Bewitched & Betrayed (24 page)

“Nor does it condemn him as guilty.” His look softened. “You’ve worked with him for how long?”

“Nine years.”

“That’s a long time, Raine.”

“Yeah, it is,” I admitted reluctantly. I didn’t want to let go of a perfectly good vindictive anger.

“During that time did Markus Sevelien ever do anything to earn your distrust?”

“No, but—”

“What do your instincts tell you?”

“The same thing they always tell me. Be careful.”

“Good advice in any situation. Do they tell you anything else?”

“Markus is Balmorlan’s boss; he gives the orders.”

“That’s not an instinct; that’s an assumption.” His hands slid up my arms to just above my elbows. “Raine, many things are not as they seem, and people aren’t always who you think they are. But that doesn’t mean you can’t trust them just as much as you always have. And that includes their plans.”

“Are we still talking about Markus?”

“What I said applies to both me and Markus Sevelien.”

I paused. “Do
you
trust Markus?”

“I do.”

I sighed. “And I trust you.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to reserve judgment on Markus.”

One side of Mychael’s lips curled in a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

 

 

Mychael decided to hide the gold. Made sense to me. If we needed
to run away from anything, Mychael’s clanking would be a sure giveaway. He found a neat little hidey-hole in the alley he’d yanked me into. He hid the satchel in the hole and kicked some alley garbage over it. When we finished with Markus, we’d stop back by and collect our ill-gotten booty.

We got within fifty yards of Markus’s house without incident. I was nothing short of stunned. But what didn’t stun, surprise, or shock me in the least was a stone wall around the property that had to be at least eight feet tall. The only way I caught a glimpse of the house was through a pair of massive iron gates wide enough to admit a carriage and outriders. The iron glowed blue with protective wards that snapped and sparked whenever a moth flew too close. That was one hell of a bug zapper—or elf-kidnapper zapper. The top of the wall sported the same blue glow. Cozy.

“Other than this one, the only other occupied house on the street is at the far end,”
Mychael said in mindspeak.

That would explain the quiet—that and it was past two bells in the morning. Just because we didn’t see Markus’s guards didn’t mean they weren’t there. Markus hired only the best. Our dark leathers helped us blend into the stonework of the building at our backs.

We’d been standing in the shadows for nearly ten minutes, motionless, letting our eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding the house, to discern what was a shadow and what might be guards standing as still as we were.

There were no guards.

There should have been.

Something was very wrong.

I knew Markus well enough to find him using my seeking skills. If he was in that house, I’d know it. No need to step in something deep—or worse, a trap—if the man we needed to see wasn’t even there. But if he was there, and he was in danger, or hurt, or . . . or he was the man who ordered the people I cared about kidnapped and arrested and threatened with execution. If he’d done that, whatever danger was in his house with him right now was welcome to him. But if he hadn’t signed those orders and Balmorlan had acted alone . . .

Dammit. Why did this have to be so complicated?

Mychael’s hand was a comforting pressure on my shoulder as I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and silently.

“Is he in there?”
Mychael asked.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, breathing deeply. Breathing I could do; relaxing wasn’t going to happen, so I stopped trying and just went to work. I focused my will on an image of Markus in my mind until it was almost real enough to touch. Then I reached out across the street, over the wall, and froze.

I started shaking, but not from cold. Death was on the other side of that wall, inside that house. A chilled, spidery- light touch, a manipulator of death.

Mychael’s fingers tightened on my shoulder.
“Reapers?”
I kept my will focused on not moving, not giving myself away. It wasn’t a Reaper; what was in Markus’s house didn’t harvest the dead. It was alive and took a perverse pleasure in bringing back the dead. And he was powerful. Oh yes, he had power in spades, bone deep and cold as the grave.

It was a nachtmagus—and Evil with a capital
E
.

A pair of tall figures stood on either side of the front doors. A breeze shifted the branches of the tree shielding the house from the moonlight and I saw the face of the figure standing closest to me.

Gray skin, black armor, red serpent insignia over whatever heart the bastard had.

Khrynsani temple guards.

There was only one nachtmagus in town who could command a Khrynsani escort.

Janos Ghalfari. Sarad Nukpana’s uncle.

Ghalfari had hired two human kidnappers to take Markus, but now he was here himself. Why? And if Ghalfari was here, was Nukpana with him?

Through our bond, Mychael saw everything I did; and from the dangerous narrowing of his eyes, I wasn’t the only one who smelled a rat.

“Who knew that you had Morrell and Orla locked up?”
I asked.

I didn’t say someone squealed. Mychael knew it as well as I did.

The little voice that’d kept me alive for most of my adult life screamed for me to run. I thought the little voice’s idea was brilliant, but I wasn’t running. I wasn’t even leaving. Even if Markus had signed Balmorlan’s orders with his own hand, I couldn’t leave him for Sarad Nukpana to feed on for hours, slowly draining every drop of life.

If Markus was guilty, I had to know. If he was innocent, I had to save him.

Sometimes having a conscience was a bitch.

Though this wasn’t just about Markus. If Sarad Nukpana took Markus’s knowledge and memories, he would know the names of double agents, undercover operatives, plans, plots, defenses—in one stroke he could cripple elven intelligence, and a lot of good people would suffer and die. As far as agency knowledge, power, and influence, no one was Markus’s equal. Sarad Nukpana was fueling himself up to be an elf- annihilating juggernaut.

“You’re leaving and going for help,”
came Mychael’s words in my mind.

