Rises: A Samuel Branch Novel

By Eric Dontigney

After nearly a year away, Samuel Branch returns home to try and build a life for himself. His plans, however, mean nothing to the world at large. He finds himself dragged into supernatural politics, squaring off against a corrupt police officer and fighting against his own rage. To make matters worse, the Green Man returns with a chilling revelation and a task. As Branch struggles to understand these new challenges, he will learn that power alone is not enough and, for some, things will never be the same again...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Dontigney
• Release date: Jul 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310383687

Eric Dontigney

Raised in Western New York, Eric Dontigney has lived in New Mexico, Florida, Wisconsin, Virginia, Pennsylvania and presently makes his home in Memphis, TN. He is a fan of photo-realism paintings, coffee and well-made food.Not wishing to tarnish the good names of writer's who have come before him, he refuses to name influences. He will admit to reading Neil Gaiman, Harlan Ellison, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ayn Rand, Stephen J. Cannell, Jim Butcher, Kate Chopin, Edgar Allen Poe, Shakespeare, Camus, James Baldwin, Tim O'Brien, Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, and Stephen King.

Book preview

This book is dedicated to Sarah,

for too many reasons to possibly list

Acknowledgements

Acknowledgements are almost harder than actually writing the book. How do you measure the influence of others over the span of months or, in the case of this book, a couple of years? How often does a conversation spark an idea that turns up in the pages of the novel long after the conversation itself has passed out of memory? These are the questions that plague the writer when they turn to write the acknowledgements. Some acknowledgements are easy. Alpha readers, bless your patient hearts for putting up with the process. Beta readers, your feedback is forever invaluable. Editor, I owe you a dinner, or several, or maybe a custom built piece of furniture.

So, without a further comment, I wish to acknowledge Troy, Kat, Mom, MacKenzie, Halen, Jason, Colleen, and, as always, Sarah. I’d also like to take a moment to acknowledge the bands and musical artists that helped to bring this novel home: Alter Bridge, A Perfect Circle, Tool, Terra Naomi, Better than Ezra, and Erin McCarley.

For whatever errors may remain in the text – factual, grammatical, typographical or metaphysical – I claim complete responsibility.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Dear Reader

About the Author

Connect with Me

Chapter 1

I stared through the binoculars at the building across the street, as I had been doing every night for a week. In theory, it was an exclusive club. The kind for ultra-rich types who liked to pretend they were slumming it by hanging out in a converted warehouse. I expect that most nights it even operated as exactly that, but this was not most nights. The usual bouncers, who turned people away with a velvet rope and a combined mass equal to your average railroad car, were nowhere in sight. In their place was a four-man team of pros. Two men stayed on the door, while the other two did walking patrols around the building. They were armed and not making any effort to hide that fact. The near total absence of barely dressed women and overdressed men was the most telling signal that something very different was happening. In the last three hours, only two dozen people had arrived and I use the word people in the loosest possible sense. I’ll grant that they looked like people, but I didn’t need to look at their energy to know they weren’t human beings. Darkness rolled off them like fog, thick enough for me to feel across the street and four floors up. That concentration of evil turned my stomach, but it would also make things easier.

He’s in there, Branch, said Lorenzo, stepping up next to me. Do you suppose it’s a coincidence?

I dropped the binoculars from my eyes and looked over at Lorenzo. The lights were off to hide the most obvious signs of our presence, so he was little more than a dark mass in the space beside me. It’d been almost a year since Lorenzo turned up on my doorstep, issuing dire warnings and cryptic statements. At the time, I thought he might be there to kill me. I laughed to myself a little. I think, at the time, he might have thought the same thing. It was a strange relationship. In the last year, I’d come to rely on Lorenzo in a thousand small and large ways. He was a wellspring of information about the seedier side of life, which had made him an invaluable resource. Of course, he’d helped save my life after the Green Man beat me to the threshold of death. That’s the sort of thing that endears a person to me. In short, I trusted him with my life, but I barely knew anything about him. A day would come when I’d have to push Lorenzo for his story, but not today.

I sincerely doubt it, I said.

Why do you suppose he’s here?

Unless I’ve misunderstood his appetites, I think he’s here for the show. It’s his kind of party.

