Ghosts at the coast, p.5
Ghosts at the Coast, page 5
Alasdair and I wound our way through the tables and wine casks to where a man sat alone, a mug of ale resting on the upended wine cask in front of him.
Our contact was in his early sixties, his black hair and beard shot through with gray. He was dressed as if he were going to the mall and looked a little out of place in the supernatural shopping plaza that was the Yard. Where others openly wore armor or weapons, he simply had a long trench coat over jeans and a Metallica T-shirt. One of his large combat boots tapped against the leg of his stool as he waited.
His apparent comfort in a place such as this told me he likely possessed a power at odds with his appearance. If he was a warlock, his willingness to meet with Alasdair spoke double to that point.
“Kaznius, it’s been a long time.” Alasdair dropped into a stool opposite the man. He rested his hands on his thighs, not at all at ease, in spite of his effort to appear so.
I slid onto my stool, and as I studied our contact, I noticed a straight scar on his neck. Almost like someone had tried to slit his throat but not managed to finish the job.
“Not long enough,” Kaznius replied. “I’m not in the habit of making time for oath breakers.”
Alasdair laughed and waved at one of the bar keepers before pointing at the table.
“Then let me salve your wounded pride with another drink. Next one is on me.”
Kaznius scoffed. “You think so little of me that you could buy me off with a beer?”
“No,” Alasdair replied. “I think it’s been a lifetime since we both made difficult choices. Surely enough water has gone under the bridge that you can see past what was, and hold judgment on what might yet be.”
Kaznius leveled his finger at Alasdair. “I raised you, Alasdair, from the streets. I taught you everything and at the first sign of trouble, you abandoned us.”
“That’s one perspective,” Alasdair replied. “I also remember my brothers, including you, running for their lives when the hunter came.”
A chill ran down my spine. I’d pressed Alasdair about his childhood and gotten nothing. Even after discovering the orange flame emblazoned on his back, I’d been unable to get more than two words out of him. Now I could see the pain in his eyes as he spoke. Only it wasn’t pain; it was shame.
His youth haunted him, and I was beginning to see why.
“We all have choices, Alasdair.”
Alasdair thumped the cask with a fist, causing the tankards to shake. “Yours was to run. You all left me to die.”
“No warlock who faced the Old One lived,” Kaznius replied. “I thought you would run too. It was our best chance. I never thought you’d betray your oath.”
“You never thought it was an option,” Alasdair replied. “In your mind, there is only your war with the Congress. You never thought we’d be able to walk away.”
“Who would want to? We gave you life, purpose, and power. You were a lamb and I made you a lion. Now you use those skills to hunt your own. Your hypocrisy is matched only by your cowardice.”
The next breath Alasdair let out seethed with anger. I thought he was going to grab Kaznius by the shirtfront and drag him over the cask. Instead, he ran his hands through his hair.
“What would you have had me do?” he whispered. “I wasn’t even old enough to drink when I stared into the Old One’s eyes and expected to die. When he offered me another path, I took it. Would you rather I had died?”
“I’d rather you had fought.” Kaznius pulled down the neck of his shirt, revealing another scar that matched the one on his neck. “When the hunters caught me, I fought and offered the reaper their souls instead of mine. You always have a choice.”
The more they spoke, the more vivid the image that was forming in my mind. Kaznius wasn’t just any member of the Burning Hand. He was the man responsible for the orange flame tattooed on Alasdair’s back. He was the man who’d led my mentor down the path of the warlock. A man who used magic as a weapon to gain power and influence over others for his own gain. In Kaznius’ case, that agenda seemed to be open warfare with the Congress and its edicts.
This man’s very existence and presence here threatened to out Alasdair’s past. A past that called into doubt his present and future. If the Congress learned of Alasdair’s past, they would no doubt have something to say about his position as one of their enforcers.
I realized the profound sacrifice he was making to try and protect me from the Leanansidhe. My hands trembled, so I slid them into my pockets. I didn’t want Kaznius to see how close to the surface my feelings were.
