by Allie Therin
No. Oh, no—
“I trust you didn’t come to try tricks,” said Gwen, “because I assure you that despite appearances, I am neither alone nor helpless. My driver is loyal to me and armed, and that is just where my defenses start.”
Becker held up his hands, looking amused. “No tricks. Just business. It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Gwen,” Rory said desperately. “Gwen, no.”
Gwen tilted her head. “Baron Zeppler received my telegram?”
“He was intrigued,” said Becker. “He’s willing to honor the bargain if you’ve delivered your part.”
“I have.” Gwen held up the ring box. “There’s the psychometric. Here’s his relic. It controls the wind, so don’t open that box unless you’ve got him locked down in lead.” She nodded at Rory. “All the secrets to working the siphon are in his mind.”
Rory’s chest was burning. “How could you?” he whispered. “I trusted you.”
Gwen didn’t look at him. “Does the baron give his word in exchange?”
“He does,” said Becker. “You and your husband are safe. He will never go after the two of you again.”
“Then we have a deal,” said Gwen, and handed Becker the ring box.
Rory’s heart plummeted. “Gwen.”
“I’ll just say goodbye, shall I?” she said to Becker, with a false cheeriness, and then finally walked back to Rory.
“I am sorry about this,” she said as she approached. “I promise this was our plan of last resort.”
He glared at her. “I always end up here with you,” he said tightly, pulling uselessly at the grip of the man who held him. “I shoulda known I couldn’t trust you.”
“It really wasn’t my first choice,” she said quietly. “But Baron Zeppler is simply too powerful. There just isn’t a way to defeat a telepath. I’ve accepted that and done what I had to do to protect Ellis.”
Rory ground his teeth. “’Cause the only thing you two care about besides yourselves is each other.”
She shrugged. “I did leave you one chance,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “If Zeppler takes your cuffs off, your magic might be powerful enough to wrest control of your ring back, even through the lead box.”
“No magic gets through lead,” he said flatly.
“That’s what everyone believes,” she said lightly. “But I’m the only paranormal in a century to see magic. Your magic overwhelms you because it’s powerful, Rory, and your link to Arthur lets you draw deeper than most. It might be stronger than Becker’s. Maybe it’s even strong enough to defeat lead.”
She tapped her temple. “Unless, of course, you think about that and Zeppler picks up on your thoughts. That is, I’m afraid, the entire problem with facing a telepath. I can tell you how you might have a chance to defeat him, but good luck keeping it secret.”
Rory narrowed his eyes.
She got back in the car, then, the front seat this time. Her driver started up the car, and Rory watched, choked by hopelessness, as the car made a U-turn and drove away, back toward Paris.
“Don’t look so glum,” said the Puppeteer, Becker, with a disturbing smile. “We’re going to see your sweetheart.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When Zeppler’s magic finally oozed away, Arthur didn’t fall to his knees or gasp. But only because his body was still locked up tight, a living coffin for his mind.
Zeppler was the one who stepped back, his eyebrows up. “You are full of surprises.”
Arthur’s lungs breathed in, breathed out. “What did you learn?”
“Oh, so very many things.” Zeppler tilted his head. “How fortunate I got them all out of you when you’re so close to death’s door.”
Christ.
“Imagine living or dying at the whim of your lover.” Zeppler shook his head pityingly. “Then again, Mr. Giovacchini is apparently a veritable hoard of useful information. A pomander relic that enslaves non-magic minds.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I could do a lot with that. I’ve always thought the world was too quick to sign those peace treaties; I far prefer when the mundane are slaughtering themselves. I could recreate the Colosseum, enjoy the fights. Maybe even rekindle the wars. So many options if I have an army of mindlessly devoted to expend.”
Arthur felt sick.
“And Mr. Giovacchini knows how to unlock it,” Zeppler added. “I’m so very interested in meeting him.”
Rage curled low in Arthur’s gut.
Zeppler only scoffed. “Quiet your thoughts. Everyone wants to kill me.” He paused, then scoffed again. “Yes, yes, you think you have good reasons. Lots of people think that; you’re not special.”