Yes, said Lorenzo, it is exactly his kind of party.

I put the binoculars back up to my eyes, more for something to do than out of necessity. A part of me relished what was coming. In the middle of the Green Man debacle, someone sent a sniper to kill me. Luck and a well-timed tackle from Lorenzo kept me alive. I’d gotten a memento for my trouble through: one of the rounds the sniper fired at me. That round led me to a man tied to a chair in Kiev. By the time I arrived, he’d spent some quality time with Lorenzo and Cheryl, my quasi-live-in-girl-something. I didn’t ask for details about what they did to him, but I’m supremely confident those two could teach a master class on inflicting pain. The mere threat that I’d leave him in their hands had my would-be assassin stumbling all over himself to tell me whatever I wanted to know. He didn’t know much. He never dealt with clients. Offers came through a handler he’d only met once, years before, via encrypted emails. That was it. A name and an email account were all I had to go on. As for the sniper, I took pity on him. I told Lorenzo to make it quick. Well, I told him to make it quick-ish. The guy in the chair did try to snipe me, damn it. Lorenzo took fire that day, too, and I got the not so subtle impression that he was going to kill the sniper, regardless of anything I said. I won’t pretend I’m sad the man is dead. He wasn’t the kind of person who asked questions before pulling the trigger.

It took a long time, far longer than it should have, to find the handler. I’m a fighter and, in a disturbing way I try not to dwell on, a tactical weapon. You point me at the bad guy and I’ll rain down nine kinds of hell on his head. Finding the handler, though, didn’t call for a fighter or a tactical weapon. It called for a hunter and the learning curve was steep. I kicked down a lot of doors, but they didn’t all pan out. In a particularly embarrassing moment, I kicked down an elderly couple’s door. The woman I was looking for was long gone. I’m not too proud to admit I traded manual labor to avoid an awkward conversation with the police. As penance, I spent an afternoon fixing the old couple’s door, weeding their garden and hearing about how, in the old country, only the secret police kicked in doors. Much to my relief, though, they took my apology and even made me stay for dinner. I came across as such a lost puppy dog after my grandiose entrance that I now get monthly packages filled with the best homemade cookies produced on planet earth. For the record, the cookies make that entire experience worth the embarrassment.

I don’t suppose, asked Lorenzo, that I can talk you out of going in there alone?

No, I said. Once the fireworks start, I need someone out here that can handle it if one of those things gets loose. I don’t want another Berlin.

Lorenzo tried and failed to check a sigh. It wasn’t his fault, or anyone’s fault really, but a family driving by in a car got caught in the crossfire after I kicked down one of the right doors. It was mostly bumps and bruises, physically, but they all witnessed something unmistakably evil and inhuman. Then they saw me vaporize the thing in a column of fire big enough that a mid-size sedan could park on the scorch mark it left. According to the guy I had checking in on the family, the kids were shaking it off. That didn’t surprise me. Children have more flexible minds and the imagination to incorporate the supernatural into their worldview. The parents, on the other hand, weren’t handling it well. They looked to be on divorce’s door, courtesy of rampant denial and night terrors. I felt like I ought to do something to try to help them, but couldn’t quite imagine what that help might look like. I didn’t think the truth would help and might make things worse. I flirted with the notion of erasing the memories, but mucking around in people’s heads is dangerous. You’re just as likely to break something as fix it. Not to mention that it’s crap-your-pants terrifying. Minds are incomprehensibly vast. You can get lost in them forever. All the other options were too absurd to entertain. I dropped that line of thought and hoped inspiration would strike without my help.

Is everything in place, I asked, getting back to business.

Yes, said Lorenzo. I wish you’d brought that archer with you. He’s good in a fight.

He is, but he has other obligations.

In all fairness, I would have liked to have Arjun along for this little expedition. He had more strategic expertise in his head than half of the top military brass in the world combined. He’d been wandering this planet and leading men into battle since the dawn of civilization. I still don’t understand exactly how that works. He wasn’t forthcoming about whether he was blessed or cursed with eternal life. I did know it wasn’t like my situation. Compared to him, I got off easy. There was a predictable, if painfully distant, end point to my life. If I’m guessing correctly, Arjun could very well end up closing the book on humanity a billion years from now. I shudder at the thought. People talk about fates worse than death, but I think Arjun is living one of them.

