Текст книги "Bespelled"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Memnon’s eyes go soft, too soft, and if I were standing, my knees would weaken at the sight.

My queen, since I woke, I have desperately dreamed you might say such a thing. That you might feel a shadow of what I feel for you. But you do not need to worry, he continues. I’d sooner burn every last remnant of the Fortuna dynasty than let something come between us. You won’t lose me, I swear it to you.

That’s not truly something he can promise me, but I tuck the vow away anyway.

I glance at his back. The last of his lashes are nothing more than faded lines. Even those are slowly darkening to match the rest of his bronze-toned skin. I release a little more of my power, this time to lift the blood from Memnon’s shirt, his skin, and his hair, and then my own. The red liquid vanishes in seconds, and it appears as though he weren’t hurt to begin with.

I tug the hem of his shirt down, covering his back. “You’re going to have to make up an excuse to your shitty new boss about why your back is healed—or you can just snap her neck as you do most people who annoy you.”

Memnon gives me an amused smirk, his eyes twinkling. “Is my soul mate growing vicious? I do approve.”

Before I get a chance to respond, Memnon stands, pulling me to my feet. He cups my face.

His eyes glitter. “Thank you, Empress,” he says.

I take a deep breath and nod. “Of course.”

His expression turns amused. “Now let’s go meet these wolves.”

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CHAPTER 31

When Memnon and I drive up to the cabin on shifter territory, the place is unsettlingly quiet. There are cars parked outside it, but there’s not a soul around, nor do I hear the bereaved howls that cut through the air earlier.

Memnon and I get out of the car, shutting the doors behind us.

“You sure there’s a meeting tonight?” Memnon asks.

No sooner has he spoken than the cabin’s front door opens, and Kane comes out. I catch a glimpse of the room inside, and I notice the solemn, silent crowd.

It might be quiet here, but there’s a crowd inside.

Kane’s eyes are red-rimmed as he closes the door and approaches us. “I didn’t think you were coming,” he says.

We’re more than twenty minutes late.

“I had to drop Nero off somewhere safe,” I say, forcing myself not to think too hard about my familiar, who’s likely stalking some cute, fluffy forest creature in the woods behind Memnon’s place.

He’s safe, the sorcerer reassures me.

“How is he doing?” Kane asks.

Plumes of Memnon’s magic unfurl out of him then, a clear sign his agitation is rising.

“He’s okay,” I say softly.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come,” Kane says. “My alpha forbid us from crossing⁠—”

“Kane,” Memnon cuts in.

Just the tone of the sorcerer’s voice has the lycan tensing. I can hear low rumbling from Kane, like he chafes at the power in Memnon’s voice.

“Enough,” my mate says. “Your apology is an insult. This whole meeting is an insult.”

Hell’s spells, here we go.

A menacing growl rumbles deep in Kane’s chest. “How dare you⁠—”

Memnon steps in close, his eyes beginning to glow. “Yes, I dare. You and your pack left my mate to be attacked. They were outnumbered, and when I found them bloody and brutalized in the woods, they were alone. Why were they alone?”

Kane’s growl has deepened, and his eyes have shifted. “We cannot cross⁠—”

“You failed her. All of you failed her. And now you have the audacity to use your useless friendship with her to call me in⁠—”

“Is everything alright out here?” Vincent, the Marin Pack alpha, stands on the front porch. Despite his easy words, his body looks tense and his translucent magic is thick in the air around him.

Memnon’s cruel gaze flicks up to the lycan. My mate looks ready to unleash on him as well.

“Everything is fine,” I call out while Kane’s growl dies down a little. “We were just getting ready to come in.”

Please, Memnon, I say down our bond, can we get through this without you resorting to violence?

The sorcerer glances at me, and his glowing eyes dim and soften, until all that anger is banked. If that’s what you wish, est amage, then yes, I will try to control my visceral need to punish each one of these dogs.

“All right,” Vincent calls out. “We’re all ready in here.” With that, the shifter re-enters the cabin, leaving me, Kane, and Memnon alone once more.

My mate nods to the cabin. “This meeting cannot involve everyone,” he says to Kane.

“This is how our pack does things.” Kane’s growl continues to rattle between his words, and his voice is low and rough. “We are all entitled to know about what killed our pack mate.” There’s so much fire and anguish rolling off him.

Memnon slips his hands into his pockets, and to the unknowing eye, he is all poised confidence. But his body sways just a little, and I remember that he lost a lot of blood by the time he got to me. “I don’t care about what you think you’re entitled to or how your pack handles its shit. If you want me to go in there and explain how it is I came across your pack mate’s body, then you’re going to need to limit your fucking audience.”

