Real Magic

by Lissa Michaels

  “You think this is just about Morgan? I have two brothers, blast it! The last time you went after him alone you were nearly killed. I’m not going to sit on my ass and do nothing while you risk your life again. I’m going with you.”

  Drek, Galen did blame himself for the ambush. It showed in his eyes. “It’s different this time. I’m not bringing him in.”

  “A judgment.”

  “An execution.”

  Galen swallowed noisily then took a deep breath, drawing himself to his full height. “I’m—”

  “Going.” Drake sighed and handed him the blaster from his belt. “Fine, let’s go.” He grasped Galen’s forearm and ported them to Threaden’s office.

  “Stars, that was fast.” Galen shook his head, trying to gain his bearings, while Drake looked around.

  It was an interior room with no windows. The walls, the floor, the furnishings, all black as obsidian. And cold, very cold. A small lamp on the corner of the desk cast the only light, leaving the room dark and shadowed. Perfect.

  “Move into the shadows beside the door and stay there unless I need you.”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  Drake shook his head. “Not hiding, back up. If Threaden decides to turn tail and run, stop him.”

  Galen stared at him a long moment and nodded. “You think he’s finished eating yet?”

  Drake stared at the closed door and focused his attention on Threaden’s whereabouts. It came instantly. “He’s in a corridor, headed this way. You ready for this?”

  His brother nodded.

  Drake sat in the chair and propped his feet on the desk. He pulled his coin from his pocket and idly started it flipping back and forth across his knuckles.

  The door swung open, the light from the corridor spilling across his boots and leather-clad legs. The coin flashed with each flip. Threaden stood silhouetted in the doorway. The man was responsible for making his life a living hell and all Drake felt was calm detachment.

  “Who the drek are you? How’d you get in here?” Threaden’s gaze narrowed on the coin and his body relaxed. Even in the dim light, his slow cruel smile was visible. “Ah, the Magician. I was wondering when you’d finally show up.”

  Not afraid? “Been expecting me, have you?”

  “Oh, yes, for quite some time.” He clasped his hands behind his back and strode further into the room. “Magic makes the hunt easier, doesn’t it?”

  Drake’s coin disappeared faster than a serpent strikes. “What would you know about that?”

  Threaden laughed. “I have my sources.”

  “Is that a fact?” Then Zanera knew too. That made things a little more… interesting.

  “Oh, yes. You know, you had a very promising career. I really admired your work, especially after you and your men demolished the outpost on Benzor—that was a real piece of work—but then you had to go soft and retire.” He shook his head. “Such a shame.”

  Why wasn’t this cocky bastard afraid? “Your source must have forgotten to mention that I’ve been brought out of retirement.”

  Ah, there it was, a slight tremor that ran from head to toe. A large mouser leapt onto the desk. Threaden jumped half out of his skin and swore, then swiped at the animal. The mouser hissed, swatted at his hand with extended claws and leapt off the desk.

  “Don’t like cats?”

  “That’s not a cat, that’s a demon from—”

  The soft beep from Drake’s wrist com cut him off. Keeping his eyes on Threaden, Drake answered the page. “Go ahead.”

  “Jerrek broke,” Mayori said. “The psychotic bitch thinks she’s going to free the Jotnar from Chula and rule the galaxy, and she thinks she’s going to use you to do it.” Threaden’s ragged breathing nearly drowned out her voice.

  “Good work. Durand out.” Drake stood and strode slowly around the desk. “Is that it? You’re so cock-sure of yourself because you think I’m going to send you to Chula and she’s going to bust you out?”

  For the first time since Threaden walked in and found him, he looked shaken. His entire body trembled as he backed toward the door.

  Galen gave it a shove, closing the room in near darkness. The lock caught with a loud click.

  Threaden jerked as if he’d been shot and spun to face the door. “Should I be flattered that the Magician didn’t feel confident enough to come after me alone?”

  “I came to watch you die.” Galen stepped from the shadows.

  “Who are you?”

  “Galen Fontinara, from the Royal House of Bellariss.” Even with a blaster clenched in his fist, Galen’s bow was regal as hell.

