Lucas circled her, taking her in now. All of her. Slim and willowy, but lean and strong at the same time. Trained in hand-to-hand, he’d bet. Probably combat trained, as well. Just as he’d surmised, every inch a weapon. Beauty could be used to lure men in, trap them. The magic to chain them, control them, then it was a small matter to take them back, prizes to be presented to the High Mage.
“How do you track your quarry?” Lucas wondered aloud. “Do the Mages give you a location in these files of theirs, and you stake it out? You said you had forty-eight hours—that means you must have found Kieran in, what? A few hours? Quick work, if you knew where to look, I suppose.”
When she answered, her voice was low. “I came from London. And I found you two in under an hour.” Kieran’s low, appreciative whistle only fanned the rage simmering in Lucas. Just because she was good didn’t mean she deserved some sort of misplaced admiration. She was only a tool. Leverage to get him inside that building. Nothing more. She sure as shit didn’t deserve one ounce of respect from Kieran, whom she would have delivered to his death.
“Where will we be going? We know the Hall is located in London—North End, most likely.” Her small, knowing smile ramped up Luc’s anger tenfold, and as he opened his mouth to jump down her throat, Kieran broke in.
“What can you tell us about Obsidian Hall? I was there once.” Those sea-green eyes flew to Lucas’s face. “But I can’t remember exactly where it was.” Not a shred of emotion in his voice. Not a flicker of it in his face, his eyes. Lucas rubbed his chest, watching his brother. He remembered what Kieran had been like the day they’d brought him back. And the memory made Lucas’s heart ache.
The girl glanced between them, as if weighing her options, and then her shoulders sagged and she gave a little shrug. “This is a terrible idea, just for the record.” Another long, weighty look, and then she told them, “Obsidian Hall is two blocks over from Covent Garden. Hidden by so many wards you’d never find it on your own. The magical wards make the upper levels appear as a normal, everyday office building. But once you pass through the doors, the lower levels are something quite different. There are research labs, offices, interrogation rooms, dungeons, catacombs and levels below even those. Every inch of them is saturated by the Mages’ magic. This is old magic, the kind you never see anymore. Impenetrable magic.”
“Like your bag of tricks?” Lucas asked.
She bowed her head. “Like my bag of tricks, yes.”
“It must have come as quite a shock when your power didn’t work in here.” A vicious feeling of superiority rose inside Lucas when he made his observation and watched her shoulders slump. “Cole and Alexis sensed you the moment you slipped into the parking garage. You’re not the only one with wards. And if you want to survive a bit longer, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”
She lifted her chin higher, and he didn’t expect the look of utter resignation when she answered, “You’re in luck. Surviving a bit longer is my specialty.”
9
They left her in the room alone, the huge bearded guy outside, a cheerful, taunting smile on his face, practically daring her to try something.
As if.
Victoria couldn’t help it. She looked at her watch. Seventeen hours. She needed to get this show on the road. She swiftly calculated backward: it would take her an hour to get back to London and another half an hour to make it to the Hall. Another half an hour of waiting around until she was in front of the Circle. No, she reminded herself, in front of Mage Worton. She only needed to get to Worton, not the entire council.
No sense in telling them that. All she had to do was get this tosser inside. That was what Lucas wanted; that was what she’d give him. No more, no less. Her only concern was keeping herself alive. Another glance at her watch told her that precious moments were ticking away.
The Mages were a cautious lot.
Case in point, Obsidian Hall. She wasn’t lying when she’d said the place was warded. But it wasn’t just magical wards. The entire place was blood warded, coded to every DNA-specific race and species on the planet. And when it came to the various magical paranormal societies, they did one better. For everyone she tracked, they had samples of individual DNA. Which meant, somehow, they must have Kieran’s blood. And when she dragged his brother across the threshold…
Victoria didn’t know much about twins and DNA, but she prayed Lucas’s blood would be close enough to pass the wards, or they’d both be dead. Not that she had any illusions about her chances. The Mages had a “zero fuck-up” policy. They called it something different, but that was how she always thought of it. And this situation was definitely going south. Not to mention how close she was cutting it, time-wise.
