Ride the Storm

by Karen Chance

  Including the wards the Circle used on their schools.

  Jesse had shortly thereafter been back home, and the Circle had had a new vigilante to worry about, someone who made it a habit to waltz past their wards, pick up children at risk of spending the rest of their lives locked away, and waltz back out with them. She’d also collected runaways like me, eventually ending up with quite a collection of jinxes, telekinetics, invokers, taunters, dream walkers, and yes, even necromancers. Jiao was one of the latter, and he had a favorite parlor trick.

  Only, from the Circle’s perspective, the unauthorized animation of a chicken was apparently on par with raising an undead army.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” I told him.

  “Then why do they say it is? Why do they—” He cut off, biting his lip, refusing to cry in front of me, because he wasn’t a little boy anymore. But he wasn’t a man yet, either, being all of twelve or thirteen, and hard-jawed stoicism was out of his range. So he just stood there, looking miserable, and making me want to send a certain war mage to the middle of the ocean.

  “Because they’re afraid.”

  “Afraid . . . of me?” He looked up. “But I can’t do anything—”

  “Not yet. They’re not afraid of what you can do, but of what you might do. They don’t understand magic like ours, and it scares them—”

  “Like . . . ours?”

  “My father was a necromancer. I have a little of his ability.”

  Jiao looked at the chicken, and I laughed. “No, I can’t do that. I don’t . . . It’s not bodies with us, but ghosts. But it’s still considered necromancy. And you know what?”

  He shook his head.

  “It saved me this morning. You know we had a battle?”

  His eyes brightened. “Everyone knows. They won’t let us watch it, though—”

  “Watch it?”

  “On the security replay. Some of the vamps said it came through pretty good—until the cameras blew off. But Tami won’t let us see—”

  Good, I thought, making a mental note to thank her.

  “—but maybe you could—”

  “There’s not much to see,” I said. “I left my body behind, and . . . did some things . . . and the video won’t show that.”

  “But if people saw—they always say what I can do is wrong, but if you used it—”

  “It isn’t wrong, Jiao. It’s not the magic, but what you use it for, that counts. You understand?”

  “I understand, but they don’t. They want to lock us all away—”

  “They’re not going to do that.”

  “But they have done it,” he insisted. “They’re still doing it! There were lots of necromancers at school—”

  “Lots? I was always told it was a rare gift.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. But those who aren’t that strong, who don’t have accidents that keep happening, they try to hide it. The Circle lets almost anyone out before us. They think we’re evil—”

  “But you’re not,” I said firmly.

  “No, we’re not,” he said, looking at me. And then he hugged me, spontaneously, as the sound of arguing came from outside.

  I hung my head. “Stay here,” I told him.

  “But—”

  “Right. Here. Okay?”

  He sighed. “Right here,” he said, and slumped back against the cabinets.

  And I went out to see what fresh hell had just descended on us, only to discover—it was the same old crap.

  But it seemed there was a new twist this time.

  Tami was standing in between a war mage in full battle kit, and a hard-nosed coven witch in . . . Well, I wasn’t sure. Unlike the Circle, the covens didn’t appear to have a dress code. Or if they did, it might be summed up as “Come at me, bro.”

  Two full sleeves of tats, some of them magical, crawled over arms almost as muscular as a man’s. They were visible because of the sleeveless T-shirt she was wearing, over a pair of old jeans. More were visible on her neck, disappearing into her short, dark hair. And her piercings ran the gamut from eyebrow, to multiple earlobe, to nose, to a barbell through her bottom lip.

  If I’d been trying to find someone less spit-and-polished than the Circle’s crew, I couldn’t have done any better. But looks didn’t equate to power, and there was enough leaking off her that I was surprised it wasn’t sparking off the fridge. Because she was furious.

  I didn’t know what the war mage had said, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. At least, it was for a second. Until they found out exactly what a pissed-off null could do.

  Before I could say anything, the two combatants staggered and the mage went to one knee. The woman remained standing but looked like she’d just been hit by a Mack truck. Her face turned white, which was pretty impressive, considering her natural skin tone was a deep olive, and her wand fell from her hand.

  Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t have been able to use it anyway. I doubted either of them could have thrown a spell to save their lives, and might not for days. A null was to magic what a vamp was to blood.

  And they’d just been exsanguinated.

  “A little lesson, boys and girls,” Tami said as they tried to breathe. “My house. My rules.”

  “I thought it was the Pythia’s house,” Pink Hair said, sidling closer to her friend.

  “Who put it under my management, making it my house. And in my house, you pull a weapon—any weapon—and that’s a paddlin’. Unless there’s a Black Circle army busting down the door, your weapons stay secured. This is a suite full of children, something you’re gonna know, something you’re gonna remember, every time you get that urge. ’Cause if you don’t—”

  The two former combatants groaned, and the witch finally did go to her knees, mouth open, eyes wide.

  “—I will drop you,” Tami told them. “You get me?”

  “I . . . think they get you,” Pink Hair said, grabbing her friend, while Jug Ears pulled away the dazed-looking mage.

