Mags & Nats 3-Book Box Set

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Mags & Nats 3-Book Box Set Page 15

by Stephanie Fazio


  I followed them inside, where most of the smoke had dissipated. My chest felt tight as I breathed in, but it wasn’t painful anymore.

  “Look at this.” Michael was standing just outside the bathroom.

  He moved aside so Kaira and I could see in. My stomach dropped. Perched on the bathroom counter was a can of shaving cream, a bottle of cleaning fluid, and mouthwash. A foul-smelling concoction was brewing in the bathroom sink.

  Axelrod was a Level 8 Alchemist. For him, turning these common products into toxic chemicals must have been child’s play.

  “We need to get out of here,” Michael said. “Someone will have called the cops by now.” He glanced at our illusions. “The real ones, I mean.”

  I knew he was right, but I couldn’t make myself move.

  “Bobby did this so he wouldn’t have to tell us the truth,” Kaira said in a hoarse voice as we all stared at the partly-empty bottles.

  Fury, regret, hopelessness…. The emotions churned in my gut, filling my throat with bile. I wanted to punch through the wall until my fists were bloody and broken. I wanted to scream.

  Except none of that would do me an ounce of good. Axelrod was dead, and with him, I’d lost my chance at answers.

  “We need to get out of here,” Michael said again. He was using a bath towel to wipe down all of the surfaces.

  “What do we do about this body?” Kaira asked, her tone lacking its usual confidence.

  I couldn’t feel my legs as I went over to the phone on the side of the bed. Numbly, I picked up the receiver and dialed 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  “There’s been a suicide in the Watertown Motel,” I heard myself say.

  The female voice on the other line was still talking when I hung up the phone.

  “Let’s go.”

  Kaira waved a hand, and she and Michael turned into different people. I caught sight of myself in the mirror above the dresser. I wore the same face as the cop who had entered the room, except now I wore jeans and a black sweater.

  A small crowd had gathered in the parking lot, where people were pointing up at Axelrod’s room.

  “Everything is fine,” Michael said in his calming voice. “Go back to your rooms. You didn’t see anything. Nothing unusual happened here tonight.”

  The spectators murmured in agreement. They smiled adoringly at Michael before turning and heading back to their own rooms.

  We all got into the car without a word. I didn’t look back as we drove out of the parking lot.

  CHAPTER 19

  We’d lost our only lead for the murders, and by the time we got back to the house, it was clear we weren’t the only ones with bad news. Smith was monitoring three laptop screens while A.J. stared over his shoulder in open-mouthed shock.

  I ducked as a stack of dirty dishes zoomed over my head and deposited themselves into the sink. A.J. waved his hands in a flourish, and the sponge and bottle of soap went to work on the dishes.

  “I’m stress cleaning,” A.J. announced.

  A bottle of wood cleaner and a rag smacked against the wall before they started to scrub the coffee table with enough vigor to take off the varnish. Michael stepped over a broom that seemed to be doing more dancing than sweeping.

  “What happened now?” Kaira asked as she, Michael, and I came into the room.

  “Maybe we should tie Graysen down before we show you this,” A.J. said. “I have some fuzzy handcuffs—”

  “What happened?” I demanded, not in the mood.

  Smith and A.J. looked at each other. Then, the blank wall filled with newspaper headlines.

  UnAllied Vow to Kill One Nat a Day Until Graysen Galder is Apprehended.

  Magic Community in Uproar Over Unsolved Murder of Penelope Heppurn.

  Level 6 Clairvoyant Predicts first Retaliatory Nat Murder for Tomorrow, 10AM

  I grasped the edge of the table to keep myself upright.

  “The Mag community isn’t disavowing the UnAllied’s threats the way they usually would,” Smith said, his face still buried in his screens. “And a record number of Mags are expected to turn out for Valencia’s rally on Saturday.”

  I stared at the images on the wall, feeling more helpless than I ever had in my life.

