The Eighth Day

by Salerni, Dianne K.

  “The boy’s newly turned,” Owens said to Balin, “and barely trained. Easily molded at this point. The strongest thing in his mind is his oath to the Emrys girl.”

  “Who was he living with?” Balin asked.

  Owens hesitated. “A Transitioner using a false name. The boy wasn’t taught to read marks and doesn’t know who he is.”

  It took all Jax’s strength of will not to show his relief. At least he’d hidden Riley’s identity. Or had he? Owens hadn’t looked for any memories of Riley, only the ones that explained how Jax had gotten himself into this predicament.

  “The boy is as devoted to his oath as you are to yours,” Owens said to Balin.

  Balin turned to his brother. “Angus, take the recruits to separate rooms. We’ll move in the morning.”

  “Where?” Owens asked. “Where are we moving?”

  John Balin walked out of the room without answering.

  Jax was locked into an office on the second floor—a room with a metal desk, a swivel chair, and two steel filing cabinets. He sank into the chair, still trembling.

  A man who could rip memories from his head was not a good person to have as an enemy. If Owens came back, Jax would have to fight harder. Melinda told him it was possible to fight off any kind of attack, if the person was ready for it. In fact, Jax had pushed Owens out for a second. Owens had inserted the pain because of that push. Was it a memory of pain? Was that the key to Owens’s talent, then—disabling his victims before looking through their heads? If Jax could ignore the pain, maybe Owens wouldn’t be able to treat Jax’s brain like one of these filing cabinets.

  A light tapping made Jax whirl to face the sole window in the room. When he saw who was there, crouched on the ledge outside, he crossed the room and fumbled the lock open. The window pane was stuck from years of grime, but Jax heaved at it.

  As soon as the opening was wide enough, Tegan slipped her legs in. The rest of her followed like a limbo dancer. “Are you crazy?” Jax demanded. Then, because he already knew the answer to that, he asked, “Are you escaping?”

  “Can’t. They’ve got men with rifles on the fence,” Tegan said.

  “Then what are you doing climbing around out there?”

  Tegan stared Jax in the eye. “You got between me and the gun.”

  “Yeah, well, it was just—”

  She lunged at him. Jax put up his hands to fend off an assault, but she threw both arms around his neck and hugged him.

  Someone cleared his throat loudly, and they both turned to see Owens standing in the doorway. Jax swept Tegan behind him with a wave of his arm. This is getting to be a terrible habit.

  Owens shoved the door closed, his eyes darting from Jax to Tegan to the open window. “You.” He pointed a finger at Tegan and then at the window. “Get back to your own cell, or I really will shoot you.”

  Tegan darted to the window and squeezed herself out, reversing the motion that had gotten her in.

  “You.” Owens turned his finger on Jax.

  Jax braced himself. This time he’d concentrate, no matter the pain. It’s not real. It’s a memory. I can take it.

  Owens lowered his hand. “I could say something about your taste in friends, but there isn’t time. I have a message for you.” He crossed the room in two strides and stuck the object in his other hand into Jax’s face.

  Jax flinched, expecting a gun, but it was a phone. It took him a moment to focus on the message in the texting box.

  Riley: jax you idiot

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  ..................................................................

  32

  JAX GRABBED THE PHONE and keyed in his most important question.

  Miller: melindas kids ok?

  He barely had time to register the name preceding the message before Riley answered.

  Riley: evry1 ok

  Jax glanced nervously at Owens and quickly thumbed in:

  Miller: this is millers phone but guy w/me is owens

  Riley: miller owens right

  Jax groaned at his own stupidity. Riley’s vassal Miller—descended from Sir Owain. Melinda had told him that!

  Miller Owens waved his hand at Jax in a hurry-it-up gesture and glanced toward the door. “Keep it short.”

  Riley: where is E

  Miller: hiding her somewhere. not with me

  Miller: i swore 2 her

  Riley: quick thinking on her part. kept u alive.

  Jax licked his dry lips and ignored the temptation to resort to excuses and explanations.

