The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles)

by Cinda Williams Chima

  She shivered again, maybe more of a shudder, as the realization that she was being stalked seeped through her skin.

  Her heart began to thud as panic coursed through her. Without looking back, she staggered forward, zagging off the path and limping up the hill toward the house, cursing her stupid self and her stupid dress, her twisted ankle, and every rock and stick that punished the soles of her stupid bare feet. The footsteps accelerated, and Emma limped faster. Now she could hear somebody breathing, just behind her, and she bolted through the underbrush, desperate to reach the safety of the house. It was like one of those dreams where the monster’s in pursuit, but your feet are glued to the ground.

  Breaking out of the fringe of trees, she smashed right into somebody, all but knocking her down.

  “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

  It was the Victorian steampunk vampire, Leesha Middleton. And, with her, the tall, red-haired boy she’d been dancing with earlier.

  Leesha gripped Emma’s shoulders, steadying her. “Are you okay?” Her gray eyes narrowed as she looked Emma up and down, taking in her shoeless feet, her disheveled clothing, the hair that had escaped from her updo and was now hanging around her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I—uh—thought I heard someone creeping up on me in the woods. So I ran, and I—it was chasing me.” Her voice trailed off as she realized how lame this sounded. This was so not a story Emma wanted to share with Leesha.

  “Probably kids from the high school, looking to crash the party,” Leesha said, squeezing her shoulder. “You know, small towns, Halloween. Speaking of, where’s your gorgeous and scowling friend?”

  It was like Emma’s mind was frozen, along with everything else. “My—who?”

  “Your godlike lead singer. The one that gave me the cold shoulder earlier. Isn’t it nearly time for your next set?”

  “Oh. He—uh—he left. He wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Ah.” Leesha held Emma’s gaze for a long moment, then changed the subject. Gesturing toward her companion, she said, “Have you met Harmon Fitch?”

  Emma shook her head, trying to focus on Harmon Fitch. “I’m Emma Gr—Emma Lee,” she said. Leesha glowed—all of the gifted did. Fitch did not—so he was Anaweir. Leesha was small; Fitch was tall. An odd couple for sure.

  The red-haired boy doffed his top hat. “Call me Fitch,” he said, shooting a look at Leesha, “steampunk vampire victim.” He wore a fancy suit along with the top hat, and carried a silver-tipped walking cane. Sweeping his cape from his shoulders, he settled it around Emma’s. “It’s kind of moth-eaten, but it’s warm.”

  Emma pulled the cape closer around her, but she couldn’t seem to stop trembling.

  Leesha took her elbow, and turned Emma back toward the house. “Why don’t you go on inside and warm up? We’ll be up in a minute.”

  Emma set her feet, resisting. “Where are you going?”

  “Seph stored some extra drinks in the boathouse,” Leesha said. “We’re going to bring them up to the house.”

  “No!” Emma said. “Don’t go off by yourselves. There was—there might be—”

  “Hey,” Leesha said. “We’re in the Sanctuary. There are no monsters in here. Anyway”—she smiled—“we’re not exactly defenseless.”

  Some things can’t be defended against, Emma thought. “I wish you wouldn’t go out there,” she persisted.

  Fitch and Leesha exchanged glances, as if they each hoped the other would handle the crazy woman. “We’ll be careful,” Leesha said. They turned away, heading downslope toward the lake.

  Despite her misgivings, Emma hobbled back up to the house, where the heaters on the terrace provided a welcome warmth. Natalie and Rudy were huddled up next to one of them, heads together, talking.

  “Emma!” Natalie said, brightening when she spotted her. “Have you seen Jonah? Did you get his text? Do you know what’s going on?”

  I wish I did, Emma thought, shaking her head. “No idea.”

  “If he wasn’t feeling well, I’m surprised he didn’t come to me,” Natalie said. “Usually I can handle anything minor....” Her voice trailed off.

  “We’ve texted him back, but no answer,” Rudy added. “I hope he’s okay. If he left, he must’ve taken the other van. What’s strange is that he left all his equipment here.”

