The shotgun blast went past the construct’s left ear and took the man behind him in the chest. He dropped out of sight.
The construct advanced towards me, but I wasn’t in a hurry any more. I backed down the corridor at a leisurely pace, letting the construct follow, and switched the shotgun to my left hand as I searched in my pocket for my dispel focus. Once I’d found it I let the construct catch up. The construct reached for my neck and I ducked under its arms and drove the focus into its body. My dispel focus is a long sliver of silvery metal, rather like a screwdriver without a handle. It’s a close-range weapon, but it’s good at what it does. The construct spasmed, its hands clutching at empty air, then the life seemed to go out of it and it crumpled to the floor. The futures in which I had to deal with being strangled vanished.
And there we go. I looked ahead to see that the man I’d shot was being dragged away from the window by his buddy. I could have finished them off, but I was pretty sure they weren’t coming back, which meant they weren’t a threat any more. Besides, I didn’t really want to kill anyone if I could avoid it, even if the little bastard had tried to drop a grenade on me. I headed downstairs.
By the time I made it back to the ground floor the battle was winding up. The door Kyle had been guarding was open, and another construct was lying on the ground; this one had apparently taken enough of a mauling that it had been put out of action. Kyle was nowhere to be seen, but I could sense fire magic nearby and I followed it through the main doors.
Cinder was in the next room over. Crates were scattered around, some of them burning, but all of his human adversaries looked to be either dead or fleeing. The only enemy still on its feet was one of the constructs, and it was missing an arm. It came lumbering towards Cinder, reaching out with its remaining hand.
A blade of searing red light formed at Cinder’s fist. He stepped in close to meet the construct and rammed the blade through its body and out the other side. The construct jerked as Cinder dragged the blade up through the thing’s torso, cutting it almost in two. An acrid scent of burned hair filled the room and the construct collapsed to the floor, the huge split in its body glowing red, clothes smouldering and igniting from the heat. Cinder turned to shoot me a look.
I nodded down at the construct. ‘Thought they were fireproof.’
‘Fire-resistant,’ Cinder said curtly. ‘What happened up top?’
‘One dead construct.’
‘You kill the handlers?’
‘No.’
Cinder grunted and turned away. I thought about asking what had happened to the ones down here, but there was a putrid-sweet whiff of burned flesh in the air and I had a feeling I already knew the answer.
Footsteps sounded behind and I turned to see Kyle jog in through the back door. ‘Lost them,’ he said briefly. ‘Winged one, but I didn’t want to push too close.’
‘More coming?’ Cinder asked me.
I concentrated. It was hard, because Kyle and Cinder kept moving around – unlike my friends, they haven’t learned the drill for when I’m path-walking. ‘Nothing immediate,’ I said after a minute. ‘You should be clear for ten to fifteen minutes, but I can’t give you any promises past that.’
‘Long enough,’ Cinder said. ‘Kyle.’
‘I got it, I’m on vacuum duty,’ Kyle said. ‘Hey, Verus, give me my gun back.’
I handed over the shotgun. ‘I kind of want one of my own now.’
‘Chat later,’ Cinder said curtly. ‘We leave in ten.’
After seven minutes, Kyle had finished packing. By nine minutes and thirty seconds, we were stepping through a gateway. Staging points took up another five minutes, gating to a place where we could sit and talk took three, getting seated in the restaurant took another two and it took six minutes more for our food to arrive.
‘I can’t believe you still have an appetite,’ I told Cinder.
We were sitting in a McDonald’s somewhere in western England. Through the windows I could see dark skies, the shadows broken up by the white and red lights of cars zooming by on the A road. It wasn’t the first time I’d met Cinder at the restaurant here. Maybe it was his preferred meeting place for business negotiations. Then again, maybe he just liked the food.
Cinder shoved another handful of fries into his mouth. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘That frigging smell,’ I said. I was the only one without a tray in front of me; just the thought of eating turned my stomach. I don’t know whether burned human flesh really does have a different scent from burned animal flesh or whether I’m just imagining it, but one thing I know for sure is that it lingers. I could still smell the stuff if I let myself think about it. ‘It doesn’t bother you?’
Cinder shrugged.
‘I mean, I’m not exactly squeamish,’ I said. ‘But that particular putrid smell—’
‘Do you mind?’ Kyle said. He was holding a Quarter Pounder and giving me a look. ‘I’d like to keep this down.’
‘How can you eat?’
Kyle grimaced. ‘You get used to it.’
Kyle had cleaned out everything valuable or useful from the warehouse, scooping it all into his dimensional storage like a gigantic vacuum cleaner. Watching him was like watching one of those stage magicians who pulls out a never-ending stream of flower bouquets and coloured handkerchiefs, except in reverse. I’d never really considered the applications of that kind of space magic, but now that I thought about it, I could see how big an advantage it was. One of the big problems with being hunted is logistics: running away is fine in the short term, but you still need a place to store your stuff and sleep, and that makes you vulnerable. But if you can carry everything with you, then moving your base becomes a ten-minute operation. That explained why I hadn’t seen any wards on the warehouse: why bother to ward a place when you’re just going to abandon it as soon as you’re found?
What it didn’t explain was why Cinder was being hunted in the first place. It’s true that being a Dark mage isn’t exactly a safe way of life – if you aren’t willing to deal with the occasional assassination squad trying to kill you in your sleep, you’ve got no business being on the Dark side of the fence in the first place – but this seemed excessive even for him.
‘So who were the goons?’ I said. I wasn’t worried about being overheard; no one was close enough, and the hum and clatter of the kitchen behind the counter would have drowned it out anyway. A fast-food restaurant is a pretty good place if you want to discuss something private. ‘You sounded like this wasn’t your first run-in.’
‘Third,’ Kyle said.
I looked at Cinder to see that the Dark mage had a mouth full of fries. He made a vague waving motion at Kyle, apparently happy to let the adept do the talking, so I turned back to him. ‘You said a name I thought I recognised back there,’ I said. ‘Pyre. Are we talking about the same guy? Dark fire mage based out of London, used to hang out around Dagenham … ?’
‘That’d be him.’
‘Great,’ I said sourly.
‘Not a fan?’
‘He’s a piece of shit,’ I said bluntly. I’m normally a bit more circumspect when it comes to expressing my opinions of other mages, but one nice thing about Cinder is that I don’t have to guard my words much. ‘Why’s he got his sights on you guys? I’m pretty sure you aren’t his type.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well,’ Kyle said, ‘if we’re sharing stories, I want to know how you met the guy. He another acquaintance from your old days?’