The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5)

by Susan Squires

  “I do yoga.”

  He tried to push down images of her lithe body bending itself into suggestive poses. “That would do, I think. Just try to get into that frame of mind.”

  “Here?” She gave a suggestive look around that included her manacles and the harsh light of the fluorescents bouncing off the metal walls. “Not exactly Zen.”

  “Sorry conditions aren’t perfect, Miss Movie Star.”

  “Not fair,” she protested. “Oh, okay.”

  She closed her eyes and practiced breathing for a while. When her body had lost its tension again, Lan whispered, “Now think of starlight.” She got a soft smile. “Yeah. And how it makes you feel.” Her face got a dreamy expression. What next? Shit. He didn’t know how this stuff worked. How had he written that symphony? He wasn’t even sure he’d written it. It just sort of appeared and wrote itself. Okay. Okay. He’d go with that. “So, now you can just let the light be. Let it be real.” He held his breath, afraid to say more.

  Nothing happened. But she didn’t open her eyes, either.

  The glaring light in the fluorescents dimmed. Could fluorescent lights dim? These did. And instead, a glow began to emanate from Greta.

  Shit. It was strange to have this confirmation of their bond when, in his mind, he still wasn’t sure it was real. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s great.”

  She opened her eyes, wide with shock. The glow faded. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  “Yep. You got a power all right.”

  “It’s all true,” she said, wondering more to herself than to him. “The Merlin gene, the powers, the…Destiny.”

  “A real bitch, isn’t it?” He gave her a rueful smile. If he hadn’t been a hundred percent certain she was screwed before, he was now.

  Now what could they do with the ability to project a soft glow? Whatever they could do, they’d better do it fast. Because they had to get out of here before Jason and Boris Karloff came back. Lan was no fool. He could stand all the torture they could dish out. But he had one Achilles heel. And she was hanging right next to him, glowing.

  *

  The unforgiving light in the conference room of the office wing was giving Tris a headache, either that or the tension of inactivity. Michael was poring over the plans of the Luxor Resort and Casino, looking for the best way in. Drew sat at the far end of the big table, her gaze flickering as she looked for visions that might help them. Kemble was working on his laptop. Tris felt so God-damned helpless he wanted to put a fist through the wall.

  “When can we go?” he asked no one in particular through gritted teeth.

  Kemble swiveled to face them. “I’ll get us plane tickets. Who are we taking?”

  Michael sat up. He looked tired. They all did. “No plane. We’re driving.”

  “Driving?” Tris asked, incredulous. “That’ll add five hours at least. You said you know what they’re likely doing to Lan and Greta, but you’re not acting like it. Or is it not important?”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I seem to remember the last time the Clan showed up at The Breakers they had some big-ass guns. Powers or no powers, I don’t want to go in at a firepower disadvantage. And in case you hadn’t noticed, airlines don’t exactly welcome guns these days.”

  Oh. “I can melt their guns.” That was one of the good parts about being able to draw power from the earth and channel it to machines. A gun was a simple machine after all.

  “But you can’t be everywhere, and we may need to split up.”

  Or the Clan could target him and take him out first. They knew what Tris could do.

  Tris saw Kemble’s face get even more grim, if possible. “He’s right, Tris. We’re driving. And we’re driving the speed limit, too. No use wasting time on tickets and concealed weapons charges.” Kemble took a breath. “How you doing, Michael? See any vulnerabilities?”

  Michael ran a hand over his stubble. “We know they’re underground. The real question is, would they be in the hotel proper, with the whole casino circus of tourists and gamblers, or in the conference center? Conference center is underground, but the hotel probably has underground business offices and storage, and service functions.”

  “I vote conference center,” Tris said, trying to move the whole thing along. “You could close it off from the casino, right?”

  “I agree,” Kemble said.

  “Okay. We assume they’re set up in the conference center and they’ve closed it off. The conference center has a loading dock. We could probably pull up in some kind of a food truck and not attract attention. Loading dock still has security, though. From these diagrams, they’re loaded for bear.” He gestured to the stack of drawings.