  Emma just stared at the two of them. She had no answers, only questions. One thought cycled through her mind: Were you part of what happened to my father?

  Had she been so blinded by their common love of music that she’d missed important clues?

  “Alison isn’t answering either.” Natalie swiveled, scanning the terrace and the lawn beyond. “I wish she’d get back here. We need to figure out a Plan B for the second set.”

  Emma licked her lips, her thoughts flopping around like a school of beached fish. “Maybe we should just forget about the second set.”

  “No,” Natalie said, lifting her chin. “Remember the name of the band: Fault Tolerant. We continue to function, even when one part fails. Anyway, we’ve already been paid, and I don’t want to give half the money back.”

  Feeling a little foolish, Emma removed Fitch’s cape, folding it neatly and setting it next to her on the stone wall. Don’t say anything to anyone, she thought. Keep your head down, keep your secrets, and you’ll be all right. None of this brings Tyler back. You don’t even know who your enemies are. Anything you say can’t be unsaid. Play it safe, girl. Give yourself time to figure out what to do.

  “Hey. What’s up?”

  Emma flinched, and turned. It was Alison. “Isn’t it about time for the second set?” she said, stuffing the last of a slice of pizza into her mouth.

  “Where have you been?” Natalie said. “We’ve been trying to figure out what to do.”

  “Do? About what?” Alison said, brow furrowed.

  Natalie hissed through her teeth, exasperated. “Isn’t your phone on?”

  Alison pulled her phone from her pocket. “I guess not. I turned it off during the first set and forgot to turn it back on.” She scanned the screen, her eyes shifting as she read the text. Then swore violently. “Jonah’s left?” Alison looked like she’d been smacked in the head. She waved the phone. “That’s—that’s impossible.”

  “Never mind,” Natalie said. “He’s not here, so we need a plan.”

  Alison flung her phone onto the flagstones. It shattered into pieces.

  “Whoa, Alison,” Rudy said. “Anger management, you know? If he’s sick, he’s sick.”

  “Emma, you’ll just have to manage the guitar line on your own,” Natalie said. “I’ll sing my usuals, and, Rudy, you’ll have to step up to lead, I guess, for Jonah. I’ve come up with a tentative set list that we might—”

  She broke off when Madison Moss shouldered her way through the French doors and onto the terrace, followed by Seph and an Anaweir boy with a football-player’s build. Madison scanned the patio and the grounds beyond, a furrow of annoyance between her brows. “Has anyone seen Grace?” she asked.

  Gooseflesh rose on the back of Emma’s neck. “No,” she said. “When did you last see her?”

  “We listened to your first set together, and then she said she was going out to make sure the pumpkin lamps were still lit,” Madison said. “That was a while ago. I told her to come right back....” She trailed off, reading Emma’s face. “Is something wrong?”

  “I just—it’s nothing,” Emma said.

  “Grace is your little sister?” Rudy said.

  Madison nodded. “She’s twelve, going on eighteen,” Madison said. She extended her hand out in front of her, palm down. “About this tall, with light brown hair. She was wearing a black cat costume.”

  “Want us to spread out and look for her?” Rudy asked, always eager for action.

  Madison wavered, then shook her head. “Seph and I will ch
eck the house again before we all fly into a panic. Grace will never forgive me if I send out a posse.” She turned to her Anaweir companion. “Will, could you keep looking around outside?”

  Will nodded. “Got it.”

  “Did you try her cell phone?” Rudy asked.

  Madison’s lips tightened. “Where I come from, we don’t give cell phones to twelve-year-old kids.” She turned back toward the house, but just then they heard shouting from the direction of the woods, and two figures stumbling up the slope toward them.

  “That’s Leesha and Fitch,” Will said. “I’ll go see what’s up.” He vaulted over the wall at the edge of the terrace without missing a step, and quickly closed the distance between them.

  Emma watched with growing foreboding as the three spoke briefly, and then all turned and ran toward the house. Seph and Madison walked forward to meet them, but Emma hung back with her bandmates, not sure she wanted to hear what they had to say.

