by N M Thorn
“I swear I’ll get you out of here,” Damian replied to his brother and gave a reassuring nod to Ruslan as he turned toward the guard.
“Let’s go,” he said to him, but as Jeff made a move toward the door, he seized his arm, yanking him back. “And Jeff, if I find out that you put your hand on my brother again, I’ll break it.” Damian squeezed his fingers tighter, eliciting a cry of pain out of the guard. Then he smiled—a dark and dangerous sneer that left his eyes icy cold—and gestured at the door with a mocking bow. “After you.”
Jeff escorted him along the corridor into the central room but didn’t stop by the desk and headed toward the opposite wall. He swiped his magnetic card over the digital lock, and a small trapdoor opened up with a high-pitched squeak.
“Go on, buddy.” Jeff snickered. “Mr. Amaris is expecting you. Let’s see whose arms are going to get broken first.”
Ignoring the guard, Damian bent down and walked through the low doorway. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the door behind him closed, and he found himself in complete darkness.
“Amaris.” Damian folded his arms over his chest, planting his feet wide. “Stop playing your twisted games and let’s have a chat.”
A dim purple light ignited at the other end of the room, outlining the dark silhouette of a man sitting in a wide armchair.
“Good morning, Mr. Blake. How do you do? I hope you had a pleasant stay in my establishment,” the man said in the best manners of a fifties sitcom. Damian couldn’t see his face, but the amount of sarcasm he was emanating was hard to miss. Since Damian remained silent, the man laughed, and continued, “Did you make your decision?”
“Yes,” replied Damian icily.
“Pray tell.” Amaris leaned forward slightly.
“I’ll take your deal. As soon as you set Ruslan and Camila free, Cole and I will do what you want.” A chain of shivers ran down Damian’s spine, locking his jaw, as he expected Amaris’ answer.
Amaris laughed frostily. “Nice try, Mr. Blake, but that wasn’t the deal.”
“Excuse me?” Damian took a step forward and ran into an invisible barrier. Cursing under his breath, he stepped back, followed by Amaris’ giggles that sounded completely inappropriate for a man.
He cut his giggles abruptly and leaned forward again. “First of all, the deal was that you do something for me, and only after that I’ll set Ruslan and Camila free,” he said in a no-nonsense tone. “Second, I hate to be rude, but I don’t trust you, Mr. Blake. So, while you run this little errand for me, your brother will remain here, in my underground facility.” He straightened, giving a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him. If it makes you feel any better, I swear to return your brother to you as soon as you deliver on your promise.”
Even though Damian expected that, it still came as a bit of shock, sending his thoughts into a wild frenzy for a few seconds. He dropped his head, forcing himself to calm down.
“That’s fine,” he said at length. “But in this case, I have a few conditions of my own.”
“Really?” Amaris’ voice was laughing, arrogance polluting his every word. “I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate, but I feel charitable today. So, name your conditions, Mr. Blake, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Let’s agree to disagree. If I don’t get what I want, you don’t get what you want. I think I’m in a perfect position to negotiate,” replied Damian, trying to sound as self-assured as he could but feeling none of it. Deep inside, he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on in this negotiation since now Amaris held hostage not only Ruslan and Camila, but also Cole and Ricardo, and his facility was overflowing with guards and anti-magic tech. “So, my first condition is that I want my brother to remain with his maker at all times.”
“Done.”
“Also, I want you to—,” he started to say, but Amaris interrupted him.
“I think I can guess what you want,” the Head of the Arizona House said. “You want me to remove the restraints from Ruslan and stop”—he waved his hand—“his daily punishment. Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” replied Damian.
“How predictable.” Amaris snickered, leaning back in his chair. “Consider it done. Anything else?”
“Under no circumstances can you use Cole as one of your fighters, either captive or unattached.”
“Do I look like an idiot to you? I wasn’t planning to.” Amaris shrugged. “He’s too well-known in both the supernatural and mundane communities. Having him fight in the pits, even in high-class events, is bad for my business.”
