Renegade

by Nancy Northcott

  His hand drifted along her jaw, his thumb caressing her cheek. She caught his wrist and gently pulled it down to his side. Yet her fingers lingered on his arm long enough for his eyes to darken. Her heart stuttered.

  Stupid, she reminded herself, and jerked her gaze back to the board, to the name Americus. “If there’s a large ghoul nest outside Americus, there would be lots of missing persons’ reports from the area around it. Someone had to have picked up on that. And hidden it, damn them. We should check it out.” She circled the name, underlining it in her mind, too.

  “No one would do that,” he said, “without support from above, from a councilor. At least, not successfully for very long.”

  The pain of that truth felt like a boulder in her chest. Swallowing against it, she wandered to the kitchen. Since the water hadn’t settled her gut anyway, she’d gone back to wine for the mellowing effect. She poured more of the pale liquid into her goblet and went back to the living room.

  Griffin was staring at the floor, looking frustrated and weary. He ran a hand through his hair.

  He’d lived with this, fought the ghouls and defended against an enemy he couldn’t find, for years while the people he protected vilified him.

  “How do you keep going?” she asked. “You could create an identity somewhere, make a life for yourself.”

  His head lifted, and he turned a surprised look on her. “Somebody has to do it. Why not me?”

  Her heart turned over at his answer. The simple, selfless courage in his words stole her breath away. She couldn’t form a reply, and the look between them held. Yearning fluttered in her heart.

  His gaze fell to her mouth. If he touched her—

  Griffin looked away and cleared his throat. “Besides, I won’t let the bastards beat me.” He frowned at his empty goblet. “Is there any more wine?”

  “Couple of glasses’ worth.” As he walked into the kitchen, she asked, “Speaking of making a life, how have you survived all this time? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  He poured his refill and strolled back into the room. “You saw the paints at my place by the swamp. I sell my work when I can. Thanks to a college roommate, I have an off-and-on gig as a ‘psychic consultant’ for the Feds.” When her brows rose, he added, “I’m a tracker. Comes in handy sometimes.”

  Most mages had the average skill set, basic magic use, and could refine it with practice, though some mages excelled more in particular areas. A rare few had special skills, like tracking or increased ability to scry, translocate, or even shield.

  “I had a tracker on my staff,” she said. “One I thought I could trust. He works in intel and recon.”

  They shared a grim look, and he said, “We’re going to straighten this out, Valeria. The bastards will pay.”

  She, too, wanted payback, but the idea of chasing it for years with no help seemed impossible. She ached for the loss and loneliness he’d endured. “Griffin, I wish—”

  “Don’t. It doesn’t help.”

  He took a long swallow of wine. “It’s a hell of a mess. I should’ve left you out of it.”

  “It’s my job. Or was.” Val shook her head.

  “It will be again,” he said, and his eyes were hard. Determined. On her behalf.

  No one had cared that much about what she wanted since her parents’ deaths. Even Gene and Zara, supporting her for the job of shire reeve, hadn’t shown this kind of determination. Griffin’s expression was stony.

  Looking at the board, she took a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn’t met a man she’d wanted to touch, to have touch her, in a long time. Why the hell did he have to be the one?

  “Someone,” he added, “obviously tipped the ghouls at Lake Sinclair. But there’s nothing to tie anyone on the Council to that. Let’s run it down anyway. What does Blake say about the ghouls?”

  Nothing like hitting the sore spot, the man whose good opinion she’d lost, first. “He hates them. He did worry about wasted resources from some of my raids, but he never actually tried to stop them. Though I heard some of the Council—don’t know who—were unhappy about the one I led a couple of weeks ago.”

  Val stared into the golden depths of her goblet, detesting what she had to say. “Gene wanted me to put more effort into keeping kids away from dark magic, arresting dabblers. I’d hate to think it’s because he wants to protect the ghouls.”

  “Of course you would.” Griffin’s face was kind as he added, “The chief councilor has access to a lot of information, in every department, but that doesn’t mean he’s a traitor.”

