Charlie Madigan: Shadows Before The Sun Part 8

The breeze once again blew in from the sea and we stood there staring at each other.

Leander's scowl was dark and menacing. He spoke in a tongue I had never heard before at the same time moving his arms and hands in a graceful set of gestures, as though pulling some invisible force to him. The air warbled as he spoke. Even with the spell Light.w.a.ter had given me, I couldn't understand the words. They were deep and so powerful it felt like all the air had left the house. He made a swirling motion with his arms and spun. Light shot out in all directions, and then came back in again, bringing with it sparks and colors, all condensing down to where we stood. Leander released another word and the dome went back up and my power blew through me as it erupted inside of the sphere and then dissipated.

I ended up on my a.s.s, breathing heavily, eyes wide with shock.

Leander knelt in the center of the circle, one forearm draped over his bent knee and his head hanging low.

My brain scrambled to make sense of what had happened. I'd never seen anything like that before. Never even heard of anything like that before. "What the h.e.l.l are you?"

His head lifted. His eyes glowed and then slowly faded.

He stood, brushed off his jacket, and then regarded me with a curt expression. "And that concludes this portion of the interview."

I rolled my eyes and got up. Leander wasn't too bad at trash talk and sarcasm, either. "Can I have my clothes and weapons back now?"

He snapped his fingers and everything was back where it had been.

"So what exactly was the light show about?" I had an idea but I wanted to hear it from him, mainly because it seemed so impossible.

"I have business to discuss with you. Your power escaped the confinement circle. Sachath coming here would've delayed proceedings. I hate delays. You should make a note of that."

"So you brought it back. My power. You pulled it back and manifested the circle to contain it. Are you a siren?" I'd seen beings manipulate powers that weren't their own, but this . . . this was commanding my energy with voice and word. And if Leander could do that, then he could've kicked my a.s.s anytime he chose. I was lucky to be breathing.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Done yet?"

"No, not yet." I was too intrigued to stop now, and if the guy had wanted me dead, he'd have done it by now. "How do you even know about Sachath? And how do you know about me? And Hank? Is he alive?"

"I know many things, Charlie Madigan. How I know them is not important. I will tell you this . . . your partner lives." My knees went weak. "And dies."

I blinked. "What?"

Leander walked closer to the column to stare out at the dark blue sky. Only a few slashes of muted orange remained. "Putting it mildly, the Circe can be . . . cruel." He smiled ruefully, his voice dropping low. He turned to me and there was a brief look of empathy in his eyes. "Death might be the most merciful option for Nierian now."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and my heart pounding. Before I knew it, I was next to Leander, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face me. "Where is he?" My voice broke.

Leander said nothing. His hand covered my own and instead of removing the death grip my finger had on his bicep, he closed his hands over mine. "Surviving the NecroNaMoria is . . . rare. I'm sorry."

I flung his hand away and released him, stepping back. "Then you don't know Hank. If I can get to him in time, he'll heal from this . . . Necro thing. He'll sleep for a long time and then he'll be fine, he'll . . ." Leander's eyes turned sad, resigned, as though Hank was already gone, and it p.i.s.sed me off, this sympathy. "f.u.c.k you. I'm not giving up. That might be how you do things, but not me. And not Hank." A tear slipped from my eye and I wiped it away angrily. "You're going to tell me where he is or I swear to G.o.d I will unleash everything I have until nothing remains of this house or you."

His look said yeah, right. "I don't know where your partner is being held, but I know he is here and I know of the NecroNaMoria because that kind of crafting defiles a place, corrupts the energy of this world like a slow disease. No matter how hard they try to hide it . . . Once you've tasted soul crafting, you never forget the stench it leaves behind."

"And the NecroNaMoria, what's it do?"

"It's a spell that tethers a soul to a body that has died. It forces the soul back from the very edges of paradise and into a world of pain. If the body is in a condition to heal and resurrect, it does. Then, the torture can start all over again."

And that's what Hank was going through. Right now. All this time. G.o.d.

Numbly, I walked to the step between the main floor and the terrace and sat down. For a long moment, I stared at nothing, feeling like I burned from the inside out. Burned because I was here and he was there, and I couldn't do a d.a.m.ned thing about it. I wanted to scream.

"Since you seem to be familiar with this kind of crafting, you can help him," I said at length, glancing over at Leander. "Whatever business you think you have with me, whatever it is you want from me, won't happen unless you help me."

