Magic Gifts (11 page)

Someone gasped.

Showtime.

"I speak for the Pack," I said, putting all my power into my voice.. "We hold twenty percent of the Guild. The admin group holds forty. The veterans hold another forty."

You could hear a pin drop.

"You've had months to choose a leader. You have failed and asked the Pack to break this deadlock. This is my proposal to the Guild. Listen well, because there won't be another."

They were listening. Thank you, Universe, for small favors.

"Solomon Red envisioned this Guild as a place for independent men and women to earn their living in the way they see fit. We must continue the course he plotted for us."

It was bullshit. Solomon Red didn't have that grand of a vision but Curran suggested it, so I plowed on ahead.

"Point One. The Guild will appoint a Chief Administrative Officer to oversee day to day operations and financial security of the Guild. I nominate Mark for this post. Point Two. The Guild will appoint a Chief Personnel Officer to protect interests of its members, oversee zoning of scores, and the assignment of gigs. I nominate Bob Carver for this post. Point Three, the Guild will create the post of the Pack Liaison Officer who will represent Pack's interests in the Guild as its third largest shareholder. I will be taking over this post. Together the Chief Administration Officer, Chief Personnel Officer, and Pack Liaison Officer will form the Guild Committee, which will meet on the fifteenth of every month. All matters of policy concerning the Guild will be resolved by vote of the committee members."

I looked down. The shapeshifter at the end of the left line stepped forward and unfolded a small table. The shapeshifter from the end of the right line placed a tall stack of index cards and three pens on the table. Derek stepped forward and put his wooden box in the center of the table.

"The Guild will now vote," I announced. "Each of you will write your merc ID on the card, add one word: YES or NO, and drop it into this box. I give you this last chance to save the Guild and your jobs. Don't blow it."

Two hours later, the two hundred and forty-six mercs voted yes, thirty-two voted no, and sixty one dropped blank cards with their ID's into the box, abstaining. I made a show of congratulating Bob and Mark and got the hell out of there.

I went to see Immokalee, a Cherokee medicine woman, after leaving the Guild. She spent half an hour making supplies for me and another half-an-hour trying to convince me that going to see the draugr was a Bad Idea. I knew it was a Bad Idea. I just didn't see any way around it.

I got to the office just after noon. The Dude and a cart containing one very sedated deer waited for me in the parking lot. A female shapeshifter I didn't know sat on the cart with a sour expression on her face. It took me only a moment to figure out why. Next to the cart, hiding in the shade, crouched a vampire. It was thin, wiry, and covered in purple sunblock from head to toe, as if some giant bubble of grape bubblegum had exploded over it.

Jim had done it. I felt like jumping up and down. Instead I gave the vamp my flat stare.

"There are more inside," the female shapeshifter informed me.

I stepped into the office. Curran sat at my desk, drinking a Corona from my fridge. In front of him, four vampires sat in a neat row in the middle of the floor. Two matched the purple delight outside, one was Grinch green, and the last one blazed with orange.

"I get the sunblock," I said. "But why do you have to paint them like skittles?"

The orange vamp unhinged its jaws. "The bright color helps to make sure they're completely covered," an unfamiliar female voice explained. "It's easy to miss a spot. When they're young, they have a lot of wrinkles."

Ugh. "What the meaning of this?"

"Kate," the green vamp spoke with Ghastek's voice, "It has come to my attention, that you are planning to see a creature in the Viking territory with the purpose of finding a means to remove the necklace from the child. An undead creature. That explicitly violates the terms of our agreement to resolve this matter jointly."

I looked at Curran. He shrugged.

"And how did you know this?" I asked.

"I have my methods."

How in the world did Jim pull this off? I'd have to buy him all the clipboards in the world.

"Ghastek, this is not a fun trip," Curran said.

"You can't go," I added.

"Why ever not?"

"Because the undead will murder your vampire hit squad and I have no desire to get that bill," Curran said. "Do yourself a favor. Sit this one out."

Wow. He went there.

The vamp's red eyes bulged, struggling to mirror Ghastek's expression.

