“So…either we leave Flynn be and he definitely dies, or we unbond him and he might die?” I avoid looking directly into Flynn’s eyes as I say it.
After a second, the nurse nods and steps away. “That is more or less the gist of it.”
My other three paired mages have been quiet for a while now. Though I know this is Flynn’s decision, not even my own, and certainly not theirs…I have to turn to them for something. I need some kind of sign that this is not absolutely crazy.
Kendall reaches out to me and squeezes my shoulder.
There’s only one of us who might know someone here who can do it.
“Draven?” He looks up at me.
“I don’t know anyone who could…” his voice trails off a bit, and his eyes flit over to Cedric beside him.
Cedric suddenly isn’t looking at me. He isn’t looking at the doctors, or anyone else. He is staring off into the curtain in front of us.
“What?” I ask Draven.
He hesitates a moment, his eyes still on Cedric. “I know who can do the unbonding,” he says. “But you aren’t going to like it.”
I think I know who he is about to suggest before he says it.
“There’s only one mage I would trust to do it, if it were me. And that’s Cedric’s father.”
20
Octavia
“Absolutely not.” Cedric plants his feet squarely on the cement floor. As he says it, his hands ball up at his sides, and anger hardens the angles of his face.
“It’s the only way…” Draven starts again, but again, Cedric cuts him off.
“A place like this doesn’t have someone else strong enough to unbond a mage?” He makes a strained sound with his mouth. “I doubt it.”
I stand up a little. “But if we know he can do it…”
Cedric’s eyes flash, his eyes finally landing on mine. There is no sign of surrender there. “You of all people, Octavia, should understand.”
I swallow. “I do…but…”
He shakes his head and turns on his heel to go. We aren’t going to get anywhere with Cedric here, now. I make eye contact with Draven, and I think he knows this too. It is Flynn who persists.
“If your father is able to unbond me, I see no reason why you won’t let him,” Flynn says. He tries to sit up again, but the nurse shoves him back down.
“Don’t make me put you to sleep,” she threatens.
He settles for propping himself up on some pillows.
Cedric doesn’t reply. He just turns on his heel and stalks out of the room.
I catch up with him halfway back to the training hall. Draven and Kendall linger behind with Flynn.
Cedric has, up until now, held his anger at his father in. I’d almost started to think he was over it, but I guess that was just wishful thinking. It may have been two, three…god knows how many weeks on the other side...but in here, it has still only been days.
“Talk,” I say, as soon as the others are out of earshot.
He shakes his head. “There is nothing to say.”
“Then show me.”
I hold out my hands to him, but he does not immediately take them.
“I’ve told you my feelings on the matter.”
I stamp my foot at his stubbornness. “But you haven’t heard mine,” I snap. I hold my hands up higher, bidding him to take them. This time, he does.
It is my turn to try and hold back. Emotions are not things easily reigned in, not in life, and certainly not in my own mind. I’m not sure where to start, so I start at the beginning. I show him the horror at discovering what happened to his mother, my disgust and hatred of his father…and then I show him something newer. I show how the burning sensation rippled through my own body. I show him the fear of losing my powers. The fear the Flynn must feel now.
At first his face hardens. I may show him a little too much, but I’ve promised not to keep secrets from them anymore, so I just let it pour out. It isn’t until I get to the sight of Flynn’s dark mark, the despair I feel in my own heart that it may kill him, and then the hope at Draven’s suggestion—only to be crushed when Cedric immediately rejected it, that his face changes again.
This time, it is not in anger, but in sadness.
Cedric drops my hands and breaks the link, his face resigned. As always, I flounder a second, left alone with my own emotions. I feel something strong and deep surge in my heart for Cedric, and at the same time, a deep guilt knowing what we are asking him to do.
Finally, he sighs, but he nods his head.
“Do what you have to do,” he says, but he looks up at me sharply. “But don’t ask me to be a part of it. I don’t know what I’d do if I saw him now. I can’t be trusted with him.”
Those are terms I can live with.
More importantly, those are terms Flynn can live with.
I nod my head vigorously, maybe a little too eagerly. “We should go join the others,” I say, quickly. “We’re going to have to ask Bram for permission. I don’t have anything to exchange…so we may have to resort to threats.”
He looks a little confused at my choice of words, but there is no time to explain. “Come on,” I say, looping my arm in his. He doesn’t soften at my touch this time, but he doesn’t draw away either. It will have to do.
The only thing that I can think to bargain with is my Time Magic.
“Will you at least come with me,” I say, “When I speak to Bram?”
His jaw works for a second, but he finally nods.
“Of course.” He takes my hand for a second, and then, surprisingly, tugs me close enough to plant a kiss on my lips. “I’d never make you face him alone.”
I smile a little.
“Well then, let’s go face him together.”
21
Octavia
If I had things my way, I would take a couple days to rest and recover. But if I had my way, Flynn would also not be lying in the hospital bed dying because he can’t use his powers without that wicked witch of a paired mage Jessica killing him in the process. So instead, Cedric, Draven, and Kendall accompany me as I hunt down Bram.
