Mages and Masquerades: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Magic Blood: The Warlock Book 2)

by Katerina Martinez

  “Lead the way,” I said, stepping aside.

  “Please,” he insisted, “Ladies first.”

  I walked ahead of him, toward the left-hand side of the stage, where Giovanni, his aide, and several other people were waiting, handling the transfer of money for goods. Mason was there, I saw, waiting with the other people who had won items at the auction. He saw me approaching ahead of Cerberus and flashed me a what are you doing look, one I would have recognized anywhere.

  One of Giovanni’s people came up to Cerberus and escorted him to a small table where his book was waiting. My heart started to beat even harder, faster, giving me clarity of mind but also pushing forward the fight or flight instinct inside of me. The book was there, sitting on the table next to a tablet and some paperwork, but there were people around, too many people. I couldn’t just reach out and grab it; that would have been suicide. Not only was I too close to Cerberus, if anyone else saw me I was likely to lose the hand, then my life—in that order.

  Mason was led to a table with his purchase as I waited for Cerberus to handle his part of the transaction. I had no reason to doubt Mason could handle this on his own, he did after all have a long history of dealing with shady characters, but I couldn’t help thinking I should be there, with him, at his side, ready to offer him my help if he needed it. Then there was Levi, on his own somewhere, trying his best to blend in with these people; something he, contrary to Mason, had no experience with.

  This was all wrong.

  I was starting to think I had made a mistake, that maybe I should have just waited with Mason, collected our book, and left. But then, what about the book Cerberus was about to collect? It contained the same ritual, the one we had come here to make sure no one else had, and if we left with only one of the books, then what would we really have accomplished?

  “Here it is,” Cerberus said, lifting the book as one of his aides dealt with the remaining paperwork. “The prize we all covet, the reason we’re here. One of them, at any rate.”

  It was small, and brown, leather bound and smooth, but unlike the other, this one was frayed, and scuffed with age. I dared to reach for it, but Cerberus pulled it away from my searching fingers without thinking about it. He opened the book, and I saw its pages, the writing, the symbols, every page soaked with the blood of the many thousands of people who have been killed by a demon or a demon’s machinations.

  “Hailey, I don’t like what’s going on here,” Morpheus said, “I’ve lost you, I don’t have eyes on you or on Mason, and Levi is sticking out like a sore thumb alone in that lobby. Hailey… Hailey, can you hear me?”

  I could hear him, but I couldn’t reply. Cerberus was too close, his senses too sharp. Part of me feared he could hear the electronic voice being pumped into my ear by the tiny earpiece resting there. It wasn’t out of the question. Mages were human, but also better than humans; stronger, faster, tougher, our senses sharper, our minds more powerful and better equipped to handle the responsibility of magic. If he’d heard anything, he didn’t make it known to me. Instead, he shut the book and turned his attention to me.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  I kept my eyes on the book. “You’re going to ask it anyway.”

  “It’s more of a curiosity, really.” He held the book up in front of him. “You are familiar with the contents of this book, yes?”

  “I am.”

  “And how is it someone such as yourself is aware of what is written in this book?”

  “How is anyone aware of anything. I study, I learn.”

  He narrowed his eyes, studying me again. “Persephone, answer me truthfully, now. Did you know there were two books?”

  Despite the strict rules on magic in this place, I could feel his psychic tendrils reaching out to me again, this time more forcefully, more aggressively searching for a weak point in my fortifications. It would take him time to find one, but he would find it eventually, and when he did, if I lied to him now, he would know I had lied. His power was immense, almost overwhelming. Part of me resisted against the futility of resisting, that part wanted me to give up the struggle, to keel over and give him what he wanted, but if I was going to do that, I was going to do it on my own terms.

  “No…” I said, clenching my jaw.

  “I see… why, then, did you not bid as ferociously on the first book as you did with me?”

  I flicked my hair from one shoulder to the other, then tilted my head. “Maybe I just wanted to get your attention.”

