Dying Is My Business

Twenty-seven

Instinct had me reaching for my gun before I remembered I didn’t have it anymore. Philip had taken it from me at the auto body shop, and he still had it. Not that it would do any good against the shadowborn anyway, but I felt naked without it.

Isaac acted quickly, not waiting for the shadowborn to attack first. Something bright and crackling burst from his outstretched hands and raced toward them. The shadowborn brought up their katanas, using the polished steel blades to deflect the blasts into the walls. They left seared, smoking holes in the wood.

Then the shadowborn vanished. Before we could react, they reappeared right in front of us. They pulled back their katanas, ready to strike. Philip moved like a bullet, his supernatural speed allowing him to get his arms around one for a moment before it dematerialized. He skidded to a stop halfway across the room, empty-handed. He turned, ready to go after the second shadowborn, but it chose that moment to vanish, too.

Gabrielle scanned the room nervously. “Where did they go?” Her voice wavered. She was terrified.

“How the hell did they find us?” Isaac demanded.

I turned to Bethany. “I thought we killed these assholes back at the safe house.”

“There are a lot more than three shadowborn in the world,” she replied. “Whoever summoned the others must have summoned more.”

“Great,” I said. “Maybe they got a bulk discount.”

A shadowborn materialized behind Bethany. Before I could shout a warning, it grabbed her.

“Let her go!” I started toward the shadowborn on blind, furious instinct. It raised its katana blade to Bethany’s throat. She flinched, sucking in her breath. The shadowborn shook the sword slightly, but didn’t cut her. I stopped and put up my hands. “Okay, okay, I get it. Nobody moves.”

Across the room, something banged on the closed door that led to the hallway outside, strong enough to rattle the door in its frame.

All I cared about was getting Bethany away from the shadowborn. I didn’t take my eyes off its sword. The edge pressed against her neck, where a film of nervous sweat glistened with each panicked breath she took, but it made no move to slit her throat. For now, at least, the shadowborn was waiting for something.

Another bang shook the door, and another. The second shadowborn materialized in front of the door, and opened it.

A crowd of people spilled into the room like floodwater bursting through a dam. Amid the confusion I smelled the stench of rancid meat. Then I noticed their torn, dirt-smeared clothes and rot-mottled skin. They were dead, all of them. Dead but moving, crowding into the room like an angry mob. A sharp red light glowed inside their pupils. A light I’d seen before.

They were revenants, and there were dozens of them. They smashed the display cases, pulled paintings and artifacts off the walls, knocked over a few of the statues, and sifted through the wreckage. They were looking for something. The box, I figured. Everyone was after that damn thing.

Two revenants came forward and grabbed Isaac. They held his arms behind his back and slipped a heavy chain over his neck. A large iron medallion dangled from it, old and round and carved with weird sigils. Another pair of revenants grabbed Bethany, and the shadowborn who’d been holding her blinked out of sight. Philip and Gabrielle were restrained as well. Everyone had been brought under control but me. For some reason they’d left me alone. Why?

I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around.

Bennett stood behind me, a toothy grin on his pale, dead face. “Surprise.”

A pair of revenants came forward and took me by the arms. They were in bad shape, these two, half-faced corpses that looked like they’d died in a meat grinder. But they were unbelievably strong. I couldn’t move in their grip at all. Up close, the odor of rotting flesh wet from the rain was so strong it made my eyes water.

The red glow in Bennett’s pupils flashed. “And so the captor becomes the captive. We’ve come a long way since you had me tied up in the back of your car, haven’t we, errand boy?”

“You can stop calling me that,” I said. “I know you’re not really Bennett. You’re just pulling his strings, making his dead body dance for you. It’s sick.”

The thing with Bennett’s face stopped smiling.

“So why the charade?” I asked. “Why come to me at the safe house in Bennett’s body?”

When the revenant answered, it was still Bennett’s vocal cords at work, still his voice, but the speech patterns were all wrong. Whoever was controlling his corpse had stopped pretending to be Bennett and was now speaking freely. “I chose this body precisely because it was known to you. It was a face you would respond to.”

A chill fell over me. “How did you know that?”

“I know much about you.”

“How?”

“It helped that Bennett’s body was freshly dead,” the revenant continued, ignoring my question. “His brain hasn’t deteriorated yet. It made impersonating him that much easier, drawing upon the memories and information locked in his head. This body was the perfect shill. But every good con needs a mark. So tell me, what does that make you?”

