Merlin's Children (The Children and the Blood)

by Megan Joel Peterson

  But there was nothing like the slaughter of kids to undercut your enemy’s will to fight. Sometimes, anyway.

  He shook his head, the thoughts beating against the pain in his temples.

  And he’d made it happen. He’d set it up. He’d used the woman being rushed to the hospital right now as a cover, as if he hadn’t known that leaving her to step into that hallway would never be safe, and he’d given up the location of a bunch of children without ever considering they might be the ones behind that door.

  But he hadn’t cared. He’d just assumed…

  He’d always just assumed…

  That wizards could ever be the good guys. That people didn’t lie. That ninety-nine percent of their world wasn’t solely focused on their own advantage, regardless of how many innocents they had to crush beneath them along the way.

  And he was so, so much smarter than that. At least, he should have been.

  A rasping breath escaped him as he opened his eyes, his gaze landing on the apartment building and its wreath of hoses and spinning emergency lights.

  He’d wanted to keep people safe. To protect those whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And instead, he’d ended up helping a group every bit as vicious as Ashley’s had ever been.

  He wondered how many others the Blood had killed, while always telling him the Merlin were the only ones to blame.

  Dragging in another breath, he looked away, his gaze tracking across the oblivious crowd watching the blaze. He didn’t know how to make it right. He was only here because no one believed him anyway. Just saying Ashley went up in flames had gotten him driven off the police force, and if he ever tried to tell anyone about the things he’d seen since, a straitjacket and a rainbow of pills would only be the beginning.

  He couldn’t touch them. They operated with impunity based upon the simple fact they couldn’t be seen. And he couldn’t change that. He couldn’t make the world look past their magic, or stare at supposedly blank video for however long it took for the static to give way. Recording a confession was useless, as was filming one of their fights, and with how far off the grid they’d made themselves, he’d be hard-pressed to find anything linking them to their continent-wide swath of crimes.

  His head throbbed as his gaze ran over the crisp interior of the sedan without seeing the upholstery and plastic at all.

  He had nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had…

  Harris paused, the tiny blur in front of him resolving into the rental company sticker at which he hadn’t realized he’d been staring.

  Incredulity nearly made him laugh.

  He was an idiot. The answer was right there.

  Based on everything he’d seen, he had to assume the Blood used shell companies. Fake names and identification were probably considered basic necessities. In all their dealings, they’d undoubtedly been meticulous to avoid any trace that would connect to them directly, and their underworld contacts would likely put a mob boss to shame.

  But everyone left a trail. Following the dead had led him to Ashley, for all that it hadn’t gone according to plan in the end. And trailing Cole’s friend had gotten him closer to finding the boy than anyone else in eight years. It hadn’t been perfect, and it hadn’t brought him success overall, but that wasn’t the point.

  It had worked. And there was one small, terribly important difference this time.

  He was on the inside. He wasn’t reading case reports or looking at evidence months after the crime. He was in their building, going on their raids, doing their dirty work and being ignored throughout every other part of the day.

  Air escaped him as he looked back at the crowd still watching the flames.

  A paper trail of private flights and car rentals between their murders could be enough to start the police looking for them. Eventually, it might even put their faces on the internet and TV. And while that wouldn’t bring back the kids they’d killed or the others who’d gotten in their way, it would make life difficult to an extreme. Every time they set foot outside the door, they’d be at risk, because even if regular folks didn’t necessarily see them, other wizards would recognize them immediately.

  Though maybe, just maybe, if enough people started paying attention, they’d break through that damn invisibility.

  A small chuckle slipped out and he drew a breath, reining the sound back in. Finding evidence wouldn’t be enough. He’d need more than just what the Blood had on hand if he was going to piece their little empire together in a way the rest of the world would see.

  Glancing down, he picked up his phone and then hesitated.

  There wasn’t an alternative. He didn’t have the resources to do this alone.

  His thumb hit the speed dial.

  “Hello?”

  He drew a breath. “Hey, Scott.”

  “John?”

  “Yeah.”

  The man paused, and Harris could almost picture the expressions that would have been running across his face, if not for the scars. “It’s been a while,” Malden said carefully.

  “I know. I’m sorry about that.”

  “You alright?”

  It was his turn to pause. “I need to ask you something.”

  “You should come back in, John.”

  Rubbing his eyes, Harris didn’t answer. Silence hung between them, and then a squeaking sound carried across the line, followed by the clunk of a closing door.

  “You still in the wheelchair?” he asked uncomfortably.

  “Another few weeks.” A moment passed. “I take it you were getting Rhianne’s emails, then.”

  “Yeah.”

  The hiss of the phone connection became deafening.

  “Listen, if you’d rather I not–” Harris started.

  “What’s the question?”

  He hesitated. “Do you still have access to the department databases?”

  “You can’t–”

  “It’s about the girl.”

  Malden went quiet. “She’s the FBI’s problem, John,” he said with tight control. “Let them handle it.”

  Harris’ gaze skimmed the crowd as he tried to figure out what to say.

