“Perfect. Mostly dead.”
“So what now?”
Nathan looked up at Elton with a cheery smile. “Now we let him marinate until morning. Then he’ll be ready.”
“You’re just going to…leave him like this?”
“Well ideally, I’d bury him, but I think it should be fine.” He pushed himself up by his hands on his knees. “It’s getting late, in any case. Any chance I can convince you to take advantage of the almost irresponsibly comfortable king-sized bed this suite’s come with? I promise to keep my hands above the waist.”
“I’ll take the couch, thanks.”
“Such a tease,” Nathan sighed, but he shrugged one shoulder and tightened the lid on his powder jar. He left it on the coffee table and gathered up the rest of the mess he’d made, dumping it in a pile on the dining cart. “Well, I’ll be here if you change your mind. It does get chilly at night, you know.”
“I’ll power through.”
“Your stony resolve only makes me want you more, darling,” he chuckled. “Take good care of our body, at least.” He gestured toward Chris and disappeared into his bedroom, but he didn’t shut the door.
Elton gave a soft sigh and dropped onto the sofa, looking down at Chris’s motionless form. This had to all be worth it.
17
Cora came to with her arms aching. Her wrists were still behind her back as she lay curled on a cot with a scratchy blanket under her cheek, but she could tell the binding had been lifted at some point while she was unconscious. She shifted on the creaking metal bed and moved her arms slowly in front of her, flexing her fingers to work out the pins and needles in her skin. Her bracelet was missing, and so was Elton’s amulet. She’d been stripped of her own clothes and dressed in what seemed like grey scrubs—just cotton pants without pockets and a short-sleeved shirt. As she sat up, she flinched against the harsh fluorescent light and rubbed at her eyes with a tired grunt.
This was a cell. She had a cot and a toilet open to the room, but her little space was otherwise empty, separated from the hall by a set of dirty metal bars. She could hear voices and footsteps echoing in the damp hallway. In the cell across from her, Thomas lay on his own cot with his hand draped across his stomach. He lifted his head as her bed squeaked from her movement.
“Feeling all right?” he asked, just loud enough to be heard over the low bustle filling the corridor.
She shifted to the end of her cot to get closer to the bars. “Fine, I guess. Are we at the Magistrate?”
“That’s generally what happens when you get arrested,” he answered.
“Sarcasm,” she sighed. “Helpful.”
A sharp clang on the bars of her cell startled her, and she looked up to see a woman with a clipboard standing on the other side of the door.
“Cora Daniels?”
She nodded. The woman confirmed a few basic details like her birthdate and the Magistrate visa number that allowed her to attend school in Canada, then she looked down her nose at the younger girl and seemed to make a point of frowning at her. “You’re charged with assaulting an officer of the Magistrate and conspiring with known criminals. And I don’t suppose you have anything to say about the human remains you’ve been using as grounding tokens?”
“Is that what those were?” Cora asked, putting on her best incredulous face. “That darned shopkeeper promised me they were bone-shaped candies!”
“Cute.” The woman wrote something down on her clipboard. “Now tell me about Nathaniel Moore.”
“Well,” Cora began excitedly, “his blood type is AB. He’s a Scorpio, so you know he’s got that sexy mysterious thing going on. He’s super dreamy. Tall, and tattooed, and eyes you could just get lost in. And he’s got muscles, but you know, not huge can’t-touch-my-own-back muscles, but just enough where he can pick you up and just—”
“Not exactly what I’m looking for,” the woman cut her off. She stared at Cora, unamused. “When did you last have contact with him?”
“Well I mean, that’s a little personal. What are you, my gynecologist?”
“Do you know where he is?” she clarified through grit teeth.
“Oh, no. He’s, like, a total free spirit. Anyway, I thought it was your job to know where he was?”
