(I’m working on Grimaulkin: Necromancer, part 3 of the Grimaulkin trilogy. Why are first drafts more fun than revisions? Anyway, this is a side story that’s going on. I’ll put these in every once in a while, though I’m not going to put in Necromancer until I’m finished. It’s in an incubator, and I don’t want to take it out too soon.)
Ritter held the door open for his new partner, Archdeacon Sabetta. A swarthy Italian, allegedly of a Striga bloodline, he had shown a great aptitude for fieldwork. One problem that Ritter didn’t like about him; he was a fundamentalist.
“Gentlemen,” said Archmage Medard, coming out from behind his desk. Sabetta and Ritter both bowed their heads. Behind the desk was a skyline of New York, now missing two large towers. “We have a report of wild magic in New Orleans.”
“I thought we were to leave New Orleans alone,” said Sabetta. “That primitive magic is supposed to take care of itself.”
“A car ‘suddenly’ was lifted up somehow and crushed a gunman, killing him.”
Ritter shrugged. Things like this were not unusual. New Orleans was a hinterland of magic, and the Voodoo Queens and root doctors were supposed to be taking care of themselves. Anyone who was too uppity was immediately put down, according to them.
“Now,” said Medard, “I know we signed a treaty, but such an obvious, blatant display of magic cannot be tolerated. If others see that they can get away with that, then all the wild magic will fly south and New Orleans will be innundated with them.” Medard stood right in front of the two men. “This is why you will be our ambassadors. My daemons have told me that who did this was one of our own.”
“Who?” Sabetta grinned. Ritter glanced at him and suppressed a shudder.
“We have reason to believe it is Grimaulkin.” He looked at Ritter. “You remember him?”
Ritter indeed remembered him, and could not hide the immediate shock on his face, but recovered quickly. Sabetta turned to look at him. “He’s been under the radar for a year now.”
“Since you lost him in Salem,” said Medard, digging the knife in.
Sabetta raised an eyebrow, grinning at Ritter. “Getting slow in your old age?”
“No, his mentor at the time was faster,” Ritter said. He remembered Medard killing Butler right in this very room, killing him because Grimaulkin had escaped. Ritter burned with vengeance at the time…
“You have a second chance, Ritter.” Medard reached behind him, took something from his desk. He handed Ritter and Sabetta each an envelope, sealed with red wax. “You will present this to the Seven Sisters when you find them, so they may let you find Grimaulkin and bring him to justice.”
Asked Sabetta, “There, or here?”
Medard rapped his fingers against his chin. “Depends. I would like to take care of him myself, but if it cannot be done, then, by all means, use whatever means at your disposal to destroy his daemon. And if he dies because of it, then so be it.”
“So be it,” the two men murmured. Sabetta put the envelope in an inside pocket of his leather jacket. Ritter put his inside his suit.
“A plane will be at the airport to take you to New Orleans.”
“Where do we find the Seven Sisters?” asked Ritter.
“Everywhere and no where,” said Medard, waving them off in dismissal.