“I… guess?” the man said.
“Then do as I say, and leave. I don’t know what it is about this room, but something isn’t right and I will not rest until I learn what that thing is. Once I have made my decision, I will call you all back.”
“Where should we go?” someone called out from the back.
“I don’t care. Go downstairs, wait in the lobby, or go across the street and have a cocktail, or a coffee, or whatever you people do with your free time. For now… I need to work.”
Karim scanned the room, waiting for signs of movement, but no one was moving. He pressed the issue by shooing them all with his hands. That, finally, got people moving. Slowly, they started filing out of the apartment, waiting in the foyer for their turn to go down in the tiny elevator.
When Karim reached the door, he instructed the Legionnaire posted there to shut it, and not let anyone else inside until Karim gave his explicit say so. On that, at least, he was listened to. If the Legionnaire knew enough about interior decoration to question the decision, he kept quiet about it.
I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been holding a breath this whole time. I exhaled. Axel did the same. “Holy hell,” I said into the mic, “What was that about?”
Karim cracked his neck from one side to the other. “Never mind that,” he said, “We’re in.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The camera feed sprang to life, giving me a close-up view of Karim’s porous nose as he set it in its place. He pulled back and stared at the lens, adjusting its position with the delicate touch of an artist working on a canvas.
“There,” he said, once he was satisfied, “Is it working?”
“Looks good,” I said, “Probably got a little more intimate with your nose than I’d have wanted to, but the picture is strong.”
Karim his middle finger at me. “Don’t worry, you’re not much to look at either.”
In the background I could see Danvers working on her camera. She was sliding it into a bookshelf on the other side of the room. A moment later, another of the screens lit up and this time it was her face that came into view.
“You, on the other hand, are much prettier,” I said.
Danvers blew a kiss into the camera, winked, and got to work on the next one. They’d installed two previously, for a total of four. These cameras were great, considering they were smaller than peas. The video was clean and sharp, the audio near perfect, and with the next two cameras set up we’d have a total view of the ballroom even once it filled up.
“How much longer before you’re done?” I asked. My heart was running a marathon inside my chest. It hadn’t slowed down since Karim cleared the room as abruptly as he had. Axel, who was sitting next to me, had caught sight of a couple of the decorating crew heading across the street for a cup of coffee, but most of the others were still in the Atlantis’ lobby, waiting to be let back in.
We had time right now, but not a lot of it.
“Just another five minutes,” Danvers said as she hurriedly walked toward the spot where the bar was being set up. There, she placed the black clutch bag she’d smuggled behind the bar. All I had to do was go over to the bar and ask for it, and the barman she was going to enchant would hand it over. When she was done, she spun around on the spot and lifted her eyes. “There’s so much magic in this place, Izzy,” Danvers said.
“That makes sense, considering who owns it.”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that. The whole place is charged with power. You know when you’re caught outside, and the air around you gets super charged that instant before the first lightning strike hits?”
I knew that one all too well. I was an Elemancer. Mother nature’s wrath ran through my blood, and I could direct that power into my enemies if I wanted to. But casting spells wasn’t even half of what a mage’s life was about. Our senses played a huge role, too.
Ever since I was young, I’d been able to perfectly predict the weather, to sense a storm sometimes days before it hit. I could taste flames, I could hear water, I could touch the wind. Back when I was less experienced at handling all that input, it would almost be enough to cripple me. I would lock myself in the smallest, most blocked off room I could find and rock back and forth until it was over, until my mind cleared itself.
And if that was my life, I could only imagine what it was like for a Psionic who was able to hear people’s thoughts. Or a Necromancer who could see and hear the restless spirits of dead people. Or a Demonologist, who probably witnessed the things of nightmares on a daily basis.
Being a mage wasn’t all sparkles and rainbows; it came with its burdens.
“Listen to me,” I said, “Don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to, okay? I don’t want us taking any chances. How long until you’re done?”
“Just a few more minutes.”
I checked the time. “RJ is taking a little long on his perimeter sweep…” I said, more to myself than to Axel. “Maybe I should go look for him?”
Axel shook his head. “Let him do his thing. The crows are out. If there’s trouble, they’ll help him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Will they, though? Because they aren’t exactly friendly.”
“They’re a little rough around the edges, but they’ve been with my family for a while. They’re loyal to me.”
“You mean loyal to your father.”
Axel fell silent. I’d struck a nerve. I didn’t need to be a Psionic to hear that same nerve thrumming inside of him, having been freshly plucked. Looking at him, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him.
He was the son of one of the most notorious and powerful mages in the city. The only son and heir to the family legacy once Asmodius passed. I couldn’t even imagine how much pressure that placed on his shoulders, or what it was like growing up. I mean, I had some experience with, you know, criminals, but my experience was probably nothing like his.
I remembered, then, I’d promised to cut back on the sniping. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“It’s alright,” he said, but there was a hard edge to his voice. “You’re right. I can’t fault you for being right.”