“That smart mouth isn’t going to do you any favors,” the woman said as she glanced down to take a brief note. “Or him. We’ll get what we need from you, one way or the other. Touch here.” She held the clipboard out toward Cora, and when the girl reached out a hand, she took her by the wrist and pressed her thumb onto the page. The paper gave a soft hiss of smoke, leaving behind a black fingerprint as Cora pulled her hand back.
The woman turned away and flipped a page on her clipboard as she set her eyes on Thomas. “And you. Thomas Proctor. Born 29 September, 1981, Vancouver, BC?”
“Yes,” he answered as he sat up on his cot. Cora softened as she watched him stare up at the woman with exhaustion on his face.
“You’re charged with abetting fraternization with mundanes, falsifying travel documents, and assisting in the evasion of Magistrate justice. There may be more, if you’ve got any contraband waiting for us in that shop of yours. Anything you want to go on the record?”
“No,” he answered simply, and he touched his thumb to the offered paper without further prompting.
“It’s lights out in twenty minutes.” The woman held the clipboard to her chest. “Shame you were brought in too late to eat tonight,” she added dryly as she turned and walked back down the flickering corridor.
“What a bitch,” Cora muttered, resting her hands on a metal crossbar and leaning forward to look at Thomas. “So, you really did help all those people, huh?”
“I tried.”
“And Elton, he...really turned you in? Back then?”
“He really did,” Thomas sighed.
“Man, that sucks. I mean, that’s understating it, but...I get why you hate him. When we first came in, you looked so freaked out, but Elton’s not really what I’d call scary, you know? I thought maybe he’d jilted you or something, but this is way worse.”
“What? He did not jilt me,” he snapped. “It’s none of your business, anyway.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot; I’m totally not locked up in jail because of this bullshit.”
“You’re locked up because you fought a Chaser,” Thomas countered. “And apparently because you’re romantically involved with Nathaniel Moore. “ He frowned over at her. “Didn’t that other Chaser say you were Elton’s girlfriend?”
“What, you hate Elton so much but you’re worried about him getting two-timed?” She scoffed at his furrowed brow. “Not that it’s any of your business,” she said, mocking his grumpy tone, “but I’m not involved with either of them. That Chaser Chris just has his own ideas, and I’m just not about to give any of these pricks a straight answer.”
Thomas grunted and turned to sit sideways on his cot and lean against the stone wall of his cell as if he was done talking to her. She tugged at the metal bars, knowing it was useless, and gripped them as she leaned back to inspect the room upside-down. She didn’t know what, exactly, but there was definitely some sort of magic thrumming through the air of the jail. It didn’t surprise her that the Magistrate would have all kinds of wards everywhere.
“So then what do you have to do with someone like Nathaniel Moore?” Thomas asked softly, and she smiled as she straightened. Even he could be curious. She suspected he wasn’t quite as prickly as he seemed. It must have been lonely for him, just running that shop by himself, across the country from everyone he knew, knowing he was always on the verge of being snatched up by Chasers.
“Nathan is like…my teacher. He sort of took me in because I was adopted and didn’t know anything about magic. I think it bugs him when he feels like people are wasting their talent.”
“But he’s a killer,” Thomas said. “He steals people’s youth and kills every Chaser they send, right? You’re not worried, being taught by someone l
ike that?”
“Why should I be?” She shrugged. “He’s already young right now, and I’m not a Chaser. He might be a crazy person, but he doesn’t scare me. He’s my friend.”
“Some range of friends you’ve got, claiming to be Nathaniel Moore’s student and showing up at my place with two Chasers. Won’t he be angry at you for helping them?”
“Are you kidding? He’s way more excited to see Elton than me. He’s like a cat, and Elton is the ball of yarn. Or maybe it’s the other way around. They can’t leave each other alone.”
“Lucky Elton,” Thomas murmured. “Then if you’re his student, why are you helping the Magistrate?”
