by Jami Gray
“Right, because what’s a little maiming between acquaintances?” I muttered, thinking I’d better make sure I had a set of wheels on hand for an emergency escape. Maybe a rocket launcher or two to give myself a head start.
She chuckled and patted my shoulder. “There, there, dear girl.” The leather creaked as she sat back. “I never pegged you as a drama queen.”
“I’m not a drama queen. What I am is realistic.” I snuck a glance in the rearview mirror and caught her grin. It was clear she found my concerns amusing. I sighed. “You do realize that each of those three is used to answering to one person and one person only: the head of their Family. They have no reason to work with me.”
“Then it’s good that they don’t have a choice, isn’t it?” Her humor slid away, and her voice gained its familiar unyielding tone. “They will not disrespect or harm you for no other reason than that you are my agent.”
If being her proxy meant something more than a label and a target, maybe I could believe that. Unfortunately, that protection might be put to the test if the Arbiters discovered exactly what I could do.
But she wasn’t quite done. “Besides, it’s not like you’re completely defenseless, is it?”
My hands tightened on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as she arrowed straight to the heart of a topic we’d only danced around—my magic, a rare and highly sought power that could easily be abused. It was a secret I’d kept close for years, but recent events had forced it out of the shadows, and now Sabella was one of two or three people in the know.
With that reminder, I ignored a lifetime of reticence. “Being a Prism doesn’t make me indestructible.”
She made a thoughtful hum. “Tell me you read the journal I sent you.”
I nodded. I’d read it so many times that I now considered it my own personal sacred relic. If she wanted it back, I wasn’t sure I could hand it over. Hungry for information on a magical ability that had been buried in the annals of time and mostly erased from the history books, I’d devoured the pages written by a female Prism who’d lived during the last world war. She had served as an allied spy while partnering with another covert agent, this one a Family-connected illusion mage. The journal was written in such a way that I still didn’t have a name for her or her partner. It was just one of many missing details that drove me crazy.
“It’s not exactly a how-to manual,” I said. No matter how much I wish it were. “And while I may be able to hold one Arbiter at bay, if that changes to facing down all three at once, the odds aren’t in my favor.”
And despite whatever was between Zev and me, in our previous interactions, he’d asked questions I refused to answer. That turned the odds of my current predicament from concerning to worrisome. Even if Zev didn’t betray me, the other two might. Yes, being a Prism meant I could withstand most of what an Arbiter could throw at me—magically. And on the rare occasion that fate smiled on me, I might even be able to redirect a magical attack back to its originator, but should they team up or decide to switch to a relentless physical assault, their combined strength would most certainly crack, if not shatter, my magic-repellant armor.
And that wasn’t the only concern. Thanks to the journal, I was all too aware that being a Prism was a rare ability, often coveted and, more often, ruthlessly exploited. It was clear in her writings that the more powerful members of the Arcane society had been relentless in their hunt for those who could wield what they perceived as immunity against magic. Not only did they want to harness such a rare power, but they also would go to unimaginable lengths to coerce Prisms into becoming their personal shields against magical assassinations. Because of that, Prisms had been targeted until they were almost extinct. Or so the journal claimed.
Unfortunately, it was a believable claim. Before Sabella’s journal, the only time I’d heard even a whisper about Prisms was in a chance meeting with a schizophrenic street tramp when I was a kid.
“You worry too much, Rory.” Sabella hauled me out of my head and back into our conversation. “I sincerely doubt Imogen or Bryan would risk censure from their Families, let alone from me, by turning against you.”
I didn’t miss the fact she’d left out Zev and the Cordovas, and I wasn’t sure I shared her confidence. I stifled a sigh as I passed a slow-moving car. My power was nothing like hers, the depth of which thrummed against my skin even when she wasn’t doing anything more dangerous than breathing. I didn’t have that kind of intimidating strength, and it was my ass on the line, not hers. Which meant that if, say, Imogen was determined to get her licks in, I’d have plenty of reasons to worry.
