Текст книги "Bespelled"

Автор книги: Laura Thalassa

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Текущая страница: 24 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

CHAPTER 45

That evening, I stare out at the twinkling city lights of the bay from the window in Memnon’s bedroom. Somewhere amid all that glitter and glare, my best friend is being held by a murderous, violent family.

Nero is at my side, staring into the dark expanse as though he might be able to see her as well.

My mind is on fire, and my heart is screaming. I’m supposed to be composed, and maybe outwardly I am, but I have lost my focus.

This isn’t what I wished for when I offered up my life two thousand years ago. I hadn’t wanted more of what plagued my past.

I sense Memnon leave the en suite bathroom, where he’s been getting ready, and enter the bedroom. He’s as silent as my panther as he crosses over to me.

The sorcerer wraps a hand around my midsection, his body heat warming my back. “Are you ready?”

I turn in his arms and study him. The sharp cut of his jaw, his curving lips. Those glittering, calculating eyes and the thick, dark hair that frames his face. Memnon’s wearing a tux, and he’s just as viciously beautiful in it as he was at the Samhain Ball.

“No,” I admit, though he must already know that. I haven’t tried to poke through his closet yet to see if there’s something suitable for a midnight auction slash rescue mission.

Despite the pressing need to find my friend, a different sort of terror is gripping me at the moment.

I feel like I’m only just beginning to rediscover my mate. And tonight…tonight it feels as though it could all be taken away.

Memnon leans down. A hair’s breadth from my lips, he whispers, “It will be okay.”

He closes the last of the space between us and brushes his lips against mine. It’s a love note of a kiss, and I hate it. It’s too sentimental, too wistful. It makes my fears scream louder and my courage grow quiet.

“Harder.” I breathe out the demand against his lips. “Kiss me harder.”

And Memnon does. He still must. Whatever I feel for him, it is soft and pliant and deepening, but it’s not quite love.

Not yet.

For a few moments, there are no murders and no dangerous battle plans. There’s nothing but the crisp press of my mate’s suit against my chest and his demanding mouth against my own.

But once he pulls away it all comes roaring back.

The Equinox. The auction. Sybil.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Settle your fears, est amage,” he says. “They will only sabotage you in battle.”

I draw in a steadying breath and nod.

Memnon touches my cheek. “I got you something.”

Before I have a chance to react, he retreats to his closet. When he returns, it’s with a long, crimson silk dress and a pair of matching heels. The dress itself has slits up the sides and a choker-like collar. Gold detailing runs along its edges. It’s beautiful, and the color and detailing are very, very Sarmatian.

“They are,” Memnon agrees, hearing the stray thought. “It’s fitting to remember our origins on a night like tonight,” he says. “We have toppled armies and slain enemies for each other. We are bold, wicked creatures, est amage.”

Only weeks ago, I would’ve scoffed at the sentiment, but Memnon is right. We are bold. We are wicked.

Hesitantly, I reach out, rubbing the fabric of the evening gown between my fingers.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “These are … perfect.” And the gift itself is thoughtful. He’s thoughtful.

Taking the items from Memnon, I disappear into the bathroom and dress. Once I’ve donned the outfit, I lean against the counter, letting my magic drift out to style my hair before I touch my makeup bag. Normally I would do this with Sybil. She was the one who always insisted on getting dressed up. Going through the motions now without her only serves to remind me that she’s in a bad situation, that she has been all day.

I drag on red lipstick, and I make myself think of it as war paint. We’ll get you out, Sybil.

When I leave the bathroom, Memnon is sitting on the edge of the bed, a black bag open at his feet. He glances up, and his entire expression shifts at the sight of me.

“Selene.” His eyes move to mine. “You are so godsdamned lovely.”

A pang of nostalgia seeps into me from the bond, along with an emotion that feels like wish fulfillment.

I smooth a hand over the silk self-consciously.

Memnon rises from the bed and comes to me then and kisses me like I might slip through his fingers.

He pulls away. “I got you something else as well.”

I raise my eyebrows. “There’s more?”

He gives me a conspiratorial look as he backs away. “Don’t you remember, Empress? There’s always more when it comes to you.”

The sorcerer retreats to that open duffel bag, and I follow him over, watching curiously as he pulls out two sheathed daggers, Velcro straps wrapped around them.

My eyebrows hike all the way up. “You got me a pair of daggers?”

“My wrathful queen needs a good set of blades when facing down enemies.” Returning to me, Memnon kneels at my feet. “May I?” he says, gesturing to my legs.

