Renegade (26 page)

The doors opened. More mages streamed into the room behind the ones bringing his staff and Blake’s sword. Talking quietly, the newcomers filled the great chamber.

Griff’s heart pounded. Time to do or die. Better to fail in his quest for justice than to let anyone he loved stand as his shield.

He kissed Valeria quickly, accepted hugs from his family and slaps on the back from his friends, then stepped away from them. They walked up the stairs to the first row of seats to wait.

Griff stripped off his jacket and tie, unbuttoned his shirt collar and rolled up the sleeves. As an afterthought, he shed his shoes and socks. Bare feet had better traction on the dirt floor than dress shoes. He set his discarded clothes against a wall.

The tables were gone, but the obsidian seat remained, fixed in place as it had been for centuries. If he was lucky, it might provide him with strategic cover. Or not, but it was worth a try.

Doing two things at once in a fight, like attacking while defending, took practice. He had that skill. If Blake didn’t, the odds were more even than the traitor could know.

“Take your places,” Gerry said, indicating spots on opposite sides of the chamber.

Griff took his position, the raked dirt cool and soft under his bare soles. A stern-faced deputy reeve brought him his staff. As usual, Griff wrapped his hands around it so the
P
shape of
thurisaz
, the rune for power, and slanted
H
of
hagalaz
, power and harm into healing, lay under his palms, along the life lines.

Could he truly feel the magic in the staff, or was that wishful thinking?

As the man turned away, he murmured, “Good luck, Dare.”

Griff blinked in surprise but had no time to respond because Gerry was speaking.

“The mages assembled will ward the floor. The ward will not drop,” he said, glancing from Griff to Blake, “until one of you recants or dies.”

Griff nodded acknowledgment. So did Blake.

The traitor mage had removed his suit coat and loosened his shirt collar and cuffs. He held the sword in a relaxed grip at his side. He’d probably try to take Griff out with a lethal blast first thing.

Gerry stood by the first tier of steps. He raised his hands, channeling the assembly’s power. It rippled over Griff’s skin as the air shimmered from the ground up, forming a dome above the floor and sealing Griff and Blake in together.

“Make ready,” Gerry said.

Griff raised his staff to a guard position as Blake did the same with his sword. Blake glared at him, but Griff wasn’t watching his face. The body’s position was a better guide to intentions. If Griff didn’t read Blake’s right, he was dead.

B
egin,” Gerry called. Griff took a single step, as though to charge, as power sizzled along Blake’s sword and flickered into a shield around his body. The traitor’s eyes narrowed. His blade rose.

Griff dived left, behind the obsidian seat, but fire seared his thigh—energy blast. His leg screamed in pain.

His eyes teared, and he clamped his jaw shut. Had to breathe through the pain. Block it.

Blake was circling the stone, coming for him.

Teeth gritted, Griff pushed himself up. He jerked to the side as a stream of green power ripped past his face. Too close.

Blake jumped onto the seat. Lost his fucking shield—
Oh, yeah!
—as he slashed power down at Griff.

Griff jumped the whipping bolt. He used his staff like a bat, slammed it into the flat of the blade. Knocked it clear. Whipped the staff around to take out Blake’s kneecap.

The traitor mage screamed as the joint buckled. Griff spun the staff for a head strike, but Blake dodged. He shot a stream of green energy from his palm. Griff flung himself flat, rolled aside and into a crouch behind the seat.

As he popped up, he swung the staff at Blake’s head.

Blake ducked, his face dark with rage. He shot another stream of energy at Griff.

Griff dodged the bolt, lunged forward, punched Blake’s gut. Jabbed the staff into his thigh.

Falling, Blake shot a stream of magic at Griff’s face.

Griff dived aside, but not fast enough. The stream knocked him back against the stone chair, seared his chest. Pain roared in his head, then Blake’s hands dug into his neck. Burning. Crackling with power.

“Suffer,” Blake panted. “Die.”

The stench of burning flesh seared Griff’s nose as agony blazed in his throat. Black heat roaring in his head blocked his vision and stole his breath.

If he passed out, he was dead.

His scrabbling fingers caught his staff. He rammed one end into Blake’s chest.

Blake whoofed. He lost his grip and stumbled back a pace. Griff’s strike into his belly pushed him back. He fell to his knees. Wheezing, he shot green at Griff’s face.

Griff dodged left, but he was too slow. The bolt scalded his right shoulder. His arm blazed, then went numb. He pivoted on his good leg. Had to use the injured one to kick Blake’s face. White heat from the impact roared up the leg.

Blake collapsed. Groaned.

Griff staggered, then fell to his knees from the pain. God, if he could only draw a decent breath.

He could still deliver a deathblow with his left hand. A staff strike to the Adam’s apple, hard and precise, would take the bastard out. He shortened his grip on the staff, then rammed it backhanded at Blake’s throat.

Blake scrambled up. The blow struck him midchest with a hideous crack of breaking bone.

Blake fell backward. Panting, Griff pressed his staff to the traitor’s throat. “Confess, you bastard, or I will happily kill you.”

