Taliesin Ascendant (The Children and the Blood) (24 page)

The words registered, but they were so deeply wrong, it took her a moment to remember how to speak. “Brogan…?” she repeated carefully.

A flicker of satisfaction moved over his face at the shock in her eyes.

“Brogan’s alive?”

His expression was answer enough.

Turning sharply, she strode from the room, the pain throbbing through her chest nothing compared to the blood pounding in her ears. Baffled, Elias motioned swiftly for Nathaniel and the guards to watch Harris before he followed her.

“Your highness?” he called.

“You won’t get away with this!” Harris shouted as the door slammed.

Her hands caught the cinder-block wall. Uncomprehending, she stared at the gray surface.

“Highness?” Elias reached out, touching her shoulder in concern.

Startled, she nearly set the hall aflame and he jerked back as the heat rippled from her. Gasping, she dug her fingers into the cinder blocks, fighting to stay in control.

“Ashe?” he tried.

She blinked, the familiarity breaking through where the idiotic titles never would.

“I’m sorry,” Elias said as she looked over at him. “I just–”

She shook her head. “No. No, I told you… it’s fine. I…”

“Who is Brogan?” he asked carefully when she trailed off.

“The man who killed my dad. And Carter.”

Elias grimaced. “So Taliesin’s using humans now.”

“It wasn’t
Taliesin
!” she shouted. Breathing hard, she stared at Elias. “Brogan’s a Blood. The bastards who did all this were Bloods. It wasn’t ever Taliesin.”

She paused, hurt moving over her face as she looked back at the room. “And Detective Harris was working for them.”

For a long moment, she watched the door, as though reading answers in the scratched metal. She’d been so terrified when they first met. So lost and confused. And he’d seemed compassionate. Pitying, almost. Like, on some level, he questioned whether she’d done the things they accused her of. Like, in some tiny way, he’d cared.

But he’d just set her up for them. Brought Brogan to the station. Expected that, as hurt and scared as she’d been, she would be easy prey.

Everybody always expected she’d be easy prey.

Slowly, she exhaled, burying the pain, and when she turned back to Elias, she saw him tense at the look in her eyes. “Gather who you can spare from guarding this place,” she said. “And get a portal ready to take us downtown.”

“Your highness, you can’t go out there. You were just shot and I’m–”

“Do you serve the queen of Merlin or not?” she snapped.

He blinked.

“I’ve been shot before,” she continued more quietly. “Get together who you can spare.”

Hesitating, he glanced to the door. “What about him?”

She followed his gaze. “Have Katherine find out what he knows. But don’t kill him. We may need him later.”

He bowed his head. “And your orders, highness?” he asked, weighing his words carefully. “What should I tell the guards?”

A smile crossed her face, dark and anything but warm.

“Tell them we’re going hunting.”

The door to the upstairs storage room creaked back and one of his mother’s interchangeable middle-aged cousins peeked his head through the opening. With a derisive snort, the man disappeared back into the hallway.

“Move,” Cole hissed to Lily, who was feigning sleep at his side.

Scrambling from beneath the musty blankets, the little girl rushed to the door with Cole a step behind.

He’d barely slept all night. The Carnegeans watched them in shifts, and from their icy expressions, he couldn’t discount the chance they’d try to take Lily from him the moment his eyes closed. Nearly as bad was the fact they never deviated from their fanatical commitment to security. He’d heard their footsteps pacing the corridor all night long, and gradually, he’d started to despair of ever getting out of the closet-like room.

And then this latest cousin appeared.

Sympathy clearly not a strong suit, Alfred hadn’t given a damn when the cousin told him he wasn’t feeling well. Striding off to attend to his own breakfast, Alfred left the man sitting in the corridor, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

It’d only been a matter of time.

By the door, Cole paused, listening intently.

At the end of the hall, the bathroom door closed.

Slipping into the hallway and pulling Lily behind him, he eyed the bathroom as they raced past it on their way to the stairs. The cousin was groaning uncomfortably inside. Gripping Lily’s hand tighter, Cole took the steps as fast as her shorter legs could keep up, and hit the first floor nearly at a run. Darting a glance around, he didn’t spot anyone, though he could hear plates and silverware clinking in the distant dining room. Hurriedly, he started for the front door.

