Chapter 15 #2
The first people to step out are enforcement, followed swiftly by arcanists in combat gear who must be Isidora’s own private security.
One of them opens the back door of the second car, and there she is, stepping out in a charcoal three-piece suit that’s more suited to a supermodel than a rector.
A black diamond the size of my thumb rests in the hollow of her throat.
Another gaudy display of Carlton wealth to make us all feel inferior, no doubt.
The only rector I’ve ever known was my uncle, and while he tried his best to look smart, there was an element of academic shabbiness to him. He definitely never wasted time on designer clothes and trinkets. Isidora’s sleek, corporate outfit is a statement that her tenure will be nothing like his.
“Nice of you to visit,” Halinor begins, watching the younger woman navigate the uneven ground in her heels with a wry grin. “If you’d warned me you were coming, I would’ve told you to pack something a little warmer.”
The barbs don’t land. Isidora may have no shirt beneath her waistcoat, but she’d rather die than wear something as homely as Halinor’s cape or Jasper’s sweats.
“Thank you for your concern, but I don’t expect to waste more time here than necessary,” she replies. “I came for my children. I was told I would find them here.”
Told by whom? I glance back and forth along the row of McKinleys, grimacing at the idea that any of them might be feeding information to the new rector.
“Parriarch McKinley.” An enforcer I vaguely recognise steps forward. “You should know, Anthea Carlton is charged with crimes of necromancy and the murder of two parriarchs. Pierce is likely her accomplice.”
I dart a sideways look at the Carlton heir, but his face stays blank as he’s thrown under the bus by his own mother.
“How interesting.” Halinor raises a brow. “One has to wonder if it’s something in the water down in London. A husband and two children lost to the forbidden school?”
I stop focusing as Kyrith takes a step forward on my other side.
Thump. Her grimoire drops to the ground by my foot, the noise echoing through the quiet yard. Jasper coughs, which covers the sound to those beyond the walls, but everyone on this side of the illusion heard it.
I expect her to pick it up, pink-cheeked and frowning at her own slip, but she doesn’t.
An ice-cold fist wraps around my heart as I finally stop focusing on the threat beyond the gate and read the blank look on her face. Her limbs jerk, and she takes another step, then another.
She’s heading right for Isidora and the cars beyond.
Planting myself bodily in front of her, I crush her against my chest. Shit, she’s not strong, but she’s struggling. I don’t want to hurt her.
I gentle my grip and almost take an elbow to the face for my trouble.
It’s Pierce, of all people, who’s the fastest to realise what’s going on. The pages of his grimoire rustle as he slams his hand down on a runeform near the start, whispering an incantation.
That quickly, Kyrith’s head drops, lolling on my shoulder.
She’s unconscious, but her legs are still scrabbling against the gravel.
North gathers her wrists in his hands as Leo steps between us and the gate, muttering his own spells. The first one is a paralytic, but it does nothing beyond slow her movements. Whatever is going on, his magic isn’t enough to completely counteract it.
Benny steps past us as we work together to pin her, his shoulders set.
“Get her to the other side of the fortress,” he tells Lambert as his thumbs fly over the cracked screen of his phone. “And quickly. With luck, distance will mute the dagger’s influence.”
The Winthrop heir doesn’t need to be told twice. He scoops Kyrith out of my arms and heads in the opposite direction as fast as his legs can carry them. After a moment of silent communication, Pierce nods at his grandfather, scoops up her grimoire, and follows.
Benny keeps walking, slipping his phone into his pocket as he heads straight for the parriarchs still playing word games beyond the gate. Halinor might be winning the war of insults, but the minute he crosses that line in the gravel, the taunts stop.
Isidora stiffens.
“Father,” she acknowledges. “Why am I not surprised to find you haunting the farthest backwater of society?”
“Parriarch Emeritus Benjamin,” the enforcer stutters out Benny’s official title as if he’s seeing a ghost. “If you’re breaching the conditions of exile—”
“Voluntary exile,” Benny corrects. “And thus, unenforceable by law. Now, if you’re looking for my granddaughter, I suspect you’re about to get the same call I just did.
” He pauses, and a chime cuts through the air.
“I’ll save you the trouble of answering.
Anthea escaped her cell in the McKinley dungeons yesterday.
An hour ago, she was sighted in Cambridge.
No doubt your best are already in pursuit. ”
The officer gapes at him, then turns, giving a few of the others a pointed look. Three of them draw their grimoires, transporting away with hastily murmured spells. He turns back to Benny, but the old man continues before he can say anything.
“And if you’re here to arrest the necromancers responsible for murdering both parriarchs, might I suggest starting with your new rector and the lich hiding in the car behind you.
Anthea may have struck the killing blow against Abe Talcott, but it was done on their orders.
As for Georgina, Anthea was locked up when they murdered her.
We have video footage of her asleep in her cell. ”
What follows is too fraught to be called silence. Even the wind seems to quieten in the wake of those bombshells. My heart damn-near forgets to beat.