The Cost of Magic (The Ethan Cole Series Book 1)

by Andrew Macmillan

  Aye, right. Cole was many things, but he was not a killer for hire. ‘I’m not your hitman, vampire. If you think I’ll kill for you, you should just hang me and the Commander right now. The Commander would give me his blessing.’ Nessie would never forgive a crime like that, no matter the motive.

  Andrew’s shoulders shook. ‘Oh Armiger, I wouldn’t ask you to kill one of your precious humans, oh no, Murk forbid that any of your fleeting, insignificant kind be harmed. I need my fledgling to disappear.’

  This was low, even by vampire standards. ‘You want me to kill one of your own? Isn’t that forbidden or something?’ Whatever fucked-up code passed for honour among vampires, he was pretty sure fledglings were off limits.

  Andrew stamped his feet. His screech was a thunderclap, his face twisted. ‘Why, if I could do this myself, do you think I would be asking you?’ Then he calmed, suddenly still. ‘My fledgling is a thorn I cannot remove. But your unique talents have a proven track record. I would not dare send another, less capable soul. My fledgling is the most vicious and sadistic example of us. I would be proud, but his appetites give even me pause. I fear for the law and his victims, Armiger.’

  Cole snorted. ‘Yeah, you’re all heart. So what’s the real problem? He’s coming for you? He’s stronger than you? Which is it, pal?’

  Andrew made a show of contemplating, his crooked body hunching over as his hand stroked his chin. ‘My reasons are my own, but my fledgling cannot live. Do this and I will withdraw the charges I hold against you. I will tell the court I was mistaken and humbly apologise.’

  Could Cole trust this thing? Not a chance. But now, Andrew was complicit in some serious crimes of his own. Blackmailing the armiger to kill another vampire on his behalf and offering to cover the truth of his brother’s death to the Council. Not to mention having lied already about the murder before the Council.

  ‘Yes, yes, Armiger. I see by that painful expression that you are thinking, yes? Very good. Tell me, does it always hurt you like this?’ The stuttering, faltering air rasping from Andrew’s throat was supposed to be mirth, Cole assumed. If he and Nessie were exposed, he could absolutely force Andrew’s memories to be examined as testimony. Mind vampires weren’t damaged by mental manipulation as people were. Everything would be there.

  Andrew slurped the air. ‘I am as culpable as you now. We are locked, you and I. Without each other’s help, we both die.’

  It was a disturbing truth and not one Cole was going to take lying down. ‘Don’t think I need you, vampire. We are not locked. You are beneath the slime that crawls in the earth to me – if it was just my head on the chopping block …’

  Andrew shrugged. ‘I would not be risking this conversation otherwise, Armiger. I have not outlived the centuries by playing this game like a fool.’

  Andrew was as slippery and deceitful as only a successful, living, undead man could be. And he would screw Cole and Nessie first chance he got. But not if Cole screwed him first.

  Andrew stopped pacing. ‘My fledgling’s name is Henry Millar, and I will show you how to get to him in secret.’

  ‘Henry Millar? What kind of name is that? Henry Millar, born to raise … what … lukewarm, mediocre hell?’

  Andrew’s bony finger waved in a metronome motion. ‘Do not be fooled by his pedestrian name. He is a savage creature. Too savage, I fear, for our fragile peace. Henry would gut you without a thought, Armiger. You must strike quickly and go for the kill as soon as you come upon him! If you fail, the Murk help you. The agonies will be as exquisite as they are drawn out. Henry is a master of suffering.’

  Henry sounded quite the catch. ‘Fuck me on this, vampire, and you’ll wish Henry was going to work on you.’

  Andrew nodded, head bobbing like a toy.

  It all had the ring of a terrible idea. Did Cole have a choice? It didn’t look that way, unless kamikaze was a choice. If Nessie or Nat were here, they’d have laid the whole thing out, complete with the angles and pros and cons. They’d have done something smart. Cole would have to try and think like them. But meanwhile, there was a sick, slimy, scum-sucking vampire which needed to be ripped to pieces. That was a solution worth getting behind.

  ‘How do I get to this vampire?’

