Emerald Blaze

by Ilona Andrews

  “Five minutes, no more,” a female voice said.

  “Do you want this done right? If so, shut up.”

  “We want what we paid you for.”

  “And you’ll get it. Once I start, don’t interrupt. You don’t want to make things worse.” He finished the design, stepped into the circle, and closed his eyes.

  Orange light dashed through the chalk lines and faded to a dull glow, throwing eerie highlights onto Christian’s face.

  The first desperate scream tore through the air.

  On the screen, Albert’s father smiled.

  “Cascade . . .” Albert murmured, squinting at the circle. “You used our House spell.”

  A torrent of magic tore out of Christian. It smashed into my defenses and broke against my mental wall like waves on a rock. He recoiled, stunned.

  “Not strong enough,” I told him.

  “Dad!” Albert thrust himself between us. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Shut. Up.” Christian hammered each word into the ground.

  I walked over to one of the overstuffed chairs, sat down into it, and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Why the hell would you do this?” Albert snarled. “Not only is your face on video, but the entire design of Cascade can be made out. All they have to do is call any local Prime psionic, and they’ll recognize it. Attacking her isn’t going to fix this.”

  House spells were specific to each House, complex and closely guarded. Magic talents were like fingerprints, unique. Victoria and Nevada were both truthseekers, but even though they were related by blood, the exact nature of their talents differed slightly. Circles developed by a specific family wouldn’t work as well for anyone else because they were precisely attuned to the magic of that particular bloodline. When Christian had drawn Cascade on that board, he’d damned himself.

  “If this gets out, we’re finished as a House.” Albert raised his arms. “We don’t need the money. Did you owe someone a favor? Were you blackmailed? Why?”

  “Because I wanted to.” Christian’s expression turned dark, his cheeks flushed, his mouth a furious slash across his face.

  The oldest reason in the book. All psionics restrained themselves. Their talents had no purpose outside of military applications or the rare cases civilian law enforcement required crowd control. There were memes online that showed random sad people with the caption “Psionic waiting for a riot.” They felt the pull to use their magic just as much as any of us, and they had turned practicing personal restraint into a religion.

  “You wanted to?” Albert dropped his arms to his sides, slapping his legs. “Are we animals, Father? Do we have no self-control? Did you not drill the Mantra of the Psionic into me since before I could talk?”

  “We have a bigger problem.” Christian stared at me. If looks were blades, I’d be a pincushion.

  “You’re not strong enough,” I repeated. I knew exactly how I looked, slightly bored, emotionless, my expression icy.

  Christian trembled, struggling to contain his rage. He’d sunk everything into that first attack. If it had hit me right after the Pit, I would have shattered and run for my life, straight into traffic, off some roof, or into the water. Whatever was handy. But I’d had time to recover.

  “Who else knows?” Christian squeezed out through his teeth.

  When I’d realized Albert was serious about marriage and he would not go away, I asked Bern to run a background check on the family. He came across an old business partnership between Samantha Corners’ sister and Christian Ravenscroft’s distant cousin. Other people had looked into Christian’s background, but none of them were Bern. Being a pattern mage, Bern had put the pieces together and then dug in other people’s personal computers until he found the recording two months ago.

  “The Special Consul for the Department of Justice. You will be offered an under-the-table deal. Samantha Corners was a go-between, but she didn’t sign the check. They want the people who hired you.”

  Albert stared at me. “He incited a crowd to violence, and they’re willing to make a deal? He murdered people.”

  “They’re offering a deal because if this recording became public, it could spark civil unrest. The impact on psionics, in general, would be catastrophic. The National Assembly wants to protect psionics. The Department of Justice wants to avoid riots and further loss of life. They came to an agreement in the interest of the greater good.”

  This deal left a bad taste in my mouth. Linus had explained it to me, after I brought him the recording, and he hadn’t even tried to put a pretty bow on it. He had predicted this outcome so precisely that I wondered how many times something like this had happened before. Two weeks later I had official confirmation from him. They would make a deal with a murderer.

  Christian leaned on his desk as if he were about to climb over it. If I were within arm’s reach, he would have choked me to death. “How do you know all of this? You’re nobody.”

  “That’s not important.”

  “What are the terms of the deal?” Albert asked.

  I pointed at Christian. “He’s done. Out.”

  “Excision?” Albert turned pale.

  I nodded. “He will testify as a disguised witness, you’ll be permitted to retain all assets, and his excision will take place before a sealed committee of the Assembly.”

  Albert turned to his father, then back to me.

  “I’m here for information,” I said. “If you don’t give me what I want, I’ll upload this video to every major streaming platform. Once it goes public, people will howl for blood and you can kiss your deal goodbye. The Assembly will rip you to shreds in retaliation. Your House won’t recover. If you attempt to harm or detain me, I’ll lobotomize you and then I will upload the video. If you shoot me right now, the video still gets uploaded and my House will murder everyone you love.”

  Christian swore.

  Albert turned to me, his eyes wide. “Who are you?”

  “Also not important.”

