Merlin's Children (The Children and the Blood) (40 page)

“Hey!” Harris snapped, starting after him, only to run into the wizard’s grasp. “You–”

The gunshot sounded all the louder for the close walls of the hardware store and suddenly, the wizard’s eyes went wide. Gasping wetly, the man lurched forward, his grip clenching painfully tight and his weight pinning Harris to the doorframe.

From within the store, he could hear Samson firing at the wizards. The dead man sagged, crushing the sharp edge of the doorjamb into Harris’ spine.

A bullet ricocheted from the wizards’ defenses to hit the wall inches from his head.

“Move!” Samson shouted.

With a grunt, Harris shoved the body away and then stumbled into the store.

Three wizards were staring at him. More crowded a caged-in area on the far side of the room. Monitors were scattered across the counter to the right of the doorway, each screen showing black-and-white segments of the store. Hands raised in front of him, he straightened, hoping the plan hadn’t changed even though he and Samson were now inside the building.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said cautiously as he inched away from the open door.

The closest wizard flung up a hand and he barely had time to leap aside as a blast of electricity scorched the wall behind where he’d been standing. He crashed to the floor, pain shooting through his arm at the impact and gritty linoleum ripping at him as he slid.

Someone shouted. He twisted on the ground to see the three wizards’ magic lash out at the door. Elias’ defenses took the blast, the electricity chasing across the shield surrounding him like lightning over glass.

Ashley stepped through the portal and the nearest man stumbled as though something had been physically ripped from him. At the sight, one of the wizards went for the counter, his fingers outstretched for a button beneath the red laminate top.

Fire hit him before he made it two steps.

Eyes wide, the other wizards spun, tearing for the door at the far end of the room.

Elias’ magic propelled them into the wall, where they crumpled to the floor and didn’t move again.

Nathaniel emerged from the portal, the eye-crossing shadows vanishing behind him. He scanned the fallen wizards briefly, and then turned his attention on Ashley.

An uncomfortable look flashed across her face. “We couldn’t wait,” she said, almost as though defending herself. “Go see if the others–”

She cut off, and Nathaniel glanced back and then stepped aside as the girl calling herself Spider drove Mud ahead of her into the room. With a shove, the girl sent him to the ground to one side of the door, giving no sign of hearing his pained cry as he crashed to the tile, and then she headed for Samson.

A step behind her, Cole came inside. “Everyone alright?”

Ashley didn’t answer. For a heartbeat, she watched Samson climb to his feet, and then she started for the cage at the opposite end of the store. The wizards followed, leaving Cole to come behind.

Carefully, Harris rose, wincing as an ache throbbed through him. Brushing grit off his arm, he trailed the others across the room.

In a twenty-by-thirty-foot rectangle, the cage occupied one large corner of the store. Metal pipes stretched through the drop ceiling to the floor, their bases driven into the ground so hard, debris from the concrete foundation surrounded them. A barred door interrupted the cage halfway along its longest side, the hinges melted to a pole and a hefty lock holding it closed.

But no one was paying much attention. To a person, their eyes were fixed on the men and women watching them from behind the steel-barred walls.

Not one of them was untouched. Scorch marks covered faces and broken blisters left red tracks across arms and legs alike. Makeshift bandages wrapped their wounds, the bloodstained fabric torn from their shirts and pants and tied over burns that seemed to be festering.

A small breath escaped Cole.

“Open the door,” Ashley ordered, her eyes never leaving the people in the cage.

Elias paused, scanning the bars, and at his hesitation, she looked over.

“Security,” he explained. “If the door’s wired to any alarms…”

“Hey, Mud,” Ashley snapped over her shoulder. “Any alarms on the door?”

On the ground, Mud glared.

Ashley’s hand burst into flame.

“No,” Mud said grudgingly. “Jamison took the Taliesin’s magic. Why would anybody need alarms?”

Her eyes weighed him briefly, and then she turned back to Elias.

The wizard fried the lock with a single touch. The door swung open.

For a moment, no one inside moved, and then a few turned as a rustling came from the shadows in the back corner of the cage. Favoring his right leg heavily, an old man limped into the light. Dark circles hung under his eyes and the button-down shirt beneath his torn jacket was brown with old bloodstains, but when he came to a stop at the center of the cell, he straightened as though none of it was real.

