by LJ Rivers
“My children,” a voice croaked. It took me a second or two to grasp the reality. It was Colburn. “Beatrice. Patrick. Are—are they—?”
“They’re safe,” I said, sending my magic back into his chest again.
Colburn gasped for air, his body arching off the grass. His left hand, that only seconds ago had hung limp at the end of his dislocated arm, grabbed my collar. He pulled himself up to a sitting position, his face only inches from mine.
“Where are they?” His voice was filled with anguish.
“Safe,” I repeated. There were still quite a few open wounds on his chest, but he would live. I had no wish to spend more of my energy on him, so I retracted the strands of magic into my core.
“I have to—”
It was my turn to grab him by the collar. “Listen, you monster. And look.” I pointed through a tiny opening in the leaves. “See the chaos your so-called policy creates? This is where you’re pushing our country. Open war. Is that your plan? Is that how you think you can rid England of Magicals?”
Colburn relaxed. Maybe it dawned on him that he had no chance of escaping me, even if he hadn’t been injured, which he very much was. Blood was still seeping from at least two of Erica’s cuts.
“You think this is what I want? That this is all my idea? Oh, to be so young and naive again, dear Ruby.” He started to smile, but it turned into a pained grimace. “You might learn a thing or two by talking to your father. Your actual father, that is.”
I let go of his collar and sat back. “In that case, naivety is catching. You see, I’ve followed you quite closely ever since you announced your bid to become the next PM, all the way back in November last year. You’re good, as many around me have said. And they’re right, of course. You’ve honed your rhetoric and debating skills over many years at that church of yours. And I’ve never seen you attend a debate on TV without your arsenal of pre-rehearsed talking points.”
He scoffed. “And what’s wrong with being prepared?”
“The 28th of March,” I said. “Remember that date? That was the only debate you’ve lost so far. And why did Millicent Glover beat you?”
“Are you joking? She did no such—”
“She didn’t fear you. She knew exactly what you would say in response to her attacks. And she played you. She let you go on with your scripted and rehearsed responses like a phone salesman pushing a useless subscription to the book-of-the-month club. Right up to the point where she pulled out the wild card.” I narrowed my eyes at him, preparing my own wild card. “And as far as my father goes, I have talked at length with him about all of this. I know everything, Colburn. Everything.”
I remembered watching the debate in March with only half an eye. It had played out like every other discussion involving Colburn, with him fending off any attacks like a Jedi knight. Nothing could topple him. Millicent Glover pounded him on the same issues he always had to respond to: the Mags, the ‘Spawn of Satan’ quotes, and all that. Suddenly, in the middle of one of Colburn’s biblical rants, she had changed tactics. She interrupted him and asked him to explain how his party—emphasising party instead of Colburn personally—planned on financing the major economic losses his anti-Mag policy would inflict on the country. Before Colburn could regain his rhythm, Glover hit him with another curveball, citing research that showed the importance of Magicals in a number of industries, including health care.
I had stopped mid-motion, holding my cup of green tea an inch away from my mouth, gawking at the screen. “She got him,” Charlie had said, clapping her hands. And I recalled the face Colburn made. It was the proverbial hands-in-the-cookie-jar face of a ten-year-old.
And it was the same expression he had now.
“That’s right,” I continued. “You see, Auberon has explained how he financed your start-up. How the grieving medicine student suddenly came to be the youngest CEO of the whole pharmaceutical industry. And Auberon told me how he taught you all about the discoveries he and your father made in the late sixties. Your beloved father, who died so tragically next to your mother in a rental car.”
A sharp gunshot echoed through the streets. Colburn flinched, but returned his gaze to me. “Don’t you dare bring my parents into this.” His voice carried more defeat than anger.
“I’m sorry, I said tragically when I should have said conveniently. So there you were, a prodigy with a huge inheritance, the formula for MagX and the entire world at your feet. And, of course, the support of the most powerful Sorcerer the world has ever known.”
Until now.