“It’s kind of complicated,” she hummed. “A few months ago, Elton tracked Nathan down and started all this back up again, and we kind of went on a crazy road trip adventure together. There was a lich, I got cursed, we met a fairy. It was pretty cool when I wasn’t scared I was going to die. Anyway, Nathan didn’t take me with him when he ran off, so Elton helped me get into a school in Vancouver so I wouldn’t be on the street. So it’s not so much that I want to help the Magistrate as it is that Elton was my best shot at finding Nathan again.”
Thomas paused, and he tilted his head to look through the bars at her. “What school?”
“J.T. Blight.”
A scoffing sound came out of Thomas that Cora was certain had been unintentional. He cleared his throat once and didn’t look at her. “It’s not a bad school,” he admitted. “Is Dr. Witt still making terrible puns?”
“Oh my god,” Cora sighed, “it never stops! And he gets me every time, coming in all serious and asking if we’ve heard about the guy in Paris who jumped off a bridge.”
“Was he in Seine?” Thomas answered dryly, and she laughed. “Yeah, that’s an old one.” She thought she saw him smile faintly. “You know if you’re going to school on the Magistrate’s dime, they’re going to want you to work for them when you finish.”
“I know.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked in a lower voice. “You want to be a Chaser?”
“You know, when I started, I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,” she said. “Elton didn’t seem like a bad guy, really. But seeing what it’s really like…just over the last couple days, there’s been bribery, and threats, and they seem to want to protect the shitty people and arrest the nice ones. It seems like a Chaser is a pretty awful thing to be.”
“You’re not wrong,” he muttered in return. “Just remember it when you finish school and they try to make you a Chaser. Chasers don’t help anyone. They just make lives worse.”
Cora dropped onto her back and stared at the ceiling, chewing on her bottom lip. There wasn’t going to be any finishing school for her. They were going to get out of this place, and she was going to go where Nathan went from now on—she wasn’t taking no for an answer again. But they were going to need a plan to escape. She didn’t really look forward to the prospect of whatever the punishment was for having scuffles with Chasers, and Thomas might not have had the stomach to fight, but she wasn’t about to leave him here to be punished for helping people who were in love. She would have to have been some kind of monster not to appreciate how romantic that was. She had Elton to worry about, too. He clearly wasn’t here with them. That meant that he was either locked away somewhere being tortured, or Chris was doing some other nasty something to him. Maybe he’d even convinced him to keep going after Nathan. Either way, she couldn't count on his help.
The lights shut off in the hall with the loud crack of a switched breaker, and a man’s voice called from down the corridor, “Lights out!” The cells went quiet save for the occasional hushed voice, and Cora spared a glance at Thomas as he settled onto his own scratchy cot. She would get them both out of this place.
She curled up onto her side and took a slow breath as she shut her eyes. She would need time to come up with a plan, but she could at least fall asleep and hope that Nathan contacted her, if only so she could tell him how badly things had fucked up.
The white candle flickered on the floor, the lone light in the endless darkness all around her. She moved toward the beacon and sat down beside it, watching the light play against the pale wood. She felt its heat in her chest and smiled over the small dancing flame.
“Have you joined any gangs yet, my love?” Nathan’s voice was soft and amused, like always. He came into view across the candle from her, taking his place cross-legged on the opposite bit of floor. “You know it’s important to establish dominance early on.”
“You know where I am?”
“Of course. I know everything.” He smiled at the skeptical purse of her lips. “Elton’s with me. Lucky you passed his number on to me; he seemed about to do something rash when I called.”
“He’s, like...with you with you? What about Chris?”
“Slumbering soundly at the moment,” he chuckled. “He’s not a worry. But we don’t have a lot of time, my love. These Magistrate wards are difficult to penetrate, so listen carefully. Have they done anything to you yet?”
“Just asked me about you. They may think I’m your girlfriend now. Sorry.”
Nathan laughed. “Well I could hardly hope to do better.” He leaned closer to the flickering candle, which seemed to be burning down faster than usual. “We’re going to come for you, but it’s going to take some time. They’re probably going to put you under the cuimne.”
