“You can run,” I said, my hand outstretched, magic glyphs hovering around my wrist like a bracelet of light, “Or you can die for him.”
Two of the four guards standing around Greaves made a run for it. The other two had made their choice. Groaning, I pushed the bullets around and sent them speeding into Greaves and the other two guards. Not all of my bullets struck a warm, living body, but those that did caused enough damage to at least drop the guards.
All but Greaves, who had staggered back several paces, but stood defiant.
I could see the strain on his face, the effort it was taking just to stay upright. I didn’t know if any of the bullets had pierced his body armor, but the sheer force of the impacts had been enough to drop two full-grown, adult human males, so it had probably hurt.
“You’ve turned… your back…” Greaves groaned, “On everything you’ve ever… known… and you’ll do it again. Because that’s… who you are.”
A tense moment passed, and then Axel launched a barrage of magical attacks at Greaves; step and attack, step and attack, step and attack. I could see the anger on his face, now, the hatred toward that man and everything he represented. Bolts of light zipped from his fingertips to strike at Greaves. Some of which he was able to parry away—somehow—but others struck him in the shoulder, the chest, the stomach, until he eventually fell flat on his back.
Axel was about to race over him, his face twisted with anger, but I stopped him just short of reaching Greaves. “No!” I yelled, “Leave him.”
The downed man’s eyes were wide, the muscles in his face and body stiff and rigid. He hadn’t even tried, or been able to, break his fall with his hands. A trickle of blood started to show beneath his head, glistening in the light as it ran through the lines in the cobblestones leading away from the mansion’s front door and toward the driveway.
Greaves was dead.
Danvers came running up to us and laid eyes on the dead man. “Holy shit,” she said, covering her mouth with her hand.
Axel was shaking with anger, with rage. I’d never felt anything like this coming from him. Greaves’ words had cut him deeply. I wanted to help him, but I didn’t know how. In any case, right now wasn’t the time. Right now, we needed to focus on finding Karim, who could’ve been anywhere in the mansion.
“Let’s go,” I said to Axel, “We need to keep moving. Could you take us to the basement?”
Axel tried to breathe, but it was difficult for him to come down from the storm raging inside of him. Then another shadow broke the light spilling out of the mansion. I turned, but not fast enough to block the bolt of magic that came streaking toward me. I turned away from the magic, shielding my face, knowing for sure the attack was going to hit me—but it didn’t.
The magic had hit Axel, instead.
He shuddered against me, then he fell to the floor with a hard thud. Turning my eyes up, I saw Asmodius standing at the door to his mansion, his suit jacket removed, his sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, the shadows dancing on his face to make him look somehow more sinister than he already was.
Beside him was Delia, her black-lacquered lips spread, not into a grin, but into a hungry, insane kind of smile. The kind of smile a shark would give the moment it smelled blood in the water. She could smell it, now, and she was hungry for it.
“Your little attack ends now,” Asmodius said, “Surrender, and I won’t kill your friends in front of you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I thought about surrendering. For a second too long, I considered it, because this was Asmodius. It wasn’t Greaves, or any number of human guards with guns. It wasn’t the crows, or the Mystic Trio—this was one of the most powerful, feared mages in all of New York City, and he had demanded my surrender.
The only universe in which I didn’t consider surrendering, right there and then, is one where I’m some robot with no ability to feel. But this was our universe, and in this universe, we hadn’t come this far only to give up at the door.
“I think you’re underestimating us if you think we’re gonna surrender to you,” I said.
Asmodius’ eyes narrowed. “My dear, are you already forgetting our wonderful dance from only a few hours ago? As I recall, I said a great many things, all of which are still as true now as they were then. If you want to take your friend from me, you’re going to have to kill me. Do you think you have what it takes to do that?”
“I’m surprised you don’t already know.”
“Know what?”
“A lot has changed in the last few hours… I have a Guardian, now. I wonder why none of your lieutenants have told you?” Ifrit, sitting on my shoulder, burned brighter, though I couldn’t feel more than a little heat radiating off him; certainly not any pain.
“I see… and you believe that gives you an edge over me.” Asmodius flicked his wrist, and beams of light shot out of his fingertips. One sailed right past me to strike Danvers squarely in the chest. She hadn’t been fast enough to block it. The other one had gone for Axel, but he’d been a little better prepared for it. Axel parried the spell and sent it smashing into one of the mansion’s windows, causing it to shatter.
“Cassidy!” I called out to her, but she wasn’t responding; couldn’t respond. She’d been hit with a stunning spell that had taken her out fast. I turned my attention back onto Asmodius, and I noticed then that Delia had already started circling around Axel and me. “Alright,” I said, pointing at him, “You and me, we’re gonna deal with this once and for all.”
Asmodius spread his hands out to either side. “Very well,” he said, “I’ll allow you to take the first shot.”
I couldn’t keep Delia out of my sight. She was getting ready to flank us, and probably hit us both while we were busy with Asmodius. Axel, sensing this also, immediately made a move to engage her, hurling a bolt of magic in her direction. Delia parried the attack, sending the energy streaking into a marble column. Hissing, she fired a return shot, one that Axel was quick to deflect.
