Savior of Midnight_an Urban Fantasy Novel
Page 17
My throat was suddenly dry. “The Gables?”
“Wila ...” Trevor nudged me with this nose.
I took a breath. “How many days has it been since they left?”
“Two,” he said. “They’ve been gone for two days. It was meant to be a day trip.”
“You need to bring in The Collective. If Trevor’s theory of black market dealings is correct, and it’s looking real likely right now, then it’s a violation of the Treaty, The Collective have the right to go in guns blazing. The Arcana Institute would want to know.”
Hs swallowed hard. “I know, but if they find out about Amber then they’ll kill her.”
“What?”
He sighed. “I’m a Noir, Miss Bastion.” His lips curved in a wry smile.
“Ah shit,” Trevor said. “I knew that fucking name meant something.”
“One of the three founding families,” Gilbert said from by the window. “You’re an heir, aren’t you?”
Adam’s lips twisted. “Yes. And the rules for heirs are different. Our progeny must be pureblood. If not, they are put to death.”
My blood pressure ratcheted up a notch. Killing children? “Hell, no. That cannot be an actual practice.”
He ducked his head. “It’s not something we advertise and not many people know about it.” He glanced at the window. “Your friend, however, seems to.”
Gilbert was ominously silent.
“What I’m telling you now must stay between us. I’m putting my life at risk just by being here. I would have offered you more money but all Arcana Institute funds are tracked through the Central Bank. Any large withdrawals are flagged and must be explained on audit. I can’t risk that.”
But a grand would be peanuts to them, they wouldn’t bat an eye. “I’ll take the case.”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you. I did my research, and outside of The Collective, you’re the most trusted investigator in the city. You have a 100% retrieval rate. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Damn straight I did, which was why The Collective had been trying to recruit me for the past six months. Even though I didn’t have the gene marker that allowed me to travel between pockets, they still wanted me to work for them in Arcana City. But puppet strings weren’t a good look on me.
“Draconi territory is unmapped, they could be anywhere.” I rapped my fingers on the desk.
“The equinox celebration,” Gilbert said softly. “It’s tonight.”
Noir paled. “How did you know that? It’s not common knowledge.”
I looked from Noir to where I was certain Gilbert was hovering. “Okay, can someone please fill me in?”
“The equinox celebration is when the Draconi gather to give offerings to their liege,” Gilbert said. “A ceremony of thanks for the liberation she provided in bringing them out of their supernatural prison and into this world.”
This was the thing about Gilbert. He seemed to know stuff about stuff that other people didn’t—another reason for my 100% retrieval record.
Adam was staring at the window now, his eyes narrowed. The tickle of magic scratched at the back of my nose. He was trying to force Gilbert to appear. The air beside me shifted and Gilbert’s ghostly breath tickled my ear. “Make him stop.”
I cleared my throat. “If the Draconi have the kids, then they may be taken to the Equinox ceremony as an offering.” The words stuck in my throat as the implications sank in. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
His shoulders sagged. “Yes. But there is nothing I can do about that. If they are offered it will be as a private tribute. There is nothing I can do, which is why I’m here asking you for help.”
“Let me get this straight. I need to say it out loud to get the full impact of exactly what you’re expecting from me.”
His lips tightened, but he didn’t speak.
“You want me to somehow get over the border without a pass, infiltrate the Central Keep, scope it out, and find the kids?”
“Yes, Miss Bastion. That is exactly what I’m asking.” He pushed his shoulders back. “Can you do it?”
“Wila ...” Trevor’s voice was saturated with warning but this wasn’t a job I could turn down, not now that I had all the information.
“You got a map of the layout of the place?”
“No.”
“Ridiculous!” Trevor barked.
I patted him to sooth his hackles. “I’ll do it. I’ll find them. But getting them out may be a problem.”
Adam Noir blinked and refocused on me. “I’ve thought about that. You can use this to get them out.” He walked forward and placed something on the desk with a soft chink.
I stared at the transponder. A flat, blue disc used by Arcana for fast travel around the city, impossible to get hold of even on the arcane black market and extremely powerful.
“As long as you’re all touching, it will shift you all to a set of pre-inputted co-ordinates.”
“And where is that?”
“The Gables. It will take you to the Gables.”
The disc was cool and smooth in my hand. “And how does this thing work?”
“There’s a button in the center. You hit it three times in quick succession.”
Sure enough, there was a slight indent that could be a button. The urge to press it, to check, was almost too much.
“Don’t.” He laid a hand over mine sending electricity zinging up my arm.
I yanked my hand away. “Whoa. No touchy.”
His baby blues sparked again, as if set off by the physical contact. He blinked, killing the sparks. “I apologize. But you mustn’t press the button until you’re ready for transport.”
A quick glance out the window showed a mid-afternoon sun. “Go home, Mr. Noir. And let me do my job.”
“Thank you, Miss Bastion.” Adam vanished in a puff of smoke, and I slumped in my seat, heart pounding way too hard in my chest because this whole encounter and the punch in the gut details were playing havoc with my tea-deprived nerves, but that was something you didn’t show a client. Ever. Not if you wanted to instill confidence and build reputation. But if any investigator claimed they were fearless, then they were either missing the primal part of their brain responsible for keeping them alive, or they were lying.
“Gilbert, can you check the archives for any information on the Central keep?”
“Of course, Wila.”
It was a long shot because the Draconi were private creatures, the territory officially unmapped with tales passed down orally. But our archives consisted of some of the oldest texts, another gift from my elusive benefactor. If that failed, Gilbert would ghost into the Northside Infoweb and see what he could dig up. Still. Long shot.
