by Amy Hopkins
“What, sick of your fawning little minions and all the other people you have to mind-fuck so they’d like you?" she asked.
August took a step towards her, hand already clenched in a fist meant for her pretty little face. Rogan raised his hand, and all desire to punch the woman vanished. The thought that August may have displeased his master twisted his gut and made him want to cry.
“Why didn’t you accept my invitation?” Rogan asked, his eyes piercing Julianne.
“Because I’m not a power-hungry psychopath,” She retorted. “Why did you invite me? Couldn’t you find anyone who’d play with you willingly?”
Rogan laughed again, slapping his knee. “I like this girl!” He sobered, expression dropping to a blank canvass as his eyes faded to white. The connection between August and Rogan meant the slave could sense his master’s unstable emotions and feel the magic he used.
August breathed deep as Rogan pressed against Julianne’s shields, looking for a chink. Though the girl still had her soldier boyfriend bound in a coma—he had left a trio of mental magicians to ensure the guard that left with him remained safe—she managed to hold up a good front.
“Really, though. Why would you pass up the chance to rule the world? Didn’t you believe I could do it?”
Julianne’s face hardened. “What I didn’t believe is that anyone could be such an arrogant dick. Much less a mystic. You literally have the power to walk in people’s shoes, to feel their emotions and experience their pain. How can you be so ignorant?”
Rogan held up a hand to examine his fingernails. One was trimmed crooked and August felt Rogan’s irritation prick at him through their bond. Picking at the offending nail, Rogan sighed.
“Truth be told, I was never that good at the whole mind-reading thing. Compulsion? Sure. It was the only way I could get my father to feed me as a child.” His eyes flicked up at Julianne, still white.
“So, you used your pathetic skill to cover up your failings.” Julianne's face was flat, and anger fanned in August’s chest.
How dare she speak to the master like that? He readied himself to attack her. Surely, Rogan wouldn’t stand for her insolence.
“You have no sympathy for a neglected child? I thought people like you were all about the injured and the weak.” Rogan pushed harder against Julianne’s shield.
“I believe anyone should have the freedom to make mistakes, as long as those mistakes don’t affect the freedom of others. You hurt people, Rogan. You used them and spat them out. Others, you killed.”
“You’re talking about your mystics? Ah. Yes, that was unfortunate. Also, against my orders.” His eyes cleared a moment as he looked around. “Donna? Come here.”
Donna almost tripped over herself as she raced over to the master. She knelt, breath coming in quick gasps.
“Master? You said I was forgiven for that. Please don’t be mad.” She clasped her hands together, trembling at his feet.
“You have displeased my guest, and that displeases me.” He leaned closer, gabbing Donna’s face and tipping it up so she looked at him. “You displease me.”
Donna’s chest heaved as she sobbed, clawing at Rogan’s robes and begging him to forgive her.
“Should I kill her?” Rogan looked to Julianne. “Or would you like me to torture her a little first?”
“Please, Master, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t send me away.” Snot streamed down her face unchecked.
Julianne turned her head away from the pitiful sight. “You’re a sick bastard. You’re going down.”
She lunged forward and Rogan jumped up, embracing his magic again. A guard grabbed for Julianne and missed. She darted forwards, but was intercepted by another soldier.
August threw himself at Julianne barely a moment after Donna knocked into her. All three tumbled to the floor as August clawed at the mystic’s face. Seeing a clump of hair, he grabbed at it, coming away empty handed.
“What the…” He scrambled back, eyes darting from side to side. “It’s a trick.” He ran to Rogan, who stood watching in the middle of the room. “It’s a trick!”
Julianne—a second Julianne—appeared in the doorway to the council chamber. Then, another. This one slipped inside and locked it behind her, then pulled out a slender dagger.
“Illusions!” August screamed. He lunged for the one with the weapon, and it vanished.
Rogan felt a spike of fear that shot August through the gut. He dove for his master. “Get down!” They tumbled to the floor, but Rogan rolled away.