  She heard it anyway. “There’s been an attack,” Fitch said. “Like—like a stabbing. Or a shooting. We’re not sure. But there’s at least three bodies in the woods between here and the lake.” He stole a quick look at Madison.

  Madison went sheet-white, her blue eyes brilliant against her pale skin. “Who?” she demanded, balling her fists and taking a step toward him. “Who’s dead?”

  “Hang on,” Leesha said. “We’re not entirely sure of anything.”

  “I called 911,” Fitch said, “and help should be here any minute. Let’s wait until they get here.”

  “Who. Is. It?” Madison repeated, light flaming up under her skin, shining through, her hair snaking around her head.

  “I’m a healer,” Natalie said, coming to her feet. “Is there anyone—is there anything I can do until EMS gets here?”

  Leesha just stared back at her, speechless, tears streaming down her face.

  Madison Moss took off running, hair flying, her pirate skirts bunched into her fists, with Seph McCauley right on her heels, pleading with her to wait, to slow down, to at least not go out there on her own. The race ended just inside the edge of the trees. Seph circled Madison with his arms and pulled her back against his body, the magic flaring up within her underlighting the trees, flickering out into the darkness.

  Emma and the others, drawn like moths to a flame, came up behind them, huddling silently, waiting.

  Slowly then, Seph and Madison walked forward, and Madison dropped to her knees in the leaf litter next to a darker shape among the others. Emma’s heart plummeted to her toes. She tasted metal on the back of her tongue, the taste of blood and despair. She could not bear to look, and yet she could not tear her eyes away.

  Then Madison Moss began to scream. It seemed to go on and on and on, the thread of Seph McCauley’s wizard voice running through it, their bodies merging into one shadow as he pulled her into his arms.

  Emma should have left before the police arrived. But it’s hard to think clearly when you’re trying to not think at all. So, instead, she huddled on the terrace with Alison and Rudy while a fleet of emergency vehicles lined up in the driveway, spilling onto the street. After a while, Natalie returned, close-faced and tight-lipped and grim.

  Once the police arrived, they herded everyone into the house and onto the terrace. A nervous-looking young officer commandeered Jonah’s voice mike. “Nobody leaves, all right? Everyone stays put until we’ve secured the crime scene, searched the area, and interviewed all potential witnesses,” she barked. “Don’t talk amongst yourselves either, or we’ll have to split you up. We want clean accounts from everyone. One of you might’ve seen something that will help us.”

  Not me, Emma thought. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything.

  Sometime during the initial confusion, Hastings and Downey had returned. Seph and his parents managed to talk Madison back to the house. The mainliners took over the kitchen, forming an impermeable barrier to outsiders.

  The police established a command post in the parlor. They used yellow police tape to cordon off an area around the scene. They marked out access routes onto the grounds, and set up huge spotlights that all but turned night into day. When they funneled out into the woods, the officers proceeded cautiously, shining powerful flashlights into every dark crevice and shadow.

  Trapped inside the law-enforcement bubble, Emma began packing up her equipment, hoping for a quick getaway. As if eager for something to do, Rudy and Natalie followed suit, breaking down the equipment and casing everything up. Alison just sat on the floor in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees, head tipped back, eyes closed as if pretending she were someplace else.

  Emma ran her fingers over the head of Jonah’s Stratocaster, standing abandoned in its stand. He must be guilty, she thought. He must have been involved in the murders. Why else would he leave it behind? She settled it lovingly into its case, slid the strap into its compartment, closed the lid, and buckled the catches. Familiar. Automatic. Soothing.

  All around them, the mainliners clustered in small groups, remarkably silent. Some stood along the edge of the terrace, watching the police deploy through the woods. Others whispered together, shooting wary looks toward the band.

  “Does anybody else have the feeling that whatever goodwill might’ve resulted from the show is gone now?” Rudy said, nodding toward the clusters of partygoers.

  “They can’t think we’re responsible,” Natalie muttered.

  “Yes, they can,” Rudy said, rubbing his eyes. “In fact, I think we can count on it. I’ll bet nobody ever got murdered in Trinity until we came along. I’ll bet nobody even jaywalked before now.”