The day she’d been dragged before the Mages had been her worst day ever. She’d been nothing but a skinny, prepubescent teen, half wild, crazed with hormones and magic, and had been sold to them like chattel. Today was definitely the second worst. In seventeen hours, unless she made an appearance in front of a High Mage, the poison that saturated her to the bone would activate, and she would die. Somehow, knowing the Mages’ methods, she didn’t think it would be a peaceful experience.
That was why they didn’t bother leashing her with magic.
That was why they didn’t bother leashing her at all.
She needed them to stay alive.
As she refocused on the room, Kieran swam into her vision. How long he’d been standing there, she didn’t know, but from the look on his face, it had been a while. For a moment, they just stared at each other. His scar was horrendous. It went from above his eye almost to the corner of his mouth. Making her wonder why. And how. And most definitely who.
“It was a long time ago.” There was a steady gentleness to him she’d never experienced before. Not up close. And definitely not with someone she’d been sent to kidnap and deliver to his untimely death.
“So you can read minds, like your brother?”
“I can. But I didn’t,” he pointed out quickly. “I didn’t need to. You were looking right at it, and wondering. Don’t worry. Everyone does.”
Victoria considered him. “Everyone shouldn’t. I’m sorry. It was rude.” Pressing her fingers to her forehead, she tried hard to focus, and found she couldn’t. She felt naked in this place, stripped of her magic, of her innate natural protection, and if she didn’t get out of here soon, she’d be in real trouble. Worse, maybe, if she did get out and marched into Circle chambers bearing an imposter as her captive. “This scheme of your brother’s, it’s going to get him killed.” And even though this next bit would most likely get her killed, she forged ahead just the same. “You need to let me go. Let me go back and tell them you were injured, or killed while I was in pursuit. Lie low for a few months—longer, if you can. Maybe you’d fall off their radar. Maybe they’ll look in another direction. Surely whatever you’ve done can’t be that bad. Why do they want you, anyway?”
Most of her targets were obvious. Magical misuse. Threats to the sanctity of the god-blessed Circle. Dangerous criminals. Enemies of the Mages. Or anyone they considered enemies. But Kieran seemed…normal. Better than normal, actually.
“Can’t say. Maybe for my charm and good looks.” He clasped his hands and leaned in. “Why do you do it, the tracking? Surely, there must be safer careers for someone like you?” There was a sincerity to his question that had her answering, the truth on the tip of her tongue, when the door flew open behind them.
“We’re set. Rhiannon approved the plan. Alexis is on point; Cole is heading the insurgence team. There will be eight of us.” Lucas spared Victoria a single glance. “And you, of course.”
“Victoria,” she said. “My name is Victoria Monroe.”
“Lucas.” There was a pleading note to Kieran’s voice that his brother ignored.
“Eight of us,” Lucas continued. “Once I’m in, I’ll take him out. I only need to get close. You can get me close to the council, right?”
Oh God. She wasn’t getting
him close to anything except for…
“The wizard I’m looking for is named Worton. That’s the one I need to get to.” Lucas’s face hardened. “You get me within twenty feet of that bastard, and I’ll carve his head off his shoulders.”
Something eased inside her. Victoria nodded. “I’ll get you close to Worton. Closer than twenty feet. But you won’t have a weapon.” She held his flinty stare. “Just so we’re clear.”
A feral, toothy smile split his handsome face. “Trust me, I won’t need a weapon.” He gestured toward the door. “I’ll show you where you can bunk for the day, and you’ll be on lockdown, so don’t even think about trying anything. We head out tonight—”
“No,” Victoria said, panic mounting, threatening to overtake her completely, at the thought of what might happen should she not make it back in time. “No, tonight doesn’t work. We have to go now. Right now. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“We’ll be ready to leave after dark. And you don’t set schedules around here.” His face twisted slightly into what he must have thought was a smile. “I do. We leave when I say we leave, and you will do what I say. I need to know where your portal is, how you got into New York. It’ll be our main point of exit and re-entry.”
