“Tell me what you really want, Ronan.”
Ronan mumbled and a shuffle drifted up. “Truth about my mother and her death.” His voice coasted from the far side of the room. “I want freedom to come and go as I please. I want assurances that you won’t hurt Aria, Kiera and Katrina, or any of the other fae or sorcerers you capture. I don’t want further involvement in retrieval missions or other criminal activities.”
“That’s a long list. What do I get out of it?”
“My silence.”
“I already own your silence. You have as much to lose as I do by going public.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Did you kill my mother?”
“The NUW government executed her for practicing forbidden spellcraft,” he said as if giving a lecture to witch wannabes.
“That’s not what I heard.”
“You heard wrong.”
“Give me everything I want, I’ll go along with you, and you can have the keys to the kingdom.”
“If I disagree?”
“If I’m late reporting to my team, they’ll know who to contact to shut you down.”
“You’ll go down with me.”
“At least I’ll be free of you and this hell.”
“This hell, as you call it,” Riley said with no small amount of disdain, “will make you a powerful and rich man. You and Walker will have all the control, all the limelight and power beyond imagine. The world needs you both. You’ll restore order, balance, and purity. You’ll own this world. You’ll control the other Forbidden. They’ll do what you want.” He paused for emphasis. “What’s so wrong with setting to rights what was done in ignorance and fear?”
Ronan snorted. “That’s only part of your pipe dream.”
I tried to sense Ronan’s aura, but it didn’t exist on any planet where I had free range.
“What could you possibly have that’s worth so much to me?”
“The lost pages to the Illuminaria and their translation into English, all the magic and alchemy spells you’re missing. Enough to give you everything you’ve always wanted. To dominate the Forbidden. To rule the world.”
My heart shattered. My life exploded. Anger rejected the pain with a ferocity that nearly sent a torrent of bad luck throughout Riley’s building.
Chapter 22
Ronan and his equipment are so dead! He had no clue how much danger the world was in if his father got his paws on the full text of the Illuminaria. And some of the spells in the Illuminaria could only be done by my magic or the magic of two sorcerers, not by my blood or the blood of another Thirteen. Which meant Riley had plans to keep us both. And our blood. I rubbed the bruise on the crook of my left arm. Dumbass barbarian. I had to get the entire book out of Riley’s hands before he realized the extent of power he had with or without me. He could literally destroy the world.
Snarling louder than a tiger on the fringe, I pried up the vent and heaved it to the other side of the two-foot square hole. Since I was Richard Riley’s ticket to the majors, I knew he wouldn’t hurt more than one hair on my head. I swung my legs through the hole, aiming for the desk rather than risking my balance by jumping to the floor. I kicked his mug onto his laptop, cursing the fact that he kept his desk so tidy and his mug wasn’t entirely full. My foot slipped and I knocked something else onto the floor where it landed with a quiet thump on the plush rug.
Riley scampered out of his chair. By the time I steadied my balance on the desktop, two guards leveled tranq guns on me. Ronan went all scowly, glowering at me, and a little something tried to die inside me. I jumped to the floor, backing against the windows overlooking a tree-lined grassy courtyard.
“Ms. Walker, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
I wanted to slap his ingratiating smile off with fingers of thirteen curses.
“Screw. You.” I swung on Ronan. “Give it to me.” I held my hand toward him. He gripped one of Mom’s envelopes. I battled to suppress my straining magic, making Dickard think his elementary science class deadeners were working on me.
“What’re you doing?” Ronan clenched his teeth so hard that infernal muscle in his jaw ticked. As usual, his barbarian shell masked his emotions. That is, if he had any left to mask.
Riley’s arrogance rolled out on a smooth laugh as he edged closer to Ronan. “You don’t really think Ronan will do that, do you? He works for me. Always has.”
Mammoth Guard number one looked from me to Riley, his dart gun aimed at my heart, a film of sweat on his forehead. A frisson of magical energy wafted off him, despite the room’s strong deadeners wrapping around me like a steel straitjacket…with beautiful escape holes. He moved to my left as the other Rent-A-Guard pointed his gun at my belly.
