Nightfall (Pact Arcanum Integrated Serial Edition) (2 page)

Then the wall next to him exploded inward.
Almost nothing.
Antonio raised his gaze to meet Luscian’s from across the square. The vampire lord raised his hand to cast another spell. Antonio watched it numbly as it took shape.
Fourth-level disintegration pulse. Nice design.

Then Edgar’s teleport spell snatched them both away, moments before the top three floors of the building in which they were hiding crumbled into dust.

PART I:  NIGHTFALL

CHAPTER 1

April 2015; San Francisco, California

Antonio sat at the hotel bar nursing his second scotch and soda when he saw Edgar step out of the elevator with an infant bundled in his arms. A woman dressed in a no-nonsense business suit joined him a moment later, leading a child of about eleven or twelve. The Wind left the bar for the lobby, to get a better look at his former lieutenant. The woman had her arm entwined around Edgar’s as they walked, and her stern expression softened when he smiled at her. Her other hand firmly grasped her son’s wrist. The boy was playing a harmonica with his other hand and dancing in place, tossing his head every so often to clear his floppy blond hair out of his eyes. Edgar was laughing at something the woman said when he turned his head and caught sight of Antonio standing at the entrance to the bar.

Antonio felt a surge of remorse as he watched the emotions chase across the younger Sentinel’s face. Shock, then pleasure, and finally suspicion. The woman was obviously attuned to his mood and picked up on his distraction immediately, following his gaze to Antonio. Antonio walked toward them, and Edgar stood frozen in place.
He probably can’t think of a graceful way to get them out of here quick enough.

 Antonio stood in front of the family and held out his hand. “Hello, Edgar. It’s been a long time.”

Edgar looked at his outstretched palm and for a moment, Antonio thought the younger man would brush him off. Then Edgar clasped his hand and shook it briefly. “Hello, Mr. Martinez. How have you been?” He let go of Antonio’s hand and turned to his wife. “Claire, this is Antonio Martinez. He was my old boss from back when I worked sales.”

She smiled, and Antonio was grateful for the lie. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Jameson. Edgar spoke of you on occasion.”

“Call me Claire, please, Antonio. It’s so seldom that I meet any of Ed’s coworkers from those days, he was on the road so much. I appreciated the money he sent home, of course, but I much preferred when he got a new job with more regular hours. Your loss is my gain, I must say.”

“I’m glad he was able to take more time for his family, finally,” said Antonio. And he found that he meant it. Losing a trusted officer had made reorganizing the Sentinel command structure more difficult, but Edgar had wanted out, and Antonio couldn’t refuse the request from the man who saved his life.

“So, Antonio, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Edgar’s pained expression made it plain that was an understatement. “What are you doing in San Francisco?”

“I live here,” answered Antonio in a bland tone. “You might say it’s my new headquarters.”

“I see. I wasn’t aware of that.”

And you’re not pleased to find out. I don’t blame you.
“Anyway, I heard you were in town, and I thought I would stop by and say hello, for old times’ sake.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, recognizing the tension between the two men but not the reason for it. “You
heard
? We’re only visiting for a few days to meet Nick’s new music tutor. How could you know we’d be here?”

Antonio shrugged. “I have my spies.”

Claire laughed, thinking he was making a joke.

Edgar turned to his wife. “Claire, would you mind asking the valet to bring the car around, and get Nick and Faith settled? I’ll be along in just a minute.”

She favored him with a concerned expression but nodded. “Sure. Don’t take too long. Our reservation is for six o’clock.” Then she accepted the infant that Edgar handed to her and walked the boy toward the front of the hotel.

Edgar turned to face Antonio, his face a mask of fury. “How dare you—”

“You’re an active Sentinel entering a secure territory,” said Antonio in a cold voice. “When my people told me who you were, I ordered them to let me handle you myself. Be grateful you didn’t have a triad waiting for you when you got back from dinner.”

Edgar gave him a sour look. “I am
not
an active Sentinel, my Lord. You agreed to let me retire.”

