Chapter 1: Even More Fun With Food Service

My name is Nadia MacCormac, and two months after I got married, I helped my husband kill a man.

To be fair, the guy we killed totally deserved it.

By the time we caught up to Paul Ricci, he had already murdered fourteen people. Fourteen innocent people, who had been going about their lives until Ricci decided that he needed to spill their blood to fuel his crazy plans. And Ricci would have killed a lot more innocent people if me and Riordan hadn’t killed him first.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I should start at the beginning.

Okay, one of the beginnings.

If I started at the real beginning, that would be a hundred and seventy-five years ago, when Lord Morvilind recruited me as his shadow agent. And even then, it goes back farther. Riordan says that history is like that, that you think it’s done but it’s never really over, that it keeps causing you problems again and again.

That’s why I don’t like history.

I’m rambling. Again.

Anyway, Paul Ricci and the people he killed.

It was October 15th, Conquest Year 316 (or 2329 AD, according to the old calendar), and it was a cold, drizzling night in Brooklyn. Specifically, I was walking on a sidewalk a little north of Prospect Park. Five or six story buildings rose on either side of the street, and cars lined both curbs. It was about 6:30 PM, a little after peak rush hour, but traffic was still heavy, and quite a few pedestrians filled the sidewalks.

I walked through them, my hands in my pockets. I was wearing running shoes, black jeans, a gray sweater, and my favorite black naval-style pea coat. The coat was loose enough that I had wrapped it tight around me for warmth. It was also loose enough to conceal my little .25 revolver in an interior pocket and the radio pack clipped to the back of my belt. To keep the drizzle out of my eyes, I had donned a baseball cap, my hair tied into a tail and tucked through the back. I also wore a pair of thin leather gloves.

Fingerprints were not the sort of thing I wanted to leave behind tonight.

I watched the crowds around me as I walked, my hands tense in the pockets of my coat. This section of Brooklyn wasn’t exactly crime-ridden, and Homeland Security patrols were a common sight. Of course, it was only three months since the Rebels had almost nuked New York, so the locals were still watchful.

And me, I never really relaxed. Not anymore.

My destination came into sight, and I picked up my pace.

Ricci’s Italian Restaurant filled the lowest floor of a seven-story building. Light spilled into the drizzly night from the windows, and inside I glimpsed wooden booths and tables and a long U-shaped bar that dominated the center of the room. The smell of garlic drifted to my nose, along with the odors pepperoni and bread. Music played softly overhead, a pop song by a woman named Della or Delilah or Deborah or something (my knowledge of pop culture is often incomplete.) The place looked like a nice but expensive restaurant, but every goddamn thing in New York was expensive.

I wondered if Paul Ricci had killed any of his customers.

I stepped off the sidewalk and into the alley between the restaurant’s building and its neighbor. The alley was unremarkable, with a pair of dumpsters that gave off a foul odor and a single security light over the restaurant’s rear entrance. Unlike many alleys in New York, it did not smell of urine, so that was a plus.

I dug the earpiece out of my pocket, slipped it into my right ear, and tapped it.

“All right,” I said. “I’m going to go in and see if I can find Ricci. If I do, I’ll let you guys know before I use the Cloak spell.”

A woman’s voice crackled over the earpiece, cheery with an English accent. “Good hunting, tigress.”

Yeah. Tigress. Nora was fond of little nicknames that seemed flattering but were slightly insulting if you thought about them too long. Though we got along better, these days. Nora hadn’t approved of me, and she definitely hadn’t approved of my relationship with Riordan, but after I saved Nora and fifteen million other people from dying in a nuclear inferno, she had started warming up to me.

I was still the “tigress,” though.

Another voice came over the earpiece, deep and calm with just the faintest hint of a Texas drawl. “If you locate him, don’t kill him on the spot. We need to find where he’s been casting his summoning spell. Men like him almost always gather a cult around themselves.”

I knew all that already, but I didn’t mind Riordan reminding me. He had gone to insane lengths to look after my safety. And I had in the past given him a few very good reasons to worry about me.

Well. Maybe more than a few.

“Right,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”

Nora snorted. “Liar.”

“I’m hanging around with a bunch of Shadow Hunters,” I said. “Way too late for careful.”

With that, I took a deep breath, cleared my mind, and cast the Mask spell.

Silver light flashed, and my will molded and shaped it, spinning an illusion. I Masked myself as a middle-aged man, paunchy and balding, dressed in a polo shirt and cargo trousers. It made me look like a sales clerk on his way home after work, and no one would bother a man like that if he didn’t make trouble. Given that my actual appearance was that of a twenty-two year old woman, it was easier to use a Mask spell to remain unnoticed.

But I was older than my appearance. Much older, and a century and a half of that time had been filled with death after death after death…

Memories of blood and torment bubbled up in my mind, and I shoved them back down. I had gotten good at pushing aside the memories of the Eternity Crucible, of keeping myself together, but the shadows in my mind were always there.

With a grimace, I stepped out of the alley and walked into Ricci’s Italian Restaurant.

It was warmer inside, which was nice. The air smelled of garlic and beer. A low buzz of conversation came to my ears. Four TVs mounted over the bar showed a football game (American, not British), and I was pleased to note that the TVs were muted. I’d been in some bars and restaurants where the damned TVs were so loud my ears started bleeding.

People waited for tables, but there were still open spaces at the bar. I walked up, picked a location that would give me a good look at the kitchen doors, and hopped onto a bar stool. The bartender approached, a perky blond woman dressed in black, and I bought a beer from her and pretended to drink it and stare at the football game. I didn’t actually drink the beer because I was hunting a multiple murderer and needed my wits about me. Also, I don’t drink.

I have a lot of shadows locked in my head, and I’m afraid they’ll come out if I get drunk.

