Marked by Magic: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Baine Chronicles Book 4)

by Jasmine Walt

  Fenris cleared his throat loudly then, obviously scenting my arousal. More heat flushed my cheeks, this time with embarrassment, and I quickly let go of Iannis’s hand and scooted closer to the door.

  Distance, I thought, leaning my cheek against the cool glass window and taking deep, calming breaths. I desperately needed distance.

  I could sense Iannis’s disappointment, but he said nothing more, allowing me my space as I wrestled my unruly body back under control. By the time my heart rate had steadied, we were turning into a long gravel drive that wound its way up a steep, grassy hill. A large limestone mansion sat on top, overlooking the city from the front and the coastline from the back. An iron fence, taller than even Iannis, surrounded the grounds.

  We rolled to a stop outside the gates. A guard was sitting in the small booth, and he spoke to the driver of the steamcar in front of us. I watched as the back window of the car rolled down, revealing the Legal Secretary’s face, and whatever he said to the guard made the man’s face go white. Nodding hurriedly, he rushed back into the booth and pulled a lever. There was a loud buzz as the gate swung open. As we drove inside, I saw the guard had picked up the phone and was hurriedly speaking into it.

  “She’ll be expecting us,” Iannis murmured as we approached the house.

  We descended from the vehicles on the broad front drive, the Legal Secretary taking the lead with the two enforcer mages. I watched curiously to see if they would try to handle this mission tactfully, or with force. I had my answer when the Legal Secretary gestured to the two enforcer mages to step forward. The one on the left blasted the huge, arched wooden door with what looked like a concentrated ball of air. The door splintered as it fell backward, landing in the hallway with a loud crash, and the enforcers walked over it as they led the way into the house.

  Talk about making an entrance, I thought as we followed them inside, the apprentices bringing up the rear. The foyer was as huge as I remembered it from Thorgana’s receptions, with orange-veined marble floors and a long, arched ceiling. The tall arrangement of lilies and gladiolus that presumably belonged atop the large mahogany table in the center of the room had toppled over, scattering the floor with shards of expensive pottery and white blossoms that were fast growing limp in the spreading puddle of water.

  A shriek of fury echoed through the mansion, and Thorgana Mills herself rushed down the carpeted staircase at the end of the hall. She was dressed in a white velvet robe, her pale blonde hair in curlers, and judging by the state of her face, had been halfway done with her evening makeup. Even so, she looked younger than the forty-eight years she admitted to.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Thorgana demanded imperiously, her normally pale, perfect skin blotchy with outrage. She skidded to a stop behind the table, mindful of the broken pottery with her thin silk slippers, and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at the Legal Secretary. “Who has given you the right to come into my home and damage my property?”

  “I’m afraid I did,” Iannis said firmly, stepping forward into her line of sight. Thorgana’s eyes widened as her gaze snapped to him. “You see, Mrs. Mills, we’ve come across some compelling evidence that your husband has been financing the Resistance, and that he is known in certain circles as the Benefactor.”

  Thorgana swayed for a moment, and the non-painted half of her face grew noticeably paler. But after a moment, she let out a scornful laugh, pressing a hand to her chest. “Ridiculous! Curian, a criminal mastermind? Lord Iannis, you are absurdly mistaken about that.”

  “You might not be aware of his activities,” Iannis suggested. “We may know more after searching the house.”

  Mrs. Mills shook her head contemptuously. “Curian’s wealth is not nearly large enough to finance the Resistance, even in part. You are, as they say, barking up the wrong tree. He will expect your apology for this.”

  It was my turn to step forward. “You’re telling the truth,” I said, surprised. Thorgana pressed her lips together at the sight of me, looking down her straight nose imperiously. My own nose told me she hadn’t lied, and yet something told me she was hiding something.

  Iannis and Fenris looked at me questioningly, no doubt wondering if I had made a mistake after all, and the Legal Secretary frowned. But Mrs. Mills’ smile turned into a small, secretive gloat, and at that moment, something clicked.