“And I have honored my agreement. If you hadn’t come to my city, I would never have contacted you.” He sighed. “In case you don’t recall, protocol requires you to check in with the Sentinel command structure when entering a major territory for the first time, so they can call upon you if they require military assistance.”

“Yeah, right. I have no intention of being drafted into that life again.”

“I know, which is why I prepared this for you.” Antonio held out a laminated plastic card.

Edgar stared at the card in his mentor’s hand, inscribed with small pictograms of Arcolin text. “And this is?”

“A writ of free passage. It will allow you to travel anywhere in the United States without further interaction with the local territory leaders, on my authority as the Wind of Fire. I would have given you one when you first retired, but we hadn’t set up national protocols yet for the other territories to accept my uncontested leadership after the battle of Alexandria.”

Edgar reached out and took the card. “Why are you doing this, Antonio?”

“Because you saved my life, and all you asked for in return was to be with your family. Consider this my follow through.”

Edgar slipped the plastic card into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You have what we all dream of, Ed. Enjoy it while it lasts, and live a long, happy life. That’s all I want for you.”

Edgar said nothing in reply, merely walked away.

Antonio sighed and rubbed his eyes.
I’m too old to let a dismissal from a subordinate sting so much.
Antonio walked out of the opposite entrance of the hotel and out onto the street. He walked down the less travelled streets until he came to an alleyway where he could teleport back to his base unobserved. He stood in the shadows and opened his senses wide, to fix his position and jump back to more familiar settings.

Nightwalker.

Antonio snapped his head to the side and picked out two young men leaning against the wall of the alley, talking. Ordinarily, Antonio wouldn’t have bothered to kill them, but he could feel the three humans coming down the alley from the other side.
This could get ugly.

* * *

It had been a long, hard slog, but finally Nightfall had cause for celebration. The band had put out smaller releases before, of course, but this was their first professionally produced and published album. The scents of cumin and tamarind filled the crowded Indian restaurant, which hummed with a low rumble of conversation as the three wound up their congratulatory dinner.

“To us.” Takeshi raised his beer. His almond-shaped brown eyes creased with laughter, which belied the somber charcoal suit he wore over a black T-shirt.

Ana tapped her martini against his glass. “Long may we reign.” Straight jet hair framed her face, and her bronze skin was flushed from the alcohol.

Rory’s glass of whiskey joined theirs with a clink. “Amen.” He had come directly from work and still wore a simple white dress shirt and tie, his auburn hair tied back in a ponytail.

They knocked back a slug of their drinks before gazing again at the CD on the table before them. It featured a picture of them on stage: Ana on keyboards, Takeshi on guitar, and Rory behind the drum kit. If sales justified it, they had been promised a concert tour of larger venues in the fall.

Rory couldn’t wait. They’d been at this part-time for four years—since their senior year in high school—and it was just starting to get good. They’d already racked up a loyal following on the club circuit, and the doors they had been waiting to open had finally materialized. He sipped at his drink, contemplating his two best friends. Sometimes it seemed like they had been together since they were zygotes. They had somehow picked each other out in junior high, each discovering a common love of music that transcended their diverse backgrounds. Takeshi had lived in the city with his grandmother since he was a child, but Anaba and Rory were transplants, from New Mexico and Massachusetts respectively. They had watched each other’s backs ever since, against all the trials of adolescence, and the idea of forming a band together seemed like the most natural thing in the world. That they had managed to attract a fan base never ceased to amaze him. He was just out there having fun, and people were actually willing to pay him to do it.

I’d be happy doing anything if it was with Take. And Ana,
he corrected himself silently as he glanced over at his companions.
Damn. I can’t afford to make that kind of slip-up, not even in my own head.
He scowled as the old fear resurfaced, deflating some of the buzz generated by their dinner celebration.
Take would never want me like that. It’s pure masochism to let myself think of him as anything more than my best friend.
He sighed inaudibly. Life sucked suddenly.

Rory was wrenched out of his sour musings by the object of his secret thoughts tapping him on the wrist. He looked up to find Take and Ana staring at him expectantly. “Sorry, what?”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Take asked why you looked so pissed off all of a sudden.”