  “Cute, but that doesn’t make sense, and you seem like a person who always makes sense. If you had as much of a desire to acquire one of these books, and yet only knew of the existence of one, then why would you remain entirely still and watch it go to someone else?”

  “You like to question everything, don’t you?”

  “I do, and I’m questioning this. You see, I have a working theory…”

  Shit. “And what’s that?”

  “My theory is that you and the gentleman who won the first book are working together in some capacity. Perhaps you are the fall back… no, you are the leader, he’s working for you… it was his job to secure the book, and if that didn’t work, you would have a backup plan, an ace in the hole. But you didn’t expect this, the appearance of a second book, so you bid—perhaps without a plan should you have won.”

  “Interesting theory.”

  “But close, yes?”

  “Now I’ve got a question for you. Did you know there was a second book? Because your last bid went way above your ceiling for the first book, the one you let my alleged co-conspirator win.”

  “I, like you, did not know there was a second book on the list.”

  “What would you have done if there was no second book?”

  He glanced over at Mason, who was being handed the Devil’s Notebook. “I would have triggered my backup plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “My dear,” he said, throwing me a condescending look, “That is for me to know, and for no one else to find out. I have a book, he—you—have a book, we are all happy, yes?”

  I concentrated hard, drawing only a small trickle of magic into me and pushing it into my brain, feeling it spread through each neuron and connection like blood through water. Magic alone wasn’t enough to enhance the power of my mind to match the calculating, computing power of a demon’s, but it was enough to put me in the same race as them.

  The world around me came into sharp focus and almost seemed to slow. I clearly saw Mason in my periphery, staring at the book in his hand, I could hear the soft, delicate sound his fingers made as he touched the book’s leathery exterior. I could hear the voices of those standing in the room, the conversations they were having. One click was talking about the Grimoires, and how shocked they were to see two of them. Another small group was talking about the cursed doll that had been sold to a Spirimancer; they were certain she was going to try to pull the trapped spirit out of the doll and bind it to her service.

  My senses were flooded with fresh, new input from all angles; sight, sound, smell, touch, but my enhanced mind didn’t have any trouble processing all of this new information and stopping it from entirely overwhelming me. I was able to push aside everything that wasn’t interesting, or necessary, and focus only on the things that were. Like Cerberus.

  I heard his heart beating inside of his chest, heard the sound of his breath, smelled his musky cologne much more clearly, saw the book in his hand, made to look even smaller by the size of his fingers. In an instant I saw several possible courses of action I could take that would see me leave this place with that book in my possession, but they were all incredibly risky, a factor compounded by the very real fact that I knew nothing about Cerberus’ capabilities, his magic, or the lengths he would go to stop me.

  Bringing my mind to bear on the situation I was in now, it became clear, going with Cerberus without a plan had been a mistake. Foolishly I had thought I could step deeper into the viper’s den alongside the king v
iper himself, and take his treasure from him without getting bitten. There was nothing I could do now, on my own, that would result in me leaving this place with both Grimoires instead of just one, and with no risk of harm to me or any other member of the team.

  I, however, was never one to take my own advice.

  “I’m ecstatic,” I said, forging the perfect smile, tweaking the dials to find just the right combination of neediness, attraction, and sincerity to display. “I could be happier, though,” I said, moving a little closer to him.

  “Oh yes?” he asked, “And what would a humble man such as myself have to do to facilitate that happiness?”

  I stopped, turned my head, and smiled. “I could really do with a strawberry daiquiri.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The comms crackled to life, and Tank came through loud and clear. “Fuck yes,” he said, and then other voices joined his. Morpheus and Ivy, coordinating the assault. They were thirty seconds out of the front doors, but Tank was already on the move, bounding across the grounds like a wild animal. I could hear dogs barking through my earpiece, then someone yelling what the fuck is that? Tank was a rock that had dropped into a sea of panic, fear, and alarm, and the wave was about to hit the mansion.

