Obsidian Magic (Legacy Series Book 2) Read online

  “That was a hell of spell you cast. We weren’t prepared for it.”

  When he was closer I admitted, “Neither was I.”

  “So, you just winged that?” he asked, surprised.

  “No, I planned it, but it was harder to wrangle than I expected. Let’s just be honest, this didn’t go the way we expected at all.”

  He made an attempt at a laugh, but it was just a gruff chuckle, and I knew it had to be. Some had died. But it was over.

  “We kicked ass,” Savannah said, jogging to keep pace with me after Gareth had left my side and was talking to his team. Several vans were lined up, I assumed to take away the bodies. I hadn’t seen Conner. Had he been swept up in the cyclone?

  I needed to see a body. I needed to see his body, because I wasn’t convinced that he was with the others.

  “What’s wrong?” Savannah asked.

  “I didn’t see Conner.”

  She shrugged. I’d forgotten that I was the only one who had seen him and most people were too busy trying to survive to care. There had only been twelve the whole time. He was never there. Was he still behind the veil, having sent them out there to fight and possibly die while he stayed behind, protected? If he was behind, he was in the veil and unable to leave as well. But if he wasn’t …

  Gareth’s brow furrowed as he noticed the look on my face. Just before I could speak, I was snatched away.

  Damn.

  I looked around the dank environment reminiscent of the very first place Conner had taken me away to. But this one was totally barren—no trees, homes, exotic flowers. Nothing beautiful or reflective of what seemed important to him.

  “You’re a coward,” I said, moving away from him, ripping my sai from the sheath and holding them as I assumed a defensive stance.

  The insult rolled off of him with ease. He stepped away from me, his sword casually placed in his hands.

  “Not a coward, a strategist. You have proven to be worthy of the adoration I’ve bestowed on you. But I wouldn’t expect anything less from my consort.”

  Irritation flared and I sighed my displeasure. “Must we take a trip down delusional lane each time we meet?”

  He bared his teeth in a forced smile. “We will take this trip as long as it is needed.”

  I didn’t want to exchange banter or try to compromise with him. How did you compromise with a person whose only goal was to kill off all supernaturals and possibly humans that had supernatural traits? A pang went through my chest—Savannah. It was as though he had directly threatened her. I felt no less vengeful than if he had taken out his sword and attempted to injure her. It started with a prick, and then magic rose through the fatigue, strong waves difficult to contain for the moment I needed to before I expelled it. It exploded from me and hit him hard in the chest. I lunged forward, and one sai neared his midsection but ended up embedded in the ground. I left it there and turned in time to catch him as soon as he popped up behind me. I caught his side with the other. He groaned, twisted, and then grabbed me by the throat and pulled me back hard against him. His slim, sinewy body was harder then it looked. His fingers pressed against the carotid, his breath a warm beat against my ear as he spoke.

  “I really enjoy moments like this. Each time I see you, I know I’ve chosen well.”

  He was the only person in attendance at his delusional party. If getting his ass kicked did it for him, I was happy to oblige. “Good, you are going to absolutely love me after this.” I brought my heels down on his feet. He wailed at the impact. Trained since I was five to fight and survive, I was reduced to something that some would consider crass and unskilled. I didn’t care. I hit him in the groin and he buckled to his knees. They always do. I turned and shoved a sai toward his neck, just inches from making the strike—the kill. I’d left the belief that he could be handled amicably behind me. I could have been the most talented orator and skilled persuader on earth and I wouldn’t have been able to convince him of anything.

  He slipped away, and when I looked up he was nearly twenty feet from me. He glared at me with chilling stern eyes. Perhaps he was starting to see in me what I’d seen in him from the first time we’d met—an enemy. We were bound by the DNA we shared, but we had no more in common than what could be seen through a microscope.

  “You disappoint me; I thought you would eventually come around.”

  “What part of me trying to kill you gave you that impression?” I asked.