  “Alden was the council chief.”

  “Yes, and that experience taught me not to jump without concrete proof. Blake wasn’t on the Council then. Now maybe he’s just juggling priorities. Elayne Smith was on the Council as quartermistress six years ago, is High Council now, and she loves secrets and intrigue. Seems to hate the ghouls but has been known to say we should consider a truce.”

  “She still does,” Val said, “but she has the sense, or seems to, to realize that’s unlikely.”

  She frowned at the whiteboard. “Pansy Wilson is new to the High Council. She loves gossip and backstairs dealing, but never says much about ghouls and doesn’t seem to have any sympathy for them.”

  “What about Otto Larkin?”

  “He’s so generally disagreeable, it’s hard to know what he thinks about anything. And Dutton blows with the prevailing wind.” Val shrugged. “Nothing definite on the High Council, then. I’ve never heard anything about ghouls from the department heads that struck me as odd.”

  “Still, we might be able to narrow the field if we—” His head snapped up. “Shit. We have to go. If you have a go bag packed, grab it.”

  “What? Griffin, what is it?”

  “Mages coming this way. Two cars. No, damn it. Three.” He stepped away from her. “Valeria, move!”

  If the Council needed her to come back, they would phone, not send cars. But… “How would they know you were here?”

  “My screen may not be as good as it usually is. Or something’s interfering. Do you have anything that would do that?”

  “No, I…” Her stomach knotted as intuition hit. Gene had given her that pendant despite his disapproval. Her hand went to her throat, but she’d left the pendant off after her shower. Was the protective spell on it just for protection? It had to be. He wouldn’t spy on her. Would he? Maybe to keep the Collegium safe. If so, that didn’t make him a traitor.

  “Valeria?”

  “I don’t know, Griffin. Just go. Now. They have no quarrel with me.” He knew far more than she did about the problems within the Collegium, so his freedom was more important than hers. Somehow, she would talk her way out of this, cover his back. Buy him time.

  She tugged him toward the door. “I’ll throw them off.”

  “Good luck with that. If they already know I’m here, they’ll kill you.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “Like hell.” He yanked his arm free. “I won’t leave you. You come with me, or I don’t go.”

  If she left with him, she would also be a fugitive. Was she ready to take that irrevocable step?

  “Decide fast,” he said. “If we’re staying, you need to call for backup, report I’m here, and then bash me in the head, before they arrive.”

  His grim face meant he was in earnest, that he would sacrifice himself to protect her. If she stopped to think about that, the enormity of it would paralyze her.

  “I keep a bag packed.” Even though she now had no job requiring it. “Habit, you know? I’ll grab it.”

  “Hurry. They’re about a mile away. The dirt road is slowing them down, but they’ll be here pronto.”

  Left alone in the sitting area, Griff erased the whiteboard with a wave of his hand and summoned his staff from beside the table. He and Valeria couldn’t take on a group the size of the approaching one without using lethal force. He already had too many mage deaths on his conscience and didn’t want any on hers. Their best c
hance of escaping was to sneak clear before the deputies arrived.

  Most likely, the approaching units had orders to kill him and secure Valeria, and he’d have no chance to protect her. Unless he pretended to take her hostage, made them listen to him before they started blasting.

  Valeria hurried back into the room with a small backpack over her shoulder and her broadsword at her hip. “By the way, Griffin, I won’t let you sacrifice yourself to save me. Not ever. I can look after myself, and I know we can find a way to make the Council listen to us.”

  Yeah, right, but arguing would waste time and breath. So would stopping to think about the longing her loyalty stirred in his soul.

  They hurried out of the house. Valeria locked the door with a jolt of magic so they wouldn’t have to stop. That lock wouldn’t keep mages out, but it would slow down other intruders.

  “You drive my car,” he said, “if you can handle a stick shift. I have things in the trunk I can’t lose. Besides, I can build a stronger screen if I don’t have to divide my attention.” She could probably feel him building it already—a glamour of absence, of transparency and illusion, one layer at a time.

