by Ella Summers
They tumbled into Gaelyn’s living room. The place looked like it belonged to an old grandmother. The sofas were blue with pink roses all over them. Alex remembered they were so slippery that she’d often struggled not to fall off of them. Throughout the room, there were a number of standing lamps with elaborate shades, including several with decorative tassels.
Flames crackled in the fireplace, spreading a lovely, rich-and-nutty scent all across the room. It reminded Alex of cozy evenings in the wintertime when snow fell softly outside. It was summer right now, of course. The flames created a warm, welcoming atmosphere, though they let off no heat. They must have been made of magic, cast by one of Gaelyn’s assistants.
Paintings from famous magical artists hung on the room’s walls. Gaelyn had once explained to Alex that he’d known each of those artists personally. Throughout the centuries, he’d served as a patron to many of them. The paintings featured scenes of old wizards and benevolent witches, of great magical battles in history, and of supernatural creatures.
There was another aroma in the air, the faint scent of crusty cheese and potatoes. Of onions and…tomatoes. Sweet cherry tomatoes. The food scents had faded, like they were from last night’s dinner.
It was late in the afternoon here in Zurich. The sun streamed in through the windows, warming the room. Soft, light classical music played in the background. It sounded like Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
Gaelyn sat in his lounge chair, sipping from a tiny teacup. The strong, pungent smell of black tea lurked beneath the sweet aroma of added sugar.
The world’s oldest immortal was dressed in a purple robe. His long, white hair poured out of the matching purple hat on his head. A few cookie crumbs were sprinkled inside his waist-length white beard, which only made him look kinder, more endearing.
“Alexandria.”
Alex looked at her arm, which was covered in leather, not wool anymore. Daemon must have changed her back. He’d changed Logan and himself back too.
Gaelyn set down his teacup with a soft clink. “I was expecting you, albeit not so soon.”
Alex stepped forward, her muscles very springy. But she was sore in a good way, like she’d just come from a good run followed by a deep stretch and a steamy shower. Long-distance teleportation was fun. Using powerful magic was fun.
“Sorry to just pop up like this,” Alex said. “But I wanted to avoid any confrontations with the Magic Council.”
“Yes, Marek has explained your situation. The Magic Council will cool off given time, and you are welcome to stay here until they do.”
Alex bowed her head. “Thank you, Gaelyn.”
“Now let’s get you changed out of those battle-worn clothes.” Gaelyn clapped his hands.
A vampire with a bright smile stepped forward. He showed Daemon to his room. Then Alex and Logan followed the vampire to the same little house Alex had used when she’d worked for Gaelyn. The vampire handed them the key to the house, bowed, then turned and walked away. His smile never faded.
“Someone is really happy with his job,” Alex chuckled as she turned the key and entered the house.
It looked just as she remembered. Some of her clothes still hung in the closet. And there were some clothes for Logan in there too.
Alex flashed her husband a grin. “Gaelyn knows your style.”
Logan flipped through the black clothes. “Indeed.” He grabbed a shirt, then glanced over at Alex. “Do you want to talk about the nightmares?”
“Not really.” She peeled off her clothes and dropped them into the laundry basket. “But I guess I have to.” She snatched pieces of her new outfit from the closet. “Parts of my old nightmares flashed through my mind when we were fighting Sera and the others.”
“It’s likely your own imagination, your worries bubbling to the surface.”
“I hope you’re right.” Alex slipped on a red tank top. “I hope I’m not a time bomb, ticking ever closer to detonation.” She slid into her pants. “The emergence of Evil Alex.”
“You might be reckless, but you could never be evil,” Logan reassured her. “Remember that.”
“I’ll try to.”
“And I’ll keep reminding you of the faith I have in you.”
Alex hugged him, the love they shared warming her heart. “Thanks. I think I need that.”
They’d just finished dressing when Logan turned to her and said, “We need to make plans for the future.”
