Sapphire Flames
Page 34
There was a pause, then the door in front of me opened. A big room lay past the doorway, the entirety of it taken up by an arcane circle of dizzying complexity, its lines glowing with pale light. In the center of the circle Alessandro paced, nude, his face furious.
“Welcome to my parlor,” Benedict said.
I took the chalk out of my pocket, palmed it, and walked through the doorway.
Time slowed and I saw everything at once, as if my mind was a camera flashing to capture the details: Alessandro, his magic flaring around him; Benedict to the side standing in a separate circle connected to the larger one; a windowless round room, a cupola above us; a large screen on the wall showing the elevator still trying to close; the body of a woman, crumpled at the far wall; and the bigger circle itself, a seemingly chaotic array of circles and lines.
The glowing patterns snapped together in my head. Alessandro was trapped in the center, able to use his magic, but cut off from the rest of the room and the building by the power of the circle. He couldn’t manifest any weapons because his magic didn’t work past the arcane boundary. Benedict, on the other hand, was free to use his magic, and the circle allowed him to attack at will. The lines would channel his power and unleash it on whoever was trapped in the center.
It was eerily similar to the trap I had created in my bedroom, but my trap was designed to contain and inflict mental pressure. This circle was designed to contain and amplify Benedict’s power. Old blood smears and scratch marks scarred the wooden floor under Alessandro’s feet. The kind of scratch marks human nails made.
This was Benedict’s fun room. He brought women here and tortured them in that circle. This was what Alessandro had saved me from with that shot shattering the elephant. The teleport spell had been less than thirty feet away from that window. I had crossed the rug that covered it to talk to Benedict.
Benedict must have tried it with Alessandro, but Alessandro’s magic worked within the small space allowed to him. He would have nullified Benedict’s attack. The moment Benedict left the smaller circle, the power of the bigger one would dissipate, and Alessandro would be free. They had trapped each other.
Benedict’s suit coat lay discarded on the floor. His tie was missing, his shirt open at the collar. Sweat drenched his face, darkening his hairline. They must have been at this for hours.
All I had to do was knock Benedict out of his point of power. There were forty feet between us.
“Get out,” Alessandro snapped, his voice harsh.
“Let me guess,” I said to Benedict. “You were packing, getting ready to disappear, and then, poof, Alessandro lands in your trap, and a terrified teleport mage appears in the room. You had no time to do anything except step into the circle to activate it and contain Alessandro before he killed you. Did you murder the teleport mage?”
“Catalina, run!”
Benedict smiled. It looked a bit deranged. “Unlike our friend, I’m genuinely happy you’re here.”
He would try to force me to walk to him. The magic of my body could power the circle even if I was unconscious. If he managed to knock me out, he could drop me into the circle under his feet and walk away, while Alessandro remained trapped. He must have tried it with the teleport mage, but she died before he could get his hands on her.
I had to let Benedict think he was winning. If he thought I retained my will, he would kill me.
“Come here,” Benedict ordered.
“Walk away,” Alessandro called out. “His magic is line-of-sight only.”
The dark cloud erupted out of Benedict. I snapped my wings up, shielding my mind. The ghostly serpents struck. Fangs tore into my feathers, ripping lesions in my defenses. I let them slither in. Panic burst in my mind, a gaping, bottomless hole filled with darkness and fear. I collapsed into it, curling into a ball to keep from unraveling.
The void melted away. I blinked my eyes open. The boundary of the circle shone only inches away. I had collapsed on the floor in a fetal ball.
“Dear God,” Benedict squeezed out.
He shook in the circle, his face slack with euphoria.
“You taste like nothing else,” he whispered. “Come here.”
I leaned on my hands, drawing a tiny line with my chalk from the boundary out, and struggled to my feet. He didn’t notice. He was too focused on getting another hit.
“No.” I turned.
The serpents struck again. Pain ripped through me. Before it dragged me down, I let my magic wind about them. They took it back to Benedict, carrying my power in their phantom mouths.
Darkness melted away. Benedict moaned.
“It hurts . . .” I murmured. I was out of breath. My mind burned, writhing from hundreds of needles stabbing it. I drew another line.