“Perfect, then just one more thing—”
“You’re pushing it, Mr. Blake,” Amaris hissed, slamming his hand on the armrest of his chair. “And I’m losing my patience.”
“And I don’t give a damn. You meet my every condition or no deal,” Damian continued calmly. “After I deliver whatever it is you desire so deeply, you give Ricardo Torres his contract back. He and his sister are free to live their lives as they wish.”
“No.” Amaris got up sharply, moving his chair back with a loud screech. “Ricardo Torres is one of my best suppliers. I can’t replace him easily.”
“I don’t care.” Damian folded his arms. “It’s a deal-breaker for me. So, what is it going to be? Yes or no?”
Amaris muttered something and dropped back in his chair with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Fine. I’ll do it. You’re driving a hard bargain, Mr. Blake, but it better be your last demand.”
“It is,” replied Damian. “Now, tell me what I need to do.”
“Finally,” Amaris muttered, annoyance breaking through his even voice. “What I need from you is… um… How can I explain it so someone as unsophisticated as you would understand?” He fell silent, thinking. “You see, Mr. Blake, what I want you to do is simple in its complexity, but complex in its—”
“Simplicity?” Damian supplied snidely.
“No one likes clowns—”
“Suffering from coulrophobia, Mr. Amaris?” Damian lifted an eyebrow, watching Amaris hop to his feet, his aggravation setting his eyes ablaze with a purple glow, clearly visible against the darkness of his silhouette.
“What I was going to say,” Amaris growled through gritted teeth, “is that what I need you to do is simple in its complexity, but complex in its execution.”
“I don’t care about your verbal acrobatics, Amaris. Stop speaking riddles and tell me what I need to do.”
“Insolent peasant.” Amaris sat down and crossed his legs. “I need you to go there—I don’t know where, and bring me that—I don’t know what.”
Damian stilled with his jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious,” he mumbled. “I have to go somewhere, but you can’t tell me where this place is. Also, you don’t know what it is I need to find for you?”
“Something like that, but no. Not really.” Amaris snickered. “If it were an easy quest, I wouldn’t need to go through the trouble of blackmailing you and pushing you into the tightest corner I could find, now would I?” He leaned forward, reaching into the dark. Something clicked softly, and Amaris waved his hand in a circular motion. “I shut down the magic detectors in this room, so you can use your magic to teleport. Now, off you go.”
“Wait.” Damian stepped closer to the barrier separating him from the Head of the Arizona House. “How can I find you after I’m done? I have no idea where we are right now, so I can’t teleport back.”
“When you are done, you will go to Ricardo Torres’ estate,” said Amaris. “You’ll find the man who escorted you here. He runs Ricardo’s business in his absence. Now, be a good boy and fetch!”
Amaris laughed, the sinister purple glow in his eyes igniting brighter. Without saying another word, Damian snapped his fingers and vanished from the room, followed by the ominous outbursts of Amaris’ laughter.
Chapter 14
~ Damian Blake ~
Damian materialized on the steps of Paradise Manor. He halte
d, unable to make a move, staring wistfully into the desert where the pink rays of the rising run caressed the mountains with their warm embrace. Then he ran his fingers over his overgrown stubble and lowered himself on the steps. Resting his arms on his knees, he dropped his head and closed his eyes.
He wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t gather his scattered thoughts, so he just sat, staring at his boots, trying to take one breath at a time. A soft touch to his shoulder brought him back to reality, and he raised his head. Jamie stood next to him, his blue eyes filled with his usual curiosity.
Damian patted the cold surface of the steps next to him, gesturing for him to sit down. “Go ahead,” he said with a sigh. “What would you like to ask?”
“Why do you think I want to ask you anything?” Jamie sat down, a wide grin splitting his face, turning his eyes into two narrow arches.
“It’s written all over your face,” murmured Damian.
