“Relax,” he said. “You needed me to supply the final ingredient for the spell. That’s what I’m doing.”
Sloane still looked suspicious, but Merrick ignored her and went to greet the men in suits. Along the walkways above us that lined the warehouse walls, men with guns stepped from the shadows. Merrick’s men, acting as sentries to the commotion below.
The men with guns focused their attention on each other. The people in regular clothes … well, they seemed more interested in me.
Merrick said a few words to his guests, then instructed the women to take up positions around the circle.
I flicked a glance at Sloane. “Are they …”
“Witches? Yes.”
“They’re here at the behest of my guests,” Merrick said, walking back over to us, followed by the men in suits. “Allow me to introduce representatives from Russia, ISIS, and ironically enough, North Korea. My guests will watch the demonstration before the auction begins, and their witches will witness the spellcasting.”
I was starting to catch on. The potential buyers had brought their own witches to watch Merrick cast the spell, to make sure there was no funny business going on. As for the men in suits … “They’re here to bid on the cloaking spell,” I said. “You’re not giving it to the US. You’re going to sell it.”
Sloane’s eyes widened, and magic sparked around her clenched fists as she spun to face Merrick. “You double-crossing bastard.”
Merrick’s eyes flashed with anger and something else. Something deeper. Pain. “Don’t,” he said, his voice hard. “Don’t talk to me about loyalty. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”
Sloane looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I know. I know you plan to turn me in to your precious CIA as soon as I complete the spell. I’m too dangerous to let free and I have no allegiance to your country. Right? The moment I complete the spell and am no longer useful to you, I become one of the magical threats you need to destroy.”
Sloane tried to protest, but Merrick cut her off with a humorless laugh and a shake of his head. When he looked up, his eyes were fever bright, burning with anger. “It’s just so ironic, don’t you think? You betraying me over my lack of allegiance. You seduced me. You told me you loved me, and I believed you. But then I saw the way you looked at that partner of yours, as you sat in the window at that café in Lisbon. And I knew. I knew you couldn’t really love me if you could look at him like that.”
“It was my cover,” she said weakly, and not even I believed her.
“At first I was angry. I wanted vengeance on that man. Connor. So when we learned he was going back to the café with a new witch, I went back and left a second rune bomb for him.”
Sloane gasped, but Merrick was on a roll. “And now he cares for that one,” he jerked his head at me, “as does Alexander. I could hardly pass up the opportunity to punish both of them by killing one witch, could I?”
Sloane glanced at me and I didn’t like the look in her eyes. Like she was sorry she hadn’t killed me when she had the chance and was thinking about correcting that mistake. Well, she’d just have to go to the back of the line.
“But why sell the spell to the highest bidder when you already have a willing buyer?” I asked. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer, but it seemed important to remind Sloane she had bigger problems than me.
“Ah. That.” He turned to Sloane with a shrug. “When my source informed me of your plan to betray me, I realized you were right. I have no allegiance to your country, so why not complete the spell and sell it to the highest bidder?”
I glanced at the men waiting impatiently by the cars. Russia, ISIS, and North Korea. Not exactly the biggest fans of the United States. “And you were angry at Sloane, and whatever group she works for, for plotting to betray you. So you decided to sell it to the United States’ enemies instead.”
He tossed me a smile, and this time I caught the maniacal gleam in his eyes. “Exactly. In fact, my guests have insisted on a demonstration of the spell’s capabilities. It’s the reason they came all this way.”
An ominous feeling raised the hair at the back of my neck.
“What kind of demonstration?” Sloane asked warily.
His grin stretched and he spread his arms, taking in the warehouse and its dozens of giant boxes. “In one of these boxes is a missile. I’ve tweaked the spell so that, once it’s complete, it will immediately apply itself to the missile and trigger the launch.”
“What’s the target?” I asked, dread pooling into a hard block in my stomach.
“The Capitol Building.”
“You psychotic bastard,” Sloane breathed.
Merrick tsked and nodded at her hands. “Careful, my dear. You are well outnumbered.”