  Miller: what do I do?

  Riley: trust miller. im coming

  “That’s enough.” Miller took the phone from Jax’s hands, turned it off, and shoved it in a pocket. “I don’t want them catching me with this phone.”

  “You’re Riley’s vassal?” Jax couldn’t believe it. This guy had offered to shoot Tegan. He’d rummaged around in Jax’s head, torturing him while he did it.

  “Yeah,” said Miller.

  “But I heard you say you were Wylit’s vassal.”

  “I am. Want me to swear to you, too? No, wait. This’ll prove it faster.” Miller opened one of the filing cabinets and threw a manila file on the desk. He took out his blade and balanced the dagger on his palm. “I swear the loyalty of the Owens bloodline to these papers. I will protect them from harm with the last breath of my body.” Then, with a wild grin at Jax, he flipped the blade into its sheath, located a lighter in one of his many pockets, and lit the folder on fire.

  He laughed while he did it.

  Jax might’ve been new to the world of magic, but he still felt sick—like he’d seen something unnatural. His oath to Evangeline was the only one he’d ever made, but he knew instinctively that it was impossible for him to betray it. “How—?”

  Miller beat the flames out against the desk, his eyes pale gray and dilated behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “An unexpected side effect of a fractured skull. Oaths don’t work on me anymore.”

  Jax’s eyes jumped to the patch of colorless hair on the side of Miller’s head. “Does Riley know?”

  “Riley was there when this happened to me. He knows I’m free to betray him, and he trusts me anyway. But let me tell you what this means for you, Jax.” Miller gave him a small shove. “I’m not compelled to protect you like he is. If you get in the way of my main objective, I’ll let you sink or swim on your own.”

  Jax gulped. “What is your main objective?”

  “Preventing the end of the world.” Miller grinned so wildly, Jax didn’t know whether to take him seriously or not. “Specifically, I need to keep Emrys away from Wylit.”

  “What does he want from her?”

  “He wants her to alter the Eighth Day Spell.”

  “You mean release all the people inside it?” Jax still wasn’t convinced that was a bad thing.

  “No, he wants to push Grunsday into the space filled by the other seven days.”

  “Reverse it? Seven Grunsdays and one for everybody else?”

  “Only Grunsday,” Miller corrected. “With the rest of time snipped out of reality.”

  Jax felt a cold trickle down his spine. “Can that be done?”

  “It’s been done before. There’re a lot of vanished civilizations in history—the Khmers, the Minoans, a long list of ancient American cultures . . . The Native Americans were really into magic.”

  Some of this was familiar to Jax from that stupid show Riley liked. Is this why he was always watching it?

  “Besides,” Miller went on, “a failure’s almost as bad as a success. Wylit tried this once before, and it backfired spectacularly. I don’t know how he got out alive, but the younger brother of your Emrys was killed in the attempt. Wylit’s spent the last couple decades looking for another member of her family so he can try again.”

  “Her brother was killed?” Riley hadn’t told Jax that part. “Does she know?”

  “Do you want
to tell her? Riley couldn’t bring himself to do it, and it’s not my job. My job is to keep her out of Wylit’s hands. Or better yet, eliminate Wylit altogether.”

  “Why didn’t you do it when you swore your fake oath to him?” Jax glared at Miller. Any guy who would encourage Riley to make a “first kill” and point a gun at Tegan shouldn’t have any trouble assassinating his new liege lord.

  “I was under orders to let him live at that point,” Miller said, taking no offense at being presumed a killer. “He’s not the only bad Kin guy out there, and we were hoping he’d lead us to others. Now that things have taken a turn for the worse, I don’t know where he is. John Balin’s paranoid about security—keeps us other vassals in the dark about details. He won’t tell me where he’s stashed Emrys or where the spell-casting ceremony’s supposed to take place. He doles out information on a need-to-know basis, and he’s never liked me because your father introduced us and later betrayed him.”

  Jax flinched at that. These people killed my dad. I can’t forget that. “What should I do?” Jax asked.

  “Try to stay alive.”