  “You find her?” Malden asked, an edge to the words.

  He hesitated. “Close.”

  A moment passed.

  “You going to bring her in?”

  He grimaced. “If I can.”

  Malden let a breath out slowly. “Alright. What do you need?”

  Harris’ eyes closed in relief. “You got a pen?”

  He could hear rustling on the other end of the phone. “Yeah,” Malden said.

  “Okay, take these down. Victor Jamison. Mason Brogan. Simeon Cavanaugh. Isabella Marceau. Mark Keller. I want everything you can find.”

  “These people connected to the girl?”

  “Very.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Scott.”

  Malden scoffed. “I’ll treasure your gratitude when we’re in jail.”

  In spite of himself, he chuckled before he hung up the phone. Sliding the cell into his pocket, he glanced back at the crowd.

  News crews surrounded the building now, filming the destruction and interviewing firemen who would only have mundane and mistaken answers to give for the blaze.

  But maybe that could change.

  He started the car. Checking the traffic briefly, he pulled the vehicle from the curb and headed back for the airport.

  Brogan would want to know why he was covered in soot, and the wizards would be furious he was so late, but he wasn’t concerned. Like everything else, he’d just come up with a cover story.

  Harris smiled. After six months of tracking wizards through a world where no one else believed they existed, he’d gotten really good at those anyway.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I thought it was this way…” Lily said worriedly as she stared out at the spruce trees crowding the roadside. “Past that big boulder that looked like a house.”

&n
bsp; In the seat behind her, Cole made a hedging noise. “I don’t remember any boulder, and I’m pretty sure their place was a lot farther west than this. Over near Bellingham, maybe.”

  Her grip on the steering wheel tightening, Ashe glanced to Spider in the rearview mirror. The girl rolled her eyes. In the two days since they’d left Banston, the boy hadn’t quit trying to slow them down. If it wasn’t comments that they were going the wrong way, it was possible attempts to sabotage the car. More than once when they paused for gas, she or Spider had spotted him lingering near the vehicle, eyeing it as though trying to figure out how to break it without either killing them all or leaving too much of a trace. Between the two of them, they’d swiftly taken to never letting him out of their sight, although that hadn’t brought an end to the incessant commentary.

  Twisting in her seat, Lily looked back at him. “Really?”

  Cole made a rueful noise. “I think so.”

  Ashe gritted her teeth, biting back two days’ worth of frustration. With how he’d been steadily undermining the girl’s confidence, there was a good chance they were on the wrong road anyway.

  “You’re doing fine, Lil,” she said, her eyes on the gravel track.

  The little girl glanced between them and then turned back to the road. “I… I didn’t think it was too much farther.”

  “Lily, I’m sorry, but I really mean it. We’re wasting our time. That turn back at the highway was a lot more familiar than–”

  “Please shut up,” Spider sighed, not looking at anyone in particular.

  Ashe fought back a grin. More than just for being able to trade off driving with the girl, Spider had been about the only thing that’d gotten her this far, mostly by keeping her from going insane. Katherine had yet to answer any calls, though that hadn’t stopped Cole from badgering her about asking the wizards to search the southeast. The car had barely held together over the past thousand miles, and lately emitted smoke from beneath the hood whenever they stopped. She was fairly certain Cole wasn’t to blame for it, though holding him responsible anyway was tempting. They had little if any plan to speak of, and no matter what Cole said, there weren’t any Merlin left that she knew how to reach.

  But they were close. And as naïve as it seemed, she still had to hope that counted for something.

  “Slow down,” Lily said.

  Ashe slowed accordingly and winced as the engine shuddered.

  The little girl leaned forward in her seat. “There was a gate…”

  “I’m telling you, Lily,” Cole said with frustration. “We should go back. There’s nothing down–”

  Ashe hit the brakes as the car came around the curve. Black and imposing, a metal gate stood a few feet away, with petite security cameras mounted on either side. Near the edge of the gravel road, a decorative pole stood, a small speaker box mounted to its top.

  Spider looked over at Cole dryly. “Obviously, your sense of direction sucks.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Creeping the car forward and trying to ignore the wisps of smoke already rising from beneath the hood, Ashe eyed the security cameras as she pulled up next to the speaker. Their lenses focused on the forest, neither device moved.

  She glanced back at Spider in the rearview mirror. The girl shrugged.

  The window crank squealed as she wound the glass down. Cautiously, she pressed the microphone button. “Hello?”

  Silence answered her.

  “Turn around,” Cole ordered, all trace of theatrics gone from his tone.

  She glanced back at him and then looked to Lily and Spider. “Stay here.”

  “Ashe–” Cole protested.

  The hinges screeched as she pushed open the door. Watching the forest, she climbed out and approached the gate, letting her magic surround her. Birds chirped in the distance, joining the growl of the engine and the crunch of her shoes on the gravel as the only sounds. Ahead, the path twisted around a blind turn and disappeared into the thick cover of pine trees. Cautiously, she put a hand to the black metal fence, and then tensed when it yielded instantly to her touch. Still watching the forest, she pushed the twin sides of the gate open, and then retreated to the car.