  “I’ll take out the security system,” Kemble said, waving a hand dismissively.

  “So what we need is to decide who’s going,” Michael said.

  Kee came in with a big tray of sandwiches. Dev was right behind her with beer and sodas. “We’re going,” she announced, setting down the tray on the conference table.

  “And Maggie’s not going this time,” Tris said. No way was he letting her in for the risks they’d be taking. If he got taken out, Jesse and Elizabeth would need one parent living.

  “Whoa, little brother,” Kemble said. “Maggie’s power to calm might just get us past any guards they have posted.”

  “You letting Jane go?” Tris challenged.

  “Of course he’s letting me go.” Jane brought in a bowl of chips and a plate of cookies to go with the sandwiches. “You might need dark.” She looked up at Kemble, who was staring at her as though she’d grown horns or something.

  “You’re pregnant,” Kemble said as though that decided everything. Kemble was newer at being a husband than Tris.

  Jane pursed her lips. “Wasn’t I useful when the Clan attacked The Breakers?”

  “You were crucial,” Drew said. Females. They always stuck together. “Just because you’re pregnant doesn’t mean you’re an invalid. And before my Neanderthal husband starts trying to keep me out of it, I’ll remind him that I was crucial in getting out of Pendragon’s castle up in Hollywood alive.” She smiled sweetly at Michael’s glowering countenance.

  “As were we,” Kee and Dev said in unison. They’d always acted like twins. Getting married hadn’t changed that.

  Tammy stuck her head into the office, looking glum.

  “Don’t you start,” Tris warned. “You don’t have a power.”

  “I can shoot,” she said quietly.

  True. All the Tremaine women could shoot. Senior had given them lessons when this whole Clan thing started. They’d grown into crack shots.

  Kemble went over and put his arm around her. “Tamsen, I know how you feel. But we need somebody to stay here with the Parents, and take care of Jesse and Elizabeth.”

  “I think it would be safer to come along than to stay here without any of you to protect us.” Tammy jutted up her chin.

  “Edwards and the guys will be here. And the security system I’ve got in place now is first rate.” He smiled down at her. “Better than first rate. Edwards will flip the switch as we leave and you’ll be protected by state of the art lasers and electrical barriers. Nobody can get in, not even the Clan.”

  Tammy started to protest, and then shut her mouth, her lips a grim line. “Fine.”

  “Okay then,” Michael said. “Let me get down to writing out everybody’s part. You’ll all have to memorize the building plans. I want everyone equipped with several exit strategies in case we get separated.”

  “Where do you think they’re holding them?” Kemble asked.

  Michael sighed. “I was afraid you’d ask that. No way of telling from the plans. I’m sure they’ve altered the original layout. We’re using these as ‘best guess’ frankly.”

  Great. “Well, we can just go in and cruise around until we find them,” Tris said.

  “Cue me,” Drew said, her lips set. “I’ll try to get a vision of us finding them. That will tell us where to find them.�
�

  “Isn’t that a little circular?” Kemble asked.

  “That’s what visions of the future are, genius. Got any better ideas?” Drew waited. “I thought not.”

  “What if we never find them?” Tammy asked quietly from the doorway.

  “We’ll find them,” Michael said. “If we have to take apart that resort to do it. At the very least, we’ll probably come across someone who knows where they are. I can be very persuasive.”

  Tris thought he wouldn’t want to cross Michael’s path when he was ‘on mission’.

  “Okay, then,” Kemble said, obviously trying to sound positive. “Let’s get going. Michael is planning. Drew is looking for visions of where they are. I’m working on security.”

  “The blood drawing station is in Brian’s office next door,” Jane said. “Greta’s A positive, so we’ll have to lean heavily on our O positives for donations. That’s Tris, Kemble, me, Kee, Drew and Tammy.”

  “What about me?” Devin asked.

  “No go,” Jane said apologetically. “You and Maggie are type B.”

  “I’m t-type O.”

