As they approached the stairwell door, a loud crash came from the other side.
Devon held up his tentacle in what might have been a gesture to stop. Instead it just flopped around.
Zoe got the message despite his disability. She pressed herself up against the wall while Devon wrapped his tentacle around the door’s handle.
He brought up his human hand and counted down from three.
At one, he pulled open the door. Zoe slipped her dagger around the corner and created a cross of razor wind.
A squelch came from within followed by a few thud and a few slopping noises. When no other sound reached her enhanced ears, Zoe peeked her head around the corner.
Pieces of a zombie lay in a pile on the floor, faintly illuminated by the green flame in Devon’s hand.
“Good thing that wasn’t Nel,” Devon said as he walked around the corner. “Or Arachne.”
“Nel wouldn’t be here. And Arachne… well, she could take it, right?”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Depends on how much force you put behind those.”
Zoe glanced down at the zombie. She hadn’t been holding back at all. Despite the zombies being squishy, their bones were still bones. Zoe had cut clean through the ribcage and spine with enough force left over to make a mark in the wall.
“Of course, if you did not kill Arachne, she would likely be upset. I don’t know how attached to your heart you are, but I know that I don’t want mine torn out of my chest.”
“She wouldn’t,” Zoe started with a frown. “Would she?”
“Depends on how clearly she is thinking at the moment.”
If she had just had a cross cut into her chest, Zoe doubted she would be thinking straight. “I think I will exercise caution in the future.”
“Whatever,” he said, leaning back to look up the stairwell. “Thirteenth floor, right?” He sighed and looked Zoe straight in the eyes for probably the first time since she met him. “If I survive this, I am going to lie down on Ylva’s bed and I’m not going to get up for a damn year. At least.”
Before Zoe could formulate a response, he turned and started trudging up the staircase. His grumblings about cutting the power and elevators did not slip by her enhanced hearing.
With a sigh of her own, she followed him up. The thirteenth floor was up there, but at least she had stopped needing the cane. Teleporting was impossible thanks to the nuns. But so long as their warding kept Sawyer and Nel inside, Zoe wasn’t about to complain.
As Devon incinerated a zombie at the next floor, Zoe glanced up and murmured to herself, “I wonder how Wayne is doing?”
— — —
Wayne gripped the collar of his coat and pulled it tight around his neck. Even with a few heat enchantments in place, his face was still exposed to the early December air. Being on top of a thirty story building in the middle of the night did not help matters.
In contrast, Genoa Rivas stood at his side wearing clothing that Wayne might have felt a chill in while standing in the middle of a volcano. She didn’t have any spells keeping her warm that Wayne could detect. She didn’t even huddle up on herself.
Genoa stood with her feet apart–most of her weight centered over one leg–and one hand on her hip while her other hand flipped a dagger around. She tossed it up in the air, caught it, spun it around in the palm of her hand, and twirled it between her fingers.
Frowning, Wayne looked out over the edge of the hotel. Not at anything in particular, he just gazed into the distance.
His partner hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they arrived. Either because she was nervous or she was itching to get a move on. Wayne had a suspicion that it was the latter. He just hoped she wasn’t going to be too reckless once things started.
Wayne sighed, wishing he had a cigarette–wishing he hadn’t stopped smoking years ago.
Raiding the lair of a necromancer was not in his job description. He was supposed to teach alchemy and recruit kids. Maybe help them out if they got in a little trouble.
This was beyond a little trouble.
It was only tangentially related to a student–and not one of his at that–if he considered Zoe’s theory that the nun’s magic could help Spencer. Possibly Spencer’s roommates as well.
But Zoe had asked. He wasn’t about to turn her down.
“You’re not going to slow me down are you, old man?”
“I’m forty-seven. I’m more worried about you.”
“Don’t. I’m not much older than you. They won’t know what hit them.”
