Heart of the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 2)

by Stacey Brutger

  “Very well, but if you harm any of them while I’m gone, my first order of business will be to take you apart piece by piece. Very slowly. Understood?”

  “Yes, yes. Continue.” Katar seemed unimpressed by her promise, but the guards at his back exchanged uneasy glances, finally beginning to understand that maybe they’d backed the wrong person.

  No matter what happened, Katar wasn’t going to make it out of the temple alive.

  Loki tripped as he ran up the steps toward her side, and she scooped him up in her arms, pressing her lips to the top of his head. “Watch over them for me, will you? They need you.”

  As if he understood her, the pup’s chest puffed out and he turned to look at the men. With one last kiss, she opened her arms and gave him a little boost in the air.

  And he coasted…or, more accurately, crashed into Kincade, clawing and scratching his way up the gargoyle’s arm to perch on his shoulder.

  Morgan swept her gaze over her team, trying to stifle her nerves. Kincade had his arms crossed, as if struggling not to go to her. Smoke rose from Ascher as his emotions got the better of him, while Ryder was struggling to keep his human form. Atlas stood at attention, staring straight at her, his emerald eyes dark with emotions he wanted to deny ever feeling. Draven gave her a go-get-’em nod, but his customary devil-may-care smile was missing.

  And for the first time in her life, Morgan realized she was falling in love. As in the I would do anything for you bullshit she heard on the radio that she always thought was bunk.

  They were counting on her to return.

  She couldn’t let them down.

  Blowing out a heavy breath, Morgan turned and faced the gates of Tartarus on her own. Everything rested on selecting the correct series of sigils to open the seal or, she feared, a new plague would be set free to decimate the realm.

  The necklace warmed, the metal thickened, twisted and stretched…forming a shape of an old masquerade mask. The metal looked almost liquid, the design so fluid, she half expected to see movement. The mask would secure under her eyes and fan out, following the contours of her face and swirl up past her temples. It was exquisite and very delicate.

  She carefully lifted the mask to her face, the delicate chain keeping it looped around her neck, while she kept her back angled so Katar wouldn’t see what she was doing.

  As soon as she peered through the mask, she realized it was an ocular.

  Magic swirled and danced in the air, the symbols on the gates began to glow and change.

  It was asking for a destination.

  Tartarus.

  The circles began to spin in opposite directions, the sigils beginning to glow in a sequence. She pressed the stones in the order they glowed, surprised when the sigils depressed under her fingers. It was like an old-world GPS.

  When the last small image was pressed, the sigil at the center glowed, and a bright light blasted through the room as the portal wrenched open. A wave of disorientation nearly knocked her off her feet, and her stomach pitched into her throat. She lifted an arm to shield her eyes, blinking against the light.

  And found herself in a whole new world.

  The ocular shrank, slipping from her fingers, and she shoved it down her shirt, not wanting to bring attention to it.

  She expected to find herself in a dark, dank prison—a post-apocalyptic landscape, barren land, possibly overrun by renegades and murderers.

  Nothing could be further from the truth.

  Magic saturated the air in Tartarus to the point she could almost reach out and touch it. The place appeared eerily similar to earth—if magic and science lived side by side. Skyscrapers sat on either sides of the streets. A steady stream of traffic ran both ways on the busy roads.

  That’s where the similarities ended.

  The sky had a purple tinge, a dome reflecting the images of the world back at her, and she realized what she was seeing was actually the seal separating the different realms.

  A splash of light sparked behind her, and Morgan whirled. “What are you doing here?”

  She was stunned to see the guys had somehow been transported with her. Ryder was bent over, his hands on his knees as he struggled not to vomit. Draven looked a little green around the gills, his normal cheeky grin barely a twist of his lips.

  Ascher and Atlas were a little unsteady on their feet, but weathered the new influx of magic with the least amount of difficulty. Kincade was breathing hard, his eyes wild, only calming when he spotted her. She wanted to hug them, then smack them for following her. She searched behind them, but there was no sign of the portal.

  They were stuck.

  Trapped because of her.

  “My guess?” Atlas asked. “No one knows how the portal works.”

  “You think I accidently pulled everyone through with me.” She cursed herself, because he might be right. She had been thinking about them when the portal unlocked.

  He raised a brow at her. “Don’t you?”

  “Katar said no one who’s infected would be able to use the portal.” He wasn’t the type of man who skimped on his research—as she knew from firsthand experience.

  Atlas tightened his mouth and looked away. “The infection has already burned out. It was intended to trigger the mutation. The damage has already been done.”

  “But if we stop the fog, we stop the infection.” She had to believe that, but his devastated expression spoke for him.

  She turned away and swallowed hard, her training kicking in when she saw how much attention they were attracting. Everything around them was pristine—no grime, no litter, no smog, and the people were dressed immaculately. She and the men stood out with their rumpled, torn, and stained hunter’s outfits.

  But that was the least of their problems. In this place, they stood out from the crowd for an entirely different reason—here, no one was bound to their human forms. It made her realize how much they were forced to hide their true selves just to survive on earth. As the different breeds of mythological creatures passed them on the sidewalk, they stared boldly at them, walking around them in a wide arc, as if they were street rats that had crawled up from the sewers.