  “Would someone explain what just happened?” I asked.

  Tami opened her mouth, but the grizzled mage beat her to it. “The witch provoked him, but he was out of line,” he admitted. “We’re on edge—all of us. We missed the battle this morning—”

  “Damn right, you did,” Pink Hair muttered, until I looked at her.

  “—and another this afternoon. We want to be there.” He gestured back at the living room. “At HQ, where we’re needed. Not here on babysitting duty—”

  “Then go.”

  “We’ve orders,” Red Face gasped.

  “Which I’m overruling. Jonas needs you more than I do—and I’ll clear it with him in a moment, when we talk. Go.”

  The two men looked at each other.

  “Now. Or I’ll send you myself.”

  It was an empty threat, but they didn’t know that. And it didn’t look like they cared. They went.

  “Damn straight,” Pink Hair said, and I rounded on her.

  “I appreciate the covens sending you,” I said, trying for diplomacy. “However—”

  “However?”

  “—Tami is right. There are some ground rules.”

  The tattooed witch had fought her way back to her feet and retrieved her wand, although I noticed she tucked it away. All while eyeing up Tami, as if she’d never before realized what a null could do, if you were dumb enough to let one actually touch you. Tami could pull magic from across a room, but it was harder, and she wouldn’t get as much.

  But skin on skin?

  Yeah, you were fucked.

  But the experience didn’t seem to have softened the woman’s attitude any. “She doesn’t want us,” she told the others. “I told you.”

  “She hasn’t said that,” Pink Hair replied, but her eyes were on me.
/>   “I didn’t say that because I didn’t mean that,” I said. “You helped this morning, in a big way. I appreciate it—”

  “But now you’d like us to kindly fuck off,” the tough chick interrupted.

  “What I’d like you to do is stop finishing my sentences,” I said, sharper than usual, because my nerves were shot.

  She looked surprised, like she wasn’t used to being challenged. And I didn’t give her time to recover. “As I was saying, I appreciate the covens’ help this morning, and welcome it now. But there are rules—”

  “Like what?”

  “Like everyone gets along,” I said, watching her. Because I was pretty sure that had been deliberate.

  The mages weren’t the only ones who didn’t like babysitting duty.

  “If you don’t want to be here, then don’t be here,” I said, my eyes taking in the whole group. “But if you stay, then you accept that this is a family. Not a job, not a burden—a family. If you can’t handle joining one that’s made up of people you don’t approve of, then you know what to do.”

  Nobody moved.

  “I’ll fix it with the covens for you,” I added. “I don’t have as much pull with them as the Circle, but I’ll do my best—”

  “We’re not leaving,” Tough Chick said, crossing her arms.

  It sounded final.

  “Then you agree to the rules?”

  There was a long, silent moment, and then more silence. But I finally got a nod. And not just from her. The other three witches followed her lead, and so did Jug Ears, who I was surprised to see still taking up space over by what had been a bar before somebody made off with it.

  “And where the hell’s my court?” I asked Tami, who rolled her eyes.

  “It’s a long story,” she said. “Take your phone call. I’ll be finishing up dinner if you want to talk.”

  I nodded. Roy sidled up beside me as we walked back to the living room. “Vetted?” I asked, almost silently, but his ears didn’t need the help.

  “They’re clean. Well, clean enough.” He slid me a glance. “Of course, you could just send them away.”

  “I’ve been preaching unity for a while now, and as soon as we get some, I send them packing?”

  He grinned. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  I was trying to think up a suitable reply when Fred returned. “Your party’s on the line.”

  I reentered the living room to see Jonas striding down the burning tunnel in full battle regalia, some sort of black shiny armor that made his white hair all the whiter by contrast. And on either side of him was a woman: one tall, thin, and dark-haired, maybe somewhere in her early forties, the other old and round and grandmotherly, with hair almost as white as his. I wondered what they were doing in an underground bunker that still looked to be on fire.

  And still coming this way, despite the fact that they’d just left the wall of glass behind.

  “Jonas,” I said, preparing to ask him to step back a little, because the weird 3-D effect of the spell was confusing my brain.

  Really confusing, I thought, as the three of them stepped down onto carpet, their shoes denting the plush pile.

  And then kept right on coming.

  Chapter Forty-three

  A swarm of leather-coated war mages streamed around the figures, enveloping the trio in a flurry of activity for a second, before dissipating like mist—and leaving them behind. Because they weren’t images. They’d just walked out of a freaking wall, crossing half the world in a millisecond, without so much as breaking stride.

  And there was only one group in the world who could do that.

  “The children,” I whispered, stumbling back into Roy.

  “What?”

  “Get them out! Get them now!”

  I heard raised voices, running feet, and felt Roy jerk me behind him, none of which would do any good against the two Pythian acolytes with Jonas—and how the hell were there more acolytes?

  “Cassie—” Jonas said.

  “Get down!” I told him, and threw everything I had, trying to shift the women far enough that we’d have time to get the kids out, at least.

