When they’d completed their circuit, Murray led him to the base of the stairs leading to the office. “She’ll want you up there.” The man turned so his mouth couldn’t be seen by anyone in the room except Marcus, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “She’s not who you remember, boss. While you were in prison, she was in a nightmare of some kind. I don’t know what it was, but she came out different. Crazy. Like, certifiably insane crazy.”
He reached out and let his new arm—notably heavier than its former version—land on the man’s shoulder. Mur’s eyes widened, and he nodded. “She’s not the only one who’s changed, my friend. Have faith.”
The door banged open at the top of the stairs, and he turned and climbed them with a smile. Nothing will be like it was, and that’s a very good thing. For me and mine, at least.
Chapter Six
Sarah watched the former convict climb the stairs and fought to keep the sneer off her face. His people see him as a hero, rather than a man who was defeated and humiliated. Fools, all of them. He gave her a nod as he crossed the threshold. “Sarah.” His words lacked respect, as did his posture. She considered the temptation to pull her wand and burn him to ash, but two unknowns stopped her. First, she hadn’t been able to pierce the veil of secrecy around the hospital that had restored his arm. The questions about that were plentiful and concerning.
Second, and far more importantly, Dreven had insisted she make Marcus part of the next magical meeting, and the window to contact her supposed master was closing rapidly. She stared at the thorn in her side as he slouched across the room and fell into the visitor’s chair with a fond laugh. “Vincente could be about to walk through the door, the way this all feels.”
She bestowed a thin smile upon him. Idiot. He’s dead. Get used to it. “Indeed. But things change, even when their outward trappings do not.” She moved to the seat on the opposite side of the desk and lowered herself into it. Spinning the chair so he couldn’t watch her, she unclasped the locket around her neck and withdrew the coin, then restored the jewelry and swiveled back. The golden disc set off her newly manicured nails well, each covered in a black matte base coat with shining grey runes painted atop it. Nothing wrong with a little luxury, now and again. She’d rummaged through Vincente’s paperwork until she’d discovered the locations of the group’s wealth and had taken a small portion for herself as a reward for assuming the leadership and all the headaches that accompanied it. Like the cretin across from me.
The cretin in question gestured at the statuette. “I remember seeing that out when Vincente was still the person who sat behind that desk.”
Sarah kept her face neutral but couldn’t suppress the slight twitch of annoyance that made her lip rise for an instant. “Vincente is gone, never to return. While mourning certainly has its place, this isn’t it.” She gestured at the room around them. “Our purpose remains. It is essential that a person of power remain in charge, and that will be me.”
He straightened at the provocation but did not speak. She decided to poke him a little more. “After all, it’s not like you even have a way to communicate with those above.” His eyes went sleepy, a sign of danger in this man. Still, no words emerged from the thin line of his mouth.
She shrugged. “So. We are agreed, then. I will fill the role Vincente once did. You will continue to lead our human forces. Wysse will lead our magical followers. I’m glad we have that settled.” Marcus leaned silently back in the chair and gestured toward the object on the desk.
The witch slipped the coin into its holder and the artifact activated. Blue energy crawled up the spiral and coalesced into an image of the wizard who was her contact with the Remembrance. As usual, he wore a long robe and a hood that obscured his features. He turned in a full circle as if he were physically on the desk and looked around the room. Maybe that’s the way it works from his end? It would be strange but possible.
His deep tones were louder than she’d expected. “Sarah. Marcus. It is good to see the two of you together again. Quite appropriate, in fact.” A sense of dread started in her toes, and the icy tingle raised bumps on her flesh as it climbed upward. “Obviously, the loss of Vincente is a significant blow to your organization, which had operated so very well before your battle with the agents that have descended upon your city. However, I believe we can turn that around.” She heard many things in his voice—confidence, arrogance, but most of all, possessiveness. It warned her of what was coming an instant before he announced it. No. Oh, no.
“I will replace Vincente as the leader of your organization. Sarah, you shall continue to be the conduit for our conversations and are responsible for overseeing the magical beings. Marcus, you will be present for all discussions and are responsible for leading our mundane forces. Under my leadership, the setbacks that have plagued you will be left in the past as we press forward to achieve the goals of the Remembrance. Henceforth, we are to be the tip of the blade for the entire movement, rising above all others.”
She carefully avoided Marcus’ gaze but caught his expression of unbridled pleasure out of the corner of her eye, nonetheless. He leaned toward the statue to address the glowing image. “What others do you mean?”
Dreven waved a hand as if the question was irrelevant. “Other minions, other cities, other plans and plots and ideas. They cease to be any concern of ours. All that matters are our actions, our will, and our success.”
Sarah tried to keep her anger hidden under a neutral tone. “So, what are our plans and plots and ideas, Dreven?”
The grin visible from under his cowl told her she’d failed to hide her feelings. Asshole. “You will cause trouble whenever and wherever possible with small attacks—strike and fade away. In this way, you will sow chaos and fear among the people.”
