The Conclave of Shadow (4 page)

Abby nodded. “Masters, you have anything you could use to bind her hands?”

I began unbuckling my belt. “You mean her wrists?”

“No. Hands. What's that buckle made of? Forget it, use your scarf. I want as little of her skin exposed as possible.”

“
So
dramatic.”

“You shut up. The only thing I want to hear from you is where you put those sigil things so that we can stop the shadow creatures from coming in.”

I slid my scarf from my neck and approached Asha from the side so as not to obscure Abby's line of fire. I'd gotten between these two once before, and I'd come away bleeding and self-doubting. The past two decades of my life had been shaped by that night. Be damned sure I was going to be more careful this time.

“I told you, I've nothing to do with the rest of this. I'm merely taking advantage of the distraction to do some window shopping.” She let me take one hand and wrap it in silk. I knotted it in place with the end of the opera scarf.

“So you knew there was going to be an attack.”

“Darling, I make it my business to know about things like this. And then I take advantage of them. Free agent, remember? Doesn't mean I had a hand in planning it. This has the stink of the Conclave all over it. But I will tell you what I did have a hand in.” She proffered her other hand for me to wrap and bind. Flinched when I grasped her wrist a little too roughly at the mention of the Conclave.

“What?” Abby asked.

“The party favors.” Asha twisted her wrist neatly out of my grip. I lifted my arm to block a strike, but she came under my guard and brushed my lapel with her bare fingers.

“Fuck!” The light swung as Abby rushed forward. “Masters, I am going to kill you!”

I stumbled as the woman I was holding collapsed into a shapeless column of smoke. The smoke hit my chest and seemed to be flooding into me. I fell back against a display case, batting at it, trying to shove it back into the Shadow Realms as I would a creature of shadow. But though it pulsed with magic, it was like no shadow creature I'd ever encountered.

Abby grabbed a handful of my suit and ripped something away. “This! You approached her wearing
this
!” She shoved something pale and flashing right before my nose. The silver
Kestrel
pin I'd received on entry, along with every other guest.

“I…” I choked on nothing to say. How had Asha done that? Why hadn't Abby warned me she might do that? “What… how did she–”

“Oh my fucking god.” Abby shoved away from me, pacing back and forth as though looking for something to hit. “I really am going to shoot you again and have Argent cover it up.”

“Professor Trent?” A squad of four Argent suits clustered at the end of the gallery, likely drawn by Abby's shouting and the bouncing light from her phone screen. “Is… is the situation contained up here?”

“No. It's not. Agent Fuller, take Mr Mystic into custody.” She shoved past the startled agents. “The mastermind behind all this? He just helped her escape.”

I
didn't fight
the agents Abby set on me, but after several interminable hours of Argent custody, I was beginning to wish I had. They'd escorted me out of the Academy via a back way and bustled me into a black Lexus with smoke-tinted windows. That didn't keep me from tracking our progress through the city, past the stadium, and down into China Basin. Inside one of the newly constructed office buildings that were springing up like high-tech mushrooms, another agent not among my original escort moved to search me.

I stopped him with a hand. “I have been pleasant up to this point. Please do not give me reason to become unpleasant.”

Ah, the wonders of a British accent and a well-cultivated reputation. The agents led me, unmolested, to a windowless room with painted cinderblock walls. I was left with a table, cot, chair, and adjoining bath, and little else to do but wait.

And wait.

I contemplated leaving via shadow, but that would negate any goodwill I'd won by being cooperative. And besides, the Shadow Realms were invariably dangerous. Best to leave them as an option of last resort.

Instead, I fumed over Abby's accusation. She had to know I wasn't involved. I'd only attended the exhibit opening because she'd cozened me into it. And I understood she was furious that for the second time I'd unwittingly let her nemesis get away, but how was I to know the woman could escape via a damned lapel pin? I'd only vague recollections of my first encounter with Asha and Abby – most of them dominated by the remembered pain of being
shot
– but that time, hadn't Asha smoked herself into a banister?

What the hell was she, besides Abby's nemesis? What had she been doing at the Academy, assuming she really was an opportunist taking advantage of someone else's attack? And what connection, if any, did she have with the Conclave?

And what was I going to say when – if – someone came for me?

By the time the door opened, I had an answer to the last question, at least. I stood, covering my anger with icy civility. “What time is it, how long do you intend to keep me, and should I be asking for my lawyer?” I studied the young woman in front of me: dark tailored suit, bundle tucked under one arm, and neatly draped hijab. “And who are you?”

“Mr Masters. Thank you for your patience while we sorted matters out. I am operative Sadakat. I specialize in advising Argent Corporation on matters of the arcane.” Her accent was soft, sitting mostly in the w's and th's. German, likely of Turkish descent, given her coloring and the hijab. Argent prided itself on being a global corporation.

