Savage: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Solumancer Cycle Book 2) Page 4

  I walk ashore and follow a cement path through a neighborhood of high-rise apartments. I catch a bus on West Jefferson and ride home to Arden’s apartment under the scrutiny of a handful of late-night passengers, who stare without compunction as I sit in silence over the long city blocks. I study the two identical marks on my hand while riding the elevator to the fifth floor of Phipps Plaza Tower.

  When I step into the hallway, Calyxto is leaning against the wall, waiting for me. “Howdy, stranger.”

  “Hey,” I grunt, too exhausted to be surprised. “Thanks for the help.”

  “You’re in deep now,” he says, sidling up to me as I trudge down the hall.

  “Yeah, you picked a great time to show up and call in your debt.”

  “I’ll say. You could be dead.”

  I sigh. “Okay, so you saved my life. Barely.”

  He beams with pride. “I ought to raise my prices. One year is an absolute steal in exchange for a lifetime.”

  “That depends entirely on the lifetime in question,” I mutter, unlocking the door to Apartment 503 and stepping inside.

  “May I come in?” Calyxto asks.

  “Huh?”

  “This is your home. I’m not allowed inside unless you invite me.”

  “Oh, is that how it works? Then no.” I slam the door in his face.

  “Was that such a wise course?” Ersatz asks from the armrest of Arden’s couch.

  “The guy just tricked me into another year of service,” I say, “and I still barely escaped.”

  “Barely escaped whom?”

  When Calyxto knocks on the door, three colossal thuds boom through the apartment like a giant’s footsteps. I groan and open up. He’s standing with his fist poised in knocking position, his face adorned with that cheshire grin. “Pretty please?”

  “Alright, alright. Get a grip. You may come in.” I step aside with a sweeping gesture, only to find him reclining on the living room couch with his fingers laced behind his head.

  “Great couch,” he remarks. “Real comfy.”

  “Gah. Will you stop doing that?”

  “You’re going to like me better while I’m in a posture of relaxation. Trust me.”

  “You keep saying that, as if I’d trust a horn on your head now that you’ve tricked me into servitude twice.”

  He frowns in mock sympathy. “Poor you. I’m used to the ungratefulness, believe it or not.”

  “You said you need a favor. What is it?”

  “Nothing to soil your drawers over. A bit of light breaking and entering, some petty larceny, and a smidgen of gentle intimidation if necessary.”

  “You’re not about to ask me to steal the Book of the Grave, are you? Because I’m already working on that.”

  “The Book of the Grave?” Calyxto asks, suddenly intrigued. “Has a copy been found?”

  “Found and sold at auction to Mottrov Multinational.”

  He laughs. “And you want to steal it from them?”

  “Forget I mentioned it. You just fill me in on the details of your little escapade.”

  Calyxto gazes off into the imaginary distance with a wistful sigh. “Her name was Helayne, and still is. She was the most important thing in my life. Second to my career as a soulbroker, of course, for which there can be no rival. We spent the days in mutual misery, the nights in passionate gloom. It was a time of recklessness; a love affair for the ages. But perhaps most importantly, it was a hideous misstep on my part. I should’ve foreseen the devastation awaiting Helayne and I. I should’ve known that love between a normal human woman and an accursed creature like myself could only end in disaster.”

  As the half-fiend recounts his tale of lost love, I swear I can hear violin music playing in the background. It’s not in my head, either. The mournful sounds echo through my apartment as if from far away. When he arrives at the climax of his story, the music cuts off like a scratching record. “Then she met Sildret. He was strong, and handsome, and nice, and he told Helayne he liked her better than I did. No one likes Helayne better than I do. Trust me.”

  “I don’t trust you—”

  “Everything changed. Our love soured like grapes turned to raisins.”

  “Grapes don’t sour when they turn—”

  “Shut up. You’re ruining it. She left me for Sildret. It wrecked me. Now here I am, out in the cold while that ruffian is shtupping my sweet Helayne with the zeal of a thousand stallions. What’s a guy in my shoes supposed to do, huh?” He pauses, awaiting my reaction.

