Merlin's Children (The Children and the Blood) (44 page)

Shoving up from the ground, Harris bolted for the remnants of the cube. Glass crackled beneath his feet as he ran, the broken chunks skittering and slipping alarmingly, and an errant blast of lightning sliced the air above his ducked head. He could hear shouts coming from the Merlin, the words indistinguishable past the howling magic racing at them all, and behind the Blood wizard, the Taliesin paced like wolves, waiting to strike anyone who made it past Simeon’s attack.

He reached the shattered glass door and his steps suddenly faltered, the memory of the guard caught in the barrier downstairs flashing through his mind. There wasn’t any evidence the defenses on the room still stood; if anything, the destruction was a strong indication they were gone. But he wasn’t a wizard. He couldn’t be sure.

And to burn like that… like Malden had…

A cry rang out. It sounded like it came from a girl. Across the room, the Merlin were falling back, and he couldn’t tell how many were still alive.

He lunged past the door.

The hairs on his arms rose, tingling as though electrified, and then he was through. Racing toward the desk, he leapt a fallen body and then slid to a halt before the bank of monitors. Only a handful still clung to their metal braces, while the rest lay shattered on the floor.

But the wizards hadn’t had time to log out. They hadn’t had time for anything.

And they’d been working on getting the lower floor barriers back online.

He bit back a laugh, the sound edging closer to hysterical than could ever be safe, and then he rushed for a chair. A grimace twisted his face as he pushed the glass-peppered body of a dead wizard aside, letting it tumble to the floor. Splatters of blood covered the mouse and keyboard, with more splashed across the screens nearby, and he swallowed hard, trying to focus on which of the meters on the monitor directly before him was connected to the barrier outside.

On the right side of the screen, he spotted it. In a gradient of green, the meter pulsed near the maximum of its gauge, although he had no idea whether that meant it was fully defended or under attack. Behind him, he could hear the fight fading, and he kept from looking back as he grabbed the sticky mouse and navigated to the bar.

A click brought up the controls, from startup to shutdown and everything in between.

He swallowed hard, feeling the laugh rise up again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Simeon’s voice sent his heart clawing for an exit from his chest. His gaze snapped to the other side of the room, and the Blood wizard standing there. The Merlin were gone and bodies lay by the door, though he didn’t recognize any of them. The Taliesin were running for the hall while explosions echoed from deeper in the building, testimony that the surviving Merlin were still fighting for their lives.

“I asked you a question, human,” Simeon demanded, striding toward him.

Harris struggled to breathe, his thoughts racing. No blur of magic surrounded the wizard, and no hint of defense either, because the danger had moved on and only the human remained.

And he wasn’t a threat. He never had been.

A boathouse flashed through his mind, bringing with it the sight of a teenage girl falling bloodied to the ground.

Never, except to those he shouldn’t ever have tried to harm.

He turned back to the desk, his eyes rising to the monitors overhead and the reflections caught in the gloss of their broken screens. Gently, his hand slid beneath his jacket as the wizard rounded the remnants of the shattered glass door.

“I’m making it right,” Harris answered.

The weapon left its holster as the chair spun, and the rapid gunshots echoed in the empty room before Simeon’s eyes went wide. The bullets ripped through the man’s chest, driving him back into the wall, and glass crunched and broke and dripped red behind him as the wizard slid slowly to the ground.

Harris exhaled, briefly eyeing the fallen wizard, and then his gaze went to the hallway door. None of the Taliesin reappeared; amid the explosions, no one had heard the gun.

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

He turned to the controls and hit shutdown.

With a gasp, Ashe ripped the magic from another faceless wizard and hurled it into the endless horde. Howling, the man stumbled away, colliding with two others and then crashing to the tile.

She didn’t stop. Three more wizards followed him screaming to the ground.

They’d made it fifteen floors, though it felt like more. With every inch of concrete and tile coming at a cost, the Merlin had carved a path all the way to the security office, only to find a Blood wizard inside. The fight had been manageable, and the barrier controls had been in sight, but when another Blood showed up behind them, the narrow hallway suddenly made every previous floor look like paradise.

