Authors: Chris Michaels,Reema Farra
Bound (11 page)
Jason’s face burned. His blood boiled. How dare he? How
dare
that man threaten him with Talvek Prison? Master Everett didn’t care about his son any more than he cared about the Senate, or Ilsa. All he cared about was politics. Power.
He’s gonna be real surprised when I’m in charge.
The grandfather clock chimed throughout the house.
Damn him if I’m going to the stupid Ceremony.
Jason looked out the window. Camp Thane spread out before the Everett Summer home. In the distance, past the airstrip and barracks, ancient Melor Castle butted against a hill. It was rumored to sit atop a secret labyrinth. Jason grinned.
Oh, he’ll love this.
He tried the window. Locked. Then again, so had been the gate.
Discomfort nibbled at his mind. The image of T on the stretcher.
Shake it off. T will heal just fine.
Jason replayed the motion’s T had used on the lock and moved his fingers in the same patterns, mimicking the Treatus Runes T had used. He knew emotion had something to do with majick, so he let his anger at Father fill his mind.
Again and again he mimicked the Runes.
Heat flared from the tips of his fingers, spreading slowly down his phalanges and settling in his palm like thick liquid. Water condensed on, and rand down the pane as light streamed through twisted glass.
Jason’s senses sharpened. He was in control of his body, really in control for the first time. His heart rate slowed, time stood still, skin tingled with electricity. His mind cleared, emptying into a great expanse – as if a river of power connected him to everything, as if he’d plunged into the universe itself.
This was only minor majick. What would more feel like?
Before he could find out, the majick faded.
He touched the window. Soft. Putty.
Careful to avoid anyone who could turn him in, Jason skirted the Everett grounds an slipped into Camp Thane. Dodging from shadow to shadow, tree line to hidden paths, he made his way toward Melor Castle like a spy. No, not a spy this time – a prisoner escaping an evil tyrant. General Everett could take away Jason’s friend, his future, even his family title. But never his imagination. Not his freedom.
Nearly an hour later, Jason stood in the shade of the ancient castle. He could feel strong majick flowing within the stone. He smiled.
This is going to be awesome!
Suddenly voices in the distance. He looked back to see a patrol of soldiers speeding towards him. Had his Father already found he was missing? Maybe these soldiers didn’t know who he was, just figured he was an intruder. Would they shoot him?
Time to hide
. He darted into the courtyard of Melor Castle and ran smack into someone, hurtling both of them to the ground. He instantly shot to his feet, but froze when he saw who he had hit. A girl sprawled on the ground; maybe three years younger. She wore slave clothes, dirt on her face and something between fear and surprise in her eyes.
At the same time they asked, “Are you–?”
Just then, the girl jumped to her feet and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”
She led him to a wall of creeping ivy and disappeared behind it. Jason followed and found himself in a small shadow-filled vestibule off the central plaza. Creeping ivy had claimed the area decades ago. Three hallways lead deeper into the castle. One of the corridors had recently been cleared of ivy. Jason looked around the entire space, no more than seven paces square. The vines blocked them from the main courtyard. On the other side he never even noticed this space. As long as they were quiet, the soldiers wouldn’t find them.
He stared at the girl. Beneath the grime and the slave outfit she wasn’t ugly at all.
She looked back at him for a long time before asking. “Are you going to turn me in?”
“Why? Did you do something wrong?” He whispered.
“Are you . . . Are you going to kill me?”
“No. Why would I?”
She lowered her gaze. “You’re a Son of Ilsa.”
His face flushed. “I’m
not
a Son of Ilsa!”
Her hand shot out and covered his mouth. The girl shook her head, eyes begging him to be quite.
“Sorry,” he whispered when she lowered her hand. “What do you know about Ilsan son’s anyway? You’re just a slave.”
“I’m not
just
a slave.” Her eyes met his, fierce for a moment. Then she dropped her gaze and took a step back.
Jason grinned. He’d never had a slave
look
at him, never-the-less
touch
him. “So, you’re not
just
a slave and I’m not a Son of Ilsa.” He looked around. “And neither of us is supposed to be here.” His eyes landed on her again. “What are you hiding from, anyway?”
Her gaze darted to a corridor, then back to the ground. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“You can look at me,” he said. “You won’t turn to stone. And I told you, I’m not–”
“What were
you
hiding from?” she asked.
He opened his mouth and quickly shook himself. “I wasn’t hiding. I’m exploring.”
She smiled. “I like exploring.”
“Well, if you want, we could explore together.”
Again, her eyes rested on the corridor for a moment. She asked, “What’s your name?”
He stood tall. “Jason. What’s yours?”
She smiled sweetly. “Hannah.”
“Rittle rattle, tit for tat
Break your promise and never look back
Just jump off a cliff
Or put worms in your gut
Stick your hand in
And slam the door shut.
All these things are better than
What they will do
When the Oath Eaters find you!”
– Child’s Rhyme for Making Promises
CHAPTER ELEVEN
C
abbot’s reflection closed its black eyes and bit its lower lip.
The real Cabbot cringed. She hated that nervous habit. “Didn’t you hear me, fiend?”
The reflection raised a finger. “One.”
“The sooner you give me Hannah, the sooner I can be rid of you.”
“Two,” it said in a sing-song voice. A second finger rose. The reflection mocked her, looking positively delighted. “Ooh. I can feel your blood pressure soaring. Your heart racing. All that anger, it’ll eat you alive one of these days.”
