Ankou nodded; he looked more amused than anything. “Well, then,” he said, tossing the baggie onto my lap, “I suppose it was fortuitous of me to see that your man couldn’t push that button.” The plastic was smeared with fresh blood, still warm. Inside the bag were eight fingers and two thumbs. I felt dizzy nausea swirl up in me, snowballing into panic. “Your Mr. Shelton, your ‘Grinner’ as his vulgar argot proclaims him, he never made his plane.”
The fear was thick in my mouth, fighting with rage, trying to catch and burn. “You fucking piece of shit, you’re dead.” I glared at Vigil, and his face was a screen of static. “Your bitch Vigil there, he pointed him out to you?”
“Quite so,” Ankou said, looking to Vigil and nodding. “Mr. Shelton has been quite resistant to divulging information. I had thought it best to use him as leverage to get you to tell me where Caern is, but Sir Burris assured me that you would not be moved by such threats. He said Shelton was merely a retainer of yours, a mercenary, and that you care only for yourself. I made Shelton a very generous offer to betray you; he declined. I repeated the offer after each snip. He refused until he lost consciousness from blood loss and shock. Unfortunate, but I thought this demonstration would clarify your situation for you, Mr. Ballard. I am not some common street hustler you are used to outwitting, some stolid mage you can bedazzle with your criminal acumen. Our kind was old when your world was a cooling pebble. In every possible way, I am a god compared to you. You honestly think you will win here, that you will taste victory?” He took the fingers out of my lap and held them before my face. “You will not; however, there may be an opportunity remaining for you to survive this.”
“Fuck you,” I said as I spat at him. Fear had turned my mouth into a desert. Ankou laughed as he tossed Grinner’s digits on the conference room table. It was one of the most horrible sounds I have ever heard, God laughing at your suffering, your fear, knowing how alone in this you really are. My heart was trying to tear itself out of my chest and acid was scratching my mouth and throat. I thought I might piss myself. This was real, this was it. Gun to my head, no way to bullshit my way out, no way to fight my way out. This was it.
“A valiant response,” he said. “The hero ascendant. I think it’s time I introduced you to yourself, Mr. Ballard. It’s a gift long overdue.” He turned to one of his men. “The manticore venom, Jammie.” The solider picked up a red-and-white Igloo cooler and placed it in Ankou’s slender hands. “I hope you appreciate, Mr. Ballard, the courtesy I give you in not resorting to torture. Your reputation preceded you and I know you have been interrogated by some of the best in the world, in and out of the Life, and that your fortitude is legendary. Also, torture is notoriously unreliable in extracting information.” He swiveled open the cooler and removed a hypodermic needle. It was filled with an algae-green substance.
“This,” he said, holding up the needle and tapping it lightly, “is the venom of a manticore, a creature of the First World, the land of Faerie. It cost the lives of a dozen of my knights to obtain this. The venom will quickly and effectively burn out the majority of your nervous system. It will render you forever unable to work magic, locking away those miraculous places in you from access. Your light will be hidden under a bushel, Mr. Ballard, for the rest of your life. It will also, I’m afraid, reduce your cognitive and motor abilities significantly. No more witty quips, no more, how do you say, ‘snappy patter.’ You will be a shambling, twitching, husk of a man. I also intend to make sure you are well and truly addicted to my finest, purest heroin before we release you into the wilds of this fine city.
“I will not kill you, Mr. Ballard. To do so would be to give you an escape. Humans like you often long for death as much as you fear it. Again, pathetic. No, if you do not tell me where Caern is, this is what will happen.” Ankou turned to address Vigil. “Burris, go to Mr. Shelton and await my word. If Mr. Ballard gives me the information I require, I want you to kill Mr. Shelton, do you understand?”
“What?” Vigil said, genuine confusion and disgust crossing his face.
“You heard me. If Mr. Ballard refuses to give me Caern’s location, then take his associate to a hospital, and perhaps they can still save his dwindling life.”
“Lord Ankou…” Vigil began. Ankou shut him down.
“You have your orders, knight. Go.” Vigil walked to the conference room door, opened it. He looked back to
