I stopped to assess the donut options, then got in line. Justin’s words kept jabbing me. I couldn’t even blame Aaron for his silence at the end. What had he been supposed to say? “Tori and her paintball gun are just as effective in battle as infernos and heart-stopping bolts of electricity.”
Yeah, sure. Maybe when I’d had my Queen of Spades, fall spell, and force-amplifying brass knuckles. But now? Not even close.
Even though he hadn’t spoken in my defense, he’d said some other stuff. She’s got a real knack for it … I’d describe Tori as passionate and instinctive in her decision-making … Tori’s handled herself just fine.
Dashing away a rogue tear, I smiled weakly. So maybe I couldn’t burn a building down—well, yes, I could, but I’d need to prepare for grand arson, unlike a certain pyromage—but Aaron still thought I was doing well for a human with some magic trinkets. He had my back, and I shouldn’t be angry with him. He was a good friend.
I tapped a finger against my lips. Like Justin had said, Aaron was the one who’d pulled me into the mythic world. Aaron was also the one who’d gotten Ezra off the streets. And Aaron had supported Kai when he’d split with his crime family at seventeen.
Holy shit. Aaron had saved all of us.
As I marveled at that epiphany, the line shuffled again and I turned my attention to the donut display. Was it too early in the morning for chocolate drizzle?
What was I thinking? It was never too early for chocolate.
My mouth watered as the line shortened again. Shifting forward eagerly, I dug into my purse for my wallet. I should probably get two dozen donuts. One dozen wouldn’t leave me any leftovers, not with two—possibly three—men devouring them.
My hand stilled, and I frowned at my wallet. The guy in front of me advanced to the counter, ordered, and stepped aside. The cashier gestured for me to approach.
“Next!” she called in annoyance when I just stood there.
I moved, my feet slapping the floor. Cold air blasted my face as I exited the coffee shop, and I blinked in confusion. My hands were empty of donuts.
My feet thumped along the sidewalk, moving with purpose. Trees and streetlamps and houses and apartment buildings passed me. My gaze was fixed straight ahead. It jarred across Blake’s jeep, Aaron’s SUV, and Justin’s truck, then locked on the patio door of our rented apartment.
The door slid open, grating in its track. Blake and Aaron were bent over the terramage’s phone, deep in discussion, while Justin sat in the armchair, perched tensely on the leather seat. They all looked over as I walked in.
“You’re back!” Aaron frowned at my empty hands. “Was the coffee shop out of donuts?”
I looked around, then knelt beside the duffle bag sitting against the wall. My hands dug into it and pulled out a dark shirt folded into a bundle.
“Tori,” Justin protested. “Do you mind?”
Aaron canted his head at the bag. “What are you doing, Tori?”
I wiggled my fingers into the fabric and closed them around a cold metal grip. The shirt fell away.
The three men went unnaturally still when I rose to my feet with the gun in my hand.
“Tori?” Aaron whispered.
I took two careful steps, turned, and raised my arm—aiming the barrel at my brother’s face, two feet away. His wide eyes stared at me. Shock. Disbelief. Fear.
My finger curled over a narrow metal tongue inside the trigger guard.
“Tori!” Aaron roared, lunging toward me with his hand outstretched.
I pulled the trigger.
Chapter Fifteen
The trigger depressed under my finger, the gun clicked, and Aaron slammed into me.
A second body hit me a moment later, and I was crushed between them. The gun was yanked from my hand, my arms were wrenched back, and Blake locked me in a hold that had my spine arching against his broad chest.
Aaron held the gun by its barrel, breathing hard as he stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head.
I blinked slowly. My gaze moved from the pyromage and the gun he held, then to my brother’s face, frozen in disbelief. My hand … holding that icy metal grip. My finger … pulling the stiff trigger. The memory was fresh and bright in my mind.
I—had—pulled—the—trigger.
Panic exploded through me and I screamed.
Aaron and Blake jolted at my piercing cry, and Justin leaped up from his chair.