I pretended to sip the beer and watch the football game for about ten minutes. What I actually did was watch the waitresses go back and forth from the kitchen. Three of the waitresses working for Ricci’s Italian Restaurant had disappeared in the last month, and I wondered if any of them realized their boss was behind it.

Either way, it would end tonight.

I pushed off my bar stool and walked to the bathrooms on the other side of the restaurant. The restrooms were in a narrow wood-paneled hallway that smelled of disinfectant. At the moment, the corridor was deserted, and I only needed a few seconds. I dropped my Mask spell, and then recast it. This time, I Masked myself as one of the waitresses I had seen earlier, a woman taller and darker than I was. I had seen her tell one of the other women that she was going out for a cigarette break so she wouldn’t be back for at least another ten minutes.

Wrapped in the magical illusion, I walked across the restaurant and slipped into the kitchen. It was about twenty degrees hotter in there, and the mixed smell of several different Italian dishes hit my nostrils. It almost made me wish that I was hungry. A small army of cooks in white aprons toiled at stoves and ovens, and the waitresses moved back and forth, carrying orders out to the dining room. I fixed a determined scowl on my illusionary face and marched across the kitchen. No one got in my way. I had a lot of experience breaking into places I wasn’t supposed to be, and I had found it was best to stride around like you owned the place. Acting furtively was a great way to get caught.

Also, the Mask spell helped.

Next to the door to the walk-in freezer, I spotted a narrow flight of stairs going up. Paul Ricci owned his restaurant, but most of his money came from supplying items to other restaurants throughout the New York metro area. RFS (Ricci Food Services) operated out of offices above the restaurant.

I hurried up the narrow stairs, moving in silence. No one noticed. All the workers were too busy. Ricci might have been a murderer and in league with Shadowlands creatures, but he apparently knew how to hire good people.

The stairs ended in a locked steel door. I glanced around, but there were no security cameras up here. I didn’t want the waitress whose likeness I had just borrowed to get arrested for burglary. I cast a minor spell of telekinetic force. It didn’t require much power, but it did take a great deal of concentration and focus. Fortunately, I had that in abundance, and the lock clicked open.

I paused long enough to drop my Mask spell and recast it. This time I chose the illusionary guise of a Homeland Security officer in a blue uniform and black tactical vest and harness. If I came across anyone, the sight of an armed officer would make them hesitate.

The door opened into an office hallway lit by dim emergency lights. I eased the door closed behind me and looked up and down the hall, but I didn’t see anyone moving, and I didn’t hear anyone. I walked to the other end of the hall and saw that it opened into a glossy-looking receptionist’s office with a U-shaped desk, potted plants, and slightly uncomfortable-looking guest chairs against the walls. No sign of anyone yet.

I walked back down the hall, used a quick spell to unlock one of the doors, and stepped into Paul Ricci’s office.

It had the crowded look of space that was used for actual work, not the sort of glossy office or conference room a man like Ricci would use to impress clients. Three massive file cabinets sat against one wall, and there were more manila file folders stacked on the floors and the guest chairs. The computer was on standby, with a worn keyboard and mouse. Ricci’s office gave me the impression of an organized place that was starting to fall apart. Like he had developed a drug addiction or some other self-destructive behavior that was making him fall apart.

Like summoning Shadowlands creatures and falling under their influence.

I tapped my earpiece. “I’m in Ricci’s office. Gonna have a look around.”

“Acknowledged,” said Nora. “We’re out front in our van.”

“Don’t get towed,” I said, walking around the desk.

I looked through the papers. There were a lot of invoices, and quite a few late bills. Ricci had been neglecting his business over the last few weeks, and he had been spending a lot of money buying things unrelated to restaurant food distribution. Like guns and ammo, for instance. Perfectly legal, but not the sort of thing a restaurant owner needed. He had also bought a lot of lead and silver ingots. Again, not the sort of supplies a restaurant owner required, but they would be useful if a man wanted to build a permanent summoning circle.

I looked through the invoices. None of the deliveries had come here. They had all gone to an address in Long Island. Specifically, if I remembered my New York geography, an address near MacArthur Airport. Probably a warehouse or a leased hangar.

The perfect place for a renegade summoner to carry out his experiments.

“Hey,” I said, tapping my earpiece. “I’ve got an address.” I read it off. “Ricci had a bunch of guns and lead ingots shipped out there. I’d bet my entire fee for this little enterprise that he’s doing his summoning experiments at that address.”

“That’s how gents like him prefer to operate,” agreed Nora. “Of course, we’re seeing way more of them after the Sky Hammer than we did before. I…”

“Nadia.” Riordan’s voice cut into the channel. “I just saw Ricci. He’s coming up to his office with three other men.”

“What?” I said. Even as I spoke, I heard the door in the receptionist’s office open.

“A delivery van in the alley,” said Riordan, voice grim. “I caught a glimpse of them. You’d better get out of there.”

I hesitated for a half-second, and then made a decision. I had maybe ten seconds before Ricci noticed that his office door was open.

“Too late,” I said. I eased the door closed and turned the lock, stepping between the door and the file cabinet. “I’m going to Cloak and listen to their conversation. I’ll report in once they leave.”

“Be careful,” said Riordan. He didn’t sound worried. He sounded grimmer, which was how I knew he was actually worried.

I didn’t have time to answer. I cleared my mind, gathered magical power, and cast the Cloak spell. The spell wrapped around me, and I vanished from sight. When using the Cloak spell, I was completely invisible, and nondetectable by any magical means. I could even move around while Cloaked, though I could only manage that for about eleven or twelve minutes before I had to rest. When standing in place, I could stay Cloaked for hours.

It hadn’t always been that way. When I had first learned that spell, I could barely stay Cloaked for a minute, and if I moved, the spell had collapsed.

But that had been a long time ago.

