Alex Verus Novels, Books 1-4 (9780698175952) (77 page)

Seeing Is Believing

I was already moving, but I wasn't fast enough. By the time I'd gotten the little marble out of my pocket the gun had gone
clack
three more times. The suppressor muffled the shot so that the loudest noise was the metallic sound of the action cycling and the
thud
of bullets chewing through flesh. The man shot Anne a final time as I threw the marble, and the man watching their backs had only time to flinch before it shattered against the wall.

The marble was a one-shot—effectively a single spell with an activation trigger. This particular one was a condenser spell, and as the crystal shell holding the magic in stasis broke, mist rushed out to blanket the area in fog. The cloud was only about forty feet across and it wouldn't last long, but for a minute or two anyone in that area was blind.

Except me.

taken

BENEDICT JACKA

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England • Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen's Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

TAKEN

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Ace mass-market edition / September 2012

Copyright © 2012 by Benedict Jacka.

Cover photographs: London © Roy Bishop / Arcangel Images;

spiderweb © Uraydnikov Sergey / Shutterstock.

Cover design by Judith Lagerman.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

ISBN: 978-1-937007-72-0

ACE

Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

ACE and the “A” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

chapter 1

T
he Starbucks in Angel is on the corner of the busy intersection of Pentonville Road and Upper Street, set deep into the offices around it with a glass front that lets in the light. The counter's at ground level, but climbing to the second floor gives a view down onto the high street and the crowds streaming in and out of Angel station. Opposite the Starbucks is Angel Square, a huge, sprawling, weirdly designed building checkered in orange and yellow and topped with a clock tower. The clock tower looks down onto City Road, a long downhill highway linking Kings Cross and the City. It was eleven
A.M.
and the morning rush was long past, but the roads and sidewalks were still crowded, the steady growl of engines muffled through the glass.

Inside, the shop was peaceful. Two women in work clothes chatted over their lattes and muffins, while a stolid-looking man with greying hair hid behind his
Times
. A student sat absorbed in his laptop while three men in business suits were bent over a table full of spreadsheets, their drinks forgotten. Music played quietly over the speakers, and the clatter of cups and coffee machines drifted up from the floor below. And near the window, chair turned to watch both the street and anyone coming in, was me.

I like the Angel Starbucks for meetings. It's easy to reach, there's a nice view, and it's just the right balance between public and private. Usually it's quiet—most of the trendy people prefer the cafés north along Upper Street—but not so quiet as to give anyone ideas. I'd probably like it even more if I drank coffee. Then again, given how much people like to complain about Starbucks, maybe I wouldn't.

I'd already checked out the surroundings and the other customers, so when the woman walked into the shop downstairs I was free to focus on her. There are two ways of getting a look at someone with divination magic: You can look into the futures of you approaching them, or you can look into the futures of them approaching you. The first is better if you want to study them; the second is better if you want advance warning of what they're planning. I chose the first, and by the time the woman stepped onto the second floor I'd been watching her for nearly a minute.

She was good-looking—
really
good-looking, with gold hair and sculpted features that made me think of old English aristocracy. She wore a cream-coloured suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and everyone in the room turned to look as she passed. The three men forgot about their spreadsheets, and the two women put their chatter on hold, watching her with narrowed eyes. Her heels clicked to a stop as she looked down at me. “Alex Verus?”

“That's me,” I said.

She sat opposite me, legs together. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room comparing the woman's outfit with my rumpled trousers and sweater. Now that she was on the same level I could see that it wasn't just the heels, she really was tall, almost as tall as me. She carried nothing but a small handbag. “Coffee?” I said.

She glanced at a slim gold watch. “I only have half an hour.”

“Suits me.” I leant back on the chair. “Why don't you tell me what you're after?”

“I need—”

I held up my hand. “I was hoping you might introduce yourself first.”

There was a brief flash of irritation in her eyes, but it vanished quickly. “I'm Crystal.”

I already knew her name. In fact, I'd gone out of my way to find out quite a bit about Crystal in the two days since she'd contacted me requesting a meeting. I knew she was a Light mage, one of the “nobility” with lots of connections. I knew she wasn't a player in Council politics, although she had friends there. I knew the type of magic she could use, where in England she was based, and even how old she was. What I didn't know was what she wanted me for, and that was what I'd come here to find out. “So what can I do for you?”

