WarriorsApprentice (12 page)

“Ah, the young are such philistines.” Reminiscence took
Tybor’s mind off his pain for a moment. “Venice has always been a city of
learning, a repository for books from around the world, a gathering point for
students of the occult. Ley lines deep within the earth meet under this city.
For centuries human
and
Dvalinn have been drawn here. You know the
cemetery island, San Michele, is a portal.”

Huon’s head swung round from his position at the head of
their little parade. “You came here? For books?”

“Books and intellectual discussion.”

Huon’s mouth gaped open and Tybor laughed.

“What’s the matter? Didn’t think I’d be interested in that
sort of stuff?”

Huon turned back to face ahead but his words carried back.
“You’re not an intellectual. You’re a soldier, a fighter.”

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted,” Tybor
grunted.

Huon didn’t answer. He took another couple of steps and
turned a corner.

“Here it is.”

“At last.” Tybor looked down on the sleek black craft
rocking gently on the water. “You go aboard and I’ll ease the—ah—parcel down to
you.”

Huon leapt down, light and nimble on his feet, balancing
more easily on the narrow boat than Tybor would have expected from a land-born
creature. He held up his arms and Tybor pushed the corpse down to him. Huon
caught it and staggered back, pulling the body with him. Rigor mortis kept the
body stiff so it lay across the seats like a board.

“Maybe we should have stolen a Venetian funeral boat or one
those cigarette boats. They’d be faster.”

Tybor glanced around him. “Boats like that are not just left
tied up with no security. This will have to do. At least it’s quiet.”

As soon as Huon had the body settled, Tybor stepped onto the
rear decking and picked up the single oar. Huon plucked it from his hands.

“I’ll do that. You’re wounded, remember.”

He held the oar across his body like a machine gun, then
shifted his grip, leaned to one side and dipped the oar in the water. The boat
heeled to the right and Tybor flung himself to the left, slamming his hands
onto the body and holding it to keep it from rolling off into the canal.

“Take it easy. We want this guy overboard, but not until we
get out of the city.”

Huon pulled the oar from the water and stepped back into the
center.

The boat rocked wildly from side to side, then steadied.
Huon glared at Tybor as if daring him to say something. He looked around, his
gaze settling on the S-shaped piece of wood, like a serpent with a gaping
mouth.

Tybor nodded. “The oar goes—”

Huon didn’t let him finish. “I can figure this out for
myself. You don’t have to tell me everything.”

He put one foot onto the starboard side but when the boat
began to list, he pulled it back, dropped to his knees and reached over to
slide the oar home. When it was seated firmly, he stood up and changed his
position on the rear deck until the boat lay flat and balanced in the water.

“I watched them doing this yesterday. It shouldn’t be too
hard.”

He pushed down on the handle of the oar, lifting it out of
the canal, then pulled back so the blade moved forward. He raised his hands and
made a long, deep sweep. It took more force than he’d expected. The gondola
surged ahead a foot, then stopped dead. The impetus made him stumble forward.
He righted himself, resumed his position and tried again—with the same result.

“Permission to speak?” Tybor barely got the words out
without laughing.

“What? You think you could do better?”

Tybor grinned, at this moment more lighthearted than he’d
felt for centuries. “I’m sure of it.” He couldn’t suppress his amusement any
longer. “First of all, I’d…” A chuckle escaped and he had to breathe deeply to
be able to speak. “I think you’ll find it’s much easier if you untie the mooring
rope.” He fell back against the side of the boat, laughing so hard tears rolled
down his cheeks. “If you could see yourself.”

Huon tugged on the rope until the boat bumped against the
red-and-white-striped pole on the dock. He lifted the loop over the top and
threw it down into the well of the gondola, then took up the oar again. This
time the boat glided away. The grin he sent Tybor was so smug it set the
laughter off again. When the next stroke sent the gondola skittering along a
wall, Tybor stood up.

“Enough is enough. I told you I spent time in Venice. I know
how to do this.”

Huon opened his mouth but Tybor stilled the protest he knew
was coming. “I’ll show you how it’s done, then you can take over. Okay?”

