Deception
B. C. BURGESS
deception
the mystic series 3
For my amazing readers-
You’ve most likely journeyed through two books with Layla and are about to embark on a third, which I dedicate to each and every one of you.
To share the Mystic series with you is more than an honor, it’s a dream come true.
There are few things in this world that touch my heart more than your wonderful reviews, emails, recommendations, and visits to my website and Facebook page.
Thank you from the bottom of my happy heart.
Author’s note:
Deception is not a stand alone novel and begins a few hours after Impassion ends.
There is no recap of the story.
Click
here
to read book one : Descension
Click
here
to read book two: Impassion
When we last left Layla, she was recuperating from a brutal attack by Agro’s lieutenant. Her attacker was killed by Finley, a wizard new to Oregon, who has revealed he is a twice-bonded child, like Layla, and moved into the Conn/Kavanagh community.
Layla and Quin have professed their love for each other and have fallen asleep in each other’s arms – him in pajama pants, her in a pair of underwear.
Meanwhile, Agro’s fuming over his missing lieutenant…
Prologue
March—Oregon
Ears ringing through rushing blood, Agro paced between two western red cedars, their trunks as thick as storage sheds and creeping with neon moss. Impatience slithered in Agro’s stomach while chaos reigned around him – unorganized soldiers rushing to extinguish fires, dress and don their crimson cloaks. Only a handful stood in a line nearby, ready to fly to the Conn/Kavanagh coven.
The turmoil took Agro back sixty-three years, when he was young and naïve and had no idea how to control the will of an army.
More soldiers fell in line, and Agro looked over, laying eyes on a boy no taller than his waist.
Stepping from the trees, Agro grabbed the boy by his collar and lifted his feet from the ground. “What’s this?” he demanded, scanning the line as he shook the child. He tossed the boy aside then moved to a young girl, pushing her out of formation as well. “Why are there children in this unit?”
“You said you wanted everyone in camp ready to fly, sir,” a few soldiers murmured.
Agro growled as he shoved another kid out of line. “Obviously not the useless piss-ants who can’t take care of themselves. Get them out of here.”
Adult soldiers rushed to obey, and Agro’s nostrils flared as he watched the pandemonium. He needed to replace Farriss, but he didn’t have time to nominate and test loyal candidates. Who knew his missing brute held such value?
He studied the nearby wizards, pinpointing one who’d kept calm, dismissed the chaos, and lined up in an orderly fashion. “You,” Agro said, stepping toward him.
The man tucked his right fingers into his left sleeve. Then he straightened and lowered his arms to his sides. He had a polished bald head and tattoos running from his shoulders to his neck. “Yes, sir.”
“Your name,” Agro demanded.
“Guthrie, sir.”
“What’s up your sleeve, Guthrie?”
“Silestra,” he answered, raising his left hand, and a small coral snake poked her black and yellow head from his crimson sleeve, smelling the moist air with her ebony tongue.
Agro cocked his head at the serpent then found Guthrie’s gray eyes. “How long have you been a member of the Dark Elite?”
“Forty-two years.”
“How old were you when you joined?”
“Twelve.”
“That will have to do,” Agro mumbled. “You’re my new lieutenant. Get these imbeciles organized. When we approach the community, I want half of them to enter the trees and fly ahead of the rest. They’re to take up post behind the houses while we make our way to the lawn. If any of the coven members try to sneak out, I want them apprehended and brought to me. But no one is to harm the family without my say so, or they’ll find themselves digging their own graves. You have one minute to gather the unit and prove yourself worthy, or I’ll kill you and find another deputy. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Guthrie agreed, ushering Silestra into his sleeve.
“Then what are you waiting for?” Agro barked “Go.”
Guthrie hustled away, and Agro huffed as he resumed his pacing.
Patience was vital in his quest, but his nerves had never been so thin. “I will not butcher her family until the witch is in my hands,” he vowed. But the fire in his eyes threatened to burn everything around him to the ground.
Chapter 1
Oregon-Conn/Kavanagh Coven
A rainbow of shiny mist dazzled Quin’s retinas as he awoke in the middle of the night, his mind oddly alert. His head lay on his left bicep, and his right arm cuddled Layla to his chest, her rhythmic breaths pulsing over his pecs. Her aura flowed peacefully, but Quin’s spine straightened under the sting of agitated nerve endings.
