Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) (37 page)

Cole looked back to the elevator door, watching his blurred reflection there.

He didn’t want to be a monster.

But maybe he didn’t have any choice.

*****

Behind the darkened windows of the limousine, Jamison glanced over as Brogan hung up the phone.

“They lost them near the fifteen hundred block of Midway Avenue, near Chaunessy Tower,” Brogan said. “But they think there’s a barrier hidden in the building walls.”

Jamison’s gaze slid to the man kneeled below. Sweat shone on the wizard’s face, while blood dribbled past his lips to stain the floor.

“What other defenses are there?” Jamison asked softly.

Ragged gasps escaped the man, his unseeing gaze locked on the carpet.

Expressionless, Jamison sent the wizard’s magic ripping back through his body, making the man thrash and scream. Ignoring the noise, Brogan turned in his seat and motioned the limousine driver onward.

“What other defenses?” Jamison repeated as the screams faded to whimpering.

“Each entrance…” the man whispered. “Twenty guards… dozen more… every level… security cameras… on the walls… alarms… on the outside doors…”

Tears slid from the man’s closed eyes as he fell silent.

“Excellent,” Jamison said. “And now…”

He lifted the man’s cell phone from the seat. “Tell them to lower the barrier. You have a prisoner. And you’re coming in.”

*****

“How much farther?” Ashe asked tensely.

Brentworth sighed. “Just a few more minutes, your majesty,” he said from the front passenger seat. “Though, as I have already explained, the council’s defenses are more than sufficient. I am certain they are fine.”

Eyeing the back of the man’s head, she fought the urge to snap at him. It was the same answer he’d given the past three times she’d asked.

She turned, checking the positions of the other vehicles. Two car lengths away, Elias and the twins followed in a dented Jeep that probably should have been put out of its misery a decade ago. Similarly, Luke and the other guards were another two lengths behind that, trailing in a tiny pipsqueak of a car that she marveled they could all fit inside. The retired councilmember apparently owned a dozen such vehicles, all registered under false names and stashed in nearby garages, just in case he’d ever needed them.

“And the king?” she asked, still watching the cars. “You’re certain he’s fine too?”

Silence answered her.

She turned back. “Councilman?”

“The king will not be an issue.”

Her gaze met Nathaniel’s briefly. “And why is that?”

Brentworth took a moment to respond. “Because there is a chance he has been dead for some time.”

Ashe’s eyebrows climbed. “What?”

“A
‘chance’?” Nathaniel repeated.

“We were unable to recover a body. At least, not the full components of one. But what we found pointed to the king being dead, yes.”

She paused, taking in the neutral tone with which he delivered the words. They could’ve been discussing missing pieces from a coffee table puzzle. “But you’re not sure?”

He shook his head.

“And you haven’t gone looking for him since?”

“We’ve looked your majesty,” Brentworth assured her. “Trust me on that.”

She glanced to Nathaniel incredulously. “So if your king isn’t dead, then what’s he doing? Why hasn’t he come back?”

Brentworth paused. Carefully, he turned to her.

“Because, if he is not dead, then he remains the leader of the Blood.”

Ashe froze. And then she blinked as her mind tried to play his words back again.

They didn’t sound any less terrifying the second time around.

“Excuse me?” she heard herself ask in a tone far too calm to be real.

“Victor Jamison, king of Taliesin, betrayed us all, your highness. If he is not dead, then he is the one hunting the Taliesin council. And the one who created those who call themselves the Blood.”

She looked down. Her hands were far away and ever-so-bizarrely numb. She wanted to laugh for some reason. Chuckle at an impossibility that wasn’t really funny at all.

The Taliesin king. And the winter night her family died. It’d all been true. Taliesin had killed them. He’d killed them. The Blood had killed them.

“Why?”

The word was raw. The calm tone was gone. Her mouth moved, but someone else was speaking now.

Silence answered. Her gaze snapped up to find Brentworth watching her, and at her expression, he sighed.

“Because he wanted power, your highness,” he said, as though it was obvious.

She trembled. Nathaniel glanced to her warily.

“I would choose your words carefully, councilor,” he warned Brentworth. “And do not lie to her or I assure you, she will make it the last thing you ever do.”

