Bones of Haven Page 10

  Saxon looked at him. Anderson's voice had been carefully casual, and yet there had been a definite wrong note; a hint of something that might have been alarm, or even desperation. Why should it suddenly matter so much to Anderson whether he left or not? A sudden intuition flared within him, and he moved over to look out the window. In the street below, Guard Constables were gathering outside the house. Saxon cursed dispassionately, and turned back to look at Anderson.

  "You son of a bitch. You set me up."

  Anderson's face paled, but he stood his ground. "You're a wanted criminal, Wulf. A common murderer and arsonist. I know my duty."

  Saxon stepped forward, his face set and grim. Anderson backed quickly away, until his back slammed up against the wall. Saxon picked up the heavy wooden desk between them and threw it effortlessly to one side, and then stood still, staring coldly at Anderson.

  "I ought to tear your head right off your shoulders. After all the things I did for you… But it seems I'm a bit pressed for time at the moment. I'll see you again, Richard; and then we'll continue this conversation."

  He turned away and headed for the door. Anderson struggled to regain his composure.

  "They'll find you, Saxon! There's nowhere you can hide. They'll hunt you down and kill you like a rabid dog!"

  Saxon smiled at him, and Anderson flinched. Saxon laughed softly. "Anyone who finds me will regret it. I've got nothing left to lose, Richard; and that makes me dangerous. Very dangerous."

  He left the office, not even bothering to slam the door behind him. He ran down the stairs to meet the Guard, feeling his new strength mount within him like a fever. He wasn't going to let the Guard stop him. He had things to do. He wasn't sure what they were yet, but he was sure of one thing: someone was going to pay for all the years he'd lost, for all the friends and hopes that had been taken from him. The first of the Guard Constables appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and Saxon smiled down at him.

  "You know something? I've had a really bad day. You're about to have a worse one." The other Guards arrived, and he threw himself at them.

  The cemetery wasn't much to look at, just a plot of open land covered with earth mounds and headstones. Incense sticks burned at regular intervals, but the smell was still pretty bad. Saxon stood looking down at the single modest stone bearing both his parents' names, and felt more numb than anything. He'd never meant for them to be buried here. He'd always intended they should be laid to rest in one of the more discreet, upmarket cemeteries on the outskirts of the city. But by the time they died, most of the money he'd brought to the family was gone, and so they were buried here. At least they were together, as they'd wanted.

  The rain had died away to a miserable drizzle, though the sky was still dark and overcast. Saxon stood with his head bare, and let the rain run down his face like tears. He felt cold, inside and out. He knelt down beside the headstone, and set about methodically clearing the weeds away from the stone and the grave. He'd known his parents would probably be dead, as soon as he was told how many years he'd been away, but he hadn't really believed it. Then Anna told him they'd died, but he still didn't believe it, not really. For him it was only yesterday that they'd both been alive and well, and proud of him. Their son, the city Councilor. And now they were gone, and they'd died believing he deserted them, and all the people who depended on him. He stopped weeding and sat still, and the tears burst from him with a violence that shook him.

  They finally passed, leaving him feeling weak and drained. He'd never felt so alone. In the past, there had always been family and friends to look out for him, to pick him up when he fell over his own feet from trying to run too fast. They'd always been there when he needed them, family and friends, and Mum and Dad. Now they were gone, and there was no one left but him. So that would have to be enough.

  He'd drifted into Reform politics because he thought people needed him, to protect them from the scum who preyed on them, both inside and outside the law. That seemed more true than ever now. Except that things had got so bad he couldn't tell the guilty from the innocent anymore. Something had to be done, but he no longer had any faith in politics; he needed to take a more personal stand. To get his hands on the bad guys and make them hurt, the way he was hurting. He could do that. He was different now; stronger, faster, maybe even unbeatable. He could find the people responsible for making Haven what it had become, and exact vengeance for himself and everyone else who'd lost all hope and faith in the future. He smiled slowly, his eyes cold and savage. He would have his vengeance, and the Gods help anyone who got in his way.

