Idols and Enemies (Amplifier 4)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Grosvenor took a small sip of his drink, then made another adjustment to the tiles arrayed on the coffee table in front of him. He slotted a sixth tile — what appeared to be a sun symbol, topped by a blue wave — into the center. “Are you working at being an asshole, Isa?” he asked without looking up. “Or does it just come naturally to you these days?”

  “Wait until the amplifier tries to kill you. Then see if you get a little testy around her.” Isa took another sip of his drink.

  I smiled. “Again, I never actually tried to kill you, Isa.”

  The curse breaker glanced between us, then shook his head. He gestured toward the tiles. “The best analogy I can come up with is, it’s like a mathematical calculation. When I’m presented with the sum — a curse or a spell that has already been triggered — I have to try to come up with the equation that produced it.”

  “Because you can’t just break it?”

  “Right. Breaking a set spell or curse often has deadly repercussions.”

  “So you reproduce the curse with the tiles?”

  Grosvenor shrugged. “As best I can explain it. It’s how my magic works, other than the basic sorcerer stuff we can all do.”

  “Are you working on Kader’s spell?”

  The curse breaker laughed joylessly. “Hell no.” He reached for the notebook that sat open before him, flipping through pages and pages of neatly handwritten symbols. “I ran out of tiles trying to replicate its flow. I’m actually not certain it is a single spell. More like multiple insidious layers, all carefully anchored at a single point.”

  “Except Cerise Myers isn’t that powerful,” Isa said.

  Grosvenor shrugged. “I’m just explaining it as I see it, cousin. Maybe the entire coven is in on it.”

  Isa glanced at me, grimacing.

  I had no trouble picking up the meaning behind his look. Taking on an entire witch coven would be suicide — no matter how united the Azar sorcerers were, and even given the Myers coven’s reportedly lackluster power set. Although each individual witch might have been weaker than Isa or even the curse breaker alone, they would be formidable united. That was the fundamental reason why witches formed covens, and why it was so important for Opal to eventually be accepted into one.

  It was also yet another reason that Kader Azar had reached out to his youngest son instead of appealing to whoever headed the Myers witches, or even to the Convocation itself.

  “Did Isa really put you in a nullifying cage?” Grosvenor asked, leaning back against the couch and taking a sip of his drink. He grimaced, disgusted, then inexplicably took another sip.

  “Ruwa,” Isa said. “Ruwa kidnapped and put Emma in a cage.”

  “But you didn’t let her out.”

  “I didn’t have a chance,” Isa snapped. “Because Emma rescued herself.”

  The curse breaker hummed thoughtfully, took another sip of his drink — sucking in his breath as if it burned — then turned his attention back to his tiles.

  I started to turn away. Then I looked back at Isa — the heir apparent to the Azar cabal. “What did it look like to you, then? When you assessed the spell on your father?”

  Isa kept his gaze on the front windows, taking another sip of his drink.

  Thinking he wasn’t going to answer, which was certainly his right, I started to turn away again. But then he spoke quietly.

  “He won’t let me near him.”

  “Well, colluding to have him kidnapped — and, I assume, murdered — eight years ago might make him a little wary.”

  “Please,” Isa sneered. “He’s staying under your roof, isn’t he? He isn’t scared of you, and he certainly isn’t scared of me.”

  “It’s the transference,” Grosvenor said helpfully.

  “What transference?” I asked.

  “If Kader dies without formally choosing a successor, his power will —”

  “Might,” Isa interrupted.

  “His power might transfer as it wills,” the curse breaker amended. “Usually to the next most powerful in the bloodline.” He tilted his chin at his cousin. “Which would be Isa. But occasionally, such power goes to a favored child, or someone the sorcerer has spent a lot of time with. Enough time that their power, their magic, has created a bridge of sorts.”

  I blinked. “And when you tried to kill Kader eight years ago, you were his chosen successor?”

  Isa saluted me with his drink.

  “And when Aiden tried to kill you?”

  “That was my father’s way of amending his will, yes.”

