Jonah heard a light footstep behind him. Familiar. Felt a sting at his neck. Also familiar. And went down hard.
Jonah awoke to the pungent scent of alcohol and the murmur of voices. Then incendiary pain, like flame was running in rivulets down his left forearm. He struggled, trying to free his arm, and realized he was strapped down, held immobile by bonds strong enough to resist his savant strength. He looked up into Gabriel’s face, his brow pebbled with sweat. The sorcerer’s jaw tensed in concentration as he wielded the needle. Ink therapy, Jonah thought, then screamed as the medication seeped under his skin.
“Don’t worry, Jonah,” a woman said. “Gabriel will fix you right up.”
“I’ll fix him up if he doesn’t stop it.”
“You’ll feel so much better in just a little while.”
Who was that, anyway? Oh. The hosted shade. Gabriel’s ex. What was her name?
“Lilith. One more vial, I think,” Gabriel said. “Almost done, Jonah,” he promised.
“Stop it,” Jonah pleaded. “Please. Stop it.” Now I’m begging, he thought. Didn’t I used to be tougher than that? His throat was sore, his voice raspy and strange, and he wondered how long he’d been screaming.
Must be wicked stuff, he thought. And then, mercifully, he fainted.
When he woke, the pain was, indeed, gone. And not just in his arm. He felt numb all over, as if he were encased inside some kind of impervious skin that shut out the emotional noise around him. He felt calm, focused, purposeful.
He lifted his arm, which was still tethered to the bed, but they’d given him a longer leash. The skin was still puffy and red around his new tattoo, which was just below the nightshade on his arm. A shattered heart, just above his wrist.
It was Jonah Kinlock, simplified. Without the guilt, the second-guessing, the ethical debates and conflicts that plagued him continually. It was magic—the kind of magic he’d needed for a long, long time.
They kept him locked in, and nobody came and went except Lilith, Brendan, and Gabriel. He guessed he was still in the infirmary, in one of the unused rooms. And that was confirmed when they brought Kenzie in to visit one day.
His brother looked great—he’d put on some weight, and was looking more and more like a normal fifteen-year-old and less like a frail refugee from a famine. Jonah thought it was ironic, his brother coming to visit him. Kenzie didn’t seem to see the humor in it. He came and sat on the side of the bed, leaned in, and whispered, “What’d they do to you, bro?”
“Nothing,” Jonah said. “I have a new tattoo.” He displayed it to Kenzie.
Kenzie scowled. “What does it do?”
Jonah shrugged, barely curious. “If anything, I’d say I’m more clearheaded than before.”
Planting his hands on Jonah’s shoulders, Kenzie looked into his eyes. “You don’t look like yourself.”
“Why, because I’m happy?”
“That’s just wrong,” Kenzie said. “You’re never happy.”
“Meet the new, laid-back Jonah.”
“I want the old one back,” Kenzie said. Opening one of the cabinets, he pawed through medical instruments until he came up with a foil packet. Returning to Jonah’s bedside, he ripped away the foil, revealing a metal file. Pinning Jonah’s arm to the bed, he began scraping the file across the tattoo, as if hoping he might be able to flake it off.
“Kenzie!” Jonah gripped his brother’s wrist with his gloved hand, pulled him in close, and said in a low, deadly voice, “Stop that.”
With that, Gabriel and Brendan hurried in and dragged Kenzie away, with Kenzie shouting, “That’s not laid-back, Jonah! That’s creepy!”
Later, when Gabriel and Lilith came in together and told Jonah what he needed to do to save his brother’s life, it wasn’t a hard choice at all.
“I still can’t believe that Mandrake agreed to this.” Fitch stomped snow off his boots and shook like a dog before stepping from the porch into the foyer.
“You didn’t think he would?” Leesha said.
Fitch shrugged, his eyes fixed on Leesha. “Nope.”
“He said that he wants to clear the air and move on. That they have nothing to hide. That we are welcome to interview Jonah or anyone else.”