More specifically, I hunt down the only person who I know has a direct link to him since I don’t plan to just stand outside the wall in the main hall and bang my fist against it, demanding an audience.
Edgar does not look happy to see us.
We don’t find him in any of the usual spots, so Draven leads us down another corridor in search of what he calls “the lounge.”
Where every other space in The Underground has been, so far, quite underwhelming—the place where we finally find Edgar is dark and brooding enough to actually befit the most notorious crime syndicate in the city.
The high, vaulted ceilings are crossed with thick wooden beams the same dark color as the mists outside. There are no rosy-cheeked or starry-eyed new recruits here. The mages sprawled out on couches or perched at tables playing chess have more of the look I had expected. It’s the sort of look one gets after a very long time without sun or sleep.
I spot Edgar by a fireplace across the room.
He barely looks up at me, even when I stop directly in front of him. His earlier compatriot, Brendan, sits across from him. His eyes land on Kendall and stay glued to him, watching for any further signs of aggression while I try to will the words to speak.
“I need to speak to Bram,” I say, finally, though he doesn’t give me the decency of looking at me when I do.
He takes a sip of brown liquid from the glass in his hand and then takes an inordinate amount of time to slowly swirl the single, oversized ice cube once, twice, three times around before he parts his lips in a lazy reply.
“Then go tell him yourself.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
His eyes drift just as lazily up to meet mine. “He likes it that way.”
The room has gone a little quieter. Those who are seated close enough to overhear have stopped talking to listen in. I can hear the shuffle of Draven and the othe
rs beside me. A certain tension draws through the air, like a breath waiting to be released.
Edgar senses it too. He looks from me to the others, his expression impassive. But he doesn’t seem eager to start another fight with one, or all, of my paired mages, so when his eyes fall back to me all cockiness has drained from his voice.
“Bram isn’t here anyway,” he says.
“But—”
He stops me, raising his hand and grunting as he looks back at the fire. “When he gets back, I’ll make sure he knows you’re looking for him. Until then…I suggest you make yourself scarce.”
It is only now that I realize Brendan has gotten to his feet, as have several others behind us. I don’t want a fight any more than they do, but I’m not about to stand down just yet.
“Why do you do it?” I ask, still staring down at Edgar. “What’s in it for you?”
He swirls the ice in his glass once more. “Bram has power,” he says, “And I like power.”
“So that’s it,” Draven says, pushing forward. I can feel the press of Kendall behind me as well, the twitch of his muscles as he sums up those closing in around us. “You’re just going to basically get to it when you get to it?”
“Glad you understand.”
Before Draven can make a heated reply that will likely get all of us in trouble, Cedric steps up and snatches the glass from his hand. He’s no choice but to look at him now.
“Where can we find Bram?” When Edgar doesn’t immediately answer, he calmly adds, “If Flynn dies, Octavia’s powers will weaken, and Bram’s Time spell isn’t going to happen. I’d hate to think how he would react if he found out you were the person responsible.”
For once, Edgar’s eyes do not flit away in annoyance. They stay coolly leveled with Cedric.
Thank god one of us is a skilled negotiator.
“Fine,” Edgar says, and Cedric hands him back his drink. He grunts and slams it down on the table beside him, all interest in it lost, if only for the moment. “If you’re so desperate to see Bram, you can come with me on our next delivery,” he says.
“And Bram will be there?” Cedric asks.
Edgar huffs. “Of course. He likes to watch over his more…esteemed clients.”
“What kind of delivery are we talking about?” I ask, glancing over at the mages who have at least begun to settle back into their chairs. Unless I am mistaken, they look disappointed and more than a little bored.
“What do you think, darling?” Edgar snaps, condescension heavy on his tongue. “Little Draven here would know.”
Drugs. That’s one of the main things crime syndicates like this are known for, right?
“Well,” I say, taking a breath to steady my nerves. “I do have a little experience with Salamander Brandy.”
Edgar is not the only one to chuckle when I say it.
“What?”
He goes back to ignoring me in favor of his glass. “You’re adorable, Octavia. How on earth do you really expect to survive here?”
I bite the insides of my cheeks. Both Kendall and Draven have put a gentle arm on my shoulder, as if to both hold me back and reassure me at the same time. I’m not sure I need either.
I shake them off and crouch down to eye-level with Edgar.
“Because I have power too,” I say, quietly. Only he can hear me, and though I know he struggles not to, he does eventually turn to look me in the eyes. “And it would benefit you not to forget that.”
22
Octavia
I should not have goaded Edgar like that. It was stupid, I know, but he has tried my patience time and time again. I couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t as if I didn’t speak the truth.
Like Bram once said, he doesn’t expect unyielding loyalty from his followers. He expects them to respect him, or at least to fear his power. Seems Edgar and I have that in common at least.