  “But Aiden …” I trailed off, realizing that I shouldn’t have been having this conversation with Isa and Grosvenor. If I had questions, I should have been taking them to Aiden.

  “Aiden doesn’t want it,” the curse breaker said without glancing up. He shoved all the tiles into a messy pile, pulling a second set out of thin air with a flick of his fingers. Magic simmered through the room, gone moments after the curse breaker had called it forth. “You know, the cabal. The responsibility of keeping the Azars in check.”

  I smirked at Isa. “Like you kept Ruwa in check?”

  “You’re alive, aren’t you? Along with the little witch and the shifter?” He meant Opal and Jenni.

  “Right,” I said mockingly. “All due to your kind-hearted intervention.”

  Isa’s expression tightened. “Being kind is not a trait that keeps you alive in the Azar cabal.”

  Grosvenor snorted agreeably. “He’s got that right.”

  I almost retorted, almost brought up my own so-called childhood. But I wasn’t interested in sharing terrible tales with Isa Azar. Or anyone, for that matter. In fact, I was surprised that I’d lingered to converse at all. Having Kader, one of the Collective, so near was obviously having a psychological effect on me. I was acting out of character. Questioning, watching, instead of taking decisive action.

  And sure, I had solid, rational reasons for doing so. But Amp5 would have taken Kader out at the gate and then dealt with the consequences.

  I walked away from the conversation, opening the front door and crossing onto the patio as I heard Grosvenor speak again. It was doubtful that either he or Isa knew I could still hear them. I was, after all, just an amplifier.

  “For a person worried about his future,” Grosvenor murmured, “you sure are mouthy with someone who, in her own words, could ‘drain you dry.’ ”

  “Emma isn’t going to kill me. Drain me, maybe. Kick me off the property, for certain. But she won’t kill any of us.”

  “You think Aiden will stop her?”

  Isa laughed coldly. “Not a chance. Love. Stupid, moronic love will stop her. Has stopped her. One of the people responsible for her existence, for her shitty childhood, is sleeping in her fucking barn.”

  “Because she loves Aiden.”

  “Yes.”

  I shut the door, not interested in listening to any further analysis of my behavior. As Christopher often said, I’d endured too much of that for the first twenty-one years of my life.

  Khalid was standing at the base of the front patio stairs, staring to the west at the setting sun. He was smoking something that smelled sweet. Cannabis, maybe. But more likely something magical in nature. Whether it was meant to relax him or heighten him, though, I didn’t know.

  I stepped past him, crossing through the grass in my bare feet, heading toward the orchard. Khalid moved to follow me at a sedate pace. Keeping his distance, but drifting as if inadvertently drawn into my wake.

  I refrained from snapping at him in response to so much seeming familiarity. Doing so would likely be taken as a weakness, and I wasn’t interested in having the sorcerer thinking about whether it was a weakness he might subsequently exploit.

  The Wilsons’ property sat to my far left. The cows had been moved out of their front fields in the spring to allow the grass to grow. The orchard that had come with our property hadn’t needed as much revitalization as the gardens and the house. The trees had been mature enough that t
hey’d withstood a few years of neglect. Christopher had pruned heavily the first year, but then applied a lighter hand this spring, in the hopes of getting more fruit.

  I stepped among the plum trees, set far enough apart that I would have had to stretch my arms to touch the branches of two trees at the same time. They were fully leafed, with tiny fruits already forming. As far as Christopher had figured out, there were five varieties, though two hadn’t set fruit the previous year. He also hadn’t identified the yellow-skinned plum with the rosy blush yet.

  The chicken coop was tucked in between the pears and the apples. The pears had mostly lost their white blossoms. I had never tasted a pear quite as good as the few Bartletts that Christopher had ripened on the counter last year. My mouth watered just thinking about them.

  The chicken run was empty, as expected. I paused by the meshed gate, listening to the soft, sleepy chatter emanating from the coop — the rooster talking to his hens, and them cooing back contentedly. The chickens quieted as I unlatched the gate and stepped into the run. Christopher had built the coop in sections, so we could disassemble it when we needed to move it. He’d used reclaimed white-painted siding from some repairs we’d had done to the exterior of the house, along with scraps of red metal left over from when I’d had the house and the barn reroofed.

