75.

  The rain was relentless. Fat drops pounded on the corrugated metal roof beneath my feet, drowning out the creaks of my movement as I crouched low, staring down at the warehouse below. The waterfront district was a patchwork of shadows and flickering yellow light, a place that smelled of brine, rot, and something darker. Ruku and his pigeons had informed me that the shipment had been brought in by boat only an hour before I had arrived.

  Lightning forked across the sky, briefly illuminating the warehouse yard. As much as I hated to admit it, I was impressed by what the Syndicate had managed to achieve in just a few hours. The yard had been a broken down and disused mess the last time I had seen it. Now, less than 12 hours later, they had reinforced the flimsy chain link fence, erected floodlights connected to generators, and I was sure I even caught a glimpse of a sniper’s nest. They were taking no chances and no expenses had been spared.

  Lightning flashed again and I saw the mercenaries prowling the yard. They were professionals, not the street-level thugs I was used to tangling with. They moved in pairs, sweeping the perimeter with military precision. They weren’t nervous, nor did they look perturbed by the pounding rain. They moved in carefully plotted figure eight movements, leaving no corner of the yard unobserved for long. Each one carried a semi-automatic rifle slung low, their eyes hidden beneath the brims of dark caps.

  My breath fogged in the chill air as I searched for weaknesses. The warehouse, a hulking structure of rust and concrete, had also been reinforced. Steel grates covered the lower windows, and doors had been heavily chained shut so that the only entrance was the main doors at the front. Two speedboats bobbed at the dock behind, tied with thick ropes. They must be escape routes. If I didn’t play this right, the drugs inside would be long gone before I could lift a finger.

  I clenched my fists. My body still ached from my battle with Black John. Bruises bloomed like ink stains along my ribs and neck, and my knuckles throbbed with a dull, persistent pain. But that didn’t matter. That would be Alex’s problem if I lived until morning. Tonight, the only thing the Gutter Mage was concerned with was giving the Syndicate two black eyes and a bloody nose.

  A flutter of wings broke my focus. Ruku, the Pigeon King’s right talon bird, landed on the roof beside me, his beady eyes reflecting the floodlights below. He flapped once, then twice: a signal. Two guards by the south entrance.

  “Good bird,” I whispered, feeling ridiculous even as I said it.

  I looked up and saw the rest of the flock circling above the warehouse. Ruku had designed an ingenious method for identifying the guards, their positions, and their numbers.

  The pigeons’ small forms blended into the dark sky, invisible to anyone not looking for them. I watched as they moved in a coordinated dance, their flight patterns marking out guard positions. One flap for left, two for right. The pattern was clear: ten men outside, possibly more inside. No easy way in.

  But then I had another problem: how was I going to get into the warehouse? With the guards and the floodlights, I would have only a few seconds to get across the open ground and into the warehouse. The pigeons had checked and the only fire escape had been welded shut. Damn it, Black John didn’t strike me as the type of person to make the same mistake twice. The windows had also been barred shut on the upper levels. Not even a rat could get in without the Syndicate’s say so.

  There was only one weak point and you had to have been a pigeon to find it. Pigeons, regular city pigeons, had been nesting in the rafters of the warehouse for years, clogging up the guttering, their acidic droppings corroding the metal siding. A small gap yawned in the top corner of the warehouse, where the corrosion had eaten through. It was just big enough for someone wiry to squeeze through. Someone like me.

  “There’s no way I’m getting across open ground and then climbing that warehouse without being seen, is there?” I asked Ruku.

  He looked at me with eyes far too intelligent for a pigeon and then shook his head. I looked back at the warehouse yard imagining trying to outrun automatic gun fire.

  “Battle,” the pigeon said in his strange cooing voice.

  Ruku only seemed to be able to say singular words but he was adept at making himself understood.

  “Distraction?” I asked and he nodded. “It’s dangerous.”

  Ruku just cocked his head at me as if to say ‘well duh.’

  “Gather your warriors,” I said after a few pensive seconds of staring into the rain. “I’m going in. Wait until I am at the fence, then strike.”

  Ruku nodded and he took off with a powerful thrust of his wings, calling to the small army of pigeons nesting in the building. I listened for a moment to the rapid beating of wings and scratching of talons all around me, before taking a deep breath. I checked all of my equipment for the final time. Reaching down, I swung my heavy backpack over my shoulder, the accelerant inside sloshing about. I settled the pack until it was comfortable, then sent power to the Magnet Runes on the palm of my gloves. I reached down, grabbed the metal gutter pipe and began climbing my way down the building.

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  The wind howled, driving rain into my eyes as I moved. My boots whispered over the wet roof, careful, measured. The gutter groaned under my weight, sagging dangerously. I sucked in a breath and eased myself down, dangling for a heartbeat before dropping silently to the ground below.

  I was in the shadows now, a half-seen blur against the rusting walls. I lifted my finger to my belt, where I had stitched a sliver of razorblade and gently pricked the tip of my finger on it. I brushed my blood finger across the Rune etched on to my belt and I gathered my energy. I felt the familiar familiar tug of magic as the air around me grew darker, denser. A cloak of shifting shadows wrapped around my form, blurring my outline. Not perfect invisibility, but close enough.

  I quickly scaled the chain link fence, the improved charms on my leather jacket made the barbed wire at the top of little concern. I landed on the other side in a corner of shadow and waited.

