Boundary Broken (Boundary Magic Book 4)

by Melissa F. Olson

  A meeting? “That . . . actually doesn’t sound too bad,” I said, relieved. “When is it?”

  “Saturday morning. To give the clan leaders a chance to get to Boulder.”

  And, probably, to give everyone a little time to cool down. It was, impossibly, only Thursday night now, so that would give everyone more than a day. “The other witches agreed to that?”

  Tracy’s expression soured. “Yes, but only if the Pellars stay put at the farm until then.”

  “They’re under house arrest?”

  “More or less, yes. Hazel, Simon, Lily, and Sybil, anyway. The rest of the clan got to go home for tonight.” She pointed at the paper in my hand. “But then this was in my car when I went to leave. In most of the other cars, too.”

  “Inside the car?” I repeated, getting sidetracked. “Didn’t you lock it?”

  She gave me a pitying look. “We’re witches?”

  Oh. Right. I was so used to magic that dealt with death; I often forgot there were plenty of perfectly ordinary spells that made life convenient for others.

  I looked at the sheet again. New leadership. “Someone wants to usurp Hazel? Why wouldn’t they just start their own clan?”

  Tracy had always struck me as very polite, and now I could see her struggling not to roll her eyes at my ignorance. When she spoke, her voice was very slow and measured. “First of all, this isn’t about being leader of Clan Pellar. It’s about being the witches’ representative to Maven. The person who’s effectively in charge of all Colorado witches.”

  “Okay. And second?”

  She opened and closed her hands for a moment, searching for words. “This is . . . I’m not sure how to explain it. The clan system in Colorado is old—really old. Most of the clan leaders are over sixty. Some of the younger witches think they’re too . . . um . . . compliant, I guess. That’s been building for a long time.”

  “Ah.” Simon and Lily talked about this sometimes—the old-versus-new tension within the witch clans. They were always trying to figure out how to balance modernization with the old traditions.

  Whenever they talked about future plans, though, they made it sound like everyone was sort of waiting out the treaty before they did anything. I’d figured there were three more years before I had to worry about it.

  If the treaty was broken, though . . .

  I looked down at the flyer. “So, Hazel is meeting with the clan leaders, but whoever sent this is targeting the younger witches? The ones who want change?”

  Tracy had abandoned the zipper pull and was picking nervously at her cuticles. “I think so. And at the moment, pretty much everyone outside Clan Pellar wants to punish Hazel and choose a new liaison to Maven. It’s a mess.”

  I rattled the paper. “Who sent the flyer?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” she said, spreading her hands. “But look at the address for the meeting.”

  I squinted at the small print on the bottom of the page. “Tie Siding, Wyoming? Where is that?”

  “I looked it up. It’s just over the state line, on the way to Laramie. The town is so small they don’t even count it in the census, but there’s this big rustic barn that rents out for weddings and parties and stuff.”

  Wyoming. I felt a fresh jolt of worry. Renegade witches wanted a meeting outside of Maven’s territory, where Maven and Hazel had no power. And the Pellars were all under house arrest. This could not be good.

  I needed to get this to Maven as quickly as possible. I folded the piece of paper and put it carefully in my pocket. “Are you going to this meeting?”

  Tracy shook her head. “I’m out of it. I don’t know what I . . . no. I’m not going.”

  I blinked. She sounded conflicted as hell. “If you’re trying to stay out of it, why bring this to me?” I asked.

  For the first time, Tracy reached down and tentatively touched Stitch on the head. The dog panted happily at her, and she scratched his ears a little. “Because I feel like someone is herding all of us in a direction, you know? It has to stop before people get hurt.”

  People had already been killed, but there was no point in making that argument to Tracy. I wasn’t sure the witches would even consider werewolves people. Hell, before I’d met Dunn and his pack, I hadn’t really considered them people either.

  Tracy stood up. “I need to go. If anyone finds out I came here, they might bind my magic, too.” She gave me a worried look. “You’re a witch, and you work for Maven. Please, fix this.”

