by Deanna Chase
“Should there be a challenger, your gifts will be leveraged to give equal footing. The victor shall acquire the rights to this Learner and the power of the other Mage. Samil, should no one challenge you, then she will remain your charge. Upon your death, if she has not been released from your custody, then she will go to her Ghuardian. We will not retract his status.”
“What happens to the loser?” I asked, hesitating, as I was told not to speak out of turn. Of course, I already fucked that up the moment I stepped on the field.
Her eyes flew back to Justus, annoyed by my questioning. “We do not challenge to the death, Learner. The winner will not borrow, but take the power of the other. The defeated will be tasked with rebuilding their life source and that will require a number of years to regain the same level of power. It is a fitting elevation for the victor.”
There it was, a chance that my enemy could be weakened. A chance that I could be free of him. All of it depended on one small detail—someone would have to fight for me.
But who? It was between Justus and Simon. Simon didn’t know me well enough and Justus, he already was so willing to pass me over. Even now he said nothing.
“May I ask another question?” Justus yanked my arm and I pulled out of his grasp, folding my arms.
“You may,” Hannah answered.
“If no one challenges him… may I?”
My embarrassment turned to heated anger when the response was laughter. Hannah rolled her eyes and I saw smiles play across all their faces.
Novis clasped his hands in front of him and gave a nod to Justus before answering my question. “I like your tenacity, Learner. You will make a fine Mage one day. To answer your question: no. You are neither skilled nor strong enough. I’m sure you still value your life. No Creator would want claim over a Learner who challenged them. Someone must fight for you. Fear not—perhaps chivalry is not dead. We shall see.”
The seconds were excruciating as no one said a word. Justus stood motionless and guilt played across his face as his eyes memorized the tips of his shoes. I had been expecting for someone right at that moment to give their intentions, perhaps in a moment of nobility to yell out something along the lines of, “I will fight for her!” But this was not an epic movie, and Justus said nothing.
No one did.
Except…
“Come.” Samil’s fingers curled around my elbow painfully as he pulled me forward.
“I am Samil, Creator of forty-three Learners. I stand before you on this night to present to the Council my progeny, a new member to our sacred lineage. I claim this Learner as her maker, and hereby name her…” He flicked a glance at my eyes. “Silver.”
I hated him immediately.
Novis raised his chin as he replied. “That is an acceptable, and may I say, appropriate choice. Embrace your name, Silver; it is now your identity. Samil, we accept your claim to Silver as a fledgling Mage, you will take her into your home and respectfully teach her the ways of our kind.”
Hannah adjusted a pin in her hair as she studied Samil. “These are strange circumstances.” She sighed. “Samil, it is custom for the progeny to leave from this spot with their maker; however as she also has Ghuardianship, you will allow her one half hour to retrieve her things and pay respect to her Ghuardian. Seven days from now, we will assemble here. If you do not show, she will be removed from your care. That is all.”
The Council turned and we stood in silence, listening to the sound of the grass rustle below their feet as they disappeared from sight.
“One half hour. Not a fraction more.” Samil pointed a finger at Justus and stalked into the shadows as if he were nothing more than an apparition.
“Silver. It’s not such a bad name, love. Silver metal has the highest electrical conductivity, you know, from any other element… and thermal conductivity.”
Justus glared at Simon, who shrugged. “Just sayin’.”
I felt empty. Abandoned. If I had stayed with Adam, none of this would be happening.
“So, I’m Silver Merrick.”
“No.”
“I’m not taking his last name, am I?”
Justus folded his arms, prepared to give me perhaps my last lesson.
“In the beginning it was custom for the Creator to give his progeny a new name as a Mage. Maybe they thought it would help them let go of their old life, or maybe it was an ego thing. But it’s a tradition we still carry. Some kept their former human name while others did not. If the ancient had a surname or a second name—which almost all did—the progeny would take on that name like a female does when she marries. The name De Gradi is of my maker and he was of Italian descent. The only exception to this rule is if a Mage discovers their rare gift makes them a Creator, also. Then they are allowed to retain their own surname and pass it on to their progeny—it creates a lineage. There are not many ancients left and most of them no longer create fledglings.”
Justus ran his hand across his head, rubbing it back and forth.
“So what is my last name? And so help me, if you tell me it’s Ware, I’ll dropkick you where you stand.”
“You have none. You are only Silver. His people did not have surnames. Their first name was followed by the name of their father, so it would have been something like ‘Samil, son of…”
“A bitch,” I finished.
The wind gently rustled through the trees and I shivered from the icy air.
Simon approached and brushed his fingers through my hair, tucking away the one strand that was unwilling to join the rest. He studied my face and cradled my neck with his hands.
“You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.” He kissed me lightly on the mouth and walked away.
“What the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that with the dagger? I specifically told you how to conduct yourself. You must play by their rules, have you learned nothing I have taught you?”
My eyes were moist and Justus pulled me to his chest and held me tight.
