Revenant

TWENTY-FOUR

I had no more time and saw no other way out. I dropped toward the world between as fast as I could, not worrying about the location of temporaclines or what paranormal things might be nearby. Purlis was about to do something and I had to get away from that—before I strangled him with my bare hands. If he had traps for me in the Grey, so be it, and I hated that my precipitous vanishing act would probably give him more information about my own abilities than he already had.

But as I fell, something jerked me hard back toward the normal world and down to the ground. Purlis’s cane slashed, gleaming oddly, through the air where I’d been standing, and he stumbled as he recovered from my sudden flicker. The force of the strike alone would have broken my legs, but the trail of oil-slick glisten it left in the Grey told me there’d been more to his attack. That cane wasn’t just a bit of steel and wood, and I didn’t know if it was connected to the cold or the breathlessness that now held me against the white paving stones.

Something pulled me down like a net drawn tight. I cursed myself as much as him, and I could feel the spell digging into me the same way the floor of the bone church had tried to do. I snatched at the ivory lines of the trap that I could now see inched in bones between the cracks of the white paving stones. This was plainly some work of Rui’s and I hadn’t seen it. Purlis had done an expert job of maneuvering me and keeping my attention on him, not on a potential pitfall. I ripped a piece of the spell out, but that left me with no better escape route.

I struggled toward the deepest layers of the Grey, down near the Grid where energy rules and the world devolves to wire frames of light and color in the void of physical matter. I could see it, but I was unable to drop any farther than the most superficial layer, my physical form refusing to sink or soften into the realms of mist and shadow that lie just outside of normal. It felt as if my own body were holding me back and my every move toward the Grid made me ache in every bone and joint. Usually I travel through the realm of ghosts and shadows securely housed in the armor of my physical body. However tiring it is, my ability to bestride all three planes—the normal, the paranormal, and the Grey—intact and whole is my one unique attribute. Everything else I can do or see or experience is within the power of someone or something else, as well. That ability is what defines me as a Greywalker—and now I couldn’t do it.

I knew, much as it galled me, that I could lie struggling on the sidewalk, growing colder in the grip of Rui’s bones and exhausting myself, or I could give up, save my energy, and hope to find another way to extract myself from the situation later. Not a great choice, but there was no better alternative and prisoner is still a better position than corpse. I didn’t think Purlis or Rui—wherever he was—cared which they got.

I let go and was yanked back into the normal world. I slumped on the sidewalk as if my own bones were water.

“Welcome back,” Purlis said, looking insufferable. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t help you to your feet.”

“No,” I muttered, unable to raise my voice any louder. “You’re unforgivable.”

“You’ve an interesting set of talents. It’s a pity we have to be enemies.”

“Who says we have to?” I asked.

“You don’t like me and I can’t trust you. . . .”

“Oh, but we won’t be enemies forever. Eventually one of us is going to be dead.” I found I was looking forward to it, since I had a much better chance of giving death the slip than Purlis had.

Purlis chuckled in spite of his physical discomfort as people who were obviously working for him converged on our position. “True. And sooner rather than later, I suspect.”

He limped away as his team encircled me, hiding my strange, crushed posture from public sight. In a moment, Rui Araújo parted the circle and stood looking down at me. He seemed pleased, the red spikes in his aura jumping. He made a small gesture, murmured a word in Portuguese, and the force pulling me to the ground vanished.

I unfolded and stood slowly, wincing more than was strictly necessary, brushing the dirt off my dress and a few drops of blood off my abraded knees. He watched me with eyes brighter than one would expect of someone who had to be more than two hundred fifty years old. The penetrating quality of his gaze was disconcerting. I stood still and looked back at him, saying nothing, doing nothing.

Rui studied me a few moments longer. “You are not injured,” he said. His voice was at odds with his appearance, low and soft, moving slowly, but not old at all, rather the opposite. He also had clear English, but a strong Portuguese accent and though there was nothing unpleasant in his tone, I felt like I was listening to a scorpion discussing the pros and cons of stinging me to death.

