by Linsey Hall
I led us down the dimly-lit hall. Our footsteps were silent on the industrial grade carpet. It didn’t take long to find a set of stairs, and we began the climb.
“They’re near the top,” I whispered back to my friends.
My dragon sense tugged hard at the fifteenth floor. I was gasping by the time I pushed open the door, not used to the climbing. As soon as we’d all made it out of the stairwell, a security guard turned into our hall. His eyes widened when he saw us, and my heart jumped into my throat.
“Duck!” Connor whispered.
I crouched low, and Connor threw a potion bomb over my head. It exploded on the man’s chest. Surprise flashed in his eyes before they rolled back in his head, and he tumbled like an oak tree onto his back.
“Sleeping potion,” Connor whispered. “He’ll be out for a few hours.”
“Good choice.” I’d seen Connor’s potion bombs do some nasty things, and I was grateful he’d gone with something more benign. No reason to kill a guy just doing his job, as long as he didn’t work for Victor Orriodor.
Sure, I wanted to commit murder. But only Victor. Everyone else was in the way, but I didn’t want them to get hurt unless it was the only way to save Del or Nix. The fact that I’d throw anyone under the bus for my deirfiúr was bloodthirsty, but it was the truth.
I gestured to my friends, and we continued down the hall, our footsteps light. My heart pounded in my ears as we neared Nix and Del. They had to be alive because my dragon sense picked them up, but that didn’t guarantee they were unharmed.
The scent of rot rolled toward us down the hall, and the now-familiar feel of bee stings on my skin made my muscles tense.
Victor. His awful magic was so distinct that there was no mistaking him. I picked up on another scent, too, a sickly sweet aroma. Disgusting. I gagged. There was also the feeling of sweaty palms, which was one of the worst magical signatures I’d ever felt.
I shook off the gross feeling and crept forward. But I bounced off an invisible wall, my nose hurting like hell.
“Barrier,” I whispered. It was strong magic, too. I turned to Aidan and held out a hand. He passed me a penatrist charm and kept one for himself.
We slipped through, then handed them back to Connor and Claire. They came through, then each handed a penatrist charm to Aidan and me. I shoved mine into my pocked and crept down the hall on silent feet, my friends at my back.
We had to be close if there was a special barrier here.
The sound of low voices drifted down the hall. I halted right before a massive glass wall that probably led into an office, and everyone else stopped behind.
We were near the corner of the building, so perhaps there was a big office here. I peeked through the glass, trying to keep as much of me hidden behind the wall as possible.
Within, Nix and Del slumped on a couch, passed out and wearing collars of some sort. Slave collars that would bind them to Victor, perhaps, or magic-dampening collars.
The bastard himself lounged in a chair in front of a massive desk. The figure behind the desk looked vaguely familiar. A large man with heavy jowls, he looked about sixty. His piercing blue eyes were cold and dead. The sickly sweet smell came from him. The sweaty hands feeling, too.
Magica.
It hit me then. This bulldog of a man had been walking on the stage at the Nullifier’s memorial. He was from the Order.
So, Victor really was working with the Order. Or at least, one of them.
I strained to hear what they were saying through the glass.
“I can get the other,” Victor said. “We can still make this work.”
I had to be the other. But make what work?
“I put my faith in you, Victor,” the bulldog grumbled. “And it’s taking longer than promised. How can I trust that you’ll finish the job? My support is costly, as I’m sure you know.”
“I brought them here to prove to you that things are moving along.” Victor’s voice sounded cold.
The bulldog’s brows lowered over his eyes. No doubt he was used to people bowing and scraping before him, considering his position in the Order. But Victor wasn’t the type to do that, even if he did need the bulldog. He was too proud.
I shoved aside my desire to loiter and eavesdrop. Nix and Del were unconscious. If they needed medical attention that I’d delayed because I was curious, I’d never forgive myself.
