The door swung open at her touch.
She exhaled, her fingers adjusting themselves on the gun automatically. Still shivering, she slid through the opening.
The apartment was dark and a mottled cloth covered the lone sofa huddling in a corner. A fake tree stood by the door, with cobwebs hanging in dusty tendrils from its plastic leaves. Heavy curtains obscured the view of the street, creating deep shadows in which nothing moved.
Edging farther inside, she glanced into the single bedroom. A bare mattress occupied the room, with nothing else to keep it company. Through a narrow doorway, she could see an empty bathroom, the shower stripped of curtains behind which someone could hide.
She turned back to the main room, the hours of pent-up emotion rushing to fill the space adrenaline left behind. Cornelius wasn’t here. From the look of it, he hadn’t been for years.
Her brow twitched down spasmodically as she fought the tears that wanted to rise. She’d tried. She’d tried to do as Carter asked.
The last thing he ever asked.
Anguish rose, pressing hard against the carefully crafted barriers she’d built in the short time since Carter died. Tears burned and she cursed herself furiously, trying to stem the flow of grief with anger where everything else was failing. She wasn’t a child and she wouldn’t cry like one. So the wizards weren’t here. They had to be somewhere. She’d find them.
She’d still do as Carter asked.
With a shuddering breath, she turned to leave.
The closet door behind her swung open. Four wizards rushed into the room, their magic blazing.
They were from Merlin. The thought registered amid her shock. The men and women took positions around her, their expressions changing swiftly from cold threat to veiled startlement and then settling into an inexplicable sort of recognition that set her racing heart pounding all the harder. Turning as she tried to watch them all, she tightened her grip on the gun and let her magic grow stronger. Nearly as one, their eyes narrowed as they felt the energy rise.
From the too-black shadows of the closet, another man emerged. Dark-skinned and tall, with a sable trench coat over his dress shirt and slacks, he stopped at the sight of her, ignoring the closet door as it swung closed behind him. Alarm rippled with lightning speed across his face as his gaze took in the bloodstains covering her clothes, the gash on her forehead, and the gun clutched in her hand. And then the shock vanished completely, as though it had never been.
“Secure the area,” he ordered without looking away from her.
Anxiety fluttered in her as he spoke. Cornelius. She recognized his voice from the apartment. And like his voice, his face was familiar. Her brow twitched down, trying to place the memory dancing at the edge of reach.
Two wizards broke off from guarding her and headed for the far sides of the room. By the front door, one of them pushed away the leaves of the artificial tree and punched a few numbers into a keypad hidden behind the greenery, while the other strode to the window and tweaked back the curtain to check the street. Ignoring them, Cornelius crossed the distance to her, the air stirring as he moved.
Vanilla. Cedar. The scents brought back a rush of memory.
On a park bench down the road from an inferno, he’d held her hand as she cradled her baby sister. He’d waited with them as her father dealt with the aftermath of a freak explosion everyone said had been a gas main.
He’d watched over them the night the wizards’ war began.
Deep inside, the quivering returned and she smashed it down.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his deep voice low as though to keep the others from hearing.
Her brow furrowed, as much from confusion at his concern as lack of any idea what to say.
“I am Cornelius Jones,” he continued. “Third in line of authority on the Merlin council and representative of the southern European region. I promise we mean you no harm.”
She stared at him, wondering what she was supposed to take from that. Blinking, she struggled to push aside her confusion and just focus. “Carter sent me to talk to you.”
Traces of anger tightened his face at the mention of his cousin’s name.
Coming back from the keypad by the front door, the wizard paused at Cornelius’ side. “Several Taliesin nearby, sir,” the woman told him quietly. Her gaze flicked to Ashe. “They may have been trailing her.”
Cornelius’ eyes narrowed slightly at the panicked look that flitted across Ashe’s face, and then he nodded to the woman. “Find us a safe portal near the northern edge of town. We are returning to the council immediately.”