He paused again. “Oh, well, that is interesting,” he said, eyebrows back up. “You’re so soft, and yet from you, murder isn’t an idle threat. You’ve killed on the battlefield and you would, given the chance, easily kill both Mr. Becker and me in cold blood.”
He smiled without humor. “Good to know.”
Arthur’s eyes stared straight ahead as his mind raged uselessly.
Zeppler tilted his head. “Did you judge Gwen and Ellis too harshly? Now there’s an interesting question,” he said, smiling like he was pleased. “It’s true that I am, perhaps, not the easiest company. I do seem to change people. But I wouldn’t go giving them your sympathies just yet. You don’t know what they’ve done.”
Arthur’s stomach twisted just as the rumbling of an approaching engine could be heard down the drive. A few seconds later, headlights were visible as the Delage came around the bend and then pulled back onto the circular driveway.
Oh no.
The Delage stopped three yards from Arthur and Zeppler. Becker got out of the passenger seat as two men manhandled a cuffed Rory out of the back.
Arthur and Rory’s eyes met, and Rory looked as desperate as Arthur felt.
Zeppler grunted irritably. “You two are loud.”
“Arthur,” Rory started, “they sold us out—”
“I know.” Arthur could see Rory wincing, his cuffs almost certainly full of stinging lead, the man gripping his arm handling him too roughly. Arthur so desperately wanted to lash out, to get to Rory. But his body wouldn’t listen, would only stand still at Zeppler’s side, like a perfect minion.
Becker reached into his pocket and held out something small. His face contorted with pain and a hiss escaped him. “The Tempest Ring, sir, in a lead box. I haven’t opened it.”
Zeppler held out a hand, and a new henchman materialized from somewhere to Arthur’s right. He stepped forward and put a pair of black gloves in Zeppler’s hand.
Zeppler’s eyes flicked to Rory as he pulled the gloves on. “She outwitted you. Although, to be frank, I can’t imagine that was very hard to do.”
“Leave him alone,” said Arthur. “You want a target, I’m right here—”
His mouth stopped itself.
“Thank you,” Zeppler said to Becker, taking the ring box out of his hand. “Lieutenant Kenzie’s thoughts are loud enough.”
Zeppler walked forward, through the headlight beams and toward Rory, ring box in hand. Rory glared at him, chest heaving.
“Your thoughts are loud too,” Zeppler said. “You have absolutely no control over them. But you have absolutely no control at all. Imagine holding all the magic that you do in such unskilled hands. It’s like giving a toddler the reins of a stagecoach; you’ll only stampede over everything in your path.”
Rory pursed his lips.
“I don’t need to find out if Becker’s blood magic can handle your magic.” Zeppler nodded to the siphon sitting on the manor’s steps. “Frankly, I hope your magic is the stronger, because I’ll be taking it for myself. You’ll be easy to control then.”
Zeppler looked over at Arthur. “Of course, taking your psychometry will mean Lieutena
nt Kenzie’s death.”
“What?” Rory whispered, his head snapping toward Arthur.
“Oh, he knows already. Gwen Taylor told him,” said Zeppler. “His contact with the pomander relic has torn his aura. His lifeforce is now held together only by the magic you’ve woven into him. Without it, his aura will disintegrate, and he’ll die.”
Rory’s eyes were wide and grief stricken. And Arthur couldn’t do anything, couldn’t even say I’m so sorry, you deserved to know.
“He never told you,” Zeppler said, with a snort, “because he’s a coward. He simply couldn’t bear to put that pressure on your shoulders. Wanted you to finally have freedom after all those years on your own leash—what sentimental rot. It’s actually fortunate you met me so someone could finally tell you the truth.”
“Go to hell,” Rory bit out.
And Arthur could have sworn he felt a shiver in his aura.
Zeppler’s head jerked Arthur’s way. “You’re imagining things,” he said sharply. “He’s in lead cuffs. His magic can do nothing for you right now.”