  “We need to get off the street.” Kincade grabbed her arm and hustled her down the sidewalk, the rest of the group falling into step behind them. Every one of them looked deadly, exactly like the assassins they were, and the others on the street took notice.

  A minotaur dressed in a suit cast them a disdainful look, then snorted out a huff of air. Not two steps later, a gorgon strolled past in high-heeled boots and a little black dress that left little to the imagination, including a twelve-inch hunting knife strapped to her thigh. The snakes haloing her head hissed and snapped at Morgan, and the guys deftly avoided looking directly into the creature’s eyes.

  The gorgon spun, walking backwards a few steps, eyeing up the guys with a hungry smile, her fingers trailing suggestively along her blade when her gaze settled on Atlas, and she licked her lips, revealing tiny fangs that could do some real damage. With a wink, she spun back around and sauntered away.

  Morgan looked at Atlas and raised a brow.

  “Elves live for a long time. They are known for picking up certain…skills. Most of the dark elves were forced into Tartarus decades ago, only a few escaping the expulsion. Very few light elves were volunteered to enter Tartarus.”

  Even walking down the sidewalk, they were drawing too much attention.

  Time to bail.

  Just as she opened her mouth to speak, she spotted a dozen men in sunglasses and black uniforms coming her way. A patch on their shoulders revealed a crescent moon, which could mean any number of gods.

  Her luck would ensure she would attract the oldest and most dangerous of the primordial gods…Nyx, the first goddess, and the mother of the gods.

  When the soldiers came to a stop, her men closed ranks around her. “If you’ll come with us, Your Grace.”

  It wasn’t a request.

  Up close, the men were even mo
re imposing.

  Big and fit, they exuded power.

  If she and the men fought, they would only succeed in drawing more attention. If they ran, she had no doubt their welcoming committee would hunt them down, so she took the only option open to them. “Of course.”

  The soldiers surrounded her group, and she suspected it wasn’t for her protection, but more to conceal her from prying eyes. They headed toward the largest building…a glass tower monstrosity that dominated a full city square. Pixies fluttered around the garden out front, tending to the plants. Everything had a peaceful air. No one rushed anywhere. There was no yelling, no horns blaring. No laughter.

  It gave her the heebie-jeebies.

  The inside of the tower was pristine, exotic flowers everywhere, granite covering every surface. Paintings were hung around the walls like it was a gallery, a couple of the canvasses were filled with bold splashes of color, while others were done with exquisite attention to detail.

  And in each of them, buried in the paint, rested a sigil, hidden like 3D art. The magic was slight, but the strength of the spell deceptively strong.

  And the spell was surprisingly familiar, one she recognized from the way it buzzed against her skin.

  A suppressant.

  No one could work magic inside the building without their power being absorbed into the paintings.

  Kincade nudged her forward when she lingered too long. They were directed toward a bank of elevators. The soldiers parted, leaving her no choice but enter the elevator first. When her men tried to follow, the soldiers stepped between them and a shoving match ensued. Kincade’s elbow met a guard’s nose and first blood was shed.

  The rasp of guns leaving holsters was loud to her ears, and Morgan shoved her way between the two groups, turning to face the uniformed man who appeared to be in charge. “If you want me to go peacefully, they remain with me.”

  His eyes went distant, as if communicating with someone, but she detected no hearing device. Then he gave her a hard nod, his eyes focusing on her once again. “Very well.”

  Morgan entered first, then the guys piled in behind her, their broad shoulders a solid wall of protection. The leader leaned into the elevator, pushed a button, then ducked back out seconds before the door closed.

  Peaceful Celtic music oozed through the speakers, completely at odds with the tension in the confined space, the sound putting her on edge. The metal box shot upward so fast she knew magic had a hand in its creation.

  She hesitantly touched the wall…and met cool metal.

  “Expecting something else?” Draven quirked a brow at her.

  She shrugged, a betraying blush heating her cheeks as she dropped her arm. “It’s so…earthlike.”

  “They probably monitor both realms.” Ascher didn’t seem very impressed. “Would you want to live in squalor or modern comfort?”

  Before she could answer, the cage slowed, the doors pinged open, and Morgan braced herself for the unexpected.

  An ordinary office wasn’t it.

  The guys exited first, a number of them reaching for weapons that weren’t there. She walked out onto the plush carpet and into a massive room done tastefully in muted colors. The first thing that caught her attention was the view. They were in the penthouse suite, the vast city spread out below them.

  The awe lasted for only a few seconds before she began to notice inconsistencies. Ryder came to stand next to her, a solid, comforting presence at her back. She would always feel safe with him by her side.

  No smog filled the air, no billboards flashed advertisements. Cars were uniformly parked an exact distance apart, while drivers on the road were evenly spaced. The cars didn’t appear to run on gas, but pure magic.

  Hell, no one even dared jaywalk.

  She tore her attention away from the disturbing scene to see mountains looming in the distance, the crisp white caps almost painful on the eyes. Tiny shapes circled the mountains, and if she squinted just right, she could make out…dragons! Patrolling the skies! She pressed her hand and nose against the glass, gazing at the creatures in awe.