What could he possibly be doing, asked Lorenzo, that trumps taking down this much evil in one fell swoop?

He’s keeping Carmichael alive.

Is Carmichael in some kind of danger?

Carmichael is always in some kind of danger.

You underestimate him, Branch. Carmichael can do without his minder for a few days.

I glanced at Lorenzo. I was never sure exactly how much he knew. Lorenzo did know Carmichael was more than the business executive he played for the public, but whether he knew exactly how much more was an open mystery. Then again, I wasn’t sure how in-the-know I really was, either. Arjun had engaged me in a long, hypothetical conversation about Carmichael’s family a while back. He implied a great deal to me, but I never discussed those implications directly with Carmichael. Arjun was assigned as Carmichael’s bodyguard without anyone bothering to consult Carmichael. Always his own man, Carmichael met that decision with a hateful indifference toward Arjun that only softened to something vaguely friendly after Arjun helped fight the Green Man. I didn’t want to rock the boat by telling Carmichael that Arjun revealed dark secrets about the Smythe family to me. It was also possible that I kept putting it off because avoiding the conversation with Carmichael let me avoid the same conversation with Cheryl. I could live with suspicions about what she did on her business trips, but I didn’t want to know she was fighting for her life every time she left town. That particular truth would not set me free. It would shackle me with fear.

It’s not Carmichael I’m underestimating. I’ve just stopped underestimating the opposition. It’s dangerous to assume your enemies are incompetent.

True. Hence, I’m forced to ask, do you realize this is a trap?

Of course I realize it’s a trap. It’s too convenient.

If you know it’s a trap, why go in?

Because my enemies have assumed that I’m incompetent.

I’d spent a good chunk of the last year taking apart the organization supporting the man, or thing in this case, who tried to have me killed. Some of the organization was your basic criminal enterprise, complete with drugs, prostitution, and import-export. The rest was straight up black magic for hire. I’d pummeled, burned and exorcized my way up the organization’s food chain. The order to kill me had filtered down through a lot of steps, but I’d finally managed to put a name to the person calling the shots. He called himself Xavier, just the one name, like that ridiculous director or those equally ridiculous fashion models. Three months back, right after I got his name, the information dried up. It was like he vanished off the face of the planet, which, in all fairness, may be exactly what happened. Then, two weeks ago, word reached me that he turned up in São Paulo, Brazil. He made a big splash, throwing money around and hosting wild parties. The message was clear enough. Come and get me, if you dare.

I dared. Lorenzo claimed to have some friends in São Paulo, so I sent him ahead to do a little preliminary scouting. The man seemed to have friends, or at least a wide net of mostly reliable acquaintances, in every city on the planet. He found that Xavier was there and, much to my amusement, that Xavier had spent a small fortune’s worth of his fast diminishing resources to ensure my arrest the minute I set foot in São Paulo. Lorenzo, always the pragmatist, bought off the same men for twice as much. Or so I assume. Lorenzo is brutally efficient and I sleep easier when I don’t pry into his methods. Suffice it to say, Xavier was going to be disappointed if he expected a small army of polÍcia to mount a last minute rescue. If I was him, though, I wouldn’t rely on bribery alone to protect me. I’d set a trap inside the club. I knew what trap I’d use, but it was anyone’s guess if Xavier would go that route.

Alright, it’s time to get this show on the road, I said. You know what to do.

I do, said Lorenzo.

I made my way down four flights of creaking, groaning stairs before I pushed open a door and stepped into an alley. The alley was on the far side of the building, away from the club entrance. It was one thing to announce my presence, but something else entirely to saunter out of an abandoned building and cross the street. I walked to the mouth of the alley, stepping around mounds of trash and trying to ignore the smell. I wondered who dumped the trash there, since the buildings on both sides of the alley were abandoned. I shrugged off the thought. I was getting sidetracked by trivia. I started a slow count backwards from ten to center my mind and push down my anticipation. If I wanted my revenge, I needed focus. I finished my count and stepped out of the alley.