“I don’t need a lecture about my health. I want the witch!”
A third finger. “Three.” The Ghoul opened its eyes. One was still black, but the other shone emerald-green. “You squawk like a bird.” It winked the emerald eye. “Very tiresome.”
The Ghoul leapt forward, instantly transforming from Cabbot’s reflection to a blur of black smoke and bursting from the mirror into the room.
Snyder dove backward and Cabbot skillfully dodged right. The Ghoul shot between them. By the time Cabbot regained her senses, the Ghoul had become a raven as big as she with nightmare-black feathers and a cracked, yellow beak. Wisps of smoke rose from the bird. One was eye black, the other deep green. The raven craned its neck and flapped its wings causing feathers to molt to the floor. Cabbot looked closer. The bird looked more like a cross between a dragon and a plague; or a fire pit covered in feathers. It’s wingspan so great that it knocked priceless artifacts to the ground.
The raven took flight haphazardly, smashing into bookshelves. Charms and books crashed to the floor. Ancient relics cracked and shattered. Snyder shrieked at his collection being destroyed, but the raven only cawed and barreled through the door to the main room. More breaking wood echoed. The sound of a door cracking and then shrieks from pedestrians.
The raven must have made it into the streets.
The satisfaction of a well-executed mission mixed with the anxiety of a new objective, though Cabbot would never let those emotions be read on her face. Hannah had cursed her, scarred her, taken everything and made her an exile. Now, with the help of this Ghoul, Cabbot would force the girl to undo it.
Snyder’s uneven voice broke her thoughts. “Satisfied?”
She turned slowly and extended her hand. “Thank you, Snyder.”
His eyes opened wide, skepticism written on his eyebrows. He swallowed hard and took her hand tentatively. “So, we’re done?”
“Yes.” Cabbot revealed a money-bag. “To pay for the damage.”
At first, it seemed he didn’t know how to react to this charity. A small laugh escaped. When she offered the money again, Snyder snatched it greedily. “I don’t want to see you again. You or any of your friends.”
“You won’t.” Cabbot turned and stepped through the now door-less exit from the back room, leaving him among his broken toys. Once in the show room, she pulled a bottle of amber liquid from her cloak and sprinkled the solution on the walls and floors.
In the hidden room, a thud sounded.
“Perfect,” she whispered to herself. “He couldn’t wait to count his cash.”
Cabbot reentered the secret room. Snyder lay crumpled on the floor, twitching sporadically.
A black lizard scurried away from his body.
The shadow dragon could be coaxed into an almost endless hibernation. Once awakened, one bite inflicted a heart attack. The perfect, subtle, murder weapon. The lizard’s hunger was insatiable. Now it would start a plague in the area, eliminating anyone who might have seen her enter the shop.
“Thank you, Snyder,” she repeated to herself. “Thank you for dealing in illegal trash, for a lifetime of lawlessness and for being so gullible.”
She took her money, pocketed a few of the majickal items and grabbed the teddy bear. On her way from Hidden Jack’s lost treasures, she tossed a pinch of powder into the fireplace. The flame spat and erupted. The fire torched the amber solution and blazed across the shack.
She crossed into street. The cold night competed with the rising flame from Hidden Jack’s Lost Treasures behind her. She looked at the medallion. Just a small piece of metal to most, but a biting memory to her. Now terrible burden. She sensed the Ghoul leeching to her soul, wriggling like a worm. Cabbot could never let go of the medallion now. If she did, the Ghoul would be free and she felt its intentions. Tasted its rage.
She could control it.
A smile formed on her cracked lips. “Your time is coming, Hannah.”
Hannah stared at herself in the mirror, listening to the soft tap of rain on the second story window. When she stepped closer to the mirror, invisible stars lit up along the frame, blinking and chasing around the edge. Her hair was matted, clothes sopping and ripped and dried blood was caked on her forehead. She’d seen countless corpses and war torn bodies in her life. She almost as bad.
“If you want to find Jason, sit down.” Travis pointed at the bed.
She looked away from her reflection to Travis.
Who are you? Do you really know Jason?
“Hannah, sit down. I won’t hurt you.”
I’ve heard that before.
He continued, “it’s time I tell you what is really happening.”
Hannah sat, not because he commanded, but because she was too exhausted to stay on her feet. Her head was swimming.
“I’m glad my Animate found you and you worked out the clues.”
Your clues! What about Jason and the lullaby?
“I heard Jason sing the lullaby once. I knew you trusted it,” he continued, trying to hide a smile. “I hope my squid didn’t scare you. It was the best way to get you here.”
Didn’t scare me? Get me here? You betrayed me. Sold me to slavers. Now you say it was all a plan to get me here!
Hannah wanted to explode. To scream and curse at Travis. But she still couldn’t find her voice. Would she ever speak again? Had she forgotten how?
Travis had a knack for reading her mind. “You escaped the Republican Guard. That made you a most wanted fugitive. Patrols were scouring the countryside. The only way to sneak you into the city was to pass you off as a slave. I was sure you could make it here. Jason told me how clever you are.” He looked out the window. “Whenever Jason was in Valin City, he always came to the Electric Lounge.” He turned his attention back to her. “The beginning is the best place to start. I was Jason’s friend. Am Jason’s friend. He told me about you, talked about you all the time. In his last days, Jason uncovered a conspiracy. A conspiracy that cost him his life.”