Trace of Magic (24 page)

Price smoothed his hands over his thighs, clearly wrestling with something. He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip and nodded. “I want to know about Joshua Reist. If you’ve got him, I want to return him to his family and I want Riley to walk out of here with no questions, no strings.”

His brother eyed him speculatively. “Do you now? Why would I do that? Providing I could, of course.”

“Because I’m willing to give you what you want in exchange.”

Touray’s brows rose, and his face blanked in total shock. I doubted that happened to him often.

“You mean that?”

The eagerness in his voice made me wonder why he wanted Price so very much. He had no magic. Sure he was a good cop, and he had a lot of skills, but Touray sounded hungry for him, out of proportion for what Price had to offer. Unless it was just knowing he had someone in his organization who was absolutely and completely loyal to him. Blood will tell, as they say.

“So long as Riley stays safe and we get Josh back, if you have him,” Price said, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

A moment later he started talking. He told his half-brother about hiring me, and Josh’s kidnapping, and searching Josh’s office.

Touray interrupted. “Why her? Why not use an in-house tracer?”

Price scraped his fingers through his hair. “Something about this smelled. Next thing I know, I was being tailed. I wanted someone unexpected, someone unlikely to already be paid off. The night I hired Riley, my tail cornered us. We almost didn’t get away.”

“They shot at us. He blew them to bits,” I added, deciding I was tired of not having any voice in this conversation. I was also tired of being afraid. “I should be getting hazard pay.”

Both men looked at me. Price’s gaze lingered, but I refused to look at him. I might break. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, he’d know how hard I’d fallen for him. I didn’t think I ever wanted him to know. We both had baggage, to say the least, and his was about to get a lot more heavy as he stepped deeper into his brother’s organization. For me, I reminded myself. He’s doing it for me. My chest swelled with the force of my feelings, even as hopelessness and anger engulfed me. I’d found a man I could love—I did love—and moment by moment, he was slipping away from me. I was letting him slip away from me. I couldn’t see any other choice.

At my revelation, Touray’s expression turned vicious and cruel. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Touray demanded. Something colder than rage twisted around his words.

“Wasn’t worth worrying you about,” Price said.

“No one touches you,” Touray said flatly, slapping his hand on the table. “Ever.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Price said. “Especially if I come on board. I will be your right hand and your weapon. And by the way, I
can
take care of myself. I’m pretty good at it.”

“I know you can, but I don’t give a fuck. You’re half my heart—my family. Anybody who comes after you earns himself a mountain of pain before they die.”

He meant it, too. I could see him making a mental note to make sure that he found out who was behind the attack. Price gave a little shrug as if there was no arguing with that, as clearly there wasn’t.

“Maybe you should tell your drones that before they shoot at us then,” I muttered.

“What?”

He twisted to look at me, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. But in for a penny . . .

“What did you say?” he demanded when I didn’t speak.

I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “You should tell your drones not to shoot at your brother if you don’t like it when he gets hurt.”

“Amy shot at
you
?” he asked Price, ignoring me.

“She shot Riley,” Price said.

“Dumb luck. You were blocking the door,” I said.

Price flashed me a heated look that said
shut up
. I don’t know why I was pushing it. Did I really want Amy to die? Touray wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. I knew that all the way down to my toes. Then again, I was pretty damned sure she’d known exactly what she was doing and the consequences for it. What if she had shot Price and not me? I wouldn’t have been able to carry him out. He might have died.

That pissed me off. Something I had in common with Touray.

“It is what it is,” I said to Price.

He flinched. He knew I wasn’t talking just about Amy, but the fact that whatever was between us was doomed before we were ever born. He was Tyet and I was not. We couldn’t seem to stop keeping secrets or lying to each other. Even now I didn’t fully trust him, even as I was watching him sacrifice for me. That made me a monster, I was sure. At the very least, I was despicable.

