Darius nodded placidly.
Agent Harris stood. “Expect a full list of the charges and fines against your guild by Monday.”
“I’ll eagerly await them,” Darius replied. “In turn, I expect you to eagerly inform all appropriate parties that Victoria Dawson and the rogue’s death are now under the MPD’s jurisdiction. The police will need to cease their investigation and expunge all records of her arrest.”
Agent Harris grunted and strode to the door, the female agent on his heels.
“Oh, and Brennan?” Darius propped an arm on the back of his chair. “I think it would be in everyone’s best interests for you to expedite the processing of Tori’s registration and guild induction paperwork. You already have the forms.”
The agent snarled something incomprehensible, stormed through the door, and slammed it shut, almost clobbering his partner. She had to open the door again to leave, but unlike Harris, she closed it like a mature, emotionally stable adult.
Silence fell over the small room. Her tail draped over me, Hoshi undulated placidly. I stared at Darius, stunned and speechless.
“How are you feeling, Tori?” he asked kindly.
“I—I—I’m not sure. Relieved? I think?” I twitched my wrists, jingling the metal cuffs. Twiggy watched me anxiously. “Also confused. How did you … all that stuff …?”
Darius rubbed his beard ruefully. “It’s been a hectic few hours, I admit. Once we realized there was no way to clear you of the impending murder charges, the only solution was to shift you out of the human justice system and into our own. The paperwork wasn’t an issue, but what to register you as …”
“A witch?” I muttered, shaking my head.
“It wasn’t the first thing to occur to me.” An odd smile tugged at his lips. “As we were debating whether you’d learned enough taromancy to fool an MPD agent, I received a call from an unknown number.
“The mysterious caller gave no name. Not one for small talk either. But he made a few highly salient points. He said a human who contracts with a demon is considered a mythic, so a human—like you—who has a familiar bond with a fae should also be considered a mythic. I agreed that sounded reasonable, and he told me to convince the MPD of the same. Then he hung up.”
Every part of that, especially the rude hang up, sounded like someone I knew. I looked down at my arm, Hoshi’s magic glowing faintly over my skin. A familiar mark. That sneaky druid.
“I confess I was worried when it came time to call your familiar,” Darius added thoughtfully. “I wasn’t sure you had one.”
I turned to Twiggy, who didn’t normally venture far from the house. “How did you know to come here?”
“The Crystal Druid called us to him!” Twiggy chirped happily. “He told us to find you and wait for the right moment. Was it the right moment?”
“It was definitely the right moment,” I replied, cautiously observing Darius’s reaction to Twiggy’s mention of “the Crystal Druid.”
Darius gave me another wink. Of course. He was too smart not to suspect who his mysterious caller had been—or who had helped us summon a darkfae in Stanley Park, assuming the guys had filled their GM in on that part.
Anxiety trickled through me. “Darius, what about the charges against the guild? What about—”
“Don’t worry about that, my dear. Dealing with the MPD is my job. It’s one of the many privileges that come with being your guild master.”
A slow roll of emotion left me dizzy. “My guild master …”
His mood sobered. “I must apologize, Tori. I couldn’t ask you in advance if you wanted this, but it was the only way to keep you out of prison. You’re registered as a mythic, meaning all our laws, both good and bad, now govern your life.”
Laws, shmaws. That wasn’t what I cared about. “Am I a member of the Crow and Hammer now?”
“Yes, you are.”
A grin spread across my face, so wide it hurt, and tears pricked my eyes. Tossing decorum out the window, I threw my handcuffed wrists over Darius’s head and hugged him, doing my best not to strangle him in the process.
“Thank you,” I choked out.
He returned the hug with an extra squeeze. “I’m delighted to welcome you to the guild. Our very own mythical human.”
“Mythical human,” I repeated as I sat back in my chair, equally amused and amazed. “Can we make that an official class?”
Chuckling, Darius gathered up his folder. “Shall we? I think dear Agent Harris has had enough time to clear you for release.”
