Fracture (The Machinists) (15 page)

As he should be.

Darian favored intimidation and brute strength with his procession. Each of Graeme’s guards was a magi.
Why not use a cleric’s abilities and subdue me by forcing me under?
Graeme’s blood boiled as the realization came to him.
He’s going to use my son against me.

Graeme wielded water and fire, using the fire to draw the heat from the water, and projected it onto the steel handcuffs binding his wrists. They were a European design with a thick hinged steel plate instead of a chain—more of a shackle than a cuff and far more difficult to break out of.

The private wing of the estate bore few of the decorative adornments the main living area displayed. Simple runners lined the floors, and the old singled-paned windows were left without drapes. Paint flaked away from the bare walls, and the baseboards were dented and scratched. Where the front rooms felt new and modern, this felt old and dingy.

Graeme continued to pour his efforts into the cuffs. The silver cuffs were coated in thick frost, and the cold steel bit into his wrists. His escort paid him little mind, but he pulled the cuffs closer to his body anyway, partially obscuring them under his shirt. He projected the building ice crystals into the locking mechanism. Baylis had been able to pick locks this way, using slivers of ice to push against the correct pins and then reinforcing them with air to turn the mechanism, but Graeme had never been very good at it. Making matters worse, the cuffs were an unfamiliar design with a locking mechanism that he was unaccustomed to. Graeme quickly gave up on the idea.

He continued to fill the lock with ice and focused his efforts on freezing the areas where the cuffs were weakest. If he projected fire and air into it, expanding the ice crystals almost instantaneously, he could create a miniature blast and blow the cuffs off—and maybe his hands along with them.
Better to use that as a last resort,
he decided.

The procession stopped outside a nondescript door, which the lead escort opened and then ushered him inside. The two magi at the rear took up station in the hall on either side of the door and pushed it closed.

The lead guard, a thick man who kept his hair long in an attempt to hide his receding hairline, strode across the room and yanked open the burgundy floor-to-ceiling curtains, allowing daylight to enter the room for the first time in a long time. Dust billowed from the curtains, making the air heavy. Mothballs had gathered in the corners of the room, and still more dust covered shelves, tables, and lamps. The furniture—a simple loveseat and an armchair with matching ottoman—were hidden under white sheets.

The guard in front of Graeme visibly relaxed as the door closed. Graeme lunged forward, throwing his hands and wrists over the man’s head. He pulled back viciously, choking the man with the centerpiece of his cuffs. They fell backward into the door with a loud crash.

The other three guards watched in horror as Graeme strangled their fellow magi. The man struggled to pull the cuffs away from his neck. He kicked, scratched, and clawed, but Graeme had the leverage. The guards in the hall banged on the door, trying to get in, but Graeme and his hostage pushed against it, keeping it closed.

The magi to his right charged. Graeme wielded fire and projected it into the cuffs. They burned orange, swelling from the mix of ice and water inside, and exploded against the man’s neck. Shrapnel scattered through the air, taking out the incoming magi’s eye and dropping him to the ground, dead. The man he was strangling went limp against his chest, and Graeme pushed him aside, letting the body collapse to the ground.

The magi at the window sent a fireball hurtling in his direction. Graeme dove aside, and the fireball struck the door, blowing it to splinters and knocking the magi in the hall to the floor. In a matter of seconds, Graeme had cut the procession of six down to two, and the remaining magi waited nervously, watching Graeme with wide eyes.

Graeme got to his feet, rubbing his wrists. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but I will protect my Family by any means necessary. You can either let me walk through that door, or you can join your comrades on the floor.”

The two men exchanged looks before holding their hands in front of them in surrender.

“Where are you holding my son?” Graeme asked.

“The holding cell,” one of the men said. “In the basement.”

“Is there another entrance?” Graeme asked.

The man shook his head.

“Get on the ground, facedown, noses touching the floor.”

