Preview: The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 7
And now, the last preview for The Necromancer's Gambit, due September 23rd. The Necromancer's Gambit follows the travails of a cell of mages operating in Portland. Stay tuned later this week for the cover reveal.
Previously:
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 1
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 2
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 3
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 4
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 5
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 6
The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 7, The Interrogation, continued.
I barely have to look at Pawn for him to go scurrying for the halvah and the CF. He’s in deep shit, and he knows it. And Rook’s full of righteous pissiness. I should have expected as much, since it’s noble goddamn sentiment that’s kept most of the covens out of proper government.
“Let me see if I’ve got your job description straight: you beat and bully the people who help you until they probably won’t help you next time?”
I try not to snap at her. Interrogation’s never pretty, even when Pawn isn’t involved. And I also don’t have the heart to tell her just how vanilla this one actually was. “That’s probably how this played out. But more often than not, interrogation gets you information a witness wouldn’t give up willingly. Interrogation’s a part of what I do. So’s scene investigation. Tracking. Pawn goes home and blackout drinks tonight away, and Bishop, after a day or two pulling apart that overcooked McNugget gets to set it aside. But this case is mine until I bury it. Pawn’s an ugly little thug-”
“Thanks,” he says, before realizing he should have kept his nose buried in his refrigerator, trying to find the halvah.
“but he’s a terrier, and barks real loud to keep people in check. But when they become unchecked, it’s my job to find them and shut them down.”
She wants to fight it out, but her diplomatic instincts kick in. “Fine.”
“Just take it,” I hear Pawn from the other side of the room. Cedric walks toward the door, and Pawn keeps jabbing him with the halvah and CF; he won’t take them, and I understand why. I grab them from Pawn, and Cedric takes them, gently, out of my hands. He nods to me, but his eyes are sad.
“Sorry about that little trip you took,” Pawn says, and claps him on the shoulder.
Cedric’s eyes go red again, and he nods in my direction. “If he weren’t here, I’d rip through your neck like tissue.” He slams the door before Pawn’s hand can start to gravitate to the snub-nose in his pocket.
“Guess I won’t be using him as a CI anymore.”
“They’re gone,” I tell him. “Whatever goodwill he banked with us or the VC, he can’t trust anymore. So he’ll take Patrice and disappear, go to a new city, start over with a different colony.”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Pawn says, before I even get a chance to. “I know Patrice, and that she’s been hanging around Cedric. But I didn’t fucking know he turned her. Christ. I’d have torn out his fangs if I’d known that. You know those VC fucks- look for any reason to pitch the blame on us humans.”
“They’re human, too,” I correct him.
“Keep telling yourself, that, pal. I prefer not to share a species with people who see me as livestock.”
“What’s our next step?” Rook asks.
“Pawn will track down Patrice, if he can, and I’ll ask her, gently, what went on.”
Pawn, midshaft on the cock-n-balls, glares at me. “But their story seems to match Tim’s, so it’s probably a dead end. Otherwise we’re waiting on Bishop.”
“Want to get some more coffee?” she asks.
“Slightly warmer, or colder, this time?”
“Sure. Let’s walk.” I figure pumping her legs will get some of the tension out so we hoof it to Voodoo. We get less than a block before I realize she’s watching over her shoulder. “Worried about the vamp?”
She blushes. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“Wary, not worried. One to one, a mage trumps a vamp. They’re faster, stronger, more agile- but that only matters if they can get in close. So it’s basically suicide for a vamp to attack a mage. It might be worth it for him to try to kill Pawn- he’s a big enough prick- but you and I, no. That’d be suicide times 2.”
“Unless there’s more than one of them.”
“There’s a treaty, between the vampire colonies and the gambits. They don’t attack us, we don’t attack them. It’s a fragile peace, but one that’s beneficial enough that nobody’s looking to violate it. And Cedric has broken their rules; he can’t trust any of them with it- so he couldn’t ask any of them for back up.”
“How close do you work with the colony?”
“Kind of depends. If they’ve got trouble they’ll consult with us. If we’ve got a vamp suspect, we’ll consult with them. Theoretically, we could call them for back-up in a pinch- but I’d hate to have to rely on that. In a city this size, you’re almost guaranteed to have either an infestation or a colony. Since Salem’s the capital, I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few vampires there, hangers-on or manipulators. I know a good extermination guy I can recommend to your Circle.”
“A hunter?”
“Not one of those genocidal pricks. More of a catch and release specialist. Besides, if you can point them out to a nearby colony, they’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t think I like the euphemism.”
“It isn’t one. Most likely they’d set up a colony. Organize it. Without it, pretty soon you end up with an infestation- a de facto colony that’s rogue, doesn’t enforce the rules, and tends to attract the worst elements. Then it’s kill or be killed.” I hand her a card. “Just talk to my guy. Better to know. What the Circle does with the information is up to them.”
She’s still mulling the idea when I get a call. It’s Bishop. “Better fucking come down here.”
“B? What’s wrong? You in trouble?”
“Just fucking come. And bring Pawn.” We run back by the safe house. He’s doesn’t say a thing, but he’s ready when we get there- him not dragging his ass shows just how rattled he is.
Bishop’s never been this taciturn before. I don’t know what that means- but it’s bad. I speed through several of Portland’s perennial construction zones, and it’s probably a miracle I don’t get pulled over.
Bishop opens her door as we pull up, leaves it ajar. She’s standing by the body, staring, by the time we cross the threshold. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone. Even with the protective spells. It’s Castle.”
“What’s Castle?” I ask, because she can’t mean what I think she does. “Did he call you? Is something up?”