Kane’s growl deepens, and his lips curl back, revealing partially shifted teeth.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Kane, I won’t make Memnon go in there and explain the situation unless you can do this for us,” I say, trusting Memnon’s reasons for this demand. I imagine this has something to do with limiting the number of people who know what we do.

Kane takes several deep breaths, and slowly, the growling quiets and his teeth grow blunt. “Fine,” the shifter bites out, “but no one’s going to like it.”

Uproar.

That’s what we’re met with when the shifters pour out of the cabin ten minutes later and Kane escorts us in.

The group of lycanthropes is no longer quiet, now that whatever they believed was going to happen no longer is. I hear sobs and growls among them as we pass into the building. Some of the people who so openly welcomed me last time are now glaring at me.

They want blood. I can all but sense their lust for it. They thought they were going to get it tonight, either from what Memnon might reveal or from Memnon himself.

“Everyone,” Vincent, the Marin Pack alpha, calls from the back of the room to those who still remain inside, “you will get answers. Be calm. Once we have heard what our friend and her mate have to say, we shall share what news we can. They have mentioned that their information is sensitive in nature and that, for the overall good of the pack, it must only be given to a few trusted ears.”

Kane leads us to his alpha.

When he intercepts us, Vincent nods to me, then Memnon, his expression grim. “Vincent,” he says, extending his hand, “alpha of the Marin Pack.”

My mate takes it and gives it a shake. “Memnon,” he says, leaving it at that. The sorcerer has sheathed his earlier anger, but I can still see it glinting in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” Vincent says, even as a few nearby wolves growl. “We don’t need to wait for the last of the pack to exit. We have a sufficiently secluded room. This way.”

Memnon and I are brought to a soundproof room, one that’s small and clearly meant for only a dozen or so people to fit inside. I see a transparent green ward glittering across the threshold, though I cannot tell what it’s for.

Memnon’s magic unfurls as he enters the room, his indigo power moving over the walls and floor of the space. After a moment, I realize he’s erecting his own ward, this one likely to protect his interests, whatever those may be.

A single long table runs the length of the room and mounted on one of the walls is a whiteboard.

“Please, take a seat anywhere,” Vincent says.

Memnon sits at the far end of the table, lounging in one of the proffered seats like an indolent king. I take a seat next to him and watch as the rest of the pack files in.

First is Vincent, followed by a willowy woman with golden-brown skin and a halo of tight corkscrew curls framing her face. I sense that she’s quick to laugh, but right now, her features are hard, and her glimmering brown eyes are sharp. Behind her is Kane, who comes to sit directly on my other side, his sandy-blond hair mussed, probably from running his hand through it so many times.

Last to enter is an old woman with light brown skin, wide cheekbones, and a waterfall of wrinkles across her face. Her thick white hair is wrapped in a braided bun at the nape of her neck.

She closes the door, and she and the remaining shifters take their seats across from me.

“I trust you both already know Kane, the alpha who will take over for me once I retire,” Vincent says, gesturing to my old crush. “But as for the others, next to me is Irene, my beta and the second-in command,” he says, indicating the willowy woman next to him. “And this is Apani,” he says, gesturing to the white haired shifter, “our pack elder. They are here as they are the most crucial members who help run the pack and guide the decisions we make.”

I nod to them. “Nice to meet you,” I say.

Memnon does nothing more than idly watch the shifters, like they’re tonight’s entertainment, and they’re boring him.

I can feel the tension in the room mounting.

“Memnon,” Vincent says, and I can already tell he’s choosing his words carefully, “your mate is a friend of our pack, and naturally, that friendship should extend to you⁠—”

There’s a but coming. I can feel it.

Memnon watches the alpha, looking amused, like he knows he’s the villain and is remorseless about it.

“—but you framed your mate for murder, and you are responsible for moving the bodies of murdered supernaturals.” The alpha’s words grow hoarse and gravelly as his composure slips.

Memnon nods. “Yes,” he agrees. “I did, and I am.”

I see Irene’s hand fist, and next to me, Kane radiates tension. Only Apani, the pack elder, remains placid.

“We want you to explain yourself,” Vincent says.

Memnon leans back in his seat. “Perhaps I will after you explain why you left my mate to fight off half a dozen attackers on her own right after she met with you.”

I’m caught between annoyance and a strange sort of pride that Memnon is so adamant about holding these shifters accountable for not coming to my aid. Vincent rolls his shoulders as Irene and Kane begin to growl. “We are forbidden from entering coven lands⁠—”

“And would you have entered them, if it were a shifter being attacked?” Memnon presses.

