Only he wouldn’t.
The footman stumbled past James’s car, blending easily into the crowd of late-night party goers assembled on the corner across from the bar. His dose of the spell was stronger. He wouldn’t remember me, why or how he ended up in town, and he’d have one hell of a headache. I almost pitied him the conversation he would have with his superiors the next morning.
My escape in the old mill town came to an abrupt end with the arrival of Lars and a footman. Colby Jackson’s days were numbered the moment James coined my new name. Hiding amongst the mundanes was a pipe dream; too beautiful to hold back the harsh nightmare of real life. Armed with a strong dose of reality, Lars managed to track me down and I was going to listen to what he had to say whether I liked it or not.
I assure you, I did not.
“How many?” Lars gave himself a pat-down before retrieving a lighter and a pack of clove cigarettes from the inner pocket of the green army surplus jacket he wore.
“How many what?” I asked before quickly changing the topic to one of him smoking again. “You haven’t smoked in years.”
“I had a moment of weakness.” After a long drag, he stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of his boot and tossed the butt in the trash. “How many of them are there?”
Lars wouldn’t let up. He never did. Evasion tactics were pointless. Still, it didn’t hurt to try.
“Six, maybe seven?” I used my fingers to tick off the number of clients I’d charmed over the past few weeks. “No more than seven.”
“Seven? For goddess sake, Adeline.” Lars lit another cigarette, a plume of spicy white smoke hung in the air. “The magical equivalent of a flare and you wonder how the Magistrate found you.”
“It was only a matter of time before they found me. What I’d really like to know is how you found me.” I snatched the cigarette out of his hand and put it out.
“Breadcrumbs.” Lars didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. Chin jutted out and arms crossed over his puffed-out chest, he all but dared me to argue the use of a tracker spell.
“You cast a locater on me?” If I were a tea kettle, steam would have billowed out of my ears. “When? How?”
“Grim did.” Lars reached for me, tapping the alchemist symbol on my forearm. “He just taught me how to use it.”
“You never thought to mention it?” I asked through gritted teeth, fighting to reign in my temper. In all the years I had that tattoo, no one saw fit to tell me it was more than my warder’s mark— that it was a way to keep tabs on me.
“If you were us, would you have told a sixteen-year-old you? Or a twenty-four-year-old you for that matter?” Lars waited for my answer, a smug expression on his face.
“Considering I was the perfect teenager, I am not going to dignify that question with an answer.” I smacked the pack of cigarettes out of Lars’s hand when he reached for another.
He found my response hilarious but was smart enough to disguise his laughter with a cough— one more convincing since he’d taken up smoking again.
I dug through my backpack until I found the jar of spelled black ink and one of my sketching pencils. “It’s not permanent but I’ll fix that later.” I dipped the pencil into the ink and drew a quick no smoking sign on the inside of his wrist.
“So, what’s your plan?” Lars asked, looking at the sigil on his arm instead of me.
“I was sort of hoping you had one.” I wiped the pencil on my jeans, cleaning off the excess ink before putting the supplies back in my bag. The phoenix sign on the side of the building caught my eye and I sighed. “Or that she had a plan.”
If the Goddess had something specific in mind, she’d yet to reveal it.
“I wish I could say I was surprised to find you here, but her handprints are all over this.” Lars followed my line of sight, taking in the yellow and orange bird carved into the wooden sign.
“Yeah, but why?” I stepped closer to the sign, tracing the outline of the tail feathers with my fingers. “I thought she was pointing me to a safe haven.”
Lars shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe she was.”
“Then why are you here?” I slipped my arms through the straps of my backpack and hoisted it up on my shoulders.
“Grim,” Lars replied, tapping my warder’s mark again for emphasis.
Right, Grim. He thumbed his nose at the Goddess and her divine providence on more than one occasion. If she didn’t want us to have free will, she wouldn’t have made us warders. Grim was under the impression she favored warders. I was under the impression she liked to fuck with us.
