My Immortal Assassin

by Carolyn Jewel

  “Gotcha.” Xia and Alexandrine disconnected the call.

  The next call was to Maddy because she needed to deal with what was left of the witch. He left a message when she didn’t pick up. He looked at the woman the mageheld had assaulted. Her eyes were open and tracking him. He stood with his phone in his hand. He didn’t know whether she was capable of understanding much of anything right now, but he met that traumatized gaze and said, “I will get your boy back.”

  Then he called Leonidas.

  His legs were shaky, but he went into the bedroom to get a blanket to cover the witch. He was afraid to move her. Maddy would have to take care of assessing what could be done for her. If anything. God help her if the mageheld had permanently damaged her mind.

  In the silence he could hear the traffic that with every second was taking Gray farther away from him. The scar down his chest pulsed as if it were alive and made the darkness in him seem deeper than ever.

  Restraining four magehelds under a compulsion to kill him wasn’t the sort of magic he was used to carrying off, and he was feeling the strain. What he wanted to do was go after Christophe now. He wanted the mage dead. He wanted Gray back and safe and the boy returned to his mother or some other family member, if any could be located. Through the blood bond, he kept his link with Gray open. Whatever the cost, because she was drawing on his strength, and he would do nothing to deny her that.

  She remained part of him, but Christophe’s hold on her magic was taking a toll on his strength. The cost for her was, of course, exponentially worse. He knew what it was to be mageheld; the utter hopelessness, the knowledge that your life no longer belonged to you. If he relaxed his vigilance for even a moment, Christophe might discover his link with Gray and use it to get to him. Or to punish her.

  Durian sat in the apartment with the stink of magic and the persistent sobs of the witch, holding on as best he could and not at all sure if his best would be enough. The constant pulse of Gray’s loss ate at him, strung him high and tight. No wonder Iskander had cut himself off from his blood twin even if it came at the cost of his sanity.

  He buried his emotions when he felt Xia and Alexandrine enter the building, staying as he was, kneeling and waiting. Holding on. Maddy was out there, too, but she didn’t come in with the others.

  Durian got to his feet when the apartment door opened. Xia must have ridden his Harley here because he was wearing his leathers. Alexandrine, too, had on a heavy coat. The two were serious but calm as they surveyed the four magehelds. What he recalled of the process of severing was not comforting.

  “Hey,” she said. She gave him a quick grin. “We met up with Maddy outside. She’ll wait until it’s safe.”

  Durian nodded. Wise, since a newly severed fiend might not understand or care that Maddy wasn’t a danger to him.

  “Can you let them go one at a time?” Xia shoved a pair of gloves in his coat pocket.

  Durian nodded.

  Xia stepped up to the four magehelds. “You ready, baby?”

  “Yup,” Alexandrine said.

  Xia pointed. “This one first.” Durian released the mageheld with the full expectation that the fiend, close to breaking from the delay in carrying out Christophe’s order to kill him, would immediately strike. Xia and Alexandrine had refined their technique since the night Alexandrine had faced Kessler in his own home and had saved Durian in the process. The mageheld was severed before anyone drew breath. He went reeling back.

  Xia pointed again. “Next.”

  They repeated the process until all four were severed. Alexandrine took care of making sure each one got Nikodemus’ phone number and that they understood they were free to go or to swear fealty to the warlord if they were so moved. Durian said nothing as the first three were severed. They reacted badly to the process. The shock of freedom left them in a state of tenuous mental stability. The fourth, however, was clear-headed enough to keep his balance and say, “There is a witch nearby.”

  They all looked at the still sobbing woman.

  “No,” the fiend said.

  “The witch you’re feeling is with us,” Alexandrine said. “Now, listen up. You need to understand what I’m going to tell you.”

  Durian interrupted her spiel on Nikodemus and the taking of binding oaths. He looked the fiend in the eye and said, “Will you swear fealty to me, fiend?”

