72.

  I had limped back to the Mulberry Estate. I didn’t know how I got home, I didn’t know if I had been followed, I was just desperate to get away. The events of the last 24 hours had been too much. The battle with Somnix, the nightmares he had visited upon me, almost taking a shotgun blast to the face, being shot at least 4 times, and almost being throttled by Black John, had all left me weak and shaking.

  But for some reason, my feet didn't carry me home. Instead, I found myself in the churchyard, where my first mission as a vigilante had taken me to death's door and almost beyond it. I stared up at the statue and then down at its feet. I don't know if it was just my eyes or my mind playing tricks, but I swear I could still see the rusted brown stain of my own blood. I stared at the stark reminder of my obvious mortality swaying unsteadily on my feet.

  I don’t know how long I stood like that before a pigeon suddenly appeared, breaking my thoughts. It stood on a branch and looked directly at me.

  "I need to speak to the king," I said to the pigeon.

  It cocked its head once and then flew away. I stood there wondering if I had just spoken to a regular street pigeon and it had just flown off. My question was answered a few minutes later when a gang of pigeons suddenly descended, and at their head was the falcon-like pigeon king. It had only been a few hours since I'd last seen him, but he had restored much of his strength. His feathers had returned to their normal dark lustre and his eyes looked bright and clear. There still seemed to be a gingerness to his movements, but otherwise, he looked like the Pigeon King I remembered.

  "Mageling, what have you done?" the Pigeon King said as soon as he saw me. "I've just fixed you, and you return to me looking like this?"

  The Pigeon King hopped down from the head of the statue and stalked around my body, shaking his head.

  "I was ambushed," I said to him, pulling back my hood and lifting up my balaclava so I could breathe and wipe blood from my face.

  "One of Brick's thugs? A tall, ebony-skinned warrior?" the Pigeon King asked.

  I looked at him.

  "Ebony?" I said quizzically. "I don't think you should call him that.”

  The Pigeon King waved a dismissive wing at me and flew to the top of the statue again.

  "You know who I speak of, the bald headed killer in the prim suit?”

  "Yeah, him," I said.

  "It seems they must have laid a trap for you, then." The Pigeon King said.

  "They were waiting for me. I don't know how they knew I was there, but they knew.”

  "This is what happens when you rely on indigent drug addicts for information," the Pigeon King said.

  "Sherbert wouldn't have set me up," I spat back at him, and the Pigeon King just shrugged his shoulders.

  "It seems as if these criminals have taken exception to your meddling, mageling," the Pigeon King said. "I would expect such virulent responses from them now.”

  "They've put a bounty on me," I said.

  "A bounty? How quaint," the Pigeon King remarked. "And what do they offer the noble knight to slay the dragon?”

  "￡30,000 to kill me," I replied.

  "Oh, not bad for your first bounty, mageling," the Pigeon King said far too jauntily. He seemed to be enjoying this, which was annoying me.

  "I need backup," I said to him. "I almost got killed tonight, and there were only six of them. When I do find this stash house, I can't imagine there'll be fewer than a dozen or more of them and they’ll be heavily armed.”

  "So you've come to me looking for martial aid?" the Pigeon King asked, his tone more serious.

  "I think you owe me that much," I said.

  "Owe you?" the Pigeon King replied, the mirth dropped from his voice and his syllables became sharp. "Do not forget, mageling, you draw breath today because of me, and every breath you draw after that increases your debt to me.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I ground my teeth in frustration, petulantly thinking how long he was going to throw the fact that he saved my life in my face.

  "Fine, I'll owe you," I said. "You know I'm good for it.”

  "You have proven yourself to be useful," the Pigeon King replied, inspecting one of his talons with sudden interest. "I can provide you with soldiers," he continued. "They will assist you in fighting your battles.”

  "Really?" I asked. "Like proper soldiers?”

  "My pigeons are the fiercest in the city," he replied.

  I looked at the little cooing pigeons next to him. They were a mixture of cute and harmlessly idiotic.

  "You sure?" I asked.

  The Pigeon King cocked an irritated brow at me.

  "Do you want my help or not?" he said.

  "No, no, I'll take it. Thank you, Your Highness," I said. "But I also need information. I need the location of the stashouse.”

  "My pigeons have given you the likely locations," he replied.

