Blood Magic (Dragon Born Alexandria Book 2) (11 page)

She resisted the urge to follow the trail to its source. Naomi and Marek needed her help first. She’d have to grab the Blood Orb later. She could feel her friends—Naomi’s sweet blend of fairy and mage, Marek’s potent snap of elemental and summoning magics. They were hiding behind the hole-punched wall of crates the Convictionites were shooting at. Every eye was focused on that wall. Not one of the guards saw Alex trace the shadows of the room.

As she moved, she stole a quick glance back toward the crates. She could see them through a gap in their barrier. Naomi was sitting on the floor, gritting her teeth as she tugged hard on a strip of fabric, tying it around her bleeding thigh. She’d been shot. So had Marek. Blood streamed down his arm like crimson ribbons, but he didn’t stop to bind his wound. He unleashed volley after volley of elementally-charged magic at the Convictionites. Naomi rose to her feet, putting her weight on her good leg. She rolled sparkling pink balls of Fairy Dust between her hands and added them to Marek’s barrage. They were putting up a hell of a fight, but there were just too many Convictionites. Alex had to do something. But what?

She scanned the room, looking for something that could help her turn the tides. Crates. Stairs. More crates. An old garbage can. Evil minions—make their guns explode? Nah, scrap that idea.

Why scrap it?
her dragon asked.
Exploding guns. I like that one.

It requires too much subtlety.

I wouldn’t call making a gun explode subtle.

The explosion isn’t,
Alex said.
Manipulating tiny streams of magic inside the gun in order to cause the explosion, however, requires more subtlety than I have. Or you.

Oh. Right.

Alex stopped in front of a big electrical box screwed into the wall. As she brushed her hand across the lock, a frosty layer filmed over the metal. She stepped back and slammed a hard kick against it. The lock broke apart, dropping to the ground. She pulled it open to find a nest of electrical cables inside. Score. Now to give it some juice.

She reached for her magic, praying that the magic drink had recharged her battery enough for a spell like this. Lightning popped and bubbled beneath her skin, building to a boiling point. Her dragon added her own magic to the storm. Harder and faster, the magic roared up inside of her, crashing in electrically-charged cascades—until lightning burst out of her hands. It poured out in purple-gold streams into the mass of cables, frying the power. With a resounding pop, all the lights went out.

Dim emergency lamps phased on, blinking in and out in stuttered hiccups. Alex crept up on the Convictionites. They’d stopped shooting and were now looking around, their movements choppy. Alex took advantage of their anxiety, prowling in the shadows. She launched knives into their mix.

“What’s that?” one of the guards asked as two of his comrades collapsed to the floor.

Alex stabbed him in the back, then spun to take out the guy beside him.

“A ghost,” a Convictionite gasped, squinting in the dim lighting.

“That’s no ghost,” another said. “Ghosts glow. Everyone knows that.”

“Dimwit! They can make themselves invisible.”

The guards at the front of the group weren’t paying any attention to their spooked companions at the back. They’d resumed shooting at the barrier. Naomi and Marek hadn’t given up either. Bursts of magic shot out across the guards. Alex rolled out of the way, popping up to her feet between two Convictionites, who expelled dual gasps of surprise. She shoved them forward so hard that they collided with their comrades—and the latest cloud of glittery pink Fairy Dust from Naomi. As they tumbled to the ground, the guards’ lines crumbled into disarray. Marek leapt up on top of the crates and unleashed a fierce gust, catapulting the unlucky remaining guards clear across the great hall.

“Are you two all right?” Alex asked.

Naomi limped around the side of the barrier. “We’re fine. But the hybrids are still down here. In cages.” She grimaced. “We found them, but the Convictionites cut us off and we had to retreat. We need to go back for them.”

“The Blood Orb is here too,” Alex said. “But we can’t go for it either. More Convictionites are on their way here from the back.”

“You can sense humans?” Marek asked, finally bandaging up his bleeding shoulder.

“Yes, but they’re not human.” A flood of auras, sick with the stench of pure hatred, slammed against her magic. “They’re Convictionite mages, dark minds warped with irreparable self-loathing.”

“How many?” asked Marek.