  I had only a second or two, maybe three. It was now or never. Something had caught Cerberus’ attention, maybe a sound, maybe a sixth sense pinging somewhere in the back of his mind, and his focus wasn’t on me or on the book. With my enhanced mind ticking away hundreds of thoughts a second, keeping track of the movement of his aides, the auctioneer’s staff, and the guests all around, I found my moment, my millisecond, and took it knowing full well this would probably end in disaster.

  My hand moved like the strike of a coiled snake, plucking the book from Cerberus’ fingers. Without hesitating, without worrying about Mason, trusting he could handle himself if it came to it, I made a run for it, dashing through the auction hall, shouldering my way through the crowd of mingling guests as voices called for me to stop.

  Strangely, nobody answered the call. The just watched me as I went, some of them moving aside when they saw me charging toward them, mages and demons. There really was no honor amongst thieves. But the dress I was wearing was slowing me down, and the heels weren’t helping the situation either. By the time I got to within striking distance of the main doors leading out of the hall, Cerberus and some of his goons were already on the move, chasing me down. Any minute now, I knew, magic would start flying, and I wasn’t ready.

  I hadn’t seen her turn the corner as I went to exit the main hall, and even with my enhanced senses, even with the world moving just a little slower around me, there was nothing I could have done to avoid moving right into her path. Her lips twisted into a grin, though the rest of her face didn’t change much. Her narrowed eyes, her smooth, jet-black hair flowing gently around her face; she had the word killer written all over her, and there I’d mistaken her for a secretary.

  The gun spoke, muzzle flashing in almost slow motion, spitting a chunk of hot death at me. I couldn’t stop fast enough to avoid getting shot, but as the bullet tore through the air to get to me, I thought I could twist out of its path, move my body in such a way that the bullet would instead fly past me, even if it meant having to throw myself into a solid, stone wall.

  I gave my legs the order to push, turned my torso to the side, arms splayed out so I looked like a spinning-top winding through the air. But I wasn’t fast enough. The bullet bit into my arm, searing pain shooting through me like fire, a splatter of blood coating the marble column to my left—and then I flew into the solid, stone wall with a crack that reverberated through every bone in my body.

  Around me everything moved in slow motion, but all I could do was blink hard and try to shake the daze that had fallen on me like a heavy cloud. It’s just a flesh wound, I told myself, I’ve had worse, but my magically enhanced brain had already started to flush my system with endorphins and adrenaline, so I had no way of knowing, truly, how badly hurt I was, only that I had just been shot, and not for the first time in my life.

  The next time I blinked, the world came into focus, the many chemicals flooding my bloodstream working overtime to bring clarity back to my senses. I could feel the pain in my arm, now, dull and muted, but present. I could hear the panting and grunting of Cerberus and his people as they arrived and created a half-circle around me, could hear the clack, clack, clack of heels as the woman who shot me took a position ahead of me, staring at me with those cold eyes.

  But there was something else, too; dogs were barking, people were shouting in the distance—no, not distant, but close, now, very close. There were people who, upon hearing the gunshot or seeing the muzzle flash, had exited the auction hall; I could hear them each calling for their respective drivers to pick them up, this situation had clearly brought the night to an abrupt end. There was one man who was about as white as a ghost, his eyes trained on me, his face marked with blood—my blood. He must have been nearby when I got shot. I found myself wondering how a man who had come to a place like this could have been so freaked out by a little blood; he was probably an inexperienced mage with too much money who had heard of a sword that could steal a little magic from every mage that it killed and thought it was totally awesome, bro. But it wasn’t only a little blood, they weren’t a few specks, and they weren’t just on his face—they were splattered across the edge of a sword he was holding in his hands.

  I remembered him, now; remembered the way he had fiercely bid over the sword he was now the owner of. He was a collector, probably didn’t know how to use them, just enjoyed having them, especially if they had some kind of magical origin. I was a collector, too—I had many swords in my lockup—difference was, I knew how to use them.

