremonies.”

“Yes, but why yours specifically? It sounded like my blood would not do for this trade.”

“That I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. He said something about you replenishing at an accelerated rate.”

“I don’t know what he was talking about.”

“Bull
shit
.” He rubbed his chest.

“How are your ribs?”

He lowered his hand. “What was wrong with Aliena? That son of a bitch drugged her. What would make her tears dark like that?”

“I don’t know,” I said, turning onto Laurel Canyon.

“Why didn’t Kanga just take your blood? Spray you with his paralyzer?”

“It’s possible he’s afraid of tainting it.” It was probably true he needed my blood to be pure for his uses. And even though he knew how difficult it would be to take it by force, I was surprised he didn’t try anyway. That did not fit his character. For some reason, he was willing to be patient. Why?

Then I remembered: only a mortal could use the Key of Akasha. Good Lord. He wanted my blood for a potion that would make him immortal! That was why he was willing to wait until he had completed the ceremony in the ether.

It also meant that once Kanga was a Thief of Souls, he would come for me.

“Dammit, Sebastian, you’re holding out on me, and I’m sick of it. I suppose you don’t know why he called her a vampire, either.”

“Could we just focus on getting her out of there? You can ask your questions after we’ve done that.” Whether or not I answered them truthfully was another story.

“I hate this shit.”

While Hamilton brooded, I continued refining my strategy. We had distracted Kanga long enough. He would want to make final preparations for his trip to the etheric plane, so Aliena was safe for the time being.

“Okay,” Hamilton said. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to attack him on a spiritual level.” I glanced out at the crescent moon. “He’ll be in the ether in less than half an hour, to complete the final ritual. He can’t miss the conjunction. Neither can I.”

“How are you going to stop him?”

“I don’t know.” It was not possible to take anything from this world to the astral plane—except certain magical objects, such as the Key of Akasha. “It will depend where I end up. The Akashic Records are not always in the same place.”

He looked unconvinced. “What am I supposed to do once he’s trapped your soul? I won’t even be able to get near him!” He slapped the juju guardian doll, sending it swinging back and forth. “Without these ugly things, he can kill me from long distance with his damn ghouls!”

“Then I guess you’ll have to live in my car,” I said.

“You can joke about it? After seeing Aliena like that?”

“If you have a better plan, I’m listening.” I stopped at a red light and looked over.

“Okay.” He passed a hand over his face, his expression haggard in the dash lights. “Yeah, okay. I can’t think of anything else.”

I continued on, then veered off the Boulevard onto a poorly lit side street. I couldn’t explain it to Hamilton, but we had to get her out of there while it was dark. I pulled to the curb and parked, killing the lights.

“You’re going after him now?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What about me? Am I supposed to just sit here?”

“That’s right. And if I stop breathing, or in some other way convince you that I am dead, don’t leave the car. He may have his demons out looking for both of us tonight.”

He looked at the juju guardian hanging from the rearview mirror. “Are you sure this freaky doll can keep those things out?”

“Pretty sure. The only other safe places are my house and your apartment.”

“So what do I do if you stop breathing?”

“Call the station and have them send a car for you. Take these jujus with you,” I said, handing him Bey’s leather bag. “Explain them to the officer any way you like. The spray I used to get them off you is also in there. You do realize Kanga’s spirit warriors may decide to attack your driver rather than you?”

“Yeah, I get that. Where do I go?”

“Have him drive you back to my place. It is the only place securely protected against all of Kanga’s spirit attacks.” I took out my wallet and handed him a card. “The first number will put you in contact with Hector, the man who handles my unique problems. He can arrange a car and a driver for you, and liaise with Preston at BioLaw. If you call him from someplace other than my house, use a public phone. He knows nothing of Kanga’s identity or power. Don’t call Preston directly. I do not want him or any other members of my staff placed in danger. And until Kanga is caught or this problem is resolved, you may want to stay away from friends and loved ones.”

His expression became grim. “And the second number?”

“My solicitor in New York. If Kanga does come after you, you are going to need a great deal of money to protect yourself, unless you plan on living like a shut-in in my house. My current verbal password with him is ‘Nemesis.’ Say that word in connection with my name and he will serve you as if you were me.”

“Jesus, Sebastian. This sounds like your last will and testament.”

I reclined my seat and folded my hands over my stomach. “Stay in the car until you know what has happened to me, one way or another. It could get strange to watch, but do not interfere with me or try to wake me up, understand?”

He nodded.

“Wish me luck,” I said as I closed my eyes and exhaled softly, allowing my mind to drift into a tranquil state.

“Good luck,” I heard Hamilton say.

His voice was already faint and far away. A pleasant floating sensation filled me. My spirit detached from my body and hovered above.

Waiting.

Friday, December 24, 6:38 p.m.

I had not told Hamilton that the only method I knew for finding Kanga was what I had done the last time—relive a painful memory. I desperately hoped it would work. The Akashic Records were in all places all the time, available to anyone who wanted to look at them. I had to find Kanga, not the Records.

That meant I had to remember . . .

I returned to that dusty, hot afternoon, standing in the road with my father, facing the two burly knights.

“Your wife and daughter may serve us while we talk,” Edward said. He wore light armor and a chain-mail glove on his left hand.