He was right, but from the way magic sparked angrily from Sloane’s fingertips, she didn’t much care.
He held a hand out to Sloane. “Now, give me the necklace.”
25
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “Not a chance.”
“Think carefully, my dear. I won’t ask again,” Merrick said softly.
For a brief moment, I wondered if they’d save me a lot of trouble and kill each other with magic. Then I remembered that if Sloane died, my chance at a counter-curse for Ryerson died with her.
“Maybe we could talk about this,” I said helpfully, but it was too late. Sloane’s lips moved with an incantation and she raised her hands, but Merrick was faster. A bolt of electricity shot from his hand and into her chest before she could get the words out, and she crumpled to the warehouse floor. Merrick walked up to her and unclasped the necklace from around her neck. Then he walked back to the edge of the circle, spacing the other witches evenly around the pentagram and trapping me more thoroughly than I already was.
I had to warn Ryerson.
When I scryed for the necklace it had been in Echo Park, with Sloane. She must have been on her way to my apartment. Odds were good she’d simply been driving through the little neighborhood, and we were nowhere near there now. As far as I could remember, Echo Park didn’t have a warehouse district. Which meant the CIA had no idea where Merrick and the necklace—and I—were.
I struggled against the manacles at my wrists, but without magic, there wasn’t much I could do. Helpless and frustrated, I watched as the small crowd left Merrick to go stand back along the warehouse walls, while Merrick walked over to an enormous cauldron set up in the middle of the warehouse floor. There was no fire beneath it, or at least there wasn’t until Merrick muttered a spell and flicked his wrist, and flames burst up around it.
I watched helplessly as Merrick recited a long, complicated incantation, and I felt the first stirrings of heat through the soles of my shoes. I glanced down. Wisps of smoke rose from the ground inside the circle. It wouldn’t be long now before the accelerant sparked, and then it would all be over. For me, anyway.
And there would be no one left to stop Merrick from completing the spell that would destroy the Capitol, then selling it to the highest bidder.
I looked around, desperate for something, anything, I could use to free myself. There was nothing.
My gaze tripped over the warehouse again, desperate for any leverage, and as it passed over the wide bay doors, I caught a flash of dark eyes and familiar broad shoulders.
Ryerson.
He stepped behind a guard at the entrance and snapped the guy’s neck before the man even knew he was there. I sucked back a gasp and wondered if anyone else could hear my heart thumping wildly in my chest. He caught the guard and lowered him soundlessly to the ground, tucking him behind a beam. Then he reached into his pocket and set something on the ground before he winked at me and disappeared outside once more.
Something small raced across the ground toward me. I only caught flashes of it, trying not to stare and call attention to the tiny shadow darting around boxes and forklifts and pylons. It paused once to pick up the key Merrick had tossed away and then kept m
oving. Everyone else’s attention was on Merrick and me, and no one else seemed to notice the tiny golem skirting through the warehouse toward me.
Then the pentagram inside the circle exploded into flames.
Heat licked my skin as the iron at my wrists warmed and the chair heated. The witches were mesmerized by the flames, and they didn’t see the tiny golem working the key into the iron at my wrists. Not at first, anyway.
He moved on to my ankles, and one of the witches’ eyes narrowed and she nudged the witch next to her. “What is that?”
Tiny hands tickled my ankles, and then they were gone. I was pretty sure Golem had unlocked the manacles, but there were too many eyes on me to test that theory. I had to be smart about this. Test the bindings, then run.
Light exploded from Merrick’s hands and arced toward the pentagram, and all thoughts of being careful and smart flew out the window. I yelped and tried to jump backward, but my feet got tangled in the irons, the chair tipped, and down I went. I blinked up at the ceiling and then gasped. There were some kind of conducting runes painted all over the ceiling. There was one right above me and a dozen more spaced at even intervals around that one. One above the head of each witch who was here to “observe” the ritual.