And too many of their people had fallen before the Blood behind them died. Too many by far.

Swiftly, she drew in a blast of magic rushing for Nathaniel and flung it back. The large wizard didn’t react as the Taliesin fell. He was used to it by now.

She swallowed down a breath and kept going. The surge of magic gave her strength and, though her muscles and bones still ached, she could see the difference the borrowed power was making for her in the exhaustion on the others’ faces.

These were the strongest wizards Merlin had.

And without help, they wouldn’t last much longer.

She bit back a curse as more Taliesin rounded the corner, reinforcements for wizards the Merlin had long since cut down, and a few steps ahead, Nathaniel snarled as another group at the opposite end of the corridor did the same.

“Get her out of here!” Elias shouted to Nathaniel.

“No!” she snapped back.

A blast of magic tried to race past her and, without looking from Elias, she stripped it from the air and threw it at the Taliesin. Lightning from Cornelius joined the attack, knocking the wizards into those following them.

Elias ignored her. “That’s an order, Nathaniel!”

A pair of Taliesin rushed by their fallen counterparts, heading for Cornelius, and swiftly, she set them both on fire.

“We just need to get inside the–” she started.

Every surface seemed to shiver. In a heartbeat, all the barriers on the building fell.

“Signal the damn reinforcements!” Cornelius yelled.

Elias grabbed his phone, hit speed dial and then sent a burst of magic through the device so strong that the plastic melted as he flung it to the ground.

Portals opened. Taliesin flooded the hall.

“Son of a–” Elias swore desperately.

Magic slammed them from all sides. She stumbled, catching one blast of electricity as she dodged another flying past her head, and for a moment, she couldn’t see the others to know if any of them were still alive.

More portals opened at the end of the hall. The Merlin guard rushed through. Screams and explosions surrounded her as the Taliesin surged forward, crushing against her as they fled the Merlin charging them from behind. She sent her magic rushing outward, shoving the Taliesin back and giving herself a fragile moment of space. Caught in the chaos, she could see Nathaniel struggling to reach her while Cornelius yelled for him to get her away.

Electricity snarled over her defenses and she turned, hissing with pain. At her back, the Taliesin were regrouping against the Merlin mowing them down.

And by her side stood an empty office door.

She gasped, glancing back to see Nathaniel fling a man bodily through the air, though two more just took the fallen wizard’s place. Beyond him, Cornelius and Elias were surrounded by Taliesin, while the Merlin guard pressed in from either side.

They’d make her leave.

They were too tired to stand a chance.

And they were all running out of time.

Her hand landed on the doorframe. A portal swirled to life.

“Your majesty!” Nathaniel shouted.

She cast him an apologetic look, and then raced into the darkness.

*****

At the end of the stairs, Cole paced. Cold metal waited in front of him and beyond the banister, the stairwell stretched down into an infinity of dizzying shadows before ever reaching the ground.

He barely noticed.

“Dad?” he yelled.

There weren’t any cameras. Nothing adorned the wall but the windowless gray door. He couldn’t guarantee that anyone could hear him, but he didn’t have another option. Even putting a finger on the metal had been excruciating.

A click sounded in the silence. The door swung open.

Hesitating before the doorframe, he eased a hand through, and then took off when he encountered nothing but air. Moving fast, he strode down the black-marbled corridor and barely paused as he rounded the lobby doors. Glass chimes clinked at his presence while reflected light from the panes danced across the white sofa to the delight of the tiny, blonde girl seated upon it, though her mother didn’t seem to notice. As he came in, Tanya looked over, the repressed fury on her face almost as easy to read as the fear, while standing behind her, Isabella regarded him with all the warmth of marble.

He eyed the Blood wizard briefly, and then his gaze flicked up to the sunlit gallery and the closed double doors. No sound could be heard from the office, meaning nothing and worrying him all the same, and with a last glance for the ice queen, he headed for the doors atop the wide staircase.

Her gaze seemed to follow him all the way.

