by D. G. Swank
Brandon gave me a suspicious glance but remained silent as he ushered me into the hotel bar with one hand at the small of my back while holding his free hand at his side, his fingers splayed and waggling to follow the trail of Markus Bieler’s magic. He glamoured his fingers to look normal.
When we entered the bar, Brandon paused, still searching for traces of magic.
Did he know about the scroll? I couldn’t see how it could have escaped him.
“How about you tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.
He shot me a glare. “I could suggest the same thing.”
If the Dark Set wanted the scroll, then it likely held dark spells. That must have been Markus Bieler’s “meeting.” Had he planned to ambush Terrance all along, or had he genuinely hoped to convert him?
And where was Markus now?
This was too important to be petty, keeping things from Brandon. One of us needed to choose to trust the other first, and it might as well be me. “Find out what you need,” I said, “and then we need to talk.”
“Agreed. Wait here.”
Brandon started to walk around the perimeter of the bar, holding out his hand as he searched for lingering magic.
I could feel the magic too, and Josie urged me to follow. Scenes flashed through my head, filling it with images. A mage using aura magic to swindle a nonmagical out of money. Glamouring for dates and even to hide a speakeasy. And then dark magic on the back of the room. Some of the traces were older, but a fresh image appeared from the night before: Markus and the redheaded woman, Gwen. They’d had an argument, although I couldn’t make out the words. He moved to hit her, but she blocked him with magic. She grabbed the umbrella and tried to run off with it, but he ran after her and slapped her this time. A security guard headed toward them, and Markus glamoured the two of them to hide them from sight. He wrapped his fingers around her neck and got into her face.
“You can’t stop me, Gwen.”
“It’s wrong,” she forced out. “Evil.” Then a bright flash filled the room, and when my vision returned, Gwen was gone and Markus was holding air.
He looked down at the umbrella in his hand, then headed toward the elevator as the vision ended.
At first I thought Markus had killed her—I certainly wouldn’t have put it past him—but I could feel her magic now. It had been hidden from me in the scene in the elevator, overpowered by his ability. His power felt manufactured with potions and spells, whereas hers was an ancient magic as old as the earth.
His magic seemed to have disappeared, leaving no trail to follow, but Gwen’s was a different story.
Someone bumped into me from behind and I realized Brandon was watching me with a dark expression. He quickly approached me. “Let’s go.”
I almost asked him where we were going but decided not to tempt him into leaving me behind. I knew what he was planning. He was going to track down Gwen.
When we reached the lobby, he said, “I’m having the car brought around. Do you need anything from the room?”
“You plan to take me with you?”
His jaw tightened. “I can’t leave you here, now can I?”
I propped a hand on my hip. “Why are you so pissed, Brandon?”
“We’ll discuss it in the car.”
Gwen’s magic was there in front of me, like a magic trail of breadcrumbs, even though I could feel her attempt to hide it. Had she done a better job of concealing herself from Markus?
“She’s not in the city,” I murmured to myself.
Once again, I wondered what kind of magic had Josephine Anderson possessed.
“You’re right,” Brandon agreed. He didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t argue either.
It only took a few minutes for the valet to get our car, and then we were back on the highway.
Bran was quiet until we were out of downtown and headed to the Kansas countryside, which took less than ten minutes.
“What kind of magic were you using, Phoebe?” he finally asked.
“What did you see in the elevator?” I asked.
“I saw Bieler head to the bar. What did you see?”
“A hell of a lot more than that.”
“Again, what kind of magic were you using?” he ground out.
“I’m not really sure, and that’s the truth. I found an ancestor at a cemetery about a mile from the hotel. She was eager to help.”
“What did you do with her talent?”
“I could track magic. I saw memories of witches and mages who performed the spells.” I watched him closely to see his reaction. “I saw the scroll.”
He was slow to react. “What else did you see?”
“I saw Markus Bieler kill to get it.”
Brandon was quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheek, as if uncertain how to respond. Finally, he said, “Terrance.”
I arched a brow. Was he actually volunteering a breadcrumb of information? “Yes,” I said, prompting him to continue.
“Where do you think we’re going now?” he asked. “To get the scroll from Bieler?”
“I sure as Hades hope not. We need to go after Gwen.”
“Gwen?”
“The woman he tried to kill outside the bar. She tried to steal the scroll.”
“She didn’t get it,” he said. “Why would we go after her?”
I gave him a look that suggested he was crazy. Was this a test? “You’re not serious.”
“Why would we go after her, Phoebe?”
“To find out what we’re walking into when we track Markus down. To find out if she knows where he went since his trail went cold. I don’t know, to hold her accountable if she’s partially responsible for this whole mess?”
He scowled, but after a few seconds, he asked, “Which relative helped you see all of that?”
“One I hope to get to know better, but her power won’t reach this far, so I only have the relatives I’m wearing to help us, unless I’m lucky enough to find another relative close to where Gwen is hiding.” I turned in my seat. “Did you feel Gwen’s magic?”
“Of course I felt her magic,” he said defensively.