  He rose to his feet, and took one last look at the headstone. Whatever happened, he didn't think he'd be coming back.

  "Goodbye, Mum, Dad. I'll make you proud of me again. I'll put things right. I promise."

  He turned and left the cemetery, and walked back into the unsuspecting city.

  Chapter Three

  Hostages

  The rain was still hammering down, and Hawk was getting distinctly tired of it. He pulled his hood well forward and ran after Jessica Winter as she led the SWAT team down the wide, empty road that led into Mulberry Crescent. They'd been running flat out for the last five streets, ever since Winter got the emergency call from the Guard communications sorcerer. She was still running well and strongly, but Hawk was starting to find it hard going. Personally, he thought she was just showing off. Whatever the emergency was, it couldn't be so important they had to sprint all the way there. Hawk had never been much of a one for running, mainly because he'd always tended towards stamina rather than speed. But he couldn't afford to look bad before the rest of the team, so he gritted his teeth and pounded along in Winter's wake, glaring at her unresponsive back.

  He still found the time to keep a wary eye on his surroundings, and was surprised to find the street was totally empty. Even allowing for the foul weather, there should have been some kind of crowd out on the street, celebrating the Peace Treaty. But though strings of brightly colored bunting hung damply above them, and flags flapped limply in the gusting wind, the SWAT team were alone in the middle of the fashionable Westside street. And that was strange in itself. Guards weren't usually welcome in the Westside. The well-to-do and high-placed families who lived there tended to prefer their own private guards when it came to keeping the peace; men who knew where their loyalties lay, and could be relied on to look the other way at the proper moments. Hawk smiled sourly. It would appear the private guards had run into something they couldn't handle, and then been forced to call in the SWAT team. Hawk's grin widened at the thought. He bet that had rankled. Hawk didn't have much use for private guards. In his experience, they tended to be overpaid, overdressed, and about as much use as a chocolate teapot.

  Winter finally slowed to a halt at the end of the street, and looked out over Mulberry Crescent. The rest of the team formed up around her. Hawk did his best to hide his lack of breath, and squinted through the rain at the killing ground before him. Bodies lay scattered the length of the Crescent. Men, women, and children lay twisted and broken, like discarded toys a destructive child had tired of. Water pooled around the bodies, tinted pink with blood. Hawk counted twenty-nine in plain sight, and had a sick feeling there were probably more he couldn't see yet. No one moved in the Crescent, and no one stared from the windows. If there was anybody left alive, they were keeping their heads well down. Which suggested that whatever had happened here, it wasn't over yet.

  There was still no sign anywhere of the private guards, which didn't surprise Hawk one bit. They were all very well when it came to moving on undesirable and manhandling the occasional troublemaker, but show them a real problem and they tended to be suddenly scarce on the ground. He looked at the pathetic contorted bodies lying abandoned in the rain, and his hands curled into fists. Someone was going to pay for this. One way or another. He looked at Winter, who was standing silently beside him.

  "I think it's time you filled us in on why we're here, Winter. The Crescent looks like it was ambu
shed. What exactly are we dealing with here?"

  "A sniper," said Winter, not taking her eyes off the scene before her. "He's been active for less than forty minutes, but there are already thirty-two dead that we know of. No wounded. He kills every time. And just to complicate things, he's a magic-user, and a pretty powerful one at that. He's holed up in an upper story of one of these houses, somewhere down the far end. He's been using his magic to blast everything that moves, irrespective of who or what it might be. Local guards have cleared the streets, but it's up to us to do something about the sniper." She glanced briefly at Storm. "Well, do you See anything useful?"

  "Not really," said Storm, scowling unhappily. "He's in the third house from the end, down on the left, but he's protected himself very thoroughly against any form of magical attack. I can break through his wards, given enough time, but he could do a hell of a lot of damage to the surrounding area before I took him out."

  "Be specific. How much damage?"

  "He could demolish every building for at least four blocks in every direction, and kill hundreds of people. That specific enough for you?"

