She knew he was exaggerating. He’d still managed to climb a cathedral just fine. “Oh, come on, Jacques. Even zombies don’t eat that fast, and there’s plenty of extra helpings on you.”
He looked offended and tried to suck in his gut.
If he was going to send her into Dead City to get murdered, she didn’t feel any particular reason to be polite about it. “I’m sick and tired of you not telling me anything and keeping secrets. You need to spit it out right now. Who is it I’m supposed to talk to here and why? It better be a good answer or I’m leaving.”
“Feel free; you came to me, remember?” She could have simply Traveled away and never looked back, but she didn’t, and they both knew why. Faye did not want to end up a homicidal madman like the last Spellbound. Faye put her hands on her hips and waited.
“Very well then. The man you are looking for inside those walls was once a knight of the Grimnoir. His name is Zachary. He assisted me in my original investigation of the Spellbound. If anyone can answer the questions regarding your curse and if you are doomed to follow in the footsteps of Sivaram, it is he.”
She looked in disbelief at the walls, and then back at Jacques. No living person would be caught dead in there. “He’s a zombie…”
Jacques nodded. “Sadly, yes. Several years ago we were battling some Soviet agents in Hungary. Zachary was killed while under the effects of a Lazarus’ curse, so he came back from the dead.”
Faye winced as she remembered poor Delilah. “I’m familiar.”
“When the pain became too much to bear, and he felt he was becoming a danger to those around him, he banished himself here. Zachary possesses an extremely rare type of magic, one which the forces of evil would go to great lengths to secure for themselves if they realized it truly existed. His Power was one of our best kept secrets, and very few knights knew of him. Zachary came here to live in solitude and secrecy. Since then, he has still offered his knowledge willingly to the society when asked, but no one has spoken to him in quite some time.”
“How do you know he’s still…”—she almost said alive, but that wouldn’t do at all—“around?”
“I do not know for sure. It has been years since his last contact with the outside world. The last time I tried to speak with him was when the question of your identity was raised. Alas, he did not answer the summons on his ring. I do not know if that was because he was unable, or if he no longer cares enough to bother.”
Faye sighed. So not only was she going into Dead City, she was going to do it for somebody who might not even be sane enough to answer her questions. It wasn’t like the undead were known for their calm. “So this fella knows more about Sivaram than you do?”
Jacques shook his head. “I am afraid not. I am the expert on that sad individual.”
“Then why—”
“Zachary can see the future.”
Jacques Montand was true to his word. He would wait the twenty-four hours before leaving Germany, never to look back. It was deeply troubling that he was so willing to abandon the poor girl to such a dark fate, but that was only if he was thinking of her as Faye, the helpful, earnest, courageous young woman, rather than as the Spellbound, a lethal vampiric curse bound in flesh, destined to turn into an engine of homicidal madness, and a prototype of things to come. Then the idea was not so difficult to bear.
She had gone alone into the city. It would be exceedingly dangerous, but he suspected Faye would come back. She was one of the only Actives in the world capable of traversing Dead City alone and making it back alive. It would surely be lethal for almost anyone else, as had been demonstrated by a more than a few foolish treasure-hunting expeditions into the interior. Faye was different, though. Her combination of natural craftiness, quick thinking, and seemingly limitless Power made her an unstoppable force. She was quite the weapon for good. It was so tempting to believe that she could stay on a righteous path, but Jacques had seen far too much in his long life to hold to such naïve idealism.
The hotel room was too quiet, but such was the nature of the suburbs of Dead City, a place of perpetual nerves and whispers. The quiet made it too easy to think, and he was not a man at ease, for those who had difficult decisions to make seldom where. He had kept his word and Faye’s continued existence was still a secret to the other elders. His knights had been sworn to secrecy, which had been easy to do since none of them realized just what was at stake. The idea that he was somehow assisting the greatest danger to mankind gnawed at his conscience.
It would have been so much simpler if she had been a snarling killer instead of a charming young girl.
Assuming Zachary was still available, he would be able to help give her direction. His Power was unreliable at best, but perhaps their fortunes had shifted, and his visions would show some good possible outcomes for Faye to work toward. Doubtful. Jacques took another shot of bourbon. It was more likely that Zachary’s visions were still the same as they were before. Then, Faye would come to understand just how dangerous she really was. It would either serve to temper her recklessness and prolong the inevitable, or sadly, but perhaps for the best, Faye would simply kill herself and spare them the trouble of having to deal with the Power’s dangerous manipulations for another generation.
Before he had been lost, when their Soothsayer had foretold the coming of a new Spellbound, all of the potential outcomes had ended in rivers of blood and skies of fire. He had never foretold any otherworldly Enemy or hypothetical Pathfinder, but then again, none of them had known to ask.
Letting Faye live was an incredible risk. Jacques took the vial from his shirt pocket and studied the unassuming liquid through the clear glass. The girl was trusting. It would be so simple to place a few drops of this into her food or drink. Her death would be swift and nearly painless.
Why did you have to put me in this predicament, Whisper?
There was a sudden warmth in his body, and it wasn’t from the alcohol spreading through his bloodstream. His Grimnoir ring was burning with sudden magical energy. Someone was attempting to contact him, and by the amount of Power being channeled, it was someone rather capable, more than likely another of the seven elders. Had they found out? Did they know he was sheltering the Spellbound?
Placing the lethal toxin back in his pocket, Jacques went to his luggage and removed a small pocket mirror, which he had already engraved and bound with spells for just such an occasion. He set it on the bed and willed his own magic to connect. It only took a second for the Power to activate and for the communication spell to take hold. The mirror began to glow as it lifted from the covers to hover at eye height. It seemed to spin about as others joined the conversation. He recognized many of his longtime compatriots from around the world and various other prominent knights, some of whom appeared to have just been woken from sleep. A few of the faces seemed to be blurred and dark, much as his would appear to the others, a magical protection to conceal the identity of the elders. So this was not an interrogation, but rather an emergency conference. He breathed a sigh of relief.
And then the spell settled on the man who had called so many from across the entirety of the Earth. It was not one of the seven elders looking back at him, but rather it was the hard, square-jawed face of Heavy Jake Sullivan, who, despite his relative inexperience, displayed a subtle mastery of magic which already rivaled or surpassed many of the elders. Sullivan was a dangerous, dedicated, and passionate individual, and his adamant insistence on the existence of the Chairman’s mythological Enemy had caused many of their best young knights to join his futile quest.