“Stand down,” Riley ordered. “The room’s deadeners are active.”
I hope that thought lets you sleep at night!
The sweaty, olive-skinned guard lowered his gun, his gaze flitting from me to Dickhead. I recognized the dilated look of the drugged in his foggy eyes. I drew in a soft breath, releasing it slowly as my mind chattered away at this mind-bender.
The weight of the disintegrating deadeners jabbed my shield, robbed my air. Breathing shallowly, I fought to ignore it. I reached for my pendant and noticed for the first time that it was gone. Had Ronan told his father how it helped me focus my telekinesis? Shock jolted my hip hard against the edge of the desk. Adam was right. I didn’t need it.
I tossed a ripple of energy at a verdant hilly landscape painting to the left of the desk. The frame rattled against the wall. Both my pinkies twitched up a tempest. Crap squared.
Ronan’s betrayal hurt so bad I wanted to wither into a sun-bleached grape. But not until I unleashed the Wrath of Aria and hexed him to a portal.
“Hand it over, Ronan,” I said slowly, ominously.
Before he moved a muscle, his father clamped down on his arm. A medley of red splashed across Ronan’s blank mask. My head, heart, and magic warned me not to let Dick Tator Riley get his tentacles on my heritage and the clout to royally screw the world. My half of the book also represented a lifeline to my mother and my ancestors. I’d fight to someone’s death for them.
I lunged at Ronan, scrabbling for the envelope. Using my full strength, I plowed into them and aimed my knee at Riley’s groin, bashing his thigh instead. I managed to bowl all of us to the floor. Riley grunted low in his throat and punched a bone-jarring fist into my hip. Lights dimmed as my abused body sucked up the red blaze of pain. Ronan never lost his hold on the envelope. My hand slapped against him, his flesh sparking on mine. Nothing close to our previous erratic aural problem, though. More like energy scouting for an alternative fuel source, finding it, and struggling to test it out.
Two guards closed in on us. The drugged guard touched my hand. A zap of electricity zinged between us, and I jerked away, trying to crush my magic. Surprise quickened my pulse as I realized from his electromagnet pattern that he was another Scrambler. Where did Riley find all these illegal Scramblers?
Klepto Riley swore up a streak in a parody of Ronan and extricated himself from beneath me. I guess the wormy, rotten apple didn’t fall far from the poisoned tree. He snagged a needle off the desk, the plunger no doubt filled with his special deadener cocktail.
I lay halfway on top of Ronan. The cold-blooded look of his jet-flecked eyes killed my stupid wish that he was playing his father. Ronan took advantage of my shock and flung the envelope at his father. Riley caught it midair, and Ronan lifted off the floor, hauling me against him.
“You just signed your death warrant,” I said, deadly for his ears only, my rigid body quaking my rage and fear against his lethal hardness.
“I’m already dead,” he grumbled.
“Not dead enough for me.” In one swift movement, I spun around and kneed him. Lucky for him, I flinched and my knee slammed halfway into his thigh. I absorbed the jolt to my spine with a shudder. “Your ridiculous little opinion has been noted
.”
“Damn, Aria.” His arms dropped away from me. He staggered, his foot slipping on the thick geometric-patterned rug.
I backed into an unoccupied corner of the room, listing against a Roman pedestal displaying an exquisite hand-enameled genie bottle. A plaque beneath it read: To Ronan, may all your wishes come true. Love, Mom.
Several more guards joined the party and even Zoe had crashed the Caveman Ball. One henchman strong-armed her, holding a scary-looking gun pointed at her temple.
Riley salivated over my mother’s papers represented inside the envelope, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Beautiful.” He beamed at me. “Think how much fun the three of us will have together with access to Forbidden sorcery.”
“Think how much fun you’ll have dying.” I matched him smile for smile.
Ronan tottered toward me, halting outside my personal bubble of space, as if he actually gave a damn about me. Something recognizable flickered in his wintry eyes, then dissipated into the pond scum he’d become.
“Take Ms. Marino out and kill her,” Riley said as though ordering a pizza.
“No!” I lunged at him. Ronan and the guard shoved between us, pushing me back.
