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four

Cal

Cal’s stomach sank as he took in the Brotherhood goons crowding the entrance to his safe house.

It figured. He should’ve known he was due some ill luck.

He shot a quick glare at the inspector’s turned back.

He didn’t care how attractive Griff was, with that handsome face and firm muscles hidden beneath his drab trench coat.

Without his meddling, none of this would’ve happened.

Cal had been free and clear with both his hefty payday and that void relic in hand.

Leave it to a Dark-cursed inspector to ruin everything.

After meeting him at the Siren’s Call, Cal had wondered if his newfound reputation had truly been earned.

Now, he had his answer.

No wonder the Watch had failed so spectacularly to catch a single thief when their top inspector couldn’t even conduct a simple investigation without being followed.

If you thought about it, this was really the inspector’s mess to clean up, not his.

Let him deal with it.

Moving as quietly as he could, Cal kept up his disguise as an elderly woman while he hobbled away from the door deeper into the apartment.

He knew of at least three different exit points he could use to slip away the instant he was out of view.

He would miss this safehouse, though.

The apartment itself was nothing special, but the location near the docks had been mighty convenient.

Plus, one of his downstairs neighbors routinely baked him sweets when he was around.

He’d only taken a handful of steps when the head enforcer’s beady eyes narrowed on him.

“Hold up!” she said loudly, speaking over the inspector and her companions.

She jerked a finger toward Cal.

“Who’s that?”

Griff’s fingers hovered near his belt…

and the artificer revolver holstered there.

A handy tool, that. Cal might need to look into getting one himself someday.

Though if things came to blows in his line of work, that usually meant he’d already messed up.

“An innocent bystander,” Griff said.

“Whatever business you have here, you can take it up with me.”

“You ain’t the one in charge here, Inspector,” the woman snapped.

A gesture from her sent two of the Brotherhood goons stalking forward.

They sneered down at Griff as they passed by, as though daring him to try and stop them.

The inspector’s jaw tightened, but he made no move to intervene.

So much for my knight in shining armor.

Not that Cal had expected anyone else to fight his battles for him.

As usual, he’d have to rely on his own wits to get him out of this mess.

Adding a quaver to his voice, he put on his best terrified face and gazed up at the two goons.

“Oh, please, don’t hurt me. Can’t we talk this out? I don’t know what this is about, but I’ve never met a problem that couldn’t be solved with some tea and fresh biscuits.”

The two henchmen glanced at each other, clearly unsure how to deal with him.

He smothered a grin.

It seemed even hardened criminals didn’t much like threatening a defenseless old woman.

“Sorry, granny,” one of them muttered.

“Just sit tight ‘til we get this sorted out.”

The Brotherhood thugs might have had qualms about attacking an old woman, but they didn’t seem nearly so concerned about an inspector. The remaining four enforcers fanned out to surround Griff, boxing him in. The woman in charge ambled up to stand in front of him, smirking at him.

“Let’s try that again,” she said.

“You’ve got something of ours. Tell us where it is, and this’ll all be over.” She jerked a finger toward Cal.

“Is this woman a contact of yours? Some sort of Watch asset?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Griff gritted out.

“But I can assure you that, whatever you’re looking for, this woman had nothing to do with it.”

Cal muffled a wince.

Oops. Guess he really had been super believable during their chat.

The woman, however, didn’t seem nearly so convinced.

“Last chance, prottie. Hand over the orb, or we’ll do this the hard way.”

Griff didn’t blink, nor back down.

Watching the determined set to his face, Cal couldn’t help admiring his courage—foolish though it might’ve been when he was so heavily outnumbered.

“This is your last chance,” Griff said, his voice calm.

“Leave now, before I arrest you for breaking and entering.”

The woman snorted and shook her head.

“You protties are all the same. You think that badge you hide behind can protect you? Things are changing around here, Inspector.” She grinned and loudly cracked her knuckles.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to punch a prottie.”

