“The Trackers are.”
“No, they know of Legacy. Vertu are like Legacy on steroids. History has the facts wrong—I suspect it was the Vertu who orchestrated the Cleanse. Legacy participation doesn’t make them any better—perhaps it’s just semantics. It seems like it should be a point of distinction.” He pulled me back against him, and a welcome warmth wrapped around me.
We were in calming waters and I had the Culded; nothing else seemed important, even being banned from Menta Island.
CHAPTER 14
The rest of our journey home was uneventful. We returned to Gareth’s house, showered, and spent several hours sleeping, ignoring the incidents on the island. We ate an early dinner or late lunch, we hadn’t decided, and afterward, I sat next to him on the sofa. I placed the wineglass I’d been sipping from on the coffee table, drew my legs up, and lay next to him. He was doing what he’d been doing for the past few minutes: staring at the Culded.
He shrugged. “This is so powerful that it can undo Conner’s spell?” After several more beats of silence, he relaxed his back against the arm of the sofa and pulled me to him. “I don’t like magic. It’s too nebulous.”
I twisted to look at him. Smiling, I agreed, “I’m with you on that. Will you call Michael tomorrow?”
He nodded, tension playing along his features. I couldn’t quite blame him for it. He’d have to convince Michael to allow us to do a spell on Savannah, and as persuasive as Michael believed he was, Savannah hadn’t stopped being Savannah. If she didn’t want to do something, it wasn’t going to happen. She’d wanted to save the lives of the supernaturals, which was the only reason she had come to the hospital.
“We have to find out who is behind the attacks on the supernaturals,” Gareth breathed out after he glanced at his phone. I assumed there must have been another one.
“Has anyone spoken to Gordon Lands?” The former mayor had taken over Humans First after his friend, Daniel, the founder of HF, was killed.
“He’s been questioned repeatedly and even agreed to do it with a fae. It’s not him. He’s appalled by it. His beliefs haven’t changed regarding supernaturals; he wants us segregated but doesn’t want it achieved this way—by violence.”
I’d become too cynical for my own good. “Do you think a supernatural could be behind this, too? The person responsible has to have some knowledge of magic, and this could possibly lead to a war between humans and supernaturals.”
“I think that person is Conner. We’ve underestimated—”
“Not me! I haven’t!” I pointed out. “I said he was a freaking super villain.” Now he was unhinged and pushed to the point that he only cared about chaos and destruction—oh, and making me pay for ruining his plans.
“Then we need to bring him in. Do you think you can do that?”
“No,” I responded honestly. There were a number of reasons, but the most pressing was that I wanted Conner dead. It was a need so deep that it made my bones ache. Although I knew with effort I could put my desires aside for the greater good, I believed he’d rather die than be apprehended. His life would end with him knowing that he was leaving behind chaos and possibly the beginnings of a war. “I’m sure Elijah can help.”
“The hot guy I sent to your house?” Gareth teased, kissing me on the forehead.
“Yep. What were you thinking?”
“I’m confident enough to not allow something like that to bother me.”
He didn’t have to tell me he didn’t have a problem with confidence. It was humility he didn’t seem to be acquainted with.
The next day, as Gareth and I stood at the door of the house where the shifters were keeping Savannah, I’d concluded that humility and low self-esteem weren’t things that shifters possessed. Or perhaps anyone in a position of power had to exude overconfidence to command compliance and trust in those they led. It was what I chose to believe as opposed to thinking Michael was an arrogant ass. An air of superiority and haughtiness curled around his lips, skated over his features, and made its way to his eyes. The shifter ring had more than just a light glow; it shimmered.
“I told you I can be quite persuasive when necessary,” he informed me, moving aside to let us in. I was still wearing the look of shock and disbelief I’d donned when I learned he’d persuaded Savannah to see me in less than an hour after Gareth’s call.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. If I ever doubt your gifts of persuasion may I be taken out back and given fifty lashes with a wet noodle,” I mumbled. I knew when I lifted my eyes I wasn’t going to like what I saw. I didn’t. A group of shifters’ sharp, unamused gazes were fixed on me, and the weasel with the bad attitude—I mean badger—looked as if he was going to make me apologize. I wished I had a magazine to whack him on his flaring nostrils. Michael had come through, though, and I really shouldn’t have been snarky.
“I’m sorry. I have a terrible sense of humor.”
Michael’s deep laughter diffused the situation. “I think you are amusing.” Condescension dripped off his words. We’d settled in a comfortable place of dislike.
Savannah hesitated at the top of the stairs before slowly descending, keeping a careful eye on me the entire time. Once at the landing, she eased herself back, allowing the shifters to be human barriers between us. Her eyes still shone with fear and disdain as they stayed on me. It made holding eye contact difficult.
“I lived with you?” she asked.
I nodded.
“If we lived together, you couldn’t have done all those things I remember. I wouldn’t live with anyone like that, would I? You didn’t kill one of Conner’s friends in front of him, did you? Or attack him after he saved your life? And his pet?” she whispered. “You didn’t kill his pet, did you?” Her focus dropped to the ground. I could see the struggle vividly on her face, her fight to reconcile all the images in her mind; her gut was probably telling her they couldn’t be true.
