Hello, Mr. Arrogant. “Well, at least we know your superpower isn’t humility.”
“Should it be?” he asked, his smile widening.
I wanted to continue my banter with him, flirt and tease him some more, and for a few seconds it was what I needed—a break. People had been trying to kill me since I was a child; for once I just needed a break. That wouldn’t happen anytime soon, though; I needed to deal with the Magic Council in some way. I wasn’t naïve enough to think this would be their only attempt.
I let the silence fall and did nothing about it when it remained, although I’d have preferred the chatter to continue. When I had to answer questions, I didn’t think about the problems I had to deal with. And maybe if I didn’t think about it so hard, the desire to storm in there and take out anyone in sight would eventually vanish. I knew that was impossible. All it took to rekindle the rage was thinking about me lying on the floor, my neck slashed, and the bodies of the others killed by the Mors.
When Gareth followed me into my apartment instead of just dropping me off, I was relieved. I was acting on emotions—dangerous dark emotions—and he was the voice of reason. I hated that some of it was rooted in politics, but he didn’t have a lot of choices, he had a responsibility that extended further than mine. For hours, the conversation was banal; we didn’t even broach the topics of HF, Harrah, Conner, the magical objects, or the Mors. We both needed a reprieve. Dinner was filled with more frivolous conversation, but as the time ticked by, we couldn’t pretend that things were fine and normal because they weren’t. Ignoring it wasn’t going to prevent the slaughter from happening again, or get Harrah and the others.
“What’s going on with Humans First?” I asked, taking a seat on the sofa after dinner. He remained standing, taking up a position next to the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes glued on me. He considered my question for a long time, and I wondered if he was assessing me and trying to figure out if I had abandoned my ideas of revenge. Did he consider himself the only roadblock preventing another scene with bodies fallen as a result of my anger?
“They’re a problem but more to themselves than any of us. It’s as it was before—” He stopped abruptly, taking in a ragged breath in lieu of saying “before you were nearly killed by Harran and abducted by Conner.” He continued, “Before things happened with you. They are going to destroy one another from within. The radical members are being controlled by the more reasonable members, and they seem to be spending too much of their time fighting one another to be of any concern to us. I suspect the more radical ones will split off. We’ll watch them once they do and hopefully deal with them.”
“Would it be such a bad idea for supernaturals to separate from the world?” I couldn’t believe I’d said it, but for a brief moment, it seemed like the simplest option. “Think of everything that you all do: the efforts put into establishing these narratives that make us palpable to the humans, dealing with groups who will never accept us, and having to live under all these restrictions.”
Gareth’s eyes narrowed, studying me as if he was seeing someone different and was trying to figure them out. “What did Conner do to you?”
“Nothing that would have made me feel this way. I’m not looking to have a world like Conner’s, but just one free of all this BS.” My mind went to the dead Legacy, the Mors, and my finger traced along the line where my throat was cut.
“You of all people know you can’t change history, it makes us who we are. HF doesn’t even have a hundred members.” He let his words linger for a moment. “In a city with the population that we have, those are the only people who are willing to be part of it. Even with Mr. Lands over it. What does that tell you?”
Logic, he was the voice of it, and I needed it. Gareth watched me carefully as I kept playing with the handle of my sai. I kept them close to me—too close. If they were just a few feet from me, they seemed too far away. I wondered if they were my security blanket. He made a face, I’m sure remembering how I got out of bed the night before to put them next to me. Each time I’d tossed and squirmed in his arms I’d been waiting for the Mors’ magical chant that would render me paralyzed. I swallowed, trying to push it all down. I was better than this.
He tentatively approached me. He knelt down, placed his finger under my chin and lifted it until my eyes met his, and kissed me softly on the lips. Then he pressed his lips to my cheek.
“Let’s go,” he said coming to his feet.
“What?”
“Your heart rate has increased, your respirations are too high, and you’re tense. This isn’t you, and I don’t want you to be this way. Screw the politics behind it. Let’s go destroy some things.” He winked.
I was slow to move although I’d gotten to my feet the moment he’d mentioned destroying the objects. “I don’t want you to lose your job or your position on the Magic Council for me.”
“And I don’t plan to. You were right. They broke the rules—that will be the narrative. And if anything, it should demonstrate that we will do anything to preserve the trust people have and our dedication to following the oath we took. Harrah is a liar and I’ve always known it. I just never knew how despicable she could be. I understand her position, but I also realize that there are lines of ethics and even laws that she has crossed. That can’t go unchallenged, nor can she be given the impression that she can do whatever she wants without consequences. There will be penalties.”
Was he considering “consequences” her being put in the Haven? My idea of consequences was to put her six feet under. Perhaps knowing what it felt like to have her throat cut as well. But I would settle on destroying the objects that allowed her to murder.
I was on Gareth’s heels, sai sheathed and placed on my back as we headed for the door.
