The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) (23 page)

By now Morrison was on her feet. Leaning forward, she planted her hands on the table and thrust her head forward into Hackleford’s face. “If my Olivia said there were zombies, there were
zombies
,” she said through gritted teeth. “What we should do is clean out that nest of vipers downtown and see if these incidents stop.”

“I really don’t care whether Mandrake’s unfortunates are involved in this or not,” Hackleford said. “Clearly, they are incapable of organizing this conspiracy themselves, so we know that somebody else was the mastermind. Cut off the head of the snake and the rest will die. Under the old system, at least, there was a mechanism for deciding disputes and eliminating threats to the common good. I’ve not seen anything of value come out of the so-called Interguild Council. If these killings continue, the Wizard Guild will take unilateral action.”

“Really,” Seph said, his eyes glinting green. “Being a wizard myself, then, shall I assume that you will keep me apprised of your plans?”

“Hackleford!” It was a new voice. Everyone turned to look, and it was Madison.

“You lost your daughter,” Madison said. “I lost my little sister. No one is more interested in solving this than me. If you can get the evidence to prove your allegations, you will see action, and you’ll see it quick. But I’m committed to getting it right. If the Wizard Council acts, and you get it wrong, you can expect to pay a huge price. A
huge
price.”

Madison turned to Leesha. “It seems to me that the missing piece of the puzzle is Jonah Kinlock. He was at the Halloween party, he was present for this attack, and it sounds very much like he was on-site the night of the Montessori attack. We’re not going to clear this up until we talk to him.”

“I’m friendly with Gabriel Mandrake,” Mercedes said. “It may be that if I approach him directly, he’ll make Jonah available for questioning.”

Good luck with that, Leesha thought.

When the hearing was over, Leesha, Fitch, and Emma walked into the churchyard. As always, Leesha’s eyes were drawn to the small cemetery next to the church. Snow swirled around the gravestones and coated the frail, frozen flower arrangements, now brown and seared with frost.

“Hang on,” Leesha said to the others. She entered through the gate and crossed to one particular grave that was as green as it might have been in mid-June, red and white roses blooming everywhere, and vines twining up and over the stone. Their scent perfumed the lean winter air, and the snow melted as soon as it hit.

Unlike some of the others, this gravestone was relatively new. Leesha ran her fingers over the letters cut into the stone.

Draca Heorte

Jason Haley

Gone, But Not Forgotten

And his birth and death dates.

Jason Haley. The boy Leesha loved and betrayed and lost in one thrilling and heart-breaking year. The boy who wanted, more than anything, to make a difference.

Leesha heard the crunch of snow as Emma and Fitch came up behind her. She knelt, and swept away sticks and dry leaves that had collected on the windward side of the stone.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Emma said.

“I like that he’s buried here,” Leesha said. “So that when I come in and out of these mind-numbing, frustrating meetings I can remember why I’m doing this.”

“What does that mean?” Emma asked, hesitantly. “Draca...”

“It’s Old English,” Leesha said. “It means
Dragon Heart
.”

I
t was the third time Emma had called Jonah, and the third time it had gone to voice mail. So this time she left a message.

“Jonah? It’s me, Emma. Call me if you get this. Bye.”

Clicking off, she sipped at her coffee, which had gone cold. It didn’t really matter, because it was one of those peppermint drinks they have at Christmas, which taste so much like dessert and so little like coffee that even Emma could drink them. Blotting up some doughnut crumbs with her finger, she sucked them into her mouth. The place was crowded with shoppers, and the coffee dude was giving her the evil eye, so she guessed she couldn’t stay there too much longer without buying something else.

After school, she’d snuck into the woodshop at the Anchorage and spent several hours working. It was kind of aimless—she had three different projects, and she didn’t make a whole lot of progress on any one of them, but to be honest, it was more about the work than anything else. It wasn’t like she was going to be selling guitars any time soon. And she could only play one guitar at a time.

Once she got herself sweaty and totally gritty, she shook the wood chips out of her hair and walked over to the fancy grocery around the corner. There was a little café there, and it was the last place anyone would expect to find Emma, which was the whole point.

