The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (20 page)

“Um, I’ve run into a bit of a snag,” I started to say. I put my hand to my stomach where Arthur punched me. Who knew he could pack such a wallop?

“
Let me out
! You sodding bastard—let me out of here!” Arthur continued pounding on the door.

“What do you mean?” Titus asked, his voice tinny on the cell phone. “What kind of snag? And what is that banging I hear?”

“You remember how I told you about Arthur Hartwood? Manager of the PIA’s London branch?”

“Yeees,” Titus said slowly.

“Well, he sort of found out about me,” I confessed. “Who I am. And you. About the whole thing, really.”

I quickly explained what happened, including the Council’s additional attempt to discourage our investigation. This was followed by a nuclear reaction on the other end of the call. Really—Titus was so furious, I’m surprised the phone didn’t melt into a useless puddle of metal and plastic in my hand. Oddly enough, he seemed more upset that my true identity had been revealed than by anything else.

“I’m certain it won’t be a problem,” I assured Titus when he’d calmed down. I was still trying to make myself heard over Arthur’s hollers. “I mean, knowledge like this rarely goes beyond the PIA, right? And we already have all the information we need, so we likely won’t find it necessary to call on their organization again.”

“Are you a complete fool?” Titus shouted. I winced, holding the phone away from my ear. “Do you know how many immortals come to the PIA looking for word on others of their kind? How dangerous it is that the organization can confirm who you really are? They know what you look like. Arthur knows your hotel. Others who wish to extract information could find you easily. Could find
us
easily.”

“Others?” I swallowed. Titus’s words were beginning to sink in. “As in other vampires? Possibly ones who might want to protect Ferox?”

“Precisely,” Titus said.

Oh dear. I admit, I hadn’t considered that. I thought the PIA knowing who and what I was would be a nuisance—nothing more. Something that would complicate the search for my mother. And even though the PIA was no longer vital to that search, I realized what Titus said was true. I’d put myself—and possibly my family—in even greater danger.

“If you hurry and take care of the problem,” Titus said firmly, “we might be able to find Ferox before the Council gets to him.”

“By ‘take care of the problem,’ you mean . . .”

“Look, if you don’t have the stomach to handle it,” Titus began, “I’ll come there and—”

“NO!” I cried. “I mean, that’s not necessary. I’ll take care of it.” Arthur had gone awfully quiet, and I was fairly certain he was listening to our conversation.

“I don’t know, Joshua.” Titus sounded like he was ready to march over and do what needed to be done. “You’ve never been one to—”

“I said, I’ll deal with things here.” I made sure my tone was firmer this time. “Just . . . just stay put until I get to the Temple of Aradia. Don’t go anywhere, all right?” I hung up, closed my eyes, and leaned against the closet door. Titus’s yelling had given me a monstrous headache.

Dammit
. I couldn’t have Arthur tell anyone what he’d seen and heard. I had to keep him quiet somehow. I racked my brain for solutions, but I kept coming back to only one thing. The one thing I desperately didn’t want to do.

I opened the door to find Arthur seated on an overturned pail. The mettle that had him banging on the door moments ago seemed to have faded. Now he looked at me with fear in his eyes.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I said. My heart felt so heavy, I was surprised it stayed in my chest. Of course, I imagined Arthur was feeling much worse, or was about to.

“Where . . . where are we going?” Arthur said with a tremor in his voice. God, I couldn’t believe I was about to do this to an innocent old man. My father would probably say it was a weakness, but frankly, I didn’t give a damn what he thought right now.

“We’re going to the basement, Arthur,” I replied, my voice like lead.

***

“Why should I do anything you say?” Arthur asked nervously. Despite his objections, he was taking small steps down the hall as I followed. “It’s not like you have a gun or a knife or anything. You don’t, do you?”

“I don’t need weapons, Arthur.” I held up my palm, making sure Arthur could see the magic crackle and swirl above it. “I
am
the weapon. Now, come on.” I motioned for him to move faster.