“You can’t possibly know,” I replied.

“No broken bones, no cracks, or bruises. Old injuries only. And a few scrapes on the skin,” he added with a shrug and a dismissive snort. “I see everything.” He pointed as he continued. “Feet, leg, knees, hip, spine, ribs, wrist, shoulder, neck, nose. What interesting scars your bones have.”

“I used to fall down a lot.”

“I see two . . . three that could have killed you.”

“I also bounce.”

“So I see. Come.”

He beckoned and I discovered I had no choice. The men and women encircling us stepped aside and flowed out into the crowd again, but I followed jerkily after Rui like a reluctant pet on a leash, whether I liked it or not. I could resist and strain, which slowed my movement down, but didn’t stop me; it only made me tired and sore. This could be a problem. I tilted my head and peered at the space between us through the Grey. A fine net of white lines ran from Rui’s hands to various positions on my body and he towed me along like a badly strung puppet. There were a lot of them, but, individually, the lines wouldn’t be much to break when I had the luxury. I just didn’t at the moment. I guessed that he had literal control of my skeleton—probably created while I was in his trap where the bits of his ivory spell had burrowed toward my bones. I could oppose him, but the force of magic overcame the force of my currently weak muscles. I was still a bit on the anemic side after what had happened with Carlos and I didn’t have the stamina to bother resisting more than necessary, especially if I meant to break away when a better chance arrived.

“Where are we going?” I asked, walking along of my own accord now.

He relaxed a little and let me catch up to him. “Ah, you’re being reasonable. Purlis said you would not. I disagreed. At my temple, you did nothing that was excessive or impulsive—unlike your companions. You understand when you are beaten.”

I said nothing and Rui seemed to think that meant I agreed with him. He pointed ahead to a silver car with dark-tinted windows. “We shall take a ride. I have many questions for you.”

“Will you be upset if I don’t answer them?”

“Perhaps not answering them will be the answer.”

There was a man behind the wheel of the car. Rui waited while I got into the backseat. He got into the front and the locks clicked down, leaving no manual lock buttons or levers for me to toy with. There was still the opening above the front seats that I could have reached over to wreak some havoc, but the arithmetic of whom to take out first and if I would survive it was trickier than I liked. And there was the option of digging through the seat’s back into the trunk, but it wasn’t viable in this situation—I’d be shot or enchanted before I could get past the center armrest. I sat still and waited for Rui to ask his questions.

“What are you?” he asked, looking at me in the vanity mirror. I could see his eyes and the back of his head, but not much else from where I sat behind him.

Funny: I now expect every magic-user and paranormal I meet to know what I do in the Grey, because Carlos and a few others nailed it even before I knew, myself. But, in fact, most have no idea such a thing as me exists and they don’t need to. If they want help that I can give, they seem to find me on their own. I frowned and blinked at Rui. “I’m a licensed private investigator.”

Rui glared and I saw his shoulders tense. My ribs seemed to collapse inward as if a giant fist were crushing my chest. Breath gushed out of my lungs and I clapped both hands over my mouth to stifle my scream. It felt as if my guts were being squeezed up through my throat. I was dizzy and thought I was going to vomit. Then the pressure vanished, though it took several seconds for me to refill my lungs, fighting the gripping pain as my ribs and intercostal muscles moved back into their accustomed positions.

“Don’t toy with me,” he said, his eyes looking back from the mirror crinkled at the edges as if he were smiling. “I can break every bone in your body, individually or all at once, as I choose. I do not need your bones for my work.”

“No?” I gasped, still having difficulty breathing without a hitch or ache. “Griffin, I suppose, is good enough. . . .”

Rui’s eyes narrowed and his silence was telling. I’d hit a sore spot. “Carlos must think me a particular fool not to check the body for curses,” he said, and made a spitting sound. “Her skeleton is quite useless, thanks to him.”

I nodded as if this were all news to me. “He is a bit of a bastard.”

Rui chuckled. “You can’t imagine. He won’t come for you. Not even if he had more time.”

