EdgeofEcstasy (7 page)

“Don’t pull this shit,” Daniel continued into the receiver.
“Pick up. You know I wouldn’t be pushing if it wasn’t urgent. I get that you’re
in the middle of something but I really need—ah! Good. Hey, thanks—where and
when can we meet?”

Melissa only listened with half an ear, still focused on her
own erotic musings. From the cranky tone of voice she could hear coming from
the phone, she wondered if Ryder had a woman there with him. “I’m working on
something with Melissa Geyton,” Daniel explained. “She’s been looking into
Falconn’s murder and we’ve stumbled on what likely will prove to be some
sensitive information. Something that might be related to a forbidden
manuscript. I’ve heard Isacar mention something along those lines before and we
want to pick your brain about it if possible.”

Melissa could hear Ryder speaking but not actually
understand the words. She leaned closer toward the receiver and Daniel turned
it so they could both hear his response.

“…never really discussed any of those scripts in detail with
me. Isacar believes one needs to choose one’s own path, and the less temptation
you have the better your chances of surviving this madhouse are. But I owe you
from that time with the guy with his knife, so I can meet up.”

Melissa sighed with relief. “Good,” she murmured to Daniel.

“What was that?” Ryder said a little more loudly on the
other end. “Dude, do you have someone else there? What the hell?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Daniel insisted firmly. He slapped a
light hand to Melissa’s ass, spanking her and pressed a finger to his lips.
“Look, can you meet us and tell us what you
do
know? Soon?”

“Of course,” Ryder replied casually, as if it had already
been a given. “How about we meet at that bakery? The one with the chocolate and
nut muffins?”

“Sounds perfect,” Daniel agreed instantly. “In half an hour?
We’re down by the harbor already so it won’t take long.”

“See you then,” Ryder replied.

Daniel returned the receiver to its cradle and Melissa
pressed a quick kiss to his neck.

“Some man with a knife? Were you being a hero and defending
Ryder’s honor?” she half-teased.

Daniel shrugged but Melissa pressed him. “Come on—we all
have similar stories but this one sounds interesting. Do tell. Please?”

“There’s really not that much to tell,” Daniel replied as he
raked a hand through his short blond hair, making it stick up even more in spikes
around his forehead as his fingers mussed it up.

Melissa tilted her head and smiled, utterly charmed. She had
seen Daniel calmly and coolly face down a mini-army of soldiers, shooting and
gutting and fighting them hand-to-hand. He had barely turned a hair, as if it
were a common everyday occurrence that warranted no more mention than brushing
his teeth before leaving the house.

Yet she asked him to recount a story where he—almost
certainly considering his reaction—had done something noble and good, probably
had saved another man’s life, and he became embarrassed and awkward. The
Assassin had unexpected depths. She smiled silently, not urging him further
with words but simply waiting, clearly patient. She lifted her brows slightly
to indicate that she could wait him out for as long as necessary.

Daniel heaved a sigh, glaring at her slightly. His look
spoke clearly without needing a word. He felt harassed but willing to indulge
her. He continued with evident reluctance.

“We were in Central Africa, partnered up on a mission,” he
recounted. “We were working with…one of the magical government agencies and
cleaning up one of their messy clusterfucks. When Isacar had heard from Ryder
that he’d been assigned this particular project, Isacar pulled some strings
with people I technically sometimes answer to and I got put up as his partner.
We were watching each other’s backs.”

“I knew you worked on contract sometimes with the
Enforcers,” Melissa encouraged him as Daniel paused to scrub a hand through his
hair and glance at the park around them. “Falconn told me after the Lourensz
thing.”

“I do sometimes work for them but I also sometimes work for
the other special agencies. Special Ops. Black Ops. Pretty much, if I can get
details and a history of what the mission is, and if it feels right to me, then
chances are good I’ll take it on. That means people will owe me and it’s a good
position to be in,” Daniel explained. Melissa nodded and smiled, remaining
silent so he would continue.

“The locals had set a trap for us. It was stupid how simple
it was but it worked,” Daniel continued with a wry grin. “Simple plans usually
do work best—that’s why they’re so common, after all. It was just a pit. There
were snakes, scorpions, spiders in it—the usual creatures. Ryder fell into it
face-first. I managed to grab a tree root halfway down and haul ass out of
there. We were ambushed when I was pulling Ryder to safety. Ryder had to climb
the rest of the way out while I dealt with it. Just as he was coming up, one of
the four men left noticed him and pulled out a wicked machete and was about to
cut off his head. We learned later that was a particular trick of the local
tribes. I managed to deflect the blow and saved Ryder’s life. The edge of the
machete nicked me and between us we finished the job.”

