Link here to a general overview of the novel
Prologue, Chpt 1, Chpt 2, Chpt 3, Chpt 4, Chpt 5, Chpt 6, Chpt 7, Chpt 8, Chpt 9, Chpt 10, Chpt 11, Chpt 12, Chpt 13, Chpt 14, Chpt 15, Chpt 16, Chpt 17, Chpt 18, Chpt 19, Chpt 20, Chpt 21, Chpt 22, Chpt 23, Chpt 24
Chapter Twenty-five
Sebastian
Daav has as much as said he won’t enter his Verse again and now he’s staying away from me. Like once he admitted to the Cohort and Mentors the true situation, he’s built a barrier even while sitting by my side. Sweet agony, I’m going out of my mind. Fine, I’ll focus on the plan. Thank fuck there’s ten other mages willing to do what it takes to get me, Daav and Isolde out of this place. Once we’re out, there’s no way I’m letting Daav get away with this shit longer.
Yet I’m strangely alive in this moment, events set into motion and the presence of companions in this danger burning the edges of reality into stark vivid lines. Made more real as the ten have taken up the call to stand by our side as our journey mates, even if Daav thinks he’s only moving forward with them out of practicality.
I still can’t fully trust the Mentors, or trust Colleen at all, but I’m pretty sure their recent promises to help with our jail break are sincere. And working with my Cohort feels…good, connected. I love them, and missed them. Even if parts of them will always be suspicious of me and what slithers inside me.
Their twisted emotions about defying the Conclave with our plot, their fear of the unknown, and their hateful malicious glee over defeating Staltz are tumbling out and I eat up the dark of it, loving the fractured edges. Not to mention the perverse part of me that sinks into my own pain and conflict working with Colleen.
Three hours after Daav’s big reveal, we’ve used our combined genius and frustrated aspirations of playing big screen cinema criminals to hatch a plan to get us out of here. Calls have been placed, messages sent, events set in motion.
“Ready, set, go,” I intone to the next of our squad furthering the plan. We need a team name.
“We’re off,” Christopher calls after he opens the doors to the somber guards on permanent duty outside the suite. He throws his arm over Nuée’s shoulders. “Come on, little one, Ravel. Onward to adventure by way of the grocers. I promise to wow you both with the tastiest lentil stew this side of the Ajjoors.”
“So you say, old man,” Nuée says. “We’re game to be impressed, but the last time you cooked for me you almost burned down the house. At least there’s two of us this time to keep watch while you play chef. When we’re at the store I’ll make sure to get some nice, safe noodles in case your ambition is greater than your skill.”
“I thought you said we’re going to make food for a picnic for tomorrow?” Ravel adds.
“We are.”
He scoffs. “Lentil stew? Noodles? Not picnic food.”
“Perfect meal for sitting atop Mt. Shass admiring the valleys below,” Christopher says, tapping the top of Ravel’s head in punctuation.
Ravel frowns at this infantilizing gesture. The words we’ve lobbed at one another today have set gears turning in heads over the Mentors’ penchant for control.
“And you can bring an instrument and serenade me,” Nuée says.
“I am not taking an instrument up that mountain. It’s steep, and I’m not carrying extra weight.”
“You can bring your flute. That’s light.”
He rolls his eyes, but he’ll do it. He’s in deep for her. Or he would do it, if that was really the plan. This subterfuge is a delight.
“I’ll grab the masks.” Ravel takes a few from the breakfront near the entrance.
Christopher smiles like a madman. He’s enjoying his performance for the guards.
Esther and Pike have already left to meet with Johan. Colleen and Freddie followed soon after for an alleged afternoon delight back at Colleen’s estate. I’m stuffing my disgust for her down and trying to focus on Freddie’s recent declaration.
Two additional security goons approach our door and move to the side to let Christopher, Nuée and Ravel pass. They step back to the door. “Is Mage Marrow ready?” the first asks. I decide not to give him shit by reminding him I’m also Mage Marrow.
“He’s on his way. Daav,” I call into the suite. Daav enters the living room. “Have a good day at the office, dear,” I say with a kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll be back after practice at the lab.”
Bethany comes out after him. “I’ll walk part way with you.” She grabs a few more masks. “I’m due at my assigned push stretch on the Westside.”
I wink overdramatically at my Prince as he exits, although he keeps his face blank. If I have to guess he’s silently telling me off for even that small bow to our antics.