Casting around for any way to push up his schedule, anything to motivate him, Victoria came up short. “The gothic bridge. In Central Park. That’s the entry point. It’ll take us back, right into downtown London.”
“And from there…”
“And from there it’s less than fifteen minutes to Obsidian Hall. There will be guardsmen waiting at the gate, so it will have to look realistic. And you can count on them keeping me waiting for another half an hour once we’re inside.” She did the math. She might make it. It would be close. Any delays, any screw-ups, and she’d be bleeding out on those black marble floors, right next to this pompous asshole.
Maybe it would serve her right. She met Kieran’s eyes, found pity in them. And a small amount of shame.
“Victoria. Is there a reason you want to leave now?”
They’d never believe her. She was nothing but a bloody Tracker, and this was how Trackers met their ends. They fucked up and they died. And they sure as shit didn’t get pity—or help—from their prisoners. She’d never expected anything in her life. And she didn’t expect it now.
Rubbing her wrist, ignoring the ticking clock attached to it, she mumbled, “Nope.”
Then she allowed Lucas to steer her into a stripped-down room with a chair, a light bulb and a table.
10
Kieran went with Lucas to see Doc.
The procedure would be painless; Berneval had assured them both of this. But psychologically? Kieran knew what to expect staring into the mirror every day. His brother didn’t. Not that Luc was vain. Far from it. But your face was…you. Change it, slice it in two, and that did something to your psyche.
Even if the scar was reversible, he wasn’t sure the psychological damage would be.
“Luc. The girl’s right. This is a terrible idea. And even if you do find Worton, even if you kill him, what then?”
“Then the bastard’s dead and we don’t have to think about him again.”
Somehow, Kieran didn’t think that was how this worked. “The gi—Victoria said she’d get you close, but you won’t have a weapon. How are you planning on killing him? He’s a High Mage. You’re going into a warded fortress, leashed to a Tracker, with no defenses. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
For the first time since he’d woken up on that gurney, Luc stopped, really stopped, and met Kieran’s gaze. And Kieran saw nothing in his eyes except determination. “He tortured you. For months. He sent you back to us, half dead, because you wouldn’t give him what he needed, and he was too weak to kill you outright. I’ve thought about ending that bastard for fifty years. And this girl is my way inside. Don’t you dare ask me to pass it up. Don’t you dare ask me to stand down because you’ve decided vengeance isn’t your thing anymore.”
“Her name’s Victoria. And have you thought about what this is going to do to her?” Kieran asked. “Let’s say you actually succeed at killing the bastard. What happens to her? She’s just smuggled you inside. What are her chances, once you’ve wreaked carnage on the Mages?”
“I don’t care. She hunted you down, Kieran. She had a leash around my throat.” But something like shame flashed in Luc’s eyes. “She should have thought about the consequences when she became a Tracker.”
“You said she was a slave.” Kieran’s voice grew quiet as they paused outside Doc’s door. “In the infirmary, before. You looked into her thoughts and called her a slave. What did you mean, Lucas?”
“I… She thinks of herself as a slave. I’m sure she’s not an actual slave. She’s hunting people down, for fuck’s sake. She’s a goddamned Tracker. You know as well as I do that they can go anywhere. Anywhere in the entire world. They supposedly have access to any portal, anytime. A slave doesn’t have that kind of freedom. And they are armed with magic, powerful magic. We were just lucky Rhiannon’s wards keep her powers dampened while she’s inside.” Kieran felt the weight of his brother’s hand as it landed on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this with me. I would never ask it of you.”
“I’d never ask you to do it alone, Luc. Because I know exactly why you’re going in there. And I know why you’re going to kill Worton.” Kieran knew. And he hated it. But for some reason, the entire time Doc worked, Kieran’s thoughts kept going back to the delicate, pale creature locked in a room just down the hallway.
Slave or not, she’d been quick to help them, and frantic when Luc had set the timetable to tonight. Panicked, even. Not exactly the actions of a stone-cold killer. More like someone invested in their own survival.
