by K. F. Breene
“So you’ve said. Who is…” She leaned closer to one of the lower screens—the whole office was covered in them, every inch of Sebastian’s compound affixed with cameras, recording to the cloud. He wanted to know every important detail of the meeting and hopefully glean secrets from the visiting mages that he could use against them. He also wanted to watch over Jessie and make sure she didn’t get tangled up with one of his other visitors. “Who’s that? I don’t recognize him. He’s a looker, too. The scar on his face makes him seem…dangerous.”
“He’s a shifter—he is dangerous,” Sebastian murmured, squinting at the screen. “I haven’t seen him before. He must be new. What’s it say on the roster?”
Nessa pointed at each member of Jessie’s party in turn before landing back on the incredibly large shifter who looked like he was draped in a black cloud. “That doesn’t look like a Shauna to me.”
“A guy like that can go by whatever name he wants. I’m not judging.”
Nessa took a step forward and grabbed the office phone off the cradle. She hit three buttons and waited for a moment.
“Yeah, Rick, hey…who’s the stand-in for Shauna? He hasn’t been approved.” She waited a moment. “Yeah, patch me through.”
Sebastian watched one of the screens as a red-coated woman holding a clipboard glanced at the phone resting on a nearby end table.
There was no cell service in this mountain. The only way to call for help was via landline, wired in a few of the tunnels and in select rooms. The chances of finding one of those landlines and getting help in time was next to nil.
Sebastian hit a few keys and turned up the volume near the woman.
“Hello?” the woman said.
“This is the captain,” Nessa replied, a title she’d chosen for herself. She hadn’t revealed her name to the staff, just like Sebastian hadn’t informed them of his real name. They were Elliot Graves and the captain, never close enough to strangers to be vulnerable, feared the world over. It was necessary, the anonymity, and it made life much easier. If people feared you, you got results. The shifters knew something about that. “Who is that man standing in for Shauna?”
The woman had the presence of mind not to turn and look.
“They introduced him as Shauna, ma’am. Sue for short. Well, actually, it seems like they call him ‘broken Sue’ or something… It’s hard to tell. The driver that the Bigfoot chased down—”
“Don’t call him Bigfoot!” Sebastian practically yelled, unable to help himself. He calmed himself down. “Don’t call him that. He gets riled up. Call him basajaun—or whatever he asks to be called.”
Nessa relayed the information.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll make sure to pass that on. As I was saying, the driver that the…basajaun chased down has been crying uncontrollably and screeching about being eaten, so it’s made things a little…chaotic. You’d said not to clean up, though, so we’ve left him in a ball in the corner.”
“Yes, fine.” Nessa covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “That rodent talks back far too much. I’d planned to discipline him anyway. This will do nicely.” She took her hand off the mouthpiece. “Did they give any reasoning for…Broken Sue not looking like her—his picture?”
“Yes, ma’am. The…puca said he’d been in a traffic accident and came out uglier. We didn’t really know what to do with that.”
Sebastian huffed out a laugh. “Let them through.”
“Thank you, corporal.” Nessa hung up the phone. There weren’t ranks within the staff—there was one captain, and the rest were corporals. It was a little absurd, but it enhanced the eccentricity of Elliot Graves, so Sebastian had never commented on it. “They made a swap right before go time and clearly didn’t care if we noticed.”
“Seems that way.”
“He’s fit, too.” Nessa was looking harder at the screen. “I’ll take a boy named Sue. How do you do?”
“Okay, that’s enough. Don’t chase the shifters until after you’ve met them face to face. You might change your tune.”
“I’m not trying to marry one of them, Sabby. I just want to take one of them home and play with him for a little while.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes with a grin. Nessa had been friends with Jala, Sebastian’s sister, which was why she sometimes called him Sabby when she was being silly. It grounded him. “Explosive action with a heavy side of danger? Yes, please.”
Sebastian watched Jessie follow the attendant down the largest tunnel to the plushest collection of rooms Sebastian had, save his own quarters and Nessa’s rooms. The alpha was just a little behind, his hand on the small of her back, his eyes straight ahead but his senses probably on overdrive, sussing out danger. The rest of the crew followed them.
“They are lining up according to power level, then,” Nessa asked, studying them, no longer ogling Broken Sue. It was time to do her job.
Sebastian rifled through his memory. “Looks about right. Except the shifters aren’t in the rear because they’re weak. When a shifter expects danger from behind, one of the strongest will take up the last place. An alpha or the next best thing, I think.”
“Broken Sue is clearly the next best thing.” Nessa bit her lip. “It’s impossible to gauge how the heir’s people will fare against the magical might you have coming in here. I’ve read up on the various creatures, but…” She shook her head. “How they will do here is a blind spot for me.”
“They’ll be a blind spot for everyone. So will Jessie. Honestly, wait and see. I wasn’t telling tall tales.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, sure.” She checked her watch. “We have our first mouse landing at the airstrip in thirty minutes. Have you decided how many of these mages you’ll leave alive?”
“No. It depends on how the week unravels.”