He raised his head and looked around the dark bedroom, searching for the cause of his unease. A quiet shuffle echoed in the hallway, and Quin flipped his gaze to the open door, where a faint glow illuminated the dark wood.
Finley
.
Quin threw the comforter over Layla's top half and soared from the bed, landing toe to toe with the intruder. “What in the hell do you think you're doing?”
Layla jolted awake and rolled over, finding Quin and Finley locked in each other’s line of sight, their crimson auras bulging from their tense and feral frames.
“Cool it,” Finley hissed, sucking his blazing haze back in. “Agro's here and he's going to search the houses.”
The tension between them snapped as Quin shot to the bed. With a flick of his left wrist and a wave of his right hand, Layla’s luggage vanished and the comforter rolled her into a cocoon. Quin scooped her into one arm as he grabbed his bag and her cell phone from the nightstand. Then he bypassed Finley and took flight toward the back door.
“Conceal us,” he whispered, magically tethering the satchel to his waistband.
Layla’s aura retracted as her body and the blanket disappeared, and Quin secured his hold while making sure she’d concealed him as well.
He swung open the kitchen door with his elbow then leapt over the table, but when he reached the back door, he slid to a stop. He closed his eyes and waved a hand, expanding his mind beyond the deck to the dense forest. He didn’t sense the enemy, but he had no way of knowing for sure.
He took two steps back, used magic to open the door. Then he counted to five before shooting from the house. By the time the door clicked shut, they were surrounded by timber.
He strained his senses, trying to hear if they were being followed as he zigzagged around tree trunks. He didn't hear any voices or cloaks, but he felt a foreign presence.
A mind-search broke his concentration – his dad’s panicked voice echoing in his head.
'Get out of here, Quinlan! Now!'
Quin furrowed his eyebrows as he responded, wondering why the warning was so delayed.
'We're gone.'
A snap echoed through the forest, and Quin sealed his mind as he turned his attention to the west. Tree branches creaked and moaned. Then a flock of birds burst from the foliage, cawing as they soared southeast. The Unforgivables were moving through the timber.
Quin shifted his course, staying low as he followed the path of the winged creatures, but once he reached the edge of the property, he veered south, confident the Unforgivables were far behind him. The foreign presence that had followed him from the house, however, lingered. Quin assumed by the speed, silence and invisibility it was Finley, and he wasn’t sure which was worse – Agro, or the most powerful wizard on earth. Both would do anything to get their hands on Layla.
In a matter of minutes, Quin had put fifteen miles between him and his home. His fastest time yet, and he’d never done it carrying someone. Of course, she wasn’t just someone; she was his motivation.
He slowed and called over his shoulder. “Is that you, Finley?”
“Yeah.”
Quin recognized the voice and slowed a little more. Damn, Finley was clever. There probably wasn’t another soul in the world who could keep up with a bonded child who’d been concealed by a twice-bonded child.
Quin flipped upright and descended, straining his eyes and ears. The earth rustled five feet to his left, so he turned. “Reveal yourself, Finley.”
Finely sighed as his body appeared, but his aura stayed hidden. “Stop being so damn paranoid. I just saved your witch’s ass for the second time in twelve hours.”
“She has a name.”
“Whatever,” Finley mumbled, taking a seat on the forest floor. He leaned against a tree trunk and pulled a flask from his bag. “Are you going to just stand there all night?”
Quin watched Finley casually drink. Then he tucked his chin in and found Layla's ear. “Lift your spells, love.”
She obeyed, and Finley smirked. “You know, Layla, I would have been able to dress you before carrying you away. Guess something like that isn't in Quin's arsenal.”
“Shut up,” she shouted, keeping her face in Quin’s neck.
He ran a hand down her hair – a turbulent sea of long, onyx spirals – then moved a few yards away, sitting so he could keep an eye on Finley. He gently pried Layla from his neck and found her moist emerald gaze. Then he brushed her hair from her face and loosened the blanket around her shoulders. “Breathe,” he instructed, laying a hand on her chest. “Deep, slow breaths.”
