Game of Lies

by Sadie Moss

  “Well?” I finally asked, my patience worn down to a thread after the council meeting. “You said you wanted to talk, so talk.”

  It wasn’t the friendliest of opening salvos, but I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly toward the man. After all, it was his interference that had gotten me swept up in this whole mess. If he hadn’t grabbed me and made such a scene at the Grand Ball, I never would’ve met Beatrice… and for all I knew, she’d still be alive right now. I couldn’t shake the guilty feeling that it was my entry into her life, my push for her to change her beliefs, that had gotten her on the wrong side of whoever had planted the bomb.

  Rain glanced down at me, his brown eyes keen and assessing. He had a slight gap between his front teeth, I noticed.

  “Beatrice really didn’t tell you anything?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Look, we were… figuring our relationship out. She was my grandmother, but it’s not like we’d had years of time together. I kept some things from her, and I guess she kept some things from me.”

  His eyebrows rose at that, but he didn’t comment. “Then I’m assuming she didn’t tell you that I knew your father? Your mother too, though not as well. Your father and I worked together.”

  My feet faltered, and I almost missed a step and fell face-first in the pond. Catching my balance, I looked up at him. “You did?”

  “Yes. Dominic worked for the government, and I was a consultant—this was before the Great Death, of course. We knew each other for years and became quite close. He and your mother both died in the Great Death. Shortly thereafter, Beatrice stepped in to fill his seat, and when the council was formed, she became a Representative. I always felt a bit of an obligation to Beatrice. I tried to look out for her, in honor of her son and what he meant to me.”

  My heart rate picked up at the mention of my parents. Despite my father’s frequent appearances in my dreams, he and my mother had always seemed like ideas more than actual people. As ephemeral as smoke. But talking to someone who had known them made them suddenly more real than I was ready to handle.

  “So why didn’t you ever mention this before?” I challenged. “Why were you such a dick at the Grand Ball and, if I’m being honest, pretty much every other time I’ve seen you?”

  Rain’s face seemed to sag, and he stopped walking, looking down. “I wasn’t prepared for the past to come back. I didn’t recognize you at first like Beatrice did—leave that to a grandmother’s intuition—though once she said it, I could see the resemblance. But it dug up old wounds. Looking at you reminds me of the friend I lost, and of the many others who were lost who won’t be coming back. It’s a bit petty, I admit, but I was almost jealous of Beatrice. Your reappearance is truly a miracle.”

  The sadness in his eyes twisted the knot that had already taken up residence in my stomach. I remembered Beatrice saying something similar once, about how my sudden appearance in her life had made other Gifted people hope their long-dead loved ones would come back too.

  Godsdamn it. I do not want to feel sorry for the fucking Gifted.

  But I did. I couldn’t help it.

  I had worked hard to make Beatrice see that the suffering of the Blighted mattered, that we felt pain as much as the Gifted did. And although it could never justify the actions they’d taken after the Great Death, I was starting to see how many of the Gifted had been permanently scarred by the sudden loss of their loved ones.

  If they hadn’t blamed us for it, maybe we could’ve helped them.

  Rain pursed his thin lips, gathering himself. “Your grandmother and I spoke quite often. Just recently, she confided in me her concerns about several of the other Representatives.”

  My ears perked up. “Oh yeah? Who?”

  “Victor and Nicholas were at the top of her list. She always knew they favored the old ways and disliked the Blighted. But your arrival solidified those concerns in her mind.” His face grew pensive. “There was someone else she was worried about, but I’m afraid she was hesitant to give me a name. She seemed almost frightened to do so. I’m not sure what her reasons were, but—”

  “She never told you who?” I asked sharply, turning to him. It had to be the same person she’d been about to tell me about when the explosion hit.

  I shoved down the too-raw memory of Beatrice’s face as she sat behind her desk, how small she’d seemed in comparison to the heavy piece of furniture. She had wanted to do the right thing. And I would do everything I could to honor that effort.

