Sloane arched his head back, but couldn’t reach Tom. Tom tightened his legs around Sloane’s neck and drove the knife into the base of his skull with all of his strength.
The enormous body convulsed once beneath him…then went still.
The wolf lay unmoving, mauled by Greta’s sharp teeth. Her jaws closed on the snake, just behind its head, with a loud crunch. Rook alighted on the ground and resumed human form.
The door to the cage sprang open beneath Dominic’s hex. Cicero burst out—and made straight for Tom.
Tom barely had time to react before a human Cicero leapt into his arms. Cicero’s legs twined around Tom’s waist, sending a spike of pain through him where they pressed against the bruises Kearney had left behind. Then Cicero’s lips were on his, and he forgot about everything else.
The kiss was hard and desperate; Tom felt Cicero’s teeth through their lips. Then Cicero pulled back, hands cupping Tom’s face. Tears streaked the already-smeared kohl around his eyes. “Mio caro,” he breathed. “You’re alive.”
“I am.” Over Cicero’s shoulder, Tom caught sight of Bill staring at them in shock, his mouth agape.
“Don’t stare. It’s rude,” Greta said, poking Bill on the arm. Bill blinked and turned away.
“How are you not dead?” Cicero stroked Tom’s cheek, almost reverently. “The bond broke—I felt it! Noah said he’d sent men to kill you!”
Tom winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He let Cicero slip to his feet. “Of course I didn’t mean to hurt you before, neither, and look what a mess I made of that. I used my hexbreaking to sever the bond.”
Cicero’s gemstone eyes grew clouded. “You did? But…why?”
“Because you deserve a happy life.” Tom carefully brushed a lock of hair from Cicero’s forehead, patting it back into place. “You deserve a better witch—a better man—than I’ll ever be. After all the pain I caused you, the least I could do was give you that chance.”
“I don’t want anyone else.” Cicero swallowed and blinked rapidly. “I want you, amore. I love you so much.”
Tom’s heart swelled against his ribs. “Oh God, I love you, too.”
“Bond with me again, Thomas. Please?”
“Despite everything?” Tom took his hands carefully and noted his own were shaking. “I should never have lied to you, and I’m sorrier than I can say. I’ve no right to ask your forgiveness.”
“You were a fool,” Cicero agreed.
Tom snorted. “Thanks.”
“But so was I. Less of one, obviously, but I still lashed out instead of thinking things through.” He tightened his grip on Tom’s hands. “I wouldn’t have been so angry if I didn’t love you. But I understand why you kept your secret, and…well. To get to the point, I want to be your familiar again. No matter what comes.”
Tom took a deep breath…then nodded. “Aye. Then let’s do it.”
It was done in a matter of moments—a quick look through Cicero’s eyes, then a fast charging of a hexlight. Back in human form, Cicero put his hand to his chest and offered Tom a tearful smile. “Feels better, doesn’t it?” he asked.
Tom grinned. “Yeah.”
“Your timing is atrocious,” Rook said. He poked Cicero in the back. “We’ve still got a job to do. Was the hawk familiar here? Molly? Any others?”
“Sorry, sorry.” Cicero wiped his eyes, then shook himself. When he straightened his back, his expression was somber. “She was. And Anselm! He’s—”
“A traitor, yes, we know that part,” Rook interrupted. “Who else?”
“Noah’s involved. He’s the one who kidnapped me. He’s the witch who was stripping Isaac to make the Viking hexes. He and Molly left together. He said they were going to a party—I assume something to do with the New Year’s Eve celebration. But I don’t know what they mean to do there.”
Dominic and Yates had maneuvered the mastiff out of the cage. It lifted its massive head—then shifted into a thin man. Dark, overlong hair tumbled into his gaunt face, and his eyes were bruised and sunken. “I know,” he said, voice cracking as though he hadn’t used it in months. “I know exactly what they intend to do.”
Cicero ran to Isaac’s side. He slipped his arms around Isaac’s too-thin form, helping him to sit. “What do you need, darling?” he asked.
“Water, please,” Isaac grated.
