Chapter 23

Human healing magic was oddly primitive, and I had never been sure why. Perhaps it was because they had real medical technology? Or, they didn’t have the stomach to make a spell like Alheln, which always felt like a kick in the family jewels spread over the whole body. It was nearly instantaneous and effective, though, and I’d have cast it on myself if Heida hadn’t plainly seen me take an arrow to the thigh. I had quite enough to explain, thank you very much!

The next few hours were a blur. They evacuated the Starlight in a flash, and local police had been followed up by a contingent from the mundane League military. Mariko set to work with what was, for a human, well-practiced healing magic. Once the bleeding was staunched and my throat fixed, I was whisked away to a nearby air base. Apparently the long-vanished United States had operated it during the Cold War, and it had devolved to the Anti-Demonic League’s European command. They had made a few additions, including the best surgical suite on the island.

Or so Henrik assured me. I hoped I wouldn’t be put in a position to judge. One painful examination by a groggy-looking head surgeon was more than enough. They offered to put me under, since they had to re-open the sealed wound to give it a proper cleaning.

“Is this really necessary?” I demanded, feeling a tad exposed face-down in my paper half-gown.

“You’re the one who picked a fight in a filthy bathroom,” replied one of the nurses, the only one present who spoke English. He shook an orange bottle in my face. “You don’t have to be macho about it; this is the good stuff. It feels like floating on a cloud made of marshmallows.”

I shook my head. I didn’t want to risk any of the thoughts bouncing around my head slipping out, and there were quite a few of them.

After all, I’d just learned that I had more humans aware of my real identity than I’d thought. Who had sent the Beckers after me? My cover story to my circle of friends and Mr. Maki had been that I was a reformed demonkin, but I’d barely met any of the quislings in my time. Somebody had told them. Worse, somebody had sent them on a day pass to Keflavik. I refused to believe it was a coincidence. They had seemed surprised to see me on the street, but that was doubtless an act.

Bloody Hell. It had to be my former commander Girdan, or his calculating daughter, Fera. I’d failed my mission to help the Holy Brotherhood cripple the Wizard Corps’ premier training academy, and now I was a loose end.

It’s all over. They won’t stop. If they corrupted two wizards, there are bound to be more. It made my worries about losing myself in Soren Marlowe seem so quaint.

“Alright, tough guy, we’re making the first incision.”

I almost welcomed the pain. It gave me something else to focus on. Hurts less than an Alheln.

******************

Keflavik, Iceland

Saturday, October 15th, 2050

I awoke, almost forgetting where I was. That is, until I shifted a bit and my left leg reminded me that no, I wasn’t about to get out of bed, thank you very much!

I was under guard in a private hospital room dressed in nothing but a flimsy gown. No light shone through the window, but that was meaningless in an Icelandic autumn. It felt like a repeat of the aftermath of the Tower Attack, though this time I wasn’t strapped into my bed. Also, the black-haired man didn’t seem ready to open fire on me at a moment’s notice. The advantages of not being guilty for once.

The Icelander spoke into his walkie-talkie, though I couldn’t make out what he said. I was a bit groggy, and I almost wondered if somebody had slipped me one of those pain pills at some point. The fog in my head isn’t exactly a marshmallow cloud; no, I think that’s ordinary fatigue.

Mr. Maki arrived, for once not making a show of it. He ignored the soldier’s salute; that alone was frightening. I spotted a cane in his hand, though he wasn’t using it. Judging by the circles under his eyes, he hadn’t slept an instant since the Starlight. “You’re dismissed.”

The soldier nodded before shuffling out.

“He didn’t look too pleased about that,” I said. “I think he wanted an autograph.”

“I see they didn’t pierce your sass,” he replied.

“No, just my ass,” I said.

“And you let them! I trained you better than that,” he said, pulling a chair over. He settled in, the chair creaking beneath his muscular frame. He didn’t look eager to stand again, either.

“Clearly not,” I said. “Long night?”

“We didn’t all get to laze around in a comfortable bed,” he said. His sardonic grin told me he didn’t mean his harsh tone. “Somebody had to help the mundanes sweep the Starlight after we found that fabricata bomb in the restroom. Do you want to know how close it was to charged?”

“No, I don’t believe I do. Why did you get involved? Weren’t there locals to help with that?”

