The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) (22 page)

Jonah pointed, and Emma barely made it in time. When she was finished, she leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain, tears running down her cheeks.

“Here,” Jonah said softly (but not soothingly). “Use this.”

She looked up, and he was kneeling on the tiles next to her, holding out a wet washcloth. She used it to wipe off her face. Then he handed her a glass of cold water. She rinsed and spat, then sat back on her heels, her forearms on the rim of the toilet.

Why’d you have to tell me that, Tyler? she thought. Why’d you have to tell me that my mother made poisons for Andrew DeVries?

What was it those sidewalk preachers in Memphis used to say? The sins of the fathers...or mothers in this case. What it meant was if Kenzie Kinlock died, it would be her fault. And if Jonah Kinlock oozed poison through his skin, it was her fault.

“Would you like me to help you up?” Jonah asked finally.

She nodded.

Sliding his hands under her arms, he lifted her to her feet, for once allowing her to lean against him, his arms around her, his heart thudding against her back. “It’s been a long day,” he said. “It’s a lot to take in—all of this very bad news.”

“I was better off in Memphis,” Emma said, her tears making spots on her green scrubs. “I was better off not knowing.”

“I’m sorry,” Jonah murmured, massaging her shoulder blades with his thumbs. “Does this help, or do you want me to stop?” He acted like he was walking through a minefield.

“It helps,” she croaked through her burning throat. She swiped at her face with the backs of her hands. “I have to go. I’ve got to get home and get some sleep.”

Jonah followed her to the door, and stood in the doorway. She could feel the pressure of his eyes as she strode toward the elevator. “Emma!” he called after her. She didn’t turn around. “Promise me you won’t go out and look for shades on your own. Some report to Lilith, some don’t. And some are just hungry for a warm body.”

He was halfway back into his room when Emma called out, “Jonah!”

He swung back toward her, and she swiveled away, so he couldn’t see her face.

“If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?”

“What’s the question?”

“Is Kenzie dying?” Emma stared at the elevator doors, unable to meet his eyes.

“We’re all dying,” Jonah said simply. “Some of us sooner than others.” He cleared his throat. “Kenzie’s really sick. His Weirstone is failing. But that new medicine is promising. I haven’t given up on him. I will do
anything
—whatever it takes—to save him. And that’s the truth.” He paused. “It means a lot, I think, that you two are friends.”

He might as well have rammed a knife through her heart.

W
ith Mercedes Foster on the case, Leesha made a quick recovery from her injuries from the attack in the Flats. Maybe too quick. The old Leesha would have made the most of her convalescence, lolling about while others waited on her hand and foot. Especially since Fitch was one of those at her bedside. Responsible Leesha dragged herself out of bed on the second day so she and Fitch and Emma could meet with the Interguild task force that was investigating the Halloween killings along with the other mainliner murders.

It was like pulling teeth to get Emma to come. Leesha guessed that it was only Emma’s growing trust in Leesha and Fitch that brought her to the church for the hearing. Leesha was determined to make sure she didn’t regret it. She pre-briefed some of the task force members on the need to be gentle, threatening dire consequences otherwise.

Leesha got that Emma had a whole lot of reasons for being nervous. She’d admitted that she had a police record, and that she had no gift for talking in front of people. Being new to the magical guilds, she wasn’t used to having horrible experiences all the time. Still, Emma seemed unusually nervous. Bordering on guilty. When they filed into the church parlor, she wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone.

The committee members included Mercedes as chair, Jack Swift, Blaise Highbourne, Seph McCauley, preschool parents Sylvia Morrison and Hilary Hudson, and Nancy Hackleford, the parent of a young wizard who’d been murdered back in the fall with Rowan DeVries’s sister. A murder she claimed was ordered by the council.

Hackleford hadn’t been among the original members, but she’d kicked up a stink about their hand-selected cover-up committee and insisted that there be representation for the missing Rowan DeVries. Mercedes had agreed, since Madison had directed her to include people who were not actually on the Interguild Council in order to broaden the perspective of the members.

Leesha didn’t think that Hackleford’s addition was an improvement in any way. Diversity has its downside, she thought. There are too many people on this task force, and too many of them have their own agendas.

Leesha and Fitch sat on either side of Emma, who’d dressed in the same somber outfit she’d worn to Grace’s funeral. Seph sat next to Madison, who looked pale and thin, almost haunted.

“Emma!” Jack said on his way to his seat. “Good to see you. I hear you’re living in town now. I keep thinking I’ll run into you, but I haven’t seen you since—for a while.”

“I still spend a lot of time at the Anchorage,” Emma said. “I’m going to school there.” She cleared her throat. “And, you know, the band practices there.”