  Winter scowled, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully with a thumb knuckle. "What kind of magic has he been using?"

  "All sorts. For a psychotic killer, he's very versatile. The air's heavy with unexpended magic. I can still See his victims dying as they ran for safety. Some had all the life drained out of them, so they could feel themselves dying. Others were transformed into things that didn't live long. Luckily. And some were just blown apart, for the fun of it. We've got a bad one here, Jessica. He's powerful, versatile, and ready to do anything to get what he wants."

  Winter nodded. "Question is, what does he want? Attention, revenge; what?"

  Hawk spun round suddenly, his axe flashing out to stop a finger's breadth from the throat of a private guard behind him. All the color drained from the man's face, and Hawk grinned at him nastily. "I don't like people sneaking up on me, particularly when they do it so badly. Takes all the challenge out of it. I could hear you coming even through the pouring rain." He lowered his axe but didn't put it away. "All right; who are you, and what do you want?"

  The private guard swallowed hard. Color was slowly seeping back into his face, but it was still pale enough to clash interestingly with the vivid vermilion and green of his uniform. He cleared his throat and looked pleadingly at Winter. "Corporal Guthrie, of Lord Dunford's guards, ma'am. I'm your local liaison officer."

  "About time you got here," said Winter. "Fill us in. What's the background on this case?"

  Corporal Guthrie moved over to join her, giving Hawk and his axe a wide berth.

  "The sorcerer Domain has been a resident of Mulberry Crescent for years. Always quiet and polite. Never any trouble. But about three-quarters of an hour ago, he suddenly appeared at a window on the upper floor of his house and started screaming at people down in the street. We don't know about what. Everybody who was in the street at that time is dead. According to one eyewitness who watched from his window, Domain just lashed out with his magic for no reason, killing everyone in sight. No one's dared leave their houses since. We've sealed off the Crescent at both ends, and evacuated the houses farthest from Domain, but we daren't get too close for fear of starting him off again. A doctor went in a while ago under a white flag to check the bodies, just in case there was anyone alive. There wasn't, so he approached Domain's house, to try and reason with him. The sorcerer told the doctor he wanted to be left alone, and that he'd kill anyone who tried to interfere with him."

  "I'd like to talk to this doctor," said Winter. "He might be able to tell us all kinds of useful things."

  "I don't think so," said Guthrie. "Domain destroyed his mind. All he does is repeat the sorcerer's message, over and over again."

  Fisher swore harshly. "Let's just take the bastard out. Storm can protect us with his magic, and Hawk and I will go in and carve him up. It'll be a pleasure."

  "It's not as simple as that," said Guthrie.

  "I had a feeling he was going to say that," said Hawk.

  "Domain has a hostage," said Guthrie. "Susan Wallinger, twenty-one years old. She was Domain's lady friend. We have reason to believe she wished to end the relationship, and had gone to his home to tell him so. It would appear Domain took this rather badly. He's threatened to kill her if she tries to leave, or if we send anyone in after her."

  "You know the city's policy on hostages," said Winter. "They're expendable."

  "Yes, ma'am. But Susan Wallinger is Councilor Wallinger's daughter."

  "That is going to complicate things," said Fisher.

  Hawk nodded grimly. Councilor Wallinger was one of the leading lights of the Conservatives, and his many businesses helped to provide a large part of the Party's funds. No wonder the Council had called in the SWAT team so quickly. They were expected to save the hostage as well as take out the sniper. Which, as Fisher pointed out, complicated the hell out of things. Hawk looked out over the corpse-strewn street, and his mouth tightened. As long as Domain was running loose, he was a menace. From the sound of his mental state, anything might set him off again, and next time he might not limit himself to the people in plain sight. He might decide to blow up every house in the Crescent, along with everyone in them. He might do something even worse. He was a sorcerer, after all, and they had no idea as to the limits of his power. One way or another, Domain had to be stopped. Hawk hefted his axe and studied the sorcerer's house. He'd get the girl out alive if he could, but if push came to shove, she was expendable—and to hell with who her father was.