“Come here. Come to me and it won’t hurt anymore.” His voice was almost tender.
In the circle Alessandro was screaming.
I needed one more. I almost had him. I turned, trying to crawl away.
The serpent swarm engulfed me. This time I couldn’t escape into the darkness. They wrapped around me, biting, striking, pulling me to Benedict, as my power wound around their bodies. It hurt. It hurt worse than anything I’d ever felt. The agony pierced my mind again and again.
I crawled forward, striking small lines along the boundary with every move of my hand.
In the circle Benedict crouched, waiting for me. “That’s it, you’re almost there. A little more. I want more. I need more.”
I collapsed a foot from his circle. He reached for me, pulling me up to my feet, and as he dragged me upright, I struck the last line, long and sharp against the boundary of the larger ring.
Benedict pulled me to him, hugging me to his chest, his eyes insane, the pupils tiny specks of black in the pale blue irises. The serpents wrapped around us, shredding my wings. My feathers bled.
“Mine,” Benedict said. “Mine . . .”
“Hit him now!” I barked.
Magic detonated around Alessandro. The lines of the larger circle flashed with orange. The outer boundary cracked along the faults I had added. The circle exploded, melting into nothing.
A single gunshot cracked. A bright red dot blossomed between Benedict’s eyes. His deadweight hit me. I dropped him, and then Alessandro caught me, my Beretta smoking in his hand.
“You’re crazy,” he snarled, and kissed me.
The cupola above us groaned, tilted, and was lifted up, like the lid off a jar. Arabella peered down into the room and saw us hugging, me draped over a nude Alessandro with dead Benedict at our feet.
Silence reigned.
My sister opened her nightmarish mouth and laughed.
I walked up the iron steps to Alessandro’s lair. Shadow bounded ahead of me, no doubt expecting a treat.
Three days had passed since we raided the lab. I slept for two of them. I had dim memories of being moved and Alessandro sitting next to me, but I couldn’t tell if it had been real or wishful thinking.
Today was the first day I was up and moving around. While I slept, the rest of the wall near my former room had collapsed. The warehouse resembled a crushed shoebox, with one side still up, and the opposite wall in shambles. We had to move into the nearest building while we figured out what to do. At least we managed to save the servers.
Runa did rescue her sister. I met Halle this morning. She was just like her sister and her brother. Ragnar wouldn’t stop touching her to reassure himself that she was really alive, and she finally told him to knock it off or else.
Linus left a cryptic email for me, consisting of exactly two sentences: “One down, four to go. To be continued.” I assumed it meant the National Assembly wouldn’t be coming for our heads.
Nevada would be on her way home in four days.
Ahead, Shadow barked.
I climbed the last of the steps and walked into the old fire station rec room. Alessandro turned and my world stopped.
“Hey,” I said. An intelligent human being, that’s me.
> “Hey,” he said.
So far this conversation was going splendidly.
It dawned on me that the folding tables in the middle of the room were gone and so were all his weapons. Two suitcases and a duffel bag waited in the corner.
“You’re leaving,” I said.
“I have to go.”
He said something else, but I couldn’t hear it over the sound of my heart breaking.
Embarrassment flooded me in a hot rush. I was an idiot. I loved him, so I thought he loved me and wanted to be with me, and he had never considered it. The job was over, and he was leaving.
He was leaving.
I had this whole speech planned. I was going to tell him that I loved him, but I could never join him in Italy. I planned to explain that a fling with him wouldn’t be enough for me, that I knew it was presumptuous because we hadn’t even gone on a date, but I’d made a deal with my grandmother and I had responsibilities to my House. I wanted to tell him that I would help him break free of whatever forced him to do what he was doing now no matter how he felt about me. I wanted to get it all out in the open, so if he wanted to try to be with me, he would know everything before we even started.
I had built a fantasy in my head again, and the sight of his packed suitcases shattered it. He wasn’t even thinking about introducing me to his family or taking me with him. If he had, I couldn’t, but I still thought . . . I wanted . . .
I was a moron.
“Catalina?” he asked.
I forced myself to look up and meet his eyes. “Are you going back to Italy to your family?” My voice didn’t shake. It was a small miracle.
“No,” he said.
