Текст книги "The Bone Conjurer"

Автор книги: Алекс Арчер

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Nope. Not going there, either. Seems like your life is going well enough to judge from the magazine articles touting your riches and philanthropy. As well, you employ a necromancer to see you get anything you desire. So I don’t get it. Why do you want more power?”

“You have family, Annja?”

Sighing heavily, Annja maintained her grip on the sword, but fought against rolling her eyes. And why was that? Why did the family question prick at her like that? She had a great family—of friends.

“No,” she said.

“Some don’t.” Ben shrugged. “It’s the way of the world. But it also leads me to believe you’d never understand my motives. I’m not going to get into the greater meaning behind my quest with you. It’s not worth the effort, especially when I’m not particularly pleased staring at your weapon.”

“Girl’s gotta protect herself.”

“I’ll grant you that. Perhaps I need to stick around while you wait to meet with Maxfield Wisdom?”

The man knew far too much. And Annja was tired of having her private property trespassed on. She swung the sword. Drawing the blade tip along the buttons punctuating Ben’s suit coat, she tapped him roughly under the chin with the flat side of the steel.

“Get out of my home, Ravenscroft.”

“You’re not going to kill me.”

“No, but I am in the mood to poke someone. Do you have any idea how many times my home has been broken into lately?”

“I am only aware of myself and Serge visiting.”

“Visiting? Leave, or I’m calling the cops. I’ve a direct line to a detective who can be here in minutes. Are you willing to have me introduce the two of you?”

“No need to involve the police.” He stepped backward toward the door, arms raised and hands splayed. His attitude changed from arrogant nonchalance to guarded. “I don’t need to be here to keep tabs on you. And I’m guessing my resources for obtaining the prize are greater than yours.” He nodded. “Good day, Miss Creed. Despite the rude treatment, it was a genuine pleasure to meet a celebrity of your stature.”

He left swiftly. Annja clasped the sword with both hands and whisked it through the air.

“You might have the resources, Ravenscroft, but you don’t have the skull.”

For that matter, who did have it?

33

A few more swishes of blade served to slice the steam from her tension. It had been weeks since Annja had practiced the swordplay exercises Roux had taught her. Confidence arrived when the hilt fit into her grip. She knew how to lunge, thrust, riposte, dodge and down-and-dirty go-for-the-arteries with it. Practice kept her muscles toned, as well, her mind strong.

Deciding an impromptu practice session was just the thing, Annja lunged at the curtains and almost severed them when the doorbell rang.

“Bad guy back so soon?” It had been ten minutes since he’d left. “Must have forgotten the departing wicked laughter and evil rubbing of his fists.”

Sword in hand, she answered the door to someone she wasn’t sure she was happy to see. “Haven’t seen you in a while, stranger.”

“And you greet me in such a manner?”

Roux waited for her to step back before entering. He smiled at her ready position, which was so strange Annja finally realized she stood, elbow up and blade angled in preparation to behead the man.

She thrust out her right arm, opening her fingers with dramatic flare. The sword vanished.

“That never ceases to amaze me,” Roux said.

Same with her. That’s why she did it.

“Garin said the two of you had a grand reunion.”

“Always a pleasure to spend time with the man.”

“Liar.”

“Yes, well.” He turned his head to reveal a dash of red through his brilliant white hair.

“Is that blood?” Forgetting her need to remain distant, Annja touched the wound just above his ear.

“From a bullet.”

“Garin tried to kill you?”

“You say that with such surprise, when you know it’s not the first time. No, he just wanted to piss me off. He succeeded.”

“Let me take care of it.”

“It’s an abrasion. I’ve already cleaned it.”

“I thought you liked it when women fussed over you?”

“Certainly, it is a pleasure one mustn’t refuse. But I suggest we hold this conversation elsewhere.”

She followed his gesture. A small camera LED blinked in the corner, above the curtain rod. Not something she had put there.

“There’s one in the hallway, too. To judge from your surprise, I assume that’s not your security system?”

“What security system?” Ravenscroft must have planted it. He had said something about not needing to be near her to track her. And that Roux had noticed it immediately and she had not annoyed her. “I need to have a conversation with my landlord. He’ll obviously let anyone into the building.”

Annja summoned up the sword and used it to pop the camera out from the wall. She let it drop to the floor, which didn’t break the hard black plastic shell. A stomp of her foot put the LED to rest.

“Come on.” She propped the blade against a shoulder, picked up her backpack and wearily gestured toward the door. “I’ll sweep the hallway and stairwell on the way down.”

They shuffled down the stairs and headed to the sidewalk. Annja gestured they walk north. She surveyed the building soffet but didn’t spot other cameras.