  Chapter 16

  The snow had stopped by the time I pulled the Jeep out of the driveway, making tire tracks in the inch of fresh powder. The night was crisp and cold and refreshingly clear of ghosts—the route between my home and Magic Beans was the first section of Boulder I had cleared, with Simon and Lily’s help.

  My thoughts spun as I drove back into downtown Boulder, the flyer tucked safely in an inner jacket pocket. Could this entire thing be a plan to unseat Hazel Pellar? That sounded crazy, and it felt crazy. If that was all you wanted, and you were willing to go as far as murder, why not just come after Hazel and Lily directly? That would leave the Pellars without a leader, creating an opening in the witch community. And it was a hell of a lot easier than killing werewolves.

  Of course, anyone who hurt Lily would have me to deal with . . . but in a roundabout way, that was the outcome now anyway. I shook my head. None of this made any sense. I just hoped Maven would have some idea of what to do.

  I didn’t partake in Christmas decorations, other than a fresh wreath on the door and a small, live tree in one corner of my living room, but plenty of homes and businesses along my route had set out twinkling lights, including Magic Beans. Maven had strung the gutters with white icicle lights, which were flickering in a repeating pattern as I pulled up. I parked in the slot behind the building specifically reserved for the Jeep. That was one advantage to having my car stolen, I guess.

  My shoes crunched on the snow as I walked inside, and I figured every vampire in the building would know I was arriving.

  I had texted Quinn to tell him I was coming, and when I hurried in, he and Maven were both waiting for me in Maven’s office. I didn’t like the small, cramped room, but it was soundproof, and I suspected that Maven had it regularly checked for magical or electronic listening devices.

  Conscious of my claustrophobia, Quinn had thoughtfully turned my chair sort of sideways so I could see him, Maven, and the door at the same time. He also handed me a large white coffee cup without comment, and I sent him a grateful look. The nightmare-fueled catnap at the hotel had done nothing to fight off my exhaustion.

  “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Maven said, looking concerned. “Did something happen? Were you attacked?”

  I shook my head. “Not attacked, no, but I did get a visitor. A local witch who doesn’t want to get involved in the . . . whatever you’d call it, the power struggle in the witch clans.” I sipped the coffee.

  Quinn’s face sparked with comprehension. “Was it Tracy? Simon’s ex?”

  I was naturally uncomfortable about exposing her, but Tracy hadn’t really done anything wrong, by Maven’s standards. “Well . . . yeah. How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “Just a guess, based on what Simon’s told me about her. Why come to you?”

  “She wanted to give me this.” I unzipped my pocket and dug out the paper, standing up so I could hand it across Maven’s desk.

  Maven unfolded it and frowned, looking back up at me. “Lex, this is blank.”

  “What?” I stood up again so I could see over the edge of the desk. The writing was plain as day. I pointed to it. “Right there, see? It’s calligraphy.”

  Maven raised her eyebrows at me, bemused. “What color is the ink, Lex?”

  The question was jarring, but I was too confused to do anything but answer. “Black? No, wait.” I peered closely at it. “Very dark red, maybe.”

  “Ah.” She handed it back to me. Quinn held out his hand and I automatically passed t
he paper to him.

  He glanced at it and shook his head. “I can’t see anything either.”

  “That’s because the ink is mixed with witchblood,” Maven told us. “There’s a little charm on the blood to keep it from being viewed by anyone without active magic. I’ve seen this before.”

  Quinn held the paper under his nose and sniffed deeply. He nodded. “I can smell it. Just a little. They must have added some sort of sealant or powder over the ink.”

  “Wait. Wait. How is that possible?” My voice came out a lot louder than I’d intended. “When I met you-all, the first thing everyone said is that magic doesn’t work against itself. So how the hell can there be magical ink that’s invisible to vampires?”