Huon relinquished the oar and Tybor began to move in a
rhythmic, rocking motion.

“The key is to be steady and smooth and not take too deep a
bite of the water. You control the direction by the way you move the oar in the
oar lock.”

He demonstrated and the boat slipped, silent and straight,
down the canal.

They came to a junction and Tybor backed the oar until the
boat turned to the left, then rowed in the new direction.

“How did you know which way to go? Have
you
memorized
every canal in Venice?”

Tybor shrugged. “We know the Grand Canal is that way.” He
gestured with his chin. “It runs like an S through the city. All the canals
empty out into the lagoon eventually, so as long as I move away from the Grand
Canal we should be fine.” He lifted his face into the evening breeze. “Besides,
I can smell open water.”

“You’re amazing. You know that?” Huon blew out a long
breath. ”You can do everything better than me, even with a fucking torn
artery.”

“Which is making my arm ache and my head spin.” He thrust
the handle of the oar to Huon. “I’ve shown you what to do. You take over.”

As always, Huon demonstrated what a quick learner he was. His
movements mimicked Tybor’s and the boat continued on its way. Tybor subsided
onto a seat. Because there was no room, he leaned against the body.

More than just his arm ached. Weariness made his muscles
shake and he longed to close his eyes and sleep.

He turned back to Huon. “You’re right. I’m not strong enough
yet. I should have let you row. You’re quick—you’d have picked it up without my
help.”

The oar stilled in the water for a moment. In the dark,
Huon’s eyes were wide, still wells of black. “I’m grateful for the lesson
anyway. For all the lessons.”

Tybor shrugged. “I’m not sure there’s much more I’ll need to
teach you. It’s no longer teacher and student. From here on in, we’re a team.”

A smile spread across Huon’s face but he quickly turned his
head away.

“Which way?”

“What do you think?”

Huon looked behind him, then pointed down a dark, narrow
canal. “There.”

Tybor nodded.

A few minutes later they broke free of the surrounding
buildings and floated onto the lagoon. Huon twisted around, looking behind him then
turning to peer into the darkness over the prow.

“I think this is somewhere near where I arrived in Venice.”
He pointed. “The cemetery island is over there.”

“We won’t make it that far. This human is destined for a
watery grave.” Tybor waited while Huon rowed. “That’s far enough. The water is
getting choppy.” He braced his back against the side of the gondola and put his
feet on the body. “I should be able to roll him from here. You get ready to
balance the boat once he goes overboard. I won’t be able to move quickly
enough.”

Huon shipped the oar and waited, poised on the balls of his
feet.

Tybor straightened his knees with a jerk and the body
rolled, toppling into the water with a splash. Huon dropped to the right-hand
side of the craft, arms spread along the gunwales, and waited until Tybor
uncurled from his position and took a seat. Then he picked up the oar,
reinserted it and turned the gondola back toward the city.

Tybor grinned. “We make a good team.”

“Yeah, we do.” Huon leaned over and picked up a gondolier’s
straw boater hat that had been hidden under the blanket-draped body. He slapped
it on his head, the red ribbons fluttering rakishly in the breeze. He winked at
Tybor. “And here we are, just a gondolier and his customer, taking a late-night
cruise.” He drew a deep breath and began to sing. “When the moon hits your eye
like a big pizza pie…”

“Shut up,” Tybor snapped, the good humor disappearing as if
it had never been. “We got rid of one Gatekeeper. We know there are more.”

Sobering instantly, Huon snatched the hat off his head and
applied himself to rowing the gondola silently through the water. “We have to
see Judie Scanlon again, and this time we have to get something more than sex
from her.”

“And then we kill her,” Tybor said grimly.

In the stark, white light of the moon, Huon’s eyes looked
huge. “If we can get the information we need without killing her, that will be
enough, won’t it?” he asked, and Tybor could hear the note of pleading in his
voice.

“She’s Hopewood’s weapons designer. She’s as guilty as he
is,” he replied. “Don’t go soft on me just because you enjoyed her body. It was
just sex. Sex is not special. She’s not special. She’s the enemy. Never forget
that.”