The woman bowed her head and then headed toward the closet, clicking on her cell phone as she went. Flipping through a few screens, she paused and then tucked the phone away. Ashe’s brow drew down as the woman reached up and ran her fingers down the doorframe.
Electric blue letters appeared, glowing with light. Coalescing into words and then scattering too quickly to follow, they shimmered over the left side of the doorframe for several moments before fading into nothing. Ignoring the display, the woman pulled open the door.
The air pressure in the room dropped, and Ashe blanched. Darkness waited within the closet, and the impenetrable shadows gave a sense of distance they couldn’t possibly have possessed. Wind stirred in the room, making the leaves of the artificial tree flutter.
With a short gesture, Cornelius ordered the wizards through the doorway. They stepped past the door and vanished into the darkness.
He stepped to one side, nodding to her. “This way.”
Incredulous, Ashe looked between him and the impossible abyss. “You can’t be–” she started, and then cut off as a beeping sounded from the alarm behind the fake tree. Cornelius made an irritated noise.
Before she could do more than register the fact he was moving, he reached across the distance between them and pulled her with him through the closet doorway.
Rushing air surrounded her. Blackness was everywhere, but not. Images seemed to blur around her so quickly, they became a streak of darkest gray. Bursts of sound accompanied them, rising and falling with impossible speed.
A city street appeared. A shop bell dinged. A subway train rushed past, vanishing almost instantly. For less time than it took to blink, she could see a playground filled with children.
And then she stumbled through a doorway.
Empty clothing racks filled the abandoned store and peeling sale posters covered the grimy windows. As the storage closet door swung closed behind them, Cornelius held her arm by his side with an iron grip.
Everything was swimming. Gasping, she reached out, attempting to catch herself on the wall as her legs wobbled.
Cornelius pulled her against his side tighter, forcibly keeping her upright. Struggling in his grasp, she tried to move the gun pinned between them, her efforts weak from nausea.
“Deep breaths,” he ordered softly. “Eyes on the ground till the dizziness stops.”
Unable to move, she hesitated and then complied.
The dizziness began to fade.
Swallowing hard, she tugged away from him, and no expression touched his face as he released her arm. Retreating, she scanned the shop. By the windows, the other wizards were checking the parking lots.
“Are we clear?” Cornelius called.
As the wizards nodded, he glanced back at her. A look of consideration flashed through his eyes, replaced almost instantly by fleeting irritation.
“We will take the cars,” he ordered.
The other wizards hesitated as though confused, but after a heartbeat, they strode for the back door.
Shaking, she drew a deep breath and braced a hand on the wall beside her, the other still clutching her gun. His face impassive, Cornelius stepped closer, reaching to pull her away from the support. Instantly, her weapon twitched toward him.
He paused, his gaze flicking in the direction the wizards had gone.
“It is of the utmost importance you show no sign of how this
is affecting you,” he told her quietly. “Just remain calm and come with me. Say nothing. Do you understand?”
Incredulity struggled up out of her shock and her hand tightened on the gun. “What the–”
“That was a portal. A way of travelling which I will happily explain at a later time. But right now, we must get you to safety.”
“Why–”
“Later,” he interrupted calmly.
She backed along the wall as he started toward her again. Seeing her action, he stopped, frustration tightening his mouth. “I am trying to protect you.”
A scoff escaped her and she shook her head, keeping the gun between them. “Why?” she repeated, clinging to the question.
He paused, old resentment playing across his face. “So Carter told you nothing?”
“Carter’s dead!”
The exclamation burst from her before she could stop it, but at the words he froze. His eyes went to the stains covering her again.
Her fingers adjusted around the gun as she swallowed and then continued more softly. “A Blood wizard killed him trying to get to me. He died this morning. Just after he gave me this.”
She drew out the scrap of paper, extending it to him cautiously. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it.
“He wanted me to tell you about the Blood.”