"Kate, perhaps you need to explain to your significant other that he is in no position to give me orders. Last time I checked, his title was Beast Lord, which is a gentle euphemism for a man who strips nude at night and runs around through the woods hunting small woodland creatures. I'm a premier Master of the Dead. I will go where I please."

*** *** ***

Once again I rode The Dude. Curran chose to drive the cart. We travelled side by side. Ghastek took point, while three of his journeymen flanked us. The fourth, the orange vampire, trotted next to me. It was piloted by Ghastek's top journeywoman. Her name was Tracy and as navigators went, she wasn't too bad.

Ghastek's vampire reached Gunnar's fork, marked by an old birch. Predictably, Gunnar lumbered out. "Come to see Ragnvald again?"

"Going to the glade." I nodded at the cart. The deer's moist dark eyes stared at the viking.

Gunnar's spine went rigid. "To see
him
?"

I nodded.

"Don't "go," he said.

"I have to."

He shook his head and stepped aside. "It's been nice knowing you."

I touched the reins and our small procession rolled on.

Ghastek dropped back, drawing even with The Dude. "Why the secrecy?"

"The vikings don't like to say Håkon's name. The glade isn't that far from here and he might hear."

"What is he?"

He and Curran had that in common. Wave a secret in front of them and they would foam at the mouth trying to learn it. "He's a draugr."

The vamp hopped on the cart and peered at me, its eyes only a couple of inches from my face. "A draugr? A mythical Norse undead that supposed to guard the treasure of its grave?"

"Get off my cart," Curran growled.

The undead hopped down. The vampire's grotesque face twisted into an odd expression: the corners of its cavernous mouth pinched up, while its lips gaped open, displaying its fangs. It stared at me with blood red eyes and bopped its head forward and back a few times.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm laughing at you."

Kicking the vampire in the face with my foot would be counterproductive at this point.

"When I was a journeyman, I spent eighteen months in Norway, looking for draugar. I've camped in the cemeteries in sub-zero temperatures, I've scoured the fjords, I've dived into sea caves in freezing water. It was the worst year and a half of my life. In those eighteen months I didn't find any credible evidence of draugar's existence. Trust me when I say this: they don't exist. Hence, my use of the word mythical. As in not real."

I briefly contemplated punching the vampire in the nose. It wouldn't hurt Ghastek any, but it would be immensely satisfying. "This draugr exists. Plenty of people have met him."

"Oh, I have no doubt that they had met something, but it wasn't a draugr. Don't you see the signs? The mysterious glade the path to which is guarded by a giant. The legendary undead with magical powers, whom you can only meet once and those who disobey that rule die a gruesome death." The vampire waved his front limbs, fingers spread. "Woo-ooo. Frightening."

"Do you have a point?"

"Those bearded horn-helmeted bandits are conning you, Kate."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"There is no need to feel bad about this. You're a capable fighter, proficient with a blade and you have intelligence and tenacity, but you don't work with the undead. You have very little familiarity with the basic principles of necromancy, beyond its most practical applications. You lack the tools to recognize the hoax."

The urge to grab the mind of the nearest vampire and use it to beat Ghastek's bloodsucker to a bloody pulp was overwhelming. Perhaps, that's why Voron insisted on steering me away from necromancy. He knew there would be times the temptation to show off would be too much.

"No worries. It's a forgivable mistake," Ghastek said. "However, it will cost us a day and the use of five vampires."

"Humor me."

"Oh I intend too. I've had a stressful day and breaking this farce open will prove a wonderful way to vent the pressure."

The vampire sauntered off.

"He doesn't like to be wrong." Tracy's vamp said. I caught a hint of humor in her voice.

I couldn't care less if he liked it. As long as his vampires stood between me and the draugr, it would buy me a couple of extra seconds to get away.

*** *** ***

The old road led deeper and deeper into the forest. The trees grew taller and thicker, their long limbs thrusting at each other, as if trying to push their neighbors out of the way. Mist swirled between the trunks, first an ethereal haze shimmering along the ground, then a thicker blue fog that hugged the road, laying in wait. It swallowed the sounds: the hoof beats of the horses, the creaking of the cart, the occasional sigh from the deer in the back, all seemed muted.

