Thirteen

by Kelley Armstrong

  No one had spoken since he appeared. I think most of them hadn't breathed.

  He walked straight to his father's table.

  Thomas's face was completely drained of color. He was shaking. One hand slid across the table top, slowly, tentatively, reaching for his son's. "Kristof . . ."

  "That's not Kristof," Josef said. "It's an illusion. A demon's trick. One of her tricks. Eve's."

  His voice was like a mallet shattering glass, jolting everyone from a dream, lawyers and guards blinking, rolling their shoulders, whispering that Josef was right, it couldn't be Kristof because that wasn't possible, ghosts couldn't just appear like this.

  Thomas jerked back as if he'd been slapped, and when he did, it took all my willpower not to march over and slap someone myself. Slap Josef.

  I didn't like Thomas Nast. After what he'd done to his family and what he'd done to my mother and to me, I could never forgive the man. But to see that look on his face, that hope and joy crushed with a few words, was more than I would wish on anyone.

  My father turned to Josef. "You don't believe it's me? Name your proof."

  "I'm not playing this game."

  "Then I will. When you were eight, you set fire to a batch of scrolls Dad brought home from a trip. Priceless scrolls that he'd gotten while in Egypt over your birthday--when he hadn't even bothered to call you. You set them on fire. Deliberately. I told Dad I did it accidentally, practicing my energy bolt spell. I thought I was helping you, but I wasn't, because you only hated me all the more when I didn't get in trouble."

  He waved at Sean. "When Bryce was five, he was angry with me because I was late for a school play. The next time he was in my office, he shredded all the files on my desk. Sean tried to take the blame. I wouldn't let him because I knew it wouldn't help. Bryce was angry because he thought I cared more about work than about him. He got in trouble for the files, but I made sure I was never late for him again, however angry Dad got about my 'misplaced priorities.'''

  "Kristof . . ." Thomas reached out again, his eyes glistening with tears.

  "Yes, Dad, it's me. It's been me before, too. Three times I had your necromancer pass along a message. Three times I told you Savannah was my daughter. Three times you ignored me."

  "I didn't think it was really--"

  "You thought what you wanted. You always did. You still do. And as Eve and Sean both said, the time for that is past. Believe what you want about Savannah. I'm not here over that. I'm here to tell you to let her go. I know what your end game is, yours and Josef's, and I'm warning you not to make my son and daughter a part of that."

  "Son?" Thomas looked over at Sean. "I would never threaten Sean--"

  "I have two sons, Dad, a fact you tend to overlook. Bryce is sick. He needs help. He needs you to work with the Cortezes to stop these people and find a cure for what they've done to him, because what they've done is terrible, and it's only going to get worse."

  "The Nasts don't work with the Cortezes," Josef said.

  "Fine. Pursue these people on your own. But do not put on this farce of a trial to blackmail Benicio Cortez. Do not endanger my son's life so you can take advantage of this chaos to overthrow the Cortezes."

  "We would never--"

  "I know you, Josef. And I know you, too, Dad. I see what's happening here and--" He stopped short and glanced up. He scowled at the ceiling, then looked back at his father. "They can't hold the spell much longer. When is the last time you've heard of a ghost appearing to anyone but a necromancer, Dad?"

  "I . . ."

  "Ask Adam over there. It has happened, but the magic requires a thinning of the veil between the worlds. That veil has never been thinner than it is now. It is chaos over there. You cannot let it become chaos here, too, or that veil will rip and the world risks finding more than werewolves and witches in its midst."

  He leaned over the table again. "Let Savannah go. Help Bryce. Fix this problem with or without the Cortezes, but do not add to the chaos. Whatever you do, do not add to it."

  He cast another annoyed glance upward, and muttered, "I know, I know."

  He walked back to Sean, bent and whispered to him. I sat down so I wouldn't eavesdrop. Then he came to me and knelt beside my chair.

  "I wish I could stay and really fix this for you, Savannah."

  "I know."

  "It will be fixed. I'm giving them the chance to back down, but if they don't . . . I have information. Blackmail material. They will back down, one way or another."

  I nodded.

