Midnight's Daughter
Page 29

I don’t have the kind of mind-control abilities that vamps do, but if I concentrate really hard, I can manage to plant a basic idea in someone’s head. It doesn’t have the compulsion behind it that Mircea’s thoughts do—no one has to act on any of my little doubts, but people often do, anyway. Especially if they sound like something they might have thought up themselves.
Louis-Cesare came up behind me, but for once he refrained from saying anything. A moment later the wards fell—I could feel tendrils dissipating like smoke about us—and the door opened. The guard wasn’t a complete idiot. As soon as he heard the cacophony that a dozen trolls make when ripping apart steel doors, he tried to shut the heavy metal slab again, but my foot was in the way and a second later, my hands were around his throat.
“You have got to be kidding,” I said in disgust after riding him to the floor. Underneath me lay a human, plain and simple. I sniffed him to be sure, but there was no doubt about it. “A norm? What, are they nuts?”
It shouldn’t have surprised me, since a vamp would have been unaffected by my mind games and a demon would have thrown them back in my face. But I still had trouble believing that the Black Circle had left a norm on guard duty. They’re even more contemptuous of regular old garden-variety humans than most mages. They call them dims and, for the most part, ignore their existence.
Louis-Cesare managed to squat elegantly alongside the norm. “He could be booby-trapped.”
I shook my head. “No.” I’d seen such things before, mages using humans like trip wires, with a spell designed to detonate if the norm’s heart began to race or at some other indication that trouble was near. But I knew the signs, and this one had none of them. He smelled of fear and sweat, of socks that had been worn too long without laundering and of the sausage and onion sandwich he’d eaten earlier. I could tell what shampoo he used and that he’d massaged Ben-Gay onto his left calf today, but there was no stench of dark magic around him. In fact, there wasn’t any that I could detect anywhere, which was more than a little odd in a Black Circle stronghold.
“Look, t-take whatever you want. Just d-don’t eat me, okay? I had garlic for lunch,” he said, so panicked that the whites showed all the way around his watery gray eyeballs.
“Good. I love it when dinner’s already seasoned.” I snatched the creep to his feet. “One chance. What’s going on here? And I’ll know if you lie to me.”
“Th-the auction. It’s almost over, but you can probably get in on a few lots if you hurry.” He looked at something over my shoulder and what little color he had went on vacation. “O-or just take what you want. Anything, really.”
I glanced behind me to see that Olga had joined Louis-Cesare, with a crowd of assorted creatures behind them. One of the smaller trolls had something by the hind foot that I eventually identified as a were cub. It had taken me a minute because the full moon was several weeks away, yet the small snarling creature was in full wolf mode and currently attempting to bite through the troll’s tough skin. The troll cuffed it hard enough to send its head cracking against the wall, leaving it dazed and slightly more subdued.
I looked at Olga. “No eating,” I said, hoping she’d agree since there wasn’t a lot I could do about it if she didn’t. “We have to find out what’s going on.”
She had a muttered conversation with the troll, who scowled through his beard and defiantly bit off one of the were’s toes. The small creature howled in pain and started thrashing about even more, while Olga sent troll boy face-first into the cave wall. She slammed a foot down on him when he bounced off, putting her considerable weight onto his torso, and he let go of the were. Crazed with pain and fear, it began slashing at anything within reach until Louis-Cesare grabbed it by the scuff of the neck and knocked it out.
I turned back to the human, only to find that he’d passed out on me. I sighed and gave him to Olga, who was steadily grinding the troll’s face into the hard cavern floor. “I’ll be back,” I told her, and she nodded pleasantly.
The tunnel let out onto a much larger one, which in turn led to what looked like a naturally formed cavern, about a story below the mouth of the tunnel. Crude stone steps had been carved into the side, leading down into the gloom. A few lights—some magical, others more prosaic—lit the place in patches, especially the small, cleared area serving as the auctioneer platform. I could see even in the shadows, but was soon wishing I couldn’t.
“The human was right,” Louis-Cesare said from over my shoulder. I nodded, trying to keep a grip. Some kind of illegal auction was going on, and it wasn’t for bootleg cigarettes. A lot of the heavy cages ringing the platform were empty, but some still had creatures in them. The fact that a few of them looked suspiciously like the deformed things in Radu’s laboratory made my stomach begin to sink. But even worse was the fact that I caught two very familiar scents on the air. One was the same as in the holding cells: Claire had been here, probably within the last hour. The other was Drac’s.
