Magic Redeemed (Hall of Blood and Mercy Book 2)

by K. M. Shea

  “Sounds fun.”

  “You cannot imagine.”

  I grinned as I reached for the door to the right meeting room. “At least you have your Family!”

  When I opened the door a bunch of wizards turned around to look at us, instantly turning ashen when they saw Killian. They sat in the audience seats—which were arranged in neat rows across the room.

  The ten wizards who sat on the Wizard Council were already in their places at the horse-shoe shaped table. They all sank a little deeper in their chairs when they saw Killian.

  I awkwardly cleared my throat and scooted to the side while Killian—flanked by Celestina and two other Drake vampires—sauntered down the aisle and chose the one row of comfortable padded chairs on the left side, leaving wizards to sit on the uncomfortable folding chairs everywhere else.

  There was a podium set off to the right side, closer to the horse-shoe table. I knew from experience that was where I was supposed to be when I brought my request to the subcommittee, so I headed for the podium and found the piece of paper I needed to sign up on so I could talk.

  I scratched out my name with the half-working pen and plopped down in a chair as more wizards meandered into the room.

  Mason stormed in, flanked by a House Tellier wizard. He saw me seated near the podium and smiled. It was a handsome smile, but malice oozed from him like a bad smell.

  I stiffened and considered tapping my magic, until the House Tellier wizard gulped and elbowed Mason.

  Mason faced the wizard, who not-so-discreetly pointed out Killian and his guards.

  Mason and the Tellier wizard turned white, then scooted to the right side of the room—as far away from Killian as they could get.

  I stared down at my lap so I could keep my smirk to myself—though I was also a little worried by Mason’s arrival. I had been hoping Momoko was wrong and that he wouldn’t come to file an appeal. But I was too optimistic.

  A mousy man stationed at a folding table blushed bright red when his computer blared its starting up noise. He cleared his throat and hopped to his feet. “All rise! The Wizard Council is now in session!”

  The meeting progressed pretty naturally. The man with the laptop introduced the Adepts sitting on the Wizard Council for the evening—I was not super psyched to see the Adepts for House Tellier and House Rothchild there tonight.

  The Houses that represented the Wizard Council rotated on a yearly basis—to keep things unbiased. In fact, our region had so embraced the impartiality design of the council that the Elite—the top wizard in our area who served on the Regional Committee of Magic—wasn’t a member of the council.

  The mousy guy with the laptop next read off all of the new wizards who had registered (aka been born) in the region last month, then kicked off the council’s portion of the meeting with a discussion of raising the annual House fees—I swear they drone on and on about this every year—before finally opening the meeting up to the public.

  A cheerful woman who wanted a permit to perform water magic in a park next summer as a fundraiser was denied—it was deemed too flashy and potentially disastrous—but a firefighter from Magiford was promised action when he complained that the fire department got daily calls from the public about House Chaya and the burning tree in their front yard. (A tree of fire made up the majority of House Chaya’s coat of arms, and apparently their Adept had decided to bolster House pride with a life-size symbol of their House, but all it succeeded in doing was freak out the poor human neighbors.)

  The mousy man with the laptop squinted. “Next, Hazel Medeis has a request regarding an appeal?”

  Chapter Five

  Hazel

  I smiled as I stood up and snagged the stepstool meant for kids with my foot, sliding it up to the podium so I could hop up on it.

  “I’m Hazel Medeis, Adept of House Medeis. I inherited House Medeis this summer after the unexpected death of my parents, Rose and Rand Medeis.” I rested my hands on the podium and squeezed the edge at the jab of pain that accompanied the explanation. “I’m in the process of going through my inheritance with my parents’ human lawyers who have officially passed over the House Medeis deed, along with information about my parents’ lockbox at Tutu’s Crypta & Custodia. Due to…circumstances, I need to submit an appeal to Tutu’s to access the lockbox unless I can present a notarized document from the Wizard Council. So I’m requesting the council sign this document that certifies my identity.”

  I opened my folder and held out the sheet of paper.

  The guy with the laptop—probably a secretary of some level given that he’d been typing everything anyone had said—popped out of his chair and scurried up to me, taking the sheet from me and passing it to the nearest member of this month’s Wizard Council.

  An older woman with thick glasses tipped her head back so she could peer at the paper through her bifocals. “Why do you need this appeal? If you’ve inherited the lockbox and have the paperwork to prove it, Tutu’s is legally obligated to pass the lockbox and its contents to you.”

  “Yes, however, they also require an official photo ID,” I said. “Due to my current living arrangements, I don’t have access to any IDs or official papers.”

  The woman frowned. “Why not?”

  “It’s a House inheritance issue,” the Adept of House Tellier said. “Hazel Medeis was the Heir of House Medeis and inherited the House from her parents, even though she lacked the magical power to keep the House running. There’s been a disagreement in who should rightfully be House Medeis’s Adept as a result.”

  I stood up straighter—this might be my chance to throw the law at Mason if I could sway the council to my side. “It’s a worry that is no longer founded,” I said.

  This made a few of the council members stir, and sent murmurs through the wizards in the audience.