  “Whoa,” Alexandrine said under her breath. Xia gave a low whistle. He ignored them both.

  He ignored them. “You can wait for Nikodemus,” he said. “But do you wish to stay unaffiliated long enough to get to him?” He met the kin’s eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather come with us to kill Christophe dit Menart?”

  The fiend smiled. “Killing that mage? Yes.”

  Xia gave Durian a look, but didn’t say anything. No objections. No smart ass remark.

  The oath was finished with efficiency. By the end, Kynan and Iskander had arrived, too. They came upstairs with Maddy Winters. The witch shrugged when Durian gave them a questioning look. “Maddy thought we might need their help.”

  “Thank you,” Durian said.

  Then they got down to the business of finding out what Durian’s newly sworn fiend knew about Christophe and his home.

  CHAPTER 34

  Lake Street, San Francisco

  Gray didn’t move when Christophe walked into her old room. There’d been some sort of crisis shortly after they arrived, the result of which had been Christophe shoving the boy into her arms and confining her here with a single uttered command. Just like the old days. She was sick to her stomach and more than a little disoriented. Hatred burned hot in her, beyond anything she’d felt in her life.

  At the moment the boy—his name, she’d managed to discover, was Ian—was sitting on the floor. He had a pen and some old paper she’d found shoved in her old desk drawer. He was drawing pictures of monsters. He went still at Christophe’s entrance. One of Christophe’s magehelds came in with him and dropped the bag of Ian’s things to the floor.

  Christophe leaned his shoulders against the wall, bare arms crossed over his chest. She stayed on her old bed, sitting with her legs crossed. Nothing much had changed here. Same bed. Same dresser. Same battered chair. Her clothes were still in her doorless closet.

  Habit could be a terrible thing. In this environment, she was in the habit of being afraid. Her fear permeated the room, and she hated that Christophe probably knew exactly how afraid she was. Hell, she half expected Tigran to walk in any moment, just like in the old days. Seeing the mageheld gave her a hell of a jolt because for a moment there she really had thought he was Tigran. He just dropped the bag and left. Thank God. Thank God. He wasn’t Tigran’s replacement. She worked to keep the fear from completely enveloping her.

  She could, she discovered, draw strength from her blood tie with Durian, and with Christophe here, she borrowed what she dared. Not much, though, because number one, she didn’t want Christophe to figure out what she was doing and number two, whenever she reached for her magic, her tie to Christophe choked her like a blight on her soul.

  “Anna.”

  She didn’t reply. What did he expect her to say to him? She’d spent too long wishing for his death, and she hated him too intensely. To be sitting here, in thrall to him made her sick. She wondered if Christophe intended to shave her head the way he did with his other magehelds. She stared out the window of her room, watching his reflection in the glass in between the bars that covered the windows.

  Christophe, still leaning against the wall, rubbed his chin. “A dilemma.”

  She put her hands on her crossed knees and watched Ian. Her heart hurt for the boy. Christophe needed to die for this. He really did.

  “You are not a true fiend, yet, I presume, since I have taken you mageheld, that you have their abilities.” He frowned. “Physically you are human. I must doubt that you would survive if I treated you as any other mageheld. Look at me.”

  She did because she had to. Her bound magic compelled her. She h
oped her hatred showed in her eyes.

  “How is he doing?” He nodded in Ian’s direction as he moved into the room to sit on the edge of her bed. “Well?”

  She didn’t answer. Her skin crawled at the thought of having Christophe so near her.

  “Don’t be difficult. It’s unbecoming of you.” He turned sideways so that he was looking at her but still had a view of Ian. “We’ve a great deal to discuss.”

  Her fingers tightened on her knees. Solidarity among magehelds, she thought. Any way she could resist him, she would.

  “You will tell me what I wish to know.”