“Hello, your highness,” he said neutrally.

“Councilman Brentworth,” Ashley replied. Her eyes flicked over the other prisoners. “Your people can go. We’re not here to hurt them. We just…” An ironic expression tried to push onto her face, succeeding for only a heartbeat before it vanished. “We need your help again.”

Harris’ brow drew down at the last word.

Brentworth regarded her. “Who are your companions?” he asked casually. “Those two, I recall, but the others…” His gaze skimmed almost dismissively over Spider, Samson and Harris before coming to rest on Cole. “I confess, they are not as familiar.”

Ashley didn’t move. “They’re friends.”

Brentworth’s face took on a patronizing cast. “You want my help, your majesty, and yet–”

“Cole.”

Brentworth’s gaze returned to the young man.

For a moment, Cole watched him, something strange in his expression. “My name’s Cole,” he repeated.

“Cole Jamison, I presume?” Brentworth elaborated.

The rise of tension was almost palpable, and Harris felt himself shift his weight in response, for all that he had no idea what he would do. The prisoners had no magic, that much Mud had said.

But an angry mob didn’t really need that anyway.

“Stop it, Brentworth,” Ashley said, moving slightly as though to put herself between them and Cole. She looked to the prisoners. “Jamison’s got what he needs to recreate the spell, and he’s going to push it until it kills everyone who gets in his way. And it won’t just be you. Your families. Your friends. Anyone, no matter where they’re hiding. We’re here because we want to stop him, and because I don’t really give a damn about the war. I want it over. So does he,” she twitched her head toward Cole, “and if you’re smart, you will too.”

She glanced to Brentworth. “We need to get inside Chaunessy to stop Jamison. We want you to help us do that.”

Harris watched the man as he paused, weighing her words.

“You’re one of the Taliesin council?” Cole asked into the silence.

If possible, Ashley seemed to grow more tense. Harris’ eyes narrowed warily.

“Retired,” Brentworth said.

“Were you retired eight years ago?”

“Cole,” Ashley interjected.

The young man glanced to her.

“Lily,” she said quietly.

His face tightened. He looked back to the councilor, and then his gaze seemed to catch on the prisoners.

“Heal them,” he said tensely.

Ashley hesitated, something almost like guilt flashing over her face. “We don't have–”

“Have a guard come back and heal them,” Cole ordered. He glanced to Nathaniel. “Someone you can spare.” He looked to Brentworth. “And you guarantee the guard’s safety.”

The old man eyed him up and down, but after a moment, a bit of the regal arrogance seemed to fade from his expression. Carefully, he nodded once.

“Ashe,” Cole continued.

Ashley hesitated. Her eyes flicked over the wounded and Brentworth, and then she nodded as well. She turned to Nathaniel. “Do it. Have the guard get them out of the city when they’re done.”

The wizard’s face darkened, but he drew out his cell phone. A moment later, shadows swirled in the store doorway. A stockily built man emerged from the grayness and, as the magic disappeared behind him, he nodded to Nathaniel and Ashley and then took position by the door, waiting.

Ashley looked to Brentworth.

“Very well,” he acquiesced. He limped closer. “What do you require?”

“The tunnel beneath Chaunessy,” Cole said flatly. “How do we access it?”

Brentworth’s mouth tightened. “You will do best to have my assistance with that.”

Elias scoffed. “Again?”

“
That
was not my fault,” Brentworth replied.

“You could’ve said something about not recognizing those guards.”

“The council possessed hundreds–”

“Point is,” Elias interrupted. “We’re not dragging you along again. Tell us where this tunnel lets out and we’ll handle it from there.”

“Happily,” Brentworth said. “One mile west of Chaunessy, subbasement of the Presidio Hotel, hallway on the southernmost side. But the
point
, sir, is that the tunnel is hidden. You will not locate it without my help.”

“Fine,” Ashley cut in before Elias could speak. “Heal his leg and let’s get out of here.”

Without another word, she walked away from the cell.

Harris watched her go. Expressionless, she stopped beside the open door, staying to the shadows with her eyes on the horizon toward Chaunessy. Stoic as ever, Nathaniel came up behind her, saying nothing and watching the road, while Mud scooted away from them both.