“Well.” Nessa straightened up and headed for the door. “Don’t get soft. You have a reputation to uphold. That reputation is your safety net. Keep it taut.”
“Yes, captain.” He was supposed to be some evil overlord, but he constantly got pushed around and told what to do by his underling. He was pretty sure he was doing it wrong.
He noticed the tension in Jessie’s eyes as she passed from camera to camera. She didn’t understand why any of this was necessary. But it was. Sebastian was only setting her up because he hoped to save her life.
He just hoped, when the time came, she’d return the favor.
The attendant stopped in front of her door, explaining some details about the quarters she’d been given. When she was finished, she left them to it.
Jessie opened the door, but the alpha stopped her, wrapping her in his body and his protection. Sebastian doubted any of the other heirs had found a man like him. A man who wouldn’t hesitate to put her safety over his own. That was why the Ivy House magic was designed to be shared between the heir and her chosen protector: he could fight for her safety if need be.
It was said that Tamara had built that little “safeguard” into her magic at her lover’s insistence, and the loophole had accidentally been passed to the house along with the magic. At that point, it was impossible to remove.
Sebastian wondered about that, however. From his readings, Tamara had seemed like a whip-smart woman who’d made a youth’s mistake in love. At the end of her life, she could have struck out at her attacker, her lover, and died in the process, but instead she’d chosen to protect the magic. Stripping herself—and him—of magic and transferring it to the house had taken time. She’d had enough of it to consider abolishing the protector’s role. But she hadn’t. She’d chosen to keep the magic sharable. And in so doing, she’d ensured a long line of heirs followed her fate: going for the wrong guy and paying the ultimate price.
Maybe Sebastian was just a hopeless romantic at heart, but he didn’t think Tamara had done it out of bitterness. He believed with all his soul that she had transferred the magic that way—sharable—out of hope. He believed she had wished for a future heir to find the kind of partner she’d always
wanted—and to give him the magic with an open heart and solid trust so that he might use it to protect her in a way no one else could. In a way she couldn’t protect herself.
The other heirs had all been young, however, and young people were more liable to make mistakes when it came to love.
Miss Jessie Ironheart was in a different phase of her life. She’d learned from her mistakes and had the wisdom to show for it. In her new life, she was more discerning, which was why she’d found what the other heirs had not—a partner who was worthy of her.
Austin Steele was everything Tamara would’ve wanted. He was designed for the protector’s magic, and he’d know exactly how to use it, Sebastian was positive. Austin probably wouldn’t even want it, or think he needed it. Which, of course, meant he was exactly the right person to wield it.
What a treat it would be to see it all unfold.
If Jessie didn’t kill Sebastian first.
He watched as the other shifters pushed to the front and entered the room first, moving as a collective unit.
Sebastian put his elbow on the desk and leaned his chin against his fist, watching in fascination.
They cleared one room at a time, like a police force in the movies, but without all the halting and hand gestures. They worked seamlessly, somehow communicating without speaking, utterly fluid in their movements. Having checked all the adjoining rooms, they returned to the large community room, which Niamh and the phoenix had since entered. The shifters nodded to them before retreating back against the walls.
Mages and shifters. What an amazing pair they would make.
“Uh-oh, Earl, the bad guy has shown you up,” Niamh called out with a grin.
Sebastian grinned, watching Jessie’s face as she finally entered the room behind a couple of others. Surprise and wonder lit up her expression.
“I knew it,” Sebastian whispered, his smile spreading. She’d always liked to nibble, he remembered. She liked cheese plates and chocolates. He’d figured this setup would be her speed.
A moment later, her expression shut down, but he’d gotten the payoff he was looking for. He turned off the cameras in her area to give her some privacy, something he wasn’t allowing anyone else.
She’d taken care of him in O’Briens, treating him like one of the team and trusting him with her life. She’d taken him at face value and judged him only by his actions and his integrity. He wanted to thank her by making her feel welcome too, even if she didn’t know it was in good faith. Not yet, anyway.
He was glad she’d come. He’d missed her—he’d missed them all. He’d missed training with an equal who didn’t judge him. Learning about shifters and other magical creatures. Feeling the thrill of fear—of being alive—and working as a team. He missed Ivy House.
He hoped to go back there someday.
He hoped Jessie didn’t kill him before he could explain.
Fourteen
I tried not to be impressed by the grand tunnel, lined with that lovely paneling that created a border around the rectangles of light, giving the impression of skylights in the middle of a mountain. I tried not to admire the cozy seating areas cut into the walls—an armchair on either side of a table holding a vase with blood-red roses, mulberry tulips, or butter-yellow daffodils. I desperately tried not to appreciate the murals painted on the walls, like looking through a window at the valley far below, the scenes rendered in a way that gave the tunnel more depth and an illusion of size. I tried, and I failed. Whatever else Elliot Graves may be, he had an eye for comfortable décor. He knew how to make his guests feel welcome, even in a collection of tunnels with no immediate escape.
It was dangerous, feeling that way in this place.
