17 – A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed

Erika half expected a second meeting with The Warrior to take place in that same laundromat as the first time around. It seemed like an alright place, having a nondescript and unassuming exterior, with nothing pointing it out as anything special, while the interior had been operational enough. She doubted it was anything like Varn’s, where people spent great deals of time, but it was clear some work had been put into maintaining it.

It seemed like a suitable meeting place for anyone unaligned with their faction.

Perhaps The Warrior wanted somewhere more secure when dealing with a magical artifact. Or… more comfortable?

Erika looked up at a tall hotel building in the middle of downtown Chicago, made up of windows and large white bricks. It was the kind of place where she would have to rob a fresh ATM every night just to afford the cheapest room, and it wasn’t even the most expensive hotel around. She had thought most of downtown was considered the territory of The Eclipse, but she had double-checked the address, and this was it.

Anna stood with Rick a few steps back. They all had taken Rick’s van—reports said it might snow later, and Erika didn’t care to drive in that mess—and had parked at a garage a block away. Both Leslie and Sofia had been informed of this evening’s activities, just in case something did happen to them. Erika had reluctantly informed Leah and, by extension, The Fixer.

Not that she expected anything to happen—at least nothing from The Puppet since they were friends… or friendly. However, if Erika did end up breaking the curse, she would have to usher everyone out in a hurry.

Unless, of course, she wanted The Mummy to show up.

It was something to consider. If they kept hiding away, she could draw them out quite easily. Assuming they were still after her.

Erika didn’t plan on confronting them tonight. Perhaps a later operation, if she could rope The Puppet into helping ambush anyone who came after her, was certainly something to consider.

The lobby of the hotel was brightly lit. The brown-swirled white tiles of the floor gleamed, reflecting light, people, and things, while the walls were mostly made up of a rich brown wood. Black marble lined with gold broke up the wooden walls, drawing the eye to doorways, the bar, and the rows of elevators. A set of statues flanked the main reception desk, looking like stone taken straight from a quarry with no real carving or artistry done to them, but there was something off about them. Like, they looked more like plaster than proper rock.

They felt cheap compared to the extravagance of the rest of the lobby.

It was an odd thing to jump out at Erika, but it did anyway. Maybe because of the gold-tinged mirrors placed all around them, like whoever put them there wanted to be sure that guests could see all around the fake rocks. It was just weird.

“I feel like I’m getting poorer just standing here,” Rick murmured.

“Never been in a proper hotel before?” Anna asked. “They’re all like this—anywhere that isn’t a cheap hole in the wall, that is. They want to make their guests feel like they’re rich.”

“I don’t think it’s working,” Rick said, shifting uncomfortably. He looked all the more uncomfortable in his new clothes. It wasn’t anything special, just some khaki pants and a slate-gray button-up shirt with a blazer. At least he wouldn’t be blinding anyone with his Hawaiian shirts.

“Probably because we’re not the ones paying for it,” Erika said, dragging them toward the elevators. “Come on. We’re getting looks from the reception people.”

“At least the elevators aren’t locked behind room keys,” Anna said as Erika pushed the call button.

“Is that a thing?”

“In fancy hotels? Sure.”

“Huh. They probably would have had someone come meet us if that was the case,” Erika said, stepping toward one of the lifts as the door dinged open. “Room 418,” she said, pressing the appropriate button.

“Heh.” Rick snorted. “The teapot room?”

“Are you… feeling alright?” Erika asked in genuine concern. Had the prospect of finally getting rid of his cursed sword broken his mind or something?

“He thinks he is making a joke,” Anna said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Ignore him.”

That was easy enough. She had plenty of practice ignoring idiot boys around school.

Eventually, the elevator doors dinged open once again, and Erika, following a sign on the wall, led the other two down toward the room she had been told. After a light, polite knock on the door, she stepped back and waited.

The door behind her opened, making her jump and turn around. Michael stood inside, his aged and wrinkled face looking just as unimpressed as always. “You’re late,” he grunted.

“I most certainly am not,” Erika said with a glare. “The message said half-past eight. It’s only eight twenty-five. You told me the wrong room number.”