Ten minutes and one handcuff removal later, I walked out of the station and into the gloriously fresh air, the horizon stained by the orange tinge of dawn. Vaguely missing the feel of Hoshi’s little paws, I rolled my shoulders. I’d already sent her and Twiggy home, where they couldn’t shock any not-so-nice policemen.
Standing at the bottom of the steps and casting long shadows across the sidewalk, three figures waited.
A spurt of energy revived my flagging strength, and I sprinted down the steps two at a time, arms outstretched. In the next moment, I was engulfed in a three-way hug and I hardly knew who I had my arms around.
“Guys!” I gasped. Then I burst into tears. Again.
“Tori!” Aaron half laughed.
I gulped back my hysteria after one sob, and Kai produced a handkerchief to dry my cheeks. I squeezed Aaron’s and Ezra’s necks, refusing to release them.
“How’d it go?” Aaron directed the question over my shoulder, and I looked around as Darius joined us.
He smiled like a proud father. “I arrived just as she was telling dear Agent Harris to go to hell. The rest went about as planned.”
Aaron clamped me against his chest, his strong arms squeezing the air out of me. “Then you’re a mythic now.”
“Darius says I’m a mythical human. My very own class. Pretty cool, huh?”
He laughed exuberantly. “I love it. You’re a misfit just like the rest of us Crow and Hammer myth—”
“Tori!”
I peeled out of Aaron’s arms as Justin ran down the stairs, his hair rumpled and stress lines around his eyes. As his wary gaze snapped across the four men, I stepped away from them.
“Justin! Did you hear? I’m a free woman—”
“Tori,” he interrupted tersely, grabbing my arm and pulling me farther from the others. “They said you’re under their jurisdiction.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
His hazel eyes were frantic. “But you’re not one of them.”
“It’s a long story.” And I had no idea where to begin. Was I allowed to explain? Didn’t matter, because I was telling my brother the truth whether MagiPol liked it or not. “I’ll explain everything later, okay? I need to go. I’m beat.”
“Tori,” he tried again. “You don’t—do you have any idea what you—”
“Actually, I do.” I took a deep breath. “Justin, I’m sorry I kept secrets from you, and I promise I’ll tell you all about it. But now isn’t the time. They’re waiting for me.”
Justin’s expression darkened. “I’ll take you home. You don’t belong with them.”
Anger sparked through me and I struggled to keep my tone even. “That’s my choice.”
His jaw tightened. “You killed someone, Tori. Don’t pretend that had nothing to do with these people. Even if you don’t go to jail, you killed someone. Is this the road you want to go down?”
My stomach twisted painfully. I pulled my arm out of his hand. “I’ll call you this evening.”
“Tori—”
Each step hurt me, but I walked away. Making Justin understand wouldn’t be easy and I didn’t have the time or energy to talk him through it now. I’d smooth things over with him later.
When I reached the guys, I slung my arms around the two nearest me—Aaron and Kai—and together we walked away from the station.
Chapter Twenty-Four
After thirty hours of sleep in the last forty-eight, you’d think I’d be well re
sted.
I stifled a yawn as the instructor described the class syllabus and major assignments. After missing the first three days of the fall semester, I’d refused to skip my Friday class. I was kind of regretting it, though. Nothing could put me to sleep faster than the droning of an old man who spoke at the same pitch as a distant vacuum cleaner.
Glancing at the clock—fifteen more minutes—I stretched my legs out and slipped my phone under the long table. It blinked with a new message.
I rolled my eyes. It had to be Aaron, reminding me that he planned to walk me to work. He, along with a healer and two alchemists, had tried to convince me to skip school and work today so I could start fresh on Tuesday instead. But I’d already missed two weeks of work since that first MPD raid, and I wasn’t missing another day. My bank account was alarmingly low.
Opening my messaging app, I read the brief text.
I’m in the atrium. Get out here.
Halfway through the thought that the pyromage sounded awfully grumpy today, I checked the sender. The message wasn’t from Aaron.