I walked to the corner and looked across the street at the two men guarding the club’s door. I waited until they saw me before I started walking across the street. I felt ridiculous as my patent leather shoes clicked softly on the pavement. The shoes, along with the black silk shirt and slacks, were Cheryl’s contribution to the evening’s entertainment. A few months back, during a brief stop at home, I discovered that she was excising every synthetic fabric from my wardrobe. According to her, with the way I tossed around fire, wearing synthetic fabric was just taunting fate. She wasn’t wrong, but it galled me to watch my most comfortable sweatshirts go to the Goodwill. She also took it upon herself to assemble my outfits for these little adventures. Considering how often my clothes end up in tatters, it struck me as waste of money, but she took an unholy glee in both choosing and replacing the clothes. The guards eyed me on my approach, but didn’t go straight for their weapons. The older of the two took a step forward and held up his hand, bringing me to a stop on the sidewalk.

Private party tonight, sir. The club is open to the public again tomorrow, if you’d like to come back then.

I smiled at the man. I think I’m expected. You should really take your men and go.

The man’s eyes narrowed and I could almost see the threat calculus going on in his head. He was evaluating everything from my stance and the way I’d moved across the street to the fact that my hair was cropped too short to grab. Apparently, little ole Sam Branch does not read as a warm, fuzzy kitten, because he dropped back a step. His hand drifted toward his waist. I made sure he noticed me noticing that fact. He cocked his head at me, like he wasn’t quite sure what to think.

You’re the guy, said the guard. You’re the one that’s got them acting like someone put shattered safety glass in their cereal.

He’s the guy, said the younger of the two, eyes wide and his head swinging between me and his boss.

Idle curiosity, I said, would it make a difference if I were?

You said he wasn’t real, accused the younger guard.

I didn’t think he was, said the older guard. Hear a lot of stories about you. People whisper about you in dark corners like you’re the devil.

I can’t stop people from gossiping, just like you can’t stop what’s about to happen. Do you know what’s in there?

The younger of the two just stared at me. The older guard averted his eyes for a split second. He might not know exactly, but he’d made some educated guesses. He knew they were bad news and probably even knew they deserved what was coming. I could see the muscles working in his jaw. He was getting that look in his eyes. I’d seen it before. It’s a look that says the guy knows he’s on the wrong side of this one, but he’s been paid to do a job. I had to cut this off at the pass or I’d be forced to hurt them both for no good reason.

Right now, you think you’ve got an obligation, I said. You took their money, so you have to protect them. Want to know where that money came from?

The lead guard lost some of that look as he asked, Where?

Heroin, mostly. Some cocaine and meth, too. The rest came from underage prostitutes that were living as prisoners until seven months ago.

The younger guard looked nauseous. The older one’s face was empty.

What happened seven months ago? The older guard asked.

I did.

He considered that for a few seconds before he tapped a spot on his chest and started talking.

John. Clark. Fall back to the van. We’re cutting out early.

The younger guard gaped at the older one, his nausea displaced by slack-jawed shock.

The older guard told at the younger one, You too, Tim. I’ll catch up.

You’re sure, said Tim, looking at me.

If even half the stories about him are half true, he could have walked straight through us without even trying. I’ll be fine.

Tim gave one me a sidelong glance and then hustled around the corner. The older guard gave me a long, steady look. He shook his head a little.

You know, I’ve never walked away from a job before.

It’s the right choice, this time, I said.

I pulled a card out of my pocket and handed it to him. There was nothing but a phone number on it. He took the card, frowned at it, and then looked at me.

What’s this?

You get paid up front for this job?

Half. Why?

You can’t collect the other half. Call the number and you’ll be compensated. If you’re interested in working for people who don’t, I thought hard, draw the attention of someone like me, leave your information. Someone will get in touch.

Why do this?

You didn’t make me hurt that Tim kid.

Simple as that?

Simple as that.

The man gave me a little nod and started walking away. He stopped after a few steps and looked back. The man nodded again, to himself more than me, and disappeared around the corner. I waited until I saw a heavy-duty van drive past. Tim stared at me through the window and then the van was gone. I walked up the steps to the club’s door, threw it open like I owned the place and strolled in. Every eye in the place turned to me and a few people started looking very nervous. I walked to the center of the room and did a three-sixty turn. The one I wanted, Xavier, was sitting up on a raised dais. Ah, the man who would be king routine. I recognized the creature standing next to him. I smiled, raised my voice and made an announcement.

