Cast into Darkness

by Janet Tait

  No, this wasn’t the time or the place.

  “Excuse me, Miss Hamilton. I wanted to offer my condolences.”

  Kate turned around. The young man in front of her made her breath catch. Tall, handsome in a roguish sort of way, he was a guy clearly used to wearing a suit that cost more than most people’s cars. His English held the faint trace of an accent—European, but she couldn’t quite place it. The way he looked at her with his deep-blue eyes made her wonder if they’d met. She didn’t think so—she’d have remembered him.

  She mentally rifled through the flash cards Grayson had made her memorize.

  “Kristof Makris?”

  A smile quirked at his lips. “You recognize me.”

  “You know the saying. ‘Know thine enemy.’ My family makes sure even a Null like me can ID the Makrises,” she bluffed. She’d had no idea what he’d looked like before this morning.

  The wind ruffled his sun-kissed, brown hair. “I’m sorry to hear about Brian. He knew which end of a talisman was up—unlike some.” He jerked his head toward a few of the flirting de la Vega boys. “I’m sure this must be very difficult for you.”

  Her eyes dropped to the neatly trimmed lawn as she fought a wave of grief that threatened to bring back her earlier tears… No. She wasn’t going to show any weakness in front of her family’s enemy. She took a sip of her iced tea. The cold liquid brought her back to the here and now. This guy was the Makris heir. He wasn’t talking to her just to be nice.

  “I’m managing. Thank you for your kindness.”

  “Brian and I didn’t have much of an opportunity to talk, as you might expect, but he said something, once, that I thought you might want to hear.”

  “Really? What?”

  “We were in Paris, fighting over… Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’d won the fight—taken Brian down. I had the prize and was walking away. Then Brian snuck in a cloaked lightning bolt he shouldn’t have been able to cast, not in the shape he was in, and took me out. Before he teleported away, I asked him how he managed it. He said, ‘My sister taught me that just because I’m down, doesn’t mean I’m out.’”

  Kate drifted in thought, swirling her iced tea. She’d been the one Brian had come to every time school turned tough, every time he’d broken up with a girlfriend, every time an operation got rough. And she’d gotten him back on his feet with exactly the words he’d echoed to Kristof.

  She wondered why Kristof had told her this. What did he hope to gain? He thought she was a Null—he couldn’t get any political advantage or operational insight from her. He couldn’t be doing it from the kindness of his heart.

  From what Grayson had told her, he didn’t have one.

  He took her hand gently in his. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Miss Hamilton.” The feel of his hand against hers was nothing like the uncomfortable squeeze of the rest of these strangers. A spirited electricity sent her pulse spiraling.

  What the hell? No, no, no. She would not have that reaction to this guy. Besides, she already had a boyfriend.

  The last guy she should ever be involved with was Kristof Makris.

  What was he thinking?

  Kristof strode toward Melina. He’d been ignoring his sister’s meaningful glances for the last few minutes, too wrapped up in his conversation with Kate to care. He picked up an iced tea from a waiter and made his way across the lawn.

  What had been the point of talking to Kate? Telling her comforting stories didn’t get him any closer to his goal. But the spark in her eyes as their hands clasped had provoked an answering flare inside him for a moment. Then a hot burn as he realized that the guy she responded to wasn’t her boyfriend. Not as far as she knew.

  Ridiculous. He couldn’t be jealous of himself.

  The iced tea provided a cold wake-up call as he drank half the glass. He had to stay on mission. Only the stone mattered. The twenty-four-hour cessation of all operations declared for the funeral meant that he couldn’t activate the spells in the conch-shell fob he’d given Kate to get access to the Hamilton’s estate today. Not unless he wanted to break the Rules even more than he had already. Too bad—dodging his father had become impossible. Kristof had spotted him over by the oak tree, talking to Mr. Hamilton, Kate’s father. Maybe he could sneak away before his father caught up to him.