  A ripple of excitement out in the woods caught Emma’s attention. People shouting, the crackle of radios, a rush of EMS personnel down the cordoned path. Soon, Emma could hear the thwock-thwock-thwock of a helicopter. Turning, she saw that a massive yellow chopper was setting down in the park at the end of the block.

  “Looks like they’ve found somebody else,” Natalie whispered, her body as rigid as a dog on point. “Somebody who must be still alive, else they wouldn’t have sent Life Flight.”

  She’s a healer to the bone, Emma thought. She can’t stand hanging back when someone is hurting.

  Natalie positioned herself right beside the route they would have to take. Emma eased up beside her. Moments later, a quartet of paramedics loped up the path toward them, carrying a litter. Even Alison roused herself and joined them, looking on as the medical team swept by, one of them holding a bag of fluids high above his head.

  It was Rowan DeVries, his face bloodless, lips pale, lashes dark against his skin. The thermal blanket over him was already soaked through with blood. He looked dead, but, as Natalie said, he must be still alive or why the rush?

  Natalie gazed at him fixedly, her dark brows drawn together. She even brushed her fingers over his bare arm as he passed by. The nearest paramedic glared at her and shook his head.

  “Hey!” she called after them. “Hang on a minute!” They didn’t break stride.

  “What’s up, Natalie?” came a voice behind them. They both turned. It took Emma a moment to remember the woman’s name. It was the healer-sorcerer, Mercedes Foster.

  “He’s got a serious bleed, right upper quadrant,” Natalie said, without a scrap of doubt. “Blood vessel, artery, something. If they don’t operate immediately, he’ll bleed out. But there’s no way they’re going to listen to me.”

  Mercedes nodded. “Got it. And if I don’t get some Weirsbane into him, the hospital is going to have a lot of questions we don’t have answers to.” She charged after the paramedics, her thin legs pumping like pistons, her clothes flapping around her limbs like a scarecrow’s. “Rowan!” she bellowed. “Wait! I’m coming with you. That’s my son!”

  Somehow, the sorcerer talked her way onto the helicopter.

  Natalie was on the phone with Gabriel, and Emma half-listen
ed to her side of the conversation. “I know, I know...I don’t know...Alison and Rudy and Emma are here with me....Jonah? He sent a text after the first set. Said he wasn’t feeling well and was heading back...No, I haven’t heard from him since. They’ve searched the house and grounds, and he’s not here. I’ve texted him several times and even called him, but his phone just goes to voice mail....All right. See you soon.” Natalie clicked off and returned her phone to her pocket. “Gabriel’s on his way. He’s bringing his lawyer.”

  “I hope Jonah’s okay,” Rudy murmured.

  “Just sit down and shut up,” Alison hissed. She opened her mouth as if to say something else, but changed her mind.

  Emma tucked her hands under her arms, trying to warm them. “I wish we could leave,” she muttered, teeth chattering. “I really, really want to get out of here.”

  And go where? She did not want to go back to the Anchorage, where she no longer knew whom to trust. She did not want to talk to the police. If they asked who she was and where she came from, it wouldn’t take long to connect her to Memphis.

  Still, three people had been confirmed as dead. Two wizards, attendees at the party. And Madison Moss’s little sister. The black cat. Grace.

  What was it they said on the cop shows? Jonah Kinlock had means, motive, and opportunity to kill those three people. If Emma had sounded the alarm about Jonah Kinlock sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have happened.

  And yet, a voice in Emma’s head kept saying, No. She’d seen something deadly in Jonah Kinlock from the beginning. He was dangerous—but he wasn’t indiscriminate. He was like a weapon that was exceedingly accurate. She could totally imagine him cutting down wizards. Including Rowan DeVries. But she could not picture him killing a child. Especially one so close to his brother’s age.

  Emma thought of the scowling young girl in the black cat costume with the blown-out knees. The way she thrust her face up into the music like a cat soaking up sun. The bitten-down nails, and the dreamy way she gazed at Jonah. Why would somebody hurt a girl like that? Could Grace have stumbled on something she shouldn’t have?