  "I love you. I hope you know that. I was wrong to ever try to take custody of you from Paige, and anything that happened as a result of that is my fault. Completely my fault." He gave me a kiss on the cheek that I swore I could feel. "You set me free, Savannah. As much as I wish I could be here for you and your brothers, you helped me leave all this and find your mother again. I will never regret that."

  He stood and turned to Adam. "Take care of her."

  Adam nodded. "I will."

  He walked back to the place where he'd arrived. As he started to fade, he frowned suddenly, sharply looking over at the wall and saying, "What's that? Hold on. Something's coming--"

  He disappeared.

  Did the trial end after that? Of course not. But the tone changed. As the lawyers droned on, Thomas's attention turned inward, as if he wasn't listening at all.

  Josef didn't give in so easily. Whatever grand scheme they'd cooked up, he wasn't surrendering it just because his dead brother asked. Or maybe he wasn't surrendering it precisely because Kristof had asked.

  I'd seen what the family dynamics had done to my own brothers. Everything I'd heard about my father supported what I'd just seen--that he'd never favored either son. But maybe because of Thomas's obvious favoritism--or maybe because Sean was more likable--Bryce had suffered. He'd grown up resenting his brother, even though he loved him. That was the push-pull that tore at Bryce. He genuinely loved the brother he wanted to hate.

  Josef had no such conflict. Any love he'd felt for his brother had withered since his death. Now Kristof was simply an obstacle to Josef's happiness, much the same as he might have been when they were boys.

  So the trial proceeded. But it didn't proceed for long before there was yet another commotion in the hall.

  "Good God," my inter-Cabal agency lawyer muttered. "Now what? Angel? Ghost? Hellhound?"

  A scream cut him off. It came from the rear door. Before anyone could move, a familiar figure strode through the door.

  "Severin," I whispered.

  Sierra followed him into the room, and in each hand she held the decapitated head of a young man.

  "Are these yours?" she said.

  She tossed them. One hit a lawyer, and he stumbled back, clawing at his suit. The other rolled to my feet. I stepped forward, fingertips sparking.

  "Oooh, Savannah, getting your powers back? Maybe you'll be useful to us after all."

  "Thomas Nast," Severin said. "Lord Balaam has sent us to pass along a message. You ignored your son's pleas on his daughter's behalf. Maybe you'll listen to her other grandfather. Lord Balaam demands that you set Savannah free. Immediately."

  Josef sprang to his feet. "All right. This goes too far." He turned on his father. "Do you really expect us to think a lord demon cares about this girl? His grandchild?"

  "Fine, don't believe me," Sierra said. Then she grinned. "It'll be much more fun that way."

  "We came to warn you," Severin said. "While I agree with my sister that it'll be more fun if you refuse, it's my job to strongly recommend you don't."

  "We have to get Savannah out of here," Adam whispered across me to Sean. "Balaam is up to something."

  I could see the internal struggle on Sean's face. Then a flash of something like grief, his gaze dropping as he nodded. He pushed back his chair and motioned me up.

  As I stood, he took my elbow and started for the door. Adam fell in on my other side. It took a moment for anyone to notice. Then Agent Stein stood. "Where are you
going?"

  "I'm taking my sister out of here," Sean said. "An angel tried to stop this sham of a trial. My father tried to stop it. Now a lord demon is trying to stop it. By allowing this to proceed without the Cortezes' involvement, the intra-Cabal agency has forfeited its role as an impartial arbiter. We do not recognize its authority. We are leaving."

  "You are part of this Cabal," Josef said. "You will not--"

  "I will. Or I will no longer be part of this Cabal." His gaze was fixed on his grandfather. "That's your choice."

  "Don't you threaten us," Josef said.

  Sean turned toward the door. Two of the three guards in our path stepped aside. The third hesitated, but made no move to stop us.

  "Arrest him." Josef jabbed a finger at his bodyguards. "Go."

  Thomas pushed to his feet. "No. This has gone too far. Sean--"

  "He's giving you one last chance," Severin cut in. "Will you let Savannah go?"

  "Never," Josef said.

  Severin smiled. "I'll take that as your final word on the matter."