“There shouldn’t be anyone there except for the sentry and the guards,” he offered. Having been in the Haven, I knew that could be enough of an impedance. Anyone who worked for the Haven wasn’t exactly the weakest link in the supernatural world. Quite the contrary; like the agents at the SG, they were the strongest and most skilled. Since the Cleanse, there weren’t a lot of weak supernaturals. It had wiped them out first. Even the weakest now were still pretty strong from a historical standpoint.
We drove up toward the entrance. A guard was at the gate; Gareth gave him his credentials as well as his badge, although the man waved him forward without giving them a good look. He eyed me for a few seconds, and then his gaze went back to Gareth, but he didn’t say anything.
“You bring people here often?” I said with a little amusement.
“If he doesn’t know who you are he probably thinks I’m giving you a tour.”
“A tour at eleven o’clock at night?” I was skeptical.
He shrugged. “Maybe he thinks I’m trying to impress you with my position. You look like the type of woman who requires a lot more to woo. I’m sure most men don’t look at you and think they have a chance. And they damn sure don’t know that the way to your heart is to start talking endlessly about comic books and superheroes,” he said, shooting me a look before his lip lifted slightly in derision.
“Well, pray tell, which is the best way to your heart?
“I find myself strangely drawn to tetchy brunettes who talk incessantly about super villains and the Suicide Squad, call me kitty, and have roommates who don’t have any boundaries.” He parked and got out of the car.
I followed and fell in step with him. “A woman like that seems pretty hot to me.”
He gave me a half-grin, and I knew he had a smart response that he held.
He used his badge to enter from an entrance other than the one I’d used when I’d been arrested for murder. The illumination above the door offered a little more light than the muted ones surrounding the building. I’d expected them to be brighter so they could see if someone dared to break out, but being seen was the least of an escapee’s worries. Since no one could teleport, except Legacy and Vertu, getting down the ten-foot high
walls would prove to be difficult. If a prisoner attempted to climb down them, the flowers that laced up them, which I was sure were poisonous or magically enhanced, would stop them better than a bright light shining on them. If all that failed, the shifters on guard and their immunity to magic and predaceous nature would ensure that you weren’t getting too far. Ok, so they don’t need lights.
From the outside, the building didn’t look so scary and overwhelming. Inside it was a different thing altogether. Magic stifled the air, and even though there were sigils in many of the rooms to prevent it, it inundated the halls like a dense shawl. So much of it and so many variations that picking out the nuances was difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. Fae, mage, and witch magic all intermingled in the rooms.
It was hard to ignore the memories of my time here faced with magical beings who hadn’t done a great job making me feel welcome—but why should they have? If a magic wielder was there, they’d been accused of something pretty bad that put the alliance between humans and supernaturals in jeopardy.
I followed Gareth down the long halls. I slowed, drawing magic from within and letting it travel down my arms until sparks of it danced along my fingers, making sure that I had access to it. And Gareth, as he did each time I performed magic, stopped to look at it briefly, enchanted by it for so many reasons. I’d come to the conclusion that he was humbled by it in a peculiar way. The only magic that he didn’t possess immunity to. For most it was a source of disdain, but not him. Or perhaps it was and he was better at hiding it.
We passed several rooms that were locked; others had keypads. I stopped for another moment to look into the room where I’d first encountered the Magic Council. Rows of chairs, large opulent desks on a dais elevating them to the point they could look down upon the accused. The fear of knowing that your life could be changed by seven people.
There weren’t any juries, who might have some sympathy or understanding. I vividly remembered them questioning me. It was the first time I’d met Harrah and Lucas, not to mention Jonathan, who’d eventually betrayed the others and been killed. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. They’d killed him because they felt he’d betrayed them by siding with Conner just to curry favor with the Vertu and be part of a world where he would be considered one of the elite by association. Clearly I didn’t understand that desire to be revered, to long for power and be willing to sacrifice whatever and whoever to have it. I understood revenge. It bothered me that I did, but the desire to achieve it at all costs was something I now knew.
Backing out of the room, I had to increase my speed to catch up with Gareth. He took me down another hall. The lights were dim, and the walls were a plain white, unlike the others, which had been painted rich colors and had some decorations. It was as if someone didn’t want this pathway to catch anyone’s attention. It was a space they didn’t want other people to know about—where they held the illegal and powerful objects deemed too dangerous to be out in the general public.
How did the Council establish such a list? The history of magic had so many embellishments—how did they extrapolate the truth from fantastical revisions? Even when I read books about the Cleanse, some of the tales were entirely different. Revisionist history, I supposed. The same could be true about all these objects that were deemed so hazardous. Some could be innocuous, but based on one person’s retelling of their history and attributes, they were shelved in this room with the other powerful and dangerous objects. Gareth punched his code in and then pressed his finger to a reader before opening a door.
“They will know you were in here,” I said, following him into the room.
“I showed my badge at the door.” He shrugged. “There is no way the others won’t find out I did this.” He seemed awfully casual about participating in something that might cause him to lose his job, or worse, be convicted of a felony. But if he wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t going to be, either.
