The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (13 page)

Well, it was a good thing my father’s primary element is fire. I’m air myself, but I daresay I’m better with fire than most, having learned it from Titus. Witches and mages can control elements other than their own, of course; it just takes more effort. A snarl rose deep in my throat, and I quickly spread heat through my upper body. With a cry that would’ve made the Hulk proud, I pushed magic out of my arms and fingers, sending chunks of ice careening towards the Council. Too quickly, they threw a shield together. The ice smashed against it and fell, harmlessly, to the floor.

Dammit
.
Seven against one
. There was no way I was going to win this. They’d already inflicted various injuries, making my back hurt, my front hurt, and my head hurt. Still,
they
started it. As I had in the alley, I looked around frantically for some sort of weapon. The heat of my magic had melted the ice, so a good part of the floor was now covered in water, with some still trickling down from the ceiling. I heard snapping sounds on the water’s surface, and something wriggled towards me, like a snake.

It was worse than a snake. I felt a burning strand of magic work its way up my leg, then my torso, and my arms. Before I could prevent it, my wrists clamped together and I was pulled into the air, dangling as if suspended by an invisible rope. My feet were barely touching the ground. I twisted, turned, and grunted, but could not break free. I looked up to see the Council members standing together again.

“Well done, Blackline,” said Ashdown. The arrogant little bastard was smiling at me, but I had to hand it to him—it was some pretty good magic. Still, I’d have relished the opportunity to smack that smile off his face.

“Perhaps now you will be more amenable and listen to reason,” Ashdown said. “There’s no cause for this to go any further.”

“I don’t know about you,” I hissed, “but I didn’t come all this way just to give up.” I was referring to the investigation of my mother’s disappearance, of course, but I could easily have meant our fight. I gnashed my teeth, pulling this way and that on the spell. The string of lights around the room flickered.

“It’s possible all your travails are for naught,” Cronin said, her voice like barbed wire. “Or that they have consequences you cannot foresee.”

“That’s for me to decide.” I gasped for breath, trying to summon every ounce of magic I had to escape. My wrists chafed against the spell, rubbing some of the skin off. The lights flickered again, faster this time. The Council began looking above and around them. “And I don’t know about you,” I added, “but when I set my mind to something, I usually
get it
.” A barrel of wine in one corner of the room exploded into a ball of flame.

Several Council members cried out in alarm, and many backed away. But Ashdown and Cronin waved their hands at the fire, which died down and finally sizzled out. Tendrils of smoke rose into the air, giving it an acrid smell. Meanwhile, the strung-up lights flickered and sputtered along the wall, and a few even burst. From the far end of the room they crackled, the noise and sparks coming closer to me. While the Council was making sure the last of the flames were extinguished, I used the magic in the lights’ wires to slice through Blackline’s binding spell.

What? All good magic involves sleight of hand, after all.

I dropped to my knees and threw a shield over myself before the Council could make another move. Slowly, I stood up, and the Council members regained their composure. We stood glaring at each other for several long moments. Finally, Ashdown spoke.

“Using the fire to distract us . . . not bad, I’ll grant you that. Not bad at all.”

For a half-breed
. I could all but hear him say it. I rubbed my wrists, which had thick, burning lines of red wrapped around them. My entire body felt like it had been squeezed by a trash compactor. At least there were several stray scars on Ashdown’s face, and a few loose hairs in Cronin’s updo. Blackline, on the other hand, was no worse for wear—which made me want to pound him till he bled.

“Enough of this,” I said. “Tell me the truth. It was you who ripped out the missing page from that book about the crystal, wasn’t it?”

“We may keep our ears to the ground when it comes to the supernatural world,” Blackline replied, “but surely you can’t expect us to keep track of every dime-store novel you read about crystals.”

“Oh, shut up,” I snapped. “I can tell you this: if that crystal is the only thing that will lead me to my mother, you’re not getting your hands on it.” There was a pause, and some of the Council members gave amused smiles.

“Why would we want to do that?” asked Ashdown, folding his arms.

“Yes,
we
don’t want the crystal,” said Cronin. She patted her stray hairs back into place, looking as flawless as before.

I blinked several times. “You don’t?”

“Of course not,” said Blackline. “We just don’t want
you
to have it.”

“Rather spiteful of you, isn’t it?” I remarked.

Blackline shook his head. “No, it isn’t. That crystal has been passed along and caused no trouble for centuries.”

“Well, no trouble to witches,” said Ashdown. “It
was
responsible for several wars and plagues among mortals.”

“
What
?” Wars? Plagues? What kind of hell-stone was this?

“But we know the real reason you want it,” Ashdown continued.

“You . . . you do?” I asked.
Do they know why the vampires are after the crystal, or what makes it so special?

“Of course,” he replied. “It’s obvious. Trying to pretend otherwise is futile.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “Fine,” I said. “Look, if you have any information about why this particular crystal is so import—”

“But you will never bring back Callix Ferox, do you hear?” Ashdown’s voice was louder now, practically a shout. “Not after everything our people did to keep him where he is!”

I was speechless. “You think I want the crystal to
resurrect Callix Ferox
?”

“Oh, stop playing, will you?” cried Cronin. “Why else would you want it?”

“If you’d been
listening
to me,” I said, “then you’d already know it may be the key to finding my missing mother. You said as much yourself; that you knew about it, about her.”

“Oh, come now.” Blackline rolled his eyes. “You can’t expect us to believe you’re doing this for a single woman.”

“Depends on the woman,” I retorted. Then again, this looked like a lot who’d trample their own mothers for a nickel.