I nod, and he unravels one of the Velcro straps. Lifting a heeled foot, he slips one of the thigh sheaths up my leg, settling it right at the apex of my limb. He tightens and adjusts it until it’s sitting comfortably against me and the weapon lies smoothly against my skin.

Memnon reaches for the other blade and sheath. “I’m still getting used to the sight of modern dresses,” he says as he works, “and I have to admit there is something very provocative about them.” He lifts my skirt high enough to slide the other sheath on. “Particularly when they hide weapons.” After he secures my second blade, he sits back on his haunches. “Now, show me how easily my pretty, deadly wife can pull a dagger on an enemy.”

I’ve never worn a thigh sheath, nor have I played with blades in this life, but I manage to smoothly reach into the slit of my dress and withdraw one in a matter of seconds. It’s light and delicate, long enough to hit internal organs but thin enough to easily wield.

I press the blade up to Memnon’s throat.

“Good.” His smoky eyes gleam. “And the other?”

Without looking away from him, I unsheathe it, crossing this second dagger over the first so that Memnon’s neck is scissored between the two.

The grin he gives me is downright evil. “Very good.”

I withdraw the blades from his throat, tucking them back in their sheathes, and breathe down my unease. It’s been a long time since I touched a weapon in earnest. My muscles remember the movements, but my mind snags on the thought of using them.

The sorcerer’s expression grows serious. “Remember, these are violent, dangerous people,” he says, catching my stray thought. “Use those blades the moment you need them—if, of course, you need them.”

Memnon’s eyes gleam, and wisps of his magic are escaping his skin. I know he’s thinking of ending all these people himself. I can feel the call to war roaring across our bond. The warlord is finally back to battle.

“Ready?” he asks.

I draw in a deep breath, the weight of the daggers comforting. “Ready.”

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CHAPTER 46

The Equinox is a huge, deep green skyscraper, its glittering outer walls made from reflective glass.

The Fortuna family owns the entire building? I ask down our bond, aghast as I take in the staggering structure.

Every inch, Memnon says, giving my hand a squeeze.

I glance over at him only to see empty space. A split second later, a man in a business suit bumps against what looks like thin air, stumbling a little on the congested sidewalk. The man looks around, then glares at the woman in front of us before moving on.

Memnon and I have both placed enchantments on ourselves that make us invisible. It takes a lot of power, but it’s a simple enough spell—one that bends the light to hide you. I used it before when I had to bring Nero through a couple airports, but this version of the spell is a lot more sophisticated.

We continue onward, toward the Equinox Building, sidestepping other pedestrians where we can. The two of us left Memnon’s car in a parking garage a block back.

Beware, Memnon says. The building is crawling with guards, security cameras, and wards.

I’m not worried about the first two issues, especially being essentially invisible at the moment. It’s the third one that might be tricky.

What sorts of wards? I ask. There are wards that can confuse the mind so you wander in circles, wards that form impenetrable walls, wards that make you irrationally scared, wards that will slingshot you ten feet back if you touch them.

From what I learned when I picked up bodies here, Memnon says, the spells change frequently, so the Fortunas’ enemies can never be sure what they’re dealing with.

Considering we’re now the enemies in question, that’s not exactly what I was hoping to hear.

Besides wards, remind me again what else can we expect? I say. We’ve been over this several times, but now that adrenaline is surging through my veins, my thoughts have scattered.

There will likely be guards posted around the perimeter of the building, especially since they’re expecting you, Memnon says. I will take care of any of them we run into.

For once, I’m grateful that Memnon isn’t squeamish about violence. I try not to think about the fact that I still am.

We get to the stoplight across from the Equinox and wait for the light to change.

If these enchantments fall, Memnon says, it will only be a matter of time before they see us. And once that happens, things will unfold quickly.

I swallow. This is the part of the plan that truly terrifies me. We aren’t heading through the lobby like Sophia demanded. I have to force away my worries over what Sybil might endure for this breach in plan.

The light changes to green, and Memnon and I cross the street, the sound of cars and horns blaring.

If both murders and illegal auctions are happening inside this building, then it will be a fortress, one that is safe for the Fortunas and their clients but not for us, Memnon says.

Which means that the only way out is to stop the Fortunas first, along with anyone who works with them.

As soon as we step onto the city block where the Equinox Building is located, I feel the tug of the first ward against my skin. I glance up and see the faint edges of the glittering spell, the spindly threads of this one a raspberry color. It looks like nothing more than a shimmery spiderweb, the strands of it faint.

I hear a gasp from a woman behind me. When I turn to look at the middle-aged woman, her eyes are wide.

Our illusion is gone, Memnon says down our bond.