  “So your husband isn’t the Benefactor, and his purse alone isn’t enough to finance the Resistance,” I acknowledged as more pieces fell into place. “But yours is, isn’t it?”

  “What do my finances have to do with any of this?” Thorgana demanded. Her expression grew more strained, and her right hand clutched at the pendant dangling from her white-gold necklace.

  Iannis exchanged a quick look with Fenris. “That would explain a great deal,” Iannis observed, his eyes narrowing on Mrs. Mills. She recoiled beneath his gaze, face growing even whiter. I could see the swift calculation behind her cold blue eyes – she must be wondering if further denials would be worthwhile. I expected fear to be rolling off her in waves, but she smelled more of fury and determination than anxiety. Did she have something up her sleeve? I tensed instinctively.

  “Man, I’ve been so stupid. You completely took me in with that airhead socialite act.” I shook my head at my own obtuseness. “At first, I thought your husband was using your money and connections. After all, that’s his right, and as an airhead socialite who doesn’t give a hoot about finances, who would you be to stand in his way?” Thorgana’s eyes narrowed at the insult, and I grinned – she’d built up the airhead persona precisely to draw attention away from herself, so she couldn’t very well refute it now. “But no, now I’m realizing that it’s not the case at all. You’re the Benefactor, aren’t you? You’ve been pulling the Resistance’s strings with your perfectly manicured hands all along.”

  Thorgana shrugged her elegant shoulders. “You’ve clearly taken leave of your senses, Miss Baine.” Her blue eyes appealed to Iannis after passing over Fenris with faint contempt. “Surely you will not lend any credence to the ravings of an inexperienced young shifter, Lord Iannis? People like us don’t get involved in such sordid matters. You must know better.”

  “Mrs. Mills is definitely lying,” Fenris said, staring at the woman with disgust. “I, for one, believe Sunaya is right.”

  “I know.” Iannis gestured to one of the enforcer mages waiting in the background. “Secure Mrs. Mills. She is under arrest.”

  “You will regret your decision in hell!” Thorgana spat, ripping the pendant from her neck. It was a glass pendant, and a chill ran down my spine as I caught sight of a red, smoky substance within it. Leaping forward, I tried to grab it from her, but she threw it to the ground as hard as she could just as I slammed her against the wall.

  “Ul’fraith!” Iannis shouted, and I turned my head to see a strange, yellow bubble form around the reddish smoke, enclosing it completely. It pulsed, then flared brightly, and I shielded my face as a shockwave rippled through the space.

  “Get off me,” Thorgana spat, shoving me away. To my surprise, I stumbled backward – I hadn’t expected her to be that strong. She made a dash for the exit, but the two enforcer mages grabbed her before she could make it more than three steps.

  “I do not know what that was,” Iannis said coldly as Thorgana struggled to break free, “but I strongly suspect you just tried to kill us all, Mrs. Mills. You will be tried and convicted of attempting to kill multiple members of the Mages Guild, in addition to the mountain of other charges the Legal Secretary will file against you.”

  “You can’t prove that,” Thorgana cried. “You can’t prove any of it! I’m just the wife of a businessman!”

  “Oh, we will prove it,” I hissed, meeting her malice-filled gaze. “And I’ll make sure your victims are avenged, even if I have to do it with my own two hands.”

  It was a chore for the enforcers to get Thorgana into cuffs – she struggled mightily against the two large men, using strength that a s
mall human woman, especially a socialite, shouldn’t possess. A theory popped into my mind about the reason behind that, but I filed it away for later consideration. I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that this puny socialite was the Benefactor. Had she acted alone, or in concert with her husband? For all I knew, she had a whole team of co-conspirators. Now that we finally had her in custody, I hoped we’d be able to clear up this mystery. But judging by the ice-cold hatred in her gaze as she passed me, it might not be easy to get her to talk.

  “Let’s search this place thoroughly,” Iannis commanded.

  Fenris and the enforcer mages left to escort Thorgana back to the Palace, where she would be held and interrogated, while Iannis and I split up with the apprentices to search the house. Iannis took his team to the upper floor, which I knew from my previous stays held the majority of the rooms, and I left the apprentices to search the ground floor while I descended a set of stairs toward the back that led down to the cellar.