  “My father wouldn’t tell anyone about Leon. He wouldn’t even remember something like that.”

  “Oh I think he did.”

  “Why does it even matter?”

  “Someone is targeting my House, Albert. You have one minute to think it over.”

  “I wanted to marry you,” Albert whispered.

  I wanted to say I was sorry. I wanted to hug him and tell him it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but any weakness on my part, any hint of kindness or compassion, and Christian would slip from my fingers.

  I let my magic pour out of me. When I compelled people to fall in love with me, my wings were glorious, green and gold and shimmering. The wings that grew from my back now were black. The tips of my feathers glowed with crimson, as if I’d dipped my wings in blood. This was the other side of the coin. I’d learned I had it after Alessandro left, when I was in a dark place and wanted to be left alone. Leon had pestered me during dinner one night, I lost control, and the black wings made their debut. The family was stunned into silence for a whole thirty seconds. And then everyone called me Goth Princess for a week and Arabella kept leaving vampire novels by my door.

  My wings stretched, huge, black, intimidating. I couldn’t actually do anything with them, the way I could use my other wings to entice, but they looked impressive.

  Both men took a step back.

  “I don’t think we would be a good match, Albert. Twenty seconds.”

  “He doesn’t know anything,” Albert insisted.

  “Ten seconds.”

  Christian slumped in his chair. “All right.”

  Albert frowned. “You told someone about her cousin?”

  “I was approached at the club. A young telekinetic walked up to me on the green.”

  “How do you know he was a telekinetic?” I asked.

  Christian sneered at me. “He didn’t have to physically retrieve his balls.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Last Saturday.”


  Arkan’s people moved fast. “What did he ask?”

  Christian sighed. “He asked if I was interested in removing you from my son’s life, and I said yes.”

  Albert sat down in the chair and slumped forward on his right elbow on the armrest, his forehead on his fist. “This is a nightmare,” he said, his voice almost cheerful. “I’m going to wake up any minute, won’t I, Father? Why did you sabotage my relationship?”

  “Because you could do better!”

  Albert pointed to me. “Better than that? There’s a fucking angel of death in your study and you thought I could do better?”

  “I didn’t have all the information at the time. She wouldn’t give you the time of day. I was sick of watching you chase after her like some lovesick puppy.”

  “Did I ask for your help?”

  “I am your father! I look after your future! They’re an upstart House, and Victoria Tremaine will rip them to shreds when she gets out.”

  “My grandmother trusted me to handle this matter,” I said. “I’m here instead of her as a courtesy to Albert because of our friendship. House Tremaine doesn’t suffer fools, Mr. Ravenscroft. Don’t be one.”

  Christian opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

  “Describe the telekinetic,” I prompted.

  “Young, in his twenties. Dark hair. Tan skin. Good teeth. Accent.”

  “What kind of accent?”

  “Not sure.”

  This was like pulling teeth. “Was he a member of the club or a guest?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

  “Was he with someone else?”

  “Not that I saw.”

  “Did he offer you anything? Did he give you some way to contact him?”

  Christian shook his head. “We talked for a bit while we walked. That was it. He didn’t tell me his name.”

  “How did Leon’s name come up?”

  “He asked what I thought about all your family members. I told him that I didn’t care for any of them. I told him that you acted as if you were too good for us, and even your damn dud cousin snubbed my son and told him some made-up stalker story about a girl named Audrey.”

  Not much to go on. As soon as I got home, I would ask Bern to go through the surveillance next to the club and see if anyone looked familiar.

  “What happened?” Albert asked.

  “Audrey is dead. Leon was framed for her murder, but he has a bulletproof alibi.” I looked back to Christian. “Anything to add?”

  Christian jutted his chin into the air, his eyes defiant. “I’m right. My son is too good for you.”

  I hid my wings, rose, took my tablet, and walked out.

  Chapter 14

  Fifteen minutes from the house I called in to report to Victoria’s office like a good little soldier. Trevor answered on the second ring, his voice clipped.

  “Please hold.”

  The look of horror on Christian’s face when I mentioned my evil grandmother was branded in my memory. Did I have to become Victoria for us to survive? I was learning to think like her. To react like her. If I kept going, there would come a time when the act of being Victoria’s granddaughter would no longer be an act at all. I didn’t want to turn into my grandmother. I wanted to go back to the time when my lack of experience gave me blinders.

  Now was a bad time for a moment of weakness. Trevor would come back on the line to take down my report, and I couldn’t afford to sound bitter.

  The phone clicked, and my grandmother’s crisp, upper-class voice filled Beetle’s interior. “What did you find out?”

  Surprise, surprise. Grandmother had no phone privileges. Somehow, I doubted the prison administration would be shocked at this appalling breach of security.

  “Christian was approached on the golf course of his country club. A white man, probably twenties or thirties, dark haired, tan, with an unidentified accent, looking for dirt on House Baylor. They had a casual conversation, then the man left. Christian doesn’t know how he got into the club. He’d never seen him before, and he would have noticed him, because the stranger was a telekinetic and didn’t have to retrieve his golf balls.”

