Before they left, Della tried to order Shawn and Helen to remain behind.
“I shall be in the company of two Shadow Hunters and the Worldburner,” said Della as they stood behind the parked SUVs. Riordan saw Nadia grimace a little at the title. “I will be as safe as I can be under the circumstances.”
“At least let us drive you and remain in the SUV, my lady,” said Helen. “If you need us, we will be close at hand.”
Riordan supposed it spoke well of Delaxsicoria that her people had such loyalty to her.
“They really came in handy the last time,” said Nadia. “If Shawn hadn’t shot Neil in the back, we might not have gotten away.”
Della looked over them and sighed.
“Very well,” she said. “You have stood by me this long, we shall see the end of this together. But you will remain in the SUV unless I call. You have been good and faithful retainers, but I am more resilient than you. A glancing blow from the cyborg knocked me unconscious for hours. A similar blow would have crippled or killed either of you.”
“We shall do as you command, my lady,” said Helen.
Della snorted. “After you have persuaded me to agree with you, no doubt.”
With that, Helen, Shawn, and Della got into their SUV, and Riordan, Nadia, and Nora got into his. As before, Nadia took the back, and as Riordan backed out and left the parking ramp, he heard Nadia unzip her backpack and start to unpack her weaponry. Nora sat back with a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment.
“You sure you’re up for this?” said Riordan, glancing at her.
“Ready and willing, boss,” said Nora. “Della Sarkany isn’t the only one who wants to see the end of this. It’s not every day I get shot in the stomach, and I want to find out why.”
“Yeah, getting shot sucks,” said Nadia from the back seat.
“And fourteen people are dead because of Ricci and the Summoning Codex,” said Nora. “More, if you include Ricci and his little coven of wannabe summoners. And Anthony Watkins. He seems like he was a wanker, but maybe if someone hadn’t sold Ricci and Watkins copies of the Summoning Codex, then Ricci would still be a restaurant owner with delusions of grandeur and Watkins would still be a cranky old man.”
“And those fourteen people would be alive,” said Riordan.
“Yeah,” said Nora. “I’m seeing this through to the end. Besides, when the Firstborn gives you a job, you finish it.”
“You made the same speech during our job in Paris,” said Riordan.
“What happened in Paris?” said Nadia. “I haven’t heard this story yet.”
“It was about twenty-five years ago,” said Nora before Riordan could speak. “Suppose you hadn’t even been born yet, tigress. There was a Dark Ones cult operating out of the old catacombs under Paris. The Family sent Riordan and me to take care of it. It was one of my first missions as a full Shadow Hunter, and I didn’t want to screw it up. And I didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of the legendary Riordan MacCormac.”
Riordan scoffed. “Legendary. What a thing to call a man. Almost as bad as calling him doting.”
“It’s true, though,” said Nora. “Other than the Elders, you’re the longest-serving Shadow Hunter in the Family. Hell, if you live long enough, you’re going to be the Firstborn one day.”
“Heaven forfend,” said Riordan.
“Anyway, what happened in Paris?” said Nadia. Riordan came to a red light and brought the SUV to a stop. Next time, he resolved, he was going to have Nora drive, simply so she would not have the time to regale Nadia with anecdotes from his past.
“Our first meeting with the cult went bad, and I got shot a couple of times,” said Nora. “Riordan got me out of there, and we holed up until my Shadowmorph healed me. He tried to insist that I go back to our branch office in London, but I refused.” She smiled. “Then we tracked down the cult and finished them off. They had killed forty-seven people as sacrifices to the Dark Ones, but it stopped that day. Suppose that saved you the trouble of nuking them back in July, Worldburner.”
“Oh, shut up,” said Nadia, frowning as she unloaded and checked one of her pistols.
“But if it wasn’t for your husband,” said Nora, “I wouldn’t have gotten out of there, and the cult would have escaped.”
“You give me too much credit,” said Riordan.
“No, I don’t,” said Nora.
“For once, I agree with Nora,” said Nadia. “I think you’re pretty great.”
He saw her smiling in the rearview mirror, and Riordan found himself smiling back.
A car horn blared out.
“The light turned green,” said Nora.
