Bewitched & Betrayed

Chapter 7

When we’d arrived, the street outside Sirens had been fairly busy. Now not a soul was in sight—except for my Guardians and an equal number of equally well- armed goblins. Goblins were normally tall; these guys were taller than that, and would probably have looked just as big without all that black body armor. It was way too quiet; we were in the middle of a city and the only sound was the uneasy shifting of horses’ hooves on the cobbles and the occasional equine snort. That was just wrong.

Everyone was on horseback except for Tam and me and the Guardians who had been inside Sirens. Rathdowne Street was more of a broad boulevard than a street, but it was still entirely too full of armed goblins for my taste.

The sun was down, leaving only the faintest glow, and the streetlamps had been lit. Damn, I hadn’t meant to stay this long. Grim-faced Guardians were alert to any move the goblins made or were even thinking about making. I could have cut the tension with a spoon. Somehow I didn’t think that the first move was going to be friendly handshakes.

I counted ten goblins in the street in front of Sirens, with a pair guarding—or blocking—both ends of Rathdowne Street. The same number of Guardians had moved to cover them. Mid was under a dusk-to-dawn curfew, so what would have normally been a crowded street in the middle of the entertainment district was conveniently empty of witnesses for whatever was about to happen.

Guardians and city watch patrolled the city to enforce the curfew. Overhead, periodic plumes of fire marked where Guardian sentry dragons prowled the sky over the city, nimble and quick enough that their riders could land pretty much anywhere they wanted. If anything happened down here, any one of the Guardians with me could instantly conjure and launch a flare. Backup was just a fireball away. One of the goblins occasionally glanced skyward. They knew what was up there. It might be a deterrent; it might not.

One horse and its goblin rider were slightly out in front of the others. Since she was the only woman in the group, I assumed that she was Imala Kalis. Unlike some of her men, she didn’t look in the least bit tense; in fact, the goblin was smiling. Her face was half in shadow, but since that smile gave everyone a good look at a pair of tiny, white, and obviously sharp fangs, her intention could have been anything. But it had been my experience that social calls generally weren’t made with an armed escort. Imala Kalis could have brought two dozen mounted and heavily armed men with her for protection, or it could have been for persuasion. My bet was on the latter.

“You’re not going to invite me inside, Tam?” Imala Kalis’s voice was like a silk-covered stiletto.

“You, possibly,” Tam said coolly. “Your muscle, highly unlikely.”

“You’ve refused my invitations, so if I wished to speak with you, you left me no choice but to come to your place of business. And considering the present political climate, I could hardly make a social call by myself.”

I stepped out of the shadows to stand next to Tam. I was certain he’d prefer if I stayed out of sight, but I wanted a closer look at Imala Kalis—and I wanted her to get a closer look at me. My family doesn’t like being intimidated, and while I knew Tam didn’t intimidate, I wasn’t going to stand in the shadows while the lady played her little games. I’d ditched the fake blades; my own razor-sharp ones were now strapped in clear view across my back. Imala Kalis’s guards shifted uneasily at the sign of an armed elf. I didn’t hide my magical power; I didn’t flaunt it, either. It never hurts to let them know you’re packing.

Imala Kalis didn’t look uneasy or even a wee bit nervous. Her smile just got wider. “Mistress Benares, I presume.”

I bared my teeth to match hers. “Presumption correct.”

“I expected you to be taller.” She swung a graceful leg over her horse’s neck and dismounted, landing lightly on the cobbles.

Damned if she wasn’t shorter than I was. The streetlamps gave me a good look at her face. I have to admit I was surprised there, too. The head of the goblin secret service, the agent at the top of the ladder, the lady in the big office was . . . well, cute.

Her face was oval, delicate, and pretty. It’d been my experience that goblin women were tall and coldly beautiful. Imala Kalis was petite and perky. She looked like someone’s cute little sister, someone’s cute and deadly little sister. And I wasn’t the only one packing magic. Imala Kalis had nowhere near the level of talent that the Saghred had cursed me with, but it was obvious that she knew her way around a spell or two. She might be petite, but magically speaking she was no lightweight. Large, dark eyes shone with a keen intelligence and secrets, lots of secrets. One look at this lady told me that she probably had schemes and plots piled on top of motives, and she didn’t bother with alibis, or care who she had to kill. In other words, a perfect goblin.

