by Rachel Aaron
“Enough, Julius.”
For the first time ever, Chelsie’s voice behind him didn’t make him jump. “But we’re so close,” he said, turning around to face her.
His sister looked pointedly at their mother’s door. “Not as close as you think. Just because Bethesda’s backed off doesn’t mean she’s given up.”
“All the more reason to push now, while she’s still defeated.”
Chelsie’s eyebrows shot up. “Why Julius, what a ruthless observation. Are you feeling okay?”
“No,” he snapped, pressing a hand to his aching side. “I’m hurt and tired and I just want this to be over. I want to finally win.”
He mostly wanted Chelsie and F-clutch to be free. Only when that was done would Julius finally feel like he’d actually succeeded, but he still didn’t know how he was going to get around Bethesda’s killer secret, and he didn’t dare poke Chelsie about it again. She was already looking suspiciously fragile, her jaw clamped tight despite the appearances she was so clearly desperate to keep up.
He wasn’t doing much better. His burns were healing quickly—Fredrick had actually removed all the bandages except for the ones around his stomach an hour ago—but even though he looked better than he had all afternoon, Julius felt like he was one stiff breeze from going down. He was about to give up and tell Chelsie he was going to bed when he smelled a familiar scent approaching from the side.
Chelsie caught it, too, her body going stiff as the two of them turned to face David, who was now waiting nervously beside the stage. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Julius said, smiling extra wide to dispel the aura of doom that had fallen when David and Chelsie noticed each other. “Thank you so much for your help tonight. We couldn’t have managed this without you.”
“I’m aware of that,” the senator said. “Though I’d much rather you applied your gratitude to my debt.” His green eyes flicked to Ian, who was standing to the side of the stage, artfully kissing his way up Svena’s arm. “I came up to congratulate my opponent, but he seems to be indisposed, so I’ll just take my leave. I’ve missed four senate hearings over this election nonsense as it is. If I miss another, I risk losing my control over my subcommittees.”
“Go, then,” Julius said. “Thank you again, and good luck.”
“Good luck to you as well,” he said with a pointed look at Bethesda’s closed door. “You’ll need it.”
He held out his hand, and Julius shook it without hesitation, wincing only a little when the bigger dragon squeezed down hard. Still, despite the return to the macho posturing, he was happy with how things between him and David had shaken out. He’d rather not have gotten stabbed for it, but in the end, this mess had netted him an invaluable ally, as tonight’s vote had already proven.
“I have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming,” Chelsie said as David walked away. “You really do have the oddest talent for turning enemies into assets.”
“Not assets,” Julius said, shaking his head. “Friends. Or at least allies. Either way, it’s amazing what can happen when you actually talk to your enemies instead of just trying to crush them.”
“Then I hope you talk to many more,” she said. “We could use a few less—”
She cut off suddenly, her green eyes darting over Julius’s shoulder. When he turned to see why, he found Svena standing right behind him.
“Julius,” she said, her voice haughty and cold with all the proud self-possession of a powerful clan head who hadn’t just been making out with his brother. “Congratulations. You pulled it off. I look forward to the mutually beneficial relationship between our clans this election will produce. Katya will be especially pleased. She always said you’d be the one who came out on top.”
“Thank you for your support,” Julius said, doing his best to sound sincere. It was a bit of a struggle since, privately, he thought Svena had taken advantage of this whole situation purely to jumpstart her own new clan. But whatever her initial reasons, she and Ian seemed legitimately happy together. Moreover, everything had worked out in the end, which was all that really mattered.
But as he was trying to think of an appropriately polite way to ask how she’d be keeping up her end of the bargain now that the election was over, Svena abruptly changed the subject. “Where is your human?”
Julius blinked. “My—you mean Marci?”
“Do you have another?” the dragoness said with a sniff. “And before you start with the ‘she’s not my human’ rot again, yes, I mean your mage. Where is she?”
