Ensnared (Sorcery and Science Book 5)

ENSNARED

Sorcery and Science: Book 5

Ella Summers

ENSNARED

Sorcery and Science: Book 5

Copyright © 2015

Version: 2015.12.19

Cover art by
Rebecca Frank

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Story Summary

Two rival empires, forged in technology, are racing to hunt down every piece of the magic Recovery Scrolls. Once assembled, these ancient artifacts will point the way to any sorcerer alive, no matter where they’re hiding.

Notorious assassin Jason Chanz knows who their first target will be: Terra Cross, Elite Prophet and the only friend he has ever known. If either empire gets their hands on her, they will drug and torture her until she uses her gift to serve them. To save his friend from a life of perpetual torment, Jason must find her first—and avoid capture himself, for he is their next target.

Isis really shouldn’t have agreed to help Jason find Terra. It’s only going to get them both killed—or, worse yet, captured and thrown into a Selpe prison. She just barely escaped her last incarceration, and she’s not keen to repeat the experience any time soon. Nor does she have any intention of ending up once again at the mercy of the ruthless Selpe soldier determined to make her his. She already has enough problems with the tempting assassin leading them to their doom.

Ensnared
is Book 5 in the 
Sorcery and Science
fantasy adventure series.

Chapters

ONE
 
Mind’s Prison

TWO
 
The Temple of the Veil

THREE
 
Sexy Pirate

FOUR
 
Precipice

FIVE
 
The Recovery Scrolls

SIX
 
Familiar Footsteps

SEVEN
 
Touched

EIGHT
 
The Magical Tapestry

NINE
 
Broken Prophets

TEN
 
Fallen Artifact

ELEVEN
 
Thieves and Assassins

TWELVE
 
The Wasteland

THIRTEEN
 
The Temple of Aurelia

FOURTEEN
 
Borrowed Power

FIFTEEN
 
Broken

SIXTEEN
 
Lake Portal

SEVENTEEN
 
Band of Children

EIGHTEEN
 
The Frozen Forest

NINETEEN
 
The Queen of Phantoms

TWENTY
 
Protocols of Everlast

TWENTY-ONE
 
Winter’s Gate

TWENTY-TWO
 
The Accomplice

TWENTY-THREE
 
Veronica Frostwater

TWENTY-FOUR
 
The Prisoner

TWENTY-FIVE
 
Crowned

TWENTY-SIX
 
Prophetic Whiplash

TWENTY-SEVEN
 
The Phantom Mind

TWENTY-EIGHT
 
Vengeance

TWENTY-NINE
 
Terra Cross

CHAPTER ONE

~
Mind's Prison ~

526AX August 16, Lord Adrian's Facility

THE COLD, SMOOTH tip of a gun prodded Isis forward, a warning against escape. She snapped her head around to glare at the soldier behind her. His knees did not buckle. His hands, firmly holding to the largest gun Isis had ever laid eyes upon, did not shake. He did not retreat in terror. No, no. The cocky bastard had the nerve to wink and blow her a kiss.

Isis’s lips buzzed with a suppressed growl. Most humans folded before the piercing stare of an Elition, but not the Diamond Edges. They seemed to think their hotshot status as the Selpe Empire’s elite killing squad made them immune to having their arms broken. Not that she was in any position to deal damage. Not yet. Metal clinked and scraped as Isis twisted her wrists inside the handcuffs.

“Now, now. That’s quite enough of that.” The Diamond Edge poked her with his gun once more, harder this time. The blue diamond at the center of the diamond-studded dagger-shaped brooch pinned to his chest indicated that he was the man in charge of this friendly band of six. “Keep moving, sweet tush. The boss told us not to kill you, but if you cause trouble, we will knock you around till you settle down.”

“I hear Elitions can heal fast, Saren,” one of his colleagues told him. Various pouches were sewn into his uniform. The team’s doctor. A killing doctor.

Another soldier drew his knife. The corridor’s dismal green-grey light bounced off the blade as he flipped it around in his hand. “I wonder how fast.”

“You are not to touch her unless she attacks first. The boss’s orders,” Saren commanded, his voice saturated with authority. He shot a hard look at the man with the shiniest black boots on the team. “That goes double for you, Brokdon. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Brokdon met Isis’s eyes and licked his lips, just as he would greet his next dessert. Gross. She drifted to the left, putting as much distance between herself and Brokdon as was possible in the narrow hallway. She only hoped he wouldn’t be assigned to watch over her cell. If he ever came near her, she vowed to herself that she would not hesitate to break both his kneecaps.

That’s about as far as she knew she could go. Killing people tended to make Elition Prophets, seers of the future, go mad. It was called Prophetic Whiplash, the aftereffect of abruptly ripping someone’s future out of existence. Given the continuous onslaught of foresights that wracked her mind, Isis wasn’t going to tempt fate. She was crazy enough already.

They came to the end of the hall, and Saren tapped and slid his finger across the display panel beside the door. A hollow mechanical grunt echoed through the empty hall, and the door clicked open. A wide smile on his face, Saren motioned Isis through.

“Ladies first,” he said smoothly.

Isis rolled her eyes. Ladies first indeed. They just didn’t want to leave their backs exposed to her. Not for the first time since her capture, Isis assessed the situation.

Six men, all taller than she was and built wider. A lot wider. She knew she was faster—and stronger—than they were, but her hands were bound and the passageway was too narrow. And they all had weapons, while she was unarmed. Her legs were free. That was something, at least.

