Sorcerer's Spin

by Anise Rae

  “Why would it be against the rules?”

  “Because keeping freaks like us around weakens mage society. The fairies would want that…maybe.”

  “Waywards don’t weaken society.” Gregor dismissed that idea with a scowl. “Fancy said I’m one of them. One of the glister now.” Daegan had said it too, but he’d thought it was just more of the man’s torture, his usual asshole ways.

  Goddess, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was one of them. The fairy and his needle had been sheer hell. And his memories, almost two decades old, of the shrill touch of another fairy replayed with such clarity he could still feel it drilling into his mind. He could sense the exact path the creature had taken, leaving a river of silver in his skull.

  “Part glister, part mage?” Linc finally sat down next to him. “I thought I was the only one,” he confessed softly. “My father was a fairy.”

  36

  Gregor stood in Mara’s office, gazing down at the factory floor through the interior window. The vast room below was vacant, but he hardly noticed. He hadn’t slept last night, wide awake after Linc’s revelation. Then Daegan had shown up. Gregor’s mind fogged every time he tried to think it through.

  It was a risk coming to the mill. He’d done it anyway. Lady Harry was Mara’s closest friend. If anyone knew her truth, it would be Harry. He rubbed his eyes. Hell, he knew the truth.

  He’d told Mara that denial was not an effective defense. Evidently, he was a genius at deploying it for himself.

  “It’s good to see you,” Lady Harry said, breaking the mournful silence that had fallen between them after her first words.

  Did you find her?

  “I’ve been worried about you. And Linc.” She looked around as if the man might appear from nowhere next to him. “Did they....” She leaned forward. “Did they get him? Is he locked up?” She folded her hands and brought them to her chin as if she were ready to beg.

  He shook his head. He didn’t offer any more information about the half-fairy. Lady Harry was better off without Linc. The thought cracked around him. What the hell had happened to his world that he was thinking such things?

  “Oh, thank the Goddess,” she whispered. “There have been raids. Lots of them. It’s all over the news. Everyone from the old to the newborn. The enforcers have surrounded the school Mara went to.”

  He pressed his fist against his heart, trying to manage the ache. It was shattered, its pieces as sharp as blades. “Mara’s parents…where are they?” His voice was rough.

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “They won’t care that she’s missing.”

  It was a logical assumption as to the reason behind his question, that he’d want to notify them, but she had it wrong. “Who are they?”

  Her eyes widen for a moment. His tone was too harsh. But she shrugged, weak and slow. Moving through grief and worry was exhausting. “She never knew her father. And her mother gave her up to SWWM when she was four, two years earlier than SWWM is supposed to take kids. Mara never heard from her again. That’s all I know. It’s not exactly a happy topic. She never talks much about her past.”

  He nodded at the empty factory floor below. “Where are all of her sorceresses?”

  She lifted her chin. The hint of defiance reminded him of Mara. “I hired the Tea Time food truck to come back. Even though it’s Monday and not Wednesday. I thought we could all use some cheering up, some distraction. Would you like to go down together? You look like you could use a drink.”

  Tea wasn’t going to cut it, besides…. “I’m keeping a low profile. The whole wayward internment issue.”

  Lady Harry tilted her head. “The entire mill knows you’re here. You passed right by Stella on your sneaky way in.”

  “How? I didn’t sense a thing.” The last thing this place needed was an invasion by the enforcers.

  “Stella’s mage sense is completely damaged. She has no vibes to sense.” She held out a hand. “The tea truck is out back. They have excellent orange blossom tea. It will do our ladies some good to see someone else who cares for Mara.” She swallowed so hard he could hear it. “It’s certainly done me good.” She fought tears as she took his arm and marched him out. She kept her chin up, and he ignored the watery eyes. Any offer of comfort or reassurance and she probably would have lost the little control she did have. He sure as hell would have.

  They took the stairs down and headed toward the back hallway, stepping outside to the bright sunshine and blue skies. It ought to have been dim and gray without Mara. He blinked against the light, taking the half-second to steel himself for the crowd of women.