Imala Kalis stepped forward and extended her hand. It was gloved; so was mine. A handshake between mages was more than a greeting. Skin-on-skin contact combined with a quick questing spell could let a mage assess the true power of another. That was one reason when mages got together there was a lot of head nodding and bowing going on.

I took two steps and accepted her hand, and there were hisses, a couple of growls, and one “shit” when I did it. The last one came from Vegard. I shook Imala Kalis’s hand because I wanted to and it would be rude not to. I also had three reasons why it was perfectly safe. One, I was wearing thick gloves; two, thanks to the Saghred, I was packing more than enough power to protect myself; and three, if Imala Kalis tried a questing spell on me, I’d be using my fist on her.

She looked in my eyes, and I think she knew all three. Her smile turned into a grin, and I swear the woman had dimples. A cute killer goblin with dimples. Damn.

“You are not what I expected, Mistress Benares.” She actually looked happy about that.

“You’re not exactly what I envisioned, either.”

“I get that comment quite often.”

“I’m sure you do.” And looking into those sharp, intelligent eyes, anyone would be making a fatal mistake if they underestimated her for one second. I wondered if those dimples had been the last thing some people had seen before being dispatched to their great reward. I shrugged. “What you see is what I am.”

“I very much doubt that.” Imala Kalis raised her voice to address her men. “Gentlemen, this is the lady who tricked Sarad Nukpana into feeding himself to the Saghred.”

The goblins with her grinned; a few chuckled darkly. I wasn’t sure if either was a good thing since both involved me seeing a lot of fangs. If a goblin wanted to kill you, they would prefer a single, efficient slash or stab; but like I said, in a down-and-dirty fight, they would use their fangs to fatal effect. I’d seen the aftermath before; it wasn’t pretty.

Tam stepped forward to stand at my side, so close I could feel his tense disapproval. He didn’t want me here.

“There is no love lost between the secret service and Sarad Nukpana—and his Khrynsani,” he explained. His voice was preternaturally calm, which meant that Tam wasn’t.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Mistress Benares,” Imala Kalis said without taking her bright black eyes from Tam. “We each curse the ground the other walks on.”

I assumed she was talking about Nukpana and the Khrynsani, not Tam, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

Tam didn’t bat an eye. “It’s one of the few viewpoints we have ever agreed upon.”

Score one point for Imala Kalis’s people, though I wasn’t going to be in a hurry to give them any more. Like I said, she hadn’t brought that many guards with her because she was afraid of being mugged. This tiny woman didn’t get to where she was by being afraid of much, if anything. Tam towered over her by a good foot, and she showed no sign of stepping back; if anything, the lady looked challenged and happy about it.

“It is indeed convenient that you are here, Mistress Benares,” she said. “I’ve been asked to deliver this to you.”

She drew an intricately folded piece of parchment out of her sleekly tailored doublet and extended it to me.

I made no move to touch it. “And this is from . . .”

“Ambassador Rudra Muralin.” Imala Kalis flashed her dainty fangs. “Excuse me, my mistake—Ambassador Rudra Mal’Salin. False identities are so inconvenient to remember.”

Imala Kalis hadn’t forgotten a thing. I knew it and so did she. Rudra Muralin was a thousand-year-old goblin, the blackest of dark mages who had used the Saghred to slaughter thousands and enslave thousands more.

Rudra Muralin wanted the Saghred. He needed me dead.

Any old death would do just as long as he was the first mage to reach the rock after my untimely demise.

I still made no move to touch Rudra’s letter. “It’s been opened.”

Imala Kalis laughed. “Of course it has. First I had to break the spell, then the seal. It was a nasty one, too.”

“Hardly surprising. Then you’ve read it.”

“Yes, it was the most direct way to confirm what else he’s up to. The contents are no surprise to me—as I doubt they will be to you. My advice is to read it, burn it, and ignore it. His assurances are lies and his promises poison.”

I took the parchment and, after muttering a quick shielding spell, I unfolded the paper, holding it so Tam could read along with me.