Rory reddened. “Um, it’s nothing. Just a passing thought.”

“Care to share with the class?” Take raised an eyebrow.

Rory shook his head, absently brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Guys, I think it’s time to call it a night. We have to work in the morning, at least until the album starts to take off.”

Take, his eyes on Rory’s, just sipped at his beer.

“Fair enough.” Ana checked her watch. “I’ll flag down our waiter, and we can hit the road.” Not bothering to signal, she stood, smoothed down her beige suit, and put on the matching jacket. Then she walked over to where the wait staff stood talking quietly.

Rory grinned. Another example of Ana’s classic impatience. Turning his attention back to Take, he found his friend’s eyes completely focused on him. Rory froze, knowing that Take only looked so intent when he saw a problem to solve, and then nothing would get in his way until he had an answer that satisfied him.
Shit.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Like what?” Rory swallowed nervously.

Take frowned, his eyes narrowing. “You keep getting in a bad mood lately, even when we’re having fun.” He leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of him. “And when you do, most of the time you’re looking at me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, Take. Honestly, it’s nothing you did.” Rory’s thoughts turned inward, and he silently berated himself for being so obvious. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

Take laid his hand on Rory’s. “Are you sure it’s a problem?”

Rory blinked.
Did he know?
“What?”

Take shrugged. “What’s bothering you—are you sure it’s a problem? Maybe it isn’t as big a deal as you think. If you want to talk about it…”

Opening his mouth to speak, Rory thought better of it. “It’s nothing.” He dropped his gaze.

Take squeezed his hand again and then let go. “If you change your mind, let me know.” He stood. “Are you sure you’re ready to go home? It’s not that late. Maybe we could go to a club or something.”

Rory sighed.
Sooner or later, I really have to grow a spine.
“Okay. Maybe another hour or two, but then I have to go.”

“All set.” Ana returned, waving the bill.

“Change of plans. We’re going out.” Take grinned.

“How did you convince him?”

“I asked.”

She snorted. “That was direct.”

“I’m a direct kind of guy.”

“Anyplace in particular?” asked Rory.

Ana’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I know. Someone at work mentioned a place that’s right on the brink of becoming popular. I meant to scout it, in case they want to book us for a gig.”

Take looked at her skeptically. “You
meant
to scout it? You don’t actually know where it is?”

She smirked, supremely confident as always. “I know roughly where it is, and we can just look around until we find it.”

Rory’s expression failed to hide his annoyance. “Everything has to be an adventure with you, doesn’t it?”

“You’re always the serious one, Rory. Come on. Life’s too short!” She grabbed her purse. “Try to keep up, boys.”

The spring night was crisp and clear as they followed Ana down the streets of the Mission District. After a few turns, they found themselves in a deserted lane between buildings. Ana frowned, trying to get her bearings. Take and Rory watched with amusement, knowing she wouldn’t admit to being lost. She didn’t. Instead, she led them down another deserted alley back toward the street. Her path was suddenly blocked by two men stepping out of the shadows on either side of her.

They were both young, seemingly in their late teens, and wore jeans and T-shirts under light leather jackets. The one on the left smiled and stubbed out his cigarette on the wall next to him. “A little off the beaten path, aren’t we?”

Ana colored. Behind her, Rory and Take tensed, the haze of alcohol and good food evaporating.

“Don’t mind us, boys,” Ana said with typical bravado. “We see where we need to go.” She pointed to the street ahead of them, the lights shining invitingly.

The other man smiled, a decidedly wrong smile—as if his teeth were too long, too pointed to be real. “I don’t think so.”

The three musicians backed away as the two men approached them, and then suddenly there was only one in front of them. He grabbed Ana’s left arm. The sleeve of her suit jacket dripped red where the points of his claws sank into her flesh.

Rory blinked.
Claws?
Brushing off his confusion, he leapt forward as Ana screamed in rage and swung her handbag, slamming it against the man’s head. Rory was jerked to a halt by what felt like a band of iron encircling his shoulder. Turning, he found the hand of the other teenager clenched like a vice above his right arm. On the other side of him, Take struggled to free himself from the man’s other hand.