Vincent’s expression grows grim.

Yes. We all know his answer is yes. I wasn’t worth breaking whatever delicate truce witches and lycans have made for themselves, but a shifter would be worth it.

Vincent turns his attention to me. “Truly, Selene, on behalf of the entire pack, we are sorry. We were not trying to abandon you; we want to hunt down these monsters as much as you do. I made the decision to not cross boundary lines in the hopes that you would bring your familiar back to our land, where we could properly protect you both, just like you did with Cara.”

The room falls quiet, and I think I’m supposed to do something, so I nod.

After a long moment, Vincent returns his attention to Memnon. “Now, I don’t want to keep either of you here tonight. I’m sure you both have plans.

“Memnon,” he says, “would you be willing to answer a few questions we have about our—” he hesitates, “murdered pack mate?”

Memnon’s gaze narrows, even as his mouth curves up at the corners. “The only person I explain myself to is my mate.” His eyes flick to me, and they gentle. “But if you want me to tell them the truth,” he says, directing his words to me, “then I will.”

I stare at him while the rest of the room waits. The sorcerer was right when he pointed out that the pack hasn’t been very friendly to me since the last time I visited them. However, they were the ones who extended their help to me when no one else would. For that alone, I’m willing to help.

“I do want that,” I finally say.

The sorcerer’s eyes roam over my features, then he straightens in his seat. “All right,” he says, his eyes sweeping over the room, “I will tell you what no one else besides Selene knows. But because this information is confidential, I need something from you all.”

Irene and Kane both begin to growl, and Vincent’s face hardens.

“A truth spell will do.”

The growls don’t stop, and maybe it’s seeing Memnon hurt earlier or how he advocated for me only minutes ago, but a protectiveness toward him rises up in me.

“You have your pack. I have my mate,” I say. “I am innately loyal to him—even when I don’t wish to be. And friend of the pack or not, I won’t ask Memnon to tell you a single piece of information if you cannot do this one thing—an act that your pack asked of me only days ago.”

Memnon stiffens next to me, and I feel his eyes on my face. Through our bond, his emotions are hard to make out, but I gather that he didn’t expect the show of loyalty from me.

I didn’t entirely expect it either.

The growls die down until the room is painfully quiet. Vincent is grimacing, and Kane is looking at me like maybe he doesn’t know me.

“Do it.” This comes from Apani. Her eyes move to mine, looking more wolfish than human. “This girl saved our own and nearly died doing so. She has earned our trust and friendship. We can allow her to ask for ours as well.”

The alpha glances first at Apani, then at Kane and his beta.

Finally, he grimaces. “All right, we’ll do it.”

Placing four adult shifters under a truth spell is no small thing, and I sense that Memnon is relishing every second of it.

“Only the truth shall leave these lips until my questions are answered,” the sorcerer incants.

The shifters cannot see Memnon’s indigo magic as it moves toward them, but I see Vincent scowl and Irene flinch as the magical smoke slides up their nostrils and down through their mouths, and I know they must sense the spell as it takes hold.

Once the magic settles, Irene says, “Now what?”

“Now, you answer a few of my questions. If you’re not compromised, then you can ask me whatever you please.”

“Compromised?” Kane echoes, but Memnon doesn’t elaborate.

None of the shifters look particularly pleased. Tonight Memnon was the one who was supposed to answer questions, not them.

But Vincent clears his throat and threads his hands together on the table in front of him.

“Let’s get this over with then,” he says.

Memnon’s gaze moves over the group. “Have any of you been magically bonded in your life?”

Three nos ring out. The single yes comes from Vincent.

I raise my eyebrows. That’s interesting.

“Was it against your will?” Memnon asks.

“My wife is a witch.” Vincent bites out the words. “It was part of our marital vows.”

A bit hypocritical of the Marin Pack to have come down so hard on my own forged bond when this entire time, their leader had one of his own.

“Was it against your will?” Memnon presses.

“No,” Vincent growls out.

Memnon’s gaze sweeps back over the room. “Have any of you worked for Ensanguine Enterprises or the Fortuna family at any point in your life?”

Four no’s ring out.

The sorcerer settles back in his seat. “My questions are answered.”

The only hint that the last of Memnon’s truth spells has dissolved away is the faint blue sheen that leaves the lycans’ lips a moment later. It happens so quickly it looks like a trick of the eye.

Vincent reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stoppered vial of emerald-green liquid. Truth potion.

