CHAPTER ONE
We sat parked in the center of Elk Street, a few blocks away from the Hellfire Club, staring at a series of barriers, which resembled enormous caltrops.
The orange runes on their surface pulsed in the dark.
“I don’t remember those being there the last time we were in this neighborhood,” I said, peering down the street. “Is that an art exhibition?”
“I don’t think so,” Monty said, looking behind us. “I’m noticing some runes behind the car. One second.”
He stepped out of the Dark Goat and I did the same, opening the door for my ever-alert hellhound. Peaches bounded out and nudged past me throwing me off balance, and very likely saving my life.
I stumbled into the car as he muscled past me and the arrow meant for my chest, buried itself in my arm. I rolled to the drivers side of the Dark Goat and stayed crouched down, waiting for more arrows.
We took cover behind the Dark Goat.
“This is why we don’t do housecalls,” I said, as I gritted my teeth against the pain throbbing in my arm. “Holy hell, this hurts.”
“Whatever you do, do not pull it out,” Monty said. “Let me look at it.”
“Pull it out? No, of course not. I was thinking what color shirt I could wear with it, as an accessory. Why am I not pulling this thing out?” I asked as the pain radiated outward from my arm.
“There’s a good chance that’s a blood arrow,” he said. “Didn’t your vampire warn you about Esti being on the loose and looking for retribution?”
“She did, yes,” I said with a short nod. “Next time, Erik comes to us asking for help, I’ telling him, no. We are not the Montague and Strong delivery service.”
“Do you intend to become a recluse?” he asked, ripping my shirt sleeve away from my arm. “You can’t hide indoors indefinitely.”
“Not indefinitely, just until my enemies get tired or die from boredom,” I said, wincing when he pulled on my arm. “That shouldn’t take too long.”
“Not long at all, considering most of your enemies are on the longer-lived side,” he said. “Shouldn’t take more than a century or three.”
“I’m not feeling the support here.”
Peaches nudged his massive head against my side.
<What is it, boy?>
<I can pull the stick out of your arm. It’s not very big. I can do it.>
<No, boy. That stick is dangerous and can explode. We’re going to let Monty take care of this one.>
<His saliva can’t heal you. My saliva can heal you. Do you want my saliva?>
<As amazing as that sounds, we’re going to wait.>
<For what? The angry man is only looking at the stick. He should take it out then I can heal you with my saliva.>
<He’s observing the best way to take it out.>
<He is looking too long. Does he want it to explode?>
<I really hope not. I’m kind of attached to my arm.>
<If you get hurt, I will heal you.>
<Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, slide over a bit and let him get a closer look.>
My hellhound shifted over to the side giving Monty more access to the arrow.
“This does not look good,” he said, slowly lifting my arm and examining the arrow. “At least it missed all the important bits. That is one nasty-looking arrow however. I need to take a closer look at the runes on the shaft.”
“Is that your official observation, doctor?” I asked as a wave of arrows rained down on the Dark Goat. “Looks like we have their attention now.”
Monty looked behind the Dark Goat at the runes that initially drew his attention and shook his head.
“Clever,” he said. “Those runes are keyed to your particular energy signature. If we had attempted to reverse the vehicle, they would have…” —he traced a trail of runes with his gaze and finger, pointing at the adjacent building—“brought that building down on us. It may not have destroyed the car, but it could have trapped us inside.”
“Someone did their homework,” I said, seeing the symbols etched into the street and following his hand to where the symbols ended around the base of the building next to us. “That is some evil runic BS.”
“The runes are not evil—”
“Don’t start,” I snapped. “It would have brought the building down on us in an attempt to squash us. I call that evil. It could have killed who knows how many innocent bystanders—that is evil.”
“I’m not necessarily disagreeing with you,” he said, gazing around us. “The runes themselves are not evil, but the way they are implemented certainly speaks to someone who wishes you ill will.”
“Ill will?” I said, pointing at the arrow. “We’re calling this ill will?”
“What would you call it?
“Where I come from, burying an arrow in someone is a good way to get killed. This was a trap and I stepped right into it. If Peaches hadn’t shoved me to one side, this arrow would be in my chest or neck,” I said. “I call this attempted murder.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” he said, gazing up to the roofs of the buildings around us. “Whoever shot you didn’t count on your sudden movement.”