As always, any dragon asking questions about Marci put Julius’s back up. He didn’t think Svena meant any harm. The White Witch was as ambitious and calculating as they came, but she had her own brand of honor that almost certainly didn’t include stealing other dragons’ mortals. That said, she did have an intense rivalry with Amelia, which could explain the sudden interest in Marci.
Whatever the reason, he didn’t like it, especially since he didn’t actually know the answer. He hadn’t heard from Marci since their last call six hours ago. All he knew was that she was somewhere in the DFZ, a fact he was most definitely not making public knowledge. But dodging the question would be suspicious and disrespectful toward Svena, so Julius settled on the truth, albeit only a tiny fraction. “She’s with her spirit.”
For some reason, that made Svena frown. “I worried that was the case. Not that I care what foolishness your trouble-prone mortal gets herself into. I only ask because of Amelia.”
Now Julius was even more confused. “Amelia?”
“Yes,” Svena said. “You know, your oldest and most obnoxious sister. The—”
“I know who Amelia is,” he said, frustrated. “But what does she have to do with Marci?”
“You don’t know?” she asked, surprised. “Amelia had me put half her life’s fire into your human the day before yesterday.”
Julius nearly fell off the stage. “What?”
“How do you not know this?” Svena demanded. “Amelia’s scent was all over her.”
Julius had smelled his sister on Marci the last time they were together, but he’d assumed it was because they’d been drinking together, not because she was apparently housing half of his sister’s life. Marci certainly hadn’t said anything, not that she would’ve had a chance given how little time he’d given her. It would explain Amelia’s cryptic comments when he’d talked to her yesterday, but Julius still didn’t understand. “Why would Amelia do that?”
“Because she’s as stubborn and crazy as the rest of you,” Svena growled. “I told her that putting half her life into a mortal, especially one as disaster prone as yours, was a terrible idea, but did she listen? Of course not. I went up to see her just now while Ian was busy with the vote, and she looked absolutely terrible. Drained to a husk. It wouldn’t even be a challenge for me to kill her as she is now. Were it anyone else, I’d demand to know who she’d been fighting. But since no one save myself has a chance against the Planeswalker, the only explanation for her current state is that your human has been off being reckless with her magic.” She crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. “I will not lose my last true rival to this idiocy. Spit it out! Where is your mage?”
“I don’t know,” Julius said honestly, and he was now very concerned about that. He knew better than to just take any dragon at their word, but Svena’s story was simply too bizarre to be a lie, and Amelia had looked sick when he’d visited her yesterday. But if she was telling the truth and Amelia’s current downturn was because of Marci, then they could both be in real danger.
The realization had barely finished crossing his mind before Julius grabbed his phone. When the AR flashed up, though, there were no missed calls or messages. He was about to just call Marci himself when a gentle hand touched his elbow.
“Sir?”
Julius looked up to see Fredrick hovering beside him, his stern face pulled down in an uncharacteristically nervous frown. “I know you’re busy, bu
t there’s someone here I think you should see.”
He pointed at the throne room doors, and Julius’s stomach lurched. He’d only met them once, but there was no way he could forget the UN’s duo of haughty mage and terrifying general. The same pair that was supposed to be with Marci, but was instead standing in the hallway leading up the throne room. Alone. He was still hoping that was because Marci was around the corner when he met the general’s eyes.
And that’s when he knew, knew to his bones, that something had gone horribly, catastrophically wrong.
***
“Where is she?”
He’d never crossed a space so fast in his life. One moment he was standing with Svena and Fredrick, the next he was in the hall with hands fisted on the lapels of General Jackson’s coat. “Where is Marci?”
The general blinked in surprise at his sudden appearance, but fortunately for Julius’s nerves, she didn’t panic as most mortals would when confronted with an obviously upset dragon. She just looked him straight in the eye and answered, “In the DFZ.”
“Then why are you here?” Julius asked frantically. “The two of you were supposed to be keeping her safe! Did you just leave her in—”
Someone cleared his throat pointedly behind them, and Julius looked over his shoulder to see Chelsie, Fredrick, Svena, and Ian all glaring at him.
