I slept most of the night, using Justin’s, Kai’s, and Aaron’s shoulders as pillows whenever one of them was lucky enough to sit beside me in the cramped backseat.
Ten hours later, at our pitstop in Twin Falls, Idaho, I took the wheel. The driving was easy, if tedious. The road was straight and the scenery as flat and featureless as the Canadian prairies. Blake had caught up to us, and with his jeep speeding along in front of me, all I had to do was play follow-the-leader.
An hour in, I was actually missing the nausea-inducing turns from my drive through the Oregon Coast Range.
A vaguely familiar pop song trickled from the car speakers, drowned out by Aaron’s low snoring. Kai was in the back, while Justin was taking a turn driving Blake’s jeep so the terramage could catch some shuteye.
Makiko sat in the passenger seat beside me, her short legs stretched to the max and her eyes half-lidded with weariness.
I wanted to resent her presence. Okay, yes, I did resent her, but not as much as usual. She hadn’t complained once during the long hours in the SUV. No bossy commands or scathing sneers, and she’d even offered to take a driving shift.
When she wasn’t ruining Kai’s life, she was almost tolerable.
“So,” I said in a low voice. “Your plan here is to help us un-demon-mage Ezra, and that way Kai can’t be implicated in a demon-mage coverup?”
“Yes. As I already explained.”
“You could’ve just had Ezra killed instead,” I pointed out coolly. “That’s the crime-family way of things, isn’t it?”
She straightened in her seat, shooting me a wintry stare. “Demon mages rarely die without a fight. An assassination could still reveal Ezra as a demon mage, and the MPD would investigate.”
I grunted. “And here I thought there might be a smidge of compassion in your black soul.”
Her expression hardened. “And you’re a perfect angel, aren’t you, Tori? You’ve never had to make hard decisions or hurt your loved ones to protect them.”
I couldn’t quite hold back my flinch. “I’m not forcing anyone to leave their family and live a complete lie.”
“But you would if that was the only way to save their life,” she retorted matter-of-factly. “Don’t bother denying it. You’re no different from me.”
“I’m nothing like you.”
“You snuck into LA and broke into an MPD precinct, endangering your life, Kai’s life, and your guild. Was that not to save a friend? You’d do worse than that to save the man you love—like this.” She gestured at the highway stretching away toward the horizon.
“You’re not saving Kai. You just want him for yourself.”
“While you were demolishing that MPD precinct, I was in LA to plead for Kai’s life.”
My gaze snapped to her.
“It had just gotten back to the family that he was seeing another woman. The oyabun called me and told me he was going to give the order.”
“What order?”
“Kai’s execution.” She exhaled harshly. “He told me as a courtesy, since Kai is my betrothed. I rushed to LA to convince him to give Kai another chance.”
A memory flashed—Kai telling me about the anonymous text message he’d received, warning him that “this game” was over.
“You … convinced him?”
“I swore that Kai was worth far more than an execution, and that he could be redeemed. The oyabun had serious doubts.” She stared out the windshield. “Then Kai showed up in LA, and the oyabun decided to give me the chance to prove I’m right about Kai. If I fail, I’ll prove the oyabun right instead, and he’ll give the order.”
As the flat farmland bordering the road shifted from snow-dusted brown to snow-dusted yellow then back to brown, I snuck another glance at Makiko, surprised by the unhappy quirk to her small mouth.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said quietly. “You can see he’s unhappy, and you think, ‘What’s the point of saving his life if he’s just going to be miserable?’ But once he earns his place and the authority that comes with his position, he’ll find purpose again.”
“What if he doesn’t? What if he’s never happy there?”
“He will be.”
“How can you know that?”
She pressed her lips together. “Because he used to be happy with me.”
I forced my attention back to the road, my jaw clenched. The rumble of the tires across the cracked asphalt competed with the fuzzy radio in an annoying background buzz. I peeked in the rearview mirror, checking that my two male passengers were sleeping soundly.