Maybe it was a little bit of both.
Either way, running was no longer an option. Neither was wiping the minds of every footman who crossed our path. Or being convicted of a murder you didn’t commit. Winslow would continue to use the Magistrate and its resources until someone brought me in. I didn’t want to think about what happened after that.
“So, what’s the plan?” I gripped the straps of my backpack and waited for the one response that could get me off the Phoenix Emporium’s balcony— rescuing Nicholas.
“I thought we’d go get your friend.” This was how Lars apologized and it was music to my ears.
An apology without change is just another form of manipulation. I didn’t need hollow words. I needed action and that’s what Lars was offering. He couldn’t change the past but he could change the future— more specifically, Nicholas’s future.
“You ready?” Fine lines appeared at the corners of Lars’s eyes when he winced at his own question; the first signs of stress and his age showing.
“No, not like that matters. Where’d you park?” I closed my eyes and sighed when he pointed to the motorcycle across the street. “I’m going to need to stop by the bar for a shot of whiskey on the way out.”
Seven hours on the back of a bike? I should have made it a double.
***
Providence— it wasn’t the homecoming I expected. Not that I expected fanfare and a tickertape parade. But I could have done without the flashing lights and evasive maneuvering that followed. We had footmen on our tail from the minute we crossed the Connecticut-Rhode Island state line. Lars skirted the city limits and headed for Pawtucket in an effort to throw them off. Three cars fell back and eventually fell off our tail altogether.
Three down, two to go.
Life is short, eat more donuts— unless you’re being chased by a bunch of footmen. So, when Lars turned into the parking lot of a Honeydew Donuts, I seriously questioned his judgment. I should have known better but handing Nicholas over to Winslow changed things. It changed us and we were still working our way back to some kind of normal.
Lars pulled into the parking space closest to the front door in plain view of everyone inside. After removing his gloves, he pulled a small tube the size of a lip balm container from his coat pocket. With the cap already off, he passed it back to me, but not before swiping it across an exposed patch of skin between the cuff of my jacket sleeve and my black knit glove. A shiver ran up and down my spine. Another glamour.
I didn’t have to wait long to find out what disguise Lars created for me the second time. Golden locks, freed from the confines of my motorcycle helmet, cascaded down my back. The curves rounding out my small frame made my natural physique comparable to a thirteen-year-old boy’s. Every inch of biker leather clung to my voluptuous figure. Lars presented himself as the perfect match. A long, silver braid fell loose from his helmet as he took it off and hung it from its chin strap on the ape hanger handlebar. Patches adorned the back of his vest, adding another layer of authenticity to his glamour.
The old chopper rumbled beneath us as we waited for our tail to catch up. My anxiety ratcheted up a notch as the twin black sedans neared the donut shop parking lot. Their blinkers turned on simultaneously as one and then the other made the left turn. One car circled around the building while the other slowed to a stop beside us.
The driver lowered his window and leaned out. “Either
of you see a blue and white race bike go by here? Would have been two riders, a big guy and a small woman?” The footman peered across the two parking spaces separating us with suspicion in his eyes.
Did he know? A thin layer of sweat coated my skin— an unfortunate side effect of nerves and leather. The footman asked again before unbuckling his seat belt and opening his car door. Lars moved his hand to my thigh and squeezed. To an outsider, the gesture said, “there was something sexual between us, we were a couple,” between us it meant “don’t panic, don’t do anything stupid.”
I was past panic. As for stupid? That all depended on whether an idea worked or not.
Tapping a line would have been too obvious like cracking a whip in the dead of night. So, instead of ripping the magic from the line and attracting the attention of every footman within a fifteen-mile radius, I opened myself up to the constant flow of energy beneath Providence and let it seep into my body. Once I siphoned enough energy for a spell, I completed the casting by reciting the words three times in my head.
