Jocelynn Drake - [Asylum Tales 02] Page 3

  “But you’ve survived; thrived even. You could help them,” Bronx suggested.

  “Things were different when I left ten years ago.” I looked down at my hands and tried not to imagine the blood that had been splattered across them during my short time living in the Towers. “I was the only one to ever consider leaving. An anomaly. They let me go, but with restrictions, and many are still calling for my head.”

  Gideon shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Towers can confirm that Gage has anything to do with the runaways, they will see it as a sign that he’s attempting to lead some kind of revolution.” The warlock frowned, staring at me. “It will be war, and the Towers won’t stop until Gage and all the runaways are dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if they chose to wipe out an entire generation of human children as a warning. It’s been done before.”

  I leaned against the side of the car, my hands shoved in my pockets. Low Town was becoming a dangerous place for me and there wasn’t much I could do about it. I was tempted to ask how well known it was in the Towers where I was located, but I bit back the question. Running would happen eventually, but not yet. I’d make plans, but I wouldn’t leave yet. There were too many things I needed to get done here first.

  “Thanks for the heads-up on everything,” I said. My mind wheeled in endless circles, leaving me with more questions than answers. And the answers that I did have were pretty shitty.

  Gideon nodded, his mouth quirking slightly as if he were trying to fight a smile. “I have to go. It’s dangerous to be around and not try to kill you.”

  “You’re not the only one who feels that way,” I grumbled, glaring at the ground.

  “But . . . I could use a favor,” he said. He wet his lips, hesitating as if he was afraid I would instantly turn him down. That or he simply didn’t want to feel like he needed me for something. “Find out who cursed Sofie.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  Some of the tension eased from his face. “Afraid she forgot?”

  “Not likely. You thinking of helping her?”

  Gideon remained silent so long, staring off in the distance, that I thought he might not answer me. But when he spoke, my stomach knotted in pain for the man who wasn’t my friend but was. “I thought if Sofie were human again, she might like to take on an apprentice. If I remember correctly, she had a gentle way with children.”

  My mouth fell open and some part of me wanted to say something comforting, but there weren’t any words. Gideon must have known, because he stiffly nodded to me and disappeared. I leaned my head back against the roof of Bronx’s car and closed my eyes. Poor Gideon.

  “I’ll admit that I didn’t understand a lot of what you were talking about,” Bronx said, drawing my eyes open again. “But that part about Sofie . . . why is he interested in her? Is he trying to get her to go back to the Towers as a spy?”

  “No,” I said, straightening. “Let’s get out of here. Now that he’s gone, I’m sure the cops will want to descend on the house.”

  Bronx nodded and punched his key remote to unlock the doors. We got the hell out of there, letting me sink into silence for a minute and get lost in the rambling thoughts.

  The Ivory Towers were the ultimate rulers of this world, deciding life and death (well, mostly death) for its inhabitants, but when they weren’t around, the cops tried to maintain some semblance of peace. The fix maker’s death would be chalked up to a DBW—death by warlock/witch and the book would be closed. Naturally, they would search the house and find the drug-manufacturing equipment. The house would be confiscated, but I knew better than to hope that it would be tied back to Reave. He was too smart for that.

  It wasn’t until we reached the highway that I felt some of the tension that was threatening to choke me start to ease. Bronx didn’t turn on the radio and I was content to listen to the sound of the car cruising down the smooth concrete while the streetlamps flashed overhead. As dire as my own situation was becoming, I found my thoughts centering on Gideon and his young daughter. She would be turning seven soon.

  “You asked about Sofie,” I started, and then stopped. Bronx patiently waited while I attempted to organize my thoughts. It wasn’t so much that I was trying to censor myself, but that it was simply better if he didn’t know certain things. Swearing softly, I reached up and touched the ceiling of the car while whispering a quick word, creating a protective bubble over the car so no one could magically overhear me. Damn, I was getting paranoid.

