Magic Resistant (28 page)

He reached into his front pocket to pull out
fine granules of sand from a small plastic bag. Channeling the
necessary energy, holding it tight within, he visualized the end
result. The buildup pressed on the base of his skull, intense
pleasure and pain mixed together.

He flung the sand at both Julia and Gavin as
he whispered “
Praestigiae
”. Wasn’t often he tried to affect
more than one person with a spell. This one, however, he modified
to include two people. A year of casting it on himself made him
familiar with shaping the magic. A relatively simple spell with low
energy usage, it didn’t take much expand it.

When he glanced at Julia, he no longer saw
her soft brown eyes, or her upswept multi-hued brown hair. Instead,
murky grey eyes stared back at him, framed by dirty blond hair. He
found himself unable to examine her for too long, his eyes
wandering away. Then, he couldn’t remember how she appeared, her
image a slight blur in his mind.

He smiled knowing the spell worked
perfectly.

Gavin was also out of focus to him. He had
the full beard, but tame, less wild-man and more cultured. No
longer appearing emaciated, instead he was a shade on the skinny
side. Markus threw him an Enforcers uniform - a plain black long
sleeve shirt and black cargo pants - and told him to put it on. He
gave another uniform to Julia.

Where exactly he had them hidden, Jackson
wasn’t sure. He didn’t have them in his hands a few moments ago. He
shrugged away the thought. Wasn’t much sense in trying to figure it
out. Markus liked being mysterious.

They both put the uniforms on over their
clothes. Getting arrested for indecency, not on the agenda for the
day. Julia’s tank top and shorts disappeared under the outer layer.
Gavin’s baggy t-shirt and jeans didn’t hide as nicely. His uniform
bulged and wrinkled in odd places, but with the illusion on, it was
hard to remember why the uniform wasn’t up to code. Jackson shook
his head, reminding himself to focus on the task at hand.

No one would pay attention to the guards with
him front and center. No one would care about anything except
finally bringing a fugitive Enforcer to justice.

He stood quietly as Markus put on the
handcuffs and finger-cuffs. He balked at the mouth gag though,
hated being so damn helpless. “Do we really need the mouth gag now?
Can’t you put it on me when we’re closer to HQ? What if we run into
any trouble?”

When Markus raised a silent eyebrow at him,
Jackson sighed, “Yes, yes. You’d be able to take on anything that
got in our way. Doesn’t solve my issue of not wanting the damn
mouth gag. Can’t you cast another illusion to make it seem like
it’s there? Damn it, don’t look at me like that, it’s not a stupid
question. It’s less energy than the illusions on the other two. It
won’t set off the alarms. You’re still looking at me like I’m dumb.
Stop it.”

Jackson glared at him, wondering what could
be wrong with a fake mouth gag.

The others wouldn’t realize it was missing.
Markus crafted superb, distinct illusions no one else could
imitate. Ah shit, and therein lay the problem. If anyone checked
for spells on him and found Markus’ signature energy, they would
wonder why he was helping a fugitive. And if they dispelled him and
found he didn’t have a mouth gag...

The Enforcers might attack, taking down
whoever they perceived as a threat. Julia would defend him, placing
her career in jeopardy. Gavin, well, he wouldn’t survive a true
spell battle.

“Alright, fine, put the damn thing on me.” He
caved, oh-so-graciously.

He muttered to himself about know-it-all
Enforcers, the gag making his words indecipherable. Which, really,
was a good thing. No sense in pissing off one of the few people
willing to help him.

Chapter
Twenty-Three

USING MARKUS’
INTIMATE knowledge of the Coterie building, they walked through an
alleyway nearby. Gavin, not being an actual vampire, would arouse
suspicion if seen in direct sunlight for a long walk. If anyone
asked, they’d claim Markus teleported them to the alley. Young
vampires couldn't handle even short exposures in the sun while the
older ones tolerated it to varying degrees. People would assume
Gavin was an older vampire, a powerful one who didn’t smoke and
burn immediately. Certainly it added more credence to his position
in Markus’ entourage.

