Cloak Games: Shadow Jump Page 12

  “Well, you know, I get around,” said Boccand. He smiled. “It’s easier for me to travel than for most people.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “assuming you don’t accidentally dump yourself into the river or something.”

  He winced. “That’s only happened twice. Shadowjumping is more of an art than a science.”

  “It must be a pain,” I said.

  “You have no idea,” said Boccand.

  “It’s such a rare ability,” I said, “and it’s so rare that Martin Corbisher kidnapped your girlfriend to force you to steal for him.”

  Boccand sighed.

  “That is what happened, isn’t it?” I said.

  “Something like that,” said Boccand. “I got into thievery because…well, it’s a long story. Suffice it to say that I decided the Wizard’s Legion was not for me. I did a favor for an Elven noble once, and he paid me well, so I made a career of it.”

  “And that favor was stealing something for him?” I said.

  “You have hit the nail upon the head,” said Boccand. “I went into the business for myself, working for whoever could pay me. It turns out there are a lot of Elven nobles and rich humans who want things they can’t buy for themselves, so they hire me to steal them. You understand.”

  “You have no idea,” I said.

  “It’s a good life,” said Boccand. “Lots of adventure, lots of money. Lots of women, too.”

  “I know a little less about that,” I said.

  “Mmm. Well,” said Boccand, “it’s not the kind of thing you can do forever. Sooner or later your luck runs out, and the list of people I’d pissed off kept getting longer and longer. I knew I needed to get out, so I started saving up money. Figured I’d live quietly somewhere and keep my head down. Then I met Cecilia at a soccer match…and I knew who I wanted to live quietly with me.”

  “And Martin Corbisher found you, kidnapped Cecilia, and forced you to steal Lord Castomyr’s ritual tablet,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Boccand. “Martin Corbisher’s a piece of work. I knew his father Luke. Did a couple of jobs for him, before I figured out he was a Dark One cultist. Decent fellow, at least for a cultist. Very careful, very rational, and always played his cards close to his chest. I think he was a little too cautious for Martin. Wouldn’t surprise me if Martin offed his old man and took over the Corbisher Group to expand his Dark One cult.”

  “He’ll regret that,” I said. “If he gets too reckless, the Inquisition will crush him.”

  “Maybe not,” said Boccand. “I don’t think the High Queen’s grip on Earth is as tight as it once was. Most of her attention these days is on the Archons and their allies. The Dark One cults and the Rebels are spreading like weeds. If she’s not careful, she’s going to get herself overthrown.”

  “Not my problem,” I said. “We have a more immediate difficulty.”

  Boccand grunted. “Yes. Whether we kill each other or not.”

  I snorted. “Whether I kill you.”

  “I find it’s best to maintain a confident attitude,” said Boccand.

  “That’s not the problem,” I said. “See, I look at it like this. You don’t care about the ritual tablet. You care about your girlfriend. I don’t care about your girlfriend, but I do care about that tablet. I think we can find some middle ground.”

  “What are you saying?” said Boccand.

  “It’s simple,” I said. “I help you rescue your girlfriend, you give me the tablet, and we both go our separate ways.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why would you help me? I almost got you killed.”

  I shrugged. “Yet you didn’t.”

  “It’s a serious question,” said Boccand. “Why help me? You don’t have to. You already know I’m going to give the tablet to Corbisher. All you have to do is follow him and take the tablet. Much less messy than helping me.”

  “Martin Corbisher is going to kill you and Cecilia, you know that,” I said. “He might be the CEO of the Corbisher Group and running for governor of Minnesota, but if it gets out that he’s a Dark One cultist, the Inquisition will kill him. Both you and Cecilia know that he’s a Dark One worshipper. He can’t let you walk away from this.”

  “I know that,” said Boccand. “Why do you think I bought all those guns? I was trying to think of…something. Anything. But that doesn’t answer my question. Why help me? Stealing the ritual tablet from Corbisher would be challenging, but if you got into Castomyr’s vault and trapped me, you could steal something from Corbisher. Certainly it would be easier than trying to rescue Cecilia.”

