Merlin's Children (The Children and the Blood) (16 page)

She’d probably love it.

The thought hit him and he choked. On unsteady legs, he walked into the room, and his shoes sank into the butterfly rug before it occurred to him he was probably getting the enormous thing dirty. His gaze ran over the idiotically grinning creature and slowly, he felt his heart start to pound.

This couldn’t be happening. This was… this was stupid. Absurd. Stupid and absurd and wrong…

Oh God, this was wrong.

He gasped, yanking his gaze from the bug, only to find that the room still surrounded him.

This was beyond any definition of wrong. This made what Ashe’d done look like the practice run before the actual show.

Though she would have done it herself. Or tried to, if not for the fact they’d probably end up killing her today.

His father’s face rose in his mind. Cole sank onto the bed, trying not to be sick.

He hadn’t even cared. He’d been careful and meticulous and patient in his explanations, but he hadn’t actually given a damn that, in the midst of it all, Lily was a child…

Just a child…

Cole shook his head. She wasn’t just a child. She was a kid he’d been shot, thrown into trees, and nearly killed by wizards for. And every step of the way, all he’d wanted was to make sure the two of them reached the end of this alive, preferably without scarring the girl for life.

And his dad would make her kill. Men, women, even children would die because of her. And it wouldn’t be enough. Cole wasn’t stupid. After this was done, once Merlin and Taliesin had capitulated and licked their wounds, they’d be back. They’d want vengeance.

And she’d have to do it all over again.

His fingers dug into his hair and he braced his elbows on his knees, fighting just to breathe.

It would destroy her. The minute she found out. The minute she learned that all those people on whom she’d pushed the spell just a
little
bit harder…

The people he’d told her to push it on.

He stared down at the big, pink butterfly without seeing it.

This had always been the plan. Bringing the girls in. Seeing if they could ‘help the Blood negotiate’. It was why his father sent the Blood after them. Why they’d needed only one. Two would have been better. Of course it would have been better. It meant the Blood had a backup as well as leverage, and that was probably the goal. But in a pinch, they really only needed one.

If Ashe hadn’t become a murderer with the Merlin, his dad would have just made her one for him.

A gasp escaped him, the sound garbled and choked. His hands trembled on his scalp as the enormous, stupid bug became a pink blur beneath his feet.

Everything the Taliesin said… everything the Merlin said… everything
anyone
said…

His father surpassed them all.

Victor had started the war, but he’d made it make some sense why. He’d destroyed the councils, but of course there’d been a reason. His men were possibly going to kill Ashe today, but she was a monster, so for the sake of everyone, they might not have any choice.

Nobody ever had any choice.

Numbness spread through him, drowning the horror in a blanket of shivering cold.

Every single second, he’d been used. By the Smiths for protection, by the Taliesin for the same. And now by his father for everything he could convince an eight-year-old kid to believe.

Because she was so trusting.

And he was too.

His father said bloodshed wasn’t his goal, and it wasn’t. It was his means to an end. He said he wanted to create peace, and he would. By destroying an innocent little girl. And Cole couldn’t for one minute believe it’d matter if he said no. Not after the look he’d seen in his father’s eyes. His dad would do it anyway, and heaven help Lily for what she’d go through.

Heart pounding, Cole lifted his gaze to the door.

He couldn’t let him do this. Not to her. Not to anybody. And he had to stop them now. Waiting till Simeon and the others brought Lily back would be too late, because by that time, his dad would have her on such lockdown that, while getting in to see her might not be a problem, getting her out of this room would probably take an army.

He didn’t have any choice.

Nobody ever had any choice.

He’d be leaving his father to the war. All the other people in this building too. Ashe’s people, the Taliesin, all of them. They’d have to slug it out for however long it took one of them to come out on top, and hundreds would die in the meantime. But he couldn’t be responsible for that. Not given the alternative. And they could make peace. They didn’t have to fight forever. For all he knew, when all this was said and done, the Blood would still have won, peace would be a reality, and maybe… maybe…

He closed his eyes, hating how much he’d simply wanted his dad to be right. To be the one he could trust and the man he remembered, and not this other thing he’d somehow become.