“The past is the past, Kaznius,” Alasdair replied. “I’m not here to rehash old memories and reopen wounds long since closed.”
“For you perhaps.” Kaznius grunted. “For the rest of us, moving on hasn’t been nearly so easy.”
“Well, let me remedy that,” Alasdair replied. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Of course, you want something.” Kaznius let out a scornful laugh. “I should have guessed as much. What makes you think I would ever help you? You’ve hunted your brothers.”
“I’ve avoided them as best I could,” Alasdair said. “Sometimes you’ve given me no choice. But I’ve done my best to let sleeping dogs lie. The Wilds are a big place. I don’t need to eat at your expense.”
“A mercy to be sure.” Kaznius scoffed. “Where was your mercy on Moreton Island? Dozens of our kind died on that island. Your master even came out of retirement to ensure our extinction. I’ll never help you. I’d rather die.”
“And you might,” Alasdair replied as the bartender set down another round of beers.
Kaznius tensed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the mug in his hand. I thought he was going to lean across the table and brain Alasdair with it. My heart skipped a beat. A fight here in the middle of the tavern would surely be a disaster. Dozens of magical beings could get caught up in the chaos. And who knew what powers were at their disposal. It was an outcome we couldn’t afford.
Alasdair leaned back on his stool. “But it won’t be at my hand, not today. Not ever, if I can avoid it.”
“Going soft in your old age?” Kaznius said.
“No, just hoping you’ll see enough sense to live to see yours. You deserve as much for getting me off the streets.”
“So I’m to believe this is gratitude then, some three decades late. But it’s something, I guess.” Kaznius took a deep draught of his beer.
“I’m here to speak about your real problem,” Alasdair replied. “You sided with the Leanansidhe and tried to assassinate the King of Winter. Now you and your little band of pyromaniacs are second on the hit list of one of the most powerful beings in the Otherworld.”
Kaznius sat in silence.
“Ambitious, even for you,” Alasdair said. “But she lost, badly.”
“Only because you intervened,” Kaznius grumbled. “You should never have been there in the first place.”
“Your minions framed my apprentice. We didn’t start the fight—we just ended it.”
“Your new apprentice,” Kaznius said, stretching every syllable to emphasize his distaste, “is one of them. She has no place in our world anyway.”
I held my tongue, not because I was afraid of Kaznius, but because I was worried that any backlash from me might scuttle the deal Alasdair was trying to make.
“You bit off more than you could chew, and we both know Oberon isn’t the forgiving type. The Burning Hand aren’t novices but you can’t deal with a being of his magnitude,” Alasdair said.
“The Leanansidhe is almost as old, and twice as wily.” Kaznius shrugged. “She’s managed to evade his forces thus far.”
“Only because she hides in the mortal realm,” Alasdair answered. “Separated from Faerie, she can hardly muster the strength to stay alive let alone challenge him. Why go down with the ship? Tell us where she can be found, and we’ll see to it that you’re spared from the fallout.”
Kaznius laughed. “You think you have that kind of pull with the Winter King? We both know your new mentee has no pull in his Court. Your tongue is making promises you can’t keep. Three decades and nothing really changes. Funny that.”
Kaznius picked up the second tankard the waiter had set down and drained it to the dregs in a single draught.
“I’m a dead man walking, Alasdair. I knew that the moment her plot failed. The only difference is I keep my oaths.”
“If you aren’t going to help us, why did you bother meeting us at all?” Alasdair asked, looking up from the table.
Kaznius shrugged before standing. “Curiosity, I suppose. That, or the desire to look my largest disappointment in the eye one more time before I die. Goodbye, Alasdair.”
He turned and headed for the entrance. I considered going after him but Alasdair shook his head. Leaning close, he whispered, “No need. We got what we came for.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “He gave us nothing.”
