Chapter 15
Fifteen
Dakari
We’ve been expecting them ever since we broke Kyrith out of the Arcanaeum, but seeing the convoy of silver Aston Martins approaching the fort doesn’t ease the stranglehold of anticipation wrapped around my throat. It just makes it worse.
They’re still a few minutes out, but there’s no way it’s anyone other than Isidora Carlton. Did she come here herself? Or are these just Carlton minions sent to intimidate us?
“They turned up.”
Leo is the last person I want to see right now. Given the grudging expression he wears as he climbs the steps onto the battlements and leans over the edge, he feels the same.
I say nothing. Below us, the McKinleys are hurriedly renewing the runeforms chalked onto the outer wall. Adding more.
They’ve got the defence of this place sorted.
My grimoire is already resting in one of the stone holders, ready to crush the cars the second they get close enough. If only Leo could be dealt with so easily.
The pages flick in response to my aggravation. In a burst of power, the ó Rinn heir soars backwards, shoved off the parapet by my unseen hand.
“Feck!” he bellows.
The corner of my lip twitches.
Tossing him off a thirty-foot wall was more satisfying than I hoped it would be.
Unfortunately, he manages a bouncing spell before he hits the grass below.
Shame. He rebounds, landing in a crouch beside me.
I brace for some kind of retaliation, but it doesn’t come.
His grimoire lands in the holder beside mine with a heavy thud, and his fingers caress the pages, landing on a runeform I don’t recognise.
I tense, but his attention is on the four DBXs in the distance. The incantation he’s using is part of the school of divination, but I don’t know exactly what it does.
“Isidora’s in the second car,” he mumbles under his breath. “Well, it’s either her or someone else with enough power to knock out the entire island.”
“Not Mathias?”
He shrugs. “If he’s with them, he’s hiding his magical signature.”
So fifty-fifty odds. Mathias is definitely knowledgeable enough to hide if he wanted to, but would he bother coming here?
I can only imagine Isidora is fuming at being treated like a lapdog, sent to bark at the clan until they give in. It’s exactly the kind of job she would’ve given to her own children before she lost both.
“The clan is casting muddling wards,” Leo notes, his focus dropping to the arcanists below.
“Hiding Kyrith.”
There’s no disguising her power, but with enough spells, we can confuse anyone searching for her into thinking that it’s coming from multiple different people.
“Smart.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you bothering me for a reason? I thought you’d be down there, laying out the red carpet for your necromancer buddies.”
It’s a low blow, and it hits its mark.
“I’m here to thank your fecking Talcott ass,” he grouches. “For breaking the curse, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
His shoulders drop an inch in my peripheral vision. “Yeah. You said.”
The silence falls flat, both of us refusing to look anywhere other than the line of silver vehicles in the distance. The city cars hit a savage pothole with a visible jolt. Good. I hope Isidora felt that.
“I was brought up to hate you,” Leo says. “Every single time my parents’ deaths were mentioned, it was always ‘thanks to the bleeding Talcotts’. And you were the worst of them, destructive, with no respect for the parriarchy.”
“You think I give a damn?”
People have been saying shit like that since I was a teenager. Leo buying into that bullshit is no great surprise.
“I’m trying to say I was wrong, okay? I should’ve trusted Kyrith when she said you weren’t like that.
I knew, logically, that you had nothing to do with the curse or their deaths.
I’m sorry I didn’t judge you fairly and used you as an excuse for my own shite behaviour.
” He pauses. “And I’m sorry that I asked you to kill me. That was unfair.”
Yes. It was. He didn’t give two shits about what his death would do to Kyrith, or how I’d even face her with his blood on my hands.
It’s part of the reason why I haven’t unleashed any of the anger swirling inside me. Not really.
Because hurting him hurts her, even when she pretends it doesn’t. And unlike some people, I’d rather die than do that.
Another ward rises. The magic smothers the fortress so thickly that it’s like looking out through frosted glass until it settles, turning transparent.
The cars are drawing closer. I’m almost grateful because I don’t have the patience to listen to anymore of his crap.
“You want to apologise?”
He nods tersely.
“Then shut up and use the divination spells in your grimoire to keep an eye on Isidora.”
If she’s here to intimidate the McKinleys, she’ll be out of luck. If she’s here searching for Kyrith, we can’t let her find proof that she’s here. And if she learns that Anthea is in the dungeon, there’ll be hell to pay.
