I couldn’t. I took off behind it, running to catch up. I barely registered the blurs of faces, the phones videoing everything. As soon as I was within a few feet, I lunged—at air. The creature was behind Conner who was standing a few feet from me.
I looked around the small area. I was boxed into a space Conner had made for me, his beast, and himself. The opaque wall created a fuzzy haze and made it difficult to see anything outside of it; I wondered what others saw. Did it look like a continuation of the background that merged with it and indistinguishable to the naked eye?
“Thank you,” he addressed the animal. It nodded and plopped down on its paws, trying to lick at its wounds.
“He will heal soon,” Conner informed me.
“I’m sorry, were you under the impression I cared?”
He chortled. “Ah, my Anya, such a witty tongue. I’m often torn between wanting to see how it tastes and ripping it out.” His low tone held hints of the ire and wrath he’d directed toward me when he’d finally given in to the idea that I would never be one of his followers and would instead take every chance I had to be an obstacle to him.
He moved closer, and I pointed my sai at him, daring him to take another step. He smiled and let his gaze rove up my arm, over my face, and up to my hair. “I do hate that color,” he snarled at it.
“You touch me, and you will regret it.”
Smiling, he took a small step back.
“What do you want?”
“Evelyn is gone, and so are three others of mine.” His sorrow-laden voice made it hard not to feel some sympathy for him even though he didn’t deserve any. He stepped back again; there wasn’t enough room for him to truly pace, but he moved in an easy fluid stride, the gait of a trained and lethal fighter. Although he possessed magic—extraordinary magic—he was a skilled combatant, and I was reminded of it as he moved along the small space afforded to him. He gave me another appraising look along with a flick of anger that I knew was incited by the blood on me from his pet. The last time he’d seemed upset when he’d thought I’d killed it. I thought I had, too, but perhaps this was just one of many he’d created. I wondered if there were any limitations to Vertu magic.
“Perhaps my plans were too ambitious,” he admitted. His voice lacked the humility that I’d have expected from someone who had just conceded and admitted to the absurdity of his plan. Instead it was heavy with haughtiness and unwarranted arrogance. “You have been my failure,” he continued, giving me another look. His words were tepid as his eyes held mine, a reminder that he believed that I’d betrayed him.
“I’m not your failure, your ridiculous plans were your failure,” I said, changing my stance. His position was still casual, relaxed. I couldn’t avoid the cold look of betrayal he kept giving me.
He scoffed, a deep, derisive, and throaty sound. “You want us to play nice with the humans. Come out and pretend to be their magical pets incapable of the destruction of the past. We should never be subservient to them.” He managed to maintain his composure as he pushed the words through clenched teeth. I drew too much of his attention and it was starting to make me uncomfortable. I gripped the sai tighter, preparing to engage, if needed. I moved back, pressing against the magical wall. The intensity of the strong magic pulsed against my back, rolling over it in waves. The similarities of our magic were overwhelming, but I couldn’t ignore the differences either. Legacy were a less powerful version of them, a bastardized rendition rumored to be their creation. I wasn’t sure why they didn’t loathe our shortcomings the way they did those of other supernaturals.
“You think destroying all magical beings and keeping humans as entertaining pets is better?”
“I have no interest in dealing with them, not even as pets.” Indifference was always worse. Indifference evoked no emotions, which made it easier to treat someone callously.
“We can come out and work with them. Are you telling me that their rules and regulations don’t have merit? Vampires can no longer compel people. Fae can’t use their magic for cognitive manipulation or to change their appearance to anything other than their agreed-upon form. No more glamours.” I stopped, studying him with the same interest with which he’d been studying me. “Are you able to do that? Glamour a desired appearance?”
“Of course. But why would I?” He raised a brow, his thin lips slightly kinked into a smirk, entreating a response. I gave him a once-over. For a person who’d been involved in a small war, he looked pretty good—his appearance didn’t reflect it. He had narrow, sharp features, and the unique persimmon red hair of Legacy, and Vertu fit his regal appearance. He wouldn’t be out of place as part of a royal court. He didn’t present the face of a person who would lead a plan that would result in genocide.
Why would I? Someone’s very proud of himself. Instead of pointing that out I continued, “Mage and witch magic can’t be used for darker arts. What’s wrong with that? How can you want to live in an unregulated world when it comes to magic? Your arrogance allows you to consider it unimportant because you don’t think you will ever be on the receiving end of the cruelty of it. The system is working.” I was taking extreme liberty with the word working, but it was better. There would always be rule breakers and those who reminisced about the world of yesteryear when they could do whatever the hell they wanted without consequences, but those days were gone.
“There isn’t anything wrong with conceding—” I began.
His loud, taunting laugh interrupted me, and amusement caressed his words. “I’m not conceding by any means. I considered the humans and others; I was too cautious. I will not suffer such foolishness again. I will strike without mercy, and in the end, I will prevail above the rubble and be the victor of this fight.”
