Blood Magic (Dragon Born Alexandria Book 2) (14 page)

“I’ve been dreaming about you with a lot less on.”

Logan chuckled. “Good.” He rose out of the crouch. “I’ve deactivated Bradford’s security system.”

Alex’s body cracked in relief as she rose too. “How long will it stay down?”

“Awhile. It first has to remember that it is a security system.” He pointed up at the wall. “Let’s go.”

Logan backed up a few paces, then ran at the wall. His steps were light and agile—graceful even—as he darted up and over the wall. Alex followed his vertical run, then hopped down, landing beside him. Before them, Bradford’s fancy brick house loomed like a small castle, complete with two turrets.

“Crime sure must pay well,” Alex commented, staring up at the house.

“Until you get captured, tortured, and potentially dismembered by your diabolical employer’s even more diabolical enemy,” said Logan.
 

Alex blinked. “Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so peachy after all. If you’re planning on dismembering anyone, you’ll give me a heads up first, right? I’m still stuffed from breakfast. And as delicious as chocolate croissants are, I’m pretty sure they only taste good on the way down.”

A soft chuckle brushed past his lips—which he quickly tried to cover up. Assassins on the job apparently weren’t supposed to laugh. “Life with you is never dull,” he commented.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

They’d reached the front door, which had a remote-controlled machine gun mounted outside. Nice. The Convictionites sure knew how to throw a party. At least Logan had scrambled the security system into a Sunday omelette. Maybe there actually was some merit to all this boring waiting and hacking around.

Logan made short work of the lock. Before opening the door, he turned around to look at her, pressing his finger to his lips. Yeah, like she needed the warning to be quiet when infiltrating enemy strongholds. He gave her a hard look, like he’d heard her thoughts. Or maybe he’d just read the indignation on her face. Assassins were good at things like that. She smiled innocently and motioned zipping her lips. She even threw the invisible key over her shoulder for good measure. Luckily, she had a full supply of keys just like it.

Logan took the lead, and they crept inside with silent steps, easing down the hallway. They walked past a parlor with an array of furniture that looked distinctly Victorian. On the wall hung oil paintings of idyllic country scenes, most of which featured hunting. They passed more rooms with similar furnishings—so similar, in fact, that Alex wondered what the difference between them all was supposed to be. Maybe he used a different parlor for every day of the week. You know, like day-of-the-week underpants.

They were passing by a room with a large piano when a middle-aged man suddenly jumped out at them, a hunting rifle in his hands. Logan moved like lightning, snatching a hold of the gun and clunking the man over the head with it before his finger had even found the trigger. The man stumbled back. His back slammed against the wall, and he crumpled to the floor.

Alex looked down at the dazed man, who kept trying to stand up, but his legs weren’t cooperating. Logan’s blow had knocked the balance right out of him.

“Is that Bradford?” she asked.

“Yes.”

Logan swooped up the Convictionite architect, swung him unceremoniously over his shoulder, and carried him through the open door at the end of the hall. It led into a large home office, complete with several desks, rows of file cabinets, and bookcases stuffed with neatly-labeled binders and office supplies. Logan dropped Bradford into an expensive ergonomic chair, which moaned in protest under the sudden weight. He snapped his fingers in front of the architect’s face, inviting him to shrug off his potential concussion.

“I know you.” Bradford brushed down his wrinkled dress shirt. He’d been knocked over the head with a gun, and he was worrying about wrinkles. He sure had his priorities straight. “Slayer.” The word came out like a curse. His gaze shifted to Alex. “And the Black Plague.”

“It looks like he recognizes us,” she told Logan. “I hope the picture hanging of me inside of Evil Headquarters doesn’t make me look fat.”

“I don’t need a picture to recognize him. I’ve known him since he was a boy.” Bradford spat at Logan’s feet. “Traitor.”

“Has he always been so rude?” she asked Logan.

“No, just ever since his wife left him to run away with her diving instructor.” He set his hand over the knife strapped to his chest.

Bradford aborted his attempt to jump out of the chair.

“You have something we need,” Logan told him.

“I have nothing for you.”

“Alex, show him your magic.”

“What should I do?”