“I was thinking of a nice secluded spot on the beach, not a soul in sight except the two of us. We never got a honeymoon, you know.”
“I will take you anywhere you wish to go, Alex. When it’s safe,” he added.
Alex laughed weakly. “When will that be?”
“I don’t know, but the day will come. It will come sooner if we plan properly.”
“You’re such a nerd, Logan.”
His brows arched.
“And I love you for it,” she told him. “But can we really plan for something outside of our control? Maybe Gaelyn is right and this mess with the Magic Council will all blow over soon.”
Logan said nothing.
But Alex could read his expression clearly enough. “You don’t think this will be over soon, do you?”
“No.”
“Neither do I,” she sighed.
“Right now, we should focus on finding Riley.”
“Agreed. And that means finding Nightstar and Damarion.” She patted the bed. “But maybe first we need to focus on a nap. I’m exhausted.”
Time shift was a bitch. Alex was jolted awake from her nap by a stately voice over the intercom, who declared dinner was served in the main house. So Alex and Logan slipped on their boots and headed over.
Gaelyn’s dining room gave new meaning to the term ‘formal dining room’. A long, rectangular table made of wood—even larger than the one Sera and Kai had at home—filled most of the space. Its immense size made sense actually. Gaelyn often had visitors, whether supernaturals seeking sanctuary, or emissaries from prominent magic dynasties, and everything in between. It all went to show how beloved and respected he was by all in the supernatural community.
The dining room itself was a winter garden, glass walls framing three sides and a glass roof overhead. When it rained, as it often did in Zurich, in this glass room you felt as though you were sitting in the eye of the storm, safe and protected. And that about summed up Gaelyn too. His house was a sanctuary, a place of refuge for those who were hunted—or those who just needed a helping hand.
The multi-course dinner was very civilized, just like Gaelyn himself. Alex was so hungry that she hardly paid attention to what she was eating, but it all tasted great. She almost forgot she was being hunted by the Magic Council, that this wasn’t a vacation.
Almost. But not quite.
Daemon had joined them for dinner. His sister Ellie sat beside him.
Ellie was Alex’s age. Alex had seen her once before—in Mortal Coil. Back then, Ellie had looked pale and weak; her body had wasted away while chained up to the machines that powered the game simulation.
But many years had passed since then, and she’d gone through a marvelous transition. Ellie was now full of life. Her face was plump, her cheeks rosy. Her hair fell in golden locks all the way to her waist. Big blue eyes stared out at Alex, round and innocent and yet a bit glazed over, as though a small part of her still lingered on inside that fake world of her own imagination.
Today, Ellie wore a pink dress with puffed sleeves and little silver butterfly pins all over it. She also wore butterfly earrings and a butterfly necklace. Maybe there was some symbolism in all that, something to do with metamorphosis or rebirth, but Alex did not dwell on it; she wasn’t a deep, philosophical person. She preferred when everything was straightforward and obvious.
Ellie had come to Gaelyn’s fancy dinner barefoot, which amused Alex. The fairy’s toes were painted pale pink. Alex wondered if Daemon had been the one to give his sister a pedicure.
Despite
the fact that Ellie’s mind was obviously not all there, she was still very lifelike, very vibrant, very sweet. Alex liked Ellie, even though most of the time she totally couldn’t stand Daemon.
It was as they were all enjoying a dessert of little chocolate mousse cups that Gaelyn delivered a piece of bad news. “The Magic Council has not cooled off as I hoped, Alexandria.” He glanced at Marek, who looked very dour. “Instead, they have doubled their efforts to find you. Their soldiers are everywhere, all over the world.”
“The Council will look for me here eventually,” Alex said.
“I am not worried,” replied Gaelyn. “I can keep them at bay for a while. I will protect you within my sanctuary of neutrality.”
“But eventually they will track my magic here. Sera will track me here. I’m endangering you, Gaelyn.” Alex set down her dessert spoon. “I’m sorry.”
