Traveler (13 page)

“Men! They always do it the hard way.”

“Of course. It doesn’t work if it isn’t hard.”

Io didn’t reprimand him. She’d walked into that one.

Io found that trips into the Labyrinth involved two types of conflicting time: emotional, which said she had been stuck on the wrong side of this earthly divide for long enough; and logistical, which showed with every glance at her watch that the opposite was true. Time fled at an indecent rate, and she and Jack weren’t moving fast enough. Her nerves, strained by perpetual watchfulness, simply wanted it to all be over.

Jack had to jimmy another lock on a metal fire door before they were in the building proper. He did it as efficiently as he did everything, but every second’s delay seemed a wasted eternity.

The building they entered was human built; the room perhaps a basement, but quite ugly anyway. It was uniformly unpainted concrete, long expanses of gray wall and ceiling broken only by florescent lighting fixtures, a few doors, and clusters of insulated
pipes that punched through from above. The hall looked a bit like that of a prison, but there were no cells or barred doors, only wooden ones.

They paused at the first door, Jack laying an ear against it. After a moment he tried the handle, and finding it open, they stepped inside. There was no furniture, but the right wall had a window cut in it, which was paned with strange thick dark glass. On the other side of the translucent barrier was a conference room where a bizarre sort of board meeting was in progress.

“It’s a two-way mirror,” Jack said softly. “They shouldn’t be able to see or hear us—but don’t get too close anyway.”

Io nodded, barely able to speak because of the spooky feeling filling her throat with new alarm. She took one more step toward the glass and then stopped.

“Is that Horroban?”

“I think so.” They both stared hard. They couldn’t see the goblin’s face or body, but the back of his head looked chillingly familiar—so familiar and chilling that Io barely noticed the CEO of the New York Stock Exchange sitting across from him.

Of course, there were other reasons besides Horroban’s presence not to notice the small man in his business suit and power tie. There was lots of muscle cluttering up the room, both human and troll, and all quite large enough to be in the WWF or linebacking for the NFL. To have described them as
“armed and dangerous” would have been an ironic warning, for their bulging, hairy arms were hazards in and of themselves.

The part of Io’s brain that clung desperately to everyday details in the hope of denying where she was, thought it was a shame that the custom-made suits fit so poorly over their guns. That they were custom made she couldn’t doubt. Suits that big didn’t come off-the-rack even at the Big and Tall stores. The creatures in them were almost certainly genetically customized as well.

She and Jack couldn’t hear the conversation in the other room, but they felt the vibration when a modified goblin in a lab coat was thrown against the door hard enough to crack its mirror-window in two places.

“Wanna bet Xanthe just lost her mole?” Jack asked.

“Sucker bet,” Io responded. Her words were flip, but she felt bad for the goblin who had tried to help H.U.G.

There was more confirmation of the reality of what Io was seeing when two trolls pulled away from the wall where they slouched and opened up on the hapless snitch with AK-47s, proving that they were thorough—if not necessarily crack—shots.

Io and Jack both fell to the floor and covered their heads, waiting for the shattered glass to tumble out of its frame and splatter them. It didn’t happen, but
only because it was enforced with some kind of wire mesh.

The benefit of the goblin’s death and their own subsequent close call with the door glass was demonstrated a moment later when someone spoke in the other room and they could finally hear the conversation.

“Neveling,” hissed a soft voice. “Fetch your pets. We have to get rid of this traitor’s body—they may as well have a snack. Don’t look so glum,” the voice added, apparently now addressing the trolls. “This one has had some unusual gene therapy. He wouldn’t taste good—especially not filled with lead.”

Gargoyles. Time to go
. Io turned her head and mouthed the words at Jack.

He shook his head.
Wait. The gargoyles could come from any direction.

Io reminded herself that the best way not to become a target was to avoid acting like one. So running away screaming at the top of her lungs was not an option—however much her muscles wanted to flee. But, oh, she wanted to do just that!

She stared hard at Jack, trying to draw strength from his example. Jack was a genuine hard case with nerves of steel. She needed to start acting like one or her fears would be justified and she would get them both killed.