Her blow came lightning-swift, so fast that Cal almost thought it enhanced by soulflame.

Yet Griff appeared to anticipate it.

He twisted to the side, letting her punch pierce the empty air in front of him.

Spinning, he brought his shoulder up and rammed it into her gut.

She stumbled back with a wheezing cough.

“Get them!” she bellowed.

Cal didn’t wait for the two goons with him to obey.

In the split second they were distracted glancing toward her, he made his move, slamming a palm into the face of the closest brute.

The brute cried out, reeling back.

Cal felt the satisfying crunch of snapping cartilage amid a warm spurt of blood.

While that first brute stumbled away, clutching his face, Cal wasted no time rushing the other.

His sudden speed caught the brute off-guard, and he slammed into him, deftly hurling him to the floor with a twisting motion.

The brute hit the ground hard with a muffled oof.

Cal seized the brief respite to draw upon his duskflame.

The flickering dark fire infused his flesh, and within moments, his appearance had shifted to mimic the brute on the ground—just in time for the first goon whose nose he’d broken to recover enough to squint around.

His bleary gaze locked on Cal.

“Where’d that Void-eater go?” he said, his voice high and nasally thanks to his broken nose.

Cal spun to the right and gestured frantically.

“There!”

Confusion wrinkled the brute’s brow when he turned and saw his companion lying on the floor.

Before he could figure out what had happened, Cal lunged forward and delivered several swift blows to his head and neck.

The thug dropped. Cal crouched down and scrambled at his belt, unhooking his cudgel.

The brute hadn’t drawn it, either because Cal hadn’t given him a chance or because they wanted him and Griff alive.

Rising with the cudgel in hand, Cal shifted his illusion yet again in another burst of duskflame.

This time, he adopted his usual Blackjack persona these thugs would be familiar with from The Last Drop, only with a couple of select embellishments.

He added a nasty wound dripping blood down the right side of his face and made his right arm appear limp and broken, the cudgel tucked against his side out of sight.

By then, the second brute was stumbling back to his feet.

His mouth twisted in a snarl.

When he spotted Cal’s wounded visage, he grinned.

“Looks like Dex got in a good hit or two. Guess it’s up to me to finish the job.”

Cal raised his free hand and took a step back, widening his eyes in feigned fear.

“No, please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Sure you will,” the goon chuckled.

He hefted his own cudgel, slapping the heavy wood against the meat of his palm.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Cal waited until the brute had closed most of the distance and brought his cudgel back before darting forward inside the brute’s reach.

The goon tried to grab him, punching at his wounded side…

except of course, there was nothing actually there to hit.

Cal swung his own disguised cudgel into the back of the thug’s skull with a muffled crack.

The brute collapsed, and Cal grinned down at him.

It was almost too easy when you could take advantage of your opponent’s misconceptions the way his power allowed.

Fighting him, everyone was always off-guard.

It was how he’d managed to evade capture all these years.

And now that the way was clear, it was time for him to make his great escape yet again.

He hurried toward the back of the room and the window he’d rigged for a quick getaway there, only to shout in surprise as something wrapped tightly around his limbs.

He toppled to the ground, writhing to free himself.

That was when he realized he was caught in a faintly glowing net.

What the Void…?

A click echoed above him, and he stilled, craning his neck to see Griff standing there.

The inspector had his Vantoric revolver out and leveled at Cal, its barrel still smoking.

“I’d stay still if I were you,” Griff said.

“I think it’s time we finish that chat we were having.”

Cal’s gaze flicked from Griff to the room behind him.

His eyes widened when he saw the rest of the Brotherhood thugs laid out there.

In the time it had taken Cal to deal with his two, Griff had knocked out two more cold and left the other two entangled in nets…

just like the one now holding him.

Well, this isn’t good.

Cal scrambled desperately for an explanation the inspector would accept.

Griff had been distracted by the fight.

Maybe he hadn’t seen Cal use his abilities.

Maybe this was still salvageable.