He gave his hand a dismissive wave. “Never mind that. I will worry about the Magic Council. You worry about finding your brother, Alexandria. You will save him. And clear your name. I know you will.”
Alex only hoped he was right.
28
The Old Magic Dynasties
Alex sat with Logan, Marek, and Daemon around the table in one of Gaelyn’s sitting rooms. The old immortal had so many sitting rooms in this house, more than Alex could even count. And each sitting room had its own theme, its own supernatural motif.
This room’s motif was dragons. There were paintings of dragons on the wall and sculptures of dragons on pedestals. Even the curtain rods were tipped with little gold dragon heads. The room’s furnishings were, ironically, made of wood. They wouldn’t have lasted long had a real dragon expelled a breath of fire.
Alex gazed across the very large table, which was covered in newspapers, featuring articles on the tensions between the world’s great magical dynasties. She was trying to figure out why Damarion wanted to keep everyone fighting. What purpose did it serve? And what did it have to do with Riley’s abduction? How did Riley’s unique shadow magic fit in with Damarion’s plans?
They’d spent the last two hours looking for clues to any of this in the news articles, but so far they’d come up empty-handed.
“I’m starting to wonder if Daemon’s crazy idea that this is all a simulation might not be so crazy after all,” Alex said with a heavy sigh. “It would explain things.”
Daemon nodded smugly.
“With Riley’s shadow magic, Nightstar might be able to make the illusion so complete that even I could not tell the difference between fantasy and reality,” Logan said unexpectedly. “After all, shadow magic can create whole worlds with people in them.”
“So you think this is an illusion?” Alex asked him.
“No. I do not.”
“I don’t know what to think.” She looked at the stacks of newspapers scattered across the tabletop. “About any of this.”
“This is about dividing supernatural families,” Logan said. “Weakening the unity between them. Turning friend to foe. Strife. That’s what Damarion is creating.”
“But how is he even doing it?” Alex wondered. “How is he convincing people to turn against their own friends—and sometimes, their own families?”
“By using Riley’s shadow magic to confound people?” Daemon guessed.
“These incidents started before Riley was captured,” Alex pointed out. “Logan and I bore witness to the first one, and it was certainly memorable. I don’t know…” She pushed some newspapers around the table. “Maybe a fairy confounded their minds, made them act out?”
“It doesn’t have to be a fairy,” Logan said. “The Convictionites have artifacts that do the same thing. They use them against supernaturals, to make them easier to defeat.”
It was Marek who popped the air out of their theory. “Fairies and artifacts might have the effect you say, but they couldn’t be the cause here.”
“Why not?” Alex asked him.
“Ever since it came out that the Grim Reaper bewitched so many supernaturals, including people who sit on the Magic Council, members of prominent magic families have taken to wearing amulets to protect themselves against mind control,” Marek explained. “All of the supernaturals involved in these incidents came from a prominent magic dynasty; each would have worn a protective amulet.”
“They never take them off?” Alex asked.
Marek reached under his shirt and pulled out a crystal sun dangling from the metallic chain he wore around his neck. “Never.” He grabbed one of the newspapers and tapped the picture of Lauren Valentine, the center of the first incident. “See that? She’s wearing her amulet.”
“In a simulation, none of the normal rules apply,” Daemon said quietly.
Alex thought he had a point, but Logan told him sternly, “We are not in a simulation.”
Daemon said nothing more of it.
Alex glanced down at the papers, then up at Marek. “What do you know about the supernaturals at the center of these incidents?”
“Quite a bit. Members of the oldest dynasties all know each other.”
“And what do you think would possess them all to act like this?” Alex asked.
“To be honest, it wouldn’t take much. They’re acting pretty much in character.”
“So this is all one big, terrible coincidence?”
Marek shrugged.
“There are no coincidences,” Logan declared.
“Then what happened?” Alex asked him.
“They were each manipulated into acting out.”
“But what of the amulets?” she reminded him.