Reluctantly, Arthur sped up, and we started walking downstairs. I held the magic tight in my hand, lest he try to fight me or run—again.

“You don’t have to do this,” Arthur protested as we descended the steps to the lobby. “There must be some other way.”

“None that I can see,” I replied sadly. The pain in my head was getting worse, and I desperately wished I could lie down in some cool, dark room.

“Please, Joshua—” Arthur begged.

“I said
no
!” The ball of magic flamed out with the force of my words, sending a shot of pain through my skull as well. Arthur hung his head, and we kept walking. Couldn’t he see how hard this was for me? It wasn’t like I
wanted
to do it.

“I still don’t see how Titus Aurelius has a son,” Arthur muttered as I opened the basement door. “As I said, he’s a vampire; they can’t have children.”

“Well, this one had a mage, so it seems anything is possible,” I replied as we descended.

“A mage . . .” Arthur repeated. “Isn’t that more than a human, less than a witch?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I don’t understand.” Arthur shook his head. “Why would followers of Callix Ferox be holding your mother captive? Wasn’t Ferox the ancient vampire who went so insanely violent, witches put him under some kind of long-term spell? I didn’t even know he still had followers. Is your mother a vampire too?”

“No, she’s a witch. At least, she was mostly when she had me. Look, I’ve already told you too much.” I clenched my jaw, which only aggravated the pain in my head. Why did Arthur keep asking all these questions?

“Maybe this is all the heightened paranormal activity Philip was sensing in Rome,” Arthur remarked. I changed the ball of magic to one of light so we could find our way, but Arthur kept staring at the ball as if it would attack him.

“Arthur,” I said, “I think you and I both know Philip couldn’t find his own arse in the dark with both hands, let alone any sort of paranormal activity.”

“Well, he did think you were odd,” Arthur said. “And it turns out he was right.”

“The only things he sensed in my presence were his own feelings of inadequacy, none of which were my fault,
or
make me odd!” I snapped. God, this evening could not get any worse. “It figures Titus Aurelius is here,” Arthur said, more to himself than to me. “He’d be naturally inclined to make Rome his permanent headquarters.”

“Actually, he lives in the States.” Why was I telling Arthur this? Probably because I felt very guilty about what I was about to do to him. We passed the boxes, file cabinets, and the boiler room I’d seen on my first visit. It was just as cold as before; I was glad Arthur was wearing a sweater vest.

“The States—really?” Arthur said. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know . . . in Rome, there are ruins everywhere, tourists gawking at decaying monuments. Would you want to be surrounded by constant physical reminders of how your world crumbled to dust?” I asked. Suddenly, I realized that was why my father had been avoiding Rome all along. I couldn’t believe I didn’t see it before.

“Well, when you put it that way, I’d probably say no to dusty memories,” Arthur admitted. We went through the tiny arch to the hidden part of the basement, and soon came to the jail cell.

“How’d you know this was even here?” Arthur asked, looking around nervously. “Most PIA members never go in the basement.”

“Let’s just say I took a little detour down here not too long ago,” I replied grimly. “But tell me, why does the PIA even have this?” I motioned to the cell.

“Every PIA branch has a small jail to detain members—or interlopers—temporarily if needed,” Arthur explained. “Not one of our nicer sides, I’ll grant you.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say that for the moment, Arthur, you fit the ‘interloper’ description. C’mon, get in,” I said reluctantly. Arthur hesitated, and I raised my eyebrows as I thrust the ball of light towards him. He went inside quickly, and the metal doors clanged shut as I closed them. To my surprise, the rusty old lock held.

Arthur stared at me in disbelief, his hands grasping the bars. “You’re just leaving me here?”

“Hopefully not for more than a few hours,” I said. I didn’t know what I was going to do with Arthur afterwards—if I survived—but I’d figure it out later. “There’s a bucket there if you need to . . . um, ah . . .”