“I meant, did you feel that it’s different?”
His shoulders relaxed slightly, but he still held the steering wheel in a tight grip. “Yeah.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“I have my suspicions, but I’d prefer to meet her first before I admit to them.”
“More secrets, Brandon,” I said in disgust.
“Not a secret, Phoebe,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t want to look like a fool for suggesting it, because it’s not very likely.”
I hadn’t expected that admission, but now I was really curious to know what he was thinking.
We pulled off the highway about twenty-five miles outside of the city, cruised through some twisting country roads, and eventually came to a stop in front of a sign that announced we’d arrived at Weston Bend State Park.
“She’s here,” Brandon muttered. “But why is she here? It seems pretty random.”
“Maybe they were partners before she tried to steal the scroll and took off, which means she likely makes potions too. Maybe she’s meeting someone here?” Josie’s power had faded, forcing me to trust that Brandon would keep me informed.
The roads grew winding and quiet. We passed campgrounds and a few small cabins before turning a bend and finding a single yurt standing alone in a small clearing.
“Here,” Bran said. “I can feel her magic. You stay in the car.” Then he got out before I could answer.
Part of me wanted to comply. Gwen had blocked Markus Bieler’s magic, which meant she was likely powerful in her own right. Which also meant she was dangerous. But ultimately it didn’t matter—there was no way he was going in without me.
My stomach flipped as I got out and gave the yurt a once-over. Brandon was already halfway to the door when a man walked out the front door.
The man stopped in his tracks when he looked up and sa
w us.
“I’m here by the authority of the Valerian Small Council as a member of the Protective Force,” Brandon said in an authoritative tone. “We need to speak to Gwen.”
The man’s whole body stiffened, and his fingers curved out in preparation to cast a spell. I had just caught up with Bran as he was coming to a stop, and his arm shot out in front of me, pushing my entire body behind his.
“Who’s asking?” the mage called back. His body was tense, coiled, silently warning us against coming closer.
“Henry? Is everything al—” a delicate voice preceded a slight woman out the front door.
She froze.
“Everyone stop and take a moment,” Bran said, still preventing me from moving out from behind him.
Over his shoulder, I caught a better glimpse of the woman. She was the same woman from my visions. Her hair blazed bright ginger in the sunlight, and she was dressed simply in a hooded tunic, leggings, and tall lace-up hiking boots. She wore no makeup or jewelry, and held a basket filled with greenery slung over one arm.
Bran held his arm out in a nonthreatening gesture. “All you have to do is tell us where we can find Markus Bieler, and we’ll be done here.”
I knew that wasn’t true. If Bran found out these people were even tangentially responsible for the theft of the book and the abduction of my sister, there would be hell to pay—from us and from the Council.
In a heartbeat, the woman’s basket dropped from her arm, and she let out a soft cry. The man she’d called Henry turned and rushed to her side. Bran broke into a rapid stride in their direction and I followed.
“He’s telling the truth,” the woman was saying as she looked imploringly up into Henry’s eyes. “We have to help them.”
Chapter Eighteen
“We’ll do anything we can to help,” Gwen insisted.
“And you are?” Brandon asked, angling himself so he once again stood in front of me.
I took a step to the side so I could see her better.
“Gwen Callaghan.”
“And what is your association with Markus Bieler?”
“A stupid one,” she mumbled. “You can relax. I don’t mean you any harm.”
“Forgive me if I don’t quite buy it yet,” Brandon countered. “We know you were with Markus Bieler at the Phillips Hotel. We know that you witnessed Terrance Posner’s murder. What is your part in stealing the Book of Sindal?”
She blinked, her face losing color. “I had no idea he’d stolen the book,” she finally said, her voice sounding strangled. “I never would have helped him if I’d known that was what he was up to. That book unleashed evil I never want to see repeated, not if I lived a thousand lifetimes.”
Shock covered Henry’s face. “My Gwennie would never be part of stealing such an evil thing,” he said, but he looked like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince us.
“What role did you play in this, Gwen Callaghan?” Brandon asked.
She flinched. “I want to help you. I’ll tell you what I know, but I’d feel better doing it inside. We’re too exposed here.”
Go inside so she could ambush us?
Brandon shot me a sharp glance, then turned back to her. “Out here is just fine. Or we can take a trip to the Protective Force satellite office in Kansas City.”
“No,” she said, fear in her eyes. “Here works.”
“Why did you help Bieler?” Brandon asked.
“Don’t answer that,” Henry warned, looking like he was about to launch himself at Brandon.
“And you are?” Brandon asked.
“Henry Callaghan. Her brother. Who the fuck are you? You’ve made a lot of claims, but you haven’t given us a name.”
“Brandon Cassidy, captain of the Protective Force. And I recommend you don’t try to harm me or my co-investigator, or I’ll be forced to haul you before the Small Council. With everything else your sister is involved in, they won’t deal with you lightly.”
“I’m telling you, she didn’t do—”
“I did, Henry,” she said softly. “I helped.”
He deflated, staring at her as though she’d become a stranger to him.