Imala Kalis was right; Rudra’s letter contained the same demands, though he had made the effort to spin a new, sick twist on them. He still wanted me and the Saghred. And like Sarad Nukpana, Rudra knew about the umi’atsu bond between me, Tam, Mychael, and the Saghred. And the only way to stop him from posting an announcement on the citadel’s front doors would be for me to surrender to him.

Come to the goblin embassy alone and your secret is safe. If you come to me, Tamnais and Mychael will not be exposed. Refuse me and you will all die—and I will still get what I want. It will merely take longer. I offer you the opportunity to save Tamnais and Mychael. They would give their lives for you. Would you give your soul for them?

Several weeks ago, Tam, Mychael, and I had used the power we could generate and share through our umi’atsu bond to close a Hellgate that Rudra Muralin and his black mage allies had opened. Imala Kalis had been there in the shadows, watching. She knew what we’d done—and how we’d done it.

My first impulse was to mutter a fire spell and torch the offending piece of parchment. As usual, Rudra didn’t sign it, so it was worthless as evidence against him, but Mychael would want to see it, so I folded it and put it in the small leather purse on my belt. No way was I tucking anything Rudra had touched inside my doublet. If I were Imala Kalis, when I went home, I’d take a bath.

As to what I was going to do about it—bottom line was that I didn’t like being bullied. When I was a kid, being small meant I’d been a target; being a Benares meant deadly backup was a whistle away. The only thing I hated more than a bully was asking someone to protect me from one. I took on my own bullies, thank you very much—even if they were thousand-year-old, obscenely powerful psychotic megalomaniacs.

“Vintage Rudra,” I noted dryly. “I give him what he wants and he promises to kill me nicely.” I looked directly at Imala Kalis. “And are you here to tell me the same thing?”

She gazed at me a moment, her expression unreadable. “I am not. I have no intentions of revealing the contents of that letter.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s one of those things that I’ll believe when I don’t see it.”

“Considering who and what the two of us are, I expected no less. I’m not asking for your belief or trust; though you will know soon enough that my words are the truth.”

“That would be nice, but I’m not going to hold my breath for it.”

She shrugged. “Were I in your place, I would do the same.” She gave me a small, self-satisfied smile. “And do not concern yourself with Rudra Muralin. The ambassador will be unable to act on any of his threats for at least the next three days.”

“Three days?”

Cute turned to fierce. “Rudra Muralin poisoned two of my people. They nearly died. Naturally, I retaliated. Three days is the length of time it takes to recover from a particular intestinal malady caused by a certain tasteless and odorless plant. Several of the ambassador’s closest advisors have mysteriously contracted it and are spending most of their time in the privy.” She smiled fully. “Whenever the ambassador wants advice, he has to go to where his advisors are. He’s quite unused to carrying out a plan without his lackeys. Your secret is safe for at least that long.”

Tam laughed. “Rudra forced to plot in the privy. If it weren’t for the stench, I’d almost pay to see that.”

“Unfortunately, Rudra didn’t eat the fish that night,” Imala Kalis told him. “I knew I should have put it in the beef.” She shrugged. “He has to eat again sometime. If he wishes to avoid an embassy-wide case of the runs, he will come to terms with me.”

“Terms?”

“I will accept nothing short of his resignation, then I will personally see him on a ship back to Regor—or to Hell for all I care.”

“Didn’t King Sathrik appoint him personally?” I asked.

“As head of the secret service, Imala outranks a mere ambassador,” Tam informed me.

Nice.

“And Sathrik knows of your botanical activities?” I asked Imala.

The cute smile was back. “It is not my intention to tell him.”

“You know who and what and how old Rudra Muralin is, right?” I asked her.

“I make it my business to know my enemies, Mistress Benares—to know what strengths can be turned against them and which weaknesses may be exploited. I think I would refer to that creature as a ‘what,’ not a ‘who.’ ”

I grinned at her. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t know why Imala Kalis was here or what she wanted, but I had to admit that the lady had style. “Rudra with the runs; that would be priceless.”

“Since he has a food taster whom I do not wish to harm, I’ve now tainted his soap. He’s especially fond of bathing.”

“Are the contents of that letter why you’re here?” Tam asked Imala Kalis.

I knew he meant her knowing about our umi’atsu bond.

“No.” She lowered her voice. “It is not in my best interests, or yours, for the contents of that letter to become public.”

“When will it be in your best interests?” Frost rolled off of Tam’s words.