  He walked to the middle of the room, Sierra at his side. Two of the guards pulled their guns, as if finally realizing they should do something. Then they fell to their knees, screaming, hands to their faces. Their shrieks died midnote as they collapsed, blood streaming from their eyes, their ears, their noses and mouths.

  Severin's head shot back, eyes rolling back. I knew what was happening, but I told myself it couldn't be--they hadn't made the proper preparations. The last time, they'd had to draw a ritual circle and recite the incantations, and without that, they couldn't--

  Severin's chin shot down. His eyes glowed bright green.

  Balaam.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The lord demon stopped right in front of me, and stroked warm fingers across my cheek. When Adam yanked me back, Balaam spun on him.

  "Don't give me an excuse, brat. I've no love for your sire these days."

  I moved between them and lifted my chin, meeting Balaam's gaze.

  "This has nothing to do with you," I said. "I appreciate the interest, but I can handle it."

  "You shouldn't need to, my child. I'll do it for you." He smiled. "Happily."

  "No--" I said, but he was already bearing down on Thomas.

  Bodyguards leaped around the table. Balaam fluttered his fingers and the men's eyes . . . popped. Just popped, blood streaming down their faces as they screamed. Balaam snapped his fingers and they stopped screaming. They were still alive, still writhing on the floor, mouths still open, but they made no sound.

  "Do you know me, sorcerer?" Balaam said to Thomas.

  "I--"

  "I sent a messenger to spare us both this visit. You ignored him."

  "I--"

  "Say my name, sorcerer."

  Thomas sat there. An old man. Such an old man, his rheumy blue eyes watery, his face little more than a death mask, skin tight over bone. No one went to him. No one could. Beside me, Sean kept rocking forward, but now it was my hand on his arm. A binding spell waited on my lips. I didn't need it. He knew there was nothing anyone could do.

  Thomas pulled himself up. He blinked and gained back a decade of his lost years, remembering who he was. His voice was steady when he said, "You are Lord Balaam, and I apologize for the misunderstanding. I meant no disrespect--"

  "But disrespect me you did."

  "Not intentionally, sir. This hearing is at an end. The girl is free to go. I was saying that when you arrived--"

  "It is too late. You mistreated my granddaughter. You mistreated my daughter. You have mistreated me. There is no apology that can be made."

  He lifted his fingers. Thomas's eyes bulged and I screamed, "No!" But Balaam didn't blind Thomas. The old man's eyes simply bulged in pain and shock. He wavered there a moment and I thought, Good, that's it, just a warning. Then he fell forward, clutching his chest.

  Sean ran to our grandfather. I tried to stop him, but he caught me off-guard. My binding spell failed. I raced after him, Adam at my heels.

  Thomas Nast had dropped to his knees. Balaam grabbed the table between them and threw it, hitting several of the lawyers before they could get out of the way.

  The only person left near Thomas was Josef. And he just stood there. In shock, maybe. In cowardice, probably. Only Sean ran to his grandfather, shouting for him over the commotion as everyone headed for the exits, the thunder of feet accompanied by Sierra's laughter as she waltzed through the stampede, fingers tapping left and right, freezing as they went, her victims yelping in shock, then spinning out of the way before continuing to the doors.

  Balaam stood in front of Thomas, now on his knees, one hand on the floor to brace himself, the other over his heart as he panted, eyes rolling.

  Balaam put out his hand.

  "No!" I screamed, Sean's cry joining mine.

  Thomas's head shot back. His torso shot forward. His shirt split. His chest cracked open, ribs popping. His heart ripped free and sailed into Balaam's hand.

  Sean was at his grandfather's side now, dropping to his knees and grabbing him as the old man's eyes closed. I skidded to a stop behind Balaam, who stood there, holding Thomas's heart. He looked down at it. He smiled. Then he crushed it, threw it aside and turned. He stopped short, seeing me there.

  "You bastard," I said. "You sick bastard."

  His brows arched. "I did it for you, my child."

  "No, you did not. This isn't about me. None of this is about me. You used me. You used this."

  He reached out and touched my chin, his fingers hot and slick with Thomas's blood.

  "You are angry now, but you will reap the benefits, my child. You've seen what I can do. Reconsider my offer." His lips curled in a smile that wasn't a smile at all. "Think on this and reconsider my offer."