  Except, I wasn’t helpless. There was something I could do.

  I looked up, only to find the others staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

  “I’m turning myself in,” I said.

  As soon as the words were out, I felt an enormous relief. At least I was doing something. At least I’d be able to prevent the real murderer from hiding behind me anymore. It might even save lives….

  “Over my dead body.” Kaira stepped in front of the door like she was going to block me from leaving.

  “Our only lead is on his way to the morgue right now,” I pointed out.

  “So, we’ll find another one. Axelrod said he had bosses. Plural. All we have to do is find one of them.” She set her jaw and gave me a challenging stare as I stepped toward her.

  “Kai, give me your phone.” I tried to say it gently.

  A single tear slid down her cheek. She pressed her back against the door, her white-knuckled grip on the door handle.

  I sighed. “Kaira, get out of the way.”

  “No.” She was furious.

  A scraping sound came from somewhere behind me. I turned to see the couch sliding across the wooden floor, knocking chairs out of the way as it headed for us. Kaira stepped away from the door so the couch could take her place as a barrier between me and the exit.

  “A.J., what the hell,” I said tiredly. I didn’t have time for this.

  I bent to shove the couch aside. It didn’t budge.

  “A.J.,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “It’s not happening, hun. You’re not martyring yourself. Nope, nope, nope.”

  “It’s not martyrdom, it’s—”

  “Do you want to do right by Penelope’s family and find the real killer?” Kaira demanded.

  “Of course, but—”

  “And do you want your future back?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “These murders aren’t going to stop if you turn yourself in,” Kaira argued. “All you’d be doing would be getting yourself executed.” She took a steadying breath. “If you care about justice for Penelope and the others, you’ll stay and help us figure out who’s behind the murders.” She looked at me, and there was so much emotion in her eyes that the air was torn from my lungs. “I can’t do this without you.”

  I felt the weight of those words bury into my soul, because I knew she was talking about more than just this case.

  “Kai.” I lowered my voice, wishing we didn’t have an audience right now so I could say all the things I wanted her to hear. “You have to let me go.”

  Kaira shook her head, her eyes full of that stubborn determination I had always loved about her. “We’re going to figure this out together, and then you can walk out that door as a free man.”

  “And a hero,” A.J. added. “You’ll probably get knighted or something.”

  “We’re not in England, dumbass,” Smith said mildly.

  “So?” A.J. retorted. “That’s how grateful everyone’ll be. He’ll be an American knight.”

  “You’re wasting time,” Michael told me. “Our city’s under attack, and we’re the only ones who know you aren’t the one responsible. We need to get to work and figure out who’s behind these murders.”

  I stood in front of the unmovable couch and stared at the set expressions of the others in the room. I knew I was defeated.

  I was frustrated and angry, but I couldn’t help the rush of warmth I felt toward these people. With the exception of Kaira, I barely knew any of them, and yet, they were willing to risk everything to help me. I knew they were doing it more for Kaira and the city we all loved, but it didn’t matter.

  A shiver went down my spine as I realized these people were probably the only ones in
the country—with the exceptions of my dad and Ma—who would look at me without hatred and disgust. They were all on my side.

  The layer of ice around my heart thawed. The weight of anger and injustice eased a fraction, and I felt some of my tension slide away.

  With a sigh, I nodded.

  Kaira gave me another furious look. “The next time you walk out that door as yourself, you’ll do it as a free man going back to his life. That’s the only way this works.”

  Kaira’s phone chimed, breaking our standoff. When she answered, I could hear Yutika’s frantic voice on the other end. Michael stepped forward, genuine worry on his face, as Kaira listened to the chatter on the other end of the line.

  “Okay. Bri’s only a few blocks away. I’ll have her meet you there. We’re on our way.”

  She hung up.

  “What’s wrong?” Michael demanded.

  Kaira held up a finger as she dialed another number.

  “Hey Kaira,” Bri’s voice said when the call connected.

