Jack Pendragon, on the other hand, is positively smirking with health and energy. He always looks like the middle-aged heartthrob in a daytime soap (piercing green eyes, a few craggy lines on his handsome face, thick brown hair, expensive suit), but there’s also something about him that reminds me of a snake. Or an alligator. Something vaguely reptilian, in any case.
“Kitten. What a pleasure.” He stands up when I enter the room, narrowing his eyes as he slowly looks me up and down. “Dear God. You look terrible. Jonathan did mention you were looking ill, but this is much worse than I expected.” A sly smile. “I hope you’re having fun at least, burning through all that magic.”
I glare at him as I take a seat at the head of the table, as far away as possible from both him and Ingrid.
“Now that Jess has arrived, are you finally ready to talk?” Ingrid asks curtly.
Behind her, Zig appears in the doorway, as silently as a ghost. Ingrid and Jack Pendragon’s eyes flicker in his direction, but neither acknowledge his presence.
“What are you doing here, Jack?”
He gives Ingrid one of his trademark, charming-to-the-point-of-being-creepy smiles as he leans back in his chair. “Your ward summoned me, and I came; as you know, I’m always at her disposal. The kitten has but has to snap her pretty little fingers.” He clicks his fingers, the sound loud in the quiet room.
“I’m not a kitten.”
Ingrid frowns at me. “You asked him here?”
It’s difficult for me to look straight at her, so I glare at Zig instead. “The whole bodyguard thing isn’t working out. He needs to leave.”
Jack Pendragon heaves a loud, disappointed sigh. “So that’s what this is all about.”
“You should’ve discussed this with me first,” Ingrid tells me sharply.
I keep glowering at Zig, refusing to meet her eyes. “I can’t stand it any longer. Jack Pendragon needs to call off his watchdog, and he needs to do it now.”
“Well, he’s standing right there,” Jack Pendragon says. “If you want him to leave, tell him so yourself.”
“I’ve tried. He won’t listen to me.”
“So you’re still playing that old game? How tiresome.” He gives a bark of humorless laughter.
I pretend not to know what he’s talking about. “I’m trying to be reasonable here. I did my best to make it work, but Zig and I are not a good fit. I want you to call him off.”
“Not a good fit.” He laughs again, looking at Ingrid. “The irony.”
“Shut up, Jack.”
“You’ll have to stop this ridiculous farce someday, keeper. Why not now? Just tell her and get it over with.”
“Tell me what?” I ask.
“The truth.”
“You don’t get to decide what the truth is,” Ingrid says coldly.
“No. I don’t.” That creepy smile again. “It’s Jess who gets to decide.”
I look down at the table. “All I want is for Zig to leave me alone.”
“He can keep you safe,” Ingrid says.
“He hates me!”
“That doesn’t make him any less effective as a bodyguard.” Jack Pendragon turns his entire head to me, a strange, lizard-like movement. “His family has hated mine for centuries, but they’ve always kept us safe, no matter the price to themselves.”
“Really?” I’m so surprised my eyes fly to Zig’s. “You hate him?”
At first I think he’s not going to answer, but then the tattoo on his face flickers a few times. “I do not waste any strong emotion on the Pendragons. They are beneath my contempt.”
Jack Pendragon makes a dismissive gesture. “Don’t hold back, young Zig, not on my account. You think we’re monsters, don’t you?”
Zig meets his gaze head-on. “Perhaps you are, of a kind. But you are not the Horror foretold by the Old Words, in spite of what you might like to believe.” He tilts his head in my direction. “That fate belongs to her, and her alone.”
“See what I have to put up with?” I ask Ingrid, my cheeks heating with emotion. “I can’t take it anymore!”
“There’s no need to be so melodramatic.”
“Melodramatic? He thinks I’m a horror. You keep saying he can keep me safe, but what if he is the one who’s going to kill me?”
“I’m not ruling that out as a future threat,” she says drily, “but I’m also sure that, right now, he’ll do everything in his power to protect you. We have few friends, little one, and many enemies. We can worry about the future later.”
I’m about to argue when Zig takes a menacing step closer. “Your keeper is right. Your death warrant has been signed, and it will be my blade that sends you into darkness.” The revulsion in his strange silver eyes sends a shiver down my spine. “But it is not time yet.”
“Did you hear that?”
“Like I said, the threat lies in the future.”
“He’s planning to kill me!”
“For now he remains our best hope.”
“Are you insane?” I feel a hot burning at the back of my throat and do my best to swallow back the tears. But it’s too late.
Dammit.
“Is she crying?” Jack Pendragon sounds stunned.
Ingrid sighs. “These days people believe it’s psychologically healthy to express one’s emotions.”
“But she’s the last trueborn daughter alive in the world! An heir to Lilith, full-grown and healthy, and she’s crying like a little girl. You have a lot to answer for, keeper.”
“Not to you I don’t.”
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.” I angrily wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. “And don’t try to change the subject. So I spilled a few tears, big deal. It was tears of frustration and anger because you won’t listen to me.”