“Thirty, thirty-five. I can’t tell exactly. But too many for us, especially right now. We need to move before it’s too late.” She glanced at their bloodied bandages. “Can you run?”

They nodded.

“Good, because we’re going to run like hell out of here. You two go in front. I’ll take the rear. And whatever you do, don’t look back.”

* * *

For the second time that night, Alex pulled out the healing spray from Marek’s cabinet. By the time she was done, what remained of his once-impressive supply of ‘Magic Insta-heal’ had dwindled to only two bottles. The trashcan, overfilling with spent bottles, was a testament to what an utterly shitty night this one had been. And it wasn’t even over. Logan had yet to return. Alex was trying hard not to think about that.

“What happened to you two at the Convictionite base?” she asked.

“It took us some time to locate the precise source of the hybrid magic,” said Marek.

Naomi nodded. “We overheard two guys that sounded like Convictionites and followed them to Sugar. Once inside, they went to a door and disappeared. We followed.”

“The door was guarded,” Alex said.

“She used her charms to distract the guard.”

“Magic?”

“I showed a little cleavage and asked him to buy me a drink. Works every time.”

“As he stared at her, I caught the closing door with my foot. He didn’t even see me.”

“That’s not very professional of him,” commented Alex.

“He wasn’t. While he went off to the bar to get my drink, Marek and I snuck into the back.” Naomi smirked. “How did you get past him?”

“Head-butted him, then stole his keycard and stuffed him into a closet.”

Naomi’s smirk split into a snort. “That sounds like you.”

Alex shrugged. “I was in a hurry. You sounded distressed.”

“Yeah, it turned out we weren’t as stealthy as we thought. We trailed the two Convictionites to a door that led to another underground level, even lower than the first. According to what we overheard, it’s holding some ‘special cargo’.”

“The hybrids,” Alex said.

“Yes.”

“I could feel them there—and the Blood Orb as well. They’re all down there,” Alex said. “That was a major Convictionite stronghold.”

“That’s what we thought too,” replied Naomi.

“The door to the second underground level is unfortunately protected by a security system that is not easily distracted by cleavage,” added Marek.

“You should have tried the head-butting-and-stealing-keycard method,” Alex told them.

“The Convictionites are too paranoid about protecting their secrets, even from their own people. Their common soldiers don’t know they’re using weapons made with magic, and the Convictionite leaders want to keep it that way. Only a select few have access to that area. Head-butting at random would have taken too long,” said Marek.

Alex winked at him. “It’s not random. You have to target someone who looks important. They’re easy to pick out. They are always wearing a fancy suit.”

“And have a briefcase handcuffed to their wrist.” Naomi’s body trembled with barely-controlled laughter.

Marek shook his head and let out a melodramatic sigh. “We were looking for a way around the security system when Convictionite guards found us. We fought them off until you arrived to blow up the electricity.” He sounded like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or to lecture her for her blatant recklessness.

“I think that went pretty well,” Alex said. “All things considered.”

“Such as taking out the power to the entire neighborhood?” he asked.

“It’s easier to escape under the cover of darkness.”

“To escape
and
to infiltrate,” said Naomi. “We have to get back there.”

Alex caught her as she tried to stand, nudging her firmly back onto the sofa. “First, you need to recover.” She glanced at Marek, who looked as ready as Naomi to run back into the fire. “You’re both still bleeding.”

“We can handle it,” Marek insisted.

Naomi nodded in agreement.

“Aren’t you always telling me that I’m reckless?” she asked Marek. “Well, now you’re the reckless one.”

He set his hand on his bandaged shoulder. The healing spray could work miracles, but it was no substitute for a real healer. And neither of them had the benefit of Logan’s enhanced healing abilities.

“You don’t understand,” Marek said.

“I do. You both want to go after Eva and save her. But you almost died trying that tonight. You need a better plan. You can’t help Naomi’s cousin if you die before you get to her.”

He took a deep breath. “What do you suggest?”

“You need a professional, someone who specializes in sneaking into heavily fortified fortresses.”

“The assassin,” Marek said, looking dour.

“He has a name, you know.”

“Slayer.”

“You’re going to have to play nicely with Logan if you want his help,” Alex told him sternly.
 

“He’s not even here.”