She shook out the bundle – my trench coat – and handed it to me. “Your phone is in the pocket.” She flipped open a tablet, speaking as she tabbed through screens. “You are welcome to contact your lawyer if you would like, but the confusion about your involvement in last night's attack has been resolved.”

Last night's attack? I checked the time on my phone. Sure enough, morning had come and gone while I waited in my windowless room. I dropped my phone back in the pocket and bundled my trench coat under my arm. I wouldn't keep either, not when Argent had had their way with them for several hours. I could dump them after Argent let me go.

“I am glad your confusion is cleared up, Ms Sadakat,” I said. Clipped. Bordering on rude. “Mine is still in full force.”

“Then perhaps we can be of assistance to each other. Do you recognize these?” She showed me the tablet screen, swiping through a series of close-ups of the same sigils I'd seen on the underside of the placard the night before. These came from a half dozen different locations. I recognized a seat bottom in the planetarium, one of the ribs framing the rainforest dome, the lip leading down into Claude the albino alligator's exhibit. All places easily accessed, just as easily overlooked.

“They're the same sigils as those on the rooftop placard.” The ones that David Tsung had discovered, that had set him rushing off to who knew where. “I believe they're meant to weaken the veil between the Shadow Realms and the real world. Professor Trent should be able to corroborate that I had nothing to do with putting any of them in place.”

Sadakat lowered her eyes, tilted her head as though in apology. “I should have been more clear. We are aware of what they do, and that you had nothing to do with them. My question is whether you've seen such like this before. I am schooled in several traditions, but these match none of those. La Reina and Professor Trent are equally puzzled as to their origin.”

“Let me see those again.” I took the tablet, swiped through the pictures. The markings were hard to focus on, as though they were trying to twist away from being captured in pixelated light. Not bothering to hide what I was about, I forwarded them to Jack with instructions to forward them to me for further study. “The traditions you've been trained in, they're all human traditions from the real world?”

She nodded. “Mostly Abrahamic mysticisms, yes.”

I handed her the tablet. “That explains it, then. Whatever that writing is, it isn't from around here. It originated in the Shadow Realms.”

She held the tablet at arm's length. “Ah. That explains… La Reina said they…” Sadakat pursed her lips and shut the tablet down.

“What?”

“She… said the writing had an infernal look to it.” She held up a hand in apology. “You must understand, the creatures you deal with to her seem very like–”

“Demons. I know.” It wasn't the first time I'd heard them referred to as such. “So whoever – whatever – was behind this has an even deeper knowledge of the Shadow Realms than I do. Does Argent have any notion as to whom it might be, or what they might have wanted?”

“Our investigation is still preliminary.” She fought a smile at my snort. “We are very eager to speak with your friend Mr Tsung. I understand from Skyrocket's China report that he might also have some experience with these Shadow Realms. And of course, the young woman who accompanied him. She was last seen in the company of Mr Long's delegation.”

My gut clenched at the mention of Mei Shen, and I was grateful for the perpetual shadows dragged across my face. “Then surely she can't be a suspect. I understand Mr Long was the one to warn you of the impending attack.”

“So he was. And we are understandably grateful.”

Grateful. Sylvia Dunbarton didn't do grateful, and I suspected she looked on favors with suspicion. So now I got to worry about both of my children falling under Argent's scrutiny. Lovely.

I draped my trench coat over my arm. I'd wasted enough of the day sitting around. “I will do what I can to assist in tracking down Mr Tsung.”

“You have our thanks for that. We took the liberty of retrieving your motorcycle. It is awaiting you outside.” She stepped out of the doorway, leading me through an open plan office with thick cement columns, vaulted ceilings with exposed ductwork, and a general feel that important innovation was being accomplished, this despite the fact that everyone we passed seemed to be staring at me rather than working. I focused on the drape of Sadakat's hijab and ignored the stares until we achieved the lift.

The office building lobby was equally cold and self-important, dominated by a twisted glass chandelier that resembled some sort of strange, tropical sea life. The wall of windows let in fog-grey light from outside, two glass doors opening onto a half-circle parkway curving around a plaza with a dry fountain surrounding a metallic blob of public art. Fog ghosted through the plaza, heading towards the piers and the bay just on the other side of the street. It reminded me of the shadows the night before. I shivered and pulled on my trench coat.

My motorcycle waited in the turnabout. So much for keeping it out of Argent's hands. “You never answered my other question,” I murmured to Sadakat.

“What question was that, Mr Masters?”

“What was their purpose?”

She gave a little head bobble and a sad, close-lipped smile. “Who can say what is the purpose of such acts? To sow chaos, confusion, fear? Last night's attack was an act of hate against all the good Argent does in the world. But we mustn't let their hate stop us. We must stand united to show we are unbroken.”

I didn't believe her for a moment, but she spoke the words so smoothly that for a moment I almost believed she believed them, save for the twist at the corner of her mouth. “But we both know it's never as simple as the rhetoric would like us to believe, is it Ms Sadakat?”