  “Bri, I need you to go to the safe house on Commonwealth. One of the Mags is having a panic attack and Yutika can’t get her to calm down.” Kaira pulled a sweater on over her tank top with one hand while she continued to talk into the phone. “Just keep her subdued so she doesn’t hurt herself or anyone else until we get there.”

  “You don’t want me to stay on Nancy anymore?” Bri asked.

  Kaira glanced at me before turning her attention back to the phone. “Her husband’s dead, so I don’t think anyone will be coming after her anymore.”

  “Oh, right then,” Bri said without missing a beat. “On my way.”

  “It must be the woman we picked up on Western Ave while you were at the motel,” A.J. said.

  I helped carry Smith’s laptops and power cords as we all piled into the van.

  A.J. continued, “We were on our way back to the safe house with two families—both kids who skipped their Test and had been hiding out—and we saw this lady in a hospital gown just wandering around. She was standing in the middle of traffic and was going to get killed, so we picked her up.”

  “And?” Michael asked, flooring the gas.

  “And, the lady seemed a little unhinged. Harmless though,” A.J. hurried to say as Michael gave him a death stare in the rearview mirror.

  We made what should have been a ten-minute drive in five. The van lurched to a stop on the street outside an unassuming brick townhouse. Kaira illusioned us, and we made our way up the steps to the front porch. Kaira pulled out a ring of keys, unlocked the door, and ushered us inside.

  “Is this place yours, too?” I asked.

  “Yutika’s, technically,” she replied, “since she’s the one who made the money we used to buy it and created the paper trail of fake documents.”

  I shook my head. A few days ago, I would have known exactly how I felt about all of this illegal behavior. It went against one of the founding principles of the Alliance, that Magics couldn’t use their abilities to take advantage of Naturals. I believed in those principles. I believed that the Alliance was our city’s—our country’s—only hope of true equality between Naturals and Magics.

  But that was before I’d been framed for a murder I didn’t commit. That was before I’d broken out of a maximum-security prison, started a bar fight, threatened a woman with a knife, and driven a man to poison himself.

  Now, I supposed, I couldn’t judge any of the Six. I used to know exactly which circumstances would make me break a high law, and they all had to do with loving Kaira. Now, I had no idea how far I would go to get the answers I needed. The thought terrified me almost as much as the idea of not getting answers at all.

  CHAPTER 20

  An ear-splitting cry filled the house the moment the door opened. It was a keening, animal-like sound that was full of unspeakable pain.

  Kaira let everyone’s illusions except mine fall away as we entered the large, comfortable-looking sitting room. The source of the screams was immediately apparent. A woman in a hospital gown was clawing at Bri’s titanium skin as she struggled to free herself.

  “I need to go!” she shrieked, kicking and writhing.

  Her eyes were rolling around in her head, and I wondered if she was having some kind of psychotic break.

  “Thank God!” Yutika said, jumping up at the sight of us.

  “She’s insane,” Yutika told Michael, pointing at the woman who Bri was holding in a bear hug.

  “Should I knock her out?” Bri shouted, her words barely audible over the other woman’s screams.

  Michael strode over, skirting around the woman’s flailing limbs. He said something into her ear. She stopped screaming and fighting long enough to listen to him.

  “You’re safe here,” Michael told the woman. “Please relax.”

  At the soothing command, my own tension eased. I’d been worried about something before, but now I wasn’t. I watched with little interest as the woman slumped against Bri’s side.

  After a few more seconds had passed, my mind sharpened. I realized the spell of Michael’s Whispering must have affected me. I moved to put more distance between us. I wasn’t interested in anything or anyone that would dull my ability to think for myself, even if it was temporary.

  “She’s been drugged,” Michael said.

  “She probably escaped from the psych ward,” Yutika said, wiping blood off the scratches on her arm.

  Smith, who had set himself up with all of his laptops on the love seat, frowned at his screens. “I’m not seeing any reports of hospital or psych ward patients missing in the Boston area.”

