INVISIBLE FATE BOOK THREE: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) (9 page)

Chapter Seventeen

I jogged down two lengths of a stone and brick hallway that looked like it was old when Paris was new, straining to listen to
voices up ahead. Pausing before the next turn I heard what I’d been dreading, the sounds of low-timbered tones pitched for battle. They weren’t necessarily out for blood, but were that low-vibe, rah-rah thunder of bullies psyching themselves up.

Not what I wanted to meet.

I’d paused at a T in the hallway. To my left, about four-feet in, the hall dead-ended. The right led to the oncoming reinforcements. A quick glance around showed me no doors, no windows, and only one option. A half-crescent shaped arch along the base of the dead-end part of the hall, with chiseled stone blocks creating an opening that might be just large enough for me to squeeze the girl through and follow her.

First
, I had to get rid of the metal grate covering the opening.

When were things going to get easy?

I eased the girl down in a heap against the far wall, the better to protect her if we were trapped, but as close to the opening as possible. Then I grabbed the bars with both hands. They were rusted in spots but unfortunately, solid through and through.

What was someone protecting? As if anyone who had any other choice want
ed to head into the stink wafting from behind the bars.

It was all I could do not to scream
. Instead, I pulled. I wedged one foot against the stone wall and pulled again. Then both feet. Another pull. But only a small shift.

The pounding feet were stampeding closer.

What now?

I offered a quick prayer to Saint Jude, the patron saint of bad situations then remembered what I’d been trying to avoid. I was a bloody witch. Hello? I knew magic.

Okay, most of my spells backfired, but I didn’t have a lot of options.

A protection ward wasn’t going to keep them away from us, not without glyphs drawn on the stone floors to back it up or enough time to round up some garlic, cedar or sage. A propulsion spell might push one of them away for a moment or so, but not for long
, and not very far.

Think, Noziak, think
.

Of course. Like a quick slap to the forehead, which I must
have been ignoring not to immediately come up with magic 101, the basics. A cloaking spell.

It’d work better if I had a cape or jacket to hide us both, but beggars
couldn’t be choosers.

I quieted my pounding heart as much as possible, whispering the first words of the chant:

“
Create me a barrier between man and monsters.

Between dark and light.

Between good and evil.

Hide and shadow us.

To the light, better things.

To death, watch over and guide.

To struggle and emerge, advance
.

I am willing to pay the cost.

So mote it be.
”

It was rough and I felt like I dragged the magic from deep within me, as if I struggled to shape the words. Still shadows hovered a little deeper around us.

It wouldn’t help if anyone ran up close but it’d work well enough to let me see the length of the hallway without being clearly seen in return.

I hoped.

Chapter Eighteen

The thunder of half a dozen men pounding the stone floor echoed through the hall, reminding me of the rage of a certain Werebison I’d killed recently. Probably not the best thought as I continued to mumble/whisper the chant
.

“Between dark and light.

Between good and evil.

Hide and shadow us.”

The first attacker, a Were, rounded the corner, his comrades packed closely behind him, all preternaturals, by their odors. They looked like angry footballers denied a touchdown. I had a feeling I’d be the pigskin they’d like to toss around if they got their hands on me.

I barely breathed as they headed toward where we huddled, then veered off like a wedge of compact anger disappearing down the hallway leading to the cells.

Once they reached there it wouldn’t take them long to realize we’d escaped. Then the real search would begin.

Chewing my lip
, I returned to the iron bars, wondering if a propulsion spell might work on them. I’d only used it on preternaturals and not inanimate objects but it might help. Or maybe an unlocking spell? That’d be easier.

Besides
, it was one of the first spells I learned on my own. I’d wanted into my brother Jake’s room. Couldn’t remember why but at thirteen I knew it was important. A few minutes searching on the internet, and once I got past all the gaming spells, I actually found an unlocking spell that worked like a charm.

I glanced at the girl beside me who remained out of it, slowed my breathing and closed my eyes, raising my hands to point toward the metal grate.

“
Luce. Light.

Prima luce. First light.

Umbra. Shadow

Behold that which is closed now opens.

Behold that which binds is unbound.

Behold a need greater than thou.

Release what stops us.

Free the way.
”

At first, there was nothing. I creaked open one eye, hearing angry shouts in the background. Goon Squad had reached the cells.

