Finn took it and got up, but his right leg hung limply, which made me smirk, even given my precarious situation.
For his part, Kincaid squirmed in the grip of the behemoth holding him, and he was doing everything he could to get free, from hitting the goon’s arm with his fists to trying to kick him in the ’nads.
The only thing that did was piss off the goon, who growled at Kincaid before lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll and shaking him hard.
“Gorch,” Finn said softly. “He’s my brother. Try not to scramble his brain.”
Gorch immediately stopped shaking the life out of Kincaid, who continued to dangle there in the air, wide-eyed and obviously dazed.
Finn swiveled on his good leg and surveyed the rest of his group. Pointing to one of the goons holding me, he said, “Lurch, let Bruno handle her. You help these three get back to HQ. We’re going on ahead.”
Lurch protested. “We all came in the same car, man. How am I supposed to get these three back without a vehicle?”
“Take mine,” he said, tossing Lurch a key fob that the big man caught with his right hand which made him let go of my left arm. Finn then moved to his brother to rummage through his back pocket, pulling up the key to Gideon’s SUV.
Even with the keys to the company car, Lurch appeared irritated at having been assigned cleanup duty.
“Hey,” I whispered to him.
“What?” he snarled, his eyes eyeing me like a pesky wasp he’d like to smush.
“Want to know how to get out of cleanup duty?”
His frown turned downright menacing. “How?”
I grinned. “By becoming part of the problem.”
His brow rose slightly as he tried to puzzle out my meaning, but my free arm was already in motion. I think he caught on about a nanosecond before the dart still in my hand made contact with his chest. Down he went, conscious but paralyzed.
“Goddammit!” Finn yelled, glaring hard at me. “Quit doing that!”
“You mean this?” I asked, turning in to Bruno and jabbing him in the side with the dart. He went down, but he pulled me with him. Still, once I got up, I was basically free. Finn wasn’t going to run after me, and Gorch was still holding onto Kincaid. Knowing that Finn wasn’t about to execute his brother, I figured he’d be okay if I took off, especially because I had no such assurances for myself.
Turning toward the cover of the woods at the back of the lot, I took two steps, and felt a surge of energy build up behind me.
I ran faster, but it didn’t help because a moment later what felt like a thunderbolt clocked me midback, and I was out like a light.
Chapter Eleven
Day 2
I woke up shackled, gagged, and in the hard arms of Gorch, who was carrying me down a long marble-lined hallway. Stirring as I came fully awake, and wincing because my head immediately began to pound, Gorch squeezed tighter, restricting my ribcage and my ability to breathe. This made me squirm even more, and he responded in kind until I couldn’t take even a small breath. As stars danced in my vision, I made the smart choice of going limp. Gorch relaxed his grip on me, and I was able to breathe again.
I glared hard up at him, but he didn’t even bother to look at me. He simply continued to walk forward, bringing us closer to a well-lit room.
Ahead of us I could see Kincaid, also in chains, being escorted along by his brother, who was dragging his right leg while he gimped down the corridor.
Blinking furiously against the splitting headache, and the brain fog that Finn’s magical blow had given me, I extended my left arm a tiny bit, but no dart fell into my hand. Finn had taken it, the bastard. I then squeezed my right arm against my ribcage, feeling my monocle and die there, which brought a sigh of relief. I then did my best to look for a possible escape, but the hallway was empty of any object that could be used as a weapon, and Gorch had me effectively neutralized at the moment.
I’d have to wait and see what was waiting for us in that brightly lit room, but I did not have a good feeling.
Finally we got to the entryway, which was guarded by two men who had to have been part gorilla … on steroids. While, not quite as tall as Gorch, the two men were thicker and bulging with muscles. Both of them were also bald, and one actually smiled at me the way a shark smiles at a seal pup.
I set my expression so as not to recoil at the fact that his teeth had been filed into very sharp points.
“Lieutenant,” the guard on the right said as Finn paused in front of them.