  “Can you get my dagger back?”

  Miller shook his head. “You’ll have to convince Balin to give it back yourself.” Before Jax could ask how, Miller said, “Let me tell you about the Balins. They’re hereditary vassals.” When Jax shook his head, Miller explained impatiently. “They’re born vassals, because some idiot Balin in the Middle Ages swore to the Wylit bloodline and bound all his descendants to the oath. They’re insanely loyal, but they like to pick up recruits with useful talents because the only Balin talent is having a head like a rock.”

  “A what?”

  “I can’t get into their heads. You can’t get in. Riley wouldn’t be able to make any of them wiggle a finger. They’re impervious to outside magical influence, and they take this hereditary oath very seriously.” Miller poked Jax in the middle of his chest. “Convince John Balin you’re devoted to Emrys, and you’ll win him over.”

  “I am devoted to her,” Jax said angrily. “And her name is Evangeline.”

  “I don’t want to know her name. I have a mission to complete.” Miller held up one finger. “Option one: Kill Wylit.” A second finger. “Option two: Rescue Emrys.” Then he threw out both hands, as if in surrender. “Final option: Kill Emrys before Wylit can use her.”

  “No,” said Jax. “No.” He clenched his fists. “You can’t. Riley said if she dies, it might extinguish Grunsday and all the people in it.”

  Miller walked toward the door. “We think there’s another hidden Emrys to hold the spell, but even if there isn’t, it can’t be helped. We Transitioners will survive it either way, but if it’s a question of sacrificing a few thousand Kin versus seven billion Normals, then I’ll do what I’ve got to do.” He glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door. “I might not like it, but I don’t have a choice.”

  Miller closed the door behind him. Jax dropped into the swivel chair and looked at the smoking papers on the desk. For a few precious minutes, Jax thought somebody braver and smarter than he was going to rescue both him and Evangeline.

  Now his hopes were a smoldering mess, just like that folder.

  “Did that guy hurt you?” Tegan asked in the morning. She was waiting for Jax beside the Land Rover.

  “No.”

  “What’d he want?”

  Jax couldn’t trust her with the truth. “To question me.”

  “He smelled sick,” Tegan said. “Not diseased. Sick like—broken. That’s what I told John Balin.”

  “You told him what?”

  “Balin wanted to know what Owens smelled like. He said that’s why he brought me here—to tell him what I thought of Owens.”

  Jax blinked rapidly. Balin had said he wanted Miller’s assessment of Jax and Tegan. Had it been the other way round? Did Balin suspect Miller was a traitor? Jax looked around. Balin was giving orders to his brother, Angus. Miller was nowhere in sight. Jax turned back to Tegan. “You shouldn’t tell Balin anything!”

  Tegan narrowed her green eyes. “You mean I should just suck up to him like you do? My lady this, my lady that . . . all that vassal crap he likes so much.”

  “Look.” Jax grabbed her arm. “He’s trying to recruit you. Don’t use your talent for him.”

  She pulled away. “I do what keeps me alive and loose and ready to run. I know how to survive in this world better than you do. I don’t need you jumping between me and guns.”

  “Well, I promise never to do it again!” Jax snapped, looking over her shoulder. John Balin was walking toward them.

  “Donovan.” He took her by the arm, steering her away from Jax. “You’re coming with me.”

  Meanwhile, Angus threw open the rear passenger door of the Land Rover. “In,” he ordered Jax.

  They were being separated. First Evangeline. Now Tegan. And Miller—Jax scanned the area again. There was no way to warn Miller that Tegan had been used against him. He looked at Angus. “Where are you taking me?”

  Angus folded his arms, stone-faced. “Get in the car, Aubrey.”

  Jax looked up into this man’s cold eyes and imagined him behind the wheel of a car on a dark night, swerving viciously into the side of another vehicle. Then he did as he was told.

  On Monday, Jax was driven across the border into Mexico.