“Shut up, fool,” he snapped, eyes white.
Pounding on the door, accompanied by yelling, signaled the guard had arrived. Rogan had drawn them here with his magic and August cursed for not thinking of that himself.
With a shaking, creaking crack, the door burst open and the chamber filled. Soldiers ran forwards, armed with steel and teeth bared in a magic-induced rage.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Marcus looked down, glad to see he was back in his own clothes. The illusion Julianne had put on him back in the prison cell, swapping their appearances so she could take control of his mind, had worn off.
He couldn’t believe they had pulled it off. Once August led Marcus out of the room, he had been sure the gig would be up. Julianne was a true Master, though—she had held onto the illusions, convincing August that he was her, and the cell guard that she was an unconscious Marcus.
That left Julianne free to work on the guard and the mystics downstairs, while Rogan watched Marcus pretend to cast magic. Marcus’s shields had kept Rogan out of his head, and he had been none the wiser… that is, until all hell broke loose.
Now, Rogan and August had vanished, and they were facing off with a dozen guards.
Marcus slammed his fist onto one man’s face, then pivoted to kick another in the kneecap.
“Jules, we gotta run!”
“Not until we take down Rogan,” she snapped back, eyes white as her—well, one of the illusions of her—rolled between two guards and sprinted for the door. That Julianne vanished as another twirled in front of him, stabbing at a guard with a rusted short sword.
The guard dodged, stumbling back into another Julianne who stabbed him in the neck with a knife. Blood spurted from the wound and Marcus looked at her in relief.
“Phew. I was starting to wonder which one is you.”
“Did you see which way he went?”
Marcus shook his head. “He vanished, the thin air sort of vanish.”
“Shit.” She kicked at a guard, then buckled as another jumped on top of her. Marcus started as she dissolved into nothing.
“Take your eyes off that girl for one second…” he muttered. Then, louder, “We have to retreat.”
“Ok,” another Julianne said beside him, this one clean and bright eyed.
“That’s not at all weird,” he gasped as a boot struck him in the back.
“Run, now!” two Juliannes snapped. He bolted for the door, almost tripping over an illusion of himself just ahead. Another was on his heels, flanked by two of Julianne.
Together they plunged through the door, chased by guards, and fled. Each pair went a different way, Marcus taking the left passage with another of himself, before a hand yanked him around a corner.
Julianne grinned, panting, and pressed a finger to her lips. A false Marcus sprinted past, followed by two guards that didn’t see the real him standing against the wall.
“This way,” she whispered, dragging him by the arm to a nearby doorway.
She hustled him through, then down a side passage and up a narrow staircase. “That window leads to a courtyard. If we can get down, then scale the wall, we’re home free.” Her eyes still glowed white, and he guessed she wasn’t just hiding them, but scanning the minds of anyone nearby for a map of the building.
She stepped out onto the window ledge and he followed. “Jules, I feel like a sitting duck up here,” he murmured. “You sure no one will notice us?”
She nodd
ed, face pale. The strain of her magic was showing, and that was a really bad sign.
Marcus quickly scouted the courtyard. “Slide over that way,” he said, gesturing along the narrow ledge towards a large tree. “We can jump to one of the branches.”
“And I suppose I’ll just hide the movement of an entire tree, just like that?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
Still, she moved towards it, one hand feeling along the whitewashed stone for support, the other gripping his tightly. Her skin was cool and dry, he had to give her credit for that. Anyone else—him included—would be sweating up a storm.
“Steady does it,” he said as she approached the nearest outstretched branch. The willow swayed in the breeze, the thick branches looking suddenly frail over the hard ground below. “Find your center. Don’t jump until you’re balanced.”
“Marcus, I’m a mystic. I do nothing but find my center.” She quickly grinned, dropped his hand and threw herself into the tree, letting out a low “Oof!” As she connected with a branch.