“I’ve been meaning to text you or Jonah,” Jack said. “I’ve been following the band online, but the page hasn’t been updated. I was hoping to catch another show.”

“Natalie does that,” Emma said. “Maybe she hasn’t kept it up since we haven’t had any gigs lately.”

“Soon, I hope,” Jack said. Nodding to Leesha, he found a seat on the other side of the fireplace.

Jack seemed to have taken Leesha’s lecture to heart. He was working so hard at not being scary that he reminded Leesha of a friendly Great Dane—a Great Dane who looked like young Hercules in a sweater and blue jeans.

When Hackleford walked in, Emma’s eyes widened, and her hands tightened on the arms of her chair. “What’s
she
doing here?” she hissed.

“Hackleford?” Leesha leaned in close. “She’s not on the council, but her daughter Brooke was murdered, along with Rowan DeVries’s sister. She claims that the underguilds are responsible.” Leesha paused. “Why, do you know her?”

“N-no,” Emma said, but Leesha knew she was lying.

As if cued by the intensity of Emma’s stare, Hackleford looked their way. When she saw Emma, she froze for a split second. If Leesha hadn’t been looking straight at her, she would have missed it.

How would they know each other? Leesha wondered.

“Don’t worry,” Leesha whispered, squeezing Emma’s hand. “Fitch and I will tell them what happened. You speak up if we get anything wrong. And then we’ll all answer questions. Okay?”

Emma nodded, her lips pressed tightly together like she was afraid she might say something by accident.

“Everyone’s here, so I suggest we get started,” Mercedes said. She looked toward the three witnesses. “This is an informal inquiry to allow the task force to learn more about the incident that occurred two days ago. Just tell us what happened in your own words. Jack will be taking notes, so he might have a question or two for clarity.”

“I will, of course, be taking my own notes,” Nancy Hackleford said, setting the tone right away.

Mercedes cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should begin by introducing ourselves for our first-timers. I am Mercedes Foster, sorcerer and member of the Interguild Council.”

They went around the circle, each member introducing him or herself. Morrison and Hudson introduced themselves as “wizard and concerned parent.” Fitch introduced himself as “friend of the guilds.”

When they got to Emma, she said, “I’m Emma Lee, a musician. And student.”

“What guild are you in, dear?” Morrison asked, squinting at her.

“I’m not really in a guild,” Emma said. “I go to school at the Anchorage.”

“The Anchorage!” Morrison’s expression changed from solicitous to horrified. “But that’s—that’s—” Sucking in a breath, she plunged on, “That’s Gabriel Mandrake’s school for magical mutants.” She pointed a shaking finger at Emma. “Should she really be here?”

“Sylvia!” Leesha planted her feet and stood. “Shut the hell up. How is it that your daughter Olivia has better manners than you do?”

Vibrating with rage, Morrison opened her mouth to respond.

“People!” Mercedes didn’t have a gavel, but somehow she didn’t need one. “I will not have any member of this committee badgering, abusing, or slandering these witnesses. They have graciously agreed to come here to help us do our work. I hope you’re aware that when it comes to compelling witnesses to testify, we are on shaky legal ground.”

Hackleford rolled her eyes. “I remember a time when we didn’t have to jump through all these legal hoops in order to get at the truth,” she said. Her eyes were fixed on Emma, who seemed to shrink down a little more.

“I remember that time, too,” Mercedes said, in a cold, cutting voice. “And we’ll go back there over my dead body.” She paused to let that sink in. “I’ve been asked to chair this task force, and I will do my job. The next person who launches a verbal attack will be escorted out of this hearing. I will be the sole judge of what constitutes a verbal attack. Am I clear?” She looked around the room. Emma wasn’t the only person avoiding eye contact.

“Now, then,” Mercedes said, sweetly. “Leesha? Why don’t you begin?”

Leesha told what happened in the least sensationalized way a person could describe a zombie attack. Now and then Fitch broke in to clarify something or add some detail she’d overlooked. Emma said absolutely nothing, just sat there looking miserable.

In that regard, she and Madison Moss were like a matched set of bookends.

Leesha managed to get to the end of the story with no more interruptions. “Are there any questions?” she said.

Concerned parent Hilary Hudson raised her hand. “It seems to me that this entire episode could have been prevented had you taken action after the Montessori incident. It is obvious that the children were telling the truth.”

“Is that a question?” Fitch murmured so only Emma and Leesha could hear.

“What kind of weapons did they have?” Jack asked. “Did they seem to be freelancing, or fighting in a coordinated way—like an army?”

“Their weapons seemed to be whatever they could get their hands on,” Fitch said. “Iron bars, wooden boards, and axes. Like that. As to whether they were coordinated, I was running for my life, so I couldn’t say for sure.”

