He barked out a laugh. “Your ignorance is precious. Mixed fae blood is in your DNA. As the Rift unleashes magic, it will trigger the dormant magic in your blood. The more magic in the world, the more power you’ll obtain. In time, the other sorcerers will gain additional powers unheard of in this day and age.”
What about the doppelgängers? He knew about them, but acted as if he didn’t. I didn’t want to tip him off, though. Full-fledged hysteria swirled and blustered in my chest. “I suppose you’re the only one who knows this because you have half my instruction manual?”
Riley smiled from me to Ronan. “Not the only one.”
Rising, I paced around the couch, clutching my throat. “You knew all of it?” I spun toward the defector who’d flipped my life into a hexed hell.
Avoiding my fiery gaze, Ronan tweaked his shirtsleeve and picked at his bandage. “I suspected.”
“When?”
“When I grabbed Melisande’s laptop from her hotel room. She had much more on her laptop, notes she’d pieced together.” Color traveled up his neck. “Things I had heard and read took shape.”
“Whose blood did you use?” I asked. My fingernails dug into my throat.
Riled waved a dismissive hand in the air. “That’s not important now.”
Their wary stares held me hostage. The nightmare had no end in sight. My gaze bounced around the room, begging to find purchase anywhere but on the son of a bastard and the bastard himself. A glint of light from one of the recessed bulbs landed on a matte black object on the floor sticking out from behind a desk leg, hidden in shadows from the desk skirt. Ideas sprayed my mind.
Riley, seeming to sense my panic, gestured at his desk. “Shall we sit and discuss rationally?”
Knowing and fearing the answer, I gave him a belligerent glower. “Just say it. What am I?”
“You are much more than we bargained for.”
“You’re the thirteenth, Aria. Deal with it,” Ronan shot out, giving his father one of his black-ice looks. “You’re the direct descendant of the most powerful sorcerer who ever lived. The master key.”
“The descendant of the most evil, manipulative sorcerer that ever walked the earth.” Riley grinned maniacally, scrubbing his hands together.
Hearing it spoken aloud changed nothing, except that my legs weakened. “Okay. I’m listening.” Poker became my game as I veiled my face.
They both back-stepped toward the twin guest chairs. A strange emotion crossed Ronan’s features, but I couldn’t decipher it. He was shuttered to me in all ways. Had I only imagined those few moments of bliss at the Rift? Deception was a capital offense where my emotions were concerned now. I’d invoke the penalty phase later.
I marched to Riley’s side of the desk. “May I?” I waved at his chair, itching to see if the object on the floor was a gun. In the frenzy, he must’ve forgotten about it.
“By all means.” He threw me another one of his so-like-Ronan charming smiles. However, the viperous charm didn’t con me.
I swiveled the burgundy chair around, perched on the edge of the cool leather, and scooted the chair forward. I snuck a peek at the desk leg by my right foot. Well, hello, precious. Excitement quickened my heart, and I schooled my face to contain it.
Subtly, I stretched out my right leg, inched the gun sideways. Avoiding the splashes of cooling coffee, I rested my forearms on the desk and began to dog-ear a business magazine to distract my antsy hands.
Riley settled comfortably into a guest chair. “You have two choices, Ms. Walker.”
My eyebrows peaked. “Two. How lucky can an evil girl sorcerer get?” The side of my foot nudged the gun, and I finagled the weapon into position to slide it closer.
“In your case, very lucky.” As intimate as a kiss, he smiled.
Get real, pinhead. My return smile hurt my face. “How can I help you?” Now that you’ve pulled my plug and stolen my paddles.
Riley moved the envelope to his side of the desk. I gave Ronan a glare that would deflate the ego of a hyena. He had the unmitigated gall to look ashamed. My anger spiraled my power into a twisted sword. It lurked, leaking past the room’s barriers.
“You can voluntarily work with us as a team. I’ll give you all the considerable information I have about your true identity, family, your heritage, how to work your magic.” Riley paused for effect, spreading out his hands in a gesture I found maddening. “Or I will force your cooperation.”
“I want some freedom.”
“In due time.” Riley’s rueful look mocked me. “When I can trust you.”
