The Killing Floor Blues (Daniel Faust #5)(69)
A third body dove from the shattered window. Not in a guard’s uniform, but a billowing white leather coat. She landed as graceful as a raptor, absorbing the impact with one knee and the outstretched fingers of a single hand, and slowly rose to her full willowy height. Her eyes blazed like molten copper, as radiant as her twist of scarlet hair.
“If anyone in this room believes themselves to be a righteous soul,” Caitlin said, “I suggest you kneel down and pray. If nobody answers…then you belong to me.”
37.
Hours earlier, alone in the dark, I had set about my work.
I needed candles, and cigarettes wouldn’t do this time. So I crafted my own. The disposable yogurt cups made a fine substitute; instead of wax, I filled each one—five in all—with baby oil. Lengths of oil-dipped twine made crude but workable wicks, and I carefully replaced the plastic cups’ foil covers before punching a tiny hole and running the twine down the middle.
I didn’t have matches or a lighter, but I had a little steel wool from the kitchens and a nine-volt battery. I knelt down on the cold cell floor, rubbing the wool against the battery’s terminals like a Boy Scout trying to make fire with sticks. The steel wool glowed Halloween orange in the dark. With a spark, the first candlewick caught fire.
Soon there were five dancing lights, the candles laid out on the floor of my cell in the shape of a five-pointed star. Next came the salt, poured in a thin but unbroken circle. I painted glyphs in salt, twisted signs and seals I knew by heart.
“I invoke and conjure you by sigil and name,” I whispered. “I conjure by the ministers of the Tartarean seat, by fallen powers and principalities, by broken thrones and dominions. I speak with the authority of the kings in the outer dark. My words will be heard; my words will be heeded.”
The circle and seals glowed in my second sight, rippling with a cold blue fire. I extended a finger over the salt, gripping the razor blade in my other hand. One quick shallow slice, one jolt of burning pain, and my fingertip turned scarlet. Blood dripped down, slow and steady, splashing onto the concrete.
“The elements are overthrown,” I hissed, rocking forward and back on my knees as my blood fed the hungry magic. “The air is fire; the sea is dust. At the end of all things, I call to you. In the last of all places, I call to you. I conjure you by your name: Caitlleanabruadi!”
The air erupted in a silent shock wave that hit me like a fist, knocking me flat. It was a sonic boom with no sound, a blinding flash of hot black light that killed the flickering candles. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
In the center of the bloody circle, a figure rose. Slowly melting up from the floor, it twisted and writhed in the shadows. I made out arms ending in clutching iron claws. The horns of a ram. A guttural voice boomed from the dark.
“Who has disturbed my slumber?”
I had just enough time to panic, to realize I’d botched the ritual somehow, before the figure launched itself at me.
I blinked, lying sprawled on my back. Caitlin perched on top of me, human, grinning. She rubbed the tip of her nose against mine.
“Gotcha,” she said.
Then she kissed me, long and slow, the pounding drumbeat of my heart melting from anxiety to raw heat.
“I’m looking for a damsel in distress,” she said. “Seen any around?”
I wriggled my fingers. “Right here.”
She took my hand, her warm fingers twining around mine, and pulled me up.
“I have to say,” she observed, “I’ve been summoned under strange circumstances…but I’ve never been tactically summoned.”
“I wish you could do that to me. Would have made breaking out of here so much easier.”
My hands slid around the slick waist of her white leather coat. One of hers closed on my shoulder, the other stroking the back of my neck as she pulled me close.
“True,” she murmured in my ear, “but this way is much more fun. So what are we up against? Bentley just gave me the abridged version. And Naavarasi’s been leaving voicemails for me, crowing about how you owe her a favor. That doesn’t please me.”
“The feeling’s mutual. Long story short, the warden and his staff are lining their pockets by running gladiator games for the amusement of the idle rich, and I’m on tonight’s fight ticket.”
“Hrm. Think I would have known about something like this happening in my father’s territory. None of my kind are involved?”
I shook my head. “Nope, and I haven’t picked up on a glimmer of magical power. No demons, no mages, just garden-variety criminals with big ambitions. And big guns, including a sniper’s nest or two. They won’t go down without a fight.”
“If they did, I’d be bored. But how did this happen in the first place? Bentley and Corman barely made sense. You were arrested the night I left, but everyone thought you were in prison for months?”
“That’s where it gets complicated,” I said. “The Chicago Outfit got me arrested in the first place; it’s a frame job, to get me out of the way while they make their bid for Vegas.”
“I heard.” She frowned. “Nicky’s a fugitive, and nobody’s seen the twins either…not that anybody is looking for them. We’ve all been searching for Jennifer, but nobody has any idea where she’s gone.”