"That I cannot do. Once the NecroNaMoria is begun, there is little one can do to stop it."

"Then I guess we're done here." I got up to leave.

"I need you to retrieve an object from the Circe."

I kept walking.

"Retrieve it and I give you something in return."

I turned around at the front door, p.i.s.sed that I was crying, angry that he couldn't help me after everything he'd put me through, angry that I was standing there in Hank's home not getting anywhere. "Don't you get it? There is nothing else you could offer."

"There is, Charlie. Otherwise I would not be here." He paused as if best deciding how to proceed and then it seemed he decided for bluntness. "I have the antidote to ash."

Time screeched to a sudden stop. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, staring at him, my mind trying to catalog his words in the midst of my grief.

"Whether or not you can save your partner"-he shrugged-"I don't know. But I do know you can save your sister and the others in your city. Does this not interest you?"

My mouth worked and I finally found my voice. "You have the antidote to ash."

"I have something you need. The Circe have something I need. You plan to gain access to their domain to save Nierian. A little detour to retrieve the tablet and your sister's drug problem is solved. This is what they call a win-win."

And you're what I call a smart-a.s.s.

I wiped the wetness from my face with my arm and regarded him for a long moment. My thoughts cleared. "What's the object?"

"It's a rectangular stone tablet." He held out his hand and cupped it slightly. "The size of a small book. Rounded corners. The front and back are also rounded like dough that has just started to rise. On the tablet are hundreds of small symbols pressed into both sides. It is the color of dried mud and looks worthless to the untrained eye."

"But the symbols are not," I surmised.

"No, they are not. They were priceless enough to start a war."

"And what do you plan to do with the tablet?" Visions of Llyran and Grigori Tennin flashed before my eyes. "Because I can tell you, I'm up to here with psychos out to rule the world via ancient relics and weapons."

Leander's lips curled into a genuine smile, which turned into a laugh. It was a rich sound, warm and deep. He opened his hands in a sign of innocence, though his expression was c.o.c.ky and anything but.

"The tablet holds information about the First Ones and their Disciples."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I let out a loud sigh. Why did it always come back to them? "First Ones I know, but Disciples . . . never heard of them."

"They are beings imbued with the power to serve and protect their lord, a First One, as myths call them-we call them Archons. When the Archons slept, the Disciples stood guard until one day they, too, slept."

"And the tablet is necessary because?"

His look became impatient. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because stacking the odds in our favor would be a good f.u.c.king idea. Because if we don't and the Circe figure out what they've got, then we're all going to the Afterlife. Is that reason enough for you, Madigan?"

I rubbed a hand down my face. Leander grabbed my arm. Power radiated from him. His fingers dug hard into my muscle. "We need that tablet or we're f.u.c.ked, and it's only a matter of time until the s.h.i.t storm arrives."

I winced and tried to pull away but he held me firmly. "How do you know about me? About Sachath?"

"I know all about Ahkneri and her sword. You think those anonymous politicians in Washington don't answer to someone higher? You think your new job and everyone else like you are there for the h.e.l.l of it? Think Tennin and the Sons of Dawn are bad? You ain't seen the s.h.i.t I deal with on a daily basis. You're living in a bubble, Madigan. Think on that."

"Who are you?"

"One who knows what's coming. Do we have a deal or not?"

"We'll exchange in Atlanta. My terms. If the antidote works, you get your rock."

"I'll wait in the city. Contact me when you're ready." He shoved a business card into my hand, released my arm, and stepped around me, b.u.mping my shoulder.

Jerk.

After he left, I glanced down. No name on the card, just an address and a number. The address I committed to memory, not that it was difficult; I'd been there numerous times.

Helios Tower.

8.

I'd returned to a palace illuminated. Fires burned in basins at the corners of balconies and courtyards. Light spilled from rooms open to the night air. The entire complex shone above the city like a beacon.

A beacon to getting lost, maybe.

The guards had recognized me, so getting in hadn't been the problem. It was finding my d.a.m.ned room that proved to be a challenge. It eluded me at every turn, every hallway, atrium, and level. The entire palace was one giant labyrinth, and I was beginning to suspect the design served a purpose-an ingenious one, from a defensive standpoint.

