Chapter 17 When the Bond Goes Dark
WHEN THE BOND GOES DARK
MURIEL
No gardens this time. Muriel was dreaming of Ireland.
A man—her father?—was running through moonlit woods, defensive magic blazing from his hands as pursuers closed in.
Her mother was trapped beneath a powerful shield of protective magic, hidden from those who had come for her.
She was screaming his name, her pregnant belly swollen, her face a mask of horror, unable to help as they cut him down—
Terror slammed through the bond.
Fear, pain, and fury crashed over her like a tidal wave. Not hers—Brandon’s.
Muriel sat bolt upright in the unfamiliar bed, gasping. Her magic surged in response to his distress, plants in the guest room erupting into wild growth.
She felt what he felt—ambush, multiple attackers, his magic scattering, suppressants burning against his skin—
Then—nothing. The bond went dark.
There was now only cold and silence where Brandon’s magic had been. The connection that had become as natural as breathing just... stopped.
No, she realized, it hadn’t stopped. It was still there but concealed. Dormant, not dead.
Muriel clutched her chest, confusion flooding through her. Had he shut her out? Changed his mind about waiting for her to talk to him?
No. Brandon wouldn't—
Realization dawned. He'd cloaked the bond. On purpose. To keep her from feeling whatever was happening to him.
Which meant something was very, very wrong.
The Codex erupted beside her.
Magic poured from the ancient grimoire in waves, demanding, urgent, filling the room with green-gold light.
Branches extended and reached in through the open windows.
New shoots with tiny leaves sprouted from natural wood furniture.
The air crackled with power that Muriel had never felt before—not a surge, but controlled fury.
The Codex knew Brandon was in trouble too, and it was telling her exactly what she needed to do.
Barefoot, wearing her pajamas, Muriel tore through the halls of the Masterson estate toward Armand’s library. The marble was cold under her feet. She didn't care.
Armand would be awake. He barely slept.
She didn't knock, just slammed the door open.
Armand looked up from his book, already rising. His ancient eyes took in her wild appearance, the flowers blooming in her wake, the Codex blazing in her arms.
“Something's happened to Brandon,” Muriel said. “They have him.”
Armand's expression shifted instantly. His eyes went distant for a heartbeat.
A moment later, the study door opened and Vlane entered, looking as meticulous as always despite the hour. His dark eyes assessed the situation as Ana glided in behind him, concern etched on her face. “What's wrong?”
“Brandon's been taken,” Armand said.
“By whom?” Vlane's voice was sharp.
“Collectors,” Muriel said. She knew it in her bones. “They must have ambushed him.”
“When?” Vlane demanded.
“Just now. Minutes ago.” Muriel's hands tightened on the Codex. “He was on his way back to The Glas Tann. He never made it.”
Ana's hand went to her mouth.
“This is my fault. He was giving me space,” Muriel said, the guilt cutting deep. “I asked for it and he—” Her voice broke.
She'd been angry. Hurt. And now he might die because of it.
Because of her. Because she was here licking her wounds and feeling sorry for herself and he was out there alone, dealing with the mess she’d brought to him.
“No,” Ana said firmly, crossing to Muriel and gripping her shoulders. “This is not your fault. The Collectors would have found an opening eventually.”
“But—”
“No.” Ana's green eyes were fierce. “You are not responsible for the actions of mercenaries. Do you understand me?”
Logically, Ana’s words made sense, but there was nothing logical about the swell of emotions roiling inside her at that moment.
Vlane's eyes went distant. “Zarek is raising the alarm. Jason is on his way.”
Jason appeared in the doorway, dressed in black from head to toe. Armand must have filled him in telepathically, because he moved right to Muriel and said, “Can you sense him?”
“Kind of,” Muriel answered. “I think he’s cloaking the bond, but I can still feel it. It’s very faint.” She closed her eyes and focused on that spot beneath her breastbone where Brandon’s magic usually sat. “He’s moving. It feels like… like the sun is rising on his right.”
“North and east,” Jason murmured. “How long ago?”
“Five minutes maybe?” Muriel's voice shook. “I ran here as soon as I felt it. It woke me up, then went dark.”
Jason's expression darkened. “They’re going to use him to get to you. They must have been watching longer than we thought.”
“Has the captured Collector provided any useful information?” Vlane asked.
“Not yet,” Jason said grimly. “He’s been buying time, knowing they were already close.”
Muriel's stomach dropped.
Jason pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen. “North and east... they’ll want someplace isolated and defendable but close enough for a quick exchange. There’s a cabin up that way, built right into the mountainside. That’s got to be their home base.”
“Good,” Muriel said, glad to have an objective. Standing around talking about it wasn’t doing Brandon any good. “Let’s go.”
“Not yet,” Jason said, his voice calm and strategic. “We do this smart. First, we confirm the location and that Brandon is there. We find out how many we’re dealing with and what kind of security they have.”
“That could take hours!” Muriel protested.
“It is better than rushing in blindly and getting everyone killed,” Vlane said flatly. “Including Brandon.”
“They won't kill him,” Jason said quietly.
Muriel's head snapped toward him. “How do you know?”
“Because Brandon is far too valuable to them alive,” Jason said, his dark eyes unreadable. “Trust me. They'll keep him breathing.”
Muriel wanted to argue, but she knew deep down they were right. Going in without knowing what they were facing was risky and reckless, even if every instinct screamed at her to move right now.
“They must be suppressing his magic. Even half a dozen mercenaries would be no match for Brandon,” Jason said thoughtfully, and Muriel thought she heard a note of pride in his voice. “I have spells that can lock onto suppressed magical signatures, but only at a short range.”
“Small team for reconnaissance,” Vlane said. “Zarek leads the guard, Jason provides magical tracking and intelligence gathering—”
“And me,” Muriel interrupted, lifting her chin. “What do I do?”
“Nothing. They came here looking for you and the Codex,” Vlane said. “We’re not going to hand them both on a silver platter.”
“I'm the only one who can track him through the cloaked bond,” she said firmly. “You need me.” Then more quietly, “He needs me.”
Vlane looked like he wanted to argue, but Armand spoke first. “She is right. The bond is our best tracking mechanism. And the Codex has chosen her for this.”
Ana moved to Muriel’s side and put her arm around her. Looking at Vlane, she said, “She’s his mate, Vlane. And bringing him home safe is her most heartfelt wish.”
A tense silence filled the room.
“Fine,” Vlane said finally. “But you stay with Zarek and do exactly as he says. It is imperative that the Collectors do not get their hands on you or that book. Do you understand?”
Muriel nodded.
“Once we have a location and intel, we call in Matt's pack,” Jason said.
“How long will that take?” Muriel asked.
“Not long,” Jason said. “Matt can mobilize fast.”
Not long sounded like forever to Muriel, especially when she couldn’t sense what was happening to Brandon.
“Be ready to go in ten minutes,” Jason said to Muriel. “Zarek will meet us out front.”
As the vampires left to prepare, Ana pulled Muriel aside. “Believe in yourself, Muriel. You are stronger than you know.”
Ana squeezed her hand, then let her go.
Muriel ran back to the guest room, yanked on clothes. Her hands were steady as she laced her boots. The Codex sat on the bed, pulsing with controlled power.
She picked it up, and the ancient grimoire settled into her arms. She reached out to Brandon again. That dormant presence was fainter now. Brandon was unconscious, or close to it.
Hold on, she thought, even though he couldn't hear her. I'm coming.