Riordan sighed. “Next time, you’re driving.”
It was just a little past noon, and so the traffic was heavy but navigable as Riordan followed Della’s vehicle across Manhattan towards Brooklyn. He tensed as they took the tunnel under the river. If Neil wanted to ambush Della, the relatively cramped confines of the toll tunnel would be a perfect place to do it. But the traffic kept moving through the tunnel, and they emerged into the sunlight without any difficulties. Riordan’s tension returned as they drew nearer to the warehouse.
He saw Nora holding a gun, and Nadia doing the same.
By prior agreement, they parked several blocks from the warehouse. Riordan got out, hand resting on his holster beneath his jacket, and looked around. The street was deserted, and while the day had started sunny, the sky had turned leaden gray once again. Riordan had the feeling that it was going to be an unpleasant winter. Nadia and Nora got out of the SUV, and Della emerged from her vehicle.
“Anything?” said Nora.
Nadia shook her head. “I don’t see him. But I think we should watch the rooftops. If Neil’s smart, he’ll snipe at us from above. Doesn’t have to worry about us fighting back then.” She blinked. “Hey, do bullets work on dragons?”
“Not usually, no,” said Della. “Our nature is sufficiently magical that more powerful weapons are required to do us lasting injury.” She sighed. “Such as particle weapons and cybernetic fists, apparently.”
“Nadia, Nora, please keep an eye on the rooftops,” said Riordan. “Lady Delaxsicoria, you and I will watch the sidewalks. If Neil decides to ambush us, we’ll be ready.”
“If he does come for us,” said Della, voice cold, “I shall slay him for my uncle’s death.”
“Might want to think about taking him alive,” said Nadia. Della narrowed her eyes. “We’re pretty sure that Blaster Boy wasn’t operating alone. And you will not have complete vengeance for your uncle unless we find whoever betrayed him.”
“A good argument,” said Della, the annoyance passing from her expression. “Shadow Hunter, Worldburner, lead the way.”
Riordan headed down the sidewalk, Nora walking at his side, Della and Nadia bringing up the back. If any enemies showed themselves, Riordan and Nora could engage them with guns or their Shadowmorph blades while Nadia and Della brought their magic to bear. But both the street and sidewalk were deserted, and no cars drove past.
They turned the corner, and Sarkany’s warehouse came into sight. Riordan swept his eyes up and down the street, but nothing moved.
“No one on any of the roofs,” said Nadia.
A moment later they stood before the front doors of the warehouse. Still nothing moved, and there was no sign of Neil or of anyone else.
“Wait a second,” said Nadia, and she reached into her backpack and drew out her aetherometer. The dials beneath the crystal lens spun and whirled. “There are a lot of active spells inside that place.”
“My uncle employed warding spells to guard some of his more precious treasures,” said Della.
“And,” said Nadia, “it looks like someone has summoned Shadowlands creatures inside the warehouse. Maybe within the last three days or so.”
Riordan shared a look with Nora.
“Hell,” muttered Nora. “It’s never simple, is it?”
“Let’s see what we can find,” said Riordan. “Lady Delaxsicoria, if you would?”
Della nodded, produced a swipe card, and ran it through the lock next to the door. It beeped and flashed green, and Riordan heard the dull thump of steel deadbolts retracting.
“Let me go first,” said Riordan. “Nora, can you get the door?”
He called his Shadowmorph blade into his right hand and pulled magic together for a spell. Nora drew open the door, and Riordan went through it low and quick, stepping to the right to get out of any potential field of fire.
After his preparations, the interior of the warehouse was underwhelming. He found himself standing in a concrete room about the size of his condo’s living room. There was another pair of closed steel doors on the far side of the room, and smaller doorways on the right and left labeled UPPER FLOORS ACCESS. There was also a closed elevator door. The only illumination came from a harsh emergency light over the elevator. Banks of fluorescent lights were mounted in the ceiling, but they were dark.
“It’s clear,” said Riordan.
The others came inside. Nadia looked around, her eyes narrowed.
“Is this place supposed to be so dark?” she said.
“No, it’s not,” said Della, frowning. “The lights should be on.”
