Page 33 of Brought to Light
Fuck it. Wasn’t like they had snipers on the roof.
I crossed as quickly as I could, staying low and hoping the terrace’s stone railings would hide me a little bit. They probably didn’t, but it didn’t seem to matter; I made it to the terrace without any kind of alarm going up, and I flattened myself against the side of the house between two of the glass doors. I counted to ten. No shouts, no running feet, nothing.
Carefully, I strafed to the left and peered through the door. Not much to see, because the room was so dim, but I didn’t catch any movement. This door, or go along the building looking for Linden, or for anything out of the ordinary?
As I glanced down the length of the terrace, I saw something that definitely qualified as out of the ordinary—for me, anyway. A handful of bright purple sparks whizzed out of a window at the end, twirling in a complicated dance and then hanging in the air like fucked-up fireflies.
Yep. That was weird, all right. I’d never claim to be an expert, but evil-looking purple sparks in the air seemed like something an evil sorcerer might be the source of.
I jogged down the terrace, keeping my feet light and almost silent, passing a dozen more window-doors as I went. I glanced in as I passed, but I only saw silent, empty rooms.
Where were all the people who must live here, servants and guards and gardeners? God, I hoped they weren’t all dead already. I’d seen the crumpled, broken, stinking aftermaths of massacres. I never wanted to see another.
At the end of the terrace, I found a set of glass doors wider and more ornate than the others, clearly meant to fold all the way back on each side and essentially open a large room to the outdoors. More sparks came out of the glass as I approached, passing through it like they would through empty air.
Magic. My fingers tingled and the hair on the back of my neck rose. Had I gotten more sensitive to this bullshit? I doubted it. Sensitive wasn’t exactly my middle name. Probably just my usual bullshit meter, pushed into overdrive by the whole ‘about to try to kill an evil sorcerer’ thing.
I crouched against the wall, putting my head well below eye level, and risked a look inside.
Yeah, evil sorcerer, all right, complete with flowing robes and purple magic electricity shit sparking out of his fingertips. The asshole had to be nearly seven feet tall, even though he was as thin as a rail. My vantage point gave me the back of his head and a sliver of his profile.
It also gave me a full, unobstructed view of a huge room with a two-story ceiling, the soldiers ranged around the sides, and—Linden. Linden, with his eyes huge in his pale face, bruises and traces of blood discoloring his skin, and his hands tied behind his back. He knelt in front of Evalt between two women I guessed were his mother and Lady Lisandra, the owner of this place.
My heart gave an unsteady lurch.Just another job, I reminded myself.Evalt’s another asshole who needs to be put down, and Linden’s just another hostage.Collateral damage happens. Right. Next I’d try to sell myself the Brooklyn Bridge.
Quick count: nine soldiers that I could see, and probably a similar number out of sight along the perimeter of the room I couldn’t see. Maybe more somewhere else, but they weren’t relevant at the moment.
Even though I’d stayed the hell out of their discussion of strategy and tactics that morning, I’d listened and absorbed every word. Evalt had to go down first. The soldiers might try to intervene, but they were red herrings. If Oskar had it right, they’d stop fighting once Evalt died.
I had a clear path to Evalt, and even better, a clear shot, even though firing through glass of unknown composition and strength wasn’t ideal.
I’d need to back up enough not to get creamed by the shattering door, and might be seen as soon as I did. Deep breath. I had one try at this.
I jumped up, took four quick steps back, and aimed for the center of Evalt’s torso, keeping the barrel as perpendicular to the glass as possible.
And I fired, once, twice, a quick double tap. The deafening crash and tinkle of shattering glass drowned out the pop-pop of the shots. I fired once more for good measure, even though the reflections off the glass shards falling and spinning gave me no visibility at all. But my aim was good. I hadn’t wavered from my original target.
And then the glass clashed to the ground and settled. Evalt had turned to face me, but—the motherfucker had turned to face me. Not a scratch on him, not a drop of blood, not a rip in those stupid fucking pretentious robes. He bared his teeth, his eyes like dark whirlpools. I’d seen saner eyes on fuckers deemed too crazy to stand trial for murder.
My bullets hadn’t touched him.
I fired again, twice more, dead center into his chest. Or rather, right up to his chest. The bullets just—stopped, right there in midair, and fell to the floor with a sad little patter and clunk.
“A human,” Evalt said, his voice too big to have come out of a narrow chest like that. Round and rolling. He could’ve fronted a Tennessee Ernie Ford cover band. “How interesting. Your weapons can’t injure me, you insignificant insect. I’ll disassemble his physical form first,” Evalt threw over his shoulder at Linden. “So you can see how you’ll die.”
He raised his hands, and they started to glow, shooting out more and more sparks and humming like a high-voltage line. Behind him, Linden stared at me, his lips parted. The lower one had been split by someone’s rough hand. I thought I saw him mouth my name.
And that was fucking enough. Some men might’ve taken offense to ‘insignificant insect,’ but I’d been called worse, even if you didn’t count ‘mundane tool.’ Some men might’ve emptied the rest of the magazine into Evalt’s chest on a desperate hope, or maybe run.
I’d have been smart to run.
I wasn’t offended, and I obviously wasn’t all that smart, either. But Iwasfucking irritated, out of patience with bullshit, and not in the mood to be physically disassembled, or whatever the fuck.
Evalt’s men had started to close in, shifting away from the walls and moving toward their master. I eyed them warily. They seemed to be hanging back, waiting for Evalt to handle me himself, but ready to rush me if it seemed to be going my way.
I could use my last few shots on them…but no. Evalt remained the primary target, even though I remembered now what Oskar had said about weapons forged under the sun.
I shoved the Sig back in its holster. Fine. So no weapon could kill this son of a bitch. So fucking what. I’d killed a dude with a paperclip once, for fuck’s sake.