“Look man, I don’t know what’s going on here anymore than you do,” Cal said.

“I came here to spend some time with my grandma. I was taking a nap in the back when you arrived. You must have missed me.”

“Save it,” Griff said, his face hard.

“I recognize your aura. I thought there was something off about it, and I realize now what it was: duskflame. What were you doing at The Last Drop? Do you know anything about this ‘orb’ the Brotherhood is after?”

Okay, so the secret of his power was out.

But that didn’t mean all was lost. He could still feign ignorance about all the rest. He’d talked himself out of worse jams than this one.

He did the best he could to cross his arms in the net and summoned a scowl.

“I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know what’s going on here anymore than you do, and last I checked, being a duskflamer isn’t illegal here in Sanjarka.”

“No,” Griff agreed.

“It isn’t.” He cast a pointed glance toward the two thugs Cal had singlehandedly knocked out.

“But somehow, I doubt that’s all you are.”

Behind Griff, the woman in charge gave a throaty chuckle.

She shifted within her net.

“Ain’t you figured it out yet, Inspector? That there is none other than the infamous Blackjack. Let us retrieve what he stole from us, and you can have him. No hard feelings for this little…misunderstanding. Deal?”

Cal’s heart sank.

Shadow and shade…

Griff took a long, slow blink.

Though his hard expression didn’t change, Cal could tell he was struggling to process that new information.

All right, things seem pretty bleak.

But if there was one thing growing up on Derimay’s streets had taught him, it was how to be a fighter.

“Come on, Inspector,” Cal said with a hearty chuckle.

“You don’t honestly believe her, do you? She’ll say anything to save her own neck.” When Griff didn’t reply, Cal licked his lips.

“Think this through logically. If I—”

“Shut up,” Griff said.

There was no heat in the words.

Nevertheless, something in the inspector’s tone made Cal obey.

He eyed the revolver in Griff’s grip.

If he was quick enough and could catch Griff distracted, maybe he could alter his shape to slip free of the net and steal the revolver.

But that seemed like a pretty big if when staring down a barrel.

Nah, too risky .

He was torn from his scheming when Griff abruptly nodded to himself and turned, striding toward the downed Brotherhood brutes.

“You’re making the right call, Inspector,” the woman said, her voice laced with triumph.

“Bald Locke and the Brotherhood won’t forget—”

Raising his pistol, Griff shot her in the chest.

Cal jerked in surprise at the cold-blooded action Perhaps he’d misjudged the inspector.

Then, he saw the fizzle of magic across the woman as she slumped and realized it had been another enchanted bullet, like the net.

This one must put its target to sleep.

Griff strode back over.

Staring up at the inspector’s calm face, Cal’s heart skipped a nervous beat as he eyed the revolver.

“Thanks for being reasonable.” He wriggled in the net.

“Now, let me out of this thing, and we can both get out of here and put all this nastiness behind us. What do you say, Inspector?”

Ignoring him, Griff unhooked a pair of silver bands from his belt.

He fastened one around his left wrist, then tossed the other down beside Cal.

Cal didn’t miss the way he kept a few paces between them, nor how his revolver never wavered.

Cal had to admire his prudence.

“Put this on,” Griff said.

Fumbling past the net, Cal managed to grab the bracelet and slip it through the netting.

“What is it?”

“A pacifier cuff.” Griff held up his wrist and jingled the other bracelet.

“Stops you from harming me or getting too far away.”

Cal had never heard of such a device.

More Vantoric artificery, no doubt.

This was one invention he could happily have done without.

“Is this really necessary?” he asked.

“You don’t actually believe I’m the infamous Blackjack, do you?”

“Yes,” Griff said.

“I do. And after everything that’s happened here, I have more than enough evidence to justify bringing you in for additional questioning. Just because I refuse to make a deal with smugglers and thieves doesn’t mean I’ll just let you go.”

Cal frowned as he studied the silver bracelet.