  “Gideon has a daughter,” I confessed after another lengthy silence.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  A smile quirked the corners of my mouth. “Witches and warlocks aren’t permitted to marry or have children. It’s seen as a weakness and a liability.”

  “What does Gideon’s daughter have to do with Sofie?”

  “His daughter has either exhibited some magical talent or he’s afraid she will. If so, she has to be trained, and he can’t send her to the Towers. They would know in a heartbeat that she was his daughter.”

  “And Gideon, his daughter, and eventually his wife would be killed,” Bronx concluded.

  “Yes.”

  “But if Sofie was changed back to human, would she stay here or would she rather return to the Towers?”

  I stared out the passenger-side window and frowned. “I don’t know.”

  I had known Sofie in human form only briefly while I was living at the Ivory Towers during my apprenticeship to Simon Thorn. She had been nice and motherly, albeit a little meddlesome. Somewhere along the way she had run afoul of a witch or warlock, and had been turned into a big Russian-blue cat. As far as I knew, she couldn’t return to human form until the person who cursed her died. After spending several years as the pet of an elderly woman, she was now living fat and sassy with Trixie.

  Unlike Gideon, Sofie gave no indication that she didn’t approve of how things ran in the Ivory Towers. The only reason she had left was that she felt more vulnerable in cat form. Her ability to use magic had been severely limited. I feared that if Sofie were human again, she would happily return to the Towers, which would be of no help to Gideon and his daughter.

  There wasn’t much I agreed with when it came to the beliefs of the witches and warlocks of the Ivory Towers, but I thought they were right when it came to training all human children who possessed magical talent. It was for the children’s protection and those around them as much as it was about spreading knowledge. An untrained child who could unconsciously tap magical energy was a serious danger. In moments of fear or anger, people died around the child without the child intending it to happen.

  Gideon knew that. If Sofie couldn’t train his daughter, he had few options. He couldn’t do it himself without risking others finding out. Training was an intensive, full-time gig and Gideon was already working for the council as a guardian. But if Bridgette wasn’t trained, she’d have to be killed.

  I closed my eyes against the ugly thought but it was still there. For a brief second I thought that I could at least teach her a few basic things about control and protection, but I crushed the thought before it fully formed. What the fuck did I know about caring for a seven-year-old girl? I was an outcast former warlock-in-training now a tattoo artist who moonlighted nights doing odd jobs for the local mob. Not a great role model. Sofie was the best choice. I’d have to convince her of it.

  “As much as I hate to ask after all the fun we’ve had tonight,” I started, shoving my thoughts back to my most immediate problem, “but what are the chances that Reave doesn’t know about tonight’s events?”

  “Oh, he knows,” Bronx said as he took the exit ramp off the highway. “He definitely knows by now.”

  “Retribution?”

  “Oh, yeah. Expect pain.”

  I leaned my head to the side, hitting it against the window. It was my fault. Bronx had nothing to do with my decision to free the pixies but I knew that Reave would punish him along with me. “Damn it! I’m sorry.”

&nbs
p; “For what? The pixies?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t apologize,” Bronx said. He slowed the car to a stop at a red light and glanced over at me. “You saved lives tonight, and if you didn’t do something, I would have.”

  “Thanks.”

  He shrugged. “It’s been a rough night. You want me to drop you at Trixie’s?”

  “You think it’s safe?”

  “Reave’s going to need time to realign his distribution network after tonight’s escapade. We’ve got a day or two. Besides, I’m sure he knows about Trixie and you. Staying away won’t protect her if he wants to attack you from that side.”

  “Then Trixie’s would be great,” I said with a sigh. “You can come up too. She won’t mind.”

  Bronx chuckled. I knew that trolls were naturally solitary creatures, but sometimes I worried about him feeling lonely even if my worry was unrealistic. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had enough fun for one night. I don’t need another session of strip Chinese checkers burned into my brain.”

  I gave a snort of laughter. “We don’t have to play that. Trixie said she’s been working on a way to make a drinking game out of The Princess Bride.”

