Master and Apprentice

by Bateman, Sonya

  “Thanks.” I barely registered that he’d called me brilliant—a quality no one had ever accused me of having. “All right. How are we going to heal Ian?”

  “I’ll focus the spell through you.” He smiled. “You won’t even have to drink any blood, since you’re his scion.”

  “Gee, thanks. So I should …”

  “Lay your hands on him.”

  “Right.” I went back down and tried to find a few spots on him that weren’t covered with blood. There weren’t any, so I settled for places without bullet holes.

  Calvin gripped my shoulders. I beat back the urge to start confessing my sins.

  “Ready?” he said.

  I nodded, closed my eyes. “Okay, Ian,” I muttered. “Come back, or I’ll kick your ass.”

  Calvin’s power was red. Like fire and blood, like the snake he could become. I let it fill me and shut out everything except Ian.

  The blackness inside him was frigid. A wasteland. Nothing beat or twitched or flowed. Mercy was right—I was trying to resurrect a corpse.

  A tiny flicker caught my eye. Black on black. The faintest glow, like the afterimage of a black light in deep space. I seized it and hammered magic through it. Every last scrap I could summon. Slowly, the flicker solidified and shimmered through a washed-out rainbow of colors, black to dark gray, flat silver, ghost, white. Pale yellow. Orange. Crimson.

  Blood red. And I was burning.

  Something slammed me so hard, I rocked back and fell on my ass. It felt like I’d run full tilt into an electric fence. I gasped out a breath, exhausted at a cellular level, and cracked my eyes open.

  Ian glowed. The familiar brightness of his transformation flickered along the lines of his body and grew steadily stronger, until he looked made of light.

  “Thank the gods,” Tory said. “You all right, Donatti?”

  “Fantastic. Let’s run a marathon.” I scooted closer. Through the light, fur bristled. Bones shifted and raised thick ridges. Usually the change happened too fast for me to see. I hoped this didn’t mean he’d stall out in midshift and get stuck as half a wolf.

  Eventually the glow fizzled out. A few streams and sparks of light ran down the wolf like water beading on glass. He slept, tongue hanging crookedly from his parted mouth, sides jerking with erratic breath. But he wasn’t full of holes anymore.

  “He’ll come around,” Tory said. “Just needs to sleep for a while.”

  “He’s not the only one.” My eyes watered with the effort to keep them open. I made a bleary search for Calvin, and found him just behind me. He seemed tired, but not spent.

  Mercy, on the other hand, looked like she’d just seen Elvis.

  “So I’m dreamin’, or my weed’s got more kick than I thought.” She blinked and shivered. “How many more of y’all are werewolves?”

  “Just him.” I focused on Calvin until the two of him merged together. “We all need a few hours. How strong are those wards you put on Mercy’s house?”

  Calvin blinked openmouthed, then laughed. “I suppose they’ll have to do.”

  I tried to smile back, but the situation failed to amuse me. Vaelyn had been hard enough to deal with. Now we had to face Nurien, who had Morai and Bahari magic, a big bunch of scions powering him up, and Akila to use as a shield.

  Lucky us.

  Chapter 33

  Eleven of us, from human to djinn and everything in between, hung around in the bloodied yard. Six Morai scions, three djinn, Mercy, and me. Lynus was the obvious leader among the scions. Calvin, the oldest and most powerful djinn. And we were on Mercy’s property.

  But for some reason, they all looked to me to decide what we should be doing.

  We had to bury the bodies and get everyone inside, including Ian, who couldn’t get there on his own. I managed to prod Mercy for shovels and a blanket to carry Ian with. Somebody—might’ve been Lynus—brought up the possibility that Nurien might send an unfriendly search party out.

  I responded to the effect that my give-a-shit was broken. We’d take our chances.

  Eventually, everyone straggled into the house. I limped in clutching the rest of my clothes, which I hadn’t bothered to put back on. Someone had gotten a fire going in the fireplace, and they’d arranged Ian on a blanket on the hearth. Tory was helping Mercy with pillow-and-blanket detail, bringing armfuls of bedding out from the back rooms and distributing them.

  Deciding they could handle things without me, I picked an empty spot and stretched out on the floor. Didn’t bother waiting for a pillow.