There is some time before Edgar’s party leaves, so I send Draven and Cedric to tell Flynn our plan before I can come catch up with them. I don’t want to hang around in the lounge any longer than is absolutely necessary, Kendall isn’t going anywhere without a proper change of clothes.
Grace doesn’t even have to look at Kendall to know what we need when he shows up in her doorway. In that same way she always seems to know my thoughts before I even think them myself, she has already started on a pair of trousers by the time we step inside.
“I was wondering when I would be seeing you again,” she says.
She snaps her fingers and with the same surprising speed, her measuring tape springs into action on Kendall. He glances sideways at me while it measures for his trousers, a little color appearing in his cheeks as the familiar process gets a little…personal.
After a couple seconds, Grace tuts her tongue once and starts undoing a couple stitches at the crotch of the pants. “These’ll all have to be expanded,” she mutters, I think, for my own benefit.
It is my turn to blush.
“So…” I start, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.
Her eyes are trained on the needles for another second. Then she sets them loose, using her Psychic Magic to take on the majority of the sewing.
“I’ll be happy to exchange…something…for your time,” I add quickly, remembering Bram’s method for paying for services, and Draven’s earlier suggestion. At first, I think she might ask for me to get fabric or thread or something for her trade—but she is quick to tell me I’m wrong.
“Those things are hard to come by here,” she says, “But not impossible.”
“So…you want me to do something impossible?”
Kendall raises his eyebrows questioningly. I’d forgotten he has no idea what Grace’s gift is. I fill him in.
“It’s the same as Dr. Fashu,” I say, “Grace is related. Both of them can read minds without having to ask permission first. Even from other Psychic Mages.”
An odd look crosses Flynn’s face. “Does that mean you’ve read my mind before?”
“Huh?”
“Since he is an Earth Mage,” Grace says, “He wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
It takes me a second for the information to sink in. “Well,” I say, “That may have come in handy if I knew that before.”
“It is also frowned upon,” Grace adds, her eyes returned to watch the careful finishing of a hem.
“For good reason,” Kendall mutters.
“But he’d know it. That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Grace is silent for a moment after she says it.
She lifts up the trousers, gives them a little tug to test their sturdiness, and then tosses them Kendall’s way. “Grab a shirt from the bin. A couple new recruits were sent away today. They won’t be needing them anymore.”
Kendall does as he is told, and rummages through until he finds something that looks like it will fit over his broad shoulders. I don’t know if I am just imagining it, but he looks like he’s gotten even bigger since the beginning of the school year.
I force myself to focus on the question that still hasn’t been answered. “But the—”
“I want to see that dear relative of mine pay for what he’s done,” she says.
“And that was?”
“None of your business.” Grace folds her hands on her lap, idle for the first time I’ve ever seen her. “Let’s just say you aren’t the first mage he’s wronged.”
No, and I certainly won’t be the last.
“When should I—”
Grace lays her hands flat on the table, palms up.
When I don’t immediately go to her, Kendall nudges me softly on the small of my back until I finally do. I approach awkwardly, not entirely sure what she wants from me. So I just reach out and place my hands in hers.
In the moment that our hands touch I feel a surge of power. It isn’t flowing into me exactly, but rather through me. It begins in my left hand and surges up into my temples, where it pools for a moment at the front part of my brain before it rushes back out, down my arm,
and exits through the tips of my right hand.
“You are used to feeling this sort of power exchange when Psychic Mages try to enter your mind,” Grace says. “It is direct and strong. If the mage you are trying to infiltrate is less powerful than you, or has their guard down, as you do in this moment, it can be very effective.”
I can hear the unspoken addition in her voice. “But?”
She draws her hands back. Her small seated frame is made even more diminutive by the darkness that surrounds us. “But it is too easy to detect. Any skilled mage will be able to block any attempt before you try it on them.”
I know the feeling well. I’m lucky that my natural aptitude in Psychic Magic lies with my ability to keep others from prying inside. At least, usually.
“So then, how do you do it? How can you read my mind without me knowing it?”
“That’s the secret,” Grace says. “We don’t. Some mages forget that though it may be easier to get information from an opponent by prying right into their mind, sometimes something subtler is necessary.”
She asks me is Dr. Fashu ever discovered a secret I was deliberately trying to keep from him. “Something very specific. Something that can’t be guessed just by looking at you.”
I think back to all the sessions I spent beside him. Though he often knew what I was thinking in the moment, he did never discover our Halloween plans, or that I had already used the divination ball earlier than he thought. I tell her so.
“It’s because we aren’t truly reading you mind, but rather, your body language,” Grace says. Her eyes scan over me a moment, and with it comes the awkward sensation of being summed up. Then Grace’s eyes meet mine, and I think I understand.
“That feeling…that is you reading me, isn’t it?”
She nods. “You aren’t going to feel me prying into your mind if I’m not trying to do that in the first place.”
Abandon: Book Three of the Forgotten Affinities Series Page 11