“Come for me? Nathan, you can’t come here. I don’t think you understand just how wanted you are.”
“Oh, I’m not coming. Not directly. Elton expressly forbade me to burn down the building. It’ll be fine. Just hush and let your men come and rescue you.”
Cora bristled at the suggestion and frowned across the candlelight. “You think I need you to just swoop in like heroes when you jerks are the reason I got arrested in the first place? I can get out on my own. And I’m bringing Thomas out with me. You tell Elton to worry about himself.”
A slow smile curled the corners of Nathan’s lips. “That’s my girl. Then let me offer you some advice, at least. When they put you under, it’s going to feel terrible. When they pull you out, it’s going to feel terrible. They think they can frighten you. They think they can break you. But you, my love, are greater than that. You are destined for more than they would allow you. Remember it.”
“You always say the sweetest things,” she teased, but she couldn’t keep from smiling.
“You’re going to have some difficulty casting anything at all while you’re in there,” he went on, “but I’ll be able to lift the wards and provide you the means to do some damage. Remember what I told you about grounding with blood; you may be able to manage a bit of magic in a pinch. Now, Elton thinks he’ll be able to slip in and retrieve you quietly, but you listen well—if they get in dear Mr. Proctor’s head, if even a scrap of what he’s hiding gets brought to light and put on record, there are going to be a lot of people suffering for it. Husbands, wives, and children.” He glanced down at the candle between them as the flame began to devour the last of the wax. “I need you to make sure that doesn’t happen. Do you understand?”
“Not really? What do you want me to do?”
Nathan’s smile turned dark, and it sent a thump of expectation through Cora’s insides. “Just raise some hell for me, my love.”
The light went out, and Cora opened her eyes to the grim concrete of her cell. She twisted onto her side and stared across the corridor at Thomas’s back. He was the only thing standing between the Magistrate and all of the people he’d helped escape. And she was the only thing standing between the Magistrate and him. Nathan was trusting her to protect those people. To make sure the Chasers never found them. She pressed her lips together in a frown as she shut her eyes again. She could do that.
18
Elton spent an uncomfortable night on the couch, half dressed and buried under a spare blanket. His mostly-dead former partner hadn’t stirred all night, which was a sort of worrisome relief.
He didn’t trust Nathan at all when it came to releasing him, or as to whether or not Chris could ever be the same afterward. No one deserved what they had done to him.
He heard the click of the front door and looked up as Nathan padded across the room in a pair of swim trunks, running a hotel towel over his wet hair. The tattoos on his skin were as crisp and clear as if they were new, and he looked lean and healthy. It was difficult to remember that this person was almost three hundred years old. He walked right by Elton and into the bedroom, and the sound of the running shower drifted out of the far bathroom. Had he gone swimming this early in the—Elton paused as he reached across to the coffee table to check his watch. It was past ten in the morning. He sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist. How had he slept so late? He hadn’t realized how tired he’d been.
Elton pushed aside his blanket and stepped carefully over Chris’s prone body. He scooped up his shirt from where he’d folded it on the chair the night before and slipped it on, buttoning it on his way to the small kitchen. Someone had already made coffee. Had both of them just gone about their mornings and let him sleep? Adelina’s bedroom door was shut, and Elton certainly didn’t want to risk walking in on Nathan still in the shower, so he just let out a sigh and poured himself a cup of coffee. Cora and Thomas still had some time, and he couldn’t do anything without Nathan anyway—as much as he hated to admit it. A Chaser zombi, though a gruesome idea, was their best option for getting anyone out of a Magistrate jail.
Elton rolled up his sleeves and tipped a tiny plastic cup of creamer into his coffee. When he turned away from the counter, he started at the sight of Nathan by the door, damp hair pushed back from his face. He’d dressed himself in a pair of dark low rise jeans and a grey v-neck t-shirt, and the pair of carved gold bangles on his wrist jingled softly as he brought his cigarette to his lips.
The Left-Hand Path: Runaway Page 17