While they were busy, I decided to take Asmodius up on his offer. He was already in a position to defend himself against my attack, which meant I had to make it the hardest shot I could manage. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and whips of static light started to crackle between my fingertips. I wanted to set him on fire. In my head, that was the image I conjured—the intent I put into my spell.
Then, when it was ready, I snapped the magic at him, sending a bolt of purple light streaking across the way. Asmodius effortlessly parried the spell, took a step to the side, and shot at me from where he stood. His magic was tough to defend against, hammers against my nails, but I pushed them away all the same, deflecting them as they came.
“You have good form,” Asmodius said, “For a novice duelist.”
“I’ve dueled assholes like you before, and I’ve beaten them all,” I said.
“Oh, I have no doubt you’ve dueled before, but I highly doubt if any of those contenders could hold a candle to me.”
Asmodius went on the attack again, feigning right with his body only to launch a spell at me with his left hand. He was quick, clever, and his spells hit with enough force that I was starting to get weary just from the effort of deflecting them away. That was when I decided on a new tactic. Instead of trying to deflect them, I would move around them as they came to me.
Calling on my many years as an exotic dancer, I started letting Asmodius’ spells get past my guard, flipping over and around them, twirling past them as they came. Occasionally I would throw my own magic at him, but he was always ready to defend himself. Our fight was going to come down to a single hit—who would land that crucial blow on the other first?
He would.
Asmodius wasn’t kidding about my being a novice. He could anticipate my moves and know where I would be attacking from before I did. Maybe it was my footwork, maybe it was my eyes, or maybe he could read the future, but Asmodius was always one step ahead—and that was what got him to land a hit on me.
A bolt of magic struck me in the chest. I staggered back, somehow managing to stay on my feet, but the world around me had gone black. I could still see, and hear, and sense. I knew I was standing upright. I knew wherever I was, it was cold, but the mansion had gone. Axel and Delia were gone. RJ was gone. I was truly alone, standing in some kind of featureless darkness.
Is this what death feels like?
“What is this?” I called out, my voice bouncing back to me like I was in a cave.
“This…” came Asmodius’ voice, calm and collected, distant but also near. “This is where you will spend the rest of your days and nights. What do you think?”
“What have you done to me?”
“I’ve shut down your major brain functions and put you into a vegetative state. Within a matter of minutes, your body will start shutting down, too… you’re dying.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Isabella. Facts aren’t opinions, and the fact is, in a few minutes… you’ll be dead.”
“If I die like this, you don’t get my heart. Isn’t that what you want?”
“For all you know, I’m carving your heart out of your chest as we speak. Do you have any way of knowing how much time has passed on the outside?”
He had me, but I couldn’t let him know he had me. “Right now, Axel is fighting Delia off, and RJ is making short work of the rest of your guards. In a few minutes, maybe not even as long as that, you’ll be up to your neck in Vivimancer. Not even you will be able to deal with him.”
“Do you really believe your friends have a chance? If they have any sense, they’ll leave, having seen you fall.”
It sounded like he was all around me. I kept spinning around on the spot, hoping I’d see him so I could go on the attack again, but he had become a phantom. “If you had any real friends, you’d know friends don’t leave others behind. Why do you think we came back to your house?”
“Because you all stupidly assumed I was keeping your friend here, and if that was the case, you’d be able to save him.”
“You… you’ve moved him?”
Don’t listen to him!
Axel? I turned around again, trying to figure out where I’d heard Axel’s voice. It had been distant, like a whisper in a cave, but I’d heard it. “Tell me, dear Isabella, how long did you think you could hide the scroll from me?”
“What scroll?”
“Don’t play coy. I can read your thoughts. I know all about the scroll, its condition… I know you’re the only person who can open it. It was clever of you, trying to bargain with it in exchange for your friend’s life. By the time the exchange was to have taken place, the scroll would’ve been useless to me. I may have underestimated your craftiness, somewhat.”
“There are a lot of things about me you underestimate.”
“I highly doubt it, but you are free to think that way, if you like. Now, we can continue to banter like this until Kingdom come and trumpets sound, but I’m a businessman, and time is running short. I would like to offer you a deal—a real one.”
Don’t do it!
Axel again, but where the hell was he? It was too dark to see more than my own hand in front of my face. “What deal?” I asked.
“You and the scroll, tonight, and I’ll deliver your friend to your new host and patron, Becket.”
“How do I have any guarantee my friend isn’t already dead?”
“Because, as I told you, Necromancers are rare these days, and you can trust I’m not in the business of hurting my own assets. He has been well taken care of, despite the fact you and your friends have murdered two of my employees.”
“You’re seriously gonna try and take the moral high ground here?”
“Oh, no. It would be irrelevant for me to do so, since it offers nothing to the trade I’m trying to make—a trade I’ll take off the table in only a few short seconds. Answer quickly, and in the interest of fairness, know that you will be bound by magic to fulfil the terms of our arrangement, should you agree.”
“And if I lie?”
“The Tempest itself will strike you down for your breaking a sacred oath. Now, tick-tock, Isabella Warden.”