Once again, her nerve clock shifted over to timing eternity. She waited with eyes closed, counting
breaths, not thinking of anything but lying completely still until she could hear the gargoyles bounding into the boardroom on their stony claws. There was a horrible woofing noise and then the trolls started to cheer. They began wagering about how long it would take the gargoyles to eat the goblin corpse.

Jack leaned over her, touching her face.
Share the spell,
he mouthed.

Io nodded and raised her head to meet his lips. Jack wasn’t brutal, but he wasted no time shoving the magic through the circuit. Io quickly wrapped her legs about his waist and helped Jack roll to his knees and then onto his feet. She had a moment of hysteria where she worried about blocking his view as he carried her and raced for the door, but then recalled that she was invisible.

And Jack was too. She could see through his head and clear to the fractured glass when one of the gargoyles raised itself and, with a bloodied snout, pressed itself against the window, and began snuffling at the bullet holes. A long forked tongue lolled out and tried to wiggle through the glass. Its useless wings began to beat excitedly.

“What is that witless beast doing? Licking blood off of the glass?” the head of the NYSE asked, and a dozen heads turned to look at the door.

“Jack!”

“I know!”

He was running back the way they had come. He
had the door open and they were through. Io shoved it shut behind them. They were moving down the hall as fast as Jack could move, but they both knew it wouldn’t be fast enough if the gargoyles came after them.

Behind them, they heard the damaged window finally shatter, and then ripping noises as the gargoyle tore into the wood of the door. A moment later a second set of claws joined in the destruction and a terrible ear-shredding howl filled the air.

Jack broke his connection with Io as they reached the door that led back to the garage. He pushed the invisibility spell into Io and then shoved her through the metal fire door. He slammed it shut, using his fire spell to melt the lock. A moment later two giant bodies hit the panel and started clawing.

Stone claws. Metal door. Io had a bad feeling that she knew which was stronger.

“Time to go—and I mean it!”

“Amen! Amen!” Jack answered, grabbing her arm.

The elevator in the garage was tempting but probably too slow. Taking it would also prove beyond any doubt that someone had been spying down here in the hive. They had to make an effort to cover their tracks.

Instead, they bolted for the maze of caves and prayed for a nearby manhole. Jack took the lead, the steel fist spell ready to flatten anything that got in their way.

He slowed their pace as they neared the exit to Watson Street. They had been lucky so far. No worker goblins had been in the tunnels, and there was no sign of gargoyle pursuit. It was time to take a breather and get back above ground. They were under a deserted part of Brush Park, and it was a good place to make an exit unseen.

“Slow down, honey. We’re okay.”

Io gratefully dropped to a walk and wiped the perspiration from her forehead.

“This is like jogging in a sauna.”

“Only less healthy,” Jack agreed. Then he felt himself laugh softly.

“What?” Io stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

“We’re alive,” he explained. “Don’t look now, but we just beat some really big odds. We are now members of that great mathematical fluke club,
the lucky
.”

“Oh. Yes, I guess we are. Alive.” Io didn’t laugh, but she managed a smile. “I didn’t know if our Laurel and Hardy style of jogging was going to work. I know we were flying, but it didn’t seem nearly fast enough with those things on our tail.”

“It did work though. You’ve got strong legs, little fey.”

“I wasn’t about to fall off you.”

Jack stopped and looked up the iron ladder to the manhole cover. There were a few minutes before daybreak.

“You know, I wondered whether being chased by gargoyles would make the spell-sharing less erotic.”

“Did it?” Io asked, not meeting his eyes.

“Hell, no. It just kept me from thinking real hard about lewd things. For a while.”

Io finally laughed, but the sound was an exhausted one.

“Without a doubt, this has been the longest night of my life,” she said.

“Time to go?” he asked.

“And then some.”

The weather had worsened while they were underground, and laid down a layer of slush on the street and buildings. Already the melting snow was stained and showing the wear and tear of the tourists’ feet in several patches of shady, unappealing gray in the hazy, unhealthy light of predawn.

“It isn’t exactly Currier and Ives material, is it?” Jack asked, sliding the manhole cover back into place.

