Charissa Dufour - Misguided Allies (The Void Series Book 2)

by Unknown

  There was a small pause before she heard a muffled curse. “This better be good.”

  “There’s been another murder.”

  “Give me thirty.”

  Sam turned away, taking the opportunity to shower, cleansing herself of Roman’s smell. Under the stream of hot water she cried. Those would be the last tears she shed for a man, any man, she told herself.

  Sam sat cross-legged on her lavender bed, waiting for Heywood. In his own precious time, Heywood appeared, his hair wet from his own shower. He had yet to put on his customary make up and was dressed in nothing more than a pair of dark-wash, skin-tight jeans. He was rather skinny, though not as bad as some of the other vampires she had seen. Sam wanted to go make him a sandwich, but she knew it would do him little good. All the vampires within the Res were skinny. It had to do with the blood fed to them—blood from the hospitals that had gone bad before it could be given to patients. The result was unhealthy, starving vampires.

  “So who died?” Heywood asked as he glanced around the room, looking for a place to sit. “And what’s with all the stuff?”

  “My parents kicked me out.”

  “I wondered when that would happen,” he said as he took up a perch on the white dresser. “How’d you stumble upon another body?”

  Sam blinked. “What do you mean you wondered when that would happen?”

  Heywood shrugged. “You’ve been hanging out with vampires. Surely your parents were upset. I figured eventually they would give you an ultimatum, and knowing your desire to protect your friend was strong enough to get you to work for me, it seemed logical that it was strong enough to make you leave a family that never appreciated you in the first place.”

  Sam blinked back tears. She had never decided whether she liked Heywood and his quick assessment of a situation. As he turned his skill on her own predicament, it chaffed against her raw nerves. She chose to change the subject back to the murder scene.

  “I was walking near the construction site when I…”

  And so she spent the next ten minutes telling him about how she had found the body, how she had gone to Mr. Newberry and learned about the amulet, carefully leaving out Reynold’s proposition, Chad’s ex-boyfriend status, and her run-in with Roman. Heywood didn’t need any more ammunition against her.

  Heywood scratched his narrow chin as he thought, considering her story.

  “We have to do something,” she said, impatient with his silence.

  The vampire flicked his eyes at her, pinning her to her mattress with his dark eyes. He may have looked all of eighteen or nineteen—hormonal even—but his eyes were wells of age and memory. When he chose to use his power, he could command her to silence and respect with the slightest glance. Sam bit her bottom lip, forcing herself to wait until he was ready to talk.

  Heywood slid off the dresser and began to pace the length of her generous room, working through the three murders.

  “What are the artifacts that have been taken thus far?”

  “You think it’s about those?”

  Heywood shrugged his thin shoulders. “It could be anything. But we have to start somewhere.”

  Sam stopped to think back. “First victim was the caretaker of Erȍ, a ring that held magical energy that could be used to power a spell later on. The second victim was the caretaker for the Éllettaram staff, which pulls power from the earth to power certain spells. The third victim was the caretaker for the Soulfire amulet. It gives the wearer the ability to control the dead.”

  “So someone could be using this ring and staff and amulet together to work some magic to control the dead within the Reservation?”

  Sam shook her head. “Fae magic doesn’t work that way.”

  A twinge of guilt stabbed at her. The fae held their secrets close to the chest. They didn’t share their secrets, not even between the various clans. She only knew this much from the little bit of research she had done thus far and from being the daughter of a clan leader. Granted, over the last few decades, the barriers between the clans had been crumbling. They had to as intermarrying had increased in an effort to save their race within the Reservation.

  “If whoever is killing these fae tries to use these artifacts, they are in for one helluva surprise.”

  Heywood stopped his pacing to stare at her. “Why?”

  Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. “As fae artifacts age they become… unpredictable. These are old, really old weapons.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Not even the caretaker would dare use them. It’s fifty-fifty they don’t just turn on the user.”

  “What could happen?”

  “Anything,” said Sam with a shrug. “It could turn the spell on the user. It could bend the meaning of the spell to its own whim.”

  “You talk as though the artifact has its own consciousness.”

  Sam shrugged again. “After three thousand years, who’s to say it doesn’t.”

  Heywood returned to pacing, and Sam left him to think on it for a few more minutes before saying more.

  “The point is, these three artifacts don’t work together. All three of them are from different clans, with no connection. In the same way, the three victims are from different clans, with different gifts.”

  “What were their gifts?” asked Heywood.

  “I’m not exactly sure. The last victim was a necromancer. That I know for sure. The first victim was from the Víz, so his gift will have something to do with ice or water; maybe like an ice shield, like he can make ice on command.”

  “Real helpful in Illinois.”

  “I know, right?”

  “The second victim was from the Fogás clan.”

  “What do they do?” asked Heywood.

  Again Sam cringed as more guilt washed over her. “The Fogás deal with mind control but only in the forms that it can effect the physical world.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Heywood.

  “For example, some can teleport or control animals or see through spells. In comparison, the Értelem clan deal with mind control that only effects the mind, such as illusions or being an empath or hypnosis. See the difference?”

