The talisman.
His grin devastated. In moments like this, his golden looks proclaimed him an angel instead of what he truly was.
Lucifer in disguise.
"I think that’s obvious, my dear. I want the talisman."
Her head nodded to Jack. "Then why didn't delivery boy here just relieve me of it?"
Voltaire tsked, clearly disappointed with her manners. "Thanks to your friend, Zander, we've come to understand the bracelet is cursed. I have no desire to inactivate the wonderful magick you've created. So, instead of stealing it from you, I decided to take you. You'll stay here, remaining with me until we find a way to break the spell."
“What if a counter spell is never found?”
His fingers drummed together. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
She gulped. Would he hold her here forever? "There's no spell to break it. Not anymore."
His finger lifted in the air. "Ah, but even though it's been destroyed, it remains somewhere doesn't it?" He toasted her with his champagne glass.
Her heart sank. Zander had overheard her conversation in the vault. Voltaire couldn’t gain that information anywhere else. She should've known Zander would do something so despicable. But if they knew Celeste had it, she'd be in danger. "You'll never get it from her."
He laughed. "Nothing is ever out of my reach, my dear. It may take some finessing, but I always get what I want."
She attacked her meat, forcing down tasteless bites. Keep up your strength. "And once you get what you want? What then?"
"You'll be released, of course."
Utensils clattered to her plate. She worried she’d stab him. "Really? You'd let me go? Just like that? After I'd been a prisoner here?"
He looked at her like he would a child. "Of course. I'm not a monster, Persephone. I may be ruthless in achieving my goals, but I don't just kill for the joy of it. You've a wonderful talent that shouldn't be extinguished. If I killed you, I wouldn't enjoy the things of power you'll craft in your life. And I very much look forward to items of such quality."
He'd never obtain an object of hers. She’d destroy each piece immediately after creating it if necessary. This monster would never have a part of her.
“Aren’t you worried I’ll use the talisman against you?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely not.” He pointed to a tattoo on her arm she hadn’t noticed. “You’ve been fitted with a special blocker that inhibits all magicks.” At her snarl, he held up his hands to halt her protests. “It’s nothing permanent. The charm fades after a week. Until you’re finished here, we’ll refresh the spell as needed.”
"Oh," he dabbed his lips again, "I should also mention, although I prefer to keep you alive and well, if you so much as attempt to escape or cross me in any way, I won't hesitate making your stay far less pleasant. You're a guest here until you choose to be otherwise. Choose to cooperate, and you'll be treated like a valued guest. Cross me, and you'll suffer." He smirked. “Your potential creations in years to come cannot protect you then.”
Ice coated her veins. Voltaire, no matter how handsome, rich, and powerful he might be, had lost his mind.
To stay alive, she agreed.
"Excellent. I'm glad we have an understanding." He nodded approvingly.
She wouldn't acquiesce again. She couldn't even look at him. If only the talisman’s power didn't come with such dire effects, if only he hadn’t blocked her magick, she’d save herself, somehow. Since casting wasn’t an option, she’d need to find another way to escape or at least get a message out.
No matter what, Voltaire would never possess the talisman's power. If necessary, she’d take the bracelet off herself. The curse be damned.
* * *
Zander lurked inside his car, ready to strike. His location spell led him here, and his magick never lied. When he’d first set off on his own, he'd been called The Blood Hound. His ability allowed him to find anything, anywhere. Or in this case, anyone.
Jack strolled out of an apartment, his gate easy, no doubt feeling secure at his new location. He'd put several blockers in place, but he should've known nothing could keep Zander away.
Slipping from the vehicle, he stalked toward Jack, relishing the quick jerk of his ex-friend's body when he’d spotted him.
Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. "So, you found me."
Zander whistled. "Nice place. You must’ve landed a huge deal."
Jack’s previous residence hadn’t been a dump by any means, but this house was several notches above. The bounty on the talisman must be staggering. He didn't doubt it. What he'd been offered to steal the bracelet had taken his breath away, and that was before desperation settled in.