“Never.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t expect you to. I’m here to help you. And if we can stop standing in the middle of the street, I can tell you why.”

Tam lowered his voice. “You can tell me right here.”

“And if I refuse?” Her words were playful but her eyes weren’t.

“Then Raine and I will go inside—and you and your men will leave.”

All signs of cute instantly vanished. “This is not a topic you want discussed openly.”

“I’ll decide that,” Tam countered smoothly. “Tell me what—”

There was a whistle and a thump and a goblin guard’s eyes went wide in pain and shock. He slid from horse to the street, a crossbow bolt embedded in his back. Two of the goblins posted at the end of the street were next. Then the air was thick with shouts and bolts.

I caught a flash of one of the shooters on a roof across the street. Dark clothes, with a tight, dark hood over his head.

The goblins nearest Imala Kalis instantly surrounded her, forming a goblin and equine shield around their boss. Tam and Vegard moved to protect me. They needn’t have bothered. I was in the shadows of Sirens before they could pull me there. I didn’t want to be turned into a pincushion, and I did want to know who was trying to make me one.

Vegard’s hands glowed incandescent white. The glow turned to white flame, spinning faster than the eye could follow into a whirling ball of fire. One shot skyward, a flare blazing straight up into the night sky. Vegard held the second fireball in his hand and scanned the rooftops. His lips curled back from his teeth in a feral snarl as he hurled it at the roofline of a nightclub across the street. A sniper erupted in burning white light and fell screaming three stories down to the street. There wasn’t much left when he landed. A blast of flame from a sentry dragon circling in the skies above the city signaled that Vegard’s flare had been seen. A second and a third dragon responded to the call. Backup was on the way, but would there be anything left of us when they got here?

A voice shouted three words from above us, each with its own discordant pitch and vibrating with a power that charged the air like the aftermath of a lightning strike. It was magic—raw, potent, and dangerous.

Talon.

Oh hell, kid. Not now.

I looked up to see Talon leaning out of a window two stories above us, his eyes fixed on a figure in the shadows not a dozen feet from where we were standing.

Shit.

I drew blades and the man didn’t move; I mean, he didn’t move at all. He had a crossbow, it was loaded, but it was only half-raised. The man was frozen. Not with a paralysis spell; I knew the residuals of a paralysis spell. This wasn’t it. It was as if Talon had stopped time for him.

That was impossible.

Tam saw what his son had done, and from the nearly sick expression on his face, I knew it was something Talon had no business doing, especially not with a street full of goblin secret service agents.

Talon nimbly swung out of the window and onto a fire escape ladder attached to the stone wall. The kid wasn’t coming down to us; he was running up that ladder to the roof.

Now it was my turn to feel sick. There were snipers up there and Talon was going after them. Alone. Recently Talon had taken on a major demon with his voice, and at that moment I’d known that the kid’s spellsongs weren’t limited to making Sirens’ clientele horny.

This was a deadly skill—and an inexperienced, impulsive teenager who had no clue of his own mortality had it.

We had to get up to that roof.

Two more goblins lay motionless in the street, their riderless horses adding to the chaos. As I watched, a Guardian went down. They had all shielded themselves with war magic so strong it was like a wall between them and whatever tried to get through. Solid work. The bolts passed through like there was nothing there. That meant there was magic of the blackest kind involved.

A hood did more than hide a face; it hid skin color and ears.

“Khrynsani!” shouted one of the goblins.

Tam shot an infuriated glance at Sirens’ roof, flung open the doors, and ran inside.

I was on his heels with Vegard right behind me. I sheathed my blades and checked my throwing daggers. I was going to bag myself a sniper. Alive would be good; I had some questions for the bastard, but dead would be perfectly acceptable.

I ran across the theatre floor toward the stage; that is, until Tam’s arm went around my waist and snatched me off my feet.

“Just where do you think—”

I twisted in his arms, putting us face-to-face. I pointed straight up. “Same place you’re going.”

“I’m going to the roof; you’re staying here.” Tam released me and ran to the bar, reaching behind it to pull out the wickedest crossbow I’d ever seen and a quarrel of bolts big enough to take down a sentry dragon.