  His look of bewildered disgust concerned me. Did he really think that I would flip? That I was going to just wake up and say, “Hey, today seems as good as any for a mass murder”?

  “Anya, if we are not allies, we are enemies. Do you understand that?”

  I was so tired of getting that threat. Before I could make a comment about his supervillain canned response, his eyes became like a winter storm and his mood changed to match. I had a feeling that until just a few minutes ago he’d clung to a miniscule shred of hope that I would come around.

  Sucked back, I slammed into something before it gave enough for me to sink into it. A light translucent box enclosed me. Strong magic poured into the small enclosure and I felt oxygen drift out. I gasped a breath. He concentrated as he stepped closer. Keenly focused on whatever magic he was doing, he kept moving forward until he was just inches from the little prison. I pressed along the lines of the entrapment. It bulged but never gave. I pounded the sai in it; the magic expanded and rebounded with even more force. Oxygen didn’t seem plentiful, and I wasn’t sure if it was the lack of it or the overwhelming magic, but my head throbbed and I felt light-headed.

  He gritted his teeth and stepped closer. The lavender-colored box restricted me. I was silhouetted against its walls. My head no longer felt light, but it continued to beat hard, crowded by something—the massive headache that caused a ringing in my ears. It was then that I remembered Conner’s promise that if I wouldn’t go willingly, then he’d control my mind. He grabbed at it, trying to take it. His voice in my head was a gentle calm, asking me to release myself to him. An ethereal voice asked for me to give up control. It was a beneficent plea from a kind stranger. But I knew they were false feelings, false beliefs.

  There was nothing angelic or ethereal about Conner. He was anything but. He was a demon, a monster, a magical deviant who wanted me by his side to rule with him. I pushed him hard with so much force his head lurched back and he winced.

  “Anya, this is your own doing,” he said slowly, watching me in the magical cage like I was an animal in a zoo. “What is so wrong with what I want? It’s freedom for us. No more hiding from Trackers. No more feeling like we have to hide our magic and what we are. You fight it because you have never had it.”

  Conner didn’t look much older than I was, so I suspected he’d never lived in that freedom, either—unless Vertu were immortal. Legacy weren’t. We aged, grew old. But he dwelled on the time before the Great War as if he had been there, even though his fondness for it held the luster of one with a revisionist view of history. I wasn’t there, I didn’t know if it was all sunshine and daisies and a true heaven on earth. My mother had told a different story of the physical beauty of the homes, the gardens, and the people—the faces they presented to the public. But behind the genteel eyes, the soft voices and the odd-colored hair were dark souls that were reviled by the other supernaturals that they considered unacceptable and weakened versions of the Legacy. That would be kept as pets for entertainment or foot soldiers whose lives they would willingly sacrifice if necessary.

  Not all Legacy were bad; some had resisted, and others had been foolish enough to get caught up in the rhetoric. I stepped closer to the magical wall. The pain in my head had settled since he’d stopped trying to invade it. Perhaps my glare was too hard to look at: the disdain and disgust a bitter reminder of how I saw him. He turned his back to me and looked out into the distance, taking the fallow land, the dead grass, the absence of beautiful flourishes like trees, exotic flowers, and waterfalls. If they were illusions,
they were still beautiful. This place was dead, a forgotten dilapidated world right out of an apocalyptic movie.

  He ran his hand through his hair, changing it to its burnt orange coloring, a little reminder of who we were.

  When he turned around, I said softly, “You lost, Conner.” A light smile of condescending disbelief slipped through his frown. “Several days ago, I came out. Everyone knows we exist.” It was a limited view of “everyone” since it only consisted of the Magic Council, the SG, and my friends. But he got the point. “Most of your recruits are gone, and the rest are imprisoned.” I kept my voice level. I was locked in a magical box, and I wasn’t quite sure how he would respond.

  “It will make things easier. Those that are in hiding will seek us out instead of us finding them. They know their roles. It seems that only you, Anya, are okay with your role of submission. Others have not settled as easily into such an acquiescent state. They haven’t forgotten their history, their past.”

