Chapter 19
My eyes blinked open as the stream of water overhead lessened.
"Is that better?" Nicodemus asked, a soft frown creasing his forehead as he looked me over.
"Yeah," I replied ruoghly, doing my best to ignore the ache in my shoulders. I wasn't sure they'd ever work properly again, after having spent hours hanging in that dark tunnel. "Yeah, that's great. But maybe you could have room service come by with something to eat?"
"I'm afraid that's unlikely," the demon replied.
"Well, you can expect a bad score on my survey," I assured him.
"That's unfortunate."
Somehow I managed to lift my head up into the trickling stream still coming down from the pipe. Moving hurt, but it was better than the alternative.
A glance confirmed that the manacles were still in place. I suppose it should have been alarming that I couldn't feel them, but I blamed that on the numbness from the cold water rather than anything else.
"I apologize for Cassius's indulgences," Nicodemus said as he stepped away. "I did not think he would go to such extremes."
"Yeah," I said wryly. "Who would have guessed the guy would be such a snake?"
Nicodemus offered me a slight smile as he settled onto a folding chair that had been placed in the room. It hadn't been there before, so I assumed he'd brought it with him. Or maybe one of the lackeys standing in the doorway had. Beside it stood a small table with a large bowl sitting atop it.
The rest of the place was barren, save for a collection of pipes and pools. It looked to be some sort of drain-off section of the sewers, and I desperately didn't want to find out where the water was coming from.
"You've been out for quite some time," Nicodemus said as he settled back. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't come around in time."
"Sorry. I had some things to work through." When his head cocked curiously to the side, I did my best to shrug, failing miserably. "When did Snake Boy replace Father Vincent?"
"Actually, you never met the good father," Nicodemus said lightly. "It was Cassius all along."
"I figured," I replied, spitting out a mouthful of water. I'd tried to take a sip to see if it would refresh me, but it tasted metallic and rancid. "I think I saw what's left of Vincent in the morgue."
"Ah. Then it's good we took some precautions," he replied. "Or the game would have been up much sooner."
"You had Cassius pose as both LaRouche and Vincent. Doubling your chances again that you'd get the Shroud," I said. "Gotta say, I didn't see the second one coming. Even when I knew of the first."
"As I said before, at the meeting," Nicodemus said with a smile. "You have no idea what lengths I went to to obtain the Shroud. The gangster even thinks it was his idea to have it stolen."
That was an interesting revelation. "How did he find them, by the way?" I asked, honestly curious. "Back at the hotel, Cassius located the Churchmice before any of us."
Nicodemus quirked an eyebrow. "Why, he did the same thing he thought you were going to do. He used the threads to track it."
"Oh," I said, stifling a groan. The threads I'd requested Vincent acquire from the Church. But by the time he'd received them, I already had Garcia's blood.
"He was quite upset, you know," Nicodemus confessed. "After using the threads Vincent had brought with him, it never occurred to Cassius to contact the Vatican as the good father to ask for more to be sent."
I blinked at what he said, perhaps unknowingly. "What'd he use the other threads for?"
Nicodemus opened his mouth to speak, only to draw up short. His eyes narrowed as he smiled. "I see. This is where I tell you my plan, assured that there's no way you could possible escape."
"Well obviously," I said, waiting expectantly. "So are you going to tell me?"
"I'll let that be a surprise," the man replied with a knowing smile.
My mind worked furiously, trying to figure out something to slow things down. "Why go through all of this for that raggedy old cloth?" I asked, deciding to try and throw the man off. "It's quite obviously a fake."
To my surprise, Nicodemus nodded along with my ruse. "I'm surprised you could tell. But nonetheless, this one will be more than suitable."
Rather than reveal my ignorance on the subject, I pressed on. "Suitable for what? Don't get me wrong, but you don't seem like the type to really use things like that."
"Things like what?" he asked, curious.
"Good things. Pure things," I clarified. "Forgive me for saying it, but I think you're on the wrong frequency."