Technology sucked when it was used against her. What did Ben think to gain by spying on her? He’d thought to have the upper hand in locating the skull, so why bother with her anymore?

He’d also mentioned Maxfield Wisdom. Not good. She should contact him, and soon, but there was little she could offer him without the skull in hand.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure? If you came from Garin’s place, then you must know he has the skull.”

“He did.”

“Did?” Roux’s pale blue eyes glinted marvelously. “So he wasn’t lying! You’ve got it now?”

“Indeed, I do.”

“So what now?” she asked as Roux matched her brisk pace. “You have plans to rule the world?”

“Not interested in that job. Could you imagine? It would tax a man something terrible. The pay would be horrendous. No days off, either, I’d wager.”

Good old Roux. And yet, if he held the skull she wasn’t going to fall for any sweet-talking diversions.

Like she had for Garin’s flirtations?

“It’s yours,” he said as they waited at a street corner for a green light. Snow fell like pillow down, melting on the black leather shoulders of Roux’s coat.

“I know in your hands, Annja, the abominable thing will find a proper resting place. Believe it or not, there are some valued treasures in this world I’d rather not obtain. But if I hand it over to you, I must be guaranteed it will be disposed of properly. Do you have any idea what you’ll do with it?”

“I’ve located the skull’s owner. It will be returned to him.”

“I’d prefer the bottom of the ocean, but I suppose I’ve no choice in this matter, right?”

“You do until you hand it over. But you know, Garin said the same thing about wanting to get rid of it. I didn’t much believe him, either.”

“He was lying.”

“And you’re not?”

“Cross my heart. Garin wants to sell it.”

“I know that now. I believe his buyer was the one who planted the camera in my loft.”

“And here I thought you were suddenly into kink.”

Annja dropped her jaw and gave him a soft punch. “Watch it, old man. I have a sword and I know how to use it.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist the humor.”

“No offense taken. I know between the two of us, if there’s any pornographic footage out there it’s not going to feature me.”

And yet that awful doctored picture of her was currently flashed for all to see online.

Don’t throw stones, Annja. Because someone will toss one back, she reminded herself.

“Where is it?”

“In my car. Which is parked the opposite direction we are walking.”

Annja stopped in the middle of the intersection. People brushed past them, swearing and muttering about how rude they were. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought you were the one with the plan.” He spread out his arms and smiled, which reached his blue eyes with a glint. “Lunch?”

The light changed and cars honked. Annja strode back the way they had come. Roux followed cooperatively.

“I’m not hungry. Yes, I am. I don’t know. I’m getting very tired of this ‘who’s got the skull’ game. It’s like a round of hot potato, and I never did like that game. I mean, why a potato? And why were we supposed to imagine it hot? And if you don’t have it in hand, then I don’t trust that means you’ll keep it in hand. Let’s make sure the thing is where you say it is, then we’ll talk food.”

Roux flipped open his cell phone and punched one number. He spoke to his driver and then to Annja. “Wait here. It’ll be a minute.”

When the limo pulled up, Roux said, “It’s in the trunk.”

“Let’s take a look.”

“We’re blocking traffic.”

“I don’t care. Driver, pop the trunk.”

Amidst a stream of honking, swerving cars, Annja went around and peeked inside the trunk. Wrapped within a blue silk shirt she suspected cost more than her monthly rent, she found the skull.

Parting the silk and drawing it out, she examined it. For all the exchange of hands it had made the past few days, it was still in good shape. The gold sutures were tight and it didn’t appear as if the bone had been chipped.

She tapped the forehead. Giver of all good things?

“Wonder why it doesn’t do anything biblical for me, like part that damned canal the other night after I’d fallen into it? Isn’t it supposed to do good things for the holder?”

“So I’ve been told.” Roux peered over her shoulder.

His presence blocked the feeble November sunlight. Was it so wrong to think of him as a father figure? A very frustrating, backstabbing, opportunistic father—but still.

“You didn’t give it a try? See if it works?” she wondered.

“No interest. At least, not in this century.”

“Garin told me about Granada.”

“Surprising. The man doesn’t often tell tales of our past. I was foolish then. I’m much more careful about the occult artifacts I seek nowadays. I suspect it doesn’t work if the holder is already a bearer of good things,” he added. “You do live a good life, Annja.”

“Not so good as yours.”

“Wealth and prestige may look good on the outside…” He didn’t finish the thought. Instead, Roux opened the limo’s back door. “Hop inside. The weather is turning nasty.”

Tucking the skull to her, Annja slammed the trunk and slid inside the warmth of the limo. Roux offered wine, but she refused. She was still riding the buzz from this morning’s coffee. That stuff had been high octane.

