Chasing Shadows
Verd was ruthless, and no fool. You don’t get where he is by being reckless, nor by taking anything at face value. If you are someone like Verdigris, you test first, and you test, if possible, to destruction.
Dominick Verdigris III did not like to be kept waiting. It had been over an hour since he had sent a message to “People’s Blade,” summoning her to his office. Since she had come to him offering her services, Verdigris had gone to great lengths to keep her under a watchful eye. Satellite surveillance, tracking devices, plainclothes agents to follow her; he had even dispatched Khanjar to tail the General’s movements. All of it was to no avail; somehow, Shen Xue was always able to slip away, seemingly at will. It annoyed Verdigris; it wasn’t a feeling he was very accustomed to dealing with for a prolonged period of time. Most things that bothered him were taken care of, quickly or quietly or brutally, whatever the situation required.
And aside from the annoyance, there was another disquieting emotion associated with “People’s Blade”; a feeling of powerlessness. He had not felt powerless in a very, very long time, and now he was confronted with being unable to control not one, but two creatures—that so-called “angel,” and now People’s Blade. He didn’t like it. And he intended to change things.
He stabbed a finger at his desk’s display, bringing up the intercom. “Khanjar, have someone bring in a stiff drink, or five. And keep looking for her. I don’t want to spend all night on this.” He let a hint of his annoyance creep into his voice, but none of his apprehension; it wouldn’t do to let anyone see him start to doubt. His mind was going in circles, like a mouse in a wheel, unable to come up with a way to get control of this situation. It had to begin with People’s Blade. She was the only creature he’d found with a chance of capturing that “angel” for him, so far. And that meant he had to control People’s Blade. Only he hadn’t been able to control People’s Blade…
“Ni hao, Dominic Verdigris.”
One moment the office had been empty. Now, there she was. Relaxed. An arrogant calmness of purpose, denoting her presumptions of superiority. Damn her. I’m not going to flinch in front of her. I’d rather piss glass. “How nice of you to grace us with your presence, General. I had almost given up hope of seeing you tonight.”
One elegant eyebrow rose. “I have many things that occupy my attention, barbarian. I attend to them in their order of importance.” She shifted her weight, slightly. “I assume this is about a matter of importance to you?”
“That it is; thus it’s important to both of us, and our shared cause. Wouldn’t you agree?” He didn’t give her an opportunity to reply; he needed to take control of this conversation. “I have a task for you. Should you prove successful in what I have laid out of you, I will have more…pertinent things for you to attend to. Things vital to the war against the Thulians.” The edge of his mouth quirked in a smile as he leaned forward. “Interested? Or is your schedule too cluttered, General?”
“So, despite what you already know, you have decided I must pass some childish little test to prove my worth?” The General didn’t sneer. Somehow, the fact that she didn’t curl those young lips made her contempt all the more apparent. “Really, Verdigris, this is a waste of both of our time.”
Verdigris shrugged. “It is something I need done, and need to be certain will be handled appropriately. If you won’t do it, I can pass it off to some lesser minion, but I’m all about the efficiency of effort with my plans. I’d much rather you took it, so I could rest easy.” There was a slight hidden in there, and he knew that the General would see the implication. Will she rise to the bait, though? “Besides, you don’t even know what I’m going to ask you to do, yet.”
People’s Blade half-lidded her eyes. “True. It might be worth my while, if it is challenging enough. All right, barbarian. What is your foolish test?”
“Challenging as you asked, so it’s sure to not disappoint. This is a special case. In the war we’re fighting, there are going to be losses. In an effort to keep that to a minimum, with regards to winning the battles more efficiently, we will need the right weapons. In this particular case, the weapon is a person.” He tapped on the display in front of him, bringing up several very grisly pictures of crime scenes. “We need the man that was responsible for these…gruesome images.”
People’s Blade looked at the displayed pictures without even a hint of flinching or distaste. “Interesting, but I see only the savage hand of a common criminal. What is it that differentiates this creature from any other mass slayer?”
