Devotion (16 page)

"Do you plan on training this morning or were you going to ditch me?" she asked.

One hand shot up and her wrist flicked, then something sailed through the air at us. Just as they trained me, I eyed the object, identified it and timed my movement to pluck it safely out of the air. I held the knife by the hilt and stared at the gleaming blade that could have done some serious damage.

"We start weapons training today. Are you coming?"

I tilted my head at Tristan.

"You go," he said. "I'll find Rina. I'll join you as soon as I can."

Tristan disappeared with a
pop
, leaving me to explain his abrupt exit to Charlotte without telling her too much. Not one to waste time, Charlotte flashed to the gym and I followed. With her announcement about weapons training, I expected to find the full gamut of practice weapons spread out in the main training room, but only glinting discs, some star shaped and others round with razor-sharp edges, waited for me. At the other end of the room stood various sized dummies. She taught me the different ways to throw the discs, and I practiced with the dummies, Char correcting my form whenever necessary. Which was embarrassingly often.

"Has Owen taught you everything about mages?" she asked after a while.

I glanced at her as I let go of the disc I was about to throw, and it went wild, bouncing off the stone wall. She lifted an eyebrow.

"It should have cut the stone, not bounce like a rubber ball. You're still not putting the right amount of power into your twist." She clasped my hand in hers and demonstrated–again–how to hold the disc and how to flick my wrist. The motion felt unnatural, but I kept trying. "Sophia says you've been working on learning all about the Amadis, but you haven't asked me anything about mages. So, has Owen told you everything you need to know or do you have questions?"

"Actually, I haven't seen Owen much since we've been here."

She made a noise in her throat. "Yes, I'm afraid Martin has kept him busy."

"Are they close?"

"They used to be, when Owen was a kid. Martin made him stay in school longer than he should have, though. First primary school to learn his ABCs and 123s, then mage school–"

"Mage school?" I interrupted, surprised to hear such a thing existed.

"Of course. The kids have to learn how to use their magic. They start at twelve years old and it's another ten years. Then Martin made Owen attend mainstream high school and college for many more years than necessary so he could learn as much as possible about Normans and their ways. Stefan finally said he'd had enough, that Owen needed more hands-on practice."

"No wonder he hates school so much."

Charlotte sighed. "I think he resents his father, and now Martin is trying to make up for it. It's good for them to have this opportunity to spend some time together."

"Mom says Martin is the most powerful warlock we have and Owen's a close second."

"It's very true, but I'm not too far behind," she said with a wink. "Actually, Martin is surprisingly powerful. I tease him that his parents must have been sorcerers."

 "But Owen said his grandparents were all warlocks, converted by Rina's mother."

"The ones he knows of–my parents and Martin's adopted parents."

I threw her a look. "
Adopted?
"

"After completing their conversion to Amadis, they took their first tour of mainstreaming and found a baby by a stream near Martinstown, Ireland. They sensed his powerful magic, even as little as he was. What could they do? They couldn't leave him for Normans to find. And definitely not for the Daemoni. So they took him and raised him as their own."

"So
could
Martin's parents be sorcerers?"

She chuckled. "It would explain a lot, but I highly doubt it. He's not powerful enough to be full-blooded, and sorcerers have become too arrogant to mate with anyone less than themselves. In fact, in my 106 years, I've never heard of any leaving their lairs. As far as I know, it's been centuries since they've reproduced at all."

"No sex for centuries? That sucks for them."

Charlotte laughed. "I guess they're even beyond that. Their earlier children diluted their blood and magic by breeding with Normans, which is probably the worst thing possible in their eyes. I imagine they've given up on everyone by now, including each other, hiding out in their caverns and castles."

 "Unless …" I remembered some of what Owen had told me on the long flights, while he kept my mind busy, and an idea occurred to me. "Owen did have a chance to tell me a little and he said there are legends that sorcerers can shape-shift, even into other people. So maybe–"

Charlotte's odd expression cut me off. I was about to ask her what was wrong when she shook herself and let out a chuckle that sounded forced before plastering on her normal don't-screw-with-me expression.

"Impossible. Those are just
legends
, Alexis," she said, her voice firm and deliberate as she handed me another disc. "Very
old
legends."

Damn.
I'd thought I was onto something.

"So old, only a handful of people still remember them," Tristan said, appearing in the doorway. The deflation of my hope and the surprise of Tristan's appearance caused my hand to slip again right as I threw the disc. Thankfully, he ducked and the blade soared out of the door over his head. "Trying to tell me to get a hair cut?"

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"I guess discs aren't your strong point," Char said, jotting a note on her ever-present clipboard and seemingly happy to change the subject. "No worries, we'll figure out your best weapon. We're just getting started."

***

"Did you find Rina?" I asked Tristan after training finished and Char disappeared to the village.

"Yes, but it was too late. She's already sent messages to the council members so they can start investigating."

My shoulders sank. Tristan had me convinced this really was the best timing.

"But she did agree to give you a chance with the rest," he said. "She still doesn't believe any of them are the actual traitor, but I was able to convince her that whoever is the traitor is influencing at least some of them and listening would give you valuable experience while freeing her to work on other matters."