  A crystal-clear ocean lay beyond, and she could just make out buildings, both above and below the surface of the water.

  “Atlantis.”

  Morgan startled, pivoting to see a man standing off to the side with both hands behind his back, immaculately dressed in a lean, dark blue suit and a form-fitting pale blue shirt. Her men prowled around the room, not missing a detail of the mystery man or their surroundings.

  The man didn’t even spare them a glance.

  “We don’t get many visitors here—you’re the first outsider in over a millennium, actually.” He gave her a charismatic smile, revealing even, white teeth and a gorgeous set of dimples that made her swallow hard.

  The man was beyond stunning, his hair as dark as midnight, the reflection off the window giving the strands an almost silver sheen, the sides a little shaggy, the top a few inches too long, making him appear a bit unruly. He had a pale complexion and violet blue eyes, the combination striking. He was tall and fit, his muscles not those gained in a gym, but earned through hard work.

  Power poured off him, barely contained. He oozed charm naturally, like others exuded body odor, and he instantly put her back up.

  “My name is Shade.”

  “Morgan,” she answered grudgingly, refusing to introduce her men or call attention to them. If she had to guess, the man wasn’t a full god, but a demigod, and possibly more dangerous in his quest for power. “What do you want?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” His amicable attitude dropped away at her blunt question, revealing a ruthless, cunning man beneath. “No one travels to Tartarus unless they want something.”

  Morgan pursed her lips, debating the wisdom of trusting him.

  Gods were fickle creatures.

  Dangerous.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have a choice. Time was running out. “The realm is dying. I’ve come to find a way to stop it.”

  “Not dying.” Shade studiously straightened the few items on his desk. “The realm is being terraformed. Groomed to remove the current residents and start over when we’re released.”

  Kincade and Draven swore viciously, while steam rose from Ascher. Ryder remained stoic, but Atlas didn’t appear surprised. When he caught her looking, he just shrugged. “It’s a smart move.”

  Morgan was flabbergasted, but the explanation made a sick kind of horrible sense. Can’t leave the residents, the very people who enslaved them, still running around in case it happened again. “You’re killing them.”

  “What is that saying…fool me once, shame on you?” He shrugged. “The gods won’t give them an opportunity to fool them twice.”

  She turned and cast a critical eye over the city, her mind in chaos over the scope of what they wanted to achieve. “Why would they want to give up this place? Tartarus was created and built just for your bloodlines, and molded to be whatever you want.”

  He joined her at the window and stared off in the distance, his eyes going dark. “Every Eden has its snakes.”

  Under no circumstances could the gods ever be allowed free.

  If they managed to escape, they would once again descend on earth, making it their own personal playground, and she went cold at the thought of the pandemonium, death and destruction that would follow.

  “Do you know what’s happening in the other realms?”

  “Yes, and they’ve made a colossal mess of things. Everyone thought the gods were the monsters, but it appears each race has savages of their own.” Shade turned away from the window, then leaned his shoulder against the glass to study her. “No race is better than the other, despite what they want to believe.”

  Morgan couldn’t argue.

  He was right.

  “You could stay in this realm, wait for the terraforming to be completed, and join the gods.” Shade spoke casually, the tension lining his body so subtly she almost didn’t pick up on it.

  �
��Can you call off the terraforming and give me a chance to sort things out?”

  “Not my decision, and I doubt yours, either.” Shade strolled away from the window and went back over to his desk. “Once the seal was broken, the process started automatically. If those on Mount Olympus hadn’t been greedy, none of this would have happened.”

  “What can I do to stop it?” Morgan refused to believe it was too late.

  He looked contemplative, a deceptively humanlike expression, but she knew the jackass had an agenda.

  “Do you know only the gods have the power to travel to this world?”

  She stiffened at his not-so-subtle probe.

  “If the gods are released, the wars will just start again. Why do you think it will be so different this time?”

  “Because we are.” He glanced up at her from his desk.

  “You still want to rule,” she instantly denied. Even with the distance between them, power emanated from him, but to her frustration she couldn’t sense whether his intentions were good or bad, or if he was just playing with her.

  She suspected the latter.

  “Not many of the original gods remain. They decided not to breed with each other and procreated with the local populace instead. They couldn’t risk upsetting their power base.” He snorted at their hubris. “What you see before you is a city run by demigods. The people who stay in the rural areas still live in temples and follow the old ways.”

  “The gods are still alive?” The news floored her, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. She sure as shit didn’t want to meet one of them. She didn’t think things would go well for her.

  “They remain on New Olympus.” He stared out the window, and she followed his gaze to see the majestic mountains in the distance.

  “The perfect place to survey their domain.” Morgan’s eyes were drawn to the dragons in the distance. They looked much closer, the number of them doubling.

  As if they had a mission.

  Instinct warned that it had to do with her.

  To retrieve or kill her, she wasn’t sure which.

  Neither option left her with warm fuzzies.

  “I propose a trade.” Shade’s voice was pitched seductively low, and oozed charm that had no doubt enticed many women to his bed.