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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


“Hey, he’s already done that. The lightning, and the ominous chuckle.” I pointed at Lumiere with my sword. “Is he allowed to do that twice?”

“Shut up, Rast,” the three of them said at once. Tesla watched Lumiere’s crumpled form, while Chesa and Adelaide kept their weapons pointed at the lich’s caged skull.

“What’s so damned amusing, Claude?” Nik asked.

“Oh, Nik. So many things.” The lich got deliberately to his feet, taking the time to dust off his shoulders as he stood, as Tesla backed up carefully. “Every time I think I have failed, there you are, to pick me up again. First with the plans for Atlantis, then the vampires, and now this. It’s so kind.”

“What do you mean? What are you on about?” Tesla demanded.

“I couldn’t have built this place without you, my dear Tesla.” Lumiere gestured grandly to the replica Palais, and the triple generator arms rotating overhead. “Your contributions to the science of wireless transmission were an invaluable asset to my research into soul transferral. And if you weren’t so focused on the generators and cabling and your foolish projectors, you might have looked at the true purpose of the design. The entire community was dazzled by your electric lights. As if such frippery could truly change the world.”

“In his defense, electricity is pretty amaz—” I shut up at their collective angry glare.

“Meanwhile,” Lumiere continued, once my rapt silence was assured, “I was free to carry on with my experiments, right under your nose.”

“Until the vampires killed your whole family,” Addie said. “Real pity.”

“It was!” Lumiere said gleefully. “I really thought that was going to be the end of my whole plan. They must have caught wind of what I was up to, and didn’t want to share immortality with a mere mortal. I’m not sure. You’d have to ask . . . Oh wait, you can’t, because they’re all dead. Killed by our dear friends the Society of Eccentrics, along with Knight Watch.”

“You’re right, of course,” Tesla said. “I was a fool. I counted you as a friend, Claude. I trusted you, admired you, even sought to help you. That blinded me. But I have seen the schematic for this place. My eyes are open. And I can’t let you carry through with it.”

“Why? Because it will destroy your precious Gestalt? Look around, Nikola. The Gestalt is dying on its own. Gone are the days of heady science and brash adventure. How often do you get new recruits?” Lumiere sneered, an impressive feat for a skull without lips suspended in an iron cage. “I’m saving you from oblivion, you fool!”

A strong wind blew through the Palais, carrying a familiar scent. You might have smelled it once or twice over the course of your life, snatched from mountain peaks, or in the deep valleys of the world, far from the corrupting influence of modernity. The Unreal, shining through the thin tapestry of your life, revealing something beyond, something more. Something magical. I took a deep breath and smiled. Then I realized what was happening.

“We need to get the two of you out of here. Immediately!” I grabbed Addie by the shoulder and pulled her away from the remains of her rifle. She pushed me away, but as she did, the rifle came apart. It was like a tree limb, rotten from the inside out, tearing free in the slightest breeze. It just disintegrated in a shower of mismatched parts. She stared at the stump of a trigger guard, clutched in her ivory hand.

“What . . . what . . . is happening?” she muttered.

“It’s the Unreal. Your Gestalt is collapsing. Grab Tesla and run.” I pushed her toward the door. “We’ll take care of this.”

“We can’t just leave you here,” Tesla said. “There’s—”

Some critical component in his generator gave way. Like a teakettle boiling over, a cloud of sparks and scalding water erupted from his back. The explosion threw Tesla to the ground and sent a plume of steam high into the air. I threw my shield over Addie, protecting us both from the debris cloud. Once it was past, I ran to Tesla’s side.

“Perhaps . . . a strategic retreat is in order,” he mumbled. The back half of his suit was blown off down to the knickers, and his skin was raw with blisters. I helped him to his feet, then handed him over to Addie.

“Just get out of here. We’ll be fine. This is why you got us involved. None of you are any good in the Unreal,” I said. “Call Ida. She’ll get you out of here. Greg! You’re going with them!”

“I shall not forsake my oath to protect the weak and stand against the darkness.” Old Greg rattled to his feet and, with much grunting and moaning, drew his zweihander. He held it high on quivering limbs. “Such is the path of the knight! I must—”

He collapsed into a pile of arthritis and steel. We winced in sympathy.

“It’s okay, big guy. The Saint will set you right after this is all over. Matthew? Get him out of here.”