But I’d have to try to win this with my daggers instead of magic. Even if the bulldog couldn’t see my face, I didn’t want to alert an Order member that magic as strong as mine existed.
“What the hell—”
The gravelly voice sounded from behind. I spun to look. A massive man loomed over us. I reached for my dagger, but his huge hand swept out and knocked me across the cheek. I went flying, pain blaring in my face.
In a flash, Aidan threw a fireball that consumed the man, but it was too late. We’d lost any element of surprise. Footsteps thundered down the hall, probably men working for the bulldog or Victor.
I scrambled to my feet. On the other side of the glass, the bulldog and Victor surged to their feet. Two guards, whom I hadn’t seen because of their positioning, whirled on us. Connor threw a potion bomb at one, and Claire threw a blast of fire at another. They dropped to the ground.
If we could get Del and Nix before the backup got here, we could maybe make a run for it.
I gestured to Connor and Claire, pointing them to Del and Nix. “Get them. We’ll distract the others.”
I was careful not to say their names for fear of leading the Order of the Magica back to them. A swirl of gray light surrounded Aidan, and he shifted into a massive black leopard, not his signature griffin. Probably to hide his identity, I realized.
Aidan launched himself through the glass window into the office. It shattered and crashed to the ground as he charged Victor, who threw his signature sonic boom.
Aidan dodged it by an inch, but I felt the reverberations when it slammed into the hallway wall behind him.
Connor and Claire rushed into the room, headed straight for Del and Nix, who hadn’t woken.
Acting on instinct, I hurled a dagger at the bulldog, but he threw up a hand and blocked it. The blade clattered to the ground. The footsteps of approaching guards grew nearer.
“You think you can rescue your friends, FireSoul?” Victor asked coldly.
I didn’t bother answering, but called my dagger back to me and flung Lefty at the bulldog again. It pierced him in the shoulder and he howled.
Connor and Claire had grabbed Del and Nix, draping them over their shoulders in a fireman’s carry. As they dragged them toward the door, Aidan lunged at Victor again, this time getting his arm and shoulder in his massive jaws.
Victor roared, his face twisted with pain. Aidan shook him, clamping down harder, but Victor’s magic swelled on the air, the scent of rot overwhelming. A moment later, he disappeared from between Aidan’s jaws, no doubt realizing that staying meant being torn apart.
With Victor gone, we almost had this!
But the sound of the guards’ footsteps were too close, and there had to be at least a dozen of them. The bulldog had pulled the blade from his shoulder, and his eyes were wild with rage. His sickly sweet magic surged, as if he were loading up a big spell with whatever his gift was. We’d already discovered that he could create force fields, but I thought he was planning something more violent. I glanced out the gaping hole where the massive glass window had been.
A dozen guards were charging up the hall, their magic signatures rolling toward us. They were strong, and there were a lot of them. More magical signatures came from another direction, perhaps from the floor below. We had to escape both groups.
“Get them out of here!” I shouted. “I’ll hold off the guards.”
I reached for the bulldog’s gift over force fields. He’d protected himself from my first blade, so I just had to create a massive one to hold the guards off.
Aidan’s massive head swung toward me,
disbelief in his golden eyes.
“Go!” I begged. I put everything I had into the word, every promise that this meant more to me than anything else and that I’d never forgive him if he didn’t get my deirfiúr out of here. “I can feel more guards on the other floor. You have to protect them so they can escape. I’ll follow!”
Aidan cocked his head as if searching for the magical signatures of the other guards I’d felt. They had strong magic—it rolled over my skin in waves—and I could tell when he felt them.
He nodded, his gaze intense and angry, then charged the door. I caught a glimpse of Connor and Claire fleeing with Del and Nix. Aidan had their back. They’d probably run into the other group of guards, but I had to have faith in Aidan.
If I failed at this and let them catch me, the bulldog knew what I was. I’d end up in the Prison for Magical Miscreants. Or a prisoner of Victor Orriodor. I didn’t know what was worse, but I didn’t care.