Rook hurried to the pitcher atop the liquor cabinet, and soon returned with a glass of clean water. He held it to Isaac’s lips while he drank.
“Thank you.” Isaac leaned heavily back against Cicero, unable to sit up on his own. “I overheard…not everything, but a great deal. They didn’t dare speak too freely in front of me, just in case Noah was watching through my eyes, but sometimes they let things slip.”
“What do you mean?” Dominic asked. “Isn’t Noah part of the scheme?”
Isaac’s mouth tightened. “It’s easier if I explain from the beginning. I knew Noah from Techne, of course. He helped me get the job at the Rooster after…”
Cicero stroked his hair. “And once you went to work there?”
“After a few weeks, Sloane introduced me to Molly. I guess he thought he knew me well enough to trust me by then.” Isaac’s attempt at a wry chuckle turned into a racking cough.
Fur and feathers, when Cicero got his hands on Noah, he’d make him sorry he’d ever set foot in New York.
Isaac accepted some more water. When he could speak again, he said, “I thought they were just anarchists, at first. Talking about the rights of workers and women and the lot. But it was more than that. They want to establish a theriarchy.”
Owen frowned. “Rule by beasts?”
“Familiars.”
Cicero returned to stroking Isaac’s hair. “I’ve always said the world would be better if I were in charge.”
“Don’t joke, cat,” Isaac said. His eyes slipped closed. “I don’t know who Molly is working for, but this is big. They want to subjugate everyone who isn’t a familiar or witch. And even the witches had best stay in line, because there are always more of them than there are familiars. Sloane and Molly thought I’d be sympathetic to their cause. But it’s too extreme. I tried to distance myself. I had to warn someone, so I talked it over with Gerald, tried to convince him to come to the Coven with me. He refused—he didn’t want to get involved with the MWP. I was going to try once more to convince him to come with me, the night I was supposed to meet you, Cicero. But someone must have talked—maybe Gerald went to Noah for advice, I don’t know. I was getting ready to leave the Rooster and go to Gerald’s apartment, when Sloane called me into his office. They were waiting with a hex to force me into animal form.” Isaac shuddered in Cicero’s arms. “Noah…”
“Shh.” Cicero cradled him closer. “It’s over now.”
“Not so long as Noah has Isaac to draw from,” Greta said.
Tom crouched beside them. “I can try to break the bond, if you want.”
“Isaac is too weak,” Owen objected. “It would kill him.”
“And if Noah siphons more magic from him?” Tom challenged. “Won’t that kill him anyway? And maybe others as well, depending on what he has planned?”
Isaac reached out and grabbed Tom’s hand. “You can break the bond?”
Tom hesitated. “I did before,” he said carefully. “Between Cicero and me. I don’t know for sure if I can do it with you, but I can try.”
“Do it, then.” Isaac shook his head when Owen made to protest. “Even if it kills me, it’s better than letting Noah use me ever again.”
Cicero hugged Isaac more tightly, but it was his decision. Tom crouched in front of them. “I’m going to touch you,” he told Isaac. “And…I’m sorry, but this is probably going to hurt.”
“I don’t care,” Isaac said. “But let me finish—just in case it kills me. Noah and Molly were on their way to city hall.”
“Cazzo,” Cicero swore. “Thousands of people will be there for the consolidation ceremony. Not to me
ntion the new mayor, delegates from every major city, the rest of the crowd from Techne…”
No.
His gaze met Tom’s in a moment of perfect, horrified accord. “The modified Viking hexes,” Tom said. “What do they do on their own? Before the second part of the hex is taken?”
“They make you feel good. Fearless. Not reckless, necessarily, or aggressive.” Isaac swallowed convulsively. “Noah took absinthe hexes with him, when he left with Molly. So I assume he already gave the others out.”
“Fur and feathers,” Cicero whispered. “Noah’s ‘surprise’ at the Christmas party. He must have given them out there.”
Tom’s eyes widened. “So if we’d stayed—”
“The bloody case would have been solved then, yes.” Cicero ground his teeth together. “My friends from Techne. Noah’s using them without their knowledge. The midnight toast will turn them all into homicidal madmen, right in the middle of the crowd.”
