“And she just gets away with it? She summoned some weird assassin for the sole purpose of killing me and my kind. For what? I wasn’t a danger. If she wanted to go after Conner, fine. But she came after me without cause.”
Gareth sighed. When he spoke it was barely audible. I leaned forward in the chair to hear him better. “You have to let it go for now.”
I had a hard time looking at him: I didn’t want to hear his logic, didn’t care about reason. The idea of even entertaining his suggestion made me nauseous. I wanted my revenge. I got up from the couch, went to my room, and threw myself on the bed. I heard Savannah advise him to give me a few minutes, and that was all he seemed capable of. Moments later he was there with me. I sat up from my position on the bed and glared at him. He worked hard at ignoring it, biting his lips to keep back his words. He stepped closer to me, tentative. It was the first time he’d ever displayed anything other than extreme confidence.
“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” he asked.
I wasn’t angry with him, just upset with the situation. “No, but I’m not necessarily happy with you. I’m tired. I’m tired of being the person trying to take the high road. I’m tired of being the person trying to do the right thing and constantly being betrayed because of it. I could have done the Cleanse. I would’ve been safe. I could’ve had Savannah, Kalen, and you behind the veil of protection with me without any problem. I would never have given in to Conner, and yet I was rewarded with a knife slashing across my throat. Tell me, exactly how should I feel? How should I respond?”
“You have every right to your anger and even your revenge. I hope you get it. If you do it now you get revenge and also death. I’d rather you just get the former. So think about this and do it strategically. Don’t respond out of blind rage and get yourself in a situation you can’t get out of.”
That was the reason people shouldn’t respond or act when they were enraged: they didn’t think about strategies. They became consumed with quenching the thirst for retribution. I was thirsty to the point of dehydration. Gareth moved closer to me, and when he was at arm’s length, he reached out, stroking his hand against my cheek.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. I could hear the hint of relief and sorrow in his tone. I looked down; I didn’t know what to say. Everything seemed so confusing, and I couldn’t have anything more than a physical relationship with Gareth. Things were just too complicated to have anything more. I wasn’t ready to have an emotionally intimate relationship with him, and part of me had always thought he wasn’t the type of person who would want one. For several moments we just stared at each other in uncomfortable silence. He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. His lips coursed over mine, his tongue sliding against my bottom lip before parting them and kissing me harder, more urgently.
He pressed me back onto the bed. His thumb stroked my cheek before he gently kissed me again. This time it was a feather touch. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer and feeling the warmth and security of his body against mine. I wished I didn’t want it so much, but I did. I needed it, and that’s where we stayed, his body a heavy cloak of warmth over me. Periodically his lips brushed lightly against mine. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.
While I was sleeping, Gareth was devising a plan, and the first step was to find out how Harrah had summoned the Mors and make sure she wasn’t able to do it again. Early the next morning we were headed to see Blu.
She answered the door as soon as we knocked, stepped aside, and waved us in. It was the first time I’d been to her home after often meeting her at her coven’s home. Her apartment was definitely what I’d imagined, based on what she’d told me about her parents. They were jazz musicians and their profession had an influence not only on her name but also on her style. Throughout her house she had eclectic pieces of canvas art of people playing instruments. Several clay figurines of women singing in various positions were placed around her home: one seated at a piano, another standing at a microphone, a set of three women with their arms positioned differently. The light-colored walls were accentuated by various artistic depictions of musical notes. There was a guitar placed in one corner. She didn’t strike me as a guitarist, but there were a lot of things very atypical about her, like the fact that she always had some variation of blue in in her hair. I’d expected her home to be the very same way, but she seemed to have a penchant for earth tones of light brown, pale yellow, burnt orange, and burgundy. Her oversized sofa was dark brown, with burnt orange and beige accent pillows. A large table ottoman sat in front of the sofa and on top of it were stacks and stacks of books. The small armchairs in the corner were burnt orange; the pillows that belonged on them were tossed to the side, and on top of them and the sofa were more books. In the opposite corner she’d placed a brown decorative trunk that was open, and I could see several medallions, stones, and globes inside. Her apartment wasn’t very large, a little bit smaller than the one I shared with Savannah. I assumed she had to find creative ways of storing things.
Blu’s normally d
demeanor seemed weighed down by the seriousness of the matter.
She directed her attention to Gareth. “Someone summoned a Mors?” she asked, taking a seat on the edge of one of the chairs leaving the sofa for the two of us.
I wasn’t going to beat around the bush, or be coy in any manner. “It was Harrah.”
Her brows furrowed together and her scowl deepened. “There is no way Harrah could do that. Not even a high-level mage or powerful witch could do that. Summoning one requires a great deal of power. Strong power. I can’t even summon one using a Hearth Stone, and that allows me to channel magic from my ancestors.” Then her face blanched. “I think I’m responsible for this.” Her voice was ragged, low. She jumped up and started pacing back and forth, mumbling loud enough for us to hear her castigate herself. “I thought I was doing the right thing. The last Hearth Stone you all sold me was too strong for anyone to have. I didn’t want to risk losing it or it falling into the hands of someone who would misuse it. I turned it over to the Magic Council.”
