Steph let out a low hiss. “But that means the Brethren and the vampires are working together.”
Garzan did not acknowledge the comment. Instead, he kept his gaze squarely on Mike. “The Brethren have always been players in the black market for dark items. They need such things to perform their spells. But to see the vampires taking an interest in the black market as well…” Garzan stroked his goatee. “Means we may have an alliance on our hands that we would rather not think about.”
The room was silent. Mike had no idea what the ramifications of a Vampire-Brethren alliance would be. Was that huge trouble? A little bit of trouble? A mere nuisance? After all, the Slayers seemed to strike fear in the vampires’ hearts, no pun intended. Okay, maybe a little pun intended. But either way… the Slayers must’ve been doing a pretty solid job keeping them under wraps – Sylvan himself had been nervous during the exchange, as if he didn’t want the Slayers to see what he was doing. And the Brethren hadn’t done all that well when they’d attacked the manor. In fact, they’d been routed by the Gargoyles… so why was Garzan treating this like it was the end of the world?
“You must understand.” Stockton moved from his perch against the bookshelf. “The Black Brethren have never considered the vampires to be any more than animals, perverted creatures that served no purpose. If they now consider them allies, the vampires become much more than some nasty promcrashers. The Brethren will train them to become soldiers, harbingers of evil, attacking with purpose instead of based on cravings for blood.”
Mike shook his head. “I still don’t get it. The vampires are nocturnal. The gargoyles are nocturnal. What’s the big deal? Are you telling me that a bunch of vampires will run wild with all of the gargoyle species patrolling the night?”
Stockton at Garzan, then back at Mike again. He said, “Perhaps,” and nothing more.
“It is late,” Garzan said suddenly. He pushed off the table and opened the door. “Why don’t you all get some sleep.”
“Wait,” Mike said, disappointed the Headmage hadn’t addressed one small detail. “Who is Dementae?”
Stockton nearly jumped out of his leather uniform. “What did you say?”
“Dementae,” Mike repeated. “The guy who Sylvan was buying the package for?”
Stockton regarded Mike with narrowed eyes. “You must be mistaken.” He looked to the Headmage, but Garzan seemed busy with something in his drawer.
“I know what I heard.” Mike motioned at Marie Lu for some backup, and she nodded her head in agreement.
“Headmage?” Stockton said.
Garzan finished whatever he’d been doing in his desk drawer, then looked up abruptly. “I will watch the tapes again. But I also believe you misheard.” Garzan got up and opened door. “That is all.”
As Mike exited with his fellow Guardians, he heard Garzan’s voice behind him.
“Michael, can you stay back for a minute?”
Mike smiled to himself, almost expecting it. He watched Steph go, who gave him a look as the office door closed between them. Mike couldn’t tell if it was flirtatious, jealous, or just confused. Maybe the girl was harder to read than he thought.
“This is for your ears only, Mr. Prior. Do you understand?”
Mike turned and braced for what they were about to tell him. Could they possibly have known about his plan to go see Laura? It hadn’t exactly turned out exactly how he’d expected… so he wasn’t in trouble for that, was he?
Garzan started pacing back and forth. “What you did last night was both incredibly courageous and unsuspectingly stupid.”
Mike raised an eyebrow, feeling emboldened by what Zachariah had said in the car ride home. If they were going to blame him for saving Zachariah’s life… his manners be damned before he’d let that go over.
“How’s that?”
“I am not speaking about your daring sprint to save Zachariah. I am proud that you wanted to save your comrade, and I am proud that you would so willingly sacrifice your own safety for his.”
Garzan stopped walking. His eyebrows slanted and his forehead creased. “What I am talking about is the parlay you made with the Slayers.”
Mike felt his body tremble. He could almost feel the power surging through Garzan’s gaze, as if the Headmage was trying to look straight through him and examine his mind.