A steaming cup of tea appeared in front of me courtesy of Gilbert. I picked it up and drained it. The heat didn’t burn my tongue or throat, part of my neph constitution, whatever that was, because who the fuck knew what I was. The caffeine would hit on route to my next stop. But now, it was time to gear up.
***
“This is a death mission,” Trevor said following me up the steps as I jogged up to the third floor of our quaint and sometimes creepy residence.
The building had come into my possession five years ago, around the same time that my official stay at the Gables was coming to an end. At eighteen, it had been time to move out and give my room to another kid in need. The documents had landed on our doorstep like a Godsend, some inheritance from a relative I’d never met and had no intention of finding out about. So, here I was—owner of four stories of mostly empty, dusty rooms. The ground floor was office space, a waiting room and a tiny kitchenette. The second story was Gilbert’s domain, a library and a study where Trevor chose to lay his canine head. Third floor was mine and the fourth we’d left unused. Decorating wasn’t my forte and the place was all burgundy rugs, old antique furniture, and creepy paintings of dead people. We stopped outside the room I called home.
“Wila, stop ignoring me,” Trevor wh
ined. “Did you hear me? Death. Mission.”
“I heard you Puppy, but hunting a five-foot hound in a cemetery isn’t exactly a walk in the park either.”
“Don’t call me Puppy, and you know that infiltrating Draconi territory without an invite is like waving your bloody knickers in the air for them to scent.”
“You’re gross, you know that?”
He snorted. “You know it’s true.”
Hand on doorknob, I looked down on him with a smirk. “You want to come in?”
He took a hasty step back. “I’ll wait here.” He let out a very human sounding sniff.
“Are you sure?” I sing-songed.
His eyes narrowed to slits. “Shove it, Bastion. You know I can’t stand it in there. You’re a sick dame, you know that. Real sick.” He looked me up and down. “To look at you, you would never think ...”
Rolling my eyes, I shouldered open the door and stepped into an explosion of pink and white. Okay, so the black leather jacket and biker boots and shit were great for on the job. They blended in to the night and hid blood stains and gore, but this was my princess haven, my detox from the shit that crawled through the streets. Two wardrobes stood flush against the wall. The first was for clothes—everyday outfits and several leather and padded trousers. But it was the second one that held the prize. Yanking it open, I pulled out Killion, my trustee crossbow. Heat shot up my arm. Ooo, he was pissed. It had been a while since I’d busted him out for a job, and the runes etched into his perfect frame flared to life in admonishment. He wasn’t sentient of course, not really, but damn if he didn’t always have my back.
“Sorry about shelving you, dude. It’s been a quiet couple of weeks. You up for a little excursion? Some hound spearing and then possibly some dragon piercing?”
The runes pulsed.
“Oh, goody. Cos that’s exactly where we’re gonna be headed.” Popping several armor-piercing arrows into my bolt bag, I slipped it on then flicked the switch to fold K into a pocket sized piece. Yeah, Killion was state of the fucking art, cost-an-arm-and-a-leg weaponry, and he never ever missed. Jacket on to cover the bolt bag, I headed back out to where Trevor waited. His tiny body vibrated with agitation.
“This is a suicide mission,” he pointed out for the third time.
“Maybe, but it’s not one I can turn down.”
“Damn it, Bastion, be smart. I get it, you have a thing for saving kids, but this is dragon territory—too many unknown variables, too much that could go wrong. Stick to the hound job and come home for supper.” He cocked his head. “Gilbert’s making jam rolly polly.”
My stomach grumbled. “God, you’re evil, you know that.”
His eyes lit up in triumph, but he didn’t know the truth, because it wasn’t something that we’d ever talked about in detail.
“This isn’t just about the kids, Trev. It’s about the Gables. It’s about the only home I ever knew. It’s about the woman who was like a mother to me.”
Trevor’s nose twitched. “That’s the orphanage you grew up in?”
“Yeah, and there is no way I’m letting those scaly fuckers get their teeth into my my matron.”
He snapped his jaws shut, and twitched his nose.
“I’ll bag the hound first, okay. Look, tell Gilbert I’ll call in a bit to see if he found anything on the Keep. If he does, he can scan it and upload it to the catseye.”
“Be careful, Wila.”
Yeah, it was dangerous, like certain death dangerous, because if I was discovered, they’d be within their rights to skin me alive and serve me up as an aperitif. What I needed was a dose of luck, and lucky for me, I knew just where to get one.
Grab your copy now!
Other books by Debbie Cassidy
The Gatekeeper Chronicles
Coauthored with Jasmine Walt
Marked by Sin
Hunted by Sin
Claimed by Sin
The Witch Blood Chronicles
(Spin-off to the Gatekeeper Chronicles)
Binding Magick
Defying Magick
Embracing Magick
Unleashing Magick
The Fearless Destiny Series
Beyond Everlight
Into Evernight
Under Twilight
The Chronicles of Midnight
Protector of Midnight
Champion of Midnight
Secrets of Midnight
Shades of Midnight
Savior of Midnight
Chronicles of Arcana
City of Demons
Novellas
Blood Blade
Grotesque – A Vampire Diary Kindle World book
About the Author
Debbie Cassidy lives in England, Bedfordshire, with her three kids and very supportive husband. Coffee and chocolate biscuits are her writing fuels of choice, and she is still working on getting that perfect tower of solitude built in her back garden. Obsessed with building new worlds and reading about them, she spends her spare time daydreaming and conversing with the characters in her head – in a totally non psychotic way of course. She writes High Fantasy and Urban Fantasy. Connect with Debbie via her website at debbiecassidyauthor.com or twitter @authordcassidy.