“I didn’t do that!” My panicked shriek raked my throat. “I didn’t—that wasn’t—no, no—I would never—”
I struggled against Blake’s hold, denials spilling from my lips as tears spilled down my cheeks.
“I didn’t—I didn’t—I didn’t—”
But the gun had been in my hand. I’d pulled the trigger.
As I devolved into a wordless wail, Aaron set the gun on the end table beside the sofa, then pulled me from Blake’s hold and pushed me at Justin. My brother caught me with a startled grunt.
“Calm her down,” Aaron ordered. “Blake, let’s go.”
The terramage nodded sharply.
“Go?” Justin clamped an arm around me as the two mages strode for the patio door. “Where?”
“To find the mythic who messed with Tori,” Aaron called over his shoulder, eyes blazing. “Wait here.”
They disappeared outside, and I didn’t move, standing rigidly in Justin’s hold.
“To find … what?” I whispered.
“Someone messed with you? What does he mean?”
“I don’t know.” My whole body shuddered nonstop, and I couldn’t shake the image of the gun in my hand, aimed at my brother’s shocked face. I had done that. Whatever Aaron thought had happened, no one had put that gun in my hand.
Justin wrapped his arms around me. How could he hug me after what I’d tried to do?
Minutes dragged by, then the patio door banged. Aaron strode inside, fury on his face and Blake right behind him. I cringed into Justin as the pyromage strode up to me. He drew me away from my brother, turned me, and pushed me down on the sofa.
“Tori,” he said quietly, kneeling in front of me, “what happened while you were gone?”
“Wh-what?”
“You went outside. Where did you go?”
“I … I walked to the coffee shop.”
“Do you remember the whole walk?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No.”
“What happened next?”
I locked my hands around his wrists, clinging on for dear life. “I went into the coffee shop. I looked at the donuts, then I got in line.”
“Did anyone talk to you? Did anyone touch you?”
“No.”
“What happened after you got in line?”
“I … I left.”
“Did you buy anything?”
“No, I just … left.”
“Why?”
“Because …” My brow scrunched. “I don’t know. I think I … I needed to come back here right away.”
“Do you remember walking back here?”
“Yes …”
“Did you plan to get out the gun?”
A tremor shook my limbs. “I don’t know.”
Blake crouched beside Aaron, his expression grim.
“Black magic?” he rumbled. “Or Psychica?”
Aaron rubbed my upper arms through my jacket. “Alchemy strong enough to control her would probably cause memory loss. If she remembers everything but doesn’t know why she changed her behavior—”
“Psychica,” Blake concluded with a nod. “Probably a mentalist.”
“Wait.” I looked between them, my face cold with tears. “You think someone made me do that? But—but I didn’t talk to anyone, or touch anyone, or drink a potion. No one told me to walk back here and—”
“Mentalists’ powers come in a lot of foul flavors,” Aaron interrupted. “Do you remember the one from KCQ who got me?”
I remembered. A woman who, with a simple to
uch, had taken full control of his mind and body.
“You encountered someone like that, and they influenced you without making contact—or they did make contact and made you forget.”
“Did you find them?” Justin asked. He’d reclaimed his gun and was emptying the chamber into his hand. He stuffed the lone bullet and magazine into his pocket.
Shaking his head, Blake pushed to his feet. “There was no one nearby, and we didn’t know who to look for.”
“What if there was no mentalist?” I whispered. “What if I just snapped? What if I’m going crazy and I—”
“Tori.” Justin stepped closer. “I’ve seen you in the grip of every kind of anger. Even when you get vicious, I know what it looks like, but that—that was completely different. Your eyes were empty, like you weren’t thinking or feeling anything. Whatever happened, that wasn’t you.”
My mouth trembled. I launched past Aaron, arms stretched out, and Justin pulled me into a tight hug. I could feel the unsteady shivers in his limbs. A sob shook me, and he put his face against my shoulder.
“But you still scared the shit out of me,” he mumbled. “Why didn’t the gun fire?”