A long time, and many, many deaths…

I shoved that out of my head before my thoughts could start spiraling to the Eternity Crucible. I had to keep myself under control just now.

Two seconds later I heard keys rattle in the lock, and the door swung open.

Paul Ricci strode into the office, glowering.

He looked like a moderately successful businessman, burly and graying but with something of a beer gut. Ricci wore a sports coat, a crisp white shirt, and dark trousers, and he paced behind his desk and dropped into his chair with a grunt. Three other men followed him into the office. They were all in their middle twenties. The men had the look of recently discharged men-at-arms – they still had the crew cuts and everything.

“We going to do this tonight, Ricci?” said one of the three men.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ricci, unlocking his computer and opening his email application. “I’ve just got to write an answer to this quick.” He started typing. “Don’t give me shit about this. I’m the one who’s paying for everything, Coleman.”

“But we’re so close,” said Coleman. He had the sort of lean intensity I had seen in some of Nicholas Connor’s more fervent followers, the ones who had talked about how bombing kindergartens would punish people for supporting the Elven nobles. He was standing so close to me that I could have touched him, and I kept my breathing slow and shallow, lest he feel it on the back of his neck. “We’ve already summoned one maelogaunt. A little more practice, and we’ll be able to summon more. We’ll all have maelogaunts.”

Maelogaunts?

That was really bad. All Shadowlands creatures were dangerous, but some were more dangerous than others, and maelogaunts were among the worst. They also tended to wind up controlling their summoners, which explained why Ricci had decided to go on a murder rampage.

“I know,” said Ricci. “We’re getting close. I think we can try the more advanced summoning circle from the book. But we don’t want to screw it up. If we kill too many people, Homeland Security’s going to notice. Or worse, the Inquisition.”

“Homeland Security is still a mess from the battle, at least the New York branch,” said Coleman. “They’re still hunting Rebels in the sewers. No one cares, Ricci. No one will notice what we’re doing.”

Since he was being watched by a Cloaked woman working with a group of Shadow Hunters hired to stop his boss, I could detect one or two tiny faults in his logic.

“All right,” said Ricci. “We’ll try to summon another maelogaunt tonight.” He tapped a few more keys, clicked his mouse, and then nodded. “And we’ll go right now.”

He got to his feet and walked around the desk, and I came to a decision. If I remained Cloaked, I could follow them easily enough. I could ride unseen in their van to their warehouse and disarm any defenses or security cameras for Riordan and the others. The trouble was, though, I couldn’t check in to tell Riordan what I was doing. The Cloak spell blocked radio signals. But we had discussed this possibility, and he knew that I might try to follow Ricci. Riordan and the other Shadow Hunters would draw the logical conclusion and follow Ricci’s van.

At least, I hoped so.

I used to do this kind of thing all the time back when I was terrorizing Nicholas’s Rebel cells. But now I knew that Riordan would worry about me, that he would wonder if Ricci and his goons had gotten the drop on me. And I was worried that he would worry about me.

I was still getting used to being married.

I stepped behind Coleman and followed them into the hallway, slipping through the office door and stepping out of the way as Ricci locked it. Ricci and Coleman and the other men strode down the hall to the receptionist’s office, and I followed, invisible inside my Cloak spell. They headed down the stairs, turned into a narrow hallway, and opened a metal doorway to the alley. A black van painted with the logo of Ricci Food Services sat idling nearby.

Ricci was using his company van as he broke the law and summoned Shadowlands creatures. Either he hadn’t been that bright to begin with, or the maelogaunt had scrambled his brains.

Coleman opened the van’s side door, and I slipped inside and climbed into the back, pressing myself against the rear doors. The inside of the van looked like a typical catering van, with a row of steam trays stacked and secured against one wall, and cabinets for holding plates and silverware. Coleman took the passenger seat, Ricci the driver’s, and the other two men clambered into the van and sat on the floor.

Ricci started the van, pulled into the street, and drove away.

I sat cross-legged on the floor by the back doors, one hand braced on the walls, and I took slow, shallow breaths. Holding the Cloak spell in place was an effort, but a familiar one, and I kept my mind clear and my breathing steady. I listened to Ricci and Coleman and the others talk. It seemed that the maelogaunt had promised them all kinds of wealth and power in exchange for sacrificial victims. The maelogaunt had shown them how to summon anthrophages and wraithwolves and had promised them greater powers in exchange for more human lives.

“We’re going to need more sacrifices soon,” said Ricci.

“Yeah,” said Coleman. “Waitresses are the best. Young women who come to the city looking for work because they can’t find a husband back home. Takes longer for anyone to notice they’re gone. Maybe we should start taking kids…”

My mouth twisted in disgust behind my Cloak spell. If it came to killing, and I was pretty sure that it was going to come to killing, I would try to take Coleman first.

“No,” said Ricci. “The parents will notice they’re gone. Or the teachers will report them truant. No, we should focus on young adults who don’t have families of their own yet.”

“Yeah,” said Coleman. “If we start thinking long-term, at the end of the year the men-at-arms will end their terms of enlistment. We can grab a few of them quick before anyone notices.”

Ricci grunted. “Doesn’t sit right with me, taking veterans.”

Coleman snorted. “We’re all veterans, aren’t we? We all saw the Shadowlands. It’s a dangerous place, yeah, but they’re all afraid of it. We saw the truth. We saw that you can find power and riches there if you’re bold enough.”

“The book showed us the way,” said Ricci. He rubbed his jaw as we came to a red light. “Damnedest thing, you know? I don’t usually buy that kind of thing. Antiques and old books and shit. But one of my ex-wives was into antiques, and I started decorating the restaurant with them. Must’ve been fate.”

I wondered if Ricci had always been the sort of man to kill in cold blood. Maybe not. Maybe he had been dumb enough to summon up the maelogaunt, and it had corrupted him and started feeding on his mind, twisting him into something worse. But there were good reasons humans were forbidden from summoning Shadowlands creatures.