Tamp it down, I told myself sternly, sinking fingernails into my palm hard enough to break the skin. I wouldn’t do Claire any good by freaking out, if by some chance she was still here. “An unusual specimen,” a human announcer was saying. “Half-Duergar, half-Brownie—quite the combination. It will protect your property better than a pack of guard dogs and fix you lunch to boot. What am I bid?”
A small, dark gray creature, all of about two feet high, stood in the blinding circle of light, vainly trying to shield its large eyes. It was shaking in fear and making a high, mewling noise that sounded like a cross between a child’s wail and a power saw cutting through metal. It made me wince and apparently the buyers didn’t like it any better, because no bids were forthcoming.
The auctioneer kept trying for another few minutes, while I stood there and used every trick I knew to keep the crashing tide in my head from taking over. Had Claire stood in that circle, being jeered at by the motley crowd? Had she been beaten like the tiny crossbreed was currently being, as the auctioneer tried to get it to shut up? The thing must have been stronger than it looked, because it managed to get the stick away from the human wielding it. The creature wrenched it through the bars of its cage, then turned it back on him, getting in several good licks before the man scrambled out of the way.
“That’s it, Marco—I’m done. Put a bullet through its brain and let’s move on.” The auctioneer had shut off his microphone before making the comment to a nearby goon, but it echoed in my head like he’d screamed it. At the image of someone putting a gun to Claire’s head, the tidal wave came crashing through my defenses and I was suddenly drowning in a sea of red.
“Dorina!” I heard someone call my name, but there wasn’t enough sanity left for me to respond. The familiar, killing rage rose up like vomit in my throat. I fought the bloody tide for another few seconds, but that was as useless as it had ever been, and I knew in that instant that Claire was either dead or long gone. There was not the smallest, lingering shred of her blessed calm to help me hold my ground, and with that thought, I gave up trying. If these things had killed her, let them join her. We could all go to hell together. After all, I already knew the proprietor.
Chapter Twelve
I woke up to disorientation and extreme pain. The first was because I was upside down, hanging halfway off an overturned cage with my butt in the air, and the latter because I was bleeding from, at a guess, half a dozen wounds. Most of them felt fairly minor, however, compared with the metal rod that Louis-Cesare was trying to pull out of my side. It had gone completely through me to pierce the top of the cage. He gave a final heave and the thing tore loose with a sound of screeching metal and splitting flesh. With nothing holding me in place, I slipped to the floor, bleeding in more places than I could count.
“Are you sane, or what passes for it with you?” he asked in a strangled half lisp. I recognized the sound—that of a vamp with fully extended fangs—not that I’d heard it often. Mostly, when they get to that stage, they aren’t much interested in talking.
I nodded weakly. The animal that clawed through my veins was gone—for the moment. I could feel the ragged remnants of confused rage, but that was normal. It would pass, and even if not, I doubted I’d be doing further damage anytime soon.
Before he could reply, the Frenchman was airborne, landing several yards away. Two huge brown eyes appeared in my field of vision, peering at me out of a small, misshapen face. Shaggy gray hair obscured most of the features, including any sign of a nose, but there were a few scraggly fangs poking out of the fuzz. I noticed that several of them were pointing the wrong way, heading upward like tusks, while a few of the others had grown in such a way as to be more a threat to the creature than its prey.
I stopped wondering if I was about to become something’s lunch and struggled to sit up. Unfortunately, that made the room tilt violently and my blood seep out even faster. A tearing, sharp pain bit into my side every time I moved or breathed.
“Lie still if you want to live!” Louis-Cesare ordered harshly. “And call that thing off or I will be forced to kill it. I cannot help you while constantly fending off attack!”
“What is it?” The room kept swimming in and out of my vision, but I managed to focus on the hovering gray thing. It reminded me of a Mr. Potato Head doll assembled by a two-year-old. All the parts were there, but they weren’t necessarily in the right place. The comparison was strengthened by its incongruously long, sticklike arms and legs, which poked at sharp angles out of the fur. Its knees were currently up around its head as it squatted protectively beside me, close enough that the stench emanating from it made my eyes water.
“A lot which failed to sell. It was about to be killed when you went mad.” Louis-Cesare nudged it cautiously with a toe and it snarled at him so viciously that one of its bent fangs pierced its bottom lip, causing a trickle of black blood to join the matted dirt and who-knew-what on its chin. “It appears to be under the impression that you saved its life.” A misshapen appendage that only vaguely resembled a hand reached out to pat my hair. “How touching. Now call it off!”