Part 8 (1/2)
The breeze once again blew in from the sea and we stood there staring at each other.
Leander's scowl was dark and menacing. He spoke in a tongue I had never heard before at the same time moving his arms and hands in a graceful set of gestures, as though pulling some invisible force to him. The air warbled as he spoke. Even with the spell Light.w.a.ter had given me, I couldn't understand the words. They were deep and so powerful it felt like all the air had left the house. He made a swirling motion with his arms and spun. Light shot out in all directions, and then came back in again, bringing with it sparks and colors, all condensing down to where we stood. Leander released another word and the dome went back up and my power blew through me as it erupted inside of the sphere and then dissipated.
I ended up on my a.s.s, breathing heavily, eyes wide with shock.
Leander knelt in the center of the circle, one forearm draped over his bent knee and his head hanging low.
My brain scrambled to make sense of what had happened. I'd never seen anything like that before. Never even heard of anything like that before. ”What the h.e.l.l are you?”
His head lifted. His eyes glowed and then slowly faded.
He stood, brushed off his jacket, and then regarded me with a curt expression. ”And that concludes this portion of the interview.”
I rolled my eyes and got up. Leander wasn't too bad at trash talk and sarcasm, either. ”Can I have my clothes and weapons back now?”
He snapped his fingers and everything was back where it had been.
”So what exactly was the light show about?” I had an idea but I wanted to hear it from him, mainly because it seemed so impossible.
”I have business to discuss with you. Your power escaped the confinement circle. Sachath coming here would've delayed proceedings. I hate delays. You should make a note of that.”
”So you brought it back. My power. You pulled it back and manifested the circle to contain it. Are you a siren?” I'd seen beings manipulate powers that weren't their own, but this . . . this was commanding my energy with voice and word. And if Leander could do that, then he could've kicked my a.s.s anytime he chose. I was lucky to be breathing.
He lifted an eyebrow. ”Done yet?”
”No, not yet.” I was too intrigued to stop now, and if the guy had wanted me dead, he'd have done it by now. ”How do you even know about Sachath? And how do you know about me? And Hank? Is he alive?”
”I know many things, Charlie Madigan. How I know them is not important. I will tell you this . . . your partner lives.” My knees went weak. ”And dies.”
I blinked. ”What?”
Leander walked closer to the column to stare out at the dark blue sky. Only a few slashes of muted orange remained. ”Putting it mildly, the Circe can be . . . cruel.” He smiled ruefully, his voice dropping low. He turned to me and there was a brief look of empathy in his eyes. ”Death might be the most merciful option for Nierian now.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry and my heart pounding. Before I knew it, I was next to Leander, grabbing his arm and jerking him around to face me. ”Where is he?” My voice broke.
Leander said nothing. His hand covered my own and instead of removing the death grip my finger had on his bicep, he closed his hands over mine. ”Surviving the NecroNaMoria is . . . rare. I'm sorry.”
I flung his hand away and released him, stepping back. ”Then you don't know Hank. If I can get to him in time, he'll heal from this . . . Necro thing. He'll sleep for a long time and then he'll be fine, he'll . . .” Leander's eyes turned sad, resigned, as though Hank was already gone, and it p.i.s.sed me off, this sympathy. ”f.u.c.k you. I'm not giving up. That might be how you do things, but not me. And not Hank.” A tear slipped from my eye and I wiped it away angrily. ”You're going to tell me where he is or I swear to G.o.d I will unleash everything I have until nothing remains of this house or you.”
His look said yeah, right. ”I don't know where your partner is being held, but I know he is here and I know of the NecroNaMoria because that kind of crafting defiles a place, corrupts the energy of this world like a slow disease. No matter how hard they try to hide it . . . Once you've tasted soul crafting, you never forget the stench it leaves behind.”
”And the NecroNaMoria, what's it do?”
”It's a spell that tethers a soul to a body that has died. It forces the soul back from the very edges of paradise and into a world of pain. If the body is in a condition to heal and resurrect, it does. Then, the torture can start all over again.”
And that's what Hank was going through. Right now. All this time. G.o.d.
Numbly, I walked to the step between the main floor and the terrace and sat down. For a long moment, I stared at nothing, feeling like I burned from the inside out. Burned because I was here and he was there, and I couldn't do a d.a.m.ned thing about it. I wanted to scream.
”Since you seem to be familiar with this kind of crafting, you can help him,” I said at length, glancing over at Leander. ”Whatever business you think you have with me, whatever it is you want from me, won't happen unless you help me.”
”That I cannot do. Once the NecroNaMoria is begun, there is little one can do to stop it.”
”Then I guess we're done here.” I got up to leave.
”I need you to retrieve an object from the Circe.”
I kept walking.
”Retrieve it and I give you something in return.”
I turned around at the front door, p.i.s.sed that I was crying, angry that he couldn't help me after everything he'd put me through, angry that I was standing there in Hank's home not getting anywhere. ”Don't you get it? There is nothing else you could offer.”
”There is, Charlie. Otherwise I would not be here.” He paused as if best deciding how to proceed and then it seemed he decided for bluntness. ”I have the antidote to ash.”
Time screeched to a sudden stop. I wasn't sure how long I stood there, staring at him, my mind trying to catalog his words in the midst of my grief.
”Whether or not you can save your partner”-he shrugged-”I don't know. But I do know you can save your sister and the others in your city. Does this not interest you?”
My mouth worked and I finally found my voice. ”You have the antidote to ash.”
”I have something you need. The Circe have something I need. You plan to gain access to their domain to save Nierian. A little detour to retrieve the tablet and your sister's drug problem is solved. This is what they call a win-win.”
And you're what I call a smart-a.s.s.
I wiped the wetness from my face with my arm and regarded him for a long moment. My thoughts cleared. ”What's the object?”
”It's a rectangular stone tablet.” He held out his hand and cupped it slightly. ”The size of a small book. Rounded corners. The front and back are also rounded like dough that has just started to rise. On the tablet are hundreds of small symbols pressed into both sides. It is the color of dried mud and looks worthless to the untrained eye.”
”But the symbols are not,” I surmised.
”No, they are not. They were priceless enough to start a war.”
”And what do you plan to do with the tablet?” Visions of Llyran and Grigori Tennin flashed before my eyes. ”Because I can tell you, I'm up to here with psychos out to rule the world via ancient relics and weapons.”
Leander's lips curled into a genuine smile, which turned into a laugh. It was a rich sound, warm and deep. He opened his hands in a sign of innocence, though his expression was c.o.c.ky and anything but.
”The tablet holds information about the First Ones and their Disciples.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I let out a loud sigh. Why did it always come back to them? ”First Ones I know, but Disciples . . . never heard of them.”
”They are beings imbued with the power to serve and protect their lord, a First One, as myths call them-we call them Archons. When the Archons slept, the Disciples stood guard until one day they, too, slept.”
”And the tablet is necessary because?”
His look became impatient. ”Oh, I don't know, maybe because stacking the odds in our favor would be a good f.u.c.king idea. Because if we don't and the Circe figure out what they've got, then we're all going to the Afterlife. Is that reason enough for you, Madigan?”