Before I could argue further, Sabella added, “Besides, I’m sure Zev would take issue should they turn on you.”
A disbelieving snort escaped me before I could stop it. “You sure you want to make that bet, Sabella?” Stopping at a red light, I glanced to the mirror to catch her eye. “Aren’t you the one that warned me that his loyalty belonged solely to the Cordovas?”
Amusement lined her face, but her eyes were diamond sharp. “Which is exactly why he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to you.”
Yeah, that makes complete sense… not. “I’m not following you.”
“There are three Families intimately involved in this situation. However, the Cordovas are the ones currently in control, and that is not something I see changing anytime soon.”
On that we could agree. “Which leads me to another question. Why on earth did the others think it smart to target Emilio’s nephew in the first place?”
“Ego, greed, arrogance,” she said. “Just one of those is enough to blind someone to logic. More than one…”
“Makes them stupid?”
Her laugh was soft but sincere. “Very stupid, but the Trasks and the Clarkes have a vested interest in ensuring that the blame for disregarding the council gets dumped somewhere other than on their doorstep.”
I thought of the failed kidnapping attempt of Emilio’s nephew, Jeremy, and agreed. The light turned green, and like the crack of a starting pistol at a drag race, I and the drivers in the surrounding lanes hit the gas, each of us determined to take the lead. Welcome to Phoenix traffic. Once I broke free of the pack, I set my own pace, a mere four miles above the posted limit and a hair under the guaranteed ticket range.
“Okay, I can see that,” I said, but under all the anger in that room lay something older and deeper than the current situation. “There’s more to this than claiming dibs on this research, isn’t there?”
For a long moment, quiet reigned. It was long enough to make me wonder if I’d overstepped. Finally, she spoke. “You once told me that you thought soap operas were based on Arcane Families, and you were not wrong.” The slide of material over leather whispered through the car as Sabella shifted in her seat. “Yes, there are a great deal of past grievances lurking under this mess, but what you witnessed today is mainly the result of Stephen feeling humiliated and helpless.”
“I’m sure that’s the result Emilio intended.”
“Rest assured, Emilio’s results are always intended.” There was a wisp of melancholy in her voice, but it disappeared as she continued. “Unlike Leander, Stephen never quite grasped how to diversify his business ventures effectively. He’s too much of a control freak, a flaw that is costing his family dearly, considering that Origin is their main financial stream.”
“So I’ve heard.” Traffic began to thin as we headed toward Sabella’s home in Fountain Hills.
“Is that so?”
Her question contained a hint of disdain that triggered old resentments, but I kept my voice level. “Hey, I read the business section as much as the next person. There were rumors that the Cordovas had undercut Origin’s military contracts, which I assume are worth a substantial amount of money.”
“Substantial would be accurate,” she said.
“Then Emilio’s tactic did as intended and scarred the Trask Family finances.”
“That’s one way to put it. But more importantl
y, Emilio exposed the faults that lay beneath Stephen’s poor leadership choices.”
“Yet he did bankrupt LanTech,” I pointed out.
Completely unruffled, she said, “Of course, but unlike Origin, LanTech is just one moneymaker of many for the Clarkes. It wasn’t difficult to shift the majority of their staff into other companies.”
I was surprised by her willingness to share the inner workings of Family-owned businesses but couldn’t resist pushing my luck on getting more details on the Family drama. “Emilio doesn’t strike me as someone who would limit his retribution solely to the bottom line when someone has kidnapped his heir apparent.”
“Blood is easy to wash away, and finances can be rebuilt, but reputations?” Sabella’s chuckle carried a dark edge. “That’s a stain that lingers. By forcing Leander and Stephen to forfeit their government contracts, Emilio has ensured that the negative echoes will be heard for years to come. Not only does it mar their professional reputations and relationships, which will take years to rebuild, but it also guarantees that they’re banned from any future profits or advancements tied to Lara’s research. It’s an elegant move meant to have them think twice before crossing the Cordovas.”