  Rain blinked slowly, the bags under his eyes seeming more prominent as he looked down at me. “No. Did she tell you?” At my silence, he leaned in, speaking softly. “I wasn’t lying about you having enemies among the Representatives, Miss Lockwood. Take your friends where you can get them.”

  I drew back slightly, eyeing him. “Oh, is that what you are now?”

  A sardonic smile tugged at his lips and he squinted in the sunlight. “Well, friendly. I felt an obligation to your grandmother, and I feel the same obligation to you. I may not agree with your choice of cohort, but I don’t want our government overrun by corruption and bigotry either.”

  Clamping my mouth shut against the words “too late for that,” I regarded him carefully, trying to get a read on his intentions.

  He chuckled lightly, turning to resume walking once again. “Don’t look at me like that, Miss Lockwood. I know we’ve had our differences, but not all the Gifted are as awful as you’ve long imagined us to be.”

  “Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” I muttered, and Rain took my elbow. His grip was surprisingly gentle, but the urge to yank my arm out of his hold was strong anyway.

  “Then let me prove it to you,” he murmured, his raspy voice soft. “Let me help you.”

  Not answering at first, I looked out across the vast expanse of the palace grounds. We were only about halfway down the length of the huge pool. Beautifully landscaped gardens sprawled around us. Peacocks roamed the pathways, their iridescent blue and green plumage trailing behind them like the trains of elaborate dresses.

  I couldn’t trust a single person in this place.

  I knew that.

  Hell, I’d barely trusted Beatrice, and she and I shared DNA. But now that she was gone, I felt more alone and exposed here than ever. My four would do what they could to keep me safe, but they couldn’t help me navigate the dangerous and rocky political landscape I found myself entrenched in.

  Maybe there was a way to accept Rain’s help without giving up too many of my own secrets. To get him to show me his hand while keeping my own cards hidden.

  “All right.” I kicked some pebbles into the pond as we walked, then immediately felt guilty. Some poor Blighted groundskeeper was probably going to have to fish them out of the pristine pond later. “You want to help? Here’s a question for you. How do I get memories out of someone who doesn’t remember them himself?”

  Rain released my arm, clasping his hands behind his back and raising an eyebrow. “Is this a riddle?”

  I scowled. “No, it’s a problem I’m having. Can you help me or not?”

  He looked at me intensely for a moment, as if he was trying to peer right into my soul. Or see through those cards I was holding close to my chest. “I’m sure you won’t tell me why.”

  “Nope,” I confirmed, squaring my jaw.

  He sighed. “It is a difficult prospect. Pulling memories that have been repressed or erased isn’t easy, and it depends on how the memory was lost as well. Not many can do it.”

  I was about to spin on my heel and return to the palace—I’d given him his chance to be helpful, after all, and my skin was itching to get out of here—when he spoke again.

  “But I do know of a witch who might be able to help you.”

  Chapter 20

  “Are you sure this is the place?”

  Fen peered out the window of Jae’s car, frowning at the elegant facade of the building we’d just pulled up to.

  I could see why he was skeptical. The dark wood and g
lass exterior made the building look more like a spa for fancy Gifted housewives than the shop of a serious potion-maker. But it was the address Rain had given me, and according to him, Marielle Arcand really knew her stuff. So I poked the wolf shifter in the side, prompting him to get out of the car.

  He grabbed the finger that was jabbing him and bit the tip of it gently, sending a rush of sensations careening through my body. If I’d thought giving in to the feelings the bond elicited between us might tone down the intensity of the pull, I’d been wrong. It only seemed stronger now.

  I bit my lip, eyes glued to the finger pinned between his teeth.

  “If you two are quite finished…,” Akio groused from my other side, shooing us along.

  “We’re not.” Fen spoke around my finger, his brown eyes dancing. “Use your door.”