Entering Headquarters was tougher than
Jackson imagined, especially with his hands shackled behind his
back and a custom made gag in his mouth. Mages were too dangerous
to bring in with just handcuffs and no one would believe his arrest
without properly restraints.

His ring with Xerix bound to it rested on his
finger, overlooked as unimportant. The solid weight steadied him.
Perhaps an escape using his favourite imp? His mind worked at the
puzzle, twisting the pieces, finding a favourable outcome.

He saw several of his colleagues and peers as
he walked down the main hallway towards the elevators. A mixture of
pitying looks mingled with open hostility. Thankfully, no one
spared a second glance at Julia or Gavin. With Gavin sensing as a
vampire, no one would think twice about it, especially with a high
profile capture like Jackson.

The thin magical disguise on both Julia and
Gavin worked as intended, the magic too weak to set off the alarms.
With so many spells continually running, it would be pointless for
the wards to go off each time it detected faint spell energy. Tuned
to a specific set of spells, the rest were ignored as harmless.

The building austere and plain, no grand
appearance in the main lobby. A drab, functional, government
building. The Coterie felt no need to make a statement to the
visitors, no need to impress them with lavish displays. Instead
they kept the lobby bare of paintings, plant life or any other
reason to linger. Hard, uncomfortable chairs lined the wall near
the front desk. A bank of elevators stood to the side, protected by
four security guards: a mage, a werewolf, a vampire and a human.
They represented the unity of the Coterie.

Under normal circumstances, only the
receptionist (a vampire) and the guards occupied this area. And any
unfortunate people waiting for an audience with the Coterie. Today,
however, Mage Enforcers crammed into the lobby. Word got around
they’d captured him. At that moment, gratitude for Markus’ presence
crept into him. He’d faced down aggressive demons, ones determined
to stay on Earth, without a flicker of worry.

Here, however, hurting a colleague, a friend,
was a distinct outcome. Without Markus, they would’ve swarmed him,
taking the justice they demanded. Hostility swirled thick in the
air. Even with the rigorous training they underwent, certain
situations caused them to forget protocol.

A traitor was one of them.

Pounded into them, ingrained in their psyche,
was the immutable fact: Enforcers equaled family. They protected
one another and had a duty to defend the civilian population from
rogues. Traitors were the lowest form of life and dealt with
swiftly. Jackson having escaped “justice” for so long was an insult
to everything they held dear. He understood their animosity, even
though unfounded.

Markus’ presence forced them to behave. As
the head investigator, this was his arrest. To interfere would show
absolute disrespect to him as a mage and as an Enforcer. Plus,
Jackson was damn sure many didn’t want to tangle with Markus. There
were reasons why he was one of the top Enforcers. His mage powers
one of them, his explosive temper another. Scary son of a bitch
didn’t begin to describe him.

The only one who looked bored was the vampire
receptionist. Then again, most immortals found the affairs of
mortals boring. With such a shorter lifespan, Jackson figured his
kind just didn’t interest them. Vampires probably felt their
insignificant lives had scant impact in the grand scheme.

Jackson wasn’t sure if he was happy or
insulted he mattered so little to at least one person in the crowd.
He vaguely shook his head, deriding himself. He had more important
things to worry about, liking surviving the next few hours.

Markus cleared a path through the
antagonistic and curious crowd. Each person fell back as soon as
Markus neared them and stayed out of the way as the rest of the
progression approached the elevators. Julia and Gavin flanked
Jackson on either side.

Pressing a thumb to the keypad, Markus
released a tiny charge of magical energy into it. Each mage had a
unique signature to their energy and impossible to fake. It also
ensured no one could, say, steal a thumb and force their way into
Headquarters. Honestly, anyone stupid enough to try wouldn’t live
long to regret it.

The elevator binged and the doors opened.
Markus waited to the side as Jackson, Julia and Gavin stepped
inside the metal box. He followed them in and pressed the button
for the penthouse. Jackson watched the crowd as the doors slid
shut, not a single friendly face among them. A shame this wouldn't
clear his name. He wouldn’t get out of this building alive without
a fight. His old colleagues would see to that. Asking for mercy
seemed a pointless endeavour.

