The Sorcerer Heir (Heir Chronicles) (40 page)

Jack gripped the pistol with both hands, braced himself against the wall, took careful aim, and shot the blade man, trying not to hit anything super important.

The blade man hissed in pain and stumbled backward, out of sight, letting the door close between them. Jack debated. Should he pursue? He had some questions he really, really wanted to ask.

But he had no way of knowing who else might be out there and what other weapons they might have.

Also, why hadn’t he gotten any response from the command post? He checked his tablet again. He could see everyone inside the building, but nothing from outside.

Jack didn’t want to lose anyone else. He needed to find the rest of his team and get out. Then they could find out what had gone wrong.

The gunman’s glow had dwindled and died as well. Jack rolled him over, stripped off the mask, and discovered that it was a dead gunwoman—Hackleford, to be specific. When he searched her body, he found two more handguns hidden in clever holsters. She was carrying a small arsenal of hand weapons, too: knives, daggers, and what looked like delivery devices for pepper spray or mace. Jack had a hunch that whatever they contained was more lethal than pepper spray. And, of course, he found Hackleford’s PCD, which explained a lot.

Call me crazy, Jack thought, but I think Hackleford and friends are here to kill us.

Jack debated a moment, then stripped off Hackleford’s hoodie and ski mask and put them on. He was more likely to be killed by the armed masked guys than his own team, which was unarmed. But not for long.

Jack crept up the stairs, leading with his borrowed pistol.

B
urroughs stalked around the command post with a scowl on his face, starting at every sound, checking his phone, sneaking peeks at his watch, ignoring Madison and Ellen. He was definitely getting on Ellen’s nerves. It didn’t take much to get on Ellen’s nerves, and it sure didn’t help to have him pinballing around the room.

“Will you sit
down
?” she growled when she couldn’t take it anymore. “This is supposed to be the cake assignment, but you are making me crazy.”

In answer, Burroughs checked his watch again.

“Is there someplace you have to be or what?”

Madison looked up from her screen. “Are you getting a signal on your tablet?” she said, her brow furrowed. “I can’t see either of the teams. It’s like they’ve dropped off the grid.”

Ellen flopped back into her chair, woke her tablet, and scanned the map, scrolling up and down so she could see the entire campus. “Huh. That’s strange. I don’t see them either. Maybe the buildings are blocking the signals.”

“Or maybe the devices are defective,” Burroughs said. “That’s what we get for giving this kind of responsibility to that Anaweir boy. He looks like he belongs in jail.”

“If you’re talking about Fitch,” Ellen said, “he’s in his second year at Harvard, and a wizard when it comes to technology. Ask your wizard friends who were at the Battle of Trinity. Oh, wait, they’re dead.”

“Maybe we should go find the others and make sure they’re okay,” Maddie said.

“No!” Burroughs said.

Ellen swung around to face the wizard. She might have agreed, but there was no way she and Burroughs should be agreeing on anything. “Why don’t you want us to go out there?” she demanded.

“Because that’s not the plan we all agreed to,” he said. “Ms. Moss is too valuable an asset to risk. There’s a reason she’s here and not on the interview team. I don’t trust these labrats, not at all.”

“If that’s the case, then that’s all the more reason we should make sure the others are all right,” Ellen said.

“That’s not the priority,” Burroughs said. “We stay here until we hear from them.”

Ellen took a deep breath, released it slowly. Anger management, she thought. “Why is it that the wizard in the room always thinks he’s in charge?” she asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“How about this, Burroughs?” Madison said. “You stay here and hold the fort, and me and Ellen will check things out.”

“Hang on,” Ellen said. “I’ve got to get something.” She sprinted across the warehouse, shoving aside bins and cabinets until she found what she was looking for, a battered marine trunk at the rear. Wrenching it open, she lifted out Waymaker, cradling the great sword in her arms as she let the trunk slam shut. She slid the blade from its scabbard, feeling the rush of connection, relishing its familiar weight in her hands.