  Chapter 7

  Their walk toward the Mother’s chamber – Millie was calling it the Sanctum – saw Natalia’s thoughts calm to a simmer. Ancroft’s departure moments ago reminded her starkly of her duty to Cole. She had to watch over him; she’d banked on not being away for longer than a few hours. But the injustice Andrew threatened to his unbound fledgling couldn’t be allowed to stand, curing the world of vampires or not. Natalia, however, was the only voice to call out the Mother, who seemed to be viewed with religious reverence by everyone else. Dogma and faith were notoriously resistant to reason in Natalia’s experience. She followed Millie through the pink-walled corridors, trying not to look at the bleached struts supporting the roof like so many ribs. An honest to gods castle, and inside the Ways.

  Andrew shouldn’t get away with killing his now-human fledgling, but Natalia had the sinking feeling that the Mother would put the success of her mission above a single life. So, who else had a stake in what was happening here?

  ‘Millie?’

  Millie turned, a pleasing glint in her eye. The smile playing on her lips hinted at a crackling excitement. ‘Yes, sis … Natalia?’ Millie looked around conspiratorially and seemed to swallow a giggle. Mixcoatl be good, when this was over, she was taking this woman out. They would get hammered.

  ‘We need to see the prisoners – the vampires we have turned back to human. They have the biggest stake in what happens to them and the safety of their group.’ At the rate the wytches had been unbinding them the last few hours, there would definitely be a group already. Whatever else the Mother might be, whatever had become of the Order of the Light, they wouldn’t turn their backs on distraught men and women, not when faced with the reality of their prisoners’ humanity. Natalia was sure of it.

  Protecting that monster, Andrew, while he threatened to kill a real person would be – charitably – misguided. If Natalia had to, she would bring the wytches back to what was right. No point ridding the world of monsters only to become monsters themselves. Millie led the way, her shoulders a little squarer, her chin held with a hint of defiance.

  How many more twists and turns were there in this awful place? At least the mists beyond the castle walls couldn’t be seen through these windows, set high up in the corridor walls. Orbs of light – mid-level alteration bindings combined with elemental magic – shone at even intervals along the interior walls. Millie led, sure-footed through the maze of passages, travelling down into the castle depths and occasionally glancing up as the perennial, festering wind of the place howled down the corridors.

  Turning a corner, they approached tall double doors barring the entrance to what was probably a fair-sized room beyond. Two women sat idly before the doors in the drab white garb common to the Sisters of the Order of the Light. They ceased their conversation and glanced up as Natalia and Millie drew near. Quite the pair, these wytches. Little and Large. Little must have been under five feet, her legs dangling above the floor, as she perched on her average-sized chair. Her companion, by contrast, was a behemoth. Not disproportioned – she was proportionally average – she just looked like she’d been built on a different scale from the rest of the human race. Little stayed in her seat while Large stood, her white robe giving her a square look as she towered like a tooth jutting from the floor before the mouth of the closed doorway.

  Natalia spoke. ‘Sisters.’ The wytches nodded, but there was a set to Large’s shoulders – hunched and combative. Little fiddled and fussed with her robe. Natalia glanced at Millie who watched the floor intently. So much for Millie’s sudden emancipation. There was work to be done with that woman, but that was for another time. No need to be seen inciting rebellion against the status quo right then.

  ‘I’ve come to see our first captives.�
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  Large continued to loom. Why was she just standing in Natalia’s way? Large folded her arms. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, sister.’

  Hmm. Okay, that was probably to be expected.

  ‘Why not, sisters? I only want to speak with the men and women we hold here.’ Best to start with open questions and reasonable motives.

  ‘The Mother forbids it, sister. We are here to ensure no one enters or leaves.’

  More deference to the Mother, even among the full sisters?

  ‘Well, I think we can agree between ourselves that that’s daft. These people aren’t criminals; they’re people, and they’re probably scared. They must be wondering what’s going on, and I have something important to discuss with them.’

  Natalia walked forward. Large rocked back on her heels. Little hopped from her chair, eyes as wide as her face.

  ‘Sister, you must stop. The Mother commands it.’

  What twaddle. ‘What is she? Your queen?’ Large fell back as Natalia continued to advance. ‘I will say what I bloody well like, and so can you. Above reproach is she, your precious Mother? She shits like everyone else, and don’t think she doesn’t.’