“Come on
, you freakin’ spell, do something. Now!”

Sometimes it’s the simple things that work best
. A low rumble started, followed by a squeal I’m sure they could hear two countries away, but it was working. The bars were melting for lack of a better word. Think butter on a hot August day.

“Yes!” I pumped my arm. “Thank you
, Mother Goddess, and the Great Spirits, too.”

And just in the nick of time
, as the footsteps had roared to life again. Coming back down the hallway.

“Alley oops,” I whispered to the girl as I scooped her up and slid her through the opening.

I stuck my head through to make sure I wasn’t dropping her down an inky well. Just my luck. It was dark, hades dark, but I could see the faint glint of water on stone not that far below. Smelled it, too. Think cow-rendering plant on steroids on a hot summer day. Pew!

I’d say the drop was the height of a tall man but not much higher. Still
, any fall when you’re unconscious wasn’t a good thing. Any jump that same distance when you didn’t know what you were going to land in wasn’t a win-win either.

Even the stench made me hesitate but needs must. I angled the girl feet first and leaned over with my hands under her armpits so she didn’t have far to fall. Then I let go.

I cringed as she dropped like a bale of hay.

Now my turn.

The footsteps were so close I could feel their vibrations against the concrete floors. I had squeezed myself into the half moon opening, realizing the unconscious girl might be younger than I thought as she didn’t have to be contorted like I did to slide through, too many French pastries no doubt on my part, then, as I gripped the edge of the opening I thought of what I’d forgotten.

If I just disappeared as the goons ran past, they’d see the open hole. They might be stupid but not totally dumb. Even a Were could put together an open hole and missing hostages to come up with a possible escape route.

Maybe I could buy us some time.

Clutching the rock walls on either side of the opening, I started mumbling the cloaking spell again. Easier than it sounded
. Dangling like wet laundry, only heavier, my fingers cramping, while I focused on the words.

“Create me a barrier between man and monsters.

Between dark and light.

Between good and evil.

Hide and shadow us.
”

My fingers were slipping.

“To the light, better things.

To death, watch over and guide.
”

Hold on. Hold on. For love of the Spirits, hold on.

“To struggle and emerge, advance.” 

Footsteps neared. The first legs appeared around the corner. Not running.

“I’m willing to pay the cost.”

Why couldn’t they run? Whiz past me? Too focused to look in my direction?

I air-paddled
my feet, seeking a purchase on anything beneath me, a wall, a pipe, something, but nothing was there. Only open space.

“They have to be near,” a Were snarled.

Please. Please. Please.

Fresh
blood stained my lower lip as I bit into it.

More legs in my view. Standing in a huddle.

If I let go and dropped, the spell would break. As it was, it wavered, like an old black and white TV set. All it needed was one set of eyes to look too closely.

Hold on.
The voice washed against me. An out-of-thin-air smack.

Bran?

No one was around. How could I hear his voice?

Hold on.

It was his voice. Deep. Resonate. Pissed. Maybe that last part was coming from me. Soul-deep anger welling from within.

Don’t let go.

For love of monkeys, as if I wasn’t trying to do just that. And how dare he order me around, not when all I wanted to do was find a spell that would scatter him from one end of the planet to the next. Payback.

Merge. Now.

What the—he meant magic. If I merged with him, I could use his magic as well as my own. The ability to merge was not something I flaunted, or ever used without bad consequences. Now wasn’t the time to start. No way would I trust his help. I’d done so once and Van paid for it.

Go away
!

I can help. Merge.

As if. Last help he gave me he killed my brother.

I sucked in a ragged breath, wiggled my arms to lessen the strain and ignored Bran’s voice.
Focus on the spell.

“Between dark and light.

Between good and evil.

Hide and shadow me.”

“Harvey, you return to the cells. Take them apart. Andre, you and Beavis remain here.”

My focus faltered. Someone actually called their son Be
avis? Guess that meant Butthead was around here, too.

“The rest of you, come with me.”

Go. Go. Go.

Alex— 

Away.
I almost shouted the words out loud to Bran. Only an arrogant warlock would tempt fate by approaching a witch he’d wronged, and Bran was arrogant, through and through.

Not my problem right now. My problem was escaping. Then I’d deal with Bran.

A quick glance at the two guards left, their attention divided, one looking after his departed comrades, the other scanning the route back to the cells. Now what?