Michael stared for a moment longer before stepping to the side, opening the door fully to admit them. “Can’t be too careful around these parts,” he said. “Well? Get inside, quick. Quit lollygagging in the hall where everyone can see.”

Erika moved ahead without much hesitation. The other two weren’t so quick.

“Are we expecting trouble?” Anna asked.

“The Stalker’s keeping watch, but The Strategist warned that The Eclipse is prowling around tonight.”

“Should we put this off for another night?” Rick asked.

“Or maybe just not meet in the middle of their territory,” Erika added.

The Warrior stepped around the corner, waving them all further inside. “I don’t know about you, but the thought of meeting in that ghastly laundromat again gives me shivers. There is no running water and no heat. We might be here for a while, and I don’t think I want to do without either for any length of time.”

The hotel room was… a hotel room. For all the opulence of the lobby, there wasn’t much special about the room itself. The first few steps through the door took Erika past an admittedly large bathroom, but the room beyond wasn’t anything to write home about. A large television hung from one wall, as was standard for these places, but the bed was missing. In the bed’s place was a table that could have been the same table from the laundromat for all Erika had paid attention. A few chairs were set out around it, waiting for guests. Really, the best the room had to offer was a balcony behind some large windows that looked out over the lake.

“Besides,” The Warrior continued, waving them all toward the table, “The Eclipse is just out on a show of force, sending a few of their members out to visit a few of the minor factions of the city. They like to make sure everyone knows who is in charge, even if they claim they’re just checking that people have what they need to get by. Thus, their territory will be relatively empty, and an empty place is the best place to hide out for an evening.”

Erika guessed that she could see the logic. At the same time, it did seem like some random safe house off somewhere in the city was the better place. Then again, what did she know? She could only name a few people in The Eclipse, and she had no idea what abilities or resources they and the rest had at their disposal.

The Warrior tapped a finger to her round, amber-tinted glasses as she looked from Erika to Rick and then to Anna. Erika almost wanted to ask where she could get a pair. She wasn’t sure she would go for amber, but the best thing about wearing mostly black was that black really went with every color.

Last time, at the laundromat, The Warrior wore a light yellow sundress. A bit odd for winter, especially after worrying about working heat. Today, however, she had on a deep blue dress with a slit that showed off quite a bit of her leg. It looked more suited for a runway than a clandestine meeting.

“You’re the cursed one?” The Warrior asked, turning from Anna back to Rick.

Rick slumped a little. “Is it that obvious?”

“I know The Agent isn’t cursed, and this one isn’t obviously carrying a sword. You are. Your name or title?”

“Sorry. Introductions,” Erika interrupted. “This is Richard,” she said with a nod to Rick. “And Anny. Rich, Anny, this is The Warrior. Michael is the one leaning against the wall, looking like his motivation to wake up in the morning is telling kids to get off his lawn.”

Michael’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t otherwise move so much as a finger.

“Anny,” Anna said, making a face. “Really?”

Erika gave her a flat look for ruining the whole thing. “Everyone uses aliases. It is for a reason.” Or so she assumed, but she didn’t want to expose her own ignorance in front of The Warrior.

“While precaution is to be lauded,” The Warrior said, “there are no fae present. I am quite confident.”

“Fae?” Rick asked.

“Offer a fae your name and they might just take it,” The Warrior said with a somewhat cruel grin. “A harrowing experience, I understand.”

“I’ve heard stories like that,” Rick said with a small shudder. “Going to be looking at the bank teller with a bit of extra scrutiny when they ask me for my name from now on.”

The Warrior let out a light, genuine laugh, but did nothing to reassure Rick that such a thing wasn’t a possibility. Instead, she moved around the table, gesturing toward it. “We should get a move on with the night’s events. The cursed object?”

Rick stilled, freezing solid for a moment before glancing to Anna for support. She just gave him a shrug and waved at the table. With a deep breath, Rick unslung his cardboard mail tube. Another breath, and he popped the plastic cap off the end. Slowly, carefully, he drew the sword—still sheathed—from the tube and placed it in the center of the table.

