Preview: The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 3
I know we're moving fast, but with the release date coming up fast, why not? Here's part 3 of your intro to The Necromancer's Gambit, due September 23rd. The Necromancer's Gambit follows the trevails of a cell of mages operating in Portland.
Previously:
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 1
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 2
The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 3, The Investigation
Rook follows me to the entrance of the Cauldron. I can already feel the oppressive bass pounding from inside, and the heavy stink of sweat and smoke on the air. I hand our cover fee to a woman in her mid-thirties trying too hard to cling to her late twenties. “Hand stamp?” she asks, and I shake my head. “You’re supposed to get a hand stamp,” she says, bored but annoyed.
I peel a Hamilton and set it on top of the cover. She shrugs and waves us in.
Rook gives me a look. “You don’t trust the ink?” Her tone is skeptical. Exactly how green are the witches out of Salem these days?
“Psychography- spirit writers.” I’m having to talk louder than I like to overcome the music, but the crowd in the Cauldron is 60% mage; it takes more than a dry discussion of magic to turn heads in here.
“I thought that was mostly the ideomotor effect-” she yells back, “like dowsing, or using a Ouija board.”
“Adepts can transcribe otherworldly communication- but that’s only half the craft. They use apothecary inks- magic distilled in liquid form.” Generally, the covens like their magic fresh- fresh ingredients, fresh rituals- some bullshit about it being closer to the natural way of things, and more pure. Elixirs like apothecary inks never really caught on with them, especially in an isolated Circle like hers. “You ever been spirit-written? I don’t recommend it.”
I pull out my phone to send a text, tell Pawn that we’re here. “It helps if you claim to have OCD? Like how vampires tell people they have porphyria. Helps explain away the little eccentricities- keeps people from getting too curious about things they wouldn’t understand.”
Pawn sticks out as he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s in his late forties, early fifties, buzzed, thinning hair, short, stocky build. And he only sticks out more because he doesn’t recognize he’s at least fifteen years too old for this crowd. “Body’s in the champagne room,” he says, and spends a moment too long looking at Rook.
“Body?” she asks, pretending as a courtesy not to notice him leering.
Pawn leads us past a bouncer, into the backroom. There’s a corpse in the middle of the floor. The body’s charred, and mangled, in an unnatural pose; I’ve seen similar, from falls- particularly somebody who fell without trying to catch themselves.
Pawn stalks around Rook, seeing if she’ll respond to his assertion of dominance. When she doesn’t he figures she’s just a piece of meat. “So this is the rookie, huh? Gotta say, she’s a sight prettier than you when I trained you.”
“Yet you just keep getting uglier and fatter, as the years pack on,” I say. He grunts; from her look, I can tell Rook feels bad for him, but only because she doesn’t know him. “It’s burnt to hell. You have a vamp sniff it out?”
“Was a vamp that brought it to me, one of my CIs.”
“And I had my money on you pocketing the informant stipend.”
There’s a hint of pain in his expression before he buries it- he doesn’t appreciate being shamed in front of the new girl, but plays it off. “I take my cut, but the informant’s good. Never had a problem with him before.”
“Bring him in. I’ll want to know what he does. Witnesses?”
“Just the vamp.”
“The bouncer?”
“Tim. He was outside. Heard a crack, then the thump. Presumably the port, then the landing. Room was empty at the time. But he got the vamp to check it out.”
“You like the bouncer for it?”
“Nah. He’s a solid citizen. Worked here for better of a decade. Never thrown me out on my ass- which is something. Always pays his taxes. Besides which, bartender corroborates him being outside when she heard the sounds, then him fetching my CI.”
I’m not so sure. “Still, grabbing the vamp-”
“Cauldron’s been a hangout for most of his tenure. This ain’t his first dog and pony.”
Pawn’s being uncharacteristically thorough, tonight, but for some reason that puts me more on edge. “Get him in here anyway.”
Check back next week for another excerpt or join my mailing list to be notified when The Necromancer's Gambit is available for purchase.
Previously:
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 1
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 2
The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 3, The Investigation
Rook follows me to the entrance of the Cauldron. I can already feel the oppressive bass pounding from inside, and the heavy stink of sweat and smoke on the air. I hand our cover fee to a woman in her mid-thirties trying too hard to cling to her late twenties. “Hand stamp?” she asks, and I shake my head. “You’re supposed to get a hand stamp,” she says, bored but annoyed.
I peel a Hamilton and set it on top of the cover. She shrugs and waves us in.
Rook gives me a look. “You don’t trust the ink?” Her tone is skeptical. Exactly how green are the witches out of Salem these days?
“Psychography- spirit writers.” I’m having to talk louder than I like to overcome the music, but the crowd in the Cauldron is 60% mage; it takes more than a dry discussion of magic to turn heads in here.
“I thought that was mostly the ideomotor effect-” she yells back, “like dowsing, or using a Ouija board.”
“Adepts can transcribe otherworldly communication- but that’s only half the craft. They use apothecary inks- magic distilled in liquid form.” Generally, the covens like their magic fresh- fresh ingredients, fresh rituals- some bullshit about it being closer to the natural way of things, and more pure. Elixirs like apothecary inks never really caught on with them, especially in an isolated Circle like hers. “You ever been spirit-written? I don’t recommend it.”
I pull out my phone to send a text, tell Pawn that we’re here. “It helps if you claim to have OCD? Like how vampires tell people they have porphyria. Helps explain away the little eccentricities- keeps people from getting too curious about things they wouldn’t understand.”
Pawn sticks out as he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s in his late forties, early fifties, buzzed, thinning hair, short, stocky build. And he only sticks out more because he doesn’t recognize he’s at least fifteen years too old for this crowd. “Body’s in the champagne room,” he says, and spends a moment too long looking at Rook.
“Body?” she asks, pretending as a courtesy not to notice him leering.
Pawn leads us past a bouncer, into the backroom. There’s a corpse in the middle of the floor. The body’s charred, and mangled, in an unnatural pose; I’ve seen similar, from falls- particularly somebody who fell without trying to catch themselves.
Pawn stalks around Rook, seeing if she’ll respond to his assertion of dominance. When she doesn’t he figures she’s just a piece of meat. “So this is the rookie, huh? Gotta say, she’s a sight prettier than you when I trained you.”
“Yet you just keep getting uglier and fatter, as the years pack on,” I say. He grunts; from her look, I can tell Rook feels bad for him, but only because she doesn’t know him. “It’s burnt to hell. You have a vamp sniff it out?”
“Was a vamp that brought it to me, one of my CIs.”
“And I had my money on you pocketing the informant stipend.”
There’s a hint of pain in his expression before he buries it- he doesn’t appreciate being shamed in front of the new girl, but plays it off. “I take my cut, but the informant’s good. Never had a problem with him before.”
“Bring him in. I’ll want to know what he does. Witnesses?”
“Just the vamp.”
“The bouncer?”
“Tim. He was outside. Heard a crack, then the thump. Presumably the port, then the landing. Room was empty at the time. But he got the vamp to check it out.”
“You like the bouncer for it?”
“Nah. He’s a solid citizen. Worked here for better of a decade. Never thrown me out on my ass- which is something. Always pays his taxes. Besides which, bartender corroborates him being outside when she heard the sounds, then him fetching my CI.”
I’m not so sure. “Still, grabbing the vamp-”
“Cauldron’s been a hangout for most of his tenure. This ain’t his first dog and pony.”
Pawn’s being uncharacteristically thorough, tonight, but for some reason that puts me more on edge. “Get him in here anyway.”
Check back next week for another excerpt or join my mailing list to be notified when The Necromancer's Gambit is available for purchase.
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