“One, he’s never been caught. This individual was given the codename ‘Shadow-Storm’ by ECHO. His or her list of exploits is long, but surprisingly mundane; racketeering, bank robbery, extortion, blackmail, and plainly some rather messy murders. He operated for over forty years, and never once was caught or even seemingly hurt, even when confronted with nigh insurmountable odds.” Verdigris tapped on the screen again. “Two: this is what he did to an advanced reaction team from ECHO.” Another image came to life on the display; it was hard to tell where the room began and the bodies ended. “Those were three Op Three’s and an Op Two, all of some small fame. They were torn to shreds.”
“During his career, this ‘Shadow-Storm’ is estimated to have accumulated quite the fortune, but never seemed to do much besides run-of-the-mill savagery and crime, with a few grandiose capers thrown in. Then, suddenly, he dropped off the map. ECHO’s detectives had several sources that confirmed that the subject had died in a plane crash.” Verdigris steepled his fingers in front of his chest. “However, I have quite a few more resources at my command than ECHO does. I’ve found this ‘Shadow-Storm.’ Given his past, I think he could be useful against our enemies.” And not just the Thulians; there are more enemies in this world for a man like me than you can imagine, General. You’re probably one of them.
“So, you ask me to recruit this creature for you, with no more information than this?” The eyebrow rose again. “I fail to see how he could be useful. I suspect your quaint little bodyguard could accomplish similar goals. Certainly she could serve the same function as I, if you insist on recruiting him.”
“Khanjar has her uses. But, every weapon is suited to one type of a task or another. This one does not suit her. Truth be told, we don’t have much more information on this target. Which is precisely why I’m sending you to deal with him.” With a quick twist of his hand, the screen cleared. “And that is the third reason. All that we know about his powers are that he somehow uses shadows, manipulates them in some way. Recordings from the victims’ comm. units are fragmentary, but there are shouts about ‘the shadows’ before the comm. links ended; sometimes in screams, truth be told. From the results, we can presume he’s extremely deadly; he’s been given a probable classification of Op Four, due to the length of time he was active, the destructiveness of his abilities, and the fact that no one could even seem to hurt him.” Verdigris leaned back in his chair, tilting his head to the side. “Will you take this on? If so, we have his location and a jet to fly you there, ready immediately.”
There was a little glint in Shen Xue’s eyes. “Well. You have intrigued me. I believe there is…how is it you barbarians put it? ‘Room in my schedule.’”
“Excellent.” Touchdown. He reached into his jacket, pulling forth a small envelope. “This has most of what you will require; pass for the jet, a card for expenses, access to our armories and equipment locker. Just make sure to sign out for anything; no, don’t bother me with it, that’s for whoever is in charge of those areas. Also, there’s a cell phone. Keep me updated, if it pleases you, General.”
People’s Blade said nothing; took the pass, left the card and the phone. Did not so much “bow” as incline her head ever so slightly. Then she just sauntered out, with a very slight swagger in her step. A few moments later, Khanjar entered, carrying a tray with glasses of scotch and a small bucket of ice.
Khanjar was frowning. “Why was that…thing here?” she asked. “I do not trust it. It is arrogant, and it distracts you.” And she puts you on edge; worried about our position on the food chain, dear?
“She is arrogant, and you certainly shouldn’t trust her, dear. But, sometimes even dangerous foes can be put to a very good use. People’s Blade is one such foe, and I have many uses in store for her.” He fished one of the glasses off of the tray, sipping at the drink. “Never forget; just because someone is against you doesn’t mean you can’t still use them for your own ends.”
“He who uses a crocodile as a stepping stone generally loses a foot,” Khanjar replied crossly. “Don’t come complaining when that thing betrays you. And it will.”
He feigned a look of hurt. “Darling, you misjudge me. I’m not blind; she’s using us, as much as we’re using her. She simply thinks she’s on the winning side of the equation. Everyone breaks faith, everyone betrays, everyone becomes a traitor; life has taught me that, if nothing else. It’s a matter of when, and how it can be used to our benefit.” He chuckled, taking another drink. “If I had half a mind, I could immortalize myself with a proverb book, or something equally egotistical.”
“You already waste too much time adding to the Evil Overlord lists,” she countered. “Why did you not give the ‘useful’ monster the files on Shadow-Storm?”