Brentworth’s gaze went between them briefly. He inclined his head. “As you say.”

For a long moment, he paused, weighing his words. A considering look flickered through his eyes.

“Taliesin is not like Merlin, your highness,” he began delicately. “Contrary to your manner of government, our council does not follow the rule of kings. We make a pretense of submission as a comfort to the people but, in actuality, our royalty are only figureheads. Icons for the purpose of morale. Nothing more.”

She didn’t respond. She wasn’t certain she could have if she’d tried.

“Victor sought to change that. After his father passed away, he resisted the council’s efforts to mold him into the king our people needed him to be. He wanted more power. More control. He wasn’t content to live as we had for nearly five centuries. And so there were… disagreements. The council was forced to go to greater and greater lengths to keep him in line, but our efforts failed. And we had no idea how unstable he had become.

“The king wanted to break the spell. In his mind, restoring magic to himself was the only way to truly overcome the council. And so, one snowy winter night, he did just that. With the aid of his supporters, he tracked down your family, slipped away from the bodyguards we’d assigned him, and then dressed as a delivery person and headed to your grandparents’ home. Last minute Christmas gifts, I’m given to understand. And when your grandfather answered the door…” Brentworth sighed. “He shot him. A silenced weapon, I would assume. But he took Nicholas’ blood, mixed it with his own and…”

Brentworth looked down. “The ‘Blood’, you see. It freed them. Or so they said. But the spell broke. Explosively.”

Ashe’s jaw tightened as she fought to keep the memories at bay. Oblivious, the old man turned his gaze to the window.

“Affiliation is a funny thing,” he said contemplatively. “It damned us five hundred years ago. And eight years ago, it created something new. The spell was broken. The Merlin king and his family were killed, whether through the destruction of the spell or purely for revenge. And Victor and those with him… became something else.

“Utterly human in appearance, yet magically powerful like no wizard we had ever seen. His strength and that of his supporters dwarfed even the strongest of us, and we couldn’t be certain what he would do. We had never been certain. Which is why, in our efforts at control, we’d finally hit upon something that we thought would make him see reason once and for all.”

Brentworth glanced back at her. “We took his son. Had taken him, in fact, mere hours before Victor broke the spell. And when the king came for us, we suddenly found that, rather than negotiating for Victor to follow council rule, we were bargaining for our lives with that of his child.

“It was objectionable,” he admitted. “Some would say wrong. But the boy was a half-Merlin cripple and his mother wound up slaughtered by Victor’s hand not twelve hours later. In light of the evidence, one can only assume the boy would have died too. Our actions, however unpleasant, saved the child’s life.

“Victor disappeared almost immediately after. The council put the boy in hiding and then followed suit. And in a few weeks, we received word that his supporters had turned on him. With their magic back, they suddenly had little use for obeying a king.”

He paused. “It was convenient. Plausible. But terribly convenient. The Blood have continued hunting the council through the intervening years, an effort which could be prompted by a desire to take over Taliesin, or which could be Victor still trying to reclaim his son. And so you see, we say ‘most likely dead’. But we cannot be sure.”

Mouth tightening, he fell silent, and then looked back up at her. “For what it is worth, I am sorry about what happened to your family. I will not insult you by saying I’m displeased to have our magic back. But the method by which it was returned was… deeply unfortunate.”

Ashe regarded him. The considering look still tinged his gaze, though he nodded to her in acknowledgement of his words.

She turned away. Outside the car windows, skyscrapers swept by. She barely noticed.

The Taliesin king had killed them. Because of a stupid Taliesin power struggle, he’d wiped her family from the face of the earth. In the fallout, hundreds, maybe thousands had died. Children. Families. People he’d never met, who might’ve even agreed with him if he’d ever taken the time to ask.

But instead, he’d just killed them all.

Memory teased at the edge of her mind. Harris said Brogan and Jamison.

So that answered one question. Victor Jamison, the king of Taliesin who’d orchestrated the murder of her whole family, was still very much alive.

“How much farther?” she asked quietly, her voice foreign to her own ears.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Brentworth glance to Nathaniel. “Another few blocks,” the old man replied. “We’re almost there.”

