Fire blazing in her eyes, she spat at his feet.
“Impudent bitch,” he growled at her, striking her across the face.
Jonas ground his teeth together.
“You know, I think it’s time you all learned a valuable lesson this evening, starting with what happens when you refuse to cooperate.”
At that, Diederik snapped his fingers. The Dark Watchers shoved Jonas against the ground and violently descended upon him.
“No!” Kierra gasped. “Stop!”
Jonas cringed as they assaulted him from every direction. With each blow, any shred of strength that remained bled into nonexistence. He positioned his bound hands in front of his face, attempting to shield himself from the Watchers’ wrath. But the creatures continued to beat him with increasing force.
“Please, stop!” shouted Diego at the consuls. “This was not a part of the deal!”
“Maybe not,” sighed Diederik. “But it is entertaining.”
Battered and bruised, Jonas curled his knees into his chest as if that could somehow quell the torment. A salty concoction of blood and tears pooled beneath him. He fought for every breath. When he attempted to get to his knees, Diederik kicked him to the dirt. The jarring motion knocked the oxygen out of his aching lungs. Disregarding his audience and the pain that threatened to bleed him dry, Jonas lifted his swollen eyes to Diego.
For a moment, their gazes collided. But just as quickly, they fell apart.
Diego, how could you do this to me?
Trembling, Jonas tried to control his overwhelming emotions. Diederik crouched at his side, surveying him in callous distaste.
“You sealed your fate the moment you walked away from the Brotherhood,” he seethed.
“Do not listen to him, Mista Jonas!” Zaire yelled. “He playing games with your mind!”
“Consider the stars,” Diederik continued, abandoning Jonas in favour of a new target. A dastardly smile distorted his face as he approached Ibrahim and Ezra. “The Magi see warmth, a source of light. But the Legerdemain Brotherhood see a powerhouse of kinetic energy, ripe for the taking.”
Diederik tore the fabric from the artifact, unleashing its luminance into the night. “Mr. Newport,” he said with a tip of his hat. “It’s an honour to be in the presence of the Roaming Lion.”
“Though I cannot say the same for you,” Ibrahim spoke darkly.
The consul scoffed. “Despite your affinity for disrespect, I need you to unlock the magic you were always meant to set free. Now.”
Ibrahim stood firm. “I refuse.”
“You refuse?” Diederik responded, finding hilarity in the bold statement. “You refuse? You sound dreadfully like Jonas when he was eighteen.”
Jonas swallowed the metallic taste swimming in his mouth. He had seen that fire in his father’s irises before; they blazed with the same intensity as the moment Felix’s spirit left the earth. Whatever hideous idea lurked behind those eyes would not end well for any of them.
“Then I am honoured to be like him,” Ibrahim answered, steeling himself.
“Very well,” Diederik said, running his tongue along his teeth. He raised his hand to signal a Watcher to nock a black arrow into his crossbow. With the arrow in position, the mechanical human hybrid aimed the weapon directly at Ezra. “Then your son dies.”
The cruel vibration of a bowstring shattered the remnants of Jonas’ heart.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Unlock a New Magic
The foundations of Ezra’s world had never felt so fragile.
In a blink of an eye, the avalanche of events had petrified him, so much so that his brain could hardly process what had just unfolded. Hope faded. Trust crumbled into ashes. The most powerful Magi Master he knew lay on the ground, beaten and frail. And Ibrahim—who had somehow wormed his way from his captor’s grasp to shield him—struggled against the Dark Watcher’s poisoned arrow, something Ezra knew all too well. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Ezra collapsed beside his father, whispering desperate prayers while grasping his hand.
“Baba,” Ezra cried, examining the extent of the damage. A ring of darkness soaked through his white shirt and spread across the fibres.
“All right, Roaming Lion,” chastised Diederik van der Campe. He squatted to their level and held out the Tablet. “You do not have much time left, so show me what happens once a lock is united with its key.”
“Stay away from him!” Ezra shouted as a wild anger electrified his insides.
The consul challenged him with the same hellbent fury. “I will see the prophecy come to fruition. Tonight.”
“If you take one step closer, you will regret it.”