  The mansion’s cellar proved to be a veritable warren of underground rooms, mostly used for storage. One room, for example, held bulging bags and cases of dry goods – enough rice, flour, sugar, and beans to ride out a siege. Another was filled with racks of dusty wine bottles and other types of liquor.

  I examined a bottle of red that was thirty-two years old, according to the label. I gave it a slight shake, but only heard the slosh of liquid, nothing hidden inside. The booze always flowed freely at Thorgana’s parties, so it figured she kept her wine cellar well stocked. Perhaps she took advantage of the inebriated guests. I’d seen her collect donations from sloshed attendees on more than one occasion, usually exorbitant amounts meant to support some kind of humanitarian cause. Had that money really been going to the Resistance?

  She probably managed to obtain more resources than just gold, I reflected as I left the wine cellar and moved across the hall to the last room. This one was filled with stacks of boxes. Judging by the variety of shapes and sizes, they could hold anything from dinner plates to pieces of furniture.

  As I moved toward the nearest stack, my ears picked up a rustling sound. I froze, listening again. The slight noise, which would not have been noticeable to human ears, was coming from the brick wall on my right.

  There shouldn’t be anything behind that except dirt. I pressed my ear to the wall and caught the distinctive sound of something scraping against concrete. I took a step back and surveyed the wall. There was probably a loose brick that had to be pulled, or a lever cunningly hidden somewhere in this room.

  “Fuck it,” I muttered, lifting my hands. I didn’t know the Words for the spell I wanted, so I simply channeled my magic into my hands and visualized a huge, incredibly dense ball of air into existence. Sort of like the one the mage enforcer had used on the front door, but much deadlier.

  I let it fly, then immediately dashed behind a tower of boxes to avoid the resultant explosion. The sound of the air ball ripping through the brick was deafening. I clapped my hands over my ringing ears and leaned into the boxes to keep them from toppling over as chunks of brick slammed into them.

  “What the hell was that?” a familiar voice shouted, and I grinned. Here was all the proof of Thorgana’s guilt we could have asked for: she was harboring Petros Yantz, the former editor-in-chief of the Herald. The man who was directly responsible for the silver murders that had claimed my mentor Roanas as a victim. Yantz and I were going to have a really nice talk right now. One that was going to involve broken bones.

  Drawing my crescent knives, I stepped from behind the boxes and through the jagged hole I’d blown through the wall. A large, concrete room lay beyond, a hidden sanctuary that had been fashioned into an apartment with a kitchenette and table, and two beds in the back. Yantz stood panting by the table, dusty with debris from the wall. His tall frame was a lot thinner than I last remembered, and there were shadows in his gaunt face. Good. The bastard was suffering.

  “Happy to see me?” I asked, advancing on him, then froze as I caught the scent of another man – or rather, mage, I realized as I inhaled a whiff of magic.

  “You again!” Argon Chartis spat, hobbling out from the corner behind Yantz. He was leaning very heavily on a cane, and I caught a glimpse of a wooden leg peeking out beneath his robes. His dark green eyes blazed with fury, and fear sparked in my chest as he raised a hand and shouted several Words. I lifted my hands in defense as he hit me with a blast of sickly green magic, but my arms froze in place as the energy rippled over me. My heart rate skyrocketed as I tried and failed to open my mouth, tried and failed to reach for my magic, tried and failed to do anything at all.

  “Foolish hybrid,” Chartis sneered at me. “Coming down here all by yourself. If you’d brought a more experienced mage as backup, you might have stood a chance.”

  “Thankfully, she’s as stupid as she is impulsive,” Yantz said, yanking a dagger from a sheath on his belt. Panic shot through me as it caught the dim light emanating from the single bulb in the ceiling, and I realized the knife was made of silver. The sick gleam in Yantz’s eyes told me that if he had his way, this wasn’t going to be a quick knife to the heart – he was hoping to torture me, and he was going to enjoy the hell out of it. And without my vocal chords, nobody would hear a thing.