Maybe his dad would understand someday.

He drew a breath and opened his eyes. Maybe was good. He could hold onto maybe.

Running a hand over his head, he looked around. He needed to get out of here, and not just this monstrosity of a room. But the underground tunnel the council had mentioned weeks before did him absolutely no good since he didn’t know how to access it, and the parking garage was fifty floors of wizards away. Wizards who’d be watching his every move, all to learn how best to serve him – a desire that probably didn’t include helping him steal Lily away before the Blood could get their hands on her.

He’d need a distraction. Or at least a cover that would allay their suspicions, which was basically the next best thing.

His gaze hopscotched across the butterflies and the smiling flowers, and he shook his head, coming up with nothing. A cover would have to involve other people, and no one here was exactly on his side. Forcing them was out of the question, since from Brogan all the way to the janitor, any of them could simply use their magic to swat him like the proverbial fly.

He paused. Almost any of them.

Exhaling, he pushed away from the bed and then pulled out his cell before he could reconsider. It was a long shot, and in no way resembled a full plan. It wasn’t even half of one, since it hinged on being able to grab a weapon from a trained police detective and then keep that weapon long enough to force the man to get him out the door. It was ridiculous.

But it was the only option.

He flipped past the screens on the phone and then froze as Rupert’s voice carried down the hall.

“Yes, Mr. Brogan?”

Silence followed. Cole’s brow furrowed warily.

“Yes, sir, he’s down in the girl’s–”

Cole’s lungs forgot to work. In the hall, Rupert cut off sharply, and when he continued, he sounded as though he was trying to keep the giant from reaching through the phone. “No, I mean, yes. I do. I didn’t – Yes, sir. I–”

A moment passed, and then the man muttered something inaudible to Jerome. Cole’s gaze twitched to the phone, his fingers flipping through the screens faster as he cursed the time it took just to reach the contacts page. Footsteps squeaked on the tile, coming his way.

“Sire?”

He reached Harris’ name and smacked the button to dial the number, praying that Brogan hadn’t called the man yet. Maybe that he wouldn’t at all. Lifting the phone to his ear, he listened to it ring the other line.

Rupert leaned his head cautiously around the doorframe. “Sire, are you–”

“Hey, Detective?” Cole said over the guard’s words as Harris picked up.

Uncertainly, Rupert paused.

“It’s Cole. I was wondering if you’d grabbed breakfast? I just caught up with my dad and…” he let his voice trail off, hoping the detective would read into it. “You know, you’d said if I wanted to talk…”

By the door, Rupert shifted uncomfortably and Cole glanced over, giving him an irritated look as he waited for Harris’ surprised agreement.

“That’s great. Meet me at the elevator? Great.”

He stuffed the phone back in his pocket as he headed for the door.

“Can it wait, Rupert?”

The man faltered. “Of course, sire. You’ll be going to the cafeteria then?”

“Yeah.”

He could feel the guards’ eyes on him all the way to the turn of the hall.

They’d call down there. He could guarantee it. Which meant he had precious little time before the staff downstairs realized something was wrong. But the cafeteria was only two floors from the parking garage, and he remembered overhearing Simeon telling another wizard that keys were kept in all the cars.

This would work.

Hopefully.

Grimacing, he punched the button for the elevator and then glanced over his shoulder as he waited. The guards weren’t following. The door rolled back, revealing no one inside. Taking a breath, he walked in and pressed the button for Harris’ floor.

One hurdle down. God knew how many to go.

The elevator descended, and then slowed almost imperceptibly as it reached the proper floor. Forcing himself to breathe, he pushed a composed expression onto his face.

Mud grinned at him as the door pulled back. “Hey kid! You getting food?”

Cole’s eyes went from Mud to the detective in alarm.

“He was in the hall,” Harris said, his voice so neutral, it left little doubt of his opinion.

Stepping back to give the smelly man as much room as possible, Cole didn’t answer, trying to stay calm. This wasn’t good, but… he floundered and gave up, unable to find a bright side. His gaze twitched to the detective. At least the man had his gun. He always had his gun. Even if it was mostly useless against wizards, Harris kept it with him constantly, as though finding comfort in its proximity.