  He had an excellent point. The expedient thing to do would be to let Martin Corbisher kill him and Cecilia, and then wait for a convenient time to steal the ritual tablet from Corbisher. Dark One cultists had to rely on secrecy instead of overt security, and if I stole the tablet from Corbisher, he wouldn’t dare make a fuss about it for fear of drawing the Inquisition’s attention.

  In fact, that was such a compelling thought that I almost let Armand Boccand go, almost let him go to his meeting with Corbisher and to his death…

  No.

  “A while back,” I said, “I was on a job. There was a woman with me. She had no idea what was going on, and just was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was slowing me down…so I almost killed her. I almost murdered her. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it, and by not killing her, I saved my own life.”

  Boccand groaned. “Is there some sort of moral lesson to this? Flowers and rainbows and wouldn’t the world be wonderful if we all just loved one another?”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “I’m a thief. I’m a liar. I’ve killed people. But I don’t want to be a cold-blooded murderer.”

  “This is stupid,” said Boccand. “You ought to just let Corbisher kill me and take the tablet. It’s the sensible thing to do. It’s what I would do in your place.”

  “Probably,” I said. “Let me put it this way. Did you know that the Rebels are working with the Dark One cults?”

  Boccand frowned. “You’re very well informed. Not many people know that. The High Queen does, and the Lord Inquisitor, but most of the Elven nobles haven’t even realized it yet.”

  “The Rebels have caused me a lot of grief,” I said. “And if I can screw with their friends the Dark One worshippers, well, that’s good enough for me. And I’ve got a plan.”

  “A plan?” said Boccand.

  “Oh, yes,” I said.

  “And just what plan is that?” said Boccand.

  “We’re thieves,” I said. “So we’re going to steal your girlfriend, and then if we survive, you’re going to give me that ritual tablet.”

  “Dear God,” said Boccand. “You’re serious.”

  “Yep,” I said. “And I’ll prove it. Hold still.”

  I knelt, pushed him on his side, and undid the zip ties. Boccand unfolded with a pained grunt, and I stepped back, keeping the stun gun trained on him in case he decided to get violent.

  I did, however, release the Seal of Shadows. It flickered out, plunging the room into gloom, the only light coming from the window.

  Boccand got to his feet, wincing as his rubbed his wrists. “You tied those a little too tight.”

  “I’m a careful kind of girl,” I said. “So, you’ve got a choice. Go to your meeting with Corbisher, and once he’s killed you and Cecilia, I’ll steal the ritual tablet from him. Or…you can work with me, and we’ll steal your girlfriend, make off with the tablet, and screw over Corbisher in the process.”

  “Dear God, woman,” said Boccand. “You are actually serious. Possibly also insane.”

  “Probably,” I said. “But I’m also serious. Where are you meeting Corbisher?”

  “Tomorrow, at noon,” said Boccand. “In the lobby of Corbisher Tower.”

  “Can you take other people with you over a shadowjump?” I said.

  “Yeah, two or three,” said Boccand. “The range goes way down, though. With two people I can’t manage more than a mile or so.”


  “Is Corbisher coming alone?” I said.

  “He’s supposed to come alone with Cecilia,” said Boccand, “but I doubt he will. Corbisher Tower is his building, and it’s full of his people. Plus, he’s got a pack of anthrophages that he hides in the building, and they’ll come running if he calls. That, and the local branch of Homeland Security is in his pocket and does his dirty work for him. I have no doubt they’ll surround the building and kill me and Cecilia the minute I tell Corbisher where the tablet is.”

  I frowned. “Doesn’t he realize you’ll just shadowjump away?”

  “Some of the anthrophages can cast spells,” said Boccand, “and they can hold a Seal of Shadows on me. That, and I’m pretty sure he has a bomb hidden somewhere in 41K. A random shadowjump with Cecilia is too risky. He knows I’ll jump to my anchor, and if I do, he’ll blow up the apartment and claim it was a gas leak.”

  “Ah,” I said, waving my free hand in the direction of the anchor, “but he doesn’t know I stole your anchor, does he?”