“Wait!” Lily hissed, tugging on his hand.

“What?”

Her brow furrowed. “The door feels wrong.”

“Huh?” Heart racing, he scanned the oak door between glances to the rest of the house. “What? It’s fine.”

She shook her head, balking. “Check it.”

Grimacing, he drew closer to the wood. “Lily, they’re changing shifts out there. We’ve got to–”

Cole cut off at the sight of the thin wire running between the door and the frame. Cautiously, he reached his fingers toward it, ignoring Lily’s squeak of incredulity.

Less than an inch from the wire, an ache twinged at the back of his skull. He cursed internally. Physical and magical alarms. Of course.

“Thanks,” he told her quietly. “Come on.”

Taking her hand again, he headed farther into the house. While he knew it was a long shot, the Carnegeans seemed more inclined to use the parlor’s French doors. There was a chance they’d left them disarmed.

Now that he knew what to look for, he could see threads of alarms tracing each window he passed. No control panels marred the pristine eggshell walls, though upon brief reflection, he reckoned the Carnegeans either didn’t need them or kept them safely hidden elsewhere.

He heard chairs scraping the dining room floor and his heart hit his throat. Pulling Lily behind him, he rushed through the parlor. All night he’d timed the wizards. They changed shifts every four hours. For a few brief moments, only the security cameras watched the yard, and if the two of them were quick, they might be able to reach the forest or the garage before whoever was watching the monitors could raise the alarm.

“What are you doing out of your room?”

Cole skidded to a halt at the sound of Florence’s voice. Vehement cursing ran through his head, but he smothered it swiftly, trying to stay focused.

They weren’t screwed yet. Not if he could keep them from being sent back upstairs.

“Are you
leaving
?” Florence continued, her tone becoming ominous.

Forcibly, he swallowed and then turned around, schooling his features into an expression of baffled surprise. “Leaving?” he repeated innocently.

“You little…” she growled. She nodded at him threateningly. “I’m getting your uncles. You’re going back to your room and we’re chaining you in there this time. I’ll not have you jeopardizing–”

“No!” he protested, taking a step toward her and then stopping uncertainly. “It’s not like that. I just…” His eyes darted around the room and he shrugged as though vaguely embarrassed. “It was just so hard to stay up there when…”

Florence hesitated. “When?”

His mouth worked as though trying to find the words, while his willpower worked to keep him from choking on them. At his side, Lily watched him unblinkingly.

“When all this is down here,” he said. “I mean, I admit, I was really upset before. I said a lot of stupid things. I-I think I just didn’t understand. But while we were up there and I started looking around, it just began sinking in, you know? This is everything no one ever told me. Everything…” he swallowed, pressing on, “I could be proud of. And for it to be only a few floors away, I just… I couldn’t…” He dropped his gaze to the ground sheepishly.

“I needed to be down here,” he finished. “I needed to know.”

A heartbeat passed. Barely breathing, he risked a theatrically nervous glance at the old woman.

Motionless in the lofty archway, Florence watched him, her brow twitching in short, indecisive spasms. As he looked up, she blinked, struggling to bury the emotion on her face.

“Do you take me for a fool?” she asked, her harsh tone choked.

“It’s not like that! They… they
kept
this from me. The truth, I mean. And with it finally so close…”

He gestured to the books helplessly.

Florence said nothing and then she cleared her throat primly. “And you brought the human down here because?”

Cole glanced to Lily. The little girl’s gaze hadn’t left him. His stomach churned. “I couldn’t trust her to behave without me,” he said, forcing the sentence out.

Another moment passed. Drawing a controlled breath, Florence turned to the books as though seeking focus there. Swiftly, Cole cast a look to the door.

The wizards were back. He wrestled down a scowl.

“Well,” Florence tried with meticulous precision. “I suppose your curiosity is understandable, given your disadvantaged upbringing. It is logical that you would want to know about the more… respectable parts of your genealogy.”

He drove a grateful look onto his face. “Th-thank you.”

“But you should have spoken to your uncles,” she continued, her tone becoming sharper. “Your desire to learn doesn’t excuse leaving your room unsupervised, nor bringing
that
out among the antiquities.”

She waved a hand at Lily.

“I’m really sorry,” Cole made himself say.