The tunnel ended at a red-brick wall with a white double door in the middle. Our guide reached into the pocket of her coat and fished out a large, rustic bronze key like one might see in a castle. She held it out for me.
“This is your collection of rooms,” she said. “You may assign the rooms as you wish. I was instructed to tell you that the lock and key can’t be relied on for security. Any decent mage, of which there will be plenty, can open a locked door. Inside, on the table, you will find a few spells for warding your space, generously created and offered by Elliot Graves himself. You would do well to pick the spell outlined in red, as that is the most powerful, and besides him, you’re the only one who should be able to do it. He’ll look forward to testing your work.”
I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. I wasn’t in the habit of shooting the messenger.
“We have a commercial kitchen on site,” she went on. “If you would like to order meals to be brought to you, that is no problem. Otherwise, the kitchen in your quarters is fully stocked, and if you need anything, or have any dietary restrictions, please let us know so that we may accommodate you. You will find only one item on the schedule so far, and that is dinner tomorrow night. Details are enclosed in the packet. At dinner you will get a new schedule, based on your choices.”
Based on my choices? I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Your luggage will arrive shortly. Please let us know if you need anything.” The woman bowed, slipped around our group of people, and hastened down the hall.
“There’s no magic on this door,” I said, trying the round bronze handle above the old-fashioned keyhole. Both matched the look and feel of the key.
The handle turned easily, but Austin stepped forward as soon as I pushed the door open, his front against my side and his hand taking over the handle. His other arm curved around me, pulling me in close, creating a protective layer around my body.
The shifters walked up the sides of the group, having stayed in the back to watch our six. Now they filed to the front and went through the door.
“Let them have a quick look,” Austin murmured, his voice low and rough. “They’ll be able to smell it if people have been tampering with things.”
“What about magic? They can’t see if any magical traps are laid.”
“Elliot Graves wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble to kill you so quickly. We’ll be safe until the dinner tomorrow night.”
Cyra walked through the door, followed shortly afterward by Niamh.
A few moments passed by, and I could feel Cyra and Niamh having a look around the room just beyond the door.
A moment later, Niamh called out, “Uh-oh, Earl, the bad guy has shown you up.”
“What is she talking about?” Mr. Tom pushed his way to the front of our group and walked into the room.
Cyra’s disembodied voice floated out. “I volunteer to sample everything first, as the official poison control.”
“Oh, heavens,” Mr. Tom said, and I could tell he was deflated.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I wiggled out of Austin’s grip.
A large room opened up before me, with a couple of conversation areas formed by cream couches and chairs clustered around coffee tables, a pool table, and darts in the back, next to the open-concept kitchen. There were little side tables throughout the room, accompanied by more stools for sitting. Every available surface, it seemed, was laden with goodies, from the chocolate-covered strawberries I’d craved on the plane, to cantaloupe wrapped in prosciutto, a selection of breads and cheeses, a platter of sandwiches, nuts, other fruits, and a bowl of what looked like truffles that Cyra was currently sampling.
“Mmm.” She tilted her head back and looked at the arched ceiling. “This is delicious.”
A long table was pushed against the brick wall that held the doors. The spells were there, ready to lure me into some sort of trap, probably. An engraved invitation informed me of the details of tomorrow’s dinner, including where and when, the number of people I could bring (one guest and a food taster), and the dress code. The last item on the table was a manila folder with the label “maps and accessible areas.” It held details about our quarters, directions to a garden, exits (with a note about how heavily warded they were), a bar, and other amenities, like something you’
d see in a huge hotel at a vacation destination.
“Here, Jessie,” Niamh called out, opening the fridge, “maybe ye better have Elliot Graves stock the plane on the way back.”
“I make one simple mistake…” Mr. Tom murmured, looking over the selections with an expression of abject horror.
“This all seems safe,” Cyra said, munching as she crouched down to a low table holding a selection of cheeses. “Can you imagine if we had a dog? It would roam through here and make short work of all this.”
Hollace frowned at her then shook his head, strolling to a fondue stand on a large table in the corner. “This is swank. They really went all out.”
“He plays a great host.” I ignored the food as I looked over the sheet describing the layout of this collection of rooms. Austin stepped beside me, poring over it with me.
Each person would have their own quarters, the rooms mostly small, with a bed, a small table, and a chair with what looked like a reading light perched over it. I doubted the drawing was totally accurate, but it served its purpose. All of those were connected by a hallway, and they formed a sort of rough circle around a large room in the middle. Mine, apparently.
“Does it matter where we put people?” I asked Austin.
“I’ll check it out. There might be a rear exit that isn’t mentioned. If not, then the strongest go in the front as our first line of defense. Are you going to do one of those spells?”
I handed the paper off to him and grabbed up the spells. “I want to look at them first. Who knows what they actually do?”
The top popped on a can, and I knew Niamh had found a beer.
“Well, miss, it seems I must go the way of Edgar and ask that you retire me,” Mr. Tom said, standing in front of me with his head held high. “As your butler, I must own that I have failed you, and now I’ve been shown up by our biggest enemy. It is a bleak day, I can assure—”
