Easy-peasy, right?
Wrong.
Infusions from him had saved my bacon in times of crisis, yes, but I risked becoming more and more dependent upon his generosity.
The training regimen Linus had prescribed at the start of my apprenticeship kept me in the best shape of my life. It also made me decent with two blades, though I still sucked with only the one. I couldn’t afford to get lazy on either of those fronts if I wanted to remain self-sufficient and strong enough to accept any help Ambrose chose to give me.
And it was a matter of choice, not force, which terrified me on whole new levels.
Before it was different, when I was taking the power from him. I was forcing him to remain in balance with me. I had control over him, and therefore over myself. This? Asking him to help? To give?
Deep down, I worried this might be the first paver set on the good-intentioned path to self-destruction.
Out of habit, I muted Linus before asking Ambrose, “Are you up to this?”
The shadow drew himself taller, snapped out a crisp salute, and began high stepping down the hall.
Returning my attention to Linus, I gave him the green light. “Ambrose says all systems go.”
Altering his inflection to fit that of a teacher addressing his student, he changed his entire demeanor. “When would you like to begin?”
“The sooner the better.” I had one throwback question for him first. “Do the frames hold actual glass?”
One well-placed bullet could shatter them and buy us time while the coven made repairs.
“Glass is used for spells where the caster wishes to see beyond what their eyes show them, but it can be symbolic. Picture frames, windows, mirrors. Any item whose purpose is to draw your eye would do.” The clack of keys filled a brief pause. “They appear to have removed the glass in these to make them more portable and less breakable.”
Oh, well.
No pew pew for us.
Figures they would have to make this difficult. “Why do bad guys always have the best toys?”
“The coven wields uncharted power due to their dual heritage and how they meld two opposing forms of magic into one power source. Only beings with strong ties to both realms could create such energy.”
“Half-blooded fae and half-blooded witches are more common than full-bloods.” Most were half human, and all were born with one parent’s magic or with none, as far as I knew. “Why is this coven different?”
“The generational practice of black magic is the root cause, but I suspect they breed their females with fae males exclusively, refining the powers their children inherit with each birth. Selective breeding would also maintain a direct tie to Faerie by continuing to anchor their offspring in both worlds through a parent native to each.”
Fae surrogate mothers would be too risky, too inclined to keep what they grew, with birth rates so low. It made more sense that the burden would fall onto the coven to supply their own wombs if they expected a return on their nine-month investment.
The wrinkle in my nose scrunched tighter. “What higher purpose does that leave for the guys?”
“Cannon fodder. Ritual sacrifices. Political scapegoats.” He made a thoughtful noise. “They likely neuter male children to avoid producing inferior witches to tax the coven’s resources later on.”
“Following that logic,” I reasoned, “Liz is pregnant by a fae of some type.”
“There’s every reason to think so, yes.”
“Even if Liz is as fertile as the average witch, her fae blood would half her chances of reproducing.” I let a sigh escape me. Biology, like foreign languages, just wasn’t my thing. But there was no Duolingo for this. “If she’s been waiting all this time for a male fae to get the job done, the odds get cut in half again, and that’s before you factor in damage from black magic that made her womb a hostile environment.”
“The fertility treatments might have been real,” Linus agreed. “Liz may have required that much help.”
As often as Linus was right, I didn’t discount him now. Neither did I doubt this news would destroy Ares.
It was one thing to accept the need for a donor in order for her wife to conceive, but it was another to learn Liz might have had a lover—or lovers—who delivered the required genetic material in person.
Before I forgot, I texted Abbott about which way we were leaning paternity-wise, in case it mattered.
“Once we begin,” Linus cautioned, “there can be no interruptions without dangerous consequences.”
“Okay.” Knuckles gone white where I gripped the phone, I held my voice steady. “Let’s do this.”
All I could do was cross my fingers that the years I had spent bonded to Ambrose had forged magical conduit channels that would allow me to play High Society for a few hours without kissing the floor.
* * *
The OPA had decisions to make before I got down to the business of warding, or attempting to ward, the Faraday. We had to decide where, other than the holding cells and the infirmary, rated the protection. We also had strategic choices as to how we diverted the coven’s attention with dud rooms.
Midas and my apartment topped the list, and not because it was the cherry atop the building.
There was roof access in our hall, which we had to block, and those were our private quarters.
An enemy who didn’t know us better might suspect we would hole up there. One who did might suspect we would squirrel away their prize behind the strongest wards in the building. Except Midas and I hadn’t lived there long enough to take precautions. The treatment it got tonight was long overdue.
Remy volunteered her new apartment for the cause. Poor thing. It had already been through so much.
We marked the apartment Ares had shared with Liz as well. Five enforcers loaned out theirs. Eleven residents away on vacation agreed to cooperate, and three-dozen evacuees offered up their homes too.
Within an hour of placing the initial call to Linus, I had my plan, my equipment, and my spotter.
One might argue having one’s gwyllgi mate act in that capacity ran counter to the no-distractions rule.
