by Jenn Stark
“No, I don’t. I knew you had to get out of there, and I knew what to do to make that happen. But I didn’t know how. I hadn’t given it much thought. But I wouldn’t have picked that approach, for certain.”
“The approach this alternate form of you chose. She made many choices for you, it would seem, there in the depths of Hell.”
I stopped clutching the scotch to drain a little more of it. The tang of the liquor helped drive the chill from my chest. “I told you I was sorry.”
“Sorry.” Armaeus’s words were a taunt. “Yet I am not sorry. Which makes me wonder exactly how much of this act of your alternate self was truly your intention after all.”
Fully lost now, I stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“As you made several realizations in Hell, I did as well. And one of those revelations was that I have not utilized the fullest extent of my abilities, both in my actions on the Council and in my preservation of the position on magic. I am better able to do so now.”
“Because you’re immortal again.”
“Not merely that.” His voice shaded over to threat, and I forced myself to look at him. And blinked.
“Tell me, Miss Wilde,” the Magician said, the words a silken tide that flowed into my ears and through my mind and over my skin all at once. “What do you see? What do you feel?”
“Your eyes,” I whispered, staring. “There’s something wrong with your eyes.”
“In what way?” He edged nearer, and though my heart began to beat rapidly, I couldn’t fall back, wouldn’t fall back. I craved Armaeus in a way that I didn’t understand, but it was definitely not anything I’d experienced before. Before, when he’d been immortal, I’d been attracted to him, yes. I’d wanted him. But the panic had been enough to make sure I never gave into that desire. This was different though. Now, once again I felt all the fear, the danger. But instead of fleeing from it…
“What is it you feel, Miss Wilde?”
“I want you,” I snapped, compelled to honesty despite my anger and disgust at my own weakness. I didn’t resist as he plucked the glass out of my fingers, setting it aside. I also didn’t flinch back as he lifted his hands to my face, hesitating but a moment before he seared my jaw with the sensual heat of his palms, holding me steady though my entire body shook in fury and need. And I didn’t breathe a word of refusal as he moved forward to drift his lips over mine. I knew this path led to death and destruction, but I didn’t refuse it anymore. I wanted it more than anything I’d ever craved in my life. As much as I hated admitting it, I wanted him. I wanted us. I wanted this.
Death, destruction, chaos.
Bring it.
Armaeus leaned in, deepening the kiss, and his hand slipped around the back of my neck, the other dropping down to cup my breast. The sensual assault enraged the twin monsters of panic and need within me, and I gasped with sudden pain against his lips, the ache that welled up inside me too big, too full. I felt I would burst with it, and Armaeus chuckled against my mouth, his right hand dropping to grasp my left hand and hold it fast in his grip.
“You are many things, Miss Wilde, that I do not understand.”
“Get away from me,” I hissed, even as I swayed toward him, my body betraying my mind at the most basic level. Armaeus dropped his head to my neck and nuzzled the hollow of my collarbone, the sensitized skin torn between sensations as he stoked an internal fire and froze me in place at once. His grip on my hand intensified, and I felt the bones of my ring finger practically compress, pain riding an enormous wave of pleasure that would drown me. It had to drown me. I could not withstand it much longer.
“You cannot keep me from what I wish to know,” he continued, and a tiny shred of sanity broke through the haze of need. I pulled back, trying to see his face. He let me go, but his eyes watched me with a predator’s glare and his hand stayed locked on mine. His eyes were fully black. “You cannot keep me from what I want either. And I do want you, Miss Wilde. Quite definitively.”
“What’s happened to you?” I whispered, and he twisted his lips.
“As Magician, I am balance, but I am not neutral in the way you have believed. The light and the dark both live within me. For centuries, I have embraced the light. And discovered that, for all my virtue, for all my lip service to balance and strength and good judgment, I had left behind a soul to rot in agony for the love of me. A soul that my own love kept tethered to a world that was neither dark nor light, death nor life. I am not worthy of the belief Mirabel had in me.” He grimaced. “And you gave me the perfect means to escape it.”
I stared, warier of him than I’d ever been, but not understanding why. “I did?”
“Yes.” A jolt of pain that centered on my left hand’s ring finger riveted me, and I tried to pull my hand free, but Armaeus held tight. He spoke into my ear, his breath sending whorls of sensation along every one of my nerve endings, even the ones that didn’t know they had endings. “And now I do not have to play by the rules that have governed me so carefully for these centuries past. Now the game can change completely.”
He moved back around to face me, his deeply wrong eyes boring into mine. “You’ve given that to me, Miss Wilde. And I will do whatever you ask in return.”
He lowered his mouth, brushing his lips over mine.
“Except to let you go.”
The sudden, agonizing pain in my left hand wrenched a scream from my lips in response to his kiss.
“Get off me!” I gasped, pushing Armaeus away with my noncrippled right hand and straightening in my chair. I flapped my left hand, and a glint of gold caught my eye. “What is this?” I tried to pull the ring off, and razor-sharp teeth bit into my skin. “Ouch!” I scowled at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what this looks like, you asshat. I need a wedding band from you like a hole in the head.”