  He could fire energy bolts to blast their way to freedom, a tactic he didn’t want her using. He was already an outcast beyond redemption. No sense making her road back any harder than it had to be.

  She tossed her bag in the rear seat of his low-slung four-door while he propped her sword between the gear box and his leg, with his staff stuck between the seats in easy reach.

  “Leave the lights off,” he said as she started the engine, “and go around your car, down to the water. Head left along the exposed lake bed to your neighbor’s boat ramp. Then pull up a few feet and sit until the Collegium SUVs go by.”

  “Then we drive onto the road behind them, moving out while they move in. All without bringing your screen close, where they might sense it.” Shifting into first, she arched a brow at him, her face barely visible in the darkness. “Smart.”

  “Thanks. Once we get around that bend up there, out of their sight, turn on the lights and drive like hell. Engine’s a V8, so it’s got muscle.”

  What they’d find at the entrance to the lakeside community might pose another problem. No tactician with a brain would leave that unguarded. But they’d swim that river when they reached it.

  Unfortunately, they couldn’t hide behind a screen and put up a deflecting shield at the same time. But if the screen worked, the shield wasn’t necessary. He pushed the glamour a little farther out. Slow, steady expansion was key.

  Valeria steered between pine trees and down to the red clay edging the water. As she swung left, onto the bumpy surface, his screen brushed something—a tingle—power. Mages coming along the water’s edge on foot. They would feel the screen.

  “Shit,” he snapped. “Floor it!”

  Her lips tightened. The car surged onto her neighbor’s lawn with a roar, and a bolt of blue-white energy shot past the rear bumper. “I’m going to the road. The ground’s too uneven for us to make time here.”

  “I’ll keep the screen up so they can’t peg us exactly.”

  Another blue-white streak ripped by, this time in front of them, as a pale green bolt zoomed toward the rear window. The mages must’ve homed in on the screen’s energy. Griff dropped the screen and flung a personal shield around himself and Valeria. The tingle rippling over his skin meant she was also shielding.

  The rear window exploded. Shrapnel bounced off their personal shields. They traded a grim look.

  “Those shots come close enough to the fuel line and they’ll blow the engine.” She had a white-knuckled grip on the wheel.

  “Just get to the road.” He threw more power into his shield.

  The nearest SUV was merely fifty feet away. The intense power he felt building inside it had to come from at least five or six mages.

  Valeria swerved wildly and careened onto the road. Just ahead, the other SUV was pulling a three-point turn. One closing fast, the other angling to intercept, and the one that had come in from the other direction gaining.

  Shit. Griff aimed his staff out the back window. The runes and end caps glowed. He pushed his power into the staff through the P-shaped rune, thurisaz, for pure might, to trigger a blast from the end cap. Using the rune amplified the power but drained him faster.

  With an earthshaking, deafening boom that shattered windows in nearby houses and made his shielded ears ring, the gravel surface erupted. The lead SUV flipped.

  Valeria gaped at him. “What the—”

  A bolt of blue-white sizzled past the car. Way too close.

  “Not now.” Griff closed his eyes. Centered. “There’s a kill switch for the engine, that red button by the ignition. Punch it.”

  “But that’ll—”

  “Do as I say!”

  Valeria hit the button. The engine roar died abruptly, but momentum carried the car forward.

  He gathered more power, drawing from the grass and trees, the fish in the lake, even the night bugs stirring around them.

  “Griffin, damn it—”

  “Hang on,” he bit out. His neck hurt. His chest cramped. He centered his power, surrounded the car with it, and reached for the space between life and death.

  His control wobbled, felt dangerously shaky. But if this didn’t work, they were dead anyway.