The extra guards flank him and Bethany, and they walk towards the lift, turn the corner, and disappear from sight.
That leaves the two original guards in the hallway. I close the door on them with a smile.
Hanna and Deidre come out in exercise gear with bags slung over their shoulders for the Conclave gymnasium. Deidre unzips hers and puts a half dozen privacy masks inside.
“How authentic. I’m getting tired just looking at you dressed for your workout,” I say, although I’m dressed similarly, which is very different from my norm. And that’s the point as we’re about to go wandering incognito.
“Can you do anything without a comment?” Deidre asks me.
“No, he can’t,” Hanna answers her Mentor.
“What’s life without witty narration? But I’m thrilled you know me so well, Hanna,” I add.
My thumb and forefinger flick back and forth against my thigh.
A ping on my phone is the message I’ve waited for from Colleen. For all her many, many twisted faults, she’s able to use her wily skills to dig up information. I read the message and show the screen to the two women.
“We’ve got her location. Ready?”
They nod.
I open the doors again.
Deidre steps out front and asks the guards how long they intend to act as nuisances blocking the suite entryway, complaining about how they inconvenience the other members of the Cohort. These two men started their shift only brief bells ago, with observation of the security schedule a part of our group’s earlier coordination effort. Knowing the rotation lets us time our exit to allow the longest possible stretch before the next guards will come to relieve them. It’s taken a good part of the day to put all of this together, but if we want it to work, it’s better to cultivate patience. Not that I’m the expert.
Hanna and I turn to one another, facing slightly away from the doors so neither of the security has a clear view of our faces.
She nods to me.
I take a breath and reach into my pocket for the triangle focus.
We’ve decided that Hanna and I, the fastest to jump into and function in our Verse, will handle the guards both here and at Isolde’s cell. It’s a risk, using our Verse now, but it’s our main resource.
Our shared speed had made our earlier clash with one another intense and explosive. I love the irony of the situation, the two of us coming full circle and working together. Nice balance. She’s also used to the fine work, taking some med mage rotations at times. It allows us to plan the micro level imaging ahead to minimize time spent getting to work.
Daav had argued with me about using my magic, but shut up after I started humming the national anthem at top volume every time he started to complain about my plan to use it.
The prickly points of the triangle dig into my palm, gold sheens my sight, and I sink into my Verse. It opens eagerly with dark ugly glee, desperate for something. Next to me, my awareness extends into a sense of Hanna, and my tangles sniff and raise interest in her direction, the orange shapes of her Verse a vague shadow in the outskirts. The proximity grounds me more, stabilizes in a way that calms and ironically strengthens my own link to my Verse. I pull back on the stabbing tumbleweeds and they pout but allow the restraint. Malleable, if not thrilled by my call. It hurts, but that’s not new.
Instead, I focus my attention toward the corridor and let my sight narrow down into the view of one guard’s body through the doorway.
I peer into the byways of the man’s brain, tangles following with more energy than I ever remember. Pushing molecules into receptors, until consciousness flickers, cerebral blood flow is reduced and sedation hits him. He’s sinking to the floor alongside his companion, equally affected by Hanna’s tangles. Not complete anesthesia, but a light trance that will make them forget. We encourage a regular supply of molecules to continue the state for the next half hour.
Deidre is helping them sit against the hallway wall in comfortable positions while I pull away from the Verse to welcome the pricking reality of my triangle. Beside me, Hanna shakes herself free of her own.
“Strange, I’m barely tired,” she says with a delighted smile I rarely see. It’s a nice look on her.
“Hurry,” Deidre says.
We grab our bags. I pull a privacy mask over my face, my companions the same, and close the door behind us. It’s not typical to walk the hallways of Conclave headquarters wearing them, but that’s a lesser risk in our plan.
Luck goes our way as we make it past the lift to the stairwell without seeing anyone. I’ll take luck. It’s one of the keys to happy endings. People like to think they succeed because their cause is just or they deserve it or their intelligence wins the day. Mostly that’s bullshit. Life’s not just. There’s only a bunch of us running around, trying our best, making chaotic, messy decisions because of our hearts and primal brains. But Verse twist it, I’m going to keep making those messy decisions. The ones that scream to keep Isolde, Gil, and all the little Stalzian mage children safe. The ones that keep my heart, in the form of my Prince, alive and by my side.