“Didn’t think so. . . . We’re not that sort of friends.”

“What sort are you, then?”

I finally got a full breath and had to hold it a moment while my chest got used to the feeling again. “I work for his boss. Had a personal problem, needed some help—”

“Your problem—the younger Purlis.”

I nodded. “Called in a favor. Carlos is a mage and I’m not—I know better than to bring a knife to a gunfight. Also, he wanted to come. I guess that’s partially because of you. He hates Purlis, but he despises you.”

“Good, good . . . What he underestimates will kill him. Finally.”

“Bit of a disappointment to see him walking around in the daylight, I imagine.”

“I’d have punished Griffin soon enough for that mistake. He’s conquered death a dozen times, so why not once more? Within his own house, it would be easy enough to overcome the paltry difficulty of sunlight. Outside of it, he will be nothing but a burden to your lover. They cannot move until nightfall and we will find them. As we found you.” I was pleased to hear that the cloud of terror that had circled the castle had not given Rui any advantage after all. “They cannot return to Carlos’s house, since it’s now a murder scene. My dead student is useful after all.”

I concentrated on my physical discomfort to hold back the spark of satisfaction that Rui didn’t know as much about either Carlos or vampires as he should have. I hoped it would be enough of an edge when the time came—if I was able to pass the information on to Carlos and Quinton.

“How did you find me? You didn’t just cover every bus station in Lisbon.”

“Hah! No. You are unmistakable. Inside my shield, although I couldn’t see you, once my little burrowers had touched you, left their hooks in you, I could hear the song of your bones. They sing— off-key, out of tune, but those are matters easily corrected—and at the house, I simply listened. I was surprised that Purlis’s son had purged himself of them, while you hadn’t. We followed your bone song and the agents in the metro confirmed the direction. We knew where you must be heading and came to wait. Your plan might have been clever if not for that, and what could you do about it? Nothing! It’s, literally, in your bones. Short of breaking them or tuning them again by blade and fire and blood, you cannot evade me long, now that I know.” He closed his eyes and I felt the ripple of his anticipation through the Grey. “As close as this, I can hear them now. We have only four days, but you will be magnificent once I’m done with you.”

I didn’t care for that idea. I preferred my bones as they were, scarred and remodeled and in my own skin. I restrained the urge to ask what he intended to do, in spite of his obvious wish that I would. Rui seemed to enjoy the discomfort of others. I wondered if it went with the territory or if it was just Rui.

He reopened his eyes, watched me, and tried to wait me out as the car wound through strange streets. Away from the Pombaline downtown, Lisbon and environs seemed designed to confuse with few straight roads up the hills and lots of traffic circles and streets that sloped or angled into intersections with far too many outlets. It would be a challenge to retrace the way, and the fact that no one was trying to conceal it from me didn’t bode well. I thought we were taking a longer, more circuitous route than necessary, but the details mattered less than what would happen once we got wherever we were headed.

“I shall ask again,” he said. “What are you? Not a mage, not a witch . . . a conundrum: powerful and powerless at the same time. What are you?”

I hesitated. I thought he wouldn’t be familiar with the term “Greywalker,” and since he didn’t know in the first place, why help him . . . ? “I’m . . . sort of a . . . security guard. . . .”

He glared and I saw the tension gather in his shoulders and neck again. I cringed into the backseat, putting up my hands as if I could shove his spell away. “No! No, please! Not again. I’m not teasing you. I just . . . It’s hard to explain.” I did lay it on a little thick, but he didn’t know me and without Purlis in the car to break my cover, there was no one to tell him I was exaggerating my fears. Pain is not the most effective way to motivate me—I had spent enough time in toe shoes and physically abusive relationships to be inured to that.

“I work at the edge of the magical world. I keep the normal stuff on one side of the line and the paranormal stuff on the other. That’s pretty much what I do. Not my choice, just what I got stuck with.”

Rui appeared less than completely convinced, his eyes slit in doubt. “I suspect there’s more to it than that,” he said.

