Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
Caden
T he minute Ice returns to the study, Bram begins pacing in front of his ornate desk, looking at each warrior. The gravity—and disapproval—of that stare is unavoidable. I bristle. Admittedly, if I was still a Marine and Bram was my superior officer, I would deserve an ass-chewing.
But I have my own problems—my transition, Sydney’s attack, Lucan’s illness. Since my plate is full, I’m tempted to shout that I owe Bram nothing. But the situation is no longer that simple. The man’s sister is keeping my brother alive—at great personal expense.
I also can’t deny that, without Bram, Zain likely would have killed Sydney. I know little actual magic—and prefer it that way. It won’t be necessary once I return to Texas, but today…leaving isn’t an option because there is no mistaking the fact Sydney’s fate has utterly changed. As long as the Anarki believe she has the diary, true or not, they’ll hunt her.
Then there is the fact that Anka is somewhere out there, alone and unprotected, with little idea where she belongs. As much as I despise it, I need Bram’s help now more than ever.
“Today, many things changed. Caden transitioned. The Anarki began hotly pursuing the book once more. We have a prisoner. Again.”
“Unlike last time, we won’t let him escape,” Ice growls.
Shock grinds his teeth and sets his jaw, but nods. “If you’re keeping him here, I’ll need a low profile. If he springs free like a canary from its cage, he’ll bloody sing and convince Mathias that I’m on your side.”
“Agreed. Caden, tell the others what you learned about the book when you tried to steal it.”
Quickly, I explain my failed attempts to remove the book from Sydney’s flat, stressing the fact it literally disappeared from my hands when I crossed the threshold.
“This underscores what we’ve suspected: the Doomsday Diary can only be ‘owned’ by females. Several of us have tried to write in it. Nothing. So it cannot be utilized by a male. Which begs the question, does Mathias know this little twist?”
“’Tis impossible. That cursed book scarcely left my sight in fifteen hundred years, and I knew naught of this until now,” Marrok points out.
“But we don’t know if Mathias has other means.” Bram turns to Shock. “Does he?”
Every eye in the room turns to stare at our supposed double agent.
“How the bloody hell should I know?” He shrugs leather-clad shoulders.
Vague. Naturally. Why would Shock tell the Doomsday Brethren anything useful?
“Work on him. Discern what he knows. Perhaps we’ll chat with Zain, since he’ll be enjoying my hospitality indefinitely.”
Shock nods. “Zain’s capture will be a blow to the Anarki. Physically, Mathias is still weak from Olivia’s blast in the tunnel a few weeks past. He’s recovering, mind you, but slowly. Zain has been elevated to acting head fiend, so his absence will be felt.”
Ice clenches his fists. “I wish they could feel me blasting them all to hell.”
“Me, too,” Bram chimes in. “Crippling their operation is a start, but?—”
“He’s not as crippled as you might hope,” Shock advises. “He’s ramping up the Anarki. The ranks of half dead are swelling enormously. I’ve no bloody clue how. His followers are abducting soldiers from all over the world and converting them quite quickly. More arrive, angry and belligerent, each day. It isn’t long before their souls are gone, and they’re sporting robes.”
“Why soldiers?” I ask.
“Think, you sod.” Shock’s scathing stare insults my intelligence. “They’re well trained.”
I let his insult slide. I’m too infuriated about Mathias forcing servicemen into his ranks to respond to Shock’s petty jab.
“How many? A few dozen?” Bram asks.
“A few hundred—at least. And the speed at which he’s able to convert humans to Anarki defies logic.”
“How?” Bram’s blue eyes threaten to bulge. “Each one usually takes days, perhaps weeks.”
“I’ve overheard Mathias talking about an object he recently acquired to speed up the process. I’ve offered to help Zain and the others for appearance’s sake.” He shrugs. “They haven’t taken me up on it yet.”
“Mathias isn’t converting them himself?” Bram sounds surprised.