“We heard you,” Ingrid says, “but your feelings are beside the point. We have a far bigger problem on our hands right now. I would’ve liked to discuss this with you first, but since these two are here… Well, they’re bound to find out soon enough.” She sighs. “I got word from Gunn last night, and I’m afraid it’s bad news.”
I try to keep my expression neutral, but the mere mention of his name still causes me so much pain I’m sure my face must betray the sudden the tightness in my chest. Fortunately Ingrid and Jack Pendragon are too focused on each other to notice anything, but Zig gives me a coldly speculative look.
“For the past two weeks,” Ingrid continues, “my nephew has been in Mumbai, representing the Black clan at the Order of Keepers’ annual Assembly. As you might have guessed, the most important issue on this year’s agenda was how the Order should respond to the unexpected strength and range of Jess’s powers, especially given her very public rejection of their court’s authority last year.”
“I bet,” Jack Channing says. “What did they decide?”
“As expected, the Skykeepers claimed the Truce to be null and void. They argued that her powers were clearly out-of-control and that she was a danger to the future of the entire Order. The Seakeepers disagreed, claiming that the Truce still held and that she remained under the protection of all keepers.”
I nod grimly; this is pretty much what I expected. Not that I know much about the Order of Keepers’ politics, you understand, but even I know about the so-called “Truce.”
Apparently, a couple of centuries ago the Skykeepers went crazy and began to murder all trueborn daughters who, like me, were directly descended from the Ten original magical bloodlines. This first led to a clash with the Black clan (whose duty it is to “keep” the trueborn) before becoming a full-out war when the other clans also took sides. According to Ingrid, in a history stretching back to the dawn of civilization, that war was the closest the Order of Keepers ever came to complete disintegration. It continued for almost sixty years, and only came to an end when all four clans signed an agreement that ensured the safety of the trueborn on condition that the Black Clan kept our powers under tight control.
Which means that my act
ions last year were probably ill-advised, to say the least.
“What about the other clans?” I ask.
“The Bloodkeepers were divided. A fifty/fifty split exactly. The Earthkeepers voted to keep the truce in place. The last thing they want is another war.”
“So… that’s good news, right? If the Seakeepers and the Earthkeepers and half the Bloodkeepers stood by us, surely the Truce remains in place?”
“That’s what should’ve happened, yes. But last night the White Lady stormed out of the Assembly’s final meeting, taking almost half of the Skykeepers with her.”
“The Orlovs have broken from the Order?” Jack Pendragon sounds incredulous.
“Yes.” Ingrid rubs a hand over her eyes. “Sonya wants Jess dead, and she doesn’t care if this means open war with the rest of us.”
I feel my mouth go dry. “What are we going to do?”
“I wish you’d stop playing games,” Jack Pendragon says tersely.
“I’m not playing any games.”
“Jesus Christ.” He slams his hand on the table. “Last year you convinced an entire hall full of keepers that they were on fire! You left five of the Order’s leaders completely helpless and kneeling at your feet! Every keeper in the world lives in fear and awe of what you may become. And yet you insist on acting like a child!”
“You don’t understand,” I say. “Things aren’t that simple.”
“They’re pretty damn simple from where I’m sitting.” He glares at Ingrid. “Your bluff worked—congratulations. But the game is over. It’s too late to pretend the girl is helpless, her secret is out and we all know her strength. She should strike now; there’s no time to lose.”
Ingrid gives him a stony look. She does not say a word.
“You know we’ll help you,” he continues. “Her bloodline is too important; we have no other choice. But even with the backing of my entire family, we can’t stand against half the Skykeepers. Not without her help.” He turns to me again, his voice now almost pleading. “I know this must all seem like an adventure to you, but it’s not. It’s deadly serious. You need to stop this war before it starts.”
“I know that.” To my horror I feel my voice thickening again.
“Do you realize how many will die to protect you? Don’t you care about that at all?”
“I do!”
“Then why won’t you act?”
“Because I don’t know how.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
I steal a quick look at Ingrid. She doesn’t trust Jack Pendragon as far as she can spit, and she’s strictly forbidden me to tell anyone anything about my situation. But Gunn’s news must’ve changed things because she lifts her shoulders. “Tell him. If he’s willing to sacrifice his people for us, it will be unfair to keep them in the dark.”
“Tell me what?” he asks, suddenly wary.
“I can’t do any magic,” I say quietly. “Nothing. I don’t know how I did what I did that day. I can’t even really remember what happened. It was as if something inside me took over, and I have no idea how to access that part of me again. We’ve tried everything—Ingrid suspected the Skykeepers won’t honor the Truce after what I did, and we knew I’d have to be ready. But nothing’s worked. I might have some power inside me, but we don’t have a clue how to get to it.”
Jack Pendragon absorbs this information with a slight narrowing of his eyes. When he speaks his anger has disappeared and his manner is brisk and practical: a businessman assessing changed circumstances. “You’ve never been able to replicate what you did that night?”
“No.”
“Not even on a single person?”
“No.”
“But you’ve been trying.”
“Everything we could think of.”
“Not the drills though,” he says sharply. “I know your mother thought you too good for that.”
