He leaned in, studying me closely, his silver-blues held mine until I dropped my gaze and looked at my hands. When I lifted my eyes they were still rooted on me. “Finish.”
“I took Savannah home, and we talked for a little while and then went to bed.”
“You sleep in your clothes? You were found fully dressed.”
I was going to sound like a crazy person if I told him that I slept in clothes that, if needed, could pass for street clothes. It was a habit, yoga pants and t-shirt. A small bag of clothes and all the money I had saved over the years stowed away in it. At any time I was prepared to run if I were ever found out. There was a difference between a Tracker knowing of my existence and someone like Gareth, head of the Supernatural Guild. A team of skilled, trained shapeshifters, high mages, and elite faes wasn’t something I could go up against and survive. I gave Gareth a once-over. Thick bundles of muscles laced up his forearms. His broad chest strained the seams of his t-shirt, and a defined core wasn’t easily hidden in said t-shirt. He was muscular enough to be powerful, and lean enough to be quick. His lips curled into a miscreant smile. “What are you thinking about?”
Jerking my eyes away, I stood and began to pace the room, aware that he was watching me. “I’m just trying to remember … but I can’t. I can’t give you anything else.”
“Witch, low mage, or fae?” he asked.
“What?”
“Which are you, I’m having a hard time telling. Your magic smells different.”
“You asked that question before, remember?”
His lips twisted into a frown, and curiosity flashed and quickly settled. “I know, but I’m rarely wrong.”
“You think my answer would change between the last time you asked and now?”
He shrugged. “I’m just asking a standard question.” Behind his eyes lurked something that I couldn’t quite place. His curiosity was definitely piqued. “I don’t think I’ve ever been wrong before.”
I shrugged back at him. “There is always a first time for everything.”
He attempted a smile, but it looked like a smirk of doubt as he stood. “Perhaps.”
“May I use a phone?”
He grabbed the phone and slid it across the table. I looked at it for a moment before I took it. Did I want to call from his phone and give him access to numbers I called?
He chuckled to himself. “Don’t you think I can get the numbers of whomever you’ve called, ever?”
“I’m sure you can, but why make it easy for you?”
The grin lingered as he closed the door behind him.
Savannah was the first person I called and her voice was weighted with concern and fear when she answered the phone.
“It’s so good to hear you. When I heard that you were being transferred to the Haven—” She stopped and sighed into the phone. Distress made her voice shaky.
“I’m fine. It’s like a freaking dorm here. It’s not like I’m in jail.” I made my tone light and lively. She would stress, but I wanted her to do it less. The stay wasn’t that bad. But it was just like I was in jail, a supernatural one, but a jail nonetheless.
“What about bail?”
“I’m a suspect in a triple murder. I doubt I get bail.”
“I spoke to my dad and he said you had to have had a bail hearing.” She sounded like she was ready to suit up for a one-person protest against the machine.
“Savannah, you can put the marker and poster board down, I’m fine. Things don’t work the same in the Haven and with the supernatural laws. It’s not that bad. I’m using a cell phone and when I get back to my room—and yes, I did say room—I’ll have something to eat similar to what I had earlier, which was a cheeseburger and fries.”
“See, that’s how they get you, a slow death from coronary disease.” Her light, melodious laughter was a welcomed sound. The tone of her voice relaxed, although I knew it was for my benefit. “So what happens next?”
“They can’t link this to me. Those deaths were caused by something supernatural. It couldn’t be me, and they will figure that out and let me go,” I asserted with a calm that I didn’t really feel. Definitely, I could have done it. Then the unsettling thought came to me. I could have done this. I had it in me. The ability to rip the magic from someone and take their life was something I had the magical power to do—but I wouldn’t.
They’d checked me for shields, something used to block the detection of magic. Few witches could do the spell, it cost like hell. And if you were trying to hide that you possessed magic, you would pay whatever it cost. My mother’s best friend was a powerful witch and made mine. I blinked back the tears, remembering that she died as a casualty of knowing my family and who we were.
I pushed away the memories. One thing at a time. Get out of the Haven and find whoever set me up and make them wish they had made better life choices.
“I’ll be home clogging my arteries and finding a million ways to avoid going to yoga with you in no time,” I teased.
I sounded confident enough to be easily believed, and she was all brightness and sunshine on the other end. We were both full of crap. But crying about it, being depressed, and thinking about the alternatives wouldn’t have changed anything.
“Did I make the news?”
“No.” She sounded just as surprised as I was. But then again, was I really surprised? To keep the peace and calm, supernatural crimes were handled with a level of discretion I’d never seen before. Once the supernaturals were forced out of the closet, Humans First became a small but vocal group that didn’t like it. They didn’t like magic, period. Living separate was one of the reasonable outcries, less radical than it was initially. They were too small to be anything more than an annoyance, but if supernaturals were considered a threat then it would add legitimacy to their views. Most people liked the way things were, and the idea of a war between the supernaturals and humans would be devastating. The reason they came out the victors against the Legacy and stopped the Cleanse was because they worked together. The alliance benefited both.
