Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara (41 page)

“Yeah, I’m beat.” August wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “If we could just rest for an hour or so—”

“Not me.”

“What?”

“I need to return to El Angel Hotel.”

“Bad idea. Remember the watchbirds? You’d be a fool to go back. Besides, all our stuff’s already moved to the safe house.”

“There’s someone there I need to speak with,” Deven said.

“Who?”

“An Aztaw soldier standing guard at the entrance.”

“What?”

“I think I know who it is and he may help us find a way to beat Night Axe. Even if he doesn’t know himself, he’s still well-connected in Aztaw.”

“And why do you think he’s going to help you?”

Deven grinned. “Because if he doesn’t, I’m going to kill him.”

“This is a stupid idea, Deven.”

“You have a better one?”

August ground his teeth. “The safe house is for both of us. Don’t forget it’s your little pen the bastard is after, not just my blood.”

“I won’t stick around long enough for Night Axe to discover me. I need to talk to the soldier.”

August’s expression remained dark.

“Look, I’m being paid to help you, right?” Deven laid his fingers on August’s hand. August’s skin was colder than Deven’s, but it still felt marvelous, just that little human contact, so much more comforting than the ossified touch of an Aztaw. “I can’t help you tucked up in the safe house. But I can use my connections and get some answers.”

“Your ‘connections’ want you dead.” August stared out the restaurant’s open window. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I can take care of myself.” Deven smiled. “Besides, if it really is the soldier I’m expecting, he’s more afraid of me than I am of him.”

August turned his hand over, so Deven’s fingers rested in his palm. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because I killed all four of his sons.”

August shook his head. “I told you. Assassins are the worst.” But his fingers closed on Deven’s, holding his hand.

He didn’t let go, even when the check arrived.

Chapter Twelve

Outside El Angel Hotel, Deven paid his taxi driver with the cash August had shoved in his pocket before they had parted ways at the safe house. As the taxi pulled away, Deven glanced around. Few watchbirds remained, and those on the street were scattered apart, scratching at a trail that had gone cold.

Deven scanned the environment for any signs of Night Axe’s presence, but the glasses revealed nothing that wasn’t visible in the natural world. The flickering Aztaw he’d seen beside the revolving door had apparently gone.

Deven leaned against the opposite wall. He wished he could twirl a knife through his fingers, something to occupy his hands, but that would make him look even more conspicuous. Luckily, a large group of American tourists exited the building, standing on the sidewalk as they debated dinner options. Deven maneuvered himself into their midst.

Moments later, the Aztaw soldier appeared from thin air. He stood by the entrance of the hotel and spun around, taking in his surroundings. He wasn’t dressed in formal combat garb and he’d removed his large traditional headdress in lieu of a mismatch of human clothing. He wore an oversized dark blue sweatshirt with the hood pulled tightly over his paper-thin flesh, hiding his glowing skull. From the depths of the hoodie, however, his eyeballs rolled fiercely and his hands ended in skeletal joints. He gripped a knife in each hand.

His trousers were odd, a faded brown corduroy that belonged in another century. The color was atrocious in the harsh sunlight of the city.

None of the pedestrians seemed to notice the soldier’s sudden appearance, ugly attire, or skeletal form. Deven removed his glasses, but he could still see the soldier, which meant the other people could if they bothered to look.

But those around him avoided looking at that corner entirely, and Deven realized the Aztaw must be wearing an icon enchanted with an anonymity spell, something used by soldiers that didn’t make them invisible, only unremarkable. Nothing about the soldier’s appearance attracted attention—rather his presence was completely unremarkable, something the human eye instinctively glanced over and disregarded.

And before anyone could remark on the soldier, he was gone, vanishing once more into thin air.

Deven threaded through the tourists to stand closer, smiling to himself. He’d recognize the movements of his greatest adversaries anywhere, regardless of their chosen disguise.

He pulled the pen from behind his ear and hunched over in the crowd to scribble on his open palm. The calendars closest to this point were interesting; the soldier was in one of the fastest cycles he’d ever seen. Clearly the calendar had been chosen for location, not for convenience, because days flew by there, realigning every thirty seconds for a period of five seconds before moving to the next day. Deven had only a few more seconds before the realms would once again align and the soldier would breach through.

The soldier flickered back into existence. Deven gripped him by the sweatshirt and hurled him into the street. Cars honked and several drivers swore at the soldier, who rushed to the opposite side of the road in terror. He’d dropped one of his knives in the middle of the road.

Stupid
, Deven thought.

Deven waited for a gap in the traffic before crossing after the Aztaw. As he closed in, the soldier’s eyes widened and he raised his knife.

“
Hello, Fight Arm,
” Deven said in Aztawi. He held his own knife close to his body. Unlike the soldier, Deven had no distraction spell to encase him. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

“
Human Jaguar
.” Fight Arm’s mouth curled into a snarl. “
I’m not surprised this was your work
.”

