Merlin's Children (The Children and the Blood)

by Megan Joel Peterson

  “They’ll know the moment you do that,” Harris protested.

  Cornelius’ expression made his knowledge of the fact clear.

  “You don’t have another plan?”

  The wizard ignored him, turning to Brentworth. “How close is the nearest location for a portal?”

  “About thirty feet down the hall in either direction,” the old man answered. “Eastern door leads to the stairs. Western to a supply closet. Either are deep enough to hold a portal.”

  Cornelius nodded and looked back to Elias.

  “Give me my gun,” Harris broke in before he could speak.

  The wizard regarded him flatly.

  “Give me my gun,” the detective repeated. “If you’re bringing half the building down on us, I’m damn well going to need a weapon.” He glanced to the guards, finding the one who’d been with Gavin when they searched him at the parking garage. “Well?”

  The guard looked to Elias questioningly.

  “Just stay out of the way,” Elias said.

  Harris scoffed incredulously, and then his gaze caught on Cole. “No,” he stated, shaking his head. “You’re not doing this and leaving us defenseless–”

  “Give it to him,” Ashe interrupted.

  Elias turned to her. She didn’t take her eyes from Harris. Breathing hard, the man looked like there were few worse things he could consider beyond being stuck in a hallway with wizards hell-bent on killing him and anyone else in their path.

  “He has a point,” she said quietly.

  “Your majesty,” Cornelius protested.

  She looked down, the gun tucked in the back of her jeans feeling heavier than any weapon ever had. With a sharp breath, she tugged it out and extended it to Cole.

  He blinked, his brow drawing down in wary surprise, but he took the gun.

  “Do it,” she said to the guard harshly.

  The man looked from her to the councilmen, and then pulled out the weapon and handed it to Harris.

  “So we going?” she asked Cornelius.

  He stared at her as though he couldn’t believe what she’d just done. She turned to Elias, arching an eyebrow in tacit repetition of the question.

  Elias shook his head at her disbelievingly. “Punching past that thing won’t hold long,” he said to Cornelius.

  The wizard grimaced. “As I said,” he replied. “Quickly.”

  Elias met his eyes, and then his mouth tightened. “Yeah.” He glanced to the others. “You heard the man.”

  He drew a breath and then lifted a hand toward the hatchway. A wry expression passed over his face.

  Magic slammed into the hatch and crackled out across the ceiling, throwing sparks as it went. She ducked low, the others around her doing the same, as the electrical storm chewed at the invisible edges of the barrier, driving them back farther and farther till Elias finally dropped his hand with a gasp.

  “Move!” he ordered.

  Nathaniel didn’t have to be told twice. Grabbing her arm, he hauled her toward the tunnel’s end as a guard rushed the hatch and threw it wide.

  The barrier was already expanding back toward them.

  Like a tide sweeping in on all sides, the shield raced to fill the gap blown open by Elias’ magic. She could almost see it coming as Nathaniel took her waist and hoisted her swiftly after the guards through the opening, and as she tumbled to the basement floor, she felt it rush by her through the dark concrete. Cornelius and Elias leapt after him, propelled by magic as much as muscle, with Cole and Harris scrambling through the hatchway on their heels.

  A shriek rang through the hall. She shoved off the ground, staring in confused horror.

  In the hatch, a guard hung suspended halfway through the blue-green pool of opalescent magic filling the opening.

  Nathaniel snagged her arm, spinning her back toward him as the screaming began and the smell of burning flesh permeated the air. “Go!” he barked roughly.

  The wizards ran past her, racing for the storage closet.

  Shadows swallowed the doorway before they’d made it ten feet. The guards skidded, their magic surrounding them, as Cornelius turned for the stairs.

  A portal was already appearing behind them.

  Taliesin poured into the hall.

  Magic flew at her from both sides, striking her defenses hard. Lightning came from everywhere, lashing out at the Merlin and ripping back into the Taliesin, and the cinder-block walls disintegrated into ballistic debris from the blasts. Bullets hit shields, ricocheting away to meet magic with explosions of their own, and all around her, people were yelling.