One might also become lunch if they brought such concerns up to said mate’s face, so near his teeth.
“We start at the top and work our way down.” I slung a bag over my shoulder. “Ready?”
Midas ground his teeth. “Yep.”
“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.” I elbowed him. “Come on, Stud. It won’t be that bad.”
“That is not my new nickname.”
“Admit it.” I grinned up at him. “It was funny.”
“No.” He followed me into the elevator. “It was not.”
Funny or not, needling him kept him distracted from what I was about to attempt, which was the point.
As I stepped into our private hall, I redialed Linus and then mashed the button to enable video chat.
For the sake of my concentration, Midas sat on the couch facing me rather than hovering at my elbow.
“Excellent,” Linus said by way of greeting. “Midas is with you?”
Sliding my gaze to my mate, I smiled at his grumpy expression. “Always.”
The screen flickered to life, and Linus’s imposing features stared out at me. He had done prep work too, but on a smaller scale. He held a paintbrush in one hand, and an ornate inkpot sat on a stack of thick papers on his desk. A yellow parakeet with bright-red eyes had made a nest on top of his head, and it continued to arrange long strands of his dark-auburn hair, but I pretended not to notice his new hat.
The bird was Grier’s childhood pet, and her familiar, but Keet was…well…an odd duck for a parakeet.
I hear that happens to animals who get resuscitated one too many times.
I had also heard him called a zombie parakeet more than once, but Grier was in denial over that one.
“All right.” Linus kept his tone cool and professional, and times like these, I had no problem picturing him lecturing at Stropha
los University. “You have the ink?”
“I do.” I pulled out a glass bottle that sloshed with crimson liquid. “It was where you said it would be.”
Abbott kept two small bottles of Linus’s personal mix in refrigerated storage for emergencies.
Most practitioners brewed their own, their recipes closely guarded secrets, but I would forever be dependent upon premixed. I didn’t have the natural power in my blood to create my own.
Honestly, it was probably for the best. I was nowhere near skilled enough to create heirloom-worthy ink.
It’s not like I had taken Necromancy 101. There had been no reason to teach me magic theory when I had none. Now I had the power, but not the smarts to use it. The gaps in my education were Grand Canyon-esque these days.
“You need to start on the right-hand side of the door,” Linus instructed. “Kneel on the floor and copy the sigils I draw as best you can.”
I wasn’t going to win any art contests with my stumbling efforts, but I got the basic sequence down well enough to finish the design along the baseboards of our apartment without too many hiccups.
When I was done, I walked the perimeter with the camera facing out, allowing him to inspect my work.
Ambrose, who had been no help whatsoever up to this point, decided to show interest, probably to impress Linus. That, or to give the impression he was as good as his word, that he only meant to help.
“Well done.” Linus beamed with approval. “Now for the hard part.”
From his spot on the couch, Midas tensed and leaned forward, his muscles rippling with anticipation.
“That wasn’t it?” I glanced down at my knees, the delicate skin smooshed flat and red. “Seriously?”
“You’ve laid the foundation.” Linus leaned back in his chair. “It’s time to build on it.”
Unable to sit still as we hashed out the details, Midas rose and prowled into the kitchen. He passed me a bottle of water when he came back, concern heavy in his features, and I drained it in three long pulls.
“Midas,” Linus called to him. “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he rumbled, seconds from snarling at him. “Tell me what to do.”
“Catch her if she falls.” Linus tapped a pen across his desk. “Be prepared to call Abbott if necessary.”
Allowing his eyes to close, Midas absorbed his role with a terse nod, not trusting himself to speak.
Once upon a time, it worried me how quiet he got when his temper flared. But Midas didn’t hurt people to make himself feel better. He didn’t harm anyone at all unless it was required of him. His was a thoughtful upset that he crushed with measured breaths rather than lashing out at those around him.
“I love you.” I kissed his cheek, his bristles rough against my lips. “You got this.”
“Hey.” A laugh huffed out of him. “That’s my line.”
There was no time to reassure him, and I hated that, but the coven was right on our doorstep.
“Call on Ambrose,” Linus instructed me. “He knows what to do.”
Long before Ambrose became a ravening shade, he had been a powerful High Society necromancer.
For months after we first bonded, I researched his name in the Lyceum’s records in the hopes of identifying him. Names had power, and I wanted his something fierce. But there were no Ambroses of notable talent from Savannah, which meant he had given me a name of his choosing, one that would slide right off him.
If I’d had no other choice, I could have asked Ambrose to guide me through the process. I had before, for other small magics. The knowledge was there for the taking. That’s what made dybbuks so dangerous. When a necromancer struck a bargain with a shade, they received an infusion of power from the shade. As well as access to the entirety of the shade’s memories, talents, and skills.
All it required was opening yourself wide enough for their influence to trickle in.
Bonding with Ambrose had been a colossal mistake. I knew it the instant he sank his hooks in me. I just hadn’t cared then. I tasted the power he wielded, beheld the wonders of his talent, and became an accessory to the murders he committed, unable to act, to stop him, to do more than watch in horror.
