Page 12 of The Malevolent Seven

‘Oh, fine,’ I said at last, stopping to extend my arm out. ‘But just the wrist– and not hard, either, or we’ll see just how well bats can fly with their heads jammed up their own arseholes.’

The bat looked offended, but nonetheless landed on my forearm before leaning down to bite the vein on my upturned wrist.

Totemic magic annoys the hell out of me. Supposedly serious wonderists going around tapping realms of animistic symbolism to forge inexplicable mystical correspondences between the mage and whichever type of beast or bird they’re most attuned to? That’s how you end up with all these idiot felinists, avianists, lupinists and– gods save us all– chiropteranists, prancing around in animal costumes casting spells that make no sense and regaling you with how their chosen beast is the most noble of all. It’s embarrassing.

I guess I should be grateful he hasn’t started working with rat mages. Those guys are seriously nuts.

The first few seconds of having enchanted bat saliva mix with your blood are the worst. My senses were overwhelmed, flooded by the bat’s experience of the world all around it. Everything was high-pitched and hollow-sounding. I could smell things I’d never wanted to smell and taste my own blood on the creature’s tongue. The effects passed slowly, but after a few uncomfortable seconds, I was back to perceiving the world through my own eyes and ears. I resumed my march through the camp, this time while being lectured to by a fruit bat.

‘Don’t be an arsehole, Cade,’ the bat said with Corrigan’s voice. I wondered how much he’d paid for the animism charm he must be using up right now. ‘The other wonderists are expecting you– Green’s been asking about you forhours.’

I peered into the bat’s eyes. I couldn’t see Corrigan in there, but I had no doubt that wherever he was, he could see me. ‘Tell them to have a drink on me. Or better yet, on you. I’ve got better things to do than sit around placing bets on how many people I’m going to murder tomorrow.’

‘It’stradition,’ Corrigan insisted, as if such things mattered. ‘Tomorrow, Green’s joining the battle. It’s his first time. He could die.’

‘Archon Belleda’s troops already surrendered. It’s not a battle, it’s a massacre. Anyway, I’m a little busy right now,Indigo. I’ll join you and the others later.’

While the soldiers nearby couldn’t understand what the bat was saying, they could hear me. I’m not sure why it’s such a superstition among wonderists to never use our real names in front of regular people, but superstition is a close cousin to paranoia, and over the past few years, I’d developed a definite fondness for paranoia.

The bat gave me a withering glare– at least as withering as its batty face could achieve. ‘You’re not fooling anyone, Cade. The other wonderists know you aren’t partaking of the Ascendant’s. . . treats. And they’ve started to notice the way you avoid killing. It’s making them uneasy.’

‘Did they not notice me murdering an Auroral thaumaturgeandher elderly husband today?’

The bat shook his head dismissively, which was also an unnerving thing to witness. ‘That was different. You were saving my life.’

‘How stupid of me.’

The bat spread its wings and then flopped them down again. I guessed it was meant to be a shrug. ‘The bottom line is that the others have started questioning your sympathies.’

‘You’re saying they don’t trust me?’

‘I’m saying there’s chatter about maybe needing to eliminate you just to be on the safe side.’

‘And you?’

The bat looked offended. ‘Me? I just figure you’re hiding being an even bigger pervert than the rest of us and the rituals you use to fuel your spells are so disgusting it’s better if I don’t have to see them up close.’

I smiled menacingly at the bat. ‘You’ve got me all figured out, Indigo. Now, if you could just point me to the barn with the sluttiest sheep in camp, I can go about my “rituals” in peace.’

The bat tried to speak, then gave a squeak I could no longer understand before batting its eyes at me plaintively.

‘Oh, fucking hell. Fine. One more and that’s it.’

The bat bit me again, gave a little cough, and said, ‘Right. Look, Cade, I didn’t want to bring this up before we talk in person, but there’s something you, me and a couple of the others need to discuss.’

The prospect of being in an enclosed space with a group of wonderists who needed to ‘discuss’ something with me was not appealing.

Corrigan must’ve caught my expression through the bat’s eyes. ‘Don’t be like that. This is a good thing, I promise. The Ascendant’s war will be over soon and I’ve got word of a job up north that could make us all filthy rich. All we have to do is deal with a few do-gooder wonderists sticking their noses in some evil prick’s business. In and out in two weeks, lots of money, lots of spells and—’

‘Lots of the things people like us always want in exchange for murdering do-gooders. I turned that same job down half an hour ago. I’m even less interested now.’

‘Oh? And did you hear about the artefact?’

Artefact. Relic. Celestial Bidet. There’s always some ‘supreme mystical treasure’ offered as a bonus for taking on a particularly suicidal job, and it’s always bullshit.

Corrigan must’ve caught my look of disdain through the bat’s beady little eyes. ‘This one’s for real, Cade! This guy, this “Baron Tristmorta”, somehow got hold of the Appa—’

‘Not interested.’

---