“I expect you know about the White Stone?”

“The tournament?”

Crystal nodded. “Isn't it due to start soon?” I said.

“The opening ceremony will be this Friday,” Crystal said. “At Fountain Reach.”

“Okay.”

“Fountain Reach is my family home.”

My eyebrows went up at that. “Okay.”

“I want you to help manage the event,” Crystal said.

“It's very important that everything goes smoothly.”

“Manage how?”

“Providing additional protection. A diviner would be perfect for that.”

“Right,” I said. I've run into this a lot lately. People hear about my background and assume I must be a battle-mage. Now it's true that I'm a mage and it's true that I've fought battles and it's even true that I've fought battle-mages, but that doesn't make me a battle-mage myself. “I'm not really a bodyguard.”

“I'm not expecting you to serve as a battle-mage,” Crystal said. “You'd be more of a . . . security consultant. Your role would be to warn me of any anticipated problems.”

“What sort of problems?”

“We're expecting over a hundred mages for the tournament. Initiates and journeymen, including a number of Dark representatives.” Crystal clasped her hands. “There'll be competition. It's possible some of the participants will carry grudges off the piste.”

It sounded like a recipe for trouble. “And stopping them will be . . .”

“There'll be Council battle-mages present. We're well aware of the potential for trouble. There will be sufficient security. We just need to make sure the security is in the right place at the right time.”

“You haven't received any warnings or threats?”

“Nothing like that. There's been no suggestion of trouble so far, and we'd like your help to make sure it stays that way.”

I thought about it. I've usually steered clear of Light tournaments in the past; my teachers thought they were a waste of time and on the whole I agreed with them. But if initiates were there, that changed my feelings a bit. Trying to protect adult mages is a thankless task, but apprentices are another story. “What exactly would you be expecting me to do?”

“Just to keep an eye on the guests. Possibly some investigation if anything comes up. We're particularly concerned about keeping the younger apprentices safe, so we'd been hoping you could help with that.”

I started to nod—and stopped.

Crystal looked at me. “Is something wrong?”

I kept still for a second, then smiled at her. “No. Not at all. You mentioned investigation work?”

“Obviously, some mages are more likely to make trouble than others. We don't have anybody we're especially suspicious of, but it's likely things will crop up to turn our attention to someone. When they do, it would be very helpful if you could find things out for us about them. Their background, connections, that sort of thing.”

“I assume the place is staffed?”

“Oh yes, the servants will handle all that. You'd be considered one of the guests.”

“And you said the opening ceremony was on Friday. The guests will be arriving on what, the same day?”

“Exactly.” Crystal was relaxed now; the interview was going well. “We're expecting the first guests by the morning, although of course the sooner you can arrive the better.”

“And regarding payment?” I thought about cash, as soon as possible.

“Future service, as usual. Though if you'd prefer something more tangible that's perfectly acceptable.”

“When could you arrange payment by?”

“Immediately, of course.”

“Well.” I smiled at Crystal. “That settles that.”

“Excellent. Then you'll be able to come?”

“No.”

The smile vanished from Crystal's face. “I'm sorry?”

“Well, I'm afraid there are a couple of problems.” I leant forward casually. “The first issue is that I've had a lot of approaches like yours over the past few months. And while they all looked good on the surface, the last couple of times I've said yes they've turned out to be . . . well, let's just say I don't feel like a repeat performance.”

“If you have a prior engagement I'm sure we—”

“No, we couldn't. Because the second problem is that you've been reading my thoughts ever since you sat down.”

Crystal went very still. “I'm afraid I don't follow,” she said at last.

“Oh, you were very subtle,” I said. “I'd guess most mages wouldn't even notice.”

Crystal didn't move, and I saw the futures whirl. Flight, combat, threats. “Relax,” I said. “If I was going to start a fight I wouldn't have told you about it.”

The futures kept shifting a moment longer, then settled. “I'm sorry,” Crystal said. She brushed back her hair, looking remorseful. “I shouldn't, I know. I was just so worried you'd say no.” She met my eyes, entreating. “We need someone as skilled as you. Please, won't you help?”

