by Nichols, TJ
Cadmael finished talking with Iktan and walked over. “He was captured in Kaan Pech as expected. They put him on a boat that we believe is heading to Vinland. Without magic we are blind.”
“And your allies who aren’t so dependent on magic, what do they say?” Saka’s words were sharp.
“That the boat looks like it is heading up the coast toward New London.”
Saka drew in a breath. “That’s where the college is based.”
“That’s where they’ve been hanging traitors,” Cadmael said, his expression as grim as his tone.
“Terrance is with him?”
“He walked onto the boat. We don’t know if he’s still on the boat.”
Irritation and worry crawled over his skin like so many beetles wanting to find a way in. There was nothing he could do but wait. At one time he’d been good at waiting, at telling everyone else to wait and give him time to work with the underground. What a fool he’d been.
“And Lizzie?”
“Is safe. I have other priests who will accept Wek as their mage—a mage who already knows how to make a doorway.”
“They know in theory.” No one had made a doorway in decades according to Iktan. “Train Lizzie and Wek. They know each other well. They’ll be able to make a connection. It has to work.” It had to be Wek and Lizzie. Emma was staying here for the moment and already had a demon animal, and no one knew where Reece was. Cadmael suspected the worst—that he had joined up with the Vinnish. Saka thought Reece had vanished, which was smart when the Vinnish wanted his blood and the Mayans were none too happy.
“Iktan says you’re closing the doorway at dusk.”
Saka nodded. Lozim’s blood would help seal it. While they didn’t have all of the tribes, they hopefully had enough—enough that there would be very little magic leaking out. But it was incredibly hard to do. Someone would have to be at the doorway at all times to keep it closed and stop the magic from leaving. They would work in shifts, none of them leaving the area and all of them ready to act when Terrance came through.
While mages had come from nearby towns associated with the Mayan Empire, Saka didn’t know if it would be enough or how draining it would be. The whole plan was like running into the desert at night without bells or weapons and hoping to survive until dawn.
Sure it could happen, though it was unlikely. But he wouldn’t dwell on failure, because he wasn’t ready to think about a life without Angus. Maybe if it reached day ten, he would walk into the desert alone and unarmed. It would be a better way to die than to wait for Arlyxia to finish drying. He drew in a breath. He could plan his death later. For the moment he would cling to hope the way he should’ve clung to Angus. He rubbed the pale scar on his chest—a scar he’d never heal. He should’ve said he loved Angus a long time ago instead of keeping it to himself as though it were something to be ashamed of. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Thank you for your help,” Cadmael said, “for bringing Angus to us.”
Saka considered the priest for a moment, and bitterness filled his mouth like poison. He hadn’t brought Angus here for any other reason than to find refuge. If he’d known the cost, he’d have never risked all those human lives to get here. “Remember your gratitude when this is done.”
Chapter Forty-One
The world was rocking, the air was too warm, and his head thumped with every movement. Something was wrong with him, but every thought scattered before Angus could form them up into a line and make sense of them.
Angus sank back into the moving darkness.
The next time he surfaced, it was easier and accompanied by an unhealthy dose of panic. He couldn’t move properly, and his skin itched. The back of his head throbbed and stung when he moved it. Whatever he was lying on was hard. He went to touch the wound, to see how bad it was, but his hands were cuffed together.
His heart beat faster as the panic learned how to fly.
This was the plan. It was fine. His breathing quickened. He was suffocating in the dark, so he forced slow breaths, each one laden with salt and sea. He was on a boat, and he felt weird because of the magic-dampening cuffs. The magic in him was trapped and coursing through him, unable to find a way out. His bells were missing from his ankle, replaced with cuffs, and he couldn’t feel the leather of his knife sheath on his arm. They’d taken his sandals too. So far they were all things he’d expected.
The panic didn’t recede, but it was contained for the moment.
He breathed slowly in the dark. They were still moving, and the rocking made his empty stomach rise and fall with the motion. How much longer would they be traveling?
He needed a drink… and to pee.
With no magic to see what he was doing, he groped around and hoped they’d left something. After several minutes of running his hands over wooden surfaces, he realized he was in a small room. The walls were lined with shelves—all of them unhelpfully empty. His steps were more of a shuffle because of the cuffs on his ankles. Metal and plastic and secured with magic—that he could feel—they were the kind of cuffs that were considered unbreakable. They weren’t like the simple wristbands that sports players wore to prevent cheating and that Terrance had learned to bypass. These were cuffs for serious criminals.
He leaned against the shelves as nausea and hunger waged war in his stomach.
They wanted him weak on arrival. They wouldn’t give him anything even if he asked.
The great traitor, in his soiled clothes, was unable to use magic. He hoped they wouldn’t drag him through the streets.
The plan, which had never been great to begin with, was becoming more flimsy than wet paper. Where was Terrance? At least he wasn’t locked in here. Did that mean they trusted him, or was he locked up somewhere else? He needed Terrance to open the void. If he didn’t have Terrance, it was all over.
