Lost Talismans and a Tequila (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 7)

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Lost Talismans and a Tequila (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 7) Page 17

by Annette Marie


  “Not yet.”

  “Let’s keep it that way. And”—his voice roughened with worry—“be careful, Blake. Depending on where the leak is coming from, this could be very dangerous.”

  “Understood. Be careful as well, Russel.”

  “I will. See you soon.”

  With a click, the line went dead. The terramage let out a long breath, and we all exchanged bleak glances.

  “Will you come?” Blake asked. “If Russel wants your testimony, then he probably suspects the fifth officer.”

  “We need to discuss.” I grasped Aaron and Kai by the wrists. “Let’s go check on Justin.”

  They didn’t protest as I hauled them out of the living/waiting room and down the hall, leaving Makiko and Blake behind. I didn’t actually know where Justin was, so I led the guys into the room where the healer had examined and dosed me.

  Closing the door, I leaned back against it. “This is bad.”

  They nodded in unison.

  I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I mean, it’s bad enough that the Enright cult is not only still active but somehow has a mole in the very guild that almost wiped them out. But the really bad part is we need a summoning grimoire, and—”

  “—and finding one is about to get real complicated,” Aaron concluded grimly.

  My whole plan was based on the understanding that the cult had been wiped out. I’d come here to search for an abandoned grimoire, not a prized relic the cult would be actively protecting. Kai and Aaron—and Makiko, I supposed—were talented and deadly mages, but they alone couldn’t safely take on a demon mage. Not without Ezra.

  We might’ve been able to manage the Praetor and his little circle, but Daniel the Demon Mage had come from somewhere else—and was taking orders from someone else.

  I pressed my hands to my face, a tremor running through me as icy despair drained the strength from my limbs. “We’re so screwed. What are we going to do? Ezra won’t last much longer, and with the Keys involved, there’s no way to find a grimoire. We—we’re just—”

  A warm arm settled over my shoulders, and Aaron pulled me against his side. “We’re just gonna have to figure out who’s pulling the cult’s strings, aren’t we?”

  I slowly lowered my hands, squinting up at him. “But—”

  “Finding a dead summoner’s grimoire was like searching for a needle in a haystack.” A hard, decisive note edged Kai’s voice. “But somewhere, there’s a living person running this show. If we unmask them, we’ll find their grimoire.”

  “We just have to make sure we get our hands on it before the Keys do,” Aaron added.

  I stared between them, still tucked under Aaron’s arm. “But—”

  “But what, Tori?” Kai’s dark eyes fixed on me. “You don’t think we’ll let you give up now, do you?”

  “Especially after you dragged us both out here.” Aaron smirked down at me. “We’ve already got an invite to the Keys of Solomon guild. Let’s use it to get at the guild mole—and through him, we’ll find their leader.”

  “We can save Ezra and take down a cult.” Kai smiled. “I like it.”

  My answering smile wobbled, tears pricking my eyes. This trip had been a frickin’ rollercoaster ride of conflicting feelings, and I felt like a ping-pong ball being whacked between opposing emotional states.

  “Where are the Keys’ headquarters?” I asked. “Are we gonna have to drive all night again?”

  “It’s in Salt Lake City, as I recall. Utah,” Kai added helpfully. “About a day’s drive to the southeast.”

  I pretended like I’d known that, but when it came to US geography, my trivia skills were patchy at best. “So we’ll be driving all night, then.”

  “We could …” Kai’s thoughtful gaze drifted toward the out-of-sight living room. “But why drive when you can fly? I’ll talk to Makiko.”

  He swept out of the room, leaving me blinking in confusion. Shaking my head, I leaned into Aaron, eyes closing tiredly. The buzz from the healer’s potion was fading fast, and I really wanted a nap. Or better yet, a full night’s sleep.

  “We can’t give up,” I whispered. “We have to keep going … but what if we take too long? What if we’re too late, and Ezra … Going to Salt Lake City will take us even farther away from him.” Cracking my eyes open, I hesitated. “Should we tell him? That the Enright cult survived?”