She hung for a minute, legs dangling as she clutched the shaking limb, then pulled herself up, kicking at her skirts to find purchase on the bark. Once she was settled, Marcus leaped across, landing in a crouch on a broad branch.
“Smartass,” Julianne said. “Just had to show me up, didn’t you?”
“Hey, I’m not the one casting a half-dozen spells while balancing in a tree.” He reached out to take her hand and help her down a branch. She yanked him back, almost overbalancing him, then put a finger to her lips.
“…get away? Are they all stupid, or just the ones loyal to my father?” Boots stomped beneath them as George the Third stormed through the courtyard. “It doesn’t matter. My men are ready to march. We’ll wipe their shitty little town off the map once and for all. Then, we’ll come back and take care of that bitch-damned circus full of traitors.”
“I’d advise against it, my lord.” Marcus stifled a growl at the sound of August’s slithering voice. “They have quite a number of magicians.”
“Who, the town or the actors?” George snapped.
“Both, my lord.” August allowed a note of condescension creep into his words, but George either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.
“That’s why you’re coming with me. Bring ten men, you can catch up with us on the road. Hell, bring twenty if you think we’ll need them. They can’t be allowed to…”
The voices faded and Marcus didn’t catch August’s reply. It didn’t matter. “We have to go,” he whispered.
Julianne nodded. “We have to warn Madam Seher first.”
He waited for her gesture to proceed, then slithered down the wide trunk onto the ground and darted over to the wall. He gave Julianne a boost up. Once she had caught the lip, he jumped and heaved himself over.
“That looked like an effort,” Julianne sweetly pointed out. “Getting soft, are we?”
He rolled his eyes. “Just tell me when to go,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Madam Seher listened to their hurried explanation, her expression darkening by the minute.
“If they’re onto us, they know about Adeline. We must get her out. Did you see Lord George at the manor?”
Julianne shook her head. “Not in person, and not in any of the minds I could skim. A couple of maids wondered where he was, and his bed wasn’t slept in last night.”
Seher cursed. “We must go back. That man and his daughter are vital to this city.”
“You’re crazy,” Marcus said. “You need to get your people out while you can. We need to return to ours.”
He turned to go, but Julianne caught his arm. “She’s right. George and Adeline are… they’re not like anyone you’ve seen before.”
He gave her a flat faced stare. “I’ve meet Adeline, remember?”
Julianne shook her head. “Not like that, Marcus. Madam Seher showed me. She and George are kind and just, their citizens adore them. If they fall, the town will be ripe for the picking by anyone, and very few people would step in for the good of the people.”
“You go,” Madam Seher said. “You need to get back to your people. Mine can take care of Adeline and George.”
“Bring them to Tahn when the fighting is over,” Julianne said quickly. “We’ll keep them safe until we can remove Rogan from the city.”
Seher nodded. “Queen’s favor to you.”
It was an old saying, usually reserved for those who held Queen Bethany Anne, also known as Queen Bitch, in high standing. Though the term ‘bitch’ had come to mean something less respectful now, it was once a term of honor to the woman who first brought magic to the world.
“And to you,” Julianne replied.
Clasping hands, the two women said a quick goodbye.
“Do you think they’ll make it to Tahn?” Marcus asked as they hurried away.
“No idea,” Julianne said, her eyes already white again as she pulled him back behind a corner. A moment later, two men strode past.
Julianne took Marcus’s arm. “We are two upper-class citizens out shopping,” she whispered. “Don’t look scared, and don’t look for trouble. I’ll tell you if we need to duck.”
Marcus pasted a smile on his face and nodded happily at the next person they passed. Without making it obvious, he took a quick look at his clothes. Julianne had dressed him in illusionary silks and fine leather boots. She was robed in soft purple linen, embroidered with tiny, white flowers.
“You look like you need to take a shit,” Julianne murmured.
“Don’t all rich people?" he asked.