“Do not draw it,” he said, his voice harsh and serious, far more so than any other time Erika had heard him speak.

The Warrior lightly nodded her head, but otherwise focused on the sword. She ran her thumb along the bottom rim of her glasses, sliding it back and forth as she stared. After a long moment, she let out an appreciative whistle. “Nasty thing you’ve got here. The clasps are your doing, I presume?” she asked, pointing to the little metal L-shaped pieces that held the sword and the sheath together. “They look welded on.”

“They bend just as much as they need to get the sword out, but keep any accidents from happening. When I first… found it, it had a nasty habit of jumping right into my hand. Sometimes, the sheath would just fall off right then and there, leading to… problems. I’ve mostly got that under control.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, where did you find it?”

“Some back closet of an old datacenter, south of Chicago. Pretty sure it has been torn down since.”

“Odd place for a sword.”

“Yeah, don’t need to tell me that,” Rick grumbled, falling silent as The Warrior continued just staring at the sword, rubbing the rim of her glasses like it was a nervous tic.

Erika had been a little excited, coming here. She wanted to see some magic cast in a situation where it wasn’t aimed at her. The Warrior just stared. No muttered spells, no Latin or English or anything. Every few moments, she might hum like she was curious or like she had figured something out, but she never said what.

Rick stood, hands resting on the table close enough to his sword that an errant twitch would have him grasping it. His eyes were locked on the sword as well, like he couldn’t quite bring himself to look at anyone else in the room.

Anna leaned against the wall, arms crossed and fingers idly fiddling with a little dangly silver spike that hung from her leather jacket up near her shoulder. She eyed the room, eyes moving in a fairly regular pattern between The Warrior, Rick, Rick’s sword, Michael, Erika, and then out the window before she started over again.

As for Michael, he leaned against the wall opposite Anna, but his eyes were solely focused out the window, as if he expected all threats to come from out there. Or maybe it was that the evening lights of Chicago and the lake beyond were the only interesting things to look at for the moment, cursed sword aside.

Erika wondered if he got paid for his bodyguard services or if he got something else out of this arrangement. Maybe some magic items from The Warrior or help from The Stalker. Or maybe they already did something to help out, and now he was paying them back. Erika had half a mind to ask, but she didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere by going up and starting a conversation. Even if she didn’t look like she was doing much, The Warrior was working.

Presumably.

The Warrior was still staring. A few beads of sweat were dripping down from her temple. Was that from worry—was the sword worse than she thought it would be? Or was whatever she was doing just straining her a bit?

Movement from Michael pulled her attention back to him. He pulled out his phone with a grunt and, with a glum scowl at the screen, stepped around the corner toward the bathroom. As the closest other person, Erika took a few steps back to listen in. Michael closed the door, but it was cheap and thin and didn’t block much sound.

“I see,” Michael said. “If it seems like it is going to be a problem, call me again.”

That was it. He immediately slid open the bathroom door, only to stop at how close Erika was.

“Trouble?” she asked, speaking quietly to avoid ruining The Warrior’s concentration.

“It was The Stalker. Says The Eclipse is pulling back from their patrol early tonight. Nothing to worry about.”

“You aren’t worried about the abrupt change?”

“Who says it’s abrupt?” Michael shot back. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Not like we know their exact schedule. If we worried over every little thing, nothing would ever get done.”

Erika, curious over what kind of operations these guys pulled, started to ask what The Puppet usually ‘got done’. A loud clearing of The Warrior’s throat made her pause.

“I think I’ve got the measure of this curse,” The Warrior said as Erika and Michael took the two steps required to reenter the main room. “I’d guess you’ve had this for seven years, give or take six months.”

“Close enough,” Rick said with an unusually tense shrug.

“Honestly, I’m surprised it hasn’t killed you—not the curse draining you or some nonsense, but the sword itself. As far as I can tell, this sword has a habit of doing so. Every time it is drawn and can’t be immediately blooded, there is an increasing chance that it will turn on its wielder. You have either sated it well or avoided drawing it far more than usual,” she said with a slow motion toward the clasps holding the sheath to the sword’s hilt. “Both, likely.”