  Aaron was silent for a long moment. “There’s a line between keeping secrets because the consequences of the truth scare you, and keeping secrets because you need to be beside someone when you share the truth.”

  I exhaled shakily. “You’re right. That isn’t a bombshell we can drop on him over the phone, especially when he’s all alone.”

  “We’ll fill him in once we’re back—and we’ll be returning with good news, right?” He flashed an encouraging grin. “Why don’t you get a few minutes of rest?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  Cold washed over me as Aaron moved away, taking his body heat with him. The door closed softly behind him, and I shuffled over to the bed and sat. My own words circled in my head.

  What if we take too long? What if we’re too late?

  … he’s all alone.

  I pressed a hand to my quivering lips. Less than a week ago, Ezra had almost succumbed to madness. He knew his life was essentially over, and in this most painful, frightening, vulnerable time, I’d not only left him behind, but I’d taken his best friends with me.

  If Ezra lost his hold and slipped away before we made it back …

  He had to hold on. He had to survive until we returned, otherwise I couldn’t bear it—couldn’t bear failing him, couldn’t bear taking his friends away in his final days, couldn’t bear that I’d never found the right time to tell him how I felt.

  Aaron’s voice repeated in my ears. There’s a line between keeping secrets because the consequences of the truth scare you …

  Whether he’d meant the words as a chastisement, I felt the sting anyway. I’d hidden so much, telling myself over and over that it wasn’t the right time to divulge the truth—it wasn’t the perfect time. And I’d kept on delaying, and delaying, and delaying some more.

  And I’d hurt Ezra. I’d hurt Aaron. I’d probably hurt Kai too, though he hid his feelings better.

  Why was I still hiding things from the people I loved? Was I afraid to trust? Did I lack faith in them, as Aaron had told me on our way to Enright when I’d revealed my feelings for Ezra?

  Months and months ago, during my first tarot reading, Sabrina had told me that change waited for me, but it would be shaped by the fear in my heart—and a week ago, she’d reminded me once more.

  Your past and your fears are still holding you back. And as she’d pulled the Death card from her deck yet again, her whispered warning: I think you need to tell him soon.

  The same sickening fear I’d felt then swamped me, and I dug my phone out of my pocket. When I unlocked it, my messaging app was already open, displaying the string of unanswered texts I’d sent Ezra over the past two days.

  I tapped to start a new message. My heart thudded against my ribs, a drumbeat to the chorus of panicked denials in my head. I should wait. I should tell him in person, face to face. This was the coward’s way out.

  But Aaron’s wisdom. The consequences of the truth scare you.

  But Sabrina’s warning. You need to tell him soon.

  Gulping back the shuddering anxiety, I typed three words and hit send before I could second-guess myself anymore. The message popped into the conversation history, immortalized forever in digital form. I’d done it. I’d said it … or, well, written it.

  I didn’t know how to feel. Was terror a normal reaction to something like this?

  Holding my phone in both hands, I waited. Voices rumbled in the other room. A door opened and closed with a thump. Footsteps in the hall. More purposeful talking as the others planned our urgent excursion to Utah.

  I held my phone, waiting.

  Waiting.
r />   Waiting.

  Eventually, Aaron tapped on the door. Opened it. Told me we were heading out in a few minutes. Was I ready? I should meet everyone in the living room right away. The door closed again.

  I slid my fingers across the phone screen, swiping away the text app. Then I wiped the cold trails of tears off my cheeks, pocketed my phone, and got to my feet.

  The consequences of the truth … they hurt like a bitch.

  Chapter Nineteen

  - EZRA -

  One of Aaron’s generic rock playlists blasted from the speakers in the corner, the beat thudding in my chest as I hung from the pull-up bar. Weights dangled from the thick belt I wore, dragging at my hips.

  I drew my body up with one arm until my chin passed the bar. The weights clanked against my thighs as I held the position, then slowly lowered. My arm burned. It wasn’t enough.