"Ah. Well, that is where you are wrong," the man said, his arms waving up in a dismissive gesture. "But you will understand eventually."
"So am I going to find out soon?" I asked, looking around the room. "Because for someone that went through a great deal of trouble to get the damned thing, you aren't doing much with it."
"Oh, it's being prepared," Nicodemus said. "As for when you will know… how do they say it? You'll find out 'in this life or the next'?" His smile went flat. "I'd bet on the latter."
My eyes widened. "I thought we had a deal."
"We did," he replied innocently. "Which you reneged on."
"You got the Shroud," I replied.
"And you got a second for your duel," Nicodemus replied. "Now we've moved on to bigger and better things."
"How about we split the difference?" I asked. "I felt the power in the Shroud; there's enough to split multiple ways. Hell, we could probably even give Marcone a piece to keep him appeased."
My words seemed to give Nicodemus pause, and for a moment I thought he was actually considering it. "What an interesting idea," he said. But then he simply shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry. But I'll be needing it."
"Okay. If you want to be that way." My eyes narrowed. "So what do you need me for?" I asked.
Nicodemus blinked. "What makes you think I don't plan on killing you for trying to betray me?"
"I'm sure that's a reason," I replied. "But not the reason. If you wanted me to suffer, you would have let Cassius continue having his fun."
Nicodemus's smile grew. "I'm impressed, Harry."
"Thanks, Nick," I replied.
"Let us just say that I'm in need of someone with a certain level of metaphysical weight," Nicodemus said.
I managed to look down at my nude form. "Aw, geez, Nick. Don't say that. You know I'm sensitive about my girlish figure."
Nicodemus just rolled his eyes. "You were simply unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the right time."
"I blame daylight savings time."
That drew a fresh smile from the man. "You know, I wish things had gone differently," Nicodemus said, sounding like he meant it. "I actually hoped we'd come to an arrangement of some sort. I'm always in need of good men."
I glanced toward the goons at the door, both of whom were stoically ignoring our conversation. "Looks like you've got plenty."
"Oh, they're good in their way," Nicodemus said dismissively. "But they're not much for bantering."
"Why's that?"
Nicodemus smiled. "Because I had their tongues removed."
My face twisted up. "Yeah, I don't think I'll be accepting any employment offers anytime soon."
"I know," he replied sadly. "Alas, you are correct. I do need you for something other than petty revenge." Nicodemus stood. "Unfortunately for you, it's going to require a bit more than you're going to want to give."
I looked down at my nude self. "Honestly, Nick, you've already taken just about everything I have. I don't know what else I can give you."
As I looked up, it was to find Nicodemus picking up the bowl. His other hand slipped into his jacket and withdrew a knife. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something."
I tried moving under the stream of water, but all that did was make my arms hurt even more. Next I tried drawing on the mantle, but it was nowhere to be found. The steel thorns in my wrists were more than enough to keep it suppressed, along with my own power.
That didn't stop me from trying to draw on it. But the agonizing lances of pain that shot through me as the manacles did their work well enough to keep me from trying a second time.
"Don't struggle," Nicodemus said, his voice growing dispassionate as a distant look came over his face. "I'd rather not ruin this suit."
"You come any closer and I'll strangle you with that fucking tie," I growled out, shaking under the water as I tried desperately to do something.
To my surprise, my words actually gave his pause. Something flickered across his face, something resembling alarm. But then the expression fled as quickly as it'd arrived, leaving him cold and determined. "Perhaps I'll take your tongue after all."
The finality of his words were the most chilling thing as he stepped closer. Some part of me thought I should be able to simply kick him away, but I was feeling entirely too weak to lift even one leg. I tried anyway, and managed to flail a knee in his general direction before he reached out to steady me.
"Don't make this difficult," he muttered, sounding disappointed that I'd resist until my last breath.
Just to ruin his day, I continued to both breath and resist. It didn't take him long to realize that I still had enough fight in me to make it impossible for him to cut me and hold the bowl in place. With a frustrated hiss, he summoned the two guards over. "Take him down and hold him still."