Only one of you has to die, I said, pointing at Xavier. The rest of you have sixty seconds to get out.

Chapter 2

There was a long moment of silence. No one moved. I looked around the room again and made a show of checking my watch.

Fifty seconds, I said.

So dramatic, said a woman.

I looked toward the source of the voice. A woman stepped out of the crowd and took slow steps toward me. Her skin was unblemished and as pale as moonlight. It stood out against the black velvet of a strapless dress that clung to her lithe body. A slit that ran from her hem to hip exposed bright flashes of skin every time she stepped. Her dark hair was piled on her head in a contrived messiness that probably took hours to achieve. She had lavender eyes that shone too clearly in the dim club lighting. Her lips were full, almost too full for her narrow face. Her sole imperfection was a chin sharp enough to chip ice.

Men are always so dramatic, she said, moving closer. You should relax and have a drink with me. It will be far more enjoyable than any violence. Of course, that’s negotiable, too.

I could feel her trying to work a subtle magic on me meant to evoke lust and crumble rational thought. I faced her with a smile. She smiled back and somehow thrust her breasts at me without changing her posture. Her nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress. I wondered how many people died with that as the last thing they ever saw. Hundreds? Thousands probably, I thought after a moment of consideration. There weren’t many vampires left. The few that were left were old and cautious to the point of paranoia, usually. I’d killed two in the last year, though, so maybe I’d overestimated their caution level. I glanced up at Xavier, who grinned down at the scene. The grin turned to panic when he saw me look at him. If I were enthralled, the way I was supposed to be enthralled, I would have remained fixated on the vampire woman. I looked back at her. She stood, motionless, her pencil thin eyebrows lifted in shock.

A sweet offer, but I’ll keep my life on the inside today. Thank you, though, I said.

I raised my fingers to my lips and blew her a kiss. I think she guessed what was coming because she closed her eyes. I’d backed that blown kiss with enough power that she simply exploded into burning debris. There was milling and shouting and general terror. Getting pelted with burning bits of a former ally does that. I looked down at my watch again and looked back up at Xavier.

Twenty-five, I said. Any takers? Safe passage if you leave now.

No one spoke or moved for the space of three seconds. Then, one of the male guests looked from me to Xavier and made a decision. He straightened his tuxedo jacket, knocking a still burning bit of the vampire from his sleeve.

To hell with this, he said. I came for a party, not a slaughter.

He grabbed the arms of two of the other guests and started toward the door. They seemed hesitant, but whatever mojo he had gave him the physical or magical power necessary to drag them along by main force. Xavier bellowed from the dais.

Leave now and you’ll get no more favors from me, Marco!

Marco spoke over his shoulder, I think you’re already dead. So I’m not losing much, am I?

Xavier sputtered but Marco never broke stride. I don’t know if he was a power player in that room or they were all waiting for someone else to chicken out first, but Marco triggered a mass exodus. I checked my watch a final time and the minute ran out. I looked around the room. There were half a dozen left on the floor, plus Xavier and the creature standing beside him. I wasn’t worried about that last. I knew something that Xavier clearly didn’t about that particular being.

Last chance to leave, I said.

The remaining six moved in a little closer and Xavier sneered down at me.

No matter, he said. You’re still trapped.

The circle closed around me. In theory, a magical circle contains and binds whoever or whatever happens be inside of it. It cuts them off from the magical ebb and flow of the world, which, for most practitioners, cuts their available power in half. It’s easier and, in most cases, smarter to use the energy around you to work magic. It’s less tiring for one. For another, the earth is the single most potent magical energy source around. What the average practitioner can siphon off to use is the equivalent of the draw of a single light bulb against the output of every power plant on the face of the earth times about a billion. That’s why keeping someone inside a circle or getting out of a circle almost always comes down to a battle of wills. I knew that, sooner or later, someone was going to try this on me. Binding circles are magical theory 101. So, I spent some time figuring out the best ways to escape one. Then, I practiced.