Cole glanced back to Mud. He had to keep going. There wasn’t any other option.

“You waiting for something, kid?” Mud asked as the door slid closed. “Push the button already.”

“Sorry.” He drew a breath and smacked the button for the parking garage.

“Wait, what–” the detective started.

Cole spun and shoved Harris hard, sending him into the side of the elevator car. Reaching down, he ripped the gun from its holster and then retreated, aiming it at both men equally.

“Really sorry,” Cole said, breathing hard. “Just… don’t move.”

“Cole, what’re you–” Harris began, struggling up and bracing himself on the handrail.

He tightened his grip on the gun and the detective froze. In the corner, Mud stared, his yellowed eyes wide.

“You don’t need to do this, Cole,” Harris tried cautiously. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

He ignored the man. From the corner of his eye, he could see the numbers scrolling down, racing for the lowest floor. The parking garage had cameras, but they were mostly focused on the main gate. The magical barriers, however, would be more trouble. He’d figured on hiding in the back of the car and having Harris drive, but corralling both him and Mud presented much more of an issue. The little man was unpredictable at best, and would probably bolt the minute they reached the parking garage.

He really hadn’t planned on shooting anyone, even the filthy little lump of…

His gaze darted back to Mud.

It was stupid. Ludicrous. The smell alone might kill him.

But it could work.

“Take off your coat,” he ordered the man.

“Huh?” Mud said.

“Coat. Now.”

Harris’ brow drew down. His mouth twisting sourly, Mud looked from the detective to Cole and the gun, and then began shrugging out of the oversized and arguably brown floor-length coat.

“Did you actually talk to your father?” Harris asked, ignoring the grumbling noises Mud made while peeling the sleeves from his arms. “Did he say something that prompted this?”

Cole didn’t answer, keeping the gun on Harris while he reached out for the coat. Beneath his stained gray t-shirt, Mud’s bony shoulders hunched like a turtle stripped of its shell.

“You won’t get away with this,” the little man groused as he extended the enormous coat with a pale hand spotted by erratic sprigs of dark hair.

Ignoring him, Cole pulled the coat closer, fighting not to balk at the way the smell made his eyes sting. Harris hadn’t taken his gaze off him, and he could tell the detective was just waiting for an opening that wouldn’t result in a bullet ricocheting around the elevator.

The door dinged.

“Stay here,” Cole ordered Mud. He glanced to Harris. “You’re with me.”

Backing up, he kept the gun aimed at Harris while he slung the coat over his shoulders with one arm. Unidentifiable bits of something he tried not to think about rained down as he tugged the hood over his head.

“This way,” he said to the detective, jerking his chin toward the cars.

Watching him carefully, Harris started toward the vehicles. Tucking the gun under the coat, Cole cast a swift look back. Mud glared balefully from a corner of the elevator.

Attempting not to breathe too deeply, Cole turned away as the elevator door closed. Slouching as low as he could, he dropped his head to hide his face and let his steps shuffle in imitation of the little man’s gait as he trailed after Harris.

Along the walls, the security cameras panned over the garage. Eyeing them cautiously, Cole cleared his throat and then nodded toward the nearest car when the detective glanced back.

“Get behind the wheel.”

Harris paused and then headed for the dark green sedan. “Why are you doing this, Cole?”

“Shut up and get in.”

Harris pulled open the door and slid inside. On the passenger side, Cole did the same, his skin crawling at the feeling of the coat pressing between him and the seat.

“Keys are in the visor. Drive.”

The detective didn’t move. “I’m going to need more of an answer than that.”

Cole cocked the gun. Harris looked from him to the bulge of fabric concealing the weapon.

“You won’t shoot me,” the detective said quietly.

“You’re not giving me a whole lot of choice.”

Harris studied him a moment. A muscle twitched around his eyes, and the certainty in his expression faded ever-so-slightly. Slowly, his hand reached up and tugged the visor, letting the keys fall to his lap. Still watching Cole, he inserted the key in the ignition and then started the car.