  But nothing happened, except for a power drain that dropped me to my knees and ripped a sound out of my throat. And did nothing else, because the women never even moved. Except toward me.

  And toward the line of snarling vamps that were suddenly in the way, guns and fangs out, forming an impenetrable wall. That was just as suddenly gone—where, I didn’t know—dismissed by a wave of a hand. And I was scrambling back, trying to reach the stairs, even as spells were going off and people were screaming and glass was shattering, including the whole line of windows.

  But nothing touched the women—not the first damn thing.

  Of course it didn’t.

  And then everything abruptly went quiet. Not frozen, but slowed way the hell down. Jonas raised a leisurely arm, to deflect a curse. The witches piled up in the doorway, their latest spells barely moving in front of them. Fred paused with a child under each arm, slowly reaching for another. And Roy, who had somehow avoided whatever had happened to the other vamps, was caught halfway through a lunge, body tensed and arm outstretched, like a pro football player diving for a ball.

  Or a vamp diving for an acolyte who was no longer there.

  Because she was standing in front of me.

  I scrambled back, head swimming, nose running, elbow bruising on the iron railing of the stairs. Which I grasped, pulling myself up. If I could reach the door, if I could force them to chase me, if I could lead them away from the suite—

  But the younger one shifted, appearing above me at the top of the stairs. And the older one grabbed me from behind, her grip surprisingly strong. Leaving me trapped between them, desperate and caged and helpless—

  And clasped to a massive bosom while someone made shushing sounds, like to a traumatized child.

  For a moment, we just stayed like that, in a weird tableau.

  And then the younger woman bent, consternation on her face, and put out a hand—

  Causing me to flinch back, breathing hard, because I didn’t understand this—I didn’t understand any of this!

  “Lady,” she murmured, and let the hand fall. And looked, in apparent loss, at the older woman.

  “Told Jonas not to do it this way,” White Hair said. “Damn man never listens!”

  She released me and then just stood there, frowning. “I’d curtsy,” she said surreally, “but my knees, you know. I get down and I might never get back up.”

  I stayed where I was, splayed against the railing, the blood pounding in my ears.

  “Who are you?” I finally whispered.

  “Your fail-safes, lady,” the younger one said. She came down the stairs and curtsied, as elegantly as if she’d been in a fine drawing room. But when she looked up, her face was fierce. “The Pythia doesn’t fight alone. The Pythia never fights alone!”

  * * *

  “I didn’t know,” Jonas said quietly, because we’d moved to Rhea’s room. He’d wanted to see his daughter, and I’d wanted to get away from the scene in the lounge.

  An extremely pissed-off Tami—and God, it had been glorious—had taken the children and the chicken “upstairs,” whatever the hell that meant, while Roy and the vamps cleaned up. And attempted to calm down our new recruits. It hadn’t sounded like they were having an easy time of it, the witches having been exposed to two forms of magic they’d never encountered in a span of minutes, which hadn’t improved their mood.

  But I, for one, was past caring.

  “No one knew,” Jonas added. “That was apparently the point. To have a senior acolyte from each generation who retains her skills, in case of a serious threat to the court. From what I understand, the idea originated as a way to guard against a Pythia and her heir being injured at the same
time. An unconscious Pythia wouldn’t be able to pass on the power, but also wouldn’t be able to use it. Hence—”

  “A fail-safe,” I said, staring at the two women, who were standing by the bank of windows, talking softly.

  “Yes.”

  “And you think we can trust them?”

  “That, you’ll have to determine yourself,” Jonas said heavily. “I would have said we could trust Agnes’ acolytes, had I been asked, and I knew them better.”

  “Then why did you bring them here?” I whispered. “If they’re working for the other side—”

  “In that case, why would the Black Circle need Lizzie? Why risk so much to gain her abilities if they already have two acolytes, and with more power than I’ve ever seen her use?”

  I shook my head. “Maybe they want her for something else—”

  “We questioned her all night and half the day. If there’s anything of interest about that girl, I can’t find it.”

  “But you took her anyway,” I said accusingly. We’d recently had a clash over authority—namely, him ignoring mine—and I thought we’d sorted it out. And then he went and did the same thing again!

  But Jonas wasn’t looking apologetic. “You weren’t here. I didn’t know when you would be. And we are at war. If there was a chance—even a slight one—that she knew Ares’ plans—”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “No.” He sighed suddenly, and rubbed his eyes. It looked like Lizzie wasn’t the only one who had been up all night. “As far as we can tell, she was a stooge, nothing more.”

  “And these women?”

  “I know Abigail—the younger—from Agnes’ court. She left to be married a year or so after your mother’s arrival, and supposedly after giving up access to the power. She was competent, but as far as I knew, there was nothing remarkable about her.”

  “And the other?”

  “Hildegarde von Brandt, a formidable member of Lady Herophile’s court—”

  “Gertie’s?” I said sharply, and got a nod from him—and a warning look from Rico, who was back at Rhea’s side after being shifted to the lobby with most of the other vamps. He didn’t seem happy about having two more Pythian acolytes hanging around.