“And you really believe Titus is doing it for the same reason?” asked Ashdown.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I wasn’t sure which was the right answer.

Ashdown nodded. “Just as we thought,” he said.

“Wait—let me make sure I understand you correctly,” I said, rubbing my forehead. God, I was going to have a splitting migraine tomorrow. “According to you, Callix Ferox is either still alive or able to be brought back in some sense.”
And hopefully here in Rome, since you wouldn’t have tried to stop my investigation unless you thought I was getting close
.

“At the time of his departure, witches’ magic was more disseminated,” Cronin said. “Killing him outright would have proved too difficult for even the most powerful of our kind. Not to mention the fact that Ferox was a significant political figure—surrounded and protected by numerous other immortals.”

“Ah, so they bound or silenced him somehow.” I pressed my hands together. “Now it all makes sense. But why would you think the crystal could resurrect him?”
The alley vampire hadn’t thought so
. For some reason, I was more inclined to believe him than the witches standing before me. True, he’d been a filthy creature, but he had no reason to lie. Unlike my brethren here, who were being so cagey that getting answers was like pulling teeth.

“Who knows what a stone of that magnitude could do?” Blackline said. “All we know is that we cannot allow it to fall into the wrong hands.
Your
hands,” he sneered. “Knowing Ferox’s past ambitions, he will surely be a threat to the power of witches. As
something
of a magical being, you should be able to appreciate that.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You’re not afraid he’ll try to take over the world and cause untold suffering?” I asked.

“As my colleague said,” Ashdown sighed with impatience, “that concern pales in comparison to the threat he poses to
witches
. He could usurp us. The fate of mortals is secondary.”

I snorted. “How very humanist of you. And am I to assume you know the location of his tomb, or whatever it’s called?”

“Of course we do,” Cronin said.

I looked from one Council member to the other. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“And make it easier for you to find your master?” Cronin looked at me in disbelief. “Why on earth would we do that?”

“Because he’s not my bloody master!” I shouted, my words echoing off the stone walls. “Just because my father is a vampire doesn’t mean I have some bizarre loyalty to the entire race. Besides, Ferox and my father hated each other.”

“Just because two people don’t get on doesn’t mean they won’t come together for a common goal,” said Ashdown. “Rather like the way you and Titus have been working with one another in your search.” He looked me up and down. “Intelligent. Cunning. You remind me of your father.”

“Please don’t say that,” I replied in a heavy voice.

“Indeed,” Cronin said quietly. She turned to Ashdown. “Perhaps we should be careful. He
is
Titus’s son, after all.”

Every once in a while, this sort of thing happened: knowledge of my lineage protected me. Those who might be inclined to tangle with a mere mage would avoid doing so . . .
if
it risked invoking the wrath of a two-thousand-year-old vampire. Of course, they couldn’t know my father might not care if I was harmed or killed.

“Ahem.” I raised a hand. “I’m standing right here. No need to talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”

“Perhaps we should be going,” Blackline said to Ashdown and Cronin. “There is the small matter of that other problem . . .”

“What problem?” I asked.

Blackline glared at me. “Our problem,” he said. “Not yours.”

“If she really is—” Cronin started.

“Enough,” said Ashdown, cutting Cronin off with a look. She pursed her lips and took a step back. My eyes scanned the Council, but not to read their thoughts. I’d learned that lesson all too well. This was to determine if anything in their faces might provide a clue to what they were talking about. But their expressions gave nothing away; the entire group was clammed up tight.

Ashdown looked at me and shook his head. “You’re a smart lad, Joshua. With enough time and effort, you might make your mark. But going through Callix Ferox isn’t the way to do it. You have to start out slowly, to pay your dues in this life.”

“Really? That’s odd,” I said dryly. “I don’t remember racking up a debt in utero.”
And I’ve given up trying to convince you I’m not in league with Ferox
.

“We will leave you alone, Joshua,” Cronin said. “For now. But we must warn you, if you or Titus insists on pursuing this, we’ll be forced to take more drastic measures.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Trust me—it’ll be nothing compared to what I’ll do if you try to stop me from finding Abigail.”

“As you wish,” Ashdown said with an air of finality. “We’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“And if I ever do run into this Ferox,” I replied, “I’ll be sure to tell him you said hello.”

Chapter 12

In my nightmare, I am digging through a pile of ancient rubble somewhere in Rome. A broken-down monument, a long-forgotten archeological site . . . I don’t know where. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is finding her.

The stones I try to move are heavy, and the skin on my fingers is torn and bleeding. But I keep digging, digging. I’m on my knees, dust and debris all over me. I hear her screaming the way she did the night she disappeared. I swear it’s coming from underneath the pile of rubble. The screams grow louder and more frantic, and I dig faster, sweat pouring down my forehead, arms and shoulders aching. I finally reach the bottom of the pile as one last, agonizing scream rips through the air.

There is nothing underneath the rubble but a cold stone floor.

***

After my friendly meeting with the Council, my first order of business was getting glasses to replace the broken ones. It would have seemed odd to the PIA if my purported vision problems vanished overnight. I stayed away the next day procuring a new fake pair. That turned out to be a wise idea, as the PIA building ran into a few maintenance issues. Some kind of trouble with the pipes.

Truth be told, I was glad not to return immediately; the confrontation had left me exhausted. As predicted, I had a migraine from their retaliation against my mind-reading attempt. The wounds around my wrists meant I had to be careful not to push up my sleeves, lest someone start asking questions about my injuries. The front of my body hurt from being smashed into the ceiling, and the back of it ached from being dropped on the floor. It was very tempting to stay in bed in my hotel room for several days, but I couldn’t. I had a mission to accomplish.