I raced into the hall, blocking the way my friends had fled, and turned back to the guards who ran toward me. They were only twenty feet away. The bulldog charged toward the office door, coming for me with whatever magic he possessed.
I wanted to throw off the dampening charm and blast them, but my friends were still too close.
I pulled on the bulldog’s magic, envisioning a barrier between myself and the guards. I just had to block them from my friends. I thrust my hands forward and gave the force field everything I had, trying to keep control just in case the dampening charm didn’t work.
Magic flowed, silvery and bright, creating a sparkling, transparent wall between me and my enemies. My chest ached with the amount of power I was trying to control, and my breath grew short. The bulldog threw out his hands, hurling whatever magic he’d been building up.
A hurricane hit my force field, massive wind and rain that nearly blasted a hole in my shield. The collision vibrated up my arms and I nearly lost control of the force field. It held up, but barely.
“You FireSoul bitch!” the bulldog yelled. He was a weather witch, and I cringed to think of what he’d create next.
The guards attacked, throwing fire and ice and even a swarm of bees. Each hit the force field and made my arms shake, stealing a bit more of my strength. I couldn’t throw off the dampening charm while trying to hold up the barrier, so I’d just have to hope they’d run out of strength before I did. Then I could lower it, throw off the dampener charm, and blast them with my crazy power.
But from the way I was shaking, I didn’t know if I’d make it. My vision blacked out for a moment. I stumbled to my knees as more magic hit the force field, but I kept it raised, focusing my eyes on the glittery light of the barrier. I could barely see it through the blindness stealing over my vision as my muscles turned to jelly.
As my family had said, I had unlimited power, but not the physical strength or practice to wield it.
A tornado jumped from the hands of the bulldog, a howling cyclone of wind that pulled office furniture into its clutches. My magic faltered.
I’m a dead woman.
I chanced a quick glance over my shoulder, wondering if my friends had gotten far enough away. I caught sight of a guard’s face just before he plowed into me, driving me into the carpet.
I hadn’t shielded my back. My face was pressed into the carpet with the guard pressing a heavy knee into my back. I peered up at the hallway. My force field died, the glittering light fading away entirely, and the rest of the guards surged toward us.
Prison-strength magic dampening cuffs slammed around my wrists, sapping my power, just as something heavy hit me in the head.
I blacked out.
14
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
The refrain filled my mind as soon as consciousness woke me from a slumber as deep as death. Flashes of vague memories filled my mind. The bulldog’s guards bundling me up and tossing me in the back of a car. Endless travel. An angry male voice speaking to someone on a comms charm or phone. He’d lost someone. Two someones.
The bulldog hadn’t gotten Nix or Del! Nor had Victor. My deirfiúr had escaped. A victorious grin stretched over my face as more memories flowed into my mind. Flashes of a stone wall passing by my face as I was dragged down a corridor. Being thrown into a cell and the stone scraping against my skin.
The memories ended there, and I knew I was in trouble even before I opened my eyes.
When I did force them open, I wasn’t surprised to see a dimly lit stone ceiling above me. The walls and floor were also stone and the air icy cold. It could have been Victor Orriodor’s dungeon, except for the small window high in the wall. Behind metal bars, the moon gleamed, full and bright.
No, this wasn’t Victor’s dungeon. That was underground, and there was no moon to see even if there had been a window. The waypoint lacked a moon or sun.
I was in the Prison for Magical Miscreants. And I didn’t feel an ounce of the fear I’d expected to feel if I ever ended up here.
No doubt, my situation was bad. I was wearing nothing but a black jumpsuit. No boots, no dagger, not even my dampening charm. Nor the prison-strength magical dampening cuffs they’d slapped on me before knocking me out.
I climbed off the hard, skinny bed I’d been lying on and grinned as I looked around. I probably looked insane, but I didn’t care.
If they’d taken my dampening charm and removed the cuffs, they didn’t know what I was. Sure, they might know I was a FireSoul. But they had no idea what I was capable of if they’d been stupid enough to take the charm and cuffs away.