“When did you do this?” Gareth asked.
“About fifteen days ago,” she said. Her eyes and her shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. That is the protocol if you thought it was too strong to be in anyone’s hands and that it should be guarded. You did the right thing. That wasn’t an act done out of malice.”
It didn’t seem to unburden her from her guilt; she continued to walk the length of the room twirling tight coils of her hair around her finger. “A witch with a Hearth Stone, a mage—a powerful one—with something equivalent, or a fae with a Broven crystal together could do it, but performing such a summoning is so dangerous.”
“How many Mors are there? Is this a one-shot deal, and he’s the only one we have to worry about?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure how many Mors there are, but it’s not as though people are calling them frequently. It’s difficult, and they are called for a specific job.”
I frowned. “Are the stones destroyed during the spell?” I remembered some stronger spells I’d read about in one of the books she’d given me in which the sacrifice was the object being used.
“Based on what I know about that type of spell, the stones would be given as tribute or an offering of some kind.”
“Then there probably isn’t a chance to do it again,” I said with hope. I just needed something to go right. Let this never be repeated.
When she started to chew on her lips, hope quickly dwindled.
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding for several seconds. “There are many objects that can be used like the stones, any number of which might be in their possession. Since the war, supernaturals are more cautious, and they have every right to be. It was a reminder of how fragile our existence is. One spell and life as we know it disappears.” To maintain that illusion of safety, they handed magical items over to the people wh
o were appointed to ensure that it wouldn’t happen. She looked at Gareth, her gaze soft but entreating. “Gar, how many people have access to items once they are turned over?”
They all blindly followed the Magic Council, expecting them to have their best interests at heart. Based on the way Blu looked, it was going to be a harder endeavor to trust them in the future. Her frustration-laden gaze remained on him as she waited for an answer. I focused on him, brushing off the twinge of anger that sparked in me. The Magic Council had been given unchecked power, because along with the individual councils and the Supernatural Guild, they maintained safety in the community and the alliance with humans. They were the faces and integrity of it. Harrah and her accomplices had violated that blind trust.
Gareth started slowly, carefully choosing his words, which made the situation worse. People only chose their words carefully when they had something to hide. Brought to the forefront of my mind were the Magic Council’s and Supernatural Guild’s magical collusions—the times they broke the law, circumvented it, or rather, ignored it for the greater good. How many minds had Harrah erased? New memories implanted. I wasn’t sure if she could do the latter, but I knew she could compromise memories and do glamours.
“Most items we destroyed, but everything is subjected to a vote.”
“And the Necro-spears?” I asked, suspicious. The threat of another Cleanse was minimal, but I still didn’t want there to be any chance for it to happen. For every Conner who was destroyed or stopped another could rise. A chill ran up my spine at the thought that one could already be in the making. How many people had he discussed this with? How many Legacy lived with the superiority complex that they should be revered and live in their segregated society with magically enhanced homes, greenery, and lives, adored and feared by those that saw them as the magical elite? Reviled by those that they considered common, spurious examples of magic, basic, and nothing more than people to look down their noses at.
“To my knowledge, they were all destroyed,” he offered. Doubt tinged his words, but he held eye contact with me, which had to be difficult because I was glaring at him. I blinked a couple of times to try to get a handle on my misdirected anger. They could have done a lot of things, but I had a feeling the others followed Harrah as blindly as the average citizens. If she said to keep objects of great magical power “just in case,” I’m sure they were easily convinced. This time the “just in case” was summoning an assassin.
“I’m sorry,” Blu said again, and I hated that she was carrying a burden that wasn’t hers. I owed her a great deal: the books she loaned me and her instructions had helped me improve my magical skills. Unless she was the actual person who summoned the Mors I wasn’t holding her accountable.
“Do you think it was the entire Magic Council who planned this assassination attempt or did Harrah just recruit some random person to help?” I asked Gareth, whose eyes became slits at the harshness of my tone. I wasn’t doing a very good job of tempering my anger.
“Summoning Mors is very difficult, but the use of the stones or objects similar to them would give enough of a boost that there would only need to be a few, maybe three or four powerful and skilled supernaturals,” Blu offered.
“Harrah told the Mors that if he failed, she would invalidate the contract. What do they offer?” I asked.
Blu thought about it for a long time, returning to slowly pacing the room and twirling her tresses around her finger, delving deep into her thoughts. She looked like she was trying to remember history or separate the tales from what was true. Finally, she stopped pacing and left the room, returning with three large books. We watched in silence as she perused them. Fingers ran over the pages, and it was apparent why she and Kalen got along so well. He was truly enthralled by her and it extended beyond her love of fashion to the adoration she had for knowledge. Each time she looked up from the pages, considering the words and what she was reading, there was a spark of interest.
“There is a blood contract,” she started. “If the assassin succeeds, then he is allowed to stay.”
“I saw the thing, he wouldn’t necessarily go unnoticed,” I said.