“You can fault me for being a dick, if you want.”
He looked at me, his eyes still hard but also kind. “I don’t think you’re a dick. I think you’re probably a little too snippy for your own good. You also maybe overestimate your abilities because you believe that being less than exceptional is a bad thing.”
My hackles rose. “That’s not entirely true. And while we’re on the subject, why don’t we shine the mirror back onto you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I haven’t seen as much as a single hair out of place on you since we met. You’re always trying to be the smartest guy in the room, the one in control of every situation. And you’re trying to tell me I’ve got some kind of Goddess complex?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but—you know what? Don’t even worry about it.” I turned my attention to the screens. Danvers and Karim were finished setting up all six cameras. Now she was looking through her pouch of powders. It looked like she was getting ready to set a spell off in the ballroom.
“If you’re both quite finished bickering,” Karim said, “We’re ready to proceed with the final phase of this little operation.”
My cheeks flushed red. “Yeah, go ahead. But be careful.”
Danvers nodded into one of the cameras. She’d picked a little blue sachet out of the pouch and was in the process of opening it. “What’s that gonna do?” I asked.
“How about you just wait and see?”
Karim glanced over to the front door. “If it doesn’t work, we’re gonna have to make one hell of an exit.”
“Are you ready to kill that Legionnaire?” Danvers asked, “Because if not, we’d have better luck throwing ourselves out that window.”
“Noted. Now, let’s get this show on the road.”
Danvers opened the pouch, poured the contents into t
he palm of her hand, and took one more scan of the room. Then, as delicately as she could, she blew into her palm, releasing spell contained within.
This one was one of mine. In an instant, a breeze filled the ballroom causing tablecloths and curtains to flutter and move. The wind picked Danvers’ ponytail up and flicked it around her head. A bottle placed on the edge of the bar started to rock a little too much, but Danvers picked it up and placed it closer to the center of the bar to stop it from falling.
But then Karim was off, speeding across the room like a dart. “Shit, shit!” he said.
I grabbed the sides of the desk in front of me and stared at the screen, my eyes wide. “What is it?” I called out.
“That!” Karim pointed at what looked like some kind of vase balancing precariously on a shelf. The pictures hanging on the wall behind it, and even those propped up next to it, had started to wobble. The vase slipped off the edge, and my heart leapt into my throat with it, but Karim was fast enough to stop it from slamming into the ground and shattering into a thousand pieces.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief, while Axel fist-pumped the air. “Good catch!” he yelled into the mic.
“Yes, go me,” Karim said, panting, “I think that’s enough physical exertion for this month, don’t you?”
“What the hell is that thing?” I asked. The more I looked at it, the more it stopped looking like a vase and started looking like…
“An urn,” Karim said. He ran his fingertips along its top, and then suddenly withdrew them like it had tried to bite him. “Yep, no, that’s an urn alright. Bollocks.”
“Bollocks? What does that mean?”
“It means there’s a ghost in here, and he just lashed out at me.”
“Lashed out?” Danvers asked, walking over to him. “Do you know why?”
“He doesn’t belong here… he’s telling me—Christ, will you calm down? I can hear you. You don’t have to yell.”
“What’s he saying?” I asked.
“He just keeps repeating, I don’t belong here. Take me out of here.” He shook his head. “I don’t know who this is, but I need to get him out of this apartment.”
“How do you know he isn’t lying to you?” Axel asked.
“This ghost isn’t capable of lying. It’s like a record playing on repeat. He’s having a hard enough time trying to get the message across, but he could be a little less heavy handed about it,” Karim said at the urn. “Like I said, I can hear you.”
Danvers stepped up to him. “There’s no way we’re taking that thing out of this apartment.”
“We have to. It’s not up for discussion.”
“And how the hell do you propose we sneak that thing past the Legionnaire at the door? It’s not happening.”
“Look, I don’t tell you how to be a mage, but I have a responsibility to the dead. If he’s telling me he doesn’t belong here, it’s my duty to get him out.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “Dammit. Danvers is right, how are you supposed to get that thing out of the room without being spotted? The risk is too big.”
Axel grabbed my arm, and in that sudden moment of shock I felt a surge pass between us that made my entire body shudder. I stared at his hand, his arm, then up at him, my eyes wide, the question on my lips but never spoken aloud. What is it?
“We have a problem,” he said. “He’s coming.”
“Who’s coming?”
“The Magister. The crows just spotted his car two blocks out.”
My entire body froze, a cold feeling sinking into the pit of my stomach. I wanted to tell Karim to get the hell out of the apartment, but did they even have enough time? The Magister wasn’t meant to be anywhere near his place for the next few hours, not while the catering staff was working, at any rate.
“Danvers, Karim,” Axel said into the mic, “You need to get out of there right now.”
Karim was trying to stuff the urn under his shirt, but it looked ridiculous, like a cartoon burglar trying to get away with a whole safe instead of its contents. “I don’t care how you do it, but you have sixty seconds to leave that building, and it’s going to take at least thirty for you to get to the ground floor from where you are. Move.”
