When it was satisfied, the Sentinel straightened and pointed down the street. Again, the message was unmistakable. We were free to go.
If I’d been alive, I’d have probably had to release a relieved breath. There had been a good chance that the Sentinel might’ve wanted to take us to the Nightspire for questioning by an Adjudicator. Maybe there was too much going on during the Descension festival for the Sentinel to bother. Even in Nekropolis, where the police force had been mystically manufactured, there weren’t enough cops to go around.
I nodded, one cop to another, and we got the hell out of there before the Sentinel could change its mind. When we were halfway down the street, I looked back to see that the Sentinel had slung Varma’s body over its shoulder and was moving off in the opposite direction-toward the Nightspire.
“The Adjudictors will eventually identify Varma, and then inform Lord Galm,” Devona said. “And Father will claim the body and see that it’s laid to rest.” She sounded relieved.
“Then you intend to continue searching for the Dawnstone?”
“Of course. Whatever gave you the idea I wanted to stop?”
Human, vampire, or a combination of the two-sometimes women just didn’t make any sense to me.
“Oh, and Matt? Thanks.” She smiled gratefully.
It was one of the best smiles I’d ever been favored with. “Sure. And now we need to find a way to-”
I was interrupted by the loud blat-blat-blat of some idiot leaning on a car horn.
Across the street, parked halfway on the sidewalk, was a cab.
“Hey!” Lazlo shouted. “You two need a ride?”
THIRTEEN
“Are you out of your worm-eaten mind?” Lazlo shouted as he swerved to avoid a being that resembled a pair of giant Siamese frogs.
“I’ve gone through Glamere a couple times since my run-in with Talaith,” I said. “And you’ve taken me on nearly every occasion. We got through okay then.”
“That’s because of my finely honed driving skills and a hell of a lot of luck.” Lazlo roared across the Bridge of Nine Sorrows, taking us from the Sprawl and back into Gothtown. “But luck doesn’t hold forever, Matt-and you’ve used more than your fair share over the last couple years.”
“Life’s a gamble, Lazlo.” Especially when you might only have a day or two of it left. “The case I’m working on is stalled, and I need Gregor to give it a jump start. Besides, if you think about it, this is the safest time for me to cross Glamere. Talaith is undoubtedly conserving her strength for the Renewal Ceremony. She won’t have the time-or the energy-to worry about me.”
“Maybe,” the demon allowed, “but if your bones end up hanging on a wall in Woodhome, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Duly noted.” I sat back against the seat and turned to Devona. “Maybe you should think about letting us drop you off before we get to Glamere. If Talaith detects my presence, things will get very ugly, very fast.”
“I understand the risk involved, but I still want to go. It’s my problem we’re trying to solve, after all. And I’ve never been to Glamere or the Boneyard. Besides,”-she paused-“I think we make a good team.”
I smiled. “I think you’re right.”
We didn’t say much more after that, just sat, gripped the armrests, and prayed that Lazlo wouldn’t swerve off the Obsidian Way and slam us into a building. After a time, we drew near the Bridge of Shattered Dreams, the entrance to Glamere. As we drove across, I hoped the bridge’s name wouldn’t turn out to an omen of things to come.
Glamere-the Dominion of the Arcane, the magic workers of Nekropolis-is a series of medieval villages nestled in a bucolic countryside. The buildings range from simple huts and shacks to wood-and-stone houses with thatched roofs. Nearly every house has a garden full of herbs, flowers, and plants, some recognizable, most not…and some which sway and undulate as if more than just exotic-looking vegetables. Emblazoned on the outside of each building, sometimes in crude soot-drawn lines, sometimes in elaborately painted colors, are an infinite array of hex signs. I couldn’t decipher any of them, so I asked Devona.
“I only recognize those that serve as wardspells,” she said. “As to the rest, your guess is as good as mine.”
The roads in Glamere are little more than unpaved wagon routes for the most part, but since we were traveling on the Obsidian Way, our ride was smooth and we made good time. We often saw fires in the distance, probably surrounded by chanting witches and warlocks celebrating the Descension in their own pagan way. Besides producing most of the city’s spells, potions, and magic devices, Glamere was also the primary farming center, and on a normal day we might have run into (literally, with Lazlo driving) ox-drawn carts full of produce or herds of animals being brought in from pasture. But this was Descension Day. No one was working and aside from Lazlo’s cab, the Obsidian Way was thankfully deserted.
If I’d been alive I would have been holding my breath ever since we’d crossed over into Talaith’s Dominion. But we were halfway across Glamere-or at least I thought we were; it’s hard to judge distance since there are no road markers or prominent landmarks-and nothing had happened yet. I actually allowed myself to start thinking this was going to be the easiest part of the case yet.
Stupid of me.
Lightning flashed across the sky, startling me. Not because I’m afraid of storms, but because Nekropolis normally doesn’t have weather. No sun, only Umbriel’s eternal shadowlight, no heat, no rain, no snow-nothing except wind, and never very strong at that. No, this lightning wasn’t natural. And that could only mean one thing.
“Talaith’s aware of us,” I said. Thunder rumbled from somewhere off in the distance, probably originating from Woodhome.
“How?” Devona asked. “She should be husbanding her power for the ceremony!”
“Maybe she doesn’t care,” Lazlo said. “And by the way, Matt, I told you so.”
“Get exorcised,” I snapped. “How much farther do we have to go until we reach the Boneyard?” Darklords don’t directly use their powers in another Lord’s Dominion-not unless they want serious trouble from Dis. I knew if we could make it to the Boneyard before Talaith attacked, we would be safe. Hopefully.
“Too far,” Lazlo answered. He stomped on the pedal, and the cab, which had already been doing what seemed to me close to the speed of sound, accelerated.
Go as fast as you like, Richter, said a smug, slimy voice in my head. It won’t do you any good.
More lightning. And the thunder which followed was closer this time.
You’re mad, Talaith, I thought back. You can’t afford to waste your energy like this. The Renewal Ceremony is approaching. And Dis won’t be pleased if you’re too weak to fulfill your part in it.
I’m touched by your concern, she thought mockingly. You’ll be relieved to know that I’m not using a single iota of my own power. My loyal subjects are thoughtfully allowing me to borrow theirs.
I realized the significance of all the fires we’d seen. The Arcane weren’t celebrating; they were conducting a rite to transfer mystic power to their Lady.
A series of lightning flashes this time, much closer, and the crack of thunder sounded almost immediately.
How’d you know we were coming? I thought. I doubt you’ve been wasting power constantly scrying for me- you don’t have it to spare. Not in your present condition.
I sensed her anger at my taunt. I always conduct an augury using a mourning dove before every Descension Day to determine how things will go. This year, the bird’s entrails told me that you would be passing through tonight. And so I prepared. Glee and anticipation suffused her thoughts. With the help of my people, I’m going to destroy you once and for all, Matthew Richter, and your friends along with you. What do you think of that?
Lightning crashed outside the cab, thunder cracked, rattling the windows. A driving rain began to fall. Lazlo hit the wipers.
What if I told you that I’m due to decompose in another day or so anyway? Why bother wasting magic power, even if it isn’t your own, to destroy me if I’ll be gone in a handful of hours?
