Jet hissed, losing hold of the energy she’d been trying to harness. I might not have been able to wield it myself, but I had legally claimed the property — and thus all the magic contained within it.
Thwarted, Jet yanked back her sleeve and fumbled with her tiny knife. We were giving her too much time to recover while Christopher was locked in a staring contest with the mystic.
I shifted my shoulder, tugging at Christopher’s hold on me. Once again, he simply tightened his grip. Still holding me back. It would have been idiotic to question him. He’d never held me back, not unless my actions were going to get us into trouble. But as I cast my gaze quickly across the yard, I could see no reason for his caution.
“Well?” Christopher finally said. “Speak your terms or I’ll let Emma loose.”
I frowned, peeved at the implication that I was under his control, but I let it go. Now wasn’t the time to bicker.
“Please. Amp5 cannot quell me with a simple touch,” Chenda said, giving her necklace a shake. The glass-and-platinum charms tinkled against each other. “Certainly you didn’t think I would let you go wandering off from the Collective without holding protections against you. All five of you.”
Five charms on the gold chain.
She carried the blood of the Five with her. At least that was what the mystic was implying. That was why I could feel the power of the artifact even through the blood ward.
“My blades will make quick work of dismembering you, mystic,” I said coolly. “No skin contact needed.”
“But I’m reasonable,” she continued, gaze pinned to Christopher, ignoring me. “Surrender the telekinetic, and I’ll let you be.”
“Until you have use for us,” Christopher said darkly.
She laughed. “Well, of course.”
“Or what?” I asked, just to see how far she was willing to go with her threat.
“Or I’ll kill you all, one at a time. You last, Amp5. So you can watch.”
I sneered. “Please. You think I don’t know? That we all don’t know? You have to kill me last, because killing me will kill the others.”
“Or at least incapacitate us,” Christopher said agreeably. “Severely.”
Chenda frowned. She hadn’t put together that little tidbit about the blood tattoo bindings.
Jet had started carving into the flesh of her forearm. Arcane symbols.
I raised my blades, pushing my right foot back for greater leverage.
“You’re implying you let us go,” Christopher said, finally letting his hand fall away from my shoulder. “But Silver Pine was the overseer at the time we decided to leave.”
“I am sorry I had to witness you taking down the compound remotely. The footage was rather … spotty. It was a spectacular tantrum.”
“She’s implying she was the telepath on the rooftop,” I said. “In LA.” When the Five had been tasked to rescue the sorcerer Azar, Aiden’s father, from rogue shifters, I had been forced to stand against a greater demon. Silver Pine’s demon. But the black witch had had multiple co-conspirators in her attempt to wrestle control of the Collective from Azar. One of those was Isa Azar. Another had been a telepath who’d taken out Knox and Bee, whose identity was unknown. Until now.
Chenda smiled, sharp edged and pleased with herself. “And how long did I knock you and Tel5 out, clairvoyant?”
Christopher raised his sword. “Long enough that I lost my entire team.”
She laughed coldly, shaking the charms on her necklace again.
I moved. Lunging forward, I slashed my blades through the remnants of the blood wards. The magic barring my advance crumbled.
“Paisley,” Christopher commanded, already moving toward the mystic, “step back from the witch, please.”
Paisley snarled.
Jet raised her blood-crusted hands toward me, slamming magic against my chest. I’d waited too long to strike, given her too much time.
I recognized the spell instantly.
A death curse.
I lost hold of my blades, falling to my knees before her. The curse tried to curl around my heart, to smother it, stifle it. Pain froze me in place, my awareness shrinking to a focus on … just … getting … air … into … my lungs …
Jet grinned at me. Her teeth were caked in blood. She crawled forward to run a bloody finger down my cheek. More magic pulsed against my skin …
I clapped my hands to her face. She had a moment to look startled, then I was pulling her magic from her, amplifying it. She shrieked, bucked. But even fighting a death curse, I was the stronger.