We drove for about a half hour. At last, traffic began to ease, and we picked up speed. I focused on my Cloak spell and watched through the windshield, and I saw the lights of MacArthur Airport come into sight. Ricci slowed and turned, and the headlights illuminated a chain link fence and a concrete yard full of stacked pallets. Beyond the pallets stood an ugly-looking warehouse with a corrugated steel roof. A black sign with orange letters proclaimed NO TRESPASSING.

Ricci stopped the van before the gate. “Get it open.”

Coleman grunted, climbed out, and unlocked the gate. He slid it open with a rattle, and Ricci drove the van into the yard. He stopped before the warehouse, the headlights illuminating a pair of steel truck doors locked with chains and padlocks.

And as the van came to a stop, a nightmare prowled into the glow of the lights.

It was about the size and shape of a human man, but it was gaunt and lean with dull gray skin. Black claws topped its fingers and toes, and black fangs filled its mouth, dark spikes rising from its spine. The creature’s eyes were a venomous yellow, and instead of a nose, it had a black crater in the center of its face.

The thing was an anthrophage, a creature from the umbra of Earth in the Shadowlands. They were malicious and cunning and clever, and the older ones could use magic and disguise themselves as humans. They would eat any kind of meat, but their favored prey was living humans. I knew that well. I had been devoured alive by anthrophages again and again and again, and I remembered their claws slicing through my skin, their fangs plunging into my body and ripping away chunks of flesh…

Rage boiled through me, and the shadows in my mind shivered. I wanted to kill the anthrophage, to kill Ricci and all his men, to burn the warehouse to ashes and slaughter everything I saw…

Long practice forced the anger back, and I got to my feet and followed the other two men out the side door of the van. I slipped to the side as they slammed it shut, and Ricci unlocked the warehouse door and opened it. He reached inside and flipped a switch, and arc lightning came on, illuminating the interior. The inside of the warehouse was empty, but I did see a dull gray glow radiating from the center of the concrete floor.

That would be the permanent summoning circle Ricci had made for calling up creatures from the Shadowlands.

I also saw a half-dozen more anthrophages, and a pair of creatures that looked like giant wolves covered in plates of armored bone, their eyes burning like dying coals. They were wraithwolves, creatures from the deep Shadowlands beyond Earth’s umbra. Anthrophages were vulnerable to bullets. But creatures of the deep Shadowlands were immune to guns. You needed magic to kill wraithwolves.

Fortunately, I had magic. Maybe more magic than all but a few other humans.

I backed away, looking over the warehouse and its yard. No security cameras that I could see. Not that Ricci would need them, not with his bound anthrophages and wraithwolves wandering around inside the fence. Ricci shut off the van’s engine, and the yard plunged into darkness as the headlights went out. He and Coleman and the others walked into the warehouse, not bothering to close the door behind them.

I walked back to the gate, still holding the Cloak spell. Coleman had closed and locked the gate after him, so I climbed up one of the stacks of pallets next to the chain link fence. I looked around, nodded to myself, and dropped the Cloak spell. At once I cast a spell of telekinetic force, seizing a streetlamp in an invisible grip. I jumped over the top of the fence, using my grip on the lamp as a fulcrum, and came to a (mostly) gentle landing twenty feet away.

My eyes stayed fixed on the gate, but there was no sign of alarm from either the anthrophages or Ricci’s men.

I tapped my earpiece. “Hey. You guys there? Sorry I disappeared.”

“Nadia?” said Riordan at once. “You’re safe?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I hitched a ride in the back of Ricci’s van. I’m standing outside now.”

“We’re about five blocks away,” said Nora. “Just driving past the airport.”

“I saw Ricci’s summoning circle,” I said. “He’s also got anthrophages and wraithwolves patrolling the place.”

“You think we should take him here, boss?” said Nora.

“Maybe,” said Riordan. “We’ll talk it over. Stay where you are, Nadia. We’ll pick you up.”

“Acknowledged,” I said.

I waited, watching the warehouse and the yard. I half-expected the anthrophages to come out and follow me, but they didn’t. Likely Ricci had instructed them to patrol the yard, but not to let themselves be seen. The stacks of pallets lining the fence would make it almost impossible to see the creatures from the street, even during the day.

I started to shiver beneath my coat. I was holding my magic ready, and that often leached away my body heat. Headlights appeared in my peripheral vision, and I turned my head and saw a gray panel van approaching. It pulled up to the curb next to us, and I watched the warehouse, but there was no response. There was probably enough traffic here that the anthrophages wouldn’t pay attention to individual cars.

Or maybe Ricci hadn’t thought to tell them to watch the street.

The van’s passenger door opened, and my husband walked around the front of the van.

Riordan was a foot taller than I was and strong enough that he could lift me over his head without much strain. (I had asked him to do it once, and he had actually done it, much to my amusement.) He had close-cropped brown hair and eyes the color of expensive bookcases, and he wore a dark shirt, black cargo pants, black steel-toed boots, and a tactical vest and harness. A pair of pistols rested on his hips, and he had both an M-99 carbine and a sword slung over his back. His expression was grim as always, but as he looked at me, I saw the relief flood over his face for just a second before his control reasserted itself.

I felt bad that he had been worried enough to feel relief. He had come by the fear honestly. His first wife had tried to murder him, and he had very nearly lost me. And given how…um, erratic I could be, it was perfectly rational for him to be worried.

But I was glad to see him.

“Hey,” I said, smiling. “Thanks for following me.”

I heard Nora snort. “Tigress, he’s got a great deal of experience at that, doesn’t he?”

I sighed. “Thank you, Nora.”