“It’s the most expedient form for tracking, since, though you may not realize it yet, your abilities can now hide you from my sight.” Armaeus settled back on the couch. “I have come back from Hell altered in ways I have not fully taken the time to understand. You have as well. Until I have an opportunity to completely understand these changes in you, you remain at greater risk for abduction, torture, and death.”
“What are you talking about?” I was no longer flailing. The moment I stopped messing with the ring, it stopped hurting me. As long as I kept it on, it twirled normally around my finger. It was only when I attempted to slide it past my middle knuckle that it sank into my skin. But I’d been around Armaeus long enough to know when he was joking, and this wasn’t one of those times. “I didn’t give you permission to put this thing on me.”
“You didn’t need to give me permission. You can remove the ring at any time, by either severing your finger or invoking greater magic.” He shrugged. “Free will remains yours, the sacrifice not so great that you could not take it should you choose to do so. In the meantime, I ensure you do not fall into the hands of your enemies, and that you do not die.”
“How can knowing where I am guarantee that?”
He smirked. “Fair enough. I can ensure that you do not fall into the hands of your enemies without me knowing of it. And, to the extent that I can intervene before your head is severed from your body, I shall have greater opportunity to do so.”
“I don’t trust you,” I grumbled as my phone buzzed in my pocket.
He smiled. “I would hope not, Miss Wilde. You should, however, know and understand that I do what I do for the balance of magic in the mortal plane. There are many paths to ensuring that balance, and now new ones are open to me. As you are open to me.”
“Not quite.”
“You will be, once you come to a fuller understanding. An understanding I will take great pleasure in facilitating.” His voice was silky with threat. “Until then, you will remain allied to the Council. And protected by the Council as well.” He pointed at my left hand.
“I’m allied with the Connecteds who are the victims in this war,” I said c
oldly. “And I don’t need your protection.”
My phone rang again, punctuating my irritation.
“You are being contacted by Nikki Dawes,” Armaeus said. “She has more information about tonight’s auction. If she is correct, we will be there to assist you. But the magic that is warding the auction is very strong. We can let it play out.”
I checked my phone, confirming his assessment, then stuck it back in my pocket. “You know this Gamon?”
“The name alone,” Armaeus said, his gaze raking over me. “It is a name from the middle of the last century, though, a name I was told had long since been put to rest. It will bear watching. The Gamon from that time was given to tricks and subterfuge, veils and illusions. That such illusions are being played out upon my very doorstep is curious, however. Curious, and unnecessarily dangerous, if Gamon is truly behind it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re wondering why he’s bringing the fight to Vegas. You thought Viktor had put him up to it.”
“Viktor’s role in all this is something more to be studied. But those answers will come in due time—so much has come already. The information of this world and the next was always open to me, should I have wished to divine it. I didn’t before; now I do.”
“Yeah? So what else have you learned?” I wasn’t going to ask about Mirabel. I wouldn’t. She wasn’t my business, she was Armaeus’s. She wasn’t mine to be curious about, or care about, or resent, or pity, or—
“I know this.” His unexpectedly quiet response caught me by surprise. “Your foster mother was never in Hell,” he said. “You have a memory of seeing her there, talking to her. But she was not there.”
I fought against the strange spurt of tears that threatened at the back of my eyes. I’d known this, honestly. From the moment I’d seen the figure on the hillside, so unnaturally still. And yet…
“How can you know that? You didn’t see her.”
“With the Hierophant’s assistance, I have touched the souls of every once-living and never-dead creature in that plane except, intriguingly, your alternate self’s. But Sheila Rose Pelter never walked those passages. She was spared them through the intercession of your true father, according to Michael, and sent forward to a plane beyond human existence. That image you saw of her was an illusion. A distraction.”
“I have no way of knowing if you’re lying.”
“A distraction that was strong enough for your second self to get to Mirabel, so it served its purpose. And a distraction that created a series of events that pulled us free from Hell without outside intercession. That is very difficult to do, though you may not realize it. It means your second self is powerful as well. Powerful…and potentially dangerous. Possibly even to you, for all that she remains in Hell.”
“Yeah, I figured that one out on my own.”
Something in my voice caught his attention, and he turned to me, his eerie black gaze piercing through me. “You’re too strong for me to fully understand everything that occurred to you in that plane. And I must, Miss Wilde.”
“Well, too bad.” My phone buzzed again, and I stood. “I’ll be with—”
He waved me silent. “You’ve no need to alert me any longer. I can track you at will.”
Irritation bubbled inside me, and the ring on my left hand bit down in a spasm of self-preservation. I scowled at Armaeus. “Not for long, count on it. In the meantime, if you can conjure up the Hierophant the next time I’m here, that’d be great. I need to talk to him more than I need to talk to you at this point.”
His lips twitched. “You are correct in that—and Miss Wilde…”
He waited until I looked back at him. “There is much you believe to be true that is not,” he said. His gaze was intense and unyielding, and there was no denying the possession in it. “And much about me you would also do well to learn.”
I could feel the power of him reaching out to me, a visceral, sensual tug as he continued. “The time is coming when you’ll no longer be able to deny yourself what you most crave.” He lifted his glass to me, his gaze never faltering. “You should know that I crave it just as much.”