“And snow? In October? It isn’t even Halloween. We have two days to go yet.” Io looked about tiredly as she put on her sunglasses. Their night in the underground had been exhausting.

“Well, it’s all tricks and few treats here in Goblin Town, even when it’s not Halloween.” Jack also slipped on his shades, covering his telltale eyes. They didn’t glow like Io’s, but they were odd enough to draw attention once the sun was up.

“Do you think Glashtin had a temper tantrum? If he really blew his top it could have caused a storm.”

“Could be.” Jack sounded distracted as he answered. “We’ll find out in the morning.”

“It is morning. Almost.”

“If it only snowed in here, then we’ll know for sure that’s what happened. Let’s go, honey. Time for adventurers to be in bed.”

“I wonder what set him off,” Io wondered. She began pushing through the slush, wincing as the cold water seeped into her sneakers.

Jack shrugged. “Or who. I’d like to know if someone has been getting in his way and somehow thwarting plans. This may be a case of the enemy of our enemy being our friend.”

“Or not. This is Goblin Town, and the natives like to s-s-squabble. Or maybe Horroban t-told him about the wrecked m-m-meeting.” Io’s teeth began to chatter. “Damn! It’s really cold.”

“Doubt the meeting was ‘wrecked’ for anyone except the goblin who got turned into Swiss cheese. And if it
was
anything important, we’ll hear about it tonight. In the meantime, try and forget about it. Come here. You look like a popsicle.”

“You say the most unromantic things,” she complained. But she moved closer.

Jack dropped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight. His body held the worst of the chill at bay. Io didn’t mind the tingle of magic on her skin anymore. She was getting used to it.

“Humor me, honey. I had a bad scare.”

“Yeah.”

“You are shaping up as a great partner, though. Damn! And to think I nearly drove you off.”

Io snorted. “It’s the harsh-but-effective form of on-the-job training. Wimps would never make it past their first date with you.”

They moved into the edges of Brush Park. The neighborhood was deserted. There was little reason for people to go there; it was mainly all rubble now, dominated by the few remaining ruined mansions of Little Paris. It was much more a place for gargoyles to haunt than an industrial underground.

“You know, it may be rushing things, but I can’t help but think that Halloween might be the perfect night for us to stage a raid.” Jack’s voice was again thoughtful.

“Because of all the parties?”

“Yep. We wouldn’t be able to do anything about the goblins up top because of the people, but the streams of masked tourists would give us somewhere to hide until we could get out of Dodge.”

“They’ll be after us, won’t they?” Io said quietly.

“Like the original Nemesis,” Jack agreed. He added, only half-kidding, “We may have to take a long vacation in some sunny southern clime if things go badly. Or even if they go really well.”

“Then we have a lot of preparations to make.”

Jack looked down at her, his expression as serious as Io had ever seen it. He finally said, “I’ll have
to take some time for a trip outside the city. I’ve got to drop these strawberries at the lab and tell a buddy of mine what we think is going on.”

In case we don’t make it out alive.
He didn’t say it, but Io realized what he really meant.

“You have a buddy?” Io asked, momentarily diverted.

“Yes, I have one or two. If we don’t end up with a goblin bounty on our heads, I’ll introduce you.”

“Okay.” It made no sense, but Io began to feel more cheerful. Jack having friends made him seem more normal.

“Anyhow, I’m always ready to travel, so this isn’t a problem for me. But can you be packed and ready to leave by Halloween night?” he asked. “Just in case we have to go straightaway.”

“I’ll have to be,” Io answered, feeling a pang for leaving her tree house and her animal companions. This was her first home that had actually ever felt like one; it was the first place she had even felt inclined to put down roots.

Jack frowned at her answer. “Look, little fey, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay, Jack.” She reached up and squeezed his hand and then leaned her cheek against it. “I learned early that nothing in this world is free, especially not if it involves goblins. These creatures have taken away everything I ever held dear. I’m willing to pay almost any price to stop this son of a bitch.”

“Let’s hope we can put it on the installment plan. This probably isn’t a bill we want to pay all at once,” Jack joked.