My father’s shoulders stiffened slightly. “Yes, sire. Marian? Marguerite? Would you bring us some beer, please?”

Father led us to the door. James stood to one side, watching wide-eyed as we went by. Edward patted James on the head with his metal-covered fist. James grunted in pain. The knight jerked his hand away, and James yelped as hairs were yanked out of his scalp.

James’s eyes pleaded with me, his face scrunched in pain. My fists clenched and my heart stuttered.

Father turned before entering the house.

“Please, I beg you leave my family be,” he said. My father stood half a head taller than both knights, and though he wore only a rough tunic and pants, he looked as solid as Edward did in his armor.

Edward smiled. “You needn’t beg, Montero.” He turned to Guthbert. “Do not touch his family . . . without my order.”

“Yes, sir,” Guthbert answered.

The two men sat at the dining table. My father joined them. Edward twisted the chair next to him around. “Come, sit here, boy.” He patted the back of the chair, his gloved hand scratching the wood.

I sat. Edward continued staring at me until Marguerite and my mother walked in.

Mother brought the pitcher of beer to the table and poured four glasses. Marguerite set a cup in front of Edward, and then one in front of my father.

“A fine-looking woman, Montero,” Edward said. My mother kept her eyes lowered. “You are a fortunate man.”

Marguerite set the last two cups of beer in front of Guthbert and me. Our eyes met. She looked terrified.

I had been confused, but now I was sure: these two were not here in Sir William’s service. They had decided to come on their own. That realization scared me. That meant they were capable of anything. Anything at all.

As Marguerite tried to step away, Guthbert reached out and tugged on her tunic. It ripped away from one shoulder, exposing her arm to the elbow. She gave a small scream.

I popped out of my seat with a strangled yell. Guthbert pushed Margie away and stood in the same motion, as if he had anticipated my response. I tried to lunge to Marguerite’s aid, but he grabbed me and pulled me from the table so he could stand directly in front of me.

“No!”
my father shouted. “No,” he grunted as Edward punched him. He fell back, a dazed look on his face.

Guthbert hung on to my tunic. A knife glittered in his hand. I dodged his first thrust, but he yanked harder to pull me close and slammed the blade into my chest. I felt a great, gasping pain. The strength left my legs. He lowered me slowly to the floor, pressing the knife in, his knuckles grinding against me.

“Can you feel that, lad?” he asked in a thick voice, the rancid smell of uncooked beef and stale wine on his breath. With his sweat dripping into my face, he pushed against me as he stood up, hard enough to break my ribs. He pulled the knife out of my chest with a grunt.

I heard a thud. Guthbert fell away, replaced by my father. He gazed down, sorrow etched on his face. Then he threw a punch at Edward, but Guthbert jumped him from behind. The two knights together subdued him.

My body had gone numb. Mother and Marguerite were screaming.

I felt a strange itching where the knife had gone in. My chest burned, fiery with pain. Some of my fear left me. I was not dying. I could feel my legs again. Strength poured through my body. Without looking, I knew my wound was healing itself and that my ribs were mending.

I heard a chair scrape and then the clank of Guthbert sitting back down. I lay unmoving, continuing to play dead. At Edward’s next chilling words, however, I knew I could not remain still long.

“Sit, Montero,” he said, his voice charged with glee. “Guth and I merely wish to have an enjoyable afternoon entertaining your wife and daughter.”

“No.” My father’s voice trembled with rage. If Mother and Marguerite had not been in the room, he would have kept on fighting until they knocked him out or killed him.

“Sit down or the same thing will happen to your lovely daughter.”

I carefully tilted my head. The two knights were not looking my way—they watched my father. Edward was turned away from me. Guthbert had Marguerite by the arm, staring hungrily at her shoulder and the upper swell of one breast. He had apparently forgotten about marriage, and now was going to take what he could not have on his own.

Margie saw me move. In her eyes, I saw understanding. I knew she remembered her dreams of me, and all of our bedtime conversations. I shook my head slightly, warning her that she must not call attention to my actions. She choked back her sobs and turned away.

“If you do not sit down and allow us our pleasures, we will hack off your legs below the knees and sit you in that corner,” Edward said to Father. “And then, because you have put me to so much trouble, we will not simply enjoy ourselves with your lovely wife and daughter. You will watch them die before you bleed to death yourself.”

He slurped the rest of his beer, slammed his cup down, grabbed my mother, and pushed her toward the bed. She fell, tunic flying.

“No!” My father lunged. Edward punched him in the face. Father sagged, his body going slack, his cheek and nose imprinted by the chain mail.

Guthbert pulled Marguerite to him and tried to rip her tunic farther. She screamed.

A roaring battle cry came from the door. James. I had forgotten all about him. He tore through the door, bellowing.

Edward grinned as James rushed him.

I pushed off the floor, grabbed James, and tossed him back, swaying.

Edward stared. Then he rushed me, extending his knife. I grabbed his hand and deflected the blade, but not enough. He still shoved it into my side.

“You be a right devil,” he grunted. He pulled the knife out and was about to stick it into my chest when James leaped and deflected the blow.

“James, no!” Father roared.

The knife didn’t hurt so much the second time because I knew it wouldn’t kill me. As the knight tossed James off his back, I kicked him in the stomach and pulled the truncheon off his belt. I brought the club down on his arm, knocking the dagger away. He yelled.