The next four rooms were bedrooms, with bunk beds. Made up and empty, obviously for guards.
Curse it, I swore silently, and headed to the big door at the far end. It was locked. Figured.
My lockpick still vibrated softly. I prayed it had enough left to open the big door.
One lock went click. A second went click. A third went click. The door wouldn’t budge.
There was another lock. The lockpick trembled in my hand. It didn’t have enough strength left.
I bit my lip, hesitated, then glanced at my phone’s screen. My last message still not received.
I switched the lockpick to my left hand and reached inside my jacket, to a hidden pocket. My fingers fumbled at the snap, but finally opened it and grasped the spiked iron ring-shaped blood amulet. there. I licked my lips. This was the last thing I was supposed to be using. But just a little, just this once, I told myself, and pressed my fingers onto the spikes. Hot needles of pain stabbed my fingers. I jerked, nearly dropping the blood amulet. I managed to hang on to it, took my pain and pushed mana into the lockpick. Its trembling grew and I commanded it to open the last lock.
A soft click sounded. I let out my breath and I put the blood amulet back in its hidden pocket.
I pushed the door open. Beyond was an upscale penthouse style suite.
There were bedrooms, a living room, and media room, and a kitchen. All were empty. I did find lots of lingerie, and some bedroom equipment, so to speak, that made me twitchy. Burt had definite tastes in that direction.
I looked in all the closets, tried to find hidden doors, but nothing.
More gunfire echoed from the storeroom.
Sorcerer’s tears, I swore silently. I texted Nancy. Down in basement. At least three manifestations on site. One self-immolated. Two more, the ogre and a whorl-kin, are headed my way. Let R.U.N.E. know. Okay, so I didn’t have absolute proof the two manifestations were coming after me, but Burt would come after any threats to his business. And the whorl-kin lived to rend and tear flesh.
An icon of an ear popped up on the phone’s screen, next to the list of my messages. Received. Maybe Nancy would finally do something.
I hunkered down behind a huge black leather sofa in the media room, and faced the door to the hallway. I had one spell remaining, which I had to cast on Burt. After all, he was huge. I could use him against Lady Nasty.
Gunfire crackled and popped. Shouting from human throats turned to screams. I plugged my ears. I’d made the guards defend the room against Burt and his bodyguard, essentially ordering them to die for me. My stomach clenched. But what choice I had I had? The guards were working for a murderous criminal, and probably had killed for him.
I peeked over the top at the door, binding knife in my hand, a long, thin blade. Gesturing with the knife, I began chanting in Irish.
The ogre should come barging in at any moment.
Minutes ticked past. I checked my phone. There was no reply from Nancy or R.U.N.E. Sweat trickled down my back. This was not good, not good at all. I was hell hound chow if I didn’t get backup. Sure, I’d charged in here, but Nancy had to follow. The phone said messages received. Then why hadn’t she answered me? A nasty though popped into my head and I shivered. Perhaps something had happened to her.
Right at that moment a panel slid back in the wall kitty corner from the door. My eyes widened.
The whorl-kin strode through the secret door I’d missed, and stopped.
She raised her head and sniffed the air like a wolf tracking a sheep. “Surrender and I’ll kill you quickly. Resist,” she rolled the word around her tongue like a grape she was about to chew, “and you die slowly.”
I was an idiot. Why would Burt come in when he could send his assassin?
I stood. “How about you work for me?”
Her eyes were red-tinged. She laughed, showing a mouth full of glittering needle-like teeth. “How about I eat you, slowly?” She sauntered toward me, each step a promise of pain, her grin widening as she neared.
I brandished my binding blade. “Hello! Sorcerer here.”
Her grin widened even further until it threatened to split her face. “I love the taste of sorcerer’s blood.” She reached her arms wide. Her fingers were claws now. Her muscles tensed, like a lion about to pounce on its prey.
“By the power of the Laws, I bind thee to me,” I said, in Irish.
The whorl-kin’s tattoos covered her arms and neck, snapping wolf jaws. They began glowing a blood red. Her grin turned into a savage snarl. She leapt at me. I threw myself out of the way and she slammed into the wall behind where I’d been. I thrust the knife at her, twisting it in the air, shouting the spell.
Tendrils of gold shimmered from the blade’s tip and shot into her blood-red tattoos, making them flare gold. She struggled against the binding spell, her breath hot on my face. She snapped her jaws. “I will eat y—” she stopped in mid-threat. A violent tremor ran through her. Her eyes widened, then she slumped, her head down.
I fought to keep my voice even, and keep the screaming fear from my words. “You will obey me.” My blood thundered in my ears. I’d done it. Barely, but I’d bound the psycho manifestation, and held her essence, the mana that made her the supernatural creature she was. That meant I could command the whorl-kin to do my bidding.
Exhaustion washed over me. Lack of food, not enough sleep, the rush of adrenalin, all demanded their cut from me, and I didn’t have enough energy to pay. I wanted to sleep for a hundred years. But sleep was the last thing I could do at the moment.
I still had