“Well, of course, but the details are not what you asked for—and frankly they’re more complicated and long-winded than you probably care about. I’m not sure that the ability I have would remain if you . . . adjusted me. . . .”

“Possibly not, but it would not be important then. There would be you as I had made you, which would exceed anything else you have ever been.”

“Am I . . . going to survive this . . . ?”

He gave me a sly look but didn’t reply. The car passed through industrial gates and dove into a tunnel cutting down under the ground at a mild slope that seemed to go on for a long time in darkness. Then the sound around the car changed and we seemed to be in something like an underground parking structure that was so poorly lit, the car navigated by its headlights through a field of cement pillars up to a double-wide loading door. A guy in street clothes sat at the edge of the loading dock platform with a compact automatic rifle resting on his knees. He hopped off the dock as we pulled in and held the gun at the ready position. Purlis was taking no chances this time. Though I supposed he might be nervous about the monster he’d tied himself to, it seemed more likely that he wanted a bit more insurance on my account.

Our driver got out and opened the door for Rui, and then for me. Rui waited without speaking for me to sidle out of the car, acting a little cowed and nervous.

I darted toward the rear of the car at my first opportunity and crashed to the ground in breathless agony, unable even to scream this time as Rui pulled his little crushing trick on me again, as I’d thought he would. If I hadn’t tried, Purlis’s agents would have felt things were going too easily. I couldn’t let them think that I was just as happy to be here, wasting their time and making them keep their eyes on me, rather than letting them chase down Quinton and Carlos. In spite of the demonstration he’d made at the zoo, I knew Purlis’s resources were limited and Rui had no easy way to track my companions, in spite of his bragging, so the more of these guys I kept bottled up here the better.

“Come, Senhorina Blaine, I have a great deal to show you. Don’t make me force you.”

I had the impression Rui would be delighted if I did. I didn’t have to fake breathless dizziness and discomfort as he let me back up. He and Purlis were well suited. I added another name to the very short list of people who’d benefit the world by taking a fatal bullet.

Another armed man awaited us just inside. With one guard ahead and one behind us, Rui conducted me into the facility. Past the roll-up doors, it changed from generic work space to horror-film set.

Ahead lay a long concrete hallway with intermittent steel doors and flickering overhead fixtures, but the walls were covered in bloody runes and murals of bones that seemed to move in the intermittent light. I pulled my shoulders in to avoid touching the walls and tried to watch where I put my feet on the red-splashed floors. Ghosts wandered through the halls in a haze of Grey, as if they couldn’t find the way out and weren’t sure where they were. This base hadn’t been in place as long as Rui’s bone temple, but it wasn’t brand-new, either, which made me queasy. A few of the doors opened onto ordinary rooms filled with office or surveillance equipment, supplies, guns—or men carrying them. But the rest opened onto visions of hell. We walked through more ghastly corridors and by rooms that held the memories of screaming and the song of bones like reeds in the wind and fingernails on chalkboards. A few robed figures passed us or could be glimpsed through doorways crusted in bone and blood. Even the floors writhed with marks that raised every fine hair on my body. I winced and gagged, feeling battered by the continual assault of remembered death. I was raw and had lost my sense of direction for a while, but a peep into the Grey reoriented me, and the cold steam playing in my vision seemed, for once, welcoming and soothing, washing the present horrors of the Kostní Mágové’s lair out of my senses and leaving the distant chime of the Guardian Beast in my ears.

The psychic abrasion made me feel that escape was not as certain as I’d hoped. I looked for any relief I could find, grasping at the smallest detail. My occasional snatched sight of the deeper Grey was my touchstone. Since the Grid tends to run north-south and east-west, with certain energy colors dominant in their direction of flow, I was able to reacquire my bearings whenever I thought I would finally collapse from the disorientation of the haunted corridors that ran ruler-straight yet seemed to twist and writhe like snakes. My glimpses of the Grid weren’t much help, but at least I knew which way I’d have to head to catch up to Quinton if I did manage to get out of here alive.