“Anything.”

The crumpled paper balls inside of the wastebasket shot up into the air, then burst into fire. Bradford watched the burning paper comets zip around the room, trailing streams of slowly-falling ash. He gaped at them, fear pouring off of him like a bad stench.

“Witchcraft.” He made the sign to ward off evil.

Oh, he was just asking for it. Alex looked up at the flying burning papers. They froze into icy snowflakes, hung suspended in the air for a moment, then dropped. Like crystal rain, they shattered against the floor one after the other. When they were all gone, Bradford’s horrified eyes turned toward her.

“Demon whore!” he spat. “Hellspawn!”

“Mind your tongue around a lady,” Logan warned him.

“A lady?” spluttered Bradford. “You dare to call that
thing
a lady? That is a monster, an abomination of nature. She is no lady. She and all her vile kind will be purged from this earth.” He pointed his finger at her.

Alex yawned. “Don’t stop now. This is my favorite part. Tell me how you will destroy all magic. Oh, wait. You can’t. Because you hypocrites are using it.”

“A means to an end,” he said with unnatural calmness.

“I’ll show you the means to your end,” she replied, her fingers closing around the hilt of her sword.

Logan set his hand on hers. “He’s just trying to distract us, to hold us off long enough for the Convictionites he called to get here.”

Alex released her hold. “How long do we have?”

“Not long.” He grabbed a roll of duct tape from one of the supply shelves and tossed it to her. “Tie him up.”

“With pleasure.”

Alex looked down at the nasty architect, giving him her most demented smile. If he was going to call her a monster, the least she could do is play the part. So as Logan began looking through the various shelves and cabinets, she tied Bradford extra tightly to the chair. He glared up at her. Even duct-taped to a chair, somehow the man managed to look like a pompous ass.

“Where do you think he stashed the blueprints to the Silver Castle?” Alex asked.

“The Concrete Castle, Alex. Only a second-rate architect could build an ugly monstrosity like that and call it a castle.”

Bradford stiffened—or at least a few creases appeared on his forehead. The cocoon of silver tape Alex was wrapping around him didn’t allow for any more movement than that.

“Found it,” Logan declared, unrolling a stack of large sheets onto the desk.

“That was fast.”

“I knew it had to be in the cabinet he was trying hard not to look at.” Logan pulled out his phone, using it to photograph the sheets, section by section, page by page.

Meanwhile, Alex continued to roll up Bradford like a mummy. Sticking a thick piece of tape over his mouth was particularly satisfying.

“Finished,” Logan declared. “I’ve e-mailed myself the images. My program will stitch them all together into one big 3D building plan.”

“Fancy.”

“I try to be.”

“So you’re done with those?” Alex asked, pointing at the unrolled stack of papers.

“Yes.”

“Good.” She drew on her magic to set them on fire. Flames slid across the large sheets.

“There’s another copy of the plans in the Convictionites’ archives.”

“Yes, but since they’re too paranoid to keep digital copies, it will take them awhile to get to those plans.”

“Indeed.” He watched the burning pile with a hint of amusement. “Are you done now?”

“No.” She summoned a touch of wind to blow the file cabinet open, then drew on fire again to set all the files inside ablaze. Finally, brushing her hands together, she looked at him and said, “Now I’m done.”

“You set all the Convictionites’ building blueprints on fire.”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I did.”

Bradford squirmed against his restraints, shouting a silent protest that was swallowed by the thick band of tape covering his mouth. Or maybe he was just cursing them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Logan said.

Alex glanced down at the roll of duct tape in her hand. “But I’m not done tying him up yet.”

Logan looked at Bradford, then at her, mischief sparkling in his green eyes. “You can tie me up later.”

A look of utter horror washed across Bradford’s face.

“Oh, really?” She laughed. “Promise?”

“Yes.” He grabbed her hand. “But right now we need to move. The Convictionites are here. Go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wicked Ways

ALEX SLIPPED OUT the back of the house and ran over the wall. When Logan said he’d be right behind her, he wasn’t lying. Before she’d landed on the other side of the wall, he was beside her. He wasn’t splattered with blood this time, but his aura might as well have been painted crimson.