“He doesn’t stay in that body. There just has to be a recently deceased body around and he can take it.”
I cursed under my breath, happy that Conner had killed him. I also wondered how many others could be summoned. The only way to ensure that it wouldn’t happen again was to destroy all objects that could be used to summon one. I was ready to set the Magic Council’s building ablaze and destroy everything in it. I felt like I’d experienced the ultimate betrayal.
Blu was still allowing guilt to sully her mood when I rose. “Thank you so much.” I smiled. “Please”—I jerked my head in the books’ direction—“if you can share this information with Kalen, do so.”
She grinned. “I’m seeing him tonight.”
Of course you are because you two are now joined at the hip. Midwest Barbie and Ken.
The ride back from Blu’s wasn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the furtive glances from Gareth. My anger and frustration were so blistering it was getting hard to suppress them. It was misdirected, and unfortunately some of it went in his direction. “How could you just blindly follow them!” I barked.
“I didn’t blindly follow anyone,” he snapped right back, his tone frosty and so deep it sounded like a growl. I was sure he was just as upset by Harrah’s betrayal as I was. It wasn’t just Harrah’s, it was attributable to all of those on the Magic Council, with the only possible exception being Lucas. Secret meetings, collusions, and hidden agreements just so they could kill the Legacy. I had traded one enemy for another. One with better resources. The Trackers were just considered crazy conspiracy theorists yapping about a nonexistent group of people that everyone believed was extinct. The Magic Council didn’t have any restrictions or limiting labels. They knew I existed, and Harrah had wanted me to be the poster girl for us all to come out. I’d initially gone along with her intentions thinking they were pure. I’d suspected that eventually it was going to be problematic and had decided against it. I was tired of giving people the benefit of the doubt when they could not extend the same courtesy to me. I was not a murderer. I didn’t have a desire to do the Cleanse again or feel the need to be revered by others or separated. I just didn’t want to live in secret, hiding what I was. I understood my powers scared people. I would’ve agreed to wear an iridium bracelet to restrict my magic just so I wouldn’t have to live in hiding. That wasn’t enough for Harrah—for them. I remembered seeing the platitude that the only good Legacy was a dead one. Fury rolled over my skin, raising the hairs on my arms.
“If I knew this was their intention, do you think I wouldn’t have told you? Wouldn’t have stopped them?” Gareth asked.
“I never would have thought you would have been a Tracker, either, and I turned out to be wrong.” I wasn’t sure why I was being a total bitch to him. Before I could stop, the words were flying out; I just wanted to be angry at anyone available and he was there.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I feel betrayed. Not by you; by them. I’m tired of trying to prove myself. I’ve done everything I could.”
I looked out the window at the trees that we passed, the clear turquoise sky, and eventually the buildings. They didn’t call me the way they should have, instead inciting a new memory of trees I had destroyed because I had too much magic in me that had to be released. The clear blue sky of the fake world that Conner had taken me to. The buildings where I’d tracked down the other Legacy and Conner’s acolytes, and even the Maxwells.
“I can’t let this go unchecked.” I breathed out.
Silence stretched for long moments, and before I knew it, ten minutes had passed. When Gareth looked at me his eyes shone with a clear understanding. Behind them I saw the same fury and frustration that I had felt. “I know.”
More silence. The muscles in his forearms bulged from gripping the s
teering wheel so tightly. “I know you hate when I bring up the politics of things, but you can’t discuss the harmony that exists between the humans and us without addressing it. If you go in there and destroy everything and them, what happens? How do you explain that away? It’s easy to explain one person dying or stepping down from their position. But the entire Magic Council with the exception of Lucas and me, the only two people who do not possess magic? You think people won’t put one plus one together?”
“Honestly? I don’t give a damn.” But that was the furthest thing from the truth. I cared. I gave a lot of damns. Because at the end of the day when the fires had been set and the buildings were ablaze, the bodies lay dead, my revenge was sated, and I felt a sense of vindication, I still would have to answer for my actions. Gareth would have to answer for allowing me to do it, and then it had to be explained away. The humans had to know the reason it had been allowed. I wondered if the narrative would be that those members of the Magic Council were the few people able to stop me, so I had killed them and destroyed the objects so that I would be unstoppable.
“The Unstoppable Juggernaut,” I mumbled.
Gareth’s head jerked in my direction and his brow furrowed. “What?”
“He’s a super villain—Cain Marko, he’s the Juggernaut. An unstoppable villain,” I explained.
His eyes were limpid as he looked at me, and confusion marked his face. Then a small smile blossomed and quickly became a grin. “Don’t give that narrative, which will not work in your favor.” He shook his head. “In fact, let go of all the superhero references. Don’t talk about the Avengers, X-Men, Suicide Squad, or any of that. You are a very odd woman, Levy.”
“I’m the odd one?” I teased. “I’m the one who knows who the Unstoppable Juggernaut is, along with millions of other people. I think you are the odd one. You’re not very hot right now.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to do more than not know a few comic book characters for that to be true.”
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 16