Pausing on the landing, he reached for the door handle cautiously, waiting for the bite of magic, but nothing came. Drawing a steadying breath, he pushed the door open and walked into the room.

“Cole,” his father said, rising from behind the desk with a smile as the door swung shut again.

Seated before the massive desk, Lily turned, her eyes widening. Swiftly, she shoved out of the chair and raced across the office, throwing her arms around him as she reached his side.

His arms wrapped around her instinctively, his gaze dropping to search every inch of her that he could see. She wasn’t hurt. He’d been right. But no hint of a glow surrounded her at all.

Strange squawks came from the conference room. He looked over to the closed door, his brow drawing down.

The chair creaked as his father pushed it out of his way, and the sound snapped Cole’s focus back instantly. Lily tensed, turning to keep the man in view as he walked toward them.

“I’m glad you came back,” Victor said, clasping Cole’s shoulder warmly.

A rough breath left his lungs. “Dad, I–”

“We were just discussing the spell.”

His words dried up. Panic twisted through his chest as his gaze returned to Lily.

Fierce determination showed on her face, with a fair amount of anger as well.

He couldn’t suppress a breath of relief.

“You don’t need to do it,” he said, looking back up at his father. “Really.”

Victor’s mouth tightened.

“I’m serious,” Cole tried. “I’ve talked with Ashe. I’ve seen the Merlin and the Taliesin and…” He faltered, swallowing hard at the memory of the prison. “I’m telling you, it doesn’t have to be like this. Really. Just let Lily go. Let her magic go. Talk to Ashe and you’ll see.”

“And what do you think that would accomplish, Cole?”

“Peace?” he offered desperately. “It’d stop this, Dad. I promise you it would. Ashe doesn’t want this war. No one does. All these people are only here because they think you’re going to kill them, and if you could just show them you’re willing to try another way–”

“There is no other way.”

Only pity showed in his father’s eyes, mired in a conviction so cold, it made him want to break something.

“Unless we take control of the spell,” Victor continued gently, “the inequality that started this war will always be a threat to us. As will the wizards who would do anything to recreate that disparity. You know this. Your grandparents alone were more than sufficient example of that worldview. And left unchecked, with the possibility of reinstating the binding forever at their disposal–”

“But Ashe wouldn’t do that. She’d never–”

His father gave him a sympathetic look. “She is a Merlin.”

“So
what
!” Cole cried. “So was Mom! So’s the little girl you’re trying to make
kill
half the damn world, but I’m telling you, you don’t have
to!
Please!
Whatever my grandparents were like, whatever they told you about the spell, it doesn’t mean you have to do this!”

Victor paused, glancing to the conference room as something smashed behind the door. “The Carnegeans gave me nothing, because they had nothing to give,” he said, turning back. “But that is not the point.”

Cole stared.

“Controlling the spell – and doing whatever is necessary once it is in place – is the only way to create the stability necessary to ensure the security of our world. Compromise will not accomplish that, because compromise will never hold. Half measures never do. Unless we make the cost of opposition clear, the forces threatening us will only return later to resume the conflict.”

“It’s not like that,” Cole tried.

“It always has been.”

Victor turned away, pacing back to his desk.

“I am more than willing to release this little one’s magic,” he continued after a moment, absently rolling a pen across the desktop. “And could even do so now,” he looked up, “provided she promises you that she will not touch me with it.”

Swallowing, Cole glanced down to Lily. “Just promise,” he whispered. “Please.”

She hesitated, and then gave a small nod.

The glow around her returned like a switched-on bulb.

A nearly imperceptible smile flashed across Victor’s face when nothing else happened, and Cole struggled not to be sick, reading his father’s satisfaction at the confirmation of Lily’s obedience to him.

“I am not the aggressor in this war, Cole,” Victor said, his gentle tone returning. “I started it, yes. But I am not the reason it continues. The Merlin’s Children oppressed our people for half a millennia. And the threat of their ability to do so again, whether they choose or even know how to use it, has perpetuated this war for almost a decade.”