Everyone was expecting him to do this thing, and he wasn’t sure he could. He’d never had the chance to even practice. He traced the scar he could reach on his forearm and then Saka’s mark on his chest. The mages thought he could. He was a mage.
And he still had magic, even if he couldn’t use it right now.
He still needed to pee, but he could solve that. While it was awkward with cuffed hands, he peed on the door. At least he knew where that was. Then he wedged himself back on the shelf he’d been sleeping on, and he waited.
Light crept around the doorframe and caught in the dust hovering in the air. Angus stayed still and kept his breathing soft as he listened. He hadn’t heard a single voice all day. He assumed it was daylight and not a light outside the storeroom. His back and head ached from lying on the shelf. It was barely wide enough, and when the boat rocked, he thought he was going to fall off and into the puddle of piss.
His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth with thirst—not the Demonside kind of thirst as magic was sucked from his body, but regular thirst. That was just as bad. If he’d been caught in the morning and it was now dawn again, he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since dinner the night they traveled. He’d had some water on the tram, but that was too long ago. He needed to be in better shape to work magic.
He gritted his teeth. It would only get worse.
A thumping noise became footsteps and shouting. Something was going on.
He wiggled off the shelf to be upright when the door opened. He could run at the person and try to escape, but if they were in Vinland, there was nowhere to go.
The footsteps got closer. He fisted his hands for defense and waited. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Angus blinked at the bright light.
“Welcome home, traitor.” The man spat. Saliva hit Angus’s shoulder.
While the man was wearing a winter coat and hat, Angus was still in his lightweight Mayan clothing. The air on his skin was already sharp.
“I was on vacation,” he croaked.
The man didn’t laugh. He grabbed the chain between the cuffs and dragged Angus out of the storeroom and toward the ladder. “U
p you go.”
Climbing the ladder up to the deck was awkward and slow, and the rungs bit into his bare foot.
“Hurry up.” The man hit him across the back of the calves.
Angus slipped and accidentally kicked him in the face. A smile formed even though there would be retribution later.
He didn’t want them to think he had planned to be there, so he had to put up some kind of fight. He reached the deck and scrambled up as best he could. The man who’d been behind him kicked him hard between the legs, and the pain, like a knife to the balls, made him curl up like a dying bug. A cry escaped.
“Not so powerful now, are you?” He stalked off.
Angus couldn’t breathe to reply, only groan. He closed his eyes and tried to will the agony away. When the pain dulled to a throb, he opened his eyes. They were tying up the boat, and Terrance was helping them. He closed his eyes to avoid seeing the man he loved ignoring him so well.
No… he should ask. He should be confused and hurt.
“Terrance.” His voice was dry and not nearly as loud as he thought it would be. It didn’t need to be louder. Terrance turned. His gaze was colder than any glacier, and for a heartbeat, Angus wondered if that was the truth and what they had was the act. “What’s going on?”
“You’re home to face your crimes.” Terrance turned away.
“What crimes? I thought….”
Terrance glared at him, and Angus saw just the smallest fracture in his mask of hate. “You thought wrong.”
“No.” He forced himself to sit up.
“Shut up.” The man who’d kicked him shoved him to the deck. “No talking.”
“Water?” he pleaded, hoping for at least that. He was pathetic.
One of the men sloshed a bucket of icy seawater on him. “Water.”
Angus gasped and shivered, and a few of them laughed.
It was only then he realized the real bite in the wind. Saturated, he started to shake. If he asked to be warmed up, they’d probably set him on fire. He forced himself to move out of the puddle of spilled water and tried to tuck his hands into his armpits to keep his fingers warm. He was usually worried about sunburn and heatstroke. Now it was frostbite and hypothermia that were the real threat. His toes were blue-tinged already.
His teeth rattled, and he couldn’t stop them.
When two of the men walked toward him, he braced for another strike or some other horrible thing, but they hauled him up and escorted him down the gangway to a waiting vehicle. He was shoved into the van before he could see where Terrance was going. Out of the breeze and out of sight, he wrapped his arms around his knees and shoved his hand in his mouth to silence the screams he wanted to make. His breaths came in hard painful pants as the panic raced through him unchecked. He couldn’t stop it even if he tried. His toes gripped the floor as the van started moving.
Fuck, this was a bad plan. But it wasn’t a plan. It was a string of hopeful things and best outcomes all put together because there was nothing else… no one else.
If he failed, everyone would die.
He thought he might be at the college—the changing rooms looked familiar—but he wasn’t sure. They stripped him and made him shower and left him waiting. At least they had removed the ankle cuffs so it was easier for him to walk around.
If he was at the college, the bars on the windows were new.
He opened a few of the lockers hoping for a forgotten packet of junk food or an energy bar or even a pack of gum. Nothing. But at least he’d been able to drink and the water had been hot.
No towel, though. All the colored scars were bright against his pale skin. Every time he touched one, he felt a little braver for that moment. Then it faded just as fast.
When the door opened, he put his hands over his dick, not that his hands would do much if they kicked him again, and waited.