A grimace of pain flashed over Colburn’s face again as he tried to get to his feet. “You don’t understand,” he began. “My parents’ death was no accident. Don’t you see how your father has been pulling the strings from day one?”
The thought had occurred to me, and knowing what I now knew about Auberon, I didn’t put it past him to orchestrate the death of Colburn’s parents. In a sense we shared fates, JC and I.
“Believe me, Ruby. I had nothing to do with my parents’ accident.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t benefit from it. All your life, you have left nothing but pain and suffering behind. Your road to success is paved with the dead bodies of thousands, Jarl. Humans and Mags. You don’t even differentiate.”
An explosion sounded from the other side of the park, followed by dozens of screams. The thought of more Mags—and humans—dying because of Colburn fuelled my anger further.
My blood started to boil. Ever since Colburn had revealed to me, on New Year’s Eve, that I wasn’t the biological daughter of a human—of Dennis Rivers—I had wanted to know more. Everything. These past weeks had been enlightening in that respect, but I had also learned to embrace the darkness in me. Using it to walk through the shadows was one thing, but there was something else. An urge to go back. The rage filled every nerve and muscle in me.
“Ruby, please.” Colburn’s voice trembled. His eyes blinked as he focused on my hand.
I was holding a fireball in each of my palms. “Please, what?” I said, my voice almost unrecognisable, even to me. It was lower than usual, darker. “Why not? Why should I not avenge all the victims of your industry? Thousands of humans have died from MagX overdoses, while Mags, in who knows what numbers, have suffered and died at the hands of the Harvesters. Your Harvesters. The Academy, the training camps, the freelancers. All backed by your network of evil.”
“Kaine’s network,” he whispered, his voice carrying defeat. “Or Abel, or Auberon, whatever name he went by. It was him all the way.”
“You never said no,” I hissed.
“You’re right. Is that what you want to hear?” He held his hands in front of his face, as if they could protect him from my fire. “I admit it all, Ruby. Just don’t hurt me.” Tears streamed down his face and his eyes begged me for mercy.
Was it in me to show this man—a monster far more deadly than any Mag—any mercy?
“You don’t deserve to live,” I said. “But I’ll make you a deal. Step down from politics. Crawl back under your rock and out of the public eye. Forever. If you agree, your kids will keep their father, which will be a pleasant change of tradition in your family.”
And mine, I thought.
I let the two orbs of fire hover above him, the heat causing a sheen of perspiration to appear on his forehead.
“Last chance. Do we have a deal, Jarl?”
“Y—yes. Yes!”
It was what Gemma had demanded on the gigantic screen yesterday—on thousands, maybe millions of screens—and I had used the same threat to his life to achieve it. The difference was that she would not hesitate to follow through with her side of the threat. She had already started, as the violent noise from the other side of the trees bore horrific proof of.
But my threat to his life had been a bluff. I couldn’t see myself executing him if he had declined.
Could I?
The fire returned to my palms and vanished inside, and I
welcomed it home as the heat ran through my veins. No, I couldn’t execute him, no matter what he had done. It wasn’t how a Fae would do things.
“Can you stand?” I asked. “You’d better find the strength to run. I’ll send some fireworks into the park, and you can run the other way.”
“I’ll manage,” he muttered. His eyes had regained some of the fire he was known for.
“Listen to me. Do not for one second think I won’t come after you if you break your promise. You’ll go live on air tomorrow at the latest, announcing your retirement from politics. I’ve never tried my full powers, but your empire will be my testing ground if you break your word. Understand?”
He ground his teeth, but nodded slowly. “I understand. Just don’t expect me to thank you.”
“For saving your life? Don’t bother. It’ll never happen again. Now, get ready, and I’ll create a diversion.”
Another gunshot cracked through the hot summer evening, this one a lot closer than the others. Time was running out. I crawled on all fours under the nearest shrub, calling on my fire powers to resurface. Behind me, Colburn groaned.
“You’ll just have to endure the pain.”
He rolled over, holding his chest. “I’ve been shot.”