  Country clubs catering to upper-level magic users usually took a dim view of members using magic on the grounds. It carried the same social penalty as flashing around large wads of cash. It was considered gauche and simply wasn’t done. The stranger had flaunted the rule to identify himself as a high-ranking mage, someone Christian would consider worthy of conversation.

  “Anything else? Details?”

  “No. The senior Ravenscroft isn’t a detail person. If he encountered an elephant, he would describe it as a large grey animal.”

  Victoria sighed. “If you cracked Christian’s big head, you’d be lucky to find a tablespoon of brains. Their entire House isn’t overburdened with intelligence or imagination. Did he say why he opened his mouth?”

  “He doesn’t feel I’m good enough to marry his son.”

  Victoria laughed, the sound ringing through the vehicle.

  “Also, he’s afraid of you.”

  “Maybe he’s gotten marginally smarter with age. Call me the moment you learn anything new.”

  “Yes, Grandmother.” That was easier than I thought.

  “Your Italian came to see me.” Amusement bubbled up in Victoria’s voice.

  What? He did what?

  “He hasn’t told you,” Victoria said.

  Damn it, waited to respond a second too long.

  My brain finally registered that my exit lane was about to end. I merged a foot before it ended. Behind me a red pickup blared its horn in outrage.

  I willed my voice into careful neutrality. “What did he say?”

  “He threatened me.”

  Oh my God. “Did you hurt him?”

  “You need to do a better job of concealing your feelings. I can hear the panic in your voice.”

  “Did you hurt him, Grandmother?”

  “His mind is intact. I found him entertaining. Besides, he is a beautiful boy. So much power. It would be a waste to turn him into a vegetable.”

  I would strangle him. What was he thinking? He probably didn’t even understand how lucky he was to come out of there with his mind undamaged.

  The humor in her voice grew. “He informed me that you are perfectly capable, and my interference is impeding you. He also suggested that if something were to happen to you as a result of my attention, he would cut off my head.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Oh, he was perfectly charming while suggesting it. Impeccable manners, great poise. Good breeding always shows, even when dressed in ratty jeans and a faded T-shirt. I think your pauper prince truly loves you, the poor fool. It’s a shame.”

  She was mocking me. “Gloating is beneath you.”

  “Catalina, I’m in prison. I take my fun where I can find it. You know where you and I stand.”

  The call cut off. She’d hung up.

  Here is fine, I’ll find my own way. I’m going to turn right around and poke a ravenous shark with a stick to see what happens.

  I would kill him. No, worse, I would yell at him when I found him.

  I drove to our security booth, got out, and let myself be sniffed.

  Regina walked out of her house, strode to our front door, and waited with her arms crossed.

  Security cleared me. I drove Beetle through and parked it. “Did something happen?”

  “When Leon and your sister brought Rhino back, it felt odd.” She passed her hand over Beetle’s hood.

  “Odd how?”

  “I thought I sensed something animated but couldn’t find it. I’m checking the other vehicles. Your truck is clear.”

  “What kind of something?”

  “Not that kind,” she assured me. “Ordinary animation. Patricia is doing an extra sweep and I sent Cinder to hunt. We’ll see what she catches.”

  I walked into the house at twenty past eight. The building was quiet. Shadow bounded out of the me
dia room and scratched at my legs, overcome by doggy excitement. I pet her and trudged into the kitchen. I was so tired. Yesterday had been a long day, today was an even longer day, and everything hurt. I needed food and sleep, in that order.

  I missed the warehouse. Now we were split into three stories, with Bern and Leon taking up the third floor, and Arabella and Grandma Frida using the second. Only Mom and I stayed on the bottom floor, and right now, with everyone busy doing their own thing, I felt abandoned and isolated. It was almost like coming home to my own private apartment, mine, but cold and lonely.

  Except for Shadow.

  I made a beeline for the fridge. Replenishing magic burned a lot of calories, and my stomach had turned into a black hole swirling with acid. I’d missed dinner but there would be leftovers. There were always leftovers.

  The fridge offered me Mom’s fajitas. It was a simple recipe, marinated skirt steak or chicken thighs chopped into bite-sized pieces and wrapped in flour tortillas with cheese, chunks of tomato and avocado, and mild sauce. They kept surprisingly well, were good hot or cold, and everyone in the family liked them. Mom must have made a ton, because the platter held at least a dozen, wrapped in plastic so the fridge wouldn’t dry them out.

  I pried the plastic open, snagged a fajita, and closed the fridge. Nevada stood three feet away. I jumped and dropped the fajita. Shadow darted across the floor, scooped up the fajita, and bolted down the hallway.

  I swore. “Make some noise next time, please.”

  Nevada crossed her arms over her chest.

  Uh-oh. I knew that look. That was the you-are-doomed look.

  “Albert called,” my sister said.

  I opened the fridge and took out a Corona. “What did he say?”

  “He wants to talk. He says he knows he fucked up, but he thinks there’s still a chance, despite all the threats. He wants an opportunity to apologize.”