  Boccand frowned. “What do you have in mind?”

  I told him.

  It took him a moment to digest that. “Seriously? You can cast a Masking spell?”

  “I did it a couple times while I was following you and you never noticed,” I said.

  “Okay,” said Boccand. “You know, that sounds more useful than shadowjumping.” He nodded. “Okay. You’re crazy, and I’m even crazier for listening to you. But…I think this might work. This might work.” He stooped and picked up his anchor. “What first?”

  “Come on,” I said. “We have got a hell of a lot of work to do before noon.”

  Chapter 8: Hostage Game

  It took all night and most of the morning to get ready.

  First, I sent Boccand back to his apartment. I didn’t want to anthrophages to get suspicious when he was absent for too long. Once he was there, I waited twenty minutes, and then followed him inside, wrapped in a Masking spell that made me look like Timothy Roberts.

  Once I was inside, we loaded up on weapons and ammunition. After that, Boccand took my shoulder and cast his shadowjumping spell.

  Let me tell you, shadowjumping is a hell of a ride.

  It feels a bit like stepping into a rift way, with the same sense of disorientation, the same feeling of sudden dislocation, albeit magnified a thousand times over. One moment we were in Boccand’s empty apartment, and then the next we were in the parking garage in front of my van, next to the garbage can where we had hidden his anchor on the way back from the mall.

  “Whoa,” I said, getting my balance back.

  “Yeah, it’s a bit of a rush, isn’t it?” said Boccand, grinning. I got the impression he liked to show off. “That’s how I got Cecilia to go out with me the first time. I told her I would give her a ride like no man she had ever met.”

  Despite the danger of our task, I laughed. “Really? She fell for that? That is the worst pickup line I have ever heard in my life. ‘Go for a ride.’”

  Boccand grinned. “Well, I could back up the boast.” His smile faded. “Hope you can back up yours.”

  “If I can’t, we’re dead,” I said. “Get in.”

  I drove the van twenty miles south, stashing it in another parking garage on the southern edge of Lakeville. If this went bad, and it might, it would help to have another vehicle as a fallback. Plus, even if this did work, I was going to piss off one of the richest men in the country and the possible future governor of Minnesota, and it would be best if he learned as little about me as possible.

  “All right,” I said. “Get out while I change clothes.”

  “It’s freezing cold out,” protested Boccand.”

  I gave him a look. “I don’t want you to watch. Get out.”

  “This,” said Boccand, shaking a finger at me as he opened the side door, “this is why I never work with women. Too much drama.”

  “Out,” I said. At last he complied, and I climbed into the back. I changed clothes in haste, donning cargo pants, heavy boots, a sweater, and my heavy motorcycle jacket, which would come in handy if I fell or an anthrophage tried to rip open my guts. Around my waist went two gun belts with holsters, one of the .45 semiautomatic pistols riding on either hip, and as many spare clips as I could carry. A bandolier went across my chest, and I stuffed magazines for an AK-47 into it, slinging one of the long guns over my shoulder. I tucked my hair beneath a ski cap, and put my ski mask atop it.

  I still had my satchel, and I loaded it up with two more firecracker bombs, wiring them with my last two burner phones. Once those were secure, I added a roll of duct tape to the bag, followed by more ammunition.

  Last of all, I took the golden medallion I had claimed from the dead anthrophage in Los Angeles, tucking it into the inside pocket of my coat. I didn’t want to carry the damned thing, and I hoped that I didn’t need it. But if I wound up having to bluff, I thought it might prove useful.

  I climbed out the back of the van, locked it, and looked around for Boccand. He stood a few feet away, a dark shadow in the dim light of the parking garage, his head bowed, something metallic grasped in his hands…

  I blinked. “Are you praying?”

  He looked up. “Well. Yes. Given what we’re about to do, asking the help of God seems like an excellent idea. Do you object?”

  “I’ll take all the help I can get,” I said. “It’s just…you don’t seem like the religious type.”

  “Catholic, actually,” he said, tucking the metallic object into his coat. I saw that it was a little crucifix.