  Quinn’s eyes slid to Maven; he was obviously worried that I was being insubordinate. But Maven simply said, “Lex, when we first met you, you received a rudimentary explanation of our world, the most basic details. And on that primary level, no, magic doesn’t work against itself. I could never turn you into a vampire. You cannot cast a spell that will cure a werewolf. The fundamental rules of how we function are unbreakable.” She paused, as if to make sure I wasn’t going to argue that. “But there are nuances, spaces in between the rules.”

  Quinn spoke up. “Like illusions.” Maven and I both looked at him. “Simon can make illusions that work on me,” he said, looking somehow . . . guilty. I raised my eyebrows, and he grimaced. “There have been some . . . uh . . . pranks.”

  I had to grin at that, and even Maven smiled a little. “Yes, illusions are a good example,” she said, “especially if you don’t know they’re there. Witches can bend light, move air, disturb water—and those things affect our bodies, which are made to function in ways that are similar to humans. By the same token, we can get physical sustenance from witch or werewolf blood, but we can’t press them to forget about it.”

  “Nuances,” I grumbled. It seemed like every time I thought I had a handle on the way things worked in the Old World, I got blindsided.

  I looked down at the flyer in Quinn’s hand. “So the ink is like an illusion spell?”

  “Something like that. Perhaps,” Maven said, with the infinite patience of vampires, “you could read it to us.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” I took the flyer back from Quinn. “Your presence is requested at a public forum to discuss the state of our community in Colorado. The time has come for new leadership. All clan witches are welcome. Please join us at the Meadowlark Ranch Barn, Friday at 4:00 p.m., Tie Siding, Wyoming.”

  “Wyoming.” Maven looked pensive. “And the Pellars are being forced to stay at the farm. Someone wants to wrest power away from Hazel Pellar, and they don’t want me to be able to stop it.”

  “Couldn’t you anyway?” I asked. Both Maven and Quinn gave me surprised looks, and I shrugged. “You told me there’s no cardinal vampire in Wyoming, right?”

  “Correct. Wyoming’s entire population is smaller than that of Denver, and they’re spread across nearly a hundred thousand square miles. The state is all wrong for vampires.”

  “So why couldn’t you fuck up a meeting?” I replied. She wouldn’t go herself—the sun didn’t set until four thirty—but she could send someone. Sending a boundary witch would probably be too antagonistic, but she had plenty of people working for her. She could even press someone in Wyoming, like the police. For a second, I entertained a little fantasy where the anti-Pellar witch club got busted by the cops.

  “I can’t,” Maven said calmly, bringing me back to the present, “because if I take aggressive public action in Wyoming, I’m claiming it as my territory. And I don’t have the resources to hold an enormous amount of undesirable land. Especially right now.”

  I started to ask what that meant, but Quinn spoke over me. “My question is, did whoever set up this meeting—I’m assuming it’s a she, because of the witchblood—recognize an opportunity and throw this together quickly, or did she kill the werewolves to set this in motion? Because it seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to, when you could just kill Hazel and Lily,” Quinn remarked. Then he winced and met my eyes. “Sorry.”

  I waved it off. “No, I had the exact same thought. If all you wanted was to take those two people off the board, it’s ridiculously convoluted.”

  “Although,” Maven mused, “Quinn mentioned that the entire clan is being threatened with magical binding. If that was the goal, perhaps it isn’t so convoluted.”

  I shook my head. “Honestly, I just can’t see it—or at least, that can’t be the whole picture. Maybe if it was personal, like if Dunn or the Ventimiglias had been involved with Trask, but all three of them were new to Wyoming.”

  “At any rate,” Quinn said, looking at Maven, “what do you want us to do?”

  She looked at me, the force of her attention cresting against me like a tide. I’d gotten better at bracing myself, but sometimes being near her made me feel like I was being pulled in by her personal gravity. “I want you at that witch meeting,” she told me.

  I blinked a few times to make sure I hadn’t accidentally started hallucinating. “But you just said—”

  “As a spy,” she interrupted. She gestured at the flyer. “The meeting is before sunset, so I can’t send any of my people.”