“Impor—portant,” Blake choked. His breath gurgled, and blood trickled over his lip. “We’re…dying out. Fewer…every generation…recessive…gene, ghouls…like rabbits, made deal like…like Alden.”

“What deal?” Griff demanded.

Blake drew a shuddering breath. “Access to…research, custody every…third…child. Engineer mage gene…dominant.”

“In exchange for protecting them.” Griff’s hands clenched on the staff, but he kept his voice level. “You alert them when mages are coming to raid. You sent Valeria’s team and Healey’s to their deaths.”

“Important…breeding center, had to relocate.” He swallowed hard. “Val…too curious.”

“You set her up, you bastard.”

“Sorry,” Blake muttered, “but…future at…stake.”

His eyes rolled up in his head. With a last, rattling breath, he stilled. The ward around the arena dropped.

Griff planted his staff and used its support to haul himself to his feet. The adrenaline rush faded, and pain blazed anew in his shoulder and thigh, in his burned neck. He had to lean on the staff to stay upright.

Valeria jumped to the floor and ran to him. With the others behind her, she gripped his arms, standing close but not touching his injured body. “You’re hurt—”

“I’m alive. As promised.” He kissed her, long and hard.
I love you.

I love you, too.

Careful of his wounds, he drew her face to his good shoulder, then took a minute to savor her honeysuckle scent, to absorb the sweet pressure of her body in the circle of his arm.

She lifted a hand to his face, the skin to skin contact activating the bond, and he realized she was fighting tears. He tightened his hold on her.

You okay?
he asked.

She nodded. Her power flowed over his neck, easing the pain.
I can’t fix that altogether, it’s too deep, but—

It’s better. Thanks.

I need a minute.
She scrubbed her face against his shoulder.

He kissed her temple and let his hand drift up her back. Holding her close, he gloried in the silken softness of her hair against his cheek. He’d avenged his dead and hers, and served justice once again.

Behind her, Stefan knelt, checking Blake’s carotid pulse. With a slight head shake, he rose. “Dead,” he confirmed.

“Griffin Dare’s accusation is upheld,” Gerry said to the watching crowd. “Justice has been served, and this proceeding is at an end.”

“Hey.” Stefan touched Griff’s shoulder lightly. “Let me see to those burns, check your leg.”

Valeria gave Griff a quick kiss and stepped aside.

Stefan set gentle hands on Griff’s neck. His eyes lost focus. “Fixable,” he murmured. “You knocked him back in time.” Healing energy flowed over the skin, repairing the damage, tingling in Griff’s nerve endings.

“Kinda blew confidentiality to hell when you told everybody about my powers,” Griff said.

“Not like it was a secret, not when Blake and his buddies already knew. And it won you some PR points.”

“Maybe.” But done was done, and Stefan had meant well.

Teresa DiMaggio, the weaponsmistress, Gerry Armitage, Joe Healey, and Dan Jacobs waited at the fringe of the group around Griff and Stefan. But most of the crowd filing out didn’t look at Griff. Those who did wore doubtful or disapproving expressions. Not a good sign.
Not guilty
, after all, did not mean
innocent.

He couldn’t let his relationship with Valeria cost her any more than it already had. He owed her too much to let her tie herself to someone most mages still considered untrustworthy.

“That’ll hold you.” Stefan gripped his shoulder and shook him lightly. “You lucky bastard.”

“Not lucky.” Griff flashed him a grin. “Skilled.”

When Stefan moved aside, Dan Jacobs stood before Griff with tears in his eyes. Griff braced himself, but Dan thrust out his right hand. “I’m sorry about Mitch,” he said, “but Corin would have welcomed this day.”

“Thanks, Dan. That means more than I can say.”

“Congratulations, Griffin,” Teresa said, offering her hand to shake. “I can use your help training students.”

Griff thanked her. This was the last place he wanted to spend much time, but she meant well. So did Healey and Gerry, with handshakes and congratulations, though Healey’s were maybe political. Behind them came Darren Hale, the young mage he and Valeria had helped at Americus.

As they left, Will swept Griff into a bear hug. The next few minutes became a blur as his family and friends followed Will’s example. Griff endured it all, his mind reeling, trying to absorb his victory. He’d won, for himself and his dead. His name was clear. He was off the mage most wanted list.

Valeria touched his arm. “Meet me in my old suite?”

“Sure. Honey—” But she was turning away with Sybil. Good. Maybe she could salvage something.

He smiled at his beaming friends. “Meet you later.”

“In my suite,” Will said. “Beer and champagne on ice.” With a sidelong glance at Tasha, he added, “And Pepsi.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, then grinned. “For this occasion, I can deal.”

“I’ll help you set up,” Hettie offered. “I brought peach cobbler and watermelon.”

His father grinned. “We’ll be up soon.”

As Griff’s friends hurried out, laughing, his mother hugged him. “I’m very proud of you.” Cupping his cheek with one hand, she peered into his face, and in the lines around her eyes he saw the worries she’d carried during his years of exile.