  "I don't need the likely locations; I need to know where it is for certain," I said. "We're running out of time. The drugs are gonna be here tomorrow night, and I can't operate like this during the day. I have no idea when they're coming. It could be 8 o'clock in the evening or 3 o'clock in the morning. I need specifics.”

  "Of which I'm afraid I do not have," the Pigeon King replied. "I am powerful beyond your imagination, mortal, but even I cannot see the future.”

  I ground my teeth in frustration.

  “What about the industrial estate, the one I tracked that car to?”

  “Empty. As if they were never there,” the Pigeon King replied.

  I cursed and clenched my fist. Chasing the Syndicate felt like trying to grab fistfuls of shadows.

  "They must have set up the location by now," I said. "These guys are too careful; they wouldn't risk bringing in a shipment like that to a location they haven't secured. They must have chosen it by now.”

  "It's a good assumption," the Pigeon King said. "Well, at least you know it's not the one down by the train tracks.”

  "Yeah, I can cross that off my list," I said, stretching my sore neck. "That leaves us with the nightclub, the underground casino, and the warehouse on the river. It could be any of those three, and the best I can do is keep people and pigeons at all three and have them tell me when the drugs are coming in."

  "Would you really rely on those homeless people to stake out a dangerous drug gang's stash house?" the Pigeon King asked. "My pigeons can, of course, do it, but even they need rest. And, if I’m honest, I wouldn't trust most of my pigeons to be able to reliably tell the difference between two humans, let alone spot a drug shipment coming in. My feathered followers are not famed for their mental capacities.”

  "Then what can I do?" I said. "Is there no way for me to be able to figure out which of these three it is?" I asked him, desperation in my voice.

  "There is a way," the Pigeon King said. “Of course, there's always a way, mageling…

  “But?" I said, already feeling it coming.

  “Whether you are skillful enough to do it without getting hurt is an entirely different matter. And given what we saw in your mind, I would be hesitant to encourage you to use any sort of powerful divination.”

  "Divination?" I said.

  The Pigeon King stopped and thought for a moment before sighing.

  "Divination is, to put it simply, a way of finding truth amongst uncertainties. However, it is not 100% accurate, but with something simple like this, I think it could work.”

  "Then let's do it," I said excitedly.

  "Go ahead," the Pigeon King said, and I looked at him blankly.

  "Oh right, you don't know how," the Pigeon King said. "Divination is very complex, mageling. You would need the correct conditions, the right tutelage, materials, and resources. I don't think you have the skill to learn, and I certainly don't have the experience of teaching such things. Divination is a very mortal Craft; beings of my power rarely need help making a decision.” The Pigeon King went back to inspecting his claws again and gave me a side eye, “But I suppose I could teach you… if you are willing to deal with the potential consequences?” He hissed that final word.

  I looked at him and licked my dry lips.

  "I will tell you all you need to know about divination, but..." and the Pigeon King let that "but" hang in the air.

  We looked at each other. Both of us had seen the thing, both of us knew he had seen me, and both of us knew that by delving back into more powerful magic, I could potentially be drawing myself closer to that eyeless silhouette that haunted my nightmares.

  "Do you dare?" the Pigeon King asked me, a trace of a smile on his face and mirth in his voice. "Is it worth the risk, mageling?"

  It seemed like that's all my life had become: risk versus very little reward. At some point, I'd made the decision that risking my life was worth it to bring down the Syndicate. But was I just risking my life? Or was I risking even more than that by dabbling with these powers and that thing?

  "What is given must be taken," I said.

  I visibly saw the Pigeon King's feathers ruffle. The phrase seemed to carry a power of its own, and with it, a melancholy feeling. He cleared his throat and then nodded.

  "Then come mageling, we will provide the materials and the circle.” The Pigeon King flapped his wings lazily and his pigeons followed him into the abandoned church I had seen them carrying out the Tank Beetle sacrifice in. I felt my heart lurch in my chest. Was I ready to face that thing again? Bile rose in the back of my throat as my stomach soured. I had the unnerving feeling I was stumbling blindly into danger I couldn’t even fully comprehend anymore. I swallowed and felt the throb of pain in my throat where Black John had choked me. There was no way I could walk into another Syndicate trap and survive.

  I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and forced my feet to start moving towards the ominous church. Steeling myself, I took a steadying breath, and pushed the thoughts of the dark silhouette out of my mind. It was time to find that damn warehouse, destroy those drugs, and bring the Syndicate down.

  Nothing else mattered. Not even my soul.