  He glanced back at Kate. Alex Torres hovered over her, handing her another drink. Was he just doing his duty as her father’s aide, or was something else going on? Then again, Kate’s status must have changed due to Brian’s death. It would be a while before Hamilton named a new heir, but Kate was now his only child. She might be a Null, but it wasn’t unheard of for Nulls to play a role in the line of inheritance, despite the riskiness of their genetics. For an Affiliate like Alex, winning Kate would be an opportunity to marry into the Hamilton family and go straight to the top.

  He pictured Alex playing house with Kate. Playing other things. He crunched on an ice cube. Then another one. Good thing Hamilton would never pick Alex as his heir. Alex didn’t have the ruthlessness needed to run a family. Kristof would send him running for his mamacita the first time they squared off at the bargaining table.

  No, Hamilton would pick someone like Victor Cole.

  Victor had the hard edge, the ruthlessness, the ability to command respect. He’d proven himself a match for Kristof in battle—maybe more of a match than Kristof liked. Kristof could only hope that Victor’s status as a former rogue would work against his chances of getting the buy-in Hamilton would need from his Affiliates.

  Besides, he’d seen the way Kate looked at Victor when he’d rescued her from Brooke. There might be more than gratitude in that smile.

  It didn’t matter what he thought. In the long run, Kate would marry whomever her father wanted her to marry, and Kristof would go back to his own life.

  Melina gave a little good-bye wave to the Chen family heir she’d been pumping for information and joined him under the large oak tree. She took a long drink of her mimosa and cast a meaningful glance in Kate’s direction.

  “What was that all about, brother dear?”

  He shrugged. “It would seem strange if I didn’t offer my condolences. Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

  Melina raised an eyebrow. “Technically. But I would think you’d take the time to further our other goals.”

  “I can’t exactly execute on that now, with the truce.”

  “Of course not. I want—”

  “She wants you to do your duty, my son.” His father spoke from behind him. Kristof turned around, careful to move slowly. His father’s husky bodyguards hovered behind him like a pair of Dobermans on crack, wary of sudden movement.

  His father’s deep, black eyes were fixed on him. “I don’t like funerals. They are a waste of time. Dead is dead. Why mourn it? Move on. It’s the living that command my attention, not the corpses we make in the Game.” His nostrils flared. “And Brian Hamilton died in the Game. Didn’t he? But we’ll get back to that.”

  Kristof went still.

  “Melina, take us home. The Hamiltons won’t miss us; they have plenty of other mourners to entertain them.”

  Melina cast a teleport spell, tracing out the points on the oak tree as she chanted the ancient words. The violet energy settled over the five of them, Dobermans included. It might be rude to leave a funeral without tendering their farewells to the host, but he wasn’t going to remind his father of that.

  The bright sky and maple trees of the cemetery faded as they materialized in the portico of the Makris estate. Blue-and-brown mosaic tiles appeared under Kristof’s feet, their solidity giving him none of the familiar comfort of home. Mosquitoes buzzed around the wooden beams above him. A mild sea breeze blew in across the open courtyard, bringing with it the faint scent of apples. In the distance, the cries of gulls sounded.

  “It is clear to me now why you failed to report to me,” his father said. He leaned against the tall center beam of the portico, his bodyguards flanking him.

>   Shit. Does he know about the stone?

  “It’s the girl.”

  Kristof relaxed a little. This one he could handle. “Kate means nothing to me. Hamilton security pressed me too hard. Reporting in would have compromised the mission.”

  “I saw you with her, a moment ago. Do not lie to me.”

  “What would you have me do? Ignore her? It would have been strange if I gave condolences to every Hamilton except her.”

  “Kristof, a father can tell when his son looks into a girl’s eyes and is lost. I was young once, too. A pretty girl is a fine thing when you have no responsibilities, but during a mission, falling in love is nothing but a distraction.”

  “Kate’s just a job, Papa. Nothing else.”

  “What if I told you I wanted you to remove the distraction? If she’s ‘just a job,’ it should be simple to kill her, no?”