  Fine. Conner was beyond reason and rationality, and I made the decision to give up trying to appeal to his morality and common sense. “Okay, do what you want, Conner, but know that history is not on your side. Your twelve people were wiped out, and honestly quite quickly.”

  “Because of your betrayal!” he snapped. The box made spastic movements that matched his booming voice.

  I had to get out of there, but I had no idea where “there” was. I knew I was behind a veil, not one often used—probably never used. But first I needed to get out of my magical cell. I called on magic. It didn’t feel the same; it seemed weaker and probably was. I’d fatigued it with the constant use. I pushed aside the exhaustion and doubt and called for it. The colors were as vivid as usual, bouncing lazily in front of me. I gathered it, targeting it through my single sai, the other one still outside of my little cage just a few feet from Conner where I had embedded it the ground.

  Concentrating, I forced so much through the sai that it ripped the box and I tumbled out, quickly rolling to my feet and pointing the blade at him.

  “We are done here,” he said, turning his back to me, and with a wave of his hand he blasted me out of there. The fine illuminated line of the wall remained open, allowing my one sai to come through. It soared out and landed in my leg. It was enchanted, unable to be used against me, but I apparently that didn’t include unintentional stabbing. Blood spurted the moment I pulled it out. I started to look around before I did magic to heal it, but then I realized that I didn’t have to do that anymore. The sealed cut hurt like hell, but at least it wasn’t bleeding. I scanned the area and it was definitely where Conner had taken me from. It was just as destitute and barren-looking as the place I’d left. I inhaled the air. I wasn’t a shifter, but trees, dirt, and flowers were easy to smell. The only thing that I smelled was dirt—lots of it. It was now dusk and I didn’t know how many hours I’d been gone. I vowed to learn how to transport.

  I started walking, hoping I would get to a street soon. After ten minutes of walking, I did, but I wasn’t sure which one and considered flagging down an oncoming car that was starting to slow. When it got closer, I recognized the driver, Gareth, and his passenger, Savannah. The car hadn’t come to a complete stop before she jumped out. She gasped and then frowned. “Your hair.”

  Damn, why does Conner keep doing that? And how did he do it with without touching me? I couldn’t remember him touching my hair. I was out now, I could keep the color—but it wasn’t me. I didn’t want to stand out—I wanted to blend in.

  “Do you need to see a doctor?” Gareth asked after he’d gotten out of the car. He knelt down to get a better look at the area under the bloodstain on my jeans.

  “No, it’s fine.” I tried not to limp as I made my way to the car. I opted for the backseat instead of taking the front when Savannah offered. I lay back, resting my leg, which felt somewhat better, but the day I’d had started wearing on me. I was so tired and hungry I took the banana and granola bar Savannah took out of her “quest bag” and was exhausted and famished enough not even to complain that it wasn’t accompanied by a burger or something that was on a farm at one point. Then she handed me several Handi Wipes. As much as I’d teased her about her bag’s name choice, I had to give it to her, I liked the thing. Resting back, I closed my eyes and fell asleep and didn’t open them until the car came to a stop and the door opened.

  “Slept like a smart-mouthed baby,” Gareth teased, handing me a bag of food. They’d stopped for food. Real food, or as real as fast food could be—well, that was Savannah’s opinion of it. If it satisfied my hunger, I considered it real. I winced when I turned to get out. The area where I’d been stabbed by the sai was really tender; I was going to feel it tomorrow.

  With a half-smile, he asked, “Would you like me to carry you to your apartment?”

  Challenged accepted. “Yes.”

  My smile mirrored his at his astonished response. “What?”

  “Yes, I would like you to carry me.” I was unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.

  He lifted me with ease and I pulled a few fries out and started to eat them as he carried me to the apartment. “Are you enjoying this?” he asked.

  “You’re the one that’s always trying to damsel someone. I’m just trying to be more amicable.” Savannah held open the door, her lips pressed into a tight line, trying without success to suppress a laugh. He parked me on the sofa and sat to my right.

