It was old and grimy, with a row of high rectangular windows letting in streams of hazy moonlight, or maybe streetlight. It filtered down to illuminate the scene, looking strangely peaceful and serene. While below, the troll was literally ripping apart the building that the men were running through, and then using the pieces to rip them apart.
I saw one guy bisected by a flying piece of metal, maybe a large table or door; we were back behind the troll now and moving so fast that it was hard to tell. Another was crushed under a brick wall that decided to collapse when a massive arm was dragged through it. And a third was sent hurtling into another wall, courtesy of the girder that had been thrown at him like the world’s biggest javelin.
Others, however, were obviously mages, because I saw shrapnel bouncing off what had to be shields. Shields that were taking a beating, and not just from the troll. Because, on his back, hunched over like a tiny, wild-eyed wart, was . . . something crazy.
Or make that someone crazy, a screaming banshee with a machine gun and an afro, just letting it rip.
I had a sudden, dizzying flashback to the same woman in the cab of a truck, swaying back and forth and cackling maniacally. Kind of like she was doing now, only the machine-gun bursts drowned it out, along with the screams of the remaining men. One of whom finally got his shit together long enough to lob a spell. The big troll ducked, and it mostly flew overhead—his, anyway. The maniacal wart, however, got her hair singed, which started smoking.
But not because it was on fire.
But because the spell had lit the dozen cigarettes she had stored up there, like a tobacco crown.
She took a couple out of the smoking circlet, stuck them between her teeth, and let loose like the last five minutes of The A-Team.
I just stared.
So did the mages—for a moment. Until their shields went down and so did they. Well, most of them.
I saw a few make it through some industrial sliding doors up ahead, using magic to increase their speed, while ours started to flag. I wasn’t sure whether the troll was getting tired, because he ought to be tired after acting like a wrecking crew all on his own. Or if maybe there was another reason.
And then I saw the reason.
Cage after old iron cage lined the walls and spilled out into one end of the huge space. Some housed lumps huddled in darkness, too dirty and ragged to make an easy identification. But others had humans clinging to the bars, staring out in dawning hope, hands reaching, reaching, reaching—
For the keys that the troll shook off one of the few men who were still moving, before throwing him through a window. And then standing in the middle of the room and roaring, the sound almost drowned out by the cries of the slaves and the yells, cheers, and boos of the crowd around me. Who were surging to their feet, those who hadn’t already been there, and acting like they’d just won the Super Bowl.
Maybe because some of them had, I realized, finally spotting Fin on the other side of the screen, doing some swift calculations on an old yellow pad.
A list of odds and their payouts showed up on the wall a moment later, while the winners surged at Fin and the losers headed for the bar. I just stood there, staring at the images. Because the important part of the night’s events, which no one seemed to care about, was still ongoing.
The slaves were being freed.
The small woman with the smoking hair jumped down from the troll’s back, assisted by a hand the size of an easy chair, and grabbed the keys. And went hopping from cage to cage, letting out what I could now see were mostly weres. Some were in human form, thin, dirty people with matted hair and darting eyes. But others were too exhausted and sick to transform, leaving them stuck as a menagerie of animals: a lion with half its fur gone; a dozen wolves, so scrawny I could see all their ribs; a huge gorilla that was cradling a tiny baby with the greatest of tenderness; and a mass of selkies, fey skin changers who in their animal form resemble seals.
Somebody went to switch the channel and I growled at him. The man slowly pulled his hand away, and I hopped down and pushed through the remaining crowd to get closer to the screen. The slaves were running now, some stopping to help those who couldn’t help themselves, but most darting into the night, not even waiting to plunder their former jailers, whose bodies were littered everywhere.
Except on the long dock visible outside the sliding metal door, where a couple guys in a speedboat were about to take off. At least, they were before a young man with massive, eagle-like wings swooped down, the partial transformation allowing him to kick the duo back onto the dock. Where they were swarmed by their former captives.
But many more slaves ran off, not enticed by revenge any more than they had been by plunder.
They looked terrified.
But not of the troll. Who was slumped down now, on the dirty wood floor, head lolling, obviously exhausted. And letting his assistant do the mopping up.
“Dory!”
My head jerked up to see Fin waving at me above the crowd. He jumped off his stool and came bustling over, looking pleased. “You out and about already?”
I blinked at him, wondering how he knew I’d been at the theatre, and then I realized: he thought I was still recovering from the burnt-out-building fight.
“Yeah.” I went back to staring at the screen, where the eagle man had now transformed his feet into great claws, to rake at the slavers, one of whom had grabbed a kid as a shield.
And who, a second later, was hitting the dock on his knees, when the were-child changed into a python and wrapped around his neck.
“I should have expected it,” Fin said. “You always heal fast—”
“Fin.” I gestured at the screen, half-incoherent. “What is that?”
He looked over his shoulder, and then back at me, beaming. “The latest thing. I’m making a killing!”
“On what?”
“On the crazy crusade those two got going.” He jerked a thumb at the screen. “You haven’t heard?”
I shook my head.
He pushed his way through the crowd, and pulled a folded newspaper from in between two sofa cushions. “Here. It’s yesterday’s, but you get the idea.”
It would be hard to miss. At the top of the paper was a screaming headline: UNDERWORLD GANG WAR! And beneath that: WHAT IS THE CIRCLE HIDING?
Not a lot, judging by the pictures. Which showed members of the Silver Circle in their trademark leather overcoats, a few with glittering insignia, standing around the middle of what appeared to be another warehouse. It was a newer one this time, all dirty concrete floors and few windows to let in light. On what, at a guess, was another troll attack.
It looked like the one I’d just witnessed, except with more bodies.
A lot more.
I couldn’t tell exactly how many because a mage had his hand up, palm facing the camera and fingers spread, in a vain attempt to keep any images from reaching the masses. But if that was the goal, the Circle’s guys should have thought to check the security feed. Below the candid shot was a whole row of grainy stills from a video of the attack. And while they were hard to make out, thanks to poor lighting and cheap equipment, they were recognizably the dynamic duo. Only this time, Revenge Granny had gone full Scarface, with a machine gun in one hand and a sawed-off shotgun in the other.
“They’re really something, huh?” Fin said, looking over my shoulder.
Yeah. I just wasn’t sure what that something was. But I knew what it’d be if the Circle caught up with them.
Vigilante justice wasn’t a concept they understood.
“How did you get this?” I gestured at the screen.
“Easy.” He looked proud of himself. “I saw the paper and recognized Big Blue from the fights. You remember him. He threw you at a wall.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Anyway, I saw the story and thought, huh. He’s looking for some payback. And I didn’t think he was gonna stop at one slaver. I mean, look at the scars on that guy. Some people are owed.”
“So you did what exactly?”
“Called in some favors. Heard some rumors about which smugglers still got game, what with the Senate trying to shut them down and all. And the Circle’s just as bad. These guys been operating for years and nobody cares, but all of a sudden—”