by Ella Summers
“Allura Knight has to know something about what Nightstar is after,” Sera said. “And where Riley is.”
Allura Knight… Alex recognized the name. It belonged to one of the two mages they’d just captured. One of Nightstar’s mages.
“The Council’s interrogators will find out what she knows. In time,” Kai said.
“We don’t have time, Kai. Nightstar has Riley now. If Allura knows something, we should talk to her ourselves. We should talk to all of Nightstar’s mages.”
“They are all members of prominent dynasties. We must tread carefully.” His voice dipped lower. “And, whatever we do, we must keep Alex away from them. She is unstable.”
Unstable? Alex would show them unstable!
No, that won’t help, her dragon advised her. We need to play this smart.
You’re right, Nova. Alex unclenched her fists and snuck away without being seen.
“What about your chocolate syrup?” Logan asked her as she sat down beside him at the dining room table.
“I’ve changed my mind.”
Logan didn’t pry further, probably due to the totally subtle ‘later’ look Alex was giving him. Sera and Kai had entered the room.
“So, who’s up for strawberries?” Sera’s voice was bright, her smile big.
Alex slid her plate over to Sera, who began to scoop strawberries onto the waffle.
Kai’s phone chimed. He glanced at it, then showed Sera the screen. Her face grew serious.
“What is it?” Alex asked her.
“Melody Caron is no longer in prison.”
“Nightstar broke her out?”
“No,” Sera said slowly. “Her family came and collected her.”
Alex glowered. “I knew it! I knew this would happen. I knew that she’d just get away with this because of who her family is.”
“She is still being kept under house arrest,” Kai said.
“Because of who her family is.” Alex pushed back her chair and jumped to her feet. “Come on, Logan. We’re going.”
“Where do you wish to go?” he asked her.
“Anywhere but here!”
22
The Paradise Resort
According to Marek, the Magic Council was keeping Daemon in the Paradise Resort. It was one of those really shady motels, the kind with cockroaches, chipped paint, and half the bulbs blown out on the big, blinking sign outside. The door of each motel room spilled out into the parking lot. The Council’s guards were stationed throughout the concrete grounds. Logan had counted two mages and a fairy.
The guards were hardly necessary. The Magic Council knew Daemon wouldn’t try to run; he wouldn’t leave without his sister, who was staying with Gaelyn. And Gaelyn’s place was well-guarded. Daemon could never get her out of there. The bigger problem was actually Nightstar. As long as the game master was at large, it was unlikely Daemon wanted to be anything else but well-guarded. In this case, freedom made him vulnerable.
But the guards were probably here to keep Daemon safe, not imprisoned. After all, right now he was one of the Magic Council’s most valuable resources.
Alex and Logan waited at the perimeter. The scent of chlorine wafted up from the pool around back. The intermittent crackle of the ice machine bit into the constant rumble of the numerous AC wall units.
Logan nodded at Alex, the sign that there was an opening, and they’d better move fast, before that opening closed. They dashed across the narrow back path, scaled the building to the next floor, then squeezed in through the bathroom window of Room 216.
Daemon was waiting for them in the open doorway between bedroom and bathroom, a heavy lamp clutched tightly in his hands.
Logan pushed past him, moving into the tiny bedroom. Here, the venetian blinds rattled against the front window, caught in the gale of the AC. The room was cold. Arctic even. Alex shivered a little as Logan cranked up the AC to muffle their voices.
Then Logan turned around to face Daemon. His gaze started on the lamp, then slid up to the fairy’s face. “What do you plan to do with that?”
The fairy blushed and hastily returned the lamp to the desk. “I thought you might be Nightstar’s people.” He rearranged his face into a smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Just hear to talk,” Alex said, looking around.
Daemon’s motel room was just as shabby from the inside as it was from the outside. Maybe even shabbier. The small, single bed ate up most of the room; the tiny desk in the corner swallowed whatever space was left.
“Hmm.” Daemon began to pace nervously. Three steps forward, turn, three steps back. He looked like he’d been doing a lot of that lately; the old carpet was worn down to its threads. “You’re planning something. Something covert. Something you don’t want the Magic Council to know about.”
“What makes you say that?” Alex coughed.
She was choking on the room’s stench. It reeked of mothballs, piss, and spoiled beer.
“Your method of entry into this apartment,” said Daemon. “If you were just here to socialize, you would have come through the front door. The fact that you didn’t, that you came in through the bathroom window, means you don’t want the guards outside to know you’re here. Those guards report back to the Magic Council. To Kai Drachenburg. And your sister. You’re fighting with Sera now?” He pretended to look concerned.
Alex scowled at him. “Sera and I aren’t fighting.”
“Ah, I see. So you haven’t even told her that you two are fighting. You just ran off. Silent fighting. That’s even worse than actual fighting.”
“What do you know?” Alex grumbled.
“A lot.” He folded his hands together. “So, what has happened to bring you here to me?”
So Alex told him. She didn’t see why not, if she wanted his help. She told him about Melody Caron’s family escorting her from prison—and the Magic Council not doing a damn thing to stop them. She told them how the Council was protecting the corrupted mages. How they wouldn’t even allow Alex to question them. They thought she was too emotional.
