Cast Into Darkness (35 page)

She wouldn’t let it. She pushed her fear down and commanded the power to punch. She willed the spell at Dmitri. No hesitation. No fear.

The primal magic responded, flexing out to send a rippling wave of force straight at the brute holding her so cruelly in his grip. The kinetic punch slammed into Dmitri and he tumbled across the grass, his head hitting hard against the ground. He let go of her as he fell, the remaining spellcuff dropping from his hand.

Yes
. He so deserved that. Now all she had to do was—

She felt the icy intelligence lurking beneath the waves reach out.
Oh no. No.
She tried to make it choose the rabbit she’d seen in the grove, the flock of ravens in the trees above her. The rabbit should be about right…

The magic saw her feeble attempt at control. Instead of obeying her, it turned its regard to the casters fighting behind her. Victor and Kristof. And chose a sacrifice. A ball of black energy rose from Kate and rushed straight to Victor.

“No!”

The power wasn’t supposed to act like this. The spell hadn’t been powerful enough to demand a sacrifice that big. Not from what she’d seen in Melina’s Sanctum.

She dove back into the darkness, determined to wrestle it into submission. She’d give it herself if need be.
Just don’t let it take Victor. Please, God, no.

The white light, Melina’s white light—how did she do it? She had only seconds before…

The darkness swirled like tentacles around her, crawling up her legs, her torso, her arms. It dragged her step-by-step into its all-encompassing depths.

The darkness was around her neck now, then over her mouth. She choked on its foulness, tried to spit it out. She needed to fight it, to protect Victor from the black ball of destruction rushing across the grass to take him.

The spell, the white light, what was the spell, dammit…

The darkness swirled into her nostrils and leaked into her eyes, blinding her. Everything went away. Victor sending a burst of fire at Kristof. Dmitri lying prone on the ground. The ravens rising from the trees. Everything around her faded from her sight. She raised her hands, tried to claw the darkness from her eyes, but her hands fell back, no strength left in them. She sank to the ground as the darkness crept into her lungs and stopped her breath.

Was this how Brian felt when the stone killed him?

She fought for breath as the magic froze the blood in her veins, leeched the life from her cells, and reached for her heart.

Light flared around her, erasing the dark from her eyes. Thank God. Thank God, she could breath again, see again.

Victor stood above her, silhouetted by the rising moon. He chanted, his fingers tracing a circular pattern on his thigh, and the chant sounded so familiar. The light streamed from his hands and flowed over her, chasing the darkness from them both like the tide washing blood from a kill off a beach.

The spell. She knew the spell. Victor used the same words that Brian had chanted in the Sanctum, the same symbol he’d traced out. Now that she knew, maybe she could…

The magic fled, but not far. From the grove she heard a scream, then a thud. Primal magic taking its price.

“What the hell did you do?” Victor reached down a hand to lift her up, his face grim.

A shadow loomed over him. “Behind you—”

Kristof’s hands twisted the chains tight around Victor’s neck. Victor’s eyes bulged, and his hands reached up and back, grasped for his assailant. Kate stumbled toward them, so weak one step felt like a marathon. Victor struggled, jabbing his elbow back into his opponent’s midsection. Kristof grunted but held on. Victor’s eyes flickered closed, and he slumped forward.

Kristof let him drop. He bent down and picked up the spellcuff from the ground. He grabbed Kate’s arm and jammed it on her hand, giving the one-word command to activate it. She felt the cotton-wool feel settle in her mind again.

She glared up at Kristof. “You said you would—”

He put a finger to his lips. “Not now. Your family blew the plan.”

They
blew the plan. Seemed to her like she might have had a chance before he and Dmitri showed up. Unless his plan involved a lot more than setting her free.

Weakness kept her slumped on the ground, propped on her elbows. Whatever the dark power had done to her, its assault had taken a toll.

Kristof took out his cell phone. “I’ve got them. The east gate.” He glanced out at the grove, where the guards dragged out the lifeless form of one of their teammates. “One casualty.”

Damn
. All she’d accomplished was killing a Makris guard. Primal magic’s price for her walloping Dmitri with a kinetic punch. Nausea rose from deep inside her gut.
Not
an accomplishment.

