Читать книгу: «Dead Man’s Deal»

2

“TWO MONTHS,” GIDEON muttered, shoving his wand back up his sleeve. “You couldn’t go two full months before I had to track you down again.”

“I missed you too,” I said with a nervous smile. Mocking and irritating Gideon was something that I specialized in. However, he had never approached me before when others were around—the world wasn’t supposed to know what I was. With Gideon’s attention now on me, the surviving guard ran into the house and slammed the door shut, leaving us alone with the pissed-off warlock.

“Gage?” Bronx said softly.

I moved in front of the troll, not that my smaller body offered much protection. I didn’t have a wand on me, which made any type of magical protection shaky at best, but I’d protect Bronx from Gideon the same way the troll had intended to protect me from the gun.

“It’ll be okay. I’ve got this.”

Gideon stopped in his pacing and arched one eyebrow at me. I didn’t mean it to sound so challenging, but I needed to try to reassure my friend. Gritting my teeth, I tried to think of some way to placate Gideon. It was as if I was standing in quicksand, the earth slipping away from my feet the more I spoke. A smart man would keep his mouth shut. I wasn’t always a smart man.

“This is a surprise,” I started again, trying desperately to think of a way to defuse some of Gideon’s anger. His mouth firmed into a hard line, proving that I was failing miserably. Warlocks and witches were a testy lot in the best of times. Gideon had proven that he was a good guy, or at least as much as a warlock could be, but he hadn’t batted an eye at killing that fix producer. I didn’t know whether it was because the dealer pulled a gun or because Gideon had been annoyed by the man’s screams. Either way, dead was dead and I wasn’t about to let that happen to Bronx.

“Two months, Gage,” Gideon said, picking up his earlier thread of conversation, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Bronx and I were standing there waiting to see if our lives were about to come to a messy end. I watched, barely breathing, as he tugged on the cuffs of his blue, collared shirt within the dark gray business jacket he was wearing. He could have been a banker by all appearances, with his shiny shoes, Rolex, and blue-and-gray-striped tie. The only thing missing was the wedding band on his left hand, but then warlocks and witches weren’t permitted to marry. I wondered if the missing ring bothered him, or his hidden wife.

“I seem to have fallen into a bit of trouble,” I admitted.

Gideon’s gaze drifted over to the house I had protected, his face expressionless. The occasional pixie slipped from its hiding place in the eaves to the nearest tree, thick with leaves that were only now starting to show the colors of autumn. “So I gathered. Your new job involves freeing pixies?”

“Not quite.”

“I gathered that as well,” he muttered, turning to walk toward Bronx’s Jeep. “Come along. I’m not going to kill you or your troll.”

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. Motioning for Bronx to accompany me, I walked over to where Gideon was standing beside the Jeep. It was somewhat larger than many of the vehicles people drove simply because it was one of several styles that had been enlarged to accommodate large creatures like trolls and ogres. The warlock peered into the passenger-side window, seeming curious about the interior.

“This is the one that works with you?” he said, straightening to look over my shoulder at Bronx. His expression was the same as when he was looking over the car, only mild interest but largely dismissive.

“Yes, he’s a good friend,” I bit out, but I stifled my irritation. The fact that he had deigned to notice Bronx at all was a compliment. In general, warlocks and witches considered any creature as beneath their notice. All the same, his manner was insulting.

“My name is Bronx,” my companion said in a smooth, even tone, betraying neither fear nor anger.

Gideon said nothing, so I spoke for him. “And this is Gideon, a dear friend. You’ll have to excuse him—the Ivory Towers don’t teach manners.”

“That would explain a lot,” Bronx replied, earning a shocking, surprised bark of harsh laughter from Gideon. I turned to find that the troll was looking straight at me, the butt of the joke. Ha. Ha. Ha.

“You … you seem very protective of Gage despite what he is,” Gideon said stiffly. “Are you worried about your job?”

I could hear the shrug in Bronx’s voice when he spoke. “Jobs come and jobs go. There will always be others. Gage is my friend and there won’t be others like him. I would prefer to keep him alive.”