  “Can you tell what kind of drug?” Kaira asked Michael.

  He shook his head. “I can tell it’s affecting her mental state, and that there are gaps in her conscious awareness.”

  “I don’t mean to be callous, but if you’re going to allow her to stay here, my family will need to make other arrangements.”

  I turned to the woman who had spoken. I hadn’t even noticed when we first came into the house, but now I saw that there were what looked like two separate families, each with a high school-aged daughter, huddled on the leather couch. They were all watching the now-subdued woman with a combination of alarm and disgust.

  “You’re not in any danger,” Kaira assured the families. “Michael is a Level 10 Whisper. If anyone can help her, it’s him.”

  Michael was sitting on the floor next to the woman, who was half-supported by the wall at her back and Michael by her side. Her eyes had closed, but at a word from Michael, she opened them.

  “What’s your name?” Michael asked the woman in a soothing voice.

  “Elizabeth,” she replied, her voice hoarse from all the crying and screaming she’d probably been doing for the last few hours. “Elizabeth Nelson.”

  “What are you upset about, Elizabeth?” Michael asked.

  “They took my baby, and I have to get her back.”

  “Where is your child now?” Michael asked in the same calming voice.

  “I—I don’t know,” Elizabeth stammered, a hint of her crazed expression returning.

  “She kept repeating that,” Yutika said. “She said they took her baby and that she needed to get her back, but she couldn’t remember what had happened. She keeps trying to leave and find her.”

  “She’s only two days old. I have to get her back. She won’t survive without me.” Elizabeth moved to get up, but, at a word from Michael, sat back down.

  “Is your baby with your husband?” Michael asked.

  “I….” Elizabeth tilted her head, considering. “We’re not married.”

  “The baby’s father, then,” Michael amended patiently.

  Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “They took him, too.”

  “Where is he?” Michael prompted.

  Tears spilled down the woman’s cheeks. “They killed him.”

  “Who did?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t know,” Elizabeth wailed.

  Something dro
pped onto my head. I batted the thing out of my hair, which turned out to be a spider. Another one fell onto my arm. Yutika squealed and jumped onto the coffee table. Everyone else was wriggling and smacking their hair and clothes, like the spiders were on them, too. I looked up to see where they were all coming from.

  “Holy shit.”

  The ceiling was covered in about a thousand spiders, ants, millipedes, and other squirming, too many-legged creatures.

  “Ohmygod,” Kaira said, looking more embarrassed than freaked out. She gave the families cowering on the couch an apologetic look. “This has never happened before. I swear—”

  “Cockroach!” A.J. shrieked. He leaped into Bri’s arms, who almost dropped him when a mouse scampered across her foot.

  The mouse raced across the carpet, but it didn’t disappear into some dark hole like the ones that could sometimes be seen in the BSMU study lounges. It raced right onto Elizabeth’s open palm.

  She cupped her hand around the creature and cuddled it to her chest.

  I stared at her, uncomprehending. That was when I realized that all the insects—and two more rodents that were far too robust to be called mice—had congregated around Elizabeth. In a rapid turn of events, she seemed to be the only one in the room who wasn’t freaking out.

  “She’s an Animalist,” I said out loud, finally putting it together. She must not have been a very powerful one, if the only animals she could draw were the ones already living in the walls.

  Just the thought had me checking my hair for more spiders.

  “Elizabeth, can you ask the insects to go back where they came from?” Michael asked as he flicked a wriggling worm off his sleeve. His soothing voice was a complete contrast to the pandemonium filling the room.

  Elizabeth, seeming calmer now that there were two rats perched on her knees and a ring of bugs surrounding her, nodded and gave Michael a gentle smile.

  The insects departed in orderly rows, separated by species. The spiders climbed back up the silk threads hanging from the ceiling, while the others disappeared into invisible cracks in the walls and floor. Feeling vaguely nauseous, I backed all the way against the wall to avoid the dangling spiders.

 

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