  The three wytches gasped audibly, though Millie’s was more like a snort. Natalia reached Large whose back was now against the door.

  ‘Move, you big tube.’

  Large wavered, a mix of expressions warring on her face. It was Little who got angry first. Always the short ones, so much to prove.

  ‘How dare you, sister! How dare you!’ Loud for such a small frame.

  ‘My name is Natalia.’

  Little faltered, halting like a train hitting an embankment.

  Natalia continued. ‘Now, if you would be so kind as to move aside, and we can all put this – frankly embarrassing for you – lack of independent thought behind us.’

  Large’s hand halted her progress, palm pressed flat against her sternum. There was something frantic about the bigger woman. ‘No, wait, you can’t, I’m sorry, the Mother—’

  It was reflex – born of years of training with the merciless Cole – that made Natalia grip Large’s wrist at the joint. It was the same reflex that turned Large’s wrist and pushed her hand toward the crook of her elbow. Large went down on one knee immediately, her weight nearly toppling them both. Caught off guard, Large shouted out. She knelt, completely at Natalia’s mercy and Little leapt back, eyes bulging in her tiny head. Millie gasped behind her.

  Natalia’s adrenaline flowed, and the smoky, heady vapour of her power sparked a fire within her. Mixcoatl’s approval was a thing palpable to her. The power of the god of the hunt blazed within, and Natalia knew the other women felt it too.

  ‘You will call me Natalia. And the Mother’s just a woman; you can disagree with her. Tell her to go fuck herself.’ Large yelped, and Natalia relaxed her grip. ‘I’m going to let go of your wrist now. Keep calm, and we won’t have to do this again.’ She released Large, who stood rubbing her wrist and eyeing Natalia who pointed behind Large. ‘Now, open the bloody door please.’

  Large looked at Little. The women stood, frozen.

  ‘Or let me.’ Natalia stepped forward, moving side-on past Large, and put her palm on the door. What was she about to find? If the prisoners weren’t being kept humanely, there was going to be hell to pay.

  The door swung open to a dark and draughty room.

  ‘Hello?’ Nothing came back. She squinted, the bare walls just visible. There was no one there. No one at all. She walked in, looking for signs of occupation.

  ‘Where are they? Where are you keeping them?’ Sudden heat in her eyes flushed out tears. Her brain was already telling her, but it couldn’t be true.

  ‘Where are they?’ Her lungs twitched, out of her control. No, it wasn’t what it looked like.

  Large stood in the doorway, head hung. Everything about Large’s silence screamed the truth. Had Millie known?

  Millie came forward, watching them all, confusion slowly turning to something else; something Natalia realised mirrored her own expression.

  ‘Are they dead?’ Millie’s whisper pierced Natalia’s heart with the sharply obvious truth. It was hard to see; her eyes were filling. Little and Large began backing away from her. The air hissed with magic like spittle on a grill. The two sisters wove their defensive magic – C+ power at best. Both were war mages, their power white like her own. Breathe, she had to breathe.

  Large broke first, shame blooming on her cheeks. Her defensive magic dropped. ‘The Mother told us to guard the door and not let anyone in. We knew they weren’t in there.’

  Despicable. ‘So where are they?’

  The two wytches stood like chastised schoolgirls.

  ‘The Mother said …’ Little looked pathetic.

  Natalia strode from the room. ‘Right, you spineless cowards can stand there feeling sorry for yourselves, but human beings might have been murdered, and we are supposed to protect them.’ Her veins burned with lava. ‘Millie!’ They turned, leaving the guilty dark emptiness yawning behind.

  The unbindings were finished for the time being. She could no longer feel the flare of the Anvil’s power. The wytches standing protectively at the doors outside the Mother’s chambers saw Natalia coming and nearly fell in their haste to get out of her way.

  ‘Tepoztopilli!’ A burst of wind lanced ahead, taking one of the doors off its hinges. Time for a demonstration in A+ power. The boom of the door detonated as it hit the floor, vibrating the walls as she strode in.

  ‘Chimalli!’ She invoked Mixcoatl’s shield key and, shimmering on her left arm, was a woven shield like the ones worn by the Aztecs’ jaguar warriors. Scanning the room for threat positions, she noted its square shape and the lack of places to break line of sight. She might need a funnel if things went south, a way to break the force of the wytch’s superior numbers. The door behind her was the only entrance or exit.