“He’s a warlock.”

“And I’m a troll. He’s my friend not because of what he is, but because of who he is.”

Gideon’s tone grew hard, intent on pushing him. “He’s going to get you killed.”

Bronx smiled as he looked down at me. “Better him than cholesterol.”

To my shock, Gideon was smiling when I turned back to him, but there was a sad look in his eyes. “He reminds me of Ellen,” he whispered. “She says she’d rather die because of her association with me than because of boredom.”

My smile died before it could rise on my lips. Ellen was Gideon’s secret wife. He had shown me a picture of a pretty blond woman and their daughter, Bridgette, two months ago. If the Ivory Towers found out about Ellen or Bridgette, all three were dead, but Gideon would be killed only after he had watched his family ruthlessly tortured to death.

“Are they all right?” I demanded. Gideon’s eyes snapped to my face, as if he were waking from a dream. “Has something happened to them?”

Gideon wasn’t someone I would dare to call a friend. We had similar goals and ideas and we had both been brought up in the Ivory Towers, but that was where the similarities ended. Gideon had been a thorn in my side for years, a shadow chasing my every step. Even so, I couldn’t help but feel something for the man. Particularly since I had discovered that he had been protecting me.

“No, they’re both fine.”

“Safe?”

“Yes.”

“Hidden?”

“Not unless you drop it,” he growled.

I breathed a soft sigh of relief. “Then what are you doing here?”

“You mean other than because of your display?” he said, waving one hand at the house we had just left. Honestly, I had almost forgotten where we were and why we were even there. But then a pissed warlock standing in front of you made you forget about everything else.

“Well, you usually pop in, smack me around, threaten me, and then leave. This is an extended visit.”

“I came to warn you.”

And with that, all the joking was pushed aside.

Gideon was my main source of information on what was happening in the Ivory Towers. I may have left years ago, but I soon learned that I wouldn’t be able to safely turn my back on the group. Many of the witches and warlocks of the Ivory Towers had wanted me dead for leaving, and it seemed that despite the passage of time, that was still the prevailing sentiment. Gideon’s job wasn’t so much to make sure I didn’t break the agreement to not use magic as it was to come up with a reason to haul me before the council so I could finally be executed. Gideon was the only buffer I had between myself and death at the hands of the Towers.

“I might soon be removed as your guardian.”

My knees buckled, but I didn’t realize it until I felt a pair of large hands slowly lowering me to the ground. My mind was too busy trying to absorb the information that he had dropped on me. Gideon not my guardian? I was fucked. Totally, undeniably fucked.

Yes, Gideon was an asshole. He had taken pleasure in beating me and scaring me every opportunity that he had. But I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that I had given him plenty of opportunities over the years to drag me before the council. Hell, he had the council’s permission to kill me on sight if he caught me using magic. If anyone else had been tasked with watching me, I wouldn’t have survived my first year away from the Towers.

I’d gotten better, severely cutting back on my magic use. I didn’t absentmindedly flush the toilet with a wave of my hand anymore, but I still used magic and I would have to continue to use it until I got free of Reave.

“Why? What’s happened?” My voice was hoarse when I could speak. Bronx released his hold on my arms, but was hovering close.

Gideon paused and looked over at Bronx.

“Trust him!” I shouted. “He’s not going to run off and tell your secrets.”

“The Towers are in chaos,” he admitted in a rush. “While a body hasn’t been located, the general consensus is that Simon Thorn is dead, and with few exceptions, all fingers are pointing in your direction.”

Simon had been my mentor at the Ivory Towers. I’d left at the age of sixteen because of my hatred for their beliefs, and Simon wasn’t pleased with my decision. He tried to kill me, but I survived by some insane stroke of luck. The council let me live and leave, but Simon had never accepted the decision. When an opening on the council recently popped up, Simon decided to kill me so the blemish on his past was eradicated. He had failed and was now buried under a residential street in an extremely shitty part of Low Town.