After a long moment, Garzan broke off his intense stare and resumed his pacing, seemingly satisfied. “There are five sects of Guardian-Gargoyle clans. Each one has their own symbolism, their own history. Our clan, as you know, has been exiled.”
“Because of Rafael,” Stockton said quickly, looking at Mike as if it was his fault.
“Yes, I get that part,” Mike said, an edge in his voice. He was starting to get more than fed up with that little fact.
Garzan asked Stockton, “Did you get up to the War of 1868?”
Stockton snorted. “It’s been four days, Headmage.”
Garzan nodded, then spoke in a gentler tone. “After Rafael’s betrayal, our clan was banished from the Gargoyle guilds. We do not speak our clan’s name, and neither do the others.” The Headmage took a deep breath, as if it pained him to speak about such things.
“As for the Slayers, they are non-magical, as you may have read. Although skilled in hand-to-hand combat, they stand no chance against any of the Brethren.
“Hundreds of years ago, the Slayers and Guardians formed an alliance to fight a common evil. That alliance lasted over four centuries. But in the Vampiric War of 1868, the Slayers left the Guardians to their own defenses, incorrectly believing the Guardians had more reinforcements coming. They headed back towards Scotland to defend another part of the territory.” Garzan shifted his weight. “The Guardians in Manchester were annihilated. Only after the Slayers recognized their mistake did they return to aid their allies. But the damage was already done. As you may have realized, gargoyles are easily offended. The Guardian-Gargoyle clans swore never to ally themselves with the Slayers again. Since then, we have fought in solitude – Guardians fighting Brethren, Slayers fighting Vampires, never crossing paths.”
Mike rubbed the back of his neck, trying to follow. “I still don’t get it. What’s the big deal? We were both tracking the same guy, right? We can’t even be on the same turf as them?”
Garzan shook his head. “If word gets back to the other Gargoyle clans that we met the Slayers and let them go, they will wage war on us. We are already despised in our own circles. If word of this incident reaches their ears, and it is interpreted to mean that we have allied ourselves with the Slayers, the Guardian guilds will come at us with such a force that none of us will survive.”
Mike stared at the Headmage.
Zachariah had been right. There was much more going on behind the scenes than Garzan had told them.
But it was still hard to believe. Would the other Guardians really wage civil war on their brothers, just because of a small incident in the park? What, did they want Mike to kill every Slayer he ran into? And besides…
“How will they find out? I mean, are there Guardian spies in every place in the world?”
Mike studied Stockton’s face. His eyes were alive, his jaw clenched. He was angry… but something about Stockton’s expression told Mike that the Magus was not upset at him.
“They know already,” Mike breathed.
Garzan looked back at Stockton again. Neither of them moved.
“He has to know,” Stockton said through gritted teeth.
The Headmage didn’t move.
“What is it?” Mike said, suddenly nervous. “What do I have to know?”
Suddenly, out of nowhere, Stockton exploded off the bookshelf. “He can handle it, James! He’s a Guardian, for crying out loud! What are we going to do, pretend the world is full of peace and roses and stuffed animals? He’s a Guardian, he’s here at Windham, and we’re at war. What else do you need?”
“Wait,” Mike said, his apprehension growing rapidly. “What can’t I handle? What is i
t, what’s going on?”
Instead of answering, Garzan breathed deeply, then nodded. He went over to his desk, where he slid the remote out of its drawer and pointed it at the wall.
A man’s face lit up the white screen. He had a burly mustache underneath a nose that took up half of his face. Behind him stood two freestanding braziers, with fire that flickered in the night sky.
“Greetings, James,” the man rolled off in accented English. Then, to Mike’s shock, he cursed the Headmage out. To his face. First in French – what little French Mike knew, it was the curse words – and then again in English.
“I will not waste more breath than is necessary. Know this. Because of the Prior boy’s actions tonight, I have taken actions of my own.”
