A Game of Witches (The Order of Shadows Book 3) Read online

  “It’s been years. I finally caught a lucky break and I didn’t want the Organization to screw it up.” I pulled my gaze from Erland’s and glanced out the window. The city drew by. Hordes of blinkereds bustled along the sidewalks, happily oblivious to the darkness that lurked all around. I almost envied them.

  “So you went lone wolf. Again.” Erland lowered his voice. “You chose to keep me out of the loop. You could have trusted me, Morgan. I would have given you my blessing and assistance. Don’t forget I want to rid the city of Wyght as well as her damned Silver Spiral. Perhaps not as much as you, but still, the sooner they’re incarcerated or eliminated, the better. For all of us.” He sighed. “Where’s Wyght now?”

  “She got away. Escaped while I was…indisposed. There was nothing I could do. But I’m working on remedying that. You should let me be on my way.”

  “Not until we’ve been to Eveningside.”

  “Which is what?”

  “The venue the Council has chosen for our meeting.”

  “You’re taking me to the Council? You told me you wanted me to stay away from them? I thought that’s why you sent me out of the city in the first place.”

  “I did and it was. Then, like the proverbial bad penny, you returned. And amid such a ruckus that you came right to the forefront of their attention. I’d have warned you if you’d have answered my calls or simply come into the office for your debriefing as requested. I could have stepped in and the Council wouldn’t have set Ebomee, Osbert and Rhymes on your trail. You should also be aware that they were told to pacify you by any means necessary. Hence my speeding across town to save your skin. You’re not exactly well liked by your fellow agents, Morgan.”

  “The feeling’s mutual.”

  Erland adjusted his watch, fiddled with his cufflink and straightened the handkerchief in his breast pocket. “I need you on the streets, not in the ground. Get this grilling out of the way and get back to whatever you were doing. Our intel suggests Wyght’s laying the groundwork for something big. Finish her. Do what you must, but keep this between us. Understand?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve precisely no idea. Everything’s upside-down. The Council has always left us to our own devices when it comes to reining in illegal magic and keeping our world and the blinkered world apart. But lately they’ve become far more interested in our affairs and now they’re poking their noses in where they’re not needed. Their interference is slowing our investigations.” Erland glanced at the barrier separating us from the driver, and dropped his voice. “Wait.” He flicked his hand. The air shifted and almost imperceptible golden motes of light sparkled before us. He’d moved us out of time. Just by a second or two, but enough to change our conversation into garbled nonsense for anyone trying to listen in.

  “The Council’s been compromised, Morgan. Things changed at the end of summer. After the shade arrived.”

  “Stroud?”

  “Yes, Stroud. And I know almost as little about him now as I did when he first appeared. And that's not for a lack of trying. We leaned hard on the Nightkind that survived your attack on the asylum. There were only a handful, but none of them would talk. One literally bit his tongue off to avoid answering our questions. And a couple of others committed suicide, leaving us back at square one.”

  I thought of Copperwood Falls and the resurfacing memories that had tormented me in the cellars under the Embersen House. Recollections of another life and another world. Then my mind drifted to Astrid and Samuel and the man they’d been seeking. A lot had happened, even more than I’d realized at the time, but despite Erland’s little speech, I decided to keep it to myself. For now at least.

  “Something’s going on, Morgan. Something’s building. There’s chatter of a new order rising.”

  “A new order?”

  “A coalition between Nightkind. More than likely Wyght’s involved, but I don’t think she’s leading it.”

  “I’ll ask her for you. Just before I put a bullet in her head.” I glanced out the window as we passed the towering silver skyscrapers in the heart of the city.

  “Please do. But you’ll be answering the Council’s questions soon.” Erland lowered his voice. “Be vague, without seeming evasive.”

  “That should be easy enough. I’m about as much in the dark as you are.”

  “Good. And they already know you’re looking for Wyght, so don’t pretend otherwise. Admit to it, and I’ll chastise you to appease them. Then, as far as they’re concerned, you can go back to being a happy little pawn. Right?”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “They’ll ask why you didn’t come in when I summoned you. Play dumb, Morgan. You’re good at that.”

