Bewitched & Betrayed rb-4

by Lisa Shearin

  This was a deadly skill—and an inexperienced, impulsive teenager who had no clue of his own mortality had it.

  We had to get up to that roof.

  Two more goblins lay motionless in the street, their riderless horses adding to the chaos. As I watched, a Guardian went down. They had all shielded themselves with war magic so strong it was like a wall between them and whatever tried to get through. Solid work. The bolts passed through like there was nothing there. That meant there was magic of the blackest kind involved.

  A hood did more than hide a face; it hid skin color and ears.

  “Khrynsani!” shouted one of the goblins.

  Tam shot an infuriated glance at Sirens’ roof, flung open the doors, and ran inside.

  I was on his heels with Vegard right behind me. I sheathed my blades and checked my throwing daggers. I was going to bag myself a sniper. Alive would be good; I had some questions for the bastard, but dead would be perfectly acceptable.

  I ran across the theatre floor toward the stage; that is, until Tam’s arm went around my waist and snatched me off my feet.

  “Just where do you think—”

  I twisted in his arms, putting us face-to-face. I pointed straight up. “Same place you’re going.”

  “I’m going to the roof; you’re staying here.” Tam released me and ran to the bar, reaching behind it to pull out the wickedest crossbow I’d ever seen and a quarrel of bolts big enough to take down a sentry dragon.

  I whistled. “Got another one of—”

  “No!” Tam stalked past me and leapt to the stage in one smooth move. The stage was nearly shoulder-high on me so I had to run around to the stairs.

  “Vegard, keep Raine down here,” Tam shouted back without turning. He was headed backstage and to the ladder that went to the catwalk above the stage and to the roof.

  Not without me, he wasn’t. I think Tam realized that he couldn’t keep me from following him and get to the roof at the same time, and Vegard wasn’t about to sit this one out. By going up on that roof, he could protect me and get his hands on a Khrynsani at the same time. Tam slung the straps of the bow and quarrel over his shoulders and climbed that ladder quicker than a man could run up a flight of stairs.

  “Those sentry dragons are going to torch anything on that roof,” Vegard said from behind me. “And if they’re Khrynsani, they’re goblins, and our men won’t be able to tell the difference between them and Talon.”

  Tam swore and climbed faster.

  I couldn’t catch Tam, but I could almost keep up. “We need one alive.” Though Nachtmagus Kalta could probably have a conversation with a dead one just as easily, and we’d be spared the annoyance of leaving a Khrynsani among the living. But in my family, killing someone you needed information from was just sloppy work. I was going to get a sniper, neat and tidy. He might have a neat hole or two in him, but he’d still be able to talk.

  The ladder ended in the kind of door I didn’t want to see. It wasn’t a door; it was a hatch. It looked metal, and being on a roof meant it was probably heavy. Something or someone could be on top of it or next to it. That meant anyone trying to get through would have their head sticking up for about a split second too long if there was an alert sniper on the other side.

  Tam slowed as he neared the top of the ladder, his boots making no sound as he stopped just short of the hatch. I stopped about five rungs below him. If Tam needed to come back down quickly, I’d worry about how to get out of his way then. Tam had the wicked crossbow, not me. It was the roof of his nightclub that a sniper was using as his killing perch—and it was his son up there. By rights, it was his takedown.

  I was in the middle of hoping that the hinges had been oiled recently, when the hatch was flung open above Tam’s head.

  I knew Tam was fast, but damn. One second his crossbow was slung over his shoulder; the next he put a bolt straight up through the opening. A grunt and the thud of a body hitting the roof told me that not only had some idiot opened the hatch; he’d bent over to take a peek inside.

  Since stealth had just been shot to hell, Tam leapt out onto the roof, a solid shield of red surrounding him. He just stood there, unmoving, not firing, glowing red, and scanning the rooftop. He held his crossbow ready, but he didn’t fire; he also didn’t call out the all clear.

  “What is it?” I asked Tam in mindspeak. About the only good thing about the umi’atsu bond that Tam and I shared was the ability to communicate silently. That had come in handy recently.

  “Talon’s got one.” Even Tam’s mindspeak was the barest whisper.

