Page 23 of The Last Slayer
Thankfully he did, leading everyone to the lab himself in an overland hike across the TriMedica grounds. As we passed various facilities he pointed them out to the dragonlords, who glanced at the buildings cursorily as they strode effortlessly beside him.
I tagged along behind all the “important” people. Truth be told, I was curious. I’d never seen medicinal mages at work. A lot of non-magic users preferred drugs with magical enhancement, but I refused to pay a premium for it. When you know how many of the “doctors” are really just quacks who got their certifications online… Watchdog groups do exist, but medicinal magic is the least of their concerns. Not when they have necromancers, hunters and other life-or-death situations to deal with. So why did the dragonlords want to see the mages?
The lab was located in a natural setting more conducive to magic. The sun penetrated the canopy of green leaves in broad lances, reminding me of my dream. How Ramiel had come out of the forest and dominated my senses and—I gave myself a mental shake. I needed to focus on work, not think about that…demon. It didn’t matter what I’d said to Valerie last night. I was the lead hunter, and the team was my responsibility.
As we came closer to the lab building, a deep barking started ringing in the air. I looked around and saw Rottweilers in a cage. “Ignore them,” Andersen yelled. “They’re for security.”
Apollyon glanced at the dogs, just the slightest shift of his eyes, nothing more. The dogs’ demeanor changed instantly. They whined and rolled onto their backs, exposing their throats. My mouth went dry. Maybe the dogs knew something we didn’t. Maybe we should all roll on our backs and beg for mercy too.
“Well?” Semangelaf said. Everyone was looking at the dogs. “Where are your mages?”
“Uh…right this way,” Swain said, and led us on. The dogs remained silent and on their backs. Smarter than their masters, if you asked me. Their survival instinct had a razor-sharp edge that the corporate drones’ didn’t.
/> For a lab that belonged to one of the premiere pharmaceutical companies in the world, it was surprisingly rustic, no steel beams, concrete or refined metal in sight. Unvarnished logs made up the four walls of the rectangular structure, which was surrounded by old pines and oaks. The interior of the lab was one big room, all wood. As we went in, the mage closest to us poured a beaker of Sex into a vat of dirty, bathwater-colored chemicals and began condensing it. A gray column of smoke rose from the clay cauldron. My eyes watered at the overpowering odor of musk and eucalyptus, and I wondered what the mages used to kill their sense of smell.
Every table had several gallons of bottled Sex, which looked like it powered most of the mages’ magic. How disappointing. I’d assumed they used something more mysterious. Like, I don’t know, herbs and magical amulets and stuff. Or maybe they did, but not for TriMedica.
“Ah, this way,” Swain said, starting down an aisle.
The triumvirate didn’t follow. Semangelaf pulled out a small glass ball with a dot of crimson in the center. “Since you’re here…” he murmured, and handed it to Nathanael.
Nathanael took the orb, looked at it a moment, then crushed it in his fist. A bit of blood ran out and something cold and invisible snaked through the air. Goose bumps rose on my skin, and the mages stopped working and let out soft sighs. A small frown creased Apollyon’s face, while the others’ expressions remained unchanged.
“What the hell was that?” Andersen said under his breath.
“Seekers.”
“Which do what?”
“Look for things.” His scowl deepened, and I sighed. “Seekers require something of the desired item or being. So if the dragonlords are hunting for an object, they need a bit of the raw material used to create that particular item, or something that is deeply related to the item itself. If the target is a living being, the spell demands something of the target or of the target’s parentage.”
“Like a birth certificate?”
“No.” God, bureaucrats. Maybe Andersen hadn’t summoned the “Selena” demon after all. Even if he didn’t know how to create seekers, as a magic practitioner he should’ve recognized the spell. “The mother or father’s hair, a bit of skin…something that’s been taken from their living body.”
I watched him put it together. “Blood?”
“Blood.”
“But there was hardly any.”
“Don’t need much to key the target.”
“Enough,” Semangelaf said.
Andersen and I turned our attention back to the dragonlords. Nathanael in particular seemed dissatisfied, his eyes questing and his mouth grim.
“We have seen what we need to see.”
Swain took a step forward, like he wanted to argue, but he stopped when Andersen shook his head. The other hunters on my team were looking at me. We all had recognized the dragonlords’ cold tendrils as seekers, but apparently everyone else was as mystified as I was as to who they were trying to find.
Something else was weird as well…why had Semangelaf given the blood to Nathanael? The latter hadn’t even planned to show up from what I could tell. There was no apparent reason for Semangelaf to defer a spell that had been his to perform.
Nathanael had mentioned having done a “favor” for Swain, perhaps referring to eliminating one of Swain’s competitors. Apollyon had said he’d blown up the GenEvo Labs because of a lie. Semangelaf hadn’t made any moves to pulverize us yet, so maybe Swain hadn’t made any stupid promises. But for the dragonlords to go to these lengths, whoever they wanted to find must have been very important.
The dragonlords turned and left, and the rest of us had little choice but to follow. They talked quietly with Swain as we walked. I strained to hear the conversation ahead of me. Apollyon’s voice suddenly came alive with amusement and joy, while Semangelaf and Nathanael sounded indifferent. I didn’t trust Apollyon’s good humor.
Finally, Apollyon stopped and said, “If you prove that you can control a mere wyrm, the lowest of the low in our army, I shall lend you a dragon of your choice. A wyvern even, if that’s what you wish.”