  Senior appeared behind Tammy in the doorway.

  Jane smiled. “So you are. Would you like to go first?”

  It was good to see Senior look a little…proud. Too bad it was about being able to donate blood because they were expecting injuries to family members. Tris knew very well that Jane was taking way more O positive blood than they’d need, because that was the universal donor type. You could give O positive to any one of them.

  Tris looked around, feeling useless, as the family dispersed.

  “And Tris,” Michael said, not looking up from his plans. “Go see what Edwards has in the arsenal.”

  Thank the Lord and hallelujah. Something to do. Something with guns. “On it.” He strode into the hallway.

  *

  Greta hadn’t managed anything more than her soft glowing light in the past two hours. And Lord knew that Lan’s shit-ass power to write music wasn’t getting them out of here. Despair was starting to ramp up inside his belly, a tympani beat inexorably in his head, saying they were running out of time. Greta was just getting frustrated.

  “Ugh!” she said. “What good is all this?”

  “We just haven’t figured the right angle yet,” he said, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. As far as he could tell, his siblings’ powers, and those of their mates, had all come out with a bang—no practice or ramp up needed, though later they needed to practice for refinement and control.

  The refrigerator door handle thunked and Jason pushed into the room, Hardwick right behind him. Oh, this was bad. Whatever Lan did, he had to keep them focused on him, not Greta. What he had dreaded since the moment these two had left was about to unfold in living color. And he still hadn’t decided what to do.

  “You little conniving bastard,” Jason said, fury under scant control in his voice. The fact that he didn’t yell was scary. “You really sold that sucker. I actually believed you. Did you think we wouldn’t check?”

  No use pretending. “I thought it’d take you longer,” Lan said, trying to keep his voice steady. That would be annoying to them.

  “There isn’t even a place where a medallion should be in the labyrinth at that church, so don’t try telling me it got stolen or something.”

  Hardwick stared at Lan, who felt the now only-too-familiar pain lance through his body. At least they were focused on punishing him and not worrying about Greta. The music in his head drained away. It felt like his brain was frying, his guts being ripped out. Every vein and joint screamed, and so did Lan. He could hear Greta screaming right along with him. The attack was even worse than the last ones. When the pain finally washed out of his body, he collapsed, hanging limply in his chains. He couldn’t get his breath. When he could suck in some air, his body was wracked with fits of coughing.

  Jason had him by the hair. “Listen to me, you piece of shit. You’re going to tell me right now where that Pentacle is. Morgan’s on her way, and I want it here when she arrives.”

  Yeah, let them try to get the Pentacle here. Lan felt his coughing turn into laughter, in counterpoint to the desperation in his gut.

  “You think this is funny?”

  Lan’s vision had cleared enough to see Jason’s eyes begin to bulge and a vein in his neck throb. Lan shook his head. Keep them focused on me. Because he couldn’t betray his family, maybe the world. He couldn’t be the weak link who sold out. But he couldn’t let Greta suffer, either. There wasn’t a shred of music in his head. “Go ahead, feel free to make me pay.”

  “This one is dumber than a bag of hammers, Hardwick.” All Jason’s emotion drained away. Only the blank blue of his light eyes was left. He was one scary-ass mother-fucker. “You think you’re not going to tell me what I want to know. Stupid ass.”

  Lan’s stomach dropped. He wished he or Greta had super strength, or the power to fly, or disappear—some way to prevent what was going to happen here. He kept himself from looking over at Greta, but he could hear her broken sobbing. What the fuck was he going to do?

  “I’m not going to let Hardwick play with you anymore,” Jason said in a dead voice. “He’s going to play with Greta here.”

  And there it was: a primal dilemma. Let her suffer. Or betray pretty much everybody. “She doesn’t know anything.” Lan tried not to let the panic in.

  Jason gave him a disgusted look. “I’m sure she doesn’t. Hardwick?”

  The spectral man turned his gaze on Greta. She shrieked.