“I don’t understand, what does any of this have to do with me?”

With a grin, Bennett’s corpse walked away, joining the throng of revenants.

I struggled to free myself from my two half-faced guards, but their grip was like iron, and just as cold.

The crowd of revenants parted like the Red Sea, leaving an aisle down the center of the room. There, standing at the far end, was the red-robed figure I’d seen outside the safe house. His hood shaded the golden skull mask over his face. He was flanked by the two shadowborn, their swords back in their sheaths. They walked with him as he crossed toward us. I studied the mask over his face, but I couldn’t see any of the person behind it. There were no eyes in the empty black sockets of the skull mask, no mouth visible behind its leering grin.

Isaac lifted his head, struggling against the weight of the heavy chain around his neck. “Melanthius.”

“You know of me?” Melanthius said. His voice seeped out from behind the mask like poison gas. “Good. Then you know I am not to be trifled with. A point of interest: The amulet around your neck is called the Hangman’s Damper. Can you guess why?”

Isaac scowled. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me. You seem the type who enjoys the sound of his own voice.”

The revenants guarding Isaac dug their sharp finger bones into his shoulders and arms. He winced in pain and gritted his teeth.

“Watch your tongue, mage, or I will see it cut from your mouth.” Behind Melanthius, the shadowborn’s featureless steel masks turned toward Isaac. “The Hangman’s Damper was a favorite tool of the magician hunters of the Spanish Inquisition. It earned its name for two reasons. First, it keeps the wearer’s magic safely in check. So long as it is around your neck, mage, you can neither cast nor summon.”

Isaac glared at him, his face reddening and twitching with exertion as he tried to cast a spell, presumably one that would flatten Melanthius to a smear on the carpet. Then he let out his breath and slumped forward, panting. “Get this thing off me and let’s see how tough you really are.”

“I prefer it this way,” Melanthius replied. “The second reason for the name is that the Hangman’s Damper had a side effect the Inquisitors found most useful. The spell tightens around the wearer’s neck with each lie he tells. One lie and you feel as if all the air has left the room. Two lies and you feel you’re being strangled. Three lies and you’re dead. I would caution you not to put that to the test. But I know you’re no fool. You know what we have come for as certainly as we know that you have it. It’s somewhere in the building. Remember what I’ve told you about the amulet, and answer our questions truthfully.”

“Our questions?” Isaac said. “I take it you’re not alone?”

Bennett stepped out of the crowd to stand with Melanthius.

“Ah.” Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Reve Azrael, I presume.”

Shit. The entity Isaac had mentioned earlier, the necromancer Melanthius served, was controlling Bennett’s body. And she knew me somehow.

“Enough talking, mage. Where is Stryge’s head?” Reve Azrael demanded through Bennett’s mouth.

“Why don’t you show yourself, instead of hiding behind the dead like a coward?” Isaac taunted. “Or do you not have a body of your own? Is that it? Are you a floater, just some random consciousness without a form to call home? It must be so lonely, not being able to touch anyone except with the cold, numb hand of a corpse.”

“Stryge’s head,” she repeated.

“Never heard of it,” Isaac said. He choked suddenly and gasped for air. Red-faced, he slumped forward in the grip of his revenant guards. I could hear his desperate breathing as he fought for air.

Reve Azrael smiled down at him as he choked. “You know how the Hangman’s Damper works, mage. Even you would not be so foolish as to risk the consequences of another lie, would you? Now, tell me where it is.”

Between his coughs and gags, Isaac managed to squeeze out the words, “I’d sooner die.”

“To what end? If you did, I would simply take your body for myself and find the answer within your tiny, pitiful brain,” Reve Azrael said. “I will not be denied, not even by death. Not when a weapon of this magnitude is so close at hand. Not when it assures me limitless power, and limitless control.”

“What weapon, what are you talking about?” Bethany demanded.

“Why, the most powerful weapon there is, of course. An Ancient,” Reve Azrael said. The discolored lips on Bennett’s dead face twisted into a smug smile. “With Stryge’s power, I can unmake this wretched city. I can bring it all down.”

Isaac sucked air into his lungs. “You’re insane … Stryge won’t do your bidding … He’s an Ancient, practically a force of nature.”

Reve Azrael grabbed his hair and pulled his head back until she was staring into his face. “I did not come here for advice. I came for the head. Where is it? Tell me and your pain will end.”

