Chapter 60
Chapter
Sixty
Sydney
C aden’s absence feels like a dagger twisting in my gut. I’m so frustrated that I want to hurl Bram’s priceless knick-knacks against the wall. But after my firsthand close-up of Lucan's devastation and the heartbreaking account of Westin’s death, I can’t really blame Caden.
I want to be furious. Mostly, I’m sad.
Maybe if I could end this war sooner, take down Mathias… But even with the evil wizard gone, Caden and I have a mountain of issues to tackle. They aren’t insurmountable. It will take time, of course. And it won’t be easy. But aren’t they worth climbing if we end up together?
Indeed.
The night stretches on as I pace my room, ideas swirling and colliding. After hours of filtering through everything, two remain. First, I must find that magical book and discern once and for all if the feelings Caden and I share stem purely from those pages. If so, I have to undo the spell, consequences be damned.
Second, I have to help magickind in a more meaningful way. Transcasting Mathias’s return is just the beginning. Bram hasn’t let me convey details about the attacks—yet. But if people knew the extent of Mathias’s atrocities, they might unite against him. We need an advantage.
One sits in the dungeon below.
I glance at the clock. Nearly three in the morning. No time like the present.
Down the dark stairs I travel, creeping into Bram’s office. In a secret compartment behind the sofa he showed all the females “just in case,” I find the Doomsday Diary. It seems mad to me that anyone would attack a manor so seemingly secure, but it’s Mathias. I can’t discount any possibility.
Under the dim desktop lamp, I frantically flip through the pages, searching for my previous entries. They’re gone, vanished as if they never existed. Bloody hell, this book makes no sense. Then again, it is magic.
Staring at the blank pages, my heart races. What do I write? How do I unravel this mess I’ve made? And more importantly, how do I protect the magical world I’ve grown to love—and the man I can’t bear to lose?
My hand trembles as I lift the pen. Whatever I write next could change everything. For better or worse, I’m about to find out.
Finally, I craft another message to my “Magical Diary,” wishing that I hate Caden and that he loathes me as well. We’ll give each other coal for Christmas, dead roses on Valentine’s Day, and snarl like pit bulls every day in between. Then I stare at the page, waiting for the diary’s inevitable response to sleep, dream, and anticipate because the fantasy I imagine will soon be my fate.
Instead, the book writes back something entirely different.
To wish for enmity, you are too late. This fantasy you imagine cannot be your fate.
Because true love has claimed your hearts, you are sworn together, never, ever to part.
True love? A smile bursts across my face. Hearing that my fantasies didn’t incite false feelings is a huge relief—and makes me all the more impatient to get on with task number two. The sooner I rally magickind around Bram, the sooner Caden and I can work through our differences. That means talking information out of Zain.
Though he is likely to be a hostile interview subject and it’s the middle of the night, I’m not waiting. Who knows whether Mathias can do more damage to magickind while I wait for a more polite hour? Zain is behind bars, has no wand, and Bram has explained that only his welcomed guests can teleport in and out. The dungeon dampens magical ability, too. Surely, I’ll be safe long enough to ask a few questions.
I just have to persuade him to talk, and snark won’t serve me. Zain’s T-shirts suggest he would merely snip back. I’ll use our previous work connection and play the stupid human card.
I grab my little video camera and make my way through the dark house, down to where Bram has the wanker locked away.
The dungeon is pitch black. No windows, no lights. The room smells like damp stones and despair. I shiver.
“Why are you here, Sydney?” Zain rasps out. He sounds weak.
“How did you?—”
“Your scent.”
I don’t think taking a shower would fix that. “Where’s a light?”
“There isn’t one.” He barely gets the words out.
I recoil. “I’ll return.”
Back upstairs, I trudge, puzzled by the dungeon’s absolute darkness. Even during the day, it’s black as pitch down there. Is it some form of magical torture? Whatever the reason, I can’t fumble with the camera in that gloom.
