The Black Veins (Dead Magic Book 1)

by Ashia Monet

  The last thing Katia looks like is a person who fucks around. Her glare could crumble mountains. Caspian and Storm fall silent.

  “We were supposed to be in Frost Glade two days ago,” Katia snaps. “Not only did you steal my cloak that had all of my shit in it, you ran across the country by using the Tempore like this place isn’t a battlefield and your lives aren’t in danger?! Like the Trident Republic doesn’t have each and every one of your fucking names on a hit list? Teenagers may be dumb but my God, you are all braindead.”

  Her eyes land on Blythe with her final words, seething and hot. Antonio places a hand on top of Blythe’s as she furrows her brow, anchoring her.

  Katia throws her hands up. “I just, I can’t even fathom—whatever. Whatever. It’s done, you’re here, we’re fine. At least all of you are in the same place.”

  She looks them over, discerning. “Blythe, Cordelia, Daniel, Antonio, Storm—why the hell are you playing with a knife?”

  Storm shrugs, flipping her switchblade in the air. “Because nobody’s gonna stop me.”

  Katia watches her for a moment, as if deciding whether or not she has the energy for her. She must not, because she sighs, turning to Caspian. “And who the fuck are you?”

  “Caspian,” he says. “Compton.”

  “And you changed your name because…?”

  “Because I’m a boy,” Caspian says. “And I missed my afternoon nap so I’m too tired to deal with transphobia, thanks.”

  Katia scoffs. “I’m a bitch, not a bigot,” she snaps. “Now all of you fuckers stay put and don’t try any bullshit. I’m gonna see if Val can secure us a ride to Frost Glade.”

  Katia has barely turned to go before Cordelia rises.

  “Katia, wait,” she calls.

  Miraculously, Katia actually does. Blythe’s not sure what this girl has up her sleeve, but she has a feeling it’s going to be good when Cordelia exhales slow.

  “I think you should let us go,” she says.

  The whole room freezes. If Cordelia is phased, she is too confident to let it show.

  “Yeah, no, definitely not,” Katia says.

  “It may be your job to protect us, but your job functions on the very principle that Blythe leaves her family behind!” Cordelia’s words stop Katia in her tracks. “The Black Veins security is rather tight, so I wasn’t able to investigate as thoroughly as I’d like, but from what I found, there are no reports besides a formal writeup on the Fulton family’s missing status. There is no proof that a search party has been dispatched.”

  It is like the air has left Blythe. Not only has Cordelia actually checked for Blythe’s own family, not only has Katia lied to her yet again, but even worse—the Sages, the leaders of the Black Veins themselves, even they don’t care enough to help her?

  Cordelia’s not even done. “You stated earlier that Electric City would be too dangerous for Blythe if she were alone. Look around. Obviously, she isn’t alone anymore. We managed to find every Guardian in this room, travelling from Montana, to California, to Pennsylvania, to Canada, while evading attacks from the Trident Republic. And we stand before you in one piece. Unharmed. I’m sure that’s more than enough proof to convince you that we are quite capable of handling whatever they throw at us.

  “So! Considering all of that, I repeat my earlier statement,” Cordelia presses her lips into a fine, serious line. “Allow us to travel to Electric City and find Blythe’s family. Otherwise, you will be asking Blythe to abandon her mother, her father, and her little sisters to potential death. And surely—being a moral woman whose rank and station as an advisor to the Sages would certainly be put in jeopardy by indirectly killing the family of one of your charges—you would not want that.” Cordelia pauses. “So, Katia, will you let us go?”

  Katia stares Cordelia down. The room is silent.

  “Goddamn, that girl actually does do something other than get kidnapped,” Storm says.

  “That convinced me and I’m not even in charge,” Caspian agrees.

  Blythe’s chest swells with pride. That’s the magic of Cordelia, and that’s magic Blythe has on her side.

  Valerian has appeared, arms crossed as he leans against the doorway. His brows have shot up.

  “Did you actually manage to break through our network’s security?” he asks.

  “Only barely,” Cordelia says.