  “I guess. And our victim was from the first group?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know what his gift was. Have you ever heard of a vampire taking a fae’s powers through their blood?”

  Heywood shook his head. “I’m not the oldest vampire in the Res, but close. Vampires just take blood, nothing more. You’re alone in that area.”

  Sam heaved a sigh of relief before she tensed. “So we’re back to square one?”

  Heywood nodded. “We have no clue who this guy is.”

  Sam let out a long sigh as she flung herself back onto her pile of pillows and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. Who would want to kill such an unusual array of fae? Or was that even the right question to ask?

  Before either of them could say or do more, a loud, persistent pounding on the front door interrupted their deliberations. They stared at the door to her room. Sam’s limited hearing only gave her the basic notion of an angry mob. She watched the sharp-eared vampire for more clues. Heywood tensed as he listened to the hub-bub going on downstairs.

  He quickly turned to Sam. “Don’t argue,” he snapped, as though she would understand what that meant.

  Suddenly the sound of angry voices shifted into pounding feet, swiftly making their way up the stairs to the second floor. Heywood turned to the door just as it swung open to reveal an armor-clad fed.

  Sam and Heywood stared down the barrel of the fed’s gun, their hands slowly rising above their heads.

  Chapter Nine

  The FMB officer stared back at them for a second before lowering his weapon. Four other feds were fanning out to empty the house of its inhabitants. The fed motioned them outside with his gun, his face hidden behind his tinted riot mask.

  Sam waited for Heywood’s cue, half amazed at her temerity to obey the vampire over the FMB officer. She may be powerful, but a b
ullet would kill her just like any other fae. Heywood gave her the slightest nod and ushered her out, keeping his hand on her elbow as though he thought she might trip over something. They went outside with all the other residents of the large house. Sam spotted other bleary-eyed residents of the neighborhood. By the looks of the crowd, it wasn’t just the vampires being targeted by the feds, though this neighborhood was nearly eighty percent vamps, and the only neighborhood where vamps were allowed.

  Sam immediately began to shiver in the glacial night wind. Heywood, garbed in nothing but a pair of jeans, didn’t seem to notice the winter temperatures. Sam glared at his bare back as she quaked, clutching her fingers under her arms as she wrapped them around her chest in an effort to conserve body heat. She stamped her feet and hopped up and down, wondering what they were waiting for.

  Finally, one of the feds not wearing armor took up a position on Heywood’s porch and held up a megaphone.

  “I need all vampires to form a line just to my left,” he said into the squealing megaphone, pointing to where another fed was waiting beside a battered folding table covered with supplies.

  Sam strained to see what they were doing.

  “Where’s your jacket?” Captain Reynolds asked as he came up beside her.

  “I didn’t exactly get a chance to dress for this outing.”

  “You’ll freeze. You know, if things were different, I could get you back inside in no time,” he hinted as he sauntered away.

  Sam stuck her tongue at his retreating figure before doing another little up-and-down jig in an effort to create more heat. She tried not to think of Reynolds or the perks he was offering, but it was becoming increasingly difficult the longer she stood on the icy pavement.

  A few minutes later, when she was close to tears from the pain of the wind against her bare skin, she felt rough fabric fall over her and warm hands grip her shoulders.

  “Where’s your jacket?”

  Sam spun to find Jason, the new mage, staring down at her. He wore a large winter jacket, thick jeans, and tan boots. His brown hair hung loosely around his head. Sam glanced down at the plaid long-sleeved shirt he had draped over her. She scrambled into and wrapped the excess fabric around her waist. Its smell reminded her faintly of the soap her mom used around their apartment; the soap her mother made from this and that.

  “Th-ey d-d-didn’t g-g-g-give me a ch-chance to d-d-d-d-dress,” she stuttered as a violent shiver ran up her spine.

  Jason barely gave her a chance to finish as he scanned her pajama-garbed body before he swooped her up into his arms and traipsed toward Heywood’s house.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, her clattering teeth momentarily forgotten in her shock.

  “You can’t stay out here like this.”

  “They w-won’t let me go in-n. Th-they d-d-don’t l-l-like m-me.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Jason marched up to the feds blocking the short stairs leading to Heywood’s front door.

  “No one’s allowed to go home yet,” a fed said through his mask, not even looking at them.

  “She wasn’t able to dress properly for the temperatures. She needs to be inside.”

  “She’ll live,” grumbled the fed.

  “That’s the thing,” growled Jason, “she won’t.”

  The fed finally looked at them, taking in Sam’s shivering body. “No one goes in.”

  “It-t-t’s okay,” Sam stuttered into Jason’s shoulder.

  Jason glared at the fed until the human lowered his hand to his weapon. Finally, the mage turned away and crossed the narrow path to the plastic wall of the studio apartments.

  “I’m okay,” she said, trying to squirm out of his grasp.

  She was too tired to control her gift around the mage.

  “Stop squirming,” he ordered, giving his order a little push with his magic.

  “Put me down.”

  “It’s too cold. You’ll get frost bite with your bare feet on the frozen pavement.”