"I did." Jack folded his arms and leaned against a small wall. "So, what now? Are you here to kill me or deliver some other dire threat to my life?"
Zander snorted. "Why would I? I can hire you."
Jack shifted.
Good. Zander planned on unbalancing him the whole conversation. Jack would have anticipated and prepared for Zander’s anger. But what his ex-friend didn’t realize, was Zander had much more patience than petty revenge. Jack would get what was coming to him. But it could wait until Seph was returned safely.
Jack’s head cocked. "Why would you do that?"
"Why wouldn't I? Although you betrayed me, you're still excellent at what you do. And we were friends once. I'd rather not have to kill you."
"We're still friends, Zander. It was merely a job. Nothing personal."
"No." Zander shook his head regretfully. "I can forgive a lot, but when you take my mate and deliver her to a client like Voltaire… it’s over."
Jack raked a hand through his hair. "She'll be returned once the talisman’s curse is broken and can be removed. Voltaire gave his word."
Zander's throat closed. The reminder of who’d imprisoned her needled him.
At one point, as Jack had mentioned, Zander would’ve felt the same way. Apathetic. He stole for people on both sides of the war, never siding. Sure, he had his own moral compass when it came to which projects he took on, but he didn’t discriminate as to which side of the line he worked for. Content to look out for himself, he would’ve let the two forces hash it out while he went on his merry way. But that wasn't possible any more.
What changed? When had he changed?
But he already knew the answer. Persephone. She'd altered him, affected him more than any other person in his life. She believed in the talisman, believed in the True One. And somehow, some way, during the time he'd spent with her, he’d come to believe, too.
"I'm hiring you to take me to Voltaire's fortress."
Jack barked a laugh. "No way. If I bring you there, not only would he kill me, but I'd turn my back on a client. Can't do that. Bad for business, Bud. You know that."
Zander’s jaw clenched. Jack was absolutely right. Turning on a client would demolish his business. If Zander wanted Jack’s help, he’d have to appeal to Jack’s greed. "Fine. Tell me where he is. Give me directions. It’ll will never come back on you."
"Why can't you scry for him?"
"Attempting such a thing is pointless as no one’s succeeded before, but also dangerous. He'll have safeguards in place to alert him when such spells are cast. I can't risk him preparing for my arrival."
"Sorry, Zander—"
"Don't say you can't. You can. You owe me."
"For what?"
Zander’s eyes narrowed. "Let’s start from the top. We were friends, and you took my mate. The end."
Jack swore.
"This will never come back on you, Jack. Voltaire will never know you gave up his location." His voice hardened when Jack remained hesitant. If he had to push harder… "If he kills her, if even one hair on her head is harmed, you know who'll suffer for that. I won't just go after Voltaire, I'll come after you."
Jack held up his hands. "All right. All right. Enough with the threats. I believe you. Besides, I liked her." Za
nder glared, but Jack only grinned. "I know, she's yours. But that doesn't stop me from appreciating."
Zander muttered. If Jack had touched her the wrong way, Zander would kill him regardless of their past association.
As if sensing his thoughts, Jack chuckled. "She was fine when I left." But his smile slowly unraveled. "I’ll be honest, she was pissed when she found out what you'd told me."
Damn it. Zander's eyes closed. If Persephone knew he’d given information to Jack, leaving her vulnerable to an abduction, she'd hate him all over again. All the progress he'd made with her, gone.
No. He shook away the negativity. He couldn't think like that. What they had would survive a few mistakes. He'd searched for a way to break the curse to save her, not to possess the bracelet. The tricky part was convincing her of that.
Jack remained silent through Zander's internal battle. Finally, he nodded toward his apartment. "Come on. Let's see if we can come up with an idea to break her out."
"There’s no 'we'. I can’t risk you approaching Voltaire with my plan."
Jack's jaw clenched. "You know me better than that."
