Merlin's Children (The Children and the Blood) (11 page)

Brogan made him feel like he was trapped in a box with a ticking bomb.

The giant strode by him. Continuing around the turn, he marched toward a pair of ebony doors and then shoved them open without a backward glance.

Cole trailed him cautiously into the room. Windows formed two of the walls, extending from the ceiling nearly to the floor, and beyond their glass, the glittering cityscape stretched to the horizon beneath the night sky. The black waters of the lake interrupted the expanse to the south, though the glow of a bridge bordered its edge and suburbs glimmered on the far banks. To the east, crowded highways formed a serpentine river of red and white light.

He swallowed, continuing farther inside. A sunken space in the middle of the floor was ringed by thickly padded seats of black leather, and glistening crystal lights dangled over the glass table in the center. Where the windows met, a black grand piano stood, and near the entry, a doorway led off to a bathroom with a Jacuzzi inside. A marble-trimmed kitchenette lay in the rightmost rear corner of the room, with a door open beside it. In the bedroom beyond, a bed the size of a truck waited opposite a flat-panel television wide enough to use as a surfboard.

The door shut behind him. Startled, he turned.

Brogan’s stare made his blood go cold.

“Who sent you?” the man growled.

“What?”

The giant paced toward him and Cole backed up, catching himself before he stumbled over the edge of the sunken seats.

“You never answered the others. You will answer me.”

Brogan’s voice held no anger, just a quiet certainty more chilling than any rage could have been.

“Who sent you?” the man repeated. “I will not believe you escaped dozens of Merlin without assistance from their queen.”

“I didn’t–”

“I will not ask again.”

Cole swallowed, his gaze locked on the warped skin of Brogan’s face and the milky white eye staring at him as though it could still see.

“She…”

The giant’s jaw clenched. Cole grabbed after the only thing he could think to say.

“They’re afraid of you. They’re running. They… they know you’re hunting them. And…”

He faltered. Too much would endanger Lily. Not enough might get him killed, king’s son or not.

“It wasn’t a dozen Merlin. It wasn’t even half that many. And the queen… I escaped because she was distracted. They all were. They saw the news about the fires, and while they were trying to reach their people, I…”

He hesitated, and then risked the truth. “I climbed out the window and down the fire escape.”

Brogan’s cold gaze took on a dry cast. “The fire escape.”

“You think I’d make that up?” Cole cried.

“And this was in Atlanta?”

He tensed, but there wasn’t anything for it. The giant wasn’t stupid, and Ashe would’ve gotten Lily the hell away from there once she discovered he was gone.

At least, he hoped so.

Or maybe he did.

Fighting to stay focused, he nodded.

Brogan watched him for a moment and then stepped back, allowing him to gain distance from the edge of the seats.

“How many of the Merlin survived the attack on their hideout?”

Cole froze. At his silence, the giant’s brow rose.

He grimaced uncomfortably. “I’m not–”

“How many?”

Brogan’s stare was uncompromising.

Cole drew a breath, floundering. He didn’t owe the Merlin anything. And it wasn’t like a count was dangerous. It didn’t say where they were, or what defenses they had. It meant nothing.

His conscience didn’t buy his line of reasoning and his skin refused to stop crawling with guilt as he looked back into the giant’s eyes.

“Maybe a hundred?” he hazarded. “But I’m not sure. I’m not!” he insisted as the man’s face darkened. “I think there might’ve been more elsewhere, but I never saw them, so I don’t know.”

Again, Brogan studied him before finally turning and striding to the door. “I will have someone bring you dinner.”

The giant paused, glancing back. “And if we have further questions…”

He let the rest of the statement hang in the air.

Cole hesitated. “Okay.”

Brogan’s face gave nothing away. Without another word, he left.

A breath escaped Cole. Shaking his head, he scrubbed a hand over his hair, trying to drive away the adrenaline surge the giant caused.

He really didn’t owe the Merlin anything. And a stupid count of how many had been at the mobile home lot was harmless.