“People grow,” I whispered. “They change. I haven’t known him as long as you have, but the Kai I know is too independent to ever be happy following someone else’s rules.”
“And the year or so you’ve known him makes you an expert?” she retorted, though her tone was more weary than acidic. “Happiness is fleeting, Tori. His life may not be what he wants, but he can find happiness in it. He won’t get that chance if he’s dead.”
Lips pressed tight together, I glanced in the rearview mirror again—and started when I found dark eyes watching me.
Our gazes met in the mirror, then Kai closed his eyes again.
Focusing on the road, I wished magic were the kind from fairytales, where an all-powerful fairy godmother could wave her wand and make all your problems disappear—if only for one night.
But the real world, despite its abundance of real magic, didn’t work like that.
If the Keys of Solomon’s headquarters had matched my low opinion of them, we’d be looking at a rundown structure at the back of a junkyard, surrounded by rusting cars, barbed-wire fence, and the grinning skulls of the guild’s enemies stuck on poles.
Instead, Makiko—our current driver—parked the SUV beside Blake’s jeep in a small lot behind a posh office building, four stories tall with a glass-and-steel exterior that reflected the dull blue sky and hazy light of the afternoon sun.
We piled out of the SUV with much groaning and stretching, and I squinted around. Salt Lake City’s downtown was on the quaint side compared to Vancouver, and the Keys’ shiny building was one of only a few I could see with such a modern look.
Blake shut the hatch on his jeep, his quarterstaff in hand. “Russel called me about an hour ago. He’s waiting for us inside.”
“Is that wise?” Kai asked as he pulled his shirt up to buckle a set of throwing knives around his waist. When he dropped the hem of his shirt, the weapons would be completely hidden. “Wouldn’t it have been better to meet at a more neutral location?”
“People are constantly coming and going, so your presence shouldn’t draw attention.” Blake shot off a quick text on his phone. “But I’ll ask him to meet us out here.”
I joined the others at the hatch, and Aaron passed me my combat belt with its two remaining alchemy bombs and Hoshi tucked in the back pouch, sleeping in her orb form.
A minute later, the building’s plain steel door popped open and a tall, well-built man in his fifties walked out. With buzzed gray hair and a steely expression, he embodied every “army sergeant” stereotype ever.
“Blake,” he rumbled, extending his hand. “You made good time.”
The terramage shook his hand. “No time to waste.”
The guild officer nodded, then turned to our group. “And my thanks to you as well for coming out.”
“We’ll do what we can to help,” Aaron said smoothly, stepping forward to clasp hands with the man. “Aaron Sinclair, Crow and Hammer guild.”
Russel’s eyebrows shot up. “Sinclair?”
Aaron flashed a grin in acknowledgment. “These are my guildmates—Kai, Makiko, Tori, and Justin.”
Justin blinked at being included as a guildmate.
We all shook Russel’s hand in turn. His grip was strong, his fingers calloused from a lifetime of weapons training.
With introductions out of the way, Russel glanced toward the building. “Anand—the fifth officer and our top suspect—is ou
t on a job, but we shouldn’t linger outside. The CT floor is the most private space in the building.”
“CT floor?” I questioned.
“Combat training,” Blake explained. “It’s a basement room reinforced with protective spells and abjuration. It’ll work well enough for a meeting.”
Russel led us to the steel door, which looked comically puny next to a double-wide overhead door. He punched a code into the security panel and the lock clacked. As we entered a long, nondescript hall with a tiled floor and plain gray walls, I glanced over my shoulder. Justin and Makiko stayed with the vehicles, as planned. They were our backup.
Russel noted that our group had shrunk with an arch of his eyebrows but didn’t comment as he headed down the corridor. A trio of heavily muscled men crossed our path a couple dozen paces away, none of them glancing in our direction. It was quiet in a “there are lots of people around but everyone is busy” sort of way.