Isaac locked eyes with her, the defiance in his gaze burning like fire. “I don’t have it.”

He choked again, wheezing and gasping as his face turned red as a brick.

“It must be getting very hard to breathe,” Reve Azrael said. “Two lies is usually all anyone can muster before they die. Save yourself, mage, and tell me what I need to know.”

Isaac gasped like a beached fish.

“Stop it!” Gabrielle cried. “You’re killing him!”

“You mean I should show him mercy?” Reve Azrael asked. “I already have. I could have killed him, killed all of you, the moment we arrived, but I did not. I have no more mercy in me than that. But you can end this, woman. Any of you can. Just tell me where he has hidden Stryge’s head.” Her request was met with stony silence. She bent her ruined corpse face toward Isaac. “You’ve earned their loyalty. How endearing. I wonder, how will your loyal companions feel watching you die, knowing how unnecessary it is? Be smart, mage, and speak, because each moment that passes only makes me more determined. I can hear the heartbeat of this city in my head like a constant drum, the din of breath and metal, the cracking of its skin underfoot. It never stops, never gives me a moment’s peace, but soon it will. Soon there will be silence.”

“Seriously?” I interrupted. “You want to destroy New York City because it’s too loud? Why can’t you just move to Westchester like everyone else?”

Reve Azrael glared at me. “Because then I would not see its streets fill with blood, nor its buildings become tombs.”

I shouldn’t have bothered. You can’t reason with crazy.

She turned back to Isaac. “Feel free to die, mage. I do not need you alive. I am very good at finding things. After all, I found this place.”

Isaac looked up at her. “How?” he gasped. “The ward … should have … stopped you…”

Reve Azrael smirked. “We had help.”

“What do you mean?” Bethany demanded. “Who helped you?”

Melanthius stepped forward. “When soldiers scour the battlefields for their dead, they do not waste valuable time searching blindly through the tall grass. Instead, they let themselves be guided by the sound of flies.”

Beside me, Philip scoffed. “That Halloween mask must be cutting off your air supply. You’re not talking sense.”

“He means something led them right to us,” Bethany said. “Here, and at the safe house.”

I thought back to the safe house. The protective ward Morbius had cast around it had stood unbroken for more than thirty years, until last night. Now Citadel’s ward had been breached just as easily. Both locations, I realized, had one thing in common when their wards had been compromised. My stomach dropped. I should have realized from the start. Maybe I would have if it weren’t so awful.

“Something didn’t lead them here, Bethany. Someone did,” I said. “When the shadowborn attacked the safe house, I thought we’d been betrayed by someone on the inside. Ingrid thought so, too. But you were right, it wasn’t Isaac or any of the others. It’s just like you said, there’s only one person it could have been. Me.”

The color drained from Bethany’s face. “What are you saying?”

I turned to Reve Azrael. “I’m right, aren’t I? You said you know me. I’m guessing that means somehow you know how to find me, too. You found the safe house because I was there, the same way you found this place. You used me like a homing beacon. So what is it, do I just light up like a flare to you?”

“Come to me,” Reve Azrael said, and the revenants dragged me forward. They shoved me onto my knees in front of her, letting go of me in the process. I looked up at her. She gazed back at me, the telltale red glow of her magic filling Bennett’s dead eyes. She smiled a terrible smile. “Tell me, little fly, how does it feel to know all your buzzing has brought nothing but pain and suffering to those around you?”

The revenants had made a big mistake letting me go. I sprang to my feet and wrapped my hands around her neck. She didn’t try to stop me as my hands squeezed the cold, dry flesh. Instead, she laughed in my face. Coming from the mouth of Bennett’s corpse, it was a chilling sound.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “How do you know me?”

With a single swipe of her arm, she knocked my hands from her throat. Her strength was incredible. “Perhaps we can strike a deal, little fly. The answers to your questions in return for what I want.”

“Been there, done that, it didn’t work out,” I said. “I’m done playing the patsy.”

Her triumphant grin melted away. “So be it.”

From where he knelt on the carpet, Isaac croaked out, “Philip, now!”

In a flash, the vampire was gone. The revenants that had been holding him tumbled backward, tossed as effortlessly as paper dolls. A dark blur sped toward Isaac, and then Isaac was gone, too, leaving something spinning in midair where he’d stood. For a moment, a silence hung over the room. Then the object hit the floor with a heavy clank.

It was the Hangman’s Damper.

After that, all hell broke loose.