  Kristof knew what the answer had to be. “Sure. Tell me when.” His gaze was locked on his father, but his heart raced faster than the mosquito flitting in the citronella trap hanging above him. He’d find a way out of this.

  “You’ll do it when I give the order. But the girl isn’t your only problem.” His father crossed his arms. “Where is the stone?”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “Don’t lie to me. I know all about your little game with the stone. And everything you planned to do with it.”

  Kristof’s eyes flared. He couldn’t help it. All he could do was to stop himself from glancing to Melina, who was standing behind their father. If she hadn’t turned him in, then she was his only hope.

  “Did you think you could keep a secret like the stone from me? From me?” His father struck Kristof hard across the face. The heavy ruby ring on his father’s hand cut Kristof’s cheek. The blood dripped down his face and onto the collar of his crisp white shirt.

  “Papa, I—”

  “I am taking personal control of this operation—both handling Hamilton’s daughter, and retrieving the stone. And when I get it, the Hamiltons will pay for humiliating us back in your Grandfather Arkady’s day. I’ll tear our arsenal from Hamilton’s bleeding hands, artifact by artifact.”

  His father nodded to his bodyguards. They moved toward Kristof. “It seems you did not learn your lesson the last time in the Pit. Perhaps you need more time to think about the folly of defying me. You’ll stay there until I decide what to do with you.” His father’s bodyguards grabbed him by the shoulders. Doberman One punched him in the stomach. He doubled over, the impact forcing the air from his lungs, the pain raging through his stomach. If he could get a spell off, maybe he could…

  Doberman Two slammed Kristof’s head down on the portico’s wooden table. Agony erupted in his skull. The world around him began to fade to darkness. No. Have to shake it off, tap out a spell.

  Before unconsciousness overcame him, he flashed back to Kate standing alone at the memorial, hands braced against the back of her chair, eyes gone distant with memories of her brother.

  Kate was the key to getting the stone. He knew it. His father would never succeed.

  But he could.

  Just because I’m down…doesn’t mean I’m out….

  After the funeral, Kate went back to her room to study. After an hour spent lying on her bed, staring at the same page in Practical Casting, she slammed the book closed. Visions of Brian kept forcing their way into the spell charts and history lessons. Their contentious discussion in the catalpa grove, him trying to save her in the Sanctum, the feel of his hand clutching hers before everything went black.

  The questions he had left her.

  No one in the family admitted they knew what he had been up to. Clearly he hadn’t told anyone except the mysterious person he worked for—and that person wasn’t talking. He must’ve been working for someone; he couldn’t have been after the stone for himself. She thought back to the party last night, to the darker image of Brian his friends had drawn with their stories and their cruel laughter. No. The brother she loved would never have gone that far off mission.

  She slid off her bed and paced. If she was going to find anything out, she would have to do it herself.

  She left her room and walked the few steps down the hall to Brian’s. She turned the knob and entered. Brian’s room remained the same as she remembered it. His Little League trophies, the picture of him and Dad sailing the old yacht, his leather jacket lying draped over the chair.

  Kate walked over to the side of his bed and bent down to open his bedside drawer. She hesitated.

  I’m invading his privacy.

  Wiping away the wetness that sprung to her eyes, she put her hand back on the drawer pull. Brian was dead. There was no privacy to invade.

  Even though nothing was locked, it might still be protected. Magesight would let her see the symbols of any protection spells still in place, and any that had been broken. Her uncle had run through the basics of using her shiny, new magical vision yesterday in training.

  Kate took a breath, imagined herself rooted in the ground, and let her focus soften, spreading her attention beyond the objects physically present in the room. She blinked.

  All around her shredded remnants of magical symbols hovered over the drawers and the closet, as if something had torn them asunder. A symbol floated by the bedside table, as broken as the others.

  Someone had already been here. Searching. Violating the last little bit of Brian that was left. She swiped at a tear that trickled down her face.