Deven didn’t know what he was talking about, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “
Tell Lord Knife I said hi. I can’t decide if I’m more surprised you’re still alive or that you’ve been demoted to the position of a spy.
”

Fight Arm growled and moved closer. Deven dropped his hand onto his blade and closed the distance.

At once, Fight Arm put his knife into a hilt at his belt and held up his empty hands. “
I did not come to fight, only to observe
.”

“
That’s why you’re armed
?”

“
I wasn’t sure who I’d find.
”

“
You found me
.” Several people had stopped to watch them. One gawked, open-mouthed, at the gaping dark hole where Fight Arm’s face was supposed to be. Deven’s conversation with Fight Arm damaged his illusion. “
We must walk
.” He turned and strode toward the nearby park.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fight Arm followed. Deven’s back crawled with the sensation of having his enemy behind him, but they both knew who would win a knife fight, and Fight Arm, despite his animosity, seemed unwilling to die to prove Deven right.

“
Where did you find that portal
?” Deven asked.

“
Dark corner of reeds where Lord Black Dog once had his house
.”

“
Lord Black Dog is dead
?” Deven asked, surprised. He thought he’d be one who’d survive until the end.

Fight Arm inclined his head briefly in response, but his expression was still one of rage. There was too much bad blood between them to engage in idle conversation, no matter how events had changed their roles.

There was a remarkable stink to Fight Arm’s human clothing, suggesting endless hours of being lived in. What had been one day in the natural world would have taken weeks of Fight Arm’s life.

“
Lingering in that gate was a waste of your talents
,” Deven commented, and he meant it. Lord Knife had other, lesser vassals —why send one of his best fighters?

“
Not all of us have the power to choose when and where we appear
.” Fight Arm eyed Deven’s pen almost hungrily.

Deven resisted the urge to pocket it. “
I’ve a message for your lord
.”

“
My lord wants to hear nothing about you other than you’re dead
.”

The walk up Paseo de la Reforma led to a large expanse of parkland in the center of the city. They passed by the Museum of Modern Art and Deven steered toward a park bench, where he sat down, keeping Fight Arm in his peripheral vision.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fight Arm sat beside him on the bench. “
Lord Knife sent me to discover your intentions in Aztaw
.”

“
I have no intentions. I left
.”

“
Then why did you kill Lord Knife’s watchbirds
?”

Deven suddenly understood why Fight Arm had been summoned. “
You think it was me that did that
?”

“
They are trained to follow lords. Only you have a house power here.
”

“
Not only me. Night Axe has returned
.”

Fight Arm jerked back. “
Who says this
?”

“
I say it. I’ve seen him. Lord Knife’s birds have seen him too, which is why they’re dead
.”

Fight Arm sat silently as he processed this. The park was busy, but few paid them notice. Deven noticed something streaming out of the corner of his eye and watched as a teenage girl entered the museum, a thin ribbon of artery trailing out her back. Deven thought how she was consequently connected to August; if the purpose and effect hadn’t been so nefarious, the concept was almost poetic.

“
The birds would not follow him,”
Fight Arm said slowly, as if unwilling to believe his own words.
“Night Axe is only legend to the birds
.”

“
They were not following me,”
Deven repeated.
“You need to return home and warn your lord of Night Axe’s impending arrival. I’m the least of your concerns
.”

But Fight Arm snarled.
“
Give us your house power and I’ll believe it
.”

“
No. You know what’ll happen if you bring it back down there.
”

“
We can’t win this war without the house powers
.”

“
You’ve lost the war already. I’m surprised any lords are left
.” Deven shook his head. “
And all of Aztaw is like an unprotected child now that the Lord of Hurricanes is at your door. He’s fueling himself on live sacrifices—people walking around, living and breathing, feeding him blood directly from their own bodies. He’s coming for Aztaw next. And with only half a dozen lords alive and fewer house powers, you’ll all be destroyed
.”

Fight Arm said nothing. Deven knew he was considering his words and he found himself grateful Lord Knife had sent him rather than one of his other vassals. Fight Arm could be trusted to think for himself.

At last Fight Arm spoke. “
How did Night Axe escape his prison in the realm of light
?”

“
I don’t know
,”
Deven admitted.

“
Only Lord Jaguar could have done that
,” Fight Arm said. “
Lord Jaguar or his pathetic human vassal
.”

“
It wasn’t me, and Lord Jaguar is dead
,” Deven replied. “
I need to know what the lords used to weaken Night Axe
.”

“
Why? What is your role in this
?”

“
I came to help. I can track and kill Night Axe before he reaches Aztaw.
”

“
You will fail
.”

“
Better I try here, where he’s weaker, than in Aztaw, where he’ll have his full strength
.”

“
Why would you help us, revolting human
?”

“
Aztaw’s still my home
.” Deven swallowed, feeling a wave of nostalgia crest over him. “
I don’t want to see it destroyed. I fled only to keep my promise to my lord
.”