“I doubt you’re going to find a body,” I said, and then glared up at Gideon. “You can’t tell me anyone is upset the bastard is gone.”

He shook his head, looking tired. “No. Some are pissed that you managed to kill someone from the Towers. Others were simply reminded that you’re still alive, and are focused on having you killed, legally.”

Legally.

Now, that was the big joke. A witch or a warlock could come down from the Towers and strike down anyone they wanted with no fear of retribution from anyone. However, there were rules for killing a witch or a warlock. Problems within the Towers were brought before the council to be decided on and people were punished accordingly—most of it being a painful death sentence. Of course, there were exceptions: people who secretly took matters into their own hands. But I could guess why most wanted me put down legally and it had to do with the recent jump in the number of runaways from the Towers.

“And since you’ve not succeeded in bringing me back before the council for my inevitable execution …”

“They are considering replacing me with someone who will get the job done,” Gideon finished.

“Does anyone suspect that you’re helping me?”

“I’m sure someone does, but so far no one has dared to voice it out loud.” Gideon paused and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. There was something he needed to say, but was holding back.

“Spit it out.” My nerves were already frayed with fear. I didn’t like being pinned between the forces of the Towers and Reave’s Mafia.

“I’m currently left with two choices. I think I’ve got a matter of weeks before they agree to replace me, if not less time. I can either find a reason to bring you before the council …” Gideon paused again, lifting one hand gracefully toward the house I had “protected.” “Or I can let them replace me, leaving you to fend for yourself.”

“Does the council still have an empty seat?” There were a total of thirteen seats on the council, but if there was one open, a tie vote would mean at least a temporary stay of execution.

“Yes, but with things in such turmoil, I don’t think you’ll get the tie vote you’re obviously hoping for. You’ll be dead within an hour of arriving before the council.”

“Fuck.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands while resting my elbows on my bent knees. The Ivory Towers needed a scapegoat, someone they could use as a warning to the others who were training to be witches or warlocks. There was no escaping. There was only one way in the world—theirs.

Sadly it took me a minute to think of another angle. My head snapped up so I could see Gideon again. “Are you safe?”

“What do you mean?” Gideon demanded. His brow furrowed at the sharp question, casting his gray eyes in shadow.

“If they replace you, it’s likely they suspect you’re at least a sympathizer. It would put you in a dangerous position. You and your family. Are you safe? Are they?”

A ghost of a smile crossed his grim mouth. “They are safe for now, and I will manage. But if it comes down to protecting them and protecting you, I’m sure you know how I will choose.”

With a grunt, I pushed back to my feet and brushed off the back of my pants. They were damp from where I had been sitting on earth soft from the recent rains. Unfortunately, I had bigger problems than a mud stain on my ass. “Yeah, I know.”

“Have you spoken to any of the runaways?” Gideon suddenly asked.

I blinked, my mind struggling to keep up with the swift change in topics. “Not knowingly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, I don’t know who left the Towers. I didn’t know any apprentices while I was there and you and Sofie are the only ones that I speak with now. If one stopped in the parlor, I wouldn’t know it. Are you saying they’re in Low Town?”

“Yes. My group knows they’re in town, but rumors are starting to circulate in the Towers that they’re here.”

“And I imagine rumors are stating that I drew them here,” I grumbled. “Damn it, Gideon! The Towers aren’t even supposed to know where I am.”

The warlock nodded. “Four more left recently. We’ve tried isolating the apprentices more than ever before, but it seems to be getting worse.”

“Four? What’s that make it? Seven here in Low Town.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Five. Two were killed in their escape attempt.”

“Wouldn’t it be best if these runaways sought Gage out?” Bronx inquired.

“No!” Gideon and I said in unison. For a moment I had forgotten that the troll was even there, I had been so lost in a world that I had tried desperately to leave behind.

“But you’ve survived; thrived even. You could help them,” Bronx suggested.

