Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (30 page)

Kal ran across the balcony and skidded to her knees in front of the door. In her hand she had Nim’s small metal snap gun. A thin rod protruded from the muzzle, and she stuck that into the lock of the door and pulled the trigger. The rod hammered against the pins with a dull thud, clearing the cylinder for the next stage of the assault on the lock. Kal inserted the L-shaped tool—
a torque wrench
—and gave it a twist. The lock gave way, and Kal slipped quickly through the door.

She closed it behind her, threw the bolts and stood still and listened. It was quiet; she was in a small dimly-lit antechamber. Maybe nobody had even heard her make an entrance. In contrast to the bright red decor of the rest of the Cathouse, the Peacock’s chambers were blue and shadowy. Kal pushed aside thick velvet drapes and entered a sitting room with casement doors thrown open to a balcony. In the centre of the room there was a round table with two chairs next to it. Apart from the glow of the street lights, the only light came from a single candle that was jammed into an old empty liquor bottle on the table, which was stood next to a full bottle and two ornate glasses.

The room was empty. The fresh night air mixed with the fragrant scent of the candle. Kal felt calm and relaxed despite the tense situation. There was a door off to the left. A bedroom? This could be interesting. She stepped towards it. As she moved, she reached into her bag and took out a small spherical metal object: she always took care to choose the right weapon for the right occasion, and this particular item would be good for a confrontation.

‘Kalina.’

Kal whirled around. Viola Witchwood was sitting at the table in the middle of the room. Her green eyes flashed in the candlelight. Her long dark hair tumbled in ringlets over her shoulders. It covered more of her body than her emerald silk camisole did. The senator was beautiful; a woman in her mid-thirties, where physical prime collided with experience, knowledge and confidence to devastating effect. ‘Sit down,’ she said, gesturing to the other chair.

Kal stayed where she was, and clutched her metal ball. ‘Where’s the Peacock?’

Witchwood laughed, a deep husky laugh full of pleasure and amusement. ‘It’s just you and me, Kal. I knew you would be coming one of these days, and I
saw
you exploring my library, so I got us a drink ready.’

Kal sat down warily. She placed her metal globe on the tabletop within easy reach. Nim had designed it to be simple to activate. Witchwood glanced at it but feigned disinterest.

‘You knew I was coming?’ Kal asked.

Witchwood nodded. ‘When Ben Godsword brought you into that secret meeting and set you on the tail of the murderer, I could see that you’d soon be digging up secrets left, right and centre. I knew that my connection with the Peacock would be at risk.’

‘Your connection …’ Kal began, as a thought began to form in her mind.

‘A crime boss always has to have layers of protection, so that they cannot be implicated directly in any part of their operations. This can often be achieved by creating a chain of command, up which orders can be only traced so far. Another approach, however, is to create a secret identity. You’ll never find the Peacock, Kal, no matter how hard you search this place.’

Kal shook her head. ‘Because
you
are the Peacock,’ she said. A chill ran down her spine as she realised that this was one secret she was unlikely to be allowed to leave the room with. So why was Witchwood telling her?

The senator gave a conspiratory smile and leaned forward across the table. ‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered. ‘I know you’re not here to arrest me. You’re not a good girl fighting for justice. If you can keep
my
secret, I can do something for you.’

Kal squirmed in her seat. Witchwood’s breath was warm and sweet, and the smoke from the candle was richly scented. Kal felt hot, dusty and dirty dressed in her scuffed leathers. ‘What are you suggesting?’ she managed to ask.

‘I know that Will Straightarrow and his band of merry men are camped outside. When they robbed the Snake Pit, they earned themselves a death sentence. I could have them slaughtered in the blink of an eye, Kal … but maybe I’ll let them live if we can come to some arrangement.’

Kal thought for a minute. Getting Witchwood off Will’s back was only half of what she came here for. ‘Zeb Zing paid you
protection
money,
Senator
. Perhaps you could also make good on your side of that arrangement too.’

Witchwood smiled. ‘We can negotiate,’ she murmured. ‘I’m pleased that you’re willing to talk, at least, and haven’t yet started littering my home with a trail of bodies like you’re famed for. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to tame Kalina Moonheart.’ Witchwood uncorked the bottle and tipped an aniseed-scented green liquor into the two waiting glasses. ‘Let’s drink to the start of a mutually satisfying relationship.’