  Sleep swallowed me whole.

  Sometime later, I woke with a start, sure I’d heard something. Breathing, soft snoring, and the low crackle of a banked fire filled the room. I lifted my head a bit and scanned the area. The door and windows were still closed, and a red dawn crept through the screens to stain the glass. Sleeping bodies scattered the floor and draped the furniture. Nothing ominous seemed to be lurking anywhere.

  The sound came again—a low, mournful whine. Ian, still in wolf form, twitched and shivered on the hearth.

  I hauled myself up, shrugged stiffly into my jacket, and headed over to him. Couldn’t tell if he was in pain or dreaming. Maybe both. “Ian,” I whispered. “You in there?”

  His eyes opened, and he whined again. At least he didn’t try to bite me.

  I knelt and laid a hand on him. A shudder rippled under my palm, and light seeped from the contact point to infuse him with the changing glow—faster than the last time, but still not quite up to speed.

  “Thief,” Ian slurred when he was himself again. “Please tell me you have defeated Vaelyn.”

  “She’s gone,” I said.

  His body sagged. “Gone does not precisely mean defeated.”

  “So you’re an English professor now?” I grinned. If he could make smart-ass remarks, he was definitely feeling better. “She’s defeated. Sealed back in her tether.”

  “How?”

  “Long story.” I glanced around again. No one else was awake, and I wanted them to sleep as long as possible. “Feel like stepping outside with me?”

  He groaned. “I feel like excrement. But if we must …” He pushed up and took in the room. “Ah. The young ones have stayed.”

  “Yeah. Their survival instincts are busted.” I waited for him to stand and led the way to the door, then outside onto the porch.

  Ian shut the door gently, frowned at me. “You look terrible.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” I searched my pockets and found a crumpled pack of cigarettes. When I pried the flip top open, tobacco and torn bits of filter paper dribbled out. Crud. I found one that still looked smokable, straightened it out, and lit up. “Don’t give me any shit,” I said. “It’s this, or I’m gonna start smoking Mercy’s weed.”

  Ian declined to comment.

  We sat on the steps and I told him what had happened, telegram style. Calvin distracts Vaelyn. Stop. Lynus unloads a clip into me. Stop. I don’t die.

  Full stop. Ian gaped at me. “You are no longer mortal?”

  “Apparently not.” I took a deep drag and let it out slowly. “Whatever you did to me, I’m completely attached to your tether now.”

  He stared across the yard. “I did not expect that.”

  “Well, it was definitely one of the more welcome surprises today. Dying wasn’t on my to-do list.”

  I explained the rest—how I’d found Vaelyn’s tether, Lynus plugging her, the way the ground had swallowed her. When I got to the part about Calvin healing him because I had nothing left, his features contorted. “I would not have blamed Khalyn if he had left me injured,” he said. “I have not treated him well.”

  “I think he understands why,” I said. “And I wouldn’t worry about him right now. I’d worry about Nurien.”

  “As would I.”

  I drew a fast breath at the voice behind us and damn near choked on smoke. “Shit, Calvin,” I sputtered. “I thought monks had better manners than to sneak up on people like that.”
r />   “I’ve been considering retirement.” He leaned against the porch rail and sighed. “Nurien won’t be easy to defeat,” he said. “I can’t imagine how we’ll be able to contain him, or even enter the compound in the first place.”

  I took a last hit and pitched the cigarette. “Any ideas about his tether?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  “There’s a shocker.” I looked at Ian. “You think Tory could find it?”

  “Perhaps,” he said. “It would depend on whether he has wards in place, and how strong they are.”

  “Nurien is well protected.” Calvin grimaced. “I believe Mercy would say he’s dug in like an Alabama tick. Whatever that means.”

  This called for another smoke. I fished out a rumpled one and pinched off the torn end. “It means he’s probably smart and paranoid as hell, and he’s had years to make the compound a fortress. Kit said there’s a huge subsystem of tunnels under that place, so God knows what he’s got down there. Sorry, Calvin.” I lit up and snorted at Ian’s surgeon-general face. “Come on, man. If a half dozen bullets aren’t gonna kill me, neither are these.”

  “They smell terrible.”