“When you say they were zombie-like, could you explain what you mean?” Mercedes asked. “Did the cadavers appear to be in a state of advanced decay, or—?”

“Some of them were,” Leesha said. “Others looked superficially normal. Keep in mind, it was dark and chaotic and—”

“So what makes you think they weren’t street thugs, then?” Blaise Highbourne asked. “Members of a local gang. High on meth or something?”

“For one thing, they weren’t vulnerable to conjury,” Leesha said. “Even if I flamed them, their bodies burned, but they didn’t seem to feel it. The only way I could stop them was through some kind of physical obstacle, like if I blew a hole in the pavement and they couldn’t get around it.”

“If you hacked off a limb, they’d just keep coming,” Fitch said, shuddering. “It’s like they don’t feel pain. Jonah said that the best way to stop them was to take off their legs, so they couldn’t chase after you.”

“Tell us more about this Jonah Kinlock,” Hackleford said. “You claim he just showed up out of nowhere and saved your lives?”

Leesha and Fitch looked at each other. “Pretty much,” Leesha said. “I don’t know what would have happened other wise. He’s an incredible fighter.”

“Isn’t it fortunate that he just happened along when he did,” Morrison murmured. “That mirrors what the children said. Whenever zombies appear, young Kinlock isn’t far behind.”

Leesha’s face heated. “It
was
fortunate,” she said.

“Maybe he’s like one of those arsonists who start a fire and then show up to watch the show,” Morrison persisted.

“He was not
watching
,” Fitch growled. “He was—”

“Participating?” Morrison cocked her head.

Emma leaned forward, speaking up for the first time. “It’s not fair, talking behind Jonah’s back when he’s not here to defend himself,” she said.

“Why isn’t he here, then?” Morrison asked, looking at Leesha.

“We invited him, but he declined to come,” Leesha said reluctantly.

For a long moment, nobody said anything. Then Seph tried to change the subject. “Where exactly were you going when you came under attack?” he asked. “Could they have followed you from somewhere else?”

“We’d only gone to one place—it was called Tonks, I think,” Fitch said, looking to Emma for confirmation. She nodded.

“Had you been drinking?” Mercedes asked.

“We’d had a few,” Leesha said. “I’d had—what?—three or four Cokes? Fitch was drinking root beer, so he tried to pace himself.” Turning to Emma, she asked, “What were you drinking, Emma?”

“Orange soda,” Emma said softly.

“So,” Fitch said, with a warning look at Leesha. “Emma had heard about this club down in the Flats that showcased indie bands. We—”

“What club was that?” Morrison directed this question at Emma, who blinked up at her.

“I—I can’t think of the name of it,” Emma said, picking at the fabric in her skirt. “I thought I knew where it was, but then we couldn’t find it.”

“So
you
were the one who lured them down into the Flats,” Morrison said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Leesha growled. “
We
asked Emma to come along with
us
.”

“All I know is that the gifted have ventured into that neighborhood twice, and been attacked by monsters both times,” Morrison said. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—the proximity to Mandrake’s school can’t be coincidental. I wouldn’t set foot down there.”

“Really?” Hackleford said, looking amused. “I am not convinced that any of this actually happened.”

Everyone turned and stared at the wizard.

“It is simply not credible that you three were attacked by an army of animated cadavers. Cadavers who resist magic and can fight off a wizard. And after this massive battle, a mysterious superhero arrives in the nick of time so that all three of you survive.”

“All right, I confess,” Leesha said. “I came up with this nefarious plan because I haven’t been beaten up in a really long time.”

Hackleford dismissed Leesha’s injuries with a wave of her hand. “A few cuts and bruises, that’s all. Easy enough to fake.”

Mercedes was figuratively giving off sparks. “I assure you that Leesha’s injuries, while not life-threatening, were—”

“If this is a common occurrence, then why isn’t there a city-wide alarm?” Hackleford said.

“I don’t know that it’s a common occurrence,” Morrison said. “We’re aware of two instances that—”

“Were only witnessed by children and council insiders,” Hackleford said.

“I’m not a council insider,” Emma murmured.

“Me neither,” Fitch said. Neither spoke loudly enough for anyone but Leesha to hear.

“And we would devise this elaborate scheme because...?” Seph leaned back, templing his fingers and looking out from under his dark brows. In that moment, he looked more like his father, Hastings, than ever.

“It seems to me that this whole episode might be a red herring to distract us from the real targets and the real culprits,” Hackleford said.

“Who would be—?” Seph tilted his head.

“Wizards continue to die, and the underguilds don’t want the blame, and so they conjure up a story about zombies.” Hackleford snorted. “Zombies who resist magic. That, my friends, is preposterous. I surmise that the reason there have been two incidents within thirty miles of us is that it’s an easy commute for operatives from Trinity.”