Leesha had been calling and leaving messages for Jonah for two days, hoping to persuade him to meet with the task force. He never responded. She’d asked Emma to bring it up with him after class, but Jonah wasn’t in class, and he wasn’t answering his phone. He was like a ghost lately, more absent than present since the attack. It was like he knew, with that spooky sixth sense of his, what she wanted to talk to him about.

There was no hope of persuading him to come, anyway. Why would he? And yet, she couldn’t help thinking that sooner or later the whole thing would blow up, and everything and everyone she cared about would be destroyed. Maybe it would’ve happened already if the magical guilds could agree on anything. They were so busy having at each other that they wouldn’t recognize the truth if they stumbled over it.

And now Emma didn’t want to return to Trinity, and it didn’t feel right to be at the Anchorage, so she was hanging out in no-man’s land, waiting for who knows what.

What she should do is try to find her mother. Only she didn’t know where to start. She woke her screen, and searched on
Gwyneth Hart
. Nothing. She tried
Gwen Hart
. Nothing. Which was what she’d found the last time she tried it. And that about summed up what she knew about finding a person.

Kenzie. He knew how to find things online. Maybe by now, he’d had a chance to look over Tyler’s notebook. And while she was there, she could ask him for wisdom about Jonah.

When Kenzie’s phone went to voice mail, she was all out of ideas. “Hi, Kenzie,” she said. “I wondered if you had a chance to look over that notebook I gave you. I’m here in town, and thought I could pick it up if you’re done with it. And I had a couple things I wanted to ask you about. I’ll be here for maybe another hour.”

A few minutes later, Emma’s phone pinged. A text from Kenzie.

I’ll give it to Jonah to give back to you.

But I wanted to see you, too,
she texted back.

This time, there was a long delay before he replied.

Not possible. My agoraphobia is flaring up.

Your what?

What don’t you understand about no?

No, I understand. Agorawhatever, I don’t.

Then, no.

Are you all right?”

No response.

I’m coming up there. I want to see for myself how you are.

A moment later, her phone rang. “I don’t need you to check on me,” Kenzie spat. “I’m in a damned nursing home, wired up to a dozen monitors. I can’t take a dump without somebody weighing and measuring it. If you want to know how I am, just look at the data.”

“Please,” Emma said. “Let me come up.”

“To do what? Change my nappy?”

“I’m just...I’m your friend,” Emma said, her voice hitching. “I just want to—”

“It’s time to start letting go of me.”

“I’ll call someone,” Emma said. “I’ll call Gabriel. Or Natalie. They can—”

“No!” Kenzie sounded a little panicked. “Don’t. Please don’t call anyone. If you want to help, don’t call anyone.”

“But I want to—”

“You want to hand off the responsibility. You want to make yourself feel better. If you call Nat or Gabriel, they’ll move me to Safe Passage. I’m not going to do that to Jonah.”

“Wh-what do you mean, Safe Passage? What does Jonah have to do with it?”

Kenzie said nothing for a long moment. Then said, “Harry, hang up the phone.” Emma heard the soft
click
as Harry complied.

This time of night, Steel Wool reminded Jonah of a sleeping patient—lights out on the outside, shades closed, dim lights burning on the inside. All of the essential functions continued unseen, under the skin of its walls.

Jonah didn’t call first. He didn’t intend to give Kenzie the chance to say no. If his brother was sleeping comfortably, he wouldn’t wake him.

When he eased open the door to Kenzie’s room, it was dark, save for the light from the cinema display on his desk. Kenzie was in bed, lying on his side, covers kicked off, wearing only his pajama pants.

Jonah could hear his brother’s labored breathing. He could feel Kenzie’s pain clear across the room. He ghosted forward, his heart thudding in his throat, until he was at Kenzie’s bedside, looking down at him. His fine brown hair was plastered to his head, and his face glistened with sweat. His headphones lay next to him on the bed.

Kenzie didn’t open his eyes, but he said, “Emma ratted on me, didn’t she?”