  “– try that again!” Spider snapped as Ashe pulled open the door.

  She looked from the girl to Cole. Her hand on one of the weapons under her jacket, Spider was eyeing the boy as though she’d like nothing more than to shoot him, while Cole just looked as if he wished he still had the gun Spider had taken from him two days before.

  “What happened?” Ashe asked as she climbed back in.

  “Your friend tried to make a run for it.”

  “I wasn’t–”

  Scowling, Ashe shut the door on his words and then put the car back into gear.

  Shifting position, Cole started forward and then halted at a warning noise from Spider. “Ashe,” he urged as the car rolled past the gate. “Think about this for a minute. Something’s wrong here. Turn around.”

  Watching the gravel road, she didn’t answer. There wasn’t any point.

  “Dammit!” he snapped, ignoring Spider as he leaned forward again. “Listen to me! My grandparents would never turn off their security. They’re the most paranoid freaks in the world. And you know who else was headed here. Please, just stop the car and–”

  “I’m not leaving her with you,” Ashe said, glancing to the motionless security cameras hanging in the trees.

  He made an infuriated noise. “This isn’t just about her, alright? You both–”

  The car came round the turn and his words died.

  Lily made a small noise, but Ashe didn’t look over. Her irritation drained away, leaving a void. On autopilot, she let the car come to a stop.

  Beneath the cloudless blue sky, pulverized bricks lay everywhere, crumbled into enormous mounds or scattered across the yard as though backhanded by a giant. Blackened struts of wood protruded at odd angles from the heart of the fallen house, along with twists of pipe that looked as though they’d been ripped in half. Ruts showed in the grass where emergency vehicles had come and gone, and at the edge of the yard, a single lamppost stood incongruous watch.

  She pushed open the door.

  Cool wind swept around her, making a half-broken pipe in the wreckage creak as it swayed in the breeze. She pulled her jacket closer and stepped away from the car as, behind her, she heard the others shut the doors.

  Gravel crunched as Lily circled to her side. “I-I didn’t…” she whispered, taking her sister’s hand. “It wasn’t like this…”

  Ashe looked back.

  One hand on top of the car and his face bloodlessly pale, Cole stared at the destruction. On the other side of the vehicle, Spider was watching them and the forest equally, her guns already drawn.

  Ashe headed for the house.

  Charred shingles littered the bright green grass, the pieces cracking beneath her shoes. Blackened clusters of twigs showed at intervals where bushes must have been, and broken stumps of metal and wire stood where other lampposts had once circled the yard. Through the trees ringing the property, the wind returned, stirring the ashes and sending the acrid stench of old smoke into the air.

  She closed her eyes, faltering as the smell brought back the memory of another place the Blood had taken away.

  The wind died. Tightening her grip on Lily’s hand, she walked closer to the wreckage.

  Bricks had crushed the house when they fell, and fire had taken care of whatever survived the collapse. Several yards in, a sudden drop showed where the basement lurked, though the majority of it was choked with debris.

  Her eyes ran over the ruins as she circled the perimeter of the massive house. A bit of charred paper was caught between two bricks, the beautifully calligraphic writing saying nothing sensible, and half-crushed beneath a ceiling strut, the arm of a display stand twisted upward, its occupant long since gone. More remnants of the historians’ archives met her gaze, from picture frames blackened by fire to warped leather backings for b
ooks whose contents were only ash.

  She slowed, drawing an unsteady breath. She’d known there was a strong chance he’d get here first. She’d known it before the four of them ever left Banston, though she’d still had to try. And it was possible Jamison hadn’t done this. The historians had pretended to be dead before. After Lily and Cole left, they could have razed the place and run, just like Cole claimed.

  Her gaze landed on the charred scrap of a painting, its edges eaten by fire till all that remained was the desperate image of an old man, his lifted hands pleading with the sky.

  She strode back to the car.

  “What now?” Spider asked quietly.

  Ashe didn’t respond. “Do you know where they would’ve gone?” she asked Cole shortly.

  Blinking, he pulled his focus from the wreckage. “Sorry?”

  “The historians. They faked their deaths before, so…”

  He paused, his gaze sliding to the house, and then he drew a breath, nodding. “Right,” he said, returning his attention to her. “They, um…” He trailed off, his brow drawing down as though something about her upset him. More than usual, anyway. He blinked, looking away again. “I don’t know.”

  She grimaced, clinging to the surge of irritation to stave off the powerlessness she was trying to ignore. “Then who would? Neighbors? Other relatives? You have to know something.”

  He didn’t answer. His eyes were back on the rubble.

  “What about Ben and Sue?”

  Cole flinched at the soft sound of Lily’s voice, and Ashe saw him hesitate.

  “Who are Ben and Sue?” she asked them both.

  “They’re people we stayed with for a while,” Lily explained. “They knew his grandparents.”

  Spider cast Cole a disgusted look. He didn’t seem to notice.

  “Would the Blood know about them?” Ashe asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Lily said.