  “I’m sorry you went through that. That’s a terrible, depressing story. I still don’t understand what you need from me, though.”

  “I gave her a ring while we were together. Break into her place and take the ring. That’s it.”

  “Have you tried asking her to give it back?”

  “Sildret forbade me to see her ever again, and in no uncertain terms. I can’t break into her house for the same reason I couldn’t come into yours. I’m a supernatural being.”

  “So you need me because I’m human. I can break into her house, whereas you’re physically incapable of it.”

  He points at me. “Exactly.”

  “What’s the intimidation part you mentioned?”

  “Sildret, in case he gets in the way. But only intimidate him if you have to. Otherwise your best bet is to avoid him altogether.”

  “Why? What’s his deal?”

  “He’s a fairy.”

  “Afraid my good looks will catch him off guard or something?”

  “That’s not a euphemism. He’s an actual fairy.”

  “So Helayne traded a half-fiend for a fairy. No offense, but that sounds like an upgrade to me.”

  “I’ve had trouble coming to grips with it myself,” Calyxto admits, closing his eyes.

  “Is everything you ask me to do going to be illegal? Maybe next time I could walk your dog or take your car in for an oil change.”

  “Do this, and I’ll consider a full year of servitude paid-for. I’ll remove the first mark from your palm.”

  “That’s all you had to say. Sign me up.”

  Calyxto waves a finger through the air. His handwriting appears in red paint across the muted green shade on the living room wall. An address.

  “That’s not going to be permanent, is it?” I ask.

  “Nothing ever is.”

  I sigh and shake my head. “I’ll go in the morning. What does this ring look like, by the way?”

  A smile passes over his face. “Oh, you’ll know it when you see it. Trust me.”

  Chapter 5

  Before Calyxto leaves, he informs me the address will remain on my living room wall until I’ve completed his task. A small measure to ensure timeliness, he says. When he’s gone, I recount the evening’s events to Ersatz.

  “You look like burnt toast,” he observes when I’m done. “And that’s quite the shiner.”

  I touch the swelling around my eye to confirm it still hurts. “That little goblin mafioso bastard had guns.”

  “Spells, too, it would seem. And these goblins plan to steal the grimoire from the vampires who bought it?”

  “So they claim.”

  “Have you any idea where this rooftop terrace of theirs was located?”

  I shake my head. “Downtown somewhere. It was a high-rise. I didn’t get a good look at the surrounding streets.”

  “How about the other buildings nearby? Did you notice whether they were taller or shorter?”

  “I didn’t notice any taller ones.”

  “That’s something to go on. You can tell a lot about a building by its height. If you can determine where the goblins are headquartered, you could wait until after they’ve stolen the book. Surely they’ll be easier to burglarize than the vampires.”

  “That was my first thought, too. But what if they fail?”

  Ersatz wrinkles his mouth. “Then you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

  “The goblins think Mottrov will put the book on lockdown
pretty quickly if he senses it’s in jeopardy. Which is why I’d better get to it before they do.”

  “Seems you’ve managed to inherit several problems in a single evening.”

  “When it rains, it pours. If I weren’t such a cheapskate, I could’ve won the auction and saved myself a lot of trouble.”

  “Or earned yourself a lot of attention from organizations of dubious intent. I doubt the goblins were the only ones in that auction chamber with an interest in the grimoire. There are others planning similar heists even now. Mark my words.”

  “A bunch of other bidders chimed in, so you’re probably not wrong.”

  “Ah, well,” Ersatz sighs. “At least your failure won’t go for naught.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’ve won another wager with Quim. He’s going to be beside himself when he hears you didn’t get the book. I’ve nearly gouged the poor soul out of house and home.”

  “Since when do you have any use for money?”

  “I couldn’t care less about the money. Gambling is a bonding exercise for Quim.”

  “He does have a strange way of showing affection. How are he and Felita doing?”