  “Thanks.”

  Erland gave a tight smile and glanced out his window. I turned and gazed through mine, each of us lost in our secrets.

  4

  I glanced up as the car pulled over. “Here we are,” Erland said. “The lion’s den.” He opened his door amid a rush of cold evening air and climbed out onto the sidewalk.

  The dark sky above was sliced into ribbons by the towering buildings and the streetlights on this particular block were sparse, and mostly faulty. I didn’t sense any imminent danger, not on the street anyway, so I slipped my hands into my pockets and followed Erland.

  As for the Council, I had no idea what to expect from this meeting beyond what he’d mentioned, but I felt like an errant schoolboy summoned by a malevolent principal. Especially after they’d sent Rhymes, and the others to round me up. We walked to the corner where a subway entrance stood enclosed by a large hinged metal gate. On the wall was a mosaic sign made up of dark tiles that read:

  ‘Eveningside Station’

  The structure looked like it had been handcrafted at the turn of the last century. And it probably had, yet I’d never seen nor heard of Eveningside before, despite passing through this downtown stretch hundreds of times. I guessed it was just one more of the city’s legions of hidden secrets.

  As we approached, a man in a bright yellow HV vest and hardhat emerged from the stairwell. He unlocked the metal gate with a clatter and scrape, drawing attention from the passing blinkereds. They watched as the subway worker stepped out, strode toward them and opened his hand as if releasing a buzzing fly. Not a moment had passed and beeps, tweets, and chirps filled the air. The blinkereds pulled out their phones and stared into them, their faces glowing with delight as Erland and I trundled down the stairwell into Eveningside without a single witness.

  It looked just like any other subway station, except for the fact that it was well maintained and free of piss and stale cigarette smoke.

  Kiosks and a short bank of turnstiles stood ahead; a final obstacle for any stray blinkereds. The surrounding air flickered, and I caught sight of a heavy, unpleasant enchantment, one powerful enough to repel even the most curious of urban explorers. But not us, because Erland had the golden ticket. He stepped through the turnstile and I followed close behind, half expecting the barrier to seize up and block me.

  The passage opened onto a dimly lit concourse. At the end was a bank of static escalators descending to darkness; an ominous sight in an ominous place.

  “This way.” Erland nodded to a small door I’d somehow overlooked. The old sign affixed to it read: ‘Maintenance’. Erland pressed his palm on the wall, a hidden lock clinked and the door swung open. A corridor stretched before us, its wood-paneled walls giving off a scent of refined oak, and the long stretch of purple carpet was sumptuous and plush. As soon as we crossed the threshold it was as warm as a May morning, a welcome respite from the cold October chill on the streets above.

  Closed doors lined the hall, each labeled with a polished metal plaque. We walked past ’The War Room’, ‘The Hub’, ‘The Eye’ and of course, ‘The Ear’. The distant muffled conversations within each room made me think of old spy movies; smoke-filled offices and men in starched shirts, their underarms ringed with sweat.

  “How long h
as this place been here?” I asked. Erland didn’t respond, but I saw the slight shake of his head as we neared the end of the corridor.

  A pair of double doors loomed before us and two vampires, one male, one female, stood guard on either side. Both of them wore tailored black suits and dark sunglasses. They could have been mistaken for FBI, if not for their deathly pale pallor and the telltale fangs that bulged behind their lips.

  They stared ahead but as we reached the entry I noticed a slight scowl blemish the woman’s forehead. A friend or associate of my former, recently departed enemy Mr. Tudor perhaps? I smiled, but she remained impassive, like I wasn’t there.

  The wooden doors swung open and Erland strode into a large, opulent chamber with confidence and a little of his customary panache. The space was dominated by a heavy oval conference table and a low hanging chandelier. Seven people sat in high-backed chairs positioned around the table. Or to be more accurate, two’ people’. One was a young man in his late twenties with oiled black hair that was slicked back and divided by a razor-sharp part. He regarded me with quick, beady-black eyes and looked away. Next to him sat a thin, waspish woman with a string of pearls gleaming above her grey roll-neck cashmere sweater.

