Things had started well. I’d gated out of the Hollow without being detected, and the futures in which the Council attacked our shadow realm had quickly faded. Vari and Luna had gotten away without picking up any tails, and by contacting them through the dreamstone, I was able to confirm that they weren’t being pursued. I took a gate stone to New Zealand and set about trying to lose my pursuers.
It had worked . . . at first. By scanning ahead, I could tell in advance when the Council teams were going to be dropping in on my location, and be gone long before they arrived. For three hours I hopped around the world, gating from point to point, always one jump ahead. Somewhere around the fourth hour, though, things changed. The futures came apart and re-formed, and the Council’s response times began to shrink. I didn’t know what they’d started doing differently, but it was effective. Each time I would gate, I’d have less of a lead before they’d start to narrow down my position.
The last time I’d been on the run like this, I’d managed to keep ahead of the Council forces for a full month. But that time, I’d been running from Levistus and his personal troops. This time it was the whole Council, and it was frightening how persistent they were. They just didn’t stop, and they could keep this up forever.
Right now, the problem I was facing was gate stones. Without the ability to cast my own gate spells as an elemental mage could, I had to rely on focuses to travel. But each gate stone worked for only one place, and each time the Council tracked me to one of those locations, that gate stone became effectively useless. I’ve stockpiled a lot of gate stones over the years, but I only had so many with me, and right now more than half of the ones I was carrying were to locations that had been already compromised. Normally a gate stone being compromised isn’t a big deal, since your enemies can’t realistically camp out at a gate destination for days on end just on the off chance you decide to show up. Unfortunately, the Council did have the manpower to camp at all my gate destinations just on the off chance I decided to show up. Which was the reason that I was hiding in this skyscraper in New York.
I rummaged left-handed in my pocket and pulled out two gate stones, staring down at them. Both were about the size of a finger joint; one was river rock, worn smooth, while the other was cut and treated brick. Two left. I’d started with seven. I didn’t want to go down to one, but I couldn’t stall forever . . .
Movement in the futures caught my attention, and I realised the question had become academic. I looked around; the service room didn’t have a lock, but there was a wedge on a shelf. I shoved it under the door and waited.
Footsteps sounded from out in the corridor, coming closer. From the futures where I opened the door, I could see that it was a man in his thirties, clean-shaven with brown hair. He wasn’t wearing a uniform, but something about him gave me the feeling of a cop or investigator. His footsteps slowed as he approached my position, coming to a stop. “Receiving,” he said. His accent was American. I could imagine him standing out there, looking from side to side as he spoke into his mike.
A moment’s silence, then he spoke again. “Nothing.” The door was thin and I could hear the man clearly. He was standing less than ten feet away. “We have any eyes?”
Pause.
“Thought the Brits were searching ground floor up.”
Pause.
“Well, how do they know he’s here, then?”
Another pause. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying to the man, but it didn’t make him happy. “Confirm, moving to tenth floor.” His voice dropped to a mutter. “Don’t know why we’re cleaning up their shit . . .” His footsteps approached, stopping outside.
I held my breath, keeping very still. The handle rattled. My left hand was closed around my stun focus. This guy wasn’t a mage, but he could still raise the alarm. I’d have to take him out in one move.
The handle rattled again, but the wedge held. Then the footsteps were moving away, down the corridor and towards the lift.
I waited twenty seconds, then very quietly reached down to remove the wedge, opened the door, and slipped out, closing it behind me. From around the corner, I could hear the man talking on his radio again. I turned the other way and moved to the stairs, my footsteps quick and soft. Once I’d made it out onto the stairwell, I breathed a little easier.
As I went up the stairs, I reached out through the dreamstone. Luna. Situation?
There was a little resistance, but not much. Distance didn’t seem to be as much of a barrier to the dreamstone with all the practice I’d been putting in. All good, Luna said. It looks like the mansion’s settling down for the night.
Onyx and Pyre still there?
Haven’t seen them leave.
I reached the fourteenth floor and opened the stairwell door quietly, stepping through into a corridor just like the one below. Any problems with Kyle?
He and Vari were arguing a bit, but they seem to be getting on better now. Are you safe?
Getting hunted, I said. I looked down the corridor, wondering where to hide. There was a service room on this level too, but I didn’t want to pull the same trick too many times. The apartments seemed like better choices. You and Vari have had enough time to get a feel for the area. What do you think?
If it were just about making it in, I’d say no problem, Luna answered. These guys are pretty amateur hour. It’s what happens once we reach the statue that I’m worried about.
You’ve got the cube?
Oh yeah. But you remember how long it took to open last time? It was what, three minutes? That’s going to feel like a freaking month when we’re trying to hold them off.
I checked to see which apartments were empty and which were occupied. A row of three along the left side showed no response in the futures where I banged on the door. They also had balconies looking out onto the Hudson River, giving me an emergency exit. How soon can we move?
We’ve been watching the lights start to go off, Luna said. These guys stay up late though. Kyle thinks we should wait another few hours.
I stopped in front of the apartment I’d chosen. Okay.
Can you stay ahead of the Keepers that long?
I’ll just have to, won’t I? I reached for my lockpicks. We should . . . I trailed off, my heart sinking. Oh shit.
Alex? What’s wrong?
Sometimes it’s the little things that screw you up. I’ve been picking locks for years, and it’s something that I’ve come to take for granted; if there’s a locked door, then unless it’s something really fancy, I can get through with a minute’s work. Lockpicking is straightforward: you apply tension with a wrench, then use a pick on the pins.
Which takes two hands.
Problem, I said. Give me a sec. I searched through hundreds and then thousands of futures, looking for ones in which I picked the lock. I didn’t even come close. There was no way I was getting through that door.
Change of plan. I turned back towards the stairwell, and—
—shit. My thoughts raced. Stairwell would draw pursuit. Lift was suicide. All that left was the service room. I ran down the corridor and slipped inside. Again I wedged the door and waited.
One minute passed. Two. I heard the sound of an opening door, along with echoes from the stairwell. The door closed. Footsteps came down the corridor, slowed, stopped.