  Threaden paled, looking ghostly as death in the dim light. He obviously recognized the name and the reasoning behind Galen’s presence. “You’re not going to kill me.” He fumbled with the blaster at his side.

  With a look, Drake sent it sailing across the room. It smacked against the wall and clattered on the floor. “Because of you, my mother is dead,” he whispered.

  “How was I supposed to know she’d care so much for the bastard son of an outsider? She was supposed to turn to me for comfort, not give her life up for you.”

  Clenching his jaw, Drake grabbed his dagger from his boot. “One crime from a very long list. Morgan Fontinara is my brother as well. I bet your sources didn’t tell you that, did they?”

  As Drake raised the dagger, Threaden went down on his knees. “No, please, I beg you.”

  “You’ve been judged by the Three and found guilty for your crimes against my family and humanity. The punishment is death.”

  “No. Oh, gods, no.” Threaden shook violently, a dark stain spread rapidly down the front of his pants.

  Drake glanced at Galen—so pale and tense, staring at them in horrified fascination—and his stomach churned, souring his mouth. He couldn’t do it. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bury his dagger in Threaden’s black heart while his brother watched.

  The cat growled and hissed. Threaden flinched.

  The idea that came to him drew a slow smile to his lips.

  “Oh gods,” Threaden whimpered.

  “Face your executioner.” Drake drew in his power and concentrated on the image in his mind. A whirlwind started around his feet swirling faster and faster, rising until it completely encased him and Threaden within its fury. He touched the tip of his dagger to Threaden’s forehead and released his magic. The whirlwind disappeared with a loud pop, and so did Threaden.

  Well, sort of.

  Galen’s mouth hung open as he stared at Drake’s feet. “You turned him into a rat?”

  “He always was a rat. It’s about time he looked it.”

  The cat growled low in its throat. Threaden released a rodent squeal and scrabbled under the desk. The cat hissed and pounced. Claws scraped across the stone floor, then more scrabbling and banging, and another low growl. An answering squeak abruptly cut off.

  “Lock the door. We don’t want his dinner disturbed.”

  Galen did then glanced at the floor beneath the desk and shook his head. “Okay, but what about Zanera? You heard what Mayori said.”

  “She needs me to free the Jotnar. Since I don’t intend to hand myself over to her, I don’t see the problem.”

  Galen sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

  JELENA LAY on her back on a hard floor. Cold seeped into her skin, making her shiver despite the excruciatingly bright light stabbing her eyes like shards of crystal, forcing her to keep them tightly closed. Her quiet, panting breaths reverberated through the room, or only her mind, assaulting her with the ferocity of a kyrolyon’s ear-shattering roar. Ali’ra, her skull throbbed so fiercely, she feared her head would break apart under the strain.

  “What happened?” The soft words lanced through her head. She moaned softly, raising her fingers to her pounding temples, and abruptly stilled. Her wrists were bound.

  She forced her lids open a crack and focused on her wrists. Her eyes widened. Udaro shackles. They looked like plain thin metal wires, b
ut the evil things used her own life force to bind her and render her powerless. Ali’ra, this was a nightmare!

  What had happened? She been turned away at the Executioners’ gate, and then… then something bit her. The muscles in her neck felt tight, the skin tender. Was it the bite that made her head pound and her eyes so sensitive?

  The pounding, maybe, but her eyes hurt because she lay in full sunlight. There was no roof above her, only cloudless pink sky. Pink? Where was she?

  Very slowly, Jelena pulled herself to her knees. The effort, the amount of energy that small act took was frightening. “Dear gods, how am I going to get out of this?” she whispered.

  A large, ornamental chair sat on a raised platform a few paces from her. Aside from that, the large room was bare. Bare floors, bare walls, bare windows. Nothing she could use for a weapon, not even dust.

  A cold sweat broke out across her body. Ali’ra preserve, she didn’t like this. She didn’t like this… helplessness. Her stomach twisted in knots as she swallowed the urge to scream hysterically until the walls came down around her. “Basha, Drake. This time it’s me who needs the rescue.”

