The Necromancer's Gambit: The Swindle
Nicolas Wilson
I call Tim as soon as I’m done shoveling my tongue back into my mouth. He’s home, with Trish. Han’s a mercenary, not an assassin, he shoots where he’s told, doesn’t stalk his own prey; there’s no way he’s tracking him, at least not tonight. The sun comes up in a few hours- not nearly enough time to plan a decent murder- and this time Han is going to be cautious, because he can’t afford to screw up again. But I send Pawn to watch Tim’s, just in case, even though I don’t expect anything to come of it.
Rook spends the day at my apartment. She wants to sleep, but says she couldn’t in her hotel- not with this many magical bastards running around. Pawn gives me many winks and nudges, which I mostly write off as him believing porn is closer to reality than most people realize, but I wonder, all the same. I stop wondering when she passes out on the couch before I can so much as get my coat hung up. I cover her with a clean sheet and put a pillow under her.
But apparently she’s a very light sleeper, especially as it pertains to me trying to watch porn in my bedroom. I try, three times, and every time I get myself settled, and so much as glance in the direction of the hand lotion, she calls rather loudly, “You wouldn’t mind turning that down, would you?” like her masturbation sense was tingling. She would have made for a hell of a Catholic nun.
I sleep fitfully, more than once jolted out of a sex dream by Elise’s murderer. Around sundown I force myself to get out of bed, feeling very primal, and pent up in more ways than one, my thoughts boiling down to murder and flesh. I still can’t put Devi’s soft brown skin out of my mind. Or Vergara’s, for that matter.
It’s raining, heavy globs of it smattering across the windshield. The wipers are only intermittently useful, but it’s getting late enough there isn’t much traffic left on the freeway. Rook’s in the passenger seat, flipping through a magazine on her lap, and I find myself stealing glances at her legs, only to be torn back to the road by my tires angrily reading Braille aloud- which is appropriate as we veer towards other cars, since dot dot dot repeating is an onomatopoeic scream in Morse code.
I try to focus back on the task at hand and then it hits me, and I slam the breaks hard, and hydroplane a little on highway puddles before I ease off and the steering wheel stiffens back up. “I don’t know why I hadn’t seen it before. We’ve been isolated. From the cops. From the colony. And now from everyday people. Fuck. And I’ve been the one walking us further down that line. That’s what this shit’s been about. Making it harder for us to find help.”
“Holy shit,” Rook says, “look at the detailing on that dress.”
“I can’t. I’m driving. I would kill us both horribly dead if I looked.”
“It would be completely worth it. It’s gorgeous.”
“I’ll look when we stop, okay? But our enemies, conspiring against us?”
“Yeah, that’s bad. Especially the part where you’ve been letting them segregate us.”
“Thank you for honing in on the part where I suck. But it all makes so much more sense, now. The hunter just showing up, finding Elise at the VC. Transporting Castle back into the city in the first place. Fuck. We need to go to the hospital.”
“Because your water just broke?” Rook asks.
“For Tim.”
“I thought Tim was fine.”
“He took a turn.”
“He took a… oh... he took a turn.”
“Glad to see you’re finally on the same page. He’s at Sunnyside Medical Center in Clackamas. They’ve got an exceptional cardiac unit there.”
“Cardiac?”
“It was his heart. The ‘other’ Knight used a spell that attacked his heart. Once we knew who he was, it didn’t take much work to figure out where he’s from, and with that it’s simple to get to the kinds of magic he grew up with. How familiar are you with the Zulu concept of the Tikoloshe?” She gives me a look. “Right, why am I even asking? Traditionally believed to be homicidal dwarves who strangle people. To get an education in Zulu magic, an apprentice has to best the Tikoloshe. Basically it’s just a mage using one specific spell, but you have to survive long enough to knock him unconscious with an Iwisa. The Tikoloshe spell itself compresses the chest- which can stop the heart- but the most noticeable outward sign is difficulty breathing. Hence the mythology. That’s what he used in the Cauldron. But Tim binds those he ejects from the Cauldron to himself; it’s a clever spell that means nobody ever tries for magical revenge against him, because they’d get it right back- along with earning the anger of a lot of other pissed off people.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why we’re driving Pawn’s foot-smelling Jeep around?”