“We’re losing our way. I had to protect our people’s history. So I helped him, but I had no idea he’d take it so far.” She turned to us, her voice becoming firmer. “I had no idea he’d steal the Book of Sindal. I had no idea he’d use my potion work to steal the Book of Sindal or I never would have agreed. He told me we were strengthening magic.”
“You made potions for him?” Brandon asked.
She nodded with terrified eyes. “But I had no idea the lengths he planned to go to. I swear.”
“Not only was the scent of your spellwork at the site where the book was stolen,” Brandon said, “but also found at a murder scene months ago.”
Her eyes widened in terror. “Murder scene?”
I realized Brandon was referring to the circle Caroline had stumbled upon at her ex-boyfriend’s.
“How long have you been associated with Markus Bieler?” Brandon asked.
Tears filled her eyes. “Not long. Maybe six months.” Resolve hardened her face. “But I had no part in any murder. I swear it. I was making potions for Markus. He told me he was using them for practice.”
“What kind of potions?” I asked, earning a disapproving glare from Brandon. Too bad. I was part of this too.
“Amplifying potions,” she said. “They give spells an energy boost, but I swear I had no idea what he was really doing until he killed Terrance Posner in the elevator.”
Brandon studied her with a level gaze. “I don’t think that’s quite true, Gwen,” he said in a smooth tone, filled with power. “Try again.”
“I realized it on the way to Kansas City,” she said. “I heard him talking to someone on the phone. He asked if the book was still safe and promised he’d soon have the scroll. He said they’d be ready for the ceremony tomorrow night when the Grand Master arrives.”
“Who was he talking to?” Brandon asked.
“I don’t know,” she pleaded, then turned to face me. “I swear it.”
“Who is the Grand Master?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know who he is, but I know it’s a he. I think he was out of the country.”
Out of the country? I shot a questioning glance to Brandon.
“What makes you think that?” he asked.
“He said he had to get through customs, but he was bringing someone who could help deceive the customs agents.”
“Why would you get mixed up with someone like that, Gwen?” Henry asked, sounding pissed. “The only thing you told me when you showed up at my door was that you’d had a bad breakup with your boyfriend.”
“That part is true,” I said. “When your boyfriend tries to choke you to death twice in a span of five minutes, I’d call it a bad breakup.”
Gwen’s eyes widened in fear. “How did you know that?” Then she narrowed her focus on Brandon, spitting out in disgust, “Damn Protective Force aura readers.”
It struck me that Brandon looked as shocked by my revelation as Gwen did. What exactly had he seen?
“Your brother asks a good question,” Brandon said. “Why did you get mixed up with him? You said you wanted to preserve your ways. What ways?”
“Careful, Gwennie,” Henry warned.
Brandon pointed a finger at him and grunted. “You be quiet or I’ll haul you in for obstructing an investigation.” Then he turned to Gwen and barked, “What ways?”
She flinched but held his gaze. “You tracked my scent. Markus and I both worked the potions, but my magic was dominant. What did you smell?”
He hesitated as though wondering if this was a trap, then said, “Something sweet yet burnt.”
She nodded with pride. “That’s how many describe the scent of sessile oak.” She paused and held his gaze. “It’s a marker of a Druid spell.”
I gasped. “Druid?”
But Br
andon didn’t seem surprised at all. No wonder he didn’t want to confess his suspicions to me. Druids were supposed to be extinct.
Just like the Dark Set and a certain book.
Gwen gave us the slightest of smiles. “There aren’t many of us in practice, but yes. Some stories of the old Druids are horrible—human sacrifice in exchange for power, things like that—but I believe those are rare exceptions. Being a Druid has always been about using nature to define, shape, and aid the lives of others—nonmagicals, witches, and mages alike.
“Henry and I are descended from one of the most prominent Druid witches of the second century. Very few of us can trace our lineage back that far, but those of us who can, and learn at the foot of one of the old English sessile oaks, carry the spell signature of our ancient bloodline. For the Druids, the oak is the tree of life and expels one of the purest, oldest earthen scents. Rare back then, even rarer now, but we carry it with us through the memory of those spells. A talented tracker would have been bowled over by it.” She nodded toward him. “You must be powerful indeed.”
Brandon didn’t look moved by her compliment.
I was still struggling to accept that I was face-to-face with not one, but two Druids.
My sisters and I had learned about Druids as children, in the same way we’d learned the rest of our magical history. They were primitive, our parents had told us, and their power was dependent on fluctuations in nature—the life of the forest, the cycles of the moon, and the ebb and flow of the tides. But when they did work magic, it was more powerful than any of us witches or mages in the contemporary age could imagine. The Druids of old had been known to move mountains, bring the dead back to life, beat back evil itself, and call forth pure light and goodness.
Gwen’s wide eyes pooled with tears. “But to steal a book filled with dark magic?” She shook her head. “I had no part in that. The Druid practice is dedicated to facilitating a connection between nature and humanity here on Earth. Our purpose is to facilitate goodness, to let light into a world that is so in love with darkness.”