Nora got out of the driver’s side. She was a big woman, but tall and muscular rather than fat. I was pretty sure she could also have lifted me over her head without much difficulty, though I definitely did not want her to do that. She had dark skin that made for a stark contrast with the white teeth in her cold smile, and she wore black clothes and tactical gear similar to Riordan’s.

“Well,” said another man, his dry voice marked with a faint Scottish accent, “we wouldn’t want to lose the boss’s wife, would we?”

A third Shadow Hunter got out of the van. He was a lean, strong-looking man, with graying dark hair and a close-cropped beard. The third Shadow Hunter had cold blue eyes, his lips set in a perpetual faint smirk. I didn’t like him at all. The Shadowmorph symbionts of the Family of the Shadow Hunters fed on life force, and that meant the Shadow Hunters were often incredibly attractive on a subconscious level. Riordan was a man of rigid self-control. Alex Matheson, by contrast, was the sort of man who exploited his Shadowmorph to bed as many women as possible. If I hadn’t been married to Riordan, Alex would have tried to seduce me, and he would have been aggressive enough that I probably would have used magic to stop him.

His smirk widened as I looked at him.

“Yes, ace,” said Nora in a dry voice. She just found Alex amusing. “We want to find the boss’s wife, especially since she could make your head explode like a melon.”

Alex smiled at her, but it didn’t touch his eyes.

“You can banter later,” said Riordan. Both Nora and Alex subsided at once. Nora liked to call him the “boss,” but Riordan actually was in charge. Seniority among the Shadow Hunters was determined by how long they had carried their Shadowmorph, and Riordan had borne his for decades. “Nadia, what did you see in there?”

“Wraithwolves and anthrophages,” I said. “They’re patrolling around the warehouse. And I know that Ricci has summoned at least one maelogaunt. He and the men with him were talking about the maelogaunts, how they want to summon up another one.”

“Swell,” said Alex. “I’ve never gone up against a maelogaunt.”

“I have,” said Riordan, voice quiet. I had been with him at the time. “They can feed off life force and pain, but they also feed off memories. A maelogaunt can also edit and erase the memories of its victims. Makes it easy for the creature to twist humans to its purpose. Probably that’s what happened to Ricci and his men. We’ll have to take the maelogaunt down as well.”

Alex frowned. “Our writ of execution is for Paul Ricci.”

“You’re going to have to kill him, too,” I said. Alex’s hard eyes turned towards me. “The maelogaunt’s got its hooks into his head now, and he won’t ever stop. On the way here, he and his men were debating whether it would be easier to kidnap newly-discharged veterans or children to use as sacrifices for the summoning.”

“Veterans, obviously,” said Alex. “Young adults with no families yet. Or neglected children. It’s a lot harder to simply buy children for nefarious purposes in the US than it is in certain parts of Africa or Asia, but with the right contacts…”

“Whatever Ricci is planning to do, it stops tonight,” said Riordan. “We’re going to take Ricci, his followers, and all the creatures in the warehouse.”

“Good plan,” said Alex. “Just how are we going to do that?”

“We’ll go through the gate,” said Riordan, reaching over his shoulder for the M-99. “We can shoot the anthrophages. Ricci didn’t think to give them guns, did he?” I shook my head. Ricci had ordered a bunch of guns, but he hadn’t given them to the anthrophages yet, at least that I had seen. “We’ll need to use our Shadowmorphs to deal with the wraithwolves.”

“Or my magic,” I said.

His dark eyes shifted to mine. “I’d like you to Cloak and go inside the warehouse.” He took a deep breath. “And then when we hit the anthrophages and wraithwolves in the yard, I want you to distract Ricci and the maelogaunt until we arrive.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I can do that.”

Nora frowned. “Isn’t that putting her at a great deal of risk?”

I shrugged. “No more than the rest of you. I can keep the maelogaunt and his pet restaurant owner occupied until you show up to help.”

“Not that I want to criticize your wife,” said Alex. He never referred to me by name. I was always the boss’s wife or Riordan’s wife. “But Ricci has three men with him, and the maelogaunt, and probably some other creatures. That would be a little much for one woman.”

“I can handle them,” I said. It wasn’t bravado. Truth be told, I could probably wipe out every living thing in the warehouse. But any number of unexpected things could happen, especially if I was dumb enough to go in without backup.

And I didn’t really want to kill anyone. Not that I had a problem killing. It was just that I could do it too easily and without the slightest regret, and I didn’t want to make a habit of it. I had acquired so much magical power, and I even had something like legal authority to go with it now. There had to be lines I would not cross. I didn’t want to become a monster. Besides, I wasn’t even part of the Family of the Shadow Hunters. I was here to help Riordan carry out the writ of execution, not to kill Paul Ricci.

Though I had no trouble helping Riordan and his team kill Ricci. Or killing him in self-defense.

And I had absolutely no compunction against annihilating the creatures of the Shadowlands. Not after what I had endured at their hands.

“If Nadia says she can distract them, she can distract them,” said Riordan. He looked calm, but I could tell what it cost him to send me into danger. But I could protect myself much more effectively than any of the others.

“Yeah, I’m real distracting,” I said. “I’m going to go over the fence. Don’t wait too long to attack. Holding the Cloak spell is kind of a strain.”

“Good luck,” said Riordan.

I smiled at him, nodded, and turned on my heel and walked to the fence. I levitated over it, crouched atop a stack of pallets, and cast the Cloak spell once more. None of the anthrophages prowling through the yard noticed me, so I climbed down the stack of pallets (I couldn’t use any other spells while Cloaked) and jogged into the warehouse itself.

It was a big, mostly empty space, with a worn concrete floor, corrugated metal walls on a cinder block foundation, and steel beams and rafters stretching overhead. In places stood stacks of splintery pallets, along with some old crates. A forklift stood rusting against one wall, and a flight of stairs led up to a small office. A half a dozen arc lights blazed overhead, but they didn’t provide nearly enough light to illuminate the space, and shadows clung to the wall and pooled over the floor. A pair of plastic folding tables stood near the center of the warehouse, overlooking Ricci’s summoning circle.