  He didn’t hold out much hope they’d be stopped at Immigration, and they weren’t. An official stamped a passport with a picture bearing no resemblance to Jax and handed it back without question. He had followed Angus Balin to the car, angry that he hadn’t realized the significance of the pesos mixed in with the money Tegan had stolen from the farmhouse. Where was that talent for information I’m supposed to have? Jax could’ve told Miller, maybe given him an idea where they were headed—but instead he’d been too much an idiot to recognize a clue when he saw one.

  Miller was Jax’s best hope of rescue, but that gave him little comfort. The final option. Did Riley agree? That killing Evangeline might become their only choice?

  But he didn’t know if Miller would catch up with them anyway. He’d seen no one but Ugly Angus since Friday, and he only had John Balin’s word that Jax would be present when they let Evangeline out of that casket on Grunsday. He had long since given up asking Angus questions—where they were going or what had happened to Tegan. He didn’t dare ask about Miller.

  On Wednesday, they skirted around Mexico City and headed into the countryside, toward a mountain range. Each individual mountain peak was conical, like a volcano.

  Oh God. They aren’t planning to throw her into a volcano, are they?

  Then Jax spotted a road sign suspended over the highway:

  ↑ PIRAMIDES

  “No way,” Jax whispered.

  Thanks to that television show Riley liked to watch, Jax knew exactly what spot had been chosen to conduct the end of the world.

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  33

  THE WORLD LURCHED, and Evangeline’s scream died in her throat. Seven days had just passed without her, and the silk-lined prison rocked with the rhythm of footsteps.

  She screamed again, furiously pummeling the sides of the coffin. They might have flown her halfway around the world by now. Jax—for whom she was responsible—might have been left behind or seven days dead for all she knew.

  The only certain thing was that she was still among enemies. Her hand went to the Pendragon dagger lying next to her heart. Riley would come to retrieve it. That promise had been implied in the gift. But he hadn’t reached her yet, or he would’ve had the coffin open already.

  Perhaps he’d been killed trying.

  She stifled panic at the thought. Whatever had happened in the last seven days, Riley had sent her this blade so she could draw magic from it. It had been a generous gift and a sign of trust. Evangeline took control of her breathing. For
his sake, and for Jax’s, she would go down fighting.

  She slipped her right hand inside her shirt. When she ran her fingertips over the engraved crest on the dagger’s hilt, she experienced a jolt of power. Emrys magic on a Pendragon blade. She wondered if such a thing had ever been done before. Perhaps not since Merlin and Arthur and the Eighth Day Spell.

  Evangeline murmured the incantation for the only spell she knew that required no symbolic objects to invoke it, just the energy of her own body. She clenched her hands into fists. Magic tingled on her flesh, dancing along her forearms with startling intensity. Holding both fists tight against her sides, she rocked back and forth with the movement of the casket and planned for the moment they set this thing down and opened it.

  The motion of the casket stopped, and Evangeline clenched her hands experimentally. The magical charge stung her flesh like she was holding fistfuls of lightning. The casket thumped onto the floor, and her heart pounded, adding fuel to her prepared spell. When the lid opened, Evangeline elbowed herself upright, stood, and scanned the room.

  John Balin faced her in a room that contained a bed, a chair, and a television bolted to the wall. A skinny woman with a pinched face stood beside him, armed.

  “She has a spell prepared,” a voice piped up. Evangeline’s eyes snapped back to Balin. A girl with carrot-colored hair stood behind him.

  Balin and the woman drew their guns. “She’s built up a big charge,” the girl said. She was obviously a sensitive with an acute awareness of magic, and Evangeline recognized her as one of the people who’d subdued Jax—only a few minutes ago by Evangeline’s timeline.

  “Lady Emrys,” Balin said. “Disperse your spell—and gently.”

  Evangeline shook her head. “You didn’t go to all this trouble just to shoot me.”

  He smiled grimly and raised his voice. “Bring in the boy.” A man who looked like a younger version of Balin dragged Jax into the room and shoved him to his knees. Balin pressed his pistol to the back of Jax’s head. “If you begin hostilities, all bargains are dissolved between us.”