Enchanter's Echo (3 page)

But she couldn’t stop, not when she could help the unfortunate woman. Life deserved to flourish and thrive. Her enchantress power demanded no less from her, pushing her to assist. However, her current glitter cloud, forming even now, had nothing to do with Mrs. Wasten.

Aurora planted her feet and glared at her friend. “I think going too far could be defined as lying to your best friend.”

“What are you talking about?” Gwyn shook her head, her white blond curls bobbing.

“You told me you threw my father’s enchanted eye into the river. You didn’t. The Rallises had it all this time. Edmund destroyed it just now. Why did you tell me you took it?”

“Why? Why?” Gwyn thrust her hands out and shook them to the fierce rhythm of her words. “Five months ago you were so stressed out you were gushing your little enchantress glitter everywhere.”

“With good reason!” Aurora countered. First the terrorists’ bomb had exploded and she’d been saved from death or injury only by the grace of the goddess. Afterward, she’d saved Lily, then hours later learned of her own father’s death, his enhanced metal eye, gone.

“Yes, with good reason. But you were about to give up the vibes! So I lied to get you to calm down. I told you I had it. I knew no one would come after you because no one knew an enchantress was living in Rallis. Or so I thought.” Her eyes widened in betrayal with those last words. “Apparently, you have your own secrets. Kissing the heir? You’ve screwed him, haven’t you?”

Aurora swallowed back the guilt. Her history with Edmund endangered them all, though it had happened months before the bomb, months before she’d broken the law. Nevertheless, the memories of that weekend with him had nourished her heart when was it cracking and crumbling beneath the strain of her secrets.

“I had no idea he even knew who you were.” Gwyn stuck out her hip, shifting her weight. “You suck as a criminal, Ror.” She softened her voice. “I support what you’ve done. I love you. You know that. I’m just trying to keep you together for as long as possible to postpone our impending deaths.”

Aurora strove for calm, but her insides were too clammy to hold on. “The gang keeps us safe.” She spouted her usual defenses with a brittle tone. “The enchantment—”

“Yes, the gang’s reputation helps. But they suck as guards.”

“They do not.”

“Your lover boy got through, didn’t he? And, yes, your keep-out spell is beautiful and strong. The fact that you can form that enchantment while living among the trash towers is a testament to your powers that I can only dream about.”

The longing in Gwyn’s voice brought Aurora’s shoulders into a slump. It was hard to have so much power when her friend had so little, like being the richest person in the world and befriending someone who’d taken a vow of poverty she resented.

Gwyn dug her foot into the exposed roots of the plucked vibe violet releasing its midnight scent through the air. “The enchantment is strong, but it’s just a spell. It can come down with a slice. You’ve read the stories. The prince battles through the vines to get to the princess’s tower. And he always wins. He’s the good guy. We’re the ones in the wrong here and if anyone tells....” She narrowed her eyes. “Or if we let the wrong people in....”

Aurora shook her head as Gwyn circled the conversation back to poor, sick Mrs. Wasten. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Whether or not it happens, it might be too late.” Gwyn’s voice bounced through the trees. “The Wastens are a fourth family. You’ve exposed us to a fourth family.”

This time the guilt was too much to swallow. Her glitter flashed between them like a danger signal. Little good it did now.

Compared to Aurora’s ancestors, the descendants of the fourth ship to arrive in the New World were far above her rank, though they were nothing compared to first or even second landers. Justin Wasten had been one customer among many in her repair shop until she’d heard his sad story about his wife. She hadn’t known his status then. She’d assumed he was just another down-on-his-vibes mage too poor to make it anywhere but the Drainpipe.

“He’s vowed to secrecy. And his wife, too.” It was the only reassurance Aurora had to offer. “Though Mrs. Wasten seems to prefer dying to living with an enchanted heart.”

“It was stupid to make the offer. You can’t fix everyone. Please quit trying. Focus on protecting the people you’ve already fixed. If we get caught....” Her eyes widened with fear.

Aurora had to look away. She’d dragged her friend into this. If they got caught, Gwyn would die a traitor’s death for not turning in Aurora and the others.