  Finishing the rep, I dropped to the floor, unbuckled the weight belt, and set it aside. My bare feet padded across the mats as I walked to the shelf with the speakers and picked up my phone to change the playlist.

  A notification glowed on the screen. A new text from Tori.

  Over the past two days, she hadn’t sent me any details on what she and Aaron were up to. I knew from Aaron that they were following a lead and had left Enright, but I didn’t know what the lead was and hadn’t asked.

  Tori’s initial messages had been longer—apologies and questions and worries. This last day, however, her messages had been short, with no questions or pleas for a reply, as though she no longer expected me to answer.

  I’m so sorry.

  I wish you were here.

  I hope you’re okay.

  I miss you.

  Phone balanced on my palm, I tapped her newest message. The short text bloomed on the screen, three simple words that struck my chest like a blow from a demon’s fist.

  I stared at those three words, unable to breathe. My hand spasmed around the phone and with a muffled pop, its case cracked. I shoved it onto the shelf before I broke the screen and backed away, air rasping in my lungs.

  Now? How could she say that now? Why now?

  The inky presence inside me stirred. Eterran’s focus cut across my mind like a blade.

  Calm down, Ezra.

  Be quiet!

  Whirling, I was across the basement in a flash—and my fist slammed into the punching bag. It swung away, and as it came back, I hammered it again. And again. And again.

  It did nothing to calm the storm inside me.

  How could she say that? She didn’t know me. I didn’t know me. Who was I without this demon, this power, this doom hanging over me?

  Eterran’s thoughts and emotions flickered at the edge of my awareness, his black presence a mocking contrast to Tori’s words.

  Be quiet! I slammed the bag, a heavy-duty brand Aaron had chosen to withstand my strength. Be quiet! Another hit, my knuckles driving into thick leather. Be quiet!

  He was still there. Always there. Never gone.

  Sometimes, he was so quiet I could almost forget about him—almost. He would slip into a sort of trance where his mind would go very, very quiet. As long as I kept my thoughts and emotions calm, he would hibernate and I’d be free of him. The longest he’d ever slept was three weeks, but the constant monitoring of my own state of mind had been a different distraction, a different strain.

  There was no way out. For ten years, I’d fought him—fought for control, for emotional separation, for distance, for silence, for privacy, for peace. I was so fucking exhausted.

  So am I.

  “Be—quiet,” I gasped, hitting the bag again. Hammering it. Now my muscles were truly burning, and I welcomed the pain. “You never leave me alone.”

  How can I?

  “Go to sleep.”

  I can’t do that when you’re like this.

  I slammed the bag again. You’re not even trying.

  No. A piercing cut of hatred. I will not sleep again, Ezra. Not until this is over, one way or another.

  Anger burned through me, followed by cold despair. Tori’s message was a flicker of light in the darkness—but she couldn’t mean those words. Maybe she thought she did, but she’d only glimpsed the nightmare of what I really was.

  “Then I’ll end it now,” I snarled. “I’ll put us both out of this misery.”

  Eterran’s mind scraped against mine, our thoughts tearing at each other.

  Liar. You don’t want to die.

  My teeth clenched so hard pain shot through my jaw. I squeezed my eyes shut as I panted. “I’ve never wanted to die. That’s why I’ve waited this long.”

  I know.

  I want a life. A real life.

  Then why won’t you fight for it?

  It’s impossible.

  Eterran shoved a memory at me—Burke’s demon, rage and triumph burning in his stare as he drew his arm back, glowing talons aimed for my chest. In his other hand, he held the Vh’alyir Amulet.

  It is possible.

  I opened my eyes. The punching bag swayed like a pendulum, and I slowed my breathing to match its measured rhythm.

  You’ll betray me, Eterran. You hate me.

  His thoughts whirled in an ebony maelstrom, fueled by a driving, burning need that eclipsed even the blackest despair.

  You want to survive, he whispered inside me. Beneath your guilt and self-loathing and blind determination to protect your friends, you want to live as much as I do.