“Still,” Florence went on, almost as though speaking to herself. “We are forgiving by nature, and certainly not opposed to cripple education, within reason. Your disobedience can be attended to later. In the meantime, perhaps it would be permissible for you to have some material to study in your room. Provided you don’t let
it
touch anything, of course.”

Cole struggled not to crush Lily’s fingers in his grip. He wasn’t going to be able to keep this up much longer. “Of course,” he agreed. “But, I just thought… I mean, if I was
really
careful… maybe we could stay here? It’s just… all these books… I could learn so much.”

Florence pinned him with a stare that didn’t seem to want to end.

“Possibly,” she allowed. “With supervision. Eventually. If you prove trustworthy with the books in your room.”

“But what about the antiques? I can’t take those with me and there’s so–”

“Enough,” Florence interrupted, her harsh tone returning.

He fought to keep from grimacing. There had to be a way to stay on this damn floor long enough for the wizards to change shifts again. Quickly, he looked to the yard, checking on their positions.

They’d all stopped moving, their attention fixed on something in the woods. Cole swallowed, praying it wasn’t Ben. If he’d come looking for them, both the farmer and Lily were in serious trouble.

“But,” Florence continued in a more conciliatory tone. “As long as you
are
down here, is there a particular artifact that elicited your curiosity?”

“Uh…” he faltered, the desperate look he gave the antiques this time becoming real.

“A thirst for education should be rewarded, Cole.”

Cursing internally, he chose an item at random. “I was kind of wondering what that is.” He gestured to a wooden staff resting upright in a corner of the glass case behind her.

Turning, Florence raised an eyebrow. “Truly?”

“Or whatever,” he amended, glancing to the door again. A few wizards were heading for the trees. His pulse accelerating, Cole continued, “If there’s something better to–”

“Quiet,” she ordered casually. “I am merely intrigued you chose that particular relic. Of all our antiquities, it is arguably the least valuable kept on this floor.”

“Yeah, well,” he said distractedly, still watching the yard. “Figures I’d ask about that one, right?”

“Starting with the lesser valued artifacts will only give you a greater appreciation for the more valuable ones. Now, come.”

She stepped over to the case and then waited impatiently for him to follow.

Tearing his gaze from the lawn, he reluctantly obeyed. Once he stood by her side, with Lily carefully out of the way, Florence turned the small brass knob and pulled open the door.

“Pay attention. The item we have here,” she pointed illustratively to the staff in case he’d somehow forgotten, “is alleged to be the so-called ‘Staff of Merlin’. Now, most testing indicates that it does indeed hail from that era, and given its apparent propensity for responding solely to members of the royal line, there is a reasonable amount of circumstantial evidence pointing to that identity. However, by noting the rather intriguing nature of its construction, we encounter a few discrepancies. Most significantly, we have the polished and yet almost vine-like character of the wood, with particularly irregular and organic terminations on both ends. There are very few staves originating in this era that possess such qualities, owing to the growing predilection for more refined items during that period. This leads us to conclude that Merlin – an indisputably refined wizard – would never have used such an outmoded accessory. Along that same vein, there are the wear marks, which can be seen at approximately the levels where one would hold this staff. This suggests repeated use by the owner and, as I’ve already described,
had
Merlin actually owned this, it is highly implausible that he would have used it with such frequency.”

She gave him an amused look, as though sharing a joke.

“Uh, yeah,” he agreed and then looked back to the yard when she turned to the staff again. The wizards hadn’t calmed down. Two of them were on cell phones now. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.

“So how could anyone hold such a silly theory, you ask?” Florence continued obliviously. “Well, there is the aforementioned peculiarity whereby it only reacts to those of Merlin’s own family, and it does seem to possess the qualities of a supplementary device, created with the intent of increasing its wielder’s powers. On this basis, some fringe historians posit that Merlin may have used such a thing in the binding, though the idea of a wizard of his caliber needing such an item is laughable. He was the premier wizard of his day, a distinction he certainly would not have received by using magical pick-me-ups. And while King Nicholas – the ruler prior to King Patrick; I’ll be certain to send up genealogies for your study – and his predecessors acknowledged that it did increase their strength to an estimable degree, they certainly never felt the need to keep it close as some sort of security blanket.”