“Goddess, Ror, we live in a world where the High Councilor steals babies and little kids for their powers. She casts death chamber spells on anyone she wants dead. The council is ruthless. Callous. If they find out, they aren’t going to care how cute Lily is, and they sure as blasted hells aren’t going to care about a sarcastic teen with purple hair.” She put her hands on Aurora’s shoulders. “Please quit. I need you to stay safe. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“You mean don’t get us all killed.”

Edmund glared at the thin line of dangerous, chaotic energy. It hovered at the outside corner of Aurora’s repair shop. As he panted for breath after sprinting from her side, an icy anger spread inside him. It devoured the warmth that kissing her had kindled. While he’d been distracted with her lips, the softness of her cheek, and those curves beneath her ratty coat, an enemy had struck at the heart of the territory. The culprit had ripped a six-inch fissure in the Rallis energy bond.

He lifted his hand as if he might tear out the damage or better yet, cast a repair spell. If only such a spell were within his power…. Hell, he didn’t know anyone who could fix a bond. For that matter, he’d never heard of a bond that needed repair. Only a truly evil mage would dare attempt to harm one in the first place.

The bond was vital to the health of the territory. It saturated the land and air, allowing the senator and his heirs to keep the land’s energy, as well as the energy of the mages who lived here, safe and orderly. Without the bond, the territory’s energy would vibrate uncontrollably. Like it did here.

He scanned the site with his mage sense…a sixth sense that allowed him to see and manipulate some frequencies of the universe’s energy, but the area was already sterile—no residual vibes, no clues, no enemy. And sure as hell no junkyard gang member in sight. Where the fuck were they?

He clenched his jaw and casted a steer-clear
spell over the spot, not that anyone was likely to walk through this far edge of the junkyard. But he wouldn’t risk it. Though he couldn’t fix the damage, he could prevent anyone from getting hurt because of it. He pivoted on his heel among the dead weeds at the building’s corner and strode off toward his car. He had to inform the senator.

There would be no words to soften the blow. Though he could use a calling charm and pass the news on immediately, this was one message he needed to deliver in person.

It was a long drive home, but the car broke records just as it was designed to do, his foot heavy against the accelerator. With every mile, his icy anger crept deeper into his gut, brushing his soul with its frosty touch. Not just anger…fear. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles white, refusing to give in to the shiver.

He pulled into the gates of Rallis Hall, parked the car, and dashed up the front steps. Jasper opened the door with a perfectly timed spell. He always did. His butler talents shined brighter than the family’s silver.

Edmund managed a civil nod of thanks and spun toward his grandfather’s office. His heart thumped hard with every step.

“Sir, the senator is with the governor of the seven counties and the director of P.U.R.E. I expect he’ll be awhile.”

He halted at Jasper’s reminder. Barging in with this news was unthinkable. “Squeeze me into his calendar as soon as this meeting ends, no matter what he has next.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he sprinted up the main stairs to the east hall, then to the north, and up to the fourth level.

His family home sprawled wide and high, though this particular hallway, which led to the attic stairs, was unnaturally cramped and dark. The day he’d come into his true power, he’d placed charms in the hallway’s four corners to make it smaller. Childish, but it discouraged visitors. Today he needed the peace of his refuge. He needed to plan. To find the right words to tell them what had happened. To be in the heart of his family while he still could. Because he knew what was coming.

His heart might have frozen solid at that thought, but a flicker of warmth remained…because of her.

He climbed the last set of stairs and stepped inside the north tower’s attic. The bleak space matched the feeling in his gut. Pacing to one of the east windows, he tossed a Mageman comic book he’d left on the sill into its box on the floor. He stared down at the sprawling front lawn.

Far ahead, a tall fence lined the property. Every inch of the fence was spelled with security casts, blocking any would-be intruders. Half a dozen guards manned the gatehouse, and five times that patrolled the grounds. The property was safe.

The territory was not.

If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought she’d planned it. But that was impossible. His enchantress couldn’t hurt a fly. No enchantress could. Plus, as intended, he’d taken her completely unaware.