  “Quite impressive,” Valerian nods. “But I do have a team investigating the Fultons’ disappearance. It is just intensely classified to keep from the Trident Republic’s prying eyes. I’m sure a smart girl like you would understand.”

  Relief washes over Blythe. So, she can trust the Sages. But if she can trust the Sages, by extension, she should be able to trust the people employed by them. Which means Blythe should be able to trust Katia.

  The logic makes Blythe squirm. Her distrust of Katia is, and always has been, nothing more than an excuse to defy her. To ignore her. To stay away from Frost Glade.

  There is no reason for Blythe avoid Frost Glade other than her own stubborn will.

  Valerian holds out a hand. “Now, let me make sure I’ve got this straight. You all ran away to save Miss Fulton’s family, who she believes is in Electric City.”

  “And because Katia’s allied with the Trident Republic,” Antonio adds.

  Valerian stares at Antonio as if he’s just said there are four hours in a day. “Allied with the Trident Republic?” he repeats.

  Katia’s words come between clenched teeth. “Why would I be allied with the Trident Republic?”

  “Because you know Walden Oliver,” Cordelia answers.

  “You’re…correct, she does,” Valerian agrees. “But she is not working with him. In fact, her knowledge has always been one of our biggest assets. She came to us when—”

  “They don’t need to know all that,” Katia interrupts. Her eyes wash over every single one of them. “I’ll tell you this, since you all seem to care so much. Walden and I grew up together. But we haven’t spoken in over fifteen years. He chose his path and I chose mine. But I’ve been close enough to him to know that if he wants something, he will sacrifice anything to get it. And right now, we have no way of knowing what he wants with you. I’m not here to strike deals and make exceptions. I’m here to make sure that man doesn’t get his hands on you. I’m the one thing standing between you and this man making your life a living nightmare.”

  Blythe’s gaze shoots to Cordelia, but even she looks like her resolve is wavering. Because none of them know much about the Trident Republic, and they know absolutely nothing about Walden Oliver besides his name.

  Valerian heaves a sigh. He taps Katia’s shoulder and he gestures into the hall. Katia shoots one last look at the group—“Stay put,” she orders—and follows him out.

  Blythe jumps to her feet. The other Guardians crowd behind her as she crouches by the doorway, her ear to the hall.

  “Let them go,” Valerian’s saying. “We left that city nothing besides its civilians and its buildings.”

  Katia sounds skeptical. “What about the militia?”

  “None stationed. No use defending a ruined city. If Miss Fulton is desperate to go, you ought to let her. She’s clearly powerful and driven. I imagine you’ll be able to get her into Frost Glade, but you’ll have a hard time keeping her there. Let her take the others to Electric City, see that there’s nothing to be found, and then come back to you. I’ll talk to her when she returns. She’ll know I have my best men searching for her family. She’ll be alright.”

  Blythe digs her teeth into her lip. Valerian can’t be right—what does he know? He’s only…in charge of the entire Black Veins military. And has seen Electric City himself. And caused the wreckage.

  Antonio places a hand on her shoulder. Blythe cast those thoughts out of her mind. Valerian can’t be right. He can’t.

  “And they’re Guardians,” Valerian continues. “You know they can’t—”

  “I know,” Katia interrupts. “But they can be hur
t in other ways.”

  Blue light explodes through the hall with a boom. Soldiers’ voices echo through the forest, and by the time Blythe thinks to move, Valerian is already rushing outside.

  A stream of soldiers flood the hall, drowning Blythe’s vision as they draw their weapons and rush outside. The ground shakes and the air bursts. Blythe feels Caspian vanish into thin air.

  Something is happening.

  Katia pushes through the crowd, her eyes wide. “Kids!” she shouts. “You wanted to get to Electric City? Lucky for you, here’s your chance!”

  Cordelia snorts. “You really expect us to believe you—”

  Katia interrupts Cordelia as she pulls her hair off her shoulders and into a bun. “Changed my mind? Yep!” She snaps the elastic hairband in place. “I’m gonna get you out to your car and you’re going to drive. You might see some stuff out there, and it might be disturbing, but whatever you do—don’t stop. And don’t get distracted. Stay right behind me.”