  A pair of guards passed within feet of me. I could smell the cheap tobacco wafting from them, and hear the soft click of safeties being checked. My heart thundered in my chest, but I kept my breathing steady, measured. One of them paused, his head cocking as if sensing something was wrong. He squinted into the darkness where I crouched, his hand tightening on his weapon.

  I held my breath. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Then the pigeons attacked.

  It started with a single soft coo from somewhere above. Then, a rush of wings that could be heard over the pounding rain. Shadows streaked through the air as my airborne allies dove into the fray.

  The first guard barely had time to blink before a grey blur smashed into his face. If you ever saw a street pigeon and thought it was just some dumb, harmless, bird, you would have been shocked to see what they could do to human flesh. The pigeon’s talons clawed at the man’s cheeks while its peak tried to tear his eyes out.

  The mercenary screamed, whipping his head left and right, flailing his arms wildly at the pigeon, feathers exploding all around him. The second man jerked his rifle up, but before he could fire, a fat pigeon with a tattered wing dive-bombed his hand. He roared and the weapon went flying from his grasp. Suddenly, pigeons were dive bombing all across the yard, their keen talons and beaks seeking soft flesh and eyes. Automatic gunfire went off and the yard descended into chaos. I took my chance and sprinted from my cover across the open ground. The spot lights whirled around but they weren’t focusing on me.

  My boots splashed through puddles as I bolted across the yard. Rain lashed down in sheets, turning the world into a blur of grey. The pigeons were a living storm, a fury of claws and beaks, and I was the ghost moving beneath them.

  “Birds! They’re fucking birds!” someone shouted.

  I ducked low out of instinct as more gunfire ripped across the yard. Puddles exploded around me as errant shots missed me by only a few feet. It was at this point that the absurdity of my plan was beginning to set in.

  I glanced up and saw one of the mercenaries trying to aim through the chaos. His eyes were steady, his movements controlled. Dangerous.

  A pigeon the size of a football flung itself at his neck. He swatted it away, but another was already on his arm, tearing at his sleeve. Blood sprayed as he cursed in frustration. I saw him whirl and fire. Two pigeons fell dead, their bodies exploding in feathers and blood.

  I slipped between the shadows, heart hammering, rain drenching my coat and chilling me to the bone. Another guard whipped his head toward my direction, his eyes narrowing.

  I didn’t stop.

  Instead, I clenched my fist and poured more power into the Cloaking Rune on my belt, feeling its faint warmth growing more intense. The shadows around me thickened, bending just enough to blur my outline. His gaze slid past me like oil on water.

  Close. Too close.

  More gunfire erupted as panic spread. The pigeons surged in greater numbers, attacking with the precision of a well-trained army. Beaks found eyes, claws raked fingers. One guard flailed wildly, firing into the air as feathers clouded his vision.

  But the men were also well trained, and while they were more prepared for guerilla warfare than pigeon warfare, they were quickly rallying. I saw them running and ducking, finding cover from the aerial assault. The men that were already under cover were lighting up the sky with gun fire and I saw the horde of pigeons break as more fell from the sky.

  I reached the base of the warehouse wall, panting and trying to catch my breath. . The weak spot the Ruku had shown me, where time, weather, and a whole lot of pigeon guano had eroded the structure, was up above me now.

  Automatic gunfire was ripping around the entire yard, melting into a cacophony of shouting, screaming, and squawking. I looked up. The opening was right at the top corner, perhaps 20 feet up. I felt the metal wall of the warehouse and sent some power into the Magnet Rune on my palm and it adhered. Here was the tricky part. The Cloaking Charm was a black hole of energy. It took heaps of power just to keep it going and I was certain I wouldn’t be able to split my focus and energy between the Magnet Rune and the Cloaking Charm for long. I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath, drawing in as much power and focus as I could, then I began to climb.

  The first 10 feet were okay. But as I climbed higher and the Magnet Runes required more juice as gravity took greater effect, I began to feel my power faltering. The Cloaking Charm was just too power intensive. I couldn’t keep it up. I placed my palm above me and suddenly my hand slipped. My feet went out from beneath me on the wet surface and my body jerked, hanging 10 feet up supported by only a single disc of metal on my palm.

  I gasped. It felt like my shoulder was being yanked from its socket. I had to drop the Cloaking Charm and expose myself, I had no other choice. I let the Charm dissipate and it felt like a heat at the base of my neck suddenly eased as my power flooded into the Magnet Rune. I slapped my other palm against the wall and began climbing again. I had to be quick. I was fully exposed now and even in the darkness my outline would be obvious. If just one of those goons spotted me, they could pick me off with ease.

  My heart raced. Every time the guns chattered I was sure those bullets were coming for me. Tension arced through my entire body. Finally, I reached the top. My nerves completely frayed. I yanked off my backpack and pushed it through the gap before pulling myself up. Before I disappeared into the darkness, I turned, breathing heavily, and perched on the lip of the wall. I reached into my jacket and pulled out my Wrist Rocket and a Bang Rock. I couldn’t help the pigeons fight the mercenaries, but I could at least give them a fighting chance. I took aim at the closest spotlight and fired. The pellet hit the light square in the middle and the massive spotlight exploded in a shower of sparks, sending half of the yard into complete darkness.

  With a satisfied smirk, I bade silent luck to the pigeon warriors, and then squirmed through the stinking hole into darkness.