“This is not the sort of conversation one should have in hallways,” Ian said pointedly, flicking his no-longer-green eyes down the crowded hall, where several Heartstrikers had already blatantly stopped to listen.
“I don’t care,” Julius snapped. “I—”
“Well, I do,” Ian growled, turning on his heel. “Follow me. I know somewhere with far fewer ears.”
He marched back into the throne room. The others did the same, including the humans, which meant Julius had no choice but to follow as well, trailing after the crowd as Ian led them back across the throne room and into the same textile-filled hallway off the side where Bob had saved Julius from Estella what felt like forever ago. This time, though, instead of whispering behind a display case as Julius and Katya had done, Ian led them to a small door hidden behind a beautiful Navajo blanket that opened into a stone room the size of a large supply closet with a modern conference table and wheeled office chairs set up in the middle.
“What is this?” Julius asked Ian. “Your secret conference room?”
“One of them,” his brother said. “This is where I conducted much of my business when Mother was still in power. It’s completely soundproofed and warded, and best of all, Mother doesn’t know it’s here.”
“How did you manage that?”
“Easily,” Ian said with a grin. “When I volunteered to take charge of the renovations to the mountain a few decades ago, I added several improvements, and since Bethesda can’t be bothered with details, I got away with most of them. You never know when you’ll need somewhere quiet to talk treason.”
“You clever snake,” Svena said, smirking at him. “Always something up your sleeve.”
Ian looked smugger than ever at that, but Julius could only shake his head. “I’m just glad you’re on our side,” he muttered, taking a seat at the table.
“How perfectly draconic of you,” a rough voice croaked. “But if the reptilian half of the table is done with the self-congratulations, we have a serious problem to discuss.”
All the dragons jumped and turned to the center of the table, where an enormous black raven was now standing, staring at them.
“What is that?” Julius cried, gripping his chair.
In hindsight, that was a stupid question. He didn’t even need his nose to know that he was looking at a spirit. There was no other way a bird that big could have gotten into a sealed, windowless room full of dragons without them noticing. Also, normal ravens didn’t talk. They didn’t bow, either, which this one did, his wings thrown out in a dramatic flourish.
“Forgive the late introduction,” he croaked. “I am Raven. And before you ask, yes. That Raven. I’m here with my associates General Emily Jackson and Sir Myron Rollins of the United Nations to discuss the current situation in the DFZ.”
“Likely story,” Svena said with a snort. “He’s here to see Amelia.” She turned to Ian. “She dumped him a thousand years ago, and he’s never gotten over it.”
“She did not dump me,” Raven said, insulted. “And if you don’t mind, White Witch, this is a serious issue.”
“It is,” Julius agreed, leaning over the table to glare at the spirit. “Where’s Marci?”
Before Raven could open his beak, General Jackson beat him to it. “With Algonquin.”
Julius had feared as much from the moment he’d spotted them, but hearing it confirmed still sent him into a cold terror. “How?” he demanded. “She went in with a general, Great Britain’s royal sorcerer, and I presume the Raven spirit.” He glanced at Raven, who nodded. “How is it that you’re all here and Marci isn’t?!”
“Because we weren’t Algonquin’s targets,” General Jackson said sharply. “She knew exactly where we’d be. This whole thing was a trap.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Julius said. “I know Algonquin’s on the warpath, but I’m nothing compared to the other dragons she’s killed. Why would she go through the trouble of setting a trap for Marci? Is it revenge for Vann Jeger?”
“Vann Jeger has nothing to do with it,” the mage, Sir Myron, said with a sneer. “And for once, neither do dragons. Algonquin grabbed the Novalli girl because she’s bound to a Mortal Spirit, which gives her the potential to become the first Merlin.”
He said this with great gravitas, but Julius was more lost than ever. “You mean Merlin as in King Arthur’s wizard?”