We take the stairs down to the basement, safer than the lifts as they’re less used, lazy bunch of mages. The masks are in case we do meet someone on our way. The building has only sixteen floors. Colleen’s informant had given us the location of the basement storage room where they keep Isolde.
Deidre and Hanna move down the stairs with easy steps, graceful and efficient in movement. Unlike me who can move quickly if I need to, but only in ways that get the job done, nothing pretty.
Deidre keeps looking over at Hanna as we descend.
“You’re okay? Not too tired to do it again?” she asks my Cohort mate.
“Strangely energized,” Hanna answers. “Still not tired, like I said.”
“One of the changes to the magic I’ve noticed,” I add.
“As long as you’re sure. The risk here is huge. Lots of places this can fail. I’m willing to handle the guards with Seb if you head to the rendezvous now.” Deidre sounds worried.
I can’t see Hanna’s expression, but I imagine the set to her lips. “I promise I’ll be fine.”
Her answer sounds rote, like she’s used it hundreds of times with Deidre. And I wonder how Trina’s death changed their dynamic. Deidre is the most stereotypically parental of the Mentors and she lost one child already. Her worry makes sense and makes her a bit more endearing to me.
“And having a third body not in the Verse to run interference is important,” Hanna continues. “We planned this.”
“Of course,” Deidre says, although her words sound clipped.
We hit the lowest level, lucky again to avoid anyone on the trip down.
We slow and Hanna peeks out of the stairwell door window to the corridors of the basement.
“Clear,” she announces.
We exit into the basement level, a utilitarian concrete hallway with gray walls and floors, the fluorescent lighting along the ceiling a harsh but dull accompaniment to the atmosphere. Uninspired overall. I couldn’t scrape up a single piece of inspiration here for my muse to put to use in my studio.
“The corridor is one contiguous rectangle with the rooms on the outside of the ring smaller sized, and the ones on the inside of the building used as larger storage spaces,” Deidre reminds us in a whisper low voice, although Hanna’s probably just as aware of the layout.
They’ve been down here often because it houses some alternative workout space for the complex separate from the fancier gym on the garden level that most mages prefer.
“The room she’s in should be after the first turn if we go that way.” Hanna points her finger to the right, still keeping her voice low to avoid sound traveling down the unbroken corridors. “The guards will be blind to us until we round the bend, and there’s not much distance to the door once we do, so they won’t have too much time to deal with our approach.”
We reach the turn. If we stick heads around the corner they may see us.
“Now,” I mouth to Deidre and gesture.
Deidre rounds the corner.
“Excuse me,” we hear her say. “Do you know where the basement exercise facility is? I think I messed up the directions.”
“I’m sorry mage, you can’t be down here now. That facility is closed,” a guard is saying.
With her distraction we risk sticking heads around the corner.
I’m already twirling the triangle points and breathing into the pinpricks as I look, and put eyes on the six guards standing outside Isolde’s makeshift cell door. Six? Really? It’s like they’re expecting Staltzian paratroopers to be staging a prison break. Well, assholes, surprise. This ain’t Staltz. We’ve brought home grown weapons instead, and we’re getting Isolde out.
Hanna’s face mirrors my own quiet worry that we can handle this many. I’m good, but am I that good? After shoving that unhelpful shit to the side, we exchange looks and a silent countdown.
I whisper over to her. “You take the nearest three, I’ll take the farthest.”
“Hotshot,” she whispers back. “Of course.” But her eyes are soft on me.
This is my family, Hanna. Isolde is behind that damn door.
Hanna seems to understand. Yeah, Isolde’s not my family by blood, but if she’s Daav’s then she’s mine, too.
We continue to watch the targets, open up to the Verse and I push my now overeager tangles into the inner ear and vestibular nerve of the first man, inflaming it as molecules vibrate and start the guy’s spiral into vertigo and nausea. Then jump my tangles to the next man, do the same, then the third. Weave from one to the other and Deidre keeps up her diatribe about needing the gym while all six men sway on their feet, hold their stomachs.
The first falls to his knees and is gagging. Another man drops, but he grabs for his gun. He’s fumbling for it. Twist it!
Beside me the orange glow of Hanna’s Verse pulses in my side vision as her tangles stagger the other guards. A third and fourth, a fifth falls. Now most of them wretch on the ground.
Almost there. The last one falls to his knees.