That was it. If he was telling the truth, then there’d be no way out of this deal, once made. I really would be giving up not only the scroll, but also my talents, in exchange for Karim’s safe return to us. It really was time to put my money where my mouth was, and prove not only to myself, but also to Karim, that he did mean something to me—even if he was a massive pain in the ass.
I shut my eyes hard, accepting my choice in my heart. It was Karim. It had to be. Maybe there’d be another way of stopping Asmodius from finding out what was written in that scroll. Maybe once I’d opened it for him, I’d be free to burn it without being smote from the sky with heavenly fire.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw something in the darkness. Not Asmodius, but a light. Small, soft, amber, and twinkling like a candle. I stared at it, trying to identify what I was seeing, and then a voice came—strained, struggling, but full of fight.
“Excuse me,” Ifrit said, the light quickly intensifying like he was racing toward me, “But I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.”
I had to shield my eyes from the sudden explosion in the darkness. Light filled the space I’d been confined to, a circle of flames engulfed me, and Asmodius’ voice was gone—replaced by the deafening roar of an inferno. I felt something break, the severing of a connection, and then I opened my eyes again.
I was on my back, lying on the cobblestones, my head pounding. Somewhere nearby, I could hear Delia still fighting with Axel—the whoosh and crack of spells as they sailed overhead and smashed into marble, glass, wood. I tried to push myself up, but my body was stiff, my joints and muscles tight.
“You’ll need a minute to recover,” Ifrit said.
“What… happened to me?” I asked.
“Asmodius hit you with a mental prison spell. Your mind would’ve stayed locked in that box for as long as he wanted you to stay there; maybe even after you were dead.”
“He can just do that?”
“Yes, if only to lesser minds. Psionic magic is powerful, but not to a mage with a Guardian.”
“Thank you…”
“No need to thank me. Just get up, the fight isn’t over yet.”
Through sheer force of willpower I was able to lift my neck enough to see what was going on around me. I saw Axel weaving and ducking around marble columns, dueling with Delia. I saw Danvers, still out cold on the floor. I saw Asmodius, slowly advancing on me, his hand wreathed in deep red light.
And then I saw someone else coming up behind him… someone I couldn’t believe I was really seeing.
Becket.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Becket, like a red-eyed shadow, crept up behind Asmodius, a devilish grin on his face. The crime-boss, sensing the Demonologist’s presence only when he was inches away, spun around and swiped at him with a right hook, but Becket’s form burst into a cloud of shadowy, black ink that quickly spread through the air.
A pair of feet stepped in beside my head. I looked up, and there was Becket, wearing a long black coat, his hands in his pocket. “Get up,” he said, his voice low.
Asmodius turned on his heel again and glared at the newcomer. “You,” he snarled. “What are you doing here?”
Becket shrugged, then he glanced at me. “I thought it was about time I got my hands dirty.”
I grinned at him as I fought to get to my feet. “It’s about time, too.”
“Well then,” Asmodius said, “I suppose I’ll have to kill you too. Indeed, this works out quite well for me.”
“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”
“All I have to tell the Council after I kill you is that a filthy, infernal Demonologist manipulated a group of lesser mages into attacking me at my home, where I am within my full rights to defend myself.”
“That could work,” Becket said, “B
ut it won’t, because you seem to be forgetting the fact that you are outnumbered and alone. You won’t kill all of us.”
“I don’t need to kill all of you.”
Asmodius went on the attack, streaks of light shooting from his fingertips toward us. I took cover behind a marble column, but Becket didn’t. Instead he stood there, in the open, parrying spells with one hand while the other he kept in his pocket. It was an incredible thing to watch. The precision of his movements, the confidence in those red eyes. Asmodius wasn’t going to make him break a sweat—he also wasn’t going to give Becket a chance to retaliate.
Although I had a feeling this was intentional.
Becket was taking short steps back, leading Asmodius away from the front door to his mansion. After a few moments, he’d all but forgotten about me. Another couple of seconds, and he’d walked right past me.
I could see the viciousness in his eyes, his desire to outright murder Becket where he stood. It made me wonder what kind of history these two men had. Nearby, I spotted Axel whipping blasts of magic at Delia, who’d gone on the defensive.
I considered leaping into his fight to help him, but RJ swooped down on them both, landing on the grass in his human form and firing bolts of green light at the lone crow. It was two against one over there, and Delia soon found herself overwhelmed.
With a burst of magic, she took her crow form and leapt into the night sky, cawing loudly as she went—cursing us all, probably.
Then there was only Asmodius to deal with. By now he’d come all the way out to his driveway. His otherwise perfectly kept hair had come loose, strands of it falling wildly around his eyes as he flung every possible spell he could at the Demonologist. I wasn’t sure how much longer Becket would last; blocking spells wasn’t exactly something you could keep up forever.
Calling to the Tempest, I drew magic into my hand with an ease akin to breathing. Ifrit, sitting on my shoulder, watched on as Becket continued to fall back. Another few paces and he’d back right into the fountain at the center of the driveway.
Soul of the Storm (The Wardbreaker Book 2) Page 16