  “Catholic?” I said, astonished. “You’re a professional thief and I am entirely certain you were living in sin with Cecilia. For that matter, I’m sure you would have watched while I changed clothes if you thought you could get away with it.”

  “I didn’t say I was a good Catholic,” said Boccand.

  “For God’s sake,” I muttered.

  “Yes, I believe that is the point.”

  “You sound like my boyfriend,” I said.

  Boccand raised his eyebrows. “You have a boyfriend?”

  “Not important. We have things to do. You ready?”

  “Yeah,” said Boccand, eyeing me. “Sure you have enough weapons? You look like you’re going to try and overthrow the High Queen all by yourself.”

  “If we’re dealing with anthrophages,” I said, “we can’t have too many weapons.” He had concealed a pair of pistols in his coat, though I had been unable to convince him to take one of the AK-47s.

  “Very well,” said Boccand. “Hold on. I think I can do this in three jumps.”

  The first shadowjump deposited us in a park somewhere between Burnsville and Minneapolis, the lights of the freeway visible in the distance. The second jump put us in the backyard of a suburban house, the lights dark. The third and final jump returned us to the parking garage near Corbisher Tower. Boccand sagged against the concrete wall for a moment, breathing hard.

  “Okay, I am impressed,” I said. “Twenty miles in two minutes. That comes in handy.”

  “Did you have to take all those guns?” said Boccand, wiping his forehead. “God, but moving all that extra metal is heavy.”

  “If there are a dozen anthrophages after us, you’ll thank me,” I said. “You know what you have to do?”

  “I do,” said Boccand. He walked to the trash can and dug out his anchor. I held out my hand, and he dropped a set of car keys into them. “Just be ready at noon.”

  “I will,” I said. “Good luck. Try not to get killed.”

  “You, too,” said Boccand. He started to go, and then hesitated. “Are you going to tell me your name?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said.

  He grinned. “Fair enough, Anna Rastov. Fair enough.”

  Boccand left at a brisk walk, and I cast the Masking spell, disguising myself as an elderly man in the uniform of a hired security guard. I waited ten minutes for Boccand to leave, and then I left the parking garage. By then it was six AM, the streets just star
ting to fill with morning traffic. I had some time to kill, so I stopped by the Gilded Bean, altering my Mask to look like a young woman on her way to the office, and had a cup of coffee and a blueberry scone for breakfast.

  It felt strange to sit in a coffee shop with a small arsenal, but the Mask kept anyone from noticing the guns, and it was good to sit down and drink coffee and have a peaceful breakfast. It might be the last chance I had to relax for a while.

  If this went badly, it might be the last chance I would ever have to relax.

  I was not particularly religious, but I said a quiet little prayer anyway. I had to get through this alive, if only for Russell’s sake. In the end, that was all I really cared about. Not the Dark Ones, not the Rebels, not money, not anything. I wanted enough power to make sure Russell was healthy and well.

  Still. I had to admit that helping Boccand and Cecilia felt good.

  God, I was getting soft. It had to be Riordan’s influence. Which must be the first time that anyone had ever said that of a Shadow Hunter.

  I left the Gilded Bean at about seven AM and walked around downtown Minneapolis, wrapped in my Mask spell, looking as if I was some industrious worker on her way to work. I waited until eight AM passed, and then nine AM.

  Then I headed for Corbisher Tower, ducking into an alley long enough to release my Mask and cast a new one, disguising myself as Timothy Roberts once more. This time I added one twist to the disguise, a massive coffee stain across his expensive shirt and coat. My head ached a little from the effort of holding the Masking spell in place for so long, but I ignored it. I had greater efforts ahead of me, and I wouldn’t need to hold the Masking spell for much longer.

  I stomped up to the front doors of Corbisher Tower, noting as I did that four blue-painted Homeland Security SUVs were parked along the curb. Through the tinted windows I glimpsed the shape of Homeland Security officers in full riot gear. I suppose if anyone asked, they would claim they were here in case the explosion at the sports bar had been the result of Rebel terrorism.

  But I knew they were here to kill Boccand once Corbisher got the tablet’s location from him.