Melissa winced at the mental image of the machete scraping
along the taut, flat stomach of her lover and for the first time ever felt very
faintly queasy at the image of bloodshed. Daniel caught her look and captured
her hand, kissing it softly with an amazing amount of tenderness before
continuing.

“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine and recovered from the
wound,” Daniel said gently. “The bastard bled like a leaky tap, though, and
Ryder ended up having to give me a few stitches out there in the middle of the
jungle. He teased me to help take my mind off it and we finished the mission. I
warned him then that he owed me big. Mostly it was just talk but apparently it
has worked in our favor now.”

“I think he owes you a hell of a lot more than a few muffins
and a bit of a talk,” Melissa replied promptly, but she smiled to take the
sting out of her words. “Still, that’s one hell of a story.”

“I bet you have a few similar ones,” Daniel answered with a
shrewd gaze.

Melissa shrugged but didn’t actually deny it. They exchanged
grins and linked fingers.

“Come on—we’d better not keep Ryder waiting,” Daniel
insisted. Melissa understood that the topic was closed and wouldn’t be
discussed any further. “Let’s head over to the bakery and get some of those
muffins. I recall they were freshly baked and delicious.”

Laughing, Melissa followed as Daniel led her back onto the
walking track, and they left the park, heading back downtown to meet Ryder.

“So we were wondering what you knew about this manuscript,
since we can’t really contact Isacar and ask him,” Daniel finished, and sat
back in his seat.

Melissa watched as he picked up the muffin he had ordered
almost half an hour before and practically inhaled it. Ryder had arrived barely
five minutes after she and Daniel had reached the bakery-café and they had
ordered a plate full of the chocolate-hazelnut muffins and a pitcher of water.
Melissa and Ryder had sipped at the water and eaten a few of the baked goods
each, so Daniel had taken one of the muffins and placed it on his own plate but
continued to explain their situation instead of eating it.

She and her lover watched Ryder digest the summary of events
and order his thoughts. Deeply tanned with shaggy black hair, Ryder looked like
a mixture of any number of possible races. She could well understand now why
the man was such a talented Sharp Shooter. He would fit in almost anywhere and
blend in. Handsome but not devastatingly so, he had an easy grin and perfectly
white teeth.

Built on large lines, he was well-muscled, though not overly
bulky. Dressed in a suit or tuxedo, he could pass as a dignitary, but in torn
khakis or jeans and a tattered T-shirt he could pass for a man down on his luck
or even a tradesman. Ryder appeared to be the sort of wizard who would catch a
lady’s eye—or man’s—make their heart flutter a little, then pass out of their
memory five minutes later.

“I’ve not read the manuscript you’re referring to,” he said.
“Isacar only used to warn me—and others he mentored—that those sorts of things
existed. Most often he used them as examples of how a wizard can let his ego
rule his brain and think he’s able to handle far more knowledge and power than he
should.”

“I remember that speech,” Daniel replied. “Isacar would
state that just because something had been learned and written down, it didn’t
mean it was fit for true understanding. Much like the atomic bomb, you can’t
un-create something just because you’ve discovered it is too dangerous for the
population to handle.”

“Exactly,” Ryder said. “I can’t even swear that Isacar
himself has read the manuscript, though I have a feeling he has. From what I
gathered it was passed around to each of the members of the Tribunal when they
discussed whether to destroy it—and a few others like it—or whether they should
hide it away.”

“We gather they hid it,” Melissa replied dryly.

Ryder nodded and took another muffin.

“Not their smartest decision ever,” he said. “But most of
them would rather start to sever limbs before they destroyed knowledge of any
kind, even the sort that should be lost forever.”

“Do you have any idea who could be unstable enough to have
stolen the manuscript for their own purposes?” Daniel asked.

Ryder chewed thoughtfully before swallowing and replying.
“No one really jumps immediately to mind,” he said slowly. “As you know, we all
have to hold on to something—it’s how you survive in our industry. It isn’t as
if someone can hide it when they’re going over the edge and shattering. Loss of
one’s magic, the leaking and descent into absolute craziness isn’t something
you can gloss over.”