“You mean the complete files?” He laughed a little. “Simple. I didn’t want her to have them. We’ll see how well she can adapt. If she wins over the target to our side, we have another tool at our disposal. If she fails, then we still gain; we’ll be with one less enemy to keep a watch over…one less distraction, as you put it. I imagine that’d please you quite a bit.”
“Well you had better hope that Shadow-Storm never discovers it was you that sent her.” Khanjar’s frown deepened. “I do not wish to have to counter an assassin that uses magic. It is not my strong suit.”
Magic. Pff. Khanji’s superstitions win out again. No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t seem to cure her of her insistence that some metas were actually magicians. Or worse, wholly supernatural. “My dear, in my experience there are very few things that can’t be bought, reasoned with, or killed. In that order, preferably.” He waved at a chair. “Don’t trouble yourself with it. Drink your scotch before it becomes too watered down. We have to sit through another fundraiser for the opera house this evening.”
* * *
Sunset Manor: Home At Last. That was what the expensive, sandblasted, laser-cut redwood sign said in Victorian-style lettering. It was not what Shen Xue had been expecting. Volcanic lair? Unlikely, but possible. High-tech safe-house? Certainly. High-tech safe-house hiding beneath the facade of a warehouse or a tenement or a half-abandoned old farmhouse? Almost not worth mentioning the near-certainty of it.
But an entire expensive, exclusive, gated community for wealthy, retired people, disinclined to put their trust in their former servants or current relatives? Definitely not.
Presumably by prowling on the network of computer connections that Shen Xue loathed, one could discover a certain amount about this place. It would almost certainly be all a front. Shen Xue preferred to do his investigations the old fashioned way; with his feet on the ground and the wind in his hair. Nothing else gave a man proper grounding for a battlefield.
Walls were hardly even an afterthought to him; once inside with a uniform stolen from one of the grounds-keeping staff, his Chinese features and a push-cart laden with gardening tools ensured he would be ignored. He entered the community early in the morning, with the rest of the laborers; another ethnic face as part of the “help” was nothing for anyone to pay attention to.
He learned that Sunset Manor was extensively patrolled by a well-trained security staff; that visitors were only permitted during daylight hours and required much the same identification procedures as anyone gaining admittance to, say, ECHO HQ, complete with identification tags that broadcast their whereabouts. He learned that staff also had these tags, but as long as he stayed a respectable distance away from the rest, with his hands busy in the dirt, no one checked to see if he actually possessed such a tag, and there was no way to flag someone untagged out in the open.
The General also learned that Sunset Manor had three tiers of residents. The third tier were those who were bedridden; these were housed in luxurious “apartments” that were as unlike the standard “nursing home” room as an Italian villa was unlike Chinese government housing. The second tier were those who were infirm, but not bedridden; these were housed in true luxury “apartments” and looked after by staff assiduously. The third tier were those who qualified as “assisted living”—and could have been living in their old homes, presumably, except that they no longer trusted the honesty of their own staff or their heirs (who could bribe their staff). Here they had the assurance that the staff was hired by an impartial outside source, their belongings were inventoried on a daily basis, and similarly impartial accountants kept track of every penny. And all of those pennies went towards paying extravagant fees to ensure that everything was in place. Extravagant perhaps…but cheaper than being robbed by the maids, the heirs, the accountant using their funds on his speculations. And of course, there was the safety. Despite more than a few of the residents having lists of enemies that would rival those of third-world dictators, everyone here was absolutely safe. You could safely leave your doors unlocked and your windows open, when state of the art security was monitoring your home with an exactitude Presidents would envy. You need not concern yourself about thieves, Thulians, natural disasters, insurrections…in exchange for privacy and a none too modest amount of money, you need never worry again.
In this first tier, unlike the model-village look of most “retirement communities,” individual expression in architecture was encouraged. So the handsome mini-mansions spread across acres and acres of property were of styles ranging from ultra-modern to antique.
In such a disparity, the original Victorian mansion that had stood on the original property did not even stand out, except for the old-growth trees and plantings on its grounds. You couldn’t successfully transplant an oak or a beech with a girth that was several feet around, nor peony and rose bushes standing six feet tall.