  “That was a mistake,” Cerberus said, towering over me. “One you’re going to live to regret.”

  I couldn’t stop him from snatching the book out of my hand, but that was okay; it would have made my next move difficult to pull off. When his hands came away, the book in his possession, I twisted my torso to the side and brought my foot up to connect against his cheek with a thud. Cerberus staggered to the right, and I rolled to the left just as the gun discharged again, bullet smashing into the wall sending a hail of brick and mortar in all directions, the sound so loud it would have deafened a regular person.

  Ignoring the pain, numb to it now, I sprang to my feet, stretched out my injured arm, fingers splayed, and reached with my mind for the sword that had tasted my blood. Magic coalesced around me like an invisible, inaudible, yet howling wind. My entire body vibrated as the power worked through me, forging a connection between me and the sword through my own blood in an instant. The sword began to glow, and then it ripped out of its owner’s hand and flew into mine, hilt first.

  With the momentum, I swiped the sword in a reverse arc, slicing it across the chest of one of Cerberus’ goons and then spinning around to knock the gun out of the woman’s hand. It discharged again when I hit it, but the bullet went wide this time, taking a chunk out of a marble column. Nobody screamed, nobody ducked for cover, instead they promptly left the hall with their possessions in their hands, more interested in not losing their investments than getting involved in the fight.

  The demons, I thought, where are all the demons?

  “Don’t move!” I yelled, dropping my accent and aiming the tip of the sword at the woman’s throat. “Nobody move a fucking muscle or I’ll run her through, I swear to all the Gods.”

  Cerberus, now recovered, stared at me from a short distance away. He didn’t want to get too close, but then, he didn’t exactly have to. Nobody did. I had to assume the vast majority of people arranged in a circle around me were mages; any one of them could strike out at me without having to move a muscle. All they had to do was think it.

  “Another big mistake, Persephone,” Cerberus said, and if he had been holding back with his magic earlier on, he didn’t now. It struck me like a wave against the side of a cliff, cracking t
he psychic walls I had put up as if they’d been hit with a high-explosive round.

  The pain in my right temple was immediate, and almost crippling. I tried to make good on my promise to end the woman that had shot me, but by the time I’d pushed the blade toward her neck, she’d moved out of the way leaving me staggering forward. I could hear my heart pumping hard against the sides of my head, pulsing and throbbing, each pump carrying with it a fresh dose of pain. I could almost feel Cerberus’ hand reaching into my brain, not to search through it this time, but to tear it apart one grey-matter cell at a time, if he had to.

  My vision was swimming in front of me as I took step after unsteady step toward the door, desperate to get to the exit, but as my sixth sense picked up another psychic lashing about to reach me, I knew, I wouldn’t make it. Then I heard dogs, and at first, I thought I was hallucinating; maybe I had already been struck down, and I was in a deep, magically induced sleep—or a coma. But as they hurried past me, each of them brushing up against me a little bit as they went, I knew they were real, and behind them, Tank.

  He moved into the hall looking like a serial killer from one of the old slasher movies from the nineties, his face, hands, and chest covered in blood and gore; none of it his. Tank’s neck was all taut muscle, his body easily twice its normal size, his fingernails not quite nails anymore, but sharp claws filthy with the blood of whoever had tried to stop him. He roared like a wild animal as he made his entranced, flanked by Ivy who was holding one of the rifles I had seen strapped to the security guards patrolling the manor, and Levi who had a gash on the side of his face, and a steady stream of blood trickling out of it.

  I threw myself to the floor as Tank barged through, and he hopped over me to get into the thick of it. Gunshots rang out, the sounds of thuds and crashes were accompanied by a cacophony of barks and growls, and this time there was screaming. It was Mason who grabbed me, steadied me, and helped me move down the stairs and toward the front door, our exit covered by Ivy whose rifle had started to sing its deadly song.