“Ezra,” Ibrahim muttered weakly. Still bound at the wrists, he conjured just enough energy to pull at his son’s hand. “Please back down. I do not want to see you hurt.”
“Listen to your father, boy,” Diederik demanded. In one fluid motion, he waved his cane over their shackles, causing them to crumble into dust at their feet. He thrust the artifact toward Ibrahim. “Activate it. Now.”
“Don’t do it, Ibrahim!” Jonas managed, his voice shaking in weakness. “Please!”
The Watcher closest to Jonas kicked him in the gut, effectively silencing him.
Exhaling, Ibrahim lifted his hands, trembling with the effort. His fingers edged ever closer, grazing the stone. But before his father could reach it, his arm gave out and fell back to his wounded side. He grasped at his injury, gritting his teeth in pain.
“Help him,” Diederik barked at Ezra. “Do it right now, unless you want to see your friends pierced with arrows alongside your father.”
Crossbow strings taut, the Dark Watchers aimed their weapons toward the Irish Chapter. Frightened, Ezra’s eyes connected with each of them. Aja chewed on her lip. Tears trickled down Oliver’s face. Miss McLarney’s blue eyes pleaded with him to make the right decision. And while Annabelle and Zaire seemed stoic, Ezra had a feeling they were both running scenarios through the cogs of their minds. Symon’s electric torch illuminated the terror in all their expressions, fuelling an unspeakable panic within him. Quaking in dread, Ezra met his father’s gaze.
“It’s all right, canım,” whispered Ibrahim. “You may proceed. Ask Allah to be with you.”
Nodding, wishing he could wake from the nightmarish scene before him, Ezra lifted Ibrahim’s hand toward the Tablet. Hand atop his, their fingers pressed against the stone. Warmth radiated from his father, saturating Ezra’s skin, while a familiar prickling sensation sparked beneath his palm.
A grey mist seeped from the relic, swirling around their hands and enveloping the immediate vicinity in a supernatural radiance. He reeled against the physical pain in his stomach. A quick glance at his father revealed he also grappled with the anguish.
“Allah, most gracious, most merciful. Be with us,” Ezra prayed aloud, but his voice was drowned out by the turbulent activity all around them. “We seek refuge in you!”
Diederik rose to his feet, his face illuminated by the violet glow. “Finally,” he proclaimed, holding out his hands to touch the cyclonic mist that thickened at an alarming pace. Wind cascaded in vicious torrents throughout the area, rippling his dark cloak. “The power of the gods is within my grasp.”
An intense shockwave of energy blasted across the scene, throwing everyone against the ground. The air fizzled with electricity and, all at once, collapsed into a vacuum of silence. As the dust settled, Ezra propped himself up on his elbows. What he saw next nearly stopped his heart.
Rising from the obscurity, a silhouette unfurled. Clothed in amethyst flame, the figure curiously examined its hands, turning them over as if it were simultaneously confused and delighted at their sight. The being stepped forward through the smoky veil and the definition of his features solidified.
Ibrahim gasped and grabbed hold of Ezra. “Son, leave this place. Now.”
Horrified and lost for words, Ezra gaped at him. “What? What’s going on?”
Even Co
nsul Diederik stumbled backward, his mouth hanging open in surprise as if he had just seen a ghost.
And perhaps, he had. Perhaps they all had.
The mysterious figure surveyed his audience. “Tell me, what is the year?”
Symon was the first to recover his soundness, though he clutched Diego’s arm for dear life. “1906, sir.”
“1906,” repeated the stranger, his fiery eyes continuing to scan his company. He examined the outline of the Hagia Sophia against the sky and circled a nearby Dark Watcher in wonder.
“Are—are you the Babylonian god Marduk?” enquired Diederik.
“Marduk? No,” said the man, a strange glint sparkling in his green eyes. “I am Labynetus of Babylon.”
A ghastly stillness strangled the Irish Chapter. Ezra clung to his father, who—despite the pain—had gained enough strength to pull Ezra closer. A dangerous scowl tugged on his eyebrows.
“I need you to listen,” Ibrahim instructed into his ear. “On my mark, you need to get the Irish Chapter out of here. Flee as fast as your legs can take you.”