Graeme took a deep breath and held it. He wielded air into a solid wall that he placed directly behind each of their heads. The barrier would keep them from looking up, or so they would believe. “Do you feel that?”

The men grunted.

“Good,” he said. “That shield will dissipate as I get farther away. Do not try to watch, do not try to get up, or else I will know and have to come in here and deal with you. Understood?”

Again, the men grunted.

It was a lie, of course. The barrier would hold only as long as Graeme focused on it, which wouldn’t be long. But if they believed it to be true, then it was as real as steel. The two men wouldn’t move until Graeme was long gone.

Graeme backed into the hall, stepping over fragments of wood. A hole had been blown open in the wall, exposing pink insulation and electrical wires. Both guards were lying dead on the floor. The one nearest to Graeme lay slumped against the wall, with a large piece of wood buried in his chest, and the other was facedown, with blood matted against the back of his head.

It’s a shame it had come to this. Two dead out here, two more inside, and who knows how many more down
in the basement.
They’d come to the Hyland Estate looking for answers to prevent war, but instead, they had started one. Lukas was one step ahead of them, and he obviously had other plans. They had walked straight into a trap. Graeme kicked himself for not having seen it coming. He should have known Lukas would already have reached out to Families that might be sympathetic to his cause. And who better than Darian Hyland, the youngest grand mage of all the Families? He led a weak fledgling Family that had shed many of the ancient customs and traditions. They had much to gain by being the first to join Lukas’s movement.

He had no excuses and no one to blame but himself. Even as Graeme went through all of it in his head, he knew that Allyn was the key to the trap. He wasn’t a magi, and he wasn’t a savior. He was just a man, another pawn in Lukas’s game, nothing more than a distraction meant to divert him from focusing on the real problem—stopping Lukas.

Was the Hyland Family the first to form an alliance with Lukas or just the latest and the first to make a play? Word would be out as soon as Graeme made it known to the other Families. He would find out who stood with whom. Lukas wouldn’t surprise him again.

Graeme charged forward, ready to take on the entire Hyland Family. He was going to find those stairs, enter the basement, and find that holding cell. He was going to protect his Family—by any means necessary.

Allyn threw a broken table leg at the door. The rest of the table lay in shards on the floor, having been destroyed when Nyla tackled Cason. The leg bounced harmlessly off the door. Their barricade—a collection of tables, chairs, rugs, and anything else they could pile in front of the door—had held so far. The dead bodies in the hallway probably had something to do with it, too. When they figured out nobody in the room could wield…

It won’t come to that
, Allyn thought.
We will get out of here before it comes to that
.

“She’s getting worse,” Liam said. He sat on his knees, holding Nyla’s hand. If the tenderness around Allyn’s ribs and stomach were any indication, she’d suffered severe trauma to her internal organs, a few broken ribs, and possible internal bleeding—all because she had healed him.

I didn’t do it for you
. Her words haunted him. “I know,” Allyn said, picking up another table leg. He didn’t know what he would do with it, but he felt better armed with something.

“What are we going to do?”

“I’m working on it,” Allyn said.
How do you tell someone you don’t know? That they were probably going to die?

“There aren’t any windows or doors or another way out. And they know we’re in here, so we can’t hide.”

Allyn closed his eyes, trying to hide his annoyance. They’d already been through this. “Can you try to wield?”

Liam shook his head.

“You’re a magi. Your father is the grand mage. And you’re telling me you can’t?”

Liam’s face flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“What about the conversations we had about my struggles?” Allyn asked. “You gave me advice, gave me things to try. Were you just full of—” He realized he was taking his anger out on Liam. The kid may have misled him, and his timing couldn’t have been worse, but he didn’t deserve Allyn’s wrath.

Liam refused to look away from Nyla. “I just told you what Jaxon always told me.”

“Can you try? Maybe it will be different this time.”

“It won’t be.”

“Will you just try?” Allyn asked. “For me?”