Kal wasn’t finished yet. ‘Did you murder Senator Grey? I saw your book on magic symbols.’

Witchwood shook her head. ‘Of course not. I was researching the symbol as part of my own investigation. I’m a crime boss and politician, Kal: I deal in blackmail and smuggling, forgery and money laundering, racketeering and coercion. And that's just in the Senate House!’

‘I’m a very bad woman, but I’m not a psychopath. I’ll
help
you catch this killer, if only so that I am not the next victim.’ She raised her glass to Kal and took a sip.

Kal nodded. She believed Witchwood. She was also feeling light-headed, and could do with a stiff drink. She picked up her glass and downed it in one gulp. ‘To mutual satisfaction then,’ she said. The liquid left a sweet, tingling trail down her throat.

Witchwood grinned, put down her glass, and fixed her incredible eyes on Kal. They were hypnotic and seemed to suck all depth and focus out of the room, until Kal had trouble tearing her own eyes away. Her heart was racing and her thoughts became muddled. Kal tried to raise her hand and grab the metal ball that was supposed to be her protection and escape ticket. It was a small
bomb
that Nim had created for her. But Kal’s fingers felt heavy and numb, and she only succeeded in knocking the bomb onto the carpet.

Kal tried to stand. Witchwood stood too, and Kal stumbled and fell into the witch’s warm embrace.

* * *

Kal woke up after who knew how long. Her surroundings and circumstances had changed somewhat dramatically. Instead of Witchwood’s plush boudoir, she was now in a cold, damp underground cell. She was naked and tied to a wooden chair; her feet bound to the chair legs, her arms painfully twisted behind her and tied to the bottom of the chair back. The cords were thin and bit into her skin.

She wasn’t alone in the cell, either.

III.viii

Demolition Girl

In the cold chill of the dungeon, Kal felt wretched and helpless. How could she have been so stupid? She had been drawn into Witchwood’s trap like a fly into a spider’s web; the witch
saw
her coming, no doubt through the magic two-way mirror in the library. Had the routine with Dogwood and the guard been a pantomime simply to let Kal approach Witchwood’s room unchallenged? Her eyes were sore and her mouth was dry … the candle on the table in Witchwood’s room! … what soporific drug had it been pumping out? Something that the senator was accustomed to, but Kal was not. And the promises that fell from that sensuous mouth ... Kal had believed them all.

Viola Witchwood was here now, standing by the door of the cell, watching Kal come around. She smiled and slipped forward, barefoot and still only clad in a strip of silk that barely covered her hips. Witchwood placed another chair in front of Kal, back towards her, and then straddled it, lowering herself until they were both eye-to-eye. In her hands, the witch held a foot-long golden baton. One end had a smooth round knob, but the other was shaped like a cat’s paw, with four curled claws. Delicately, Witchwood used the claws to drag Kal’s damp, straggly hair out of her eyes.

‘This is a test,’ Witchwood said. ‘It’s simple. All you have to do is tell the truth. If you pass, I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.’

Kal felt sick inside. How the hell was she going to play this? Tell the truth? String Witchwood along? Say nothing? Scream as loud as she could? She knew that she was deep underground, beneath the Bower. It was no use pinning her hopes on Will, or anyone, coming to rescue her.

‘Do you understand, Kalina? I want to help you through this.’ Witchwood’s tongue wrapped itself silkily around the syllables of her name:
Kal-in-a
.

Kal was tied up so tight it hurt. She was at the mercy of this woman, who was now throwing her a lifeline. Kal understood Witchwood’s game completely. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Alright. So let’s begin. Do you love Will Straightarrow?’

Kal struggled to get her head around the first question.
Why is she asking? Do I love Will? I don’t know! No, I don’t love him. Not yet, anyway.

‘No,’ she said.

‘Good,’ Witchwood said, letting the cool metal of her wand brush Kal’s cheek. ‘He might make a good member of my team too one day, but I wouldn’t want him to be a distraction. What about Ben Godsword?’

Do I love Ben? Of course not!
‘No,’ Kal said. She choked back a bitter laugh. ‘Are all the questions this easy?’