“No, that corpse is Castle. Our Castle.”
“Shit.”
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 Necromancer's Gambit, part 4
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 5
The Necromancer's Gambit, part 6
The Necromancer's Gambit, Part 7, The Interrogation, continued.
I barely have to look at Pawn for him to go scurrying for the halvah and the CF. He’s in deep shit, and he knows it. And Rook’s full of righteous pissiness. I should have expected as much, since it’s noble goddamn sentiment that’s kept most of the covens out of proper government.
“Let me see if I’ve got your job description straight: you beat and bully the people who help you until they probably won’t help you next time?”
I try not to snap at her. Interrogation’s never pretty, even when Pawn isn’t involved. And I also don’t have the heart to tell her just how vanilla this one actually was. “That’s probably how this played out. But more often than not, interrogation gets you information a witness wouldn’t give up willingly. Interrogation’s a part of what I do. So’s scene investigation. Tracking. Pawn goes home and blackout drinks tonight away, and Bishop, after a day or two pulling apart that overcooked McNugget gets to set it aside. But this case is mine until I bury it. Pawn’s an ugly little thug-”
“Thanks,” he says, before realizing he should have kept his nose buried in his refrigerator, trying to find the halvah.
“but he’s a terrier, and barks real loud to keep people in check. But when they become unchecked, it’s my job to find them and shut them down.”
She wants to fight it out, but her diplomatic instincts kick in. “Fine.”
“Just take it,” I hear Pawn from the other side of the room. Cedric walks toward the door, and Pawn keeps jabbing him with the halvah and CF; he won’t take them, and I understand why. I grab them from Pawn, and Cedric takes them, gently, out of my hands. He nods to me, but his eyes are sad.
“Sorry about that little trip you took,” Pawn says, and claps him on the shoulder.
Cedric’s eyes go red again, and he nods in my direction. “If he weren’t here, I’d rip through your neck like tissue.” He slams the door before Pawn’s hand can start to gravitate to the snub-nose in his pocket.
“Guess I won’t be using him as a CI anymore.”
“They’re gone,” I tell him. “Whatever goodwill he banked with us or the VC, he can’t trust anymore. So he’ll take Patrice and disappear, go to a new city, start over with a different colony.”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” Pawn says, before I even get a chance to. “I know Patrice, and that she’s been hanging around Cedric. But I didn’t fucking know he turned her. Christ. I’d have torn out his fangs if I’d known that. You know those VC fucks- look for any reason to pitch the blame on us humans.”
“They’re human, too,” I correct him.
“Keep telling yourself, that, pal. I prefer not to share a species with people who see me as livestock.”
“What’s our next step?” Rook asks.
“Pawn will track down Patrice, if he can, and I’ll ask her, gently, what went on.”
Pawn, midshaft on the cock-n-balls, glares at me. “But their story seems to match Tim’s, so it’s probably a dead end. Otherwise we’re waiting on Bishop.”
“Want to get some more coffee?” she asks.
“Slightly warmer, or colder, this time?”
“Sure. Let’s walk.” I figure pumping her legs will get some of the tension out so we hoof it to Voodoo. We get less than a block before I realize she’s watching over her shoulder. “Worried about the vamp?”
She blushes. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“Wary, not worried. One to one, a mage trumps a vamp. They’re faster, stronger, more agile- but that only matters if they can get in close. So it’s basically suicide for a vamp to attack a mage. It might be worth it for him to try to kill Pawn- he’s a big enough prick- but you and I, no. That’d be suicide times 2.”
“Unless there’s more than one of them.”
“There’s a treaty, between the vampire colonies and the gambits. They don’t attack us, we don’t attack them. It’s a fragile peace, but one that’s beneficial enough that nobody’s looking to violate it. And Cedric has broken their rules; he can’t trust any of them with it- so he couldn’t ask any of them for back up.”
“How close do you work with the colony?”
“Kind of depends. If they’ve got trouble they’ll consult with us. If we’ve got a vamp suspect, we’ll consult with them. Theoretically, we could call them for back-up in a pinch- but I’d hate to have to rely on that. In a city this size, you’re almost guaranteed to have either an infestation or a colony. Since Salem’s the capital, I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few vampires there, hangers-on or manipulators. I know a good extermination guy I can recommend to your Circle.”
“A hunter?”
“Not one of those genocidal pricks. More of a catch and release specialist. Besides, if you can point them out to a nearby colony, they’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t think I like the euphemism.”
“It isn’t one. Most likely they’d set up a colony. Organize it. Without it, pretty soon you end up with an infestation- a de facto colony that’s rogue, doesn’t enforce the rules, and tends to attract the worst elements. Then it’s kill or be killed.” I hand her a card. “Just talk to my guy. Better to know. What the Circle does with the information is up to them.”
She’s still mulling the idea when I get a call. It’s Bishop. “Better fucking come down here.”
“B? What’s wrong? You in trouble?”
“Just fucking come. And bring Pawn.” We run back by the safe house. He’s doesn’t say a thing, but he’s ready when we get there- him not dragging his ass shows just how rattled he is.
Bishop’s never been this taciturn before. I don’t know what that means- but it’s bad. I speed through several of Portland’s perennial construction zones, and it’s probably a miracle I don’t get pulled over.
Bishop opens her door as we pull up, leaves it ajar. She’s standing by the body, staring, by the time we cross the threshold. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone. Even with the protective spells. It’s Castle.”
“What’s Castle?” I ask, because she can’t mean what I think she does. “Did he call you? Is something up?”
“No, that corpse is Castle. Our Castle.”
“Shit.”
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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