“Maybe they’re right,” Daemon said. “You are scared for your brother’s life. Fear makes people do crazy things.”
“Whose side are you on anyway?” Alex demanded.
“My own, of course.” His smile was without shame. “Was there ever any doubt of that?”
Alex snorted. “Marek told us you know of a mage with connections to Nightstar.”
“I do.”
“And that the Council doesn’t know about this mage’s affiliation with Nightstar.”
“They don’t,” he confirmed.
“Really? You’re sure you haven’t told them everything? You haven’t given them all the names, all of Nightstar’s connections?” Alex watched him closely for a reaction.
And he didn’t give her one. “Of course I didn’t tell the Council everything. What do you take me for, an amateur? A good showman always holds back, always leaves the audience wanting more.”
Ok, maybe Daemon had shown a reaction: arrogance. Which was exactly what Alex would expect from him.
“I could make you talk,” Logan told him.
“I am already talking. To you, not to the Magic Council. And if you want to see your brother again, Alex, you shouldn’t tell them everything either.”
Alex didn’t know what he meant. What would she tell the Magic Council? That she’d snuck past their guards to have a chat with Daemon, so she could gather enough information to capture one of Darksire’s mages that they didn’t know about—and therefore couldn’t protect?
Yeah, the Council would have just loved that.
“What haven’t you told the Council?” Alex asked him.
“Oh, nothing of consequence, of course,” Daemon said with a dismissive flick of his wrist.
“He’s told the Council just enough to keep them busy,” Logan translated. “But not so much that the Council members decide they have everything they need from him—and, since he’s mo
re trouble than he’s worth, do away with him.”
“How crass!” Daemon protested.
Logan’s brows arched. “I’m waiting for you to deny it.”
“Do you really think me so devious?”
“You’ve survived for many years, escaping the Magic Council’s notice. So, yes, I do believe you are that devious,” Logan told him.
Daemon giggled like a young schoolgirl. “I must say, I’m quite tickled by the compliment.”
“Stop goofing off, Daemon,” Alex snapped. “We need your help. The Magic Council is handling this all wrong. They’re crippled by politics and alliances.”
“Indeed,” Daemon agreed. “The Council is a relic of the past.”
“Logan and I are going to find one of Nightstar’s mages and question them ourselves, away from the Council. And we need your help to do it. You mentioned a mage to Marek, someone working for Nightstar that you haven’t told the Council about. We need that name.”
“Why?” Daemon sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “So you can go off after him?”
“None of your business.”
“I see.” He smiled. “So you are going rogue.”
“No, we’re taking matters into our own hands.”
“That’s one and the same, honey. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I completely understand.” He nodded. “I was once in the exact same situation.”
Alex glared at him. “We are not the same.”
Smiling, he spread his arms. “Of course not.”
“I’m not silent-fighting with Sera,” Alex said, feeling defensive. “I wrote to her and told her I needed some time off to breathe, to gather my thoughts. To calm myself because I was getting so worked up.”
Daemon nodded. “A wise move.”
Alex frowned. She didn’t know why she felt the need to justify her actions to Daemon Grimoire of all people, the man who’d once poisoned her father. She didn’t care what he thought. Not one bit.
She realized this was more about justifying her actions to herself. What she was about to do…Sera would see it as a betrayal. But Alex had to do it. The Council’s way wasn’t working toward helping Riley. If anything, it was working against those efforts.
“I need that name, Daemon,” Alex told him.
He pursed his lips. “Why should I tell you?”
“Because we had a deal.”
Daemon laughed. “Actually, I have a deal with Kai Drachenburg. I fully expect to get my pardon and then return to the limelight, where I belong. Why on Earth would I risk all that just to help you?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Not for me. And Drachenburg has a terrible temper.” Daemon shuddered.
“So do I,” Alex said.
“True. But you cannot offer me a pardon. Kai Drachenburg can.”
“Look, when this is all over, when Nightstar is finished and Riley is back with us, Kai will realize I was right,” Alex told him. “He’ll realize the Magic Council’s way doesn’t work and mine does.”
“Are you talking about Kai Drachenburg?” Daemon stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Or your sister Sera?”
Alex frowned.
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right,” Daemon told her seriously. “Your way is right. And they will see it. Ok, I’ll help you.”
Alex hadn’t expected that from him. “Just like that?”
“Well, not just like that. Nothing is for free. You’re a mercenary, so surely you understand that. Naturally, I do expect something in return for my assistance: a favor.”
“A favor from me?”
“No, not you. I could easily gain a favor from you, as I proved all those years ago. I want a favor from him.” Daemon’s eyes locked on to Logan. “The famous Slayer. So mysterious, so expensive. Favors from him are such valuable currency—and yet so impossible to earn.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Alex told Logan. “We can just get the mage’s name by interrogating him.”
“Perhaps,” Daemon said slyly. “But not before I screamed out loudly, alerting the guards outside. Then they would come in, see you here, and relay that information to the Magic Council. That would make for such a messy situation. Especially for you, Alex. Not only would I be forced to alert the Council to the mage’s alliance with Nightstar, but your twin would know you went behind her back.”
