Grave Mistake (Codex Blair Book 1)

by Izzy Shows

  I slipped off the bar stool, leaving the barely touched cider, and darted out before he could say anything to stop me.

  I finally had a lead to follow.

  6

  THE SUN HAD BEGUN TO SET when I reached the warehouse district. It wasn’t dark yet, but dusk had certainly started to settle on the world. That was fine, I didn’t need a lot of daylight for the rest of today’s sniffing around.

  The area was rundown, there were maybe one or two warehouses still in use, and some of the old ones had been converted into poor housing, but aside from that the buildings were empty and abandoned. It was the perfect hot spot for anyone looking to purchase illegal goods, mostly drugs, but there were other things as well.

  Just like all cities, London has its dark spots.

  It was where I bought my gun.

  I hoped I wouldn’t need it tonight, but I had brought it with me just to be safe. Like I said, the area was not one of the safest. I reached a hand behind me and double checked its position in the waistband of my jeans for reassurance. I didn’t need to check the switch blade in my pocket, that was a comfortable weight I had long since been used to.

  I parked in one of the spaces behind an abandoned warehouse, kicked my door almost shut, and double checked that it was locked. Not a desirable car to steal, but a desperate person would take it.

  I walked towards the closest building, pulling the hood of my jacket up and over my head from underneath the leather coat I’d put on top of it. The late-night chill was eating at my neck, made worse by the setting sun. Without the hood, I’d lose what little heat the day had given us.

  Most warehouses don’t have windows, but some of these did—some high up on the wall, some barely eye level—I was lucky that the one I was heading to had a set of windows near eye level. If I stood on tip toe, most likely.

  I edged near the window, carefully placing one foot in front of the other to make minimal noise and keeping my head down low. If someone was inside, I didn’t want to be seen. I raised up on tip toe—just a point that needs to be made here, I am not short. This is a tall window. At five foot six, I’m about average, and I really hate whenever I’m made to feel like I’m not tall enough.

  There was no lighting inside the warehouse, big surprise there, but so far as I could see it was empty. I pressed my ear against the cold metal to the left of the window pane and heard nothing but the wind whistling through the barren inside of the warehouse. Nothing going on here.

  Sighing, I dropped back down to flat feet and stepped away from the window.

  No luck there.

  The warehouses were rather crammed, not quite within spitting distance of one another, but they weren’t as spaced out as any set of warehouses put up recently were likely to be. I headed away from the one I’d peeped into and towards another one.

  I was within spitting distance when my stomach lurched and I dropped to my knees, overwhelmed with the sudden urge to vomit.

  “The fuck…” I muttered, grasping my gut with one hand and placing the other on the ground to steady myself. Must be my lunch turning on me.

  I stood up on shaky legs and pushed on, aware of a buzzing sensation in my head and a very real feeling of…warning. As if something was telling me to go away.

  I reached the warehouse, but there were no windows on this one, so I crept around towards the door, a frown etched into my face that I couldn’t shake off. The door was slightly ajar, the first tip off that someone was inside, and when I settled just beside the opening I could hear muted conversation coming from within.

  I only caught brief snatches of conversation as I strained to hear more without moving any closer.

  “…Can’t let him get any…”

  “You’re going…”

  “…What’s it…”

  Frustration built up within me, I glanced cautiously from side to side and leaned closer to the opening, pressing my ear against the door.

  “You were foolish, flouting your power in front of mundanes. What were you thinking?” I caught my first full sentence and silently pumped my arm in a victory motion.

  “I’m telling ya, he isn’t going to work anything out from that. Won’t lead anyone back to us.” A cockney accent replied.

  “All the same…” the first voice began a reply but trailed off shortly thereafter, causing me to let out a whispered curse.

  It didn’t sound like any of this was relevant to my investigation, but I was inherently curious as to what was going on.

  No one picked up the conversation again, and my frown deepened as I leaned harder against the door, wondering if they’d moved farther back into the warehouse and out of hearing range.

  Well, that was fucking wrong.

  Suddenly, the door gave way and I sprawled out where it had just been, half in the warehouse and half out of it, smacking my face into the paved floor. To say that hurt was an understatement.

  “You were saying?” I heard the first man’s voice above me, his curt tone aimed at the man he’d been speaking with.

  I groaned and pushed myself up off the ground, taking my time to do it. There was no point in hurrying to get back in an upright position; I wasn’t going to make any daring escapes from this situation.

  “Hey, there’s nothing says the bitch is with him. Looks like your run of the mill street trash.” The second replied, following it up with a dull kick to my ribs. OK, maybe I should have sat up sooner.

  I dragged a leg under me and stood up, levelling a glare in the direction of the foot that had kicked me. My fingers itched to reach behind and grab the gun they thankfully hadn’t noticed, but I pushed the feeling down and focussed on keeping my cool. No need to panic just yet.

  “Listen, I don’t know what you’re going on about, I’m just looking for my friend.” I said, keeping my tone even.