I couldn’t breathe.
My heart thumped madly against my rib cage.
I stripped power from the black witch, amplifying it. And with that power in my grasp, I reached to my chest and ripped the curse away.
Magic exploded to my left, then behind me.
Two separate locations. Two different spells.
Paisley roared, hitting the ground hard enough for it to shake under my knees.
Christopher grunted. The magic of the blood tattoo that tied us sputtered.
I slammed the death curse into Jet’s chest, hard enough to throw her backward, sending her sliding through the snow for a few meters.
I staggered to my feet, finding myself face-to-face with Onyx. She raked clawed fingers across my exposed shoulder, delivering another curse. Still moving toward where I could feel Christopher struggling — or at least his magic sputtering — I slammed a sharp jab to the black witch’s face.
She fell, blood spraying across the snow.
I stepped over her.
Paisley was struggling to rise to her feet about three meters to my right. I was fairly certain the dormant rose bushes wouldn’t survive being crushed under her weight. Onyx had hit the demon dog with something painful, but thankfully not deadly.
Christopher was poised in a standoff with the mystic. Her hands were flung forward. The tip of his sword slowly crept toward her neck. She was holding him off — barely — with her mind. It was exactly the situation I’d assumed I would have to move through to take her down.
I had an unnaturally gained resistance to all magic, including telepathy. But the longer I allowed the mystic access to Christopher’s mind, the less control he’d have. And I didn’t need him turned against me. I didn’t want to find out if him fighting me, going against the connection of our blood tattoos, was even possible.
I forced myself to slow. To fully assess the situation. The mystic already had Christopher in her grasp. I could grab her, of course. But I wasn’t certain I was fast enough to do so before she shredded his mind in retribution. That wouldn’t stop me from killing her. But I wasn’t certain the clairvoyant would survive the process.
I needed to distract her, to pull focus so Christopher could gain control. Or until I could get near enough to guarantee I could drain her quicker than she could destroy his mind.
I wasn’t certain how to guarantee any such thing. The mystic was one of the Collective. That meant she was powerful enough that everything she’d done so far might have just been to toy with us — including the mental block on Samantha’s magic.
“So …” My voice was far steadier than my heart. “Jealous? How pathetic.”
“What?” the mystic snarled, flicking her gaze to me.
Christopher’s sword slipped forward, all his weight pressed into it. The problem with his sight, as it had always been, was that he didn’t see his own future. He had to guess it based on the movements of everyone around him.
The front door of the house slammed open. Then I could feel Aiden striding toward us, his magic intense, furious.
“You and Silver Pine?” I said mockingly. “Spurred by Kader Azar. That was what the rooftop in LA was about, wasn’t it? Jealousy. A bid for power.”
The twins were rallying on the edge of my peripheral vision, crawling toward each other. I had no doubt that even mostly drained, they were more powerful when casting together.
“Please,” Chend
a scoffed. “The sorcerer Azar? My predilections don’t lean that way.”
I laughed, taking another step toward her. “Silver Pine, then? She was expansive with her affections. Does every Adept sleep with every other? Or is the dating pool just that shallow?”
The mystic’s gaze settled on me.
Christopher’s blade slipped closer to her neck.
Aiden was only steps behind us now. He’d slowed to check on Paisley and take in the situation.
“What do you mean … was?” The mystic had picked up my past-tense comment about Silver Pine. Her voice was deep now, intense.
Christopher’s blade started trembling. He moaned quietly.
She was crushing his mind, all the while talking casually to me.
Three more steps. Then I could lunge. Distract, distract. Apparently, I really needed to practice the art of bantering with too-powerful assholes who wanted to control the Five.
Actually, on further assessment, maybe I was getting too much practice.
“Didn’t you know?” I asked coolly. “I killed Silver Pine. Months ago. Didn’t she mention me before she paid us a visit? I guess you weren’t that close. Though …” I tilted my head toward Aiden, slumping my shoulders casually as I took another step toward Chenda.