Hanna grabs my arm and we walk toward the door. Keeping our Verse open while moving is dizzying, so we need to move slower than I want.
A shot rings out. Shit! Deidre! My Verse sways and the arid bleakness of it dims to the reality of the hallway around us as I lunge to the side.
Another shot. I want to run. If I do, we lose control over them.
Deidre struggles with a man on his knees, the guard with the gun. She knocks it away.
“Deidre,” Hanna calls with a panic.
“Keep inside the Verse!” she calls back.
I force myself back to the arid desert and the tumbleweeds, keeping the energy focused on the men, the influence over the vibrating molecules. Keep the pressure alive inside their brain.
We’re maybe a dozen long strides from them.
Deidre is already on her knees looking to remove the keys from a different guard’s belt. He’s struggling and trying to reach his holster.
And that’s when the ground starts to shake.
Fuck! What? Confused jumbles.
This isn’t an effect from trying to walk within my Verse. I stumble and fall to the cement, Hanna falling into me. And I wrench from my tangles.
The connection breaks.
I can’t see anything clearly because the entire world is tipping. My body keeps slamming around and damn it hurts.
After too long, the swinging seesaw of movement stops. I blink. There are sirens going off in the building.
Deidre! Hanna!
I see Hanna slumped on her side. Her eyes are closed, but they open, she’s moving. Thank fuck!
“Seb!” Deidre calls, and the guards strewn across the floor are getting up, one of them has his arm wrapped around her, restraining her, and his gun is out and it’s pressed against her.
She slams an elbow into the man and he folds. Deidre kicks out with her leg. She backs farther from him.
The others groan, but they’re going for their weapons, too.
“Restrain them!” the one she’s kicked yells at the others from the ground.
They’re coming.
The rage is a tight clench of my gut. Not today, asshole.
“Deidre, move away! Hanna, get your butt with it!”
My Cohort mate’s face twists, she’s holding her side, but she sits up.
“Verse, now!” I bark.
Then focus on the throbbing pain in my ribs. The bleak cackling swooshes into me, and the tumbleweeds scream with need. Reach. Orange mist to my side, Hanna’s geometric pulsing tangles vibrate. Reach back.
You want to touch? I entice them. Then go get your freak on where I say.
And damn if I don’t sense some sort of cackling agreement.
I let them go.
They rush. Gleeful. Finally! Collide with the orange.
The bright lightning burst of ugly screams in satisfaction, and the tidal wave of power waves up.
There! I command, and throw the destruction out.
The explosion races toward the guards.
Slam!
The world tilts. My body blows back. Hot, burning tar pain at my leg.
Gray, black, blur.
I’m coming awake after nameless time. Blink away the fog.
Shit that hurts! I embrace the agony at my leg. It feels like it’s been stabbed with an ice pick. I’m struggling to stay awake with it because I’d like nothing more than for that lovely blur to come back and swallow me up.
Hanna is crawling to me.
“Seb. Your leg.” She’s staring at it with horror. Guess my ice pick thought is on the mark.
Deidre is there, her hands running over Hanna.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine, just banged up. Seb’s leg is broken. Look at the angle.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” I’m saying, coughing with the other pain in my ribs. Damn that hurts, too. My eyes water and I’m about to sob, but instead welcome the sensation as I would a lover.
“That was stupid!” Deidre tells me and Hanna.
“Yeah, but it worked,” I say.
She’s looking behind her. The men are on the ground, not moving.
“You aimed the energy at them?” Hanna asks.
I nod and grin.
“I’m getting the keys,” Deidre tells us.
“Hanna, help me up. We need to get Isolde,” I say.
“You can’t walk on that thing,” she accuses.
“So, what, we’re calling the medics now? I’m sure they’ll be happy to fix me up and let us get back to the business of the jailbreak. We don’t have a choice anyway, we need to get out of here.”
I want to throw up, scream with the pain, but that’s not an option.
She grumbles, but uses her years of strength training to get me standing on one leg, leaning against her hold.
Deidre’s gone back to the unconscious men. Or at least I hope they’re just unconscious. At each body she’s removing the gun, throwing it a distance away. She keeps one for herself, and then I hop my way toward her and watch her discover the keys. Fuck!
Each hop has black shimmering in my sight. Sweet agony, tears wet my eyes again with the pain. And while part of me still loves it, the other part of my mind insists I’m fucked and I should just drop away to the nice blackness.