“Birger,” Finn replied with a nod.
“She’s waiting for you and wondering what took so long.”
“We stopped for pizza.”
Birger laughed, and at least his teeth weren’t filed into fangs. Looking past Finn at the three of us, he said, “Where’s the rest of ’em? Still eating pie?”
“Something like that,” Finn said, patting Birger on the arm before moving past him into the room. I noticed that he was taking great pains to hide his limp.
We followed along after him, and once we were beyond the doorway, we entered into a high-domed grand hall, oval in shape and that seemed to be lined with ground pearls. The rounded walls shimmered with mesmerizing opalescence.
There were seating areas all about the room made up of off-white and pearl-colored furniture, and large shag area rugs littered the floor. The space had an atmosphere that was incredibly inviting, and likely intentionally arranged that way to persuade all who entered into dropping their guard.
I had no such plans.
Near the opposite wall next to a second exit was a high-backed throne. Studded in jewels and pearls, it was a gorgeous piece. Next to it, standing sentry was Clepsydra, Petra’s high chantress—or priestess, for you mortals. She wore all the trappings of her station, bright white turtleneck which paired nicely with her olive skin, white dress slacks and a long white coat with a large broach bearing Petra’s insignia on it.
Given her reputation, I eyed her warily.
Clepsydra is an ancient mystic; one of the very oldest in fact, and had she not made the unfortunate error of being on the losing side in the Great Battle where Petra and Elric first came to power, she would, without a doubt, have been the most powerful mystic in the world.
After the battle when the chantress had been captured, Elric had ordered her slain, but Petra had seen something of a kinship in her, so she’d interceded and spared Clepsydra’s life.
Still, Elric had ensured that some of Clepsydra’s powers were clipped. Her binder had been murdered in the battle so Elric had rebound Clepsydra with a new and quite-deadly binding spell. If he or Petra ever activated the binding spell, Clepsydra would die on the spot, which of course immediately tamed any urge for the chantress to misbehave.
Even so, clipping her wings hadn’t rendered Clepsydra powerless. She was still far, far more powerful than someone like me, and likely within the top thirty most powerful mystics in the world.
Not to mention that she was as mean and bloodthirsty as they came. Which made her very, very dangerous.
Originally Clepsydra had been enslaved and forced to preform menial tasks for Elric, but when Petra had separated from Elric, she’d taken half his court and Clepsydra with her.
Very quickly thereafter, she’d elevated Clepsydra to chantress—her primary adviser, and the move had solidified the mystic’s allegiance to her queen. It was well-known that Clepsydra worshiped the ground Petra walked on for giving her back the dignity that restored the chantress’s reputation.
Over the past five hundred years or so, the two had formed a rather dangerous alliance, one that Elric definitely kept his eye on. If Petra ever wanted to take on her husband in a true battle for power, she’d have to do so with Clepsydra’s full cooperation—which was a tricky thing because Elric wouldn’t go down without a fight, and he’d made it perfectly clear that should Petra and her chantress team up against him, he’d invoke Clepsydra’s binding spell, killing her before the day was done.
T
hat kept both Petra and Clepsydra in check. But just barely.
Next to the chantress the throne sat empty, and there was a palpable note of expectation in the air as we all waited in silence for her royal-pain-in-the-assness to arrive, which she did before too long, emerging from the opposite doorway in her signature cream, Greek goddess gown and enough gold bangles and trinkets to sink a ship.
The gown and the gold were meant to show as much skin and as much power as possible, and the effect was perfection because Petra Dobromila Ostergaard was a stunning sight to behold. Petite, slight, and with the grace of a ballerina, she moved with the fluidity of water, gliding into the room, the heels of her golden sandals clicking against the white marble floor.
Her waist-length hair was partially wound with a golden cord to coil atop her head, with enough excess left over to braid midway down her back and swish from side to side as she made her way to her throne.
Alabaster skin, an oval face, big brown eyes, and full lips tinged with deep red lipstick finished off the effect.