His brother followed the exchange, and realization flickered across his expression and his shoulders seemed to settle under a heavy weight. That’s when I knew that no matter what he said, no matter if he let me go, I wasn’t going to survive to my next birthday. I would not be allowed to come between him and his brother.

Chapter 20

“WHAT HAPPENED after that?” Touray asked Price as if he hadn’t just decided I was going to die. I wondered if I’d be killed before or after he did Amy?

I have to admit that I wasn’t that heartbroken that she was going to die, too.

Price explained how I’d used the blood null, how he’d healed me, and that we’d opened up the contents of Josh’s safe. He made it all sound so impersonal.

“This is what we found inside,” he said, pushing the burlap bag toward his brother.

Touray eyed it a moment and then untied the sack and pulled everything out. He read the baggies one by one and set them aside, read the letter to me and Josh’s sheet of notes, and then laid the tin cylinder, the wood box, and the brass wing nut-looking thing in front of the notes along with the pouch containing the vial of blood.

“Careful. I used nulls to absorb the protective spells, but I don’t know if they reactivated when I closed them up again,” Price said.

“I’ll be right back.”

Touray stood and strode away and out through the doors.

“You need to shut up,” Price said to me as soon as his brother was gone. “Let me handle this.”

“I don’t want you handling anything for me,” I said.

“Riley, you have to trust me. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I laughed bitterly. “You’re blind. Your brother is going to kill me. He’s decided.”

“You’re imagining things.”

I lifted my brow. “Am I? You’re probably right. I’m such a silly little girl. What do I know about anything? After all, I was born yesterday on a turnip truck and fell right off. That’s how I ended up in love with such a fucking liar. So delighted to meet your brother, by the way. Hell of a detail to leave out when you were talking me into coming here.” I was irritated, but not nearly as mad as I sounded. I just needed emotional distance. Anger gave that to me and kept me from crying.

He slammed a fist onto the table, his face livid. “Just shut up,” he gritted through his teeth.

“Or what? You’ll lock me up in a cage?
Oops!
Too late. You could always have Amy shoot me again.”

“I wonder if Gregg has any duct tape around here,” Price muttered, flinging himself back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. His knuckles were already bruising where he’d smashed them against the table.

His brother chose that moment to return, carrying a big amethyst crystal. It was a single spar about eighteen inches tall. He set it on the table and activated it, then picked up the tin cylinder with the weird turquoise thing inside. He unscrewed the lid and emptied the cylinder into his hand. The amethyst crystal lit up inside. So the protections renewed themselves. That was significantly difficult magic.

I crossed to the other side of the cage to watch more closely.

Touray turned the object in his hand.

“Do you recognize it?” Price asked. “Is it one of the Kensington artifacts?”

Touray hesitated and then gave a short nod. “I believe so.” Boyish wonder colored his voice. He put the piece back in the cylinder and reached for the wood box.

“Careful with that one. It’s got a mind of its own,” Price warned.

I kind of hoped the metal device inside would run itself into Touray’s throat and choke him, but I doubted I’d get that lucky.

He slid open the box and the glow inside the amethyst spar doubled in strength.

“Don’t touch it,” Price advised as Touray started to pick it up. “It’s got a thing for blood.”

His brother glanced up at him and then back down at the metal piece nestled in the box. Finally he set it aside and took up the wing nut.

“No box for this one?” he mused, turning it.

“It was in a glass bulb,” Price said. “I had to break it.”

“Did you keep the shards?”

“They’re in the trash at my house.”

“I’ll want them.”

“You got it.”

A new tension filled Touray. His fingers shook as he opened the pouch and took out the vial. His eyes closed, and his hand contracted into a fist around it. “Thank God,” he muttered.

That’s when all the windows exploded. Either Touray’s wards weren’t all they were cracked up to be, or the FBI had some kick-ass talents on their side. Maybe both.

Glass spun like razors through the air. I dropped to the bottom of the cage, holding my arms over my head and tucking my face against my thighs.

Shards pelted me. Several cut my neck, hands, and back. My ears rang. Blood trickled from my nose.

