Magic Binds (35 page)

“Jim isn't going to come to us, is he?”

“No.”

“We still have to protect the Pack. It's on the land we claimed.”

“Can you block his magic?” Curran asked.

“Erra says I can. I won't know for sure until I try.”

“Do you trust your aunt?”

I turned over and looked at him. “There are certain moral principles that rule my aunt. They are what her childhood was built on. Honor and love your parents. Guard the land you claim. Have children, teach them, and guide them so the family may live on. My father trampled all of them like a runaway bulldozer. She will make him pay for it. I don't think she'll betray us, but if she does, we'll deal with it.”

“But is she making you stronger?”

“She is. But magic alone won't be enough, Curran.”

“We'll need an army,” he said.

•   •   •

“Y
OU NEED AN
army.” My aunt paced back and forth in my kitchen.

It was morning and I was on my first cup of coffee. My head throbbed.

“How can you not have a throne room?” Erra peered at me. “Where do you receive supplicants?”

“Here, or at the office.” I walked over to the counter to pour myself another cup of coffee. Curran had left on a morning run through the woods. He said he needed to burn off some energy after last night. All I wanted to do after last night was sleep for twenty-four hours straight. Where the hell he got his energy I didn't know, but I sure would've loved to have some of it.

Julie sat at the table, watching my aunt with a sour expression on her face, and sipped her coffee.

“Is the office that place where you did a ridiculous dance?”

“Yes.”

“And you have no other dwelling? No palace, no fortress?”

“No.”

“You make me want to stab you.”

“I have that effect on many people.”

“How is it you're still alive?”

“I'm hard to kill.” I drank my coffee.

“Not that hard.”

“You couldn't do it.”

“I didn't really try.”

I looked at her from above the brim of my cup. “You tried. I was there.”

Julie grimaced.

“What's wrong with you this morning?”

“She doesn't like my banner.”

Why me? Why? I counted to five in my head.

Curran walked through the kitchen door. “What's wrong with the banner?”

“It's blue,” Julie said.

“Why is it blue?” my aunt demanded.

“Because it's the color of human magic,” Julie said.

“It's the color of every human mage out there,” Erra snapped. “It's not fit.”

I raised my hands. “I don't care about the banner.”

My aunt reached over and smacked me upside the head. Magic exploded against my skull.

“If you do that again, I will drop your knife into a manhole for a few days.”

“Don't make empty threats,” Erra said. “You won't survive the next few days without me. When you want to threaten someone, you must mean it.”

“I mean it.”

“You remind me of me.” Erra groaned. “You are the punishment for all my transgressions.”

I smiled at her.

“Always remember you are a queen,” Erra ground out. “Banners are important. They are symbols. When a scared child barely old enough to hold his weapon comes to a field of battle to raise his spear for you, your banner will be the first thing he sees—and the last, as he lies dying, gazing at the sky. Your banner tells him what he is dying for.”

“Well, what banner should I have?”

“You are the only living female within our bloodline. You would inherit In-Shinar from me as I inherited it from my mother, while your father would hold Im-Shinar. The oldest female of our blood always holds In-Shinar and flies its green banner. It is your right.”

“Nobody knows what Shinar is,” Julie said.

“Her father does.”

“Will her father recognize the banner?” Curran said.

“Yes,” Erra said. “He will.”

My father would see the banner of his own family on the other side of the battlefield. It would hammer home the point: he was fighting a civil war.

“Let's split it,” I said. “Green for Shinar and blue for Atlanta.”

“Green with a blue stripe,” my aunt said.

“Fine,” Julie grumbled.

“Go across the street,” Curran told Julie. “George's cousin owns a textile shop. See what they can do for us. We need large banners. A lot of large banners.”

“Finally,” Erra said. “Someone who understands. Bring me samples, child. The shade of green must be exact.”

Julie got up, sighed to let us know she was suffering, and left the room.

“This still doesn't solve the problem of our not having an army,” I said.

“What are Roland's typical tactics?” Curran asked.