“On our way,” he said, hooking an arm under Greg’s elbow and dragging him off the ground. “Oof. You’re heavy for an old man.”

“Are you sure you can manage without us?” Addie asked.

“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Chesa, you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” Chesa said. “Lumiere is getting away.”

“What? I thought he was going to kill us first?” I asked, looking around.

Sure enough, the Iron Lich was limping back to the platform from which he had originally risen. Thick black smoke poured out of the sarcophagus, covering the gallery and rolling in noxious clouds across the floor. He had reached the perimeter of the smoke, and was making good time to the coffin.

“We have to stop him,” I said. “The rest of you get out of here. Chesa, with me!”

“Okay, bossy,” she said, following as I ran forward. Lumiere looked at us over his shoulder, then picked up the pace.

“You’re not getting away this time, Bonebro!” I shouted. My armor clattered around me, so I couldn’t hear his response, but I was pretty sure he was running scared.

I was wrong.

As I reached the leading edge of the pool of smoke, my eyes and lungs started to burn. Tendrils of smoke clung to my legs as I ran, building up like vines creeping up to my knees. I coughed, and something deep in my chest pulled free. I wrenched my visor open and skidded to a halt.

“Too . . . much . . . smoke,” I gasped. Chesa came to a stop outside the smoke. She pulled her cloak over her mouth as the murk roiled closer. “Get back!”

“You know, I was worried about you at first,” Lumiere said as he strode toward me. “Sir John of Rast. Dragonslayer. Savior of Valhalla. When Tesla finally figured out what was going on and reached out to Knight Watch, it gave me pause.” I tried to square up to him, but a coughing fit racked my body, and I went down to my knees. He glared down at me, hands on hips. “It seems like my concerns were unwarranted.”

“You’re a bastard, and a creep, and your face looks like someone dropped your head into a vat of acid,” I said through gritted teeth. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

I scrambled for my sword, bringing it up in an arcing slice toward his guts. He deflected the blow with his shin, then drove his knee into my face. I went down onto my back. The smoke rolled over me in choking waves. I coughed so hard it felt like my ribs were going to break. When I tried to roll away, Lumiere put a foot onto my left shoulder, pinning me in place.

“Oh, but I think you are done,” he said, then began to grind his heel into my bones. The steel of my armor groaned as he torqued the plates open, and I could feel the joint straining to stay in its socket. I shouted in pain. He laughed. “I’m done playing with children who think they are heroes. Without your magic, you’re nothing but a boy in fancy clothes.”

He released me, casually kicking me in the face once again as I tried to get up. By the time my vision cleared, he was disappearing into the plume of smoke that rose from the open tomb in the center of the Palais. I rubbed my jaw and watched him go. The smoke receded, until it clustered around the platform. Chesa ran to my side.

“John, are you alright?” she asked. “I lost sight of you both in the smoke, and thought he might have taken you with him. What happened?”

“He reminded me who I am,” I said, struggling to my feet. My face throbbed in pain, my shoulder was screaming, and my pride whimpered like a dog that had been whipped. “The guy who gives up.” I looked up at the plume of black smoke. It was climbing to the ceiling, like a geyser. Or a tower. “I really hate that guy.”

“John, I hate to say this, but I think we have to get help,” Chesa said. “It’s just the two of us, and you’re pretty beat up. We need to get you to the Doc, get Greg back to his zealot self. Maybe find a way to get the rest of the team over here.” She looked up at the tower of smoke. “You and I can’t do this alone. We’re both tapped out of our domain power, and without our magic—”

“Exactly. Without our magic.” I fished my sword off the marble and slid it back into the scabbard, then hitched my shield over my shoulder. “So we get our magic back.”

“What? John, that’s impossible. We’re surrounded by the Gestalt. That was the whole point of the amulets. Mine’s open full, but it’s not refilling me fast enough. Without a portal to our domains, we’re trapped,” she said emphatically. “Cut off from our mythos.”

“So we find a way back,” I said. “A new portal. We make one.”

“Well, unless you see any magical doors to the elven forests around here, I’ve got nothing,” she said. “And I don’t know what the particular path is to your domain, but I’m guessing it has nothing to do with an amusement park off the Jersey shore.”

“You might be surprised. Lots of ways to be scared, Ches. Only one way to be a hero,” I said with a smile. “And that’s not giving up.”


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