I whistled. “Got another one of—”

“No!” Tam stalked past me and leapt to the stage in one smooth move. The stage was nearly shoulder-high on me so I had to run around to the stairs.

“Vegard, keep Raine down here,” Tam shouted back without turning. He was headed backstage and to the ladder that went to the catwalk above the stage and to the roof.

Not without me, he wasn’t. I think Tam realized that he couldn’t keep me from following him and get to the roof at the same time, and Vegard wasn’t about to sit this one out. By going up on that roof, he could protect me and get his hands on a Khrynsani at the same time. Tam slung the straps of the bow and quarrel over his shoulders and climbed that ladder quicker than a man could run up a flight of stairs.

“Those sentry dragons are going to torch anything on that roof,” Vegard said from behind me. “And if they’re Khrynsani, they’re goblins, and our men won’t be able to tell the difference between them and Talon.”

Tam swore and climbed faster.

I couldn’t catch Tam, but I could almost keep up. “We need one alive.” Though Nachtmagus Kalta could probably have a conversation with a dead one just as easily, and we’d be spared the annoyance of leaving a Khrynsani among the living. But in my family, killing someone you needed information from was just sloppy work. I was going to get a sniper, neat and tidy. He might have a neat hole or two in him, but he’d still be able to talk.

The ladder ended in the kind of door I didn’t want to see. It wasn’t a door; it was a hatch. It looked metal, and being on a roof meant it was probably heavy. Something or someone could be on top of it or next to it. That meant anyone trying to get through would have their head sticking up for about a split second too long if there was an alert sniper on the other side.

Tam slowed as he neared the top of the ladder, his boots making no sound as he stopped just short of the hatch. I stopped about five rungs below him. If Tam needed to come back down quickly, I’d worry about how to get out of his way then. Tam had the wicked crossbow, not me. It was the roof of his nightclub that a sniper was using as his killing perch—and it was his son up there. By rights, it was his takedown.

I was in the middle of hoping that the hinges had been oiled recently, when the hatch was flung open above Tam’s head.

I knew Tam was fast, but damn. One second his crossbow was slung over his shoulder; the next he put a bolt straight up through the opening. A grunt and the thud of a body hitting the roof told me that not only had some idiot opened the hatch; he’d bent over to take a peek inside.

Since stealth had just been shot to hell, Tam leapt out onto the roof, a solid shield of red surrounding him. He just stood there, unmoving, not firing, glowing red, and scanning the rooftop. He held his crossbow ready, but he didn’t fire; he also didn’t call out the all clear.

“What is it?” I asked Tam in mindspeak. About the only good thing about the umi’atsu bond that Tam and I shared was the ability to communicate silently. That had come in handy recently.

“Talon’s got one.” Even Tam’s mindspeak was the barest whisper.

I knew why.

Spellsong magic was dependent on sound: tone and pitch. Vocal or direct magical interference could negate a spellsong or send it snapping back at the singer. A master spellsinger could block out interference.

Talon wasn’t a master. At least I didn’t think so.

I shielded myself and scrambled as quickly and silently as I could through the hatch before Tam could think to close it on me. Vegard emerged a split second after I did. From the shouts down below, Imala Kalis and her people were still under attack, but no one was firing on them from Sirens’ roof.

Tam hadn’t taken cover behind anything because there was absolutely zero cover up here. If we lived through tonight, I was sure Tam would rectify that oversight.

Talon had a sniper frozen, unmoving, unblinking, unaware. With a paralysis spell, the subject had no clue what was happening. Like I’d said, it was as if the kid had frozen time.

Talon was unwholesomely handsome, a slightly smaller version of his father. The only difference was Talon’s paler gray skin and aquamarine eyes courtesy of his elven mother.

The kid’s voice was silk, descending in tone and pitch until he held a single deep note and then carefully let it evaporate in the air.

I reached for my blades. To stop a spellsong is to stop the spell.

Talon’s spell held and the sniper didn’t as much as blink.

It should have been impossible, but unless my eyes were lying to me, it was all too possible, and Talon had done it easily.

With an ease that said it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

Talon sounded pleased with himself. “Don’t worry,” he told Tam. “I got this one; you got the other. End of problem. It was just the two of them up here.”