“Because ‘we’- and by ‘we’ I mean Pawn in my car- are headed out to the VC to investigate a lead on that warlocking vamp- giving Han a false sense of security. By now Bishop and Tim should have the mousetrap already set and cheesed. And we’re trying to arrive just in time for it to be sprung.”
“And we’re just hoping we have good timing?”
“You might not recognize it, since you don’t know the area, but we’ve been driving in a circle, up and down 205. And this bag hanging from the rearview- that’s not potpourri, it’s saliva from that glass we lifted the print off of. And that rented H2 doing 75- that nearly sideswiped the old lady in the Pontiac- that’s our mimic.”
“Son of a”
“Yeah, Bishop’s a quick study; locator spell is exactly as you mixed it before, I’d wager within a few grams of your reagents.”
“She does have a way of making a girl feel obsolete.”
“You’re not obsolete. We’d never get Bishop into a pair of thigh high boots and a short skirt- and if you don’t wear em, Pawn would have to. And then I’d have to gouge out my eyes.”
“I’m glad I can fill your quota.”
“It’s not my quota; the people demand a certain amount of sex appeal from their Gambit. Speaking of which- though entirely unrelated to sex appeal,” I take out my phones and dial. To be legal I ought to put it on speaker, but I’d lay even odds there’s a tongue lashing coming my way and I prefer to keep those as private as possible. “Detective?”
“I thought you were meeting me at seven.”
“Something came up.”
“If that something’s a brunette in stripper boots I’m going to hurt you.”
“Two points. She’s here, but platonically. Second, you can’t strip out of thigh high boots. Or leather pants, for that matter. Cause you have to basically peel them off. And it makes a sound like unwrapping a hot dog from an unlubricated condom- which is definitely not sexy.”
“What?”
“Blame my sex ed teacher for that one; it worked, in that I was horrified of condoms for quite some time. Unless that wasn’t supposed to be the lesson…”
“I assume you didn’t ask me out here solely to waste my time.”
“Nope. I’ve got a bead on the merc. He’s going after that friend of mine he tried to kill the other night- who we may have intimated is in the hospital.”
“You’re entrapping him?”
“Nah. All we did was provide an opportunity. The motive and means to the ensuing murder attempt is all him.”
“Since you had me waiting in Clackamas, I assume Sunnyside.”
“Right. We’ll meet you there; look for a red Jeep.”
“Not the one from the crime scene the other night. It smelled like a boy’s locker room from the outside. I can’t even imagine how much teenage boy ass you’ll reek of if you’ve been driving around in it.”
“I won’t force you to smell me. Though I can’t say the same for Tress; she’s very giving with her odors.” Rook flips me off.
“I’m certain I don’t want to know what you’re talking about. ETA?”
“Just passing the 84 ramp.”
“So, long enough to order some crap fast food, just not long enough to eat it.”
“It would just go straight to your thighs, anyway.”
“You might want to take your focus off my thighs and put it on the violent prick you’re following.”
“Do I have to choose? They both sound so inviting.”
There’s a pause. “I can guarantee my thighs are disinviting; it wasn’t that your invitation got lost in the mail, it was never sent. And trespassers and party crashers will be shot on sight.”
“Knight!” Rook yells, as the Hummer cuts off a gray minivan, sending it spinning into the divider. I barely manage to avoid it.
“I should maybe go, so I can focus on not letting the maniac we’re chasing kill us accidentally with soccer moms.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I hang up. The woman driving the van seems to be all right; the skid absorbed most of her momentum, and she’s out of her door on her feet on the shoulder by the time she disappears from my rearview as we crest a hill.
“I don’t suppose you feel like filling me in on the plan,“ Rook starts, “I’m assuming I don’t have an active part, but you know, to keep me from doing something monumentally foolish.”
“Tim’s protected by a binding tattoo. People he kicks out, he takes something from them, a fingerprint, hair, saliva off a glass, blood. He mixes it with apothecary inks, and puts them under his skin. The tattoo spreads any magic cast against him to every single person who he’s ever ejected from the Cauldron. Bishop’s painted some henna over top of it, to repurpose it, so it reroutes any attacks directly at Han. The plan is to stop him before he can hurt Tim, if only just, but in the event we fail, that’s the back-up. And then we turn him in to the authorities.”