Myron’s reply was a look that said volumes about the depth of Julius’s ignorance. When he turned to his siblings, though, they looked as lost as he was. The only one who did seem to have a clue was Svena, who exploded out of her seat.
“The cat is a Mortal Spirit?”
The whole table jumped, but Svena didn’t even seem to notice. She was too busy clenching her fists in rage. “So that’s what she was doing,” she growled, baring her teeth. “Why, that sneaky, shameless, alcoholic snake! I’ll turn her into a red feather boa for this!”
Now Myron looked very interested. “Red feathers?” he said, leaning over the table. “You mean the Planeswalker? What did she do?”
“That is none of your concern, mortal,” Svena sneered, looking down her nose at him. “You deserve nothing. You lot are the ones who let Algonquin steal the first Merlin.”
“But we’re not going to let her keep her,” General Jackson said firmly, turning to Julius. “That’s why we’re here. We need your help to rescue Marci.”
“Absolutely,” Julius said without hesitation. “But would someone explain this Merlin thing to me? Marci’s told me about Mortal Spirits, but she’s never said anything about Merlins.”
“That’s because she didn’t know about them until today,” Myron said, glancing at his watch. “Well, yesterday now, I suppose.”
“Of course she didn’t know,” Svena said. “Even dragons have forgotten.” She turned to the Heartstrikers. “Merlins are the only human mages capable of standing up to us. I’ve fought a handful, and they were obnoxious in the extreme. Even Estella avoided them.”
“And Marci’s one?” Julius said, swelling with pride. “I knew she was good!”
“More like lucky,” Myron said with surprising bitterness. “It’s her connection to the spirit that makes her special.”
“Lucky isn’t the word I’d use,” Raven said, shaking his head. “No one should have to endure being the object of Algonquin’s ambitions. But getting back to the point.” He looked at Svena. “What’s Amelia’s interest in Marci?”
“Nice try, bird,” the dragoness said with a sniff. “The Planeswalker might be my enemy, but I would never be so gauche as to gossip about another dragon’s business with a common animal spirit, even if she was tastele
ss enough to dally with one.”
“Careful, Svena,” Raven warned. “If you keep your nose in the air too long, it’ll stick that way.”
Svena was opening her mouth for a comeback when Julius cut her short. “Enough,” he said, frustrated. “You guys can bicker all you want later. Right now, we’ve got to save Marci.”
“Agreed,” General Jackson said. “I’m not sure why she took her, other than to get her away from us, but Algonquin absolutely must not be allowed to possess the first Merlin. We have to get her back.”
“Then why come to us?” Chelsie asked, eyeing the general suspiciously. “I know you. You’re the Phoenix. Your job is to fight monsters like us. It seems odd that you’d come to us for help rather than just phoning in an air strike.”
“I could phone in a lot more than that, Bethesda’s Shade,” the general growled. “But there’s the matter of time. The United Nations is a diplomatic organization, and Algonquin is a sovereign power. Even with her numerous crimes and human rights violations, it would take me a week at least to line up the proper clearances for a secret sortie into Reclamation Land. But the Heartstrikers have no such red tape. You can move now, and since you have as big a stake in Marci Novalli’s safety as we do, it seemed like a natural alliance.”
“That’s a lot of assumptions,” Ian said with a cold look. “But Heartstriker is not yours to order around. Algonquin’s declared war on our kind. We’re not going to risk our necks to save a mortal—”
“I’m in,” Julius said firmly. “What do we do first?”
“Julius!” Ian hissed. “Maybe sitting on the Council’s gone to your head already, but you can’t just unilaterally—”
“I’m not speaking for the Council,” Julius snapped. “I’m speaking for me. The rest of you can do what you want. I’m going to save Marci.”
Ian bared his teeth. “You will not. I didn’t just move heaven and earth to make this Council happen so one third of it could go off and get himself killed the same night!”
“He won’t be,” Chelsie said. “Because I’m going with him.”