The real challenge, I discovered, wasn’t getting out, but doing it in a way that doesn’t leave you too exhausted to defend yourself. It’s pointless to get out if any fool with a gun can saunter over and shoot you while you’re half-conscious. I could probably break the circle in a battle of wills. I recruited the most disciplined minds I could find to practice doing exactly that and I was pretty good at it. I like options, though. I sussed out one surefire method, but it was the kind of thing that could only work once. I was saving it for a rainy day and it wasn’t raining. I gave the circle a contemptuous sniff. I started prepping the energy I’d need for one of the other approaches I worked out.

You know, I said, it doesn’t have to go down like this.

I think it does, said Xavier.

Fair enough, I answered.

I touched the bone conduction transmitter in my ear to make sure it was secure. Xavier gave me a strange look, like he couldn’t figure out what I was doing. I gave him a little wink and spoke.

Lock it down, I said.

Ever since we first set off on this little quest, Lorenzo turned up periodically with men and women that offered to help. I’d hesitated at first, but Lorenzo made a very good point. All evidence to the contrary, I wasn’t the only person in the world who made enemies. Xavier made more than a few along the way as well. Some of them were normal people who got caught up in things beyond their experience. A few of his enemies had some magical talent, but none with the kind of juice you need to take down something like Xavier in a frontal assault. What they could do was provide me tactical support without throwing away their lives in a doomed attempt on Xavier’s life. I slipped the earpiece out and slid energetic shields over my ears and eyes. I waited and then there was a series of small booms as the doors and windows were barred physically and sealed magically. A determined and very talented practitioner could get out with enough time. I wasn’t planning on giving it to them. The six holding the circle started looking around and I unleashed my surprise.

In one of the universe’s less explicable acts of unfairness, inhuman creatures almost always enjoy heightened senses. You know, things like being able to see in the dark, smell fear, and hear sounds beyond the range of human hearing. Those senses normally serve them well. Spend enough time fighting things like that, though, and you learn to turn those heightened senses against them. Six small spheres appeared in a circle around me in eye searing shades of red, blue, green and yellow. I infused the spheres with my intention and set them loose. All six spheres burst into blazing light, any of which could have lit the entire room, and strobe rhythms measured in fractions of a second. Interesting factoid, bright lights are distracting. Strobe lights are really distracting. Six of them, all set to a different rhythm, could set off epileptic seizures in normal people. The spheres themselves were magical constructs and bound inside the sphere with me, but the light was just light. It passed through the magical barrier around me with no trouble.

As soon as multicolored, multi-rhythm spheres went into action, I heard someone outside the circle start screaming. I looked to my right and saw one of the six clutching his head. He fell down and tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. Then I moved into phase two. I’d figured out a way to turn the fact that the spheres were stuck inside with me to my advantage. I triggered the second level of my intentions inside the spheres and they all shot outward. Each sphere careened off the boundaries of the circle with a sound like gunfire and shot off in a different direction, picking up speed. In no time, the spheres were bouncing around inside the circle too fast to be distinguished as individual objects and creating a wall of noise that would dwarf a college drumline. As with the light, the noise passed through the circle without any trouble. The shields I’d slid over my ears and eyes protected me, filtering out the auditory and visual noise. I learned the lesson the hard way, having gone half deaf and blind the first time I tried the maneuver. It took a while to work out how to filter just the light and noise I wanted to filter out, while not blocking out all functional vision and hearing.

Magic, especially powerful magic, is a delicate thing. It requires concentration to control and maintain. Concentrating past normal sensory distraction takes either a special or trained mind. That is one of the main reasons that most magic happens in seclusion. Seclusion allows the practitioner to exert some control over distractions in the environment. The concentration required is also the reason you don’t see many magical firefights. Whether you’re summoning a demon or calling lighting down from a clear, blue sky, getting distracted leads to massive backfires. If you’re lucky, you don’t survive those backfires. If you’re not lucky, well, it’s best to be lucky. In the end, magical types go to great lengths avoid any distraction while they work. That is under normal circumstances.