  “Stop breathing, then.” I almost blew smoke at him, but decided to be nice. “Anyway. There’s at least one permanent snare, on the building with the big mirror. That’s probably not the only one.”

  Silence dropped like lead. I smoked, Ian stared, Calvin frowned.

  “Maybe we could …” I stopped before the word fly left my mouth, and a different idea presented itself. One with a higher stupid factor, but if it worked, we’d be in a better position to survive. “Either of you guys ever seen Star Wars?”

  “No,” they both responded in stereo.

  “Man, are you ever culturally deprived,” I said. “Okay. I think I know how we can get in the place.”

  “How?” Calvin said. Ian just raised an eyebrow.

  I summoned a grin. “As prisoners.”

  Tory didn’t particularly like the plan. Especially since he had the dangerous part.

  “Tell me again why I have to pretend to be Vaelyn,” he said after I’d explained what I was thinking. “And try to make sense this time.”

  I shook my head and glanced around the room. Most of the scions appeared to agree with Tory—at least, the ones who weren’t glazed with shock and exhaustion. Ian and Calvin were with me, mostly because the other options would get us killed faster. Mercy had so far kept her thoughts to herself. “Look,” I said, “you won’t have to keep it up for long. We just need to get inside the gates.”

  “Yeah, we get in. And what’re we s’posed to do then?” Lynus stirred from a semitrance by the banked fire. “Go back to playin’ tin soldiers and takin’ orders? If y’all go up against Father and lose, he’ll know we was helpin’ you. He’ll kill us. Hell, he won’t even have to lift a finger. The elders’ll do it for him.”

  Kit, who’d been listening to his brother with a deepening frown, stood suddenly. “Then we make sure they win,” he said. “Damn it, we fight back. This has to end one way or another, Lynus, and you know it.”

  Lynus clenched his jaw. “We already out. So let’s just stay out. We don’t go back, they can’t kill us.”

  “What the fuck happened to you?” Kit crossed the room to the fireplace. “Last night you was ready to take ’em out yourself, and now you wanna run?”

  “Yeah. I wasn’t thinkin’ clear last night. Now I am.”

  “Father’ll find us. You know he c’n track us down.”

  “I don’t give a flyin’ fuck. We ain’t goin’ back, Kit.”

  “We have to go—”

  “Goddamn it, I can’t lose you!”

  Silence ebbed in after the hoarse shout. Lynus turned his back on the room, and his shoulders heaved once. “I already got Davie killed,” he said, his voice breaking against the wall. “Don’t ask me to let you die too.”

  Ian sent me a pained look, but he held his tongue. Interrupting would only make things worse. I nodded and hung back.

  “Lynus.” Kit put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather die fightin’ than live like a damn slave, or keep lookin’ over my shoulder forever wonderin’ whether he’s gonna come after us. I think we can win. And I’m goin’ back.”

  “Me too.” Billy moved toward them and hesitated. “They gotta be stopped, Lynus. And Penny’s still in there. I’m with Kit.”

  The other scions murmured reluctant agreement. Lynus turned slowly and fixed Kit with a red-eyed stare. “You really think we got a chance?”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I mean, with the thief’s plan, we’re gonna surprise ’em, right? Maybe we can take out the elders before they know what’s goin’ on.”

  “And what if we don’t?”

  “I think Calvin can help you there,” I said.

  Everyone stared at me. Especially Calvin. “How am I going to do that?” he said.

  “Teach them your gun-jamming spell.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, smiled. “Yes, I believe that will help.” One of the scions on the couch—Mack, the one who’d barely spoken to anyone—raised his hand like he was in school and had to use the bathroom. I tried not to laugh. “What’s up?” I said.

  “I … um, I ain’t got a gun.” He flushed crimson and looked at his feet. “I had one, but when we was chasin’ you guys, I got spooked and shot at Jackson. So he took it away.”

  “Val never give me one,” Jimmy piped in. “She said I ain’t got the guts to kill nobody.”

  Lynus bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is gonna be fuckin’ suicide,” he said. “There’s twenty more elders in there, plus Father, and enough firepower to take out the U.S. goddamned Army. We’re just flat outgunned.”

  “I can fix that,” Mercy said.

  I blinked at her. “Your shotgun’s a pile of scraps. Remember?”

