by T. S. Snow
What was worse, there was no denying his plan was working.
He might have failed the challenge and lost his right to the family title and any inheritance, but he’d escaped. I had no doubt in my mind that he’d strike back against the Illuderes with a vengeance.
Not to mention, the more time passed, the stronger the resistance became. I might not be a part of AMIA, but that didn’t mean I was blind to the dissatisfaction. In fact, before my sister’s death had been confirmed, I’d been doing my fair share of investigating and uncovered a hell lot of dirt on the rebellion, as well as a surprisingly big number of supporters.
It had been eye-opening.
“Okay yeah, I get that, but for real, what’s so awesome about being the head of the family, anyway? As the head’s brother, he got all the benefits with none of the stress and responsibility. If you ask me, he got the best bargain. Now he’s turned evil and is on a weird quest to become what, the next Augusto Tumba?” Char’s question was met with silence from Logan, though I doubted it was because he didn’t have the answer.
It seemed the Nightshade knew quite a lot, but so did I.
Sitting up, I decided to finally join the conversation and give up any pretense I wasn’t eavesdropping. “That’s easy, Char. Ricardo is the eldest brother, meaning if tradition had been upheld, he would’ve been the head of the family. However, their parents chose Diego. Everyone assumed it was because Diego was stronger, and the fact Ricardo waited to poison his brother before he challenged his nephew proves that the rumors might’ve been correct.” I ran a hand over my hair, wishing I had a comb or something that would let me fix the rat’s nest. “He couldn’t have been happy with the constant reminder that he was second best.”
“Trust a guy to become the leader of a magical terrorist group just because his ego was bruised,” Char commented, and I wasn’t the only one flinching at the dig.
“Be that as it may,” Logan spoke, reining the conversation back in. “Ricardo poses a problem. If he comes down here to gloat, our plan might not work. We’re relying on Cara’s jealousy of Charisma to get out of here, but Ricardo will have no such fixation.”
“Shit on a cracker. You’re right. Fuck. But I don’t see why he’d come down here. As much as I hate to say it, I think Andres is in more danger when it comes to his uncle than we are right now. Want it or not, we’re stuck here, but Andres is out there. If this whole thing is due to bruised ego, well…his loss in the duel only added salt to the wound. Like, a whole ton of salt. The Dead Sea worth of salt. In an open, bleeding wound.”
That was quite the specific mental image Char was conjuring. Trust her to go above and beyond to make a point.
I’d have laughed if things weren’t so dire.
“So, what are we going to do?” I asked.
Char looked at me and gave me a grim smile. “We’re going to get the fuck out of here, and then we’re going to save Andres and his family while dismantling the resistance from the inside.”
Talk about overachievement.
7
Blaze
I hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Instead, I’d spent all night holed up at the Arcane Mage Intelligence Agency, going through every single piece of security camera footage I could get my hands on, trying to find even the slightest trace of where Char had been taken.
Usually, I’d run the fuck away from such mindless, boring work. However, for Char, I was willing to do just about anything, even if that something was completely mind-numbing. Even if it meant sitting in a room with a bunch of screens, going through footage after footage of traffic, I at least felt like I was doing something rather than waiting. Ideally, I’d be out there, searching the streets for her, but that was my emotional side speaking.
It wasn’t rational.
Besides, as an agent of AMIA, I knew better. So I was using every single resource I had to help track down my Char.
Not your Char, stupid. You gave her up.
Right. Yes. Andres’ Char. Bastille’s Char.
Not my Char.
Just the thought made me cringe.
Why had I been stubborn and denied my feelings for Char, passing on the opportunity to have her as mine? Why had I thought I wouldn’t be able to share her, that not having her at all was a better idea?
Idiot.
I was a fucking idiot.
I should’ve at least agreed to try this whole polyamory thing before I rejected Char. It worked for Blair, why couldn’t it work for me?
Too little, too late, dumbass.
Now she’d been taken, and I was left with nothing but worry and regrets.
My phone rang, and I picked up the minute I saw who was calling.
“Any news?” I asked, not bothering with pleasantries. Not like Andres wasn’t as worried as I was. I would’ve said he was even more worried, but that wasn’t possible.
“Fuck. I was hoping you’d have something. Listen, I know you’re hellbent on trying to get some video footage, but we’re not on CSI or any other damn TV show, so how about you get your ass to Bast’s house? Bast got a call from his grandmother, and we can go from there.” Andres sounded about as stressed as I felt, but he hadn’t lost his snark.
“Bastille’s grandmother?”
What the hell did his grandmother have to do with any of it? Were they Divinators? Fuck, that would make so much sense. If we had a Divinator on our side, they might know where Charisma had been taken to, where she was.
Shit. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I could’ve contacted one of the Manteis twins long ago. They owed Char a favor, and there was no way they wouldn’t take the chance to pay it back.
I wanted to bang my head against a wall for my stupidity.
“Yeah. Just…you’ll see when you meet her. Anyway, I have to go. I promised my parents I’d meet up with them to discuss the Ricardo situation, but the minute I’m free, I’ll meet you guys there.”
He hung up before I could reply, leaving me to ponder things.