It takes an unprecedented kind of mental discipline to concentrate past the level of sensory distraction I was creating. Apparently, fate had not seen fit to bestow such minds on the lackeys that held the circle. Their concentration wobbled, then broke, and the circle collapsed. The spheres, no longer constrained, flew out into the room. The last command I’d implanted kicked in and each sphere homed in on one of the things holding the circle. I didn’t know how strong Xavier’s lackeys would be, so I didn’t stint on power when I’d made the spheres. The spheres bored holes through chests, arms, and even heads. Three lackeys died immediately. The rest followed a moment later. I reached out with my will and pulled the spheres back into a circle around me. I stopped the strobe-effect and doused the blinding light with a thought. The spheres hung around me, spinning in a slow, lazy orbit. I dropped the shields on my eyes and ears. The whole thing took less than a minute.

Xavier dropped a hand away from his eyes and surveyed the carnage in disbelief. I saw comprehension dawn on his face. Whatever he thought I was, I clearly exceeded his expectations. He looked at the creature who stood next to him throughout the entire ordeal. The creature regarded me with glacier blue eyes. I’d met him once before, when he’d been the one inside the circle and I’d been the one holding it. I stole the idea of blinding light from him. It’s pretty damned effective if the people holding the circle don’t expect it. I was fairly confident he was a dark god or a demon of the first order. At a certain level, those distinctions become semantic. He stood below the Lords and Ladies in the pecking order of unimaginable power, but everything did. I couldn’t even venture a guess how far below them he stood. I worked from the assumption he was as powerful as the Glynn, the nigh-immortal messenger boy and hatchet man for the Lords and Ladies. That put him several, exponential rungs up the ladder from me. In short, I didn’t want to fight him if I could possibly avoid it. I’d probably lose in swift and ugly fashion. Of course, I wouldn’t have to find out while I dealt with Xavier. The creature gave me a slight nod and a faint smile.

An imaginative solution to the problem of the circle, he said.

His voice was as absent of inflection and regional markers as the last time we met. It still grated on my nerve endings, but didn’t send chills down my spine anymore. I didn’t make the mistake of thinking he wouldn’t destroy me someday, given the chance, but we’d reached an agreement. I didn’t summon him. A group of terrifyingly stupid kids did that. I was the one who held him in the circle. It had been touch and go. I only succeeded because something ancient and primal woke in me or passed into me at the crucial moment. I still felt that knowledge, nested inside my mind like a second consciousness. It stirred at the sound of the creature’s voice, but the absence of an immediate threat lulled it back to inactivity. I tread lightly around that knowledge. It came to me too easily and at far too convenient a moment for me to trust it. Knowledge and the power it bestows come at a price. I still hadn’t pieced together the price for that knowledge and that ignorance unsettled me. My success in containing the creature allowed me to negotiate of truce of sorts. The rules that govern summoning dictate that summoners can receive a year of safe passage and non-interference from whatever they summon. At least, they can as long as summoners remember to extract a promise of safe passage. I made damn sure to extract such a promise, and I was still inside my year.

I thought you might like that, I said, nodding in return.

Escape from a circle and with only the barest exertion of will. I had never thought to see something new again.

I have my moments, I said.

I turned my attention to Xavier. He was looking back and forth between me and the creature, suspicion and anger writ large on his face. He didn’t expect me to know the creature, let alone to have achieved some modicum of respect from it. I suspect he considered the creature a trump card to play against me, but that wasn’t going to happen. Whatever else the creature might be or do, it held firm to a bizarre sense of honor. He wasn’t going to interfere.

So, Xavier, I said, We should chat.

Chapter 3

I have nothing to say to you, said Xavier.

No? I thought you might want to explain why you sent a sniper to kill me.

Xavier gave me a hard look, like he thought I was being willfully ignorant. Then, he cocked an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. He tapped a finger on his cheek.

You really don’t know, do you?

I don’t, I admitted. It has been on my mind, though.

What do I get if I tell you what you want to know?

I blinked at that. I hadn’t really expected him to tell me anything, let alone bargain with me. I mulled it over for a moment, considering the implications. I glanced around the room. The smoldering remains of his lackeys were crumbling to dust. Whatever power that had held them together, allowing them to pose as young, healthy human beings, was gone. The remnants of flesh and bone drew in with quiet snaps and pops that made my stomach rebel a little. They had never been human beings, but it didn’t make the sight, sound, or smell any easier to take. I tried to pretend to myself that it was just a physical response, but it wasn’t true. I’d crossed some lines on my way to Xavier. Those crumbling bodies threatened to dredge up a memory I didn’t want to revisit. I pushed the memory away and tried to quell my stomach. I looked back at Xavier.