“You’re a weasel, Daemon,” Alex said with a scowl.
“There’s no need for name-calling.”
Alex stepped toward him.
Logan caught her hand, stopping her. “It’s a deal,” he told Daemon. “You give us the name of the mage, you help us find Nightstar and the Convictionites and save Riley, and then I will owe you a favor.”
“Excellent.” Daemon extended his manicured hand to Logan.
Logan shot it a withering look. “But if you double-cross us, you will get no favor from me.” His eyes narrowed. “Not even the favor of a quick death.”
“Of course,” the fairy laughed nervously. “No need to worry.” He hiccuped. “I will hold up my part of the bargain.” He tried to keep his voice calm and level, but it wavered.
“Good,” Logan said. “Now that everything is clear, you’re going to lead us to this mage.”
23
The Tree Summoner
Daemon revealed that the name of the mystery mage was Magnus Duke. Then he directed Alex and Logan to the Shore of Tears, a beach that was about an hour’s drive north of San Francisco. The beach was, ostensibly, part of a state park, but in reality the Magic Council had claimed ownership over it for ‘magical’ reasons.
Magical. That was the vague word the Council liked to throw around to end any human-supernatural debates in their favor. It seemed the Council had tasked the Duke dynasty with the beach’s care.
So that’s how this all tied in to Magnus Duke, the eldest son of the dynasty’s patriarch.
Daemon had told them there was supposed to be an entrance to an underground bunker here on the Shore of Tears, but as Alex looked down onto the beach from the cliffs, she couldn’t see much of a beach at all, let alone an entrance to Magnus Duke’s underground lair.
There was nothing here but a sheer rock face—and ocean waves crashing against that rock face.
“The cave’s entrance is actually underwater,” Daemon explained. “Except when the tide is low. Only when the water recedes does the beach emerge from the ocean—and only then does the building’s entrance reveal itself to the outside world.”
“The tide is not low right now,” Alex pointed out.
Daemon blinked at her. “You have a knack for stating the obvious.”
“That’s me: blunt.” Alex showed him her sword. “Unlike my steel. That’s as sharp as it comes.”
“Charming,” said Daemon.
Alex turned to Logan. “What do you think? Blast our way in?”
Amusement twinkled in Logan’s eyes. “It would be hard for us to search the cave if it’s completely flooded.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
His brows arched. “I’m saving it for when we’re alone.”
Alex turned to hide her blushing cheeks, though Logan had surely heard her heart rate jump up a notch. “We’re standing right on top of the cave.” She thumped the sole of her boot against the rocky ground.
“That’s right,” said Daemon. “Magnus Duke’s hideout is directly below us. He’s dubbed it Sorcerer’s Grotto, and he’s invited the Convictionites to share the space.”
“Sorcerer’s Grotto. An ironic name for a Convictionite hiding spot,” Alex commented.
“Men like Magnus Duke believe irony to be the epitome of high-brow fashion.” Daemon turned up his nose to show just what he thought of that.
“How far below us is this Sorcerer’s Grotto?” Alex asked him.
Daemon’s face fell. “You’re not thinking…”
“Ah.” She grinned. “Not a bad idea actually.”
It’s
a crazy idea, her dragon Nova said in her mind.
That’s the best kind of idea. Alex glanced over at Logan. “What do you say to our creating a new entrance up here?”
He cast a speculative look upon the rock they were standing on. “It’s quite solid.”
She smirked at him. “So is my magic.”
Alex turned her magical focus to the structure deep within the rocks. She could sense magic brewing below, a kind of chaotic mixture of wild, almost opposing components. Magnus Duke was not alone down there.
She could smell decay, buried beneath an overly-sweet floral aroma. Probably some vampires.
She unfolded her magic-sensing powers, stretching further, reaching deeper.
She smelled smoke, something that had been simmering for a long time; could have been an older mage. And then…sugar. Sugar so sweet it gave Alex a sugar rush.
She continued to slither her magic through the compound. It hit something hard…an old sense of entitlement. Someone from an old dynasty?
“Is there a chance the Magic Council knows about Magnus Duke’s evil lair?” she asked Daemon.
“No, there’s no chance of that.” Daemon frowned. “Why?”
“The magic here smells like an old magic dynasty.”
“Magnus Duke comes from an old magic dynasty,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, I know. But the magic isn’t coming from only one person. There are more of them here.”
“I did not give the Council Magnus Duke’s name,” Daemon said. “If they’ve discovered his darker dealings, they’ve done so without my help.”
“It can’t be the Council. There’s no sign of forced entry,” Logan pointed out.
“True,” said Alex. “But I know what I sense, Logan. Ancient magic.”
“How ancient?” Logan asked.
“Very ancient.”
Once more, she reached out with her magic. This time, it encountered the erratic, staccato beat of a mage. Someone very temperamental. Mercurial. Potentially a telekinetic. They were known for their reckless temperaments.
There were other mages down there too. A summoner of some sort, one who summoned unusual creatures. Large, yet quiet and unmoving. Like a mountain. Alex didn’t know what to make of that.