Fuck.

The first ward apparently strips enchantments.

The woman hurries away, and the flow of pedestrian traffic continues on around us, the rest of the crowd indifferent to the fact that two people manifested out of thin air.

Should we redo the spell? I ask Memnon.

My mate attempts to, his magic spiraling out of him, but the enchantment only forms for an instant before dissipating again. It looks like the ward won’t allow illusions at all.

So we have no choice.

We walk down the block to the Equinox parking garage entrance, which gapes like a mouth. My skin pricks; I don’t see any cameras nor any obvious guards, but that doesn’t mean anything. The Fortunas might already know I’m on their city block.

I reach into the armhole of my dress and pull out my phone from where I’ve tucked it in my cleavage. I check the time.

11:39 p.m.

I have eleven minutes until I’m expected to show up at the front lobby and twenty-one minutes until the auction—and likely Sybil’s murder—is to begin.

My heart thunders as I slip the phone back into my gown. I peer into the shadowy garage entrance, noticing that at the base of the decline into it, another ward shimmers. The semitransparent spell stretches from floor to ceiling like a makeshift wall. The color on this one is more obvious than most high-level wards, and in this case, it’s dual toned—a burnt orange in some places and a blue green in others. Clearly, two separate supernaturals made this ward together, and their magic didn’t mesh well.

Memnon and I step up to it, and I look for any streaks of black that might indicate someone attached a curse to it, but I don’t see anything. Intuition is telling me this is just a basic ward, the kind that lets some people in and keeps others out.

Tentatively, I lift my hand and release the barest plume of power. I watch the pale orange hue of it cross the ward unimpeded.

I think if it allows my magic to pass, it will also let me pass.

I think it’s safe, I say. Or safe enough at least.

Once we go through, Memnon cautions, it truly begins.

The plan to retrieve Sybil is this: get to the lowest floor of the building, the one closest to the earth. That’s where the dark magic will have the strongest pull, so it’s the likeliest place Sybil will be if they intend to kill her. Fight the bad guys, save my friend. That’s what it really boils down to.

I touch the hilts of my new daggers through the soft silk of my dress and stare at the looming garage beyond. I’m ready.

Memnon’s rising excitement trickles through our bond. Then lead on, my queen.

With that, I step through the ward. The magic skims along my skin, but there’s no resistance.

Thump.

I turn at the dull sound of a body hitting a wall. Memnon still stands on the other side of the ward, his hand splayed across it and his power fanning out over the magical wall’s surface.

Well, fuck. One of us can enter but the other cannot. We hadn’t anticipated this.

I try to step back to him, but this time, the ward bars me from returning. Witches’ tits, the ward has trapped me inside.

Memnon studies the magical wall separating us.

I can shatter this one, but once I do, the Fortunas will be aware of it, and the fighting will likely begin.

He doesn’t sound upset about that prospect.

I run my teeth along my lower lip. I don’t think we have time for a fight, not if I want to find Sybil before midnight.

Can you give me a three-minute head start? I say.

The sorcerer hesitates. You were never meant to go in there alone, he says. We don’t know what’s waiting for us.

I sense his conflicted emotions down our bond. He believes in my strength more than anyone else, but he’s also fanatic about my safety.

I feel the sands of the hourglass counting down.

I’ll be okay for three minutes, I tell him.

Death can come in an instant, Memnon says. I’ve watched you nearly die before, est amage, after I brought you into battle. A muscle in his jaw jumps. You are powerful and more than capable, but…that memory is always there, at the back of my mind. And it’s there right now.

I place my hand against his splayed one. You trained me how to fight a long time ago. The lessons are still there. I will be okay.

The words are supposed to be reassuring, but if anything, Memnon only looks like he has more to lose now.

He clenches his jaw, then nods. Two minutes, he amends. That’s all I’m giving you before I break this ward down and come after you.

Two minutes.

I nod and swivel around, scanning the space for the elevators.

Wait, est amage.

I pause, turning back.

Memnon’s gaze is fierce. Cities can burn and centuries can pass and none of it means anything to me without you. So stay safe, my queen. And remember—stab first, ask questions later.

A feeling rises in me. I love⁠—

His eyes flash.

The rest of the sentence snags in my throat.

I’ll be safe, I say instead.

Then I turn and run.

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CHAPTER 47

Not even thirty seconds have gone by before I hear a sound like shattering glass. I glance around me at the various parked cars when a wave of magic throws me forward. I catch myself on a concrete pylon.

What was that? I ask Memnon.

The sound of me changing my mind.

Fuck, did he knock out the ward already?