“Things were different when I left ten years ago.” I looked down at my hands and tried not to imagine the blood that had been splattered across them during my short time living in the Towers. “I was the only one to ever consider leaving. An anomaly. They let me go, but with restrictions, and many are still calling for my head.”

Gideon shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Towers can confirm that Gage has anything to do with the runaways, they will see it as a sign that he’s attempting to lead some kind of revolution.” The warlock frowned, staring at me. “It will be war, and the Towers won’t stop until Gage and all the runaways are dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if they chose to wipe out an entire generation of human children as a warning. It’s been done before.”

I leaned against the side of the car, my hands shoved in my pockets. Low Town was becoming a dangerous place for me and there wasn’t much I could do about it. I was tempted to ask how well known it was in the Towers where I was located, but I bit back the question. Running would happen eventually, but not yet. I’d make plans, but I wouldn’t leave yet. There were too many things I needed to get done here first.

“Thanks for the heads-up on everything,” I said. My mind wheeled in endless circles, leaving me with more questions than answers. And the answers that I did have were pretty shitty.

Gideon nodded, his mouth quirking slightly as if he were trying to fight a smile. “I have to go. It’s dangerous to be around and not try to kill you.”

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” I grumbled, glaring at the ground.

“But … I could use a favor,” he said. He wet his lips, hesitating as if he was afraid I would instantly turn him down. That or he simply didn’t want to feel like he needed me for something. “Find out who cursed Sofie.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Some of the tension eased from his face. “Afraid she forgot?”

“Not likely. You thinking of helping her?”

Gideon remained silent so long, staring off in the distance, that I thought he might not answer me. But when he spoke, my stomach knotted in pain for the man who wasn’t my friend but was. “I thought if Sofie were human again, she might like to take on an apprentice. If I remember correctly, she had a gentle way with children.”

My mouth fell open and some part of me wanted to say something comforting, but there weren’t any words. Gideon must have known, because he stiffly nodded to me and disappeared. I leaned my head back against the roof of Bronx’s car and closed my eyes. Poor Gideon.

“I’ll admit that I didn’t understand a lot of what you were talking about,” Bronx said, drawing my eyes open again. “But that part about Sofie … why is he interested in her? Is he trying to get her to go back to the Towers as a spy?”

“No,” I said, straightening. “Let’s get out of here. Now that he’s gone, I’m sure the cops will want to descend on the house.”

Bronx nodded and punched his key remote to unlock the doors. We got the hell out of there, letting me sink into silence for a minute and get lost in the rambling thoughts.

The Ivory Towers were the ultimate rulers of this world, deciding life and death (well, mostly death) for its inhabitants, but when they weren’t around, the cops tried to maintain some semblance of peace. The fix maker’s death would be chalked up to a DBW—death by warlock/witch and the book would be closed. Naturally, they would search the house and find the drug-manufacturing equipment. The house would be confiscated, but I knew better than to hope that it would be tied back to Reave. He was too smart for that.

It wasn’t until we reached the highway that I felt some of the tension that was threatening to choke me start to ease. Bronx didn’t turn on the radio and I was content to listen to the sound of the car cruising down the smooth concrete while the streetlamps flashed overhead. As dire as my own situation was becoming, I found my thoughts centering on Gideon and his young daughter. She would be turning seven soon.

“You asked about Sofie,” I started, and then stopped. Bronx patiently waited while I attempted to organize my thoughts. It wasn’t so much that I was trying to censor myself, but that it was simply better if he didn’t know certain things. Swearing softly, I reached up and touched the ceiling of the car while whispering a quick word, creating a protective bubble over the car so no one could magically overhear me. Damn, I was getting paranoid.

“Gideon has a daughter,” I confessed after another lengthy silence.

“Is that a bad thing?”

A smile quirked the corners of my mouth. “Witches and warlocks aren’t permitted to marry or have children. It’s seen as a weakness and a liability.”

“What does Gideon’s daughter have to do with Sofie?”

“His daughter has either exhibited some magical talent or he’s afraid she will. If so, she has to be trained, and he can’t send her to the Towers. They would know in a heartbeat that she was his daughter.”