After Linus crammed that murderous genie back into his bottle, aka my body, I made sure the cork never popped again. Over time, Linus’s tweaks to the binding tattoos he designed for me melded Ambrose and me into a creature dybbuk no longer described as well as it had in the beginning.
“Well?” I rolled my hand at the shadow. “What are you waiting for?”
Quicker than a bullet to the brain, Ambrose shot himself into my temple. As usual, information poured out of him and into me. But unlike usual, he didn’t leave. He sat inside me, his energy throbbing in time with my heart.
“Frak, frak, frak.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “That hurt.”
A line formed between Linus’s brows, and he leaned forward, startling his hat. “Are you all right?”
The parakeet farted out a noise, which Linus silenced with a slice of apple that Keet picked apart with glee, leaving bits of fruit scattered in his hairy nest.
“Direct downloads from Ambrose are worse than brain freezes,” I grumbled. “They give me such a headache.”
Confident I was steady, Linus resumed his instructions. “Do you understand what you have to do?”
“Yeah.” I reviewed what Ambrose was broadcasting. “I’ve got the blueprints.”
This would be the first time Ambrose had pumped this much power through me, and of his own free will too. This experiment was breaking new ground left and right. I just hoped it didn’t shatter me in the process.
“Midas.” Linus steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “Get ready.”
Already, he stood behind me with his arms outstretched to catch me if I began to topple over. “Ready.”
“Draw on your connection with Ambrose,” Linus coached. “Use his power to activate the ward.”
The sensation of fullness was sickening. I wasn’t meant to contain so much energy. Usually, I channeled his power, tossing it away as fast as I got it, flushing it out of my system as soon as it hit. This required me to hold Ambrose’s essence in the forefront of my mind, along with containing his vast power, and then expending it into the sigil.
Ally or not, that was yet to be determined, but Ambrose remained a dark stain that sizzled across my nerve endings. As I swirled the last sigil onto the baseboards, linking the design over and around the door and windows, I touched it with my finger.
Power exploded out of me, ripping Ambrose from my body and flinging him into the chain of sigils. He zipped around the room, energizing them, then blasted through me, closing the loop, with the might of a freight train smashing a pumpkin.
The burst must have knocked out the power, because the next thing I knew, the lights went out.
Six
Abbott was leaning over me when I woke, his nose an inch from mine as he tugged on my eyelids. Midas stood beside him, gripping the bedrail, his knuckles gone white. Linus’s face glowed out from the phone they had set on the mattress beside me, and I noticed his hat had gone to sleep during the excitement.
Though I shouldn’t have been surprised, I was oddly touched Linus decided to stick around until I woke.
A cold glass pressed into my hand, and I sipped until I could unstick my tongue to ask the most important question. “Did it work?”
Fingers curling into his palm, Midas stood over me, ready to refill my water. Or maybe dump it over my head for asking after the wards rather than my health.
“Bishop is impressed with you,” Linus answered when Midas remained silent. “He’s less thrilled with the consequences.”
“He’s not the only one.” I chomped on the crushed ice. “I can’t do this a dozen more times.”
A hard breath punched out of Midas. “I can’t believe my ears.”
“Hey.” I shook my cup at him. “I can be smart about things.”
No one in the room spoke up on m
y behalf.
No one.
Not a single person.
Grr.
“You always push yourself to the limits,” Linus chided. “I wouldn’t have encouraged you to try if I had guessed the toll it would take on you.”
That made two of us. Midas made three. Abbott made four. Bishop made five…
Okay, I was going to stop myself right there before I teared up from counting the people who would care if I pulped my gray matter. Not so long ago, I would have stopped at one: Boaz.
“Abbott.” Linus interrupted my thoughts. “Can we have a moment alone with Hadley?”
“Of course.” Abbott sighed at me then shook his head. “Please, Hadley, for my sake, be more careful.”
“How do we do this?” I used the rail to pull myself into a seated position. “We have to move fast.”
Ambrose walked across the wall until he stood beside Midas, then he made a heart shape with his hands and beat it once against his chest.
“No.” I jerked the link between us, ripping him across the room. “We’re not using Midas as a battery.”
“That’s not possible in any case,” Linus assured me, then he read my wary expression. “Is it?”
The plan had been to wait until the dust cleared and then break it to Midas that our bond wasn’t a divine blessing bestowed upon two fated souls but a parasitic thread choking our mating bond in its stranglehold.
The plan had just backfired. In my face. As usual.
“Ambrose fessed up about why our mate bond is wonky.” I couldn’t meet Midas’s gaze. It hurt enough having a witness present, but Linus required full disclosure in order to help me manage Ambrose, and I didn’t want to have this conversation twice. “When you and I got serious, he hitchhiked through our mate bond to forge a secondary link with you.”
Midas took this news in stride. “Can it be severed?”
A dull ache set up camp behind my breastbone. “Can a mate bond be broken?”
We each stared at a different section of the floor, and neither of us spoke.
“What does it do, exactly?” Linus cut the lingering silence. “Did he explain it to you?”
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