Dmitri stirred and groaned. Kristof prodded him with his foot. “Get up. We need to make sure they don’t have any more surprises.”

“I can search her.”

“You do that. Touching her uninvited worked out so well for you last time.” Kristof pulled the talisman chains off Victor’s neck, then patted him down and found the lockpick talisman in his pocket. Kate watched the slight rise and fall of Victor’s chest and let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

A group of guards trotted up. One of them slapped a pair of spellcuffs on Victor.

Kristof addressed Dmitri. “Finish searching Victor, then take him to the plaza. I’ll meet you there with Kate.”

“Sure you don’t need help?” Dmitri wiped the blood from his mouth, then gave Kate a look that promised he wasn’t finished with her. Not by half.

“Just go.”

Dmitri gave Kristof a smirk and turned the still-unconscious Victor onto his front. He rummaged through Victor’s clothes.

Kristof bent down over Kate. He held out a hand. “Come on.”

When he touched her the same electricity sparked between them, the same warmth as when they kissed not long ago in her room leaped from her to him. Or was it the other way around? His gaze shot to hers, and she saw the surprise in them—and the momentary wonder—then the mask shuttered down over his eyes again. Back to playing the operative.

She let him help her up, getting to her feet slowly. Her entire body ached.

Kristof motioned her back to the house and its large central plaza.

She marched forward. Time to face the music. The Hamiltons had gambled…and lost.

Kate knelt on
the cold stone plaza of the Makris compound, between Victor and Dylan. A cold sea wind blew in from the beach below, hitting the wall of the estate behind her and raising goose bumps on her skin. She still felt the ache the primal magic’s assault had left her with. Her hands, twisted behind her back, throbbed inside the spellcuffs. Her throat burned with the smell of smoke and salt and defeat.

A group of Makris enforcers loomed over the vanquished Hamiltons, Dmitri’s smirking face leading the bunch as he walked up and down the line of prisoners. Kristof stood against the estate’s wall where it bent to form an
L
shape and faced the line of Hamiltons, his face and neck spotted with blood. They were waiting but for what?

Victor looked like Victor now, dressed in the same gray uniform as the rest of the Hamilton strike team, an angry red welt around his neck. Dylan was missing his glasses, but neither of them looked half as beat up as the remaining Hamilton strike team. Broken limbs, bloody skin, torn uniforms—her father’s best operatives lined up on either side of her, on their knees, hands spellcuffed behind their backs, heads bent down.

Then there were the dead.

Over by the still-burning stand of cedar trees, the corpses were laid out in a row. Two Hamiltons and one Makris. Grayson’s assistant, looking almost peaceful with her hair pulled back and arms crossed over her chest, lay next to Gordon, all anger gone from his still face. Slightly apart from the Hamiltons, the Makris guard Kate’s magic had taken lay stiff and cold on the green grass.

Kate swallowed down the tears that threatened to well up. She glanced at the still form of the Makris guard.
I killed him. I can blame primal magic all I want, but if I hadn’t tried to cast a spell, that man would still be alive.

Her gaze skipped over the Hamilton casters, settling on the hard ground in front of her.

But then, in a way, haven’t I killed them all?

The Hamilton strike force came to rescue her and get the stone. And her stupid idea to call up her primal magic had blown the op. After she’d been captured the others had no choice but to surrender.

Still, there had to be a way out, right? Rules for when things went bad? No one had ever attacked her home before, but she’d heard stories of ops gone sideways. Well, maybe not as bad as this, but…the Game had Rules, and the Rules covered how to treat prisoners. Ransom them back, treat them with respect. If the Makrises wanted their prisoners to be cared for in the future, they’d have to follow the Rules.

She nudged Victor with her elbow. “Got a plan?” she whispered.

“Working on it. Keep quiet, and don’t provoke anybody. Think you can manage that?”

“I—”

The Makris enforcers came to attention. Kristof pushed off the wall, and Dmitri’s head whipped around to stare at the entrance to the Makris house. Kristof’s father stalked out, bodyguards walking a few steps in front. His blue suit had a long, dark stain across the jacket. He took it off and handed it to a servant, who gave him an identical, clean one.