A startled yelp escaped me. As the instructor squinted in my direction, I rammed my laptop into my purse and shoved back from the table.
“Sorry,” I called as I rushed to the door. “Family emergency. Have to go!”
I bolted into the hallway. The atrium, he’d said. I zoomed to the nearest stairwell and descended to the second level, then jogged down a long corridor of classrooms. The hall opened into a two-story space with huge windows that arched over the roof like skylights.
At the staircase railing, I looked down. A couple dozen students wandered through the lobby-like space below, coming in and out of the library that bordered it. A few more were seated on the U-shaped banks of seats along the wall and—
There. A man in a gray sweater, the hood drawn up, leaned against a wide pillar.
I sprinted down the stairs and across the tiled floor. He glanced up from his phone, sunlight striking his handsome face.
“Zak!” I slid to a halt, scanned him from head to toe, then grabbed him in a hug.
He grunted as I squeezed him. “You’re strangling me.”
“You’re alive!”
“Not if you keep strangling me.”
I released him and stepped back—then smacked his shoulder with enough force to sting my hand. “Why didn’t you text me sooner? I was afraid you’d died.”
“Of course I didn’t die.” He rolled his otherworldly green eyes. “Who do you take me for?”
“I seem to remember you getting shot—multiple times!—so excuse me if I was concerned about your survival.”
Since he’d called Darius on the night of my arrest, I’d known he made it out of the park alive, but with nothing but radio silence since, I’d been having nightmares about him dying from his untreated wounds.
“I didn’t get shot.” His mouth twisted. “Well, yes, I did, but being attacked from behind is a possibility I usually account for. I wasn’t entirely prepared for bullets, but the damage wasn’t life-threatening.”
A zing of realization ran through me. Back in the parking lot, before we’d summoned Bhardudlin, Zak had pulled his shirt up to show me the spellwork drawn on his side. Protection sorcery?
“If you weren’t severely injured,” I demanded, “why didn’t you contact me?”
“I was busy.”
“Too busy to reply to a single message?” I planted my hands on my hips. “You’re an ass.”
“So you’ve told me. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Indeed he was, and that was the most surprising thing about this impromptu meeting. “Why are you here?”
He scrutinized my face. “Hasn’t that guild been giving you vitality potions? You’re still pale.”
“I’m always pale. And yes, they have.” I wrinkled my nose. “Theirs taste terrible compared to yours.”
His lips twitched up like I’d surprised him with a compliment.
“I brought you a few more doses.” He swung a backpack off his shoulder—deliberately or not, he resembled a student more than I would’ve expected—and pulled out a paper bag that clinked with bottles. “Here.”
I groaned as I took it. “This looks like you’re delivering booze to a minor.”
“You’re not a minor.”
“That’s beside the point. How did you find me, anyway?”
“There was a time when I had reason to investigate everything about you. Also, Twiggy told me you were at ‘the boring place.’ I figured it out from there.” He slung his bag back over his shoulder. “Did your GM sort things out with the police?”
A grin overtook me and I dug into my purse. Whipping out a blue and white ID card, I proudly displayed it. “Ta-da!”
He peered at the card and a slow smile curved his mouth, warming his eyes. “You have an MID number now. Good.”
“In part thanks to you.” I stuffed the card back in my purse. “I can’t believe you made Hoshi my familiar without telling me.”
“Did they register you as a witch?”
I bobbed my head in a nod. “I wish I was a real one, but fake is better than nothing.”
“You are a real witch.”
My good humor evaporated. “Don’t screw with my head, Zak.”
He scowled. “Your relationships with fae aren’t fake, so why would you be a fake witch? Weren’t you listening when I said you can be human and mythic?”
“When did you say that?”
He huffed in exasperation. “Magic is a tool, not a birthright. If we were limited to what we inherit, then witches and druids wouldn’t have familiars—we aren’t born with those, are we? There’d be no such thing as contractors. Mages wouldn’t use switches. Sorcerers would only use artifacts they made themselves.”