Liam looked up at him, hurt in his eyes. Allyn was asking him to knowingly humiliate himself in front of him, and he hated himself for it, but he didn’t have any other ideas. If Liam could accidentally hit the wall with a fireball, it would give them more time.
And then what?
Give Graeme more time to rescue us.
Is that my plan? Wait to be rescued?

Liam gently placed Nyla’s hand on her chest and stood. He rolled his shoulders and neck, and with a long, deep breath, he closed his eyes.

Shuffling and indistinguishable whispers came from outside the door. They were planning something. He was running out of time.

The air shimmered around Liam, and his skin somehow seemed brighter.
He’s doing it
. All he’d needed was the stimulation of being in a real-world situation, like an athlete performing during a big game. Liam had what it took when it counted. The lights in the room flickered and then shut off entirely, plunging the holding cell into darkness. They were definitely planning something.

Liam opened his eyes. The lights flickered on a moment later. He sighed with frustration. “I can’t do it. I can
feel
the power inside me. I just can’t do anything with it. I can’t project it. I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay.” Allyn sat down, wondering what else they could do. At least this way, when Hyland’s magi broke through the barricade, he and Liam wouldn’t look like a threat. They might spare them.

Nyla coughed. A thin red line streaked down her cheek. Allyn rushed over to her. Taking her chin in his hand, he rolled her onto her side. Blood poured from her mouth like wine from a tipped glass.

“We need to get her help,” Allyn said.

Liam nodded. It was time.

“Stay with her,” Allyn said. He walked to the door and knocked. The shuffling in the hall stopped. “Can you hear me?”

Whispers.

“Parley.” Silence. “You hear me? We want to parley.” Allyn waited for several excruciating minutes.
What’s taking so long?

“Allyn?” a new voice called out. “This is Grand Mage Hyland. I’m told you wish to speak.”

“I do.”

“It’s very simple,” Darian said. “Come out peacefully, and you won’t be harmed. I apologize for any injuries you may have sustained, but we can prevent more from occurring if you come out peacefully.” Darian sounded genuine.

“What assurances do I have that you won’t kill us on the spot? I need an act of good faith.”

“What do you propose?”

“I have someone who needs medical attention,” Allyn said. “Once they’re treated, I’ll come out. I’m yours.”

“No!” Liam shouted.

“It’s me you’re after anyway,” Allyn shouted over Liam’s protests. “You heal my wounded, and you can have me. Let the others decide for themselves.”

“What are you doing?” Liam demanded.

“Nyla needs help,” Allyn said. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“They’ll kill you!”

“I don’t think so,” Allyn said. “If they wanted us dead, we’d be dead. They’ve had plenty of opportunities.”

“They tried! Nyla
stopped
them from killing you. She nearly killed herself trying to
save
you!”

“I don’t think those were Cason’s orders.”

“I don’t care what you
think
. As soon as you leave, they’re going to kill us.”

“What do you want me to do, Liam?” Allyn asked. “What other choice do we have?”

Liam looked down at Nyla’s helpless form. More blood had streaked down her cheek. “I don’t know.”

“Me, neither,” Allyn said. “This is all I’ve got.”

Liam took a deep breath. “All right.”

“Do we have a deal?” Allyn shouted through the door.

“Yes.”

“Give me a hand with this,” Allyn said to Liam, gesturing to the barricade. Together, they pulled off the loose stuff first. As they pulled the last of it off, they got to the bulk of it—a dense wine rack that doubled as a serving table. It probably weighed more than the two of them combined and was bottom heavy, making it difficult to tip over. After some grunting and a little sweat, they managed to slide it away from the door.

Allyn walked to the center of the room, Liam standing at his shoulder, and waited. Liam gave him a small, reassuring nod.

“All right.” Allyn took a deep breath. “It’s open.”

The door opened slowly, and a hand, palm toward the sky, slid through first. A short woman with bobbed blond hair combed to the side gingerly stepped into the room. A nervous expression on her face, she quickly scanned the room. Her eyes came to rest on Nyla’s body.