  The troll rolled his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking in a half smile. “Let’s save it for this All Hallows’ Eve. Go spend some quality time with your girlfriend.”

  Smiling, I relaxed in my seat as we got closer to Trixie’s apartment. Beautiful green eyes. Musical laughter. A soft touch that soothed the tears in my heart and the holes in my soul. Tonight, I would fall asleep holding Trixie and I would deal with the rest of the world tomorrow.

  3

  REAVE SURPRISED US as we reached Trixie’s apartment complex. Escorted to a large, dark warehouse in a not-so-nice part of Low Town, we stood in an open area with large wooden crates lining the far walls. Reave’s black clothes and liquid black hair allowed him to nearly disappear into the shadows. Streetlights leaked through the dirty second-story windows, but he avoided the light for the most part.

  To say that Reave was pissed would be an understatement. The Svartálfar wasn’t raving and stomping around the room while intermittently throwing things at us. Dark elves, like their Summer and Winter Court brethren, didn’t show emotion like that. But the telltale muscle spasm at the corner of his eye and the constant fisting and unfisting of his hands said it all.

  “Why do it, Gage? That’s all I want to know,” Reave said in a low, even voice. He almost sounded reasonable.

  I shrugged, fighting to not look over at Bronx. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. You wanted the house protected from intruders. I protected it.”

  “While destroying my supplies in the process.” Each word was ground between clenched teeth. “There are consequences for every action.”

  It happened too quickly for me to react. Two pairs of hands roughly grabbed my arms, jerking me away from Bronx while at the same time turning me so I could easily see him. Five large trolls stepped out of the darkness toward Bronx and began beating on him. He fought back for a few seconds, ducking blows and swinging his meaty fists, but they were too many and too strong. Trolls can take a beating, but even they will start to fold under so much abuse from their own kind. As Bronx was knocked to the ground, I increased my struggles against the hands holding me while screaming at Reave until I was hoarse as they kicked Bronx in the ribs and stomach.

  The dark elf jumped from the shadows; a long curved blade winked in the faint light before it was pressed against my throat. The sharp edge bit into my skin, sending a trickle of blood down my neck.

  “Easy, warlock,” Reave snarled in my ear. He was taller than me, forcing him to bend his head down and press it against the side of my head so that I could hear his ragged breathing. The knife sawed into my neck while he crowded close, but my eyes were locked on Bronx as he tried to regain his feet under the punishing blows. “Hold it together. We wouldn’t want any accidents.”

  “Let him go, Reave!” I shouted. “You know he had nothing to do with what happened at the house. It was me. Punish me.”

  Reave chuckled in my ear, tilting the blade so that it slipped a little deeper into my throat, sending more blood down my neck. “Does it really feel like you’re not being punished right now? If you want to break a man, you hurt the ones he loves first.”

  “Stop it! You’ve fucking won!” I couldn’t pull my eyes from Bronx. He had stopped moving and was lying on the dirty warehouse floor, curled into a fetal position as he tried to protect his head and gut.

  Reave pulled the blade away and smiled at me as he stepped into my line of sight. “I won months ago. You’re just slow to realize it.” As he turned from me, he snapped his fingers. The trolls stopped beating Bronx and stepped away while the hands on me fell from my arms. Pressing one hand to my throat to slow the bleeding, I hurried over to Bronx and knelt beside him. What I could see in the darkness wasn’t good. His face was bloody and swelling so that he could barely see out of either eye. I couldn’t tell if his nose was broken because it had always looked somewhat broken to me, but I figured it was a safe guess that it was by his labored breathing through his mouth.

  “I warned you, Reave,” I said in a low voice. “I warned you that I wasn’t going to do anything that would hurt someone else. I’m not going to kill anyone for you, and leaving that house as it was would have meant killing pixies. I don’t regret what I did. And if I find another one of those fucking fix houses, I’m going to do it again.”