“But if this manuscript has been kept fairly strictly within
the Tribunal Council elders, then someone connected to them must have heard
details from one of them. Which means they must all have read it and kept it
largely secret,” Daniel said. “I can think of a few political factions that
would go out of their minds should such knowledge be leaked. There are already
enough conspiracy theory nuts out to destroy the Tribunal purely on principle
alone.”

“Do you really think they read it?” Melissa said,
astonished. “I can see them talking themselves into keeping such a manuscript
for knowledge value at some undisclosed time in the future, though I think it’s
an inherently wrongheaded decision. But I can’t imagine them reading some
esoteric, vague, rambling ritual about how if the moon is full and in the third
quadrant on the second Thursday of the fifth month you can steal another mage’s
essence and incorporate it into your own soul without ramifications. A few of
the Tribunal—at the very least—would talk themselves into
testing
it,
and I can assure you
that
would be common knowledge in certain circles.
There’s no
way
they can have read such a manuscript without
someone
knowing about it.”

Melissa had to force herself not to chuckle as the men
stared agape at her.

“Oh come on!” she insisted. Surprised, she looked from one
to the other to check that they weren’t teasing her.

“If at some stage in our history a wizard had learned how to
murder a wizard and steal his essence—particularly if he had succeeded and
not
shattered his soul into a million little pieces and fallen into a deep well of
crazy—don’t you think
everyone
would have heard about it?” she asked.
“If such a thing had occurred, it would be known fact and not wishful thinking
for a handful of power crazy wannabes.”

“You’d be amazed by what a small number of inherently crazy
wizards can keep secret,” Daniel said in a soft tone.

Melissa looked at him, another laugh on her lips, but the
serious look in his icy-blue gaze quietened her.

The flippant, jovial reply she had been about to throw back
died and she swallowed and thought for a moment before replying.

“I’m not denying that many strange and miraculous things
occur,” she said more soberly. “But I still find it almost beyond belief that
something so powerful, something so
devastating
to the majority of
magical people around the world could have been understood by a group of
wizarding folk at some time without becoming part of our general knowledge. The
sort of power-hungry people who would use this are not renowned for keeping
their secrets.”

“That would be why only the manuscript has survived,” Ryder
said. “I’d bet you anything the Special Operatives hunted down and killed all
of those involved. So the knowledge itself remains around but anyone who has
succeeded in following whatever is laid out in the manuscripts can’t actually
share that knowledge.”

Melissa frowned, thinking hard as she looked at Daniel to
see what he thought. His face was impassive but she could see the wheels of his
brain turning as he mulled over Ryder’s suggestion.

“I know that the Special Ops are the clean-up crews of the
Tribunal,” Melissa finally said. “But surely if they wanted wizards
Assassinated they would come to us? I mean, that
is
the whole point of
why they allow us to do what we do. Right?”

“I think you’ll find,” Ryder said as he shook his head and
leaned his heavily muscled arms on the table, “that anyone who could suck dry a
fellow mage and leave the husk of his body behind with no magical, spiritual or
visible ramifications would be beyond what the Tribunal want out in the pool of
common knowledge. While a pair or even a crew of Assassins could likely wipe
out such transgressors, a dedicated group of Special Ops would be their
preference. Less mess, less fuss and likely, to their minds at least, less
chance of gossip or the knowledge falling into uncontrollable hands.”

“Special Ops are particularly trained to deal with the
rogues,” Daniel said. “I’m not denying that I think an Assassin—especially a
well-trained one, like you or me—could deal with some power-mad, jacked-up
asshole. But if they’ve had the time, subtlety and wits to gather multiple
talents—maybe even learn to harness the extra powers and essences they have
stolen and absorbed—then Special Ops might be the way to go.”

“I always did wonder why the Tribunal needed such a large
and varied group of highly trained wizards,” Melissa commented dryly.

It had honestly never crossed her mind that there could be
knowledge dangerous enough to need a team of Special Operatives to deal with it.
Black magic was by and large uncommon. When users dabbled too much in it, their
magic became corrupted and after a while unusable.

When a wizard or witch became unstable it didn’t just affect
their magic, but their essence—their very soul. It wasn’t something an average
mage could hide with any degree of ease. While many witches and wizards were
curious and had the urge to dabble, almost anyone around them could easily tell
when they had strayed too far.

There were more than a few magical folk around who were
happy and willing to drag those who looked into magics best left alone back
onto the straight and narrow. If a friendly word in one’s ear was not
sufficient—or a swift kick in the ass from a family member, mentor or other
close associate—being dragged before the Enforcers or as a last resort the
Tribunal usually put paid to the curiosity of the average mage.

