Chapter 15 #3
Benjamin Carlton just appeared out of nowhere and accused Isidora of necromancy in front of a dozen enforcement officers.
Then he went a step further and accused them both of murdering the Talcott and Winthrop parriarchs.
Is Georgina’s death even public knowledge yet?
Worse, this whole thing is being streamed.
Every arcanist on the planet will have heard about this by morning.
The officer stammers, tugging at the collar of his jacket as his head turns this way and that, like he’s searching for someone to tell him what to do.
I almost pity him. It’s not every day parriarchs start accusing each other of necromancy in front of you.
Eventually he says, “We’ll need to review any evidence—”
“Already on its way to your headquarters, along with proof of the corruption within your own organisation that my daughter has been actively encouraging.” Benny’s voice is grave—though he’d have every right to be smug.
This must be something he’s planned for a long time.
“Every single ranking enforcement officer should receive a copy in five, four, three…”
Another chime slams through the space like a gunshot.
Isidora is painfully still, frozen.
It’s a reasonable reaction, so I don’t notice it’s an illusion until the spell drops, revealing her grimoire hovering in the air in front of her a heartbeat before a wave of lightning erupts out from her in a deadly ring.
No one sees it coming.
The enforcement officers are blasted away from her. The scent of ozone and burning sears my nostrils from the amount of power she puts into the spell. Unless any of them had personal warding amulets on them, they’re dead. There’s no surviving that amount of electricity.
What’s more impressive: every single Carlton remains completely untouched. Her magical control is as precise as it is devastating.
A second crack of lightning barrels towards Benny, Jasper, and Halinor, striking the wards with a crack that makes my ears ring.
None of them steps back. The wards are singed but unharmed. Surely Isidora didn’t expect that to work? Fort McKinley is legendary for its defences.
Unless she only wanted rid of the witnesses.
Only Halinor’s raised hand stops me from stepping forward and crushing the smiling bitch with her own car.
“Livestream’s over, Auntie,” Hazel calls, loud enough to be heard by everyone present.
The slight widening of Isidora’s eyes is more satisfying than it has any right to be. She thought she just killed all of those officers in an attack she could blame on us. Instead, she incriminated herself.
Halinor’s hand drops.
The car farthest from me flattens into a steel and glass pancake. It crunches, rolling with a screech of metal as I stride forward, the others by my side. It slams into the neighbouring vehicle.
I don’t need to speak a word as I step past the wards. My reputation for using manipulation magic to cause destruction on that scale precedes me. All of them tense.
“Dakari Talcott.” Isidora is less outraged and more resigned. “I should’ve guessed. Were you behind the underhanded use of inept technology as well?”
“That would be my doing,” Halinor retorts.
“And it’s Parriarch Talcott,” I correct, but the words are drowned out by the third Aston crumpling like a wad of expensive paper behind her.
One left. I crush it without mercy, hoping that Mathias is still inside. It might not kill him, but I’m betting it would hurt.
Glass tinkles as it falls. A tyre rolls away from the carnage. Isidora tracks its path as it bounces down the hill, her face curiously blank. If Mathias was inside, he must have transported out, leaving her with only the handful of arcanists around her for backup.
My gut sinks.
If they were fishing for information, then he’s got what he wanted. He left because he knows exactly where Kyrith is. I need to get her out of here. Now.
The certainty of the decision sours a second later. Where would we even go?
“Nice to know Mathias cares so much if you live or die,” Benny says. “Was it worth sacrificing both your children and your husband?”
Isidora’s free hand comes to rest on the gem around her throat, and I frown as she changes course, trying to hide the tell by tucking a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes.
Is that…? No. Surely, she wouldn’t?
Benny’s dismayed face assures me she most certainly would.
If that’s a phylactery, then she’s a lich.
“Our family didn’t need the likes of them, or you, polluting it,” she finally replies. “Tell me, is Anthea really in Cambridge? Or is she hiding back there with the rest of you?”
“Anthea wanted nothing to do with me,” Benny says, holding his hands up. “And even less to do with the mother who used her and then threw her to the wolves. Who knows where your children have ended up?”
Isidora scowls at him, the pages of her grimoire blurring as they turn. “Then I’m done wasting my time here. Have a good night, Father.”
That quickly, she’s gone, the rest of the Carltons following shortly after. I should be relieved, but I meet Jasper’s eyes over his aunt’s head and see my own dread reflected in them.
We might’ve scored a blow here, but I’m not sure we won this battle.