But she was smiling at him. “You scared a decade off my life, Griffin. I want you to come home, give us some time.”

“I’d like that.” Especially since he wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder anymore. Unless ghouls came after him. No point worrying about that now, though.

They started for the steps, and his mother added, “Valeria is welcome to come, of course. We all want to know her better, and I want to hear all about your painting, see some pieces.” She paused, staring hard at him, and her gaze sharpened. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Caro.” Griff waited until her face turned toward him. “What were people saying in the halls today?”

To his parents, he added, “Don’t look so surprised. She’s quiet, so people overlook her. She can’t see, so they act like she can’t hear, either. Spill it, Caro.”

“They were surprised by your testimony and Stefan’s,” she said. “Many of them were admitting they misjudged you—” She stopped abruptly.

“Go on,” he said. “Let’s have it all.”

She frowned, brows knitting. “Some were saying nothing excused your killing those mages when you went on the run. They’re glad you don’t have your powers. And some idiots think Valeria should be kicked out for helping you instead of bringing you in.”

“Thanks for that, but if we were talking about a stranger, none of us would blame them for feeling that way.”

“I would,” she insisted.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to lighten the mood as they neared the steps, “but you’re special.”

“About time you figured that out.” But her half-hearted tone meant his effort had failed.

“We’re at the stairs.” He tucked her hand through his elbow for the climb. “Step up.”

His father frowned at him. “People take time to come around. Most of them, however, will. Look at Gerry and Dan. Teresa. Healey. And that young man who followed them.”

Griff shrugged. “Five out of two hundred in here.” Plus the mage who’d given him his staff, maybe. The guy hadn’t stuck around to congratulate him.

So few wouldn’t help Valeria. This was her home. He’d made her unwelcome here. And for what? He’d killed one friend and four deputy reeves, lost Corin and Allie.

If he’d come to his father, done what Corin urged him to years ago, would those friends still be alive? Or would his father have died, as Corin did, for trying to help?

“Top of the stairs, sis.” He squeezed her hand.

She released him and activated her laser cane.

“I don’t like this mood,” his mother said. “Griffin, you’ve won your life back. Can’t you be glad of that?”

“You heard Caro, Mom. And I’m done as a mage anyway.”

“Maybe not,” Caro said. “Stefan has a friend—”

“Stefan,” Griff interrupted, “feels a misguided sense of obligation to me. He won’t give up even when sanity dictates it. Even so, he admits he’s taking shots in the dark. Better to face things and deal.”

“Nice.” Stefan stepped inside in the doorway, his eyes cool. “I want to talk to you, Griff.”

“We’ll clear out,” Stuart Dare said. “See you upstairs.”

Griff’s mother kissed him, his sister hugged him, and then he was alone with Stefan.

“Even a shot in the dark can hit the target,” Stefan said.

“The odds aren’t great.” Griff shrugged.

Before Stefan could reply, a male voice in the corridor said, “Dare is one brave bastard. I hate to think we didn’t do right by him.”

Shock widened Griff’s eyes, but another man said, “Maybe.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll grant you the sumbitch is brave, but they wouldn’t have pinned so much on him if he hadn’t done something. Smoke, fire, you know. And he killed all those deputy reeves.”

“I dunno. Blake put his own ass in a sling out there.”

“Doesn’t mean Dare is clean as driven snow.”

The two men walked on. Griff’s eyes met Stefan’s angry ones.

“People will learn,” Stefan said. “You have to give them time.”

“Maybe.” While Valeria remained an outcast among their people? Griff was used to being one. She wasn’t, and she had dreams she could attain only here. Losing her would tear out a piece of his soul, but he couldn’t let her give up anything else, lose out on anything more, because of him.

Stefan stared hard at him. “I don’t like your mood, either, and I know how you think better than your parents do. Don’t blow the best stroke of luck you’ve ever had.”

Stefan gave him a curt nod and turned on his heel. Griff glared after him. Everybody was so damned worried about him. They should think about Valeria.

Even she probably wasn’t thinking about her own best interests. But he would.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Val told Sybil as her friend helped her line a box with newspaper. No one had offered her the shire reeve job back, and she wasn’t going to count on it. She’d left the door ajar so there’d be no questions as to what she was doing here.

“Thanks.” Sybil sighed. “Look, I don’t like what you did, siding with Dare, keeping secrets. He should’ve gone through the proper channels to handle Alden, precog flash or no. When you had the chance, you should’ve brought him in, not covered for him.”

“Sybil, he—”

“But what he did today, going up against Blake with no powers, that’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen. He was right, too, about there being a traitor.”

“He’s a good man. One of the best.” Yet some people still distrusted him, even after all he had done. With time, he could prove them wrong. They could, together.

“Maybe you’re right,” Sybil said. “I don’t know what to think, Val.”

“He’s done so much, lost so much. I love him, Syb. Give him a chance. Please.”

Sybil hesitated. “Well, for you, okay. If you trust him, that’s a point in his favor.”

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it.”

“I’d better not.” Sybil gave her a wry grin and a hug. “I’ll see you later, huh?”