And suddenly, I knew exactly what Merrick meant to do. He didn’t need the blood of just one witch to complete his spell. He needed the blood of thirteen. A full coven. And twelve of them stood around the circle.
I twisted to yell at the witches. “Move! Everyone, move!”
Merrick’s eyes flashed and he spoke faster.
I scrambled to my feet. “Move!” I yelled again.
But no one did. They simply stared at me, right before Merrick’s light exploded from his hands. It arced toward the ceiling, toward the conduit runes, which glowed bright for a moment, drinking in the magic, refocusing it, and then shoving it straight down and into the witch standing directly beneath each rune. I dove out of the circle as it exploded in fire, and the witches around the circle screamed.
Everyone in the warehouse, even the buyers who had brought them, looked on impassively as the twelve witches crumpled to the ground.
Because they hadn’t brought them to witness the spell. They’d brought them as a sacrifice. Like some kind of twisted buy-in fee. I wondered if the sacrifices had known their true purpose. From the looks of shock on their faces, I guessed not. I stared at the dead witches and wondered if they had been employees of the bidders or if they’d been contracted specifically for this job. I supposed it didn’t matter.
Then Merrick’s cry of rage rose above them all, and electric-blue magic arced through the air straight for me. I dove out of the way and it struck the chair I’d been tied to, blowing it into shards that rained down around me.
I rolled to my feet and met his eyes—black, seething orbs—and then dove behind a beam as magic exploded from his hands. He stalked toward me, and I pulled magic into my hands, relieved Merrick’s dampening spell hadn’t done any permanent damage. But from the look in his eyes, no amount of magic I gathered would be enough.
And then the cavalry arrived.
A dozen men wearing black body armor and led by Ryerson swarmed the warehouse, yelling for everyone to freeze. Of course, no one did.
The men in suits shouted orders in clashing languages, and the warehouse exploded in gunfire.
But that wasn’t my biggest problem. No, my problem was the mage running straight for me, electric bolts flying from his hands and exploding all around me. I yelped and ran, ducking behind boxes and diving behind beams.
“Ainsley!” called a deep voice, Ryerson’s voice, but I didn’t stop to see where it came from. “Use your bubble!”
Right. I had magic too.
I threw up my bubble just as Merrick unleashed another volley of electric bullets. They pinged off the rubbery surface of the bubble. He stalked toward me. I backpedaled until my bubble smacked against the wall. Merrick stopped just outside of the bubble, pressing the outside of it until our faces were inches apart. His was a mask of fury, but he also looked … exhausted. Using so much magic had cost him. Still, he buried his hands in the bubble, testing it for weaknesses. Merrick was a skilled mage. Even tired as he was, I didn’t doubt that he could break through it eventually, but he’d need time, and that was the one thing he did not have.
A bullet smacked into the wall next to him, reminding him of this fact. I glanced over his shoulder to see Ryerson heading for us, gun aimed at Merrick’s head this time. But if Merrick moved, Ryerson’s shot would hit my bubble. He, more than anyone, knew what the bubble could withstand, but from his look of frustration he didn’t want to take that chance. Then Ryerson was tackled by a gunman who dropped from the catwalk above him and he was forced to deal with that.
Merrick looked ready to test the theory of how long it would take him to break through my magic bubble. I didn’t think it would be long. Already my magic was tiring. All he really needed to do was stand there long enough, and I’d eventually run out of juice and drop it for him. He cocked his head at me, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Then someone bumped into Merrick, breaking his concentration. We both looked up to see Sloane running away from him, the necklace clenched in her fist.
“Sloane!” Merrick yelled, enraged, but she didn’t stop. He sent an electric bolt arcing toward her, but she ducked inside an office and the electricity exploded against the doorframe.
With one last withering stare that told me exactly what would happen if this bubble weren’t between us right now, he turned and ran after her.
I breathed a sigh of relief but kept my bubble in place. And was glad I did when a bullet pinged off it.
“Hey!” I glared at one of the gunmen on the catwalk, right before someone shot him and he tumbled over the catwalk rail to the hard floor below.