The camera shifted, and Mike saw a body tied between the two braziers – no, it was suspended in the air. There was blood on the person’s face, dripping from the lip… it looked like a woman, the way the wind blew, and the bruises on her body—
“MOM!”
Mike’s senses went into overload. Out of nowhere, the ball of energy he’d felt during his fight with Zachariah surged inside of him. He wanted to break through the screen and punch the man in his huge freaking nose, then strangle him with his own stupid mustache… then pound his rotting carcass with fireball after fireball…
The camera returned to the big-nosed jackass, who now had a feathered beret on his head. “I will return her in one week’s time, as long her son doesn’t do anything else treasonous.” He rolled the last word off his tongue as if he had invented it.
“That is, as long as she doesn’t die first.”
With that, the man grabbed fire from the brazier and pelted it straight into Mom’s stomach.
“No!” Mike screamed.
Mom’s body jerked like she’d gotten punched in the gut. Her shirt caught fire.
Then the screen went black.
The fire inside of Mike raged. “Where is he?” Mike slammed his hands on the Headmage’s desk. “I’m going to kill him, do you understand me? I’m going to kill him!”
“Oh, please do,” Stockton muttered.
“Michael,” the Headmage said. “First of all, calm down. You are scorching my table.”
“I’m… what?”
Mike looked down to where his hands were pressed into the Headmage’s desk. There were burnt marks in the mahogany, in the shape of handprints.
“Oh, I… I’m so sorry, I totally didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Garzan said. He waved a hand. Mike heard a creaking sound, and the mahogany started stretching, until the wood covered over the burn marks.
“Um… neat trick,” Mike muttered. He still felt the power burning inside him, but he had no desire to squelch it, just maintain it until he got into a fight with whoever that idiot was…
“Your mother is still alive, I can guarantee it.”
Mike looked back at the Headmage. “I’m still going to kill that guy.”
“Maybe,” the Headmage allowed. “But not today. You are not nearly strong enough, nor controlled enough. Magistrate Dubois would have no trouble with you at all.”
“Who was she?” Stockton said.
“Huh?”
“The Slayer you let go.”
At first Mike didn’t understand. Then he realized Stockton was talking about Laura.
Mike growled. As if he was the one who had done the “letting go.” Besides, what did Stockton care, anyway?
“Uh, we used to be friendly. In Queens, before I came here.”
Stockton’s eyes narrowed. “How friendly?”
Mike threw up his hands. “She was my girlfriend, all right? All right? She had a dog named Lazy. Her room was on the top floor, second from the left, filled with pink Hello Kitty pillows and enormous karate trophies. We went out for two months, the best two months of my life! Want to know how far we went? Barely second base, because she’s a bit of a prude, but that’s probably farther than you’ve ever gotten!” Mike was breathing so hard, he thought he’d give himself asthma or something. “Are you happy now? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”
Stockton said nothing. He had a slightly bemused smile on his face, indicating that he was, in fact, quite happy.
“Michael,” the Headmage said. “I know you want to go rescue your mother. But I believe the Magistrate, even though I despise him. He gains nothing by killing your mother. He will probably hold on to her – humiliate her, maybe – but he will not kill her. Trust me when I say that, I have known him long enough. At least that much you can do for me?”
Mike inhaled slowly. He so wanted to hunt down that Dubois and put an electric charge down his throat… but even he realized he had almost no chance of doing that by himself. At least not yet. He felt so guilty about putting his mother in this position… but how could he have acted differently? His mom wouldn’t have wanted him to kill Laura – that was insane! What else could he have done?
“Make no mistake about it, everything we do – each and every one of us – has real ramifications. Every move we make, every word we utter, has the potential to destroy us. We have succeeded in keeping the fight as far away from Windham as we can, but if this episode blows up in our face… do you understand?”
Mike started to say no, I don’t get—but then he stopped himself.