  The rest of the Council seemed to be comprised of off-worlders. I watched as Erland nodded to a dwarf with a long wispy beard and colossal belly, then to a haughty elven woman whose pointy nose seemed to be permanently wrinkled in disgust. Next to them sat an elderly vampire with pale ashy flesh and unpleasantly lively eyes, as well as a troll in a suit that looked like it must have cost more than all my vacations rolled into one. The female ogre next to him wore a similarly posh ensemble, in what was in my estimations, a perfect encapsulation of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  The final two seats had been taken up by a Wendigo in maroon robes that clung to his gaunt frame, and a female ghoul with roving, cruel eyes and long nicotine stained white hair. She licked her dry chapped lips as she glared at me, then pulled them into a tight, irritable line. The Council continued to chatter and quaff the wine set before them as we stood and waited.

  Finally the young man with the well-oiled hair glanced my way and smiled with pristine white teeth but his gaze was as cold and calculating as a serpent’s. “Good evening, Mr. Underwood,” he said, his voice well spoken, almost disarming. “Thank you for coming. I see you’ve brought Mr. Rook. ” The other Council members gazed up at us as one, like a nightmarish panel conducting an interview in hell.

  “Good evening, Mr. Lampton,” Erland replied, his voice measured as he regarded the younger man.

  “Please, sit,” the dwarf said. His wide, bulging eyes flitted to mine and then away. “Both of you. Wine? Water?” He waved his hand toward the carafes in the center of the table and the decanters of red and white wine beside them, their labels almost as ornate as the bottles themselves.

  I opted for the water and took a sip as I continued to look around. It was cold, smooth and tasted like it had just bubbled out of a misty mountain spring, nothing like the chlorinated crap that flowed from every other tap in the city. So this was how they lived, while I had to skulk in the backroom of a filthy shop, begging and justifying to Snarksmuth my need for spare ammo or crystals so I could apprehend their rogue Nightkind. Not to mention the dues they withheld so I could access the magical quarter.

  “Yes, thank you for coming,” the waspish woman in the pearls said, as if I’d had any choice in the matter. “Now, to business. Mrs. Morlow, I believe you wanted to start?”

  “Indeed,” the ghoul said. “Good evening, Mr. Rook.”

  “Good evening.” I barely got my words out before she cut in.

  “Yes. So my first question is to ask why you’ve been evading our numerous summons?”

  So that was the niceties dispensed with. I was about to answer when Erland leaned forward. “If I may, I’ve already clarified that Mr. Rook was out of town on a personal matter. It was my decision to approve the request for leave so that he could deal with a few family issues.”

  “Yes,” the young man, Lampton said. “We’re perfectly aware that you’ve already elucidated why Mr. Rook failed to report to us after the events at the asylum.” His thin eyebrows rose over his smooth forehead. “But according to our sources, Mr. Rook’s been back in the city for at least two weeks since his purported visit with his father.” He gazed at me cooly. There was a disparity of about a million miles between his easy-going tone and the ruthless gleam in his eyes.

  “To be honest,” I held my hands out; look, no knives, “I’ve been preoccupied with personal-”

  “Elsbeth Wyght’s personal?” The waspish woman asked. “As far as we’re concerned, the Silver Spiral is a scourge which affects us all.”

  “Wyght murdered someone I loved,” I said. “That makes the matter pretty damned personal.”

  “Of course,” Lampton said. “Of course. But as Mrs. Napier’s pointed out, Elsbeth Wyght’s a problem we must face in solidarity. She’s extremely dangerous and her coven has harmed many, many people.” He steepled his fingers and placed them below his chin. “Which is why we need to pool our resources, not splinter them apart. This isn’t a time for lone wolves, Mr. Rook. This is a time for the magical community to come together.”

  I bit back my response and nodded. “Sure. I see where you’re coming from.”

  “Good,” Lampton said. “Good.”