What do you want?

You know what I want, he said. I want to live.

No.

Are you so certain you can defeat me? Perhaps your strength is not as great as you imagine, said Xavier.

Perhaps not, I said, but there are contingencies in place. On the off chance you do kill me, I’ll still leave you a crippled mess. You’ve got lots of enemies, Xavier. One of them will finish you.

Then why should I tell you anything?

There are lots of ways to die, I said. Some of them are fast and relatively painless. I’ll make it quick. Think you’ll get that option from anyone else?

I wondered why he was dragging things out. We both knew how it was going to end. There was no if in the equation, just a when. I could understand stalling for time, looking for an option or a chance to escape. He had to know that wasn’t going to happen this time. Then, it hit me. He still thought that the local police were going to ride in to the rescue. He just needed to wait it out. I might be willing to kill him and his lackeys, but he probably figured that I’d draw the line at summarily murdering a bunch of cops. He’d be right. Even if they were corrupt, I wasn’t looking for anything else to haunt me. I gave him a little smile and shook my head in the negative. His eyes narrowed.

You’re stalling, I said. The cavalry isn’t coming. You should have paid them more.

Xavier actually hissed at me. His flabby cheeks turned a mottled red and I felt his power gather from across the room. He wasn’t weak. Had he bothered to lend his will to fortifying the circle, my little audio-visual blitzkrieg might not have worked. I sighed. He probably hoped his guests would do the job for him. That’s the problem with quasi-immortals. They see friends, allies and enemies in exactly the same way: disposable. After all, if you’re patient, you can always replace allies. The human lifespan is short enough that generations blink by for things like Xavier. Betray one group of people and thirty years later only the most single-minded and ruthless mortals remembered. Now that I was this close to him and could feel his power, I knew that Xavier was a demon. Mere proximity to his power made my skin crawl. It felt like someone had dipped me in used motor oil and no amount of soap and steel wool would ever take it off. Some fool probably summoned him a thousand years ago and got it wrong, loosing this thing on the mortal world.

It’s more common than people might think. Some things, like the creature standing next to Xavier, prefer their own domains. It’s where they can fully exercise their power. Other beings, those with less power, less influence, or from particularly hellish places, jump at the chance to escape into our world. They can regain lost magical power over time and raw magical strength means less here. You don’t need access to overwhelming force when you can just take out contracts on people who cross you. Money and information are the great equalizers. While I couldn’t deprive Xavier of information, I had deprived him of a whole lot of money. I financed the early days of this hunt out of pocket, but I’d more than made up the losses since then. Lorenzo had pointed out that Xavier ran cash businesses and we had, quite selflessly, liberated those funds from their service to evil. I imagine Xavier gnashed his teeth more than once over the knowledge that I was hunting him with his own money. The descent of our conflict into a magical fight spoke volumes about how much financial damage Xavier suffered because of me. Strangely, my conscience was silent on the matter.

There is another option I’d be willing to consider, I said.

The gathering power around Xavier fluctuated as he processed my words. Everything wants to live and Xavier knew his odds of beating me in a straight fight were, at best, poor. His eyebrows drew together and he spoke through clenched teeth.

Yes?

Go home, I said.

Xavier’s head snapped back, as though I had reached across the room and punched him with words. His forehead creased and his dark, purple lips twitched. I couldn’t tell if he was holding back words or if it was just a nervous tic, but I had to work hard to banish the image of a bloated, grotesque baby suckling at the tit of some monstrous hellbeast. I wanted to end him where he sat, but I’d been caught up in too many bad situations because I shot first and never bothered to ask any questions. I didn’t like what that said about the kind of man I am, but I liked even less that Carmichael pointed all of that out to me. Yet, there I was, beating down the urge to repeat the pattern. Xavier was the big fish in his pond, but he took a massive risk sending a hired killer after me. It might have been some kind of coup for him, if it had worked, but my reputation precedes me. If you come for me, get the job done because I won’t let it go. You don’t call down the wrath of someone like me without a damn compelling reason. I wanted to know Xavier’s reason more than I wanted to turn