“I always wondered why you never teleport inside the house?” the young man asked, looking sideways at him. “Sometimes you’re so hurt and drained, you can barely stand. Why wouldn’t you teleport directly into your own room? I’m sure River won’t mind. Luc also never teleports inside a house, and Yakov doesn’t open his portals. Why is that?”
Damian chuckled, shaking his head. “What can I tell you?” he said, tapping Jamie on his knee. “We’re the knights of the old code. The World of Magic has certain rules that have been established centuries ago. Some of them are in place for your safety, but some of them are just etiquette. You know? Good magical manners? Like all the bowing and kneeling…” He rolled his eyes, stifling a shudder at the thought of some archaic manners that still existed in his world. “Anyway, one of the rules of the World of Magic states that you don’t teleport inside a person’s house without a warning, and you don’t teleport out of a person’s house without their permission. The same applies to opening a portal.”
“I had no idea.” Jamie turned slightly to face him.
“Don’t worry, the Wardens are going to instill good manners in you with iron and fire, whether you like it or not.” Damian glanced at the young man and frowned. “Speaking of which… What are you doing here, Jamie? I thought I told you to remain with Luc and Yakov?”
“I don’t know how to explain.” Jamie spread his arms slightly with a guilty shrug. “I had a feeling you needed my help. So, I told Luc about it, and he opened a portal for me.” He gazed at him, a shy smile playing on his lips. “I know you well enough, and right now, you look like you’re in some serious trouble. I want to help you, Damian.”
“Jamie, thank you, but no.” He rubbed the back of his neck, moving his head from left to right as his muscles responded with soreness. “Everything is so complicated. I’m afraid to bring another person into this mess. Especially not you. What kind of mentor would I be? I’m supposed to teach and protect you. Not throw you into the thick of things unprepared…”
“What kind of friend would I be if I left you in a tough situation alone?” Jamie asked quietly.
Damian glanced at the young man, expecting to find defiance in his eyes, but found none of it—just understanding and sympathy.
“When the time comes, don’t say no to an offer of help, no matter from whom this offer comes…” The words Mara said to him a while ago surfaced in Damian’s mind, and he glanced at his young friend with renewed interest.
“Alone is what I do best, Jamie,” he continued quietly. “I don’t even know what to do next. I was ordered to retrieve”—he fell silent and exhaled, nibbling on his lip—“something. But I was given neither directions on where to find it nor the description of what the actual entity is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a light headache building up behind his tightly shut eyes. “My brother’s life depends on the success of this mission, and God knows what else. Are you sure you want to go with me?”
“Why is it even a question?” Jamie asked, gazing at him with reproach. “Especially if Cole’s life is on the line. Where you go, I go.”
Damian looked at his young apprentice as if he saw him for the first time. “Then we do it together. Thank you, my friend.”
“Speaking of help.” Jamie got up, offering Damian his hand. “You have a guest, waiting for you in the kitchen. She knocked on the door an hour ago and announced that she needs to speak with you and it’s important. Since then, she’s been nothing but pure entertainment.”
“Let me guess.” Damian got up, taking Jamie’s hand. “Zabava?”
“The one and only.” Jamie headed toward the front door and opened it for Damian, allowing him into the foyer first.
Damian walked inside and halted, staring at his own reflection in the antique silver mirror. A shadow moved inside, and an image of a young woman replaced his reflection, staring back at him, tears brimming her large blue eyes.
“Zerkalitsa, please don’t,” he mumbled to the spirit of the mirror. “I already know how fucked up my situation is.”
She wiped her eyes and pointed toward the hallway on the right. Her entire body lit up with a soft, white glow, and a bright disk resembling a halo appeared over her head. Damian frowned, trying to figure out the message the spirit was attempting to convey. Probably noticing the confusion on his face, she rolled her eyes and stomped her foot, visibly aggravated by his inability to understand her. With an exasperated sigh, she pointed at the hallway again and motioned for him to go, giving him a reassuring node.
“What are you trying to tell me?” he asked in a soft whisper.