“You think we could go to the drive-through? I’d kill for a burger.”

Roux scoffed.

“What is it with you immortals? It’s not like a little artery-hardening grease is going to knock you off. Up three blocks, driver, and turn left.”

The driver complied, and Annja cast Roux a winning smirk.

Only when she was situated with her bacon double cheese-burger did she strike up a conversation with her annoyed cohort.

“So, you flew here from France? Must have been worried about me, huh? And yet, you first went to Garin. Not feeling the love much here, Roux.”

“I initially stopped by your loft. You weren’t in residence. Garin’s place was my next guess. I did get the skull back for you. And I’ve yet to hear a thank-you.”

“Thank you. Innocence worldwide thanks you. I think. I’m still not overly convinced of its power. Could have been a fluke at the warehouse.”

“What fluke? You saw the skull working?”

“Garin wielded it against the thug and me. It released a tremendous wind that pushed us back and, well, took us out. He escaped while we were barraged by lumber.”

“The fool. Despite his protest to the contrary, he hasn’t learned a thing from when we first held that damned skull.”

“Oh, he has. Things like how to make a buck and trick your friends while trying.”

“Friends? You and Garin are getting close, I see.”

“Best buds.” She crossed her fingers, then shook her head. “Please.”

Annja was aware Garin used their flirtations as bait against Roux on occasion. She didn’t like it. And it surprised her that it did get a rise out of Roux.

Her burger box was gone. When had she sucked it down? She should have ordered a large vanilla shake, too.

“Tell me about this bone conjurer,” she said, crumpling the bag and tossing it to land the front passenger seat.

Roux gave her an admonishing shake of head.

“Sue me.” She stretched out a leg across the center divider on the floor and nestled into her corner of the seat, arms crossed. “You and Garin were pretty freaked to hear about Serge. So what am I dealing with?”

“The necromancer is very powerful. He summons the dead to control the living.”

“Ghosts?”

Roux shrugged. “I’ve never attempted the practice myself, but I assume that’s what you’d call something dead but now risen.”

“I think they’re called revenants.” If she recalled one of her producer’s pleading phone calls correctly. Doug always had a bead on the latest hauntings, monsters and paranormal activity.

“Revenants, sure, but then we’re getting into zombie territory,” Roux said. “I prefer to stick with ghosts.”

“And these ghosts give Serge all the answers and do dirty, evil deeds for him?”

“I assume so.”

“That’s nonsensical.” She leaned forward. “I mean, ghosts? Why would they have answers? Or for that matter, power? They aren’t even corporeal. Why would a ghost have any more knowledge than the human body had while alive? I mean, you die an idiot, you’re pretty much still an idiot. Am I right?”

“Are you saying all ghosts are idiots?”

“No, I’m saying I don’t think any of them would have the kind of knowledge the necromancer is looking for. I believe Ben has been using him to tap into stock market futures. How can anyone know that? Most especially a dead someone?”

“Move beyond your skepticism, Annja. We are all one. All part of the greater consciousness. When the body dies it is buried. But the soul—the mind and spirit—become part of the collective.”

“You just went New Agey on me, Roux.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He gave an unexpected shudder. “Must have been Roxanne. She read my cards last week. Told me I was going to have a long and prosperous life.” He chuckled. “Tell me something new?”

The old coot.

“This sounds too Nostradamus scam to me.”

“The man was a soothsayer, Annja. The true seers are in such a minority the majority will never believe them. Which is both good and bad. You cannot judge time from point A to point B,” he explained. “All time is happening at all times. That’s the only way you can ever conceive of a person’s or an entity’s ability to know the future.”

“Not going to touch that one. I buy the immortality bit,” Annja said. “I don’t have a choice. And I can even buy the monsters and supernatural voodoo, because I’ve seen it.”

“Show you the truth and you’re a believer.”

“Exactly.”

“I promise if you are on the receiving end of a necromancer’s voodoo, as you call it, you will believe.”

“I’m still not buying it. This skull…” She picked up the beheaded entity from the seat next to her thigh.

Setting it on her lap, she let the silk spill away, turning it so the eyes did not look directly at her. She remembered it had been so in the warehouse. As soon as Garin turned the eyes on to her and the thug, something freaky had happened. They hadn’t glowed. But she had felt its power.

“It is rather plain,” Roux commented. “I see some idiot decided to add gold. I thought it was originally silver or even a simple base metal.”

She held up the skull. “Why did you take this skull from the alchemist?”

Roux gripped the forehead and turned it so the eye sockets were facing down into her palm.

“I’m waiting.”