Ahead a stone arc rose above the path, grey slabs of rocks tinted with moss. I halted The Dude. The cart rocked to a stop.

"There is a path leading north just past the arc. We go on foot from here." I hopped off the cart. "I need one of you to carry the deer."

A purple bloodsucker crawled up on the cart. Sickle claws sliced at the rope securing the animal, and the vampire pulled the deer off and slung it over its shoulder.

"Which way will you be coming?" Curran asked.

"The glade is north east from here." I pointed to a tall oak to the left.

Curran pulled me close.

Ghastek's vampire rolled his eyes.

"Remember the plan?" Curran said in my ear.

"Get in, get the information, and run like hell out of there."

"See you in a few hours."

I brushed his lips with mine. "See you."

I grabbed my backpack and headed up the path.

The mist grew thicker. Moisture hung in the air, tinted with the odor of rotting vegetation and fresh soil. Somewhere in the distance a bird screamed. No movement troubled the still woods. No squirrels chattered in the canopy, no small game scurried away at our approach. Nothing except for vampires gliding alongside the path, their emaciated shapes flashing between the trees.

The path veered right and opened into a small glade. Tall pines framed it, the enormous dark trunks scratching at the sky. A carpet of dark pines needles sheathed the ground. Here and there rocks trust from the forest floor.

"Put the deer right there." I pointed to the center of the glade. The vampire unloaded the deer and hopped aside.

"I suppose we wait until the magic?" Ghastek inquired.

"You got it." I sat on a fallen pine.

The vampire's shoulders rose up and down. Ghastek must've sighed. "I suppose we might as well treat this seriously." The vampire raised his left forelimb. A long yellow claw pointed at a tall birch on the left. "OP there." A claw moved to the right to a pine on the other side of the glade. "OP there. Give me a perimeter assessment."

Two purple vampires scattered took a running start and scrambled up the tree. The third dashed into the bushes. Only Ghastek and Tracy remained. His vampire sat on my right, her vampire sat on my left. Peachy.

A minute passed. Another.

Ghastek's vamp lay down. "If half of the things they said about draugar were true, it would revolutionize necromantic science. According to legend, they're the spirits of warriors who rise from the grave to guard their buried possessions. They see the future, they control the elements, they shapeshift into animals. They turn into smoke and become giants."

"Not at the same time," I told him.

"What?"

"You said they turn into smoke and become giants. Not at the same time. They're solid in giant form."

"You're still clinging to this fallacy?"

I leaned forward. "What would you have done if you had found a draugr in Norway, Ghastek?"

"I'd try to apprehend it, of course."

"Suppose you live in a small village in Norway and you know a draugr is nearby. You bring him live game once in a while and you hope to God he leaves you the hell alone. Now some geeky hotshot foreigner shows up on your doorstep and explains to you how his going to go annoy this terrible creature for the sake of 'necromantic science'. You try to explain to him that it's a not a good idea, but he treats you as if you're a childlike idiot."

"I never treat people like infantile idiots," Ghastek said.

I looked at him.

Tracy cleared her throat carefully.

"Go on," he said.

"Would you take this foreigner to this undead monster and risk pissing it off or would you steer him as far away from the draugr as possible and hope he'll go away eventually?"

"That's a sound theory, with one exception. I'm not that gullible."

Fine. "Bet me."

The vampire stared at me. "I'm sorry?"

"Bet me. If the draugr is a hoax, I'll owe you a favor."

"And if he's real?"

"Then you will bring me a quart of vampire blood."

"And why would you need vampire blood, Kate?"

Because I need it to experiment with making armor out of it, that's why. "I want to calibrate the lot of new scanners the Pack bought."

A hint of suspicion slid into Ghastek's voice. "And you need a quart of blood for that?"

"Yep."

The bloodsucker became utterly still as Ghastek mulled it over.

"If I win this silly game, you will tell me why Rowena came to see you after the Keepers affair."

Sucker. "Deal."