by Amy Hopkins
Rogan was everything she had said and more. He was like an overgrown child with a fierce intelligence, but a spoiled nature and no impulse control. Rogan’s goal was to rule. Not just Muir, but everything he could touch.
He was impetuous, but also calculating. His downfall was, as in many bad people, greed. His quest for authority over the town consumed him—to the point where it hampered his efforts as they were spread too thin.
Rogan likely could have breached Adeline’s shields if he had worked on them long enough, but he was constantly distracted. From conquering Adeline, to amassing an army to go after Julianne, then back to Muir and his desire to squash the local resistance, his goals constantly changed, making it impossible for him to dedicate the focus needed to complete any of them.
Deep within Adeline’s mind, Julianne plucked out a memory from the evening before. She didn’t hide what she was doing—to Adeline, it was like watching the scene all over again.
Lord George? That must be Rogan in disguise, Julianne thought, the guess confirmed by Adeline’s own thoughts. She sank deeper, wrapping herself in the scene.
Rogan, wearing Lord George’s face and demeanor, stepped into Adeline’s room.
“My dear child, it’s so good to see you.”
She returned his greeting stiffly. They made small talk, commenting on the weather and the town before Rogan brought up his plans to leave the city.
“I won’t be gone for more than a week,” he said. “As long as things go well. If my… negotiations are held up, it may be longer.”
“Are you going to Wolston?” Adeline asked, knowing he wasn’t.
“No, Tahn.” Rogan angled a glance at her, watching, but she didn’t react. “I wish to recruit more workers there, to help with my plans for the city.”
A brief flash, a memory within a memory, showed Rogan talking of building Muir into a utopia, a sprawling city where everyone lived in harmony—under his rule, of course. He already had architects drawing up plans for expansion, but lacked workers to see it to fruition.
“When will you leave?” she asked. “And what of the city while you are gone?”
“It will take another week to prepare my army.”
“Army?" she gasped, then quickly composed herself.
“Yes. There have been rumors of bandits. Nothing to worry yourself about, dear.” He smiled at her concern. “Now, in my absence, you’ll be…”
Adeline’s attention shifted to the window. A pigeon sat and cocked its head at her. Anxiety welled as Adeline tried not to pay attention to it.
“Yes, father,” she mumbled.
Julianne pulled away. She knew the rest—she had been there for it, leaning gently on Adeline’s shield, ready to tumble into her mind to fight Rogan off if it failed.
Relief flooded over Julianne.
“That’s good, right?” Adeline asked.
“If you’re right—and I think you are—Rogan won’t move his plans forwards. It sounds like he’s planning a full-scale attack, he’ll need the time to get his army ready.”
“Oh,” Adeline said in a small voice. “So, it’s bad.”
“It’s the best news we could get.” At Adeline’s dubious look, Julianne explained. “That gives us plenty of time to get back to Tahn and prepare. It’s not the defenseless little farming village it was when Rogan first set his eyes on it.”
“You really think you can fight off a whole army?”
“No,” Julianne replied, unworried. “Just the parts that count.”
Satisfied that they had the time they would need, Julianne rolled over and closed her eyes. She sent a tendril of magic towards Adeline, helping the girl to relax her mind and body.
Within minutes, they were both asleep.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bastian raised his arm and dropped it. Everyone fell silent. He waited.
Crouched in the woods, black grease smeared on his face and dressed in some of Marcus’s spare armor, he wondered how exactly this had happened.
It had been, against all odds, Francis’s idea. He had come to Bastian that afternoon, asking for his help to organize a stealth operation against the men who had attacked Sharne.
Bastian, Sharne, Francis, and Mack had snuck out after dark, planning to disrupt the camping army.
“Remember,” he whispered. “We’re not here to kill anyone. Anyone!” he stressed to Sharne, who nodded. “We just want to make them a little unhappy. I’m not half the mystic Julianne is. I can’t get us out of trouble if it goes bad.”