  “Yeah, at the bottom of a door?” The man who kicked me growled.

  I shrugged. “Friend’s not looking to be found.”

  The two exchanged a look, followed by the one on my right grabbing me by the upper arm and yanking me further inside the building. I heard the warehouse door slam shut behind me.

  So much for keeping things under control.

  “I don’t think she’s involved,” the kicker grumbled.

  “Read her. She’s not clean.”

  Silence fell after that, the tension in the air increasing between the two men as they walked me towards the middle of the warehouse.

  I didn’t know what they meant by reading me, but I didn’t have time to focus on that. My eyes darted around the warehouse, looking for anything I could use to my advantage. There were several crates in the back that could be used for cover, but there was only the one exit from the looks of it—the one I’d come in through.

  I took a few steadying breaths, looking for that place within myself where my calm stayed. A lifetime of beatings—from other kids and foster parents—had conditioned me to maintain my cool in situations like this. I wouldn’t be rattled.

  The first blow came to the back of my head, intended to knock me down; and I let it. I followed the momentum, rolling forward and back onto my feet, facing them now to eliminate further sneak attacks. I kept my eyes trained on them as I pulled the blade from within my pocket, snapping it open from its safety position.

  The shock stayed on their faces for a moment or two before grim determination set in.

  “I told you she wasn’t clean.” The first growled.

  “For your information, I took a shower just yesterday.” I offered cheerfully. “I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t overhear anything other than that you’re worried about somebody finding you; just like every gang in the city is. I’m not whoever you’re worried about, I’m not involved in any of this. Let me go.” I pitched my voice low and steady, a reassuring tone that had soothed the meanest bastard once upon a time.

  I saw the man on the left start to waver, but he didn’t have time to make up his mind as the other moved forward.

 
; I am a coward.

  I darted to the left as fast as I could, thankful that while I had lost weight and the muscle definition along with it, I hadn’t lost my speed. I run all the time, and the weight loss had only made me faster. The large man wasn’t so lucky, I could hear him lumbering after me.

  I thought I could make it to the door—opening it and getting out without getting grabbed was a different matter—but I found my feet cemented in place halfway to the door. My momentum carried my upper body forward, causing me to lurch over and wrench my knees rather painfully.

  I stared down at my feet, horrified by my inability to move and simultaneous failure to comprehend what was going on.

  I heard the footsteps behind me slow down, the man catching his breath, and a victorious chortle.

  “Got her!”

  “Took ya long enough.” The man closest to me responded.

  “Hey, I’m still getting the hang of this shit.”

  “What the actual fuck!” I snapped, twisting my body around to glare at them. “What kind of joke is this?” I looked around me, hoping for a liquid on the floor that would give me a clue, but there was none to be found.

  “You ain’t going anywhere, lady.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face as they advanced on me, a thousand different horrible deaths flashed through my mind.

  An explosion behind me knocked me to my knees, my feet thankfully able to move again so that I didn’t break an ankle, but it wasn’t like I could run away now with my head spinning and ears ringing. What had happened? Had it been a trick?

  I lifted my head, squinting in the direction of the goons, and found they had been knocked down as well.

  The idea of being confused and figuring it out drifted lazily through my mind, but instead I rested my forehead against the ground and decided to give myself a moment to pull myself back together.

  “I always had a soft spot for a damsel in distress.” A lazy, arrogant voice sounded behind me, carried with the rhythmic thump of what sounded like a staff hitting the concreted floor.

  Well, that was enough to get me back on my feet.

  No one called me a damsel.

  “Yeah well you can shove your soft spot right up your arse.” I snapped as I rose, turning around to face the new player in the game.

  He was a tall man, with a large build that had probably been well muscled a few years back. Age had touched his black hair and beard with streaks of white, creasing the tanned skin around his mouth and grey eyes. Age had not dulled the fierce power in those eyes though, they burned with a promise for pain and agony, and I felt a morsel of my will dull for just a moment before it riled back up.

  No one intimidates me without my consent.

  I expected to be told to shut up, but he grinned at my snarky attitude. “Stand aside, fireball, and I’ll get you to safety when I’m done with these two.” He gestured towards the goons behind me, half-forgotten while I’d focussed on him. My back bristled at yet another condescending insult, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was very much out of my league. I sidestepped towards the wall, darting a look back and forth from the lone man to the duo.

  “I told you he’d come!” Now the goons seemed to come back to life, grousing at one another as if that would stop them from needing to deal with the man in front of them.

  “And come I did.” The lone man replied, casting a wink in my direction. Something about his face though, the set of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes, made me feel like he was aggravated. With the duo or with me? I frowned.

  I watched the duo, expecting another not-so-witty retort, but they started to scramble to their feet, causing me to dart my gaze back towards The Lone Ranger.

  He was holding the large staff in two hands, eyes closed, lips parted just a bit as he brought in a breath.

  “OK, Moses.” I snorted under my breath with a roll of my eyes, wondering what the big deal was. No one paid me any mind, and I leaned against the wall behind me.