My magic was waning. I wondered if my bubble would last until the firefight was over. Doubtful. Maybe I could just walk right out of the warehouse, still inside my bubble, and wait for Ryerson in the car. Yes. That sounded like the best idea I’d had all week. Except …
Merrick had looked pretty angry. If he killed Sloane over the necklace, Ryerson would be cursed forever. My eyes snapped to Merrick just in time to watch him disappear through the office door after Sloane, magic sparking around him like an angry thundercloud.
Curse it.
Keeping my bubble in place was draining me fast, so I dropped it and stumbled, lightheadedness sweeping through me and threatening to send me crashing to the floor. I staggered a few steps, feeling steadier with each one, and then ran after Merrick, darting around boxes and beams and skidding across the open floor.
Right into the middle of the gunfight.
“Ainsley! Down!”
Before I could comply, a hard body slammed into mine, and we fell to the floor as bullets whizzed through the air where my head had just been. Ryerson rolled off me and dragged me behind a stack of boxes. His green eyes blinked down into mine. And then a gunman stepped around the corner. Ryerson was up in an instant. He threw himself at the guy and they went down in a tangle of limbs and grunts.
I took a deep breath and bolted out from behind the boxes.
“Ainsley!” Ryerson shouted and then cursed. I didn’t look back. I had to believe he could keep himself alive for the next few minutes while I tried to save his soul. And his psycho ex-girlfriend.
I threw myself across the floor and toward the office door Merrick and Sloane had disappeared behind. Miraculously, no one shot me.
The office door was thick, metal, and now locked. I drew my breaking rune and skipped the finesse, not caring if I made a scene. The door exploded into the room … but there was no one inside. So much for making an entrance.
A bullet pinged off the doorframe and I dove inside. Since there was no door left to close, I hurried through the small office and climbed a metal staircase set against the far wall. The stairs led to a metal walkway high above the warehouse floor. I gripped
the stair rail tightly and blinked dizzily at the floor below. Far below.
Metal clanged and my attention shot down the walkway. There, halfway down the walkway, were Merrick and Sloane, squared off with each other like some sort of magical showdown.
At the far end of the walkway was a rust-covered door that seemed to lead outside, maybe to a fire escape. Neither of them seemed to notice.
Even if I had an offensive spell tucked up my sleeve, I couldn’t use it and risk hitting Sloane. As much as she deserved a swift lightning bolt to the face, I wanted to save Ryerson more.
Before I could decide what to do, or pry my fingers from the death grip they had on the railing, a deep, familiar voice shouted my name from below.
I glanced down. Ryerson’s gaze met mine, worry etched into the firm set of his jaw. Then his gaze shifted to Merrick and the woman standing across from him.
Ryerson went still.
“It can’t be,” he said.
A gunshot exploded through the warehouse, pinging off the metal rail next to Sloane. Ryerson whirled on his team. “Hold fire! Everyone hold your goddamn fire!”
A lead weight settled in my stomach. After everything she had done, he was still protecting her. Maybe the curse was partly to blame, and the shock of learning she was still alive, but it still hurt.
The gunfire had distracted Merrick, who was already tired and moving slower than usual, and Sloane took advantage of that. She touched the rail.
“Sloane,” Ryerson warned, aiming his gun at her. “Don’t.”
Sloane glanced down at him. Maybe she saw what I did—an expression filled with desperation and indecision that hurt my heart. She ignored it, ignored him, laid her palm flat against the railing, and whispered a few words.
The walkway rattled and shook, and I gripped the rail tighter. The metal bucked as a wave passed through it, knocking Merrick off his feet and flipping me into the air and over the side.
“Ainsley!” Ryerson shouted.
I grabbed hold of the railing and dangled there, at least three stories above the concrete floor. Sloane started toward me and Ryerson aimed his gun. This time, his expression was steel. Maybe Sloane saw it too because her step faltered, giving me time to climb back onto the walkway.
License to Spell_An Urban Fantasy Novel Page 18