You were supposed to give me a two-minute head start. It was a paltry enough amount of time as it was.

Yes, but then I decided I’m not going to let my queen face our foes alone.

Memnon. We had a moment there and everything.

Memnon jogs over to my side, his shoes clicking against the ground. It was a good moment too, he agrees.

The pound of footfalls heading our way interrupts our exchange.

Hide, Memnon commands me, using a tone of voice he only reserves for battle.

Without thinking, I duck behind a nearby car.

I narrow my gaze at the sorcerer, who still stands out in the open. Did you have to use that tone on me?

It was effective. I wonder what would happen if we tried it in the bedroom…

I’d get violent, I say.

Well now, consider me intrigued.

Memnon’s magic billows out of him before I have a chance to respond. I hear two bodies fall.

It’s clear, Selene.

I step out just as he’s bending over two fallen guards, his magic flowing over their faces. It’s likely he’s altering their memories.

Memnon straightens, then juts his chin ahead of us. Elevators are that way.

The parking garage is unnervingly quiet as the two of us head toward them. Aside from those two guards, no one else has come to see why one of the Equinox’s outer wards was broken. That can’t be accidental, can it?

When I catch sight of the elevators, I tense. In front of them is another ward, this one a translucent crimson color filled with row after row of curling glyphs. This ward isn’t even trying to blend in. It’s meant to scare off trespassers.

What do you think this one does?

Memnon tilts his head to the side. I don’t know, but there’s some dark magic involved in it. He points to a streak of black.

I step closer, studying the lines of what must be a curse.

Memnon reaches out and touches it.

Son of a swine, he curses in Sarmatian, his hand recoiling. I watch in horror as the skin along the back of his hand splits from the tip of his finger up to his wrist. The lines of the wound spread, branching out along the initial slice as they crawl up his forearm.

I catch his arm, my magic rushing out of my palm. “Begone poisoned death that corrupts the spirit.” The incantation comes out in English, not its original Mochica, but I say the spell with conviction. “With love, I destroy you.”

As I watch, the curse disintegrates, the oily magic burning away until all that’s left is a line of bilious smoke. My magic lingers for several more seconds, resealing the cuts and healing the open wounds.

When I look up, Memnon is staring wondrously at my lips.

You remembered the curse-breaking spell, he says.

I’ve got a decent memory now.

Abruptly, he leans forward and kisses me. Thank you.

I’ve only just tasted his lips when he pulls away.

Brace yourself.

He turns from me, and I only catch the spark of power in his eyes before he slams his fist into the crimson ward.

CRACK!

The ward shatters, the energy from it throwing me back. Memnon catches my arm and saves me from falling.

Two wards broken. If the Fortunas hadn’t been aware of an attack tonight, now they surely are.

We better move fast, the sorcerer says down our bond.

The two of us head to the elevators, and I slap the down button.

I gather my magic as I wait, sure that once the doors open, supernaturals are going to pour out of it. But when it dings open, it is ominously empty. There are no people, no wards—nothing at all beyond gleaming metallic walls and another set of doors at the back of the elevator.

This is too easy, I say.

Hmm, Memnon muses.

For the first time tonight, I sense the sorcerer’s misgivings.

Ready yourself, Empress. Our enemies know we’re here, and they’re waiting for us.

With that, Memnon strides into the elevator.

I hesitate only a split second longer, mentally preparing myself for whatever battle lies beyond these doors. Then I gather my courage and follow Memnon in.

The elevator is spacious and elegant, but once the doors close, I feel like I’m trapped in a coffin.

I stare at the floor numbers, eager to be out of this box. There are sixty-two numbered floors, plus some levels marked L and G and P that for the sake of time I have to assume are not of interest to us. Then there are the subterranean floors. Naturally, the building can’t just have one basement, it has to have three. I panic and hit the buttons for them all.

Memnon arches a brow at me.

I’ve…got a plan.

The corner of his lip twitches. I have no doubt.

The elevator dings without ever moving, and the doors reopen, revealing floor B1, a.k.a., the parking garage.

From our bond, I feel Memnon’s amusement. Incredible plan.

If you have a better one, I’m all ears. I pull out my phone as the doors close, checking the time.

11:44 p.m.

Six minutes until I’m to show up at the lobby. Sixteen minutes until midnight. My legs begin to tremble as I put the phone away and the elevator descends to B2.

Steady, my queen. We’ll get them.

Do you think there will be any more wards? We haven’t come across⁠—

Darkness steals the last of my thoughts and my consciousness along with it. I don’t feel it when I hit the floor.

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