Two more steps.
“She was rather enamored with Aiden at the time.” I grinned at her. “You recognize the sorcerer, don’t you, mystic? Silver Pine definitely had a type.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Aiden said, perfectly pleasantly. He stopped near enough that I could see him without turning my head, but not so close that we were in the same line of fire. Paisley was at his side, growling menacingly. Aiden flipped through his notebook, keeping his gaze on the witches.
The twins had linked hands, slumped together, eyes closed.
Chenda curled her lip. “What’s most pathetic is that you think one such as I would be ruled by such base emotions.” She nodded toward Christopher. “Give up the telekinetic or I’ll shred Cla5’s mind. Not even Tel5 will be able to put him back together.”
Aiden tore a page from his notebook, crumpling it in his hand.
“Nope,” I said. “I don’t trade lives. I might have been willing to mediate. But then you broke my gate. And that’s just rude.”
I wasn’t close enough, but I lunged for the mystic anyway.
Aiden flicked the crumpled piece of paper. It exploded. A ward snapped into place between us and the witches.
My foot slipped in the fucking slushy snow.
The mystic, inexplicably, reached for Christopher’s blade with the flat of her hand, effortlessly pushing it aside. She stepped into him, rising on her tiptoes and whispering in his ear.
I got my footing, grabbing Christopher’s sweater and yanking him back, away from the mystic, throwing him to the ground. Out of her reach.
Paisley instantly fell back, guarding the downed clairvoyant.
Aiden flicked two more crumpled pages. More spells exploded between him and the witches.
I stalked toward the mystic. She raised her hands, stepping back even as her magic lashed around me, trying to latch on to my mind.
“You’ve forgotten who I am,” I said. “Allow me to remind you.” I reached for her, realizing belatedly that I’d left my blades where they’d fallen on the ground. I’d been distracted fighting the death curse, and then by my concern for Christopher.
No matter.
I could kill with my hands. And doing so was generally less bloody.
I lunged. The mystic spun away, running toward the twins. My fingers brushed through her long white hair. She tore away from me, leaving a twist of that hair entwined through my fingers.
Magic snapped out from the black witches.
And suddenly the yard before me was empty.
I hesitated, scanning with all my senses. I could feel Christopher, Paisley, and Aiden. I could even pick up a muted hum of magic from the half-spent gemstones in our weapons.
“Fuck,” Aiden said, flipping madly through his notebook.
“It’s a cloaking spell,” I snarled. “They’re still here.”
“No footprints.”
“Same spell as in the park. No footprints there as well. Paisley?”
The demon dog prowled to my side, sniffing the air. Then she grumbled.
Aiden crumpled up three more pages, activating the spells he’d inked on the individual sheets, flicking them forward. Magic shot out from three distinct spots, spreading across the slick snow. Then it slowly faded, leaving a dark smudge in a trampled area — the last location of the witches and the mystic.
“No residual trail,” Aiden said. “Teleportation.”
“Seriously?” I coiled the strands of hair I’d ripped from the mystic into a circle, then tucked them into my pocket. I couldn’t do anything with the hair, of course. But Aiden — or even Ember or Capri — might be able to. I just couldn’t figure out where I’d made my misstep. I’d thought I had it under control, except that —
I whirled on Christopher. He was sitting in the wet snow, elbows on bent knees, head in his hands.
“I had the upper hand,” I snarled. “Easily. The witches were down. You never should have faced the mystic. I’m less susceptible, you know that!”
Christopher didn’t answer.
I sighed, trying to quell my anger and assess the situation. “No matter how drained the twins are, they’ll be back. And now they know too much about us, about me.” Laying hands on the black witches was going to be harder the second time.
“I know,” Christopher whispered. “But you didn’t have all the information.”
“I trust you,” I said, trying to be reasonable “I have to. I didn’t need to know the future to know what I was facing. I knew I could vanquish what stood before me. Instead, you held me back, then you got between me and the mystic. What was so important? What could possibly have happened if I’d taken Chenda out?”