A strangled roar erupted out of Zoe as she writhed in the grasp of the guard holding her. Red-hot fury and fear obscured the freckles across her nose and cheeks.
Magic plowed through my brain mass, shoving it aside to open the gates to the molten flame, feeding on Riley’s words. The pressure of the deadeners continued disintegrating in the turmoil. New energy derived from the Rift ballooned inside me, and I didn’t think anything could keep it at bay for long. I merely needed to wait it out, but not while they offed my best friend.
I pinned Riley with a bitter look. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”
Smug satisfaction burst like an elusive Seattle sunrise across his face. The deadener needle didn’t leave his hand, as if it provided him with a boatload of protection.
Zoe struggled against her captor, kicking him in the shin. “Aria, no,” she wailed.
Unable to face her, I kept my hatred focused on Riley. “Please, I want her released with an untraceable phone and car. Alone.” Eventually, I’d find a way out of this hellhole. At least Zoe would be safe, and I’d get answers to the questions torching holes in my brain.
Riley didn’t hesitate. “Done.”
Muscles rippled along Ronan’s powerful arms as he molded his bad arm against his side. “Take Zoe to her room, get her shit, then bring her back.”
The Scrambler guard opened the door and Riley held up his hand. “One more thing.” He turned toward Zoe. “You’ll never see Ms. Walker alive if you talk to the police or anyone else for that matter. Clear the room.” Riley addressed the guards, “Carlos, you and Harrison guard the door.”
Pensive, Zoe studied my resolute face. Two other guards herded her out, and the door shut behind them with a definitive, life-altering click.
Chaos, panic, disorder. Check. My work here wasn’t done by a long shot.
Ronan made a small choking sound. Again, I gleaned nothing from his blank slate or waxen body. What gives?
Magic roiled and tingled within me in new ways I’d learn to adapt. It surged and contracted, fighting the room’s deadeners, wobbling me on my feet. I plopped on the couch before I crash-landed. Minutes crawled by as we all settled in the cement-thick tension.
Riley leered at me. “You are so much more than your father promised.”
“That’s because he didn’t stick around long enough to make promises on my behalf.” I clutched my arm. “Is the turncoat dead or alive?”
Mock sympathy stole Riley’s joy. “He came to me in November, loan sharks biting the flab on his back. I helped him regain his feet in exchange for…” he paused and spread out his hands, “…information. He left a wealthy man.”
Did I believe a word? Maybe Ronan had lied to me and his father told the truth. Dismayed, I scratched the stinging tattoo on my back, eyeing the syringe in Riley’s hands. “You get off on sticking your little prick in people?”
Riley laughed, set the needle on his desk. “Ah, you don’t care for my special deadener recipe?”
The double doors reopened. Zoe barreled in, wearing her designer jeans and a form-fitting black sweater underneath her faux leopard jacket. She clutched her purse in one hand and her purple smartphone in the other.
“You sure about this?” She rushed to me, saw my glum look, and halted.
“Your life means more to me than all the cats in the world.” I smiled wanly at our private joke. “I’m staying to help with research. I have a lot to learn from them about what’s going on in my head.” I might make a chronic liar out of myself yet. I’d lie up a storm to keep her safe. “I’ll be okay.”
“What?” she screeched, stamping a spike-heeled boot, slivering her eyes. “What’s going on? Talk to me, Blondie.” Zoe ate the distance and dug her fake claws into my upper arm. “What can you possibly help them with?”
Ouch. That almost offended me, but Zoe didn’t know much about the Forbidden Thirteen, or me, the thirteenth. It left my mind batty.
I composed my features before I popped a blood vessel. “I want to stay.” Ronan shifted his feet, the tranq gun held ready in his hand. Lowering my voice, I said, “Riley knows things about my father and family I need to learn.”
Her freckly skin glided into the pale. “You trust him?”
“I have no choice,” I said loud enough for Riley to hear and gloat.