“What about searching the place?”
“He has no problem with that, as long as we avoid destruction of property or disturbing the students. And that we do it quickly so they can get back to normal.”
Fitch digested this, then said, “It seems like an odd time. Who has a meeting at five P.M. on a Sunday night?”
“Mandrake picked the time. He wants to meet at the club, so maybe that’s the least-busy time. And apparently most of the students will be at an event—those who are able to go.”
“Ah,” Fitch said. “Who else is coming from Trinity?”
“Everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“The whole council’s coming, and all the members of the task force investigating the Halloween murders.”
Fitch whistled. “Well, that’s a really bad idea.”
“I know,” Leesha said glumly. “I’m finding democracy has its drawbacks.”
“I’m fine with democracy, but having all those bigots—I mean, intense, opinionated people—there? Seems like it makes it more likely there’ll be an incident.”
“It’ll take a lot of people to search the campus, if we want to do it quickly. We’d love to pick and choose, but everyone we’d like to keep away is determined to go.”
“I could help with the search,” Fitch said, “if you’re shorthanded. Or if you need any more help with the tech issues.”
“No!” Leesha took hold of his lapels and stood on her tiptoes so they were nearly eye-to-eye. “You’ve already done a lot, what with setting up the handhelds for the search. So. You will drop me off, and you will wait at Cuppa Joe’s until I call you. Otherwise, you are staying here. Do you understand me?”
“Alicia!” Aunt Millie called from the kitchen. “Don’t you shout at that nice young man. Even if he’s not our kind.”
“Sorry.” Leesha let go of Fitch and began winding her scarf around her neck. But then it was too tight, and she had to yank at it to loosen it.
Fitch seemed unruffled. “I may be Anaweir, but I’m not helpless. And if I were you, I’d trade that whole pit of gifted vipers on the council for three people I can trust.”
“I know,” Leesha said. “That’s why I have to go. We need people who haven’t already made up their minds. If I don’t go, and something happens that I could have prevented, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Fitch helped her into her coat. “I’m worried that you’ll go, and something will happen that you couldn’t have prevented, and you’ll still never forgive yourself.”
“This is my job,” Leesha said. “Madison’s going, too. That should discourage people from acting out.”
“Madison?” Fitch blinked at her. “I know everybody’s cooperating and all, but...isn’t that risky? I mean, we scarcely know anything about savants, and what we do know could be wrong. We don’t know what their gifts are, or how many of them there are, or whose side the zombies are on.” He paused to take a breath. “We don’t really know what they want, and we haven’t asked the people who do know.”
“Well, I guess now maybe we’ll find out,” Leesha said. “Look, I agree with you, but I think Madison’s more worried that someone on our side will misbehave, given what’s been said in the meetings. She wants to make sure everybody plays nice, and she’s the only one with a big enough stick to do it.”
Fitch scowled. “I don’t like it. I keep thinking of those movies where somebody keeps poking at this jewel in the rock, trying to pry it out, and this beast erupts out of the ground, and it turns out they were poking a dragon in the eye.”
“Well, in this case, the dragon’s with us,” Le
esha said, forcing a smile. She dug her hands into her pockets. “It’s just so hard to convince people that this might be dangerous. People are acting like they’re visiting the zoo or the haunted house. The problem is, nobody’s seen the zombies but a group of preschoolers and us. Nobody else knows how hard they are to stop, even though they should get a clue from the fact that mainliners have been dying for years. Wizards are used to being at the top of the magical food chain. It makes us arrogant.”
“Arrogant? Wizards?” Fitch’s eyes widened in mock disbelief. “Speaking of arrogant wizards, have you considered the fact that I might worry about you?”
Leesha pulled on her gloves, trying to come up with a response, then swatted at her pocket as her phone vibrated again. “Stop calling me,” she growled.
“Who is it?”
“It says Blocked.”