“Kieran, if you don’t mind, can you turn a little bit that way…” Doc’s careful eyes measured the scar, then went back to his ministration on Luc’s face. “This is completely reversible. It’ll be gone the moment you’re back from that hellhole.” Berneval shot Kieran a glance. “Sorry, my friend—if I could have gotten to yours sooner…”
But he hadn’t.
No one had, because Kieran had been rotting in a dungeon beneath Obsidian Hall for months on months. Until they’d finally let him go. Why he’d been released, alive, was not something he’d told a soul. Least of all his brother. And it was going to stay that way.
“How much do you know about Trackers, Doc?” Kieran asked, observing the doctor make an extremely difficult cut around Luc’s eye. “Where do they come from? Do the Mages find them and train them? Or do they go to the Mages for work?”
“Better yet,” said Doc, “how do they find their targets? Is it an innate ability, or simply the magic the Mages endow them with? Or a bit of both?”
“Maybe you two could shut the fuck up and let Doc work on my face,” Luc muttered. “Oh, wait, there’s a fucking Tracker right down the hall. Why don’t you go ask her?”
Since watching his beloved, foul-tempered brother’s face laid open like a gutted fish was wreaking havoc on his insides, Kieran did just that. And yet, standing in front of the door, hand on the lever, it seemed he had no business being here. How his life had spiraled so quickly out of control he wasn’t sure, but mere hours ago, everything had been business as usual. Now, Luc was on the verge of embarking on a suicide mission, and behind this door lurked something fascinating. And Kieran hadn’t found another living creature fascinating for a good, long while. Leaning his forehead against the cool metal of the door, he breathed in again. Water. Salty, briny water. The ocean. And a featherlight brush of his wind kicked up, lifting his hair on an invisible breeze.
Shoving down the handle, Kieran pushed inside. A rush of anger, strange and foreign, cut through him. The girl was curled into a hard wood chair, her face looking especially pale under the naked bulb, the chair pushed all the way back into a corner of the tiny room. The darkest part of the room, he realized. “I thought you were supposed to be resting?”
Stupid, stupid thing to say, but it was the first thought that rushed into his head and, apparently, out of his mouth. “I’m sorry. I thought they’d put you somewhere you could sleep.”
“I was sleeping. A little.” She, Victoria, made no move to unfurl herself from what had to be an uncomfortable position. Once again, he noted the thin, dark bands around her wrists, no apparent clasps, and the diving watch she seemed to check every few moments.
“I don’t see how. My brother can be such an ass sometimes,” he added in a low voice, although it was probably unnecessary. She’d gotten a crash course in Luc’s behavior today, and although she was, technically, the enemy, there was no need for…this. Kieran stepped sideways, leaving the doorway open, and watched her eyes darken as she measured the distance between herself and the threshold. And yet she didn’t move a muscle. Interesting.
Fear poured off her in sheets, mixing with the briny scent, and yet giving her a clear shot to the door hadn’t produced what he’d expected. Hope. Or at least the quick shot of adrenaline when she spotted the opportunity of freedom. No, her emotional grid had remained the same. The fear levels hadn’t shifted—if anything, they spiked ever so slightly.
“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he asked. She blinked with surprise. “If you truly plan on going back there, my brother in tow, then I expect you’ll need something in your stomach. Let me feed you. And you can answer some questions, if you feel up to it.”
“I thought I was your prisoner?” she asked, but uncurled her body and set her feet on the floor, gazing up at him. “Is this an interrogation, then?” The smell of her fear remained unchanged.
Something about this was not right, but Kieran was damned if he could see what it was.
Smiling, he reached out a hand to her. “If that’s what you want to call this, then yes, it’s an interrogation. I think there’s leftover pizza from last night, and I might be able to scrounge you up dessert. Alexis’s birthday was two nights ago, and Luc ordered the biggest sheet cake I’ve ever seen. There’s still some left. Chocolate, if that sounds good?”
Seacursed: The Mage Circle Trilogy: 1 Page 4