“My magic’s never leaving him,” Rory said fiercely, with such bone-deep conviction that Arthur felt it all the way to his chest. “You can try all you want with the siphon clock. You can drain me but my magic’s not budging. His aura saved my mind the night we met, and my magic is his now.” He looked at Arthur. “He can keep it forever.”
Teddy. Arthur couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t control his own heartbeat. But his emotions weren’t the Puppeteer’s to control, and his affection for Rory swelled to a dizzying height.
Zeppler’s expression had turned uglier. “We’ll see about that.”
Rory’s mouth snapped shut. And Arthur understood, because Zeppler had closed his eyes and from the horrified look on Rory’s face, Arthur knew Zeppler was digging in his mind.
“The siphon takes paranormal blood to unlock, from three paranormals,” Zeppler said aloud, eyes still closed. “To make a new relic requires a fresh death, but we already have Mr. Chance’s corpse. We’ll need gold flakes; check inside the manor. I can see in Giovacchini’s mind how the hands must be set. Bring him to the steps.”
The henchmen scattered to obey. Zeppler beckoned with one finger, and Arthur could only watch, helpless, as Rory was frog-marched up to the manor’s steps.
The siphon clock glittered, gold on gray stone.
The guards shoved Rory to his knees as Becker knelt alongside him, knife in hand. Zeppler bent, holding out his ungloved hand to Becker, who made the tiniest of cuts with an unsettling delicacy.
Zeppler moved the solar ecliptic hand to Leo, then shook out his finger. “Of course I trust Becker with my blood,” he said dryly, giving Arthur an unimpressed look. “I hear his every thought. He is my most loyal. My favorite. And I will use his blood and Mr. Giovacchini’s on the siphon as well.”
Becker was using his own bloody finger to move the siphon clock’s moon hand. He set it to Taurus, then looked at Zeppler.
Zeppler cocked his head, as if listening. “I suppose that is true,” he finally said out loud, to Becker. “We will have to take off Mr. Giovacchini’s lead cuffs to drain his magic.”
Arthur saw Rory take a breath.
Then Zeppler went very still. He looked at Rory, eyes narrowed. “Impossible. Lead stops all magic.”
Rory paled.
“Why are you bothering to hide your thoughts? You’re practically screaming,” said Zeppler. “Gwen can’t be right. There is no way you can get control of your ring even if we take you out of those cuffs.” He held up the box. “Because the ring itself is sealed tight in lead.”
Rory stared very hard at the steps. Arthur could almost see him fighting—and failing—not to think.
Zeppler paused again. “Look at me,” he suddenly said, much more harshly.
One of the henchmen jammed his gun under Rory’s chin and forced it up. Rory glared at Zeppler with deep hatred.
Zeppler stared at him. “You genuinely believe you can do that with the wind?”
“After what you and your lackeys have done to Ace?” Rory said darkly. “Try me.”
Zeppler’s expression had the first shades of uncertainty Arthur had seen all night. His eyes tracked down to the tiny ring box in his gloved hand.
Then he sharply jerked his head up. “Change in plans,” he said bitingly. “We siphon the wind magic out of the Tempest Ring immediately. Giovacchini can’t hurt anyone but himself with psychometry, and I can take what I want from his mind. Let him keep that magic. Without the power of the relic to augment him, we’ll bind him with blood magic and have him scry relics day and night.” He pointed at Arthur. “And I’ll keep his lover on as a guard, in case we ever do need leverage.”
Arthur’s heart plummeted as Rory’s face fell, such despair in his expression that Arthur wanted to scream.
“Gwen told you that you were outmatched. That I’m unstoppable. You should have listened.” Zeppler had new greed in his eyes as he reached for the top of the box with his ungloved hand, his finger still wet with blood. “I do love relics,” he said, and popped the ring box open.
There was a flash of gold in the headlights.
Rory swallowed and looked away, his shoulders drooping, his expression defeated.
Zeppler’s lips curled in a nasty smile. “You feel no connection to your relic through your lead cuffs, do you?” He picked up the ring and slid it on his finger, dropping the box to the ground as he held his hand up in triumph. “The Tempest Ring’s magic will be mine.”