Was it a coincidence that an enemy had struck the junkyard while he’d been there?

No. No way.

Someone had been watching as he’d kissed her, someone with balls bigger than wisdom should allow. Whoever it was wouldn’t have them for much longer.

Violating the energy’s bond was an act of war. The bond emanated from the heart of his family and reached to the territory’s borders. The fissure might as well be a rip in his soul. And vibe shite but soul rips hurt. The senator had to be hurting, too, likely worse than Edmund.

He leaned his hands against the window’s sill. His vantage point gave him a view of the woods’ treetops, concealing the city far beyond and the woman he’d waited for.

He wouldn’t lose her again. That flicker in his heart flamed with a painful heat at the idea. How long had she been hiding in the junkyard? Had she wondered about him? Maybe while she’d been making that damn eye? And who the blasted hells had ever heard of an enchantress with a repair shop? He’d only discovered the fact by accident and just in time, too.

Fuck, he should have thrown her over his shoulder and tossed her in the car. Rallis Hall’s north tower would make an excellent home for an enchantress. She’d be right beneath his refuge, easy to keep an eye on. Make that two eyes. One to ensure she stayed out of trouble, the other to admire those curves. If he’d stolen her, he could rub his hands over them while he pondered matters of state, such as a fissure in the Rallis bond.

A fissure that could only have been created by a mage with a power that matched his.

Problem was there were no other mages with a power like his. He was alone. Deadly. Too dangerous to live.

The sudden ring of an old landline ripped through the quiet. He spun around, his vibes up and ready to attack before he’d finished the turn. The shrill ring sounded again, just as impossible as the first. No landline graced his attic refuge.

He strode forward, right arm extended, fingers curved, thumb on top, as if he balanced a wand in his hand. He’d used the control device for years beyond the norm, his huge power so difficult to harness.

He stalked toward the couch. Again, the ring blared. This time he pinpointed its location—behind the couch on a rickety table piled with junk and uselessly draped with a dust cloth. Circling around, he reached out and yanked the cloth away. A black landline gleamed dust-free.

He knew the contents of this room like he once knew Aurora’s curves. This was not part of the Rallis cast-offs. The landline’s rhythmic cry vibrated the receiver twice more before he picked it up, the noise more insistent each time.

He held it near his ear, careful not to touch his head.

“Vow to stay silent!” Though static muffled the strident voice, the speaker’s outrage sang down the line.

He eyed the receiver as if it might provide a clue to the person on the other end. Female, from the pitch. And scratchy. Like an old hag who lived in an isolated hut and no one dared to visit. There was certainly one female in his life who would stoop to wiring a landline in his refuge so she could call him.

“Mother, is that you?”

A quiet pause gripped the connection, lengthening until tension crackled in his ear.

Finally, the caller spoke. “Boy, this is not your mother. If you can’t recognize my voice, then we need to chat more often.” Her words prowled down the line, a beast stalking prey. “Now, vow your silence.”

Hell. This day was not getting better. He took a deep breath and summoned his suave charisma. “My apologies, Lady High Councilor.” He bowed respectfully, a habit when speaking to such illustrious old crones capable of removing one’s head through a landline. That comment about Mother hadn’t helped. The two weren’t friends. “I’ve been derelict in my duties to the Republic not to have memorized the sound of your lovely voice coming through the landline.”

Who knew the woman even deigned to make landline calls? Did she not have a secretary? He should recommend someone for her so they didn’t have to do this again.

“Vow!” Her command washed over him like a waterfall of molten metal, hardening into place as it coated him.

He forced his mouth to move beneath the pressure. “About what am I vowing to stay silent, Lady?” Thrusting the strangled words through her power left him panting for air, but he refused to vow silence about an unknown subject, though he could narrow the possibilities to two: the enchantress living in Rallis Territory and her criminal past or the fissure. Or the fact that he’d destroyed evidence when he’d cast his spell on the unnatural eye. Make that three possibilities.

A push of power was the High Councilor’s only answer. Her energy streamed into his throat and pulled the words from his gut.