Christopher dropped his hands from his face. The white of his magic still edged his irises. He looked desperate. “It was never important to you, Socks …”
Samantha exploded out of the house, stumbling down the stairs and loping toward us. Paisley was prowling the area in tight circles, slowly moving toward the fence. Aiden, notebook in hand, stood off to one side, trying to watch over all of us at the same time.
“What the hell?” Samantha raged. “You let her go?”
Christopher had dropped his head again, obviously not interested in explaining himself. Utterly frustrated, I stepped over to scoop up my blades.
Samantha slid to a stop beside Christopher. “Are you hurt?”
The clairvoyant shook his head. “No. But Socks took a death curse.”
Aiden swore under his breath.
Samantha waved a hand in the sorcerer’s direction. “Not her first, don’t worry.”
I held both swords awkwardly in one hand, rubbing my aching chest, toeing Christopher’s sword. He’d made no attempt to pick it up. “Still stung.”
“I warned you.” The clairvoyant sounded as if he was teasing, but I wasn’t going to be cajoled.
“What did the mystic whisper to you, Christopher?” Aiden asked. “When you let her knock your sword away.”
“What?!” Samantha cried.
Christopher sighed heavily. “She said that I belonged to her.”
I snorted. “So? She said the same to me.”
He lifted his head, meeting my gaze. “No. She said she … she’s one of my donors.”
Silence fell as I absorbed the implications of the clairvoyant’s words.
Then I laughed. The noise was harsh. It felt as brutal as it sounded — presumably because I was still healing from the damn death curse.
“Please! She’s claiming parentage? And for that you let her get away? For that, you let me take that curse? She’s screwed with your head. And you let her in.”
Christopher just stared at me, his face sorrowful. “Like I said, I know it never mattered to you
.”
“She is not your … genetic relation!” Unintentional magic lashed out with my words. Samantha and Christopher flinched under the assault.
“Excuse me,” Aiden murmured, moving off toward the gate with Paisley guarding his right flank.
I got myself under control. I was going to need another action plan. Apparently, Samantha and Christopher were now both compromised. I started back toward the house. I was going to have to go hunting. And I needed shoes.
“Emma, please,” Christopher said, scrambling to his feet as I passed. “Zans … tell her.”
“Yeah,” Samantha said, though she still looked pissed. “As far as I’ve figured out, the bulk of our genetic makeup came from the main members of the Collective. Though obviously, it’s seriously diluted, and —”
“Chenda is my mother,” Christopher said, pleading with me. “I couldn’t let you kill her!”
With my heart pounding and my chest a seething mass of pain, I rounded on the clairvoyant, stepping into his space, up to his face. “We’re your family! And you just fucking betrayed us. So now you’re a liability. And as always, that leaves me to clean up your mess.”
He grimaced. “We don’t feel the same —”
“Don’t include me in that sentence, Knox,” Samantha growled.
I whirled away, but managed only two more steps before spinning back and shoving myself in Christopher’s face again. “You’ve jeopardized our life. You allowed Paisley to get hurt.”
His mouth dropped open indignantly, but I cut him off.
“You allowed me to get hurt.”
“You can take —”
My voice came out harsh, low and deadly. “You’ve placed Opal in harm’s way. I’m going to have to get her out of town, which will divide my attention. And …” My voice cracked. I firmed it. “You’ve ruined any chance … any chance we had to keep her, to make her ours. To share our life.”
“What?” Samantha whispered, blinking. “What do you mean?”
“Emma …” Christopher’s magic snapped to me, seeking out our connection.
And possibly for the first time ever, I brushed it away. “No. You’ve made your choice. I will react accordingly.” I turned toward Samantha. She looked confused, glancing between me and the clairvoyant. “I need to be debriefed. Now.”
Mystics and Mental Blocks (Amplifier 3) Page 15