It had to be his summoning circle. The thing was ten yards across, and the symbols had been cut into the floor with a concrete saw. The circle and the various sigils had been filled with lead, and a faint grayish light came from them. I recognized some of the symbols as Elven hieroglyphics, and others as symbols of summoning and binding. The entire thing looked a little…crude. The danger of using summoning spells to call up creatures from the Shadowlands is that the spell creates a link between the summoner and the creature. The link was supposed to let the summoner control the creature, but if the summoner wasn’t prepared, the creature might dominate him.

Or, to pick an example totally at random, if the summoner carved a crude circle into the floor of a warehouse and used that to call something powerful like a maelogaunt, the creature might dominate its summoner without Ricci ever realizing it.

Ricci, Coleman, and the other two men stood at the table. An old-looking hardback book lay open before them, its pages full of diagrams of summoning circles. It was a copy of the Summoning Codex. About two hundred years ago, a former member of the Wizard’s Legion had joined the Rebel groups of the time, and he had wanted to work out a way for all humans to use magic, just as all Elves had a natural magical ability. He had decided that summoning spells were the easiest way to do that, and so had secretly published the Summoning Codex. Copies had been circulating ever since, and sometimes the copies had errors in them.

Errors in a summoning spell were a bad, bad thing.

A dozen anthrophages prowled through the shadows along the walls, making my hair stand on end, and the maelogaunt itself stood motionless behind Ricci and his men.

The creature wasn’t all that large, at least in this form. It stood only five feet tall, shorter than even me, and was cloaked in a loose gray robe with a cowl. Grayish-green tentacles writhed from the ends of its sleeves, and I couldn’t see its face, but I knew that would be a mass of tentacles. Maelogaunts could change shape and cast spells. They primarily fed on memories, but they could also consume life force, and some of them came to prefer it.

Of course, for all its power, the maelogaunt couldn’t see through a Cloak spell. I was ten feet away, and the creature had no idea that I was there.

I settled in place, my mind clear, my breathing slow, my will maintaining the Cloak spell and holding my magic.

“Yes,” said Ricci, turning a page. “Yes, you’re right. We can do this. We should be able to summon up more maelogaunts. But we’ll need sacrifices.”

Coleman rubbed his jaw. “What do you think? The restaurant?”

Ricci shook his head. “No. Not from the restaurant or anyone connected to RFS. Too many disappearances near us and Homeland Security will realize something is wrong. Or one of the local Elven nobles will come after us.”

Coleman snorted. “Homeland Security. They couldn’t find a dead rat on a white tablecloth.” Based on my experiences with Homeland Security, he wasn’t wrong. “And the Elven nobles. We’re going to replace the Elven nobles.” A strange, intense glitter came into his eyes. “We’re all going to be rich, and we’ll have whatever we want. Whatever women we want.”

Ricci gave him an irritated look. “And none of that will happen if we can't find sacrifices for the summoning and binding spells.”

“I offer a suggestion, master.”

The maelogaunt’s voice was a hissing, gurgling rasp. I suppose if it had wanted, it could have taken a human shape and spoken in a voice of melodious beauty, but it didn’t bother. Probably it had too much influence over Ricci and his men already for them to care.

“Yes?” said Ricci. “What do you think?”

“The anthrophages you have bound,” said the maelogaunt. “Send them to seize victims and bring them there.”

Ricci and his men shared a look. I considered his position and the location of the Shadowlands creatures throughout the warehouse, and then walked between the table and the summoning circle.

“The night workers at the airport, maybe?” said Coleman.

“Yeah.” Ricci rubbed his jaw. “Yeah, that could work. No one would notice right away. It would take a few days for any sort of investigation to get rolling.”

“The anthrophages would move with great stealth, master,” said the maelogaunt. The tentacles in its cowl twitched. “There would be no link between the victims and you.”

“That makes sense,” said Ricci. “We’ll do that.” He turned, his eyes narrowed, and beckoned. The anthrophages prowling along the shadows of the walls turned and loped towards him, claws rasping against the dusty concrete of the floor.

Right about then, gunshots rang out.

The anthrophages whirled, turning towards the open warehouse door. Ricci took a step back, reaching for the pistol inside his coat. Coleman snatched up an M-99 from beneath the table, and the other men followed suit. The maelogaunt turned as well, its tentacles lashing with agitation.

None of them were looking in my direction, which was perfect.

I dropped my Cloak spell and gathered as much magical power as I could hold. Seven whirling globes of sputtering, snarling lightning came to life around my fingers, and I shoved my hands out. The sudden light made the maelogaunt and the men start to turn, but it was too late. The volley of lightning globes howled from my hands and slammed into the maelogaunt.

I didn’t hit the maelogaunt hard enough to kill it, sadly. But I still hit it with a lot of force, and my attack had been a sucker punch. None of the maelogaunt’s defenses were ready, and my spell hurled the creature backward, lighting crawling up and down its body and making its tentacles thrash like whips.

Ricci raised their weapons, but I was already casting another spell. They had made a basic combat mistake – don’t stand together in a bunch in the open. Though to be fair, they hadn’t expected a fight, or retribution for their misdeeds to catch up to them. I cast the ice wall spell, and a wall of rippling white mist erupted from the floor between us. Except I bent the wall, wrapping it around Ricci and his men in a cylinder, and it hardened into a six-inch-thick wall of granite-hard ice. A gun went off, and I heard the bullet whine and ricochet, followed by a scream of pain.

You can shoot your way through one of my ice walls, if you have enough ammo, but doing it when the wall is six inches in front of your face? Not smart.