I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. “They always have to monologue.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Every bad guy ever has to monologue. If I were going to be the Lex Luther to Superman, or the Magneto to Xavier, the Loki to Thor, I wouldn’t spend precious time ranting about my grand plans. I’d just blow up crap.” I rolled my eyes again. “It’s a walking ‘bad guy’ cliché. Please read from another script.”
Again, amusement coursed over his features. Deep emotive eyes lay heavily on me, and as the smile wilted, I didn’t know what to expect because his features held an indescribable look.
“You amuse me more than you frustrate me,” he admitted. It was clearly a bitter revelation for him, and it took several moments before he spoke again. “You know what I am capable of. I’ve seen your tricks, the games you all played, and it worked once. I wouldn’t be confident it will work again.”
“Are we done?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Your so-called allies will betray you, don’t be naïve enough to think they won’t. Now you are a tool, an instrument they will use to find the others. I will give you a safe haven from that and ensure that they will never hurt you. You will be revered in the manner that you deserve.”
It was at that moment, when his words were laced with honey and confidence and he presented a caring face, a gentle demeanor, and promises of a better life, that I understood his acolytes. They’d ignored their consciences and shrugged off the maliciousness of the plans made to follow someone who would give them the freedom that their parents had been afforded. They wanted the ability to live without fear that if they performed magic, they would be discovered by a Tracker and their lives would be over. I sympathized ever so briefly with those who had fallen for the charismatic demagogue.
He continued, his tone still as genteel and smooth as it was before. “I don’t give an ultimatum without the preparatory thought that it deserves. If you come with me, then I believe I can be persuaded into finding another alternative to deal with the undesirables.”
I was so confused. Was he implying that in lieu of wreaking havoc, he’d take me? Did he think Stockholm syndrome was going to eventually kick in and I would one day become one of his devout followers instead of his opposition? What exac
tly were alternative ways of dealing with the so-called undesirables. I didn’t think for one moment the Cleanse was off the table. It would just be deferred until he felt I was complicit enough to allow it.
“If I surrender to you, then you will pinky swear not to try to murder a bunch of people? How noble of you.”
“Now our conversation is over.” A slight nod of his head, barely a movement, and a flood of magic pushed into me, sending me back through the wall and crashing to the ground, landing hard on my back. I cursed under my breath.
“I knew you were near, your scent cut off here,” Gareth said from a few feet away. I was done pointing out how weird it was.
Pulling myself to stand, I looked around.
“She’s fine,” he said knowing exactly who I was wondering about. Savannah. He gave me a wry grin. “When she sees him again, she’s going to ‘give him a swift kick where he will remember it.’ She’s been touting it since we arrived. She is an enthusiastic one, isn’t she?”
“That’s a nice way of putting it. Is she injured?”
“A few bumps. I think her ego’s more wounded than anything.” He crossed his arms, taking in my appearance, his frown deepening with each moment. He moved closer. “May I?”
I nodded, and he stepped closer. He knelt down, taking a glimpse of my injuries. He made a sound and I knew the wound from the creature had to be worse than I’d initially thought.
“Let me guess, you’re going to heal it, and you don’t want to go to the Isles.”
“It’s like you’re psychic!”
He sucked in a sharp breath. My shirt was still raised, so I looked down. Despite the bloodstains, I could still see the puncture marks from the fangs and they looked as angry and painful as they felt.
CHAPTER 6
Two days and I still couldn’t get my mind off of Conner’s offer. I didn’t know if he was an arrogant megalomaniac or a batshit crazy psycho, or worse—a combination of both. I found myself leaning toward the latter of the three options as I kept going through a trunk from our newest find, ignoring the looks that Kalen kept giving me.
“I guess staring at me is more important than clearing this stuff out of the front office,” I teased as I searched for whatever magical object in the trunk was giving off the level of energy I sensed. Most of the items weren’t of any value, and possibly the magical object or objects wouldn’t be, either.
“You’re less ornery than usual about having spent most of the day in a dirty attic, why is that?”
“I’m the same as usual, I’ve just grown tired of complaining about you watching me work while taking shots at my hair.” He gave a quick look to the hair piled on top of my head. “My barking about you being lazy and you threatening to take a brush to my hair hasn’t worked all these years, so I’m not bothering.” I continued rummaging through the trunk sorting things, still aware of his inquisitive gaze on me.
“Have you seen Gareth lately?” he asked with a sly smile before raising his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a seat in the chair next to me. He wasn’t even pretending to help anymore.
“Mmmmhmm,” I offered. I hadn’t looked up from my place on the floor to see his taunting smile. “How are things with Blu, you two had a show or something, right?” Distraction. Distraction. And more distractions. Blu had become the best distraction. I wasn’t nearly as interested in his love life as he seemed to be in mine, but there was a small spark of interest in me when it came to her. Kalen was peculiar, and Blu was the first woman he’d shown any interest in. I wondered if there was more than their love of fashion. The more they interacted, the more she seemed to fascinate him.
“Don’t insult me with your poorly performed effort to distract me by changing the subject, even if it’s about her. It won’t work.”
He slipped down to the floor and looked out of place among a cordless phone that I had no idea why someone would hold on to, old books of fiction, a small jewelry box that held items that weren’t worth much, and several bronze sculptures that might be worth having gone out of the house this morning.