  Annoyingly aware of Khalid now watching me from among the pear trees, I closed the smaller door to the coop, whispering good night to the chickens as I did every evening. Unwilling — even unable — to ignore the ritual involved in doing so, even as I felt like an idiot chatting to chickens in front of a sorcerer. Still pissed at the imposition of him being there, I collected the chickens’ food and water, crossing out of the run.

  Hands full, I gave Khalid a look, jutting my chin toward the gate. Still a silent specter, the sorcerer shut and latched it behind me. He’d either finished whatever he’d been smoking, or had tucked it away.

  “You don’t collect the eggs?” he asked. His accent once again reminded me of Ruwa’s.

  “Not at night,” I said. “I don’t like to disturb them after they’ve cooped themselves.”

  “For breakfast, then,” he said, flashing a white-toothed smile at me, though his other features were shadowed as the last of the sunset faded from the sky.

  Not bothering to answer — I’d frankly had enough small talk to last me the remainder of the year — I headed to the barn. The sorcerer fell into step beside me, hands clasped behind his back, gaze on the house as we crossed the yard toward the rose bushes that edged the gravel drive.

  I set the chicken feeder down, dumping the remaining water at the base of two of the rose bushes. I’d watered the two closer to the house the night before. Then I crossed the driveway, the gravel rough under my feet but not unpleasant.

  Aiden had parked the Mustang back in the barn, but left one of the wide doors partially open. I stepped through, noting the way Khalid’s step hitched and his gaze shot overhead to the loft.

  I crossed between the workbench and the car into the back of the barn, going to the sink. Setting the food down, I washed the water container. I would fill both in the morning, then open the coop. I enjoyed the ritual, the rhythm it brought to my day.

  Khalid was surveying the plants starting under the grow lights. Christopher’s self-watering indoor greenhouse stretched the length of the workbench that ran underneath the stairs to the loft. The middle Azar brother appeared to be reading the labels of the cucumbers, melons, peppers, and basil that were still too tender to be planted out.

  “Are you the gardener?” Khalid asked doubtfully, as if he already knew the answer.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I dried my hands, folding the towel over the edge of the sink.

  Khalid brushed his fingers over the basil, then raised his hand, smelling it and smiling. “Residual witch magic.”

  That was a surprise. Not only because Christopher, a clairvoyant, was the gardener — but also that Khalid was sensitive enough to pick up residual magic. Though the former probably shouldn’t have been surprising. As Kader had so clumsily claimed earlier, the Five had been created with a mixture of DNA and magic. Christopher had always been the most proficient at witch spells. And since Kader had also been deliberate with his own reproductive choices when it came to Aiden, it was likely that he’d done the same when selecting Isa’s and Khalid’s mothers.

  “Of course, you could have purchased the seedlings from a witch.” Khalid rocked back on his heels, hands once again clasped behind his back. “I didn’t have time to research the area as thoroughly as I would have liked. Isa was most impatient. But I understand that the main coven is in the major city on the mainland? Vancouver?”

  He’d formed the last sentence as a question. But since it didn’t actually need answering, I didn’t bother.

  The grow lights winked out, throwing us into darkness.

  Khalid flinched. A sharp pulse of power formed behind him, presumably in his clasped hands.

  “The lights are on a timer.” Blinking to adapt my eyesight, I stepped to the side as silently as possible. The timer emanated a blue glow, and the light was still on in the overhead loft. Even if I was capable of taking the spell Khalid had instinctively called forth, I really liked the linen dress I was wearing, so I had no intention of getting into a fight while wearing it. Plus, based on the way all the hair stood up on my arms at the power the sorcerer held, what he’d amassed without a single word or rune was combat-grade magic. It was exceedingly likely to damage the interior of the barn.

  Christopher would never forgive me.

  Khalid sighed quietly, loosening his hands until they swung free at his sides. Magic I could feel but not see cracked between his fingers, then faded.