The General was able to pick out the house from his first glance, besides. Instinct counted for as much as intellect, in his experience. What “intelligence” he was able to gather from listening to the other workers, seeing who went where…it was clear where the “boss” lived, even if no one truly acknowledged it. The old home that the community was built around had taken on the air of a legend; it was maintained, but not too well. It never had anyone come out, but deliveries were regularly made and always by different people.
He is there. He does not want anyone to know it, but one cannot help some things. And besides intellect, besides intelligence, besides instinct, there were…the senses. The General was a creature of magic and legend. Like called to like, and he sensed the magic in that house, magic that appeared nowhere else on the grounds. Now he understood why Verdigris had wanted him to pursue this creature, and not Khanjar. He was uniquely suited to this task; the General was a scalpel, in this case, and she was an ax. It would not do to send peasants after dragons, when a warrior is called for. For a barbarian, he seems to understand at least this truth.
So, now the question: how to penetrate this edifice, which was surely better guarded than any other on the grounds, and approach the owner? Simple; walk through the front door. She had already proven herself; she had penetrated the worst of his overt security, for the outer perimeter was the most heavily guarded. After that, it was assumed that there wouldn’t be anyone dangerous enough to get close, moreso than the occasional geriatric that had become lost on the golf course. Why take the chance of setting off alarms before one even had a chance to speak? Someone as obsessed over his own protection as this target was…it would be much better to take the direct approach. Dressed as a member of the staff, with the Jade Emperor’s Whisper hidden in a golf club bag, it was easy enough to walk to the front door of the old Victorian house near the center of the property.
One hopes this Shadow Storm has not degenerated into senility, the General thought, his hand on the door. After all this…it would be a grave disappointment. Taking a breath, the General twisted the handle and gently pushed the door inwards, placing his sword hand inside of the golf bag.
The sound of a chime marked his entry. Nothing more.
Inside, the antique house was decorated in a curiously Spartan style, almost oriental in its simplicity—the so-called “Swedish Modern” look, executed in the finest of materials and workmanship. The tall, narrow windows were shrouded in wooden slat blinds and plain curtains, allowing very little light in from the fading sun.
There was no answer to that chime. Not by the appearance of a servant, nor a voice. There were cameras, however. Many, many cameras. They seemed to sprout from every corner, and all of them were tracking him automatically. Shen Xue was not familiar enough with the interiors of houses like this to tell if the layout was normal. He stood in a small entryway; to his left, a staircase led upwards. To his right, a hallway ended in a closed door, with two more closed doors along the right-hand wall. Up, or further in? Or wait for a response? Action. Never look behind, dive forward with all of one’s might. Well, perhaps not “diving.” The General paced deliberately forward. Most main rooms were on the ground floor, in his experience. But he was presented with the choice of three closed doors. Which?
He chose the middle; the second door along the wall. Tactics said to choose the center of the enemy’s power; the logic was as ancient and as proven as the General.
The door opened with little effort.
It was a room full of electronics. Or rather, of electronic screens. It looked strangely like one of those decadent display rooms for expensive televisions, except that the screens were all the same sort, and each one showed a different view of some point—presumably in this house. The screens were the only light sources in the room; most of it was draped in heavy shadows. In the center of the room was a wheelchair, and in the wheelchair was a man.
“So, they’ve finally sent someone, have they? I was starting to wonder if I was important enough to kill anymore.” He was wizened, decrepit; skin hanging off of bones, looking feeble. Was this what the barbarian had sent her for? A living corpse?
“The world has been somewhat preoccupied,” Shen Xue said politely. This was, after all, an elder. “Also, perhaps you have been mistaken in my purpose.”
“Oh, what’s your purpose, eh? A little fanny to seduce me while you cut my throat? No one comes in here, missy. No one living.”
“Negotiation,” suggested the General. “The world has greater concerns at the moment than the sins of the past.”
The man sneered. “The past? Lemme tell you about the past. Snubbed! That’s what I was! Everything I have ever done, for nothing. Nothing but a graveyard, full of walking corpses and what’s left of them that don’t walk anymore. Everything I’ve done…for nothing!” He jabbed a crooked finger at her. “Negotiation? What negotiation? What can you offer me that I couldn’t steal for myself still, hmm?”