“I don’t want to indiscriminately destroy things in here,” he said, turning on the lights and revealing a massive space. I focused on the sigils that lined the upper edges of the walls. If one didn’t know what they were they would have considered them beautiful decorations of interlocking loops, curves, and twirls of red clay-colored symbols that wrapped around the room. A couple of white circles with black dots within them looked like eyes. I had no idea if they even meant anything or were just subtle ways of letting whoever entered know they were being watched. I scanned the room again looking for cameras. There weren’t any, so once you bypassed the locks and the fingerprint security you were free to do whatever the hell you wanted. Whatever the hell they wanted was exactly what they did. I wanted to make sure I could use my magic. I opened my hand and let a small glow expand; it pulsed and then vanished.
Once I’d confirmed I could do magic, I directed my attention to the rows of shelves along the walls. In the far right corner were three bookshelves filled with books. Some were old and weathered-looking, with brown or dark blue leather binding. The others looked like books I would expect to find on display in a magic shop to present a fantastical look. Their spines had ornate designs in swirls of gold or bronze, some titles English, but most in Latin. A few were in languages I couldn’t identify. This was where forbidden treasures were kept, and I was sure the books fell in the same category. They were probably filled with forbidden spells. Low glass-fronted cabinets were massed in the center of the room, and the magic coming from within them was undeniable.
There was just enough floor space remaining for a small black desk that held a desktop computer and a large monitor. The leather chair looked comfortable enough for hours of sitting and reviewing.
I started opening cabinets. I had no idea what I was looking at. I saw a staff, markings curving around it. I couldn’t make them out. It seemed like a bad plan, destroying these things without knowing their capabilities, which might be beneficial in the future. I was faced with the same double-edged sword that the Magic Council had come up against. Destroy them and know that they could never be used for evil or keep them in the event that you needed to use them.
I held the staff in my hand, running my fingers over it and feeling the power, the strength in it, wondering what it was for. “We should look this up and see what it does.”
“You will want to destroy that,” Gareth said, looking over his shoulder from the computer desk. He looked at a picture of it on the screen and then the description. “It’s worse than the Hearth Stones.”
I cracked the staff over my leg and winced at the pain. It was sturdier than it looked. Another attempt coaxed a curse out of me. Grinning, Gareth walked over and snapped it into pieces. Using the handle of my sai, I smashed them into smaller shards. Breaking something shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did.
Back at the desk, Gareth went through the catalogues on the computer. “There are six more Hearth Stones.” He studied the screen again and then moved to a cabinet on the far right. “These should be destroyed as well.”
The contradictory feelings were weighing on me. I wanted to get rid of them, but there was that nagging feeling of “what if.” Gareth gave me a tight half-smile. I had heard the hardness in his voice and the anger from the betrayal, and I felt it, too. But I also hated the idea of leaving people defenseless. They weren’t totally defenseless, were they? Against a magical coup, it wasn’t just magic that worked: the military and their arsenal of weapons were effective, too.
“I’m just getting rid of anything that can be used to summon dangerous creatures,” he explained.
I nodded and then struck one of the Hearth Stones with the handle of my sai. It took several powerful blows before it chipped away to bits. After smashing three of the six Hearth Stones and two of the ten Broven crystals, I strode over to the bookshelves, my finger trailing over the various titles until I came to one that was English or Latin. I flipping through the pages, scanning them. I figured we were probably going to burn some of the books. Most spells only required objects. But sometimes, a book
with certain spells was needed too. Burning books seemed wrong, but it was necessary. The more I read the spells, the easier it was to destroy them. Some of them were so nefarious I soon became okay with obliterating everything in the room.
I went back to the cabinet looking for the remaining stones and then pounded at them aggressively with the hilt of sai until they were crushed to pieces. Calling them stones was rather generous. They were hard, but not nearly as resilient as stone. Changing techniques, I smashed a crystal against the floor. Shards of glass sprayed, and I stomped until they were nothing but sand-like pieces. It was cathartic. I shattered another one and then another until I had destroyed all ten. I whirled my finger and brushed the remains aside until they were in a little pile of glassy dust and then went after more staffs.
Gareth and I had gotten into an easy rhythm. He either pointed to things in the cabinets, pulled them out, or told me what to look for and I destroyed the hell out of them. I came across another stone hidden behind other objects; it was a slightly darker gray, similar to the one that Kalen and I had sold to Blu. One that hadn’t been logged. Another well-intending member of the supernatural community had probably turned it over. Had this stone been overlooked, a simple clerical mistake?
It infuriated me because as much as I tried to rationalize it, I couldn’t do it. It had been hidden for a reason, and if this one had been, so were others. I smashed the stone to the ground. Nothing happened until I started hammering at it with the sai. The blows were more aggressive and hostile than what I’d delivered to the others.
“Destructive, aren’t we?” Gareth said, looking over his shoulder. A brow raised as he watched me and then assessed the room.
“Might as well have fun,” I retorted with a forced smile.
“And you indeed seem to be having fun. I guess you don’t have any more concerns or apprehension about destroying things.”
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 17