“So my purpose here really is just to wear the sexy boots.” I pull us off at the Clackamas exit.
“Well, we couldn’t be sure how long Han would take. You were going to take over the driving if I got tired. Plus you’re here for moral support.” She crosses her arms. “Look. Han’s bad business. Just having you along is risky. It’s got nothing to do with trust; it would be irresponsible for me to let you get any closer to this.” I notice in the rearview Vergara picks us up as we take the hospital exit. “Same as her,” I gesture to the rearview.
She rubs her eyes. “Yeah, I know. I just, I hate being a wallflower. I thought I was ready. Useful. But I didn’t come prepared for this. And it’s not your fault there hasn’t been time to train me up.”
Han pulls into the parking garage. “We’ll get there- this too shall pass- but right now we’ve gotten here. So game face on.” She sticks her lower jaw out over her lips. “No, that’s your werewolf face. Game face- poker face, if that feels more right. And if you start singing Lady Gaga I’m leaving you in the car.”
“Damn, but… you can’t read my, can’t read my, no you can’t read my”
“And no spoken word. Only 70s Shatner was cool enough to pull that off- and even that’s debatable.” I get out of the car. Vergara’s a step behind me. But Han’s dawdling, so we have to stand around looking awkward, and when he does get out of the Hummer, he eyes us suspiciously. He’s got the drop on both of us; this is not how I want this to go down.
Vergara shoves me against the car and kisses me; Han smiles, then loses interest, and starts walking towards the hospital.
Rook gets out of the car. “He’s gone, if you two want to stop,” she says. “Or I can follow the genocidal murderer alone and you two can get a room. Though you might have to hurt him if you want a room here.”
Vergara shoves me away. “Should have told me we were clear,” she mutters, “and if you so much as grin I will shoot you. We’re at a hospital; I could shoot you and it wouldn’t even be attempted murder, just assault with a deadly, and you would totally skeeve a jury.”
I’m stunned, and not just because of the lip mauling. Vergara’s dressed like a woman- like really dressed like a woman, with a skirt even shorter than Rook’s and a neckline as low as her hemline is high. I’m more than a little surprised at just now nice she cleans up.
“You look very…” I’m struggling to find a way to say I appreciate the effort without sounding like a perv or making it sound like she’s matronly most of the time; of course, staring while looking for that magic phrasing undermines the attempt entirely.
“Ogle and walk,” she says, turning around to afford me an ogle of an entirely different side and moving quickly after Han, “ogle and walk. We can’t lose him. And I went somewhere earlier. This is how I dress when I’m not planning on kneeing anyone in the groin.”
“We know where he’s going- you know, so long as we don’t get lost in the hospital’s labyrinthine hallways. But you were meeting me and not planning on kneeing me in the groin? That’s momentous. I knew you’d come around to me.”
“I multitasked,” she says, hesitating at one of a dozen branching hallways before I point to the right. “Doesn’t mean this was for your benefit.”
“And yet here I am, benefiting.”
“Why didn’t I bring duct tape for your mouth?”
“You could always see about getting some medical tape.” I stop for a second at a nurse’s station. “I don’t suppose we could borrow some medical tape.” A tired and plump looking nurse squints at me, and doesn’t have time to figure out how to express her confusion before Rook yanks me by the arm and we’re moving again.
The door to Tim’s room is closed. Bishop’s waiting outside it, trying to blend in with the hospital staff, hiding behind a clipboard. She nods at me. Vergara reaches for the doorknob, and I put a hand on her shoulder.” Detective, you need to let me take point.”
“I’m an officer of the law.”
“And this guy is something you haven’t been trained to handle. I have. There isn’t a lot of love lost between us, but I’m asking you, because I don’t want you hurt, to trust me. And that, if something does happen to me, to put a bullet between his fucking eyes.”
“Okay,” she says, though she isn’t happy about it. She steps behind me. “I’ll back your play.”
I open the door, and I hear Han’s voice, deep, with a terrifically unsexy accent. “Time to take your muti,” he says.
I push the door in with my shoulder. Han’s hands and his chest take on a dark purple glow. I pull back the trigger until the hammer clicks back as I slide my revolver out of its holster, and he looks back at me. But he doesn’t do the sensible thing and back down; instead he hits Tim with the entire force of the spell.