Nadia crossed to the elevator and hit the button. Nothing happened.
“Power’s off,” she said. “Door locks must have a battery backup.”
Riordan and Nora shared a look.
“Bet that’s not an accident,” said Nadia.
“The power should not be out,” said Della. It seemed to offend her. “My uncle paid to have redundant emergency generators installed. Those should be running still. That contractor ripped us off.”
“Contractors are the worst,” agreed Nora.
“Maybe the contractor didn’t rip you off,” said Nadia, looking around the little room. “Maybe someone disabled the generators.”
“Where would your uncle have kept the crates from Russia?” said Riordan.
“In the most secure vault in the cellar,” said Della.
“Can we take these stairs?” said Nora, gesturing at the closed doors to the stairwells.
“No,” said Della. “The stairs to the cellar vault aren’t accessible from the front room. We’ll have to use the stairs next to the security manager’s office.”
“Hamilton’s office,” said Riordan.
“Well,” said Nadia, “shall we get on with it?”
“Same order as before,” said Riordan, stepping to the steel doors on the far side of the room.
Della nodded and crossed to the lock. Riordan stepped in front of the doors, holding his Shadowmorph blade and his spells ready. Nora moved to his side, and Nadia stepped back, flexing her fingers as she readied herself to cast a spell.
“Ready?” said Della.
Riordan nodded, and Della swiped her card through the lock. It beeped, and Della pulled the door open. Riordan went low and quick through the door, weapon and magic held ready.
He found himself in a wide corridor with a ceiling two stories tall. Metal pull-down doors opened into storage lockers on either side of the corridor, and balconies ran down the length of the walls, with more metal doors behind the railings. Emergency lights mounted on the steel girders of the ceiling cast harsh shadows over the floor. A forklift was parked about twenty yards further down the corridor. Riordan swept his eyes over the balconies, but nothing moved, and no sounds came to his ears.
“I think we’re clear,” said Riordan, and he took a few steps forward to let the others in after him.
“Dear God,” said Nadia, looking around. “How much stuff did your uncle have?”
“My uncle was a man of refined and broad taste,” said Della. “Though sometimes voluminous taste, come to think of it. This way.”
Riordan led the way down the wide corridor, scanning the balconies and the metal doors. All the rollup doors had locks next to them, glowing with red LEDs. Nadia gestured and cast a spell, blue light flaring around her fingertips.
“Some of those doors have wards on them,” said Nadia.
“Yes,” said Della. “My uncle was quite skilled with warding spells.” She sighed. “He always wanted to teach me, though I was more interested in music than in spell work. Alas that he shall never have the chance to teach me now.” She pointed. “Kenneth Hamilton’s office is that…”
Her voice trailed off, her nostrils flaring.
“What is it?” said Nadia.
“I smell human blood,” said Della. “Quite a large quantity of it.”
“I don’t smell anything,” said Nora.
“I’m afraid my senses are quite a bit keener than yours,” said Della.
“If she says she smells blood, then there’s blood nearby,” said Nadia.
“I think it’s coming from Hamilton’s office,” said Della.
“Let’s check it out,” said Riordan.
About twenty yards later the rollup doors ended, and Riordan saw a metal door that said SECURITY in bright red letters. Next to it on either side were a pair of windows concealed behind blinds. Further down the corridor was the entrance to a cargo elevator and the door to another stairwell.
Riordan smelled the blood himself now.
“Brace yourselves,” said Riordan. “I think this is going to be ugly.”
Della unlocked the office door and stepped aside. Riordan pushed open the door and eased around it, Shadowmorph blade coming up.
The smell of blood hit him in the face, bringing with it the memory of countless battles and skirmishes.
It was dark in the office, and behind him, Nadia gestured and cast a spell. She summoned a sphere of blue light that floated into the air, giving off a pale glow, and it illuminated a scene of horror.
The room looked like dozens of other security offices that Riordan had visited over the decades. There was a large desk near the back wall, with a nameplate that read K. HAMILITON, DIRECTOR. The wall on the left held a row of metal lockers, and dozens of flatpanel screens covered the wall on the right. The power was out, so they were all dark, but likely they connected to camera feeds scattered throughout the warehouse. Two more desks stood against the nearer walls, no doubt so the guards could fill out their timecards or write reports.