Arthur just glared. “I suppose I should be grateful this is
all
you’re doing to me.”

I sighed and momentarily closed my eyes. My head was really and truly throbbing now, and felt like it would explode.
Why couldn’t Philip have been the one who caught me?
I thought. I’d almost enjoy throwing
him
in jail.

“I’ll keep this here for now, so you can see.” I moved the ball of light into his cell. “It should last awhile.” I saw Arthur’s body tense. “Relax—it’s not going to hurt you. See you soon . . . I hope.” Then I turned to leave.

Arthur shook his head. “Cold and conniving,” he said. “You’re just like your father.”

My jaw dropped, and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut—again. How could he say that? I mean, I could’ve left him alone in the
dark
, but I didn’t. And he was right when he said I could’ve done worse than just leave him. Titus certainly would have. I felt my face grow hot as anger flared up inside me. Whirling around to face Arthur, I put my nose two inches from the old man’s and hissed:

“I am
nothing
like my father!” Then I spun around and stormed out of the basement.

Chapter 18

The Temple of Aradia wasn’t hard to find. Most of the world’s witches know where it is, even if they don’t frequent it. It’s a small, unobtrusive building, tucked away down a Roman side street where no one would ever think to look. But that doesn’t mean it’s any less important to witches, or that the magic therein is less powerful. And it’s always open; the doors are never locked. You’d think this would make it easy prey for thieves or vandals, but somehow, evildoers seem to stay away from it. Perhaps mortals sense its enchantment, or perhaps Aradia herself truly does protect it.

“What took you so long?” Titus whispered when I arrived. “It’s a miracle the entire High Council isn’t here by now.” Then, in an even lower voice: “Did you deal with the problem?”

“I told you I would, and I did,” I said. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it.” Mercifully, my headache had subsided to a dull throbbing, and my stomach was only slightly sore where Arthur had punched me. I took off my fake glasses, put them in my pocket, and rubbed my eyes. Then we went into the temple.

I felt a little uneasy as we crossed the threshold. It could have just been apprehension about what lay ahead. Then again, the overall atmosphere was quite severe. Rows of lit candles on the altar made shadows dance on the walls, and a dark-haired woman—presumably Aradia—gazed down at us from a large painting. I looked around, but there was no one else in the temple; the long rows of wooden benches were empty.

“Seems like we’re the only ones here at the moment,” I said. “We’d better hurry; you never know when another witch might come along.”

But Titus wasn’t listening. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling and nodding.

“Ah, yes; I feel it now,” he said. “I didn’t when I was here before. Perhaps I was concentrating too hard on something else. Ferox passed this way at one point for certain.”

“When you were here before?” I frowned. “Have you been to the temple previously?”

Titus looked startled. “Ah, no.” He shook his head. “Not for thousands of years. I meant before . . . in Rome, when we were searching all over for the tomb.” He paused. “Joshua, about what Blackline said . . . don’t let it get to you. About us not being welcome here and such. Witchcraft is an important part of our heritage.”

“Like being Roman?” I asked.

My father looked sideways at me. “Yes, but even more important, if that’s possible. This goes beyond nationality. Being a witch, understanding magic . . . it’s part of one’s very own soul. If such a thing exists, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. It was unlike my father to be so philosophical, at least with me. And although I admit Blackline’s words stung, I tried not to take them to heart. Magic—and magical places—had indeed never made me feel unwelcome. On the contrary—magic seemed to take me in when nothing else would. It kicked my ass sometimes, but at least it was above the petty boundaries that separated people. Magic is neutral that way.

“Well, best get on with it then, yes?” I said. “Where do we find Ferox?”

Slowly, Titus walked the perimeter of the temple, holding his palms in front of him. I was growing a little restless, but when he came to a door at the back corner of the temple, he stopped. Opening the door revealed a set of steps that I could see led to a regular basement.