She lifted her head. “You didn’t do any of that, did you?” she asked, hopeful. Her eyes were wide and expectant. I was having a difficult time trying to resolve the many emotions and quandaries that went through my mind. I wouldn’t lie to her, but Conner had implanted a colorful spin on the stories, and I could only imagine what type of monster she believed me to be. I could see it. I stepped toward her, and the shifters formed a bastion, blocking me from advancing. Focusing on her through the allotted space, I searched her eyes.
“Yes and no. The stories have been distorted by magic. They’re Conner’s embellished versions. Will you let me undo it? I promise after I perform the spell, if you want me to go away, I will.”
She nodded but didn’t move past the shifters. When I stepped closer to Savannah, they tightened their circle around her, exhibiting a careful protectiveness. It was annoying, but I found comfort in the fact that the shifters, out of obligation, felt the need to enforce Savannah’s request for sanctuary even if it was from me.
“I want her to do the spell,” she said softly. As quickly as she made the request, they moved out of the way. She approached me with caution, eyes honed on me as if she was trying to make sense out of everything. It was as if a thousand-piece puzzle was placed in front of her, and she was piecing things together to get the true picture.
Michael led us to another room where there was more space, but it was still limited with four shifters and Gareth in it. I knew they weren’t going to leave. The spell didn’t require space, just Savannah’s and my blood. She hesitated before extending her hand to me.
“After you get a blood offering, what happens?”
“We both offer blood to this”—I lifted the bowl of herbs and the flower to her—“and then I perform the spell.”
She nodded. I started to chant the invocation, and her hand took hold of mine. She smiled gently. “Just to make sure we have enough magic to make it work.” Looking at the bowl again, she added, “The benefits of being an ignesco.” I cut my hand first, and then hers, finding more discomfort in her pain than mine.
&n
bsp; I was strong enough to do it, but I didn’t mind her pitching in. It felt familiar and friendly. I started the spell, slowly reciting the words. Suddenly, Savannah began reciting words of her own and grabbed my cut hand. A dark cast came over her eyes as her words became louder. A strong burst of magic wrapped around me, and I sucked in a breath before the rest were ripped from me. I felt like someone had punched me in the chest. A pearly illumination haloed over her as she gripped my hand tighter to keep me from wrenching out of her hold. Savannah could perform magic.
I was faced with a distasteful choice—I had to defend myself against Savannah. I gathered the magic was borrowed from me and would be quickly depleted, but I had to stop her. I broke her hold and thrust powerful magic into her. She went back—hard, crashing into one of the shifters. Before she could fully recover and regain her feet, I hit her again with enough force that she smashed into another shifter, bringing him to the ground with her. I kept her and the shifter pressed against the ground, fighting off the anger of betrayal by reminding myself that she wasn’t acting on her own. This was Conner. All Conner. When I finally had a chance to see him again, I wouldn’t show him any mercy.
Keeping my magic and eyes on the secured pair, I grabbed the bowl and started toward her. “Savannah,” I said softly. “You don’t want to hurt me. The memories you have, the feeling of hate, aren’t yours. They are manufactured. You can’t fight me on this if you want your life back. Because I will continue to do what I can to make you the way you were. I can’t let you be like this.”
“Or will your spell distort the real ones,” Conner retorted, popping up behind her. I cursed under my breath. I hated that he could do that. Strong magic floated through the air as he pulled away my hold on her, keeping the shifter against the ground until he had cleared enough distance. Erecting a diaphanous wall, he protected himself and Savannah from the shifters who were moving in toward her.
“She sees between your lies. She knows the truth. Don’t take that from her,” he accused venomously. Astonished by how he spewed lies with such ease and conviction, I stared at him.
I didn’t want him to leave with her, so I inched slowly toward the magical barrier. The disturbing image of her back pressed close to his chest as she found comfort and safety in him just fueled my distress.
Ignoring him, I concentrated on Savannah as I spoke. “Savannah, Conner is not the good guy here. Whatever you think of me, it is far from the truth. I give you my word. Please think about it logically. Could you be friends or even live with the person you imagine me to be? You know Gareth—he would never do that. What are your memories of Lucas? Remember them. He would never hurt you nor allow you to be around anyone who would bring you harm. Savannah.”
Confused, glassy eyes stared back at me, and I could tell she was sorting through her mind. My heart ached for how difficult it had to be to try to navigate memories, wondering which were real and which were false. She kept her position close to Conner. She trusted him. It was a hard pill to swallow when just days ago she’d have been packing up her quest bag ready to follow me anywhere to help me kick his butt.
“You have a quest bag. I make fun of it. But you take it every time you think we’re going to have an adventure. You had it with you the first time I took you to Blu and she discovered what you were. Remember?” I asked hopefully, blinking back tears that were forming as she continued her wide-eyed owl look.