Melina followed him a step behind, in a short white dress. Her face seemed smooth, unlined by worries, untouched by the chaos.

They stopped in front of Victor. Dmitri reached down and grabbed the back of Victor’s uniform, hauling him to his feet. Kate’s heart began to pound.

“How did you break our security?” Nico Makris asked Victor.

Victor gave a half-smile, his version of name, rank, and serial number.

“You can tell me now or later. Later you will beg to tell me how you did it.”

Victor said nothing. But Kristof glanced from Victor to Dylan. His hands ran through Victor’s talisman chains. His gaze settled back on Victor, then he straightened and shoved the chains into his pocket. His eyes held that look of Kristof’s—that calculating, “I’m plotting something” look.

He
knew
. Kristof knew how Victor had gotten through the grid. Or he thought he did. But why wasn’t he saying anything to his father?

Victor still wasn’t talking. Kristof’s father gave a dramatic sigh.

“So be it. After a few hours in the Pit, perhaps you’ll be more forthcoming. But we have a few other matters to settle.” He held his hand out, and his servant gave him a cell phone, the connection already established.

“Ah, Cooper. Thought you should know I have your people. You aren’t getting them back.”

The bitter taste of adrenaline flooded Kate’s mouth. She strained to make out her father’s rapid-fire words across the phone line.

“You speak to me of Rules?” Makris said. “
Rules
? You broke the truce. You sent a strike team into my home. My home! And you have the audacity to talk to me about Rules. I make the Rules now.”

More muffled words from her father. Nico Makris’s face got redder, and his hand on the phone went rigid. Kristof stepped forward, mouth open to speak, hand reaching for his father’s shoulder. But Melina leaned in, gently pushed the phone away from her father’s ear, and whispered to him. The redness paled back to pink, a toothy smile curved his lips, and his eyes gleamed in the light of the still-burning fire.

He spoke into the phone. “Shut up. You broke the truce. You will pay the consequences. I don’t care about the Rules, I don’t give a fuck-all about DiOrsini and his so-called oversight. You will pay for this. You will pay.”

The cold seeping into Kate’s bones from the tile floor was nothing compared to the ice in Nico Makris’s voice.

“Come here, tomorrow at noon, alone. I want you to witness the execution of two of your people, in exchange for the one of mine your daughter killed. Victor Cole and…” His eyes went down the line of Hamilton operatives. “Your primal magic specialist. Dylan Pearce. You won’t be needing him anymore.”

Dylan went still beside her. He swallowed. Victor didn’t react at all.

More words from her father. Then Nico Makris’s response: “Well, of course, you would be a fool not to come. A fool with a dead daughter. Kate will join them if you don’t show. Remember: noon, alone.” He hung up.

Kristof opened the
cell door and led Kate inside the small concrete room. The cell looked clean, but the smells hit her before she crossed the threshold: the stink of urine and vomit, the faint odor of dead animals and decaying vegetables. No amount of scrubbing could eradicate the stench of despair. Kristof stepped in with her and closed the door behind him, dismissing the guards who had accompanied them. He traced out a cloak spell, its violet mists settling around them.

Kate studied his face. Back at the plaza, Kristof had followed the interplay between his sister and his father, intent on what they said and did. His eyes had flared when his father pronounced his sentence of execution on Kate.

But Kristof hadn’t stopped his sister from whispering her suggestions in their father’s ear. Hadn’t said a thing to stop his father from ordering Victor’s and Dylan’s executions. Hadn’t said or done anything to save her.

Afterward, he’d followed his father’s order to take her to a cell while Dmitri took Victor to the Pit. And the whole way here, he’d been in his own little world, silent and brooding.

Maybe Victor could break free. Maybe not. They’d have people guarding him—Dmitri, their enforcers. And they had so little time. Twelve hours, maybe less, before the deadline arrived and her father showed up…

Or not.

She’d have to try something. And with the primal magic determined to defy her control, Kristof was her only hope.

She sat on the spare cot against the wall, hands still secured behind her back. Kristof leaned against the cell wall, his eyes somewhere far away.

“Can you at least let me move my arms?” She shrugged her taut shoulders. “Where am I going to go?”