A dead body lay on the floor before the main desk, a pool of congealing blood beneath it. Riordan took a few steps closer, his eyes roving over the scene and noting details. It was a heavyset man wearing gray cargo pants, work boots, and a white uniform shirt. A radio, a flashlight, and a pistol were on his broad belt, and a name tag over his left breast pocket read HAMILTON.
His head had been smashed. Not just smashed in, but crushed, turning it into an unrecognizable pile of bone and torn meat.
“Blood hasn’t congealed fully yet,” said Riordan. “He hasn’t been dead all that long. No more than a few hours.” Probably he had been killed while Riordan and the others had been eating breakfast.
“Look at his shirt,” said Nadia in a soft voice, pointing at Hamilton’s stomach. The white fabric had been burned away just above his belt, revealing a fist-sized charred hole in the flesh. The smell of burned meat would have been overpowering, but the odor of blood had drowned it out. “Looks like Blaster Boy was here recently.”
“Yeah,” said Nora. “And he found another blaster.”
“Seems clear what happened,” said Nadia. “Neil shot him in the stomach, and when he fell over…” She made a fist and mimed a punch. “Least it would have been quick.”
“It would have been, yes,” said Riordan, stepping back.
“Then Hamilton was not the one who betrayed my uncle?” said Della.
“Maybe not,” said Riordan.
“Or maybe more than one person betrayed Malthraxivorn,” said Nadia, “and they had a falling out once they realized we were onto them.”
“I don’t think we’ll learn anything else here,” said Riordan. “We had better have a look at the vault and see what was worth all this killing.”
“This way,” said Della.
They left the office. Della unlocked the door to the stairs, and they started down. Riordan remained watchful, his eyes sweeping the concrete steps for any sign of danger. Neil Freeman was somewhere in the building, he was sure of it. Whether lying in ambush or awaiting further orders, the cyborg was nearby. Riordan had fought him to a standstill the last time…but this time he would have the help of Nadia, Nora, and Delaxsicoria.
If it came to a fight, when it came to a fight, hopefully that would be enough.
The stairs ended in a seriously impressive steel door that looked as if it had come from a bank vault. Della punched in a code into the keypad, swiped her card, and the heavy door unlocked with a clang. She pulled on the handle, and it swung open on silent hinges.
The warehouse’s basement stretched in all directions, the ceiling supported by thick, square concrete pillars. The air was cold and dry, and the only illumination came from the emergency lights mounted on the steel girders of the ceiling. It filled the basement with gloom and shadows. Riordan didn’t like it. There were a thousand places a clever foe could hide down here.
Della led the way through the aisles between the concrete pillars. Riordan scanned the gloom, watching for Neil or any other foes, and he saw Nadia and Nora doing the same. The back third of the basement had been sealed off by a chain link fence, and Della unlocked the gate and slid it open.
“Here,” said Della. “This is where my uncle would have kept anything from the Ural Mountains. He would store his most valuable items here.”
The area behind the fence had about the same floor space as a mid-sized church, and it was mostly empty. Five wooden crates about the size of a car sat in a neat row. Their ends had been pried off. A folding plastic table had been set up near the crates and held neat rows of stacked books.
The crates were open, and in front of each rested a long cylinder of dull gray metal about the size of a large coffin. The lid of the cylinder on the right was open.
Riordan walked closer, the others following him, and looked at the open cylinder.
“It looks like a tanning bed,” said Nadia. “A really expensive, uncomfortable tanning bed.”
It was just large enough to have held a single person, and the sides of the cylinder were lined with pipes, tubes, and a variety of other equipment. There was a small panel at the head of the cylinder, and Riordan flipped it open. Inside he saw a computer display that read STANDBY and several ports and connectors.
“Looks like you would connect a computer there,” said Riordan, “and control…whatever this machine was.”
But he was beginning to have a suspicion. Memories of the old science fiction books he had read as a young soldier flicked through his mind. He had told Nadia how those ancient books had inspired the development of computer and touchscreen technology.
Maybe those books had inspired Catalyst Corporation in other ways.