  “Precisely what I’m planning on.”

  Jelena gasped, jerking away from the platform so quickly she lost her balance and cracked her elbow hard on the floor.

  Zanera laughed.

  She glared at the woman, lounging in the chair with her leg draped over its elaborately carved arm. How in heaven had the woman come in without Jelena feeling her magic? The shackles? “What is this place? Why am I here?”

  “You don’t want to know who I am?”

  “I know who you are.” Jelena sat up and draped her shackled arms over her bent knees.

  Zanera’s eyes narrowed. “I know who you are too, Jelena.” Her tone rose the hair on the back of Jelena’s neck. “As for where you are…” She glanced at the pink sky above her. “This once was the grand citadel of the people that gave the Jotnar the ability to travel through space. Gave probably isn’t the right word.” She laughed.

  “Kilkaren,” Jelena whispered.

  “You’ve heard the story?”

  “Who hasn’t? The Kilkarens developed a ship capable of space flight and sent a peaceful group of delegates to their closest neighbors. Instead of welcoming the visitors to their world, the Jotnar murdered them and assimilated their technology.”

  “And used it to create a fleet of ships powerful enough to invade Kilkaren and annihilate nearly every living soul.” Zanera shivered, her face taking on a look of pure ecstasy.

  From death and destruction. The woman was insane.

  “And afterward, they took everything that wasn’t bolted down.” She tapped her palm on the chair and grinned. “This was bolted down.”

  “What does Drake have to do with this?”

  “With this?” She gestured at the empty room. “Nothing, but he has everything to do with my plans to free the Jotnar. He’ll give me the power I need to destroy the force field imprisoning them.” She stood. “With him at my side, and the mighty Jotnar at my command, no one will be able to stop me, not even your Nar’galira.” She raised her arms to the sky. “The galaxy will be mine.”

  Ali’ra, she was insane. She didn’t answer the question about why Jelena was there but didn’t need to. She was bait. “It won’t work.”

  Zanera jerked her gaze down to meet Jelena’s.

  “He’ll never let you touch him again.”

  “You’d better pray he does.” Zanera stepped down from the platform and crouched in front of her. “If I didn’t need you for bait, I’d blast you into dust.”

  “Why? I’ve done nothing to you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve been helping yourself to something that doesn’t belong to you. Drake is mine. I marked him years ago.”

  “Is that what you call traumatizing the man so badly he can’t bear to be touched? Marking him yours?”

  “Did you think drekking him would make him yours?” Zanera grabbed the front if Jelena’s blouse, her sharp nails scraping across Jelena’s chest, and jerked her close enough to smell kifi on her breath. “If you’d managed to trick him into marrying you, you’d already be dead. Lucky for you he came to his senses.”

  Jelena’s eyes widened. “How did you—” She bit off the question, refusing to give Zanera anything.

  “How did I know you actually thought he’d marry you?” She laughed, releasing her. “You’d be surprised at how much I know. Drake is mine. I intend to have him, and you’re going to bring him to me.”

  “You are insane.”

  “Oh, no. I just get what I want.” She stood.

  Jelena refused to cower on the floor with this amazon hovering over her. She pulled herself to her feet, swaying slightly, and faced her. With her high-heeled boots, Zanera stood as tall as Drake, if not an inch or two taller. Jelena didn’t like feeling small and insignificant. She didn’t like it at all.

  “You Nar’galira are very close to your loved ones. If I drain you to the point of death, he’ll feel it and come to save you.”

  Jelena’s face turned ashen. She couldn’t help it. “You’re assuming he cares.” He bonded with her. She had to believe that he’d feel something if she were about to die, but she wasn’t about to tell Zanera that.

  “Drake has a long history of cutting his lovers loose the moment the word marriage is mentioned.”

  “He cut me loose.”

  Zanera’s eyes narrowed on her chest. “He bought you a betrothal pendant. He’s never come even remotely close as that before.” Faster than a razagidor pounces, Zanera fisted the pendant and yanked.

  The delicate chain broke.

  “No!” Jelena lunged for it. Zanera raised her hand, freezing her in place—literally. She felt as if she’d been encased in ice.