Yeah, because he was off being reckless himself. What was it with people tonight?
She
was supposed to be the reckless one. It was no fun worrying while the people you cared about were off doing crazy things.

“He’ll be back soon,” she said. Wishful thinking was no more a flaw than reckless behavior was.

“Where did he go?” Naomi asked.

“To track down the assassin who tried to kill me tonight.”

Naomi’s eyes widened, shifting from turquoise to stormy blue.

“It’s a long story.”

“Bloody hell,” Marek coughed, his eyes also going wide.

Alex turned around to see what they were gaping at. Logan stood at the bottom of the stairs, his body dripping blood.

CHAPTER NINE

Off the Grid

THE BLOOD WASN’T actually coming from Logan, at least as far as Alex could tell. It was all over his skin and clothes, dripping to the floor in a slow, steady rhythm. A trail of bloody footsteps extended up the stairs to the front door.

“What happened,” she asked, shifting her eyes back to Logan. “Did you just kill someone?”

“Darling, I just killed a lot of people,” he replied.

No kidding. He looked like he’d just stepped off the set of a horror movie—or paid a visit to the end of the world.

“And did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

He’d been masking his aura pretty well up to this point—a stealth ability the Convictionites had imbued him with so he could hunt supernaturals—but at this question, the magic inside of him spiked.

“No,” he said, swallowing down his rage. “The assassin got away.”

“What’s going on?” Naomi asked. “Why is an assassin trying to kill Alex?”

“Because apparently I don’t already have enough enemies,” Alex said. “He attacked after we’d finished evading an army of two hundred vampires.”

“Why were two hundred vampires after you?” Marek asked.

“Because they are
crazy
.”

Marek looked at Logan.

“A large group of vampires is hiding in the tunnels of the old River Fleet,” Logan said. “We freed some of their prisoners, and Alex sent a magic tsunami through their tunnels. They took issue with both.”

“There are still more prisoners in hidden areas down there,” Alex said. “Innocent people the pirates snack on, then sell as food slaves to other vampires.”

Naomi cringed. Even Marek’s magic grew more agitated, zapping the air with static electricity.

“Was the assassin working with the vampires?” Naomi asked.

“I don’t think so.” Alex looked at Logan.

“No.”

“The Convictionites?” Marek asked.

“Or some other supernaturals?” The hidden meaning behind Naomi’s words was clear: did the Magic Council or someone on it find out that she’s Dragon Born?

“I don’t know who it is.” Alex mustered up a casual shrug. “Maybe the Convictionites are trying to get rid of me because I’ve become too annoying to them. Or maybe it’s a supernatural. I’ve killed a lot of misbehaving supernaturals over the years, even before I was the ‘Black Plague’, ‘Supernatural Vigilante’, or whatever new name they have for me this week. What happened with the assassin?” she asked Logan.

“The contract on your life wasn’t put on the assassin boards,” he told her.

There were job boards at various places where assassins gathered. There was probably one at Black Castle, which is why they didn’t let just anyone in.

“It’s an unlisted job,” he continued. “Whoever put a price on your head knows I have access to the boards. And they don’t want me to be able to trace the job back to them.”

“They must be familiar with your reputation,” said Marek.

“Yes.” Logan’s eyes burned with promised torments. “When I couldn’t find the job, I went to the Hangman. It’s an assassin’s pub, a less classy version of Black Castle.”

“If the food doesn’t kill you, the other customers will?” Alex asked.

“Precisely,” he said. “The Hangman is the place to go to find all the jobs below the radar. There’s no board there. To hear the jobs on offer, you have to speak to the owner Joren, who tends the bar. Officially, he retired as an assassin five years ago. Unofficially, he’s the city’s source for all dirty jobs not sanctioned by the Assassins’ Guild.”

“You have a guild?” Marek gasped in shock.

“Of course, a guild of independent assassins. We’re not barbarians. We don’t kill randomly. The Guild’s elected leadership is a kind of sanity stick to prevent anarchy. Every kill contract must be approved by our leadership before it goes on the boards. The Guild would never have approved a contract on Alex. She takes out troublemaking monsters and operates within the rules of the Mercenary Guilds and the Magic Council. She’s not breaking any laws.”