When she returned to the others, Madison looked down at Waymaker, up at Ellen’s face. “Where’d you get that?”

“I guess I must’ve accidentally left it here,” Ellen said, shrugging innocently. “I just remembered.”

Madison wavered. “I said no weapons.”

Ellen slid into her baldric, did up the buckles. “What if I put a hoodie over it? Do you think anybody would notice?”

“That’s nonsense,” Burroughs said. “There were to be no weapons—that was the rule, for everyone’s safety. Put that thing back where you got it.”

“Since when have wizards ever followed the rules?” Ellen said.

Burroughs considered this. “You know, you are right,” he said. “What was I thinking?” Sliding his hand inside his jacket, he pulled out a gun and pointed it at Ellen. “Drop the sword. Now.”

It took Ellen a minute to find her voice. “A wizard? Packing a
gun
? Is this the end of civilization or what?”

“Don’t try my patience. Ms. Moss is a valuable asset. You, on the other hand, are expendable.”

Ellen released her grip on Waymaker, and the sword clattered to the ground. She flexed her hand, gazing longingly at the gun. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get your hands dirty?”

“We in the Black Rose have always been practical when it comes to weapons,” Burroughs said, with a twisted smile. “It’s one of the things that makes us so very effective. Our strength is in tactics.”

“The Black Rose,” Ellen said. “Then the rumors are true.”

“What rumors?” Madison said.

“That he’s part of an international syndicate of wizard assassins. That it’s still around.”

“Ah,” Madison said. “Well, I don’t get it. What’s the point in this? Aren’t we on the same side? Otherwise, why are you here?”

“How presumptuous, to think that we would align ourselves with you,” Burroughs said. “The strong have always ruled over the weak, and the weak have always complained. We are predators, Ms. Moss, and you, my dear, are—what?—an art student?”

Madison was beginning to shimmer, a sure sign that she was losing her temper. “You must be a deaf predator, then, because I asked you a question. Why are you here?”

“Because it was too good an opportunity to pass up.” He double-gripped the gun and broadened his stance as Madison spread her burning wings. “Don’t try your Dragon routine on me. I’ll shoot you in the leg if I have to.”

“You know what,” Ellen said, “that’s a misconception. There’s really no safe place to shoot somebody. Even a flesh wound can be fatal. The femoral artery—”

“I’ll shoot
you
in the head if you don’t shut up,” Burroughs said. “That’s
bound
to be fatal.”

“I don’t know what you think this will accomplish,” Madison said, subsiding a little. “I won’t let this slide—I can tell you that. I
will
come after you. And if I can’t, the council will.”

Burroughs rolled his eyes. “Do you think we didn’t anticipate that? Our theory is, as long as you remain technically alive, you can continue to be the vessel for the Dragonheart. The Black Rose has some amazing poisons and potions at our disposal. We’re thinking a chronic vegetative state or a twilight sleep will buy us considerable time in which to figure out how to free the stone safely.”

As the wizard spoke, the blood drained from Madison’s face until her freckles stood out against her skin.

“As for the council, our assassins are finishing them off as we speak. It was so helpful of you to split up. The best part is, we’re using guns and daggers and other crude weapons, so the labrats will get the blame. What a tragedy: the entire council massacred by mutants, the Dragon Heir left comatose.”

“You were the ones behind the killings on Halloween,” Madison said, her blue eyes bright with tears and fury. “
You
murdered my little sister.”

Burroughs shook his head. “Actually, no. Haven’t you heard? It was Jonah Kinlock. If it had been me, DeVries would have stayed dead.”

“What?” Ellen felt double-ambushed. “Isn’t DeVries in on this? I thought you all were partners.”

“DeVries? Please. Don’t give him credit for this. He was never well-suited to take over his father’s business. He’s never been the man his father was.” Burroughs’s voice hardened. “He goes down, along with everyone else. Now, sit down, relax, and we’ll wait to hear from my colleagues.”