  I bit back a smile, but retrieved my tingling hand and followed the grumbling incubus out of the car. He pointedly didn’t offer to help me, and unlike when Corin did that, I was pretty sure Akio’s non-help wasn’t meant as a show of respect. He was just being a moody dick.

  I poked him in the side too as I passed by and was surprised at the slight yelp that burst from his lips before he regained his composure.

  Wait.

  Was Akio ticklish? I filed that little tidbit away as a weakness to most definitely be exploited later.

  “You’ve never been here?” I asked Jae, as we approached the building. The gold lettering on the window read “Mélange” in large, swooping letters.

  “No. I haven’t had much need of witch’s brews. I prefer spells and charms.”

  I grunted in surprise at that. I hadn’t really considered that someone might prefer one type of magic to another. Then again, Jae was such a powerful mage it was hardly surprising he preferred spell casting. It was his forte, and he could probably accomplish most of what he needed with his own magic.

  But not this.

  Even Akio couldn’t solve this problem for us. His charm could make Gerald suggestible, but that would only entice the ex-Gifted man to tell us what he actually remembered. We needed access to the things he couldn’t remember.

  Sending up a silent prayer to whatever god had answered me last time, I followed Jae inside, the other three men right behind me. I’d had him pick me up from the palace—or rather, he’d insisted on picking me up, and the rest of my four had insisted on coming with him. I wasn’t going to complain. I felt stronger and less lost just having them near me.

  “Can I help you?” the middle-aged woman behind the sleek wooden front desk asked. Her gaze flickered over the group of us, landing on Corin as she gave a little pout of displeasure.

  Not giving her time to say something that would bring this entire excursion crashing to a halt—if she insulted Corin, I would fight her—I spoke quickly, stepping in front of her to draw her attention. “We’re looking for Marielle Arcand. We need a potion brewed.”

  She wavered for a moment then sighed. “One moment.”

  The receptionist waved us over to a few chairs set up by the large windows then brushed the communication charm at her ear, murmuring something too low for me to hear. The entire entry room was sparse and bright, all gleaming wood and shining white surfaces. That was something else I’d noticed about the Gifted—they liked to pretend everything in the world could be kept clean and orderly. Too bad life didn’t work that way for most of us.

  We didn’t sit, just lingered near the chairs. I kept my gaze pinned on the receptionist, but she studiously ignored us, straightening and then re-straightening the stack of papers in front of her. After a few moments, a woman pushed through the door at the back. A wave of magic rolled out with her, and goose bumps broke out across my skin. Whether she could help us remained to be seen, but if she couldn’t, it wouldn’t be for a lack of power.

  In an odd contrast to the heavy, overbearing magic that emanated from her, the woman herself was almost impossibly petite. She was about my height, but where I filled out my clothes with curves and muscle, this woman was rail thin and delicate as a bird. Her dark hair was pulled up into a slick bun, her thick eyebrows were perfectly shaped, and the lines of her face were angular and sharp. She wore a slim-fitting black dress and heels that had to be at least four inches—which meant she wasn’t really my height after all.

  “I’m Marielle. What can I help you with today?” She held out a fragile-looking hand, and I took it tentatively, not sure whether I should shake it or kiss her ring.

  I opted for a firm shake then let go quickly before I broke her. “We’re looking for a potion to restore forgotten memories. I was told you might be able to help us.”

  She cocked her head, her dark eyes scanning our group.

  “I may be able to. Were the memories forgotten, or were they taken?”

  “Uh…” I glanced around at the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer. “I’m not sure. Let’s assume they were taken. Or repressed, or forcibly removed somehow.”

  Marielle pursed her red lips. “That’s more difficult. It can be done, but most likely any memories recovered will be fragments. They won’t be clean and will need to be interpreted before they make any sense. Like memories of a dream.”

  Huh. Maybe she could brew another potion that would unravel the meaning of the dream I kept having about my father.

  “That’s okay. We’ll take what we can get,” I assured her.

  “And it will be… expensive.” She let the words linger in the air, probably waiting to see if we flinched. She didn’t seem like the type to suffer cheapskates. Or poor people.