“Too bad. I’m sure you must miss them.” The words came out on autopilot. I was babbling but it was better than crying. “If they are ever in the States, I would be happy to meet them.”
He crossed the floor and put his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll never take you to meet my family. They wouldn’t understand. They don’t deserve it.”
Of course. Who was I to meet House Sagredo?
“I have to go,” he said.
He looked like he was about to kiss me. I waited for another breath, but he didn’t move.
“Let me help you, Alessandro.” The words escaped before I caught them.
Alessandro let go of my shoulders and stepped back. “You can’t.”
“Are you coming back?” Tell me you’re coming back. Tell me you’ll move mountains to get back here to me and I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.
“I won’t lie to you.”
And just like that it was over. I turned around and walked down the stairs, out of the building and all the way back to our makeshift house.
He did not come after me.
Arabella stepped out of the doorway and saw my face. “What happened?”
“He’s leaving.”
“What? He can’t leave! You fed him the pepper! You joked. You were happy!” She spun toward the fire station. “I’ll make him stay. I’ll bring him back here . . .”
I held up my hand. “No. I don’t want anyone to force him. It’s for the best.”
“Catalina!”
“It’s for the best,” I repeated, my voice wooden.
She hugged me and we walked into the house together.
Epilogue
He sat on the roof and watched her through the window. She was trying to cook with a hot plate and utensils she’d salvaged from her ruined kitchen. That was just like her. Instead of buying a new pan and knife set, she had dug in the rubble and fished them out. They meant something to her. She never left things she cared about behind. Or people, no matter what it cost her.
The look on her face when he said he was leaving nearly broke him. He thought of walking away from it right then and there. He’d almost kissed her, but if he had, he couldn’t have torn himself away. But he didn’t leave things unfinished and he’d sunk too much of his life into this hunt to abandon it now.
A soft chime sounded in his headset.
“Go ahead,” he murmured in Italian.
“I looked through the files you got from Diatheke,” a familiar feminine voice said. “You’re right. He was last seen in Montreal.”
“Then Montreal it is.”
“Did you get to see her?”
“I did.”
In the window she was chopping vegetables. He wondered if it was one of those hell peppers.
“And? Was she everything you expected?”
“She was nothing like I expected. You’d love her.”
“You could stay with her. I know you want to.”
“It’s not about what I want.”
She huffed into the headset. “You’ve done enough. Eventually, it has to be about what you want. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Right now he didn’t need the extra doubt. “Did the wire clear?”
“Of course, it did. I can’t do this for too much longer. I can’t sleep at night. I have nightmares, I wake up thinking you died. You are my only brother. Walk away, Alessandro. Please.”
“I will after I kill him.”
He pushed the button on the headset and ended the call before she said anything else.
The ticket was already booked. He looked one last time at his angel and jumped off the roof.
About the Author
ILONA ANDREWS is the pseudonym for a husband-and-wife writing team. Ilona is a native-born Russian and Gordon is a former communications sergeant in the U.S. Army. Contrary to popular belief, Gordon was never an intelligence officer with a license to kill, and Ilona was never the mysterious Russian spy who seduced him. They met in college, in English Composition 101, where Ilona got a better grade. (Gordon is still sore about that.) They have co-authored two New York Times and USA Today bestselling series—the urban fantasy of Kate Daniels and the romantic urban fantasy of The Edge—and are working on the next volumes for both. They live in Texas with their two children and many dogs and cats.
ilona-andrews.com
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By Ilona Andrews
Hidden Legacy series
Burn for Me
White Hot
Wildfire
Diamond Fire (novella)
Sapphire Flames
Kate Daniels series
Magic Triumphs
Magic Binds
Magic Gifts (novella)
Magic Breaks
Magic Rises
Magic Slays
Magic Bleeds
Magic Strikes
Magic Burns
Magic Bites
The Edge series
On the Edge
Bayou Moon
Fate’s Edge
Steel’s Edge
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
sapphire flames. Copyright © 2019 by Ilona Gordon and Andrew Gordon. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers. For information, address HarperCollins Publishers, 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007.
Digital Edition SEPTEMBER 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-287833-5
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-287834-2
Cover art by Gene Mollica
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