“And Gideon, his daughter, and eventually his wife would be killed,” Bronx concluded.

“Yes.”

“But if Sofie was changed back to human, would she stay here or would she rather return to the Towers?”

I stared out the passenger-side window and frowned. “I don’t know.”

I had known Sofie in human form only briefly while I was living at the Ivory Towers during my apprenticeship to Simon Thorn. She had been nice and motherly, albeit a little meddlesome. Somewhere along the way she had run afoul of a witch or warlock, and had been turned into a big Russian-blue cat. As far as I knew, she couldn’t return to human form until the person who cursed her died. After spending several years as the pet of an elderly woman, she was now living fat and sassy with Trixie.

Unlike Gideon, Sofie gave no indication that she didn’t approve of how things ran in the Ivory Towers. The only reason she had left was that she felt more vulnerable in cat form. Her ability to use magic had been severely limited. I feared that if Sofie were human again, she would happily return to the Towers, which would be of no help to Gideon and his daughter.

There wasn’t much I agreed with when it came to the beliefs of the witches and warlocks of the Ivory Towers, but I thought they were right when it came to training all human children who possessed magical talent. It was for the children’s protection and those around them as much as it was about spreading knowledge. An untrained child who could unconsciously tap magical energy was a serious danger. In moments of fear or anger, people died around the child without the child intending it to happen.

Gideon knew that. If Sofie couldn’t train his daughter, he had few options. He couldn’t do it himself without risking others finding out. Training was an intensive, full-time gig and Gideon was already working for the council as a guardian. But if Bridgette wasn’t trained, she’d have to be killed.

I closed my eyes against the ugly thought but it was still there. For a brief second I thought that I could at least teach her a few basic things about control and protection, but I crushed the thought before it fully formed. What the fuck did I know about caring for a seven-year-old girl? I was an outcast former warlock-in-training now a tattoo artist who moonlighted nights doing odd jobs for the local mob. Not a great role model. Sofie was the best choice. I’d have to convince her of it.

“As much as I hate to ask after all the fun we’ve had tonight,” I started, shoving my thoughts back to my most immediate problem, “but what are the chances that Reave doesn’t know about tonight’s events?”

“Oh, he knows,” Bronx said as he took the exit ramp off the highway. “He definitely knows by now.”

“Retribution?”

“Oh, yeah. Expect pain.”

I leaned my head to the side, hitting it against the window. It was my fault. Bronx had nothing to do with my decision to free the pixies but I knew that Reave would punish him along with me. “Damn it! I’m sorry.”

“For what? The pixies?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Then don’t apologize,” Bronx said. He slowed the car to a stop at a red light and glanced over at me. “You saved lives tonight, and if you didn’t do something, I would have.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “It’s been a rough night. You want me to drop you at Trixie’s?”

“You think it’s safe?”

“Reave’s going to need time to realign his distribution network after tonight’s escapade. We’ve got a day or two. Besides, I’m sure he knows about Trixie and you. Staying away won’t protect her if he wants to attack you from that side.”

“Then Trixie’s would be great,” I said with a sigh. “You can come up too. She won’t mind.”

Bronx chuckled. I knew that trolls were naturally solitary creatures, but sometimes I worried about him feeling lonely even if my worry was unrealistic. “I’ll be fine. I’ve had enough fun for one night. I don’t need another session of strip Chinese checkers burned into my brain.”

I gave a snort of laughter. “We don’t have to play that. Trixie said she’s been working on a way to make a drinking game out of The Princess Bride.”

The troll rolled his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking in a half smile. “Let’s save it for this All Hallows’ Eve. Go spend some quality time with your girlfriend.”

Smiling, I relaxed in my seat as we got closer to Trixie’s apartment. Beautiful green eyes. Musical laughter. A soft touch that soothed the tears in my heart and the holes in my soul. Tonight, I would fall asleep holding Trixie and I would deal with the rest of the world tomorrow.