She tilted her head. One brow lifted, and she nodded. “No, Mr Masters. We both know it rarely is.”

I
ditched
my trench coat with a confused-if-grateful homeless kid at Fort Mason Park and headed for my lawyer's place in North Beach. Jack would have a better idea how to safely rid myself of the motorcycle and the phone. Perhaps I'd seen a few too many spy movies, but I didn't feel comfortable keeping anything that had been in the hands of Argent's techs for any length of time. Jack would also have a better idea of what the hell sort of trouble I'd gotten myself into now.

Jack – or Jonathan Q. Wentworth, III, Esq., but seriously? – had an office in the Financial District that I'd visited all of twice. Once as Missy when Jack first found me after years of searching for Mitchell Masters's heir, and once as Mitchell when one of the senior partners questioned Mr Mystic's return. I preferred dealing with Jack in his cozy North Beach townhouse. Half the time I could horn in on whatever cooking-show quality dish he was making when I arrived. Even if I missed out, there were always baked goods left over from the day before.

Sadly, there were only leftover baked goods to greet me today. I took the basket of cheesy muffins down to his office, waiting until the door was locked and the blinds drawn before ditching Mr Mystic.

“You didn't wait long to stir things up, did you? I thought the plan was to lay low until the New Wall stuff blew over?” Jack set the electric kettle on and puttered with tea things, keeping his back to me while I changed into a loaner t-shirt covered in sparkly Disney princesses and plaid pajama pants in Giants colors. My scalp itched from being crammed under a cap and wig all night. I loosened the braids and massaged blood into my scalp, not caring that it turned my hair into a frizzed-out red fright wig.

“What can I say? I'm a sucker for a dame in a pith helmet.” I took my tea and curled up in one of the leather wingbacks, breathing deeply the steam and woodsmoke in my mug. Lapsang Souchong. Jack had upped his tea game in the past few years. Probably got tired of me bitching about being served Constant Comment.

“Shady dame if she turns on you like that.” Jack sat behind his desk and flipped open his laptop.

“I know. I'm such a cliché.”

“You sure you don't want me to pursue any sort of unlawful detainment charges?”

“Against Argent?” I shook my head. “I'm feeling pretty grateful they let me go. Don't want to push my luck.”

“But you still want me to get rid of your bike.”

“And phone.” I'd already handed it over to him. Mystic's phone was a burner. I don't keep any of Missy's information on it, but better safe than… “Shit. I need to let Shimizu know I'm okay.” I looked around as though a phone would magically present itself.

“Already texted her while you were complaining about my taste in nerd chic.”

I relaxed, plucking at my borrowed t-shirt. “It's Disney
and
sportsball. I feel like I need a third identity to hide that I ever wore this.”

“Let it go, Missy. More important fires to put out.” He turned his laptop so I could see the screen. A muted YouTube video showed dark, blurry images wrestling with other dark, blurry images. “I'm not sure if this was deliberately leaked by Argent or if they don't have as much media control as they want folks to believe, but someone posted cell footage of the rooftop fight. You fighting what look like Nazgûl alongside a few of Argent's best. Whether you like it or not, public consensus is that Mr Mystic has rejoined the fold.”

I sipped my tea in the hope that it would settle my churning gut. No such luck. “I've never much cared for what public consensus said. Me or Mr Mystic.”

“There's more,” he said, and underlying those ominous words,
it's worse
.

“What?”

“Photos of Mr Mystic having a quiet tête-à-tête with a young Chinese woman. Photos of the woman departing with Mr Long's delegation just before the attack. The story being put about is that last night's attack was some sort of retaliation for the New Wall. Even split as to whether it's a Chinese group with radical leanings or one with covert state sponsorship. Either way–”

“My kids are being blamed.”

Jack shut the laptop. After Shanghai, when I'd told him that the fifteen years I'd gained during my first trip to China also included two kids, he'd been completely thrown. Now he barely flinched. He'd come a long way in a few months. “Nobody's being blamed yet. Argent still has control of the story.”

That wasn't as much of a comfort as it might have been. I rubbed my face. “What about the Shadow angle?”

“The usual spread. A few people believe. Most think it was staged effects and fear tactics. In this case, folks think that the attackers threw in some Shadow-type special effects because you were involved.”

I sat forward. “Have you had any luck finding out where Tsung lives? Where Mei Shen is staying?”

Jack spread his hands. “My property search-fu is not that good. They have all of the Shadow Dragon Triad holdings and subsidiaries to hide behind. We had a hard enough time tracking those when the San Francisco branch was being run by Lao Chan, and your daughter is a lot smarter than he ever was.”

And even if I could find where they had been staying, there was no guarantee Mei Shen would be there anymore. She'd been taken by – or left willingly with – Mian Zi. I had no doubt she'd be safe with her brother, whatever their philosophical differences, but only so long as he was safe.