“Do you remember Kalen?” I asked. Again she was searching for the memories—there was something there. A light. It wasn’t just blank anymore. “I taught you how to fight. Remember?” I pulled out the sai—my “sticky things,” she had called them on more than one occasion. I gently suggested memories that I thought might not have been distorted. I hoped they were vivid enough to make her question the ones that didn’t fit. I needed her to doubt them. At least that would put me in a better position. I smiled. “You did a protest at the Supernatural Guild—just you—when I was arrested for a crime I hadn’t committed. You yelled at Gareth. Do you remember?”
Another light. She smiled. I kept inching closer, hoping Conner was paying more attention to my words than my movement. She blinked several times. “Gareth said he was going to arrest me,” she said softly.
“He threatens to arrest everyone. It’s his thing. I’m working on it.” I smiled.
As she switched her eyes to Gareth, the smile that emerged settled in. I’d take it. I kept talking. Conner stood confident in his success, arrogance his biggest flaw. I shattered his wall with so much force he and Savannah were blown back. Within a blink, Michael had Conner hoisted against the wall by his neck.
Gareth had Savannah next to him, and in one sweeping move the others were in front of him, blocking Conner from Savannah. Vertu magic could be used against them, but since Conner was probably more concerned about trying to breathe than performing magic, I felt confident I didn’t have anything to worry about.
With her reluctance gone, Savannah willingly gave me her hand again and I cut both our palms again. I quickly did the spell, watching it spiral to life in a dense lavender and crimson fog that swept in Savannah’s direction and then covered her. Stepping back, I was awestruck by its animated movement, coiling around, meshing and unmeshing as if it were grabbing every memory and cleansing the magically enhanced ones. Savannah was frozen as the magic moved around her. Nothing distracted me, not even the commotion to the right where Michael and Conner were. I’d deal with him later. Savannah was my priority, and I kept a magical ball sparked in my hand ready for Conner if he attempted to stop the spell.
Michael’s string of curses warned me that Conner had gotten away. I kept my magic readied to engage with Conner. If he’d gotten away, it was only a matter of time before he resurfaced. On edge, I waited for his appearance as the spell continued to work on Savannah. Gareth caught her as she started to collapse to the ground.
“Did it work?” Michael asked, concerned, as he inched in, wearing his anger in his frown. Savannah was in a deep sleep. Or at least I hoped she was sleeping.
“Savannah.” Gareth whispered her name. Unresponsive, she continued to breathe heavily, which was oddly comforting. It was a restless sleep, because her eyes moved frenetically under her eyelids.
Four hours later, it could have been a scene from Snow White, except instead of seven dwarfs there were five hulking shifters circling her. We weren’t dealing with the antics of an old witch, rather those of a magical, psychotic asshole. And there wasn’t anything charming about the blond vampire prince who’d spent the last three hours since his arrival glaring at me.
Savannah’s situation was nothing like Snow White’s, but the mental acrobatics it took to try to see the similarities served as a good distraction. She stirred and Prince Fang pushed up from the wall to get a better look. Moments later, she sat up with a start and stared around the room. I took it as a good sign that she didn’t look surprised. Her eyes finally landed on me. The heaviness that had burdened me over the hours lifted with the light familiar smile she gave me.
“Hi.” She beamed.
My voice was raw. “Hi,” I muttered.
“Thank you, Levy.” She jumped off the bed and hugged me. I blinked back tears, refusing to break down in a room full of strangers. Lucas moved to my side, and she switched to him, giving him a hug but keeping one hand on my arm.
CHAPTER 15
The day after I’d removed the spell from Savannah, seeing her pink yoga pants–covered ass hiked in the air as she assumed the downward dog position was a welcome sight. At my approach she jumped up, her face bright, eyes as emotive as before and no longer looking at me with manufactured hate.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from her face.
“Morning.” I matched her tone although I couldn’t fake her enthusiasm for mornings. Not before a couple of cups of coffee and a sugar high from my morning pastry. I made coffee, grabbed two donuts and started chomping on one. I’d missed her so much tha
t I enjoyed the look of disdain at my breakfast choice.
“What do we do next? How do we find Conner? I want to get that son of a bitch.” The frost and steel in her voice made my eyes widen.
“You’re not going to do anything. I plan to find him and”—breathing deeply, I calmed myself enough to give a more acceptable answer than my stock one of “kill him”—“bring him to justice. He needs to be handled by the Supernatural Guild.”
“Yeah, because they ‘handled’ him so well the first time they had him.” She was right; he’d broken out the last time. “How many Legacy and Vertu are there?” she asked, sliding in her chair in front of me.
“I don’t know. We were going to look for more when we were sidetracked. I recently met Elijah. He’s a Vertu and helped me find you.” I told her about his skills and how he was staying in the city to help me.
“When is the last time you spoke with him?” she asked, her voice strained.
“A couple of days ago.”
“Call him,” she instructed, concerned. “Conner’s desperate. When he took me, he wasn’t even the same person. Before he was at least a charismatic monster; now he’s just a monster. Emotions so rabid and vengeful I could feel them. All the hate and thirst to conquer have been directed at you.”
This made me remember the same anger that Savannah had fixed on me the day before. “You can do magic,” I pointed out.
She shook her head. “Conner seemed quite interested in what I am. He showed me how to hijack magic. But I have to be connected the way we were. I think it only works if the person performing it has a great deal of it.”
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