"I might know you, but I can't trust you. Not again."
"Then how about making it binding?"
A similar conversation with Persephone floated through his mind. He’d lost her trust by leaving, and now, he risked it again. She’d given him a second chance, and while the easy friendship he’d shared with Jack was destroyed, Persephone’s life mattered more. He’d deal with the devil if he had to.
Zander nodded in agreement, hoping he didn’t regret accepting Jack’s help.
10
"Come in," Persephone called from the window. She'd languished at Voltaire's fortress for a week and still hadn't found a means of escape. Every day that passed, she worried she’d never break free.
A timid girl, no older than twelve entered the room. "I have your dinner, Miss."
Compassion flooded Persephone as the blond girl hunched over, struggling to balance a tray. She stepped forward and quickly grabbed the metal platter to keep it from dumping to the floor.
"I'm sorry," the girl whispered, backing away from Persephone as if fearing a smack.
"It's all right. I might have overturned it had I been tasked with carrying it. It's quite heavy. Where's Sophie?" The thirty-something woman usually attended to Persephone’s meals.
The girl shuffled. "She's out sick today. I'm to get you whatever you need."
The girl still hadn't met her eyes. "What's your name?"
"Zora."
"What a pretty name." Persephone offered a small smile when the girl glanced up.
"It was my mother's."
Intrigued, Persephone studied the delicate girl. Why was someone so young working for Voltaire? She must possess magick. Voltaire wouldn't dirty his hands with humans. But she was so young. Too young to be working. "Is your mother here, also?"
"No." Zora's cupid-bow mouth frowned. "She's dead."
Persephone's compassion doubled. "And your father?"
"Dead too," she whispered.
Persephone's mouth opened, but she didn’t know what to say. Zora, an orphan, working for Voltaire? How did that happen? Was he using children as slaves? "How did you come to be here, Zora?"
The girl glanced to the open doorway. "Our neighbor worked in Voltaire’s kitchens. She brought me here when I was six, and I've been doing odd jobs since then."
"She’s your guardian then?"
"No." Zora’s blue eyes met hers. "She left a few years ago. I take care of myself now."
Persephone reeled. This girl was on her own, fending for herself under Voltaire's thumb. Such things should never happen. "How old are you?"
"Eleven. I'll be twelve in a few months." Zora stepped forward, more at ease and obviously curious. "Why does he keep you here?"
Her blond hair was cut short and jagged to her chin, no doubt by her own hand. Was no one looking after her at all? "Because he wants something from me."
Zora nodded, her eyes much older than her eleven years. "Yes. That's usually why he takes someone. Why don't you just give it to him?"
"Because what he wants isn’t mine to give. It doesn't belong to me. Or him." She patted the spot next to her on the bed. "Why don't you come sit by me?" The girl was skinny, reed thin, and Persephone wondered if her weight resulted from a lack of food or too much work. In either case, Zora needed rest.
With relief, the girl sunk onto the bed, sighing softly. "The beds up here are so much nicer than in the staff's wing."
"You sleep here?"
The girl nodded. "I'm always here."
"You never leave?"
"Nope. I have nowhere to go. I haven't left since the day I arrived."
Persephone's heart squeezed. This girl was just as much Voltaire’s prisoner as Persephone was. With no means to leave, with nowhere to go, circumstances forced Zora to stay. It wasn't right. Zora seemed like a sweet girl. It was a miracle she'd managed to remain so under Voltaire's care. Soon, her abilities would develop and Voltaire would use her outside the kitchens, utilizing her for nefarious gains. She’d be lost forever. "Do you wish to leave?"
Eyes round, Zora nodded. "I don't want to stay here,” she whispered, chancing a glance at the door. “I don't want to be like the others. They'll be mad just knowing I talked to you."
With a new sense of purpose, Persephone's goals altered. She’d escape, but when she did, she’d take Zora along. She’d never leave the girl to defend herself. "When this is all done, when Voltaire is finished with me, he told me I could go home. Would you like to come with me?"