“Hard to adjust for irregular movements with an arrow,” I said, glancing at the arrow. “But whoever did it, they’re good. Anyone but the best shot would’ve missed me entirely. This archer adapted and modified the shot in a split-second.”
“They picked the right street, but I have to assume, if they were thorough, that all of the streets leading away from the Hellfire Club were similarly trapped.”
“It’s a good trap especially if what you said about being keyed to my energy signature is true,” I said. “It’s the ultimate passive destructive system. Wait until I’m in the area and activate the runes to go off when I walk or drive by. They knew we were driving, though, or else why use those barriers at the other end of the street.”
“Indeed,” he said. “It’s too elaborate to be spur of the moment.”
“Where is everyone?” I looked around realizing there wasn’t anyone out here. “Aversion runes?”
“Good question,” he said. “It would seem they somehow managed to empty this and the adjoining streets. That takes planning.”
The street around us was deserted, which normally wouldn’t have caught my attention, except we lived in the city that didn’t sleep. Deserted streets weren’t a thing, even in the middle of the night.
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that the streets are empty?” I asked, glancing to the left and right. “When are the streets ever empty like this?”
“When an ambush that has been put in place to attack you and it has been sprung, it seems,” Monty said. “I’m not noticing any aversion runes. They must have used more conventional means. Perhaps more of those barriers to prevent pedestrian and vehicular traffic. What seems more relevant, however, is how did they know you would be coming down this particular street?”
“That’s a great question,” I said with a wince. “Maybe we can ask our friendly archer how she pulled that little trick off?”
“Are you certain it’s a she?”
“I haven’t pissed off any male archers recently, and the only group I know of that enjoys going medieval with arrows on targets are the Blood Hunters, and they’re all female.”
“Good deduction,” he said with a nod. “I do believe you are correct.”
I shifted to one side as my arm screamed at me.
“Be still,” Monty said as he leaned in to get a better look at the arrow. “This is going to be tricky.”
“Tricky?” I said. “I have an arrow buried in my arm…it looks real similar to an explosive arrow, Monty. Remember those?”
“I’m aware of what kind of arrow,” he said, his voice tight. “It would seem the Blood Hunters have decided to express their displeasure with you…again.”
“Thinking about it, I doubt this is them,” I said with another wince as Monty lightly touched the arrow in my arm. “This is most likely Esti and her psychotic crew of extreme hunters, what was it again—the Sanitary Order?”
“Sanguinary,” Monty corrected. “And I believe they are called Heretics.”
“Yes, them,” I said. “Any group insane enough to take Esti as one of their members has to be deranged.”
“If you would stop moving, it would make reading these runes easier. That way I can deactivate them.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “My moving is making it difficult for you to read the runes. You mean the runes, on the arrow, which is buried in my arm?”
“Stop moving,” he warned. “I realize this is uncomfortable, but I have to get an idea of what I’m dealing with here before I attempt to remove it, without removing your arm.”
“I like that last part,” I said. “The ‘not removing my arm’ part.”
“Then keep still,” he said, holding the shaft of the arrow steady as I shifted again. “This appears to be a variant of the blood arrows that the Blood Hunters use.”
“It’s not like I want to move,” I said, gritting my teeth. “I have a severe allergy to arrows puncturing any part of my body. Especially when those arrows can explode and remove said body part. You think Esti is trying to tell me something?”
“It is possible she may be trying to convey her desire for vengeance for what you did,” he answered. “However, I highly doubt Esti fired this arrow. Considering her animosity toward you, I feel she would have aimed for somewhere more…final.”
“Final?”
“Your eye, or neck, or more likely your heart,” he answered in his clinical Spock voice. “I do have to wonder how she would manage it with one arm. Most likely she’d have used some modified weapon or some kind of crossbow to be effective. It does bear some investigating.”
“I’m glad you find all this so fascinating, Spock,” I said. “You know what I wonder? I wonder how much longer do you need to ‘read’ the arrow before we get started on the removal part of the process?”
“No need to get testy,” he said. “I was merely stating that the odds of Esti being the perpetrator of this attack are high. You can’t deny she bears you ill will—you did relieve her of an arm.”
“She was trying to kill Chi,” I said. “If you ask me, she got off easy. I only took her arm, I should have removed her head. She walked away with her life.”
“Some people tend to hold grudges about those sorts of things.”
“Which? Esti trying to kill Chi, or me removing her arm?”
“Both.”