Neither of them spoke again. When Huon brought the gondola
bumping into the mooring, he tied the rope off and they made their way back to
the hotel, avoiding any alley where people moved, sticking to the shadowed side
of the streets and holding themselves still and hidden when they heard human
voices.

They reached the hotel and Tybor put out his hand to stop
Huon. “We can’t stay here. Now that we’ve got rid of the body we have to find
somewhere else to stay.”

“I’ll go up and get our gear,” Huon whispered and he slipped
up the stairs.

* * * * *

After a sleepless night, Judie spent the morning tidying her
lab. Brian had sent the remaining five Gatekeepers out onto the streets,
looking for a trace of Abraham Lewis. After lunch, Hopewood strode in to her workspace,
shouting instructions, ordering her to prepare weapons for the Gatekeepers’
return

“They haven’t been tested yet, Brian,” she protested.
“They’re electrical devices, I don’t want anyone hurt.”

“They’re meant to kill demons,” he replied. “As long as they
do that, you’ve done your job.”

Except of course her job was a complete waste of time. It
didn’t matter what her weapons did. Brian was sending his Gatekeepers out to
murder fictitious creatures. He might as well have pointed his finger and
yelled “bang”. As long as Brian thought he’d killed them, they were dead.

“Where are the detectors?” Brian asked, searching through
the guns, wires and battery packs on her workbench.

“There are only two.” Judie yawned. “You have one and
Abraham has the other one.”

“Make more,” Brian snapped. “Have them ready by tomorrow
morning.”

“Can’t,” she said, stifling another yawn. “We don’t have one
of the major components.”

His face grew blotchy and his nostrils flared, so she raced
through her explanation.

“They’re made specially to order from a lab in the USA. It
will be another three weeks before they get here and nothing can be done to
speed the process up.” She took a quick breath. “I told you about that. You
said as long as we had two working models you could wait.”

“That was before Abraham disappeared,” Hopewood said. “If
the demons are coming after us everything has changed.”

“You don’t know that, Brian,” she said, keeping her tone as
reasonable and as rational as she could. “There are a lot of things that could
have happened to Abraham. I really do think you ought to contact the police.”

“This is not a police matter and what I do is not your
concern. Get onto the supplier and hurry those parts up,” Hopewood said, then
marched back into his office and slammed the door.

Working for Brian had gone from weird to ridiculous. Even
though it meant she’d be out of a very well-paying job, even though it meant
leaving Venice, as soon as they found out where Abraham was and Brian had time
to calm down to his normal level of bat-shit insanity, she would quit.

She let her eyes drift shut just for a minute. Her head sank
to the hard surface. She was vaguely aware of Brian’s voice droning on, making
phone call after phone call behind the closed door of his office.

“If that’s the best you can do, you might as well leave.”

Brian’s curt voice snapped Judie awake and she lifted her
head and looked in disgust at the puddle of dribble on her workbench. She wiped
her mouth, sat up and rolled her aching neck and shoulders. It didn’t help. She
still hurt. A lot. Afternoon naps at her desk were not a good idea.

Hopewood stood there looking crisp and unwrinkled. It was
just possible that she hated him.

She trudged out of the door and up the stairs to her
apartment, opened the door and walked to her bed, dropping facedown onto the
pillows, fully dressed. She closed her eyes and willed her aching body to rest,
but she imagined the soft aroma of Ty or Huon or both rose from the crumpled
sheets and pillows. Her groin tightened and her blood pounded. She wrapped her
arms around the pillow and rolled over, clutching it to her. Moisture dampened
her panties and she writhed on the bed as her muscles twitched in response to
the memory of their night together.

Her skin felt tight and itchy and she knew that there would
be no rest here.

With a sigh she stood up, grabbed her bag and headed out. If
she couldn’t sleep she needed coffee—dark, strong and plentiful—to keep her
gritty eyes open, to keep her wits about her.

She slipped into a chair outside a cafe in Piazza San Marco
and ordered coffee and cake. She sipped the dark espresso but her appetite had
deserted her and she poked at the cake with her fork until it crumbled on the
plate.

“If you’d done that before they got rid of the pigeons you’d
be swamped in feathers by now.”