Their plan was for Bastian to use a sleep spell and control anyone who woke, while Sharne and Mack tipped their water supplies out and stole their food. Francis would light a few smoldering fires before they left. Not enough to burn down the forest, just a few holes in their tents and some ruined supply piles.
Bastian settled back on his heels and let his eyes fade to white. He brushed against the sleeping men’s minds, then moved to the three on watch. He whispered a word, then gently soothed the first man to sleep. When he started work on the second, the target dropped off almost immediately.
He must have been exhausted, Bastian thought. He had never managed a sleep spell with so little effort.
He searched for the third, hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight, either. “What the fuck?” Bastian murmured when he couldn’t find him.
“What's wrong?” Sharne asked.
“I can’t find the other guard.” He brushed against the sleepers again. “He’s… gone back to sleep?”
Sharne grinned happily, but Bastian shook his head. “Something’s not right.”
Grass rustled nearby, and they froze. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sharne’s spear inch towards the brush. Then, she shoved it forwards.
“Yeowche!” The muffled grunt of pain could only have come from one person.
“Garrett?” Bastian hissed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Ye brain-farting douche, why did ye stab me?” Garrett spat back in a loud whisper. “Danil didn’t tell me ye were coming, the limp-dicked asshole. I almost stabbed ye in the throat!”
“Danil?” Francis said. “Fuck. Who else have you brought?”
“What? Ye don’t know? Hold up.” Garrett waddled backwards in the grass, disappearing into the green stalks.
A few moments later, Danil spoke into Bastian’s head. Thought you’d have a little adventure on your own, did you?
That’s not exactly how it went down, Bastian began. Then, he crumbled. Ok, fine. That’s pretty much it.
What’s your plan?
Bastian quickly filled him in. Did you send the third guard to sleep?
I did. We tagged one together, too. I noticed you working on him at the same time I was. Danil pulled away for a moment, then returned. Our plan is a little more… involved. You’ll need to cover your faces. When the fire starts to smoke, don’t breathe it in.
What do you want us to do? Bastian asked.
Watch and wait. You can jump in when you get a handle on it. With that cryptic instruction, Danil left Bastian’s thoughts.
“Sneaky bastard,” Bastian muttered. “I can’t believe he slipped past us.”
A short distance away, Danil grumbled, “Sneaky bastard. I can’t believe he went under my nose!”
“Did ye expect less?” Garrett chuckled.
“He was always the sensible one! Quite proud of him, actually.” Danil grinned, then looked over at Tansy and Shell, one of Madam Seher’s trainee mental magicians. “We ready, girls?”
They nodded.
“Send in the decoy,” Danil instructed.
Behind them, Polly stood. She wore one of Tansy’s costumes, a diaphanous gown that, when she stood between Danil and the small, glowing campfire, left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Polly darted up to the fire, then called out in a soft, melodious voice. “Hello? Hello, is anyone awake?”
A couple of men sat bolt upright, weapons pointed at her before she could blink. One jumpe
d to his feet and grabbed her by the hair.
Others were slower to react. Danil sent gentle waves of emotion out, calming the men to prevent any violent reactions.
Polly pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I came to ask for your help.” Her hips moved ever so slightly, making the dress sway and highlighting her curves.
“Who are you?” barked the man holding her.
“Why, I’m Polly. My carriage was turned back at Tahn, and we didn’t have enough time to drive all the way home. I was ready to sleep, but had to step out—you know, lady business—when my horse took fright and ran.” She giggled. “And me in nothing but my nightdress.”
Two more men stood, stepping close. “What’ll we do with her, Sarge?”
The sergeant looked suspicious, but one of the men sniffed her hair. “What would you do for us if we helped?” asked the one with the nose.
“Can it, Hoffer,” the sergeant snapped.
“You don’t own me, Lawson. You lost that power when you ran us into that pisshole, Tahn, and lost us everything.” Hoffer aimed his sword at Lawson’s gut, but the sergeant didn’t flinch. The third man looked on, terrified.