“Maybe you should answer it.”
“I have never answered a blocked call and found somebody I actually wanted to talk to on the other end,” Leesha said. “If it’s somebody I know, they’ll text me. Let’s go.”
Fitch parked two streets away from the Keep, next to Cuppa Joe’s. When he turned off the engine, the cold seemed to come at them from all sides.
“You’ll stay here, right?” Leesha said. “I don’t have to immobilize you, do I?”
“If you don’t want to bail me out of detox, you’d better not leave me immobilized in a car on a downtown street,” Fitch said. “Anyway, I thought I might go into Cuppa Joe’s and warm up.”
“I’m sorry,” Leesha said. “I just can’t help worrying.”
“I know,” Fitch said softly. “Look, if you promise to be careful, we’ll call a worry truce.”
“Okay, deal,” she said. “I’ll be careful. I really will.”
But when Leesha went to get out of the car, Fitch said, “Hang on. There’s one more thing.”
She turned back toward him, and he slid his arm around her, pulled her closer, tilted her chin up, and kissed her. His lips were warm and firm and not at all wizardish.
When they finally broke apart, he leaned his forehead against hers and said, “Whoa,” in this really impressed voice.
Some people said that wizard kisses created a sweet buzz, like spiced rum. Others said it was kind of like sticking your tongue into an electrical outlet.
“You haven’t kissed a wizard before?” Leesha said.
“I haven’t kissed you before,” Fitch said, and kissed her again. “The great part about it is that now nothing bad will happen to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“My kisses are magical,” Fitch said. “That’s my gift.”
“I see,” Leesha said. “Then you’d better kiss me again. For luck. Because we’ll need it.”
What with all the magical kissing in the car, Leesha was the last to arrive at the command post, which was in a warehouse Seph had rented across the street from the Keep. That was the compromise. Madison Moss was determined to come, but a lot of people, including Seph, were worried about having her on the inside. This way, she could weigh in if needed, and coordinate things on-site while still being out of the line of fire. That was the theory, anyway.
Jack and Ellen had assumed charge of the campus-wide search, communications, and operational security. They strode around the ground floor of the warehouse like gladiators on the field of battle, looking naked without weaponry. Seph had asked them to leave their swords at home in order to present a less hostile appearance and reduce the risk of unfortunate incidents.
Too bad we can’t make wizards leave their weapons at home, Ellen had said.
“Now that we’re all here,” Seph said, “I’ll review the schedule, and cover a few logistics. Most of this information is loaded onto your PCDs.”
“What do you mean, PCDs?” Morrison asked.
“Personal communication devices,” Seph said. When Morrison still looked blank, he added, “Those small tablets we handed out.”
Morrison dug hers out of her coat pocket. “Why don’t you call them tablets, then?”
Seph ignored this. “They are preloaded with details about the operation, including maps of the campus, blueprints of buildings, photos of some students and staff of the Keep and the Anchorage, and lists of teams and team leaders. Foster, DeVries, Middleton, and I will do the face-to-face with Mandrake and Kinlock, and call in other people as needed. Does everyone know what team you’re on, and who’s in charge of that team?”
“I would prefer to be on a different team,” Hackleford said.
“The assignments are final,” Madison said. “We’ve spent a lot of time on them already.”
“With all due respect,” Burroughs said, “some of the rest of us have considerable experience in interrogation techniques, and might achieve better results if we were the ones to question Mandrake and Kinlock.”
Madison made a quick turn, her skirts swirling around her. “Has anyone else noticed that whenever anyone says ‘with all due respect,’ they’re about to say something disrespectful? Anyway, it’s not an interrogation; it’s an interview. We’re here with their permission.”
Burroughs snorted. Apparently, he was a slow learner. “We’ll just see how cooperative they are.”
“Who made this decision?” Hackleford persisted. “About the assignments, I mean.”
“The assignments were made by an executive committee,” Seph said. “All people with tactical experience.”