“I think I’d rather pay at once than go on paying forever. That’s why we have to stop him. The interest on this mess just keeps compounding. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to live in a world run by goblins. Anything compared to that is cheap.”

“Having a goblin king wouldn’t be my first choice of governmental systems, either. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

Jack walked with his arm around Io and pondered the mystery of where all the lovely—but entirely superficial—sexual draw had gone. When had his plans switched over from getting laid to taking on a new partner? Here he was, never actually having had sex with Io, and their magical chemistry absolutely demanding they do it, but she still felt more like a best friend and longtime lover rolled into one small but powerful bundle—

Maybe it came from actually sleeping together at night. Or sharing magic. That was a large step up from sharing a toothbrush.

Not that he didn’t want to have sex with her—he did. Goddess, yes! And badly enough that he was considering foregoing the matter of the ritual where she asked to be his lover. Did they really need those
words? If she didn’t actually say ‘no,’ wasn’t that as good as ‘yes’?

Who was he kidding?
They needed the ritual for safety. He had to get her to say the magic words.

Well, if they didn’t make love before sundown today, it wouldn’t be from lack of trying on his part. Yes, their schedule was full—what with trying to rescue a kid junkie, escape man-eating gargoyles, and foil a plot for world domination—but a man had to have priorities.

“Jack? You are looking awfully serious.”

“Was I? I can’t imagine what for.”

Io giggled. He looked down at her, amused, never having heard the sound before.

“Come on! What’s on your tiny little mind?”

“Truthfully?” he asked, surprising himself. “I was thinking about us—how we’ve become rather instantly intimate. No dates, no sex, but it’s like we’re married or something. We may have to go into business.”

Io nodded, also serious. “Being in each other’s minds is a little like walking around in front of each other without any of the usual emotional clothing, isn’t it? And I’m not sure if I like being a nudist on such short acquaintance.”

“I am fairly sure that
I
like your being a nudist,” Jack joked. “Or will once I have the opportunity to take a long look. Of course, I’d be willing to trade stripteases—real clothes for emotional ones—if it would make you feel better.”

Io didn’t giggle this time. Her arms were wrapped about her waist as she hugged herself either against the cold or his words. Her face was both wistful and a little frightened as she looked up. Snow was beginning to fall again, flat gray flakes that looked like a plague of dying moths fluttering in death spirals as they crashed to the ground. They caught in her hair and on her cheeks, hiding the flush of her skin.

“Is this the time for the relationship talk?” she asked, turning her gaze away, her eyes once again scanning the doorways and windows for lurking figures.

She stared at one sign for a long moment, causing Jack to also look up and see what had her attention:

FUSS & PHILPOTT
ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW

Jack snorted and then answered her question.

“Hell, no. This is the time for a sex talk. And it can be kept short and sweet.”

Io nodded once. “And all I have to say are the…um, ten? Ten magic words?”

“Yeah, ten.”
Eat my heart. Drink my soul. Love me to death.

Jack had to admit that they sounded rather ominous. In her shoes, he wouldn’t be enthusiastic about saying them.

“However, I’ve been thinking about that,” he
amended. “I think perhaps we could get by with two words—if they’re the right two. And my name. I’d like to hear you say my name.”

Eat me. Drink me. Love me, Jack
. Yes, any of those would do.

“The words wouldn’t be ‘me, me, me,’ would they?” Io asked.

“No. Not unless this is just about riding the adrenaline rush.” Jack looked down into her sunglasses, wishing he could see her eyes. “If this is about lust, then ‘Oh, God’ will do just fine.”

“Hmph! I like ‘me, me, me,’ but I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.”

“The timing of this sucks,” she told him. “I don’t want a lover right now. Frankly, I didn’t want a fey lover
ever
.”

“The timing sucks,” he agreed. “Unfortunately it may be the only time we have.”

“I know. And I’m definitely thinking about that.” Io slid an arm about his waist, sinking into his body and letting down her barriers so the feelings he was trying to elicit could come. “I’m thinking hard, Jack. And I don’t believe this is just adrenaline.”

“Neither do I.”