Following Russel, we descended two floors and entered what I could only describe as an antechamber. The long space contained a wall of lockers labeled with various types of training gear, as well as entrances to a bathroom and a first-aid room, the latter’s door open to reveal a tidy space transplanted straight out of a hospital.
Dead ahead was a pair of double doors in thick steel, and Russel swung them open.
The Crow and Hammer’s combat training area had nothing on the Keys’ version. The room was the size of a gymnasium, with a floor made of hard black rubber. Thick padding covered the walls, and stacks of gear and training equipment filled the far end of the space—from practice dummies to targets to sets of portable walls that could be arranged into makeshift rooms.
Paintball practice in here would be seriously fun.
A wooden table—one that, judging by its scratched surface, was normally used as a prop—sat in the center of the room, several brown folders stacked on it. Standing nearby, two men in their thirties waited.
“Come,” Russel said, leading us toward them. “Chay and Piotr are already up to speed. They have my complete trust, and they’ll assist with apprehending Anand.”
Blake strode ahead of me, Kai, and Aaron, and the two other Keys mythics came around the table to meet him. The terramage shook hands with the stocky blond guy, whose biceps were thick enough to generate their own gravitational force.
“Piotr,” he said to the second man as they grasped hands. “Third officer, correct? We met at the AGM last year.”
Piotr—a beanpole of a guy with a shiny bald spot, glasses, and a shrewd gleam in his eyes that made Kai seem as wily as a kindergartener—nodded. “I remember. You’ve been well?”
“Well enough.”
Aaron, Kai, and I did the handshake thing too, then we all gathered around the table.
“Let’s begin,” Russel said. “I had another trusted guild member take Anand out on a job this afternoon. They won’t return until I give the signal, so we have time to plan our next moves.”
We nodded our agreement.
“Capturing Anand should be straightforward. He’s a talented offensive sorcerer, as you can imagine given he’s an officer, but he won’t be expecting an ambush. As far as he knows, Blake is in Portland and no one here is aware the cult was discovered.”
“What about the assassin?” Aaron asked. “Do you think Anand or the cult hired her?”
Russel rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Anand knows how to quickly hire an assassin from his work with the guild,” Piotr murmured in his hoarse, chain-smoker’s voice. “When you observed the cult, did they seem to be civilians or rogues?”
“Civilians,” I said firmly. “With the possible exception of the Praetor. He was a contractor.”
“We can probably assume Anand is responsible for the assassin,” Blake said, swiping his hair off his forehead. “He knew where I was staying, and I suspect he instructed the assassin to follow me to your first rental place. She went for Tori minutes after I’d arrived.”
I shuddered at the memory.
“We can confirm once we’ve detained Anand,” Russel decided. “Before that, my concern is the chance, however slim, that there may be more than one mole inside the guild.”
“One is already a stretch,” Chay growled. “How could they get to more guildeds?”
“The same way they got to Anand, an officer,” Piotr shot back. “We can’t rule it out.”
Kai folded his arms. “You also can’t rule out the possibility that Anand has corrupted other members. He may not have brought them into the cult, but he could have won loyalties that supersede their loyalty to the guild.”
Russel, Piotr, and Chay exchanged unhappy looks.
“That’s certainly possible.” The creases around Russel’s mouth deepened. “We can’t assume anything at this point.”
“Exactly,” Blake said. “We don’t even know the true reach of the cult. I doubt the group in Portland is the extent of it. The demon mage doesn’t seem to be local. He came from somewhere outside the Portland group.”
“How many more people could be involved?” Chay asked. “The cult was wiped out eight years ago.”
“Was it?” Kai rubbed his jaw. “Was Enright the core of the cult? What if it was more of … an extremist offshoot?”
“How could seventy members and a dozen demon mages be an offshoot?” I demanded.
Russel fixed his stern gaze on me. “If your goal was to form a group like Enright—tightknit, fiercely loyal, and so committed to your mission that they’d willingly offer themselves up for demonic rituals—how would you find suitable candidates?”