  Gray resented the hell out of the compulsion. Fine. He wanted her to talk, she had no choice but to talk. But, she was finding out, there was leeway in his compulsion of her. She already knew from her experience with Tigran that there was a gap between the literal words of command and the intent that drove a mage to issue the order. Christophe had just given her firsthand experience of the imperfection of compulsion. Like any mageheld, Gray intended to turn that gap into the Grand Canyon, if she could.

  Christophe began. “All four of the magehelds I left behind are… gone. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

  She held his gaze. “I wasn’t there when it happened.”

  “Four magehelds. Gone. This cannot be.” He locked his hands in front of him, a lock of his dark hair falling over his forehead. “They had a simple task to carry out. Kill one fiend. They failed. Four of them.”

  She smiled grimly. “If you wanted Durian dead, you should have done it yourself.”

  “Explain.” It was easy to forget how deadly Christophe was when he dressed like a soccer hooligan. Right now, though, she was well aware.

  “He’s not easy to kill.”

  He considered his next question. “What’s wrong with his magic?”

  “Nothing.”

  “He is a free fiend, yet I could not take him as mine. Why?”

  “Rasmus Kessler beat you to it?” She tensed when his eyes narrowed. His hand lifted, but he glanced at the boy and didn’t strike her. Duly noted. He probably wasn’t going to hurt her in front of Ian.

  “The only magehelds Kessler has left he got from me.”

  This was information to be tucked away; proof that Christophe was helping Kessler. They already knew Kessler was attacking in Nikodemus’s territory and now she knew they could tie Christophe to Kessler’s actions. “All I know is something happened when he was Kessler’s mageheld, and he ended up like that. I don’t understand it, either. I wasn’t there.” She couldn’t help it. She grinned at him. “Too bad, huh?”

  “Have you learned nothing from your experiences?” He shook his head. He moved closer to her, and there wasn’t anywhere she could go to get far enough away from Christophe. “The demonkind, Anna, are not human. They are predators. Humans are their prey. You understand, don’t you, that what Tigran did with you would have been a thousand times worse had he not been under my control?” He ran a hand through his hair. “They deceive by their very nature. They appear human, yet are not. As you know too well, they kill and rape. They destroy lives.”

  She glanced at Ian. He was so quiet. Too quiet. His life wasn’t ever going to be the same. “Lately they’ve had a lot of help from you.”

  Christophe pried her right hand off her knee, turning her palm up to examine the markings underneath her skin. “These are new. Since your… transformation.”

  Heart in her mouth, she cut off her link with Durian. Jesus, it about killed her to lose that connection to him. The traceries weren’t moving. If you didn’t look close, you’d think they were tattoos.

  “I often wondered why Tigran chose you. Did he ever tell you?”

  “No.” She hadn’t even known the mageheld had been given a choice.

  “It was necessary that he choose between you and your sister so that he would select the woman most likely to survive contact with him. Others did not, you understand.”

  Gray’s stomach churned.

  “You know how his kind feel about witches. I fully expected him to choose your sister. Much more powerful. A much greater allure, I would have thought. I was puzzled when he did not. Your sister should have been irresistible to him.”

  “Sounds like you had it carefully planned.”

  “Tigran knew what he was doing, I grant him that. Everything turned out for the best.”

  “I know Emily’s alive.”

  His expression clouded. “I am aware of your encounter with her. That was ill-advised. She does not remember you.” He shook his head. “She never will.” He put a hand on her chin and turned her head from side to side, studying her. He paid extra attention to the mark at her temple. When he touched it, his magic sizzled through her, searing and white hot. She couldn’t suppress a shudder. He went still. “I can make you want me,” he said at last.

  “We both know that would be a lie.”

  “Regardless of the genesis, the feelings would be real. You know that better than anyone, I think.” Christophe ran the back of a knuckle over her cheek. “You are no longer completely human, Anna. If you were, you would not now belong to me.”

  “Fuck you, Christophe.” Her stomach curled up and for a moment she remembered Tigran with heartbreaking clarity. The way he touched her, held her. Talked to her. He had died and given her what she needed to survive. She looked away, sickened by the thought that Christophe intended for that nightmare to begin again.