The two giants made easy work of the first task, although my height made me awkward to hold. That, and they seemed squeamish to have naked ol' me rubbing on them, as they both tried to keep me at arms length.
So as Nicodemus stepped forward, I used that to my advantage. With a burst of energy that surprised all four of us, I pulled away from the two goons, the slick water on my skin making it all but impossible for them to regain their grip.
Despite my amazing second wind, I didn't have the strength to stand on my own. So instead of making a run for it, I ended up toppling forward onto Nicodemus, who was caught unprepared as nearly seven feet of naked man flesh just plopped down on him.
As I fell, I followed through on my promise. Before he realized what was happening, my numb fingers closed on the noose.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the strength to tighten it myself. Thankfully the two goons were there to help. As they grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up, the noose slipped tighter around Nicodemus's neck.
It never got quite snug, but his eyes bulged out in near panic all the same.
I had just a moment to wonder at his reaction. I mean, this was a guy that I'd seen shrug off bullets back in the hotel. But he was worried about being strangled by a ratty old rope?
Unfortunately, the moment passed, as something wrapped around my own neck and squeezed, causing me to gasp in pain and surprise. My grip on the tie slipped away, and then I was wrenched up into the air. I made a gurgling noise, my throat constricted by whatever had me in its grip. I tried looking around, but there was nothing to see. The guards had both fallen back, their heads lowered in some form of bow.
That's when I realized that it was Nicodemus's shadow holding me aloft while simultaneously choking the life out of me.
"Very well," the man gasped, his voice and face livid. "I'll do it myself." After he loosened the tie, he reached for the bowl and knife, both of which he'd dropped in the excitement. Left dangling, there was nothing I could do to stop him.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I choked out, the pain of being jerked up by the shadows almost enough to make me pass out again. But I knew if I did, I'd never wake up. "No matter what she thinks of me personally, I doubt Mab will let you just kill a member of her court."
That gave Nicodemus only the slightest pause. "You do have a point," he confessed, the knife blade tapping the edge of the bowl as he considered it. "But I suspect she's more interested in your blood than you yourself. Perhaps if I allowed her to kill you, we could both get what we want."
"My blood?" I croaked, confused. Maybe my brain wasn't working quite right, on account of no oxygen reaching it.
"No matter," Nicodemus said with a shrug. "It will take some time to prepare the ritual. If you die before I can hand you over, I'll simply have to part with a favor owed."
What the hell was he talking about? I tried to understand, but it's not easy to think about anything other than breathing when you're being choked to death. I watched as he approached, knife and bowl in hand. The shadows holding me reared up, leaving me fully extended and dangling over the man. "Hey, wait!"
Struggling against the shadows wasn't really an option. Not with the thorned manacles still cutting me off from my power. But I tried anyway, even as Nicodemus lifted the knife.
There was an alarmed shout, and it took me a moment to realize it wasn't mine. Nicodemus and I both looked to the closed door, which burst open to allow a steel-haired Denarian through.
"Father!" Deirdre shouted, even as her transformation rolled across her form. She was wearing a kimono of some sort, which didn't really go with her bright metallic skin all that well. Her hair, growing longer and more deadly by the moment, weaved about as a pair of glowing eyes fixed upon Nicodemus. "The Jap!"
A frustrated hiss escaped Nicodemus's lips as his shadow writhed. Seeing as I was being held aloft by those same shadows, it shouldn't have been too surprising when I found myself flung across the room. But it still caught me off-guard as I tumbled through the stream of water and over to the far wall, which I bounced off of like a medicine ball. Which is to say I landed in a heavy heap at the base.
"The guards?" Nicodemus asked, even as I watched several men run past the gaping doorway. Shouts and gunfire erupted in unison, and flashes of bright light shone back across the hallway wall.
There was something about those flashes that Nicodemus's shadow didn't like, because it swelled up behind the man as he stepped backward, the knife now clutched tight in his hand as if it were the only defense he had.