He considered refusing, but that would probably just prompt the inspector to knock him out with one of those magic bullets and force the cuff on him anyway.

Better to let the inspector think him beaten.

It was always easiest to trick someone who thought they’d already won.

“Fine.” Shoving down a prickle of unease, he clasped the cuff around his wrist. The smooth metal band felt cool against his skin.

If it was magical as Griff claimed, Cal couldn’t sense the effect.

Not without his lock rods.

The instant he put on the cuff, Griff seemed to relax.

Tucking his revolver back in its holster, he stooped down and began untangling the net.

Within moments, he had Cal free.

Fiddling with the band on his wrist, Cal hesitantly rose.

He expected Griff to grab him and roughly haul him out of there, but Griff just stood there, watching him patiently.

It was like he was waiting for something.

Usually, Cal had no issues with silence.

Something about Griff’s stare, however, sent a flutter of uncharacteristic nerves through his belly.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Griff gestured toward the door.

“Go ahead.” When Cal only furrowed his brow in confusion, Griff sighed.

“We both know you’re going to do everything you can to try to escape. Since I have no intention of letting you talk your way out of this, that leaves the cuff. So, go ahead and test its limits now. That way, we can get it out of the way.”

Cal was surprised to find himself fighting down an amused smirk.

He had to admit, he appreciated the inspector’s directness.

Perhaps his initial assessment last night at the Siren’s Call hadn’t been so off-base after all.

Obviously, Cal had no intention of cooperating or going quietly.

Still, he saw no reason not to play along for now.

Spinning, he bolted for the door.

He made it about twenty paces or so before jerking to an abrupt halt.

It was less like he’d run into a physical barrier and more like his body had suddenly decided it no longer felt like running.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to force himself to take so much as a single step further away.

Frowning to himself, he raised his wrist and spun the bracelet about, studying the metal.

It was hard to tell without his tools, but it didn’t appear to be magically sealed.

He could see the clasp easily enough.

It should take no effort at all to open.

Yet when he tried to make his fingers do it, they once again refused to obey.

Some form of arcane compulsion—it has to be.

It was diabolically subtle.

The bracelet had no need for fancy wards.

It simply ensured the wearer couldn’t meddle with it.

Still, that was far from foolproof.

Perhaps he could convince someone else to take the bracelet off for him, or disable the enchantment with his tools once he was alone.

For now though, that only left one other aspect of the pacifier cuff to test. Picking up a fallen club from the floor, he turned and charged the inspector.

Griff made no move to stop him or to retreat.

He just stood there, watching calmly.

Sure enough, Cal froze a hand’s width away.

He had the club upraised to swing but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He tossed the club aside with a sigh.

“All right, I’ll admit, that’s pretty nifty. I’ve never seen something like it before. Is it a custom piece?”

Some emotion Cal couldn’t read flitted over Griff’s face.

Instead of answering, he started for the door.

Cal tried to remain behind, but the instant Griff reached the bracelet’s maximum distance, he found his feet following of their own accord.

If there was one word that described Cal, it was survivor.

And while it was possible he’d get a chance to escape en route, the odds weren’t seeming in his favor.

Performing some quick mental gymnastics, he discarded several potential ploys before settling on the most desperate gambit he had available to him: the truth.

Or at least, some portion of it.

“All right, let me level with you,” Cal said as Griff guided him like a dog on a leash past the unconscious bodies of the Brotherhood brutes into the apartment building’s narrow, dirty hall.

“It’s possible I may know about this orb they were talking about.”

Griff slowed, turning to raise a silent eyebrow at him.

Cal took that as permission to keep talking.

“I went to The Last Drop last night to collect a commission for a job. While I was there, I saw Bald Locke handing this chest off to someone for a hefty fee. Naturally, I was curious, so I followed them out.”

“And stole it,” Griff said in sudden understanding.

Cal rolled his eyes at the obvious judgment in Griff’s tone.