That told me he was staying while I went. And while I was gone, he’d go in. No way.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The elven embassy was a block away, but if I showed up at their gates, they’d just arrest me and jerk me inside. Or they’d try. None of which would get help here in time to save Markus.
“You just want me away from here.”

I knew what he meant. If Sarad Nukpana was in there, the Saghred was going to try to make me take him.

“More than two, that’s for damned sure.”
I glanced toward the house again. Lights were on and entirely too many people were home, the wrong people.
“I think I can control myself,”
I said dryly.
“I’m not going to get caught—and neither are you.”
No one, whether living, dead, or anywhere in between, was going to lay a hand on Mychael.

We both knew what I meant. Yes, the Saghred and I were one. And yes, I was Sarad Nukpana’s planned dessert, but I would use the full force of that rock against that murdering goblin if I had to. Actually, this was the chance I needed. End this now, here, tonight, before anyone else died, before Sarad Nukpana was strong enough to make his own rules and break all the others.

Mychael’s silence told me he knew he was wasting his breath, and that he didn’t have time to argue with me. His hand went from my shoulder to clasp my hand.

“Then we need to veil,”
he said, and I felt his magic run up my arm and into every part of me. Instantly, it felt like I was still there, but not quite. I looked down at myself and up at Mychael. We were both still there. But from past experience, I knew no one else could see us.

And Markus might be slowly dying right now.

Mychael tightened his grip on my hand, making sure I stayed put.
“There’s a street at the back of the property that runs the length of Ambassador Row,”
he told me.
“There has to be a coach waiting. Can you sense if Sarad Nukpana has been in it without getting too close?”

I’d been up close and personal with Sarad Nukpana before, and each time had been one time too many. I knew his scent and sense.

There was a coach and horses, and guards for both. I’d gotten a good look at the coach Nukpana had transported General Aratus in; this wasn’t it. That meant Tam’s dark mage associates and Mychael’s Guardians were at this moment at an abandoned carriage house watching a coach that wasn’t going anywhere, at least not tonight. If it had been the same coach, they would have followed it and ended up here. We’d have backup.

A different coach meant no reinforcements. No help.

Just us.

The guards around the coach were Khrynsani temple guards, not mages. That was good. While all Khrynsani were magically skilled, temple guards spent more time with blades than spells. I could seek past the four guards that I could see. There were probably more close by, but as long as they weren’t high-level Khrynsani mages, I should be able to find out what I needed to know without giving myself away.

I reached out across the thirty yards or so between me and the coach. There were no shields or wards on the coach. Uncle Janos was depending on his Khrynsani to keep his means of escape safe. I didn’t want to steal it; I just wanted a look inside.

I felt myself grin. Or maybe I did want to steal it.

Spook the horses, they’d bolt, then Nephew Nukpana and Uncle Janos would have to walk home. Now, that image was a keeper. Take away their transportation and get the added bonus of a distraction that might just get us into the house, or at least on the grounds.

I was incredulous.
“You like my plan?”

“I like
this
plan.”

I really didn’t want to look inside that coach and find Sarad Nukpana sitting there while his uncle was inside catching his dinner, so I got close enough to sense anything inside and took a big, psychic sniff.

My skin did a full head-to-toe crawl. Sarad Nukpana had definitely been in that coach; that meant he was here, inside the house. A black, oily sensation crawled along my skin, accompanied by the smell of musty air and mold. Death. Ancient and eternal. I didn’t know if it was from Nukpana or from the lives he’d taken. It didn’t matter. He was inside, so was his death-dealing uncle, and so was Markus.

Musty air and mold.

The same things I’d sensed when I touched General Aratus’s corpse.

Sarad Nukpana’s lair.

I needed more than confirmation; I needed a location.

I stopped, forced down some damned near overwhelming revulsion, and inhaled with all my senses. I got an image instantly. Smooth, hard stone, darkness, flickering firelight at the end of a long corridor or tunnel. The walls were smooth and cool, definitely man-made, a corridor or hallway, then. Shafts of cool blue light shone down from a light source embedded in the ceiling, possibly lightglobes. Rats scuttled and squeaked in the darkness next to the walls, running away from the light.

Away from what was in that room.

I’d been on enough ships to trust the instincts of rodents. In packs they could be downright brazen, so if a pack of rats ran from something, they had a good reason.

I had to see what that reason was, and I couldn’t do that without going into that room.

The coach lurched and my link snapped. Dammit. The guards couldn’t sense me, but the horses could, and they jerked in their harnesses to get away.

I usually ended up on the ground when a seeking link broke that quickly. I wasn’t on the ground now. Mychael was holding me up, one arm tightly around my waist, the other on the back of my head, pressing my face into his chest. I guess he didn’t want to chance that I’d make any noise.

With our link, he knew what I’d seen.

“Recognize it?”
I asked.

“No.”
He didn’t sound happy about that.

I wasn’t, either. It seemed like Mychael knew every bordello, alley, and abandoned building on the island, but he had no idea where the spooky room with the running rats was.

The image and memory wasn’t going anywhere. That was something about seeking. What you saw, you got to keep whether you wanted it or not. We’d find out where it was later. Now we had to get into Markus’s house. We had a family reunion to break up.

“The back gate is just beyond where the coach is,”
Mychael told me.
“Just inside is a gardener’s shed. It stays unlocked. There’s a trapdoor with a short tunnel leading into the house’s basement. The basement door is warded, but I can get around it.”