At least, he thought it was.

Maybe.

He grimaced, turning from the door and walking to the window.

Hundreds of feet below, workers rushed home for the evening while the dinner crowd made their way into the restaurants lining the street. Taxis like golden fish wove between the other cars, racing the lights and traffic and each other for their destinations.

It didn’t matter. They couldn’t do anything with a count.

Except know how many were left to kill.

His eyes closed. The cold surface of the glass pressed against his forehead.

Wizards were bastards. That was one thing of which he’d been absolutely certain, long before he’d come to Chaunessy today. The Carnegeans were more than proof; they were wizard poster children. And even if his father had worked for peace, Ashe’s family could have been the same.

He wondered what his mother had done.

A twist of pain burned his chest, carrying with it all the unanswered questions from earlier that day, and he scowled, forcing scorn into its place. Whatever Clara had done for peace, the Carnegeans had hated her for it, so it must have been good. And chances were, Ashe’s family had been just like his grandparents. After all, King Nicholas had maintained his grip on Taliesin’s magic without ever considering a compromise.

Until Victor killed him for it.

Though it wasn’t like he’d had much of a choice.

Cole grimaced. That wasn’t the point. At least, possibly. But it didn’t change anything about the destruction his father had caused since.

Except who had his father hurt? Edmund Vaughn and the council, who’d kept Cole prisoner for eight years, apparently while being ready to kill him the whole time? The Merlin royal family, who stood every chance of being the monsters the Carnegeans had idolized them as?

And as for the rest…

He wanted to believe that his father didn’t have to keep fighting the Merlin. Maybe that he didn’t even
want
to keep fighting them, if they’d only stop too.

It hurt how much he wanted to believe that.

But it wasn’t just on his father.

He wondered what she was telling Lily. Would she hide it if she felt the need to murder one of his kind, or would she simply spin it somehow? Tell Lily they’d been trying to hurt her, or that they worked for the so-called bad guys. Truth be told, she might not even bother. She didn’t honestly seem to care if she killed people in front of the kid. The four dead wizards she’d left outside Chaunessy a few days ago showed that.

Maybe she’d just teach Lily to be the same as her.

His stomach turned and he opened his eyes, swallowing hard as he pulled his forehead back from the window.

She’d been accused of killing hundreds of people. That didn’t make it true. He couldn’t make a decision on rumors.

No matter how likely they appeared.

His gaze tracked a taxi through the traffic without really seeing the car.

Keller and Reece had looked so eager to find the girls the night they killed Vaughn, they’d nearly been salivating over the idea. And later, Reece’s team claimed to only need one.

Maybe they’d just misunderstood the plan.

Maybe his dad didn’t know Brogan’s people as well as he thought.

Cole rubbed his fingers over his eyes and then turned from the window, pacing the length of the ridiculously nice apartment. Brogan’s people had tried to kill him on the cliff that night. Ashe had burned a man alive just for getting in her way.

Hollywood never made choosing sides this hard.

A knock sounded at the door and he froze halfway across the thick, white carpet. A heartbeat later, the latch turned and a silver cart bearing covered dishes and a carafe of juice came in, followed by a suit-clad man who kept his eyes on the ground.

“Your dinner, sire,” the man said deferentially.

Cole stared at him, his brow climbing at the title.

“Shall I put it on the table for you?” the man continued at his silence.

His gaze darted from the man to the small table in the kitchenette and back. “Um, that’s really okay.”

“It would be my pleasure,” the man said, putting action to the words by wheeling the cart over and then carefully arranging the food on the wrought iron table.

“Will there be anything else, sire?” he asked when he finished.

Dumbstruck, Cole shook his head.

“Have a good night.”

He stared as the man wheeled the cart away and shut the door.

His gaze slid back to the table.

The aroma of barbecue chicken and fries drew him across the room before his caution got to have a vote.

Ashe really was a threat to the kid, he decided as the last of the chicken disappeared from the plate. Even if he set aside all the things of which she’d been accused, he’d still seen enough to make how violent and brutal she’d been taught to be abundantly clear.