I shook my head. “They’re not gonna make it…” I said, “The Legionnaire’s at the door. How are they gonna get past him in a hurry?”
“I don’t know, but they’re gonna have to figure it out, and fast.”
I stared at the screens, watching Danvers and Karim work from different angles. They weren’t going to leave the penthouse without the urn. Or, at least, Karim wasn’t. Danvers was totally capable of leaving him there on his own. I could already see the thought forming in her mind. I tried reaching out to RJ, but it looked like he’d pulled his earpiece out a few minutes ago because he wasn’t responding, but I could hear muffled voices coming from his end.
“Maybe they can go under his nose,” Axel said, thinking aloud, “Maybe he won’t recognize them…”
“I’m pretty sure he’d know he didn’t hire Cornelius Francis Willow the Third to decorate his apartment for the event,” I said, “Dammit. I knew that name was gonna get us into trouble. How far is the Magister now?”
Axel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “His car is about to stop at a red-light a block away. He’s almost on us.”
There was an instant of hesitation between the moment when the plan materialized in my mind, and when I started moving. I tossed my headset off, pushed the van’s door open, and burst out into the street like I was on fire.
The heart of Manhattan Island loomed around me; tall buildings reaching up into the heavens, flags flying gracefully from their sides, a sea of shiny cars dotted with yellow cabs. My heart hammered against my chest as I moved around the van, putting myself in view of the traffic lights along the road.
“This is insane,” I said to myself, “This is insane. This is literally insane.” I was about to break the highest, most sacred law in the Magus Codice, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Even though there were humans everywhere—on the sidewalks, on the roads—I had to do something if I wanted to buy Danvers and Karim enough time to escape.
I charged the magic in my right hand, reaching out into the Tempest and feeling its roaring response. My body hummed with power, my chest vibrating. High above, the clouds churned and roiled, deepening, darkening. I could feel the lightning-strike about to hit even seconds before it was ready to. Counting down from three in my mind, I wound back my arm and hurled a bolt of electricity into the nearest traffic light.
My magic struck the traffic light in perfect timing with a whip crack from the heavens; a blinding flash of light followed by a growl so powerful it made the road beneath my feet vibrate.
The traffic light exploded, sending a shower of sparks in all directions. But that wasn’t all. The lightning chain-reacted all the way up the avenue, coils of light reaching out like snakes and striking three more traffic lights, causing all of them all to explode, too.
Cars screeched to a halt along the road, some of them crashing into each other, others narrowly avoiding collisions. Horns started to blare, people screamed as the explosions rocked the street, and the air soon filled with the awful, chemical smell of burned plastic. With my heart still pounding against my chest, I ducked back into the van and shut the door, hoping—praying—no one had seen me.
Axel’s eyes were wide, his face white. “What did you do?” he asked.
“What I had to.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I stared at the urn sitting in the center of the briefing room table almost like I was expecting it to start dancing around. My heart hadn’t exactly calmed down from all the earlier excitement, but we’d at least made it out of the Magister’s apartment without drawing anyone’s attention. Or, at least, they had.
I’d created gridlock on the Upper East Side. What were the odds that the most powerful mage in New York city wouldn’t have sensed the use of magic
then? What were the odds he thought it really had been a freak lightning strike that knocked out three traffic lights that were easily a few hundred feet apart in quick succession?
None. He knew something was up. I was sure of it just as I was sure this entire heist was screwed.
Axel had gone to talk to his father, or maybe to do a little damage control. He hadn’t been clear, exactly, on why he needed a few more minutes before he could show up to the briefing. Meanwhile, the rest of us were sitting there in silence, the ticking clock in the background counting the seconds as they passed.
I decided I’d had enough. “So, what do we do with this thing now?” I asked.
Karim, who’d been picking his nails, looked up at me. “I was just thinking we should nail it to a rocket and shoot it to the moon,” he said, “But I can’t work out the logistics in my head.”
“Your sarcasm is totally not needed or welcome right now.”
“Well, get used to it because it’s my coping mechanism. As for the urn, I don’t know what to do with it.”
“You don’t know? Can’t you ask the ghost where it wants to be taken?”
He flashed his eyebrows at me, and I could feel the sarcasm bubbling under the skin. Instead of weaponizing it, though, he simply shook his head. “I already have asked, but the spirit has been quiet ever since we left the Magister’s penthouse.”
“Can’t you summon him up or something?”
“Do I tell you how to shoot lightning from your fingertips? No. Necromancy isn’t Elemancy. You can’t just snap your fingers and make ghosts dance the fucking macarena… or I guess you could, but that’s beside the point.”
“Alright, you all need to settle down,” RJ said, his voice calm but stern. “All this bullshit ain’t gonna get us nowhere. We’re supposed to be a team, right? So, start acting like it or we’re all dead soon.”
Heart of the Thief (The Wardbreaker Book 1) Page 14