“I mean, sure, the odd Retriever or Enforcer crosses the
line and needs to be taken down a peg or two,” Melissa continued with a casual
wave of her hand. “I get that. But there are dozens of Special Op Investigators
in most major cities, all answerable to the Tribunal and effectively to no one
else. I always thought it far more likely that
they
would be the ones to
be tempted toward the darker magics, rather than more ordinary folk.”

“The Enforcers police the regular folk, the Special Ops
police those like the Enforcers, the Retrievers and Trackers keep
them
in line,” Daniel reminded her. “Personally I don’t think any of them are more
or less likely to be drawn to the darker magics available than us. Just as with
any other sort of information, anyone curious enough can try to find out about
it with the right connections. Besides, they’re the best group to specialize in
the more hard-core cases and call in as backup when the need calls for it.”

Daniel and Ryder eyed the last two muffins. Their gazes
clashed, ice-blue to dark-brown. The men silently weighed and judged one
another, then cast looks at Melissa. She chuckled and tried to piece together
their conversation to find any nuggets their brainstorming had discovered so
far.

“Go for it,” she said idly to the men. “I’ve had enough for
now.”

Eagerly, each man immediately grabbed a treat and bit into it.
Melissa didn’t really pay attention, her mind instead on recapping their
discussion.

“So do all the Tribunal elders know where that manuscript is
kept, or just Isacar?” Melissa asked, her mind whirling in deep thought.

Daniel frowned at her and shook his head, not appearing to
know the answer to her question.

Ryder stopped chewing and looked at her for a moment before
swallowing.

“He left instructions on its whereabouts in a magically
contained safe,” Ryder finally admitted when he had finished his muffin. “So
any one of the elders could have accessed it at any time. I hope you’re not
thinking about Isacar having helped this murderer. He wouldn’t have.”

“Not exactly,” Melissa hedged, not wanting to anger Ryder
until she’d finished working it through. “But would Isacar have told anyone
else, like one of his students or protégés, where they were stored?”

“Not unless he thought the hiding place was no longer safe,”
Ryder insisted.

Melissa nodded, pieces beginning to fall into place for her.

“But if he thought it was unsafe, then he would have gone to
someone he trusted, someone whom he thought could deal with the problem,” she
continued. “I presume you don’t know whether Isacar had checked recently if the
manuscripts were still there?”

Ryder hesitated, looking from Daniel to Melissa. The tense
way he held himself, his head swiveling back and forth, clearly showed his
unease. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, mussing it. Ryder clenched
his jaw.

Melissa felt her stomach lurch as a couple of coincidences
hit her at once.

“Falconn was also recruited by Isacar,” she said shakily,
her throat closed off as she choked on the words, unable to continue for a
second.

“Many of us were helped by Isacar,” Daniel soothed her,
catching her hand in his and squeezing gently. “Being an Assassin isn’t easy—you
know that. The discipline needed, the balance, the rituals and cleansing. One
has to be
very
strong-willed to walk this path. Isacar has a natural
magic and talent for sensing that in people like us and helps to lead us onto
the right track. The
reason
so many don’t make it is that they haven’t
had the training and help he gives us. Just because Falconn was also mentored
by Isacar doesn’t mean…”

Daniel’s words trailed off as his attention moved from
Melissa to Ryder, as if he expected the other wizard to back him up.

Melissa watched as in an instant Daniel’s gaze changed from
being gentle to sharp and deadly and piercing. Ryder remained silent.

“What?” he ground out, a lethal edge to his tone as he spoke
to Ryder. “You’re kidding. Isacar went to Falconn for help with this
manuscript?”

Ryder frowned and chewed on his lower lip. The concentration
furrowing his forehead seemed to deepen as he weighed something in his mind.

“If you know more about this and don’t tell us…” Daniel
warned softly, the tone in his voice dripping icy coldness. “So help me, Ryder,
if you shut us out on this I will personally never work with you again. Not to
mention the fact that I will be really pissed off.”

“I don’t want to muddy the waters,” Ryder insisted, his
white teeth flashing against his dark skin. He held his hands out, palms up in
surrender.

“I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t know whether it’s
misleading. If you look at anything across enough angles you can interpret it any
way you want. We might be creating something because that’s the way we hope it
is, not because it’s really the truth,” he said.

“We can decide that,” Melissa insisted firmly. “And if we
are creating mountains out of molehills, then Daniel and I will wear that. But
if you hold back on us it will end badly. That I can promise you.”