  The Tea Time food truck was parked in front of the picnic tables. It was painted dark purple and a garland of flowers floated in an arc above it. Matching bouquets floated above the tables. Pots of tea and plates of cookies and sandwiches rested upon them. Some of the women stood with teacups and saucers in their hands, other sat, and still more were lined up in front of the truck, waiting for their food and drink.

  The mood was subdued and quiet and grew heavier the closer he came.

  At the far table, Esther stood up. “Any word?”

  It pushed against him, their worry, their concern. Their expectations. It was a burden, but it was also a comfort. He wasn’t alone in his fear…or his love.

  “No word. But we’re looking. Everyone is looking. From the army to the enforcers to the Rallis sentries.” But he wasn’t a part of the team effort. Neither he nor Linc would be welcome. They’d be arrested.

  And what would the government do if they found her? Lock her in a camp? At least he’d know where she was.

  He’d break her out.

  “Why the sentries?” one of the women asked.

  “Because when she was taken, the Rallis heir was present, and because Lady Bronte Casteel has a stake in her return, therefore the entire Rallis family does too. She can’t wear that dress forever, and it has helped her a great deal.”

  No one responded for a moment.

  “She can wear the dress forever,” Esther said.

  “Or close enough,” another woman piped up.

  “It’s our highest quality stuff.” The forewoman nodded. “Made by the lady boss herself. That’s how good she was…is.”

  Silence wrapped around them at the slip, but it was broken by the least of them.

  “You’ll find her,” Stella said in her high, quiet voice. The purple scarf that covered her bald head almost matched the color of the truck. “You will.” She nodded, confident, and then pointed to her eye. “What happened to your face?”

  He almost smiled that she had the guts to ask. Lady Harry hadn’t, but she was so lost in heartache and trying to keep the mill together that he wasn’t sure she’d noticed.

  “I ran into a tree.” He might have done just that from the shock of Daegan appearing from nowhere inside his tent last night. The tall, lanky man had looked so open and hopeful, but his face had hardened the moment he looked at him, realizing Mara wasn’t inside, that she never had been.

  “Figured it out yet? Listened to your heart?” the glister had snapped. Defensive, angry, desperate.

  Exactly like Gregor.

  Daegan had been as ready for Gregor’s attack as he had been to spring it on him. Fists flew, elbows jabbed, and Gregor’s face ended up in a tree. Daegan looked worse. Linc had wisely stayed out of the whole thing.

  “Waywards are half-fairy,” Gregor had accused. “That’s what I’ve figured out. Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

  Daegan had spit out a wad of blood, bent over, hands to knees. “Why should I have told you? Because it would’ve made you feel all better?”

  “Mara’s fairy half…what flows through her veins? There’s a reason why the prophecies are about her. And it isn’t just bad luck.” He already knew the reason. There was only one reason a wayward would be so important to Daegan or Fancy. Mara carried their blood. As heartless as they were, it had nothing to do with love. Only blood.

  Ro
yal blood.

  How could they have left her to suffer in the Republic alone?

  Gregor touched the bruise around his eye, aware of the women’s stares.

  Esther raised her cup. “I bet the tree looks worse. No one gets the better of the lady boss’s man.”

  “Hear, hear.” The words echoed through the group.

  He shook off their approval. Esther was wrong and everyone knew it. Someone had gotten the better of him, and they’d taken Mara as their prize.

  He motioned Lady Harry in front of him to get her tea. The thin veneer of her confidence crumbled and her lower lip trembled as she tried to decide which scone she’d have.

  There were two choices.

  He put his hand on her shoulder. “How about the cranberry orange scone? It looks nice with those white lines on it. And a pot of that orange blossom tea you mentioned?”

  She nodded, her eyes teary. “I’ll do that.”

  The Tea Time woman gave him a grateful nod, wiped her hands on her frilly apron, and got to work.

