by E. G. Foley
It wasn’t terribly tall. Maybe a little over twenty feet high.
Dusting off his hands, he walked across the flat top of the natural tower, but the place was forlorn without Red.
The big nest looked abandoned. But Jake could still picture his lion-sized pet there, his paws tucked under, his wings folded around his body.
He missed Red so much—and now this. Nothing in all his recollection had ever come between him and Dani before.
He sat down heavily on the brim of the five-foot nest, his heart heavy, his whole existence one big, tangled knot of misery.
Unfortunately, he had only a few minutes of privacy to sulk and brood and hate the world before his cousin arrived.
Of course.
Isabelle.
The perennial Voice of Reason. Arriving right on cue to try to smooth things over. He rolled his eyes when she called up to him.
“Jake? Are you all right up there?”
“I don’t need a lecture!” he called, not budging from his spot.
“You do need to apologize, though. You hurt Dani’s feelings.”
At that, Jake scowled down over the rock ledge.
Isabelle was standing at the bottom, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazed up at him. “You made her cry.”
“What? Dani doesn’t cry!”
Isabelle just looked at him. Her silence spoke volumes, and Jake felt his heart sink like a stone.
Ugh. What a toad I am.
“Just leave me alone, Iz,” he said with all the grace of that yeti. “I’m not good company right now.”
“You don’t say,” she answered lightly, and then, to Jake’s consternation, Isabelle started to climb.
This I’ve got to see. He peered over the ledge to find the proper young lady hitching up the hem of her skirts and beginning to scale the rock tower.
“What are you doing? You’re in a long dress! You’ll trip and break your head. Oh, never mind, I’ll come down—”
“No, no,” she said. “I’m almost there…”
“Isabelle!”
True to her word, the empath climbed the stony tower; Jake frowned as he watched, ready to catch her with his telekinesis if she slipped.
A couple of minutes later, he gave her a hand up over the final chunk of boulder, and she arrived safely beside him, her cheeks pink with exertion.
She glanced at Red’s nest, and understanding flickered in her blue eyes.
“Well,” she said, going over to sit on the brim of it like he had, “at least now you don’t have to be miserable alone.”
“Why are you so nice to me?” he asked.
“Oh, coz, you know I have a great fondness for all the wild beasts.” She sent him a teasing smile and wiped the dust off her hands on her apron.
Jake looked at her for a long moment. “Did she really cry?”
“What do you think? You ruined the happiest moment of her life.”
Jake heaved a sigh and hung his head. “They’re all mad at me, aren’t they?”
“I’m not. I’m not sure about Teddy.” Isabelle leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Come, Jake. You know Dani deserves this. She saved your life—and mine—without any magical powers. In hindsight, I’m not surprised in the least that they picked her. It makes perfect sense.”
“I know, I know. She deserves it,” Jake said, heaving a disgusted sigh. “But I still don’t like it.”
“Are you jealous?”
He scoffed. “I’d be lying if I tried to say I wasn’t, but it’s not just that! Don’t you remember when I interviewed the sea-witch? Fionnula pretty much admitted that the Dark Druids have some secret project underway that has them rounding up Lightriders. That’s why they took Tex. And why they may have kidnapped my parents twelve years ago. Now the Order’s going to make Dani a Lightrider, too? How am I supposed to protect her if she’s out there on a mission somewhere without me? The Dark Druids took my parents from me, Iz. They’ve taken my Gryphon. But I swear, if they ever lay a finger on Dani—”
“Jacob, relax,” Isabelle said. “She was invited into the program less than an hour ago! It takes years to become a full-fledged Lightrider. That’s a long way off! Can’t you just be happy for her today? Let her have her moment? Truly, Jake, it’s the least the poor girl deserves.”
Jake gazed at her, crestfallen. “God, I hate it when you’re right.” Then he looked away, staring out at the miles-long view. “I really made a muck of things this time, didn’t I?”
Isabelle shrugged with a sympathetic smile.
He raked his fingers through his hair. “I really don’t mean to be such a bear to everyone. It’s just—I feel like I swallowed a box of nails these days.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. If only we had word.”
Isabelle reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Don’t give up, Jake. You’ve got to have faith. Something good is bound to happen soon. I can feel it.”
CHAPTER 20
The Double Agent
At that very moment, Janos was wondering how the devil he had got himself into this. True, he had been locked up in a small, windowless meeting room for ages awaiting Wyvern’s return. But considering that he was still alive after a whole twelve hours in the Black Fortress, he had to count that as a plus.
Not that it was his first time here.
In his role as a vampire prince, assumed to be a basically evil being, he’d been asked to attend various functions at the warlocks’ headquarters before. A couple of unpleasant rituals and such. Annual informational meetings. Lord, those were tedious. Evil was very hierarchical, with lots of bureaucracy…
In any case, Janos was used to the slick black corridors and the strange sounds in this place. He was even accustomed to the bizarre process of jumping from location to location. Thankfully, his inborn stalwart nature as a Guardian gave him the ability to take all the weirdness in his stride.
Happily, he had managed to maintain an outward show of his usual cheeky nonchalance throughout his visit so far.