Better she thinks the clan is as isolated as ever.
I shove past Leo, taking the steps down three at a time.
Halinor is by the gates, listening to one of her sons as he gesticulates with both hands.
There’s an illusion embedded in the walls, hiding the occupants of the fort from anyone looking in, but the old parriarch is eyeing the portcullis like she’s considering going out there to tell Isidora to get fucked.
To make matters worse, Kyrith appears, surrounded by the others. None of them are dressed for this weather. They’ve come straight from the gym, and she’s already shivering.
With a sigh, I shrug my coat from my shoulders, only for Leo to get there first, offering out his.
Lambert snatches it from him, wrapping Kyrith in it before she can protest.
Her fingers sink into the thick wool, but she doesn’t wrap herself tighter in the fabric. If anything, she looks uncomfortable in it. Briefly, I debate replacing it with my own, but the cars are getting closer. This isn’t the time.
“What’s the plan?” Pierce asks, staring at the approaching convoy.
“Find out what Isidora wants, then tell her to fuck off,” Halinor replies easily.
“Simple. Effective. I like it.” Lambert offers her a grin, and I sigh.
“I’m coming with you,” Jasper insists. “As your heir, I should be there.”
“You’re our parriarch,” Halinor corrects. “So, I would expect nothing less. The rest of you, especially you”—she pins Pierce with a look—“stay here. The last thing we need is her accusing us of harbouring her children.”
It’s a wise move, but Kyrith bristles. Thankfully, Jasper is as in tune with our girl as ever and pulls her close, kisses her forehead, and murmurs something too quietly for us to hear.
“Penny for them?” I ask as he pulls away, and I take his place.
The familiar question drags a half smile from her, but it’s gone too fast.
She lets me hold her as she draws her grimoire free and sets it to floating in the air.
“Is Isidora here for her children? For me? Or to kill Halinor like she did Georgina?” she muses as she draws a pen from behind her ear and starts inking a new line into the book.
The runeform she’s working on is a powerful protective spell. I take the hint, summoning my own grimoire down from the wall and flicking through the pages.
“Given how angry they were when we got you out of there, I’m guessing she’s here for you,” North says, echoing my thoughts. “But if she tries anything, she’s getting a fireball to the face. She deserves it.”
“I should never have taught you that spell,” Kyrith mutters under her breath. “This is a delicate situation. Try to keep the fire to a minimum, at least until we have some answers.”
Eddy rolls her eyes. “She’s lucky I can’t cast destruction spells, or she’d be toast already.”
The twins are already on the offensive. Rightfully so.
I want nothing more than to crush the cars now, kill Isidora, and be done with it.
But Kyrith is already shaking her head. I trust her wisdom more than my thirst for vengeance.
“Isidora wouldn’t approach a stronghold like this without reason.
It reeks of provocation, especially if violence breaks out.
If I had to guess, she’s fishing for something she can use to justify moving against Clan McKinley.
As of right now, she has no legitimate cause, so she’ll try to manufacture one.
In fact, if I were you, I’d use everything at my disposal to beat her at her own game.
She’s spent decades playing the just and responsible leader.
If we can get proof that she isn’t what she seems, we might be able to turn some of her own house against her. ”
Halinor looks at Jasper, leaving the final decision to him.
His jaw sets as he considers it, then nods. “Hazel, get up on the wall. Livestream everything. Get your ass inside if it looks like things are about to get violent. The rest of you, on your best behaviour until I say otherwise.”
I’m not the only one who notices the corner of Kyrith’s mouth turning down in disapproval. Halinor also hums, but while she’s old, she’s interacted with more of the modern world than our Librarian.
None of the younger arcanists have any issue with Jasper’s command. They grew up with the blending of magic and modern technology. Kyrith didn’t. She’s adapting, but slowly.
The frantic scramble to follow Jasper’s instructions is punctuated by the sound of gravel crunching under their tyres as the vehicles form a blockade around the entrance to the fortress.
Halinor limps towards the gate, Jasper at her side, as she steps over the faint line in the gravel which marks the edge of the illusion hiding the fort’s occupants from everyone outside.
They wait for the Carltons to emerge, staying just close enough that we can reach out and pull them back to safety if we need to.