  Zanera held it up in the pinkish sunlight. “Not very pretentious, is it? I would have thought the woman who managed to wrench a marriage proposal out of him would rate more than a few twisted bits of gold.” Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the tiny entwined couple. Her pale face darkened.

  “May I have it?”

  “I don’t need it.” Zanera shrugged and tossed it to her. “Maybe it will strengthen his link to you.”

  As Jelena’s icy fingers closed around it, her heart froze as well. Ali’ra preserve, it could. It was a gift from his heart. Wearing it could very well deepen his link to her, just as her cuff would deepen her link to him… if he chose to wear it. She had no choice. She let it slip through her fingers.

  Zanera laughed. “You’re brave, little Guardian. I’ll give you that much. But it won’t do you any good.” She grabbed Jelena by the throat and placed her other hand in the center of her chest.

  She couldn’t move. Ali’ra help her, she couldn’t move.

  “Ready?”

  “No! That’s not part of the plan,” a man said behind them.

  Zanera’s distraction released Jelena from the spell freezing her. She jerked away, ignoring the sharp nails that scored her neck and faced the man who swore he’d do anything to make her his. Apparently, he had. Her legs trembled from the effort it took to remain standing. “Cordan, you are responsible for this?”

  “I had to save you from yourself, Jelena. You have to see that he’s no good for you. He is evil, a killer, and deserves everything Zanera has planned for him.”

  “You’re delusional. Both of you. I won’t let you lay hands on me. I won’t help you trap Drake.” Zanera would learn that very quickly. He was her world. She’d do anything to save his life, and if that meant dying, she would. But not this way, not to trap him.

  “Will you watch poor delusional Cordan die?”

  Jelena’s heart skipped a beat. She jerked her gaze to Cordan.

  He paled, jerking back a step. “Zanera, don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed, nervously. “You won’t kill me. We’re family.”

  Jelena gasped. How could that be?

  “If you believe that, you are delusional.”
Zanera turned her gaze to Jelena. “What kind of Guardian sits back and watches another die? Don’t you have rules, a code that states that you should do what you must to protect one another?”

  “Yes, we do, and that’s why I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you hurt her, Zanera.” Cordan reached for Jelena, but before he came close to touching her, Zanera zapped him with a jolt of power, sending him flying back to thud heavily on the floor.

  Gasping for breath, he staggered to his feet. Another jolt lifted him into the air and slammed him into the wall across the room. He slid slowly to the floor, his face twisted in pain.

  Jelena slid to her knees. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real! “Stop! He’s had enough.”

  Zanera wasn’t listening. She stalked toward Cordan, her hands glowing gold. “You made a mistake by loving this one, cousin. This one’s costing you your life.”

  Basha, how could she sit here and watch Zanera kill him? Honor demanded she do something to help a fellow Nar’gadesh, yet honor also demanded she do whatever necessary to protect her Nevash.

  “Jelena, please,” Cordan gasped. “Don’t let her kill me.”

  She shut her eyes, closing out the sight of his terrified face, but couldn’t hide from his panicked voice. Ali’ra help her, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want Cordan to die, but she couldn’t put Drake back in Zanera’s hands. She couldn’t do that.

  “Say goodbye, Cordan.”

  “Wait!” Tears blurred her vision as she forced herself to face them. Think, Jelena. There had to be a way to get them out of this alive. What would Drake do? Keep her talking. Distract her so Cordan could escape. Get the cuffs off. “What if your plan doesn’t work? What if Drake isn’t drawn here?”

  Zanera turned and smiled. “I’ll try something else. I’ve always got another plan.”

  “Swear to me, on your magic, that you won’t hurt him.” Jelena kept her gaze on Zanera as she approached, praying Cordan would use her distraction to port out. “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  Zanera paused and glanced at him. “Is that true?”

  Jelena held her breath as Cordan glanced from her to Zanera and nodded. She released it slowly, thankful he didn’t give away her lie, but he didn’t leave. Ali’ra, Cordan, leave while you still can. “Swear you won’t hurt Drake.”