  “Iannis!” I screamed, trying desperately to reach him with mindspeak.

  “Sunaya?” I felt his startled reaction, and I knew he was coming to me. At least Yantz would not have time for any torture, but not even Iannis could navigate that confusing cellar as fast as a silver knife could cut my throat. A knife that was swinging toward me even now.

  But in the instant before it could connect, something hot seared my chest, right below the center of my collarbone. Yantz’s eyes widened as orange light exploded from me, washing the room in a strange glow.

  “No!” Chartis shouted as the room began spinning around me. My stomach pitched with nausea as the colors and shapes melded together in a blur, and I wished desperately I could close my eyes. Frozen, I watched as the blur of colors lightened around me, catching hints of brilliant green and clear blue. What the hell was happening? Was this an unintended side effect of Chartis’s spell?

  But as my surroundings gradually came to a halt, things started to become clear. Literally. The colorful blur gave way to miles of clear blue ocean, a long stretch of powdery white sand, and dark green fronds waving from the tree line to my left. A warm, salty ocean breeze caressed my skin, and strange calls from tropical birds pierced the open air.

  Somehow, some way, I’d teleported to another place. And it sure as hell wasn’t anywhere near Solantha.

  22

  It took nearly an hour for Chartis’s immobilization spell to wear off, and it was easily one of the most uncomfortable hours of my life. I was forced to stand there with the hot sun beating down on my head, and the salty ocean breeze stripping the moisture from my lips and skin. A crab crawled across my feet as it headed for the safety of the water. Poop from a seabird landed on my hair as it flew past, mocking me with its shrill caw.

  Paradise.

  As I stood immobile in the sand, my thoughts immediately circled back to Iannis. What was going on back in Solantha? Had Iannis apprehended Chartis and Yantz? I wondered what his reaction had been to my disappearance. He must have questioned Chartis and Yantz about it…if he’d caught them. And his serapha charm would tell him that I was far away now.

  Iannis wasn’t the only one I was worried about. How were Comenius and Elania holding up under the rebellion? Were they still safe behind the walls of Comenius’s shop and the barricaded Witches’ End? And had Com gotten any word from Elnos as to how he and Annia were doing on their rescue mission? I hadn’t been able to spare much thought for them in the past few days, but now that I was standing here with nothing else to do but think, I realized Comenius should have heard from them by now.

  When the spell finally wore off, the first thing I did was strip down and dive into the water. Yes, it was salt water and didn’t do
a damn thing for my parched throat, but I was hot as hell and itching to wash the bird crap off me. Unfortunately, the water was too warm to be called refreshing, but when I stalked out a few minutes later, the ocean breeze coupled with my soaked skin helped cool me off.

  How the fuck did I get here?

  I stared out at the gentle waves breaking against the shoreline, contemplating that question. Instinctively, I reached up to touch my serapha charm, and as I did, my fingers brushed against a second charm.

  The gulaya.

  I looked down to see the gulaya sitting innocuously atop my chest. Damn. It must have activated in response to the mortal danger I’d been in, then transported me to this place. On the one hand, that was great, because I was safe from torture and death by Yantz’s silver knife. But on the other hand, I was in the middle of nowhere, too far away from the battle to be of any use. I consulted my serapha charm, curious to know just how far Iannis was from me. Unfortunately, it could only give me a general sense of direction and distance, and it told me that Iannis was much farther away than he’d been when I’d gone searching for him.

  Needing to do something other than stand on a deserted beach and ask myself questions I had no answer to, I put my clothes back on, then changed into beast form. White light engulfed my body as it stretched and changed shape, and a few moments later, I was a black panther standing on the sandy white beach. My pitch-dark fur did absolutely nothing to keep the heat off my back, so I headed for the trees, seeking shade and water. The small critters scurrying around in the undergrowth went quiet as I passed, remaining that way for a long time after I left – I might be a new species to this place, wherever it was, but I was still a predator. I caught glimpses of snakes, weasels, and porcupines down on the ground, and above, orange-and-black primates with shaggy hair and thick, long tails clung to branches and watched me with fear and suspicion.