But it bounces off of him, like a rubber ball, and forms into a sphere as it smashes back into Han’s chest, and absorbs into his skin. He falls backward, onto the other bed in the room, shaking violently.
“Bishop, I think he just gave himself a heart attack.” She pushes past Vergara and grabs the crash cart in the corner. Moonlight glints off something near his thigh, and I put my hand in front of her. “Hold up.” I hand Vergara my gun and she keeps it trained on Han. I get a syringe out my pocket, remove the cap and shake it to make sure there aren’t air bubbles.
I stab Han in the neck with it and his eyes open wide. “I’d drop that knife; I can just as easy open up your carotid as push down the plunger. Either way, you’re not fighting your way clear of this room.” His blade clatters to the floor. It’s a big one; a Bowie, and even large by that standard. I push in the plunger and he tenses for a moment before passing out.
“How’d you” Vergara starts, but doesn’t finish.
I take my pistol out of her hands and put it back in its holster. “Saw light shine off the knife, though I didn’t see the size of the damned thing.”
“Wait,” Tim says, sitting up from his hospital bed, “this plan sucked. What if he’d just stabbed me?”
“Well, you are in a hospital,” I say. “And in that case he’d be going to prison for the rest of his life. He probably is, anyway, but that would have more than sealed it.”
“Trish would have kicked your ass so hard if I died.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“And cursed you. Many times.”
“Yep.”
“And she would have kicked my dead ass for it, too.” He pauses. “We really shouldn’t tell her we did this.”
“Nope.”
“You want to wait in the hall?” He eyeballs the mercenary. He wants to be ehere, if we need him, and I catch myself wondering if he’d like to be Castle after all this shakes out, but the merc isn’t going anywhere. “He’s under level 4 sedation. He’ll be somnolent- means he’s not going to be conscious for hours. We can handle him from here, but thanks.” He catches my eyes, then walks out. “Detective? You know those things that we can’t quite explain to you. Well, we need to do some more of that, to make sure he can’t do what he did to Elise to you or anybody else in transit.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You want to keep Tim company in the hall?”
“If it gives me plausible deniability later, then I might as well. And it’ll give me a moment to figure out how I can write this up without any of you in it.”
Bishop waits until Vergara closes the door. “I’ve been thinking about how to handle this. I want to paint sigils on his feet with the leftover henna. It’ll reflect anything he tries to cast back in on himself for the next month or so.”
“That ought to do it. I suspect he’s only really studied the violent kind of spells. Cops should be able to handle him from there. And the national Gambit has a couple of antimages who work at the State Penn, which should be more than enough to keep him in check there; it’s a lousy time to be without a castle.”
Bishop takes her time. After a while, Tim comes back in, and we wheel a cart over to her with some heavy equipment on top. “It’s a medical heat lamp; should help the henna set up faster.”
I leave them and go with Vergara to the café for some coffee. She doesn’t say anything until we’re on our way back, and I’m awkwardly holding three cups. “Don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what that purple shit was.”
“I don’t suppose so.” She doesn’t push, but she seems less friendly after that. She stays out in the hall when we get back.
Bishop’s painted a long, intricate, webbed-looking symbol on the soles of Han’s feet. “You did that from memory?” I ask her.
“I spent a few minutes memorizing it before we left.”
“And you’re sure you’ve got it right?”
“Who’re you talking to?”
“Right. We ready for Vergara?”
“Should be set enough to put his socks on, so sure.” She picks up one of them, “so glad I’m wearing gloves for this, stinky mercenary bootfoot.”
“You want a hand with the other foot?” Rook asks.
“I don’t have an extra pair of gloves.”
“Then I’ll help by watching. Make sure he doesn’t have any footytraps. Or hangnails.”
I open the door for Vergara. “Should be good now. I’d suggest getting a paddy wagon with a wheelchair ramp, because he looks a bit too heavy to want to haul around on your shoulder. And I’d keep him duct-taped until you can get him in a cell.”
“Aw,” she says, “I’m rubbing off on you.”
“I did it low enough you should be able to slide a pair of cuffs onto him- but I wouldn’t expect them to stay on.”
“So just like you, like an evil you.”
“Implying that I’m the good me?”
“A disturbing thought, I know. But you did a good thing, today. The world’ll be a better place without him in it.”