I peeled away from Justin and glanced at Aaron. “You suppressed the shot, right?”
He nodded. “But like I’ve said before, don’t ever count on me being able to stop a gunshot. I have to be really close, and even then, my success rate isn’t fantastic.” Rising to his feet, he glanced around. “Now let’s pack up. We need to get out of here ASAP.”
My brow furrowed.
“That wasn’t a random mentalist who sent you back here to blow a hole in your brother.” He strode into the bedroom, his voice floating back out. “I’m not sure how, but our poking around yesterday didn’t go unnoticed. Maybe the Praetor saw our vehicles or checked the attic and found evidence of an intruder.”
Hastening after Aaron, I found him scooping his shaving kit off the bathroom counter and tossing it into his duffle bag. “Hurry up and pack, Tori.”
I rushed into the bedroom I’d slept in, where my suitcase sat open on the bed. I scooped yesterday’s clothes off the floor and threw them in.
“The Praetor isn’t messing around.” Blake’s voice rumbled out of the living room. “He went straight to hiring a professional.”
“Professional what?” Justin asked.
“Assassin—one who can make us kill each other and end our investigation without ever drawing attention to the cult.”
I shuddered at his words. An assassin. Had they known they were sending me to kill my own brother? Out of the three men, Justin was the least dangerous. Killing Aaron and Blake would’ve been the smarter move, but maybe the assassin didn’t know that.
I hadn’t hesitated to aim for Justin. Had the mentalist specified my target … or had I chosen him because of something in my subconscious?
Shivering even more, I pushed the thought away and opened my makeup bag. Fishing out the compact with the demonic amulet, I popped the lid up, slipped the mysterious talisman from its hiding spot, and tucked it in my pocket. I’d surreptitiously move it to my combat belt as soon as I had a chance.
“This is escalating faster than I expected,” Blake added, “but it’ll be another eight hours at least before the team is here.”
I froze—then shot toward the door. Bursting into the living room, I demanded, “What team?”
“A Keys team.” Blake had his phone out and was peering at the screen. “Make that two teams. They’ll tag the Praetor, and I’ll let them know about the assassin as well.”
Panic drummed across my ribs. Bad, bad, bad. We were here to find a grimoire that could save Ezra’s life, and the presence of even one Keys of Solomon mythic was already complicating that. Two teams of them would screw us completely.
Which meant we needed to act fast. We had only eight hours before the Keys teams arrived and snatched away Ezra’s last chance.
I darted back into the bedroom, flung my shit into my suitcase, and zipped it up. When I dragged it into the living room, Justin was closing his duffle bag. Leaving my suitcase beside him, I hurried into Aaron’s room to see if he needed help.
Standing at his bed, he stuffed a shirt into his bag, then pulled the zipper.
“Ready?” I asked. “We should—”
He glanced up, and I faltered at the paleness of his face.
“Aaron?” I stepped toward him. “What—”
He shifted away from me like I had a contagious disease, then caught himself. His jaw tightened. “Tori, if I seem to be acting even the slightest bit strange, run the hell away from me. I won’t be offended.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
His hand closed over the shoulder strap of his bag, his knuckles turning white. “An assassin who can make us attack each other …” His haunted eyes flashed across my face. “A gun is child’s play compared to my pyro magic. One bullet hole? I could—”
Breaking off, he shook his head, unable or unwilling to describe the damage his white-hot fire could inflict on a living body.
“If that mentalist gets me—” He swallowed. “Maybe I should stay behind.”
I strode across the gap between us and threw my arms around him. “You’re coming with us, Aaron. We’ve handled worse.”
His gaze dropped, and I could hear his unspoken, “But have we?”
Taking hold of his arm, I dragged him out of the bedroom. “Let’s get moving already, guys!”
Blake went ahead, climbing into his jeep and starting the engine while Aaron, Justin, and I threw our bags in the back of the SUV. We drove our convoy of vehicles to a supermarket parking lot, where Justin left his truck and got in with us. Aaron followed Blake’s jeep toward the suburb’s outskirts.