“Stand. Down.”
Bastian, sedate the sergeant. Bastian jumped at Danil’s unexpected order, then went to work. Sergeant Lawson’s eyes began to droop as he swayed on his feet. A yawn cracked his jaw.
Danil sent a sliver of arousal to the two other soldiers. Go on. Look at her hands. Watch.
Polly smoothed her dress as she swayed, which really made it look like she was rubbing her hands along her body. Sergeant Lawson didn’t object when she pulled away from him, instead clapping one hand to his mouth to stifle another yawn.
She raised her hands to her chest, pushing her breasts up as she fiddled with her necklace.
“I didn’t bring any money, but I’m sure I could find something to make you strapping young men feel it was—” she ran a tongue across her top lip “—worth your while.”
Danil fed more arousal into the group, then motioned Tansy.
“There’s just one more thing,” Polly said, tweaking the corner of her mouth into a seductive smile. “My sister is with me.” She pressed a finger on the chest of the man who had sniffed her. “Do you think you could help us both… at the same time?” She giggled.
A groan escaped his lips as a shudder wracked his body. “I sure could, beautiful,” he murmured.
Tansy sashayed up to them, all but unnoticed until she slipped her hands around the second guard’s waist from behind. “What about you? Think you can lend a hand to two lost, innocent girls?”
“I… what… uhh, yes, but…” he stammered, red-faced. “Please?” He turned, the motion hiding a quick flick of Tansy’s hand towards the fire.
Danil quickly covered his face and motioned for Shell and Garrett to do the same. Both yanked cloths over their heads that were made from dark fabric and painted with ghoulish white faces.
The fire popped and crackled, then roared into the sky. It burned purple, then blue, then purple. White tendrils of smoke reached out, curling in the gentle breeze.
Watching from the sidelines, Bastian held a sock to his face, cursing Danil as he inhaled the odor of damp sweat.
“Will these be enough?” Sharne asked, voice muffled through the cotton scarf over her nose and mouth.
“I hope so,” Bastian replied. “If it was anything lethal, Danil would have told us to get out of the way.”
Well, he hoped he would. The senior mystic was protective, but didn’t always think through the potential ramifications of his mad plans.
The men around the campfire were engrossed. They watched the two women, now dancing, in front of them.
Suddenly, Polly spun. When she turned back to them, a mask covered her face. Through the haze of the hallucinogenic smoke, it looked to the men as though she had turned into a rotted corpse.
Your sins have arisen. Your reckoning has come.
The eerie voice whispered through the camp, sending chills through everyone present.
One screamed. Another staggered to his feet, then reeled. A quick boot to the back shoved him into the fire. Polly grabbed the face of the first guard who had leered at her. “Kiss this, sweetheart.” She pulled him close to her terrifying mask and he yanked back, screaming.
Weak and unbalanced, he fell back, pulling Polly on top of him. She crawled over him, cackling as she ripped at his pants. “You want me to make it worth your while? I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to you, sweetheart.”
“Oh, god, get off, please get off,” the guard whimpered.
Bow to the might of the Master. Submit while your soul is intact.
The guard, choking on fear, passed out. Polly jumped off as a wet patch spread from his crotch.
“Geez, what a pussy,” she said, giving him a hard kick for good measure.
She looked up to see Danil striding through the camp, eyes glowing. A guard stepped up to him, sword raised, then immediately turned and cleaved it through a nearby tent. He stumbled back, dropping his weapon and holding his hands out as if he wanted to throw them away.
Another guard was trying to crawl between piles of food towards the safety of the woods. Polly sprinted, jumped, and landed in front of him, hooded face dangling inches from his. He shrieked and scampered back.
“Light her up, Danil!” Tansy yelled. She whirled two torches in her hands and tossed one into the sky, catching it before it hit the ground. She grabbed Polly. “You ready?”
Polly nodded. She raised her arms and craned her neck back, then let out a howl.
Polly burst into flames. Beside her, Tansy leaped into the air, landing on hands and knees. Lines of fire raced out from beneath her, following the terrified soldiers.