Erra sighed. “He will make a fist out of his troops and punch your Pack fortress with it. Straight-on assault with overwhelming force. Im has been taught tactics and strategy, but he has no interest in it. That's why he relies on others to lead his armies and only assists when he has to.”

“He would've fought Grandmother,” I thought out loud. “She didn't seem pleased, so it must've taken a lot out of him. The last time I saw him, he seemed tired. Then he'll get home and find a burned-out ruin. That will make him livid. Erra's right. He will want to crush the Pack with one blow.”

“We need soldiers,” Curran said.

“The Guild won't fight without a lot of money on the table,” I said. “We can't afford it.”

“Pay them out of your dowry,” Erra said.

“I have no dowry.”

“Your father will give you a dowry.”

“We are preparing to fight him on the battlefield.”

“Those two things are completely separate,” my aunt said. “No princess of Shinar ever went to her wedding without a dowry.”

“Even if we had the money,” Curran said, “at this point, the mercs aren't trained to fight as a unit. Give me six months, and we can field them, but right now they would be fodder. We can pick up a few choice fighters from the Guild, but no real numbers to speak of.”

“Fine. Who else do we have?” Erra asked.

“The god of terror and the dark volhv,” I told her.

“The one from yesterday? The handsome one?”

“Yes.” Roman would just love that. He was so disturbed by Erra
yesterday, he didn't even crack any one-liners. He just sat quietly with a freaked-out look on his face when she demanded that we explain the fight to her. I would have to wait for the right moment to drop that one on him.

“That's good, but it's not an army. Your half-breed friends will lose this battle if you don't field troops, because your father will bring enough force to crush them.”

“We can get the Order to help,” I said. “They will defend against Roland.”

“How many soldiers?”

“Twelve,” Curran said. “They are elite troops. It's not an army.”

“Who can you compel into service?” Erra asked.

“I can't compel anyone,” I said. “I can ask for help but it would take time and diplomacy.”

The witches might help. The College of Mages would take too long. They spent more time deliberating what to get for lunch than most people spent choosing a house.

“We don't have time,” Curran said. “Can you strip the People's vampires from them and run them on the field?”

“Yes. They wouldn't do anything except run in a horde, but yes.”

“You mean to tell me that Im left his necromancers here? In that gaudy nightmare of a castle?”

“Yes.”

Erra rolled her head up and looked straight at the ceiling. “Gods give me patience. How many?”

“Probably a hundred navigators, give or take thirty depending on how accomplished the journeymen are. Around four hundred vampires.”

At least that's how many I ballparked the last time I had reviewed them. I made it a habit to pass by the Casino and check on them periodically.

“There is your army.”

“They're loyal to my father. They are terrified of him.”

“No,” Erra said. “They're loyal to the blood and the promises it holds. As soon as your Herald gets here and we get the banners, you will go and take control of your army. You will make them obey.”

She was right. We needed the navigators and the undead. We needed them to survive. But Ghastek wouldn't serve me.

“How? I can threaten them, but they would only turn on me in the fight when it matters most.”

“Why do people follow your father?” Erra asked.

“Because . . .” Landon Nez, the Legatus of the Golden Legion, flashed before my eyes. What was it he said . . . “Because being in his presence is like being in the presence of a god who loves you. When he smiles, it's like the sun has risen. When he withdraws his affection, it's like winter.”

“Exactly. You will go into that white crime of a palace, you will show them that you love them above all others, and you will take your legion. I once took a city with five men and a lame goat. If I can do that, you can convince the necromancers to pledge themselves to you. Do this or die.”

I looked at Curran.

“We need troops,” he said. “If you don't win their loyalty, they're a wild card. Either they'll leave the city and reinforce Roland, or he'll use them as a knife in your back.”

“If you can't lock them in, you'll have to kill them,” Erra said.

I looked at her.

“This is war,” my aunt said. “If you fail to convert them, you must kill every vampire in that wretched place.”