  Lan banged on his chains. His heart ached. His gut ached. “Leave her alone,” he shouted. Greta’s body arched and her shriek spiraled up, echoing off the metal walls. He knew what she was going through. “Don’t do this.” Like that was going to happen.

  “Hardwick?” Jason turned on his taciturn companion. “Hardwick,” he yelled.

  Hardwick backed down. Greta slumped in her chains. She looked like she might have lost consciousness. Lan realized tears were streaming down his cheeks because he could taste salt in the corners of his mouth. He could feel blood trickling down his arms from where he’d cut his wrists on the manacles.

  “Get a grip,” Jason said to Hardwick. He turned to Lan. “So, what do you think? Going to tell me?”

  Lan sucked in short breaths. “Can’t.”

  “Okay then. We revive her and start over.” He walked over toward Greta.

  Damn, shit, piss, fuck. He couldn’t let Greta suffer. They’d find a way out of the Pentacle thing later. But right now, Greta’s need was immediate. “Wait.”

  Jason turned, his head lolling to the side, and raised his brows to prompt Lan. But then he held up his hand. “By the way. If you send us on another wild goose chase, I’ll come back and have Hardwick put her in so much pain that she goes crazy from it. Understand?”

  Lan nodded, swallowing. “Is she…okay? I want to know she’s okay before I tell you.”

  “Jesus H. Christ. Do you not get this? You have no negotiating power here. You have no powers at all, or you would have used them before now. So let’s just get this over with.”

  “It’s not a physical object,” Lan said, his voice dull in his ears. He was betraying everybody who loved him. And they did love him. He’d never doubted that.

  “What?”

  “The Pentacle. It’s not a physical object.”

  “Don’t give me this crap. Hardwick, revive her.”

  “No,” Lan gulped. “Let me finish. There’s a comet. They call it Galahad because the first recorded sighting was in the time of Camelot. And it’s going to cross the sky and form a pentangle with the bowl of the Big Dipper.” Jason looked unsure. Lan rushed on. “Greta showed me at the Observatory. She traced where its trajectory would take it.”

  “You’re shitting me,” Jason said slowly.

  Lan started to panic again. What if he betrayed everyone and everything, and they didn’t believe him and still tortured Greta? “It’s a moment in time, don’t y
ou see? The Pentacle is created for a moment in time every five-hundred and four years.”

  Hardwick looked at Jason. Some realization was dawning in his eyes. “The ceremony…” he whispered.

  Jason nodded. Then he turned on his heel. “We have some details to fill in.”

  And they left. The door thunked closed. Lan heard the heavy handle latch.

  What had he done?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‡

  Tris held Maggie’s hand as he gazed out the Escalade window at the choppy canyons dotted with creosote and Manzanita. The earth was chalky beige, with gray slate layers of rock poking through. Jeez but the desert between L.A. and Las Vegas was a butt-ugly stretch of no man’s land. It felt like they were driving into hell. Just not fast enough. He tried not to think about what the Clan might be doing to his brother and Greta. Maybe it was too late and they were already dead. Maybe this whole thing had been staged to lure the family into a firefight of powers that they couldn’t win. It was really possible that here was where the Tremaine family ended.

  Maggie let go his hand, slipped her arm under his and squeezed his biceps. She could feel his agitation, he guessed. He breathed in and out a couple times. He had to get his shit together, for her if not for himself.

  He looked down at her. “I don’t like leaving the kids like this. You know what could happen here.” He kept his voice low. Michael was driving, and he and Kemble were going over contingencies. Drew, Dev and Jane rode in the SUV behind. They’d need two vehicles to bring Greta and Lan home. Kee sat next to Maggie, staring out the opposite window.

  It had been hell to leave the Parents home. The look in Senior’s eyes when he realized they’d be better off without him was not something Tris would forget for a while. And his mother, worrying but unable to help, was agitated to the point almost of hysteria. But the truth was the truth. They couldn’t help. And wasn’t that just a bitch?

  “I know,” Maggie whispered. “But we don’t have any choice. Family is family. Lanyon is family. Greta now, too.”