She snorted. “That’s the opposite of what we’ve done so far.”
Marcus laughed. “Which has gone so well, right? I love this idea. Plus, we can steal stuff.”
Sarah shook her head. “It’s beneath us.”
Dreven frowned. “Nothing I tell you to do is beneath you. You will serve the desires of the Remembrance, or you will be replaced. Permanently. You’ll do it because I said you’ll do it. Is that abundantly clear?”
The man clapped his hands. “Absolutely. Let’s mess people up. I know exactly where to start.”
She sighed. “As you say, Dreven.” For now.
The wizard nodded, and the image vanished. Marcus stood immediately, a wide grin on his face. “I’ll go make plans with my folks. They’ll know the easy places to strike, which will be a good way to get started quickly.” She was still searching for a response when he breezed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
She quietly returned the magical objects to their storage spots, lost in thought.
The penthouse condo Sarah had acquired after returning from the World in Between was her greatest comfort. The dark memories of that place were always with her, from the fear she ruthlessly controlled to the enduring pain of the wounds she’d received. When she was around others, she kept it all hidden. Here, in her sanctuary, she could let the walls drop a little. But not too far. And never all the way. That would be…bad.
The down payment had been made with the contents of Vincente’s safe—what had probably been his personal emergency stash. Diamonds, primarily, which she’d managed to sell at a good price by threatening the family of the merchant. It had been inelegant but satisfying. The mortgage was paid through a secret account she siphoned cash from the gang to fund. All in all, a satisfactory arrangement. As long as she kept the money flowing, everyone benefitted. Some more than others, of course, which was fair as some were more deserving.
And none was more deserving than her, given what she’d been through.
She had a corner of the tall building as her own. The long wall faced the park and the fountain where the two rivers met to create the third. The other looked south and the soccer stadium and train tracks were visible over the lower buildings and acro
ss the water. It had come fully ready for occupancy, with white furniture and colorful paintings on the walls. The only touches she’d added were the crimson duvet on her king-sized bed and the assortment of sculptures throughout the space depicting warriors, combat, and death. They were a reminder that her current battles were part of a protracted history of conflicts that resulted in greatness, exactly as hers would.
There had been time to corral her hair into a ponytail and change into a pair of soft black pajama pants and a grey sweatshirt with the neck cut off before a discreet knock sounded at the door. The camera feed from the hallway showed a shipping cube in front of the entrance to her apartment. She retrieved it and crossed to the white couch, then sat with one leg folded beneath her and set the object on the glass coffee table. A whispered spell and a wave of her wand freed the inner box from the outer, and a repeat of the process revealed the treasure within.
A magnificent necklace lay inside the container, constructed of faceted gems cut into spherical shapes, each a different color than the ones next to it. There was no clear pattern, and yet it managed to look both beautiful and right, somehow. An ebony card sat beside it, and she flicked her wand to fold it open. Elegant brushwork was revealed, a metallic red that darkened with the pressure on certain letters and spelled out We must speak. There was no signature.
Sarah stared at the object and ran the possibilities through her mind. One, it could be from Dreven, another level to his plotting he didn’t want Marcus to know about. She discarded that idea with a snort. That asshole gets his jollies from pitting people against each other. This isn’t his style. Besides, he’s nowhere near subtle enough to write like that.
Two, perhaps it was a trap. She had doubtless created enemies inside the gang when she’d chosen Wysse to lead, and an ambitious underling could be attempting to reshuffle the hierarchy. While more likely than the first option, she discounted this one as well. The necklace was almost otherworldly, and she couldn’t imagine any of her followers managing to lay hands on it without her knowledge. If there was someone she’d already suspected of acting against her, maybe, but it simply didn’t feel right. Still, if I do decide to put it on, I’ll have counterspells prepared. Necklaces with the ability to choke the life out of their wearers were well within the realm of likelihood, whether magical or technological.
Third, and most interesting, it might be an artifact of some kind. She drew her focus inward and reached for the connection to her bonded magical partner. Its tone in her mind was derisive, something she hadn’t heard from it before.
“About time, witchling.” Damn, it sounds offended. It’s touchy, apparently. “It is not an artifact in the traditional sense, but it is magic. Most likely, it is meant to be worn as a method of communication. Stop delaying. With every moment we waste with inaction, our power diminishes.” The rush of pleasure that usually accompanied commune with the object buried in her flesh did not appear, and the lack upset her more than she would have expected.
She muttered several spells to ward the room against physical and magical threats. Another invocation summoned a ring of force tightly around her throat to prevent the necklace from choking her if it suddenly contracted. With a deep breath, she lowered it over her head and set it on her skin. Her vision blurred at a whirling sensation and nausea rose in her stomach. The chaos suddenly resolved to reveal a place that was most definitely not where she’d just been.
The artifact spoke to her immediately. “You are still in your home. This is a mental projection. There is nothing to fear here.”
An amused voice answered, its sultry tones and timbre revealing it was a woman even before she stepped into sight. “I wouldn’t go that far. Many fear me, and rightly so.”