A voice crackled over the radio in the footman’s car, “spotted on Broadway headed south.” He shut the car door and didn’t bother buckling in as he threw the car into reverse. “Thanks for your help.” His words, dripping with sarcasm, rang out over the squeal of tires as he peeled out of the parking space.
“Did he just hex us?” Lars killed the engine and pulled the key from the ignition.
“Nah, he just gave us the finger.” I swung my leg over the bike in an awkward dismount. “I need sugar. And caffeine.”
“Shadow Of a Doubt, huh? Classic, but I didn’t know it was in your repertoire.” Lars patted down his leather pants in search of his wallet before winking and reaching into one of the saddlebags on the bike. “Got it.” He gave the wallet a little pat. “My treat.”
Magic outside of inks and a tattoo machine was a little wild and strange. I never had classical training on campus. I had Grim and we focused on gaining lost ground with my warding. The rest? Spells and charms? Well, I made a lot of it up as I went. The Magistrate focused on ritual and repetition but any witch worth her salt knew power was in the intent, not the rite.
“I didn’t know betrayal was in yours. There’s a lot of spells in my repertoire you don’t know about. Guess we’ve still got a lot to learn about each other after all these years, huh?” Regret heated my cheeks. Lars made a mistake. It wasn’t fair to rub his nose in it every chance I got. I said I was willing to accept his help and his peace offering. If I meant it, I better start acting like it. I stepped up onto the curb but stopped short of entering the door to the donut shop. “Sorry, I’m... It’s—”
Lars waved off my apology. “Forget it. Come on, plotting a breakout is easier on a full stomach. The pot looks fresh and there’s a dozen glazed with our names on them.” He held the door open for me and we went inside.
I picked a table in the back and slid into the side of the booth facing the door while Lars placed our order. Within a matter of moments, he was on his way to the booth, balancing a box of donuts across the tops of our coffee cups. He set the bounty of carbs and caffeine on the table before sliding into his own seat across from mine.
“So, what’s your lead on Nicholas?” I set the box of donuts between us and cracked the lid on my coffee. It didn’t smell as fresh as Lars promised but beggars can’t be choosers. Not at this hour and not while we were still technically on the run. “I’m assuming you have one or you wouldn’t have come looking for me.” I blew across the top of the cup before taking a sip, wincing from the bitterness and burn as it washed over my taste buds.
“He’s on campus.” Lars reached for a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table, wiping the spray of coffee my spit take left on his face. “Can’t be any harder than getting in and out of Winslow’s.”
“You’re crazy.” I picked a donut from the box and took a huge bite and licked the away glaze coating my fingertips as I set it on a napkin.
“You’re the one who wanted to get him out.” Lars shoved an entire donut in his mouth and washed it down with a swig of coffee.
“Did you even chew that?” I shook my head and pulled a chunk off my donut. “And, need I remind you, that you’re the one who put Nicholas there in the first place?”
“Touché.” Lars grabbed another donut from the box, only chomping off half that time. “Look, I’m going to be straight with you Del because we’ve never been anything but. I’m not sold on your boy Nicholas. I don’t hand over innocent people to the Magistrate. Hell, I wouldn’t normally turn anyone in at all. We don’t get involved, right?” He shoved the other half of the donut in his mouth, wiping his fingers off on the napkin. “But you’re convinced he’s not involved,” he paused to rephrase and swallow the mouthful of food, “that he’s not working for his uncle or the Magistrate. So that’s good enough for me. I’m trusting your judgment on this.”
Considering my judgment was often questionable at best, that said a lot about Lars— that he was as crazy as I was. Considering what we were about to do, that was probably a good thing. If our plan failed and the Magistrate caught us trying to break Nicholas out, we could always plead insanity.
Chapter Sixteen
“Okay.” I pulled a pen from my bag and another napkin from the dispenser. “The main entrance to the campus is here.” I started drawing a map of the grounds from memory.