What Tam was worried and angry about wasn’t snipers on his roof, but what his son had just done and who might have seen him do it. Tam’s fear was a palpable thing in the air. The only thing Tam had ever been truly afraid of was having someone he loved in danger. I sensed that fear now for Talon.

Tam’s voice was a tight, enraged whisper. “I’ve told you never to—”

“Keep a killer from putting a bolt in your back?” Talon retorted, never taking his eyes off of his subject. Apparently singing wasn’t necessary to maintain the spell, but concentration was.

Vegard had a pair of slender manacles in his hands and was quickly but carefully approaching the frozen sniper. Get him cuffed, and Talon could let him go.

“Never to expose yourself needlessly,” Tam snapped.

“This wasn’t needless.”

“In your opinion. Don’t you ever—”

“What? Save your life?”

“You just showed the head of the goblin secret service and her top agents exactly what you’re capable of—and any Khrynsani who might have seen you.”

Talon blanched. “Oh shit.”

“Yes, it is,” Tam readily agreed. “And you’ve jumped in it with both feet.”

Vegard cuffed one of the sniper’s wrists and was prying the crossbow out of his hand. That done, he cuffed both hands behind the man’s back. With him frozen like that I’d expected him to be stiff as a board, but his body was still pliant, just staring and unresponsive. Vegard jerked the hood off of his head.

An elf.

Oh hell. Not just any elf. A Nightshade.

Talon just sank in that metaphorical crap heap up to his neck.

Nightshades were assassins, kidnappers, blackmailers, or whatever they had been given enough gold to do. You pay, they’ll play. And to get a Nightshade in a playful mood took more gold than could be had outside of either a vast personal fortune—or a government treasury.

The air moved, brushing the skin on the back of my neck.

We weren’t alone.

Just because I couldn’t see, hear, or smell him didn’t mean he wasn’t there, watching us. He was; I could feel it. And he had been the entire time.

“A veil.” I sent the thought to Tam. “A good one.” Recently some demons had used veils to hide themselves. Thanks to the boost my magic had picked up from the Saghred, I’d been able to see them just fine. It was night, the sniper was probably wearing black, but he shouldn’t be invisible, at least not to me.

A prickling of magic was all the warning we got.

Tam fired a bolt that blazed red like a comet at the spot where the man had to be. Something batted it harmlessly aside with no more effort than swatting a fly.

Then came a laugh, taunting and confident.

And familiar.

Banan Ryce had always been a cocky bastard.

The Nightshade commander dropped the veil and with a tug and dramatic flourish pulled off the hood covering his head. The streetlamps gave me enough light to know it was Banan. I didn’t need any more light to remember what he looked like: dark hair, tanned skin, pale green eyes, crooked smile, and the morals of a horny demon with an hour to live.

He had an absurdly large crossbow leveled on yours truly. “Consorting with goblins again, Raine?”

I indicated the bow. “Compensating for something, Banan?”

“Your half-breed spawn is indeed gifted, Nathrach.”

Tam controlled himself. I knew it took nearly everything he had not to close the distance between them and rip Banan’s head off.

Banan kept going. “My employers are going to be thrilled to know what tricks your mongrel can do.”

Talon snapped three words—the same words he’d used on the sniper in the street.

Banan laughed as they bounced harmlessly off of his shields.

“Nice try, boy. If I had a treat, I’d toss you one.” Then he smiled like this was the happiest moment of his life.

Then he fired.

And I trusted my backup.

Shooters usually expect you to dive left or right. I did neither, instead diving down and straight toward Banan as Tam and Vegard opened up on him. With our umi’atsu bond, I didn’t have to tell Tam what I was going to do; he knew it as I thought it. It was teamwork at its finest.

Banan’s shield was solid, but regardless of how strong they were, shields extended only so far. Tam kept him occupied with a blur of magic-spawned red needles while I worked on that shield. I wasn’t pounding my way through it; I was going under it, not to attack Banan, but to let my magic eat that shield from the inside out.

We were near the edge of Sirens’ roof. Banan had nothing at his back but a three-story drop and at least twenty feet of air between him and the roof of the next building. I didn’t sense any warded Nightshade reinforcements. Banan was up here all by his lonesome. I didn’t like it, trust it, or really believe it, but I didn’t have time to go hunting for what probably wasn’t there. Banan first; look for invisible bogeymen later.

