by Linsey Hall
“I’ll be fine. There’s no real risk.”
I knew he was lying. Could hear it in his voice. He would be fine, but only if we got the stuff he needed to fix himself. If we didn't….
I couldn’t even think of it.
Hell, I didn’t need to. I would fix this for him if the potion made him too weak.
Connor led me out into another train station. Cold wind whipped across my face, and the night was dark. We were outside, and there was nearly no light. The station itself was tiny, just a platform built onto the top of a mountain. In the distance, I spotted an enormous stone tower. The full moon rose behind it, illuminating it in silver light.
“It looks like a freaking haunted fairytale,” I muttered.
“They have a flare for the dramatic.” Lightning struck behind the tower, illuminating it in bright white light. “Just on time.”
There was something strange in Connor’s voice, but before I could ask, he’d taken my hand and tugged me toward the stairs that led down from the platform.
The slender young man who’d first greeted us on the train held open the wrought iron gate to let us leave.
“Thanks, Ryan,” Connor said.
I smiled at him as we walked down the stairs to the simple stone pathway that led to the tower. It was only about a hundred yards away, surrounded on all sides by spiky gray bits of mountain. The cold wind tugged my hair back from my face and sneaked under my jacket, making me shiver hard.
Connor tugged off his jacket and handed it to me.
“I can’t take that.” I pushed it back to him.
He draped it over my shoulders, then pulled me against the warmth of his side. We matched steps easily and strode up the path to the castle.
“If these folks ever run out of money, they can totally rent this place out to Hollywood. It’d be great for a Frankenstein remake.”
He chuckled. “I’ll let them know.”
“I suppose that’s too low-class for the Ancient Order of Alchemists, though.” I grinned. “And they can make gold.”
“Yes.”
“Can you make gold?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“No. Not often. And there are a lot of rules around it. We’re each only allowed to make so much of it—both by law and the rules of finite magic—but I make some and donate it when I can.”
Warmth surged through me. “That’s lovely.”
“Not sure I’d go that far. But I’d be a real asshole if I ignored a gift that could help people.”
“You’re a good dude, Connor.”
He gave me a skeptical look, but we were nearly to the entrance, so he said nothing.
The tower loomed overhead, rising at least a hundred feet in the air. It was stark and creepy, even without the lighting slicing through the air behind it. The Sorcerer’s Tower in Guild City suddenly looked a lot less scary.
There were no guards at the huge door, but it glowed with faint green magic that made me nervous. Connor strode up the wide stairs, and as we reached the top, three guards drifted through the wood of the door. They glowed with green light, and their eyes were deep as emeralds. Their uniforms were stark black chain mail, and they each carried a sword and shield.
But their magic…
Holy fates, their magic made me feel like I was going to be knocked over. They were insanely powerful, and I wasn’t used to supernaturals letting it all hang out like that.
The three of them looked from Connor to me.
“Let her in,” Connor said, his voice quietly commanding.
The three guards nodded in unison, then drifted back through the door like ghosts. A moment later, the door’s green glow faded, leaving only stark black wood. It swung open silently, revealing a massive entry hall that gleamed with golden light.
Connor took my hand, and I followed him in, awed by the riches around me. The walls themselves were draped with thick black fabric, but everything else was made of gold—furniture, light fixtures, even the artwork.
Connor leaned down to speak close to my ear, and I shivered as heat streaked through me. “You see why I don’t want to live here?”
“Yeah. This is…a lot.”
“Too much.” He straightened and looked around, clearly waiting for someone.
I took of his jacket and returned it to him. He shrugged it back on.
A figure appeared through a doorway on the other side, her form slender and tall. She was draped in gorgeous golden fabric, and even though I didn’t like the decor in this place, I had to admit that she looked fab.
“That’s Lucretia,” Connor murmured. “One of the oldest members of the Ancient Order.”
She glided toward us so gracefully that it looked like she was floating. As she neared, I got a better look at her face. She had warm brown skin and gorgeous golden eyes that matched her dress. Her head had been shaved to a smooth shine, and she was so beautiful that I swore she couldn’t possibly be from Earth. Her magic rolled out from her on waves of light, making her glow like a star. She was insanely powerful, and I vowed not to get on her bad side. I was no weakling, but she could crush me like a bug.
“Connor.” Her voice was warm, and her eyes glinted with more heat as they scanned up and down his body.
I wanted to growl at her but bit it back. Down, girl. I was being ridiculous. But this lady clearly wanted a bite of Connor, and I was not having it.
“Lucretia.” His voice was formal and distant, so unlike the voice he used to speak with me. It made me feel better.
“You brought a guest.” Her eyes flickered over me and our joined hands, then widened. “You’ve given her a face concealment potion.”
“I did.”
“Hmm.” She looked disappointed. “You must care for her. Those are valuable.”
I looked toward Connor, and he nodded. “I do. I’m here to meet with the Council.”
“Why?” Her gaze traveled over him again, and she gasped. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You knew that potion was dangerous.”
“I did.”