“Shut up, you idiot. It was a wolf’s paws. Now, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Gemma came strolling between the trees, pointing a gun at me.
“Are you mad? Get that thing away from me.”
“As you wish, Ruby.” She turned the barrel on Colburn. “Seems the first bullet didn’t quite finish the job.”
“No!”
Chapter Twenty
I screamed.
Colburn raised his arm, his palm facing Gemma. She pulled the trigger. A sharp crack filled my ears as a flame erupted from the black muzzle. Colburn’s head snapped back, and he collapsed on the grass. His eyes stared up through the branches and into the darkening sky above London.
I waved my hand, and the gun flew from Gemma’s grip. With another flick of my wrist, I sent a fireball at my former flatmate’s chest. Gemma fell into a crouch, avoiding the burning globe. She had already started shifting, and within another second, the small, amber fox disappeared into the shrubs.
Desperate to go after her, I couldn’t leave Colburn unattended. My hands were already glowing with healing magic as I crawled back to him. I placed my palms on his chest, but as I was about to push my force inside him, I knew it was too late. It was the emptiness in his eyes. They reminded me of the moment I realised my favourite doll wasn’t actually looking at me. I might have been four or five years old when one of Lizzie’s glass eyes popped out of her head. Looking at Colburn now didn’t make me want to scream with terror as I had back then, but the sadness in my heart was every bit as real. Jarl Colburn’s bid for the political throne of Britain was indeed over, and not even the magical bloodline of Morgana could bring life back to his doll-like eyes.
“Ruby!” whispered someone behind me. I spun round, pulling my healing powers inside again. But before I could call on whatever defensive magic I needed, Mum threw her arms around me. “Oh, baby! Are you all right?”
I buried my face in her neck, letting her sweet scents replace the smell of gunpowder. “I—I guess.”
Something cold and moist touched my hand on Mum’s back. I flinched and withdrew, but as I opened my eyes, I found myself looking into the wild diamond eyes of the white wolf. I reached for Jen and ran my fingers through the shiny fur on top of her head.
“Thank the Lady you’re OK.” I sighed with relief.
Jen turned her head slightly and let out a hushed growl. Another wolf, this one grey and black and three or four inches shorter than Jen, came up behind her.
“Erica?” I whispered.
The bartender from The Forge licked my outstretched hand before lying on the grass next to Jen’s feet. The submissive beta ready to obey her alpha.
Jen moved past me and over to Colburn’s dead body. She sniffed the air around him and sneered.
“Gemma killed him in cold blood.” I gritted my teeth, fire scorching through my veins. I might not have liked Colburn much, but Gemma had outright assassinated him, and who knew what else she might do. She had to be stopped. “We can’t let her get away with this.”
Beside me, the white wolf had her nose in the air. She bared her teeth. Her tail rose, and her ears pricked towards the river.
“She’s there?” I asked and saw the answer in the wolf’s eyes. “Good girl.”
With the two wolves at my back and my mum by my side, I bounded towards the giant Ferris wheel construction. The sun waned as the sky darkened further, and a few stars had begun dotting the firmament. The London Eye was lit up, bathed in the red glow of the evening sun. I dashed across the lawn and jumped to the pavement, continuing through the A-framed legs. The last of today’s tourists were being shuffled out of the capsules, and although most of them were running away from the chaos behind us, some were actually heading straight at the ongoing fight behind us.
Amongst the throng of people, an odd-looking group was hurrying through the entrance to the Barracuda. Odd, because they were a mix of Mags, shepherded by none other than the murdering fox herself. One of the men in the group turned his head back and grinned at me, waving his whip as he dashed onwards. My anger spiked at the sight of my dad’s killer. The Blacksmith and the rest of the crew headed out towards the London Eye Pier, where the Barracuda river cruising boat lay moored for the night.
Crap.
In front of the Barracuda were three speedboats, each at least thirty feet long. If Gemma and her posse reached one of them, there was no way to stop them fleeing the scene. The RIBs weren’t called the Thames Rockets for no reason.