“Out of curiosity,” Brentworth began.

Harris glanced over. The man’s tone was idle, though pain fought through his casual demeanor. Limping from the cell, he crossed to a plastic chair a few feet from the bars and then lowered himself carefully down. Behind him, the prisoners started to slip from the cage, staying widely clear of everyone else in the room. Silently, the guard by the door went to join them.

“My nephew, Lucas,” the old man continued.

Ashley looked back at him.

Brentworth’s eyebrow climbed questioningly. “Have you any word of him?”

He could have been asking about the weather, but Ashley tensed all the same. She glanced to Elias.

The wizard shook his head. “I didn’t see,” he said quietly.

Brentworth hissed as Elias did something to his leg. “I understand,” he replied when the pain seemed to clear.

Harris glanced between them. “Lucas Brentworth?”

Everyone looked over at him and he tried not to grimace at the scrutiny. He really hated being the focus of so many people’s attention, especially when most still looked on the fence about killing him.

“He’s okay. At least, last time I heard. He was checked into Croftsburg Memorial about a month ago, assumed to be the victim of a hit-and-run. He disappeared after the doctors patched him up.”

“How do you know all that?” Ashley asked.

He paused. “Malden’s been looking into any names I overheard. He didn’t find Charles Brentworth,” he nodded toward the old man, “but Lucas came up.”

She turned away. He hesitated, and then walked closer till a glare from Nathaniel stopped him.

“Ashley,” he said.

“Ashe,” she countered.

The sharp response seemed almost reflexive. His brow drew down.

She glanced back at him. “It’s Ashe,” she repeated firmly before looking away again.

He nodded carefully. “Ashe,” he amended. “How–”

“Back off,” Spider growled behind him.

He turned, not having heard her come up.

“Ashe,” the girl continued, slipping a cell phone back into her pocket. “Bus and the others are ready with the cars, whenever you want to go.”

Drawing a breath, Ashe nodded. Behind them, Brentworth rose, stretching his leg and then walking over with only a shadow of his former limp.

“After you, your highness,” the old man said.

Ashe paused, and then glanced up at Harris.

“We survive this,” she told him. “We’ll help Malden too.”

He stared after her as she followed Nathaniel out the door. He hadn’t been intending to ask that. It hadn’t even occurred to him, since no one had ever suggested it and he hadn’t thought it was possible anyway. Not so long after the fact, and with as much damage as she’d done. He’d just wondered what’d happened to make the queen of Merlin and a retired member of the Taliesin council work together.

“Hey,” Spider snapped.

He blinked and turned to see her looking at Mud. Weapon in hand, she jerked her chin toward the empty cell.

“Go,” she ordered.

Mud glared.

Across the room, Samson drew his gun, his eyes showing only ice and a serious evaluation of the benefits of just shooting the little man. Spider glanced to him, her own expression nearly the same.

Mud climbed to his feet and inched toward the cage, still watching them both.

“Wizard,” Spider called to Elias. “Care to help us out here?”

Elias snorted, and then slammed the door behind Mud. Magic flickered over his hand, melting the lock to the metal around it and then racing across the bars, leaving them shimmering as though faintly electrified.

He looked to Spider. “Good enough for you?”

A smile twitched her lip, and she nodded. The gun disappeared back beneath her jacket as she headed out the door.

Samson followed, with Elias coming behind. Several yards away, the guard moved among the prisoners, triaging their wounds and then bending to heal the worst of their injuries without a word. Tense and expressionless, Cole watched him, and then turned, striding quickly from the room.

A noise like a bug zapper came from the cell, followed by a screech of pain.

Harris glanced over. Sucking his fingers, Mud eyed the bars hatefully before his gaze caught on him.

“Hey,” the little man said, hope practically dripping from his tone. “Hey, buddy. Look, I–” His eyes darted to the wizards and then he lowered his voice, inching as close to the bars as he dared. “We’re together in this, right? I mean, I know you’re just playing along with them. Waiting for their guard to go down. So come on. Now’s your chance. Alarm’s right over there. All you gotta do is press it and we’re golden, right? Blood’ll come, get us the hell out of here, and stop that bitch at the same time.”