  While they waited, Gregor eyed the truck’s shelves of cookies and little cakes along the back wall. A row of teapots sat beneath them, secured with spells. To the left stood a display of bottled juices, all colors. He sucked in a breath at the label. “You sell Reballa Potion.”

  She set a plate with Lady Harry’s scone on the window’s counter. “It’s not really a potion. That’s a bit of a misnomer. I’m surprised The Tavis Potions Company hasn’t filed a complaint against it. It’s just a hydration drink. I sell a lot at the parks to all the runners and exercisers. And it’s really popular with the zapper mages on Harmon Avenue. I guess it replenishes them after they zap a bunch of stuff.”

  She gave a huffy laugh and shrugged. “I’ve never understood what the Power United zappers do exactly. Fix wires or something? Whatever it is, it makes them thirsty. Reballa has a lot of salts and minerals in it.” She handed him Harry’s teapot. “Careful. It’s hot. Hold it by the handle.”

  He took it. “Zapper mages at Harmon Avenue?” That wasn’t anywhere on P.U.’s list of offices.

  She nodded. “Harmon and Stimmel Road. I had no idea that was a Power United office. The building’s not marked or anything. I pulled up a couple of months ago after driving by and seeing a bunch of lunchers hanging out beside the building. Now I park there around midmorning. They’re drinkers, not eaters. A few of them asked me to carry the drink. One guy drinks so much of the blue stuff that I keep an extra box set aside for him. Although, sometimes he buys pink too.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I think he has a girlfriend now.”

  The world around him went still.

  “He’s some big executive,” the woman continued. “Lucky girl.”

  No, he did not fucking have a girlfriend. That was his girl. A hard focus pushed him. He activated comm spells for Linc, Vin, and Dane and gave them the location.

  “What’s going on?” Lady Harry asked.

  His muscles tense and screaming for action, he strode over to an empty chair and put Lady Harry’s teapot on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Where?”

  He was going to get Mara back.

  37

  Tall coils of copper stood throughout her prison cell like a mountain range. Stacked to the ceiling, they left only one crooked path from the concealed door to the wheel.

  Mara had left the men an obvious trail, and then she hid, wedging herself between the wall and the far side of the coils that lined the men’s path. She had enough room to squeeze past the coil nearest the door and slip free of this place.

  She dropped the pieces of the misfit spindle to the floor. It had been simple to destroy. If anything went wrong with her plan, at least she’d sabotaged the wheel as much as she could. She couldn’t destroy the wheel itself. Luck had rendered his gifts unmalleable to the hands of mortals. Not that she wanted to destroy it. Not anymore.

  She waited for the men, her energy filling the room after spinning for so long with Luck’s wheel. Her power was as unwound as if she and Gregor had once again tumbled off the train, encased in his spell, in the Wild West.

  The door whooshed open.

  “Holy hell. Look what she’s done!” The first guard laughed as if he’d discovered an unexpected prize. “The boss is gonna be ex-ci-ted.”

  The pair stepped forward into the maze of copper.

  Mara didn’t waste any time. She dashed out the door while they were still in the small jungle of wire, pausing to study the door’s controls. Her heart raced.

  “No, he’s going to be pissed. The transport’s scheduled in thirty minutes. We’ve got to get the wheel out of here now, and there’s no Goddess damn room to move. We gotta move all this copper first.”

  Lost girls, please let this work, she prayed. She pulled the lever on the wall. It didn’t move. Damn it. She needed to use her vibes, but after spinning with the white wheel, the mass of her power was puffed out like raw wool. It was in no shape to be focused.

  “Hey, freaky girl, you’ve outdone yourself!” the first man hollered from somewhere in the stacks of copper. “Come ‘ere and let me cuff you. You’re moving out with the wheel.”

  She reached for a strand of power but got the full tangle instead.

  It was all or nothing. The door slammed closed.

  She raced down the stone hallway on her toes. The floor was cold and dirty. Sharp crumbs of rock stabbed into her feet. The hallway ended at a staircase, and she sprinted up.