  She looked back, spotting Cole and Harris crouched against the wall with Brentworth ducked nearby.

  Electricity raced at them.

  She ripped it from the air and threw it at the Taliesin by the stairwell.

  “Run!” she shouted.

  Harris grabbed Cole’s arm and bolted for the stairs as the portal vanished.

  Magic hit her from behind, crackling over her defenses and making her stumble. Immediately, Cornelius struck back, and she heard screams as the attackers fell.

  “Get us out of here!” he yelled at Elias.

  More Taliesin rounded the corners at either end of the hall.

  She swore, setting them on fire as Elias flung a hand toward the closet doorframe. Shadows enveloped the doorway with impossible speed.

  “Go!” Elias shouted.

  The Merlin raced for the portal.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Taking the steps two at a time, Cole chased Harris up the stairs.

  He couldn’t believe they’d just left the wizards.

  Grabbing the banister, he whipped around the landing and drove himself up another flight. Rough metal scraped at his palm and his legs already were beginning to burn. Endless steps spiraled away above him, twisting into oblivion like a surrealist painting from hell, and somehow, he had to make it to the top.

  He hated wizards. Of course they’d come in on the bottom floor; they didn’t have to worry about little things like gravity and distance with portals at their disposal. And it wasn’t like elevators were an option. Not with the magic-wielding crowd tearing everything apart. He remembered how that went all too well.

  He couldn’t believe they’d just left.

  “We get to the security office on the fifteenth,” Harris called. “You don’t say anything. Let me do the explaining.”

  Cole kept running. Harris wouldn’t want to hear his response anyway.

  An explosion reverberated up the stairwell as a door five floors below blew outward and tumbled to the basement, taking part of the banister with it. Debris strafed the walls and shouts rose, indistinguishable over the distance. Catching himself on the rail, he stared down for a heartbeat before realizing he’d stopped.

  He couldn’t believe they’d…

  Ashe could take care of herself.

  A ragged breath escaped him as he shoved away from the railing and propelled himself up the next flight of stairs. Ashe was a crazy-powerful wizard. For all he knew, that blast had come from her. Plus, she had over a dozen bodyguards at her side. She’d be fine.

  And he had to stop this before things got any worse.

  Air grated on his lungs as they passed another floor. People were killing each other down there, and more outside Chaunessy as well. People were dying all around him; people he knew. And while he wished he could just not give a damn about them, because God knew it would be easier, that didn’t change the truth.

  He couldn’t let this happen. He couldn’t let his dad…

  The door on the level above burst open and slammed into the concrete wall.

  “– the hell they made it to the seventh floor!”

  He skidded to a stop at the sound of Brogan’s voice and, a few steps ahead, Harris did the same. The detective looked back frantically, thoughts racing almost visibly across his face, and then he abandoned the stairs to rush down to Cole’s side.

  “Don’t say a word,” Harris h
issed, grabbing his arm. “Just look angry.”

  It wasn’t hard to follow the command.

  “You get your people down there and kill the–”

  The giant cut off, coming to a sharp stop at the sight of them, and the eyes of the wizards trailing him went wide.

  “Found him running from the fight downstairs,” Harris explained tersely.

  His anger became anything but feigned, and Cole felt his face darkening.

  Brogan’s mismatched eyes narrowed at the reaction. Curtly, he motioned to the other wizards. His gaze never left Cole as they rushed past him, aiming for the destruction below.

  “Is that true?” the giant asked, descending the stairs more slowly.

  Silence was the only answer he could give. The alternatives would probably get him or Harris killed.

  The wizard’s lip twitched coldly.

  “I was taking him to the fifteenth floor,” Harris continued, and Cole could hear caution enter his tone.

  “Why?”

  “Safety. Seemed the most secure place, and I figured Jamison’s priority would be to keep him protected.”