  I knew why.

  Spellsong magic was dependent on sound: tone and pitch. Vocal or direct magical interference could negate a spellsong or send it snapping back at the singer. A master spellsinger could block out interference.

  Talon wasn’t a master. At least I didn’t think so.

  I shielded myself and scrambled as quickly and silently as I could through the hatch before Tam could think to close it on me. Vegard emerged a split second after I did. From the shouts down below, Imala Kalis and her people were still under attack, but no one was firing on them from Sirens’ roof.

  Tam hadn’t taken cover behind anything because there was absolutely zero cover up here. If we lived through tonight, I was sure Tam would rectify that oversight.

  Talon had a sniper frozen, unmoving, unblinking, unaware. With a paralysis spell, the subject had no clue what was happening. Like I’d said, it was as if the kid had frozen time.

  Talon was unwholesomely handsome, a slightly smaller version of his father. The only difference was Talon’s paler gray skin and aquamarine eyes courtesy of his elven mother.

  The kid’s voice was silk, descending in tone and pitch until he held a single deep note and then carefully let it evaporate in the air.

  I reached for my blades. To stop a spellsong is to stop the spell.

  Talon’s spell held and the sniper didn’t as much as blink.

  It should have been impossible, but unless my eyes were lying to me, it was all too possible, and Talon had done it easily.

  With an ease that said it clearly wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

  Talon sounded pleased with himself. “Don’t worry,” he told Tam. “I got this one; you got the other. End of problem. It was just the two of them up here.”

  What Tam was worried and angry about wasn’t snipers on his roof, but what his son had just done and who might have seen him do it. Tam’s fear was a palpable thing in the air. The only thing Tam had ever been truly afraid of was having someone he loved in danger. I sensed that fear now for Talon.

  Tam’s voice was a tight, enraged whisper. “I’ve told you never to—”

  “Keep a killer from putting a bolt in your back?” Talon retorted, never taking his eyes off of his subject. Apparently singing wasn’t necessary to maintain the spell, but concentration was.

  Vegard had a pair of slender manacles in his hands and was quickly but carefully approaching the frozen sniper. Get him cuffed, and Talon could let him go.

  “Never to expose yourself needlessly,” Tam snapped.

  “This wasn’t needless.”

  “In your opinion. Don’t you ever—”

  “What? Save your life?”

  “You just showed the head of the goblin secret service and her top agents exactly what you’re capable of—and any Khrynsani who might have seen you.”

  Talon blanched. “Oh shit.”

  “Yes, it is,” Tam readily agreed. “And you’ve jumped in it with both feet.”

  Vegard cuffed one of the sniper’s wrists and was prying the crossbow out of his hand. That done, he cuffed both hands behind the man’s back. With him frozen like that I’d expected him to be stiff as a board, but his body was still pliant, just staring and unresponsive. Vegard jerked the hood off of his head.

  An elf.

  Oh hell. Not just any elf. A Nightshade.

  Talon just sank in that metaphorical crap heap up to his neck.
/>   Nightshades were assassins, kidnappers, blackmailers, or whatever they had been given enough gold to do. You pay, they’ll play. And to get a Nightshade in a playful mood took more gold than could be had outside of either a vast personal fortune—or a government treasury.

  The air moved, brushing the skin on the back of my neck.

  We weren’t alone.

  Just because I couldn’t see, hear, or smell him didn’t mean he wasn’t there, watching us. He was; I could feel it. And he had been the entire time.

  “A veil.” I sent the thought to Tam. “A good one.” Recently some demons had used veils to hide themselves. Thanks to the boost my magic had picked up from the Saghred, I’d been able to see them just fine. It was night, the sniper was probably wearing black, but he shouldn’t be invisible, at least not to me.

  A prickling of magic was all the warning we got.

  Tam fired a bolt that blazed red like a comet at the spot where the man had to be. Something batted it harmlessly aside with no more effort than swatting a fly.

  Then came a laugh, taunting and confident.

  And familiar.

  Banan Ryce had always been a cocky bastard.

