Capture (The Machinists Book 4)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Also by Craig Andrews
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Capture
Copyright © 2017 by Craig Andrews. All rights reserved.
First Edition: 2017
ISBN: 978-0-9991784-0-9 (print edition)
ISBN: 978-0-9991784-1-6 (ebook)
Interior formatting: Streetlight Graphics
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Also by Craig Andrews
Fracture
Splinter
Martyr
Capture
Exposure
(forthcoming)
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For Gala and Gary, who welcomed an opinionated, foul-mouthed boy into their family and loved him as their daughter did.
Chapter 1
Sedric Lang, Knight Commander of the Knights of Rakkar, rode the elevator to the fifty-second floor of the Patron’s high-rise. Located in the heart of Frankfurt, the sixty-three-story structure was one of the tallest buildings not only in Germany, but in the entire European Union. Built in a postmodern design, the building was pencil shaped with a square base that rose fifty stories before taking on a cylindrical shape, which was then topped with a pyramid. By all appearances the home to the financier of Sedric’s operation was a contradiction of forms—not unlike the Patron himself.
Sedric stood with his hands clasped behind his back, hoping his stoic expression hid his mounting unease. The elevator floor vibrated as the digital display cycled through the floors it sped past. Forty-one. Forty-three. Forty-five. By forty-seven, the elevator shuddered, its brakes kicking in and slowing the car to a stop.
Upon arriving at the fifty-second floor, the elevator dinged. Its doors opened, and Sedric strode purposefully into the austere interior. The walls on one half of the floor were made almost entirely of glass, offering an unobstructed view of the whole floor. Inside glass rooms, workers dressed in white lab coats consulted files, typed furiously on keyboards, and studied three-dimensional projections of what Sedric assumed was a digital representation of the Blood Wand.
Part of him bristled at the sight of the artifact being a subject for study. The mere existence of the magi race was a demonic plague infecting the good people of Earth. To have the relic in the open, to have it studied—touched—was akin to studying the devil himself and was, in many ways, contrary to Sedric’s primary mission of eradicating the magi altogether. But such were the ways of the modern world. The Knights of Rakkar needed funding, and the Patron required the Blood Wand.
“A sacrifice for the greater good,” the Rakkaran leadership had called it. And Sedric wasn’t about to argue—not when the other parts of his mission were coming together so well.
Dressed in black military-style fatigues, Sedric stuck out among the lab workers like a fur trader at a technology summit. Those who looked at him quickly looked away, returning to their work. His presence wasn’t entirely out of the ordinary—especially since their work was centered around the ancient magi artifact that he had given to the Patron weeks before.
Ignoring the growing tension that made his steps feel light and off balance, Sedric turned away from the glass rooms to the private section of the floor. The digital terminal beeped and flashed a green light as he scanned his access card across its plastic casing.
The door clicked open, and Sedric stepped inside a corridor of white unadorned walls that felt like a cross between a clean room and a hospital. He wound his way through the halls, passing various doors and rooms, but never another soul, until he came to a pair of double doors that could have been stolen from one of the magi manors he had become so familiar with. Stationed outside them was a pair of thickly-built guards dressed in black suits with black ties.
“Is he inside?” Sedric asked, stopping outside the door.
“One moment,” the guard to his right said in a thick German accent. He held one hand to his ear, alerting the Patron of Sedric’s arrival. His other arm was held out before him, barring Sedric’s entry. The gesture wasn’t necessary. Sedric knew not to try to push himself inside uninvited, and besides that, should he need to, he could easily make short order of the two guards and anyone else inside.
Since branding himself with the Blood Wand, he had manifested magi abilities, which of course, was the entire reason he was here. Not because of his abilities—those remained a secret between Sedric and his Knights—but because of the abilities the wand could grant to someone else.
“You can go in.” The guard opened the door.
“Thank you.”
Sedric stepped into a room that must have been one of the most advanced hospital rooms ever constructed. Light spilled in through a wall of glass at the far end of the room, glistening off tiled floors and white walls, filling the room with a warm yellow light. Beyond was the picturesque cityscape of Frankfurt’s downtown business sector. Sedric’s eyes, however, fell on a young girl of no more than eight years old sleeping on a gurney at the center of the room. Tubes and wires stretched from her disease-riddled body to various machines and pieces of medical equipment. A quiet beep accompanied the display of her heartbeat.