She laughed, the sound attracting the attention of a soldier. Julianne’s hand tightened reassuringly on Marcus’s arm, so instead of bristling, he stared the man in the eye and mouthed “women!” As they passed. The soldier chuckled, and went about his business.
As they approached the gate, they slowed. “Bit of a crowd there,” Marcus pointed out. “Can you sneak us past?”
Julianne drew them back into a shadow. “I think so, but it’ll take everything I’ve got. I don’t want to exhaust myself just yet.” Ahead, the town entrance was shut, the heavy iron gates screeching open every few minutes to let someone in or out.
A woman carrying an armload of cloth walked down the road towards them. Julianne reached out and caught her arm.
“What’s going on at the gate?" she asked.
“Oh, that’s just Master August. He’s looking for someone, closed the gates right after the soldiers left and won’t let anyone in or out unless he talks to them.” She shrugged. “He let me in. I guess I look all innocent! Little does he know!” She directed a salacious wink at Marcus, who tugged at his collar.
She smiled and wandered off, touching her head briefly as Julianne wiped their conversation from her mind.
“Shit,” she said.
Marcus rubbed her back. “Look, there has to be another way out.”
“You’re right. Seher will know.” Julianne grimaced at the thought of walking all the way back to the theatre tents—every minute spent in the city was a minute they would need to make up trying to beat the army to Tahn. She had to warn her people.
“Seher’s got her own stuff to worry about. I got this one.” Marcus grabbed Julianne’s hand and started running, stumbling to a halt outside Muir’s seediest inn. He pushed open the door, ignoring the ‘closed’ placard stuck to it.
A man sat at one of the few tables not draped with sheets. Fine powder coated the room and Julianne coughed.
“We’re closed for—” the man inside began.
“I’ll give you this if you tell us how to get out of the city without passing through the gates.” Marcus tossed a small bag of coins onto the table.
“What makes you think I’d know that?” the innkeeper asked warily.
“Because you didn’t get hit with violations before the New Dawn moved in. That means you know who to bribe… and I’ll bet my eye teeth you spent money on more than a blind eye to a few roaches.”
“Marcus, don’t worry.” Julianne plucked the purse off the table. “I’ve got what we need.”
“Sorry, bud.” Marcus tipped an imaginary hat before turning to leave. “You snooze, you lose.”
The bewildered innkeeper just sighed. “This town is going to hell,” he muttered before going back to his paperwork.
Julianne directed Marcus to a nearby backstreet. “Behind that house,” she said. “Look for a big drain.”
It was under a stack of heavy-looking boxes that Julianne pushed aside with no effort.
“Nice cover,” Marcus commented. “I wouldn’t have looked under there back in my days as a city guard.”
“Good thing no one from Muir did, either.” Julianne waited for Marcus to lift the heavy iron cover on the drain, then jumped down.
“Do I want to know what I’m stepping in down here?” Marcus asked.
“Just water. This part of the city is prone to flooding, so there’s a few of these drains about, at least according to the innkeeper’s memories. Most are soldered shut, but some enterprising young chap left this one open in exchange for a hefty bribe a few years ago.”
“Good.” His boot squelched in something. “I still think there’s more than just water down here, though.”
“Don’t think about it,” Julianne suggested.
She held onto the barest trace of her magic, just enough to know if they had caught anyone's attention. Exhaustion gnawed at her bones, but she kept going, one muddy foot after the other.
She stumbled, once, and sagged against Marcus for a brief moment when he caught her. Then, slipping into a light trance, she asked him to lead. “Just hold my hand and guide me,” she told him.
Her eyes began to droop as she threw herself into a meditation. Her magic reached out, and the world around her reached in, the two connected in a glorious feeling of serenity.
Energy leaked back into her body, slowly reversing the strain of her earlier magic use. Her breath came in a steady rhythm, matching her steps. Absorbed by the gentle splashes that filled her ears and the musty, heady scent of old water, she didn’t notice when Marcus stopped.