Three men entered, and two were well-armed.
The other was a warlock. He crackled with stolen magic, but he held a clipboard like he was an office worker. “Angus Donohue?”
“Yes.” There was no point in lying about it. They knew who he was.
“You are charged with the murder of your father and consorting with demons.” The man looked up. “Plural?”
Angus was going to deny it, but it was technically true. One demon orgy, and it would be held against him for life. “Yes.”
The man made a note. “Aiding the underground, defecting to the Mayan Empire with the intention of bringing down Vinland—”
“No. I was fleeing. I just wanted to be safe.” That was the truth. Bringing down Vinland had been a dream back then, not a possibility.
The warlock glanced at him again. “Did you or did you not interfere with our gathering of magic?”
So they knew about that too. “Yes.”
“With the intention of bringing down Vinland. You are also charged with the kidnapping of Terrance Erikson and forcing him to participate in demon rituals across the void. How do you plead?”
His list of achievements was longer than he expected. He hadn’t realized they’d use everything against him. “Do I get a lighter sentence if I plead guilty?”
The man closed the clipboard. “You will be hanged at dawn.”
“What about a trial? Don’t I get a lawyer and a chance to defend myself?”
“There will be a trial. You will be questioned, and there are witnesses who will testify to your actions. It will be broadcast so all can see your fate.”
He was going to be hanged. His throat closed.
“Nothing to say for yourself?”
He had lots of things to say, not that the warlock really wanted to hear. “The magic belongs in Demonside, not here. You are ruining two worlds.”
The warlock stepped closer. His gaze skimmed over Angus’s body and left him in need of another shower. “Skitun. Covered in their marks. Did you get on your knees and beg for their magic, or was your mouth too full?”
Angus stepped back.
He couldn’t hide the scars—they shimmered in the harsh light, marking him for all to see—nor did he want to hide.
“Your father would be disgusted at you.”
“Good. That means I’ve done something right.”
The warlock considered him for a moment. “Your death will squash anyone who thought they could be like you.” Then he turned and walked away.
People knew who he was? Were trying to be like him?
“Get dressed.” One of the guards threw a pile of yellow clothing—prison garb—at him.
He pulled on the pants but couldn’t get the shirt over his head because of the cuffs. “Can you undo the center chain?”
They’d cut his old shirt off. Angus had fully expected the knife to slip, but they wanted him alive to demoralize anyone who was fighting back.
The one who’d thrown the clothes at him shrugged. “No hiding what you are.” He snatched the shirt away. His hand slid to his weapon. He had a gun and a baton. “Behave yourself.”
The other guard put the cuffs back on his legs. Angus didn’t move. He didn’t want a beating that left him more damaged and weak. He needed to be smart.
The man stood and prodded him forward. “Out.”
Between the two guards, he was marched out of the changing room and onto a field. His steps faltered before he reached what had once been the grassed area of the college’s rugby stadium. There were two inches of snow on the ground and yellow clumps of miserable people scattered around. With no shoes or socks and no protection against the cold, no one there would last long.
Soldiers marched along the walkways where fans had once gathered to watch their favorite players.
Horror gripped him. “What is this place?”
“Where traitors wait for sentencing. You got processed fast. You’ll only spend one night here.” The guard gave him a nudge, so he was forced to step off the concrete and into the snow. “Enjoy.”
The cold bit into his feet and his back. The pants were too thin to do
much more than offer privacy. He wasn’t sure he’d survive one night.
He started to shiver, not sure what to do. Standing alone wouldn’t help him stay warm, and he didn’t have the energy to move around. He hadn’t eaten in too long. That left joining a huddle.
He made his way over to the closest one, his steps more of a shuffle. A few people on the outside watched him with suspicion. Some of them had black toes and fingers. How long had they been here? How many people were there, all waiting to be hanged? Did they know their fate?
Who were they? Wizards or members of the underground or just anyone who spoke up?
He pressed his hands into his armpits, but there was nothing he could do for his toes. “Is there a fire or food in the middle?”
The woman next to him glanced at him with dead eyes. “No. We take it in turns to be on the outside. Like penguins. You sleep when you’re in the middle.”
“And food and water.”
“You’re standing on it,” she said and turned away.
Grass and snow? Eating snow would only make them colder.
“They throw food in when they want to see us scramble,” the man on his other side said. “Leif. I’d offer my hand but….”
It was missing, and the other one had blackened fingers.
“Angus.”
“It’s not a pleasure to meet you, I’m sure,” Leif said.
The man stared at him a bit longer, his gaze focused on the cuffs. Angus wasn’t the only person wearing dampeners, but he was the only one he could see with his hands and feet linked. In the huddle someone said his name, and a ripple went through the people.
“Angus? Angus Donohue? You escaped to Demonside?”
He didn’t know if he was going to get a hug or a fist to the face, but he couldn’t run from what was coming. All he had to do was survive until morning. “Yes.”
“Let him through to the middle.” Someone pulled at his hand and tried to drag him forward.