Upon their arrival last night, Wyvern had flown the dragon chariot into a wide opening that appeared in a lower story of the black castle during their approach.
The earl had brought the Ruffed Orange Darter to a halt in a large, empty hall with a loud “Whoa, boy! Whoa!”
Then they jumped out, and the Nephilim had left his horse and carriage, as it were, in the care of three Noxu.
Funny creatures, the Noxu. For some reason, they had always reminded Janos of rhinoceroses.
He wasn’t sure why.
In any case, next, they had gone up to the bridge, where Wyvern ordered the crew to prepare for the next jump—and where Janos heard the navigator call out the coordinates.
He had memorized them instantly.
It seemed Wyvern and his minions didn’t care if Janos did find out where they were going. Why should they be concerned? As far as they knew, he was evil, one of them, and, moreover, had no means of getting the word out to his former colleagues in the Order, anyway.
With a smile on his face and the coordinates seared into his brain, Janos had casually put the dark glasses on like everybody else and braced for the jump, steadying himself when they crashed down at their new location.
A rocky stretch of coastline in Scotland, of all places.
No one told him what they were doing there. But, a while later, Wyvern had given the crew a few more commands, then nodded at Janos to follow him.
Janos had done so at once, pretending to cooperate. Let Wyvern believe he was sufficiently intimidated by what the demon spawn had done to those poor peasants.
In truth, by turning those innocent people into a human flambé, Wyvern had only sealed Janos’s resolve to thwart the blackguard in any way possible.
For the time being, however, Janos let himself be led around obediently through the eerie black corridors. Wyvern had shown him into a sparse meeting room with a table and chairs and left hi
m there to wait, but, along the way, Janos had noticed something strange.
Namely, the absence of Zolond’s reptilians.
Since the old warlock never went anywhere without his scaly bodyguards, was it possible the Dark Master was not at home?
If so, that was an extraordinary development. Indeed, it might also explain the faint whiff of rebellion in the air that Janos had never sensed here before.
Hmm. Something was definitely afoot inside this windowless maze of polished black granite.
His certainty about this grew when Wyvern eventually returned to the meeting room and began grilling him about Jake.
Leaning across from Janos with both hands braced on the table, the Nephilim fired off question after question about the boy.
Janos was mystified but pretended to cooperate.
“I want to know what motivates him,” the earl said, drumming a six-fingered hand slowly on the table.
“Food,” Janos said lightly. “The kid eats constantly. He ought to be the size of a barn, but where it all goes, I couldn’t tell you.”
“What else?”
“Fun! He’s a boy.” Janos shrugged. “I dunno. Pranks. Mischief. Shiny objects that do interesting things.”
“Like darkling blades, hmm?”
Janos ignored that. “Minor acts of destruction. Rude sounds at inappropriate times— Weren’t you ever a boy, my lord?”
“No,” Wyvern replied with a dead stare.
“What, did you hatch from an egg? My own hatchlings started as larvae. It was really quite disgusting—”
“Stop fooling around, you witless vampire! You are evading the substance of my queries.”
“Well, tell me in plain English what do you want to know!” Janos exclaimed. “It would help if I had some inkling of the point of all this.” Janos paused. “Don’t you trust me?”
Wyvern growled, a flicker of flames in his eyes.
Janos’s lips quirked. I think I’m getting to him.
“Very well. I want to know…” Wyvern hesitated.
“Yes?”
“How to get on Jake’s good side,” the Nephilim grumbled.
Janos’s eyebrows rose slowly. “Well.”
Not exactly the answer he’d anticipated. Extraordinary.
Baffling, too. But he went with it, choosing his words with care. “In that case…you might try returning his Gryphon?”
“No! I can’t take that chance.” Wyvern scowled at Janos, pushing away from the table to pace back and forth across the dismal room. “Right now, the Gryphon is the only means I’ve got to draw him to me. But I can’t wait forever! And since this bait is clearly not working, I’m going to have to use something stronger. I mean to snatch one of his friends. So, tell me—with none of your nonsense—which one of the other children should I take prisoner?”
Janos stared at him, his undead heart dying just a little more to have to answer such a question.
He lowered his head, reeling, and pretended to debate it with himself. But he felt ill.
“Hmm,” he said, stalling.
Wyvern glared at him, waiting for an answer, but Janos had no idea which of Jake’s friends to throw to the wolves.
Not Isabelle, obviously. She was the point of all this. Keeping her safe.
Archie was too valuable to the world with that magnificent brain of his.
Dani O’Dell? He stifled a shudder at the thought.
No. Impossible. Blazes, Jake would kill him if Janos brought the little redhead to the Dark Druids’ attention.
Only one option remained.
His stomach twisted at the prospect of the answer he must give, but he didn’t dare try anything clever with the kids’ lives at stakes.
Forgive me, Stick.
“There is,” he said, then cleared his throat, “an older boy Jake holds in the highest regard. A Guardian apprentice. About seventeen. Derek Stone introduced them. Jake looks up to him like an elder brother.”
“Oh really?” Wyvern’s eyes narrowed; he sounded intrigued.