And so we resumed our interrogations, er, meetings. We still learned nothing about the hidden girl–in fact, none of the females had the same voice as the one I'd heard at the council meeting. I told Tristan it must be Julia then, because she, Martin and Charlotte were the only ones who hadn't been in for questioning, but Tristan pointed out the most likely possibility: whoever I'd heard before knew about my power and now blocked me or had altered her mental voice enough to throw me off. She would be paranoid and extra cautious, avoiding any thoughts about the girl at all.

We sorted all of the council members into three camps: total support for Tristan and me, whether we had a girl or, somehow, we discovered how Dorian could lead; support for me, but not Tristan, believing Tristan was the traitor and would bring the Amadis down; and the belief that Tristan, Dorian and me, and possibly Rina and Mom, too, were dangerous to the Amadis, and it was time for new leadership. Rina heard many of these thoughts for herself, but she didn't seem too worried, not even about this last one.

"The instigator of such ideas is probably a new convert, not a council member, who has not had time to adjust and understand our structure," she said. "Sometimes they do not appreciate all of our rules and try to change our ways. Eventually, they realize their mistake. I will have Armand investigate our recent additions. We do not need such ideas to spread and take root."

"You don't think it's the traitor denouncing you? You're not worried about a coup or anything?" I asked.

"Alexis, darling, no one can take over the Amadis. The Angels have given our family the responsibility to lead them. Not anybody else. Until they say otherwise, we lead with the power they have given us, trust their instructions and have faith in God's plan."

"But they've sent you a message about a traitor. That has to be who's spreading the idea of new leadership, trying to gain power."

"Which is exactly why the Angels have forewarned us, so that we may identify the perpetrator and–" She peered at me and her eyes sparked as a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "–We squash them down until they understand who rules whom around here."

With such surety as that, I could almost believe she had total control over the situation. Almost.

But then I'd catch a slump in her shoulders. Saw light shadows under her eyes. Heard something in her voice that made her sound unlike herself. The changes in her became a little more apparent as those who didn't support Tristan–and sometimes me–became more vocal about their concerns the closer the coronation ceremony approached.

Did she rely too much on her senses? On the Otherworld? If the Angels' messages were so hard to interpret, how could she be so sure about any of this? The words "prophecies" and "curses" had popped up a few times over the last few weeks wrapped in thoughts about Dorian and my daughter. I couldn't help but wonder if a certain book held clues everyone had forgotten about, including Rina. Maybe it was time to find out for myself.

***

After a morning of dodging Tristan's excellent swordsman skills while failing epically with my own sword, I hastily showered and did a quick scan for mind signatures in the mansion. Tristan and Dorian had already started their math lesson in Dorian's room, Rina and Solomon were nowhere to be found, perhaps having gone to the village with Mom. I knew that was Mom's plan for the afternoon–to spend some time with Charlotte–but I didn't know if the matriarch ever made an appearance in the village. I didn't care. I saw the opportunity and seized it.

Quietly, I made my way to the hallway leading to Rina's office, figuring the Sacred Archives would be nearby. Only a few doors led off the hallway, all of them closed. I paused next to Rina's to confirm her office was empty. Still feeling no one nearby, I continued to the end of the hall and rounded a corner into another corridor–the mansion was a maze–where a door stood open into a vast area full of books.

I hesitated at the opening and peered inside.

No light source hung from the ceiling or walls or stood on any tables, yet the room …
glowed
. As if everything in it gave off some Otherworldly shine that provided a natural light.
This is it. The Sacred Archives.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, the atmosphere completely changed. The air felt different, heavier in a way, but cleaner, too, as if the room wasn't really part of our world. The air smelled as I imagined sunshine would smell. The whole space felt special.

Silvery shelves lined the walls, edge to edge, floor to ceiling, with exactly the right number of books to fill the entire space with no overspill and no open slots. Every book had a pearly white leather binding that gave off a soft glow, contributing to the room's light. I stepped to the closest wall, intending to make my way around the room until I found the book I sought. As soon as I eyed the top shelf, however, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I surveyed the rest of the shelves and found the same thing: none of the books had titles imprinted on their spines. How would I ever find the book I wanted among these hundreds of others?

With a tiny bit of hope, I randomly selected a book and pulled it off the shelf. The front cover remained untitled, too, so I opened it, and my heart sank all the way to my feet. No words scrolled across the pages. Only unfamiliar symbols. I flipped through the book and every page was full of these strange graphics, kind of a combination of Oriental and Middle East writing, but less defined. I'd never seen anything exactly like them, although the closest might really be tattoo art. If this was what Rina received in her messages, no wonder she had a hard time interpreting them. I returned that book to its place and selected another from a different shelf, hoping to find something more familiar, but, again, only symbols.
Crap. I just want
the Book of Prophecies & Curses
. I need to see for myself …

A faint noise sounded behind me and I spun around. Completely on its own accord, a book had slid off a shelf and now floated toward me. My breath caught in my throat. The book stopped inches in front of me and simply hung there, in midair, all shiny and beautiful like a ginormous mother-of-pearl. I stared at it for a long moment, waiting for my eyes and brain to make sense of it or for the book to fall to the floor or … for
something
to happen. But nothing did. I glanced around and peered into the hallway behind me, expecting to see a mage playing a trick on me, but no one was there. Still no mind signatures anywhere on this level.