  “There are not as many demonkind as there used to be.” He gestured and she caught a flash of the words inked into his skin. “That is the goal of the magekind, to wipe out demonkind and so rid the world of a scourge.”

  “If you didn’t need them around for ritual.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Every year, fewer and fewer mages of true ability are born. Did you know,” he said in a low, harsh voice, “that this child is the first I’ve come across in the last three years, in Europe or America, who might legitimately be called gifted?”

  “No,” she said, because she was required to answer his question.

  “He’s nothing but a mongrel. The good Lord knows what effect his father’s blood will have on him.” Christophe didn’t say anything for quite a while. “It is a pity about Tigran, but I wonder.” He touched her arm. “What might we produce? The two of us.”

  That made her look at him. She wasn’t prepared for the magic he sent into her, and the next thing she knew, she couldn’t see. Her desire to kill him welled up so hot and fresh she could barely breathe. There was nowhere for the impulse to go. She could not act. No matter how much she wanted to kill Christophe, she couldn’t. She was forbidden to harm any mage without Christophe’s express order.

  “Women have always been the future. I saw that years ago.” The words inked on his forearm glowed as he waved a hand. “I sit here and see you, a woman who can bear my get. And I am curious, Anna, to know the result of that pairing. You are unique so far in how you were transformed, I feel quite certain of that. Later, of course, I’ll use one of my magehelds with you. For now, I am curious to know if you and I would produce demon or mage.”

  “That’s sick.” More than anything she wanted to plunge a knife into his black, shriveled heart. She wanted to kill him with her bare hands. As long as she was mageheld, she couldn’t.

  “I’ve a few things to take care of, but we’ll begin, you and I, later tonight.” He stroked her cheek again and she leaned away from the contact. “You’ll do what I tell you, Anna. Oh. There is also the matter of the magic you stole from me. That, my dearest, will be returned.”

  She managed a nod, and didn’t even care if she was anywhere close to looking at Christophe. The mage was right about Ian being a mage, she realized. Even blind, which she was right now, she could see him. His magical affect was different from one of the kin, but there wasn’t any doubt what he was.

  “Christophe?” The woman’s call came from farther away in the house, but Gray recognized the voice. Her heart fell. “They s
aid you were here. Where are you?”

  Christophe went dead still. They listened to Emily walk down the hall, heading for them. His hand shot out and grabbed her chin in a painful grip. “You will do nothing to contradict anything I say to her. You will not tell her anything of what’s happened to you in the past or today. Not how you were taken, where you have been or how you came to be here.”

  The door knob turned. “Christophe? Are you in there?”

  He shot off the bed and walked to the door. “Erin. My darling. Whatever are you doing here?”

  With Christophe blocking the door, Gray couldn’t see her. Her voice was so achingly familiar that tears burned her eyes. “I locked myself out of the condo, and I can’t get past your wardings, you know that. Can I get your keys? Please?” There was a silence. “Oh, Christophe,” Emily said in a low, tender voice. “You should have called me.”

  Her sister walked inside, her attention focused on Ian. Gray didn’t know what to do so she stayed where she was. “Hello,” she said to Ian. Then she came in far enough to see the bed and Gray sitting on it. The color drained from her face. Christophe was at her side immediately, supporting her.

  “I know this is a shock, my love, but—”

  “You. Anna, isn’t that right?” She glanced at Christophe. “What is she doing here? Has she come to bother you with her delusions that I’m her sister?”

  “I’ve told her she’s mistaken. Naturally. I fear she’s been persistent.”

  “Call the police, Christophe.” She ran a hand along Christophe’s shoulder. “Get a restraining order.”

  “I might at that.”

  Emily frowned. A flicker of something passed over her face and vanished. Her eyebrows lifted, and she addressed Christophe. “The boy? Who is he? Did she bring him here?”