A moment later, the light in the hall shifted again, before shining into the room as the small Knight of the Cross arrived, his Sword gleaming in his grasp.
"Nicodemus," the short man said, his eyes fixed on the devil in our midst.
"Kill him," Nicodemus said softly.
As he did, the two guards I'd all but forgotten lurched forward from the back of the room, the guns clearing their holsters as they took aim at the Knight.
For his part, Shiro did little more than take on a grim visage as he sped into motion. He didn't move supernaturally fast, which almost everyone seemed to nowadays. Instead, he moved with inhuman precision, somehow side-stepping a bullet that ricocheted precariously around the room. The Sword whisked up and around, a one-handed swipe that sliced two inches off the barrel closest to him.
The attack was well-timed and well-executed. As the upward swing curved back down toward the second gun rising toward him, Shiro's other hand twisted toward the first guard. The wooden sheath he used as a cane struck the guard's temple in just the right place to send him crumpling to the ground just as the other gun was destroyed.
Before the second guard could do anything with his now broken weapon, the charging form of Deirdre shoved him forward, using him as a human shield as she advanced on the Knight. Shiro somehow saw it coming, perhaps expecting such tactics of the Denarians. He managed to not impale the guard with the katana, and instead ducked low and allowed him to tumble over his back.
As the Knight rose up beneath the helpless guard, his sword swung up at the steel blades of hair swooping toward him. The shining weapon sheered through them as if they were nothing more than ribbons, and the Denarian howled as the Knight stepped inside of her reach. Discarding the sheath, the man grabbed at one of her shoulders and spun her, using a well-timed hip check to keep her off-balance until he was suddenly behind her, his sword at her throat.
The guard that'd toppled over him reached for the discarded wooden sheath, as if to pummel the man from behind. But the sound of a cocking gun made him freeze.
"I'll take that," Karrin Murphy said from the doorway, slowly reaching around the man from behind as she kept her service pistol planted firmly at the base of his neck. When he stiffened, Murphy jammed the gun further into his flesh, her voice hardening as she did. "Don't even think about it."
Nicodemus watched from only a few paces away as the detective reclaimed the sheath. His eyes drifted from her squat form to that of the man holding his daughter hostage. "The wizard is mine," Nicodemus said. "By his own free will, he chose to involve himself in matters."
"Yes," Shiro said simply, his eyes never leaving Nicodemus. While his voice was calm, there was a tension to his shoulders. In a flash, I recalled the icicle that had been buried in his shoulder the last I'd seen him.
"You have no claim," Nicodemus continued, his eyes playing over the Knight. Maybe he sensed his pain, as he seemed content to draw out the moment. "You cannot take him."
The short man seemed to consider that. "Then we trade."
The man with the living shadow laughed. "The wizard for my daughter? I think not. I have plans for Dresden."
"Damn," Murphy said, her eyes widening slightly. "Are you seriously willing to let your daughter die?"
"I know, right?" I sputtered from the floor, while doing everything I could to stay awake. "He likes me. He really likes me."
"Somehow I doubt that," Murphy replied, shooting a frown in my general direction.
"Hey."
"Nicodemus values nothing over himself," Shiro said softly. "Not even his own blood."
"Then why bother with this charade," Nicodemus said quietly, not seeming to take any delight in our exchange. Neither did Deirdre for that matter, but she kept still with the shining blade at her throat.
"I know you well enough to know her life has no meaning to you," the Knight replied. "But when I spoke of a trade for Dresden, I was not referring to your daughter."
The room froze.
"Wait…" I said, somehow lifting my head despite the pain to look at the man as I realized what he was implying. "Don't—"
Nicodemus's shadow slammed into me from the side, causing my head to bounce off the wall. The room spun, and for once I shut up, if only to concentrate on breathing.
"Interesting," the Denarian said, a slight smile creeping in at the corners of his mouth. "But you know that is not enough."
"I will not give you the Sword," the Knight said solemnly with a shake of his head.