  “Incendium.” He breathed the Latin word out as he dropped a hand from his staff, tilted it ninety degrees and thrust it forward and…words failed me.

  My jaw dropped and eyes almost popped out of my head as jets of flame shot forth from the staff, seeking the men like guided missiles, striking the floor and burning where they had no right to burn. Concrete doesn’t burn.

  I scrambled back against the wall, only vaguely aware that I had nowhere else to go, and watched in horror at the freak show before me.

  “Peremo!” Shouted the first goon—the one who’d seemed in charge earlier—and waved his hand hastily at the flames leaping at his feet, beating them away with nothing in his hand and not being touched by them. The flames receded a bit.

  “Ventus!” The Lone Ranger chanted back at them, sweeping the staff in a broad gesture. The wind was practically visible as it swept up dust, billowing outwards from where he stood and charging towards the two men like an invisible army. It yanked them from their scrambling positions and threw them against the far wall, where they then dropped to the floor—silent.

  He turned towards me.

  7

  I STEPPED WARILY AWAY FROM THE wall, walking not quite towards the centre of the building, not quite towards the exit. More of a diagonal path, like one would take with a dangerous animal in front of them.

  That was how I felt with his eyes trained on me, narrowing and focusing on every step I took. So long as he didn’t move, I felt in control.

  His head tilted to the side as he examined me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

  So much for in control.

  I made it a stone’s throw from the wall, the escape still far away in my eyes, when he took his first step.

  I froze in place, staring at him with wide eyes.

  Breathe, Blair. Just breathe. You’re going to get out of this. I forced air into my lugs as I held the thought captive in my mind. I was going to come out alive. There was no other option that I would accept.

  I watched his brow furrow as he drew closer to me—why didn’t I say something? Why didn’t he? The silence was deafening in the building, the only sound being his boots smacking the paved floor and his staff scraping along.

  I tried to think of something to say, searched wide and far in my mind for a quip to break the tension, but I found nothing.

  It was impossible to think with those piercing eyes trained on you.

  The Lone Ranger stopped a few steps away from me, tilted his head to the side again as if contemplating something—his expression was completely unreadable—and began to move again, walking around me in a circle.

  “Um.” I managed to get the sound out, though it was oddly difficult to do so. My shoulders were taut with the tension born of someone staring at you, my legs felt ready to spring away at a moment’s notice and yet like immovable stone at the same time. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t send the command to my legs to move.

  “Malacio.” He murmured yet another Latin word, this time his tone was not brusque and loud, but quiet and soothing—with the same note of command that had been present when he had attacked the two men.

  I felt it, the sluggishness entering my mind, urging me to fall to the floor and…give up.

  Panic flared inside my heart, it beat a tattoo against my rib cage, and I yanked my head around to stare at him with panicked eyes.

  I found his, void of all emotion, staring daggers at me as if he were trying to bore into my brain.

  Sweat broke out on my forehead, strange considering how cold it was, and my breath came sharp and fast. “What…are…you…doing?” Every word was fought for, coming out in short little bursts.

  His bushy eyebrows lifted for a moment—surprise?—before they narrowed again. “You’re going to go home. You won’t remember this night. This. Is. Not. For. You.” His voice was pitched low, the same melodic tune as before, and this time the command was buried deep within it, hard to pick out unless you were listening for it.

  Well fuck yo
u, dude, I was listening for it.

  My lips twisted into an ugly snarl and I balled my hands into fists—every movement of my fingers was a struggle, but I managed it—and took a lurching step towards him. “Fuck. You.” I hurled the words at him like stones.

  I didn’t know who he was, or what he was trying to do, but no one fucks with my head. Not arseholes back in school days, not the drunkards at the bars now, and certainly not this wanker.

  I jerked my chin up at him, one last motion of defiance, and felt…whatever it was…break. It was as if there had been a cord between us, and I had cut it in two. The syrupy quicksand feeling had dissipated, and my breath rushed back to me so fast my vision blurred. I resisted the urge to grab my stomach, fighting back the bile suddenly rising in my throat.

  “You…” I barely heard his musing, my ears roaring as if they’d just been boxed. Come to think of it, my body felt like I’d just taken a much worse beating than the little scrape the boys had given me earlier. “You should not have been able to do that.”

  I heard him a little clearer that time, and glanced up at him to find him rubbing his chin. I smirked; looks like I’d confounded him, whatever I’d done.

  “Able to do what?” I panted, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He frowned, looking down and shaking his head, as if that wasn’t the answer he’d been looking for.

  “I do not have time for this,” he said, his words slow and drawn out, and he glared down at the floor. “I really don’t.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to convince me.” I rolled my eyes. “I just need to get back to my case.”

  “No.”

  The word fell like a stone in a still pond.

  “No?” I forced a laugh. “What do you mean no?”

  He heaved a disproportionately heavy sigh given the situation. “I am bound to report your use of magic and take you before The Order. A Senior Member will determine if you have abused your power, and if not, they will proceed with your education at that point.”