She nodded.

“Your highness?” Nathaniel asked.

Ashe didn’t answer, watching the buildings go by.

She wondered if he’d be there, at Chaunessy with the council, or if he’d stay in hiding. If he did show up, he’d almost certainly try to take the magic of anyone who attempted to fight him, assuming he knew how. Which meant she’d have to get to him first. Before he could do to her or any of her people what she wanted to do to him.

Her gaze tracked toward Brentworth, the reason for the look in his eyes finally falling into place.

He wanted her to fight their king. Stop their king. As the only other person with the ability to bind magic, she stood the best chance. And if she died in the process… well, she was a Merlin. And the last of their ostensible nobility, an institution he disliked anyway. Her death would probably just be ‘deeply unfortunate’ too.

She felt cold, though she wasn’t entirely certain why. The blood just seemed frozen within her and the air left icicles on her lungs. It was strange.

The car came to a stop at the curb. Across the wide sidewalk, mirrored doors waited in the side of a building so high it blocked the sun.

“Your majesty?” Nathaniel asked quietly as Brentworth stepped from the car. “Are you alright?”

She drew a breath, her gaze still on the sheer glass walls, and carefully, she set the memories and the history aside. They didn’t matter. It wasn’t like the truth or Brentworth’s plotting changed her plans anyway.

The other cars pulled up behind them. Nervousness radiating from them, the twins climbed from the Jeep, Elias following a heartbeat later.

“Your highness?” Nathaniel asked again.

She glanced to him, and paid no attention to the way the concern strengthened in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” she answered calmly. “I’m fine.”

Cole closed his eyes as the glistening ebony doors swung ponderously open. Magic permeated the air. He could feel Lily tremble as she picked up on it, and her quivering only served to worsen his already pounding headache.

Of course the council surrounded themselves with magic. The wizard bastards couldn’t get enough of it.

Fighting back a scowl, Cole kept Lily behind him as he followed Vivian through the doors. He’d tried to shield the girl from view for the last few minutes, as they’d passed level upon level of checkpoints on the way to this floor. It had been a fool’s errand, given the sheer number of guards and cameras surrounding them, but there was nothing for it. As with everything else, it was just the best he could do.

At his back, Lily shivered, whether from fear or the icy air, he couldn’t tell. Dim light emanated from frosted glass sconces lining the walls and glistened on the black marble floor, though it barely lessened the shadows pressing down from the distant ceiling. Up ahead, a ten foot high wall ringed the space, and behind the top ledge, anonymous silhouetted figures sat in high-backed chairs and gazed down on the spotlighted center of the room like manifestations of a conspiracy theorist’s nightmare.

Cole’s lip twitched humorlessly, disgust moving through him again.

Tense decorum on her face, Vivian took a breath before stepping into the spotlight and then motioning him to follow. Cole didn’t move. Irritation cracked her demure expression as the woman glared at him askance, while behind him, Stephen growled a quiet warning.

“Fine,” Cole muttered.

Satisfaction showed in the wizards’ eyes, but he ignored it. Keeping Lily as hidden as possible, he moved forward, the blazing light overhead further disguising the figures above. Instantly burying their frustration behind masks of propriety, Vivian and Stephen bowed to the council, though grimaces twitched the wizards’ faces a heartbeat later when he didn’t do the same. Reaching over, the woman grasped his arm and tugged it in sharp-nailed encouragement.

He pulled away, damned if he was going to pay obeisance to his own kidnappers.

“Hello Cole.”

His gaze snapped to the figure at the center of the council.

“Who’s your friend?” the deep voice asked.

Vivian grabbed the girl while Stephen snagged his arms from behind. Jerking in the man’s grasp, Cole fought to break his hold, succeeding only in sending pain shooting through his shoulders. Desperately, Lily clung to him, but the woman was too strong and with a vicious yank, she ripped the child away and sent her stumbling into the light.

Silent, the council watched the exchange, saying nothing as Lily rushed back toward Cole and ran into Vivian instead. Spinning the girl around, the woman pinned Lily’s arms, immobilizing the child for the council and giving no sign she noticed Cole struggling behind her.