In the hierarchy of the Arcane Families, reputation was king—or queen, as the case might be. Sabella’s voice held a note of admiration for Emilio’s strategy, which prompted me to ask, “So Emilio’s not behind the deaths of the research teams?”
“That’s for you and the others to answer. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you to be careful, dear. Leander and Stephen are using the investigation as a smoke screen. It would not surprise me to discover that either one or both of them is considering manipulating the investigation’s findings to create their desired outcome.”
It didn’t take a mastermind to understand that Stephen and Leander wanted the serum back. I turned into Sabella’s ritzy neighborhood, Eagle’s Nest, and slowed to a stop at the gate securing the community’s entrance. After powering down the window, I punched in the security code on the keypad. When the gate rolled back, I pulled through and hit the button to raise the window.
“You haven’t asked about Leander’s theory of who’s behind the missing serum,” Sabella said.
There were a lot of questions I hadn’t asked, and the distance to Sabella’s house was quickly shrinking. I looked in the rearview mirror and found her watching me. “You mean regarding the Cabal?”
“You sound as if you don’t believe they exist.” Her eyebrows rose in amusement.
I do? My polite voice must have been getting better because honestly, I was pretty sure they did exist. And because I got the impression she was testing me in some way, I decided to share my thoughts as we bypassed the elaborate mini-mansions neighboring Sabella’s home. “Actually, it’s easy to believe that at some point in Arcane history, there was a group of mages that decided they didn’t agree with the majority’s belief on magic and how to use it. Add in the rise of science with man’s need to mess with everything, and a philosophical split in our society is pretty much a foregone conclusion.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought, then?” Sabella’s curiosity came through loud and clear.
I managed a shrug. “We’re human, regardless of how we identify ourselves. We not only question everything but have some undeniable urge to control it as well—including something as unexplainable and intangible as where magic comes from and why some can wield it and others can’t.”
“So you think the Cabal is a generational group of like-minded magic-wielding scientists disgruntled with the status quo and intent on world domination?”
I choked on a laugh at her dramatic oversimplification. “Maybe, but I think the modern-day version is more apt to be a group of well-funded scientists and fringe mages intent on using magic to increase the corporate bottom line. It’s just the thought of how far they’re willing to go and what they’re willing to risk that makes the idea so frightening.”
“I’ve said it before, and it’s worth mentioning again, Rory—you are too young to be so cynical.” She sounded aggrieved.
I didn’t bother to argue as I slowed to a stop at the foot of Sabella’s long, sloping drive and the gate guarding it. “Whoever they are, whatever they want, I do think there’s probably a real group calling themselves the Cabal.” I lowered my window again, this time to lean over and input Sabella’s private code. When I finished, the gate began to roll back. I sat back and met her eyes in the mirror. Maybe it was the light, maybe just a reflection of her emotions, but her normally hazel eyes appeared green. “My question is, if they do exist, why hasn’t the council taken care of them?”
Something moved in the depths of her gaze, but her slow smile carried a thousand and one secrets, none of which she shared. “Oh, that answer is actually quite simple.”
Sure it is. I turned back to find the gate fully retracted. I put the BMW in gear and began heading up the drive. The wheels bumped over the uneven surface of the pavers as we bypassed the stately saguaro standing sentry.
“If the council went around wiping out all those who threatened the Arcane status quo, there wouldn’t be much of an Arcane society left.”
And doesn’t that sound properly demoralizing? At the top of the drive, I pulled to a stop. The courtyard was surrounded by a three-car garage and Sabella’s two-story architectural beauty of a home. Even in the baking heat of the late afternoon, the panoramic view rising beyond the terraced landscaping was breathtaking.
I turned to face Sabella. “So how does throwing me into the mix help with this mess?”