  The Nightshade commander dropped the veil and with a tug and dramatic flourish pulled off the hood covering his head. The streetlamps gave me enough light to know it was Banan. I didn’t need any more light to remember what he looked like: dark hair, tanned skin, pale green eyes, crooked smile, and the morals of a horny demon with an hour to live.

  He had an absurdly large crossbow leveled on yours truly. “Consorting with goblins again, Raine?”

  I indicated the bow. “Compensating for something, Banan?”

  “Your half-breed spawn is indeed gifted, Nathrach.”

  Tam controlled himself. I knew it took nearly everything he had not to close the distance between them and rip Banan’s head off.

  Banan kept going. “My employers are going to be thrilled to know what tricks your mongrel can do.”

  Talon snapped three words—the same words he’d used on the sniper in the street.

  Banan laughed as they bounced harmlessly off of his shields.

  “Nice try, boy. If I had a treat, I’d toss you one.” Then he smiled like this was the happiest moment of his life.

  Then he fired.

  And I trusted my backup.

  Shooters usually expect you to dive left or right. I did neither, instead diving down and straight toward Banan as Tam and Vegard opened up on him. With our umi’atsu bond, I didn’t have to tell Tam what I was going to do; he knew it as I thought it. It was teamwork at its finest.

  Banan’s shield was solid, but regardless of how strong they were, shields extended only so far. Tam kept him occupied with a blur of magic-spawned red needles while I worked on that shield. I wasn’t pounding my way through it; I was going under it, not to attack Banan, but to let my magic eat that shield from the inside out.

  We were near the edge of Sirens’ roof. Banan had nothing at his back but a three-story drop and at least twenty feet of air between him and the roof of the next building. I didn’t sense any warded Nightshade reinforcements. Banan was up here all by his lonesome. I didn’t like it, trust it, or really believe it, but I didn’t have time to go hunting for what probably wasn’t there. Banan first; look for invisible bogeymen later.

  Vegard kept up the fireballs, coin-sized and blazing white, and maneuvered to get around Banan and his shield.

  In a flash of sizzling green light, Banan’s shield wrapped him in a protective bubble, no seams, no openings, no way in.

  Dammit.

  Impressive work. Too impressive for Banan; he didn’t have that kind of power.

  He laughed and looked at me—with eyes of red flame.

  Oh hell.

  Banan Ryce had a guest; and unlike the possessed naked guy, Banan had invited the specter in.

  Hellfire and damnation.

  Banan chuckled. “Surprise.” He shifted and I could see the specter, floating like a glowing reflection beneath his skin. Banan’s shield glowed brighter. I felt Tam’s power building behind me; he was going to hit Banan once with everything he had. Normally that’d make Banan a greasy spot on Tam’s roof, but I wasn’t so sure about now. Neither was Tam, but he was going to try anyway.

  “I’d like you all to meet my new partner, Alastair Kratos.”

  Tam spat a single curse in Goblin.

  Banan smirked. “Magus Kratos feels much the same way about you, goblin.”

  The son of a bitch was reading our minds.

  “Quite right, Raine, with a little assistance from Magus Kratos. He knows all about you.”

  I didn’t know who the hell Alastair Kratos was, but Tam obviously did. And an instant later, he’d shared the sickening knowledge with me mind-to-mind. With goblins and elves, the hatred and the resulting atrocities went both ways. During yet another war between the two races, Alastair Kratos thought that simply killing goblin captives was a wasted opportunity. He was the chief healer in the elven army. He called himself a healer; history called him a monster. He considered the acts he performed on goblin captives, mostly children, medical experiments. It was torture, gleefully sadistic torture.

  “And he looks forward to continuing his work,” Banan told us. He glanced at Talon. “A half-breed so uniquely gifted would provide weeks of study—if he lives that long. Magus Kratos despises goblins, but necessity creates alliances where there would only be animosity. Sarad Nukpana didn’t choose Magus Kratos as an ally inside the Saghred because of his sparkling personality; he chose those who were the most powerful, those who, when the opportunity came, stood the best chance of escaping the Saghred. Now that he is no longer imprisoned, Magus Kratos is free to form partnerships more to his liking.”

  “A sadistic monster and a murderer for hire,” I noted. “A match made in Hell.”