  “You have human employees—” I began, but she interrupted.

  “If they’re this serious about security, Lex, they’ll likely set up wards to block anyone without witchblood. Don’t worry. All you have to do is stand in the back and listen, then return here to report.”

  A spy? The walls of Maven’s little office seemed closer than they had just a moment ago. I was not the person you called for an undercover mission. I was the person you called when you needed to either punch someone or talk to ghosts.

  Trying to make my voice even, I said, “I’m not a clan witch.”

  “No,” Maven replied, “but you’re my only witch. The Pellars are unavailable, and I can’t trust anyone else in the state.”

  I wished that was because she was so sure of my loyalty, but we both knew Maven also had fantastic leverage on me. If I ever turned against her, Charlie would pay the price.

  “Still,” I insisted, “if they invited Tracy, they invited other members of Clan Pellar. Someone there will recognize me.”

  A smile spread across Maven’s face, and it was one I did not like at all. A thousand-year-old vampire should not look mischievous. “I believe I can help with that.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow. “A disguise?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m not . . . that’s not my kind of thing,” I sputtered, panic clawing inside my chest. “Give me a security problem, a safety issue—”

  “Lex,” Maven interrupted, “why is this bothering you so much? Haven’t you been wanting more to do?”

  I cut my eyes to Quinn, who was sitting there with a perfectly blank face. Had he told Maven I was unhappy and bored? No, he wouldn’t do that. She’d probably just worked it out based on the tiny amount of work she had been giving me.

  They were both looking at me curiously, so I swallowed hard. “Ma’am,” I said, as calmly as I could manage, “I was a soldier. That’s my skill set. I’m not an actor or an undercover cop. If they figure out I’m there, knowing I work for you . . . it will make everything worse.”

  Maven folded her hands in her lap. “I see no other course of action, Lex.” Her voice had hardened, just a little bit. On the desk in front of her, her cell phone began to vibrate, and she glanced at the screen. “I should get this.”

  I stood up abruptly. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I’d like to get some air.”

  Maven nodded, picking up the phone, and I fled through the exit.

  Chapter 17

  Quinn found me crouched on the other side of the emergency exit door, my back planted against the building. It was way too cold to be leaning against a brick wall, but I barely noticed.

  “Lex?” He sat down next to me, close but not touching. “What is it? I have
n’t seen you this shaken in years.”

  I shook my head, unable to explain. The trip across the sand dunes had unnerved me enough to bring back the Iraq nightmares, but . . . he was right. It had been ages since I’d freaked out like this. It took me a few more minutes before I was sure I could speak.

  “If I fuck this up,” I whispered, “Simon and Lily will lose their magic for sure. The entire Old World relationship in the state could collapse.”

  It sounded unnecessarily dramatic when I said it out loud like that, but we both knew I wasn’t wrong. Quinn scooted a little closer and put his arm around me. He didn’t emit any warmth, but at least it blocked the chill from the bricks.

  “Why is she making me do this?” I mumbled. “She hasn’t had much use for me in months, and now she wants an undercover op?”

  There was a long pause, longer than I would expect even from my taciturn boyfriend. “I don’t know all her plans,” he said at last. “But I know you can do this.”

  I turned my head to look him in the eye. “How? How do you know?”

  “Because you have to,” he said simply.

  That wasn’t very inspiring. I leaned my head against the cold building again, watching the icicle lights twinkle. Maven had set them up all the way around the building, even though only a handful of people ever came through the back door. “Why did she say she doesn’t have the resources, especially right now?”

  He shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. Something’s going on, but I’m not in the loop . . . yet. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

  I just gazed at him for a minute. He sounded so calm. Sure, vampires were generally pretty patient, but could I trust him to tell me the truth about this? He hadn’t told me about the weekend pass, and he’d been evasive about his reasons. I couldn’t tell if he’d kept quiet on Maven’s orders, or if he’d done it to protect me. And asking him would be pointless, because if Maven had ordered him to lie to me, he’d have to obey her.