Maybe Bastille was a Divinator, which would explain why I’d never really met him before. As a rule, I tended to avoid most seers, mainly because they tended to be creepy as fuck. If he was low on the totem pole and a seer, then so much could be explained.
Except for how Blair knew him, but honestly, Blair’s whole persona was a fucking mystery to me. For all I knew, she’d dated the guy or something.
Wouldn’t have surprised me in the least.
It didn’t matter. None of this mattered, honestly. So long as we found her.
I jumped up from my chair, quickly logging out of everything and turning it all off, lest I get in trouble for breaching security protocols or something, and then rushed through the agency, heading to the elevators.
This early, AMIA’s headquarters would usually be a ghost town. However, with Char’s kidnapping and the very fucking suspicious disappearance of Ricardo Illudere, we were on purple alert. That meant the place was packed, even at seven in the morning. There were agents running everywhere, and they all looked like they hadn’t slept, either.
Fuck. I hoped whatever lead we got from Bastille’s grandmother would lead us straight to Char. We needed to get her back, and then we had to find a way to end the threat that was Ricardo, especially now that new information had come to light indicating that Ricardo was helping the resistance.
That fucking bastard deserved to rot in jail. Actually, rotting in jail would be too nice an end. He deserved to suffer.
I reached the elevators just as the doors opened and Blair stepped out.
“Yo. Lover boy, where are you off to in such a rush?” she asked as I tried to get into the now empty metal box.
Of all the people I could’ve run into, why did I always end up running into Blair?
I wanted to say it was none of her business and just keep walking, but if I knew Blair at all, she’d just follow me until she got what she wanted.
Seriously, it was like she took pleasure in annoying me. She really had the whole annoying
older sister act together, and I felt kind of bad for Andres and whatever other younger siblings she might have.
I sighed in defeat, pressing the button to the underground parking lot, even as Blair came back inside the elevator to take the ride with me.
Of course she did.
“Don’t you have work to do, Blair? It’s seven in the damn morning, go hit the gym and knock some trainees on their asses or something.”
Her smile dropped. “I wanted to see if you’d found anything on the footage, since you were all but running out of here. I’m doing my best to find her too, you know? We all are.” I’d never heard Blair sound this defeated before. “Did you? Find anything, I mean? Oh, please tell me you found her, or at least some sort of fucking clue so we can go save her ass.”
I winced. “No, Blair. I’m sorry, I still haven’t found her.”
Whatever hope Blair had felt vanished just like that.
Damn. Char had managed to win over even Blair. That only served to show how amazing my girl was.
Not your girl, Blaze.
“I will find her, though, I swear. Andres called me, actually. We’re meeting Bastille’s grandmother. Apparently, she can help us find a lead.”
As I spoke, hope sparkled in Blair’s dark brown eyes. “Oh yeah, she’ll definitely be able to do something.”
I frowned. “You know his grandmother? Is she a Divinator, then?”
“No, actually, she’s—” Blair’s words were cut off by the elevator dinging and the doors opening as it reached the parking lot. “Oh, look. You’re up. Send Bastille’s grandmother my love, will you? I’ll keep doing everything I can from this end. We will find her.” She nodded as she shoved me out of the elevator, pressed the button to whatever floor she was going to, and rushed the doors to close.
I just stood outside, staring at my reflection in the metal.
What the fuck was with this guy’s family and all the mystery surrounding it?
Well, whatever it was, I was determined to find out.
Today.
I stood outside Bastille’s apartment, staring at the wooden door and drowning in memories. I knew I should ring the doorbell and get started on business, but this damn place was starting to haunt my every waking hour.
The first time I’d come here, I had no idea who lived inside and I’d been full of hope and anxiety. I’d come to apologize to Char and try get her back. I’d managed the first but not the latter. After all, she’d already moved on.
The second time, I’d been filled with frustration, and yeah, some resentment too. But all those feelings soon gave way to panic when I found out Char had been taken. I’d stood outside this very same door, ringing the doorbell like my life depended on it, but gotten no answer.
A chasm had opened inside my chest where my heart should be. I was so fucking worried, and the more time passed, the more anxious I became. Especially because there was no word of a ransom or any kind of demand.
Twenty hours was a hell of a long time.
The truth was we all suspected Char had been taken hostage by the resistance, and apparently, so had Logan Nightshade and Theodore Soulbinder, but the resistance was usually very loud about their demands.
The fact they’d been radio silent since the kidnapping had everyone on edge.
Suddenly, the door in front of me opened, revealing an old lady.
“Well, boy, are you just going to stand there contemplating life, or are you coming in? I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
I blinked at the old lady in front of me. Her white hair was cut short in what I was almost sure women called a bob, and her milky white eyes were fixed on me, even if I had my doubts about whether or not she could actually see me. She looked frail, ancient. The woman took a step back to let me enter the apartment, and I stared speechless at the clothing she was wearing.
Were those…?
Yup. Her black dress had ghost condoms printed all over it.
As in condoms with tiny arms raised and tiny white specks all around them. I didn’t need to look closely to know those little soldiers in helmets were sperm.