Isis looked at an old overhanging lightbulb, mesmerized by its pattern of pulsing erratic flashes. Its feeble buzz hummed in her head, displacing the hollow echoes of soldiers’ boots. She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

She quickly ducked her head sideways, freeing it from the pressure of Saren’s gun barrel. She followed the movement diagonally backwards and lifted her handcuffed hands as one to catch a hold of the gun. As she spun to face him, she tore his weapon from his grasp and hammered it down hard on his shoulder. A heavy crunch told her she had broken some bones, and Saren lost balance. Isis aimed the gun at the cluster of Diamond Edges, shooting two of them in the kneecaps before their team leader had fallen even halfway to the ground. She lifted her leg and stomped her foot down hard into his chest, using the movement to spin her body around in the air and shoot the three soldiers still standing, each also in the knee. As the back of Saren’s head smacked down, she hopped over him and dashed forward to his collapsed teammates. She plucked the guns from their hands and pitched them down the hall. The entire sequence had lasted mere seconds, and the Diamond Edges hadn’t even put up a fight.

Sneering down at the soldiers, Isis stepped over their disabled bodies and set off at a jog toward the exit. She didn’t make it far. A knife sank into her back, cutting her escape short. She tripped forward and hit the ground face first. To her great shock, Saren lumbered over and ripped the blade from her with his unbroken arm. He rested his foot down on her in its place. Not only had he weathered the attack without losing consciousness, the bastard had thrown his knife into her back. The Diamond Edges were tougher than normal soldiers. She’d forgotten how much tougher.

Her cheek still pressed against the concrete ground, Isis watched the vibrant saturated colors melt from the scene like rivers of paint. She blinked, and the last remnants of the foresight dissolved before her eyes. She was still standing in the hall, six Diamond Edges at her back. Saren nudged her forward with the tip of his gun. With a heavy sigh, she complied. There would be no escape for her today, not if she wanted to avoid a knife in her back. Thanks to her Elition rapid healing, she would survive that—probably—but she knew from experience that getting stabbed was about as pleasant as a conversation with Lord Adrian, the influential Selpe territory leader, sinister schemer, and overall creepy guy.

Jason could have managed the escape, but she was not Jason. And besides, she scolded herself, he never would have gotten himself captured in the first place.

They had come for her on the night of Hayden’s coronation as ruler of the Selpe Empire. Unbeknownst to their new emperor, the Selpe Advisory Council, fueled by the conniving mind of Lord Adrian, had given Aaron and his Diamond Edges free reign to capture the assassin Jason Chanz. When Isis learned of their plans, she’d warned Jason, giving him the time he needed to slip away. Their prize ripped from their fingers, the Diamond Edges had turned their wrath on Isis.

For days, they had held her in complete solitude inside an Orion prison cell barely as large as the cot inside of it. Then, late at night, they had come for her, binding her wrists and tugging a sack over her head before pushing her up several flights of stairs and loading her onto an airship. The sack stank of chemicals and the handcuffs chafed her skin, but worst of all was not even knowing where she was. As the Diamond Edges were under Lord Adrian’s control, it seemed likely they had brought her to one of his holdings. But that didn’t really narrow things down by much. Lord Adrian’s territory was vast, the largest in the Selpe Empire, and as the empire’s most influential lord he had numerous facilities on both Selpe continents. For all Isis knew, she could be at the Southern Sea or the
Western Seas
.

She knew that if only she could get a message to Hayden, he would command Lord Adrian to release her. She’d been his bodyguard back before his father’s assassination, and the boy still had a sweet spot for her. But shortly after the coronation celebration, he and his brother Ian had flown off to tour one of the Hellean floating cities. They would not return for weeks. Isis’s chances of getting word to them were about as high as escaping that corridor unscathed. She was alone.

Her thoughts turned to Jason—and of all that she still wanted to tell him. As her mind sifted through their recent adventures in the Wilderness, she stumbled and fell. Her cheek scraped and burned against the concrete floor, and she blacked out.

* * *

526AX August 16, Lord Adrian's Facility

The dark chamber was empty and hollow, and it resonated with the echoes of sharp, impatient footsteps against its marble floor. Hints of moonlight streamed in through the high, angled windows, dancing across Lord Adrian’s face as he strode to the back, stopping just before the three wide steps that led up to a flat, backless sofa. A figure moved behind the shadows, draping one leg gracefully over the other.

“Why have you summoned me?” Lord Adrian demanded. “I have much to do and no time for your games.”

“Be silent!” the woman hissed, her voice sharp yet melodic at the same time. “This is more important than your silly experiments.”

“How did you—”

“That is of no matter. Know only that I know. I always know.”

The woman shifted her position on the bench once more. From her silhouette, she seemed to be wearing a long, form-hugging dress that spread into a full skirt with a thigh-high slit up each side. She wore heels high enough to be dangerous, and her hair fell long and straight down her back.

“And how is that?” he demanded. “And why have I never seen your face? What are you hiding?”

“No more than you yourself are,” she replied. “Now, pay attention. I want to speak to you about Isis.”

“The Elition girl?”

“She has not taken her Inhibiting Serum for three days. She is vulnerable.”

“How—”

“Lord Adrian, as I have said, I just know. Now, she will invoke her right to Elition counsel,” she told him.

“And then King River will whisk her away under the excuse of Elition jurisdiction,” grumbled Lord Adrian.

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