“Not intentionally,” Alasdair replied. “He’s a true believer. You won’t sway him with brute force or be able to buy him off. Once he has his mind set on a path, he sees it through. We’ll get nothing else from him.”
“Then how did we get what we came for?” I asked.
“Well, for one thing, we learned the Leanansidhe is indeed hiding in the mortal realm. Kaznius as good as confirmed the same. He’s certainly in contact with her, likely shielding her from the Winter King’s attempts to find her.”
“And what was the other?” I asked.
Alasdair smiled. “That he’s sworn some sort of oath to the Leanansidhe. He’s not the sort to be beguiled easily, so she’s promised him something worth risking his life for.”
“And what’s that?” I asked.
“Are you familiar with the Arcane Covenant?” he asked.
I nodded. “Of course. It’s the agreement that governs the relationship between the different members of the supernatural community.”
“Precisely. What you may not know is that your father was one of its founding proponents. The Covenant validates and protects the Arcane Congress and brings order to our world.”
“That’s what she’s promised him,” I whispered as it fell into place. “If she takes my father’s throne, she can alter or put an end to the Covenant in its entirety.”
“Yes,” Alasdair replied as he watched Kaznius vanish into the traffic in the grassy lane. “He can bring down the entire Arcane Congress with a single stroke.”
Chapter 5
I was so intent on watching Kaznius leave, I didn’t see the figure approaching us from the other side of the tavern until he was looming over the table. As his shadow cast across the table from the overhead lanterns, I turned and found a handsome man in a white open collar shirt, black slacks, and a jacket. He had the sort of strong jaw line that looked like it had been carved from granite. I wasn’t sure if he was a male model, or vying for the next 007 spot. Behind him stood a pair of men in jackets and thin black ties.
Together, their corporate appearance seemed utterly out of place in the Yard. They resembled the clean-cut look of FBI agents though, somehow, I doubted that agency had a presence here in this backwater black-market of the supernatural world. Jawline reached down, picked up Alasdair’s tankard off the table, and took a long, steady pull from it.
Alasdair cleared his throat loudly as the man continued chugging down his beer. His audacity was made all the more impressive by his ability to ensure not a single drop landed on his clean, pressed shirt.
“Lazarus, if you are going to steal my beer, you best remember neither of us are hunters here. I’ll happily kick your arse for that mess you left at the Gold Coast last year.”
Hunter? Lazarus. Wait, Brunhildr had mentioned a Lazarus. She’d also called him a thief. Had Alasdair really been ambushed by another bounty hunter? It didn’t make sense. Though I had to admit, I didn’t really know much about how the Camp was organized. I knew there were others, but I had no idea what status quo existed between them.
I hadn’t asked how broad the organization was when I’d signed up. I’d simply been looking for a paycheck. Now that I thought about it, it made sense that there might be other camps scattered around the place. After all, how much ground could Alasdair cover, even on his bike?
It didn’t explain the obvious animosity between the two of them, though. If this Lazarus was a hunter, he certainly had a different tailor to Alasdair. And by different, I meant he had one. Alasdair didn’t really believe in clothes that required an iron. They were for people who worked in a field with less decapitations.
Lazarus set down the empty tankard.
“Oh, was that your beer?” he asked as he leaned on the table with one fist. “Kind of like how those kobolds were in my backyard and you swooped in and stole them?”
“Look, Lazarus,” Alasdair started as he fixed the hunter with a cold stare, “I don’t care what they were doing in your backyard. They’d robbed two banks and killed three people.”
“I’d trailed them for days,” Lazarus said, “located their warren, and you swoop in while I’m establishing a perimeter. Lop off their chieftain’s head and leave me to clean up the disorderly mess while you claim the most valuable bounty. You robbed me.”
“Establishing a perimeter? Lazarus, you were dragging your feet while I did the real work. I took his head; I get the bounty. That’s how it has always been, and you’d have done the same.”
“I have more than enough work without having to steal from others,” Lazarus replied, the veins in his neck standing out as he tensed up.