User door number one, or loser door number two? I toyed with an expensive gold and marble pen, sliding it up and down between my fingers. “What if I reject your choices?”
Riley drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “You have no other option. What do you think will happen to you on the street? You’ll be on the run for the rest of your life either from me or the government. If you don’t learn to contain and control your emerging power, there’s no telling what will happen to you or those around you. Or to the other Forbidden.” He paused for effect. “Your best friend will be dead within the week.”
I sucked in my middle and dropped the pen with a clunk on his pristine wood desk. Even though I knew the threat to Zoe hovered over my head, I couldn’t mask the blood draining from my face. Should I have warned her earlier? Was she safe now? I had to play out my hand.
I toed the gun within arm’s reach. A diversion was in order. “That’s a beautiful rug you have. I’d hate to spoil it by tossing my cookies all over it.” Two strangled coughs erupted out of me and I clutched my stomach. Spurts of power actually rumbled disconcertingly against my hand, as if I was preparing to hatch fairies.
Ronan leapt up. I held up a forestalling hand. “Keep your distance. I’ll use the trashcan.” Bent over double, I captured the gun in one hand, and reached for the can. A few more fake gags gave me the opportunity to hide the weapon on my lap. The bottom of my sweatshirt covered the gun in the folds of my oversized pants. It was the real deal, not a stun gun. Ronan’s stare drilled into me.
Straightening, I grimaced and smacked my lips a few times for good measure. “False alarm, I guess.” Energy shot holes in the shroud of deadeners around me. I drizzled a targeted charge of energy onto Riley and his twitchy hand aped an addict tumbling off the wagon.
He appeared as if he was sinking into an apoplectic fit, mottled face explosion and all. Either he cared more for the rug or me. Who knew?
“You should rest. We’ll resume talks later.” Riley’s arrow-straight back trembled his eagerness against his chair.
I moved the gun into position beneath the desk. “No. I rather adore the idea of cracking your shriveled nuts across your expensive wool rug.” I cocked the hammer, the sound excruciatingly audible in the swampy tension.
The man-squirming began. Riley’s eyes bulged. Ronan instinctively cupped his package, raising the dart gun at the same time. Yeah, like that’d stop a bullet. I barely had time to shower them with a sleepy-time spell. My head thumped in agony, but the magic machines spewed out more happy dust inside me. Not enough to send them to the realm of nightmares, though.
“Drop it.” I stood and hoisted the handgun into view. The dart gun fell out of Ronan’s relaxed grasp onto the floor.
“Slide it away.”
As if he’d been sucking down muscle relaxants, he kicked the gun a few feet with the side of his boot, maxing out the three strikes law to do it. A shimmer of pure electricity sparked in the air between us. Whoa, Nelly, reel in a hint. Ronan didn’t give any indication he’d felt it.
I skirted the desk and kicked Ronan’s gun behind me. Riley drooped in his chair, and I almost needed toothpicks to prop open his eyes.
“What’ll it be?” My award-winning smile pained my pinched cheeks.
“Calm down, Aria.” Ronan languidly extended a placating hand. Crimson suffused his face, proving his internal struggles against my telekinesis. “There’s no
need for violence.”
I clung to his words, using them as an anchor for my sanity. “Shut it. I ought to bang you down with the tranq gun. See how you dig it.”
His mouth remained tight despite the paralysis.
“That’s right. I have the upper hand now,” I cooed. “So here are your choices.” I pasted on an indifferent smile. “I want a cell and car, and I don’t give a rat’s puny ass if you’ve embedded them with tracking devices. Or my personal favorite, I bury you both where you squat.”
“You’re not a cold-hearted murderer,” Ronan slurred with quiet emphasis. Not a muscle stirred in his pitiful body.
“Don’t bet the fairy dust on it. I learned from the master.” I landed an arctic glower on him. “And aren’t I the most evil sorcerer imaginable?” As if. Ants don’t even fear me.
“If you kill me, you won’t clear the building.” A lock of Riley’s impeccably styled hair fell over his forehead. “Nor will you ever learn who you are and what happened to your father. You’ll never get your hands on my Illuminaria.”