“We both know that anything Bald Locke is selling didn’t enter Derimay legally, so it hardly counts as some grand crime. But yes, I…procured the chest. And when I got back here and opened it, I found this inside.”

He reached up and pressed a finger to the thief’s mark on the left side of his chest. Magic flared, and an instant later, the orb materialized in his hand.

He held it up toward Griff, frowning when the inspector recoiled.

Griff’s stoic face had twisted with a grimace somewhere between disgust and fear.

“What in the name of the Goddess is that? Its foul aura is clawing at my skin.”

Cal glanced down at the object, then back up at Griff.

“You said something like that before. You can sense auras?”

The self-conscious look that crossed Griff’s face was deeply amusing.

The inspector shrugged.

“Have been able to since I was a kid. Comes in handy when I’m working a case.” He fixed Cal with a meaningful look.

“Or trying to track a source of magic. Speaking of talents, what about that trick with your duskflame?”

It was Cal’s turn to feel uneasy, his amusement vanishing.

He didn’t like anyone knowing about his ability, especially an inspector.

Even if he got out of this jam, that could prove problematic.

One of Blackjack’s key advantages so far had been the element of surprise.

Maybe after this, it was time to leave Derimay for good.

Instead of answering, Cal gestured to the orb he still held.

“You seem pretty freaked out by this thing. I can’t read its aura or whatever, but I have to admit, I don’t like it much either. I was planning to hock it the first chance I got. What is it supposed to do?”

Hesitantly, Griff stepped closer, his gaze locked on the orb.

Cal caught a whiff of some rich, woodsy scent and had to stop himself from breathing deeper.

He watched as Griff extended a hand toward the orb.

His fingers hovered right above its dark violet surface for a moment.

Then, Griff exhaled as if to steel himself and pressed his palm to the top of the orb.

The effect was near instantaneous.

The orb abruptly blazed with unholy light.

The empty void in its heart churned into a raging whirlwind.

All the hairs on Cal’s arms stood on end as raw power crackled in the air.

He swore he could hear voices whispering insane gibberish in his mind, and monstrous shapes slithered in the edges of his vision, vanishing the instant he spun his head.

Judging by Griff’s wide eyes and pale face, whatever he saw and heard was at least as bad.

The inspector yanked his hand away, cradling it against his chest as if burned.

The instant he broke contact with the orb, the effect winked out.

The swirling power vanished and the voices quieted, leaving nothing but the empty sphere behind.

Cal stumbled a step back.

“What the Void did you do? It’s never reacted like that when I’ve held it!”

“I…I don’t know. All I did was try to get a better sense of its aura.” Griff swallowed.

“I’ve never encountered something like this before. This is an incredibly dangerous artifact. Who knows how much damage it could cause in the wrong hands!”

Seeing the stoic inspector so unsettled left Cal even more ill at ease.

Not that he had any intention of letting the inspector see that.

Plastering on a cocky grin, he shrugged and took a shallow bow.

“Well, then, you’re welcome. Glad to have done my civic duty by getting it off the streets. Now that you’ve gotten what you came for, I guess you’d better hurry up and let me go so you can go take care of it.”

Griff leveled him with a flat look.

“How magnanimous of you.” He snatched the orb from Cal’s grip.

Thankfully, it remained dormant this time.

“I’ll make sure this ends up with the proper authorities. Now, come on.”

He resumed his stride down the hall, quickening his pace.

Cal yelped as the cuff on his wrist dragged him after Griff.

“Wait!” he sputtered.

“You can’t do that!”

Griff didn’t slow.

“And why not? Seems to me like if I’m getting one danger to the city off the streets, I might as well bring in another.”

“That would be true…if you could be certain you trusted who you’d be handing us over to.”

Cal held his breath, praying to the Dark that Griff took the bait.

He bit back a relieved sigh when Griff stopped near the top of the stairs.

He glanced back at Cal with a frown.