A jolt went up his spine.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
The entire time, he had wondered what the fuss was about. When Garzan had first told him about the Guardians, when he’d seen the Gargoyles, watched them rout the Brethren on Windham’s own soil… he had wondered what the big deal was. Yes, Mrs. Jorisch had been killed, and that was terrible… but were they really threatened? Mike had just assumed there were other Guardians to fight on different fronts. The Gargoyles could crush the vampires, while the Guardians could take out the Brethren. Even without the Slayers’ help.
Except for one small detail.
“We’re fighting them all by ourselves,” Mike whispered.
His fears doubled as he watched Garzan nod ever so slightly.
So that was the deal. It wasn’t all the Guardians and Gargoyles in the world versus the Vampires and Brethren… it was Windham versus everyone else, which possibly included other Guardians…
“Now you understand the urgency,” Stockton said.
Mike didn’t move for a minute, a mixture of shock and nervousness and downright fear taking hold of his body.
“How long do I need? Until I can challenge him?”
“Years,” Garzan said abruptly. “Do not focus on DuBois. Keep your focus on the Brethren.”
“He is torturing my mother, and you want me to forget about it?”
“No, Michael. But if you let it consume you, it will blind you to the true purpose of your life.”
“One week.” Mike slammed a fist on Garzan’s desk. Cracks of heat spread out on the wood underneath his hand, but he didn’t care. “That’s it. If I’m not hugging my mom by this time next week, I’m out of here, with whoever’ll come with me.” Mike pointed an accusing finger at the Headmage. “That’s the least you can do for not bringing her to Windham.”
With that, Mike stormed out of the room, his hands still smoking.
***
As soon as Mike left the room, Garzan repaired the wood on his desk. “There goes the most volatile weapon we have had in the last two centuries.”
“Don’t give me that.” Stockton snorted. “It was time.”
“That may be,” Garzan allowed. “But if Dementae is truly looking to use Michael as a weapon, we just prepped him for launch.”
Stockton was silent for a moment. “He’s back, then.”
“Absolutely.”
“But how?”
Garzan told him.
“How do you know?”
“Dementae is not the only one with spies, my friend.”
Stockton’s eyes widened. “You didn’t tell me.”
“The less people who know, the better.”<
br />
“You can’t possibly—”
“Of course not, Seth. But who knows how good Dementae’s spy is? Or spies, for that matter. If we haven’t caught them yet, who’s to say they can’t listen in on your thoughts when your guard is lowered?”
“My guard is always up, Headmage.”
“Yes, I know.” Garzan sighed, and rubbed his forehead. He didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he said reluctantly, “Let him fight her. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“We have no choice, Magus.”
“With all due respect, Headmage, I thought—”
“That we wanted him to hone his skills, yes. But I’m afraid we don’t have time for that anymore.” Garzan breathed deep.
“Headmage, you know how I feel about students getting hurt, but she could kill—”
“We have no choice, Magus!” Garzan’s eyes were ablaze. “What happens if Dementae gets his hands on him, tomorrow, or the next day? The kid won’t last a minute under Dementae’s tortures! He needs to experience pain, so he can withstand whatever Dementae might throw at him.”
Stockton worked his jaw.
“You don’t like it,” Garzan said.
“Of course I don’t like it.”
“Finally warming up to him?”
“Let’s not get too carried away,” Stockton muttered. He paced back and forth, then grunted. “In Sparring class?”
Garzan nodded. “In Sparring class.”
“So be it.”
Chapter Twenty Two
Mike figured this was how a volcano felt, right before it buried a town in burning lava.
He stormed down the hallway, barely able to think straight. The past twenty-four hours had raised his stress level to heights he never thought possible. The excitement of possibly seeing Laura, the battle in Central Park... their subsequent “breakup”… Garzan’s whole background story with the Slayers, and the complications with Laura being one of them… the revelation that Windham’s Guardians were alone in this fight, with no one to turn to for help…
The Guardian Lineage Page 13