“Do you know the story of the girl and the ghost bone?” Rui asked as we walked. Our guards ignored his question.

For a moment I thought he knew about what had happened in Carlos’s garden and the discussion we’d had, but as I stared at him, there was no shift in his aura to indicate that he was baiting me. “No,” I replied, letting my fatigue and fear color my voice.

“Ah, it’s a folktale my grandmother told,” he said, “but an interesting one. . . . You’ll understand your purpose much better once you know the story.

“Long ago, in the hills, an old and terrifying witch with four arms and three legs captured a clever but lazy young girl who had run away from her family. The witch made the girl her slave. As she had three legs, the witch wasn’t very spry, but she was very powerful and she forced the girl to perform a great deal of manual labor that the witch was incapable of because of her mismatched legs. The witch also had no fingers on two of her four hands and this meant she did a great deal of her work by raising bone golems and skeletons, but a living servant was much stronger and smarter, and so she kept the girl in her house and forced her to work.” He told the tale with unholy glee, sending frissons up my spine and twisting my stomach into knots. I walked along with him, not bothering to hide my horror and disgust.

Rui grinned, showing crooked teeth, and went on, pleased with my revulsion. “The girl knew that the witch planned to devour her eventually but not all at once, for the witch was a frugal old monster. Every month the witch cut off one of the girl’s fingers and ate it, then threw the bones onto the fire. And each morning after the witch had consumed the finger, the girl saw that the witch had grown a new finger of her own, and so it went for several months.

“The girl was no fool and she knew her fate, so she watched the witch for an opportunity to escape. She noticed that the witch always sang a song to the bones as she burned them to ash and then took the ashes away to make soap. The witch saved the soap to wash her face at the end of the month before she decided which of the girl’s fingers she would dine upon the next day.

“The girl, in spite of having no education and being very poor, was very astute. She made a hole in the hearth and hid it with a bit of pitch so that when the witch went to scrape the ash from the fireplace, the pitch had melted away and some of the ash had fallen, unnoticed, into the hole. Once the witch had gone to weave her other spells and work her wiles, the girl scraped up the ash and made her own tiny bit of soap with which she washed her own face. When next she looked at the witch, she could see that the witch’s skeleton was made of bones from all the children she’d eaten over the years. The girl knew then that once the witch had eaten all her fingers and made her useless for work, her own leg bones would become the witch’s new leg and all the rest of her bones the instruments of the witch’s magic.

“So the next time the witch cut off one of her fingers, the girl watched everything and discovered how the witch made the bone her own. Then the girl laid her plans and waited for the day the witch would come to cut off her leg. On that day, the girl washed her face with the rest of the magic soap and recited the magic words that she’d learned from observing the witch. When the witch arrived with her knife, the girl pretended to be asleep until the witch had cut off her leg. Then the girl snatched the witch’s own leg away, ate it herself, and pushed the witch into the fire. Once the witch had burned to ashes, the girl then picked all her own bones from the fire, put them back where they belonged, and burned the witch’s hut to the ground. Then the girl returned to her own village and lived happily ever after. . . .”

“Somehow I don’t think ‘happily ever after’ is how that really ended,” I said.

Rui stopped by a door and opened it into darkness as our guards flanked us with their weapons trained on me. “That would depend upon whether you were the girl or the villagers. I preferred to be the girl. Please step inside the room.”

I shifted my gaze to the shadowed space beyond the open door and shuddered in dread as a cold white cloud choked with bones and black coils of death poured out. “Do I have a choice?”

“Of course you don’t.” He clutched my arm suddenly with his free hand and flung me through the open doorway with a surge of red energy.

I tumbled over the sill and rolled into the darkness, hoping I could gain an advantage and jump him as he came through the door, but Rui was prepared for me. The lights snapped on, making me blink as he stepped into the room. Although I lunged for him anyhow, he fended me off with a rough thrust of clattering bones that flew from the floor like a fence and shoved me back. The door closed with a sound like doom.