  Behind her, silence dominated. The thick stone walls ate up any protest the guards might have made at their sudden imprisonment, but it wouldn’t last long. Whoever was on the other side of that blind comm spell would be checking in soon enough when the guards didn’t return.

  A metal door met her at the top of the stairs. No lever, no doorknob, but no lock spell that she could sense. With fear shaking through her, she gathered her chaotic power and sent a clunky push of vibes into it. She’d never trained to do much with her energy beyond spinning and weaving, and she was paying for her shoddy education.

  The door opened revealing a cavernous room with a hundred spinners sitting in row after row. They were chained by their ankles to the wheels. Her heart screeched to a halt. This was her nightmare pulled into daytime.

  Windows high up along the tall walls let in dim sunshine. Buzzing mage lights, poorly cast, finished the job of lighting the room. The clank and rattle of metal rang out, the soft dings of the production of copper from sorceresses forced to spin. The place stank of desperation.

  None of the women noticed her, their eyes glazed over, their mouths open like they were in a trance. As she watched, strands of one woman’s hair broke free of her scalp and drifted to the ground. She had to be in terrible pain, yet she just kept spinning. This was worse than Mara remembered.

  Across the room, a woman screamed. “No! Please! I’ll work harder.”

  Two men yanked her up by the arms. One raised his hand, a thin stick in his grip. He brought it down across her back.

  Another scream.

  The jangling of the unstoppable spill of copper seemed to come faster yet.

  Mara’s back burned at the sound of the slashes. She cupped her hands over her mouth. She didn’t want to remember this.

  “She needs to go back to the white wheel,” the whipper said. “She’s come outta her trance.”

  Mara sucked in a silent breath at the revelation. The wheel must have powers like a glister’s silver eyes. It had hypnotized them into working. These women, or most of them, were firmly under the domain of a power stronger than their own, one that pulled on their energy until they had nothing left to give.

  This was the wheel in evil’s clutch. It had stolen their joy, their freedom. It had devoured their lives.

  Mara crawled along the edge of the first row, fear pushing her into a bruising pace. This was exactly what she’d done fifteen years ago. It clung to her mind as if it were yesterday.

  She would come back for them. She’d free
them all. Her lower lip trembled and her throat tightened. She’d thought the same thing then and she’d failed. She was doing it all over again. But she had no choice.

  No, she thought. There was always a choice. And leaving them was hers.

  None of the women she passed halted in their spinning rhythm. Unlike the last time, she didn’t think they even saw her. The chains of their slavery were so tight they had blinded them.

  Or perhaps not….

  “Two rights and a left,” the sorceress at the front of the row whispered, her lips barely moving with her cryptic phrase. “To freedom.”

  Mara didn’t hesitate. She crawled to the door at the front, stood, and ran out. She sprinted down a wide hallway lined with cubbies on one side and benches and shelves full of tools on the other. The scent of old coffee and sweat saturated the air.

  One man sat on a stool by the cubbies, his back to her, stooped over something in his hand.

  Her bare feet were soundless against the floor, but her vibes were the problem. They flared out behind her, waving like an oversized flag as she moved.

  She saw a doorway on the right and took it, dashing around one bench, only to run into the next one. She winced but stayed silent.

  It wasn’t enough.

  “Hey!”

  Just like that, her power recoiled, disappearing inside her with a bolt of fright. The world went fuzzy, her vision blurring, but she didn’t let that stop her. She raced forward. Another right and then a left. A wall of windows loomed ahead. She could make out the light of the sun. She ran for them. Maybe there was a door among them. If not, she’d break a window. Hope unfurled her vibes enough to focus her eyes. Yes, she could see a door to the outside among the dirtiest windows she’d ever seen. It was fifty feet ahead, on the other side of a green, faded lobby.

  “We got a runner!” the man hollered behind her.

  But he needn’t have bothered with the alarm. A dozen Black Skulls poured in through the door.

  Trapped. She’d been so close. Yet some part of her mind that she almost couldn’t recognize refused to give up. She faced down the men.