He held me as he had never done before—with warmth and feeling. Large hands ran down my back and his baritone voice soothed, “Shhhh. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“I’m not crying, I’m scared.”
“Remember, the Grey Veil.”
I nodded into his chest.
“Silver… Silver,” he whispered, adjusting to the sound of my name. “He may have named you, but I want you to own that name, do you understand?”
“I have seven days, I’ll figure out something.”
He pulled me at arm’s length and I watched that thick jaw harden to marble.
“I’ll work on the Council—don’t get any ideas.” He slipped a silver and jade dragon pendant over my neck. “Don’t take it off. It is forged with hidden energy, should you need it. You’ll have one chance to use it.”
One chance was all I needed.
Chapter 22
“I would like to see you just try it you fucking piss-poor excuse for a Mage! Come on then, swing away. I’ll give you the first shot, but after that you better flash your arse off, you limey bastard.”
“So it is you who will challenge me?” Deep laughter broke away from Samil. “Well then, I wager that it will not last very long. What a shame, your power wouldn’t be enough to charge my phone as green as you are.”
Through the trees they came into view—Simon and Samil were standing ten feet or so apart between the cars.
“Right here, right fucking now. All mouth and no trousers.”
“Shame you won’t see her curse your name during her beatings,” Samil said in a thick accent.
Simon bared his teeth and charged with a fury that could only be rivaled by Justus, who flashed over and slammed him up against the car. The passenger window shattered from impact.
Samil casually strolled back to his SUV, brushing his shoulders with his hand.
“Enough, Simon!” Justus pressed a forearm into his neck. “You risk further punishment from the Council—do not provoke him.”<
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Simon defiantly shook free of the fists that held him down and kicked his shoe into the dirt, sending up a flurry of rocks. “It’s not right!”
Samil stood by the driver’s side door as Justus tossed my bag in the back. He eased me in the back seat, making it clear he didn’t want me sitting beside my maker any more than I did. If sitting on the roof were an option, I might have happily taken that.
The door slammed shut and I wrinkled my nose at the smell; it was like rancid pine cones and cheap vinyl. The interior light slowly dimmed and my breath fogged up the window as I leaned my face against the cold glass.
“I suppose you’ve tasted her. Extraordinary, isn’t she? Can’t say I’ve had the full pleasure, but no one makes them quite like I do. All good things come to those who wait, isn’t that right?”
Cobalt eyes drifted down to watch me, softened and full of words I knew he would never speak out loud. He cared. Despite the fact we butted heads and spent six hours a day trying to kill each other, the man cared for me. Why did I ever doubt?
Because he was letting me go, that’s why.
“Fear not, Ghuardian.” The word rolled off Samil’s tongue like a curse. “She’s in capable hands now.”
His laugh was unexpected and poisonous. My fingers clawed into the armrest of the door as I shut my eyes and pushed down all the sorrow and anger that was rising up within me. I refused to let my emotions take over. I was no longer Zoë; I was no longer a Mage. I was now a person I did not recognize. I was Silver, I was his, and I was nothing more than property.
A light tapping noise snapped me back to reality. Justus touched the window with his fingertips and I reached up, running mine along the glass. Please don’t leave me.
His arms lifted over the car and he leaned over so I could no longer see his face.
My body came three inches off the seat when heavy fists slammed down on the roof of the car. If my heart was asleep before, it was now wide awake, on its fourth cup of coffee, and chilling out in my throat.
“One finger harms her, Samil, and I will bury you.”
“Tsk Tsk. Careful, Mage,” Samil replied with edged humor. “What would the Council think of such threats?”
“It’s not a threat. It’s my word of honor.”
***
My seatbelt was pulled off and Samil dragged me across a gravel driveway. The rocks were white and sharp at the edges, as my hands could attest to.
“Home, sweet home, little girl.”
I cringed as my bag landed on the arm I used to shield my face. Samil straddled me, bending over with his hair spilling down like dirty rain.
“Last time we met like this, I believe you looked a little… different.” He spun a lock of my black hair between his fingers. “Took time to find you, but when I picked up on your energy, it was unmistakable. You can’t run from me, Silver. You belong to me and I will always find you.”
He stood up before I had a chance for my thumbs and his eyeballs to make their introductions.
“Get up,” he snarled.
I tightened my lips and shot profanities through my eyes.
He backhanded me.
I spat a mouthful of blood on his big black boot and redirected my anger. “Thought you could use a shoe shine.”
They say the first hit is never the last. They’re right. Whoever they are, they know.
“It’s going to be so satisfying to break you.”
Except what he didn’t know was that I had been there and done that. I was a survivor and would never be broken by anyone.
The white paint was so pristine on the three-story house that it was almost as if it were freshly painted. It was surrounded by a well-manicured lawn, illuminated fountains, and rose bushes all along the outside walls. There was a lot of money and pretentiousness put into this place. The porch was adorned with two life-size bronze sculptures of snarling lions and I thought if I stared into their jeweled eyes too long they might spring to life and gobble me up. I had never been in a house that fancy and always wondered about the people who inhabited them.