“Any active necromancers would be lobotomized.” When a vampire piloted by a navigator died before the navigator severed the connection, the navigator's mind couldn't deal with the death.

“Perfect,” Erra said.

“That's not who I am and that's not what I do.”

“Then bring them under your banner. You can't dance around hard decisions anymore. Your father won't.”

Convert a bunch of Masters of the Dead who think they run the world. Piece of cake.

Adora came down the stairs. She was wearing an old pair of my jeans and a T-shirt. Julie must've given her clothes yesterday.

I turned to Curran. “I want to hit the Order first. Will you come with me?”

“Yes.”

I turned to Adora. “I want you to come with me, too.”

An hour later Curran, Adora, and I walked into the Order of Merciful Aid. It looked nothing like I remembered. The gray paint was gone. The carpet, too. The hallway was painted light beige; the floor was sealed concrete. Even Maxine's desk had undergone a face-lift—brand-new and flanked by a luxuriously ergonomic office chair. The old prim secretary smiled at me.

“We're here to see the knight-protector.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

We walked into Nick's office. When Ted Moynohan occupied it, it was a dark cave decorated with all things Texas. Gone were the burgundy drapes, the massive desk of cherry wood and samples of barbed wire on the wall. Now it was a wide, well-lit space, with plants and pale, thin curtains. Nick sat behind a desk of blond wood. He raised his head as we approached.

“Yes?”

“This is Knight-protector Nick Feldman,” I told Adora. “He runs the Order's Atlanta chapter. Do you know what the Order is?”

She nodded.

“Nick worked undercover in Hugh d'Ambray's inner circle for two years.”

I turned to Nick.

“This is Adora. She is sahanu.”

He sat up straighter. The name made an impression.

I had thought the best way was to take baby steps. I was wrong. If I didn't clear things up now, she would keep sacrificing herself for my sake.

I took a deep breath and looked Nick in the eye. “I'd like you to explain to her exactly what my father and I are.”

Nick smiled, and there was not a shred of humor in that
grin.

CHAPTER

N
ICK
TALKED
F
OR
almost forty-five minutes. Sometimes I added things to clarify, sometimes Curran did. To say Nick didn't sugarcoat things would be an understatement. In his two years undercover, he had been forced to see things and do things that violated the very core of who he was. He let his hate flow.

Adora sat quietly through it all, her face stoic. Sometimes she looked to me or Curran for confirmation. When he finished, she said, “Thank you.” I couldn't tell if any of it made an impact.

Nick fixed me with his stare. “The Pack burned Nimrod's base.”

The Order always had good intel. “Yes.”

“He isn't going to let it slide.”

“No.”

“When and where?” Nick asked.

“At the Keep,” Curran said. “Direct assault with overwhelming force, as soon as the new magic wave hits. In daylight.”

“Blood is best viewed in daylight,” Nick said.

I nodded. “He wants the shapeshifters to see their relatives die in gory detail.”

“We could use help,” Curran said.

“We'll be there,” Nick said. “As an independent force.”

“Thank you,” I told him.

“This doesn't mean I like you,” he said.

“I don't need you to like me, Nick. I need you to show up at the battlefield and kill as many of my father's troops as you can.”

Nick smiled.

Outside Adora looked at me. “Did that man tell the truth?”

“Yes.”

“And your father, Sharrum? He lied?”

“Yes.”

“There is no heaven?”

“I don't know if there is a heaven,” I said. “But I know that you won't get there by serving my father. There are many different kinds of evil. Some people are evil because they like to cause pain. Some people are evil because they are selfish and care only about themselves. He is the worst kind of evil. He believes he knows how to bring about a better future, and, if he has to, he will pave the road to it with corpses of innocent people. He has no boundaries. There is nothing he won't do to get his way.”

“What about you?” her eyes narrowed.

“I'm trying not to be evil. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I don't.”

“So you're like him?”

“Yes. When I didn't kill you the first time, it was because I acted exactly like him.”

“But you saved me the second time, too?”