Inside the library, I snag a candle, then hunt for matches. Not exactly a staple in a magical household, but my handbag yields a book from the pub near my flat.
Armed with the flickering candle to illuminate the dungeon’s dark and a camera, I descend again. I set the candle on a nearby table and switch on the camera. Its beam pierces the blackness as I step into the center of the room.
My heart races. I’m about to confront a dangerous magical criminal, and I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing. But I need answers, and this might be my only chance to get them.
“What the devil?” Zain shields his face with his hand, his longish hair wild.
“Sorry. I hoped to interview you.”
“I don’t want to talk.” He sighs. “I’m exhausted. I need more time with the surrogate. I’m still weak after healing your friend. Bram allowed me very little energy.”
Perhaps he’s faking it, but he looks like death warmed over. Several days’ growth shadows his jawline, nearly overwhelming his pale, gaunt face. His clothing is filthy. Of course, he deserves every bit of it for what he did to Aquarius.
“If you talk to me, I’ll talk to him on your behalf.”
Zain frowns. “Why should I trust you?”
“What have I done to earn your distrust? I’m just trying to understand what’s happening. Caden wants nothing to do with magic and won’t discuss it. Bram is too busy. The others… Well, you know far more than I.”
Zain leans against the bars. “Of course I do.”
The stroke to his ego works. I slip on my most earnest expression. “Then help me. I am a reporter at heart. Even if this story never sees daylight, I want to understand… When you first came to work for Out of this Realm, you said a mysterious someone left you information. That wasn’t true, was it? Did Mathias tell you? Or did you just know?”
“I knew. I know most everything Mathias plans.”
“I thought as much. I’ve heard Bram’s side of this war, but I want to understand Mathias’s. I’m intrigued by his struggle for equality. It sounds so…utopian. But I allowed myself to be swayed by Anka’s rape and Bram’s tales of attacks on the Privileged without hearing the other side of the story. It wasn’t professional of me. So what is Mathias’s perspective in all this?”
Zain draws in a ragged breath. “Everyone has enemies, some willing to exaggerate the truth.”
“True, but I saw Anka after Mathias released her. Did he break her bond with Lucan, then force her to his bed?”
“That’s her view of events. Mathias’s version of the story is much less melodramatic.”
Doubtful, but I have to keep Zain talking, find proof for magickind that Mathias is up to something terrible. I need people to rally behind Bram and the Doomsday Brethren.
“Right, then. What are Mathias’s plans to help the Deprived overcome their oppression?”
Zain moans. “Come closer. I can’t hear you.”
He’s lying, but he’s done nothing menacing. Besides, he’s depleted and defenseless, so how can he be a threat?
“What are Mathias’s plans?” I repeat.
“Closer,” he pleads. “Please. Give me your hand. I need a bit of your energy.”
I still. “You can get it from a simple touch?”
“A bit.”
I don’t trust him, and I don’t want him touching me. “Answer me first. What does Mathias plan?”
“To eradicate inequality.”
“How? How will obtaining the Doomsday Diary help? Will he simply write that as a wish?”
“What else would he do?”
“I don’t know. You’re familiar with him. All I’ve heard are the…rumors.”
“They’re crap!”
I’m tired of Zain’s coy answers. “Are they? I understand the opposition telling lies and whatnot, but if you’re anything to go by… What you did to my friend Aquarius was unforgivable. And you threatened to kill me, too!”
“Worthless pawns, both of you,” he spits. “Just like your wizard lover.”
Zain’s remark is meant to get under my skin. I refuse to show that it does. “Why should anyone get behind your ‘cause’ if you simply intend to kill people?”
“Mathias is brave enough to challenge the establishment. He should be hailed as a hero.” Zain lunges at the bars.
They rattle and clink. Dirt and grit fall from the ceiling. Is the plaster disintegrating?
I glance up to where the bars join the ceiling. They’re working free.
Biting back a gasp, I wonder… Has Zain noticed, too?