In darker ways.
“Riordan,” said Nadia, scowling at the interior of the cylinder. “Do you think there was someone inside this thing when they found it?” She hesitated, reached down, and picked up one of the tubes. “This almost looks medical.” Nadia let it drop back into the cylinder. “Like it was…supposed to be plugged into someone, like an IV line or something.”
“But if Catalyst Corporation was destroyed in Conquest Year 121,” said Nora, “that means someone would have been inside that cylinder for two hundred years.”
Della leaned over the cylinder and sniffed. “It smells of chemicals and drugs.”
“I want to have a look inside one of the other cylinders,” said Riordan.
“Wait,” said Nadia, pointing at the plastic table. “Look at the books.”
“Copies of the Summoning Codex,” said Riordan, his voice grim. “Dozens and dozens of copies of the Summoning Codex. Probably found near these cylinders.”
He crossed to the nearest closed cylinder and examined the mechanism on the lid. It had already been forced open once. He stooped and lifted the lid, and it swung open without a sound.
“Jesus,” said Nadia.
An armored skeleton lay inside the cylinder.
At least, it looked like an armored skeleton at first glance. A closer look revealed that it was something else. The skeleton’s right arm was made of metal, twin cables the width of a pinky finger coiling around it. The cables continued into the skeleton’s ribcage, where they connected to a device the size of both Riordan’s fists that had probably replaced the dead man’s heart. Riordan saw more machinery inside the skull, something that looked like a fiber-optic computer, and additional devices in the skeleton’s joints. Metal plates gleamed on the skull and the bones, and there was armor plating affixed over the ribs and where the intestines would have been.
“What the hell?” said Nora.
“Is this some sort of filthy necromancy?” said Della, scowling at the skeleton.
“No, not necromancy,” said Riordan. “Science.”
Nadia met his eyes over the cylinder. “This guy was like Blaster Boy, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, another cyborg,” said Riordan. “Built and enhanced to be the perfect soldier. We all saw how fast he moved, and that forcefield generator built into his arm could deflect bullets. If you had a dozen men like him, they would make for excellent commandos and saboteurs. Let’s open up the other tubes.”
One by one they moved to the other cylinders. As Riordan expected, the other three tubes held similar skeletons equipped with metal arms and machines.
“Good,” he said, gazing at the skull in the last tube. “Neil Freeman is the only one of them who is still alive.”
“These cylinders,” said Nadia. “What are they?”
“I think they’re cryonic machines,” said Riordan.
Nora blinked. “Cryo-what?”
“I have never heard this word,” said Della.
Nadia sighed. “This is some more science fiction crap, isn’t it?”
“Yup,” said Riordan. “Cryonics was basically the idea that people could be frozen and put into suspended animation. If someone had an incurable disease, or they were critically injured, they could be put into suspended animation until a cure could be formulated.”
“It didn’t work,” said Nora, pointing at the skeleton. “Whoever was in these cryonic units died a long time ago, and they rotted away. All that’s left is the bones and the cybernetic machinery.”
“But that one worked,” said Riordan, gesturing at the empty tube. “It’s been almost two hundred years since Catalyst Corporation was destroyed. It’s a rare piece of technology that will keep functioning that long. I think Catalyst created these cyborg soldiers. Probably in Conquest Year 109, like the lab report said. The company put them into suspended animation in its secret facility in the Ural Mountains, and then when the corporation was destroyed, both the base and the cyborgs were forgotten. Four of the cryonic units failed and the soldiers inside them died, but the one holding Neil Freeman stayed online. One of Lord Malthraxivorn’s treasure hunters found the place, and he realized the cylinders were something valuable. He sold them to Malthraxivorn, who figured out what he had. He must have awakened Freeman and questioned him, and combined with his sources among the Elven nobles, he understood just how valuable and dangerous this technology was. Malthraxivorn was planning to give Freeman, the blaster weapons, and the cryonics machines to the High Queen when he was murdered.”
“So why did Neil murder Malthraxivorn?” said Nadia.
“I think he was made to do it,” said Riordan.
“Coerced?” said Della.