“Too weak.”
“Ah. I thought surely he’d be up for some mass torture. He so enjoys others’ pain. Nice to know we’ve deprived him of his fun. Does he stay abed, then?”
“Yes. He drains women of their energy daily. I can hear their screams…” Shock blanches.
How could any normal man stand to listen to women being brutalized? Then again, Shock isn’t normal. Do those events actually disturb him? Or is that for show?
Shock whirls on me. “I hate it, you sodding little whelp, but if I blow my cover, many more will die.”
I fist my hands, loathing the bastard more every minute. But he’s right.
Bram paces again, his thoughts obviously racing. “This can’t go on. The Council isn’t willing to admit that Mathias has returned. Against all my pleadings, I’ve been ordered to quell the rumors, and I’ve had some success. But clearly, no one except us will help magickind. It’s imperative we devise a plan to defeat Mathias that bloody works.”
“With Mathias weakened and Zain captured, the Anarki will be in disarray, despite the swell of new members. I can give you all you need to stage an attack on his secret location.”
Or to lead the Doomsday Brethren into a trap.
“If he’s weak, and the ranks are in chaos, perhaps the time is right.” Bram regards the others. “Duke? Marrok? Ice?”
Duke crosses his arms over his chest, and despite recently having battled a dozen men, he still looks surprisingly posh and put together. “We’ll need to train a bit more. But the idea sounds reasonable.”
“Aye,” Marrok adds. “The strategy must be sound. We can leave nothing to chance.”
Ice merely gives a humorless laugh. “I’m always in favor of kicking Anarki arse.”
Are they all mental? Bram doesn’t want dissension, I understand. But good god, can they not see the obvious? “What if he’s leading us into a trap?”
The men cast measuring glances at Shock who stands tall, arms crossed, legs akimbo, expression full of fuck off . “Think what you want. Ignore me if you like.” He shrugs. “Piss on it, for all I care.”
“It’s a calculated risk I think we must take,” Bram replies.
“What about Anka?” I snarl, frustration clawing my insides. “We can’t abandon her to face this nightmare alone.”
Shock whirls on me, his massive hands viselike on my biceps. “What the fuck are you on about?”
I wrench free, my fist itching to connect with his arrogant jaw. “Don’t bloody touch me, you wanker!”
Duke’s smooth drawl cuts through the tension. “He means that we discovered Anka was staying with her cousin Aquarius all these weeks. She left a few hours ago. Her choice, apparently.”
For once, Shock’s impenetrable mask slips. He’s staggered by raw relief. “She’s alive?”
“Yes, and she belongs with my brother,” I point out.
Shock glowers my way. “They’re no longer mated.”
I lunge in his face. “And it’s your BFF’s fucking fault.”
“Stop bickering!” Bram demands. “Caden, you, Duke, and Ice go out and search for Anka. Marrok, Shock, and I will stay behind to formulate an attack plan. We’ll advise you when it’s ready.”
Exhaustion winds like molten lead through my veins, weighing me down. The adrenaline from the battle is wearing off, and all I want to do is lie down and sleep for a week, preferably with Sydney wrapped around me. But Anka is alone, and Lucan needs her.
“Now that you’ve transitioned, your magic will be helpful to the cause,” Bram muses. “You’ll need a wand. Normally, your family would?—”
“My parents are too frail, and I don’t speak to the rest, so no one will be giving me a wand.” Thank god.
“I’ll do it,” Bram offers. “Give me a few hours, and I’ll present it to you.”
As much as I hate to admit it, I owe Bram, especially since he’s lending more warriors to the search. He’s even offered to perform this sacred family ritual for me. But I want as little involvement with magic as possible. Besides, taking a wand from Bram makes both my position in magickind and the Doomsday Brethren feel permanent.
“I don’t need or want a wand. I still prefer to be a man, not a wizard.”
“But you are a wizard.”
“Only if I choose to exercise my powers. And I don’t.”