Outcasts and the dual-natured weren’t welcome on campus. If you were both? Well, that meant you were wanted by the Magistrate for other reasons than an education. Which also meant my knowledge of the grounds was from one very long stakeout and Nicholas’s descriptions.
“But deliveries come in here.” I drew another line indicating the fence and rear entrance. “We saw at least half a dozen trucks come in and out of those gates.”
Lars and I tried to refine our plan but we only had enough for a rough draft. We knew the where— the campus— and the who— Nicholas and Winslow. But it wasn’t enough. The campus grounds sprawled several city blocks and candidates wandered the grounds at all hours.
“Except the witching hour,” I exclaimed. “That’s when we hit the campus, Lars, the witching hour.”
“Look, I said I trust your judgment and I do, but I have to ask before we storm the gates of the Magistrate’s illustrious academy.” Lars leveled me with a look I’d seen a million times before. We weren’t leaving the donut shop until I answered. “Why Nicholas?”
“Why not Nicholas?” I didn’t hesitate. “He’s one of us, Lars. If he wasn’t Vincent Mark’s son, he would have walked into Something To ‘Ink About like any other dual-natured. His father is dead. Winslow or the Magistrate took that from him. Winslow’s got his foot on his mother’s throat and his hand in their bank accounts.” I shook my head, thinking about all the crap we’d been through in a short period of time. “It doesn’t matter that Nicholas wanted revenge or we wanted out from under the Magistrate. He’s one of us, Lars.”
Lars wanted more, an admission of my attraction to Nicholas but I didn’t give him one. Who had time for relationships? Not me and certainly not Nicholas. Our lives were a mess as it was. Throwing feelings into the mix was a recipe for disaster.
Lars rubbed a hand over his scalp, his fingers catching in gray hair pulled taught where he’d normally have smoothly shaven skin. “Okay, Del.” He reached into the inside pocket of his leather vest and pulled out a piece of paper. “Okay.” When he unfolded the paper and smoothed it flat on the table, I almost bounced out of my seat.
“Is that what I think it is?” Familiar blue lines glowed across the legal-size paper. “You made a blueprint?” They were a thing of beauty and I never went to a warding location— or a jailbreak, apparently— without one.
“Of course, it is.” Lars tapped the paper and a hologram of the layout appeared between us. “We go in here.” Lars pointed to the same delivery entrance I already suggested. “Best I can tell, Nicholas is here.” He pointed to a lower level of the campus I neve
r knew existed.
The walls were thicker and the rooms smaller than the main floor. There were no windows and only one door for each room. It was one long corridor with rooms on either side and resembled a dungeon. And then it clicked. It resembled a dungeon because it was a dungeon. Or a modern-day version of one.
“He’s in the cells?” My heart sank like a stone. “You’re sure?”
“If my tracker’s still working, yeah.” Lars managed to look me in the eyes. If the roles were reversed, I don’t think I could have done the same. “But, from what I can tell, his isn’t lined with lead.”
“Because you can see him?” I asked, despite knowing the answer. I wanted him to say it, to offer some reassurances.
“Because I can see him.” Lars nodded, more than once. Maybe he needed reassurances, too.
I had to believe Lars wouldn’t have called in the anonymous tip to Winslow if he thought Nicholas would end up in a lead cell. Not when he worked so hard to keep me out of one.
“Okay.” I gulped down a mouthful of coffee, ignoring the burn as it made its way down my throat. “We go in through the delivery entrance and then what?”
“You take point and make sure you have a needle or something to draw blood. Your marks might come in handy.” Lars went over the details while we crushed the rest of the donuts and two more cups of coffee.
If everything went according to plan, we’d have Nicholas and be off-campus within the hour. If it didn’t? Well, let’s not dwell on the negative.
***
We took the last left before reaching the campus. Lars pulled the bike up to the curb and killed the engine. “One more thing.” He waited for me to dismount before following suit and joining me on the curb. “We need to change.”
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