  The cold humor surfaced again. “Yes,” Brogan agreed quietly. “Yes, it would be.”

  Something dark slithered beneath the giant’s tone, and at the sound, Cole felt Harris’ grip tighten on his arm. “I’ll just get him up there, then,” the detective said, starting toward the steps.

  Brogan’s hand shot out, snagging Cole and bringing them both to a halt. “No. Head back downstairs. I’ll take care of the king’s son.”

  Harris hesitated. “You’re probably a lot more needed down there than I am…”

  “Are you suggesting one of the Blood should guard a hallway rather than the heir to the throne?” Brogan asked, his gaze sliding to Harris and his voice dangerously low.

  The detective tensed. “No, of course not. I–”

  He glanced over. Behind his eyes, Cole could see the calculations run, coming up with nothing.

  “You know,” Harris amended, “forget it. Sorry. The explosions…”

  He gave a chagrined chuckle and then released Cole and stepped back, hands raised. “You’re right. I’ll get to it.”

  Brogan ignored him. Without a word, he turned, yanked open the nearest door, and then headed into the hallway. Cole stumbled after him, having no choice but to follow or lose his arm. He saw Harris staring after them both, his pretense of embarrassment melting into something far closer to an unarticulated curse, and then the door slammed closed.

  With the intractability of a steamroller, Brogan strode down the hall, and Cole twisted in his grasp, trying to find his feet as the wizard plowed ahead.

  “What are you–” he started.

  Brogan walked faster.

  At a speed barely short of a run, they rounded the corner and headed for the elevator. Cole exhaled sharply, wanting to balk and knowing there was no point. At the moment, he’d have better luck dislodging a pit bull from his arm.

  Besides, beyond his magic, Brogan had well over a hundred pounds and damn near a foot of height on him. If the bastard wanted him dead, there were a lot more direct ways of going about it than sticking him in an elevator in the middle of a war zone.

  At the wizard’s summons, the door rushed open. Striding inside, Brogan ignored the elevator’s controls, reaching instead for the maintenance panel, and the hinges broke as he ripped open the small door. Dismissively, he tossed the panel away, his attention on a keypad grafted to the multicolored wires. The buttons tripped over one another to beep in response to his jabs, and then a burst of magic left the wizard’s hand, chasing across the wires to disappear into the walls.

  The elevator took off.

  Numbers flashed by faster than Cole could read and gravity pressed him toward the floor. The elevator shuddered and bucked as it rocketed upward, while overhead, the cables began to squeal. By the wall, Brogan stood immobile, giving no more indication that he noticed the turbulence than he did the fact he still gripped Cole’s arm.

  Another burst of magic left the wizard’s hand. With gut-wrenching deceleration, the brakes dragged the elevator to a halt.

  The door opened. The room beyond was empty, and the breadth of the building itself. Concrete pillars supported the ceiling, and nothing but grit and construction dust covered the bare floor. A bank of windows lined the far wall, giving a bird’s eye view of the city that only his father’s office rivaled.

  Brogan hurled him forward.

  He tumbled to the ground a few yards from the elevator, pain shooting through his shoulder as it took the brunt of the impact, and dust rose around him, choking his instinctive gasp. Coughing, he scrambled for his feet, trying to ignore the pain throbbing through his arm as he scanned the room for the wizard.

  Hands clasped behind him, Brogan walked from the elevator.

  Cole backed away. “Where are we? Why–”

  “What is the Merlin’s strategy?”

  The Blood’s tone was patient, as though despite the fact people were dying on the floors below, he hadn’t a single concern.

  “What’s the…?” Cole repeated, retreating farther into the room. Emptiness surrounded him, and the exit to the stairs was a hundred yards away. Between him and the elevator, Brogan waited like a wall, his hands folded peaceably at his back.

  Cole swallowed, suddenly feeling very aware of the gun tucked beneath his jacket, and how thin a line between him and whatever Brogan planned it really formed. The giant would block anything the moment he spotted the weapon. Bullets only killed wizards if they didn’t see the shots coming.