There’s a short, tense silence. I look down at my hands.
“Ingrid started drilling me last November.”
“What?”
“I was desperate,” Ingrid says crisply. “It didn’t work. We’ve had no results whatsoever.”
“Surely you’re exaggerating.”
“Look at her, for God’s sake.”
“Are you telling me the drills had this effect on her?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus. I just thought she must’ve been burning through too much magic, the way kids sometimes do after getting their first taste of power.”
I study my hands in the silence that follows. My nails are bitten and broken, my cuticles raw and bleeding.
“Wait a minute.” Jack Pendragon slowly starts putting the pieces together. “The enthrallment of the police and the medical staff at the hospital. That’s what it was all about.”
“Yes.”
“You followed the First Protocols to the letter?”
“Yes.”
“And she didn’t respond at all?”
“No.”
“Do you know why?”
At first Ingrid doesn’t answer, but she must really be desperate because in the end she tells him the truth. “I suspect she might be in flux. It’s the only explanation I can think of.”
“In flux? Are you sure?”
“Not really. But I can’t think of anything else that would explain why she’s not responding to the drills. I’ve tried everything and there’s not the faintest flicker of power to be found in her.”
“None of her kind has been in flux for centuries.”
“Both her mother and her grandmother spent long periods in flux.”
“Ah.” He lifts his eyebrows. “A fact, I presume, which their keepers never shared with the Order.”
“Whatever we did is no business of yours.”
I look up to find him looking at me curiously, as if reconsidering a business deal. “What path has she been drawn onto?”
“The path of blood.”
He immediately sits up straighter, electrified. “Impossible.”
“Improbable, yes, but not impossible. Even if the magic did not choose her in the usual way.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t she respond to the bloodmagic drills?”
“I’m not sure. And with Gunnar away—it’s difficult.”
“Will you be willing to bring her to the house?”
“I don’t think I have another choice.”
A strange look crosses Jack Pendragon’s face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said it was… hope. “Right. Then I’ll see you at six tonight.” He stands up and walks to the door. “Don’t be late.”
“Wait!” I cry. “We still need to –”
But I forget what I wanted to say when he turns around to look at me, his green eyes glittering. “We are finished here.”
“Um.” I shake my head, trying to get rid of a sudden fogginess. “Yeah. I guess.”
He leaves without another word.
Chapter 3
Well, I can’t hardly believe how long it’s been! Today, I’m going to catch up everything I missed blogging about these past months, so get ready for the ride…
This picture shows the husband and me going to THE event of the year: Pendragon Enterprises’ Annual Christmas Party!!! As usual the whole town was invited and the event was the absolute height of sophistication and style. (Ya’ll can bet that’s French champagne in my glass :) )
Here’s the great man himself: Mr. Pendragon together with his son, Jonathan. (Regular readers might recall there’s something special between the dashing young man and my own darling Taylor… but SHHH… It’s supposed to be a secret!!!)
Here you can see the table decorations… so glamorous! As usual, the party was held in the town hall because the Pendragon Compound is strictly off-limits to anyone but family. (Which is a pity since from afar their house looks like a magic castle… and those tend to be in short supply here in the heartland! :) )
I must say the Pe
ndragon family’s obsession with security (I’m talking 12 foot high electrified fences around the entire property, guarded watchtowers, armored vehicles, regular patrols by armed guards … you name it they got it) may seem like overkill if you didn’t know the sad story behind it. But us locals still remember all about the botched kidnapping of Mr. Pendragon’s sister, and the way that family never really recovered from their grief at her passing.
Extract from Ramblings of a Small-Town Gal blog
By the time we pull up outside the guardhouse at the Pendragon’s gate, I’m sick to my stomach with nerves.
There are four guards on duty, and after they take our photographs and fingerprints, we’re asked to step out of our car and into a black armored vehicle. The truck is so high off the ground that two guards have to help Ingrid inside. When it’s my turn, I ignore their outstretched hands, but at the last moment my leg gives out and they have to help me in too. I blush, embarrassed by my weakness.
Ingrid avoids my eyes.
The men move like soldiers, disciplined and methodical, but they look older than the soldiers you see in movies. Once we’re seated, two of them get into the front and the driver introduces himself as Jacob. He politely asks us if we’re comfortable before starting the car. Then he pushes a button so that a dark glass barrier rolls up between the front and the back seats, leaving Ingrid and me alone in a tense silence.
I shift right to the edge of my seat and focus on keeping my breathing regular. Being this close to her, in such a small space, is hard for me.
Outside the window, I can’t make out much because of the darkness and the trees lining both sides of the road, but we drive for such a long time that I get the idea the property must be humongous. When we finally approach the lights of the cluster of buildings that make up the Pendragon compound, a sudden, sick panic sweeps through me.
This is not a good place. I feel it in my bones.
“I know you’re afraid, little one. Please talk to me.”
I tense my back, refusing to turn around. “What are we doing here, Ingrid?”
“We’re here to initiate you into bloodmagic.”
Fireborn (The Dark Dragon Chronicles Book 2) Page 2