  “Fine, I assume. He hasn’t mentioned her lately. Speaking of love lives, how was your date? I imagine Shenn’s about had it with you for ending your last three outings prematurely.”

  “Believe it or not, she asked me to go to a concert with her on Wednesday night. A bad concert, but it’s still a date.”

  “Do you suppose you’ll have time? What with the missing brother, the confiscated codex, and the ransomed ring?”

  “You should be a mystery writer. Look, I know you don’t like the fact that I’m dating, but—”

  “It isn’t the dating I dislike. It’s the lack of sense it makes. You go into hiding and then seek out relationships with strangers. Why?”

  “Because it’s either that or continue to have two friends and no social life.”

  “You have a family now, such as they are. You ought to be focusing your efforts on fitting in with them before you branch out.”

  “I’ve been trying to fit in.”

  “By avoiding them?”

  “And not setting off any alarm bells. Yeah.”

  “Short of a catastrophic misstep on your part, Lorne and Carmine are highly unlikely to suspect you aren’t their brother. These are wealthy, self-absorbed trust-fund babies lost in their twenties with no parental guidance. If there’s one thing you can count on them to overlook, it’s a spot of strange behavior from their youngest sibling.”

  “So I should be smothering them with my time?”

  “You should be learning who Arden Savage was by getting to know those closest to him.”

  “Everything I need to know about Arden—” I pick up a metal-detecting magazine and slap it down on the coffee table, “—I’ve learned from his mailbox and his computer.”

  “Every fact you need to know, perhaps. Personal interaction reveals subtler truths.”

  “I’m not going to another one of those godawful richie-rich parties. What a waste of time. Cardboard cutouts of Lorne’s friends would be more fun to hang out with than his actual friends. Granted, they’d burn up faster in my fireball…”

  “Now, now,” Ersatz scolds. “No need to be spiteful.”

  “It isn’t spite so much as this fun little fantasy I like to play out in my head.”

  “You’re a danger to us all, Cade Cadigan.”

  “I sure as hell hope so. The world’s too deadly to walk around being harmless in.”

  “You’re far from harmless. The Book of Abominations has sharpened you into a better wizard than you were even half a year ago.”

  “High praise, coming from someone whose most recent compliment was that I’m less of an idiot than most humans my age.”

  “I reserve the right to change my opinion on the matter at any time.”

  “I’d expect nothing less,” I say with a yawn. “Welp, I’m going to grab a shower or two before bed. It’s gonna take a while to wash the goblin off.”

  “Always does.” Ersatz piles his hands and plops his chin on them. He snorts, emitting a puff of steam. “Sleep well, my prince.”

  “Lurk efficiently, my dragon.”

  When I remove the spellvault belt a few minutes later, all the injuries I’ve sustained today carry over to my real body. Tomorrow morning when I put the belt back on, it’ll be like hitting the reset button; I’ll be a perfect version of Arden with no trace of injury visible. The injuries will still be there, they just won’t appear when the spell changes me. Transformation magic is weird.

  The shower hurts where the edges of the fireball crisped me. I slather myself in ointment and spread a butterfly bandage over the split in my eyebrow before crawling into bed, exhausted and shell-shocked. The pain and discomfort keeps me tossing and turning all night, and I wake with the stink of goblin still lingering in my bedroom.

  I shower again and get dressed. The spellvault belt lessens my pain as I crack back into Arden, but the burden of my rapidly growing to-do list weighs heavy on my mind. I console myself in the kitchen with three bowls of Lucky Charms. A balanced breakfast is supposed to be the most important meal of the day, but I’m a firm believer in the power of marshmallows.

  No calls or texts from Carmine overnight, so I have to assume Lorne is still missing. We’re going on the third day. Now I can start getting worried. Funny how my surrogate brother means more to me because he’s supposed to than because he actually does.

  “Heading out on your great adventure?” Ersatz asks as I grab my keys and make for the door.

  “I’m going after Calyxto’s ring first. The sooner I get this mark off my hand, the sooner I can start working on the other one.”

  “Take caution if you encounter this Sildret fellow. The fae are not to be trifled with.”