Unsuppressed rage stiffened my finger on the trigger. Mention of my father was a verbal F-up. Damn it, I couldn’t take down the whole building. I needed more time for my new Catwoman powers to blast apart the barriers. I needed to rescue Kiera and Katrina. Ideas simmered to the top of my head. Scrambler Guard had energy I could borrow and use to leverage him to help me. Whatever drug Riley had him on must be suppressing his energy. It was wearing off, and I think the guy knew it from touching me. At the moment, a game of Russian roulette was in order. A game I was no newbie at besting.
“Then you have only one choice.” I lowered the gun and spun the cylinder, listening for the clicks, engaging my mind in their placement. Anticipation spread the warmth of adrenaline, and I stroked the barrel of the gun.
“What if I refuse?” Riley’s fingers curled and uncurled around the chair arms. Ceiling lights twinkled on the diamond studded Claddagh ring on his right hand, a ring that looked suspiciously like one my father had worn.
I released the gun’s hammer, opened the cylinder, and glimpsed the one bullet. Slowly, I slipped the cylinder in place and spun it. I plucked the figurative ace out of my sleeve and lifted the gun to my head. “Then I’ll kill myself, now. Deader than a twice-dead vampire. What’ll you have besides a bunch of sorcerers with no master? What if you need to close the Rift? What good will the Forbidden do you if you can’t control them? If they don’t destroy the world first? I bet dead blood is useless in your dumb alchemy spells.”
Riley’s eyes darkened as if he’d lost his godhood and his offshore bank account to boot. Pain and guilt swept across Ronan’s face. He extended his hand toward me, the ditches around his eyes digging into his skull.
A hard kernel of his magic slammed into my gut. My wellspring opened for him with a welcome-to-the-neighborhood gush of energy. Unable to control my shocked gasp, my legs quaked. Light winked in Ronan’s soulless eyes and he blinked swiftly in acknowledgment. Damn it.
“Aria, please,” he pleaded. “Put the gun down.”
I invoked another smattering of intangible muscle relaxants, sliding Riley to the floor in a blithering crumple. Ronan’s eyes widened. Shrugging his shoulders back, he leapt toward the desk.
Seconds before my finger engaged the trigger, I used my telekinesis to force the gun away from my head and to aim it at Riley not yet passed out on the floor. The gun went off.
The recoil knocked my hip against the desk. The bullet shattered the genie bottle and breaking glass pinged the room. The blast thundered through my soul, rendered me deaf and speechless.
Despite Ronan’s liquid limbs, he dove across the desk. Unintelligible words spilled from his mouth as he knocked my head against the chair. The ecstatic pooling of Ronan’s spring-fresh magic within me accompanied the haze of midnight sucking me under.
Chapter 23
Splayed on the floor, I resurfaced seconds later on the receiving end of a hammering, blinding headache. Both Riley and Ronan were conked out, victims of my sleepy-time magic. Ronan slumped across the desk, and I almost swept the hair out of his eyes, so wanting to return to yesterday.
Magic whipped the air, and dense clouds of it pressed on me. It wasn’t the barrier of a deadener, but the mass of fae and sorcerer magic surrounding my core of power. Silvery, golden energy dissolved into my every cell. Untainted, precious magic waited for me to rev the engines. The shock of the gunshot blasted away my shields and opened the floodgates. Holy doppelgängers, what had we wrought by opening the Rift?
“Game. Set. Match,” I muttered to the silent room.
What happened? The chamber of the gun should’ve been empty. I’d spun the cylinder and modified the spin with telekinesis, listening for the appropriate sequence of clicks that supposedly emptied the firing chamber. All was in place, but something had gone ass-end wrong. Something inside me deflected the bullet-that-shouldn’t-have-been away from Riley. Not even my subconscious would allow me to become a cold-blonde murderer.
I squeezed my eyes closed. From the moment I plunged through the vent, I knew deadeners lined the office. Yet I’d gained control of my magic and busted apart the blocks. It was the reason I managed to shift the gun’s cylinder to an empty chamber, or so I believed. Holy crap, the bullet almost marbled the sage walls with my brain.