“True,” I said with a brief nod as another set of arrows sliced silently through the night, bouncing off the far side of the Dark Goat. “I have their general direction, but we don’t know—”
“If those are the only hunters in the area,” Monty finished, his attention on the arrow. “Let’s focus on the priority. Internal then external. We extricate the arrow first, then address the enemies trying to explosively end your existence.”
“Was that mage humor?”
“Merely stating the obvious,” he deadpanned. “It’s only logical we address our attackers after the arrow is removed.”
“That would be excellent,” I said as sweat formed on my brow. “Without exploding my arm to bits.”
“Without exploding your arm to bits,” he repeated. “Then we deal with whomever is firing arrows at you. I have to say, you have a singular way of making friends that leaves much to be desired.”
I glared at him.
“First, not my friends. Second, can you really talk about making friends?” I asked. “Your track record is far from excellent.”
“Par for the course,” he said, waving my words away. “I’m a battle mage, we don’t make friends. They’re either enemies or enemies in waiting.”
Peaches whined next to me.
The whine quickly shifted to a growl when he sniffed the air.
<Whoever hurt you is close. I can chew on them and hurt them back.>
<No, boy. They may have something that can hurt you. Stay close until we figure out what’s going on.>
“What is troubling your creature?”
“You mean besides the arrow in my arm?”
“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “besides the arrow. I have seen you take more damage than this arrow. Aren’t you being a bit dramatic?”
“It’s not the damage, it’s the potential explosion,” I said. “He says he can pinpoint where the archer is and can go visit them with a friendly mauling.”
“I’d advise against it,” he said with another gesture that formed a golden orb near my arm. “They may try to apprehend him, or worse.”
“I told him to stay close until we knew more about what was going on,” I said. “Why would they attack us now? When I say now, I mean in the general sense. If it’s Esti, she has to know this won’t bring her arm back.”
“It could be a status thing,” he said. “She lost her position after her failed attempt on your vampire. It’s possible she’s trying to reestablish her lost position.”
“I seriously doubt the Blood Hunters would accept her back,” I said. “Isn’t that why she joined the Sandwich Order?”
He stared at me for a good three seconds before shaking his head.
“You’re doing that deliberately, aren’t you?”
“Doing what?” I said, keeping my expression innocent. “I was just wondering why the Blood Hunters would even consider taking her back—she was horrible for their reputation.”
“Good question,” he said, gently nudging the orb closer to the arrow shaft. “Aside from the whole arm removal thing, didn’t you say your vampire mentioned an imminent attack?”
“She did,” I said, eyeing the orb warily. “What is that orb supposed to do?”
“It’s going to excise the head of the arrow,” he said, focused on the arrowhead as he lifted my arm gently. “That should allow for removal and destruction of the rest of the blood arrow.”
“Is there any reason we can’t do this inside the Dark Goat?”
“Normally, I would say no, but some of these runes look reactive.”
“Which means?”
“The runes Cecil placed inside the Dark Goat could trigger a detonation,” he said. “As I said, this seems to be a more lethal variant of the blood arrows used in the past.”
“Wonderful, they upgraded their arrows just for me. I feel extra special now,” I said. “Is that the reason for the orb, and you not disintegrating this thing with some finger-wiggles?”
“Astute,” he said. “The same precautions apply. If I try to disintegrate or directly affect the arrow with a cast, it may react and explode, taking your arm with it.”
“I’ll have to thank Esti personally for this detonative demonstration of her deranged and demented desire for my death.”
Monty nodded in appreciation.
“Well done,” he said. “Full marks on the alliteration.”
“Glad I could impress,” I said. “Do you know what would be really impressive?”
“I have an idea. Perhaps if you stopped distracting me?”
I remained silent and thought about the warning Chi had given me recently.
Esti was coming for me, and she didn’t care who or what got in her way. The fact that she was willing to drop a building on me was a clear indicator of how serious she was.
More to the point, she was unhinged.
I recalled she was psychotic enough to disregard Archmage Julien’s warning about not bringing weapons into his home.
Not only did she bring weapons, but she also proceeded to attack us with them. The fact that now some fringe Order accepted her, when even the Blood Hunters had kicked her out, was bad news.
I looked down at the arrow buried in my arm.
Monty was right. This arrow, though similar, wasn’t the same.
If possible, this was an even nastier piece of work than the last time I played target for the Blood Hunters and had one of these exploding arrows buried in my leg.