  “And risk putting Bronx in danger again?” Reave asked lightly. His voice echoed across the warehouse, dancing through the shadows. He was walking, but I couldn’t see him.

  Energy crackled around me as I grew angrier with each passing second. I wanted to burn away every shadow and dark corner in that room so Reave had nowhere to hide. I wanted to run him to ground and beat him the same way Bronx had been beaten. But I did nothing because I couldn’t afford to draw the attention of the Towers, and Reave knew it. “No. This was the last time you’ll ever touch Bronx. I promise you.”

  Reave laughed. The sound was like razor blades across my back, leaving me gritting my teeth until my jaw ached. “You’re right. I’ll leave Bronx alone. You’ve got plenty of other people in your life that you care about.”

  I kept my mouth clamped shut, fighting the urge to warn him off of Trixie. He knew about her. There was no reason to prove my feelings for her even more, deepening the danger. My jaw throbbed from my clenched teeth while I mentally repeated to myself, If you use magic, the Towers will kill you. Everything was insane right now in the Ivory Towers, and they would jump on the opportunity to string me up in hopes of reining in the chaos. Gideon wouldn’t be able to protect me.

  My death meant that Bronx would be trapped working for Reave. A dead Gage meant that Trixie was in danger and on the run from the Summer Court. If I kept my temper and was smart, I could stay alive and help my friends.

  “If you have no more use for Bronx as leverage, then release him from your little organization,” I said when I had my emotions somewhat under check. “You only need me.”

  Bronx groaned softly. “Shut up, Gage.”

  “The troll is right. Shut up, Gage. I have plenty of uses for Bronx. I’d hoped that he might be a voice of common sense for you, but he has failed at that endeavor. I guess I’ll have to find something else to do with him.”

  “You’ve got plenty of others to do your dirty work. People who want to be here. Let him go.”

  Bronx shifted beside me, slowly uncurling his body, but still remaining on his side so that his back was to Reave. “I work with Gage or not at all.”

  The dark elf stepped close, moving away from the shadows to the edge of a square of light. His expression was blank as he stared at Bronx’s inert form. I tensed, waiting. If Reave did anything more than breathe, I would jump the bastard. My friend had been hurt enough because of me. I wasn’t about to
let Reave inflict more harm.

  “Fine. Rein him in,” the dark elf bit out. There was an “or else” left hanging in the air. We both knew that if I crossed Reave again, Bronx would be killed regardless of whether he could stop me.

  He paced away, brushing his hands against each other as if wiping away the distasteful business that had brought Bronx and me to his doorstep that night. I wished he would leave so I could work on healing Bronx. A handful of healing spells could fix the worst of his wounds, but he would still need to get home and rest. The cold concrete floor that he was currently lying on didn’t seem like the best option.

  “Now then, since my first task seemed too difficult for you to handle, I’ve got a new job for you,” Reave began, as if he was content to wipe away all the previous unpleasantness. I frowned, keeping one reassuring hand on Bronx’s shoulder. I wanted to tell this asshole where to shove his new job, but I kept my mouth shut. Obviously Reave was done trying to get me to cooperate through beating me. He was going to drag in one person I cared for after another and beat them until I agreed to his terms.

  He paused and turned to look at me, waiting.

  “What job?” I asked through clenched teeth, earning a grin from the dark elf.

  “I’m so glad you asked.” Reave chuckled and resumed his pacing. “I have someone that will be doing an important errand for me and he needs some added protection. Unfortunately, he can’t travel with the usual assignment of muscle. It’s too conspicuous. As a result, you will be giving him a tattoo that will provide him with the needed protection.”

  It seemed too easy and it appeared as if it would be legal as well. “What kind of protection does he need?”

  “I think that will best be decided by you.”

  “How can I do that? Who am I protecting him from? What’s this job that he’s doing for you?”

  “Delivery.” I waited for Reave to elaborate, but he didn’t say anything else. I sighed, running my free hand through my hair, leaving it standing on end. It was turning out to be a long fucking night.