Vegard kept up the fireballs, coin-sized and blazing white, and maneuvered to get around Banan and his shield.

In a flash of sizzling green light, Banan’s shield wrapped him in a protective bubble, no seams, no openings, no way in.

Dammit.

Impressive work. Too impressive for Banan; he didn’t have that kind of power.

He laughed and looked at me—with eyes of red flame.

Oh hell.

Banan Ryce had a guest; and unlike the possessed naked guy, Banan had invited the specter in.

Hellfire and damnation.

Banan chuckled. “Surprise.” He shifted and I could see the specter, floating like a glowing reflection beneath his skin. Banan’s shield glowed brighter. I felt Tam’s power building behind me; he was going to hit Banan once with everything he had. Normally that’d make Banan a greasy spot on Tam’s roof, but I wasn’t so sure about now. Neither was Tam, but he was going to try anyway.

“I’d like you all to meet my new partner, Alastair Kratos.”

Tam spat a single curse in Goblin.

Banan smirked. “Magus Kratos feels much the same way about you, goblin.”

The son of a bitch was reading our minds.

“Quite right, Raine, with a little assistance from Magus Kratos. He knows all about you.”

I didn’t know who the hell Alastair Kratos was, but Tam obviously did. And an instant later, he’d shared the sickening knowledge with me mind-to-mind. With goblins and elves, the hatred and the resulting atrocities went both ways. During yet another war between the two races, Alastair Kratos thought that simply killing goblin captives was a wasted opportunity. He was the chief healer in the elven army. He called himself a healer; history called him a monster. He considered the acts he performed on goblin captives, mostly children, medical experiments. It was torture, gleefully sadistic torture.

“And he looks forward to continuing his work,” Banan told us. He glanced at Talon. “A half-breed so uniquely gifted would provide weeks of study—if he lives that long. Magus Kratos despises goblins, but necessity creates alliances where there would only be animosity. Sarad Nukpana didn’t choose Magus Kratos as an ally inside the Saghred because of his sparkling personality; he chose those who were the most powerful, those who, when the opportunity came, stood the best chance of escaping the Saghred. Now that he is no longer imprisoned, Magus Kratos is free to form partnerships more to his liking.”

“A sadistic monster and a murderer for hire,” I noted. “A match made in Hell.”

“Let’s just say we share many of the same goals. My men and I didn’t come here tonight to kill you or your hopeful goblin lover. Seeing his young spawn at play was an added bonus. Others have plans for you, and for the moment we’ve been asked not to interfere. For now. I’m here tonight to eliminate one goblin bitch.”

As if in response, Imala Kalis’s enraged shouts carried up to us from the street. I’d always said that if you needed to do any quality swearing, Goblin was the way to go. Imala Kalis was most creative in her use of her native language.

“An impressive display.” Banan admitted. “Apparently her guards were equally impressive. Oh well, we’re prepared to make more than one attempt.” He flashed a grin. “Time for Plan B.”

And he stepped off the roof.

We ran to the edge in time to see Banan land catlike on the street and disappear into the dark of an alley.

Three stories below.

A jump like that should have killed him; apparently being possessed gives you more than just an invisible friend.

Tam spat the same word again.

I couldn’t have agreed more.

On the street in front of Sirens were two sentry dragons, and a gratifying number of city watchmen. Chief Watcher Sedge Rinker had his hands full with an infuriated Imala Kalis.

“We come here in peace to speak with our countryman, only to be attacked by elves on neutral ground.” Imala Kalis was toe-to-toe with Sedge Rinker. Sedge wasn’t the type to back off, but he looked rather taken aback at her cold fury.

Sedge wasn’t just Mid’s chief watcher; he was also good people. He didn’t get to be chief by sitting behind a desk all day. He was a consummate professional, knew his business, and cared about the safety of his citizens.

Tam saw and swore. One of Imala Kalis’s guards thought to stop him, then he saw the expression on Tam’s face and stepped aside. Sedge spotted Tam and made a quick half bow and murmured a few words to a stunned Imala Kalis. I guess the lady didn’t have much experience being cut off in mid-rant.

Sedge met Tam in the middle of the street, looking like a man with bad news. I heard the chief watcher’s words. We all did.

“Tamnais Nathrach, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of General Daman Aratus.”