I wanted to groan, cover my eyes, and run the fuck away from it. Instead, I cleared my throat. “Hmm, ma’am, I’m sorry. I must have the wrong apartment.” I gave her a small smile in apology, already planning on turning tail and making a run from it.
“Pfft,” she scoffed. “You’re at the right place, boy. Come inside, come inside.” She gestured for me to come in. “My grandson is in the kitchen, and that scoundrel, Andres, is late. I’m going to have fun reminding that boy to respect his elders. He should know better than to keep me waiting anyway.” She stopped talking and looked at me expectantly, but when I didn’t follow through, she narrowed her eyes at me, putting her hands on her hips. “So what is it going to be? Are you coming in or planning on becoming a new decoration outside to ward off unwanted guests?”
Without knowing what the fuck else to do, I stepped inside the apartment. If she knew Andres by name, then the odds that this was Bastille’s grandmother were high, right? And she had mentioned a grandson. Besides, I was pretty sure I’d gotten off on the right floor, so unless this was some sort of multiverse, I had the right place.
It was just that Bastille’s grandmother was…a lot to take in.
I had just passed by the old lady when I felt something squeezing my butt. Or rather, someone.
“What the fuck!?” I jumped away from the hand groping me and turned around, only stopping short when I saw the grin on her face.
“Hmm, I can see why Charisma likes you—such a great behind,” the old lady said, sounding way too pleased with herself.
“Did you just…?” No way; she hadn’t—had she? She must be a hundred years old, so there was no way she’d groped me. Unless… I narrowed my eyes at her. “Andres, you asshole, is that you? Damn, you almost had me fooled. Laying on the act a little thick, though, don’t you think? But I’ll hand it to you—the fake blindness was a nice touch.” I wanted to punch him, but this was not the time. “Whatever, man. Here I thought you were worried about Char, but you’re just fucking around and pranking me, once again. When are you going to grow the fuck up?”
“That’s not Andres, Blaze,” Bastille said, walking towards us and sending the old lady a reproachful look. “Really, Gran? You becoming a perv in your old age? You do know assault charges will still stick, even if you’re ancient, right?” He crossed his arms in front of him while he spoke.
Shit, if that really wasn’t Andres, then I had to apologize for the disrespectful way I’d spoken to her. Thank fuck I hadn’t punched him. Her. Goddess, that would’ve been a mess.
I was about to open my mouth to apologize when the grandma spoke again.
“What? The boy is carrying some goods. I just wanted to be sure he was the right choice for Charisma!” She batted her lashes as she spoke, the picture of elderly innocence.
I could do nothing more than stare. What the hell kind of home had I just walked into?
Bastille rubbed his face. “Gran, you can’t just grope people. I know you’re old and blind and you’ve finally reached the stage in life where you can give zero fucks, but must you really?” This sounded like it was an argument they’d already had hundreds of times, and one he always lost.
I felt kind of bad for him.
“Pfft. Life gets boring after a certain age. Would you really take away your beloved grandmother’s sole source of entertainment? Would you be so cruel as to deny an old, frail lady some small measure of fun in her final days on this earth?” The more she spoke, the weaker her voice became and the more fragile she looked. I had no idea how she’d transformed, short of using magic, but the change was apparent. Her posture had dropped, her hands had started to shake, and she just looked…old.
Like she was one step away from the grave old.
“Oh, for the love of the Goddess. We both know you’ll outlive me, Gran. Now stop messing around and come to the kitchen.” His eyes met mine. �
��Sorry about her. She doesn’t understand the meaning of boundaries. Since I doubt she bothered with introductions, that’s my grandmother, Alma.” We watched as she walked towards him, grumbling under her breath about party poopers, ungrateful children, and whatever else. Honestly, I was too scared to try to make sense of most of the words.
“Will you come into the kitchen? Andres just called and said he was on his way. I made coffee for all of us,” he offered kindly before turning and walking after his grandmother.
Realizing the door had been left wide open, I turned to close it. I considered leaving and making a run for it, but then I remembered why I was here.
Not like I could ever forget.
Char.
I was willing to do just about anything to help her, to have her back, even if that meant dealing with a whole lot of crazy.
I just hoped this wasn’t a complete waste of my time.
Sighing, I headed to the kitchen, and found an incredibly domestic scene in front of me. Bastille was at the stove, cooking something, while Mrs. Alma sat by the kitchen counter. She bickered with him good-naturedly, and I didn’t know whether his grandmother was trying to distract him from the seriousness of the situation, or if she did it just because she could.
Probably a bit of both, based on her introduction to me.
Goddess, when was the last time I’d ever witnessed something like that from my own family?
Never. The answer came to me, simple as that. Because of the way my brother and I had been raised, everything had always been a competition. There was no banter, no easy smiles, and no relaxing atmosphere. Everything had an angle, a catch, and there was always some kind of punishment to the loser, always a bottom line.
The first and only time I’d experienced any kind of domestic bliss was when I’d been with Charisma, Andres, and Blair at the safe house.
Yet Bast and his grandmother were living it right in front of me, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
Almost afraid of getting too close and ruining their bliss, I hovered near the door. Or rather, the wall, since the kitchen was an open concept.