I looked back at Crystal for a long second. “No,” I said at last. “I won't. Good-bye, Crystal.”

Again the smile vanished from Crystal's face, and this time it didn't come back. She watched me without expression for a long moment, then rose in a single motion and stalked away, heels clicking on the floor.

I'd known Crystal was a mind mage, but even so I hadn't noticed her spell. Active mind magic like suggestion is easy to spot if you know what to look for, but a mage who's good with passive senses, reading the thoughts that others broadcast, is much harder to catch. The only thing that had tipped me off was that Crystal had been too neat. In a real conversation no one tells you
exactly
what you want to hear.

That last reaction had made me wonder, too. In between her magic and her looks, it occurred to me that Crystal probably wasn't very used to not getting her own way. I'd better be careful around her if we met again.

I noticed suddenly that everyone in the shop was watching me. For a moment I wondered why, then smiled to myself as I realised what it must have looked like. I left my drink on the table and ran the gauntlet of stares as I walked down to the ground floor and out into the London streets.

*  *  *

I
never used to get offers like these. A year ago I could go weeks at a time without seeing another mage. In magical society I was an unknown, and all in all that was how I liked it.

It's hard to say what changed. I used to think it was because of that business with the fateweaver, but looking back, I get the feeling it was more to do with me. Maybe I was just tired of being alone. Whatever it was, I got involved in the magical world again and started getting myself a reputation.

Although not necessarily a
good
reputation. I got the fateweaver against some stiff competition, making a couple of very powerful enemies in the process, one of which came back to bite me five months later. A Light battle-mage named Belthas was trying to get sole ownership of a very nasty ritual, and when I tried to stop him it came down to a fight. When the dust settled, Belthas was gone.

That was the point at which other mages started to take notice. Belthas had been good—
really
good, one of the most dangerous battle-mages in the country—and all of a sudden a lot of people were paying attention to me. After all, if I'd been able to defeat someone like Belthas, I'd be a useful tool to have on their side. And if I
wasn't
on their side . . . well, they might have to consider doing something about that.

All of a sudden, I had to play politics. Take a job, and I'd be associated with whoever I worked for. Turn one down, and I'd risk causing offence. Not all the job offers were nice, either. More than one Dark mage figured that since I'd knocked off one Light mage I might be willing to do a few more, and let me tell you, those kinds of people do
not
take rejection well.

But I'm not completely new to politics, either. My apprenticeship was to a Dark mage named Richard Drakh, in an environment where trust was suicide and competition was quite literally a matter of life and death. It's left me with some major issues with relationships, but as a primer on power and manipulation it's hard to beat. Crystal hadn't been the first to try to take advantage of me—and she hadn't been the first to get a surprise.

But right now I didn't feel like dealing with that. I put Crystal out of my mind and went to go find my apprentice.

*  *  *

M
ages don't have a single base of operations—there's no central headquarters or anything like that. Instead the Council owns a selection of properties around England that they make use of on a rotating basis. This one was an old gym in Islington, a blocky building of fading red bricks tucked away down a backstreet. The man at the front desk glanced up as I walked in and gave me a nod. “Hey, Mr. Verus. Looking for the students?”

“Yep. And the guy waiting for me.”

“Oh. Uh, I'm not supposed to talk about—”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” I opened the door, closed it behind me, and looked at the man leaning against the corridor wall. “You know, for someone who's not a diviner, you seem to know an awful lot about where to find me.”

Talisid is middle-aged with a receding hairline, and every time I've seen him he always seems to be wearing the same nondescript-looking suit. If you added a pair of glasses he'd look like a maths teacher, or maybe an accountant. He doesn't look like much at first glance, but there's something in his eyes that suggests he might be more than he seems.

I've never known exactly what to make of Talisid. He's involved with a high-up faction of the Council, but what game they're playing I don't know. “Verus,” Talisid said with a nod. “Do you have a minute?”

I began walking towards the doors at the end of the hall. Talisid fell in beside me. “Since you're here,” I said, “I'm guessing I'm either in trouble or about to get that way.”