That’s when Madison made her move, extending her hand toward Burroughs, marshaling her power. Calmly, Burroughs shifted his aim and shot her in the left leg. Madison screamed and went down, clutching at her thigh, blood streaming through her fingers.

Ellen dove sideways, coming up with Waymaker. “See that she doesn’t bleed to death,” Burroughs said curtly, waving at her with the gun.

He half turned, as somebody pounded at the door. “Ah. Here we are,” he said, checking his watch. “All finished. Early, even. The Interguild Council is permanently adjourned.” He backed toward the door, keeping his gun trained on Ellen. Sliding back the bolt, he hauled open the door.

And was buried under hundreds of decaying bodies.

Fitch stared at the phone, as if it might offer some clue, but the display read
Blocked.

“Oka-ay,” Fitch said. “What makes you think it’s a trap?”

“They’ve been rebuilding the security system to keep me out. They’ve taken my building off-network entirely.” It was hard to understand him through the considerable background noise.

“Where
are
you? Why is it so noisy?”

“I’m on the roof of the infirmary,” Kenzie said. “It’s the only place I could get a signal. What you’re hearing is the wind. I’m freezing my ass off up here.”

Fitch thought of the coffee waiting for him inside, said good-bye to it, and began walking toward campus. “Can you come down and meet me somewhere?”

“No can do,” Kenzie said. “Gabriel’s put a lot of physical barriers in my way. The bastard. The only way I could go was up.”

“Why are they so intent on shutting you out? Are you really important or really dangerous?”

Kenzie snorted. “Both, I hope. It’s kind of a dream of mine. Now, back on topic: where’s Leesha? You’ve got to warn the mainliners not to come anywhere near here.”

“Mainliners?”

“You know, the standard magical guilds.”

“Oh. Right. But how do I know you’re who you say you are?”

“Hang on.” After a moment, he said, “Look at your phone.”

A young boy’s face had appeared on the screen, red-brown hair spilling out from under his knit cap. He looked like a pale, hollow-cheeked, younger version of Jonah Kinlock.

“How old
are
you?” Fitch blurted.

“I’m fifteen,” Kenzie said defensively.

“I would’ve said thirteen.”

“Look, we don’t have time for this.” Kenzie swiveled the webcam so that Fitch could see that he was, indeed, up on a roof, snowflakes swirling around him.

“That’s pretty thin evidence,” Fitch said, “the fact that they’ve changed the security on their system. Maybe they just don’t want you hacking in, changing your grades or whatever.”

“If you don’t believe me, then why are you heading my way?”

Fitch looked at his phone, which displayed a map, pinpointing his position on it.

How is he doing that? Fitch wondered.

“Anyway, it’s not just that. More important, there’s something wrong with my brother.”

“Something wrong? Like what?”

“Something’s missing,” Kenzie said. “Something’s different. He’s not the same person. When you look in his eyes...” Kenzie’s voice faltered. “Have you met my brother, Jonah?”

“Briefly,” Fitch said, “when he saved my life. I can’t say I know him very well.”

“In addition to being an enchanter with a killing touch, he—”

“What?”
Fitch felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “What do you mean?”

“You
don’t
know him very well, do you?” Kenzie said. “So in addition to all that, he’s an empath, meaning he’s hypersensitive to other people’s feelings, he can always see both sides of a story, he has the unlimited capacity to feel guilty about stuff he’s not even responsible for. As you can imagine, that’s a real handicap for an assassin, so—”

“An assassin? Are you saying that Rowan DeVries is telling the truth?”

“Will you shut up and
listen
to me?” Kenzie said. “Everyone Jonah kills is already dead. By most standards, anyway. Long story short, I’ve never looked into Jonah’s eyes and
not
seen guilt, regret, empathy, and sorrow. What my friend Emma calls the blues. Until now.”

“What do you see now?”

“Nothing,” Kenzie said.

“Nothing?”

“I see nothing at all. Now will you warn the mainliners?”

“They’re already there,” Fitch whispered.

“Where?”

“They’re in the Keep, meeting with Gabriel Mandrake, Jonah, and the others.”