CHAPTER 6
After the breakfast I couldn’t bring myself to eat, I was led upstairs by two different guards—two mages. I guess they had heard about the incident the day before because they were stone-faced as they removed me from my room. And the looks didn’t soften, even after I was led into the large room that took up at least a quarter of the top floor; white walls with runes that could be activated or deactivated with a invocation and sacred passages that denoted their commitment to hold up their laws, to protect the human and supernatural, and to provide punishment befitting of the crime, besides all the other things that made them feel holier-than-thou and worthy of passing judgment on others. The large dark wood chairs, with ornate carving, deep burgundy crushed velvet cushions, and bejeweled armrests, looked more like thrones than of chairs. In fact, their chamber made me feel like I was in a cathedral. Large frosted windows covered half the wall, thick muted colored drapes pulled back to allow a distorted stream of sun of in.
I stood in front of the oversized bench. They were all dressed in black suits. Constantly being surrounded by black made me feel like they were gently ushering me into an acceptance of a death; sending subliminal messages to me to prepare for it, because it was mine.
Five people including Gareth watched me with intrigue and aversion: a mage, fae, witch, vampire, and shapeshifter. All sects represented. I didn’t know why the vampire was there; what was so damn magical about them? The walking dead. Big deal, they might as well have a hot zombie sitting in his place. But he was a big deal. I didn’t know him personally, but I was dealing with the strongest and most respected of each division.
The fae, Harrah, was the first to speak as I knew she would be. She was the face of the Magic Council and the only one besides Gareth that I knew by name. Shouldn’t there be some type of introduction? I should know the names of the people who had my life in their hands. I only knew Harrah Siels because her name was always placed on the botto
m of the television screen. She was the greatest PR person that the magic community could have asked for. A rogue shifter goes crazy in a bar and kills a bunch of people, Harrah was on camera. Her gentle reassuring amber eyes, round cherub face, and supple bowed lips and petite stature lent to her seraphic appearance. Her dainty voice and genteel demeanor entreated trust. Magic wasn’t scary, ominous, or dangerous when she was the face of it. And that seemed to be her job. Harrah was good at her job.
And always surrounded by a group of the Magic Council’s representatives who often looked as though they could handle themselves in any situation, whether it was a spell that had to be stopped, a curse that needed to be lifted, a shifter who needed to be controlled, a mage who needed to be disarmed, or a freaking kitten that just needed help getting out of a tree, they could handle it all, and so the human world felt safe. They considered the Cleanse a distant memory, old history despite it happening a little over twenty-five years ago, before I was born.
“Will you please tell me your full name?” Harrah asked, and I felt the warmth of her magic wrap around me, making an attempt to force me into truth. It was illegal to do this anywhere outside the court. But I guess their court, their rules. They established the truth by all means.
Her magic was strong, but it didn’t take much to put up an apotrepein, a magical wall, to block it. But I watched everyone’s face to make sure they didn’t sense it. Magic didn’t work very well on my kind. It worked, but it had to be very strong. Perhaps if another fae had been there to help then I would have actually been forced to put up one strong enough to be detected. I gave her my truth. I was Olivia Michaels. I had been her longer than I was Anya Kismet. The moment I donned the brunette hair and got rid of the trademark fiery persimmon mane, the Legacy trademark, and had the shield tattooed on me to mask my magic, I became Olivia.
I said my name with confidence in my lie, “Olivia Michaels,” and tried to keep a steady gaze on Harrah, but like everyone’s in the room, it slipped in Gareth’s direction. He leaned back in his chair, studying me.
My heart started to pound harder the longer he took, and his smirk didn’t help. Say something!
“Will you repeat your name again, please.” His voice low, but his command held the necessary effect.
Was he screwing with me?
I repeated my name through clenched teeth.
He shrugged. “She’s telling the truth.”
The tension in the room relaxed and all eyes immediately went back to me.
My lies and restrictions had become my own personal prison. My life was slowly turning me into a deceiver, and I realized I needed to be one in order to survive, but it was getting harder.
The witch was the first to question me. “Are you able to use magic?”
I shook my head. She studied me with the same intensity as Gareth had before looking in his direction.
He nodded to signify I was telling the truth. The tight furl of her lips relaxed. More questions were asked, a repeat of the questions asked at the jail and by Gareth.
The mage questioned me next. He seemed the most comfortable in his role as judge and executioner. Sitting back in his chair, he steepled his fingers. His tailored black suit hung pleasingly over his body and complemented his slim physique. The white shirt was crisp and bright. Sharply hewn features went further than what some might describe as “chiseled.” They were dagger sharp, and amber eyes honed in on me.
“It is your defense that you don’t remember anything from the other night. Just waking up next to the dead bodies. Is that what you want us to believe?”
“It’s not just a defense, it’s the truth,” I said.
Nothing could have prepared me for the jolt of pain that seized my body, bringing me to my knees. It was as though someone had taken my insides and twisted them in a heated vise. My nails bit into my skin and I fought the urge to absorb the magic and send it back at him even harder. I didn’t look up, but instead kept my head bowed down, because if there was a smug look of satisfaction on his face, I would have wanted to wipe it off by any means. I panted and it took a few minutes to get my breathing under control and deal with the pain. A tinge of magic still flared in me, a gentle throb.