Shen Xue considered this, with growing impatience. Verdigris had sent him on a fool’s errand. Verdigris may well have known this. But if he did not…this impertinent creature was not worthy of Shen Xue’s time, but the General also did not wish to permit anyone more to know of his own considerable abilities. This meant killing him, which would be a pleasure after the insulting way the creature had spoken to him, elder or not. But it would have to be killing him in a way that Verdigris could not put down to pique.
“I fail to see that you are able to steal anything more than my time, broken old man.” The General looked down his nose at the man in the wheelchair. “Boast to the shadows and wind, I am done with you. If you are truly brave, you will end your own wretched existence yourself. Only a coward would continue a life so shrunken.” Deliberately, he turned his back, expecting to hear the sound of a weapon.
“Fucking chink,” said the man in a growl. The General tensed. There was no sound other than that insult. But something…
Instinct warned and her senses were on fire, and Shen Xue acted on that instinct, pulling Jade Emperor’s Whisper from the golf bag with one hand, and flinging the bag in the direction of the threat he sensed with the other.
The bag exploded in the air as a tendril of shadow whipped from a corner, ripping through the bag and scattering the bent clubs. The General was holding the jian in a low ready, her eyes scanning the room. The shadows seemed to be roiling like black clouds, as if they were…restless and alive. What sorcery is this? “You use tricks when your opponent has their back turned. It is the mark of a dishonorable cur, old man.”
The man cackled, and rose easily from his wheelchair; no longer looking nearly so feeble. “There’s no honor among thieves, you stupid chink. You came here to steal my life. I’ve been a thief longer, girl. I’m going to take yours from you.” The shadows were starting to gather around him, tendrils draped around him like wisps of infernal smoke. “I’m going to make you scream first, bitch.” The man leapt towards the General, covering the space between them far too quickly for someone of his advanced age. The General, ready for such a charge, sliced the air in front of himself effortlessly; the Jade Emperor’s Whisper hummed as it rose to meet the foe. But the old man wasn’t there when the blade was supposed to slice through him from stem to stern. Instead, he was to the General’s left; he narrowly dodged a fist that was aimed at his temple. In the slow half second it took to pivot, the General noticed that both of the old man’s hands were holding brass knuckles, studded with spikes and covered with ancient runes and hieroglyphs.
The General backed away with his sword pointed at the man’s throat, being mindful not to tread too closely to the shadows at his back. They were all around, lurching forward whenever he came close. “Noticed something, bitch? Not what you were expecting, huh?” He cackled again. “You’re better’n I thought. I didn’t expect you to block one of my friends there; he was going to take your pretty head off with that swipe. Might be you can give me a fight. I need one; it’s been years since I killed anyone properly.”
The General moved warily. It would be no bad thing to keep him talking. “So this is the source of your secret? You command shadows?”
The old man barked a harsh laugh. “Shadows? What are shadows, you silly bitch? Nothing. These aren’t shadows. They’re what you’re going to become; one of the dead. These?” He raised his hands, looking around the room. “All of the dead I’ve killed, all of the dead I’ve found. They serve me, now; not in body anymore, heh, I took care of that. I took their fucking souls. Pretty soon I’ll have yours, too.” He moved in again, swinging the brass knuckles in crude arcs; normally, the General wouldn’t be fazed by such a lack of finesse. Somehow he was moving faster than any man should be able to, and his blows were strong; the General had to focus on keeping his jian between them and dodging blows to keep from being mutilated or worse. The General could sense the power in the man now that he was clothed in his shadows; the brass knuckles, the shadows, and even the chain he wore around his neck reeked of magic.
“Not fast enough. Don’t think you can tire me out, either. My friends will see that I’m standing long after your petite ass has gone cold.” The Shadows…they are empowering him. He could see it now that he was looking; human forms, always shifting. The lines of shadow that were covering the old man looked like hands and arms, the fingers dug into his skin. He was on the General again as soon as he finished the thought. He’s trying to drive me into a corner, into his captured souls. There was a long tradition of captive, murderous ghosts in Chinese literature, and of the witches, male and female, who commanded them. He probably had caught westerners unaware, but this was not a handicap the General suffered under.