Strangest of all, Ronan’s unsullied magic reinvigorated our bond, solid and irrevocable. Joy streamed through me before I became the virtual victim of an Aria drive-by. When he’d dived for me, he never even touched me before I pulled the trigger. Either bad luck thirteen had struck again or something unfathomable had taken root within me. If what Riley said was true, then denial and I were hooking up. The gun earned my nastiest glare.
I’d done the cylinder movement thing before. At eighteen, Zoe and I had found the key to her stepfather’s gun safe. Recently dumped by losers, insanely plastered, we were as depressed as tortillas. It was late and Russian roulette with one blank signaled stupid therapy. I shot at my foot, firing on the empty chamber. Only it wasn’t empty, and my telekinesis redirected and slowed the bullet before I shot off my big toe.
The next day, I’d swiped my mom’s old revolver out of her trunk and learned to spin the cylinder with my mind, listening for the clinks. A useless trick that only worked on a weapon with a cylinder. Don’t ask why I felt the need to play with guns. I wasn’t suicidal or anything, maybe arrogant and dumb occasionally.
My first life-threatening episode happened when I was twelve, shaping my warped ideas of invincibility. A car had backed into me as I cycled down the sidewalk. It should’ve flattened me into a speed bump. At the last second, the driver had hit the brakes. She’d reported never touching the brakes, and I pedaled away without a scratch.
The strange incidences hadn’t ended there. I never dwelled much upon the wackiness of my life. Just lucky, I guessed. A paradox, if I’d ever heard one.
I poked my ringing ears and sank onto Riley’s padded desk chair. He gurgled from the floor and his eyelids fluttered. I shoved the chair away from Ronan who was responding in one-syllable caveman grunts.
Skin pulled taut over the ridge of Ronan’s cheekbones. His paleness magnified the tempest of charcoal flecks in his eyes. For an eye blink, his expression softened, then that blasted hard-ass mask descended. He reached to touch me.
“Back off.” I brushed him away and swung my noodle legs over the edge of the chair, aiming the gun between Ronan and his father.
Riley listlessly regained his seating and perched on the edge of his chair once again, shaking his head in confusion.
Energy practically ignited off me. I’d need it to get out alive. Riley would not get his slimy hands on the tools he required and craved to rule the world. Nothing mattered but escaping Little Dick’s Pokey with my part of the book and my body intact, including every ounce of blood. Rescuing Kiera and Katrina and getting Riley’s part of the book would follow, once I escaped and formed a new rebellion. Ronan’s betrayal
had forced my hand in a different direction.
My aura circled my head in bubbly shades of pink with bits of green and blue converging on the inner rim. Neither of the Rileys appeared to notice, which meant they couldn’t see auras. Score. If I needed evidence of the triad bond…bingo. Ronan’s aura spun sluggishly around him, blue with bits of pink and green. Wonderful. Did I want the traitorous fairy-sorcerer connected to me for the rest of my life? If he were to die, what would happen to Adam? If Adam still lived. Heck, what would happen to me if one or both of them kicked off? How connected were we? How connected was I to the other eleven sorcerers and their doppelgängers, if they existed?
Ronan’s flinty, dead gaze never faltered from my face. Stare long enough and I might perform another trick.
With the puny deadeners in the room, I should’ve felt his magic more, especially after our fuse at the Rift. Maybe he wore a bio-energy block just for little ’ole me? I couldn’t take the chance of finding out. Any iota of trust in him had disappeared with the Seattle sun.
Exhilaration buzzed down my legs, and I fidgeted discretely, crossing my legs tight to wait out the resurgence of my new power. More magic than I’d ever known flooded me, laughing at the deadeners. And it wanted revenge. I was also hell bent on wiping up the floor with Riley’s smarmy mouth.
What was a little extra magic careening inside a body if one couldn’t exploit its full potential? Before either Ronan or Riley gained their full composure, I tossed out a heavy wave of energy destined to knock out every living being in the building. If it worked, I might become an exterminator in my next life. Ronan did a faceplant on the desk again, and Riley slowly folded over the right arm of his chair.
I scooped up the envelope and stuffed it down the front of my blouse, tucking my hem into my tight jeans to keep it from sliding out. A cell phone poked out of Riley’s blazer pocket, and I snagged it, shoved it into my pants pocket.
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