  With that, Jason sat down, keeping her in his lap. He unzipped his jacket, one arm holding her trapped when she would have escaped. He pulled her to his chest, nothing but his thin t-shirt, her pajama tank-top and the plaid flannel between their bodies, and wrapped the thick jacket around her aching body.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Saving your life, you obstinate woman,” he snapped.

  “Don’t,” she cried, still struggling to free herself from him.

  “Relax,” he ordered, this time pouring more of his magic into the one word.

  Her body obeyed, molding against his strong frame. Her mind freaked while her body willingly eased into his warmth. She had few dealings with mages other than Roman, but she had never heard of a mage being able to control another mystic so completely, especially with only one word like Jason had just done. Sam called on her gift, suddenly perfectly willing to take from the mage and make an enemy of him. He had attacked first, so to speak, but even her usually hostile gift was perfectly calm.

  Her gift’s complete tranquility scared her more than anything. In her nineteen years, Sam had never felt her gift go completely to sleep. It was a constant presence in her life, a constant pressure against her control.

  Is this what it was like to be human? she wondered before she had a chance to panic.

  The inevitable panic reared its ugly head, making it impossible to thinking rationally. Unlike a mage or a normal, non-Void fae, Sam had never been taught the mental command needed to do spells. Her only real mental skill was controlling her gift, and now her damn gift was taking a bloody siesta.

  What the fu…

  Sam took a deep breath, trying to act as though she was giving into his control. Jason tightened his grip around her, one arm chaffing against her exposed leg to increase blood flow. It hurt and the pain helped clear her head of some of the spell’s haze. She kept her body relaxed as the pain continued to clear away the fog.

  “I’m just trying to help,” he said suddenly, his beard tickling the side of her head. “You would die out in this cold, especially if they intend to go through each vampire.”

  Sam wanted to ask if he knew what they were doing to the vampires, but she didn’t know if she should be able to speak if his spell was in full effect. She didn’t want to give herself away as she gained more and more of her control.

  “You can speak, Sam. I just want you to stay relaxed,” he said, and with the repetition of the word she felt the chains of his spell tighten again.

  Sam struggled to breathe under the confines of his spell. She wondered if Roman was strong enough to work magic like this.

  “Do you… know what they are… doing to the… vampires?” she choked out.

  As though Jason realized he had gripped her too tightly in his magic, Sam felt the spell slacken. She gasped and he returned to rubbing her cold legs.

  “I think they’re measuring the vampire’s canine teeth.”

  “Why?”

  “To compare them to the bite marks on the victims.”

  Sam cringed. Why hadn’t she thought to do that?

  Cause you’re not a bloody trained investigator, she told herself.

  “Jason?”

  “Yes?”

  Sam sighed again, forcing her body to stay relaxed as their conversation further released her mind from his powerful spell.

  “What’s in your grimoire that vampires would want to steal it?... I mean that vampires might want to combine with a fae amulet that allows the wearer to control the dead, a ring that could power a spell, or a staff that draws power from the earth.”

  “You really expect me to tell you what is in my grimoire?” he chuckled.

  The laugh sounded forced. Sam knew she was treading on dangerous ground. A mage was even more protective of their grimoire than the fae were about their artifacts.

  “I just told you about the artifacts stolen from the bodies of the three dead fae. I thought maybe you could meet me halfway. I don’t need a play-
by-play. I just need to know if there is one thing in there that could go along with those artifacts and what it is.”

  Jason was silent for a long moment. While he thought, Sam tried to be patient. She didn’t want to work against his spell when he might easily notice.

  “I can’t think of anything, but I will continue to consider the possibility,” he said before continuing to rub her leg, but Sam wasn’t listening.

  He had given her the opportunity she needed. She threw her mind against his spell, finally freeing her gift. It awoke in one expeditious moment, immediately pushing against her shaky control. As much as Sam wanted to throw it all at Jason, she knew she was too weak to take him all at once. She sipped, allowing him to think his relaxation spell was still in place. After a slow count to sixty, Sam released her gift in one great detonation.

  Jason jerked, dumping her onto the pavement. Sam scrambled to her feet, racing into the tiny space between two plastic apartments. She heard, Jason follow her.

  “Turēt personu,” he called from behind her.

  Sam felt the power of a spell wrap around her, causing her feet to slow. Her gift drank the spell down, metaphorically licking its lips as though it had devoured a strawberry popsicle. Sam heard the mage curse as she worked to continue her way through the narrow space. She could barely squeeze past the plastic walls. Surely the muscular man was having to turn sideways by now, but she couldn’t afford to turn back and check.

  “Asns metāla,” he called.

  Sam slid to a stop, a second too late as three narrow metal bars sprouted from the ground, blocking her path. She slammed into them. Sam clamped her mouth shut as the iron in them seared her skin. Jason rammed into her, also unable to slow his speed in time to save her the pain of being pressed further into the iron bars. He jerked her to the side, off the iron, and pinned her to the plastic wall.

  “What was that about?” he asked.

  Sam grimaced as her burned face rubbed against the textured plastic wall. A small whimper escaped her lips, alerting Jason to her pain. Despite their tight quarters, Jason spun her around and grabbed her chin.

  “Blāzma,” he said.