  I crossed back through the barn. Khalid followed, pausing at the base of the stairs to look up.

  “Close the door behind you, please,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I’m coming with you.”

  We stepped out into the deepening night. Khalid shut the door, then caught up with me as I crossed around the house.

  “I can see why Aiden stayed,” Khalid murmured. “Wants to stay.”

  “The fresh eggs and basil?” I asked mockingly.

  Khalid snorted. “All of it is beguiling.”

  Light streamed from all the windows on the bottom level of the house. If I reached for it, I knew I would feel the magic of its occupants. Aiden still in the den, Isa and Grosvenor in the front sitting room. Paisley had returned to wherever Christopher and Samantha were spending the day, though I didn’t think Aiden had had another chance to help the demon dog with the spell she’d wanted.

  I ran my fingers up the top rail of the stairs as I stepped up to the back patio. Then, unable to quash my curiosity, I spoke. “A sensitive who instinctively wields combat magic is an unusual combination.”

  Khalid went still. Then he deliberately leaned back against the patio rail, looking through the French-paned doors into the empty eating area and the kitchen. He fished whatever he’d been smoking out of his pocket, placing it between his lips and lighting the tip with a snap of his fingers. He inhaled deeply, held his breath, then exhaled slowly.

  “It’s not instinctual,” he finally said.

  “It is now,” I said, understanding him immediately.

  He blew out another breath. “Yes.”

  “Because Kader Azar had no need of a son who was sensitive to magic.”

  Khalid settled his dark gaze on me, smiling wryly. “Overly sensitive. But such things can be …” He waved the hand holding the joint. “Mitigated.” He leaned his head back. “There is a lot of magic in your land. Layers upon layers of power.” He looked at me, lips twisted again. “As if a goddess has walked here … more than one.”

  Aiden stepped into the open doorway. His expression was tight, gazing at his middle brother. I’d felt him approach behind me, so Khalid must have seen him and not reacted.

  “I’ve finished the letter,” Aiden said. “Isa is reading
it over.”

  “How easily you fall into old patterns, my brother,” Khalid said, quietly mocking. “And when the mantle of the cabal falls to him, will you kneel along with the rest of us?” He glanced at me pointedly. “What a prize you’d bring with you.”

  “Having Isa read a contract that binds all of us if it’s accepted is only prudent.” Aiden stepped forward, teeth bared. “And Emma isn’t some prize to be collected or traded. The fact that I have to tell you that makes it clear you’ve been imbibing far too much.”

  Khalid huffed out a laugh, snuffing the ash-hot end of his joint between his fingers. “How can you stand to be this close to him and not wring his neck?”

  “Who?” Aiden asked. “Isa or Father?”

  Khalid glanced toward the barn. “You’d think his power would feel weakened, given that he’s dying. Instead, it feels even more deadly. Like a wounded animal. If Grover hadn’t confirmed the presence of a spell that he couldn’t break, I would have thought it some kind of ploy.”

  “To what end?”

  Khalid shook his head. “What is his reason for doing anything? Power.” He slid his gaze to me again. “Something he can’t get through brute force or manipulation …”

  “He didn’t know that I was with Emma.”

  Khalid stepped closer to Aiden, lowering his voice. “You could kill him. You could take the cabal.”

  “Kill who?” Aiden repeated mockingly. “Isa or our father?”

  “The power here,” Khalid hissed. “The power that your mating bond with Emma brings you —”

  Aiden raised his hand, silencing his brother. “You see ties between Emma and me?”

  Khalid shook his head as if it wasn’t important. “Multiple thin strands. Listen —”

  “Composed of power from both of us?” Aiden interrupted. “Flowing both ways?”

  “Yes,” Khalid hissed again, annoyed.

  Aiden stepped back, looking at me with his head tilted. A soft smile appeared on his face. “We haven’t formalized anything. Yet.”

  A contented warmth flushed across my chest, and I smiled back at him just as softly.

  Khalid blinked, glancing back and forth between us. Then he shook his head. “Play with powerful people, brother, and it doesn’t necessarily take a formal ceremony or a bonding spell.”