Sitting beside the girl and holding her hand was the Patron. Not quite into his middle years, he was of average height and build, though softer than Sedric for having spent his life working behind a desk. His brown hair was short and disheveled, beginning to show signs of gray, and while dressed in a pair of charcoal slacks and a white button-down shirt that likely cost more than Sedric made in a year, he had the appearance of a man who hadn’t left his daughter’s side in days.
Sedric’s footsteps echoed through the room as
he moved to stand beside the seated man. Sedric remained silent, unwilling to taint the man’s private moment with his daughter with uninvited words.
“Do you have children, Sedric?” the Patron asked, keeping his voice quiet, as if afraid of waking the girl.
“No,” Sedric said. “My lifestyle never lent itself to having a family.”
“That’s too bad. Just by their very presence, children have a way of showing us what’s important in life. I mean, look at me.” The Patron gestured at his unkempt clothing. “I run a company that’s worth more than many countries, and yet I haven’t spoken with anyone outside this room since we…”
“Since you…?” Sedric looked at the girl with renewed interested. Her chestnut-colored hair, draped across a green medical smock, framed an innocent face. White gauze poked out from under her left sleeve. “You branded her?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“We don’t have much time left, Sedric. She’s getting worse.”
Sedric opened his mouth, but his words died in his throat. The Patron had branded her ahead of schedule, well ahead of schedule. There was no way his team had spent enough time properly studying the artifact and extracting its secrets. Sedric knew all too well the abilities the Blood Wand could imbue, but those abilities would be useless to the girl. She needed the powers only the magi clerics had—the power to heal. Only then would she have a chance. To move forward without a concrete idea of the wand’s capabilities meant the Patron was getting desperate.
“When?” Sedric managed to choke out.
“Yesterday.”
“And…?”
“And I’m still waiting for her to wake up.” A single tear streaked down his left cheek.
“It must be a pretty traumatic experience for one so young,” Sedric said slowly. He of course knew the pain associated with the branding but wasn’t about to let the Patron know that. If the Patron even suspected Sedric had branded himself before handing over the Blood Wand… well, it wouldn’t have a positive outcome. Fortunately, Sedric’s well-known stance on the magi worked in his favor. The idea of Sedric branding himself would be unthinkable, though if the Patron ever chose to inspect him, Sedric would have no way to hide it.
That would be an interesting day.
“Her doctors said she was strong enough,” the Patron said. “And she was asleep of course.”
“Of course.”
The Patron let out a deep sigh and gave his daughter’s hand a squeeze before standing and making his way across the room to the sink. Looking at himself in the mirror, he wet his hands and ran his fingers through his hair in a failed attempt to make himself more presentable. “Tell me again what you know of the wand.”
“It’s old,” Sedric said without preamble. “At least two thousand years, though probably older than that, and it gave the magi race second life after their number nearly died out.”
“It’s supposed to give magi abilities.” The Patron watched Sedric from the mirror.
“Yes, though I guess what abilities is the real question.” Which is why I’m surprised you didn’t wait to study it before staining your daughter with it.
The Patron pulled a couple paper towels from the dispenser and dried his hands. “But you think it’s something that can save my daughter.”
“I wouldn’t have brought it to you if I didn’t.”
The Patron turned and leaned against the counter, watching Sedric with an expression the Knight Commander couldn’t place. “I hope you understand the trust I’m placing in you, Sedric. There are experimental treatments, and then there is this. If something goes awry, I don’t need to remind you who’s responsible.”
Sedric had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping back. He hadn’t reached out to the Patron, and neither had the Rakkaran leadership. The Patron had come to them seeking information, and after confirming the existence of the magi, he’d been the one to make the proposal. He’d even insisted that the Knights refer to him as “the Patron” in a ridiculous ploy to keep his true identity a secret. Not that it had been overly difficult to figure out, but that was another piece of information Sedric kept from the man. In any case, the Patron had agreed to bankroll the Knights’ efforts in eliminating the magi, but in return, he wanted their help in finding a way to use their abilities to treat his ailing daughter.
How he had discovered the magi or the existence of the Knights themselves remained a mystery. Sedric hadn’t pressed, either. The agreement had seemed like such a simple proposal, and after learning about the Blood Wand, Sedric had realized there might be a way to tackle both objectives at the same time. But with the Patron already laying the idea of failure at his feet, he needed to tread lightly.