“You killed Bradford?” she asked.

“He’s the enemy, Alex. He helped the Convictionites kill countless innocents. And he knew what we’re planning.”

Chances were the Convictionites knew what she and Logan were up to anyway. Or they would figure it out as soon as they found Bradford dead and the contents of one of his cabinets turned to ashes. So much for stealth. She was so bad at this. Hopefully, whatever idea Logan was brewing up would catch them off guard.

“The Convictionites are a block away,” he told her.

“You sure have good senses.”

“Yes.”

Alex’s chuckle was cut short when he picked up the pace. To keep up, she had to push forward into an all-out sprint—which wasn’t all that compatible with laughing. He didn’t slow for a moment, not even as he angled toward a wall. He leapt over it, and she followed. At least it wasn’t as high as the one surrounding Bradford’s house. Tombstones greeted Alex on the other side.

“A cemetery?” said Alex, sucking in breath. Her muscles were burning from the effort of keeping up with Logan. Damn super-speed. That was cheating. “You led us into a cemetery? How ominous.”

“There’s nothing ominous about this place.”

He spoke comfortably. His breathing was normal. Alex would have glared at him—except she was too busy running.

“Nothing ominous at all,” he continued. “A lot of famous people are buried in the Highgate Cemetery.”

“And I hope they stay buried,” she replied. “I know about this place’s reputation. About the ghosts. And the infamous Highgate Vampire.”

“The ghost stories are somewhat true. They sometimes come here, though a lot of them do it just to freak out the tourists. The vampire is complete hogwash, though. A tall tale. You know vampires, Alex. They are too stuck up to hang out in a cemetery.”

“There are vampires hanging out in former sewage-infested underground river tunnels,” she pointed out.

“Those are pirates. They aren’t so picky about their lodgings. But they would never set up a hideout in a graveyard because they need a lot of space. Graves are too small. And even larger tombs wouldn’t hold more than a few vampires. It just isn’t practical.”

“I’m not interested in logic, Logan.”

“Of course not.” He laughed under his breath. “That would be completely out of character.”

“Ok, so maybe not the pirates. But there could be a small gang of younger vampires camping out here.”

“There are no vampires here.”

“I know.” She grinned. “I would feel them. I was just messing with you.”

“Only a crazy person would tease an assassin.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Quick as lightning, he snatched a hold of her hand and tugged her abruptly to the side. She skidded to a stop, then rubbed her neck. It felt like a wet cloth that had been wrung out—then slapped a few times against the wall for good measure.

“Geez, Logan. Haven’t you ever heard of whiplash?”

“It’s not a form of torture I regularly implement.”

Good God, he couldn’t be serious.

“Now you’re teasing me,” she said. The infinitesimal twitch of his lip had given him away.

“Yes.”

“Only a crazy person would tease a mage who can set him on fire.”

“You tried to electrocute me with magic, and it didn’t work. I doubt trying to set me on fire with magic would work either.”

“The lightning was
your
idea.”

“Indeed it was.” He pointed to a grassy patch on ground. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Alex.”

Now that she took a closer look at the spot, it did look suspicious. “A hidden trap?” She’d been running so fast that she hadn’t even seen the rough edges. If he hadn’t pulled her away, she would have fallen right through the ground. And who knew what lay beneath. With her luck, it was probably poisoned spikes.

“The Convictionites?” she asked.

“No. Someone else.” He made a quick scan of the area. “Someone I can’t hear. Let’s go. But more slowly this time. Unless you want me to carry you on my back?”

She snorted. “Nah, I wouldn’t want my sword to poke you in the butt.”

“That does sound unpleasant,” he agreed. “All right then. Watch your step.”

They continued through the cemetery at an easy jog. They didn’t pass any more traps, but they did pass a few tour groups. The sight of two people loaded down with steel must have been more interesting than whatever the tour guide was talking about because several of the tourists turned to snap a few photos of them.

“Ten paces ahead,” Logan said a few minutes later.

“I see it.”

Alex cut to the right of the suspicious patch, which took her between two trees. Almost as soon as she passed them, a hard body tackled her to the ground.