“Then there’s no time to waste.” Tom leaned forward and put his hand on Isaac’s chest.
Isaac screamed, a horrible, thin sound. His body convulsed once beneath Tom’s touch—then went still in Cicero’s arms.
“Isaac?” Cicero shook him. “Isaac?” Oh God, if severing the bond had killed him after all…
Isaac’s eyelids fluttered slightly, and he moaned.
Relief swamped Cicero, and he kissed his friend’s forehead. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but at least he’d done this. Saved Isaac.
Greta let out an impatient growl. “We need to go.”
“I’ll look after Isaac,” Owen offered.
The policeman knelt on Isaac’s other side. “I’ll help. We’ll get him to the nearest precinct and use the telephone there to spread the warning.” He glanced at Cicero. “Name’s Bill Quigley, by the way.”
“Cicero. I’m Thomas’s familiar.” It felt good to say that.
Quigley blushed. “Aye, I gathered.”
Owen took Isaac from Cicero. As they made their way to the tunnel entrance, Dominic caught Cicero’s elbow. “Here,” he said, holding out something that gleamed silver. “Athene gave this to me after you quit. Do you want it back?”
Cicero’s familiar’s badge lay in Dominic’s hand. He reached for it, then hesitated, glancing at Tom.
“Go ahead,” Tom said. “You’ve earned it.”
The metal was warm against Cicero’s fingers as he pinned it to his vest. “All right. Let’s go save my friends.”
The sky spat a mixture of rain and snow as Tom raced along Cherry Street, Cicero clinging to his shoulders in cat form. Rook had flown to the Battery to warn Ferguson, leaving Tom, Dominic, Greta, and Cicero to make their way on foot. What they hoped to do, Tom had only the vaguest idea. A significant portion of the regular police were already at city hall and along the route of the procession, attempting to keep the boisterous crowds under control. No one would be able to spread word of the plot to them before midnight—and even if they did, how were they to pick out the bohemians among the crowd?
The entire southern end of Manhattan was pandemonium. Fireworks filled the sky with a mixture of lights and advertisements. A rocket set off from atop the Pulitzer building burst to form Read the Journal! in shining gold letters against the clouds. A moment later, a competing rocket exploded nearby, adding the word Don’t to the beginning of the ad and Read the Sun instead! after.
Dominic let out an oath. “Rook just spoke to me. He says Chief Ferguson was never warned about Anselm, or the ongoing plot, or any of it.”
Which meant either the officer on duty or—more likely—the familiar entrusted to take the message was a traitor. Which didn’t bode well for the MWP…but there was nothing they could do about it now.
“I’ve told him to fly straight to the mayor,” Dominic went on. “But he’s all the way down at the Battery, along with the rest of the MWP familiars. I don’t know if he’ll make it before midnight. Especially with all the damned fireworks going off around him.”
“Then it’s up to us,” Tom said, his heart sinking as he surveyed the scene in front of them.
The seething crowd packed the streets. Men, women, and children all braved the cold to bring in the New Year and the new New York. They blew tin whistles, waved signs, and flung paper streamers into the air. Lines of patrolmen had condensed the gathering as far as possible, until the celebrants were wedged into the streets around city hall like sardines in a can. Easier for the police as they didn’t have to stretch as thin, but the wall of bodies would be impossible to get through on foot.
They couldn’t make it to city hall in time.
“Look!” Dominic grabbed Tom’s arm. “Mounted police.”
It was probably their only chance. They fought their way through the crowd, Dominic waving his MWP badge above his head, trying to get the attention of the mounted officers. One of them spotted Dominic, then nudged his compatriot, but they did nothing to clear the way.
Of all the times for the rivalry between forces to come into play, this was surely one of the worst.
“Officer!” Tom bellowed, trying to make himself heard over the crowd, fireworks, and mortar barrage. “Patrolman Tom Halloran, on temporary assignment with the Metropolitan Witch Police!” Not strictly accurate, but at this point one more lie hardly made a difference. “We’ve uncovered an anarchist plot and need your help!”
The mounted police exchanged uncertain looks. “What, the MWP wants us to lend a hand?” one asked with an arched brow.