  Blythe thinks she’s exaggerating until she brings them outside.

  Assailants in clothing as black as the forest itself have infiltrated the base. Blue explosions arc like domes across the ground, sending soldiers in golden uniforms flying like ragdolls.

  From the shadows come massive Calling creatures, sharp teeth that stab into limbs and red eyes that glow like coals in the darkness.

  The Trident Republic is attacking.

  Katia moves on the outskirts of it all, the Guardians following in her wake, as if she is Moses parting the red sea.

  There is too much to see, too much to take in. The ground has turned to mud and black Calling creature goop. The sound of thundering gunshots. The overwhelming buzz of too much magic in the air.

  Daniel is screaming. Sparks of electricity bounce between trees. Weapons made of pure light materialize in people’s bodies. The world shakes from a sonic boom. Blythe thinks she hears Cordelia’s voice, but she is not sure. She cannot discern all of the noises.

  If one bullet sails just a bit too far, if one body dodges a magical attack meant to incinerate bone, if one Calling creature aims for their small bodies, they will not make it out of this alive.

  Blythe can barely catch her breath.

  Follow Katia, she tells herself. Just follow Katia. Keep following Katia.

  A familiar wind pushes through the forest. Tons of magicians can control the air, but Blythe recognizes the way it is manipulated now.

  And, if her memory serves correctly, there is only one man in charge of the Trident Republic’s militia.

  Whiteclaw.

  Katia reaches their car moments before they do. It is a contrast to the rest of the world, completely untouched besides the harpoon sticking from its fender.

  Katia’s mouth forms the words “get in”, the sound of her voice lost behind an explosion that makes Blythe’s ears ring.

  Antonio throws the backseat door open, rushing to open the passenger seat as Cordelia and Daniel scramble inside.

  Blythe scans the trees. Somewhere around them, somewhere in the Tempore, is the man who took her family.

  Katia drops to her knees, splaying her fingers wide in front of the harpoon, summoning a wind strong enough to blow it from their car.

  When she speaks, this time, her voice carries clear. “Get to Electric City! I’ll find you when you’re done!"

  A blast of air carries her above their heads and into the battle, disappearing amongst the summoned creatures of the night.

  Blythe turns back to the trees, unmoving, even as Cordelia shouts her name. If Whiteclaw is here, she can figure out whether or not Valerian is right. Whether or not there truly is anything in Electric City.

  She searches between the trees for something, anything, a clue or a sign. In the distance, she glimpses something bronze.

  “I’ll be right back!” she yells.

  The Guardians scream for her as she rips her hockey stick from her back and charges forward. The sounds of the battle fall behind as she jumps over logs and pushes through bushes. The glint of a bracelet turns into an arm, which turns into a torso, which turns into Whiteclaw.

  He is facing a horde of men outfitted in dark uniforms. These soldiers are not the refined men of the Black Veins military—they come without formal training and wild, unrestrained emotion burning in their eyes.

  Not unlike Whiteclaw as he looks over his shoulder, catching sight of Blythe.

  He shouts something to the men. And then he starts toward her.

  Blythe told herself she was going after him for answers. But she catches sight of the way his hat shades most of his face against the light. It is the same way he appeared in her café.

  And every inch of her skin, every thought in her mind, every fiber of her being rages with vengeance.

  “So,” Whiteclaw says. “The Guardian of Ether makes an appearance for a rematch.”

  Blythe winds back and swings.

  The wind carries Whiteclaw backward before her stick lands. It slices through open air and lands on a tree, the blow snapping clean through its trunk.

  The upper half of the tree races toward the ground as Whiteclaw backs away. He is like a mirage, untouchable, always just out of reach.

  Blythe stalks toward him. “Where is my family?”

  “Where’s your family?” Whiteclaw repeats. “I thought you already figured out that piece of the puzzle.”

  Blythe slams her hockey stick against the ground. The explosion cracks through the dirt and shakes the trees.