With Ricci and his men temporarily out of the way, I turned my attention to the anthrophages. Which was good, because a dozen of them were racing towards me from all directions. A memory blazed to life inside my head, shocking with its intensity and vividness. I remembered standing in the Eternity Crucible, killing anthrophage after anthrophage after anthrophage until they overwhelmed my strength and ripped me apart. On good days they had killed me quickly, slashed through an artery, so I bled out swiftly. On bad days, I lasted for several more minutes while they ripped me open and ate me alive.

And then when I died, the Eternity Crucible reset, and I got to do it all over again.

That isn’t great for your sanity, and it had left me with a black hatred of anthrophages.

I couldn’t tell if I was snarling or smiling. I didn’t want to kill any people…but I had no problem slaughtering anthrophages.

Silver light flashed around my hands, and I cast the Splinter Mask spell. It was a variant on the Mask spell I used to disguise myself. Instead of wrapping an illusion around me, the Splinter Mask spell projected the image and splintered it.

A dozen illusionary duplicates of me appeared. It was always unsettling to see a perfect copy of yourself, let alone a dozen of them. I just had time to think that my face looked sharper than I remembered, my eyes crazed, and then I sent a mental command to the illusions. Some of them charged at the anthrophages, while others stood in place and began casting spells. The rush of anthrophages towards me faltered, distracted by the duplicates.

In that moment of distraction, I summoned more power, and then I started killing.

I cast the lightning globe spell again, and I summoned five more spheres. I sent them screaming across the warehouse, the harsh light casting stark shadows against the walls, and the five spheres struck different anthrophages. The lightning killed some of them, stunning and burning others. More magic blazed through me, and I cast a different spell. A thumb-sized sphere of fire whirled to life over my hand, and I sent it hurtling at the anthrophages with an effort of will. It zipped towards them with the speed of a bullet, and it struck the nearest anthrophage in the center of its forehead.

The sphere was so hot it drilled a tunnel through the anthrophage’s head.

Naturally, that was instantly fatal.

Another effort of will, and the sphere looped around, zipping back and forth through the anthrophages. I killed six more before the sphere’s power unraveled, and the dead anthrophages fell to the floor. Shadowlands creatures killed in the material world eventually dissolved into black slime which evaporated in a few hours, but for now, I was surrounded by the carcasses of dead anthrophages. It was another grim reminder of the Eternity Crucible.

The maelogaunt recovered from my lightning attack and distracted me from the black memories by casting a spell of its own. Purplish-black light flared around its tentacles, and the creature gestured, flinging the full force of its will at me. I had seen a maelogaunt use a spell like that before. It would reach into my mind and lock me in a waking dream constructed of my own worst memories.

Given what my memories contained, that was a disturbing prospect.

I reacted at once, casting the Shield spell. A half-dome of shimmering golden light appeared, charged with the energy of the regeneration spell that Arvalaeon had taught me. Shield spells deflected attacks, and the easiest way to do that was to charge the Shield with a form of energy opposed to the incoming assault. The maelogaunt’s spell slammed into my shield, and it blazed with golden fire. Pain stabbed through my skull as my will struggled against the maelogaunt’s spell. I was strong, but so was the maelogaunt, and for a moment my Shield spell wavered.

Then my Shield spell winked out, but the maelogaunt’s spell collapsed as well, canceled out by the opposing forces. I staggered back, but so did the maelogaunt, and I recovered sooner. I summoned power through my increasingly tired mind and cast the Cloak spell. The silver light flashed around me, and I disappeared.

The maelogaunt responded, blue-white light flashing around its tentacles as it began another spell. I recognized the light as I sprinted towards the creature. The thing was casting a Seal of Unmasking or some other spell designed to collapse illusions. If it covered the warehouse floor with a Seal of Unmasking, I wouldn’t be able to use any illusion magic within its circumference, which would be annoying and possibly fatal.

But I wasn’t going to give it a chance to finish the spell.

I ran up to the maelogaunt and dropped my Cloak just as it reached the end of its spell. The maelogaunt whirled to face me, tentacles lashing like whips. Barbed, poisonous suckers covered those tentacles, and even without them, the maelogaunt was strong enough that it could squeeze my head right off my shoulders.

But none of that mattered because I finished my spell a second before the maelogaunt would have killed me.

I cast the Elemental Blade spell, and a glowing sword as long as I was tall appeared in my right hand. It looked like it had been made from liquid flames, and it was a torrent of elemental fire bound within a magical construct. I stabbed the glowing sword and slashed up, and the blade plunged into the maelogaunt’s stomach and ripped its torso and its head in half. There was no blood since the blade instantly cauterized the massive wound, but there was a sizzling sound, a lot of smoke, and a vile smell.

The maelogaunt made a keening noise that cut off when my sword sliced through its head. The tentacles lashed like whips, and I jumped back, the Elemental Blade dissolving into nothingness. The maelogaunt went limp and collapsed to the floor with a slithering, squelching noise.

I took a deep breath and stepped back, and a wave of deep fatigue rolled through me. I had used a lot of magical power in a very short time, and it was catching up to me. I wanted to lie down, close my eyes, and sleep. But the fight wasn’t over yet. I sucked in a deep breath and turned, pulling together more power for a spell. Riordan and Nora were still fighting in the courtyard, and they needed my help. Alex was an asshole, but I supposed I would help him as well.

But the fight was already over.

The three Shadow Hunters strode into the warehouse. Nora and Alex both had their M-99 carbines in hand, and I smelled cordite as they approached. Riordan’s Shadowmorph blade extended from his right hand, a black slash in the air. The Shadowmorph symbionts gave the Shadow Hunters superhuman strength, healing, and longevity, but they could also manifest as weightless swords that capable of both killing Shadowlands creatures and cutting through nearly anything.

“Hi, guys,” I said. “This party venue is terrible. We should go somewhere else next time.”