“Like who?” Hackleford demanded.
“Like people who are actually on the Interguild Council,” Madison said.
Seph and Madison had made the final decisions, with input from Mercedes, Jack, Ellen, and Leesha. They’d been selective—okay, biased in their team assignments. The objective was to keep certain individuals as far as possible from the main action. Hackleford was assigned to search campus buildings with Jack. And Burroughs was assigned to the command post, where Madison and Ellen could keep an eye on him and he wouldn’t come into contact with savants.
“I don’t really know what you’re complaining about, Hackleford,” Jack said. “After all, you’re on my team. That’s a plum assignment.”
“Do you think I want to be in the command post, answering phones?” Ellen said, without a trace of sympathy. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
Publicly, anyway, Leesha thought. Ellen had complained plenty at the meeting, when the assignments were made. Leesha knew that Seph had his reasons for making that assignment. He wanted a strong fighter at hand to protect Madison if anything went wrong.
“If you don’t want to be part of this, Burroughs, we’ll understand,” Seph said. “We’ll let you know how it all turns out.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be part of this,” Burroughs said.
“Just pretend you’re in the army,” Jack said sweetly. “The army is not a democracy.”
Hackleford and Burroughs exchanged a look, like they were passing nasty notes in class. Leesha shifted her gaze to DeVries, who was watching them, frowning. Uneasiness rippled through her. Maybe we should have posted them farther away. Like Indianapolis. We’ll have our hands full as it is, without having to keep an eye on them.
Hackleford’s daughter died, Leesha reminded herself. DeVries lost his sister. It’s no wonder that they want to confront those responsible.
“Listen up, everyone who’s assigned to search the peripheral buildings,” Jack said. “It’s go time. Hopefully, you’ve reviewed the building checklist, so we’re all on the same page, and you have the pass codes we distributed. In each building, the first thing we do is secure the premises, so nobody goes in or out. Then we clear the place—meaning we search the building, floor by floor. If you find evidence—you’ve seen the list of what we’re looking for, and it’s on your PCD—or if you encounter somebody you think we should talk to further, call the command post and
we’ll send somebody to check it out. If you have questions, or need help, contact the command post. Ellen and Madison will be here to troubleshoot, allocate assets, and question any high-value personnel.”
I just love it when Jack talks military, Leesha thought.
“If you find Emma Greenwood, contact the command post immediately. And remember, we’re guests here. We don’t want anybody hurt on either side. If you’re having trouble gaining access, contact the command post. Don’t destroy property in an effort to get in.”
How would we react, Leesha thought, if savants showed up in Trinity, claiming they meant us no harm, but they were going to search the place whether we liked it or not.
“One other thing,” Leesha said. “There are some savants here that have medical problems, and they may even be dangerous to get close to. They are the ones who will still be in their rooms. Those buildings are marked on your maps, too. Just leave them alone for now.”
“Wouldn’t that be a prime place to hide someone?” Morrison said.
“We’ll get there,” Leesha said. “It’s just not our first priority. Jack’s team will head there once they’ve cleared the Oxbow Building.”
Hudson was flipping through photos on her phone. “You’re sure these are labrats?” she murmured, frowning. “They look almost normal.”
“Let me re-emphasize that nobody is to be harmed, except in self-defense,” Madison said. “Nobody here has been convicted of anything. Any questions? No? Then let’s go.”
Fitch kept his word and walked straight back to Joe’s, meaning to drown his worries in a dark-chocolate peppermint mocha. “Shaken, not stirred,” he told the barista, but she just rolled her eyes and gave him a standard one. He ordered a cinnamon bun, too, but it tasted like cardboard. The fault was not in the bun, but in himself. Every time he loosened the leash on his mind, he saw images of Leesha buried under a mob of ragtag undead.
Hey! he’d shout. Over here! But they couldn’t seem to hear him, intent as they were on Leesha. Just like that night in the Flats.
The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) Page 37