The fletching on this one was made of red and black feathers. The metal shaft was covered in softly pulsing orange runes which, despite the fact that I couldn’t decipher them, looked dangerous and volatile. The head of the arrow appeared to be made of onyx.
“These blood arrows do seem to be an upgrade from the last time I wore one as an accessory,” I said. “Do you know how much of an upgrade?”
“These are worse, if I’m reading these runes correctly.”
“Worse, of course, why would I expect anything else?” I said. “What was I thinking? Worse how, exactly?”
“I ask myself that same question regarding your thought processes on a daily basis,” he said. “Like the previous blood arrows we’re familiar with, the runes on this arrow mix with the blood of the victim.”
“But?” I asked. “I’m sensing a major but in that description.”
“Well, I don’t want to alarm you—”
I stared at him and gave him a flinty Clint Glint. At the very least a two, if not a two point five, on the glare-o-meter.
“Alarm me? Monty,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as possible, “I have a group of unstable, angry women, led by a deranged psychotrix bent on vengeance—doing their best to make me impersonate a porcupine. I am way past alarmed and fast approaching terrified. I’m just remaining calm so you don’t lose it.”
“How considerate of you,” he said. “Thinking of my well-being that way is magnanimous.”
“I try,” I said, “now stop stalling and spill it. “How bad is it?”
“Very well, the previous blood arrows we encountered would detonate when exposed to air, catalyzing the blood and creating a substantial explosion. Do you recall?”
“I recall,” I said. “How is this one worse?”
“See the pulsing orange runes along the shaft?”
“I have.”
“Have you noticed that they are slowly becoming dim, starting at the fletching and descending it appears, to the arrowhead?”
The realization dawned on me.
I was looking at a countdown.
“It’s a timer, isn’t it?”
He nodded solemnly.
“Seems to be, yes,” he said. “It appears we are limited on time.”
As he said that, the orange runes still softly glowing around the fletching, became dim and stopped pulsing.
“Monty?” I said, with possibly the slightest bit of hysteria in my voice. “Have I mentioned that I really want this arrow out of my arm? Before the runes go dim and blow me up?”
“The placement of this blood arrow is highly suspect,” he said, still examining the runes. “Why not shoot you in the chest or the neck? Even if you had shifted suddenly, a second shot could have been in placed almost immediately. While I agree Esti may be behind this attack, why not incapacitate you immediately, then remove your arm?”
“Maybe she hasn’t put as much thought into this as you have?” I said. “Can we do less with the theorizing, and more with the deactivating and removing?”
“If this works, then we can get this arrow out of your arm.”
“What do you mean, ‘if this works’?” I said. “You’re not sure?”
“Well, the theory is sound, but I don’t make a practice of defusing or deactivating detonative arrows as a regular activity.”
“Did you just use my word?” I asked. “And what do you mean, ‘the theory is sound’? You actually don’t know?”
“No, not really,” he said, pointing at the shaft. “We’re running out of time. If we delay further, this conversation is bound to reach an explosive conclusion.”
“Pass on going out with a bang,” I said. “Do what you need to do and I hope you’re right.”
“As do I,” he said, not filling me with any kind of confidence. “At least we’ll know immediately if your new nickname will be Lefty.”
“Wonderful, more mage humor.”
“If this orb sets off the reactive runes, the effect will be instantaneous.”
“There’s no way to slow the countdown?”
“None that I can see, but I’m no expert on these things.”
“Have I told you that your attempts at humor and distraction truly suck?”
“Repeatedly,” he said. “Are you done stalling?”
“I’m not stalling,” I said. “I’m just delaying a bit to wrap my head around losing an arm, if this method of yours doesn’t work.”
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Fine,” I said with a sigh and took hold of my hellhound’s scruff as he rumbled assurance at me. “Do it.”
“Understood,” he said, becoming serious. “Brace yourself.”
He gestured and formed a series of tight, golden lattices around my arm. They layered over each other, and I realized they were designed to contain the explosion if the orb set off the arrow.
He touched the orb and it slowly expanded, enveloping my arm and the arrowhead. I winced in anticipation of an explosion, but nothing happened.
“So far, so good,” he said. I noticed sweat had formed on his brow too. “Next phase is the excision. The orb will collapse around the arrowhead and I will remove the rest of the arrow in one move. As much as possible, stay behind the Dark Goat.”
I nodded.
The time for words had passed.
