Chapter 10
TEN
ATLAS
Rune stares at me, a crinkle in his brow, before reaching out to tap his fingertips against mine. We produce the same flicker of magic, but it lasts a few seconds longer this time.
“How is this happening?”
“It’s happened before too. Before I got here. I don’t have my own magic, and frankly, I’m supposed to be immune to it for the most part.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“First, I had a dream and then a few flickers. The witches in New Orleans detected it, and that’s how Kallis figured out I was helping you too. I don’t know how though. I didn’t seek it out.”
“Go back to the part where you realized I was missing in the first place.”
“It was a dream, I guess. An overwhelming vision of you in need.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips. “Do you dream about me often, Gargoyle?”
“No. That’s why it stood out. It was more of a… a message than a simple dream. I knew something was wrong.”
I won’t admit how many times I’ve lain awake thinking about the prickly mage, very much not asleep.
“And you set out to find me because I was so kind to you the first time we met,” he says sarcastically with another smirk.
“You didn’t know our intentions.” I shrug. “It’s not like you tried to kill us.”
“I thought the dragon was going to die when I handed over the amulet.” He looks away for a beat, almost like he’s embarrassed. “I’m glad he didn’t.”
“Me too.”
“Very curious though. The connection between us… Neither of us created it, so where did it come from?”
“No idea. I’m glad though. It’s how I found you.”
“Now we just have to hope your friends find you, or we’re both screwed.”
“They’ll look for me. There’s no way they won’t,” I say with certainty. “If nothing else, Auri will make sure to get me back.”
Rune nods, chewing his bottom lip. “I wish I knew why this was happening and how someone managed to block my magic. I’d very much like to meet the person or being capable of it. I’m sure it’s not Elvira.”
“No. She’s barely alive herself.”
“Right. Give me your hand. I want to try something.”
I do as he asks, watching as he draws shapes on my palm. I can feel them as if they’re embedding themselves in my skin, searing through my flesh to leave an invisible, lasting imprint underneath. “I can feel that.”
Rune tilts his head slightly. “Can you? Fascinating. Now, press your palm to mine.”
I do it, and as our palms touch, the intricate tattoos on his skin shimmer, flickering with light faintly. He exhales slowly, his eyelids fluttering, then he opens them and focuses his gaze on me.
“I don’t understand how or why my magic doesn’t work on its own, but it seems to strengthen with you. It’s almost like you’re holding some of it for me.”
“How would that even happen?”
“I’ve only heard of something like this once, many moons ago, and it was deliberate. A warlock was stealing magic by taking important belongings, jewelry, artifacts, things of that nature. Did you steal anything of mine, Atlas?”
“Steal? No, of course not.” Then I remember the journal.
Fuck. He might lose his shit knowing that not only do I have it, but I’ve read it extensively.
It’s not like it’s private thoughts or anything.
It’s notes about spells and rituals. I should tell him though.
I should tell him right now. Maybe knowing that would somehow get his magic to return fully. “Uh, Rune. Listen—”
My words are cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps, so I quickly fade into the background. The cell door opens and Elvira steps in. I study her face—the vacant cloudy eyes, and blank expression.
“Come,” she says. “We have shower for you.”
“A shower,” Rune says, jumping to his feet. “Praise Hades.”
Elvira approaches Rune, sliding a black blindfold over his eyes. I hear him mumble his displeasure at this step, but Elvira is unfazed, gently leading Rune out of the cell. She doesn’t lock the door behind her, which is perfect. Maybe I can slip out and figure out where we are.
I wait until her footsteps fade, then I peek around the corner of the cell door to ensure I’m alone.
The halls are stone, clearly old, and smell of dampness and mold.
There are several cells down here, which leads me to believe this is the site of a former jail.
Nothing looks new enough to have been built recently.
I take a step across the threshold but slam into something unseen, knocking my nose against it.
“Ow,” I mutter, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
What the hell? There’s still something here blocking my exit.
Smart. Dammit. Whoever is behind this is pulling out all the stops to make sure Rune can’t get out.
I shuffle back inside the room and sit on the floor, putting all my energy into concentrating on the guys. By now, they’ve probably figured out I’m gone, and at least Cassius will put it together that I went looking for Rune.
Hopefully that’ll be enough to lead them to us.
RUNE
I’m led through narrow halls to a small, tiled room with three showerheads.
When the blindfold is removed, it’s obvious from my surroundings that this building was some sort of jail at one point, but if we had showers all along, I wonder why it’s only been offered now.
Did my stench get too much for my undead warden?
“Here. Towel.” Elvira points to a bench with a fluffy blue towel and an unopened bar of soap. A bottle of shampoo sits beside the items.
“Thank you. Why now though?”
“Why now though?” she repeats, her brow creasing slightly.
“Why a shower now?”
“Did not work before. Works now.”
“I’ll take it.”
She stands there waiting as if she thinks I’m taking off my clothes in front of her. “A little privacy, please?”
Elvira blinks and steps out of the room. Once she’s gone I start the water and crank it to the hot position. The pipes clank and jump in the walls, the water coming out in spurts before turning into a weak but functioning stream.
I peel out of my clothes and step under the water. I don’t want to put dirty clothes back on, but at least I’m getting some of the grime off of me. The water, while lukewarm at best, feels amazing after being cooped up in that dingy room for who even knows how long.
I can feel it turning cool quickly, so I hurry to open the soap and wash myself, finishing with a quick wash of my hair. It’ll do for now. Just as the water turns icy, I shut it off and step out to grab the towel, noticing a stack of neatly folded clothes beside it that wasn’t there before.
Elvira’s a little perv.
I dry off and inspect the clothing, but as I realize what’s in front of me, my blood goes cold.
It’s a shirt with my favorite band from when I was a teenager.