  I glanced at the other Council members. They stared back impassively, content it seemed to let Lampton take the lead.

  “Now,” Lampton continued, “the main purpose of your summons was so you could clarify upon the shade you encountered at Galloway Asylum.”

  “I've already debriefed Mr. Underwood, I told him everything I know.”

  “Yes. But now I want you to tell us, Mr. Rook.” Lampton gave me a slow, frosty smile.

  “Right. So I went to the asylum-”

  “Why?” Lampton cut in. “Let’s start with the why.”

  Shit. I had no idea what Erland had told them. He knew about Tom and the murders, but I’d kept Helwyn and my journey to and from the Hinterlands from him. “I was following a lead.”

  “And was this lead in connection with the Hexling assassin you retired?” Lampton asked.

  “In a roundabout way.”

  “Roundabout?” The waspish woman asked.

  “Everything you need to know, including what you've inquired about today, is in the report I filed,” Erland said, barely disguising his irritation.

  “Basically I just followed the lead. When I arrived at the asylum I found it full of Nightkind. I was outnumbered. I fought as many as I could, including the hexling, a man named Prentice Sykes, and a shade.”

  Lampton leaned closer across the table. “Did this shade have a name? Did you converse with it? Did it reveal its purpose?”

  “He referred to himself as Stroud. And no, we didn’t converse. He just threatened me with his assassin, which tried to kill me. As to his motives, I’ve no idea. Look,” I flashed my most earnest smile, “to be frank, the situation never struck me as particularly unusual or different from any other that I’ve faced since working for the Organization. It was all in a day’s work. Except for the fact that, as much as it pained to me to have to report it, Stroud got away. But I didn’t-”

  “Yes, we heard the shade escaped.” The ghoul tapped her long bony finger upon the table, “and after that, you slaughtered what was said to be at least twenty Nightkind, possibly more. Tell me, how did you manage that?”

  “Initially I was attacked by a demon. I managed to subdue it and grab its blade, which had clearly been cursed in some way. Or maybe it was possessed. Either way, the blade took control of me and did terrible things. All I remember was an overwhelming anger and strength. I blacked out, and when I came to there was blood and bodies everywhere.” I sighed heavily. “Despite the fact that they were Nightkind and their assembly in the asylum was unlawful, the results of the raid are not something I was or am proud of. Even if it was
out of my hands, so to speak.”

  “I had the blade analyzed,” Erland said, adding to the lie. “Mr. Rook’s story checks out. It was indeed cursed.”

  “And where’s the weapon now?” Lampton asked.

  “In a vault. I can have it sent to you, if you wish?” Erland said with so much sincerity that even I almost believed him.

  “No, not for now. We have more pressing matters at hand.” Lampton gave me the kind of look a dog gave a bloody scrap of bone. “We’ll take your word for it. Our main point of concern was the level of extreme violence demonstrated during this operation. The whole purpose for your Organization, as well as ours, is to keep our way of life hidden and unseen. Open warfare draws the attention of the natives, which is of course the very last thing we need.”

  He spoke as if to intimate that he’d seen action himself. Like he’d actually had to face the same kind of vile scum I had to deal with almost daily. But I wasn't buying it. I was sure that if I turned over any of these people’s palms I’d find them as clean and smooth as the silken drapes festooning the far wall. What could they possibly know of the day to day reality of our operations? They simply sent people like me out to do their bidding. “As I said, I got unlucky. I failed to realize the weapon I’d appropriated was cursed. That mistake is on me. But situations develop fast when you find yourself up against Nightkind. Especially in those numbers.”

  “Of course, Mr. Rook,” Lampton said. “Accidents happen, and to err is to be human, as they say. Now, we want you to get back to work.”

  “With the shade?” I asked.

  “No. Not with the shade. There are plenty of other cases that need prompt attention; ones that will be assigned to you. And you will pursue those endeavors, not the ones you deem fit to pursue yourself.”

  “Such as?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Such as this business with Elsbeth Wyght. You need not entertain it any further, nor will you pursue the shade. We have other agents working on it, our finest. Is that clear?”