  “Yeah.” She gave me a cool stare. “Come on back here a minute. Got somethin’ to show you,” she said, and headed for the addition at the back of the house.

  I shrugged and followed her. Calvin came right behind me, as if he didn’t trust me with her alone. I didn’t blame him much. He’d almost lost her last night—and I knew exactly what it felt like to watch someone threaten the woman you love.

  There were two doors leading from the short hallway, one straight ahead and another on the right. The door at the end stood open a crack and afforded a view of the corner of a log-frame bed built into the wall. The other door, made of rough wooden planks, was held shut with a padlocked hasp and staple.

  Mercy produced a small ring of keys, opened the lock, and rolled the door aside. “Don’t get your robes in a twist now, Calvin,” she said. “I never had plans to use most of this stuff, ’cept for target practice. I just like bein’ prepared.” She reached in and pulled a chain switch, and a single lightbulb flickered on to illuminate the room.

  Which was full of guns.

  Mercy motioned for me to go in, and I stepped through, dragging my jaw along. Three walls held racks and shelves and mounted display cases stocked with more pieces than a state fair gun show. Boxes of neatly stacked ammo lined the fourth wall on either side of the door. She had shotguns and rifles, revolvers, pistols and semiautomatics, everything from the latest Glocks and Magnums to a couple of tarnished six-shooters that looked like they’d last been fired by Wyatt Earp.

  The biggest piece in her collection caught my eye. “Is that … a machine gun?”

  “Yep. It’s an M249 SAW, military issue. Light infantry,” Mercy said. “Got a pretty hard kick to it, but if you shoulder-mount the bitch, it won’t knock you down too fast.”

  “Holy …” I fingered a gleaming Remington sharpshooter with a bayonette blade. “How’d you get all this?”

  “From ebay.” She winked, brushed past me, and picked up a Ruger .357 with a scope and laser sight. “I’m bringin’ this one. Y’all help yourselves to the rest.”

  “Bringing?” Calvin shoo
k himself and moved into the doorway. “Mercy, you can’t go—”

  “Stop right there.” Mercy leveled him with a blazing look. “You ain’t about to tell me I’m not goin’ with you.”

  He stiffened. “Actually, I am.” “The fuck I ain’t.

  Bastards almost burned my place down.” She checked the clip on the gun, rammed it in her waistband. “And another thing. Those boys out there, they’re just kids. Seems to me they’re pretty unwanted kids too. Christ, their own father wants to kill ’em.” Her good eye brimmed, and a tear spilled over. “I know how that feels,” she said. “And I’m not gonna stand here wringin’ my hands by the window while they … while you go get yourself shot up, and maybe killed. Am I?”

  Calvin managed a smile. “No,” he whispered. “I suppose you’re not.”

  “Damn straight.” Mercy nodded curtly and turned to me. “You pick out whatever y’all think you need and start gettin’ those boys geared up. I’m gonna go make us some tea.” She walked out, catching Calvin’s hand to squeeze it on the way past.

  I shook my head. “You officially have my sympathy, Brother Calvin.”

  “Really.” He frowned. “And why is that?”

  “Because I’ve got one of those at home.”

  “One of what?”

  “A gorgeous crazy woman who doesn’t need me to protect her and will kick my ass into next week if I try.”

  His eyes widened—and then he laughed. “She would, indeed. Man of the cloth not withstanding.” He stared at his hands. “I love her,” he said. “I’ve never told her that.”

  “No time like the present,” I said. “You’ll regret it if you don’t. Trust me on that one.”

  He let out a long breath. “Perhaps I’ll go and help her with the tea.”

  “Good idea.”

  I waited until he left, and allowed myself a minute for some regrets of my own. Then I got back to work.

  Chapter 34

  At least we didn’t have to fly.

  I’d gotten everyone to agree not to waste power before the attack. It had taken only about an hour to walk. We’d come within sight of the compound, and things were as prepared as they were going to get. Ian and I appeared beaten and bound with the same blue-black pulsating rope stuff they’d used on Akila—illusions, courtesy of Billy and Mack. We were flanked by Calvin and “Vaelyn.” It hadn’t been easy for Tory to make himself look and sound like her, but he’d had Calvin for a model. He was convincing enough to make my blood run cold every time I caught a glimpse of him.