“No,” said Riordan. He bent over one of the metal caskets and picked up a skull. He turned it gently, revealing the wires stretched along the sides, and he heard the rattle of something inside. He lifted the skull towards the emergency light, and the light flashed off something metallic inside the brainpan. “I think he was programmed.”
“Programmed?” said Nadia.
“There must have been a computer linked directly to his brain,” said Riordan. “Maybe instructions can be programmed into the computer, forcing the cyborg to obey. When we faced Freeman, he said he didn’t want to hurt us. Nadia, when you fought him, he said he was sorry. I think the computer in his brain compels him to follow orders.”
“That’s messed up,” said Nadia.
“It is,” said Riordan. “I suspect we can guess why the High Queen shut Catalyst down.”
Nora shifted. “The High Queen and the Elven nobles keep slaves. How is this any different?”
“By considerable degrees,” said Riordan. “The law says criminals serve out their terms of enslavement to Elven nobles, and then they’re free. You and I both know that it doesn’t always work that way, but that’s at least what is supposed to happen. But none of the Elven nobles slice into the skulls of their slaves, install computers, and turn them into…”
“Meat puppets,” said Nadia. Her eyes were cold and hard. She didn’t like the idea at all. Maybe it had reminded her of the Eternity Crucible. “I think we should head back outside. If Neil comes after us here, he’ll have the advantage. Outside, we’ll have some warning and more space to maneuver. Once we’re outside, I’ll try to contact the High Queen and ask for her to send help right now.”
Riordan frowned. “She wanted you to take care of this quietly.”
“Yeah, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?” Nadia took a deep breath. “She told me that she had no idea who killed Malthraxivorn, but I bet she thought it was another dragon, or maybe something that had gotten loose from the Shadowlands. I don’t think she has any idea that this – cyborgs, blasters, cryonics, all of it – was going on. She shut down Catalyst Corporation the first time. Once she knows that someone’s been using some of Catalyst’s old toys, I think she’ll send some help. Maybe Inquisitors. Hopefully some officers of the Wizard’s Legion.”
“That’s a good plan,” said Nora.
“I want to find my uncle’s murderers,” said Della, her eyes flashing in the gloom. “But…yes, I think this plan makes sense. Fighting the cyborg without help would be…”
Nadia’s backpack buzzed. She cursed, reached into it, and yanked out her aetherometer.
All its dials were spinning.
“What is it?” said Riordan.
“Summoning spells,” said Nadia, her eyes going wide. “Someone just cast a lot of summoning spells all at once…”
“Look!” said Nora, her Shadowmorph blade springing into her right hand.
Dozens of fingers of mist crawled through the basement, winding their way around the concrete pillars. Riordan grimaced and called his own Shadowmorph blade, pulling together magic for a spell.
He knew what those fingers of mist meant.
“That mist,” said Della, taking a step back. Magical fire began to crackle around her fingers. “Are those…”
“Wraithwolves,” said Nadia. She had put her aetherometer away and watched the fingers of mist, her stance radiating tension.
All at once, the fingers of mist solidified and hardened into dozens of wraithwolves. The armored, wolf-liked creatures looked like black shadows in the gloom of the basement, their eyes shining like crimson coals. Riordan tensed, expecting the creatures to rush for the gate in the chain link fence, but they remained motionless.
Someone was controlling them.
Footsteps clicked against the concrete floor, and two men came into sight.
The first was Neil Freeman, still wearing his black coat, jeans, and steel-toed boots. His expression was grim and weary, and he carried a heavy black rifle that looked like a more powerful version of the blaster he had used to shoot Nora.
Charles Edina walked next to him.
Gone was all trace of the pompous, timid, officious business manager. Now a smirk covered his face, and his eyes glittered with malevolent glee. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. In his left hand, he carried a device that looked like a chunky black smartphone, almost a small tablet.
On his right hand, he wore something that looked like a peculiar combination of body armor and a medieval gauntlet. It was made out of black metal, and a red crystal on the back of the glove gave off both a steady light and a peculiar humming sound.
Della let out a scornful sound of disgust as she saw Edina.
“Good afternoon, my lady,” said Edina, smirking at Della. “I’ve been looking forward to this, you overgrown lizard.”
***