“Now that’s over with, I trust you will grant us the same favor we granted you.”

Rather than answering, Memnon’s magic reaches out and lifts the potion from where it rests and floats it over to the sorcerer’s hand. He unstoppers the small vial and drinks it down.

He corks the empty bottle and sets it in front of him.

Vincent’s gaze focuses on that vial for a moment, before it then lifts to Memnon. “Will you now tell us what you can of the murders?”

Memnon gives the alpha another narrow-eyed look, then begins. “I recently came to work for the Fortuna family…”

My mate tells the shifters mostly what he told me. How the criminal organization is run by a dynasty of sorcerers and the main players of it—Luca, the family patriarch, his wife, Annalee, and his children, Leonard, Juliana, and Sophia. How up until today, his job consisted of making bodies disappear, which is how he came into possession of the murder victims. How he doesn’t know who killed them, only that they appeared to come from the Equinox Building.

The sorcerer even discusses how he initially staged the bodies because he wanted to frame me for murder and how this last body was purely meant to make the Fortunas sweat. He ends with how he’s now being transferred to a different branch of the organization and likely won’t have access to further bodies.

When Memnon finally finishes telling them what he knows, Vincent frowns, looking the sorcerer over. “How have you gotten away with this?”

“I have an…aptitude.”

“Tell us about this aptitude,” Irene says.

Memnon leans his forearms against the table, his eyes glinting. “I can read minds, lift information stored in them, and manipulate thoughts and memories.”

The lycanthropes, Kane included, go preternaturally still.

“Have you read ours?” the beta finally asks.

Memnon cocks his head, and he has that look in his eye, like he’s a cat toying with his prey. “What does it matter?”

A growl starts up across the table.

“He hasn’t,” I say to stop the fight before it can begin. I would’ve seen Memnon’s magic at work if he had.

The sorcerer eases back in his seat, a carefree grin on his face. I think he enjoys unsettling these shifters.

The freak.

“His ability to manipulate minds means that he’s been able to gain access to their thoughts and make them misremember events or forget them entirely,” I say. “That’s why he hasn’t been caught.” Yet. I hate that the word tacks itself on in my head.

“Do you know why or how these supernaturals are being killed?” Irene asks.

“No. That’s what Selene and I are trying to figure out,” Memnon says.

“It must be a supernatural who has access to dark magic,” I say. “A sorcerer, a witch, a necromancer—someone who can perform these sorts of spells.”

Memnon stands. “That is all I know and all I have to share.”

“We have more questions,” Vincent insists.

Rather than looking at Vincent, Memnon glances down at me, waiting for me to choose—let him leave or make him answer more of the shifter’s questions.

I rise, my chair scraping back. “That’s it for now,” I say. “I’ll reach out to Kane if anything else comes up.”

The lycans must hear how my heart pounds, defending Memnon, standing with him. I cannot decide if I’m being supremely loyal or supremely foolish.

Likely both.

The shifters watch us leave, all of them still seated. I sense that the moment the door shuts behind me and Memnon, they will have an entire second meeting to dissect what they’ve learned.

Memnon must sense this as well because as I reach for the door, his magic slips past me and holds it shut.

The sorcerer turns to the room. “What I have told you is confidential. The Fortunas have eyes and ears everywhere, and I’m certain there must be at least one pack mate who is compromised.”

I sense indignation from the group still seated, but before they can get a word in, Memnon continues.

“I know you trust your pack with your life, but you cannot trust them with this until we know more.”

“That is not our way,” Vincent says.

Magic sifts out of Memnon. “Then I will erase all that I’ve told you from each of your minds, and we will leave.”

Four growls start up. I see fur begin to sprout along Kane’s arms.

Packs, apparently, do not take kindly to threats.

“If you tell the wrong shifter, and they tell someone else involved with the Fortunas, then I will be exposed,” he says. “And if I’m exposed, a lot of people will die.” Memnon doesn’t clarify that he’s the one who will be doing the killing, but I’m aware of it. “That will be blood on your heads.”

The growls ratchet up at the accusation.

Memnon continues. “Selene wants to bring the murderers to justice, and I am oath bound to make sure that happens,” he says. “I believe that’s what you want too. So make an exception, and keep this information classified. Otherwise, you’re simply in my way.”

Vincent’s eyes move between me and the sorcerer, debating, debating.

Finally, he says, “If you keep us informed, we will keep this confidential.”

The sorcerer dips his head, and his magic moves from the door. “Then we have an arrangement.” He grabs the knob and pulls the door open for me. To the rest of the room, he says, “We’ll see you soon.”

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