Where on earth would my captor get a Panic!
At the Disco shirt in exactly my size? In fact, it looks like the actual shirt.
There’s also a pair of black skinny jeans.
No underwear, but that’s fine. I can go without.
I dress quickly and towel dry my hair. No gel, but I guess I’ll deal with it.
Just as I get my boots back on, I feel a strange tingle down my spine.
Strange in that it feels familiar, like something I’ve interacted with before.
It’s not Elvira. No. This is different, and it’s radiating from outside this room.
I’ve felt almost no magic abilities the entire time I’ve been here, but whatever or whoever is causing this reaction in me is drawing my skills to the surface. It can only be another magic user, but who? I can’t imagine who would be brave enough, or stupid enough, to attempt this.
Elvira appears suddenly, startling me. Her mouth opens as if she plans to speak, but instead of words a lone fly flutters past her lips. Nice.
“Who is my captor? When will I find out why I’m here?”
Elvira blinks several times but seems unable to speak.
“Is something wrong?”
“Room time,” she mutters.
I release a frustrated huff but nod as she slots the blindfold back into place. I don’t understand why I can’t see my surroundings, but there must be a good reason.
The closer we get to my cell, the more aware of Atlas I become.
His presence is oddly comforting. He feels almost like something I haven’t had in a long time.
A friend. Hopefully, his friends are on the hunt and can figure out how to get us out.
Based on what they achieved the last time I encountered them, I’m hopeful.
I step inside the cell and Elvira quickly slams the door closed. After a few seconds, Atlas appears against the far wall, letting his camouflage fade.
“Feel better?”
“Loads. I think we’re in an old prison or jail.”
“I agree. I saw down the hallway that there were other cells, but I couldn’t get out. I think there’s something blocking it.”
“It has to be magic. Only Elvira can pass through, and perhaps anyone in her company.” I sit on the cot. “Want to hear something really weird?”
“Yes.”
“This shirt I’m wearing… I was obsessed with this band when I was younger. I listened to them nonstop.”
“Okay?”
“This shirt was waiting for me after my shower. The only people in the world who would know are my family, and they’re dead.”
Atlas nods, his brow creasing. “Wait… Didn’t you tell us before that you killed everyone in your family except your sister?”
“Yes.”
“Except your sister,” he repeats.
“Impossible. She was never strong enough. Not powerful enough. That’s why I spared her.
Yes, she has magic ability like all Delaports do, but something went wrong with her.
She never fully developed. Besides, I’ve not seen or heard from her since it all happened.
” I drag my fingers through my damp hair.
“She’s not strong enough to overpower me. ”
I wrinkle my nose as the rest of the implication settles in. There’s no way my sister would dabble in necromancy, even if she were strong enough, which she absolutely isn’t.
Atlas nods. “I see. Is there a chance anyone else in your family is behind this?”
“It would almost have to be. Maybe a distant cousin or a long-lost sibling I never knew about. I don’t know how they’d know things about my childhood, but there are methods.
Perhaps they’re working with a spellcaster or a medium talking to the other side, I don’t know.
I just wish they’d come tell me what they want. ”
“It’s weird that they haven’t yet.”
“I can only assume they want to stress me out as much as possible. They want me to suffer. Honestly, if they have the right resources, it could be anyone playing tricks with my mind. The clincher is how they’ve managed to bind my magic. That part worries me.”
Atlas nods, looking solemn.
“Can we try again? The magic.”
“Of course.” Atlas offers his hand. “I think I should tell you something.”
“Hmm?” I grip his fingers, my breath catching as I feel a surge of my own magic trickling through me.
How is this possible? How is Atlas somehow the keeper of my magic, at least a bit of it?
Certainly not enough to pull off anything big enough for a jail break, but it’s something.
Even feeling this little tickle of my magic settles something inside me.
“I think I know how this is happening. The magic stuff between us.”
I meet his gaze. “Do tell.”
“Um, well, last time, when we were looking for you, we needed something that belonged to you, something that would help us overcome you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“So, um, we may have taken—well, Drax took and then gave to me… um… Don’t be mad.”
“Tell me, Atlas. What did he take?”
He swallows hard, a slight look of panic in his eyes as he scoots back from me. “One of your journals.”
My eyes go wide.
“And I’ve been reading it.” He averts his eyes, gazing down at his feet.
“I didn’t mean to do anything with it, but it was almost like it was calling to me.
I didn’t know how to return it to you, so I read it.
Often. Even though it doesn’t make much sense to me, you know, being spells and notes like that, I couldn’t make myself stop. ”
My mind is racing. He read one of my journals?
“I’m sorry, Rune. I figured since I’m not a magic user, I couldn’t really do any harm, and it was just so fascinating. A peek into a brilliant mind.”
“You read my journal?”
He nods, lifting his head to meet my eyes. “Yeah.”
“And because of that… some of my magic…” I stand as the meaning sinks in.
I know the missing journal. I’d assumed I’d left it in one of my many homes around the globe, and that I would find it again when I needed it.
The spell attached to it should have prevented anyone but my most trusted contacts from reading it, but Atlas managed it.
“I was gonna give it back if I ever saw you again.”
“You opened it and read the pages? You saw the words?”
“Yes. It still has your scent on it. That’s how we found the bar where you were taken.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Huh.” I sit on the cot, trying to sort through my thoughts, but it’s like there’s a windstorm in my head.
“Are you angry?”
“No, but I am very confused. There’s a spell on my journal that should have prevented you from reading it.
I know you said gargoyles aren’t affected by most magic, so it makes sense that you weren’t cursed when you touched it, but it’s mind boggling that you could read it. It just opened like a regular book?”
Atlas nods. “Yes.”
“And you said you could sense me through it?”
“I think that’s how.”
Well, isn’t that interesting?