The Summoner shook his head. “I don’t know what that is.”
Sullivan lifted his rife. That meant the thing had gotten ahead of them. “It’s here—”
There was a long scream, which echoed down the halls. It came from the direction of the entrance and it certainly didn’t sound like it had come from a human being. Then there was another scream, this one entirely too human and filled with unmistakable pain. There was a gunshot, and another, and then a rattling barrage of automatic weapons fire.
He set off at a run. Sullivan was fast for a Heavy, especially when driven by the thought that his men were counting on him. Several knights were right behind him.
But they were too late.
Diamond had called the entrance an airlock. Whatever it was, the room had been built tight, with solid doors to keep the cold out and the feeble warmth in. Now, that heavy door had been ripped from its hinges and was lying on the floor in pieces. The room had been painted red, floor to dripping ceiling. The crumpled lumps of winter clothing were all that were left of their wounded knights and their Healer. A haze made of particulate blood and bits of shredded goose down hung in the air. And in the center of the room, a thing made out of nightmares turned and hissed at them.
In the dim light, it could be mistaken for a person. Briefly. As it turned, wet muscles rolled beneath a thin, translucent covering. There were bullet holes puckered across its torso, weeping black, but it didn’t seem to notice. It dropped the severed leg it had been gnawing on when it heard Sullivan’s heavy footfalls, and when it turned and opened its jagged face to scream at them again with that horrific banshee wail, Sullivan let the thing have it.
Gravity shifted, magnified a dozen times, hurling the creature back and crushing it into the wall. It screeched and tried to push away, struggling to reach for him with long, pointed fingers. Sullivan aimed the BAR at its heart and squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 7
Healing the sick, walking through walls? Sure, that’s neat an’ all, but I met this one brother who could play bagpipes you could swing to. Now that’s real magic.
Paris, France
Faye was waiting for Jacques Montand to arrive at the little café, rather patiently, she might add, when she realized that she was being watched. She had spotted the man on the sidewalk that morning. Then when she’d caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window a few blocks later, she’d gotten suspicious. Taking a seat in the front of the same café ten minutes after Faye had arrived had been the final straw.
He was a fairly average-looking fellow, tall, lean, older than her, but not by more than ten years at the most. His overcoat and fedora were dark, nothing that would stand out on the street, and he was pretty good at looking like he wasn’t watching her from behind the newspaper he was pretending to read.
A quick, focused check of her head map confirmed that the man had magic. He was an Active. She tried not to feel smug as she congratulated herself on picking out the tail. Lance had called that sort of thing field craft, which made sense, since, like hunting, it was all about paying attention. Faye’s initial reaction to suspicious men following her around was to greet them, preferably with sudden, overwhelming violence, but today she refrained. If he was Imperium, he’d show it soon enough.
But what if the stranger was using her to find Jacques? There were all sorts of nefarious groups that wanted to murder the leaders of the Grimnoir. Mr. Browning had tried to warn her about that many times. But everybody thought she was dead, so using her to find them didn’t make much sense either.
Well, if he was an Imperium spy sent to find the Grimnoir elders, it would serve Jacques right for not helping her find a place to stay where she wouldn’t have to worry about being spotted and followed. She’d been forced to get a hotel room. Which was annoying, both because she didn’t know her way around Paris at all and didn’t understand a word of the language, except that a lot of the words sounded like mumbly versions of Portuguese words, and also because hotel rooms in this part of town were expensive, and she had only borrowed one stack of money from Francis’ walk-in safe before she’d left America. To be fair, all of Francis’ money stacks tended to be really thick and made entirely out of large denominations, so she was in no danger of running out anytime soon, but it was more the principle of the matter.
Jacques arrived fifteen minutes late with a briefcase in hand. He smiled at the pretty young waitress, asked for something in French, and then took his time strolling across the room. She discreetly kept an eye on the stranger while Jacques took a seat across from her. The stranger’s eyes flicked over toward them briefly, and then back to the newspaper.
You’re pretty good, buddy, but I’m better. If he so much as twitched wrong, Faye would Travel him up to the top of that big funny-looking metal tower with the funny name and drop him off it.
“Good morning, my dear. You appear rather enthusiastic.”
She was always enthusiastic when she was thinking about how to take care of bad guys. Faye kept her voice a whisper. “The man by the window, he’s been watching me.”
Jacques didn’t even bother to look. “Well, you are a rather pretty young lady, Faye.”
Faye didn’t think of herself as pretty, but the compliment made her blush. “That’s not what I meant. He tailed me here.”
The senior Grimnoir nodded. “I see.” The waitress brought Jacques one of the fancy coffees and a plate of intricate little pastries. “Merci.”
“You ain’t worried?”
“Do you believe I should be?”
“What with all of the assassinating and whatnot, yeah, probably.”
Jacques’ eyes twinkled when he smiled. He cleared his throat loudly. The stranger looked up, Jacques looked over and nodded at him once. The stranger folded his newspaper, got up, tipped his hat at Faye, and walked out.
“He’s one of yours?”
“Of course,” Jacques said as he popped a pastry in his mouth.
“You were having me tailed?”
He finished chewing first. It would have been impolite to talk with his mouth full. “Only for your own safety. There are many international elements within this city that would be very interested in someone with your reputation.”
Faye snorted. “I don’t need protecting. I spotted him no problem.”
“Yes. You did. Did you spot the other three I sent, though?”
Faye looked around the room. None of these people seemed familiar in the slightest. “No…” He might have just been making it up to mess with her, but now she would be on the lookout just in case. “Way to go, Jacques. You know I was pretending to be dead.”
“No need to fear. These knights are as loyal to me as your friends are to John Browning or General Pershing before him. They will not say a word to anyone, especially the other elders, because I have asked them not to. I merely wanted to keep an eye on you. I’m curious to see if you will be able to spot the others now. They are compatriots of Whisper’s, and if I may be so bold as to say so, extremely talented individuals. That should prove to be an amusing challenge for you, no? So, are you ready to continue your lessons?” He did not wait for his response, but rather opened his briefcase and began shuffling through papers. “We will start with a small test.”