I blinked, hard—and the Magician was gone. Poof. The penthouse suddenly empty of nothing but his memory.
That…was more than enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Shiver wasn’t merely an obnoxious front for the Council to spy on Connecteds unawares. It was a successful one.
Nikki didn’t bother masking her surprise as we rolled up in her car, Brody’s ride deemed too cop-like to fool anyone over the age of four. But the parking lot had attendants and new lines painted into the concrete, and there were tuxedoed bouncers at the door.
“This place looks like it needs to be raided,” Nikki said, eyeing the bouncers. The valet station was hopping too—taking cars to the back, where large covered carports loomed. “How is it not on your radar?”
“There’s never been so much as a peep about this place,” Brody said. “It’s gotta have paperwork somewhere, but so far no reason to go after it. Believe me, the LVMPD has enough legitimate drug hells. We don’t need to go looking for new ones masquerading as dance clubs.”
“Roger that.” Nikki found a parking space several rows deep in the large parking area, and we piled out of her car. “Wonder what it’ll look like on the inside.”
Brody fell into step between us. “Eyes only, no fights, no trouble. We don’t have backup for a raid or anything else. No one even knows we’re out here, so I got nobody close.”
“Lot of cars in the lot,” I said. “You heard about this yesterday? No way do I believe they pulled together an auction that fast. It would have taken significant lead time.”
“Not so hard with instant communication,” Nikki said, tapping her head. “Week, tops is all that’d be needed to get the ball rolling, and the trigger could have been pulled a lot faster once the final decision was made. Even if they’re selling Connecteds like we think they are, stock could have come in on public transportation, private jet, truck. Not so hard.”
“Now you’re depressing me,” Brody muttered, and Nikki flashed him a wide grin. She was dressed sedately tonight, for her—black dress with a conservative collar and flash of a bright red scarf, black tights and black platform pumps, her richly auburn hair styled in a 1960s flip. “Mod Squad,” she’d offered when she picked us up. I’d shucked my usual hoodie and was going with a simple gray T-shirt over my black jeans and boots, and Brody could have been my older brother. We’d dressed decidedly down-market compared to Nikki, but then, we always did.
Getting into Shiver was easy—the fifty-dollar-a-head cover aside—and we entered a room that looked exactly nothing like an auction house and everything like a roadhouse dive. There were two bars on either side of the space, both of them bristling with alcohol, and the place smelled of sawdust and sweat and way too much Drakkar Noir. Nikki headed to the right-hand bar and Brody and I walked out into the open dance floor—open being relative, since we were already cheek to jowl with partiers, each more stoned than the last.
“I don’t know about technos, but these guys are high on a cocktail of other shit,” Brody said. “Too manic, too wild for a group about to bid on serious goods.”
“They’re the cover,” I said. We were standing close to each other so we didn’t have to shout, and the sheer humanness of him was strangely soothing. Armaeus had gone radio silent since I’d left Prime Luxe. Considering how our stint there had ended, I was in no rush to see him.
There’d be time for that eventually, but I could wait until, well, Hell froze over.
Nikki joined us a minute later with two longneck beer bottles and something questionable in a tumbler. She handed the beers to us. “Made a friend,” she said, her eyes sharp despite her easy grin. “Apparently they run this show once a week here. Typical process is for homers to show up, get stoned, empty their pockets, and leave higher than they arrived, with new product to try. Anyone who buys gets tracked by the management.”
“I’m not telling you that.” She shook her head. “But if you wanted to infer it, that’s not too far off the mark. This week is different, though. The auction business is new, bringing in a higher-rent crowd than the usual Connecteds. The place is under new management too, according to the bartender. He’s kind of freaked-out by that, but a dollar’s a dollar.”
“Where’s the old management?” Brody took a drink of his beer, frowned down at it. “This tastes like shit.”
“That’s because it’s drugged,” Nikki said. “And the old management is at the bottom of Lake Mead, to hear my new bestie talk. He wasn’t much of a fan of the previous establishment, but the new one has him so scared, he’s afraid to quit.”
“And now we know how to fix the economy.” I wondered how much of this Armaeus already knew. I took a swig of my own beer, and Brody was right. There was a definite metallic aftertaste to it, indicating the open bottle had been doctored. “You see what he put into it?”
“Just that it was from a beaker, and it was blue,” Nikki said. “I asked, of course, and he winks and says it’s on the house, nothing illegal, nothing too crazy. I get the feeling we got special service, but not that special. Everyone here’s on something. We need to be too. They scan.”
“They what?” Brody’s gaze darted to the ceiling, and it wasn’t hard to spot the cameras sweeping the room. “That can’t be legal.”
“Tough to prove too. We detect this shit because we’re Connected, and we’re amped. I suspect to an ordinary drinker, it tastes like beer.” She tilted her glass toward us. “Well, beer that tastes like feet given that brand, but you get the idea.”
“So drink enough to have it in our system, not enough to puke, got it,” I said, taking another healthy swig. I grimaced at the aftertaste. “Heart rate is picking up, but that could be from the bass.”