  Clasping his hands behind his head, he waited as I finished my burger, watching me, his gaze roving over the strings of red that had come out of my braid.

  “Do you plan to keep it like that?”

  I shook my head. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that now that I was out, people were just going to magically forget what I was and what my kind had done. There had to be some backlash eventually. So, no, I had no intentions of keeping my hair that color.

  He chewed on his lip for a moment in consideration and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Harrah thinks it’s a good idea for you to come out not only to us but to everyone.”

  “No.”

  “I simply told her I would ask. Your answer is no.”

  Since he didn’t push it, I had a feeling he didn’t like the idea, either, and probably made the suggestion out of professional obligation.

  I hadn’t really had a moment to think or deal with it. People had seen me do Legacy magic in the middle of the street—you can’t unsee that, and it was too late, probably unfeasible to find and wipe the minds of everyone who did.

  “You agree with me?” I was shocked.

  He looked at Savannah, who was perched cross-legged in the chair opposite the sofa. “Too many things are questionable. The Guardians of Order—”

  “Trackers,” I interjected. The Guardians of Order made them seem noble. They were mercenaries and assassins. They studied us, tracked us, and killed us. There wasn’t any order, and they damn sure weren’t Guardians.

  “What happens now?” Savannah asked. “We have the Legacy who were willing to work with Conner.”

  “Conner is still on the loose, and he’s the greater danger. Believe me, as long as he is free, he will try to get them out,” Gareth said grimly.

  “But there are only seven left. They aren’t really a threat if he does,” she countered.

  “He has four of the five Necro-spears out there. I don’t know how many other Legacy objects he has that can be used,” I added. “He’s going to try to get as many Vertu and Legacy as he can to ensure that he will be successful when he decides to strike. And he’ll also try to recruit higher-level mages because they are strong enough to use the magic from a Necro-spear to assist.” The idea that a mage would help seemed absurd, but he’d managed to convince one to help before. Who knew how many others would be willing to help for a chance at more power? The thought chilled me to the core.

  Savannah blanched. “A high-level mage can do a Cleanse?”

  I shook my head. “They can use the magic from the Necro-spear onl
y after using it to pull magic from a witch, fae, and shifter. Even then it’s not strong enough to do a global Cleanse, just a small one.”

  That wasn’t much better, and it was displayed on her face. As much as I wanted to protect Savannah from everything, I couldn’t. I was sure telling her that a high-level mage could do a small Cleanse if he was psychotic enough to perform three murders wasn’t any better than knowing that Conner could do a global one.

  “Finding others should be a priority. I think you can be of some use with that.” I looked in Gareth’s direction, and his eyes had narrowed to slits, feral anger sparking behind them; my words sounded as bitchy to him as they did to me. It wasn’t intentional, but I had a Guardian of the Order in my home. It still bothered me, and he’d bested and even put iridium cuffs on me. What if he had stayed with them and was the Tracker that was sent after me? Protective magic coiled around me, roiled over my arms, danced across my fingers. I was having a hard time controlling it because I couldn’t get the anger to settle.

  I jumped up. “I really need a shower. Give me ten.”

  Yeah, Levy, be weirder.

  I took more than ten minutes. I spent more than ten minutes thinking about a nice way to ask Gareth to leave. He wasn’t the bad guy—I knew that. But he kept making me think of the bad guy, and I just needed a minute. My life had never gone this far off the rails and I just needed to figure things out: I was out of the closet and the Magic Council and the SG knew. Seven of Conner’s crew were locked away, but for how long? Conner was still free and being Mr. Demagogue with one goal—to do a global Cleanse again. Apparently I was going to be his consort. He’d let me go—that was the issue that bothered me as much as Gareth being a former Tracker. He’d accused me of betraying him and then let me go. Who did that? His behavior didn’t make sense to me.

  I was dressed and sitting on the bed when someone knocked lightly on the door.