But, of course, it wasn’t that easy.
“Careful,” John’s sexy version of a Babelfish whispered, straight into his ear canal. “The Shikken say he let you pay ransom, then kill them anyway.”
Which probably explained why Hye-Jin was looking happier suddenly, and why Zheng-zi was frowning. But he didn’t say anything else, mentally or aloud, which probably meant that he’d done all he could. Leaving this up to John.
Who found himself abruptly pushed toward the mirror.
Chapter Ten
I t was the phone booth experience all over again, except that the silver head emerging from the mirror to take John’s number was a lot more obsequious. Unlike a certain white-haired menace on the other end of the line. Betty Armitage looked up from her typewriter, obviously annoyed at being disturbed again, and scowled at John.
Who stared back at her, hoping that “special agent” wasn’t just a courtesy title.
He couldn’t tell, since the air of annoyance and vague exasperation she wore were the same as always. Narrowed gray eyes scanned the room, going from the dais of deadly creatures behind him, to the phalanx of guards surrounding him, to the far side of the big space, where the edge of the metal cages could just be seen. John doubted that she could tell what was in them from this angle, but he couldn’t be sure. Her only reaction, if reaction it was, was a slight tightening of already thin lips.
“Mage,” she finally said, not using his name, which was protocol in situations where that information might get someone killed. Unfortunately, it was also standard when Betty was annoyed, so it didn’t tell him anything. “You wanted something?”
“The Lord Protector, please,” John rasped, out of a half-collapsed throat. “I need to discuss a potential five-fifty-five—”
“Watch it,” Hye-Jin snapped.
“—a conference to discuss a prisoner exchange,” he added, for her benefit. “Is he available?”
Betty flipped open a day planner. “I’m not sure he’s in yet. He doesn’t have anything on his schedule until this afternoon.”
John stared at her some more. A five fifty-five was not a conference call. It was an SOS, an “agents down, more in peril, request immediate extraction” cry for help. Something the Corps should be able to provide, at least for everyone except John, who was still in his old sweats and trainers.
But the rest of them weren’t.
And while the vampires had been smart enough to strip off their captives’ weapons, their war mage pins remained in place. Originally designed to keep a man’s cloak together back when such things were fashionable, they now served a variety of other functions. Including housing a homing device that allowed mass recall in times of emergency.
Because the bad guys weren’t the only ones who could open a goddamned portal!
John most decidedly did not have the strength to do it again, but the Circle had magic to burn. And, yes, it would burn a terrific amount to force a portal open halfway around the world, but they could do it. The vampires had thoughtfully grouped their captives all together in one small space, which was the main prerequisite for an extraction.
At least it would be, if Betty understood what the hell he was talking about!
“One moment,” she said, before John could get his thoughts together. “I have a call on another line.”
“No! Betty! I mean, special ag—” The screen went blank.
The Korean master, Hye-Jin, looked pointedly at John.
“She’s, er, she’s a bit . . . eccentric,” he said awkwardly.
This provoked a string of what sounded like Korean profanity, but may have just been contempt.
“She say she don’t know why everyone worries about war mages, if this what you like,” his personal translator informed him.
Right then, John didn’t know, either.
And then Betty was back.
“Could you check, please?” he said quickly. “The Lord Protector is usually in by eight, and it must be half past by now.”
Eight thirty, Betty, he thought, wishing he had the vamp’s ability with mental communication. Eight Three Zero. Portal evacuation, damn it; you must have had this in training!
Betty did not appear to have had this. Or maybe her training had been so long ago that they’d called it something else. Or perhaps she’d just forgotten, because she wrinkled her nose in irritation again.
“That is not the correct time, mage. You should get your watch fixed.”
She winked out again before John could reply, although this time, she’d put him on hold. Giving him the surreal experience of waiting around a storm-tossed, vampire-filled, filthy warehouse while elevator music tinkled out of the mirror’s surface. It appeared to be an acoustic version of Evanescence’s “Going Under”.
Appropriate, John thought, as the vampires crowded ever closer. Only, unlike the lyrics, he was pretty sure he couldn’t save himself this time. He really, really hoped he didn’t have to.
Before the song ended, Betty was back, adjusting the old-fashioned cat’s eye glasses she wore because she worked deep in HQ’s underbelly, and vision spells didn’t play well with the powerful wards there.
“I was mistaken,” she told him crisply. “It appears that he is in, after all. Oh, and by the way, it’s 9:55. Do set your watch, mage.”
“What,” John said blankly.
“Set your watch. It’s 9:55 . . . now,” and John’s eyes widened. And then darkened, when he threw the heaviest black out spell he knew over his vision.
He was barely in time. Darkness descended, pure and deep and absolute, at least for him. But judging by the all the screaming, yelling and cursing suddenly going on around him, that that wasn’t true for everybody else. He didn’t know how long it would take the vamps to realize that they needed to break the mirror to cut off the searing sunlight blazing everywhere, but it probably wouldn’t be long.
He bolted.
The spell was one of those that had been developed back in the bad old days when humans and vampires struggled for power. It weaponized the sun’s rays, ramping them up enough that it created a white out effect that could extend for several city blocks. It also burned retinas in seconds, blinded permanently in less than a minute, and cooked the skin right off your body if it went on long enough—and that was for humans.
John didn’t know what it did to vampires, since he’d never seen it utilized, but the sudden storm of ash clogging his nostrils and filling his mouth as he stumbled forward was telling.
Seemed not everyone here was a master, he thought, right before he slammed into the cages.
And almost had his head taken off by a spell.
He dropped to the ground, crouching on the balls of his feet, his hand clenched on a cage bar. The mages, he thought, remembering the group who had glared at him when he came in. And they didn’t seem any happier now.
More spells crashed by overhead, but they were too high, the men making the amateur mistake of only firing at normal height. John didn’t fire back—as if he had the strength—nor did he shield, thus giving them no help in locating him. The small black out spell he was using was lost in the magic pouring from the mirror, and they were adding to the problem by grouping themselves too closely together. The spill over from their own power was helping to camouflage him, and John didn’t wait around for them to figure that out.