“It doesn’t require magic to manipulate someone. It can be accomplished with words alone. An explosive secret revealed. A bit of jealousy stoked. Greed fed. Anger piled on. An affair exposed.”
Alex thought of Lauren Valentine publicly denouncing her husband for having an affair. “So some silver-tongued weasel is going around and inciting people, sowing strife between magic families?”
“Or perhaps several silver-tongued weasels,” he suggested.
“So we only need to figure out which people talked to the crazy supernaturals in the days leading up to the incidents.” Alex looked at Marek.
“That is quite an undertaking, Alex. We members of the old dynasties spend at least half our time visiting with members of other families, trying to maintain and build ties. Each of these people must have a list of recent meetups several pages long. I myself visited with both Lauren Valentine and Melody Caron in the week leading up to their…unfortunate behavior. And I’m harmless, being only the youngest adult member of our dynasty. For someone like Kai Drachenburg, the head of the company and dynasty, well, he must meet with several dozen prominent supernaturals each day.”
“Maybe we should ask Kai if he’s behind this,” Alex laughed.
“If you accuse Drachenburg, I want to be there,” Logan said.
“I don’t think he did it.”
“Of course he didn’t do it. Drachenburg is too well-behaved and boring to come up with such an idea.” A small, subtle smile twisted Logan’s lips. “But I want to see the expression on his face when you accuse him of bad behavior.”
“Fun as that would be, I guess we need to focus our efforts on figuring out who’s actually behind this. Then we’ll track them back to Damarion. And to Riley,” she added with resolve, pounding her fist on the table.
The window rattled.
“What the hell…” Alex said, running to the window.
She saw a flash of fire outside. Plumes of smoke rose up from the ground. Alex heard something else—something exploding. A moment later, the whole building shook, as if hit by an earthquake.
“These aren’t natural forces at play,” Marek commented.
“It’s a battle of magic.” Alex grabbed her sword and hurried downstairs.
Sure enough, a full-scale supernatural battle was raging on Gaelyn’s front lawn, though the battle was decidedly one-sided. Mages from the Magic Council blasted the huge p
rotective bubble that now surrounded Gaelyn’s estate. Gaelyn must have known they would come calling, and he’d taken precautions to keep them out.
Inside the bubble, Gaelyn’s guards stood ready, priming their magic and weapons in the event that the invading army broke through.
Marek bolted out of the house, closing in behind Alex. He faced the invading force, his eyes wide with horror at what was happening here. He was sworn to Gaelyn, sworn to obey him. But that meant fighting the Council. Fighting his family. He must have been so conflicted.
There was a blinding flash of magic overhead. The bubble rumbled. The ground shook once more. Alex wondered how long the protective spell would last. The Magic Council was throwing everything they had at it.
She’d only just had the thought when the barrage of spells suddenly stopped, and a Council member stepped to the front of the army. It was Margery Kensington, Marek’s mother and the head of their dynasty.
If Alex had to pick one word to describe Margery Kensington, it would be ‘regal’. She moved with the kind of practiced, mannered elegance that no amount of money could buy—but generations of strict etiquette lessons could. Most telekinetics Alex came across had a very erratic, very hyperactive aura, but not Margery. Her magic had a definite kick to it, but it was as smooth as the silk suit she wore. Her blue eyes were sharp, bright, and as hard as diamonds.
She stopped just in front of the protective bubble. “Gaelyn,” she addressed the old immortal. “You are harboring fugitives.”
“This is neutral territory, Margery,” he replied, folding his hands serenely in front of him. “Take your army of destruction elsewhere.”
Her eyes locked on to her son. “Marek, come with me.”
Marek didn’t say anything, but the pained expression on his face told all. Still, he didn’t move from Gaelyn’s side.
“You entrusted Marek to me,” Gaelyn gently reminded her. “His contract still has several years left on it. Marek is under my command. He must follow my orders. And right now that means defending this house and everyone in it, including Alexandria.”