"Fine," Nicodemus replied readily enough. "Then your word alone. That you will not try to escape. That you will not summon aid, and you will not release yourself quietly."
"And let you keep me for years?" Shiro replied, all but tsking disappointedly at the ancient demon. "No. But I will give you this day. No more."
Nicodemus's smile grew. "Very well. Until nightfall, shall we say?"
Shiro nodded. "Agreed. Now let him go."
The Denarian looked in my direction, and gestured with his head. I took it to be his permission to go, but that wasn't going to be enough to get my legs moving. Not with my head still ringing from two impacts with the wall, on top of everything else.
A soft grunt sounded from the front of the room, and I managed to turn to see the guard slumping to the ground from the blow Murphy had landed on the back of his neck. The tiny woman then sidled around the Knight and the Denarian he held, Deirdre's four eyes watching helplessly as the detective moved to help me up.
"No," I mumbled, my tongue thick in my mouth. "Don't let him do this."
"Quiet, Harry," Murphy whispered. "Not now."
"No," I repeated, trying to make her understand. But with my head still spinning, I couldn't come up with the words to convince her that this was a horrible idea. Still, I did my best. "S'bad."
"He knows what he's doing," Murphy hissed as she dragged me past the others. It must have been a sight, given our massively contrasting sizes. But somehow she got me to the doorway, which she propped me against as she turned back to the Knight.
Shiro began to back toward us, which made Nicodemus's eyes narrow. "You gave your word."
"I did," Shiro replied. "You know the value of mine. Just as I know the value of yours." He nodded toward me. "The keys to his restraints."
"I'd rather not," Nicodemus said, the barest of smiles creeping in at the corners of his mouth as he spared me a glance. "No sense in tempting fate."
Shiro didn't seem to like that, but with only so much time to broker a deal before more of Nicodemus's lackeys arrived, he didn't have a choice in the matter. "Very well."
The man began to edge backwards, keeping the shining sword close to Deirdre's neck. The thin blade would have no problem sheering through her metal skin just as it had cut her hairs, and she knew it. The girl backed up with him, not daring to risk being sliced open from ear to ear.
Part of me wanted to stumble closer, to try cutting the manacles on the bright blade. With my wrists free, I could summon up the power necessary to even the odds. Maybe get all of us out of there.
But that would put me in reach of Deirdre's hairs, and for all I knew, she could ensnare me before Shiro could cut her throat. And then we'd be in a stalemate.
"Don't do this," I managed to whisper to him. "They're going to kill you."
"Yes."
His calm response irritated me. "They won't be quick about it."
The man turned and cast a gentle smile in my direction. "No. I imagine not."
My head swam as I tried to push myself upright, but the steel piercing my wrists was causing havoc with my senses. If I could have gotten them off, maybe I could have done something. But the locks on them were no joke, and the rest was solid steel.
I tried twisting my wrists, to see if there was any trace of the mantle's strength still in my limbs. But all that did was sink the thorns further into my flesh, causing me to sway as I barely held on to consciousness. The only reason I didn't collapse was because Murphy reached out a steadying hand.
Despite all my power, I was powerless to stop what was happening.
Murphy nudge me out into the hallway, where I leaned against a wall. I noted the limp forms of several more guards sprawling across the dark passage, which looked to be constructed of the same stonework of the chamber. We were definitely underground, and I didn't see an exit anywhere nearby.
"Go," Murphy said from beside me. Shiro had all but blocked the doorway with his slight form, but enough of the light from his sword shone through to illuminate the bright blue of Murphy's eyes as she turned to me. "Get a head start."
"I—" I began.
"Not now, Dresden," she growled out, her temper flaring as she turned her focus back to the room. "We're going to have to run, and I can't carry you."
Knowing she was right, and hating her for it, I pushed myself along the wall. I could hear Shiro speaking behind me, buying us more time, but I couldn't make out what he was saying as I moved further into the dark tunnel. It was a slow, humiliating stumble toward freedom, one that almost ended several times over as my balance wavered.