Witchwood smacked Kal hard across the cheek. When Kal had regained her senses, Witchwood hit her again.

‘Don’t make me hurt you,’ she said. ‘Kal, if you’re going to be with me, I need to know you can let go of your old ties. I don’t want to share you.’

Kal said nothing. Could she bring herself to say what the witch wanted to hear?

‘You’re clever, Kal: resourceful and cunning. That’s why I want you. Do you know what first brought you to my attention?’

Kal tried to stare at the floor, but Witchwood placed her golden claw under Kal’s chin and forced her gaze back up.

‘Over the last couple of weeks, merchants and traders who I have
interests
in have been coming to me complaining that you somehow tricked them into signing a complex covenant. At first they were relieved to have got you off their back, but then they got scared: rich, powerful men and women … scared of you, Kalina Moonheart. Scared that you now have some kind of supernatural hold over them for the rest of their lives … and beyond.’

The documents she had collected for Ben.
It seemed like a lifetime ago that Kal’s only problems were how to hustle careless gamblers. Ben had never told her that the people she had played chess and cards with were all under Witchwood’s protection. Maybe he didn’t know himself.

‘So tell me, Kal,’ Witchwood said. ‘What are you up to?’

Kal had no idea what Ben wanted with the documents. She had tried to make sense of them herself, but the language was gobbledygook. So what the hell could she say to satisfy Witchwood?

The witch slid the back of the cat’s paw down Kal’s neck, over her breast, and then flipped it when it reached the muscles over her ribs. Kal felt the four claws prick her skin.

‘
Tell me
, Kal,’ Witchwood said. ‘Anything you’ve done in the past, I’ll forgive; it’s time to start a new life. You’ll want for nothing when you’re with me: you’ll have safety, security, money …’

Kal didn’t doubt that. But what would Witchwood do if Kal told her that Ben was involved? Yes, she might even promise not to harm him … but one day Ben would disappear, and Witchwood would whisper sweet lies into her ear.

Kal looked her tormentor in the eye and said: ‘Those people who signed for me: they’re all going to hell.
And so are you.
’

Witchwood’s green eyes went hard. Kal ground her teeth as the four claws of the golden wand bit deep into her flesh. When they started to drag along her torso she threw her head back and screamed. The pain was only matched by the awful feeling of helplessness.

‘I don’t want to kill you, Kal,’ Witchwood said, her once-beautiful features twisted into an animal snarl. ‘I’ll keep you alive as long as I possibly can, I promise.’

Kal tried not to listen. She tried to block out the pain and retreat into her own mind. She thought she could hear shouts and screams and noise coming from outside the cell, but she couldn’t make sense of it, or even tell if it was real or just inside her head. Witchwood seemed oblivious as she wielded her claw with sadistic care and skill.

It was through this haze of pain, panic and confusion that Kal saw what happened next. The door to the cell crashed open behind Witchwood. The senator rose and turned to face the invader—a tall knight in antiquated armour. In one gauntleted hand he held a glowing brand. Coils of smoke surrounded him, pouring in from the corridor behind, and a blast of heat heralded his arrival.

Witchwood had time to utter one word—‘No!’—before the knight stepped into the cell, grabbed her by the neck, then slammed her against the hard stone wall. He then brought the smoking brand up and applied it to her chest. Witchwood’s scream was the most appalling thing Kal had ever heard, but it was cut mercifully short as the knight lifted her away from the wall and smacked her against it again. Witchwood’s skull cracked and she fell silent.

The killer turned and stared at Kal, who was still bound to the chair. He started towards her, but then hesitated. Smoke was still coming in from somewhere and filling the cell, and other noises and voices were getting closer. The killer turned and ran from the room, his bulky armour hardly slowing him down at all.

Kal coughed and choked in the smoke, the new danger triggering her survival instincts. She snapped out of her delirium and yanked at her bonds, but only succeeded in tipping herself and the chair over onto the floor.

Witchwood’s golden claw was lying on the floor next to her body. Kal tried to drag herself and the chair over to it. The smoke was slightly thinner at floor-level, but Kal could feel it slowly killing her. Freeing herself with the claw would be painstakingly fiddly. And if the killer had set the Bower on fire, then escape would be impossible anyway.