  My chest tightened until I couldn’t take a full breath. Tori’s message glowed like a beacon. She didn’t know me—the real me, the person I’d lost when I’d let a demon into my body—but maybe we could … maybe …

  No. It was impossible.

  Yet, by most standards, she’d already accomplished several impossible feats. She was fighting for me right now. How could I give up when she was fighting so hard?

  Emotions crashed over me like a wave—all the anger and hurt and betrayal flooding through me again. I flung my fist out. As it crashed into the punching bag, my fury sparked and died. My despair swelled and faded. My pain struck and retreated.

  Eterran’s fury rose and fell. His despair. His pain.

  My fist hit the bag. My breath rushed in and out. The rhythm beat inside me, and Eterran’s thoughts turned, aligning with mine. We focused on the bag. On the strike. On the impact of knuckles against leather.

  Emotions calmed. Our minds steadied. Our thoughts flickered back and forth, debate, ideas, rebuttals, decisions.

  Finally, decisions.

  I pivoted away from the punching bag. Calm. Focused. Aligned. My concentration turned inward, slipping into the midst of power I could never fully embrace—not when part of my consciousness was always, always occupied by fear of the demon inside me and what he might do.

  Spinning on my heel, I slashed my hand sideways, cutting across nothing. The air rippled like a blade.

  The bottom half of the punching bag crashed to the floor, sand spilling down. The top half swung from the chain, barely disturbed by the razor blade of air that had cut cleanly through the leather.

  Eterran and I studied the ruined bag.

  I walked away. After a quick shower, I hastened up the stairs, a towel around my waist and my phone in hand. As I passed the living room, I glanced at the man lounging on the sofa.

  Girard, my current babysitter, looked from the TV to me. Darius had ensured I wouldn’t be alone at night until Aaron and Tori returned. He, Girard, and Alistair—the only ones besides Aaron, Kai, and Tori who knew my secret—were taking turns watching over me.

  “How’re you doing?” Girard asked, concern softening his eyes—and grief.

  He was already grieving for me and I wasn’t even dead yet.

  “Fine,” I said, ignoring the way his gaze flicked over my scars. I rarely let others see them. “Heading to bed.”

  “Sure.”

  I continued up the stairs and into my room. Locking the door, I pulled my towel off and dressed in combat gear. Slidi
ng on my long gloves with metal-plated knuckles and elbows, I paused to listen. The TV rumbled through the floor.

  Tori’s message filled my phone’s screen when I unlocked it, and my throat tightened. I selected a different name from my list of contacts, typed out a quick message, and hit send.

  Will she take the bait?

  We’ll find out.

  I walked to my bedroom window. Careful to steady the panel so it wouldn’t make noise, I slid it open and popped out the screen.

  The two-story drop was no issue—I didn’t even need the wind to cushion my fall. Cold air filled my lungs as I breathed deep. Determination was a fire in my chest, chasing away the despair that had hung over me since my near destruction at Varvara’s hands.

  “Will this work?” I murmured to the silent night. “Robin won’t give up answers easily.”

  It will take us both.

  I nodded. Both of us. Aside from brief moments during combat, we hadn’t worked together since I’d escaped the commune eight years ago—since I’d doomed my family to death.

  As I strode away from the house, I hoped I wasn’t about to repeat the worst mistake I’d ever made.

  Chapter Twenty

  I almost, almost got to fly to Salt Lake City in the Yamada Syndicate’s fancy private jet. But some asshole executive who outranked Makiko decided his desire to go golfing in Bermuda was more important, and he’d commissioned the jet right out from under her.

  So instead of traveling in luxurious, criminally funded style, Aaron rented a trailer for Kai’s and Makiko’s motorcycles and hitched it to his SUV, and we’d set out on the fourteen-hour drive across Oregon, through the southern tip of Idaho, and down into Utah.

  Even with the delays caused by sourcing and picking up a trailer, we’d gotten on the road half an hour earlier than Blake. He hadn’t been pleased to find his jeep had a newly flat tire—but as I’d assured him with earnest sympathy, I had no idea what had happened to his tire. Not me.

  He may or may not have bought my act.

 

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