Alasdair seemed utterly unperturbed by the growing tension and simply shrugged it off. “It’s not my fault if I could do in a morning what took you three days. Next time, try to keep up. The only reason you have so much work on is you are utterly inept at doing your job. Every creature beyond the Veil knows the Gold Coast is open season. They couldn’t be safer if they stayed in their own home.”
“Or maybe you have less work because you’ve already cut a deal with every scum bucket and warlock in your post code,” Lazarus replied. “You’re an embarrassment, and one of these days the Camp is going to throw you out and remedy the injustice the Old One committed the day he dragged your fat ass in off the street.”
Alasdair pointed at Lazarus. “You want to watch your mouth, pretty boy. Those sorts of accusations can get a man killed.”
“Strange how you don’t even deny it,” Lazarus replied. “One day, the Congress will know the truth of it. You wait and see.”
“I don’t feel the need to dignify your lunacy, Lazarus. Be gone before I lose my temper.”
“Lunacy? Here I am running down some intel in the Yard, and who should I see but my old colleague, drinking with one of the most notorious warlocks of our time. Did you think no one would recognize Kaznius Markan? Care to explain that little dalliance?”
“Not really,” Alasdair replied, “but seeing as you don’t seem to grasp how to do your job effectively, let me provide a lesson. The man had information that pertained to a more dangerous threat. I asked for it. And I did it here in full view of the world, because I’m not ashamed of using one bastard to catch another. It’s simple enough even an eejit like you should be able to understand it.”
“More dangerous than Kaznius? A likely story.”
“Lazarus, you’ve spoiled my drink and are on the way to spoiling my morning. It’s none of your business. Now make yourself scarce.”
“I could make it my business, particularly given you owe me twenty grand.”
“You’re not carrying your mark any more than I am,” Alasdair replied. “So if you mean to shake me down, remember there’s nothing stopping me from splitting that scrawny little skull and beating your two bozos to death with what’s left of it. Now sod off.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen.” I held up my hand to draw their attention off each other before they came to blows. “This all seems like a load of fun but we really must be getting back. So, Lazarus, was it? Why don’t you take your little boy band up to the bar. We’ll buy you a round, and we can call it a day.”
I didn’t know what came over me—perhaps it was Brunhildr’s elixir coursing through my veins—but despite being outnumbered, I felt a confidence that was utterly alien to me. It felt incredible.
My heart beat faster but not in my usual nervous dread. Adrenaline surged in response to the brewing chaos around us.
Was this what confidence felt like? It was intoxicating.
“Oh, that’s adorable, Alasdair. Your new sidekick has inherited your delusional temperament. Best keep her in line. Running her mouth like that could get her into all sorts of trouble here.”
Keep me in line?
My blood pressure went through the roof as this condescending excuse for a Myer model dismissed me out of hand. I clenched both fists to stop myself from grabbing him and yanking him over the table.
Alasdair shook his head.
“I think I’ll stay.” Lazarus sneered. “Because this time I came prepared.”
Something cold, oily, and altogether unpleasant wrapped around my right wrist. My head snapped away from Lazarus to where a black creature about three feet tall stood by the table. It was humanoid in shape, but dozens of tendrils hung from its little black head. They slithered and danced back and forward over its robed body as it regarded us. Two of the many tendrils pulsed as they held us fast, one around my wrist the other around Alasdair’s.
“What the hell!” I tried to shout. My lips moved but nothing came out.
Alasdair reached for his back, but Lazarus had a butterfly knife in hand, its blade positioned near Alasdair’s throat.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Lazarus said. “Our little Gnathian here prevents you from talking. So no magic for you. We have you at a distinct disadvantage. No need to turn dumb into dead.”
Alasdair breathed out, relaxing visibly though how he did that with a knife at his throat was beyond me. The Gnathian was causing an unpleasant tingling sensation in my wrist where the creature gripped my skin.