As his meaning sank in, the floor shifted under my feet.
“A mythic is anyone who uses magic. You”—he rapped his knuckles against my skull—“are just as much a mythic as I am. The only difference is you started at zero.”
I swallowed hard. “But the MPD says—”
He leaned down, meeting my eyes. “You chose this, Tori. Choice is more powerful than fate.”
I goggled at him. He was right. I had chosen to take up magic and learn to use it. Was I so different from a witch or a sorcerer just because I couldn’t sense energies or create spells myself?
Zak straightened and rolled his shoulders. “I need to go.”
“Already?” I jiggled the paper bag of bottles. “You came all this way to give me a few potions?”
“I also came to say goodbye.”
Alarm shot through me, and I remembered what he’d said back at Aaron’s house. “You’re going into hiding?”
He nodded.
“What about Nadine? Did you find a safe place for her?”
“I put her on a plane an hour ago. She has a surprising number of relatives in England eager to take her in. She’ll be safe there.”
Wow, England. That would be fun for Nadine. But … “What about you? Where will you go?”
“Off the grid—into the mountains first, and after that …” Shrugging, he held up his phone. “I won’t be taking this or any other method of communication.”
My throat constricted. “For how long?”
“Long enough for my enemies to forget about me.” He pushed off the pillar. “Now you know, so don’t expect me to respond to your weekly insults.”
“You never responded anyway,” I said hoarsely. “Zak …”
“It’s been interesting, Tori.” He stepped away from me. “Stay out of trouble—if you can.”
“Zak—”
Shadows rippled off his shoulders—Lallakai’s wings sweeping around him.
“Zak!”
My shout rang through the atrium, but it was too late. He’d already disappeared from my perception.
Ignoring the stares from the nearby students—none of whom had been paying enough attention to realize a man had vanished into thin air—I clenched my
hands. How could he just leave like this? I dropped onto the nearest chair. At least he’d said goodbye before going off on a secretive druid sabbatical.
A slight smile turned up my lips. He’d said goodbye like a proper friend—not that he’d ever admit we were friends.
I sat for a minute longer, then checked the clock on my phone. “Shit!”
Shoving the bag of potions into my purse, I speed-walked to the main entrance and out the doors. Clouds dotted the sky and the sun peeked out, golden beams streaking toward the ground. At the top of the steps, I paused.
Aaron stood beside a blocky cement planter, gazing idly at the passing students. His copper hair gleamed, his rugged jaw clean-shaven, and his blue shirt clung to his torso in just the right way. Every woman who walked by snuck an admiring look; his biceps had a magnetic force all their own.
I hopped down the steps. He spotted me, a grin flashing over his face. The bruise-like circles that had lurked under his eyes since the battle in Stanley Park had almost faded.
“Hey!” I said brightly, catching him in a one-armed hug. “Sorry I’m late.”
His grin melted into sorrow. “I’d drive you to work instead of walking, but my baby is still in the shop.”
The problem with older cars: mechanics didn’t have spare rear windows lying around.
As we headed down the sidewalk, he told me about the fit Agent Harris had thrown after Darius had weaseled me out of trouble. By all accounts, it had been spectacular. The Crow and Hammer, however, wasn’t the only guild on the MPD’s shit list. The Stanley Coven was also in trouble for failing to report the Red Rum activity in their territory.
Speaking of the coven, I hadn’t seen Olivia or Odette since the whole fiasco, but the day after, I had received a monster-sized gift basket overflowing with organic baked goods. Both sisters, as well as a dozen other witches, had signed the accompanying card. So far, Twiggy had eaten about half its contents. When he woke up from his food coma, he’d probably eat the rest. I should’ve hidden the chocolate muffins to save for myself.
Aaron asked about Justin, but I quickly changed the subject. I’d talked to my brother twice since my arrest, and neither conversation had gone well. He didn’t want to hear anything good about mythics; he wanted me to move in with him again so he could go full Big Brother on me.
Two Witches and a Whiskey (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 3) Page 23