The artifact hissed, and Sarah realized she was in the presence of a powerful being who also possessed one of Rhazdon’s treasures. It was the only thing that could provoke her own partner so heavily. The woman flowed across the intervening distance to stand before her—tall and thin, sharp-featured, with long dark hair and intense eyes, and clad in a tight black dress that hugged her curves and revealed a substantial amount of cleavage. She snickered internally. Lady, you might be trying a little too hard with that getup.
The woman smiled, and the surrounding space seemed to vibrate with her power. Sarah’s respect for her increased. When she spoke, that respect doubled. “I am Iressa. I serve on the council that leads the Remembrance. You know Dreven, of course.”
She nodded, and the words tumbled from her lips before she captured them. “Unfortunately, I do.”
The woman’s laugh was appealing in every way a laugh could be. She fought against the pure entrancement that her mind wanted to spiral into. She’s good. But after the World in Between, I’m better. “That is an appropriate attitude toward him. He has been useful, but it is time changes were made. He will soon be removed from his position of power, and given your recent change in circumstances, I thought you might enjoy helping me accomplish it.”
A wide smile spread across Sarah’s features. “Oh, yes, I would very much like that.”
The woman nodded. “Good. Here’s what I need you to do.”
Chapter Seven
Rath was generally happy, despite all the chaos that was happening around him. Or because of it, maybe. The other tech, Deacon, knew many movie quotes, and almost all of them were from films the troll hadn’t seen. Kayleigh had invited her new coworker to the house for a movie night, and they’d watched what she claimed were classics—Big Trouble in Little China and Buckaroo Banzai. The first was okay, the second was incredible. Both technicians were uneducated in the Rambo series, though, and had promised to share another evening with him to remedy that.
The sun shone overhead as he and Max made their way toward Emanuel’s shop. They hadn’t seen the man since they’d dropped the artifact with him for safekeeping, and Rath felt like they owed him a visit. Besides, he enjoyed talking to the elderly wizard who seemed to have considerable knowledge about the early days of magic on Earth to share. He didn’t ask for much in exchange, only tales of what the troll remembered from his time on Oriceran, which were minimal at best.
They passed far fewer people than usual as they traveled. While they’d been occupied with fighting off the Remembrance, the semesters had ended at the local schools. The campuses were noticeably quieter, and the entire atmosphere of the area had become more relaxed. Good time for a break, for all of us. The only place that wasn’t more relaxed was wherever Diana was. He didn’t realize that he frowned at the thought until he noticed the passersby gave Max a wider berth. He banished the outward sign of his worry with a sigh. Attempts to get her to train away the bad energy had been met with postponements that never arrived. She’s too deep inside to choose an escape path. It’ll take something big to shock her out of it. He chuckled. I can be big. She won’t like it if I have to be the one to drag her free.
They reached the shop and breezed in through the screen door to find Manny in his normal place in the front room. His face stretched into a wide grin at the sight of them. “Hello, Rath and Max. It’s so good to see you!” He gestured toward the chair beside him, and the troll dismounted, grew to his three-foot form, and scrambled into it. “Are you on patrol?”
The troll shook his head. “Uh-uh. Coming to visit you.”
A note of caution entered the man’s voice. “Is there trouble?”
“Nope. Wanted to say hi.”
He grinned. “Excellent. You picked a great day for it, actually. Charlotte will be here in”—he checked his watch, which was a strangely chunky antique-looking device on his left wrist—“about twenty minutes. She’s bringing our newest addition to the group to see the place.”
Rath cocked his head to the side. “You have a new person?”
He nodded. “We do. He was auditing one of her classes and made the effort to connect. She discovered that he has the right mindset and impressive skills to boot.”
“Boot?”
He chuck
led. “Merely a figure of speech. It means…uh, in addition. Or as well.”
“Got it. Hadn’t heard that one.”
Manny grinned. “Watch more westerns.”
The troll laughed. “Will put on the list.”
The front door banged open earlier than expected, and they both turned as Professor Charlotte entered with another man. He had close-cropped grey hair, a trimmed mustache and beard, and wore khaki shorts and a green collared shirt with a pony logo on it. His eyes were slightly wider than the others’ and his skin tone a little darker, which called to mind a much older Bruce Lee. His posture was so perfect that Rath straightened involuntarily. He had a wide grin and a strange analytical look. His teaching friend cleared that oddity up immediately, and the man’s gaze shifted to her while she spoke. “This is Lian Chan, one of my students. And he’s deaf but reads lips really well.”
The man grinned. “Way to give away my secret, Charlotte.” He took a step to the side that would allow him to see if any of them began to speak. Rath and Emanuel greeted him. “You’re the first troll I’ve had the good fortune to meet in person. I must say, you’re bigger than I expected.” He held two fingers up at about the distance his smallest form would fill and laughed, a pleasant sound that seemed free of worry.
“Am in what friends call normal mode. Have tiny mode and fighting mode.”
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