I picked up the pace and ended up leaning against the stone railing next to the Barracuda entrance. The Blacksmith settled in the RIB at the end along with Gemma and her entourage, which included Blackie’s goon, Stan, and a few other black-clad Mags. I couldn’t let them get away. Staring at the dark water, I shuddered. My heart hammered in my chest. To me, it was an abyss, and I had no desire to explore it.
The sound of the engine as the boat began speeding off gave me no time to consider my next move. Straightening, I called upon my magic. While I had used a lot of my energy on healing, I already felt recharged. Adrenaline, I supposed. Either way, I waved my arms out, and the boat skidded around, splashing water onto the pier, washing down the gangway and over my feet. I raised my arms higher, and the boat hung suspended at least fifteen feet above the surface, banking left as if it were a bird, then shooting across the sky.
I backed up. “Watch out!”
Two men with yellow vests were about to close the entrances when the wolves and Mum hurried onto the pier. The thirty-foot boat swooshed past and crashed into the stone steps of the closed ticket office behind me. One of the guards screamed, and they both legged it in the opposite direction along the walkway, their shadows dancing in the golden shimmer of the streetlights.
I switched to fire, leaving it crackling in my palms, as the group of Mags, with the Blacksmith at the forefront, started climbing out of the wreckage. While some of them were already in their shifted state, I recognised most of them from the Forge.
A roar cut through the night. I jumped and inadvertently sent a ball of fire into the gift shop. It crashed through the glass, then went out. One of the men had shifted, and a giant bear lumbered ahead of the others.
“By all the Pixies and Fae—!” Mum breathed. She had come up next to me, her arms slightly bent and turned outward in a defensive motion.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
A white blur swooped past my side view, followed by another wolf. Jen and Erica leapt past the bear and headed for two older men behind it. They seemed harmless to me, like your everyday grandads—not that I had much to compare them to. But then the ground shook. Stone cracked under my feet, and dirt spiralled from the nearby lawn, spraying across the pavement.
The
two Elementalists were wiggling their fingers, clearly the architects of the quake. The wolves pounced on one man each and pinned them to the ground. The white wolf snarled, her claws sinking into the man’s arms. The earth stilled, but something gurgled behind me. I dared a look. Water shot up, raining over the Eye.
“Hold on,” Mum yelled under the roaring water. We clasped hands as the water crashed into us—or rather into the force field Mum was holding around us—and washed over the stone ground in every direction. The Mags opposite us were drenched, though it only seemed to fuel their rage, not diminish it.
The colossal bear roared again, and his sharp teeth glinted in the red light, spit forming in his gaping maw. He was missing half an ear, and I remembered seeing him in the Avalon club, entering the cage I had fought Paddock in minutes earlier. He came at us and swung his paw. His sharp claws scraped the force field, but didn’t cut through. To my left, the amber fox slinked past. She inclined her head at me, then elegantly hopped up on one of the iron street lamps and skipped onto the glass roof, just above the boarding platform. Licking her teeth, she settled there and watched us, leaving the others to do her dirty work.
The black and grey wolf that was Erica whimpered. Ignoring the fox, I turned my attention back ahead. Erica lay limp by the bear’s gigantic feet, deep gashes oozing blood from where his claws had connected on her lower back. Her chest was moving, so she was still alive. Barely. The bear was going for strike two when Jen sank her teeth into his arm. He shook her off with violent force and sent her skidding on the wet ground.
“Let me out,” I said, pushing against Mum’s force field.
She shook her head at first, then inhaled sharply and lowered her arms, releasing us from the protective sphere. “Be careful.”
I rushed forward and flicked my hand out. The bear fell to his back, crushing a man underneath him. Or so I thought. The man the bear had fallen on was gone. He reappeared closer to the inflated speedboat and turned to wink at me. It was Stan, Blackie’s right-hand man. I grimaced and sent a fireball his way. Just as it was about to connect, Stan was gone again.