  “So I’ve heard. Do something useful today, will you?”

  “How am I to get anything done when the apartment smells like feet?”

  “Drag the clothes I wore yesterday onto the patio and light them on fire. That should help with the smell.” I close the door as Ersatz mutters something about the injustice of living under these conditions.

  The morning is biting cold as I slide into the white hearse and text Quim to let him know I’m dropping by his apartment. I hate this car, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. The idea of making irreversible changes to Arden’s life makes me uncomfortable. The body shop did a great job on it after my run-in with the satyrs, so it’s in prime condition to be sold if I ever work up the nerve to trade it for a more practical vehicle.

  I knock three times before Quim opens the door. When he does, he’s in his natural form, white-skinned with dark rims around pupilless alabaster eyes. He never risks opening the door like this. Not unless something’s bothering him. He lets it swing wide and plods back into his apartment without so much as a word in greeting.

  “What’s up with you?” I ask, shutting the door behind me.

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah, tell me another one.”

  “Want a beer?” he asks, gesturing apathetically toward the fridge.

  I refuse the offer with a wave. “I drove. What’s wrong, QuimTak?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. Quit sulking and tell me.”

  He sinks into a kitchen chair and props his chin in his hand. “Felita and I are on the outs.”

  I might’ve seen this coming. Frankly I’m surprised they made it this long. I’m not going to say so out loud, though. Good friends tell the truth when it hurts and lie so it doesn’t. “Oh man. I’m sorry dude. That’s rough.”

  “Yeah,” he says, his voice on the verge of collapse. “I figured it was just her time of the month. Most women only have one, you know. Felita has two.”

  “Okay, gross. What happened?”

  “She says we’re too different. She says I don’t understand her and I never will.”

  “
I’m sorry she feels that way. You deserve better.”

  Quim hangs his head, tears streaming from his blank white eyes. The sight would creep me out if I didn’t know the guy behind those eyes, or how much pain he’s in. He sniffs and wipes his nose, then looks up at me. “So how did you do at the auction last night? Did you get the grimoire?”

  There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I’d been looking forward to crushing his dreams by telling him I lost the auction, thereby handing Ersatz the victory in their little wager. Under the circumstances, I can’t do that to him. “Everything went flawlessly. Buster led me right to the auction house. The competition was fierce, but I placed the winning bid and came out on top.”

  Quim smiles through the tears. “I knew it. I knew you would. Ersatz said you were out of your depth, but I knew.”

  I wince. “I brought Ersatz’s money. How much was it supposed to be, again?”

  “Five hundred bucks.”

  Ouch. I hand him five crisp Bennies from my wallet. “Ersatz wanted me to deliver a message. He shakes his fist at you and says he’ll get you next time.”

  Quim smiles from ear to ear as he counts his money, gloating. “Yeah, right. Bring it on.”

  I’m glad to see him happy, even if it’s short-lived. “Congrats on the big win. And thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “You’re not half as bad a bounty hunter as Ersatz says you are.”

  “You should pay more attention to what Ersatz thinks. He’s usually right.”

  “Not always. You’re a decent wizard, too, you know.”

  “Even Ersatz is willing to admit that much. I hope you guys are right on both counts, because Lorne Savage is missing.”

  Quim looks up. “Missing… how?”

  “No one’s heard from him in three days.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. I’m going to make the rounds. Talk to his neighbors, his girlfriend, his business partner. I’ll probably call you later today if I dig anything up. I owe Calyxto a favor first.”

  “Calyxto? When did he come around?”

  “Last night.” I raise my hand to show him my palm.

  “You’ve got two marks now,” Quim observes.

  Shit. I shouldn’t have done that. Now I need to come up with an explanation for how I got the second one. If I tell the truth about the goblins, Quim will know I didn’t win the grimoire at auction. “I’m not as good a bounty hunter as you think. I kind of cheated at finding the auction house. Buster didn’t lead me there; Calyxto mapped me to it on one of his clay dishes.”