  She opened the bedside drawer. Nothing but a few pens and a bottle of pain relievers. No cell phone, no papers, nothing useful.

  A book lay on top of the bedside table. The Tao te Ching.

  Weird, not Brian’s thing at all. Something for school? Asian Studies, maybe? She opened it, and a bookmark fell out. Someone had highlighted text on the bookmarked page:

  When two great powers clash

  the one that yields

  will emerge triumphant.

  Huh. She had no idea why Brian would think it important. She tossed the book back on the table.

  A search of the rest of the drawers and the closet revealed nothing interesting. Kate threw herself on the bed. She should talk to Victor, but that probably wouldn’t get her anywhere. He’d do what he always did—yell at her for not coming to him before wiping her nose. Plus, he’s probably the one who searched the room in the first place.

  Where else would Brian have put something important, something secret? Then she remembered: the catalpa grove. The hiding place where they used to stash things for each other, under the Old Bear. She jumped up and headed for the door.

  When she reached the clearing, the sun streamed through the branches, illuminating the large deadfall they had sat on. Had it really been just a few days ago? It seemed like another life. Pretty blue butterflies lazed through the branches of the trees, lighting upon them for a moment and then flying off again. The Old Bear loomed over the clearing, providing much-needed shade with its massive trunk.

  Kate knelt at its base. The hollow at its bottom seemed to be undisturbed. She brushed the bean pods out of her way as she dug around the hollow, trying to get a clearer view of their old hiding place. She engaged her magesight again. No magical symbols. Nothing. She reached in—past the moss, the lichen, the stray stones, the fallen twigs, and the piled-up dirt—searching for anything Brian might have left there.

  She stopped. An intricate, looped symbol, like the ones on the drawers and closets in Brian’s room, was barely visible to her magesight, floating a foot inside the cache. Far enough within to catch an unwary intruder.

  This one, unlike the ones in Brian’s room, looked intact.

  Damn. Should she reach inside, knowing that doing so would probably trigger the spell? If it were Brian’s, would it even still work?

  She sat back on her heels, her knees covered with moist summer soil. A butterfly floated by, then alighted on the hollow, its wings fluttering.

  There had to be a way to get inside the cac
he without triggering the spell. But she hadn’t learned how to do it in her one day of training. Kate hit the tree with her fist. Bark flew off. She winced and shook the sting from her scraped knuckles.

  Was there anything at all she could do?

  Yes. A ring of certainty sounded from deep inside. You can do what you want.

  What the hell? Where had that come from? It sounded almost like…the stone. But the stone wasn’t here. Grayson had it safely locked up.

  She sat still for a moment, thinking back. Years ago, before she was tested, Grayson had taught her how to look inside, to see her own connection with magic. She’d only used the technique once before, and she’d seen nothing. But if it could lead her to whatever spoke to her now, she’d try it.

  She took a deep breath, then another. She needed a focus, an entry point. The Old Bear. Closing her eyes, she pictured its gnarled roots, its twisted branches. In her mind’s eye, she stepped up to its broad trunk, warm with the afternoon sun. Putting her hands against its coarse wood, she slid through its bark and into her own soul.

  A long staircase, wood creaking with her every step, descended from inside the Old Bear down into the shadows at her very center. Step by step, she went down, the darkness around her growing, until she reached the bottom and the bolted cast iron doors that awaited her.

  She opened the doors. This time, something lay on the other side.

  The shore of a vast, black sea stretched for miles in every direction. The water pulsed and writhed hypnotically, its waves rippling against her feet and then washing back into the viscous sea. In the sky above, storm clouds rumbled, emerald flashes lightening the darkness within them. In the distance, a constant stream of pitch-black liquid poured from the clouds into the sea, replenishing it. Heat rose from the surface, heat pulsing with power in its rawest state.

  The jet-black sea made her stomach clench with disquiet. Another flash of green shot from the crest of a wave as the black tide washed toward her feet. Everything here felt like the energy she’d seen when she’d used magesight to look at the stone in her father’s office.