As the sound of falling glass died, I heard Price shout my name.

“Riley!”

He ran to the cage, dropping down so he could see me better. He reached for me. I pushed gingerly up to my feet. Glass cut through my soles, and I swore, bending and sweeping clear a place for me to stand.

“Are you okay?” He had little slices all over his cheeks and nose. It looked like he’d managed to cover his eyes with his arm, saving them from damage. His jeans were hashed with cuts that were rapidly blotching red.

“I’m still breathing,” I said, trying to figure out if anything really important had been cut. Cold billowed into the room. I was grateful for the chill.

He looked me up and down, then turned to check on his brother, who shimmered in his seat and then became solid. Touray was unhurt. He must have travelled when the explosion hit. Lucky bastard.

Muffled shouts sounded outside and then more explosions. The building shook and moaned. Touray swore and stood. He started gathering up the items from Josh’s safe and stuffing them back into the sack.

“How the hell did they get through security that fast?” Price demanded.

Touray shoved the sack at him. “Take these out of here. They are worth your life. Hell, they are worth the lives of everybody in the city. Get them out of here, hide them, and don’t let anybody else get ahold of them.” The words hammered like bullets. “Go through the tunnels.”

Price wasn’t paying any attention to his brother. He was hitting the cage controls on the table. My little prison didn’t budge. He smashed them with his fist, then swung around and kicked the cage hard, trying to knock it off its moorings. The resulting sound jangled through the space. “I’m not leaving without Riley. I promised her I’d look after her.”

“Clay!” Touray grabbed Price’s arm and yanked him around and jammed the sack into his chest. Price grabbed it before it could fall. “That wasn’t a request. That was an order. Get the fuck out before they get ahold of this stuff. The FBI couldn’t get through my walls without help. They waited until you walked in with it and came for it. It was a trap all along.”

“I want Riley safe,” Price said, his face murderous. “That’s not a request, either.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Touray said after a slight hesitation. “I promise.”

My heart stopped beating as Price considered. It stopped altogether when he nodded. He took the artifacts and grabbed his jacket off the table, glass sprinkling to the floor, then jogged down to the white doors and left. He never once looked at me.

Touray scanned me up and down like I was defective. I wanted to squirm, but the bottom of the cage was too full of glass. I’d already cut my feet. He had told Price he would take care of me, but I’d watched enough movies to know that probably meant he was going to kill me.

I heard
pops
and canisters thudded down through the empty windows. I was blinded by strobe flashes. A metallic mustard smell spread through the room followed by white smoke. Almost instantly, my nose began to itch and my eyes began to water.

“Cover your nose and mouth,” Touray ordered, pulling off his shirt and tying it over the lower half of his face.

I grabbed for my shirt still knotted around my waist and tied it into a mask.

“Don’t rub your eyes. It only makes it worse.” He came closer, squatting down so he could look me in the eyes. “I’ve got no way to get you out. The attack on the building activated the fail-safes and locked the cage down. The cages are designed not to react to outside nulls. You’re going to be safest inside. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”

In the meantime, I could starve to death, or die of thirst, if I didn’t get shot first. That is, if I believed he’d come back for me, which I didn’t. Not to mention he might get dead before he could fetch me.

That left me with no choice. I didn’t let myself think about the consequences. None of that would matter anyhow if I didn’t survive.

I stretched out my arms and pressed my palms against the sides of the cage. I opened myself to the trace. The magic of the cage nulls was elegantly crafted. It layered around me like overlapping scales. I had no time to admire it or to take it down carefully or safely. Instead I plunged my hands into it. My fingers curled into claws, and I raked downward, ripping the magic.

It was suicidal and impossible and I did it anyway.

The woven spells tore apart and sent a blast outward. Touray flew back over the table. The ceiling and the walls rattled. The floor rumbled and bucked. Magic whipped through me like scorpion tails. I caught what I could, pulling it into me, but most of it spun wildly out of control. Glass spun through the air in a hurricane. It was all I could do to keep myself in the eye of the maelstrom.