“Baba, I’m not leaving you,” Ezra insisted.
“You must,” he hissed, as an incomprehensible magic pulsed through the night air. “Every moment we remain here puts us in a danger I am not sure we can overcome.”
“But I—”
“Ezra, promise me,” Ibrahim begged. Tears brimmed along his eyelashes. “Promise me you will take up the ways of the Magi.”
His pleading eyes lingered on his father for several moments until finally, he nodded.
“Ezra,” Ibrahim said, caressing his cheek. “I love you more than life itself.”
“Don’t leave me, too,” Ezra wept. “Please, don’t leave me!”
“Go!”
Forcing himself into obedience, Ezra ran and dodged arrow fire on his way to Jonas. He skidded across the dirt, reaching for Jonas’ wrists to free him of his binds.
“How do I—” Ezra began.
“Your wand,” Jonas croaked. “Ask the Universe to release me.”
Despite his father’s warnings, Ezra threw a glance over his shoulder to see Ibrahim hoist himself up, jerk the arrow from his flesh, and lunge at Labynetus, wielding the arrow like a knife.
“Ezra, now!”
Withdrawing the wand from his pocket, Ezra held the crystal point against the shackles.
Please, Universe. Please free Jonas. Please help my father. Please let everything be all right...
The iron clanked to the ground, and Ezra helped Jonas to his feet. All around them, pandemonium ensued. Dark Watchers rushed at Ibrahim to restrain him. Consul Diederik wrenched the arrow from his hand. Symon held Diego steady, undeterred by the young man’s insistent attempts at escape.
“Enough!” commanded Labynetus. A savage repugnance tainted his expressions as he regarded Ibrahim at his feet. “Kill the Magus.”
In unison, the Watchers reloaded their weapons.
Ezra met his father’s eyes. Once so strong and passionate, the flame inside had dwindled to a lifeless spark. His will wavered in the wind. Nearly extinguished. Completely broken.
Ibrahim forced a smile. “I am proud of you, canım,” he mouthed, just before a barrage of arrows met their mark.
Ezra stumbled backward, bitter sobs decimating his lungs.
“Ezra, come,” Jonas beckoned, guiding him away from the scene. “Don’t look back.”
But as he and the Irish Chapter fled the grounds, leaving disaster in their wake, it took every fibre of Ezra’s heart to keep beating.
Chapter Fifty-Five
One Brave Step
Golden daylight filtered through the curtains, but all Jonas could see were shades of dismal grey.
He stared blankly at the hotel room walls, tears obscuring the floral wallpaper print until it blurred together in a multicoloured haze. Redness from earlier emotional release irritated his eyes. While the swelling on his face had retreated, he knew the bruises remained, remnants of the horrors from mere hours ago. He wiped his face with his palm, prickled by the stubble framing his jawline. Deprived of energy and answers, Jonas held his arms close to himself, rocking gently on the bed’s edge, begging the Universe to keep him from falling apart. But every time Diego’s face appeared in the dreary landscape of his mind, Jonas squeezed his eyelids shut and choked back the sobs he desperately wished to release.
Betrayed by someone he held so dear. Family heartache, revisited. And an artifact, an unspeakable red herring containing the power to bring back a force of evil from Magi history. Amidst it all, the untimely death of Ibrahim Newport. But wasn’t Ibrahim meant to assist the Magi? Wasn’t he meant to turn the tides in their favour? With him gone, how could any of that hold true? Nevertheless, Jonas knew he had to report back with the Administration and give his account of what had happened. How he could not stop the treachery of his father. How Ibrahim was forced to unlock the power of the artifact and murdered thereafter. It served him right that the Magi Gendarmerie would take him into custody for the hurt he had inadvertently unleashed on the world.
This was the final straw. It was over. Every promise. Every hour of training. Every good deed. Lost in a futile attempt to save the world.
Every chaotic blow knocked Jonas’ spirit further into misery.
The only thing left to do was to pen his resignation letter. After all, he deserved nothing less, and the Council would hastily accept. He had not only let his own Chapter down, but he had let the Administration down. He’d let the entire Third Order of the Magi down. And Felix.