“I did? That’s all you can say?” She sounded angry now. “You risked your life. For what?”
He said nothing, and she nodded, her eyes going to me. “Of course. You’ve found her, then.”
Found her? I desperately wanted to ask, but I remembered what he’d said about staying quiet. This woman was so powerful, and she was too interested in Connor. I didn’t need her coming after me.
“Can we call a meeting?” Connor asked. “You understand that time is of the essence.”
“Of course.” She snapped to attention, spinning on her heel and stalking across the room. “I’ll wake everyone and have them gathered in the meeting hall in ten minutes.”
Her swift change of pace made me nervous. Clearly, this was a huge deal. She was genuinely scared for Connor.
“Come.” Connor tugged on my hand, and I followed him.
I hurried to keep up with his long strides, and I had a feeling that he was trying to outrun my questions as much as anything.
“Found her?” I asked.
“Lucretia is dramatic.”
There was something in his voice that made me wonder about the truth of that—she was dramatic, sure, but she hadn’t seemed dramatic at that moment. But then we entered a hallway where other figures were walking, and now wasn't the time to discuss it.
Connor led me through a maze of hallways until we reached a huge room near the back of the castle. A massive square table sat in the middle, surrounded on all sides by chairs—forty in all.
The Ancient Order must be large.
There were several figures already sitting at the table, most of them draped in gold cloth like Lucretia had been. Each cloth was a slightly different shade, from burnished gold to rose, but the wealth of the place was unmistakable. It was well past midnight, but they all looked perfect.
I found I preferred Connor in his T-shirt and jeans.
E
ach of the figures nodded at Connor, and we took a seat at the side of the table that was empty. We were as far away from the others as we could possibly be.
“To avoid small talk,” Connor murmured against my ear, so low that only I could hear.
I couldn’t imagine what small talk these weirdos would be capable of, and I found myself grateful for the thought.
As we waited for the rest to arrive, I studied everyone in the room, trying to get a hint at what they were. As he’d said, many of them were Fae. Their pointed ears and eerie beauty made that clear. But there were others as well—mages and shifters and witches. They weren’t shy about letting their magical signature radiate from them, and the whole room was filled with the scents and sounds of magic.
The table filled quickly, and my heart began to pound.
Everyone looked worried.
Like, really worried.
I gripped Connor’s hand under the table. He squeezed back, as if knowing I needed something to anchor me.
It wasn’t all these scary bastards that made me nervous. I could probably cause enough havoc with my void magic to make a run for it if I needed to.
No, it was the concern on their faces. I shot Connor a glance, weirded out to see him completely expressionless.
This was another Connor. Not the one I knew.
Finally, the table was full. Across from us, a ghostly woman sat still as a statue, her form partially transparent. Her features were soft and faded, like an old painting, and it was impossible to tell if she was even alive. She might actually be a ghost, though she glowed with a golden light that was unlike any ghost I’d ever seen.
She leaned forward and looked straight at Connor. “You need the tools of the Rising One.”
“I do.”
“How long do you have?”
“I took the potion about seven hours ago.”
She cursed. “You knew that was a dangerous potion.”
“It’s my specialty, isn’t it?”
“There is no turning back from this, you know.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “You may not live long enough to use the tools to save yourself, and then where will we be?”
“I’ll live long enough.”
“We’ll see.” She waved a hand over the table in front of her, and a small cauldron appeared. It, too, was semi-transparent, and the smoke that wafted up from it gleamed with pale light.
She leaned over it and peered into the depths, her brow wrinkling. She conjured small bottles in her hands, pouring them into the cauldron and stirring it with a silver knife. Then she spat in it. I cringed. Gross.
“We will test your strength, Alchemist, and see if you are worthy to walk into the flames.” She waved a hand, and the cauldron drifted across the table toward him. It glided to a stop, and a small ladle appeared next to it.
Connor dipped it in and drank. His eyes unfocused, and his brow creased.
Pain spiked my insides, and I doubled over. Gasping, I struggled to right myself. Next to me, Connor sat dead still, but his fists were clenched by his sides.
He was in pain, too. Terrible pain. Somehow, I knew it. And I was feeling it, too.
What the hell was happening?
Connor raised his hands and reached for the silver knife that sat by the cauldron. It hadn’t been there when I’d looked last.
He sliced into his wrist, letting the red blood flow into the cauldron that he’d just drunk from. He lowered his hands, and the cauldron began to smoke. It drifted back toward the middle of the table, and the pale gray smoke turned a deep navy blue.
There were murmurs from the crowd as they watched it, and the ghostly woman nodded, her brows raised. “It seems you are indeed strong enough to possibly survive.”
“We’ve never seen midnight blue before,” murmured a woman near me, sounding awed.
Connor must be extremely powerful, if their reaction was anything to go by.
“You have earned the right to use the tools of the Rising One.” She leaned forward, her voice deep and dark. “But if you live through this and succeed, be prepared to face what you really are, Storm Bringer. There is no turning back from this much power.”
What you really are? Storm Bringer?