Rick didn’t say anything. He looked a little green around his cheeks and jaw, like he was going to be sick.

“Is it possible to remove the negative aspects of the curse while leaving the positive?” Erika asked for him. “Get rid of the blood requirement and keep the skill and whatever other magical properties it has?”

The Warrior considered a long moment before shaking her head. “If this were freshly forged and Richard here was its first wielder, I would say it could be possible. Basically just re-enchanting it.”

“It can’t be done,” Rick said. It wasn’t a question.

“At this point, there isn’t much distinction between the curse and the sword. To alter one would likely destroy the other, and part of its curse is to keep it intact—hard to be eversharp if it can be damaged.”

“It can’t be destroyed,” Rick said, closing his eyes like he was resigned to it. “I put it under a hydraulic press once. Didn’t do a thing.”

“I told you I can break it,” Erika cut in, stepping toward the table. “If we can’t make the curse easier to please, then I’ll just break the curse and the sword together. The only thing I want to know now is if there is any kind of magical backlash that will hurt Richard if I do so.”

“It is hard to say. A curse like this, so old and which has seen so much use, is quite strong. More, it isn’t just the sword. The curse is on Richard as well, simply because he touched it and has carried it with him for a quarter of his life.” The Warrior turned her analytical eye onto Erika, touching the rim of her glasses once more. She nibbled on the corner of her lip for a moment before asking, “Not to say I doubt your abilities—I saw the result of The Strategist’s experiment—but how can you be so certain?”

“Unwavering confidence is one of my most attractive traits,” Erika said before glancing down at herself. “Right up there next to my body, good looks, and my fashion sense.”

“You certainly have confidence,” The Warrior said, half under her breath.

Erika grinned. Stepping forward, she reached into her pocket. After a moment of thought, she pulled out a large kitchen knife from the rental home. She slapped it down on the table. “Curse this,” she said. “Something similar to the sword, though maybe not quite as severe?”

“You just carry knives with you everywhere?” Anna asked without moving from her spot against the wall.

“Never know when you need to chop some celery up.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It won’t be the same,” The Warrior said with a small frown. “The sword has centuries of history behind it, all adding to its power. A fresh curse on a modern knife won’t even be a shadow of its power.”

“Doesn’t really matter. It will give me practice with curse-breaking and might give me some insight into how my method of breaking a curse will affect the cursee.”

“I don’t think that’s the proper conjugation,” The Warrior said, but absently, like she was thinking things over.

She didn’t get to say anything before a loud beep came from Michael. He looked down at his phone in surprise and alarm.

The window cracked with the sound of a thunderclap. Thousands of tiny white lines spread out, stretching all the way to the edges of the window, centered directly behind The Warrior’s head.

Everyone present jumped and jolted. Rick’s sword moved from the table to his hand without crossing the space between. Anna brought up her arms like a boxer, staring at The Warrior with suspicion before staring at the broken glass window.

For her part, The Warrior simply turned. “Are they mad? This is the middle of downtown. You can’t write this off as simple gang violence.”

As she spoke, two more thunderclaps hit the window, making Erika flinch involuntarily each time. Nothing got through, but the white spiderweb of broken glass spread out. One centered on The Warrior’s head, another in the dead center of her chest.

“Glad I made this bulletproof as a precaution,” she muttered as Michael advanced, grabbing her arm.

“Bullets? Someone shot at you?”

“Let’s not test your spell more,” Michael grunted, dragging her away from the window.

“Ah, my table, my chairs—”

“You can get new ones. Let’s go.”

Erika, with a shocked glance at both Rick and Anna, hurried to follow after them. Someone was shooting at them. Sticking around in a room with a giant glass window seemed like the worst idea.

“What did you get us into?” Anna hissed.

“Don’t ask me,” Erika snapped back. Already, she was reaching into her coat to pull out her new bat. She had her gun as well, but she still didn’t feel confident using it outside an emergency.

Though this might just be an emergency.