“Do you want a good death, old man? I will not give you one. You are below me.” The General tried to press the attack this time; the old man simply dodged each of her swings by a hair’s breadth, laughing the entire time. It was effortless for him to avoid her attacks. When he was up against the wall, he kicked off of it and launched a flurry of his own; he seemed to be trying to strike her from every direction all at once. The more he moved, the more the General became certain that he was, in fact, the very sort of witch that the legends described. No other creature, human or otherwise, could move like a spider, a monkey, and a snake combined. Underneath the spells and magic, the man was just a common thug; it showed in his fighting and in his speech. But, with such terrible power to back up feckless brutality…
The General was forced to retreat again, cutting and slashing to keep the old man at bay, but never striking flesh. This dance could not be kept up forever; even with the General’s prowess and the Jade Emperor’s Whisper, a misstep would be made and the beast would be upon him. The shadow souls were starting to come free from the walls; one actually grazed the back of the General’s coveralls with unearthly cold claws, ripping the fabric and barely missing flesh. The General countered with a backhanded cut, expecting nothing—but the jian met with resistance and a horrible wail as the shadow’s hand fell away and melted into the ground. What was most interesting was the scream that the old man gave; he stumbled, his eyes growing wide as he looked past the General. Oh. Aha. Now I have you, old man. The sword itself, Jade Emperor’s Whisper, was the secret to killing the shadows. It was divine, and could slay them, magic to magic. Nothing less would touch them.
“How in the hell?” The old man sputtered, shock evident in his tone. The General quickly turned his back to the old man. The Jade Emperor’s Whisper knew the taste of these abominations, and wanted more. The sword blurred against the background as the General did an entirely different dance; pieces of shadow lay scattered on the floor as he cut through them. More sprang into place, trying to overwhelm the General, but this was trivial. The General knew it could hurt them, and there was nothing more perfect than the General with his sword in hand.
“What are you doing! You—stop, goddamnit!” He came at the General again, another lazy blow with those brass knuckles. But it was slower this time. The General scored the old man’s arm at last, sending a thin stream of blood to splatter on the ground; it didn’t melt away like the shadows.
“No. No. No no no!” He backed away from her like a wounded animal, cradling his arm. “You can’t do this!” The shadows all surged forth again, and the General went through them, rending them asunder with the Jade Emperor’s Whisper as easy as if they were still grain and he was a sturdy peasant with a freshly sharpened sickle in hand. With each one that the General cut down, the old man seemed to shrink in on himself. He couldn’t hold himself up as high, couldn’t stand straight, and finally couldn’t stand at all. As the General cut the last shadow soul in half, the old man crumpled to the floor. The room had brightened considerably; with the evil the old man had wreathed himself in gone, the light of the fading sun made itself known once again. With an effort, the man raised himself up off of the floor. The General casually walked towards him, spearing him through the chest with the tip of Jade Emperor’s Whisper. His face contorted in surprised agony, and he slid off of the sword point before hitting the ground with a soft thud.
“They’re—they’re all gone now. My slaves, my—my power. Gone, gone again, just like everything. Everything…gets worse, everything becomes broken. Everything—it goes to hell.”
“I believe Jade Emperor’s Whisper shall send you to a very special hell,” Shen Xue said thoughtfully. “The Chinese have a great many hells. Which one shall it be, I wonder? Dismemberment? Crushing? Boiling? There are many kinds involving fire or cold…oh, and blood. And the removal of body parts.”
The old man’s life was bleeding out through his chest. He had minutes, at best. “I’m going to be remembered, bitch. E-everything I’ve done, all the people I killed—they’ll know me where I’m going.” He coughed, producing more dark blood. He looked much as he had when the General first saw him; frail, small, broken. “They called me Shadow-Storm. B-but—my name…my name is—”
With a flick of Jade Emperor’s Whisper the General opened his throat, drowning his words in his life-blood. “No one knows your name, old fool. No one will. And no one cares, except maybe the demons you will meet.” The old man’s eyes bulged, and a single wisp of shadow extended from his fingers before he collapsed, still wide eyed and in agony but finally dead.
The General left the old Victorian house in the same way he had entered; boldly and through the front door.
* * *
Verdigris was surprised when People’s Blade actually notified his receptionist that she—he, the General referred to himself as a male—was coming. Granted, she brushed aside any attempts to keep her out, and strolled straight in as if she’d had an appointment, but at least she stopped at the desk first.