For each jostle of my hands, the thorns would bite harder, making my head spin. That'd make me stumble again, resulting in an endless cycle of pain and nausea.
Somehow I got down the hallway. I was almost at a steel door when violence erupted behind me. I turned partway around, just in time to see Murphy starting my way. The Sword of the Cross and its cane sheath were in one hand while her service pistol was raised in the other, pointing back toward the doorway I'd just vacated. The light from the Sword had been extinguished, while bursts of illumination appeared at the muzzle of the gun as she fired.
The door had been slammed shut, presumably by Shiro after he passed the Sword to Murphy. But figures further down the hall had appeared, more goons baring modern weaponry that would cut us down in a hurry. I saw Murphy open fire at them, her cop instincts making sure she fired warning shots before taking deadly aim.
The thugs offered no such courtesies, their automatic weapons raking toward us with all the precision of Imperial Stormtroopers. Only Murphy's slight stature spared her from being pin-cushioned by bullets as she crouched down and returned earnest fire.
When the others' weapons grew silent, Murphy turned and ran, heading my way. I pushed off the wall, grateful that they'd concentrated their aim on her rather than me. I don't think I could have ducked to save my life.
By the time Murphy reached me, I was moving, albeit slowly. We both continued on as a furious, kettle-like scream erupted behind us as the room's door burst open to reveal the metallic form of Deirdre.
"Faster, Dresden," Murphy hissed as she fired back at the demonic woman. Her magazine ran empty all too quickly, and Murphy tucked the gun away and seized me by the arm to encourage me along.
We were a step away from the steel door when the short woman put her judo skills to use. Despite our disparate weights and heights, Murphy somehow managed to hip check me while twisting my shoulder forward. The maneuver resulted in me being flung to the floor, draped halfway across the door-frame.
My vision wavered again, and I thought for sure I'd lose consciousness. But the sudden appearance of a blinding light somehow managed to cut through the pain and agony of the manacles, and I blinked away tears to look up as Deirdre checked her advance in the light of the Sword of the Cross.
The Sword that Karrin Murphy held before her as she stood between me and the demon.
Deirdre screamed again, that same oddly modulating sound that sounded somewhere between a tea kettle and an old train horn as her breath burst up her throat. Two sets of glowing eyes were staring at the shining Sword, her visage twisted in a mixture of disbelief and dismay.
"Just try it," Murphy whispered softly, holding the weapon as if she knew what she was doing. Which, with her martial arts training, she most assuredly did.
Deirdre just hissed in reply, but kept her distance. It was an odd tableau, as the light from the Sword reflected off the wavering blades of hair seeking out an opportunity.
When she was sure Deirdre wouldn't advance, Murphy addressed me, although her eyes didn't leave the demon. "Move, Harry."
"Mgmgh," I mumbled as I tried to obey. The fall had taken a lot out of me, but after a moment I managed to pull my way through the doorway. Murphy backed up as I did, leaving the discarded cane sheath behind on the floor.
Deirdre lay in wait, her fierce eyes flinching at the light of the Sword. She took a tentative step forward as Murphy reached for the door, but quickly retreated when Murphy made it clear with a short swipe that she was more than capable of dispensing some well-needed justice with just a one-handed grip.
The demon hissed again as the door's hinges creaked, before the slight lieutenant slammed it shut between us and the Denarian.
A solid thump hit the door as soon as it was closed, threating to pop it open again as Murphy leaned into it. A steel tendril worked its way into the crack, but a quick slash of the glowing Sword cut through the hair as if it were nothing more than protein filament.
The door slammed shut again, and then Murphy was drawing her spent weapon. I wasn't sure what she planned on doing with that until I saw that the slide was back, exposing a short length of the round barrel.
There was a latch that looked like it was designed for a padlock, but the barrel worked well enough as she jammed it home. The door rattled as Deirdre slammed into it again from the other side, a dent appearing in the surface as she did. My eyes widened as I watched the handgun, fearing that the movement might have been enough to jostle the slide back down, which would likely push the gun out of place.