  “Let’s just say we share many of the same goals. My men and I didn’t come here tonight to kill you or your hopeful goblin lover. Seeing his young spawn at play was an added bonus. Others have plans for you, and for the moment we’ve been asked not to interfere. For now. I’m here tonight to eliminate one goblin bitch.”

  As if in response, Imala Kalis’s enraged shouts carried up to us from the street. I’d always said that if you needed to do any quality swearing, Goblin was the way to go. Imala Kalis was most creative in her use of her native language.

  “An impressive display.” Banan admitted. “Apparently her guards were equally impressive. Oh well, we’re prepared to make more than one attempt.” He flashed a grin. “Time for Plan B.”

  And he stepped off the roof.

  We ran to the edge in time to see Banan land catlike on the street and disappear into the dark of an alley.

  Three stories below.

  A jump like that should have killed him; apparently being possessed gives you more than just an invisible friend.

  Tam spat the same word again.

  I couldn’t have agreed more.

  * * *

  On the street in front of Sirens were two sentry dragons, and a gratifying number of city watchmen. Chief Watcher Sedge Rinker had his hands full with an infuriated Imala Kalis.

  “We come here in peace to speak with our countryman, only to be attacked by elves on neutral ground.” Imala Kalis was toe-to-toe with Sedge Rinker. Sedge wasn’t the type to back off, but he looked rather taken aback at her cold fury.

  Sedge wasn’t just Mid’s chief watcher; he was also good people. He didn’t get to be chief by sitting behind a desk all day. He was a consummate professional, knew his business, and cared about the safety of his citizens.

  Tam saw and swore. One of Imala Kalis’s guards thought to stop him, then he saw the expression on Tam’s face and stepped aside. Sedge spotted Tam and made a quick half bow and murmured a few words to a stunned Imala Kalis. I guess the lady didn’t have much experience being cut off in mid-rant.

  Sedge met Tam in the middle of the street, looking like a man
with bad news. I heard the chief watcher’s words. We all did.

  “Tamnais Nathrach, you’re under arrest for the kidnapping and murder of General Daman Aratus.”

  Chapter 8

  “Sedge, he’s innocent and you know it.” It took every bit of self-control I had not to scream those words. I wouldn’t help Tam if I did something dumb and got myself locked up in the cell next to his.

  I had enough trouble on my hands with Talon.

  Naturally, he’d insisted on coming with us, and now Vegard was faced with the challenge of keeping both me and Talon out of jail. I didn’t want Talon to hear what I was saying and possibly do something even more impulsive and arrestworthy than what I knew he was already thinking. Vegard agreed with me, so he and Talon were in Sedge’s conference room next to his office. Vegard had the door cracked so he could see and hear everything going on in the watchers’ squad room.

  My Guardian bodyguard was getting his eyes and ears full.

  Sedge Rinker blew out his breath. “Raine, I’ve had multiple witnesses report that they saw Tam force General Aratus into a coach. An hour later the general’s body was tossed into the street. As chief watcher, I can’t ignore that.”

  I glanced at Tam. He was leaning against the back wall of a cell crackling with wards; the same cell that had held three demons just weeks before. He was leaning back, arms crossed, one ankle crossed over the other, looking completely relaxed. Tam’s leisurely pose might have been an act—or it might have been confidence. I’d seen Tam tear through stronger wards before, with a lot nastier magical manpower waiting outside the cell. Tam went in because he was being a law-abiding citizen. For now. But if anyone came near his son, I knew all bets were off and it would be ugly.

  And two of those so-called witnesses were standing in the squad room right now.

  I couldn’t speak to Tam with my voice or mind-to-mind with our bond. The wards prevented both. Tam was doing the cool, confident, and cocky act because he had the men responsible for putting him behind those wards in sight, and a couple rips of those wards would put them within reach. Tam’s slight smile told me he was probably entertaining himself with the thoughts of what he was going to do to Carnades Silvanus and Taltek Balmorlan when he got his hands on them. And since Carnades and Balmorlan had waited until Tam was safely locked away before making their grand entrance, the elf bastards knew that fact only too well.