She swaggered to stand in front of Verd’s desk, and looked down her nose at him. “I have, as you barbarians say, ‘good news and bad news.’ Which would you prefer first?”
“In my experience there’s not always that much of a difference between the two, depending on one’s perspective. The good news.” He gestured for the General to take a seat in one of the hand-crafted leather chairs.
People’s Blade remained standing. “The good news: Shadow-Storm is no longer a threat to anyone. He was disinclined even to consider negotiation, so in the interest of removing a potential hazard, I eliminated him.” She considered the nails on one hand. “That is the bad news; I was forced to eliminate him, even though I approached him peaceably and attempted to recruit.” She was intentionally leaving something unsaid, there; Verdigris knew better than to fall into such an obvious trap, though, deciding to use a different tact.
“How did you dispose of him? Anything that I have to worry about making the papers?” He kept his face and voice calm, as if this was merely a cleanup detail. Never show your cards if you can help it.
“Please. How do you think?” There was a distinct edge to her voice.
“You’re a person of many…talents. You cutting wit may have done him in, my dear.” He allowed himself a smirk.
She glared at him. “You neglected to tell me much about this target. Your primary neglect was to tell me that his power derived from magic.”
“Magic? Impossible, General. Surely it was something else; sufficient technology appears magical at first glance. I should know, I’ve made some things that would qualify as magic to the uninitiat—”
The General cut him off with an abrupt gesture. “You are a barbarian. You do not know the power of magic. This is why none of those technologists were able to defeat him, and I was. You would be wise to listen to one who is an expert…fool. If you wish my alliance, there will be no more nonsense about how impossible magic is.”
“I—”
“And nothing will be kept from me, from now on. No more games. No more tests. If more nonsense follows this episode, our arrangement will be ended. With Finality.” The General’s glare gave ample warning of just what she meant.
Verdigris cooled immediately, his face hardening into a rock. “Understood. General. I have something very important for you. This will be a long-term project and a vital target, and one I suspect only you have the ability to accomplish. I’ll send for you when I have a proper file updated.”
People’s Blade raised an eyebrow. “Really. What, do you have a god in your sights as a possible recruit? Nothing less is worthy of my time.”
“Not a recruit. That’s been tried. You know the value of weapons; I mean to steal one. Whether or not she wants to be stolen.”
* * *
Khanjar was listening, from the spy-post, and her frown deepened. This…was stupid. There was no other word for it. Bad enough that Verdigris was dealing with the General—Khanjar had done some information-seeking on her own and knew what the creature called People’s Blade was, or at least, what she had said she was to the communists. That sword she carried…Jade Emperor’s Whisper…it was supposed to be divine, forged by the order of the Jade Emperor, the chief of all the Chinese deities. That was bad enough, but to make things worse, it contained the soul of the Shen Xue, an ancient Chinese general, one of the most ruthless ever to walk the earth, a man who would spend the lives of hundreds of thousands—enemies, noncombatants, or his own men—to accomplish his goals. Not that Khanjar objected to this level of bloodshed in principle, but in practice, in this day and age…it was injudicious and tended to get the attention of other people with armies.
Allegedly, the General had only served as the advisor to the blade’s “owner,” Fei Li; a peasant thief girl. But given the way that People’s Blade had been acting…Khanjar was relatively certain now that Fei Li was no longer in possession of her own body. The General was in charge now, and given his ruthless nature, he was unlikely to hand the body back until he had accomplished whatever his current goal was. Perhaps not even then.
Verdigris had no idea what he was metaphorically climbing into bed with. This was…insane.
And if this was leading where she thought it was leading…to the capture of the Deva, the Seraphym, and presumably the coercion of said being…it was more than insane.
You did not capture and coerce a Deva. Not if you wanted your karma to remain neutral. Such an action would send your karma somewhere below that of “you will be reincarnated as a starving alley dog for the next twenty lifetimes.” Even being associated with such a thing would send her karma plummeting to somewhere below “reincarnation as a nanny-goat.”
Not acceptable.
Khanjar, she told herself, as she continued to keep her post at the spy hole, per Verdigris’ orders, It is time to look for an exit strategy.