“Finn,” she purred after she’d slid onto her throne to sit and consider us.
“Petra,” he said, placing a hand over the silver pin bearing Petra’s insignia which was attached to his shirt, and adding a slight bow.
Petra smiled at him in a way that made me think she liked Finn for more than his flaying skills. After a moment her gaze flickered past him to us. “I see you come bearing gifts.”
“Yes,” Finn said, stepping carefully forward to the center of the room, which had amazing acoustics. No one needed to raise their voice to be heard loud and clear. “But I’m only bringing you one. The other I plan to keep.”
Petra smirked. “Brotherly love. So annoying.”
Finn offered another slight bow. “Your continued tolerance of my unmentored twin is much appreciated.”
Petra cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips. It was clear her tolerance was beginning to thin. She then crossed one leg over the other and sat back lazily on her throne. Her attention flickered to me, and I watched with annoyance as her sculpted nose wrinkled in distaste. “Who’s this … other one?”
Finn turned slightly to look back at me. As he did so, Gorch lowered one arm and I slid to a standing position, still bound and gagged but doing my best not to show that it bothered me.
“Esmé Bellerose. She’s one of Elric’s.”
Petra pursed her lips and narrowed her big brown eyes. “She’s not really his type. But that man will bed anything that moves these days.”
Even you, I thought but did not say. Petra was the type of woman you really wanted to bitch slap, but even a cross look from me could get me killed, so I kept my expression neutral.
“Esmé was the last person to see your son before he disappeared,” Finn told her.
Petra’s back went ridged and she sat forward. “She knows where Marco is?”
In answer, Finn turned to me and motioned to Gorch, who yanked hard on the gag in my mouth.
I worked my jaw a little after being freed of the gag, drawing out the impatience of my host.
“I believe the lady asked you a question,” Finn warned.
“Did she?” I asked innocently. “Guess I didn’t hear it. What was it again?”
In an instant my right foot felt as if it were on fire. The pain was so intense that I sank to my knees. Gripping my ankle, I pooled some of my essence around my foot hoping it would act as a counterspell, and to my relief it worked; the pain lessened, and I was able to stand up again. Forcing myself to take slow, even breaths, I regarded Petra again. She stared at me with one cocked eyebrow, but she didn’t speak. She simply waited.
Knowing I no longer had much to lose and thinking I was already pressed for time, I decided to cooperate. Somewhat. “The last time I saw your son was at his girlfriend’s apartment. This was right after it blew up.”
“You were there at the time of the blast?” she asked.
“I was.”
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
I laid out the story for her but left out a few key details, which she was keen to pick up on.
“Why was my son in bed and incapacitated?” she demanded.
I inhaled a steadying breath. If I got caught lying, she’d kill me for sure. “Because I had activated his binding spell a few hours earlier.”
No one spoke for several seconds, and there was an expectant hush about the room. Next to Petra I noticed that Clepsydra leaned forward eagerly, an evil smile playing its way onto her lips. She couldn’t wait for the word from her queen to kill me.
But Petra surprised us all when she said, “How do you know how to activate Marco’s binding spell?”
“Your son revealed it to me when he lost a bet in a poker game we played several years ago. As you’re probably also aware, Marco is very good at ferreting out information that is often beneficial to someone in my position, and his binding gives me the leverage I need to strike a deal with him now and again.”
Petra’s mouth quirked, and she tapped the arm of her throne with one elegant, well-manicured finger. “What information were you looking for from him?” she asked.
“It was information that your husband needed,” I said. Which was true … in a way.
Petra’s eyes narrowed. “What information was that?”
“Private,” I told her. “I’m very sorry, ma’am, but I’m bound by the honor of my position to keep Elric’s secrets. I can’t reveal what Marco told me to anyone but my employer.”