“There were, until you murdered them both. What was that about? You’re making quite a habit of killing corpsmen!”

More than you can know, old man. “They attacked first,” I said.

“Corpswoman Bryndísardóttir said the same,” he said. “You seemed to know something was up from the start. You have good instincts.”

“It’s been one Hell of a year for me,” I said. “They’ve been sharpened.”

“Better instincts than mine,” he spat. “So what were they? Holy Brothers?”

I paused, wondering if I ought to go along with the more comfortable option. No, you need all the help you can get. “The other team, sir.”

Mr. Maki’s jaw went slack. “Demonkin?” He whispered the word, as if speaking it too loudly would summon them.

I nodded. “It all makes sense, really. The Corps knows you’re here with us. They approached me to get to you.” No sense being completely truthful.

“Oh? You were one of them; you think they wouldn’t be interested in shutting you up?”

Damnation, I’d hoped to appeal to his vanity. “Demonkin shouldn’t know who I am. It’s not an organized group like the Brotherhood; it’s little pockets of humans who are willing to cozy up to the new management. My whole coven back in England is either long dead, or they wish they were. I was the only one to slip away.”

“Yes, because ‘new management’ is the Prince of Lies’ spawn,” he muttered. “Don’t discount the idea that they were after you; you’re a public figure now. Remember, even that waitress knew who you were.”

“Are you still sore about that, sir?”

“A little,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a wonderful feeling to have friends wherever you go, Marlowe.”

“Sounds like a nightmare to me,” I said. “Never having a moment’s privacy.”

“Well, get used to the idea. The League made you an exemplar after the Tower Attack, and these degenerates may have taken notice. They might have wanted to snuff out a new hero.”

“Either way, I imagine the bomb would have taken out the whole building? Maybe they saw a chance to get us both at once.”

“The whole building? Try the whole block.” He shuddered, and the confident mask he always wore slipped for just an instant. “I still can’t believe it. First Maggie and Neci Perera, then the Beckers. It’s times like this I wonder if the demonkin and the Brotherhood aren’t right in their own way. If we’re so divided against ourselves, the war might already be over.”

I was inclined to agree, though seeing the proud man doubt himself distressed me. “The devils used to be spiritual beings. Did you know that?”

He nodded. “Yes, we’ve tortured a few in our time. They built themselves fleshy bodies, and then conquered another world before invading ours.”

That was more than I expected the humans to know. There wasn’t any hint of that in Mrs. Perera’s flawed Races of the Horde class. “In the old days, they would torment people. Bring them to ruin by playing on doubts. Their techniques haven’t really changed, just now you can reach out and touch them. If they wanted to give up being immaterial, you can make them suffer the consequences.”

“You’re right. Thank you, Marlowe.” Mr. Maki straightened up, and I cursed myself internally. Had I really just given the Divine Blade himself a pep talk?

My buttock twinged, reminding me that the home office wasn’t about to offer me my old job back. It had been the proper thing to do.

“Where are the others?”

“Corpswoman Bryndísardóttir and Henrik are out on patrol,” he replied. “Ms. Yamada and Mr. Kowalski wanted to be here, but it was deemed a security risk. Speaking of, the work study is over for the time being.”

“But who will go chasing elves and trolls?” I asked, flashing him my winningest smile.

His face remained impassive. “Sorry, I’m not seeing much to laugh about right now.” Without warning, he rose from his seat and bowed nearly ninety degrees to me. “I am… sorry, Marlowe.”

“What the devil do you have to apologize for?”

“Language,” he snapped. “This is the third time you’ve stepped in and saved the day when I couldn’t. You rescued me when Obe pierced with an arrow, you saved my school, and now you stepped in when friends I vouched for tried to…” He trailed off.

“The second one hardly counts.”

“It does, Marlowe,” he replied. He straightened up. “I’m the one they call a hero, after all, but you keep seeing me with feet of clay. I can’t even spot enemies in my midst. I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, but I will.”

I wanted to object. Here was the greatest wizard in the League, abasing himself before somebody he might have fought in England a year before. It seemed wrong. However, I nodded silently. If he wants to pay me unearned compliments, then that’s his business.

He nodded and proffered me the cane. “Here, let’s get you home. The other cadets will be overjoyed.”