The penthouse took up half of the top floor
with the other half sectioned into offices for the Coterie; the
windows shuttered in deference to the vampires present. Burning
some of the Coterie leaders and reducing their Elites to ash due to
poor planning would’ve been bad form.

Three massive couches formed an open
rectangle in the center of the room. The middle one, a vivid red,
faced the main wall. The two couches facing each other a glossy
black. A giant black marble coffee table sat in the center of the
couches within easy reaching distance. End tables scattered
throughout the room in varying sizes and colours ranging from black
to light brown to teak. A huge television screen covered half of
the main wall and the small entertainment system below contained a
desktop computer hooked up to the TV.

The Fae sat; a power play on their part.
While the others stood to gain an upper hand on the other Coterie
leaders, the Fae showed how little they regarded the others.

Elite Enforcers lined the walls, four
factions represented. The Demon and Fae Coterie were allowed
personal bodyguards and nothing else. Earth wasn’t their home and
therefore they had no security presence. Any would be a show of
hostility and met with force.

Jackson scanned the room, noting the blank
stares from the Werewolf, Human and Vampire Elites. The Mage Elites
were another story. Hostility simmered behind each empty mask, hard
for an outsider to pick up but easy for Jackson to notice. These
pissed off men and women would gladly execute him. A single mage
had any friendliness towards him – Victor. He kept it under a tight
wrap. Outing himself as a traitor sympathizer wouldn’t help either
one of them.

Dragging his gaze away from them, he studied
the Coterie, wondering if they all wanted his blood or just the
Mages.

Behind the red couch silently assessing him
stood the Mage Coterie. Mara’s blonde hair, as usual, was a riot of
curls, an untamable mass which gave her the appearance of a child’s
doll. The hair suited her personality: wild and uncontrollable.
Blunt and to the point, she rarely bothered to hide her opinions.
It made him wonder how she became a mage Coterie leader. The
position required a certain amount of politics and back scratching,
which she seemed to ignore.

Average height, around five foot two, he
couldn’t recall ever seeing her with heels on. Most of the council
towered over her but there was no mistaking her for helpless. The
amount of magical energy she exuded enough of a warning for most.
She was gorgeous in a wild, natural way. Her light, airy voice had
entranced many a man.

Roan, her counterpart, stood next to her,
making Mara appear even smaller as he was closer to seven feet than
six. Rumour had it, his ancestors were Vikings and he wasn’t so far
removed from them. Jackson could well believe it. Short reddish
blond hair and a massive beard reaching mid-chest lent credence to
the Viking theory. Muscles rippled when he walked and if he’d had a
broadsword in hand, it would’ve looked natural. His deep, booming
voice commanded immediate attention whenever he spoke, and sighs of
desire from women. Currently, he was silent and watchful making him
even more dangerous.

Oonis was in his customary form, a small
statured Asian man, scarcely topping five feet. He positioned
himself near the black couch on the left, somewhat apart from the
rest of the group. Straight black hair pulled back into a tight
braid. His dark brown eyes never stopped roaming over the room.
Arms and legs loose and relaxed, giving the impression he was
unconcerned about the others in the room.

Having spent enough time around demons,
Jackson knew Oonis played on people’s perceptions, expecting them
to underestimate the amount of raw power he commanded. Many
dismissed him as harmless, sometimes defenseless. A mistake few
repeated. Jackson had heard battle stories about him, the cruelty
and depravity he committed and reveled in. As most of those battles
occurred between other demons, the Coterie ignored it. As long as
he left the other races alone, what he did in his own plane of
existence was his own business.

Paige was a plump, middle age woman with iron
grey hair. With a discreet show of alliance, she positioned herself
between Roan and Felix. She had a pleasant smile and always a warm
welcome for everyone.

Jackson wasn’t fooled. He’d seen the steel in
her bright blue eyes, heard the harsh command in her voice when
needed. As a human, with a much shorter life span, her
indoctrination began at a young age. She’d had much to learn if she
expected to keep up with those who’d already lived several
lifetimes.