Io paused. “But we can’t really know, can we? I’ve never been in a situation like this before—getting almost killed every night, sharing magic several times a day. What I feel could just be some hormonal, magical, specie-survival thing.”

Jack wanted to disavow the idea, but answered honestly, “No, we can’t
know.
Not yet, anyway. But I can tell you sincerely that almost being eaten by a gargoyle doesn’t usually turn my crank.”

“But how about sharing the hocus-pocus?
Mmmm
.” She sighed as his magic lapped at her in a warm gentle wave. Jack was very careful not to let anything get too strong. It was time to be mellow.

He rested a cheek on the top of her head. Her hair smelled like verbena and was as soft as any silk ever spun, if a little cold and clammy.

“I like the way you think, little fey. At least, most of the time. But maybe you could stop thinking now. We’ve had plenty of insights for one night.”

She chuckled and remarked, “You’re really good with the juju, Jack. I don’t even feel my wet feet now.”

“Some women see stars, some get warm feet,” he said lightly, stopping to look up at the parapets of his building. No gargoyles were glaring down at them, at least no living ones.

They climbed the stoop to Jack’s appropriated manor and he fiddled the lock with a short spell, letting them in. He carefully warded the door behind them once they were through—it wasn’t a night for taking any more chances with the outside world.

Chances with each other were another matter. Those he was up for. Eager for them, actually.

Though the building felt empty, Jack and Io went
quickly and silently up to his room, and didn’t speak until the lamp was lit and the flame turned high. Dawnlight was stealing in the windows, but it was cold and comfortless. Io didn’t like fire, but this felt right since it came from Jack’s power.

“What are you thinking now, little fey?” Jack asked quietly. “Reached any decisions about adrenaline and magic words?”

“What am I thinking?” She laughed without much humor, then quoted:

‘D
O NOT STORE UP FOR YOURSELVES TREASURES ON EARTH
,
WHERE MOTH AND RUST DESTROY
,
AND WHERE THIEVES BREAK IN AND STEAL
. B
UT STORE UP FOR YOURSELVES TREASURES IN HEAVEN
,
WHERE MOTH AND RUST DO NOT DESTROY
,
AND WHERE THIEVES DO NOT BREAK IN AND STEAL
. F
OR WHERE YOUR TREASURE IS, THERE YOUR HEART WILL ALSO BE
.’

“Matthew Six: nineteen to twenty-one.” Jack nodded, smiling a bit at her surprised look. “Hey, it’s not my religion, but I respect strong magic wherever I find it.”

He pulled off his sunglasses and then his sweater. Firelight played over his marred chest. “So, does that rather long Biblical passage mean the answer is
yes
?”

“I’m trying to find an argument against it,” she said earnestly. “Because a week ago it would have been out of the question for us to be lovers. I don’t do sex
with feys—ever! But knowing that we almost died tonight—that we might very well be dead two nights from now—has sort of put things in a different perspective. So…yes.”

She took off her sunglasses and let her eyes fill with emotion. “Yes, it means
yes. Love me, Jack.
”

“Little fey, I thought you’d never ask.”

Jack reached for her, this time holding nothing back. But he didn’t force anything either. Magic flowed, connecting them, and soon grew luminous. Between them, they created a different kind of enchantment—not one of fire, not water, not air, not earth. It felt familiar, like something he should know but—

Love.

No, that was ridiculous. It couldn’t be. Death feys did not love.
Love me, Jack
, was only a ritual phrase of consent that would keep the encounter from being one-sided. It would keep it from being a rape when the moment came for their hearts to join and her life would be placed in his hands.

So it was just adrenaline?

No! Damn it—it wasn’t that either. He didn’t have a label for it and didn’t want one. Whatever the source of this magical fascination, it was the start of
something
magnificent. Analyzing it would just kill the joy. It was like he had told Io: It was time to stop thinking.

Jack’s voice had gone low and delicious and deep. His power reached for her, calling to the magic that
was inside her softer, small body. It was magic built into her blood, flesh, and bones—and it answered. The fascination he conjured with his voice was something rich that Io wanted to wade into, to pull over her entire body and roll in it like a cat in a bed of catnip.