Sorry, no vacation time yet, Seb. You have shit to do.
She’s at the door to the cell, using the key now, swinging it open.
A body throws itself out from the room and tackles Deidre to the floor.
“Isolde!” I’m yelling. “It’s Seb! We’re here to get you out.”
Hanna is cursing beside me, but helps me keep hopping to the action, and I know she wants to throw me off to get to Deidre.
But Deidre is holding her own with Isolde, trying to defend from the attack without injuring Daav’s sister.
“Isolde,” I yell again. “We’re here to get you out!”
She stops thrashing underneath Deidre, although possibly it’s because Deidre has her arms pinned.
“Sebastian?” Isolde calls. Confusion and hope paint her face, balanced with a fierce determination.
“That’s Deidre holding you. She’s here with me to break you out.”
We’ve finally reached them, and I will down the nausea.
“Where’s Daav?” Isolde asks, ignoring her ignoble position underneath Deidre.
“Waiting for us upstairs. Deidre’s going to let you up now. Will you come with us?”
Her eyes focus on Hanna.
“That’s Hanna, you’ll remember her from the warehouse. You’re okay?” I ask. Verse, I’d have been freaked locked away, with no idea what’s happening or my possible fate. But I don’t see any injuries and her gaze is steady enough for someone imprisoned and now pinned to the ground.
She nods, still a shitload of courageous. And then her face cracks for a moment, folds. “I thought…” She shakes her head, the thought halted. The determination returns.
Her eyes squint as she tracks me where I stand over her. “What’s wrong with your leg? You broke it?”
“No, I just prefer it twisted in unusual shapes. Deidre, let her go, she’ll behave.”
“You’re a bossy piece, aren’t you?” Isolde asks. “I guess Daav goes in for that.”
Deidre is backing away and Isolde is standing. She looks like she’s whole, no injuries.
“I prefer being called the plucky hero,” I answer. “Now let’s get our asses out of here. I’m not sure why the sirens, but something must have hit the building. Maybe a bomb.”
“Thanks for the rescue,” she tells us as she notices the unconscious guards on the ground.
“Let’s go,” Deidre says.
She goes to the other side of me and holds me up along with Hanna. Squeezes my waist and leans closer. “Really, thank you.”
“If we bend and cross our hands and grab each other’s wrists, it makes a four-handed seat, then sit down. Wrap your arms over our shoulders and we’ll carry you as far as we can,” Deidre orders.
After another wave of nausea hits, I don’t protest.
I sit and we make our way as fast as we can, Isolde grabbing and carrying our bags as we pass the place we dropped them in the hall. The sirens continue to wail, which means we can’t take the lifts. They’ll be stopped. Plus, if there are more bombs, that’s not the place we want to be.
Forget the masks, no way they won’t guess the responsible party. Better to get out of here as fast as possible. Whatever else is going on seems to serve as distraction. In the stairwell people are streaming down toward the main floor. Lucky us, we only have one level to go up.
Mages are looking at us funny, but no one stops us. Whatever attacked headquarters is a little more concerning to them. Works for me. Now if only the ice pick would stop it on my leg. Don’t pretend you don’t love it, you twisted fucker.
We’re through the door out of the stairwell, and into the chaos of the main floor. It’s littered with fallen furniture, injured people along our path.
“We should stop and help them,” I tell Hanna.
“We should get out of here,” she answers. “Nuée keeps saying you can’t resist anyone in distress, but do me a favor and resist.”
“She’s right, Sebastian,” Isolde agrees. “Whatever caused the place to shake could hit again. And Daav needs you. You know he’d run back into a burning building to find you.”
I snort. Oh, she’s got my number, clearly. And after only a few days.
We head through the chaotic corridors toward the garage. Isolde switches out with Hanna part way.
Almost to the garage entrance. I see Daav up ahead standing next to Colleen, Christopher and Ravel. Thank, fuck.
“Stop them!” a voice calls from behind us. Damn Johan’s timing.
Daav’s running toward us. Isolde is so right.
Then, the walls and floor start to shake again. A loud rumble surrounds us. The world goes wonky.
Blur, as objects fly past me. My head spins, my gaze a jumble, stomach lurching.
Isolde and Deidre are thrown, lose their grip on me and we’re falling, crashing to the side.
My leg slams into something.
The pain spikes. I’ve hit overload. So, blackness it is.