He sighed. “It was about two years before Joan’s death. It was one of the first items on my list.”

“Your list?”

“That’s none of your business. A man has a right to gather certain items that intrigue him, if he wishes. But I will tell you I witnessed its power. Garin and I were being attacked in an almond grove outside of Granada, and it set back the attackers. But it didn’t discern evil from good. Many were slaughtered later that day. Quite a few innocents.”

“Garin told me. You must have been awed.”

“Not really. More frightened.”

“Garin said he was the one to throw it in the well. You wanted to keep it?”

“Did he say that? Never. I was distraught, Annja. I had just been responsible for the destruction of innocents. I was not in my right mind. I’m grateful Garin was able to think straight and dispose of the thing. I was thankful to lose it. I’d thought Garin was, too. But obviously not.”

“So do you know about its origins?”

“The necrophilic liaison?” Roux chuckled.

“You don’t buy the Templars were involved?”

“Didn’t say that. I don’t need to buy anything, Annja. I just knowit works, no matter if it was birthed because of a macabre copulation, or if it came from aisle nine in Wal-Mart.”

“I’m going out on a limb to guess you’ve never graced the aisles of Wal-Mart.”

“Am I that transparent?”

“No, just too rich to bother. So, anyway, the legend is supposed to be the origin of the skull and crossbones.”

“Pirates were not the first to use the symbol, nor, I suspect, were the Templars. It’s a bit before my time, you’ll recall. But does it matter?”

“It does to place it on a time line, and verify it is actually this skull we all believe it to be.”

“Annja, you tire me with your skepticism. You’ve seen it work.”

“Yes.” She sat back again. “Sorry, I can be a little stubborn on the uptake sometimes. Where are we headed?”

“To my hotel. Are you all right with that?”

“I could use a nap.”

“I’ve got a suite, and I promise to be quiet.”

“Then let’s go!”

THE GUEST BEDROOM was standard luxury hotel fare. King-size bed, 900-thread-count sheets and rich jewel colors. Nabbing the mints placed on a silver tray on the pillow, Annja quickly downed all three.

She set the skull on the bed between her feet. Eye sockets facing away from her, she leaned forward, tapping the skull gently.

“You’ve been handled rather poorly in the past few days,” she said to the ancient artifact. “Sorry about that. I intend to get you on your way home.”

Leaning to the side, she turned to her laptop and brought up her e-mail program. Maxfield Wisdom had replied to her request for his phone number. She grabbed her phone and dialed.

As it was ringing, she calculated what time it must be in Venice. It was early evening in New York. That would make it around midnight there.

A groggy male voice answered. Annja winced. “Sorry, Mr. Wisdom?”

“Yes. Is this Miss Creed?”

“Yes, I just got your phone number. I apologize for waking you.”

“S’all right. Needed to answer the phone.”

At least he could find the joke in it, she thought. Then it occurred to her, if Ben Ravenscroft knew she had communicated with Wisdom, could he have seen this same e-mail?

“First let me ask, has Benjamin Ravenscroft been in touch with you?”

“No. What would be the reason?”

“The skull. He’s hot on the trail for it.”

“I suspected he was more interested in it than should be.”

“Don’t worry,” Annja rushed to say when his tone wavered through the phone line. “I’ve got the skull.”

“Excellent. I could catch a flight in the morning and be there before nightfall tomorrow.”

“That would be great. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind if I take lots of pictures and document the skull as completely as I can?”

“Be my guest.”

“I’d like to have it properly dated, but haven’t been able to find a contact who can do it.”

“It’s still in one piece, I hope?”

“Yes. Been joggled a bit, but it’s a survivor.”

“Much like you, I wager. I did some online research on you, Annja, after you contacted me. You’ve got quite the impressive résumé.”

“I travel a lot for the TV show.” Fingers crossed he hadn’t stumbled across the nudie pic.

“I like a woman who’s comfortable anywhere in the world, with the dirt as her bed and the sky her ceiling.”

Did he now? Annja hadn’t done the same research on Wisdom, but had assumed he was an old coot after reading his claim to have held the skull for generations. But she realized that didn’t necessarily make him old. His voice did sound young.

“Perhaps we can spend an evening discussing the skull when you get here? I know a great restaurant in Manhattan I’ve been eager to try.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had in months,” Wisdom said. “I’d be delighted.”

“I’ll make sure a car is waiting for you at the airport when you arrive,” she said. She could finagle something with Doug if she made him believe this was research for a show on…Venetian…mermaids. Yeah, that would work. “E-mail me with your flight information when you have it.”

“I will. I look forward to tomorrow night.”

Now all she had to do was make sure no necromancer or business mogul got to Wisdom before she did.