The girl froze. "Really? You'd take me with you?"
"Yes."
"Why?" The girl leaned away, suspicious, and Persephone couldn't blame her. No doubt her caution fueled her survival in this environment for so long. People generally only wanted something if it benefited themselves.
"I'm alone, too. My father died when I was younger and my mother's gone. I don't have anyone," she said, her throat tightening at the words. She didn't have Zander, not really. He'd made his choice when he'd given Jack information about the bracelet. He'd chosen his side. His job would always come first before their relationship. It wasn't enough. It could never be enough. "You could come and live with me for a little while until we figure out where you should go."
"Really?"
"Yes. Do you have magick?"
The girl blushed. "Yes. My parents were Magicks. But I don't know what my abilities are. I haven't been allowed tap into them."
"Why not?"
Zora shrugged, but Persephone saw the hurt. "I don't know. My neighbor told me not to use them. Ever."
Odd. Now wasn’t the time to probe, but she promised herself she’d uncover the facts once they broke out. "When we leave, I'll teach you to use them, to develop them."
"You won't change your mind, will you?"
Persephone smiled in reassurance. "No. You may come and live with me for as long as you'd like."
The girl sniffled and threw her arms around Persephone’s neck.
Heat and power swiftly swirled through her almost knocking her out. The bracelet glowed like fire around her wrist. Her heart pounded, comprehending what was happening. What this sign meant.
Zora pulled back, her brows harrowed. "Why is your bracelet doing that?"
Shook up, Persephone breathed in slowly. "Oh, it does that sometimes," she lied. She didn't want to deceive the girl, but knowing the truth put her at risk.
Zora was the True One. The Talisman’s owner. The one who’d wield unspeakable power. If Voltaire knew what he possessed...
Persephone shivered. She needed to disappear with Zora. Immediately. With the bracelet and the True One united under Voltaire's power, darkness would reign.
Persephone forced a smile. "Why don't you head back? I wouldn't want to get you in trouble for lingering."
"When are we leaving?"
"I don't know, sweetie. Soon. Tonight, why don't you make sur
e you have all your belongings packed and ready to go for when it’s time? We might have to leave sooner than I expected."
"I don't have anything."
Persephone's mouth hung open for a second. "Nothing?"
Zora’s fingers twisted together. "No. Well, I have another change of clothes and this necklace." She held up a small pendant on a tarnished chain. "Nothing else."
"All right." Persephone smiled reassuringly. "Go on now."
For the first time, Zora gave her a small smile.
As the girl left, Persephone wondered when the girl had last smiled. No doubt there'd been very little happiness in her life. But Persephone would fix that. When she got Zora home, she would make sure the girl had everything she needed.
Including love.
But how would she get them out without risking their lives?
* * *
Zander slipped through the darkness outside Voltaire’s compound like a creature of the night. No stranger to skulking in the shadows, he moved with ease. He used to relish hunting in blackness, but found it didn't appeal to him like it used to.
Two men guarded the main entrance, guns cocked and ready should the need arise, but whoever they were, they weren’t just hired thugs. Everyone in Voltaire’s employ possessed abilities.
Deadly abilities.
With a pinch of powder from the sack at his waist, he blew dust at the guards, chanting to steer the cloud’s path. Both men collapsed where they stood. They’d curse him for their headaches upon waking.
He set his watch for thirty minutes, the spell’s time limit. After that... he didn't want to be around when dozens of guards shook off its effects.
He scurried down the road, weaving in and out of the trees lining the drive. Voltaire might worry over security, but he kept lush foliage, an assailant’s best cover.
More guards collapsed under the powder’s effects as he moved into the pristine structure, remembering which path Jack recommended to Seph's room on the second floor.
Voices trailing down the corridor pushed him to hide in a storage room. He held his breath, waiting for the people to pass.
The Witching Craft (The Witches of Redwood Falls 2) Page 7