The guards steered Zoe past me. I threw her a grim, apologetic smile. Jagged silence stretched while we waited. The jeweled genie bottle in the corner drew my attention like a lighthouse to a life raft in a foggy sea. Focusing on it helped me control the rage slurping up my endorphins. I itched to hold it, but I wouldn’t give Dick-Fuck the satisfaction of knowing I drooled over an art object he or Ronan owned.
A few minutes later, Riley’s cell rang to prove that Zoe was free. Relief sagged my shoulders as she sped away alone in a spiffy Mercedes, with instructions to leave the car at the airport.
Riley squandered no time. “How did you open the Rift?”
I shrugged, trying to dial past the static my mind broadcasted. “What Rift?” What the what? Why was he asking that if he already knew opening the Rift required two sorcerers?
He tossed back his more salted and less peppered head and laughed. “I guess I’ll have to read and find out?” He nodded at the large padded envelope Ronan held.
“Sure, whatev. Maybe your OCD will collide with the Milky Way too.” One ace of an idea hid up my cheap fleece sleeve. I’d toss out snark to divert him till the crows came to rest on his roost.
“Ms. Walker, don’t you wonder how you and Ronan opened the Rift together?”
The doppelgänger link! Had he not seen Adam at the Rift? Had Ronan told his father about his doppelgänger? My gaze darted from Ronan’s vacant face to Riley. Older, leaner, and more distinguished than Ronan, Riley shared the same height and coloring. However, the similarities ended there. Azure colored his eyes in a rounder and softer face that betrayed his emotions, unlike his son.
“Maybe we had help?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ronan’s shoulders hitch.
“The only help we had was the ritual in the Illuminaria pages,” Ronan answered indulgently, flicking his hand at the still-unopened envelope.
He had to be protecting Adam on whatever side of the Abolishment he played. I hoped to hell Adam was okay. I couldn’t feel him inside me any longer either. The blasted room blocks or the drugs severed our bond, even though my powers had skipped past the deadeners. Or maybe opening the Rift had changed our triad bond. The thought might have left me sad if I wasn’t in my current jam, or if Ronan hadn’t sold me to Satan’s top dog.
Hunger illuminated Riley’s dull peepers. “Thirteen sorcerers. Classic number for magic. Ronan part fae and telekinetic. Only one Forbidden sorcerer and the thirteenth can open a Rift. Are you getting it now?”<
br />
Ronan part fae? Silence shut down the static in my mind. Blood drained from my face. “Are you saying I’m part fae too? Big deal I’m telekinetic. I can bend a spoon. Want to see?”
Riley smirked. “Let me tell you a little story.” His smirk turned jubilant. “The thirteen Forbidden sorcerers closed the Rifts to the Realm of the Void, as I’m sure Ronan already told you. They conceived the methodology well before the government decided to kill them off. The Forbidden Thirteen had been around long before the governments found out about them. They showed the world how strong they were by killing off any other magic except fae magic and sorcery.” I gasped, clutching my stomach. I side-eyed Ronan and watched him blanch. Riley continued as if he didn’t just sign his death warrant in my head. “The Void and the Rifts existed well before the Abolishment laws were enacted. The Thirteen used the Rifts and the Void to destroy other magic. But they weren’t strong enough to destroy the fae, so they bred with them until they became one powerful race.” He lifted a sword letter opener off his desk and picked at his fingernail. “The Thirteen didn’t want a sorcerer to unilaterally take it upon her or himself to close or open a Rift. So they created a secret master key, so to speak, one dominant sorcerer who had to work with at least one of the other Thirteen to open or close a Rift. Two who could manipulate all the earth’s energies and magic, who would also stand the test of time and dilution. Ancient sorcerers were quite industrious. Their alchemy was incredibly formidable. I thought Ronan and the blood of another sorcerer could open the Rift.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.” Riley hesitated as if waiting for my mind to turn on.
I digested his stunning story. Whose blood? And did I truly stem from a vicious group of magic killing, half-fae sorcerers? Still unable to comprehend, I deflected. “I think you need to lie down and rest your brain. Those XCrack cigarettes you’ve been smoking aren’t helping much.” I certainly wasn’t the freak de jour master key descendant. Maybe I needed to inhale a crack-laced cigarette to return to my previous life.
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