There was a crack at the back of the boat as Zhao kicked the superchilled handcuffs and the chain snapped in two, then a splash as the frozen policeman rolled into the river.
They’d have to regroup. Figure out how bad they’d been hit… But he feared the answer. Was there any coming back from this? “Barns, get us out of here.”
Chapter 17
If I only had to fight one enemy, this war would already be won. Instead I have the Kaiser’s zombies and wizards on one front and your wife and her blasted devil monk on the other. I do not care how strong his magic or how true his prophecies. He is a malignant growth on the Motherland and if you do not remove him then I will find someone who will. You are aware of what the men with the black rings would do if they learned of his abominable experiments.
Somewhere in Eastern Europe
Zachary had not written the man’s name under his picture. He’d only given him a title. The Black Monk.
Faye knew nothing about the Black Monk, nothing at all.
Except that she was supposed to kill him.
He hadn’t been hard to find. She didn’t really know her way around, she didn’t even speak the language, but luckily for her, one of the many pictures of this event had showed a road sign with the names of two towns and the distance between them. It had taken a lot of Traveling in constant short hops, and then sleeping overnight like a hobo on a train that was heading east, and then a lot more Traveling the next day too to get there. She hadn’t asked Jacques for directions, because frankly, she didn’t really want him involved. Did Jacques or the Grimnoir even know who the Black Monk was? Did it matter?
Her magic was burning bright. Her head map was showing her a larger area. She’d been in the building when Zachary had climbed into the furnace, so she suspected that she’d stolen his connection to the Power too. Magically, she was fine, but physically and emotionally, she was a mess. She was tired, hungry, and still smelled like Dead City. Faye knew she probably looked a little crazy, with crazy-person hair that had bits of plants and burlap stuck in it, but that’s what she got for sleeping on a train like a hobo.
She was all by herself. And knowing what she knew now, that was probably for the best. Jacques had said the Spellbound couldn’t have friends, but even he didn’t realize just how dangerous she could become to everyone. There was a job that only she could do, and anyone around her might get consumed in the process.
Faye had spent so much of her life surrounded by people, with a huge family crammed into one tiny shack, but she’d spent most of those years living another life inside her own head. She hadn’t minded the idea of being lonely back then so much. Heck, she might have welcomed the idea. It wasn’t until finding Grandpa and the years in California, and then the Grimnoir knights after, that Faye had found she didn’t like being by herself. She liked people. She liked them a lot. But she didn’t want to destroy them even more.
Alone. It was for the best, Faye told herself, even though the idea of maybe never seeing Francis again made her heart ache.
The road sign looked exactly like the one in Zachary’s picture. She’d found the name of a town on a map at the train station and had been heading in that direction ever since. She didn’t know how much ground she’d covered over several hundred Travels. She wasn’t even sure what country she was in. There was a valley past that sign, and there was a village in that valley. She could see the white church steeple from here. The bell was ringing… It simply wouldn’t do to kill the Black Monk in front of his congregation, so Faye sat down by the road sign and waited.
It could all have been an elaborate plot. Trick the poor naïve Okie girl, make her think all sorts of craziness was afoot, and then give her a picture of a man you wanted murdered and let her do it for you… Except Faye knew that wasn’t it at all. There were plenty of easier ways to kill a man than to bring a Traveler across the whole world and trick them with zombies to do it for you. That was just stupid.
Plus, Faye could feel it. The Enemy was there, just outside of the world, and she could feel it pushing to get in. She’d felt it before, but hardly anybody had believed her. The Enemy was closer now. That was undeniable. And on the other side of it was her Power, that seemingly endless river of magic, but beyond that was the Spellbound curse, and the curse wanted to be used. The Power wanted her to do the job that Sivaram had been too weak to do. Somehow the Black Monk was part of that.
Faye got tired of waiting and got tired of smelling like Dead City and tired of knowing she looked like a crazy person, so she found an isolated stream to bathe in. The water was freezing cold, but it was worth it to scrub the dust of Dead City off of her skin. Bathing gave her a chance to shiver, but more importantly, a chance to slow down and think.
She was flying fast and blind, getting into things over her head. She didn’t know why the Power wanted her to kill this man, but it did. What about all her promises to remain good? Was she about to prove Jacques right? The Power wanted this to happen. Every one of the Zachary’s pictures of the event turned out the same, with her killing the Black Monk.
Regardless of fortune tellers or the wishes of big magical space jellyfish, Faye wasn’t a slave to magic and she wasn’t a slave to some zombie’s pictures. She’d make up her own mind…
And as soon as she thought about that, she knew it was a lie. If she really wanted to make a stand, why even come here to begin with? Why confront the Black Monk at all? Why not just keep on Traveling down the road? Shanghai was where she was really needed.
Except deep down inside she knew she wasn’t ready to face the Enemy yet.
She dried off in the sun, put on clean clothes, and checked the .45 Mr. Browning had given her and the big knife Lance had made for her, before popping into the village, being extra careful to appear in a place where nobody would see her. It was easy enough to do, since her head map told her almost everybody was inside the church. She picked a house where no one was home, popped inside, and ate some of their thick-crusted bread and strong-flavored cheese. Really, it was more of a hut than a house. Having grown up dirt poor and hungry, she knew how important that bread and cheese might be for humble folks like this. She felt bad for eating their food, but she made sure to leave a bunch of extra money in the pantry she’d taken the food from. It wasn’t Russian money, but she figured it might still do them some good.
Faye ate and thought. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t particularly want to kill anybody, unless they were bad, of course, but she had to see this through.
The church was clearing out. The people were going home. Now was her chance.
She found the Black Monk inside the chapel. He was putting out candles under a big statue of Jesus. Forgive me for this, and I’d do it someplace else if I had the time. Sorry, Lord.
Zachary had probably given him the title because of his robes. They were big, billowy, dark things. The top of his head was bald, but he had wild, long black hair on the back and sides, and a huge, unkempt, bushy beard. He was very tall, very thin, but with wide shoulders and arms that seemed too long, and hands that seemed too big. He heard her footsteps on the stone, and said a greeting in a language she didn’t understand. When she didn’t answer, he turned to see who his visitor was. His skin was pale, like he didn’t see the sun too much, and when he turned to look at her, his eyes were as black as his robes.