For a moment, Cornelius didn’t answer, his eyes on the stains darkening the paper. With difficulty, he cleared his throat, and the reserved mask returned to his face, though it looked slightly more fractured than before.
“We need to go,” he said.
“But–”
“Please,” he interrupted, his voice strained. “Do as I ask. And do not speak to the others till the council has had the chance to talk to you first. Just… allow me to get you to safety. Please.”
“What’s going on?” she asked warily.
“The council can best explain.” He stepped away, clearing a path to the door. “I promise you, Ashley. We mean you no harm.”
She paused. “Ashe,” she said. A look of confusion moved through his eyes. “I go by Ashe. Not Ashley.”
He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. Still watching him, she walked toward the door.
The mundane forms of two sedans waited in the service drive. Inside, the wizards sat, watching Cornelius as he crossed to the second vehicle and held open the door. Hesitating briefly, she joined him by the car and then slid into the back seat, half expecting when the driver turned the ignition that the vehicle would suddenly sprout wings and fly. But the car simply started, and a moment later, the two sedans rolled out onto the main roads.
Turning, she glanced through the rear window.
Skyscrapers towered in the distance over the urban sprawl. Billboards for shops and gas stations crowded the next strata of air below, and on the roads, cars were everywhere. In a few seconds, the portal had carried them for miles, right to the edge of the city and far from any wizards that might have been following her.
Unnerved, she turned back around. The fabric seats itched beneath her and she shifted uncomfortably. Glancing down, she caught sight of dust and cedar chips still flecking her jeans from the dash through the pet store.
A humored smile touched her face, dying almost instantly. She wondered if Bus and Spider had gotten out of town alright.
Pain rose at the question, and she tried to push the thought away. She’d see them again. Once this was done, once she’d finished what Carter asked, she’d head straight back to the Abbey or wherever the Hunters were staying. And the rest was nothing. Together or separate, those two were tougher than she’d ever hope to be.
They’d be fine.
With dirt-smudged hands, she brushed the dust from her legs as her gaze rose to the window. Up ahead, Cornelius quietly ordered the driver to take the next onramp and silently, the man complied. Cars swept around them, racing for the highway, and the two sedans accelerated, joining the throng. In the distance behind them, the skyscrapers faded into the smog.
Exhaling slowly, Ashe tucked the gun beneath her jacket and tried to remain calm as the cars sped northward, deep into wizard territory.
*****
At one o’clock, the Rio Dulce hotel was solely occupied by those few travelers unlucky enough to have reserved more than a single night’s stay, and the ostensible housekeeping staff, most of whom were taking a cigarette break by the building’s side. Over the years, the hotel had changed hands so many times that locals had long since stopped keeping track of the current name, and from the look of the cheap vinyl sign covering the old marquis, even the present owners weren’t holding out much hope for this incarnation’s longevity.
Shoving his car door closed, Harris eyed the building skeptically. It didn’t seem the kind of place a businessman like Jamison would choose for a meeting, but maybe that was the point. Ritzy hotels in better parts of town would have more traffic, and thus more chance for discovery.
But still, this place was a dump.
He strode across the parking lot and then pulled open the front door, trying to ignore the sticky palm prints coating the glass. At the desk, the young clerk barely looked up from her computer as the door announced his entrance with a sad ding. The reek of cleaning solution filled the air, though the stained carpets and grimy windows gave no evidence of where the substances had been used. Down an adjoining hallway, shrieking children with beach towels clutched in their chubby arms raced pell-mell for the pool area, while two bored-looking adults sauntered after them, occasionally shouting hypocritical reprimands to stay quiet.
Grimacing at the noise, he glanced around. Beyond the sagging couches in the lobby, Simeon leaned against the wall, talking softly into his cell. A door waited beside him, the sign above it designating the space beyond as the hotel conference room. At the sight of Harris, the man nodded to the door before returning to his call.
Without a word, Harris walked past him.