I couldn’t hang here indefinitely. Especially as I heard a soft moan from below. Enou
gh of a sound to catch the Weres’ fine hearing.

“What was that?” One demanded, looking around as if scenting a ghost.

Not likely, but they could scent a randy witch who hadn’t bathed since a battle with other Weres.

A propulsion spell might knock them backwards, but Weres were resilient bastards. They’d be up in a heartbeat and coming after us.

I knew. A binding spell. If I could raise my arms high enough to prop against the floor. Right elbow … almost there. Just a little bit more. Whew.

Now
left.

Alex!

I jerked. My right arm sliding away as my legs wind-milled beneath me.

I was going down.

Chapter Nineteen

Bran knelt one knee in the rain-dampened grass of Versailles in front of the
Le Petit Trianon
, the three-story square building where the Council of Seven had met only days ago. It was here, where brown stains still marked the spot, that he’d last seen Alex.

Her blood. The only link he had left to her.

The Seeking spell was a long shot. Spell casting was not his forte, but he was powerful, and desperate enough, to give it a try.

He almost landed on his backside when he connected with Alex. Nothing as easy as getting a clear idea of where she was, or even if she still lived, but a blast of her emotions. Fear. Desperation. Determination.

It was the last that gave him the most hope. Whatever his witch was up to her glass-green eyeballs in, she was fighting back. Not that he was surprised. This was Alex.

By focusing, ignoring the tourists giving him a wide berth, he caught glimpses. Darkness. The damp smell of stone. Fingers clawing rock.

Merde
, she could be anywhere in Paris. Or in another realm made of Earth elements.

When her fingers began to slip a cry broke from him. “Hold on.”

But would she listen? No, of course not. Alex had to do things her way.

“Hold on,” he wanted to scream out
loud again, but whispered instead as out of the corner of his eye he could already see a security man approaching.

“Don’t let go,” he murmured, feeling Alex’s resistance. When he found her, wherever she was, he’d shake some sense into her.

He could help her, but not at a distance. “Merge. Now.”

Would she listen?
Non!
Witches ought to be drowned at birth, before they drove everyone around them crazy.

“Sir?” An older male cleared his throat. “Do you need assistance?”

Oui
, he wanted to shout, but what the guard had to offer is not what Bran needed.

He rose to his feet, brushing his hands together as if removing dirt. “
Merci
,” he replied, using every ounce of restraint he had not to thrust a mage-laced bolt on the hapless man. An action that would no doubt stop the human’s heart.

Instead
, he nodded toward the ground, and spoke in as strong an American accent as possible to reassure the ground’s guardian that he was a clueless visitor. “I was reviewing the sprinklers. I’m into sprinklers and … lawn ornaments. Back home. You ‘all
comprehende
? The water gizmos?” he mauled the words, watching confusion crease the other man’s face. “To water the grass. You understand?”

The man started to shake his head in a negative, then decided it was not worth knowing what this crazy visitor was doing. “
Non
, do not touch
l’herbe
.” He shook one finger to emphasize the point. “
Comprenez-vous
?”

Bran nodded, then added, “Have a nice day,” with a small wave, surprised he didn’t cringe as he uttered the words.

The guard must have decided that even a little of a crazy American was enough as he backed away, shaking his head.

Bran just wanted him out of harm’s way before he tried to reach Alex again. But the man marched with the speed of a snail.

At last.

A quick glance around. No one near. He willed the guard not to look over his shoulder before Bran knelt once again. Touching her blood helped the connection, fuzzy as it was.

“Alex?”

He could hear her frustration spike.
Go away.
More than frustration though—pain. She was hurting, badly enough she couldn’t hide it from him.

Mule-headed
, independent, that was his Alex. She’d hate knowing how much of her emotions he was tapping into.

Including
her urgency. What was she doing? Why? And, most importantly, where?

There was a threat near her. Which was also Alex. How could one witch draw so much trouble?

A sudden lurch spiked her emotions and his own. If he could just reach her.

“Alex!”
he actually muttered the word out loud, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed.

But instead of her opening to him
, she closed down. Down then out.

She disappeared.

But how?

So focused on pushing his right hand into the grass, as if that alone would open his link with her, he didn’t hear the others approaching.

Until it was too late.

Simin fae.

They’d found him.