“I’ve seen Gareth several times.”
A small smile peeked through and had fully bloomed within seconds. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events. Do tell.” Kalen would fit perfectly on camera, ready to interview whoever decided to sit in the chair next to him. He wasn’t dressed for what we did all day: picking up and sorting through mostly junk. As usual he was professionally dressed, today in tailored gray slacks and a peach shirt with the top button undone. It was the closest thing to casual I’d seen him wear. But the expensive leather shoes in a deeper gray than his pants didn’t necessarily indicate that we were peddlers of used goods and occasional magical objects.
“We are just getting to know each other,” I offered dismissively.
“Based on the glow on your face, you seem to be getting to know each other quite well.”
“So we aren’t going to even pretend this is a place of business and things like that are inappropriate,” I scoffed. I was ready to defend my position if only to make the awkward situation go away. When my phone buzzed next to me and Gareth’s number flashed, I didn’t know if it was a good distraction or would lead to more questions.
I answered.
Gareth barely greeted me. “Are you near a television?” he asked, his voice edged with anger and concern.
“Yes, what’s wrong?”
“Just watch it. We couldn’t stop this mess from happening.”
“What mess? What’s going on?”
“It’s about the murders of the founder of Humans First and so many Trackers, including the ones that you killed.”
I winced when he said it, but that’s exactly what I’d done. Killed. The mantra that convinced me that I wasn’t a murderer was a distant memory. I tried hard to retrieve it, to remember it, to ingrain it into my very existence. I didn’t mind beating a person to a bloody pulp, but I didn’t kill—or rather I didn’t used to kill. But I wasn’t that person anymore. That was it. A chill ran over me.
“Someone else took over.”
I wasn’t sure why he seemed so stressed by it. “That’s not a big deal, people will just consider them another wackadoodle.”
“Not really. It’s Gordon Lands.” It sounded like the words were pushed through gritted teeth.
“The former mayor?”
“Yeah. He’s going to do a press conference at twelve. We couldn’t find out exactly what he’s going to say. Even Harrah couldn’t stop this,” he admitted. If she couldn’t stop it, then the situation was dire. Why wasn’t she able to fix it? Did they keep her away from him and the people involved so she couldn’t wipe his mind? Were they on to her? Had she performed her little trick one too many times? It wasn’t until I exhaled that I realized I had been holding my breath. I inhaled the scent of fresh linen, Kalen’s favorite candle fragrance. Most days, I hated it, preferring something with a stronger and fruitier scent, but now I welcomed the cleansing redolence.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” I agreed without even considering it and ended the call before standing up.
“What’s wrong?” Kalen asked, coming to his feet, his brow furrowed with concern.
“I’m not sure,” I said, walking into another room where we had a television. We waited as a few more commercials played, then a midday talk show started for just a few minutes before it was interrupted by breaking news. I wished it was about anyone else but a beloved former mayor who had left office with a wonderful approval rating with the statement that because of “the politics of being in politics” he could do more good as a private citizen. He’d become known for his charity events, large donations to nonprofit organizations, and so many other “good” things that in essence people had elevated him to nobility status. Canonized for his goodwill and contributions, if he was now the head of Humans First, he’d just given them the credibility boost they needed. Dammit.
When he spoke, his voice was deep yet soft and notably conflicted, making his w
ords ring even more sincere. “For years our alliance with the supernaturals was a positive one. It strengthened us as a community, and I still believe to some degree that this is true. It would be unconscionable and irresponsible for me to say that all supernaturals are evil and harmful. Recently I lost a good friend, and although I didn’t believe in all his views, I knew his heart was in the right place. He just wanted safety for humans and for history never to repeat itself. I fear that it will. We’ve lived with the falsehood that the Legacy were all destroyed after the Great War. I have it on great authority that they exist and have been aided by other supernaturals in seeking to cause the Cleanse again. Most of us remember it, have read about it in our history books, or even witnessed the sorrow in our loved ones’ eyes as they discuss members of the family who died during it.” He stopped, his gentle brown eyes looking over the assembled crowd, entreating and sincere. He took another jagged breath. I listened to him tell us that he would be taking over Humans First and working with the Supernatural Guild to ensure the safety of the people in his city. He’d also be working with federal agencies to ensure that any Legacy that might be out there plotting their nefarious plans would be stopped. Even though he urged people to let appropriate agencies handle things, I knew it wouldn’t help. Whether it was an innocent mistake or his intention to incite paranoia and rage, he’d lit the wick that would set off an explosion. My fingers had started to cramp from holding my phone so tightly.
“We are screwed,” Kalen said softly.
I squeezed my eyes together, knowing that wasn’t the half of it. I’d been the last person to meet with Daniel before Conner and his crew of misguided misfits had shown up and killed him. They’d transported in, and I’d been the only one seen entering the building.
I cursed under my breath remembering the situation. Police had come to arrest me, and it was Gareth who’d convinced them that I was innocent. He’d claimed to have evidence. He’d been bluffing, but it had worked—they’d released me.
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