  “How can that be?” the House Rothchild Adept asked.

  I smiled so big it hurt my lips. “It was discovered my magic had been sealed as a baby, and recently I’ve managed to unseal it. It’s estimated I am almost as powerful as my father was.”

  The House Tellier Adept scowled. “That’s impossible.”

  “Hardly.” Another Adept—this one from House Gomez, a Michigan House—scratched his chin. “Didn’t you hear? She blew the roof off a portion of the Curia Cloisters when she killed a vampire.”

  I was a little surprised he knew about that. While I suspected gossip had spread the news about my magic, the fight had been more common knowledge among vampires than wizards considering the reason for it.

  The observation raised such a racket from the audience that the council had to wait for the murmurs to die down before they proceeded.

  The House Gomez Adept studied me. “I understand you are the rightful Heir to the lockbox, but due to your sudden change in magic, it is my personal recommendation that you are re-evaluated and that you re-register as a wizard so your proper level is recorded. Tutu’s will accept your registration as another method of identification, which will take care of that problem.”

  “Re-registering will take weeks,” I said.

  “Your parents died months ago, and it is only now you have a sudden need to access the lockbox?” The House Tellier Adept raised his eyebrows and made a scoffing noise as he looked at the other wizards.

  That no-good hack was trying to delay me.

  I snuck a glance at Mason. He was sitting a few rows behind me, leaning forward so his hands rested on his knees—his fake smile pasted across his lips.

  “She inherited the lockbox, it is rightfully hers,” said a female Adept. The placard in front of her said she was from House Luna, a wizard House from northern Minnesota.

  “I don’t think anyone can deny that,” said the House Gomez Adept. “But she needs to prioritize getting re-tested and have her magic scores updated. We have our registration system in place for a reason. Until you re-register, I will vote against signing.”

  “As will I.” The House Tellier Adept was quick to jump o
n a seemingly logical reason to deny me. He was very careful not to look at Mason as he tapped his fingers on the table. “This whole business seems suspicious. How could your magic have been sealed? And why?”

  “The Paragon can vouch for me about the seal,” I said—hoping this was true. (If I cooed over Aphrodite enough he’d probably agree.)

  “You still need to be examined,” the House Tellier Adept said. “It’s possible you might pose a threat to those around you.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes, but I knew that wouldn’t buy me points with the other Adepts, so I kept a smile on my face. “And what does that have to do with giving me access to my lockbox?”

  “I agree with Adept Medeis.” The House Luna Adept narrowed her eyes at the House Tellier Adept. “So I will vote for signing the form.”

  “I’m afraid I must vote against it,” said the Adept of House Rothchild. “I greatly respected your parents, but there must be order.”

  It was laughable that Rothchild had said this as they used to be allies. Hot anger knifed through my heart, and I wished I was wearing something with short sleeves.

  I stared at Adept Rothchild until he met my gaze. “That explains it. I can see great order to House Rothchild’s most recent actions.”

  He dropped my stare and looked down at the table.

  The room was quiet until someone in the audience sneezed.

  “I can understand your frustration, Adept Medeis,” the House Gomez Adept said. “But it is my understanding that there has only been a handful of sealed wizards in the past century. You are an unusual case—which means you must be extra cautious to comply with the rules so in the future no one can claim you didn’t follow them.”

  He had a point, and if that had been the main concern of the subcommittee I would have been annoyed, but understanding. It was clear, however, that Mason’s allies were going to use it as a way to manipulate me.

  Almost on cue, a gruff man with a thick beard—the Adept of House Ivanov—shifted in his chair, making it creak. “Given that my House is allied with House Medeis, I will abstain.”

  “Really?” I asked in a sunny voice. “I haven’t counted you as an ally since the night Mason chased me out of my own House and you refused to grant me sanctuary.”

  The Adept of House Ivanov cleared his throat and looked away. The other Adepts eyed me and exchanged a few hushed whispers.

  I should have done better at keeping my mouth shut. Thinly veiled hostility wasn’t going to convince any of the Adepts to help me—they’d already proven they’d rather be passive in the matter and let me flounder than stand by their word and help.

  At least it brought another unwanted revelation. I’d already been aware that I was alone in my battle for House Medeis, but today proved that I wasn’t going to win a legal battle. When I tried to take House Medeis back, I’d have to physically fight Mason—and all his allies—for it.

  But it did make me wonder…why were they supporting Mason like this? What were they gaining by it? Mason was charismatic, but even he wasn’t charming enough to get so many Houses to let him break tradition and take a House from a direct descendant.

  The five remaining Adepts argued in circles for another fifteen minutes. In the end two more sided with Tellier, Rothchild, and Gomez, and three more sided with Adept Luna.

  The mousy wizard with the laptop cleared his throat. “Given that Adept Ivanov abstained, the motion fails—four to five.”

  My throat squeezed—as if I had swallowed a rock and got it stuck—and tears of frustration prickled my eyes.

  “Come back once you have re-registered, Adept Medeis,” Adept Gomez suggested.

  I kept my mouth shut—though I took an inordinate amount of time to organize my papers and slip them back in my folder. I stepped off the step stool and pushed it away from the podium before I started to shuffle back to my seat.