He had failed them all.
An insistent knock sounded at the door.
“Jonas?”
He groaned and buried his face in his pillow.
Kierra’s voice sounded weak, hesitant. “Jonas, may I come in?”
“If you must.”
Before he even realised the door had clicked back into place, he felt Kierra sink onto the bed beside him. She squeezed his shoulder. “Cousin, speak to me.”
Drawing in a shaky breath, Jonas rolled onto his back. “Kierra.”
Kierra bit her lip; heaviness dampened her expressions. She took his hands in hers, tears obscuring her blue eyes. “Oh, Jonas. I am so sorry.”
He swallowed his pain and tightened his hold on her hands.
“I am so sorry you had to go through everything with your father and Symon and Diego. I know how much Diego meant to you,” Kierra continued, her eyes darkening at the mention of his name. “You loved him. And when people we love do unspeakable things, it shatters our already fragile notion of the human bond.”
“I just—” Jonas began, blinking away his own tears. “I cannot believe Diego would do something like that to us. To me.”
Kierra placed her hand on his cheek. “I know. I am just as baffled. But maybe—” she paused, perhaps uncertain if she should continue on the path of her thoughts. “—maybe he had a legitimate reason.”
Jonas scoffed. “What other reasons could exist besides selfish intentions?”
“Only God knows.”
Fighting back another wave of sadness, Jonas’ emotions caught in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, dissolving into sobs.
“It is okay to be upset,” Kierra consoled him. She gathered him in her arms, wrapping them around his trembling shoulders. “Emotion is how we know we are still alive.”
“It is almost too much to bear,” he wept.
“Of course, it is,” Kierra whispered, running her fingertips up and down his back. “Diego broke your trust. Trust is one of the most sacred elements that connects us to another person. When that bind is severed, our whole world spins out of orbit. It is entirely acceptable for you to feel hurt right now. We all feel it.”
Jonas pulled away from Kierra, fishing for a handkerchief on the bedside table. After dabbing his face with it, he cleared his throat and attempted to pull himself together. Along with Diego’s betrayal and his father’s vengeful actions, the release of unknown tyranny from
the Tablet nagged at his conscious. Their enemies’ actions had ultimately smeared a black mark of death on both the Third Order of the Magi and potentially the entire world.
A true quietus.
“You are not still thinking about submitting your resignation, are you?”
He sighed. “It is for the best.”
“Jonas van der Campe, don’t you dare say that!” Kierra answered, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. “The Third Order needs you right now. The Legerdemain Brotherhood just unleashed danger into the world. They need you more than ever. We need you.”
“If I do not, the Council will see to it that I am removed,” Jonas replied, despondent. “I’ve failed them one too many times.”
“And that gives you permission to give up?” Kierra continued. By this time, she was nearly in hysterics. “If I were to give up on fighting for women’s right to vote, do you really think I could live with myself when lawmakers drop the issue altogether? Do you think I could tell the generation of women after me that the reason their voice isn’t heard is because I gave up? No. When you fight, you fight until the end.”
“Then where do we go from here?” Jonas asked, his voice wavering with brokenness.
“This is not over. Not yet,” Kierra answered optimistically. “So, we do what we were always called to do: We move forward, one brave step at a time.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Unstoppable Forces
Rain streaked across the train windows, falling in time with Ezra’s tears.
No matter how hard Ezra tried to suppress it, the events from the night prior kept replaying in his mind like a broken gramophone. He still did not want to believe any of it happened. He couldn’t. He still did not want to accept that his father was gone. He wouldn’t.
He was alone.
While Jonas and Miss McLarney had stayed behind in Constantinople to brief the Magi Administration on the happenings, Annabelle and Zaire accompanied him and Aja and Oliver on the journey back to Belfast. Besides the occasional trip to the lavatory, Ezra avoided leaving his solitary compartment in the hopes that he’d be left alone by the rest of his traveling party. Especially now, when anytime he would pass through the outlook carriage, the downtrodden faces of Aja and Oliver caused his own vision to become bleary.
The Magi Menagerie Page 33