  Poor lass.

  "We have a standard routine for handling hostage situations," said Winter, looking hard at Hawk and Fisher. "And we're going to follow it here, by the numbers. I don't want either of you doing anything without a direct order from me first. Is that clear?"

  "Oh sure," said Hawk. Fisher nodded innocently. Winter glared at them both, unimpressed.

  "I'm not unfamiliar with your reputations, Captains. Common belief has it that you're as dangerous as the black death, and about as subtle. You'll find we do things differently on the SWAT team. Whenever possible, our job is to resolve a crisis situation without resorting to violence. Nine times out of ten we get better results by talking and listening than we would if we used force. MacReady is our negotiator, and a damned good one. Until he's tried everything he can think of, and they've all failed, no one else does squat. Is that clear?"

  "And if he does fail?" said Fisher.

  "Then I'll unleash you and Hawk and Barber, and you'll go in after Domain, under Storm's protection. But that's as a last resort only." She looked at Corporal Guthrie. "You'd better get back to your people and tell them what's happening. I'll be sending Mac down to talk to Domain in a few moments. Tell everyone to get their heads down and keep them down. Just in case."

  The Corporal nodded jerkily, and hurried off into the rain. Hawk stared after him.

  "Nice uniform," he said solemnly. "Vermilion and green. Cute."

  Winter's mouth twitched. "Maybe he just wants to be sure he can be seen at night. All right, Mac; let's do this by the numbers, nice and easy. Your first job is to persuade him to let the girl go. Promise him whatever it takes. Councilor Wallinger will make good on practically anything, if it will get him his daughter back safe and sound. Once she's safely out of the way, then you can concentrate on trying to talk him down."

  MacReady looked at her steadily. "Assuming he won't give up the girl, which has priority: getting her out or getting him down?"

  "If it comes to that, the girl is expendable," said Winter. "Why do you think I sent Guthrie away before I briefed you? Now get going. We're wasting time."

  MacReady nodded, and headed unhurriedly down the street towards Domain's house. Hawk looked sharply at Storm. "Aren't you going to give him any protection?"

  "He doesn't need any," said Storm. "He's protected by a Family charm; magic can't touch him, swords can't cut him, and drugs won't poison him. You could dr
op him off a ten-story building, and he'd probably just bounce. At the same time, the charm doesn't allow him to use any offensive weapons, which is just as well, or he'd have taken over the whole damn country by now. As it is, he makes a damned good negotiator."

  He fell silent as a low, rumbling sound trembled in the ground under their feet. Hawk looked quickly about him, but the street was still empty. The rumbling grew louder and more ominous, and then the street next to MacReady exploded. Solid stone tore like paper, and cobbles flew through the air like shrapnel. Hawk held up his cloak as a shield, and cobblestones pattered against it like hailstones in a sudden storm. It was all over in a few seconds, and Hawk slowly lowered his cloak and looked around him. None of the others were hurt. Fisher had her sword in her hand, and was glaring about her for someone to use it on. She looked down the street, and her eyes widened. Hawk followed her gaze.

  MacReady was standing unharmed amid vicious-looking fragments of broken stone and concrete, staring calmly into a jagged rent in the ground. The explosion didn't seem to have harmed him at all, even though it must have gone off practically in his ear. His clothing wasn't even mussed. He shook his head, turned his back on the gaping fissure, and walked on down the street. The outer wall of a nearby house bulged suddenly outwards and collapsed over him. When the dust cloud settled, washed quickly out of the air by the driving rain, MacReady was still standing there, entirely unhurt, surrounded by rubble. He clambered awkwardly over some of the larger pieces, and continued on his way. Lightning stabbed down from the overcast sky, again and again, but didn't even come close to touching him. Magic spat and sparkled around him, scraping across the air like fingernails on a blackboard, but MacReady walked steadily on. He looked almost bored. Eventually he came to the third house from the end on the left, and looked up at the top floor. A dark shape showed briefly at one of the windows, and then was gone. MacReady pushed open the front door and walked inside.