Cicero slid from Tom’s shoulders, shifting on the way down. The horses ignored him, but the officers startled. “We don’t have time for a pissing contest!” Cicero shouted as soon as he was in human form again. “The plot will go off at midnight, and things are going to get very ugly. We need to reach the mayor and have him stop the festivities, or these streets are going to be red with blood.”
The mounted police exchanged surprised looks. “All right,” one said. “Get up behind, and we’ll take you there.”
Tom scrambled up behind one of the officers, clinging to the saddle as best he could. The horses surged forward, threatening to trample anyone in their way. Those who didn’t move quick enough were subject to the riders’ nightsticks, and Tom winced at the crack of bone and cries of pain.
Even so, the press of bodies was simply too thick for them to move with any haste. A large platform had been erected on the steps of city hall, with seating for various delegates. As the clock inched closer to midnight, the mayor-to-be rose and lifted one hand. In the other he held a glass of champagne.
“The time is upon us!” he said, his magically-amplified voice booming out over the crowd. “In less than a minute, Brooklyn, East Bronx, Queens County, and Staten Island will join together with New York City, and we shall stand as one! Ten…nine…”
The crowd took up the chant, voices roaring so loud even the fireworks were momentarily drowned out.
“Eight…seven…”
“Tom!” Cicero leaned over from behind the mounted officer beside him. “Look! On the platform! He was at Noah’s Christmas party. Auggie.”
The madly colored light from fireworks and streamers shone on the faces of the delegates. And there, not a few feet from the mayor, sat the young man who’d been so eager to brag about being his cousin. Auggie’s eyes shone with excitement, and he held a glass of green liquid in one hand and a hex in the other.
They were almost at the city hall steps now. “Mayor Van Wyck!” Tom shouted, but there was no chance of being heard over the thunder of the crowd.
“One!” Mayor Van Wyck held up his glass in a toast. “To the City of Greater New York!”
He drained his glass, as did the rest of the delegates, and Mary only knew how many in the crowd.
And the screaming began.
Tom slid from the horse and shoved his way through the police line to the steps. “Let them through!” the mounted officer yelled, and the police gave way.
Too late. Even from a distance, he
saw the whites of Auggie’s eyes go scarlet with blood. The glass fell from his hand to shatter on the marble. Froth beaded on his lips—and with an unholy shriek, he launched himself at the mayor.
Van Wyck went down, Auggie’s teeth biting madly at his coat, nails tearing at his face. Tom reached the platform, grabbed Auggie’s collar, and heaved him off. “Run!” Tom bellowed at the mayor as Auggie twisted and shrieked in his hands. “Barricade yourself in city hall, and don’t come out until the MWP tells you it’s safe!”
Then he had no more attention to spare. Auggie turned on him, slavering, teeth snapping. Tom shouted and fought to keep him off, keep those teeth from his flesh, even as the maddened young man ripped nails across Tom’s face.
It was Danny all over again.
Greta shifted to wolverine form and sank her teeth into Auggie’s calf. The young man didn’t even blink, as though he felt no pain, felt nothing beyond the need to rend. Tom had to break the hex—but doing so would surely kill Auggie, whose only crime had been trusting Noah.
It had to be done. Just as it had to be done all those years ago, when it had been his brother’s maddened face glaring into his.
Auggie suddenly went slack. Startled, Tom let him fall to the platform. Dominic stood there, hex in hand.
“It won’t keep him out for long,” Dominic said, gesturing to Auggie’s prone body. “But at least it will give us a respite.”
Cicero clutched Tom’s arm and pointed. “God. Look. We have to do something.”
The crowd had gone from celebratory to panicked. Screams filled the air, and Tom caught sight of knots of struggling people amidst the press. Those on the edges fled, and the whole mass of humanity began to stampede. Uniformed police laid about them with their nightsticks, but there were too many terrified people, and soon they’d been knocked over or swept away.
“Greta, try to help the regular police if you can,” Dominic ordered. She took off down the stairs, and the crowd blocked her from their sight in seconds.
Hexbreaker - Jordan L. Hawk Page 24