“Slavery is wrong, Adora. People should be free to make their own choices. They might be bad choices, but it doesn't matter. I didn't want you to die before you realized that there's a whole life you could live on your own terms. You don't have to take anyone's orders. You are in charge of yourself. I broke my father's hold on you. I'm responsible for you. I'll try to help you as much as I can.”

“Because you feel guilty?”

“Because it's the right thing to do,” Curran said.

She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you and that man aren't lying?”

“You don't,” I said.

“You have to look at what everyone has to gain,” Curran said. “Kate says that Roland is an evil liar. Roland says that his blood is divine and will get you to the happy afterlife. One of them has to be lying. If we suppose that Roland is lying, what benefit does he derive from it?”

Adora frowned. “My loyalty.”

Curran nodded. “He gets to use you and your skills. And if you suppose that Kate is lying?”

“She derives no benefit,” Adora said. “If I believe her, I won't serve her.”

“Yes. She has no incentive to lie. People go through the trouble of lying to get something they want. Kate doesn't want anything from you, but she feels responsible for you. She wants you to have a life that's your own.”

She pondered it. “I'll follow you, Kate. I need to follow someone. It's too much change all at once. But I'll think. And I'll find out more, so I can decide who's lying. And if I decide not to follow you anymore, I will leave.”

“Fair enough,” I said.

“And I won't call you Sharrim anymore, even in my head. You're not my queen.”

“That's fine.”

“And you will ask me if you want me to do something.”

“Will you please come with me to the Casino to impress the Masters of the Dead?”

“Yes,” Adora said. “Yes, I will.”

•   •   •

W
E STOPPED BY
the Guild next. Curran went to talk to the mercs and I made a beeline for Barabas's office. Barabas had posted the sign-up sheet for the battle. There were seven names on it already. It was hanging between next week's menu and the petition to add free weights to the training yard. There was a deep and meaningful life lesson about the nature of human existence in there somewhere, but I didn't feel like looking for it.

“How are we going to pay them?” I asked.

“Battle spoils,” Barabas said.

I stared at him.

“It's a time-honored tradition.” Barabas bared his teeth at me. You could almost see the mongoose under his skin.

“Can I talk to Christopher?” I asked.

“He's his own man.”

I lowered my voice. “How are things?”

“Horribly awkward. Also confusing. I used to have to keep track of when he bathed and ate. Now he's patrolling the grounds. We discussed your father last night. Christopher may be the smartest man I've ever spoken to.”

“And that's bad how?”

Barabas heaved a sigh. “It's complicated.”

“I thought you found intelligence attractive.”

“I do. As I said, complicated.”

I stepped outside the office and waved at Christopher on the beam.

He dropped down. His wings snapped open at the last moment and he landed gently on the floor.

“Show-off,” Barabas muttered.

“I'm going to the Casino,” I said. “I'm going to try to convince them to fight on our side.”

Christopher frowned. “It will be difficult.”

“The alternative is for them to reinforce Roland.”

“You could kill them.” He studied me.

“Yes, that would be the smart thing to do, but I'm not going to kill them. If I fail, I will let them leave the city.”

“Why?”

“Because there is a difference between war and murder. Killing them would be murder.”

“Do you want my help?”

“Yes. No pressure. I understand if you say no.”

Christopher looked down at his bare feet, worn-out jeans, and white T-shirt.

“I'll need different clothes. A suit.”

“We can get that.”

“Okay,” he said, and started toward the exit.

I leaned into Barabas's office. “Do you want to come help pick out a suit for Christopher?”

“No,” Barabas said firmly, tapping a stack of papers against his desk to even it out.

“Why?”

“Because I don't need to see him in a suit.”

Curran walked over to me. “Parks came back from the Casino. He says they are refusing customers.”

They had been given the order to evacuate. We had to get to them now.

•   •   •

I
SAT IN
the passenger seat of our car and watched Julie walk toward the Casino. The beautiful white palace all but floated above the parking lot. She strode between the long stretches of rectangular fountains carrying the green and blue standard.