“There is no need for reminders,” Sedric said evenly. “We all know what is at stake.”
“Good.” The Patron glanced at his daughter’s motionless body. “Then you won’t object to a new idea.”
“A new idea?”
“In case the wand doesn’t do what we hope it’ll do.”
“A contingency plan.”
“Sure.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Sedric found himself smiling as the Patron laid out his scheme. It wasn’t terribly clever—Sedric would have recommended it himself if the Patron hadn’t—but it would inflict more pain on the magi than simple death ever would have. And that, of course, was Sedric’s true objective.
“I’ll see it done,” Sedric said.
“That’s great, Sedric. Thank you. When can I tell our team to expect the first returns?”
“Soon,” Sedric said. “Soon.”
He had no intention of letting the magi sit idle for any longer than he had to.
Chapter 2
Panic flared through the echo. Startled by the sudden wave of foreign emotion, Jaxon froze the Mahari in midpose. He sent his own feeling of curiosity back through the forbidden connection that allowed him to feel Leira’s emotions as if they were his own. Wherever she was, she would feel his voiceless question instantly—not in the form of words, the echo wasn’t a telepathic link, but as a wave of external feelings similar to what he had felt.
Beyond what he had experienced firsthand, Jaxon knew little about the echo—it was forbidden, after all, and rarely spoken about—but he had come to appreciate how close the magi link had brought him and Leira, though he supposed that hadn’t prevented him from being terrified when he had discovered they’d formed the bond. If the magi leadership ever discovered it, Jaxon and Leira would experience their unimaginable wrath. More than that, it meant Jaxon would never experience another moment of privacy.
Every flash of annoyance, moment of irritation, pang of guilt, or spike of amusement would be instantly shared with the one person whose opinion he valued most. The one person he loved more than any other. The one person he never wanted to hurt. But where all magi abilities had consequences, they also had benefits, and in times like this, when the magi were fighting a vicious enemy hell-bent on their destruction, those benefits far outweighed any disadvantages.
Sweat chilling his exerted body, Jaxon waited for Leira’s response. Before long, a wave of urgency flooded through him as she pleaded with him to find her.
I’m coming, Jaxon responded, trusting the words would translate into a feeling she would understand. He grabbed his compression armor top from a nearby tree limb and pulled it over his head, frustrated that the Mahari had been cut short again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to complete the magi kata without being interrupted. War was inconvenient in that way. Keeping that war invisible from the outside world and ensuring that the existence of the magi race remained a secret from the rest of humanity was even more problematic.
Concern reverberated through the connection. Leira had felt his frustration and was worried.
I’m fine, Jaxon thought, stepping back onto the path that led to the Klausner Manor. It was little more than a narrow trail, nearly hidden among emerald green grass, colorful wild flowers, and thick trees. Having spent years in the mountains and forests of the Pacific Northwest, Jaxon had instantly taken to the familiar setting of the Swiss Alps and worked to find time every day to spend at least a few minutes in its beauty.
He found Leira waiting with a full squad of magi—twelve in all, including Allyn, Nolan, and Nyla—in the driveway of the manor. Their compression armor and grim expressions told him everything he needed to know.
“Report,” Jaxon said.
“There’s been another attack,” Leira said, confirming Jaxon’s fears. “We’re needed.”
Jaxon cursed. The attacks were growing more frequent. The Knights of Rakkar had them on the ropes and were pressing the advantage.
“Who?”
“The Friedl Family.”
“That’s…” Jaxon did the distance calculations in his head.
“An hour away,” Leira said.
An hour was an eternity in battle—especially when the Knights of Rakkar raided magi Families in the same way Vikings had once terrorized the coastlines of Europe. Unlike the Vikings, who’d raped and pillaged, fueling their economy, the Knights cared only about death and destruction. They pressed hard, acted fast, and retreated when the magi mounted a strong counterattack. It was death by a million paper cuts, but the magi were hemorrhaging.
“Who else has been called?” Jaxon asked.
“The Blackburn Family will be the first to arrive.”
“Good,” Jaxon said. “That will give us some time.”
“There’s something else.” Leira grimaced as if she didn’t know how to put it into words. “The reports are… strange. The Knights’ strategy is different. We can’t be sure, but they might be taking prisoners.”