“She totally did,” Jonah said, sitting on the side of the bed. He put his hand on Kenzie’s shoulder, and his brother’s fear and desperation rocketed through him.

Kenzie twitched. “And here...I thought...we had an understanding.”

“If you want to blame someone, blame me,” Jonah said.

“That’s my Jonah,” Kenzie rasped. “Always takes the blame for everything. Have I ever told you that you have a martyr complex?”

“Incessantly,” Jonah said. He stroked Kenzie’s hair away from his forehead, realizing that the magic that had always burned over-brightly within Kenzie was nearly out.

“See?” Kenzie said, holding up a trembling hand. “No sparks. I’m much easier to be with when I’m dying.”

Jonah bit back a protest, a denial. That would be condescending. They’d always been honest with each other, at least.

“How long have you been this way?”

“Couple days.” Kenzie licked his cracked lips.

“Was it the blood magic?” Jonah asked. “Is this some kind of a reaction or—?”

“I think I just have a hell of a hangover,” Kenzie said.

Why didn’t you tell me?
Jonah wanted to ask, but he bit back the words, because he knew the answer to that question.

“You don’t have your music on?”

Kenzie shook his head. “It just doesn’t cut it anymore. I thought I’d turn it off for a while, and then when I turn it back on, it’ll feel like relief.”

“Can I get you something else? Do you still have a PRN order for pain meds?”

“I’m maxed out for this building,” Kenzie said, leaving unspoken the truth they both knew—that Gabriel didn’t want to risk overdosing anyone before Jonah did his thing.

“Where does it hurt?” Jonah asked.

Kenzie held up his hand, extending his middle finger. “That’s the only part that doesn’t hurt,” he said.

“Well, then,” Jonah said, shedding his jacket. “We’ll just have to use the nuclear option.”

“What’s the nuclear option?” Kenzie asked suspiciously as Jonah removed his boots, setting them neatly at the side of the bed. Lifting up the covers, he slid in next to Kenzie.

“Wh-what—no!!” Kenzie cried. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“This is the nuclear option,” Jonah said.

“I told you,” Kenzie said, scooting to the far side of the bed. “I’m not doing Safe Passage. I am not going to let you—”

“I’m not going to kill you, bro,” Jonah said. “Not unless you keep whining. Turn around, so we’re like spoons. I promise not to nibble your ear.”

“Get out of my bed, Jonah,” Kenzie spluttered. “You know how open-minded I am, but—this is really kinky. People will talk.”

Jonah resorted to pleading. “Please, Kenzie. Let me try this. If it doesn’t work, we’ll never speak of it again.”

“Just...be careful,” Kenzie said. “No kissing, all right? I don’t want to have your guilt over my death on my conscience.” Still grumbling, he turned onto his side, and Jonah pulled him up against his body. Gingerly, he wrapped his arms around his brother, pretending not to notice that he was skin and bones. Breathing out slowly, trying to relax, Jonah thought,
Let me help somebody for once. Whatever gift I have, let me use it to help my brother.

It helped that Jonah had seen it work before with Emma and with Mose. It took a little time, but gradually, Kenzie’s rigid body relaxed, his hands unclenched as the pain dulled, faded, until it was just a faint ache.

“Better?” Jonah whispered, though he already knew that it was.

“Fishing for praise? That’s not like you.” Kenzie paused, and the snark drained right out of him. “Yes. It’s much better. Thank you. Too bad you can’t bottle that. You’d be totally rich.” He was silent for so long that Jonah thought he might have drifted off to sleep. “Can you return something to Emma?”

“You have something of hers?”

“She leant me a notebook,” he said. “Full of songs. Remember? That night we were jamming and you interrupted us?”

“Oh. Right. And now you want to give it back?”

“Yeah,” Kenzie said. “It’s over there, lying next to the computer.”

“Okay,” Jonah said. “Any message for Emma?”

“There’s a note in the binder,” Kenzie whispered. “I’ve annotated the pages.” After another long pause, he said, “Sing to me?”

“Sing what?”

“One of our songs. Singer’s choice.”

And so Jonah sang.