“An assassin,” I muttered, shivering at the word. An assassin trying to kill us. Not that people hadn’t tried to kill us before, but this was a lot scarier. Not merely a killer—but a manipulator who would try to make us kill each other.
Swallowing a surge of dread, I added, “And pretty soon we’ll have two Keys teams to deal with too. Unless there’s a cult grimoire in the Praetor’s house, we have no chance of finding one before they show up.”
“We need to get rid of Blake and the Keys,” Aaron said, eyes on the jeep ahead of us. “If we can send them off in the wrong direction, that’ll buy us time. As soon as Kai joins us, we can figure out a plan.”
I nodded. Yes, we needed Kai. He was our plan guy. He knew how to get shit done. He did his research, and …
My eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You brought a laptop, right?”
“’Course.”
“Then while you search the house, I’ll work on something else—something that’ll put us a good long step ahead of Blake and the Keys.”
By the time we arrived at the Praetor’s house, his garage—the vehicle one, not the demonic-worshipping one—was empty. He’d already left and would hopefully stay gone for the day.
Aaron and Blake had the job of breaking in and systematically searching the entire four-thousand-square-foot house. Me, on the other hand—my ass was parked in the SUV, and the SUV was parked in a sheltered copse of trees just off the road. Through the windshield, I could barely see the street and one corner of the Praetor’s distant driveway.
Aaron’s laptop was open on my knees, and on my phone was Justin’s video recording of last night’s cult meeting. I clicked around in the spreadsheet I’d made, prepping it for my self-assigned task.
My brother, sitting in the driver’s seat, leaned over the center console to peer at the laptop. “What are you doing?”
“Making a chart with our best guesses at the age, height, weight, hair color, and eye color of all the cultists. Then Aaron or someone else in the Crow and Hammer can use the information to search the MPD’s mythic database for them.”
“Is it a database of criminals, or …?”
“Every mythic is supposed to be registered by eighteen. If all the cultists are rogues, then
we’re SOL, but if even one of them is registered, we can find them.”
“Hmm. Would the assassin be in the database too?”
“Probably not. Assassins don’t usually play by the MPD’s rules. Besides, we don’t know anything about them, so we can’t look them up.”
As I spoke, I racked my brain again for some inkling of who’d messed with my head, but I had nothing to go on. Anyone from the barista to a random passerby could’ve poisoned my mind.
“So,” I declared determinedly, “let’s see what we can figure out about the cultists.”
I listed each cult member in the first column of my spreadsheet, labeling them from one to twelve based on their position in the circle. I added the Praetor too, since we didn’t know his name yet.
Justin picked up my phone, started the video—sound muted—and watched it play for a moment. “Let’s see … the first cultist is female, medium brown hair, between five-foot-three and five-foot-six, and between a hundred and thirty pounds and a hundred and fifty. I can’t tell her eye color.”
I blinked repeatedly, then typed the details into my spreadsheet at top speed. Why was I surprised? My brother might know next to nothing about mythics, but he knew how to profile suspects.
“Okay,” I said brightly. “That’s it for Cultist Number One. How about Number Two?”
He skipped forward through the video, searching for a better view of the second cultist. “Tori … did you overhear Aaron and I talking earlier?”
My gut twisted. “Yeah.”
His finger paused on the phone screen. “I’m sorry for—”
“Forget about it.”
“But—”
“You’re worried that I can’t keep up with Aaron, Kai, and Ezra. They’re powerful, combat-trained mages and I’m a … Yeah, it’s a legit concern. But I’m not like I used to be, you know. I don’t just impulsively charge headfirst into danger.”
Well … to be honest, I still did that occasionally, but it wasn’t impulsive anymore. I was deciding to charge headfirst into danger.
I wasn’t sure that was any better, though.
“I can see that,” he said softly. “You’ve changed. It’s good, I think.”
Lost Talismans and a Tequila (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 7) Page 13