Petra scoffed, but even I knew that it was for effect because Petra definitely understood how this game was played. If she killed me outright because I refused to give her information that Elric had sent me to fetch, then Elric would be justified in killing one of her employees, and no way would her husband choose to assassinate a lowly thief in Petra’s camp to even the score. He’d aim high, simply to teach her a lesson. It was a risk I didn’t think Petra was willing to take.
“So where is my son now?” she demanded.
“I have no idea. And that’s the truth.”
She scoffed again. “You expect me to believe you based on your earnest insistence? How do I know you haven’t kidnapped Marco? Or killed him?”
“It’s true that I was with him moments before he was abducted. It’s not true that I had anything to do with his abduction.”
“And I should believe you … why?”
“Because if I knew where he was or had anything to do with his kidnapping and I’d been captured by your lieutenant and brought here to stand in front of you, I’d be working pretty hard right now to negotiate something with you for his release, because I’m certain you’d kill me otherwise.”
Petra seemed to consider that. With a sigh, she said, “Tell me more about this explosion.”
I told her everything I could remember about it, how there was a change in the energy within the room, how it intensified over a period of several seconds before the blast, and how the energy had intensified again just as I released Marco from the spasms.
At the end of my speech, Petra turned to Clepsydra and said, “Sound familiar?”
Clepsydra nodded, her hands bunching into fists. “Rubi.”
Petra sucked in a surprised breath. “Hideyo’s priestess?”
Clepsydra nodded again. “Yes. And if Rubi’s in town, Hideyo is here with her.”
Hideyo was head of the East Asian empire. Said to be as ruthless as he was conniving, he never made a move without having taken into account all of the possible outcomes.
In other words, he wasn’t stupid. Which meant that grabbing Tic was a calculated maneuver for power.
If it was his priestess, Rubi, who’d blasted a hole in Bree’s apartment, that meant that I was damned lucky to be alive and that I could have stumbled into the very beginnings of a war.
Petra looked like she was sucking on a lemon. “Dammit,” she swore, getting to her feet to pace the space in front of her throne while everyone else in the room eyed each other nervousl
y.
Finally she stopped and looked directly at Finn. “Find. My. Son,” she commanded.
Even I gulped.
“By any means necessary,” she continued. “But do it quietly. And bring him back here to me.”
Finn said nothing, he simply placed his hand on that pin again and bent at the waist.
Petra turned away and began to walk toward the exit.
“What about her?” Gorch asked, and I wanted to smack him. It’d looked like I might skate out of this situation after all until the three-hundred-pound village idiot spoke up.
Petra paused and turned her head ever so slightly. “Kill her, then feed her to one of my pets to make sure there’s no lingering trace of her. We don’t need to invite more trouble from Elric.”
With that, she was gone.
Finn turned toward me as Petra disappeared through the doorway. Our eyes locked, and I could feel the well of desire spring up, and it made the charm around my neck heat up again. With some deep breaths I was able to quell the worst of the desire, but it was a challenge.
Stepping to Gorch, who still had me by the arm, he said, “I’ll take it from here.”
Gorch tightened his grip on my arm and I winced. If he squeezed any harder, he’d break the bone. “Petra said I get to kill her.”
Finn lifted his chin and curled his lip into a snarl. “Stand down, soldier,” he said very softly.
Gorch growled low in his throat, but he released my arm and I rocked on my feet with relief. But it was short-lived.
“Walk,” Finn said to me, indicating the doorway we’d entered through.
I looked around the room. Absolutely no one was going to come to my defense. Well, except for Kincaid, who looked ready to murder his brother.
“Not without my protégé,” I said, nodding toward Kincaid.
Finn’s brow furrowed. “Your what?”
“Hasn’t he told you?” I asked innocently. “I’m his mentor.”
“Yeah, right,” Finn said, taking me roughly by the arm and whirling me toward the door.
His touch sent a bolt of electricity through me and I jerked. Finn dropped my arm, his brow furrowing. He then pointed past me toward the exit. “Move,” he said.
SPELL TO UNBIND, A Page 17