I got lost, turned around, repeated steps, and might've kicked a statue or two in frustration. Finally, I leaned back against the wall before I did some real damage, and, thankfully, at that moment, Pelos hurried by, stopped, and came back. He regarded me with a knowing expression. "Lost, are you?"

"That obvious?"

He smiled. "Happens all the time. Come along. I'll take you back to your room."

"The builders were pretty smart," I said as we walked down the dimly lit corridor, "to design a palace like this."

"It started out small. Every king made his mark, adding to the palace, connecting levels in different ways. Most confusing to visitors and enemies alike. If you live here, you get to know all the pa.s.sages and levels. We in the palace could escape while the enemy would get lost, like you did, and give our soldiers a chance to attack."

The only real enemy would lie from within, I thought. Someone who knew the palace. But I kept that thought to myself as we pa.s.sed a hallway I'd previously come down, and through a courtyard I recognized, up a level and then finally to the room. "There you are. In a day or two, finding your way back here will come easier."

The light by the door was bright compared to the pa.s.sageways, and as Pelos opened the door and stood aside, he gasped. "What happened to your face?"

I hadn't forgotten about the fight with Leander, but I'd given little thought to my appearance. No wonder the guards had given me an odd look as I hurried inside the palace. "I ran into that statue of the griffin, the one we pa.s.sed in the first courtyard. Or was it the second." I touched a sore spot over my left eyebrow. "Hurts. That's what I get for getting lost and turned around."

He winced on my behalf. "We have excellent healers. If you'd like I could-"

"No. But thank you. I can take care of it."

"As you will. There is food waiting in your room."

I gave him a nod of thanks and entered a wonderful place filled with the smell of roasted fowl of some sort and breads, cheeses, and fish.

Bone tired, I shrugged off the cloak, filled a plate from the buffet, and then sat on the long couch to eat, wondering if Sandra had already gone to bed for the night. That notion was stifled when she walked in the front door.

"Oh, good, you're back. I was doing a little recon and-"

I nearly choked. "Recon?"

She patted me hard on the back and then proceeded to the buffet. "Of course. The sooner we achieve whatever task fate has set out for us, the sooner I'll be able to return to normal."

I snorted at that. She glared over her shoulder, brought her plate to the opposite couch, and sat down, where she studied me for a long moment with those creepy earthy green eyes of hers. "Nice bruises. Fighting already, are we? We're supposed to keep a low profile."

"Believe me, no one saw the fight. And, for the record, I didn't start it."

"You never do, do you?" She didn't wait for me to answer. "Did you go to the towers? Did you feel your siren in residence?"

My chest went tight. The food in my stomach turned heavy and Leander's information swirled in the forefront of my mind. "No. I didn't feel anything." I pushed my food around the plate with my fork.

"That's too bad. Maybe tomorrow you'll have better luck. Everyone here is locked up tight, lips sealed, you know? I tried small talk with a few visiting dignitaries who have been here for two weeks-two weeks!-and they look at me like I am asking them to take a trip to the moon. No one wants to talk about the Circe. Like they're the boogeyman or something . . ."

"Sandra."

She shoved an olive in her mouth. "Hmm?"

"What is Sachath exactly?"

Her chewing motion froze and we just stared at each other.

She wasn't on her stage high on laurel smoke, and I wasn't a paying customer. We'd gone beyond client and oracle to something different. Sitting here like this, more casual and intimate than we'd ever been . . . it smacked of the beginnings of, maybe not a friendship, but a relationship nonetheless.

She reached for her drink, took a few gulps, before setting her plate down beside her. "There are certain paths, certain decisions people must make for themselves. My job as oracle is not to change a person's destiny, but give them foresight so they might fulfill the fate set out for them."

"So what's the point, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"If there's no changing or altering this predetermined path we're all supposedly on, then why bother living at all, why struggle, why get a job, and fight the good fight? If all of our decisions come around to one single end, no matter what we do . . ." I shook my head. "I don't buy it."

"You don't have to. There are many paths, many decisions that alter one's life. Fate does not have a life planned out to a tee. It's the journey that makes life worth living, but there are roads we must cross, people we must interact with, things we must or must not do in order for the bigger picture to play out as it should. Take you, for instance . . ."

I set my plate on the cushion beside me.

"And your daughter, Emma. There would've been nothing you could've done to prevent her from being conceived or from being born. She needed to be here and so she is. The Revenant coming into her life was also destiny, since he will impact her life in a way that shapes her and her future."