“All right, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”

“The person I stole that relic off of was a masked protector. And they definitely weren’t working alone. They were tossing around enough money to justify payment via an account transfer at the Treasury, and I overheard them tell Bald Locke something about helping the orb evade Customs. That means someone else higher up the food chain has to be involved. You bring this in, and who knows what’ll happen!”

Cal certainly didn’t.

For all he knew, his guesses were wildly off-base.

But he didn’t need to be right.

He didn’t even need Griff to believe him, not entirely.

All he needed was for the inspector to feel even the slightest hint of doubt.

Griff scowled and turned back toward the stairs.

Cal’s stomach sank. Well, at least he’d tried to buy himself some more time.

He still had the walk across the city to find a way to wriggle out of this.

He waited for the inspector to start down the stairs.

When Griff didn’t move, he allowed himself a small glimmer of hope.

Perhaps he could reason with the inspector after all.

“That’s certainly a troubling claim,” Griff said at last. “I’ll make sure to mention your concerns to my superiors…when I bring you in.”

Ooor, maybe he was giving the inspector too much credit.

Time to ham it up and see if he could drive the point home.

“Seriously?” He gave a derisive snort.

“I know you inspectors are all about authority and rules, but if someone in your own office is involved, who knows how far the conspiracy reaches? How can you be certain your superiors aren’t involved?”

“Impossible,” Griff said.

Still, he made no move to proceed down the stairs.

Got him.

Cal flashed a bright smile.

“Come on, Inspector. You know I’m right. You can’t risk bringing the orb—or, by extension, me—in until you know for certain if what I’m saying is true. You need more information.”

Griff eyed him skeptically.

“How do I know you aren’t just saying this to save your own skin?”

Cal shrugged.

“Obviously I’m saying it to save my skin. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Projecting an air of confidence, he ambled over to join Griff by the stairs.

He started to lean on the rickety railing beside him, but when it gave an ominous creak, he hurriedly stepped back and settled for crossing his arms.

“How about a deal?” Cal said.

“I help you get to the bottom of that orb and figure out who else is involved in the conspiracy. And in exchange, you let me go.”

It was a bold gambit, even for him.

He fully expected Griff to refuse.

What sane member of the Watch would willingly take a deal with a known criminal, especially one they’d been hunting for years?

The only reason Cal had even proposed such an arrangement was in the hopes it might buy him more time to escape.

Which was why he was flabbergasted when, after an intent few moments of thought, Griff grimaced and gave a single curt nod, sticking out his hand.

“I know I’m going to regret this,” he said with a heavy sigh.

“But you have a deal.”

Cal stared at the proffered hand, sure he must be hallucinating.

Yet the inspector’s calloused grip felt real enough when he took it, his fingers pleasantly warm against Cal’s.

It’s a trick—it has to be.

Obviously, the inspector was lying.

He must think Cal would be more likely to cooperate if he believed they had a deal in place.

No doubt he intended to double-cross Cal the instant their investigation concluded.

But that was fine with him.

Frequent association with other criminals had left him used to such things.

Helping the inspector look into the orb’s origins would still buy him the extra time he’d wanted to find a way out of the cuff.

And besides, he had to admit that working alongside the very inspector who’d been hunting him sounded like an amusing diversion.

“Good choice,” Cal said.

He feigned nonchalance, as if he’d never expected anything else.

“You can call me Cal. If you want to know more about the orb, the Brotherhood seems like the natural place to start. And as it turns out, I know how to get you right into Bald Locke’s office.”

Griff frowned at him.

“I tried that earlier today. Bald Locke’s not exactly keen to talk to an inspector, and I don’t have that power of yours to disguise myself.”

“Don’t worry,” Cal said with a wave of his hand.

“Leave all that to me. I already told you, I can get us inside.”

Griff still looked doubtful.

He cast a meaningful look back toward the unconscious thugs visible through the open doorway.

“How? I’m pretty sure the Brotherhood wants your head on a spike right now.”

Cal smirked.

“Exactly. And you’re going to give it to them.”