“Jonathan, that was unnecessary,” Gareth said, keeping his eyes on me as he addressed the mage.
“I feel that it was. Perhaps she needed her memory jarred a little. She now knows there are consequences if she is dishonest.”
After a pause Gareth directed his attention to Jonathan. With a hand to his chin for a while he appraised Jonathan in silence. He was intense, his anger tightly gathered, ready to explode. If they had forgotten he was a shapeshifter by his previous somber mood, they were very aware if it now. He commanded the room. “I’ve interviewed her and told you I didn’t think she was guilty of the crimes and if I felt she was being dishonest, I would have told you.” His gaze sharpened and fixed on the mage. He leaned in, and his tone dropped to a low growl as he spoke. “Don’t do it again.”
Although he was one of the two people who didn’t possess magic, he was the scariest person at the table.
Jonathan sat up and looked quickly in my direction. “Ms. Michaels, go on with all that you remember.”
And I did. I told them everything. They listened in silence, while Gareth and Harrah did most of the questioning. It wasn’t until the questioning led to what occurred at the auction and the club that the vampire finally seemed interested.
“What makes you believe that they were being controlled by something else and not just in a state of bloodlust?”
“I’ve seen vampires in bloodlust,” I admitted. I’d seen two, which didn’t make me an expert, but you don’t forget what they look like when they attack. “It’s a different look, more desire, a need … like they are …”
“Horny?” he offered, as a lascivious look brushed over his features. I’m sure he’d been told he was handsome more times than he ever needed to hear. As his fingers raked through his gilded blond hair, an odd contrast to his dark eyes, he looked at me the way most vampires looked at any moderately attractive person, as food and possibly more. And if you didn’t serve any of those purposes, they quickly lost interest.
“No. Hungry. An insatiable hunger.”
He nodded slowly, and although he continued to look at me, apparently I was still on the menu. He addressed everyone else. “If my vampires are being controlled, it is by a necromancer. How is that possible?”
And that wasn’t even the most pressing question. Well not for me, because if people like me existed, although I was supposed to be extinct, why wouldn’t necromancers exist? It would be just as easy for them to hide if they needed to. But the question was why were they risking being discovered?
The vampire addressed Gareth, “Do you believe it could be the work of a necromancer?”
Everyone looked in Gareth’s direction. He considered the question for a long time and then frowned. “I don’t know but it definitely isn’t something that we should rule out.”
Jonathan cleared his throat, clearly agitated that the conversation had digressed or maybe he wanted the trial to be over because he was getting a little light-headed from sitting on his high horse.
They continued another twenty minutes of questioning. I became aware that everyone seemed noticeably relaxed—but maybe it was because they thought I was guilty and were happy to have found justice.
The interrogation continued for forty more minutes, and most of it consisted of the same questions being asked different ways. With each question they seemed tenser. Cold. And then they simply dismissed me in the middle of a question. Harrah said they had enough and called for someone to escort me back.
When the same shifters came into the chamber to retrieve me, I hesitated before going with them. I looked over my shoulder at the Magic Council, trying to read their expressions, and not even Gareth looked in my direction. Instead he kept his head down. Maybe they didn’t think I was guilty of the murders, but they thought I was gu
ilty of something. Panic quickly took over the darkest parts of my mind, and the fear blossomed into terror. Did they know? Could they have sensed the rise of magic in me, when Jonathan attacked, and knew it was different than theirs? It wasn’t mage, fae, or witch magic. It was one brand, undiluted and strong, ancient strength before magic was labeled and controlled, before it was sorted and divided. Before mages or faes existed and their bastard offspring’s witches were even considered strong. I wasn’t something scary and wrong, but my magic damn sure was. And what my ancestors chose to do with it made us a menace.
I sucked in a ragged breath, and when I exhaled again, I made an attempt to control my breathing. The shifter on my right kept looking at me, and I’m sure he could hear the increase in my heart and the change in my breathing.
Back in the room, I waited, pacing the floor and stopping each time I thought I heard footsteps. I had gone to the small window twice. It was big enough for me to fit through, but I thought about the beautiful vines of flowers that laced up the side of the building, which I was sure were cursed to cause great harm if someone even considered climbing near them. And there wasn’t a way out the window and avoid them. By the second hour of waiting, I pushed the bed toward the window to get a better look at the flowers along the wall. There was such a potent scent, just getting close to the window made me light-headed—a sedative. Plans went through my mind, and each one ended with me being on the run. I had to just wait.
Hour three, I heard footsteps, the door opened, and Gareth walked in. “You are free to go,” he said.
“That’s it?”
He nodded once and handed me a bag with my things in it. The clothes were washed, but not well enough to get out the blood. The black yoga pants didn’t show it, but light stains remained on the t-shirt. I stepped into the bathroom and quickly dressed. He was leaning against the wall when I returned.
Double-Sided Magic (Legacy Series Book 1) Page 7