She leaned forward and patted my arm. “You, my dear, are going to be the voice of reason.”
“Me?” Not surprisingly, it came out a bit panicked.
“Yes, you.”
“I’m not sure being a mediator is in my contract.”
“I am,” she said with irritating calm as she settled back and gathered her purse.
Taking the hint, I got out and opened her door. She gracefully exited the car. I waited for her to lead the way to her front door, but she didn’t. Instead, she faced me, keeping the door between us. “You did read the contract’s fine print, didn’t you?”
I had. In fact, that “fine print” could be boiled down to one word in the last section of a five-page contract. The word requested had required hours of argument with the Guild-associated lawyer.
Holding her gaze, I repeated the section verbatim with a not-so-subtle emphasis on the word in question. “You mean this fine print? ‘I accept that my position may require additional responsibilities outside those of Transporter, and I will fulfill such requested responsibilities to the best of my abilities as long as I am associated with Sabella Rossi-Giordano. Failure to do so, without just cause, will be grounds for termination of contract.’”
She gave me a beatific smile. “Yes, dear, that one. Consider this a requested responsibility.”
As much as I wanted to snap, “Request denied,” I didn’t. I wasn’t stupid, just frustrated. “Fine. I’ll be your proxy.”
“Thank you.” She fairly glowed with satisfaction as she finally moved out of the narrow space.
I closed the door and followed her through the wooden half gate set in a curved wall. “As much as I appreciate the crash course in Family dynamics, I have another question for you.”
She didn’t turn around but continued up the smooth stone walkway that led to the glass-paned front door. “Of course you do.” She pushed the door open, stepped inside the mix of stucco and river rock that she called home, and motioned to me. “Come in.”
I stepped into the cool air of the foyer, and for once, the endless stretch of marble tiles and trestle-beam-lined ceilings soaring above barely registered. “What happens when you turn the serum over to the council?”
She set her bag on the entry table situated under a mirror. “That decision will be up to them.”
Although not unexpected, her answer added to my frustration. “And you trust them with
something that dangerous?”
She met my gaze through the mirror. “Who would you have me give it to? Emilio? Stephen? Leander?”
“What about just destroying it?” The few clues I’d picked up from the meeting indicated that the Delphi project was more volatile than anyone wanted to admit. That was not a surprise if someone was going around mixing magic and science into a nifty easy-to-inject serum that acted like a magical light switch.
She turned to face me with a glimmer of sympathy that was there just long enough to settle my ruffled feathers. “The genie has already left the bottle, my dear.”
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
She continued to study me, her gaze sharp. “You realize that throughout this investigation, it’s almost certain you’ll run into delicate information.”
“I know.” There was no missing the underlying implication. “I won’t share.”
“I know you won’t, dear. Why do you think I hired you?” She tilted her head toward an archway leading to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
I check the time and grimaced. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to pass.”
“Ah, yes, the dinner meeting.” She frowned and held up a finger. “Will you wait a moment? I have something I want to give you.”
I nodded and watched her walk deeper into the house. She wasn’t gone long. When she came back, she held out what appeared to be a polished stone on a gold chain. “Wear this for me?”
I kept my hands at my sides. “What is it?” That wasn’t a simple piece of jewelry—not with the low buzz of magic emanating from it.
“A scrying stone.” Sabella dropped the stone in her palm and let the chain curl around it. “I’d like you to use it to keep me updated.” She held it out in silent demand.
Slowly, I reached out and took it, trusting my ability to ward off any unexpected surprises. Not that I thought Sabella would do that, but I needed to be cautious. “Why not use email or phones?”
“I’d rather our conversations stay private,” she said. When I continued to hold the stone in my palm like it might try to bite me, she gave a small laugh. “It’s just a scrying stone, Rory, I swear. Nothing more. Simply hold it, focus on me, and we’ll be able chat. It also works in reverse. Think of it as a private instant chat, if you will.”