The ring caught the light—a solid band on Zeppler’s finger, no jewels, only smooth gold.
That doesn’t look right, Arthur thought, before he could stop himself—
But Zeppler’s face had frozen in an expression of horror.
“Baron?” Becker said with alarm, quickly getting to his feet. “Baron, what’s going on?”
Zeppler didn’t answer. He didn’t move.
“Zeppler,” said Becker, reaching for him.
At the touch, Zeppler toppled over like a statue. He lay unmoving, in an unnatural rigor, eyes open and staring blankly up at the stars.
Becker took a sharp breath, falling to his knees at Zeppler’s side. “Zeppler?” He spoke in rapid German, his hands on Zeppler’s shoulders.
Zeppler never twitched.
Becker whipped his head toward Arthur, furious. “What did he do to the baron?” He looked at Rory. “What have you done?”
“Nothing!” Rory said.
“Liar.” Becker’s expression twisted with fury. He got to his feet, and pointed at Arthur. “Get me the truth. Beat it out of him.”
No, Arthur’s brain screamed, as his body snapped to attention. Fear crossed Rory’s face. He was still in handcuffs, two guards still on him, holding him in place.
No. No, no, no—
Becker’s lip curled. “Break his bones. Make him bleed—”
He suddenly stopped, mid order, his eyes going wide with shock as an expression of joy crossed Rory’s face. Their eyes were locked on the same empty patch of air.
“It’s Zhang!” Rory called to Arthur.
And in the distance, Arthur heard the revving of a car engine at its limit as tires came screeching up the path.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Rory was shoved to the ground like an afterthought as his guards went running for the approaching car, pulling their guns and shouting in French and German.
“Get under the hedge!” Zhang’s astral projection yelled, and then vanished.
Rory didn’t need telling twice. He rolled toward the manor, under the bushes and out of the path of Arthur and everyone else who was either under blood magic or loyal enough to Zeppler to start shooting.
But as the guards poured forward, the guns flew out of their hands on their own. Headlights blinded Rory as a
new convertible car hit the driveway and stopped so abruptly he smelled burnt rubber.
Gwen, Ellis, and Zhang’s physical body leapt out of the car as Jade stood up in the back seat, her normally sweet expression cold with furious concentration. And Rory suddenly understood why all the guns were floating in midair above their heads.
“Get them,” Becker yelled, and the guards were moving again. “Use the lead pipes, the telekinetic can’t manipulate those!”
Well, shit. Of course Zeppler’s lackeys were all armed with lead too.
The guards were drawing their pipes. Ellis—probably invisible to mundane eyes—slipped behind the closest man and knocked him on the back of the head. At Ellis’s side, Gwen was face to face with another guard. The guard lunged for her, and she dodged away, spinning just enough to reach for the air right above his heart. She gave the air a violent twist, and the man screamed and hit the ground.
Rory scrambled to stand, awkward with his hands still cuffed behind him, but suddenly Zhang was there, in physical form, helping him to his feet. “One of the guards had keys on him,” he said, hissing only a little as he unlocked the lead cuffs from Rory’s wrists.
“You’re the best,” Rory said, as the cuffs fell away. “Where’s Arthur?”
“In the fight.” Zhang was pulling him forward. “Gwen needs us. She’s got three guards on her and—Jade.”
Rory followed his gaze and saw it, Jade out of the car and back to back with Gwen. Several guards circled the two women, Ellis nowhere to be seen.
As Rory and Zhang sprinted forward, a man took a swing at Jade with a lead pipe.
“Jade!” Zhang put on a new burst of speed as Jade dodged, pulling Gwen with her, the pipe missing them by inches but the guns overhead scattering every which way like they’d been flung through the air.
Rory sprinted after Zhang, just as Gwen spun around and drove her heel into a man’s knee. When he stumbled, she plunged her hand into what must have been his aura, because he let out a bloodcurdling scream, staggered to the side, and fell at Rory’s feet.
Gwen thrust something at him. “Here!”