  And in Brogan’s case, maybe not even then.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You have one chance to live,” Brogan said. “Tell me the truth – the real truth this time – of all they intend and where I can find the queen, and I will take you to your father. Lie to me…”

  A cold smile surfaced briefly before disappearing beneath the implacable ice of his face.

  Cole shook his head cautiously. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Do not waste my time, Cole.”

  He hesitated. “I’m just here to help my dad.”

  The smile reappeared, tinged with wry disbelief.

  “I am,” Cole insisted. “I want to help him. I… he can stop this.”

  “He will.”

  Cole couldn’t bring himself to respond.

  Drawing a contemplative breath, Brogan tapped his hands together as he paced away from the elevator. “It would be nice to trust you. To believe you truly have the king’s best interest at heart. You are, after all, his only child and heir. Who else should be loyal to him, if not you?”

  His gaze slid to Cole. “And I’m certain that’s the point. Your father would do anything for you. Has done anything for you. He would burn heaven and earth for your sake and, despite all evidence to the contrary, he would still risk everything we have built for the hope his son could be saved. You know this.” Brogan’s face darkened. “And so does the queen.”

  Cole shook his head. “I’m not–”

  In an instant, the wizard was across the room, his weight driving Cole back till he slammed into one of the concrete pillars. The air rushed from his chest with the impact, but before he could breathe again, Brogan’s hand was around his throat. Instinctively, he grabbed the giant’s fingers, fighting to break his grip.

  He may as well have tried to bend stone.

  “You fled to her,” Brogan said. “You stole her sister away with her. You have travelled about in her company for the better part of these past weeks, barring the time you spent coercing your father into believing you were on his side. And now you are here, just as the Merlin are attempting to attack. Everything you have done puts your protests to a lie, and if you do not tell me what she plans right now, the king will be mourning your tragic death, which I was too late to stop from occurring at the hands of the Merlin queen.”

  Air came rough around Brogan’s fingers whil
e the gun pressed sharply into his spine, the weapon pinned between the concrete and the weight of the giant crushing him to the wall. Desperately, Cole swung hard toward the wizard’s gut.

  Brogan tensed as the blow struck, and otherwise barely moved.

  “You can’t–” Cole rasped.

  “Yes,” Brogan countered, utter certainty in his voice. “I can. I said your father would do anything for you.” He paused. “Sometimes, even kings must be protected from themselves.”

  The giant’s face drew in close. “Tell me where to find her.”

  Cole choked, one hand dropping to his side for the gun while the other clawed at the wizard’s grip. “I don’t–”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No… didn’t tell me… don’t…”

  Brogan regarded him, paying no attention to the fingers grasping at his own.

  And then his eyebrow shrugged equitably. “Very well.”

  Brogan’s hand clenched tighter. Darkness and sparks of blinding light spread like wildfire across Cole’s vision and blood throbbed in his head, unable to escape. His body panicked, screaming for oxygen and his fingers scrabbled for the weapon, scraping past the concrete till they wrapped around the gun.

  Frantically, he yanked the weapon from behind him and then pulled the trigger.

  The grip on his neck vanished. He crashed to the floor, his legs unable to hold him. Coughs wracked him as air burned over his throat, and he blinked hard, fighting to see past the darkness disappearing too slowly from his eyes.

  Brogan lay on the ground a few feet away.

  Trembling, Cole staggered to his feet, the gun still clutched in his hand.

  Blood pooled beneath the wizard and red-soaked bullet holes clustered near the center of his motionless chest.

  Eyes never leaving Brogan, Cole inched closer.

  In Hollywood, the bad guy always got back up. In Hollywood, the monsters never really died. Even Ashe hadn’t been able to kill Brogan. Neither had anyone else who’d come up against the man.

  The gun shook as he lifted it, aiming at the wizard’s head.

  In Hollywood…

  He turned his face away and squeezed the trigger again.

  A rough breath escaped him. He lowered the gun to his side.