  Scattered around the room were benches piled with paper, machines for crafting runes and low tables covered in pestles and mortars with bundles of herbs, stones, potions and dye.

  Standing before the Mother’s seat – throne would not have been an incorrect descriptor – was an array of sisters on a raised dais which crested steep steps. They had blanketed the Mother in magical shields of dizzying variety. Among the white war magic and green elemental magic were the colours of purple and red – signs they had an alteration mage and a seer. Very rare mages, both. There must have been half a dozen up there, all dazzling, garbed as true Myriad mages, in sharp contrast to the drab robes of the sisters she had seen elsewhere.

  These wytches, then, were the elite inner circle. There were, perhaps, half a dozen plain-robed wytches as well, converging on Natalia from around the room. Far too many to take on alone, especially in this open terrain.

  ‘Sister Natalia? You are troubled.’ The Mother sat in her usual finery.

  ‘It’s Natalia to you, and all the rest of you. I’ll have no part of this cult.’

  The Mother smoothed her dress and smiled as though they were having a pleasant cup of tea together. ‘If our methods appear unorthodox, it’s because our path has been unorthodox.’ The Mother’s smile needed taking down a peg or four.

  ‘Unorthodox? It’s entirely too bloody orthodox around here. And where are the people you just freed from their vampire curse? What have you done with them?’

  The Mother arched an eyebrow, addressing Millie. ‘You took her to the prison?’ The Mother’s scorn lashed down.

  Natalia wouldn’t stand and watch this whipping.

  ‘Don’t you fucking pick on her; she’s not the one in the wrong here.’

  The cohort of wytches around Natalia gasped. Yeah, suck it up, lapdogs. She’d swear at whoever she liked. Millie was sheet-white. ‘Millie, you didn’t do anything wrong.’ Millie crumbled in on herself. The Mother waved and the inner circle dropped their shields.

  ‘Our acolyte’s conduct is our own business, Sister Natalia, and you will leave that which
is not your concern alone.’ Yeah, so the Mother could walk all over them and fill their heads with her greatness.

  The Mother stood. ‘The vampires we unbound were not innocent souls, deserving of our mercy and compassion. Neither were they a tolerable risk to set free. We barely have the supplies to continue our blessed work without extra mouths to feed.’

  She couldn’t believe her ears. Justifications always looked so ugly, but this?

  ‘What? No food, so let’s just kill them? You killed them?’ Heat rose in Natalia, filling her limbs with nervous energy. The Mother nodded and, just like that, Natalia was made accomplice to multiple murder.

  The Mother’s promises were as thin as the air she spoke them with. She wouldn’t let the Mother kill innocents, not for any price. She could take some of the wytches, the ones in plain robes. They were all so weak and hamstrung by their obeisance to this prize arsehole sitting there in her best party frock. Natalia drew the power of the wild into her arms, forging it through her key into Mixcoatl’s spear, ‘Tepoztopilli.’

  ‘Wait!’

  The Mother’s cry stilled the wytches who, sensing Natalia’s readiness, were preparing to escalate in kind. The wytches’ faces were raptured by the magic coursing through them, but there was fear in their eyes too. These were mages, they were practically kin; it wasn’t a good fight. She dropped her spear, dismissing her shield.

  ‘Natalia, please! Our work is true, however much you disagree with our methods; you must see that!’

  There seemed to be genuine emotion on the Mother’s face for the first time. The woman truly believed what she had done was necessary. But Natalia had to know.

  ‘Did you kill them?’

  A flick of the Mother’s eye betrayed a raven-haired woman by her side. There was a subtle deadliness to that woman’s stance. Relaxed, poised and ready. She had seen her share of combat. And she wasn’t invoking like the rest of them; she just stood.

  ‘Couldn’t even do it yourself, you made her do your dirty work instead?’ Disgust spat the words. The dark-haired woman smiled a killer’s smile, grave-cold and uncaring as soil. There was nothing deferent in that woman’s stance toward the Mother. Go straight for the biggest one – Cole’s mantra. Natalia had just found the biggest one.