Next to me Curran sat quietly, watching Julie. He reached over and covered my hand with his.

“Nervous, ass kicker?”

“No. I don't want to kill them.” I would if I had to. I wished I didn't have to. The technology was up. If I went in there during magic, I could've used it to impress the navigators.

“You can do this. You will walk in there like you own the place and you will kick ass. Don't let them think and don't give them any reason to doubt. Walk in and hit them with everything you've got.”

In my head, I kept going through the People's leadership. The lineup had changed over the years. Currently, there were eight Masters of the Dead. First, Ghastek and Rowena. Orlando Beasley, a trim, short black man with smart eyes and a quiet, cultured voice. Constance Hyde, an older woman with a platinum head of hair who always looked mildly displeased. Ryan Kelly, tall, well-built and well-groomed, every inch a CEO, except for his purple Mohawk. Filipa, a Hispanic woman, about my age, who wore glasses with a red rim and never said anything in my presence. Toakasu Kakau, a dark-eyed woman of Tongan ancestry, in her forties, with a white smile and the kind of no-nonsense gaze that stopped you in your tracks.
Dennis Pillman, a tall, thin man with a two-thousand-dollar haircut, whose suits were always a size too large.

Julie walked through the gates into the Casino.

“It's time,” my aunt said in my ear.

I stepped out of the car and followed Julie. Curran walked next to me. Adora shadowed me on the right. She'd changed back into her sahanu outfit, but instead of purple she'd now added a green-and-blue scarf. I didn't want to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

Christopher Steed walked on Curran's left. Barabas had no idea what he was missing. The coal-black suit combined with Christopher's nearly white hair made a killer impression. The seamstress in the shop had actually stammered while cutting and sewing the slits for his wings. Time was short, but the suit was a necessity. The Masters of the Dead had to recognize him.

“Feel the land,” Erra said in my ear. “Feel it breathe.”

It felt odd after last night. Before, the land was an ocean, and I stood within it, distinct and separate, like a rock. Now the ocean and I had melded. I was no longer a rock. I was . . . I didn't know what the hell I was. A tangle of seaweed, a current, something that stretched to the farthest reaches of my land. Still distinct, but no longer separate. And I couldn't touch any of that magic with the technology up. Not even a drop. My aunt had been clear on that.

“This is your land,” Erra said. “You protect it. Your blood waters it. You've bonded with it for months. Reach deep inside you and sacrifice for its sake.”

The Casino loomed, the vampires within it a constellation of bright red lights in my mind. The two men guarding the entrance saw us coming and stared straight ahead, determined not to notice us. Denial was the better part of valor.

I needed to convince Ghastek and the Masters of the Dead. Once they committed themselves, the rest would follow. I had to get them to see me not as Kate Daniels, but as my father's daughter.

I walked onto the Casino's main floor. Usually the din of slots hung above the floor, but today the casino was completely silent. Journeymen moved back and forth, carrying boxes. Julie stood in the middle of the open space, holding her standard. My standard. The journeymen ignored her.

Rowena emerged from the side entrance and approached me. She was the only woman I knew who could be equally radiant in a gown or a business pantsuit like she wore now.

“Sharrim, we are honored by your presence. You caught us at a busy time, unfortunately.”

“Oh?” “Oh” was nice and neutral.

“We've received some orders from headquarters.” Rowena stepped closer to me and whispered, her voice urgent. “You should leave, Kate. It's not safe for you here.”

“He's pulling them out of the city,” Christopher said.

Rowena glanced at him and clamped her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened. She backed away toward the stairwell and almost walked into Ghastek as he descended the stairs. The remaining six Masters of the Dead followed Ghastek. The gang was all here. They looked like they had left a board meeting.

Ghastek saw us. His gaze fixed on Christopher.

“Nice touch, Kate. But this man is not Christopher Steed,” he said, making sure his voice carried. “This is Saiman. This woman isn't sahanu, although she's dressed like one. Clothes are easy to acquire.”

Ghastek two, Kate zero.