But the make-shift lock held, and then Murphy had turned to me, grabbing at my shoulder as she got me on my feet.
"Thanks," I told her as I did my part to right myself, in more than one sense.
Murphy shot me a quick glance, her eyes hard to see in the dark space. The light from the Sword had been extinguished moments after she'd turned away from the door, but I thought there was a smidgen of surprise to her look. "Sure," she said shortly. "Can you walk?"
"Like a newborn," I assured her as I stumbled forward, my shoulder dragging along one wall.
"This way," she said, taking me by one arm. She kept the sword ready in her other hand, and cast more than one glance back as we retreated, the steel door rattling in its frame.
She led me along a weaving path through the tunnels, one that I couldn't hope to have kept track of as we shuffled about. I noticed Murphy checked a crudely drawn map several times, and wondered at its origin, until we finally reached a metal ladder leading up to a manhole. I glanced at it in dismay, and shot her a pleading look.
"Don't whine to me," she replied as she looked back down the tunnel, where things had grown disconcertingly quiet. "I'm the one that's got to deal with your junk wagging about in my face."
Considering the differences in our heights, she wasn't that far from the truth. "No peaking while I try to climb up," I grumbled, trying to figure out the easiest way to climb a ladder with manacled hands and weak legs. "Normally I make a girl buy me dinner before they get to see all of this."
"I'm trying to figure out a way to unsee it," Murphy muttered. "Get your skinny ass moving. They might know another way around."
"Yeah, yeah," I said as I started to pull myself up. "Been a while since you've seen a guy naked, hasn't it?" One of my feet slipped a little as blood trickled over my heel from one of my wounds.
"After this I'm going to need more therapy before I can see another one," she shot back. "Move."
I did, albeit slowly. After a short eternity, I managed to pull myself up the ladder and out onto the surface of the street, which looked to be an alley. A swirl of light made my eyes hurt, and I eventually focused my gaze on the small form hovering in front of me.
"I am sorry, my lord!" Lacuna gushed, her normally pale face all but stone white as she bowed deeply. "I would have come with them into the tunnels, but they requested I watch the exit!"
"S'alright," I replied gruffly as I sprawled across the pavement. I noted the weak light of dawn along the edges of the buildings around us, and realized the Denarians had kept me all night.
"I provided them with the map to your location," Lacuna explained, clearly upset with her failure to rescue me herself. "After our loses last night, I knew that the Guard could not retrieve you on our own."
"You did good," I assured her as Murphy popped up the ladder with ease. As soon as she was clear, she put the sword aside and dragged the heavy manhole cover back into place. I would have helped, but wasn't sure I could stand on my own, much less move that much steel.
"I have failed as your Major-General," Lacuna continued, her voice filled with shame and dismay. "I offer my life as compensation." She drew the steel sword she wore on one hip and offered it to me. It wasn't much bigger than a plastic toy sword, but it was sharp and deadly. Especially to her.
"What? No," I groaned as I tried to rise. I pretended to not be embarrassed that I needed Murphy's help. "It's not your fault."
"It is," she insisted. "I didn't see the danger. I allowed you to be captured. I—"
"Not now," Murphy grumbled as she pulled me toward a car parked further up the alley. It took me a moment to recognize it as her old sedan. "Let's get out of here first."
"Right," I said, gasping as a stumble sent dizzying pain into my veins. When we got to the car, I managed to prop myself on its side while Murphy opened the back door. Between the two of us, we got me in and draped over the back seat, and then she was scrambling for the front.
Lacuna settled onto the seat beside me, her small face looming large in my vision as Murphy started the car and sped out of the alley. "Are you sure?"
"Shh," I said tiredly, the adrenaline of the escape already fading. "We'll discuss it later."
I saw the tiny fairy nod grimly, even as the car turned around a corner at speed. I shifted, as did the manacles, and the agonizing pain reared its head again.
Out of immediate danger, I gave up on fighting it, and the world faded away as I let the pain embrace me.