  “That’s fine. We can pay.”

  “Good. Then come with me.” She turned sharply and retreated to the door she’d come through, heels clicking on the white floor. I watched her movements as we followed her. She seemed remarkably steady, considering her tiny frame was balanced on towering stilettos. How the hell did she do that?

  The back of the shop was dark, but just as sparse and shiny as the front. Soft red light glowed from magical orbs floating near the ceiling, illuminating a long hallway with several doors leading off it.

  She took us partway down the hall before veering off into one of the side rooms. It was small and lit with the same red glow. By the time all six of us had crammed inside, it felt even smaller, and I pressed back against Corin to give the witch room to work. He wrapped his hands around my waist, resting them on my belly.

  There was a workbench with cabinets above it along one wall, and a large metal cauldron hung from a thick chain attached to the ceiling. The floor under it appeared to be blackened by scorch marks.

  It was the first thing I’d seen in this entire place that wasn’t perfectly spotless.

  Marielle grabbed a small metal cylinder from the workbench and aimed it at the floor beneath the cauldron. She pressed a button on it and flame shot out, hovering just over the floor and licking the base of the cauldron. The fire wasn’t feeding on anything, but it continued to burn strong and steady as she turned away and began pulling objects from the cabinet.

  I’d never seen a witch brew before, and I was a little afraid she’d start pulling out animal parts or human eyeballs or something, but the array of ingredients was actually surprisingly mundane. A few small crystals and stones, a bunch of herbs, and some vials whose contents I didn’t think too hard about.

  As she worked, Jae leaned closer to whisper in my ear, somehow guessing my thoughts. “The power of a witch’s brew comes from the witch herself, not from the ingredients. A few potions require rare or obscure components, but most don’t.”

  Huh. I watched with fascination as Marielle ground and blended ingredients, adding them to the cauldron while muttering to herself. She picked up a long wooden spoon and began stirring the potion, her hand repeating a particular pattern over and over again.

  Suddenly, a sharp ringing sound split the air.

  I jumped, almost reaching for the daggers under my dress. I’d been nearly hypnotized by the steady movement of the witch’s
hand.

  The ringing came again, and Marielle looked up sharply, a snarl of annoyance contorting her refined features even as she continued to chant under her breath.

  “Fuck,” Corin muttered. He grabbed the cell phone from his pocket and made his way to the door, stepping out as he raised it to his ear and said softly, “Yeah?”

  Marielle went back to her task, but the set of her shoulders told me she’d decided definitively—she did not like us.

  Her dislike was only solidified when Corin returned a few moments later, no longer bothering to be so quiet.

  His face was grim as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, stepping up to our small group.

  “Guys, we’ve got a problem. That was Christine. They found Rat. He’s dead.”

  Chapter 21

  My stomach dropped.

  “Dead?” I whispered, though I was sure I hadn’t misheard him.

  “Yeah.” Corin’s voice was low, and his blue eyes looked almost otherworldly in the dim red light. “They followed his trail from The Crow’s Nest and found where he lived. That’s where they found his body. His throat was cut, but there were traces of magic left in the room. Best guess, it was a magic user trying to make it look like a Blighted crime.”

  I swallowed, my throat tightening.

  Godsdamn it. He was just a fucking kid.

  Rat and I had never been what anyone would consider friends, and I was sure he’d have sold me out to the Representatives happily if Akio hadn’t charmed him to forget our little chat at the bar that night.

  But he didn’t deserve an end like this. He was just a skinny kid with a big nose who liked to pretend he was the wisecracking lead in a noir detective novel, probably to make his own miserable circumstances more bearable.

  He’d fallen into a shitty line of work to make ends meet, just like I had.

  Only he’d gotten killed for it.

  “Someone’s trying to cover their tracks. Whoever this person is, they know we’re looking for them,” Akio murmured from behind me, his voice deep and smooth.