“Run! RUN!” Lawson yelled. He grabbed a man dressed in loose cloth and no armor, and hoisted him onto his back. He ran, almost knocking into the burning Polly before reeling back to take another direction.
The limp figure on his back lifted his head. His jaw was slack and eyes dim, but she knew his face.
Polly reached into a boot and took out a small throwing knife. Almost casually, she tossed it after the fleeing guard. It would be some time before Lawson would realize the lord he had carried on his back to safety was already dead, a small, black dagger lodged in his eye.
When the camp emptied, the fire vanished, leaving no damage in its wake. The campsite had been trashed, water barrels spilled and small, real fires smoldering where lanterns had been knocked over.
Tansy sprinkled something over the fire. It steamed, then settled. She pulled off her face and gave an experimental sniff. “All safe,” she proclaimed.
“Uhh, how long do the effects last?” Sharne asked worriedly.
“Not long. Once they stop breathing it in, it only takes about fifteen minutes to lose its effect. Unless they figure out what happened, though, they’ll be second-guessing everything around them for a while, and the hangover is just nasty.” Tansy suddenly narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”
Sharne motioned her over to behind a shredded tent. Mack lay on the ground, moaning. “Ghosts! Ghosts, and fire that vanished! The spirits exist!”
Tansy let out a peal of laughter. “Oh, no!” She patted Mack on the chest. “He’ll be ok, just don’t stand in vomiting distance of him in the morning.”
Danil came across Francis, glaring at a small fire licking at some food supplies. His lip twitched and one hand clenched.
“Trying to put it out with magic?” Danil asked.
Francis nodded. “Worth a try. It’s not working, though.”
“Easier way to do it,” Danil said. He unlaced the front of his pants and within a few seconds, a hot stream sizzled in the flames as they sputtered out.
Francis chuckled. “Can’t say I wouldn't get some satisfaction from it.”
“Go on, then.” Danil gave him a shove. “There’s more to put out and I don’t have a bottomless bladder.�
��
“You sure about that?” A voice at his shoulder asked. “Because that’s the third pile you’ve pissed on.”
Danil hastily tucked himself in and yanked on the laces. “Polly! I, uhh, didn’t see you there.”
“That was the point. Tansy’s been teaching me to sneak like a cat. Or a cat-woman.” She pursed her lips. “Woman-cat?”
“You did well tonight,” he said.
She shrugged. “If a girl’s got skills, she should use them.”
“I didn’t know knife-throwing was in your repertoire.” They moved away from the soggy food store.
“It comes with the profession. When a guy is trying to dodge his fee while you’re flat on your back, a well-placed knife in the door frame may as well slit his pocket on the way past, it spills coin so quickly. Of course, if your accuracy is off, it’s more trouble than it's worth.”
Danil shook his head.
“You disapprove?” she asked.
“What? No! I just think you’ve led one hell of a life. You must have a ton of good stories tucked in that head of yours.”
“And tucked in there is where they’ll stay.” She caught his eye. “Won’t they?”
“Absolutely.” He grinned. “Unless I can pry them out of you some other way. Does the lady have a favorite type of drink?”
Polly put a hand to her chest, feigning outrage. “Why, Danil, did you just ask me on a date?”
He laughed, suddenly tongue-tied. “Well… I guess? That is, if you’re not going to stick a knife in my eye for it.”
Suddenly, the knife twirled in her fingers. She gave him a sly look, then tucked it away again. “Tomorrow. Right now, I’m dying for bed.”
“Sure.” Danil shoved his hands in his pockets. Then, he looked up, alarmed. “Wait a minute. Tomorrow I can buy you a drink, or tomorrow you’ll stab me in the eye?”
Polly chuckled, a throaty laugh that made his skin shiver. “You’ll find out then,” she called, picking her way through the campsite to the woods on the other side.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Julianne patted her horse. “Sorry, Cloud. I know you’re tired.”