  He passed me and continued walking, cutting through the chaos, lawyers and guards tripping out of his path, Sierra falling in behind him as they left by the rear door.

  I looked over at Sean, kneeling on the floor with his grandfather's--our grandfather's--body. I took a step toward them. A hand caught my arm. Startled, I turned to see Adam, as if he'd been there all along, right behind me.

  "You can't," he whispered. "I know you want to go to him, but you need to get out of here. Now."

  I looked at the door. As soon as I did, Josef's voice boomed through the room. "Arrest her. She brought Balaam here. She did this."

  There were only three uninjured guards left in the room. They seemed to have stayed put out of shock, not loyalty, but Josef's words snapped them out of it. All three turned to me. And in all three pairs of eyes I saw fresh purpose--something they could do, an action they could take, a punishment that could be inflicted.

  I glanced at Sean, but he hadn't heard, too wrapped up in his grief. Adam took my arm. I shook him off and started for the door myself. The guards closed in. I slammed one with a knockback. Another dove at me. Adam grabbed him and the guy screamed in pain. Adam tossed him aside and we broke into a run for the door.

  I was reaching for the handle when the door flew open. There stood one of the intra-Cabal guards, his gun rising.

  "By order of the--"

  A blur of motion behind the guard. Hands lifted him and threw him into the room, Adam and I ducking out of the way. Then hands grabbed me so fast I didn't see who it was and I lifted my fingers for a knockback.

  "Hit me with that spell and it'll be the last time I save you," Clay growled.

  He yanked me into the hall. Elena pulled Adam through, then they slammed the door and Lucas spell-locked it.

  I stood there, panting like I'd just run ten miles. A half-dozen bodies littered the corridor. Some unconscious. A couple dead. One of the dead men looked as if he'd been trampled. Elena's hair was half yanked from her ponytail and a scratch bisected her cheek. Clay had bruises rising on his face and was wincing as he stretched his bad arm. Lucas's suit jacket lay on the floor and his white shirt was smattered with blood, more dripping from his nose.

  I imag
ined the scene out here when the screaming started inside--Elena, Clay, and Lucas fighting to get in as everyone else fought to get out.

  "Thomas," I said. "Balaam killed--"

  "Explain later," Elena said. "From those footsteps I hear, we're about to get hit by the second wave."

  The first guard rounded the corner before she had even finished speaking. He leveled his gun. Lucas hit him with a knockback and Clay dove in to take him out. I stopped the second guy with a binding spell. It snapped before I released it, but there was enough time for Elena to send the guy flying. She threw me his gun. Clay kicked the other one our way.

  I caught the first gun and stared at it a second before turning it around, finger going to the trigger--

  Adam plucked it out of my hands.

  "Close quarters," he said.

  In other words, not the place to learn how to shoot. He threw open the nearest door. Office storage. Now gun storage.

  I was kicking in the second gun when two guards came running from the other end of the hall.

  "Adam!" Elena shouted.

  "See 'em!" he called back. "Lucas, can you--"

  "I have this side. Savannah, cover Ad--" He stopped and turned to look at me. "Sorry, I forgot--"

  "My knockback works."

  "Best thing anyway. Conserve your power."

  How many times had I heard that? If I was fighting alongside Adam, I should throw our assailants off balance with knockbacks while Adam launched the frontal attacks, as Lucas had done with Clay.

  Had I ever actually done it? Of course not. I had to be on the front line. Even if it meant I probably made the fight tougher for Adam.

  Spell-casters were ranged attack experts. I'd played enough video games to know that. This was the first time I actually did it in real life.

  I hit one guard with a knockback. Adam slammed him in the chest with both hands, scorching through his shirt and leaving the man screaming. The second guy lifted his gun. I hit him with an energy bolt, but I wasn't trusting it to work, so I backed it up with a kick. The guy went down. I grabbed the guns--plus another one that Lucas had kicked my way--and got them in the storage room.

  Our end was clear now, but I didn't need werewolf hearing to pick up the clomp of boots running toward us.

  I looked at Adam. He was breathing deeply--his bruised face red from pain and exertion. I glanced over to where Elena, Clay, and Lucas were taking on three guards.