When the storm of magic relented, I dropped to the floor. My teeth clashed together, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. I flopped like a fish, my hands, head, and heels banging against the floor. My eyes burned, and so did my forehead. Tears fogged my vision, and my lungs and the inside of my nose felt like I’d sucked in hot coals. Snot bubbled from my nostrils, and drool ran from the corners of my mouth. The shirt protecting my face was gone. Shards of glass sliced my face and scalp and through my clothing.

I don’t know how much time passed before I regained control of myself. A few seconds, maybe a minute. I had no time to gather myself or think. All I knew was that I needed to get up and get out of my prison.

I stood. The floor of the cage was swept clean. Small miracles. I whined as my cuts flared with pain. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t breathe. Bits of glass clunked to the ground as it fell from my clothes and hair. I felt like I was drowning, and the stench of the gas overwhelmed everything. My heart pounded loud in my ears. I heard gunshots. I grabbed the cage and shoved on it, screaming in fear and pain. I don’t know if I made a sound.

The nulls were destroyed. The cage didn’t move. I shoved again, putting all my weight into it. My arms collapsed like rubber. I tried again, locking my elbows and driving my weight against my hands. Nothing. I started to sit, planning to kick with my legs. Suddenly Touray was there. He grabbed the bars, the muscles of his massive arms bulging. I heard a grating sound, and the cage scraped across the stone floor as he lifted it, exposing a small gap for me to escape. I ducked under and wriggled up on the other side.

He snatched my wrist, one hand pressed hard against his nose and mouth. The shirt he’d tied over his face had vanished. His skin was blistered, his eyes and nose running. A couple of knots swelled purple on his forehead and temple, and his skin was hashed with cuts. His left eye was swollen nearly shut.

He dragged me after him like a caveman dragging off his kill.

“Wait,” I said, pulling back. I might as well have been playing tug-of-war with an elephant. I let my knees collapse and dropped to the floor, becoming dead weight. What were a few dozen more glass cuts, anyway?

Touray whirled to pick me up and stopped when I splayed my hand out in front of me.

“Are you insane?” he demanded, his voice thick and hoarse. “We have to get out of here. They’ll be on us any minute.”

I didn’t reply. I stood and returned to the table and found my boots had fallen to the other side. I shoved my feet inside. The glass that was still stuck in my feet cut deeper. I bit back my whimpers.

“Let’s go,” Touray said, reaching for me again.

I pushed him aside and scrabbled my hands frantically across the table. The marble nulls had disappeared. I found the quarter and clawed it into my hand. Touray clamped my wrist in a death grip and dragged me away. My feet tangled in the tire iron, and I snatched it up.

Every step was agony. A forest fire roared in my chest. I coughed and wheezed, and my mouth wouldn’t stop drooling. My eyes felt like they were swimming in acid. My head spun. I could only see shadows and suggestions of light. A porcupine exploded its spines into my lungs. Blood dripped from I don’t know how many dozens of cuts.

A door opened, and Touray thrust me through as he slammed the door behind us. The air was cleaner. I gasped, but my lungs had forgotten how to use air.

He snatched my wrist again and pulled me through several rooms. In the last, magic buzzed across my skin as he activated a spell. A desk pivoted, exposing a trapdoor. Touray lifted it.

“Down,” he ordered.

I had no choice. I shoved the tire iron into my waistband at the small of my back and sat down. I was leaving behind a lot of blood, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I swung my legs into the dark hole and caught my toes on the ladder within. I lowered myself as fast as I could. My hands and feet screamed agony. The insides of my boots were slick and wet, and my arms felt dead. I reached the bottom and stumbled back to let Touray down. I started coughing then. Each cough ripped through my chest. It felt like someone was pulling my lungs out by the roots.

Halfway down the ladder, Touray stopped and reached up, pulling the desk back into place and sealing us in total darkness. I heard him drop to the floor and fumble with something, then light blossomed from a couple of sconces on the walls.