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I checked my watch. “Forty-five minutes ’til showtime,” I said.
Bryce shook his head. “Sonny’ll be here early. Best to get in position.” He didn’t wait for me to give assent or comment and headed down the trail in long strides.
Paul chuckled under his breath. “He’ll never admit it,” he murmured to me as we followed Bryce, “but he actually really enjoys the planning and tactics side of things.” He smiled at the older man’s back. “I think it’s like a puzzle for him. It tweaks that logic center in his brain.”
“And I’m damn glad to let him plan his little heart out,” I replied with a smile.
About a hundred yards in, the trail opened into a clearing with a few decrepit tables and moss-covered concrete barbeque pits. Beyond, the trail continued to an equally poorly kept deck over the swamp.
Bryce and Paul settled at a table they proclaimed to be Sonny’s favorite, while Mzatal strode directly to the valve near the edge of the clearing and crouched, frowning. I moved to stand behind him as he worked his hands in slow, precise arcs over the valve. Othersight revealed an odd fraying of the twisted potency strands that formed the perimeter of the valve, like braids of rope that had been overstressed.
I set my hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”
Mzatal’s frown deepened as he continued to work, and I noted the frays smoothing. “Tampering,” he said. “The primary node has been touched from the demon realm side.”
“Touched?” My eyes narrowed. “You mean something’s been pushed through it?”
“Nothing has come through this one recently,” he told me. “I feel Rhyzkahl’s resonance, and there is a distortion I do not understand. You see the damage. There has been stress on the structure.” He passed his hands over the valve once more then stood and took my hand. “The man approaches.” He paused, his eyes distant. “He is alone.”
Mzatal and I quickly moved into the underbrush to crouch not far off the trail. Though Mzatal’s initial proposal had been to simply net Sonny in potency at the first sign of resistance, I’d managed to argue the lord down to a somewhat less traumatic option, in which we would simply block Sonny’s retreat, leaving potency-netting as an absolute last resort.
Within minutes, I heard the whisper of shoes on damp pine needles, and I peered between the leaves toward the sound. A Hispanic-featured man about five-foot-ten of medium build made his way down the path toward us. I recognized him as one of Farouche’s gunmen, though instead of a suit he had on jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. If I hadn’t known what to look for, I’d have missed the slight bulge of his shirt where an inside-the-waistband holster held his gun.
His face broke into a cautious smile as he came within sight of Bryce and Paul, but as he came abreast of us he faltered and stopped. His eyes flicked left and right in wary alarm, and he slipped his hand under his shirt to rest on his gun.
Mzatal’s aura, I realized with a silent curse. Sonny felt something was off.
Bryce stood. “Sonny, it’s okay. I promise,” he said with quiet but firm assurance. “Please, we need to talk.”
At Bryce’s words, a wild fear lit Sonny’s eyes—Farouche’s influence, I knew all too well. He shook his head and took a step back. “I . . . can’t,” he said, voice tight and strained, even as crushing disappointment twisted his features. “I’m sorry,” he gasped out and spun to leave.
In two quick strides I crashed through the brush and onto the trail to block his retreat. “Wait. Please.” I held my hands
out to show they were empty. “We’re here with Bryce and Paul to help you.”
Sonny stopped, hand still on his gun, though he didn’t make a move to draw it. I remained still, secure in the faith that Eilahn and Mzatal were poised and ready in case Sonny tried to do anything foolish. He puffed out quick, adrenaline-fueled breaths, and I didn’t need to be a mind reader to understand his distress at being lured into a trap, especially one contrary to Farouche’s interests. Sonny shifted, eyes flicking from me to Bryce and then widening on Mzatal as he stepped onto the path.
Bryce moved toward us slowly. “Sonny, it’s okay. We’re going to help you. I swear.”
“Bryce, goddammit,” Sonny said, voice hoarse with a barely controlled panic. “You know I gotta get out of here. You know it. Fuck! You set me up.” Pain overshadowed the fear on his last words. “How could you do that?”
“It’s not what you think,” Bryce said, voice and manner calm and cool. “Look, we can get you out, get you away from Mr. Farouche. Lord Mzatal helped me and Paul, and he’s agreed to help you, too.”
Hope flared on Sonny’s face for a blinding instant before the fear eclipsed it again. A choking sob welled in his throat even as his hand twitched on his gun.
Shit. This was going to require a lot more than talk. Sonny had been driving under the influence of Farouche for a long damn time.
Even as I thought it, Mzatal moved toward him. Sonny drew his gun but fumbled it under the crush of Mzatal’s full-on aura. He staggered back as the lord advanced, caught his foot on a root and fell hard, then crab-scuttled backwards a few feet until brought up short by the trunk of a pine.
He stared up at Mzatal, eyes wild and panicked. Mzatal crouched smoothly and clamped his hands around Sonny’s head, and in the next instant Sonny’s mouth dropped open, and he went completely still.
“I will clear enough of the fear for him to productively interact,” Mzatal told me, then focused his full attention on the man in his grasp.
Step one accomplished, and no one got shot, I thought with relief as I picked up the dropped gun and handed it off to Bryce. He checked it, tucked it into his waistband and stood silently, watching Mzatal work. Paul stood near the table, naked worry on his face, his tablet clutched to his chest like a security blanket. I kept an eye on the trail toward the parking lot in case any nature lovers decided to wander our way. This would be an interesting tableau to explain.
Mzatal finally straightened and stepped back. Sonny remained pressed back against the tree like a trapped animal, but the crazed and unnatural fear no longer filled his eyes.
“Come on, Sonny,” I said as I held my hand down to him. “Let’s talk.”