  The secretary cleared his throat and tapped a few keys on his laptop. “Next, there is a request from—”

  “Hazel.”

  Killian had spoken my name at a normal level, but it cut off the secretary and brought silence to the room.

  I slowly looked up, meeting his gaze.

  Killian tilted his head back in an invitation, then pointedly looked at the seat next to him.

  I keenly felt that every eye in the room was on me, but I managed to hold my head up as I passed my previous seat and made my way to Killian.

  He raised one eyebrow at me, then shifted his dark eyes to the council.

  I started to sit with a chair between us, then scoffed to myself.

  My allies had abandoned me, and I had figured out the legal system was going to fail me, too. Seriously, what did it matter if everyone saw me sit directly next to him?

  At least Killian fed me!

  I pressed my lips into a thin line and sat down—in the seat next to Killian—with enough force to make the chair move.

  One corner of Killian’s mouth curled in what I recognized as a sign of amusement he was slightly stifling. “Making a point, are you?”

  “Yeah—that I don’t care what they think anymore.”

  “Good for you.” Killian returned his attention to the council with pointed interest.

  Silence covered the room like fog as everyone pointedly looked away from the wizard sitting with the vampires.

  A few moments passed, and Adept Luna smiled. “The next request?” she prompted.

  “Y-yes. R-right,” the secretary squeaked.

  The meeting proceeded, but I only half listened as I fiddled with my folder.

  I was triple checking my paperwork when Killian casually stretched his arm across the back of my chair.

  What the…?

  I peered up at him—carefully studying his expression. There was no way he just happened to put his arm sort of/almost around me. This was calculated.

  But who was he trying to swindle, and what was the message he was sending?

  No one was stupid enough to mistake it as a romantic gesture—did he mean for it to show I was under his power?

  “What is it?” He spoke in a husky whisper and didn’t take his eyes off the meeting.

  “I was wondering what your angle was.”

  “Aren’t we jaded?”

  “You’re a political fiend. There’s a reason behind your every move,” I muttered.

  “I’m honored you think so well of me.”

  “Killian.”

  Killian briefly glanced down at me—his eyes were for once more red than black. “I would at least hope you would know better than to expect me to tell you what the supposed angle is?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Though I also didn’t really expect you to stay for the whole meeting.”

  “I attend the subcommittees whenever possible,” Killian said.

  “Why? Nothing they discuss will affect vampires.”

  Killian shook his head. “It does, actually. It means they can’t hide anything from me. I am given the opportunity to hear what each race really wants, and it gives me the chance to hear what petty disagreements they are bogged down in—as so beautifully displayed in your request.”

  I heaved a sigh and nodded. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  The meeting room door creaked open. I turned back to look, and was surprised to see a werewolf Alpha shoulder his way through the door. It took me a moment to recognize him as Alpha Nash from the Flatlands Pack in Illinois.

  He sat down next to Mason, his chair creaking in protest at holding his bulk. The two exchanged whispers, and Nash looked at me.

  Catching my stare, he smiled—a nasty smirk with stained teeth.

  Killian twisted slightly, so his hand fell against my arm. I glanced up at him, but he was watching Mason and Nash.

  “It seems a reminder is warranted,” Killian said.

  I looked back to Nash, who was now staring at his steel-toed boots and didn’t look nearly so smug.

  “Huh?” I said.

  “Political maneuverings. Don’t worry y
our pretty head.”

  I purposely shifted so I could “accidentally” jab Killian in the side. “Are you using me as a pawn in a scheme?”

  “I would never.” Killian’s deceptively open voice was almost scary in its accuracy. “Although if you gave me an adoring look or two it would be useful.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, because having wizards think I’m besotted with you is totally going to convince them to support me.”

  “Still holding out hope that as a collective they’ll suddenly pull their heads out of their posteriors? Someone is an optimist.”

  I grumbled as I settled back down in my chair for the remainder of the meeting. But as I sat there…it dawned on me that not only did the meeting’s outcome mean I didn’t legally stand a chance…but it was never about my magic power or lack of.

  If it had been, favor should have shifted back to me.

  Between that, my parents’ sealing me, and Mason even attempting to betray me…all of these were things that never would have happened decades prior. What did that mean? And why was it happening now?

  I let my head fall on the leather dashboard of Celestina’s car. “Life sucks.”

  Celestina sympathetically patted my shoulder. “I also hate life when I am forced to stand in on the Regional Committee of Magic meetings.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” I twisted my neck so I could see her, but let my head stay on her dashboard.

  The meetings were over. They had gone so late, in fact, that the sky had lightened from the black of night to a deep shade of purple—pretty soon the horizon was going to glow with the rising sun. And still the Drake motorcade waited—because Killian was chatting with the supernatural elite. (I had opted to escape to the car rather than let him pull me into his politics.)

  On the upside, Mason hadn’t filed an appeal as Momoko said he planned to. But somehow I didn’t think it was because he had abandoned the idea, and more likely because he had made other arrangements. Or maybe he was just afraid of Killian?