The image of the woman flickered on and off and vanished. Damian glanced at Jamie, but the wizard looked just as confused as he felt. Shaking his head, he made his way to the kitchen and halted in the doorway, observing an unusual view. River sat next to the table, her face flushed with laughter. Gypsy stretched on the chair next to her, her round eyes following Zabava’s every move.
Zabava, dressed in her usual black jeans and a shirt, had a kitchen apron with a photo of Gypsy printed on it over her clothes. She was frying pancakes, handling a spatula like the chef of a five-star restaurant. A large stack of them already towered on the plate next to the stove, but she kept adding more, flipping each of them in the air as she did it.
Damian inhaled the bitter aroma of freshly made coffee entwined with the scent of pancakes and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, closing his eyes. The kitchen smelled warm and homely, and everything looked so normal that his heart skipped a beat. After everything he had been through in the last twenty-four hours, he had a hard time believing that normality like this was possible in his life.
“Damian.” River got up, her warm gaze brushing over him.
Zabava stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. Her eyes moved from him to River and then settled back on him, a tiny lopsided smile appearing on her lips. Wiping her hands on a piece of paper towel, she pointed at an empty chair.
“Sit down, Damian. You look like you can do with a nice, hot breakfast.” She winked at him playfully, but her green eyes turned cold and alert.
Damian walked inside and pulled a chair out, lowering himself onto it. River filled two cups with hot coffee and placed one in front of him and the second one in front of Jamie before moving the plate with all the pancakes from the counter to the middle of the table. Zabava shut down the stove and took the apron off, hanging it over the back of a chair. Then she pulled the chair back and sat down across from Damian.
“Dig in,” she said, moving a few pancakes to her plate, but he didn’t move.
“What are you doing here, Zabava?” he asked coldly. “I don’t remember giving you my address or inviting you to visit me here for that matter.”
“Damian, behave.” River gave him a pointed stare.
“Yeah, Sasquatch, behave.” Gypsy lifted her head, staring at him with her round eyes without blinking. “You know River doesn’t cook. So, be quiet and enjoy the ride while you can. If things go well, she may end up staying with us. Mmm-mmm-mmm.” She winked a
nd stretched, a blissful feline grin on her face.
“I told you already.” Zabava took a bottle of maple syrup, pouring it over her pancakes. “I’m a supernatural PI. Knowing things is what I do.” She took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes, inhaling its aroma. “Anyway, the only reason I’m here is that the Grand Master of the Sisterhood called me. She wanted me to deliver you a message.” She put her cup down and took a fork, twirling it in her fingers. “Fair warning—you’re not going to like it.”
“I’ve been told this statement one time too many in the last twenty-four hours.” Damian pushed away the plate with pancakes and folded his arms on top of the table. “And every time it ended up being worse than I expected, so cut the bullshit, Zabava, and tell me what’s going on.”
“Fine.” Zabava got up and propped her fists against the table, leaning forward slightly. “Here is what’s going on. Elony gathered all her teams, not only her special team. She even went as far as recalling her undercover slayers. Guess what?”
Damian swallowed, staring out the window. “They’re all accounted for,” he whispered at length.
“That’s correct,” replied Zabava, straightening. “Every single one of them. No one is missing. I don’t enjoy giving ‘I told you so’ speeches, but in your case, give me a moment to savor it, because I will enjoy every second of it.” She closed her eyes with a smug look on her face and exhaled. “Ahh… it will feel good.” She walked around the table, halting behind Damian, and placed her hands on his shoulders, bending down to his ear. “I told you, Cole Adams wasn’t on their list. The Sisterhood slayers didn’t attack him.” Her warm breath brushed his skin as she touched his earlobe with her lips. But then she stepped away and crossed her arms. “So, if your brother said he killed one of his attackers, who were they?”
“Ahh… God damn it all…” Damian groaned, hiding his face in his hands. His brother’s already dangerous situation just became tenfold more complicated.