I touched the wall, feeling for whatever protective spells shrouded my cell. There was a magic dampening spell, of course. No way they’d remove the cuffs if there wasn’t. There’d been one at Victor’s dungeon and at the magical fight club holding cells I’d once rescued Nix and Del from. The spell was standard issue and repressed any magic that the prisoners might possess.
Idiots. That might have held me once, but no longer.
I stretched my hands, wiggling my fingers. Power sparked in my veins so much that the cell couldn’t contain it.
A rustling sound came from the corner of the cell. I peered into the dark, my eye catching movement.
A fat little rat scurried forward, his dark eyes gleaming. He was white and black, with a friendly look to him. I crouched down and held out a hand, grinning.
“Hey, little guy,” I whispered. I liked rodents.
The rat hopped onto my hand and stood on his back legs, pink nose twitching as he met my gaze.
A flash of an image filled my mind—a man, sitting in a cell like mine, his black jumpsuit ragged—and a voice echoed in my ear.
“Who are you?” the voice asked.
The voice had to be from the man in my vision. I tried to focus on his face. I recognized him. The FireSoul I’d seen at the Alpha Council stronghold last month. At that time, they’d been dragging him off to this prison for the crime of being a FireSoul. So this wasn’t a vision, exactly. Was this rat was showing me someone else in another cell here?
“What’s going on?” I asked. “How are we speaking?”
“I’m an Anima Mage. The rats do my bidding, exploring for me, speaking on my behalf. You’re holding Rufus. Ralph, his brother, is here with me. We’re communicating through them.”
I looked at the fat little rat in my hand, then at the skinny guy within my mind’s eye. “You must feed them well.”
“They’re my friends.”
I liked this dude already. Anyone who counted rodents among his buddies was a good guy. I’d heard of Anima Mages before. They could force animals to do their bidding, but he made friends with them instead.
“How are you?” he asked again.
“I’m Cass Clereaux. I mean, McFane,” I whispered. “You’re the FireSoul who was captured at the Alpha Council.”
He nodded as if he knew I could see him. “What are you?”
“I’m a FireSoul, too.”
“That’s not what they said.”
/> “Who?”
“The guards who brought you here. They said you were a thief, but they didn’t know your name or magical species.”
“Interesting.”
“But it’s odd they didn’t say you were a FireSoul.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Normally we’re their favorite to torment.”
So, the prison didn’t know what I was? Did that mean the bulldog had kept it a secret? It seemed they didn’t know my name, but they did know what I was capable of. Yet they hadn’t reported that to the prison. Was he running a side job with Victor, while keeping the rest of the Order in the dark about what I was? Things were looking better and better.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“I explore the prison through Ralph and Rufus. They see a lot.”
“What’s your name?”
“Emile,” he said.
“Nice to meet you, Emile. And Ralph and Rufus. We’re going to be breaking out of here soon.”
His gaze brightened. “Yeah? Were you sent by the League of FireSouls to rescue me?”
“No, but we’ll manage all the same.” I looked up at the window, at the moon outside. “And I’ll have people coming for me.”
My friends would find me, if I didn’t escape first. I knew I could count on that.
“That works for me,” Emile said.
“I’ll talk to you soon, Emile.” I set down Rufus, and he scurried away, back through the little hole in the wall.
I stood and looked around my cell. My worst fears had come true. My parents were dead. At least one member of the Order of the Magica knew I was a FireSoul. I was in the Prison for Magical Miscreants.
But my face wasn’t leaking. There were no tears despite the fact that all the worst shit had hit the fan.
Actually, I felt pretty damned good. I was facing my fears, and they weren’t so bad. My deirfiúr were alive and free, and I had a tidal wave of magic flowing through my veins.
I didn’t know what Victor or the Order had planned for me, but I was going to find out. And if they thought they could keep me locked up in this place, they were too damned wrong.