“By creating a religion that isn’t as radical,” Kai answered tersely. “Lure mythics in with a demon-worshipping sect like the one in Portland, then choose the most fanatic for your extremist commune.”
“That approach would create a large pool of likely candidates,” Russel agreed, turning to the electramage, “and would allow the leaders to observe or test their top choices before bringing them into the heart of the organization.”
“Wait.” I looked from Kai to Russel. “Wouldn’t that mean there were sects like the one in Portland recruiting cultists for the Enright commune? And those sects … they just continued to exist after Enright was destroyed? And no one noticed?”
Aaron muttered a curse, and I swallowed hard. If we were right, then the cult had never come close to being stamped out.
Blake thumped his staff against the floor. “What about their infiltration of the Keys, assuming it goes beyond Anand? What’s the point of that?”
Russel straightened. “What better way to ensure your organization remains undetected than by infiltrating, and eventually controlling, the foremost demon hunters on the continent?”
“Controlling?” Blake shook his head. “Impossible.”
“Win the loyalty of key figures and you can control any group.”
A knock on the metal doors echoed through the training room. Piotr and Chay tensed.
“Enter!” Russel called loudly.
The door opened and a well-built man with black hair and warm chestnut skin strode inside. A body hung over his shoulder, the person’s legs dangling limply in front of his chest.
My blood ran cold.
A second man ambled in after the first, dragging someone behind him by one arm. His lips pulled into a smile, his cheeks flushed.
My fear flashed into full-blown panic.
Daniel, the demon mage from Portland, let his victim drop to the hard floor. Justin’s head lolled limply, blood streaking his slack face.
“Don’t move,” Russel ordered calmly.
It took me a long moment to tear my horrified stare off Justin. My frantic gaze flicked across the other newcomer, who’d dumped his victim on the floor as well—Makiko, her hair tangled and body unmoving—then flashed to the men at the table.
I choked on a gasp.
Piotr held two pistols, the sides of their barrels engraved with runes. He had one gun leveled on Blake and one on
Kai. Chay was in front of me and Aaron, though I hadn’t noticed him move. He’d conjured two long daggers from somewhere, and one point was aimed at Aaron’s throat. The other was inches from my jugular.
Daniel and his pal crossed the room, and Piotr and Chay seamlessly shifted over so that one mythic covered each member of our group. I stared into Daniel’s face as he positioned himself in front of me, his mocking smile daring me to try something.
I vibrated with the tension gripping my muscles, terror racing through my veins.
“I expected you sooner, Anand,” Russel said to the chestnut-skinned man.
“The little lady was a handful,” Anand replied as he studied his hostage, Kai. “Daniel and I had to corner her.”
Daniel’s smile widened. “I owed her one.”
A faint sizzle of electricity ran up Kai’s arms.
Russel walked around the table and stopped behind his four men. “You may have delusional ideas about escaping. You are already aware that Daniel is a demon mage, but in case you believe that the three of you can overpower him as well as a heliomage and three guild officers …”
Russel lifted a hand toward Blake, his fingers outspread. The terramage’s eyes widened.
“Russel,” he began hoarsely. “You—”
Magic sparked over Russel’s hand—crimson magic. The blazing power snaked up his arm as a glowing circle formed around his outstretched fingers. Runes bloomed inside it, and the temperature plummeted.
With a crackling pulse, a beam of ruby power blasted from Russel’s palm.
I didn’t mean to, but my brain overrode my conscious command and my eyes squeezed shut. I didn’t see the spear of magic strike Blake’s broad chest.
But I heard it. The horrific crunch. The thump of a body hitting the floor. The wheezing rasp of breath. The terrible silence that followed, broken by my terrified gasps.
“So, as you see, I have no qualms about killing any of you,” Russel said into the silence. “At the first moment of resistance, you will die.”
I forced my eyes open. Russel’s gaze turned to me, a faint crimson gleam hazing his irises. Tremors shook my limbs, and I was afraid to look at Kai and Aaron beside me.
Lost Talismans and a Tequila (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 7) Page 18