Though given the way Nathaniel and the others had been watching him, there seemed a good chance the accusations were real.

Drawing a breath, he pushed the thought away. He needed to trust his dad. Regardless of what the Blood may or may not have understood, he had to believe that the man he’d known, and the person who’d sworn to him today that he wanted to help those girls, could be trusted to follow through on his word.

He had to be able to put weight on that, at least.

A breath escaped him. But that wasn’t the only issue.

Ashe would have run with Lily when she saw he’d escaped. He didn’t know her well, but he knew enough to bet on that. And where they would’ve gone was anybody’s guess. Elias hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, and with an entire country full of places to hide, telling his father might not accomplish much.

His gaze returned to the window. His dad might have resources to help, though. And the difficulty wasn’t important. He had to get Lily out of there. He couldn’t let Ashe do to her sister what’d obviously been done to her.

He just needed to find a way.

*****

The man had stopped bleeding a while ago, though from the stains covering him it was hard to tell. Curled in a ball on the concrete floor, he whimpered as residual shocks of his own magic sizzled through his veins.

“Hartford then,” Brogan remarked, glancing over.

Jamison nodded, turning away. The wizards behind him hurried to drag the man back into the cell.

Brogan ignored them, studying his employer. By the security station on the opposite side of the room, Jamison tapped the keyboard and watched the camera pan across the wide cell.

“They were close,” he commented, not looking up from the monitor as Brogan came near.

Brogan said nothing. Jamison didn’t seem to mind.

Locks clanked behind them. Hands clasped in military parade rest, the guards took up positions on either side of the cell door.

“Are you ever going to tell him you killed his mother?” Brogan asked quietly.

Jamison tapped another key. The monitor switched to another camera.

“No.”

A key clicked. The monitor switched again.

“She never would have understood,” Brogan said.

“I know.”

Behind them, the wizard began to sob. Jamison glanced back.

Brogan followed his gaze. In a shadowed corner of the cell, an old man motioned to two prisoners. The pair struggled to their feet and shuffled over to comfort the weeping man.

“He’s still alive,” Brogan noted dryly.

Silent, Jamison watched the old man. From his corner, Charles Brentworth stared back, nothing in his eyes to give evidence of the fact his magic was long since gone.

Jamison’s expression hardened.

“Six more of the council’s people hiding in Hartford?” he said, turning to Brogan. “Excellent. Tell Simeon he leaves within the hour.” His lip twitched, the introspection of the moment before gone. “And bring out another prisoner.”

The first thing he saw was a purple cat, and then his vision cleared.

Blinking, Cole pushed away from the pillow and then rubbed a hand over his face. Cartoon felines danced across the massive television screen in time to muted music, and sunlight streamed past the curtains on the far side of the room.

He couldn’t remember falling asleep. With the addition of food to his system, everything had gone blurry. He recalled asking the guards outside his door where his father could be found, at which he was told the king was unavailable for the time being, though they’d pass along that Cole wanted to speak with him. Without options, he’d gone back inside. The apartment yielded little in the way of things to distract him, considering he no more knew how to play piano than fly to the moon, and somewhere between flipping on the television and lying back on the mountain of a bed, morning had decided to arrive.

Stifling a yawn, he dug the remote from the pile of pillows and then sent the cartoon cats into oblivion. Even on mute, the creatures were disturbing. Climbing off the bed, he tossed the remote back into the jumble of pillows and then walked out of the room.

Sunlight poured into the apartment, giving everything a new and fresh look utterly at odds with how he felt. Wincing at the glare, he made his way to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, trying to drive away the cobwebs clinging to his brain.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

The thought was clear despite his exhaustion, and he grimaced as he swiped a towel from the rack and then pressed it to his face. Last night, everything had seemed, if not straightforward, then at least manageable. Whether or not the Blood were trustworthy, his father could still help the kid and that was all that mattered. But now, other factors came to mind, making everything so much more complicated.