Yeah, my mouth runs away with me when I’m scared or tired, and I was tired. And I wasn’t scared, not quite. But the fight had reminded me of the Eternity Crucible, and that made something dark flicker in my mind.

Riordan almost smiled. “I won’t argue.” He glanced at the maelogaunt, which had started to dissolve into black slime. “The maelogaunt?”

“Cooked,” I said.

Alex gave the dissolving creature a startled look and then turned a wary glance in my direction.

“And Ricci?” said Riordan, taking a deep breath.

I gestured at the cylinder of ice. “In there. Along with three other men. They were helping him prepare the summoning spells.”

“Under the terms of the writ of execution,” said Alex, “their lives are forfeit as well, Riordan.”

“I know,” said Riordan. Alex and Nora put away their guns and summoned their Shadowmorph blades. “Nadia?”

“Careful,” I said. “They have guns. Um. I think they tried shooting their way through the ice, and one of them might be dead from the ricochet.”

“You heard her,” said Riordan to Alex and Nora. “Be careful.”

“I’ll see if I can startle them a bit.” I pulled magic through my tired mind, and a fireball whirled to life over my hand. “Ready?”

The Shadow Hunters nodded, placing themselves around the cylinder. I focused my will and flicked my wrist, and the sphere of fire leaped from my hand and touched the ice. The cylinder shattered with a loud crack and fell in a rain of splinters to the floor.

As it turned out, two of Ricci’s men had tried to shoot their way out of the cylinder, and both of them had been killed by ricochets, one through the head, another in the heart. Ricci and Coleman were still alive, and as the ice fell, they raised their guns, ready to fight.

But it was too late for them. Probably it had been too late ever since they had summoned up that maelogaunt and agreed to help it find victims. Alex and Nora stepped forward, and with identical fluid motions, plunged their Shadowmorph blades into Coleman and Ricci.

The two men groaned, fell to their knees, and died.

At least it was quick. Probably a lot quicker than their victims, who would have died screaming as the anthrophages tore them apart, or as the maelogaunt feasted on their minds…

A shiver of black memory went through me, and I shoved it down hard.

Nora and Alex dismissed their Shadowmorph blades, and I saw the faint quiver shoot through their limbs. Their Shadowmorphs were feeding on the life forces of the men they had just killed, and the symbionts transferred some of that life force back to their hosts as speed and strength and vitality. Riordan had told me that it felt euphoric and could be addictive. In fact, Shadow Hunters who could not control themselves, who killed people without proper writs of execution, were killed by other members of the Family.

That was what had happened to the woman Riordan had been with before me. Sasha had been a new Shadow Hunter, and she had become addicted to stolen life force, which basically meant she had become an insane serial killer. Riordan had been forced to kill her to stop her. I could see that fear reflected in his eyes sometimes when he looked at me.

Though I suppose I inspired different sorts of worries.

I kept looking at the shadows, holding my magic ready to strike. That was because I was being sensible and watching for any anthrophages and wraithwolves we might have missed. Not because my mind kept flashing back to the Eternity Crucible. Nope, that wasn’t it at all.

“You guys okay?” I said, looking back at Alex and Nora.

Nora looked at me, and her eyes turned solid black for a moment as her Shadowmorph finished digesting its meal. Then the darkness cleared, and her eyes turned their usual dark brown. “Quite well, tigress, thank you.”

“That always puts me in the mood for a woman,” said Alex.

Nora snorted. “What doesn’t?”

“You have the writ?” said Riordan, voice grave.

Alex’s humor subsided at once, and he nodded and reached into a pocket of his tactical vest. He drew out a sealed envelope of heavy paper and laid it atop Ricci’s corpse. Within the envelope was the writ of execution for Ricci and his accomplices for the crime of summoning Shadowlands creatures, commissioned by Duke Mythrender of Manhattan. Riordan would make an anonymous call to Homeland Security, and that would be that. Ricci’s murders would be solved, and Riordan and the Shadow Hunters would move on to their next commission.

They had gone through a lot of commissions lately, and I expected more to come. The detonation of the Sky Hammer in Venomhold had weakened the boundaries between Earth and the Shadowlands, and it was easier for creatures from the Shadowlands to slip through.

Or to be invited through, like Ricci did.

“Well, that’s done,” said Alex. “Let’s go get paid.” He glanced at me. “Though we have to split the fee with our consultant.”

I gave him a flat look. “You don’t want my help, you’re welcome to do this yourself.”

“No, no,” said Alex with that easy grin that didn’t touch his cold eyes. “I have to say, Mrs. MacCormac, this went really smooth. The shit usually hits the fan at least once on this kind of job. I can see why the Elves started calling you Worldburner.”

“Thanks,” I said. I really hated that nickname.

“When I’d heard that Riordan had gotten married, I wasn’t sure what to expect,” said Alex as we stepped back into the warehouse yard, “but you seem like exactly the sort of woman he needs.”

I was pretty sure he was attempting to insult both of us in some sort of subtle way, but I had stopped paying attention. My eyes scanned the stacked pallets, watching for any enemies. I knew there were none left, but my mind refused to relax.

“Thank you for that relationship advice,” said Riordan, and Alex snorted. “Go bring the van up, and we’ll get out of here. Better pull it into the yard, so no one sees us get inside.”

“Come on,” said Nora, and she and Alex jogged into the street.

I stood alone with Riordan.

“Thank you for helping with this,” said Riordan. “It went a lot easier than I expected. Without your help, it would have taken more Shadow Hunters, and some of them might have been hurt or killed.”

I shrugged, a little uncomfortable with thanks. He had risked so much to save my life, and I didn’t like the thought of him going into danger. “Well…Ricci was an asshole, and he got what he had coming.”

Riordan nodded. “You’re all right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sure. I’m fine.”

***