Nearly two dozen people milled around inside, talking quietly. On the opposite end of the room, a chipped wooden podium faced the rows of metal folding chairs that filled the rest of the space. Obliquely, he watched the other people as he lowered himself onto a creaking seat, and then shifted uncomfortably as the uneven legs made the chair rock.
Only a few of the room’s occupants glanced to him, their expressions almost uniformly wary, before returning to their hushed conversations.
His brow drew down. The suspicion shouldn’t have been warranted. After all, Simeon had let him in here same as them. But then, he supposed they hadn’t gotten this far in fighting Ashley’s people by being instantly trusting.
He looked back to the front as another door opened, admitting Jamison into the room. Immediately, the others dropped whatever they’d been saying and took their seats while, with a face that could have been chipped from granite, Jamison approached the podium.
Harris’ jaw tightened. From the man’s expression, there seemed a good chance Brogan had died.
“Thank you for coming,” Jamison said levelly. He flicked a switch to cue the ceiling projector and then glanced back at the screen on the wall. A picture appeared, grainy and oversaturated. Harris recognized it. He’d taken the shot with his cell only a couple days before.
“Cole Jamison,” the man continued. “My son. As some of you know, Taliesin took him from me. Now we have the chance to take him back. Obviously, I wish him unharmed. The same goes for the little girl who may still be in his company. Any others may be killed if necessary, though bringing them in for questioning would be preferable. And, of course, the reward for his retrieval will be… considerable.”
A low murmur of chuckles rose and fell around Harris at the man’s words.
“He was most recently seen in Monfort two days ago with this child.” The security camera photo of the little girl appeared. “His captors have gone by the name ‘Smith’, and he may also be using that name rather than his own…”
Harris struggled not to feel like an impatient schoolboy a
s Jamison’s lecture went on, empty of any mention of Ashley, Brogan or anything else he didn’t already know.
“Simeon has information on the specific areas I wish you to target,” Jamison concluded. “Any questions can be directed to him.”
Without another word, he headed for the door, while the others broke off into their groups as before. Incredulous, Harris rose and hurried toward the front.
“Mr. Jamison,” he called.
The man paused, glancing back.
“Is that it?” Harris asked.
Impatience flickered beneath Jamison’s emotionless visage, and he turned to the door again.
“Isn’t there any word on Brogan?” Harris pressed. “Ashley? Anything?”
“Brogan’s alive,” Jamison told him shortly. “For now.”
“And Ashley?”
Jamison’s eyes went to Simeon, and the ponytailed man stepped between them. “You have your instructions,” Jamison said.
Harris moved to avoid the other man. “I’m not going after your son.”
With a hand on the doorknob, Jamison paused, and then his head turned back to Harris. His eyebrow rose eloquently.
“I’ve been thinking about something Brogan told me,” Harris continued. “About the fact wizards don’t know I can see them. They don’t think I’m a threat, Mr. Jamison. But your son does. I didn’t get a chance to explain anything to him in the car, and from his reaction, I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m one of the bad guys. I don’t want to be a liability to you, but if I go after Cole, I guarantee you he’ll run when he sees me.”
Jamison watched him, his face unreadable, but Harris could feel the tension building in the man.
“But Ashley won’t,” Harris persisted. “She might remember me, but she won’t run. Hell,” he added, trying to keep the anger from his voice and only partly succeeding, “she probably won’t even care I’m there. You’ve got this whole group going after Cole. But someone needs to stop Ashley too, before anybody else gets hurt. That’s where I can do the most good right now.”
Jamison said nothing, and Harris fought to keep his irritation down. He resented needing the man’s permission, but as the morning progressed, he’d been forced to admit the reality of the situation. This man and his associates held the purse strings. Brogan had paid for his search for the kids after the police department had put him on leave, and wandering off the reservation without at least a nod in Jamison’s direction would presumably bring his investigation to a rather bankrupt halt.
Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) Page 2