Janos nodded and told himself that Guardians were supposed to give their lives for the cause if it came to that.
Which it wouldn’t.
Somehow or another, he would not let them harm Maddox.
Still, betraying young Stick made Janos hate himself just a little more than usual.
“Yes, Jake and he are quite close,” he said, his voice taut. “Their hope is that one day, they’ll be assigned to the same Order team. Jake as Lightrider, Maddox as Guardian.”
“Maddox who, exactly?” Wyvern murmured.
Janos took a deep breath. “Maddox St. Trinian.”
Don’t worry, Stick. I won’t let them anywhere near you.
Of course, the kid hated him anyway. Such a good little Guardian, he could neither understand nor forgive Janos for abandoning the Order. But forget young Stick—if Ravyn ever heard about this, she would thrash Janos clear across the Continent for bringing her son to the Dark Druids’ attention.
Unfortunately, Janos wasn’t sure if his old friend and fellow soldier, Guardian Vambrace, was even still alive.
But at least Wyvern appeared to believe him.
Absorbing this tidbit of information, the towering Nephilim nodded slowly. “Very well. Maddox St. Trinian. Now, was that so hard?”
Janos forced a smile.
Then the earl asked several more questions about Jake in general. His powers, his education, his daily routines.
Really? thought Janos. They were bizarre questions, and he didn’t know the answer to half of them, so he just made up any old answers that popped into his head.
He figured if he kept Wyvern talking, the questions themselves might eventually give away a more solid clue about why the warlocks were so interested in Jake.
Though Janos found the earl’s avid interest in the boy creepier than a whole circus full of clowns, (he had never trusted clowns, even as a child), he told Wyvern whatever he wanted to hear.
Fortunately, vampires were excellent liars.
And yet, with every smooth response that left his lips, Janos was keenly aware that the price he’d have to pay for his deceptions must be climbing higher and higher if and when he eventually got caught.
But, of course, if they tortured and killed him, at least that would finally bring an end to all his bad decisions in life. He’d be glad to have it over with.
When Wyvern finally finished interrogating Janos, he seemed anxious to get on with the next item on his to-do list.
Janos tried to access what that might be, but the Nephilim’s mind was impenetrable. Wyvern summoned a pair of Noxu guards to show Janos to a guestroom, and he was dismissed.
With his heightened vampire senses, he could smell the Noxu coming even before the creatures arrived. Lord, they had a foul, musky odor that could singe the hairs in your nostrils. He could hear the ominous thumping of their footsteps and the leather squeaking of their primitive armor when they were still quite a distance from the meeting room.
Janos stepped out into the hallway as they arrived. Then the pair of hulking, tusked guards marched him through the onyx maze. They brought him to a guestroom and shoved him rudely inside.
“Watch it!” he said, catching his balance at once.
Slamming the door with a grunt of laughter, they locked it behind him, removing any doubt as to what sort of “guest” Janos actually was.
He scowled at the door, then glanced around uneasily at his stark black-and-silver room. A blue-flamed lantern on the bedside table revealed the most basic accommodations.
But he shuddered with unexpected horror at the room’s most distinctive feature.
Mirrors on every wall.
Alas, the magic in them to create one’s own preferred environment only worked if one had a reflection in the first place.
Janos didn’t. As his gaze traveled around the gray emptiness of his chamber, it was as though he wasn’t there at all.
That got to him, oddly, out of all the dang
ers awaiting him here.
His own un-being.
Like he didn’t really matter to any other living creature in this world and might as well not even exist.
He lowered his head, more trapped by his choices in life than he was by this room. But he shook off the never-ending pain of his existence and vowed to make himself useful.
He might be a failed Guardian, but he could still reach out with his vampire telepathy and let the Order know where the Black Fortress was right now.
At least, he could bloody well try.
It wouldn’t be easy. It might not even be possible. The coast of Scotland was a long way from Wiltshire, after all, and both castles, good and evil, were wrapped in many layers of protective spells.
In truth, it would probably be a miracle if he could squeeze one thought out through the cracks.
But surely one of the Order’s clairvoyants would hear him. He decided to start with Dame Oriel. She seemed like a reasonable person, and quite a gifted sensitive.
Janos sat down on the bed, closed his eyes, cleared his mind as best he could, and tried to contact the woman.
He gave up with a wince several minutes later when he felt a headache start to throb in his right temple.
Maybe someone else, then. Balinor, he decided. Yes. All the old wizard’s sleepiness was merely a sign of his deep immersion in the other realms, the world of spirits and dreams.
But Janos’s attempt to make contact with Balinor likewise proved fruitless. He could sense the owl and believed the owl sensed him, as well. But the creature was hardly equipped to take down a long series of numbers.
Derek? Janos tried his old team leader next, well aware the master Guardian would hardly be happy to have his mind invaded, especially by the likes of him.
Well, it didn’t work anyway, and now he was tiring. The headache pierced sharper through his skull. Still sitting on the bed, he leaned against the wall, his brain weary with the effort to make the connection with someone, anyone out there.
It was depressing that no one could sense him. He might as well not even exist. A terrible loneliness gnawed at his innards, but he pushed it away as usual.