Connor had more secrets. Did this have to do with the magic that was in his wings? I’d assumed it was just more power of the same kind he already had. But maybe not. Maybe it was something new.
Hell, how many secrets did this guy have?
11
Connor
After the meeting, most of the alchemists fled quickly, as if they didn’t want to be near a dead man walking.
Fair enough. The potion I’d made to fix my wings was just as likely to kill me as anything. Many of the alchemists were immortal, and the mere idea of mortality made them itchy.
I turned to Sora. “We need to go to the armory at the base of the castle, then we can leave.”
She nodded and stood.
I joined her. “This way.”
I approached a tall man who stood by the door. Farrow was also Fae, and he was the keeper of the keys to the armory. As we stopped before him, he stared at me with a heavy expression in his green eyes. His pale blond hair was pulled back in a long tail, and his simple warrior’s clothing was green instead of the usual gold.
Farrow wasn’t a bad guy, even though I found him to be a bit strange. Anyone who sought immortality was weird, as far as I was concerned, as I’d never met a single one of them that was happy. It seemed to do something to them, sucking the joy from their lives.
“Farrow.” I nodded in greeting, stepping partially in front of Sora. I knew she could take care of herself, but still, it made me nervous to have her near the rest of the Ancient Order.
“Connor.” His lips twisted slightly on the word. He didn’t like calling me by my chosen name, but I’d insisted once. With my fist.
It was a lesson he hadn’t forgotten.
“Thank you for taking us to the armory.”
His hand brushed over the cluster of gold keys that hung on his belt, and he nodded. “This way.”
We followed him through the dark hallways, the cold stone watching us as we walked.
Sora leaned close and whispered, “Do they have to switch castles every time they move as well?”
“No. The castle itself moves. This building is ancient.” I recalled the mountains outside the window. “I believe we are in Wales, close to the original place where the Arcane Order was founded.”
“Not too far from Dartmoor, then.”
“Thank fates.”
Farrow turned a corner and approached a wide staircase that led downward. His footsteps were silent as he descended, the golden torchlight gleaming off his fair hair. We followed, reaching an enormous wooden door.
The protective magic that surrounded the door felt like knives against the skin—by far, the most powerful protective charm I’d ever felt. Worse even than the entry to the castle itself.
Sora cringed backward. “Holy crap, that’s powerful. What have you got in there, the secret to eternal life?”
Farrow looked back at her, brow raised. “Close enough. Forget you’ve ever been here.”
The coldness in his voice made me step forward.
He glared at me and turned back to the door, fiddling with his keyring.
I was glad I’d given Sora the potion to conceal her face. Farrow and I would never crack open a beer together, but that wasn’t why he didn’t like her being here. I hadn’t technically broken the rules, but many of the members of the Arcane Order were ridiculously secretive. Living cooped up here for so many years, some of them immortal, made them crazy.
Farrow’s key clicked in the lock, and the protective spell faded from the door. He pushed it open, and we followed him into a long, massive room. The walls were covered in all variety of weapons, though the Arcane Order’s members rarely used them. All were enchanted somehow, which was where their real value lay. More often than not, they sold or traded them.
&n
bsp; Sora looked around, then whistled low under her breath. “Nice collection.”
“It’s not even the good part,” I said.
Farrow led us to the end of the room, where the wall was concealed by a dark, hazy mist. It was impossible to see beyond it, and Sora faltered.
“It’s all right.” I gripped her hand.
She squeezed tight.
Farrow walked through the mist, and I followed. Sora kept up, barely hesitating even though we couldn’t see a foot in front of our faces.
A few steps later, we entered an enormous, domed room. In the middle, a fire roared. It was as least fifteen feet tall and just as wide, with no wood or any other kind of fuel at the bottom. The flames flickered orange and gold, burning impossibly bright. The heat seared my face, and I stepped in front of Sora to block her.
She peered out from behind my shoulder. “What the hell?”
“This is the Flame of the Rising One,” Farrow said to her.
I’d never actually stepped into the flame—that was exceedingly rare—but I knew what it was.
“It’s where the ancient tools are stored,” he continued. “Connor will enter to retrieve them.”
Sora yanked on my hand. “You’re going to walk in there?”
I nodded. The heat was insanely intense, and would remain so even after I walked into the flame. The test I’d just completed at the meeting table had proven that I’d survive, but I certainly wouldn’t enjoy it.
Farrow took up his position near the wall, and I nodded toward him. “You can go join him,” I told Sora. “It won’t take long.”
“I don’t like this.” Worry flickered in her eyes.
“I’m used to this. Don’t worry.” It was only partially a lie. I wasn’t old hat at walking into fire, but it would be fine.
She scowled at me, and tension hung in the air for the briefest second. Then she leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to my lips.
Surprise—and desire—flashed inside me, and I yanked her close, my hand behind her back. I kissed her briefly, and she kissed me back before pulling away, still glaring. “Be careful.”
I nodded, head spinning slightly. This thing between us was moving a hell of a lot faster than I’d expected.