Now I knew.
Sailing across a smooth polished floor, I hit the end of a banister with my shoulder.
I looked up and against his hellboy appearance of the long black trench coat and matching heart, was a stark contrast of—for lack of better words—baroque. Gaudy mirrors with brass frames hung on maroon walls. The furniture was crushed red fabric with gold trim, black chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, the windows were arched, and an oddly constructed staircase curved up three levels of the house.
I laughed uncontrollably. “You look like a piece of shit in a porcelain toilet.”
“Maybe you should clean that toilet with your mouth,” he said.
Halfway down the stairs that led to the basement, Samil shoved me the rest of the way. I landed on my bag, which broke the fall.
“Welcome home, Silver. I think you’ll find your quarters quite accommodating. Let us go over the rules, shall we?”
His heavy boots stomped down the wooden steps, making a hollow noise in the empty room as he spoke. “You will not disturb me when I am upstairs. Save your screams, no one can hear you out there and those who come to visit me won’t care. Test me, little girl. I just dare you.”
“You only have me for seven days.”
One foot retreated before it forcefully kicked me in the side. I groaned with my face flat against the cold concrete floor, coughing in pain.
“Rule number two: every time you smart off to me, I will beat you until you have no more fight.”
Big deal. I had a feeling this asshole was going to do it regardless.
I looked at my new home. The basement only had two lights, which didn’t offer much. There were boxes by the stairs and the floor was as concrete as the walls. A pile of dirty blankets in the corner told me this was my bed, and I wondered if I was the only one who had ever slept there. Samil’s arms were folded tight and he seared me with his cold, sharp eyes. I wiped the blood from my mouth on the back of my hand.
“Beg me to heal you,” he demanded.
Samil had a strange accent; his tongue rolled thick and made the pronunciations very rich and dark as if it might be Eastern European. But, like Simon, it was perhaps not his true accent. If these men were hundreds of years old or more, then living in different places would influence their speech. It could have been Egyptian, given I had never traveled anywhere or met anyone to truly know the difference.
“Go to hell.”
He sneered and shook his hands over his coat. “You first. It’s only going to get worse, little girl. I have all the patience in the world. I’m going to enjoy making you beg. Make no mistake about it, you will beg. They all do… eventually.”
“Beg for you to take a shower; I always thought your B.O. was just an urban legend.”
His eyes narrowed to razor-thin slivers, but to my astonishment, he turned and went up the stairs, sliding a series of locks into place. I had a feeling that wasn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card—it was a rain check.
I flipped on the switch and stared at a concrete wall in the bathroom. There was no mirror and I guessed that it was removed because it could have been used as a weapon. I felt the residual pain on my arm and thigh and knew it would not be long before they bruised, but I healed faster than humans did so I wasn’t overly concerned.
My bed of blankets stank of mold and I turned my mouth in disgust. I shook out of my coat and slipped a sweatshirt on that Adam had given me. My body shook with a violent chill as I placed the coat over my bag and used it for a pillow.
***
When I woke, my thigh was screaming.
“So much trouble, you. And worth it all remains to be seen.” He bent down and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Ready to beg, Silver?” He laughed. “Oh, how I bet you love your new name. Did you ever watch The Lone Ranger?”
I jerked my head back and scrambled up against the wall, knees pressed against my chest, as he crouched in front of me
. Bastard kicked me in my sleep.
“Why did you do it, why me? There are a million people who would want immortality, why force it on someone who didn’t want it?”
Samil’s words rolled from his tongue like molasses. “I am compensated well for my deeds, and I take great pleasure from the Learners I have made.” He huffed out a short laugh. “It’s a formula, girl, one which I intend to keep secret. Why you? Well I can’t take full credit… but you should thank me. How dare you turn up your nose at what I have given you. Your life has more worth than it once did… humans are nothing but cattle. Tell you what—I’ll let you have one shot at me. You only get one, so make it count.”
I heard a loud snap as I realized my hand had flown across his cheek. I didn’t even stop to wonder if he were serious about giving me a free hit or just baiting me.
“We have all the time in the world to play.” With that, he landed his knuckles on my face and I blacked out against the concrete wall. The bastard lied.
“Ow.”
I opened my eyes, groggy and with the worst kind of headache. Pulling my neck up was not without its agony, either.
I sighed when I saw all the contents of my bag tossed over the floor as if a tornado had blown through. I picked up tiny bits of plastic near the wall that had once belonged to my cell phone.
At the foot of the stairs there was a tray with a silver lid. When I lifted it, an empty china plate stared up at me.
Hearing a latch to the door unlocking, I ran back to the blankets and threw them over my head. I struggled to steady my quickened breath as the door opened. A swish of liquid from a glass bottle sounded, along with stumbling feet. Was he drunk? Would be nice if he left me the bottle—I could use it more than he could.