  Whiteclaw has taken to the air again, landing father away. “I won’t fight you, little girl,” he calls. “Especially not now and not here.”

  “Why?!” she yells. “You scared?”

  He chuckles. “Hardly. I’m just a bit busy at the moment, as you can see.”

  This is the man who terrified the twins into tears, who cracked her father’s head against the wall, who cut through Jamie’s body and almost killed them.

  He looks at her as if she is some irrelevant child who has interrupted the adult’s real business.

  Fuck. Him.

  Blythe charges toward him, arcing the hockey stick above her head. He shoots into the canopy of branches, his feet planting against a shoot yards above her head.

  “Or maybe I should put it like this,” he reiterates. “It isn’t part of the plan.”

  Blythe’s resolve wavers at those words. She refuses to let it show in her voice. “What plan?”

  But Whiteclaw arches an eyebrow. “Come to Electric City and see.”

  He speaks too confidently. As if there actually is something in Electric City. As if that “something” is the Trident Republic, prepared and waiting for her.

  From the very beginning, Blythe has been mixed up in a game she never asked to play. She did not ask to lose her family, to leave her only friend behind in a hospital bed. She has become closely acquainted with anxiety and pain and fear, three figures that never exit her mind.

  And she is no more than a pawn.

  Blythe screams, the sound crawling raw up her throat. Her muscles burn as she swings the hockey stick into Whiteclaw’s tree.

  It falls quickly, momentum snapping branches on its way down. When it finally crashes, like a song growing to its crescendo, Whiteclaw is gone.

  Eighteen

  Blythe barely acknowledges the Guardians when she returns to the car. She hasn’t even been gone for three minutes but they are livid with her, Cordelia most of all.

  Their voices sound exactly like the battle raging feet away from their window: distant and muffled and far, far away.

  Blythe sets her brow as she takes them through the trees, away from the Tempore’s explosions and screams and into darkness.

  The silence of the world between the seven trees should be a respite. But its nothingness in conjunction with the numb, dull ache in her chest only makes Blythe feel worse.

  The exit spits them into a dark street, where the van comes to a slow and easy stop.

  They are b
eside a highway. The wind hums as cars drift past, speeding into the night. The streetlamps are hazy and the forest behind them is dull.

  There is only one problem. Past the highway are buildings, homes, storefronts, and lights. So many lights, shimmering and neon and pulsing.

  Electric City is supposed to be a wasteland.

  Daniel stares out of the window. “Is this Electric City?”

  “No,” Storm says. “Can’t be.” It looks like—

  “Las Vegas,” Cordelia stares at the GPS on her Zadis. “I’m assuming the Tempore brought us as close to Electric City as it could. There are no forests in the desert, and judging from the state it was in, I doubt we could ask much more of it.”

  Blythe exhales, long and slow.

  After all this time, all of this pain and energy, Electric City remains just out of reach—but isn’t that just in the fashion of her life? Could she truly expect anything to work out?

  The Tempore has done its best, despite being twisted under the force of the Trident Republic’s hands. It deserved a better send-off than being the setting for the first battle between the Trident Republic and the Black Veins.

  But life isn’t fair. Not to anyone.

  Blythe closes her eyes. Valerian and Katia are still back there, fighting for their lives, along with other men and women who are simply trying to protect people like the Guardians, perhaps even fighting for their own families.

  The Trident Republic may be more dangerous than Blythe imagined.

  “I have to say something,” Blythe blurts. The Guardians fall silent. “I ran because I realized Whiteclaw, the man who kidnapped my family, was in the Tempore. I was ready to…to hurt him, I guess, as badly as he hurt me. But he refused to fight. I asked him where my family was and he said, ‘Come to Electric City and see’.”

  Wide eyes and worry echo across the Guardians’ faces. Blythe doesn’t know what they’re thinking, but if they’re anything like her own thoughts, they understand that they could be walking straight into a setup.

  “I should have been there,” Cordelia says. “I should have followed you. If I could have read his mind—”