  Chapter 10

  Reality whirled away with speed that pressed the breath from Val’s lungs. Blind and deaf in the icy cold, she fought terror an instant before realizing they’d translocated. Then the car popped back into reality. Headlights rushed toward them as she discovered they were on the wrong side of a forest road. Yanking the wheel to the right, toward the correct lane, she hit the gas. Nothing. Hell.

  “Key,” Dare gasped as she reached for it.

  Brakes squealed. She turned the key and the engine caught, but the other car was veering into the open lane. It passed them with a long, hard blare of its horn and an angry shout.

  “Shit,” Val muttered. If she tried to say anything more right now, she’d blow like a volcano. Of course he’d killed the engine before translocating, but she hadn’t realized that was his plan. Nobody she knew had ever translocated an entire car.

  She swung into the correct lane and drove forward. There had to be a place she could pull over and get a few things straight. He’d flipped that SUV like a toy. God only knew if the mages inside had shielded in time.

  God, she’d trusted him. Started to care, maybe more than— No, nuh-uh, not walking that path.

  “Should’ve…warned you.” His soft voice rasped.

  “Should have done a lot of things.” She shot an angry glance at him, and her anger evaporated as her heart plunged into her stomach.

  Dare slumped in his seat, eyes closed, head lolling against the headrest. The green glow of dash lights showed beads of sweat on his upper lip and temples. His chest rose and fell in fast, shallow breaths.

  No, no, no. He couldn’t have blown himself out. Could he? “Griffin?”

  His throat moved in a hard swallow. “I’m okay. Just…need a minute.” Another swallow.

  When she touched his cheek with her knuckles, it felt clammy. Like a ghoul’s—but that was ridiculous. Sick people had cold, clammy skin, too, and he’d drained himself dangerously pulling this stunt.

  He caught her hand to kiss it, and her heart skipped a beat. Despite the anger still seething under her worry, she squeezed his fingers before she drew her hand back.

  Everything he’d done, he’d done to save her. She would remember that when they talked, but he’d better not order her around like that ever again if he wanted her help.

  Of course, she needed his help, too. Val sighed.

  Distrusting Gene went against the grain. Maybe he hadn’t always supported her ideas. Maybe she’d occasionally felt as though he were manipulating her, not an unusual move for a politician. Still, he and Zara had treated her as though she were their own. Reluctantly, feeling ungrateful
and overly suspicious, she’d left the pendant behind. Just in case.

  For better or worse, she was allied with Dare. They had to find a way to make things right.

  “Where are we?” she asked. He would recharge faster in a place thick with life, with energy he could safely draw from.

  “Should be about a mile from the lake, maybe less.” He ran a hand over his face.

  “But I don’t recognize anything, and I’ve explored all around the lake cottage.” Translocating a car a mile would be a record.

  He frowned into the darkness. “Then I don’t know where we are,” he said slowly. “Sorry.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” He must’ve sent them quite a distance, maybe farther than any mage had ever achieved. Just how strong was he?

  “Watch for a road sign,” she said.

  He nodded but didn’t look any better. Drawing more power than you could handle could burst a blood vessel or create a systemic effect similar to an electrical short or induce knee-buckling fatigue.

  “We need a place to crash,” he muttered. He shook his head and blinked, as though he were having trouble seeing.

  “Yeah.” Val kept her tone easy despite the way his gesture pinched her heart. “Once we know where we are.”

  She hoped there wasn’t any physical damage from the overload.

  “How have you managed to stay hidden these last six years? Have you shielded yourself? Can you shield us now? Or are we busted, with helos on the way?”

  “We should be okay.” He fished under his shirt and drew out the pendant she’d felt earlier. “I have warding stones to put around whatever place we stop in for the night. Meanwhile, this is specially warded. As long as we’re within fifteen feet of it, we’re covered.”

  She glanced at it. “Is that an eye?”

  “Of Horus, the Egyptian god of justice. It’s made of lapis lazuli.” He tucked it back into his shirt. “We should also disable the GPS on your cell phone. You can’t use it, or they’ll be able to track you. I can do it magically if you give me the phone.”