[Southern Arcana 1] Crux (18 page)

Mackenzie spat in his face and redoubled her struggles.

“Enough.” Charles stepped over Mahalia as if she weren’t even there. Mackenzie felt his hand on her forehead and tried to jerk away, but Marcus held her steady.

With Jackson it had been a slow, easy feeling, a gentle drifting into sleep, as if she’d simply grown tired. Charles was far more powerful—or far less careful. She was still struggling frantically, her heart pounding in terror, when the world went black.

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Jackson swam his way up through the darkness for what felt like forever. He spent far too long in the shadows between unconsciousness and waking, knowing he needed to open his eyes and move, because there was something…

Mackenzie.

His head pounded, even as he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled down the hall. Steven burst through the back door and into the kitchen just as Jackson caught himself on the edge of the doorframe. “Shit. Fuck.”

Mahalia lay on the floor, her car keys mere inches from her open hand. Though there was an alarming amount of blood on the floor, including a copious amount soaked into the shirt he recognized as Mackenzie’s, there was no evidence of a wound anywhere on his mentor’s body.

Mackenzie was gone. “They came here. They took her.”

“He called me. My uncle.” Steven dropped to his knees and gathered Mahalia into his arms. “We should put her on the bed.”

Moira Rogers

Jackson’s jaw dropped. “No, you should get her to a hospital while I look for Talbot.”

“
No
,” Steven snapped. “You don’t need to look for him. I know where he’s going, and it’s suicide to go there by yourself.”

“We can’t just sit here. Mahalia needs a doctor, and I need—”
I need to find Mackenzie before Talbot decides she’s
too much trouble.

Mahalia stirred in Steven’s arms. “Charles.”

“May.” Steven touched her cheek. “It’s Steven and Jack.

Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes and struggled, pushing against Steven’s chest. “Where is she? Is she gone?”

“Shh, May—” Steven helped her sit. “The Peytons and Jackson’s partner will be here by the end of the day, with any luck. We’ll get her back.”

Her reddened eyes welled with tears. “No. Not again, Steven. I did it
again
…” She pressed her face against his neck and began to sob.

“No.” Steven’s expression was pained as he cradled Mahalia against his chest. “It was too much to ask of you. Too much to ask of anyone. I’m sorry, May.” Jackson started to reach out, but stopped and averted his eyes. Steven was far better suited to the task of comforting 194

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Mahalia than he was. “You said you knew where he was taking her.”

“Charles owns land in Coos County, New Hampshire, near the Vermont border. It’s remote, wrapped in protective spells, and he’s untouchable when he’s there.” Steven’s sudden smile was vicious. “Unless you’re his nephew and have a Seer with you. For once, the fact that we’re related just may do some good.”

Jackson felt equally vicious as he stared at the pool of blood on the floor, Mackenzie’s shirt in the middle of it. “If you and Nick’s sister can get me and Alec within a hundred yards of him, we’ll do the rest.”

Steven opened his mouth, obviously intending to give him another warning on how dangerous Charles was. Instead, he nodded shortly as he rose, Mahalia still held against his chest.

“I’m going to get her cleaned up and settled down. We’ll talk about it when we’re all together.”

Jackson stared after them. His mind whirled as he picked up Mackenzie’s shirt, dropped it into the sink and turned the water on. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he pushed every thought he could from his mind as he located a dish towel, dampened it, and started cleaning the kitchen floor.

***

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Moira Rogers

Mahalia glanced at Jackson’s hand on her elbow as they walked across the tarmac to the waiting jet. “I’m fine, Jack.

You don’t have to treat me like an old lady.”

“I’m treating you like a lady who got her head whacked to hell and back a couple of hours ago.” He eyed the jet with a whistle. “Must be nice to own half of New York.”

“I doubt this is Peyton’s. Probably just one of hundreds he has at his ready disposal.” Mahalia smiled a little. “Have Nick and Alec made it in yet?”

“They should be waiting for us.”

Alec and Nick were, indeed, waiting inside the jet. Both were seated in luxurious seats on opposite sides of the plane, and Alec sported a prominent black eye.

Jackson’s eyebrows shot up. “What the hell happened to you?”

Alec slanted a look at Nick. “Little friendly disagreement.”

The look Nick shot him in return could have set his hair aflame. “And if you ever lump my sister in with the likes of Charles Talbot again, I’ll blacken more than your eye, you ridiculous, ignorant
bastard
.”

“I wasn’t—” Alec snapped his mouth shut and turned to Jackson. “She’s your best friend. Calm her down, would you?”

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“I’m fine,” Nick told Jackson as he moved to sit next to her.

She wasn’t fine. Her body vibrated with tension, and the knuckles of her right hand were swollen and bruised. “What happened?”

She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she dragged a ponytail holder from her purse and used it to secure her hair in a careless knot at the back of her head. “You’d think that Alec, of all people, would know better than to simply regurgitate some tired old ultraconservative shit, wouldn’t you?” As soon as the words were out of Nick’s mouth, Jackson groaned. She was almost rabidly protective of Michelle, but backhanded references to the painful events of Alec’s life would only make things worse.

“Watch your mouth, Peyton,” Alec said, his voice cold.

“You don’t know—”

“Enough.” Steven’s quiet voice overpowered Alec’s easily. “We’re already in over our heads. Perhaps we could stop jabbing at each other?” His eyes cut to Alec. “And let’s remember that, regardless of our personal feelings, Michelle Peyton is the only hope any of us have of facing down Charles Talbot and surviving.”

Alec wasn’t one to back down to anyone, but the sheer intensity in Steven’s eyes seemed to give his partner pause.

“Fine.”

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Moira Rogers

Jackson turned to Nick and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to apologize. She exhaled and looked away. “I’m sorry, Alec. I shouldn’t have said that.” Then she mirrored Jackson’s expression and added, “But if anyone so much as hints that my sister is crazy, there’s going to be an ass-kicking after this is all taken care of.”

Mahalia sat next to Alec and patted his leg. “Don’t worry.

I don’t even think she
could
kick your ass. Must have just…” She waved a hand at his face. “Well, she must have caught you off guard, that’s all.”

Alec snorted. “That girl’s damn scrappy for someone who doesn’t even come up to my shoulder.”

Jackson slid an arm around Nick and tugged her to his side. “We’re going to meet your dad and sister in New York?” She nodded. “I just talked to Michelle. She’s pretty busy getting ready, so we’ll pick them up on our way.”

“All right.” The better prepared Michelle was to face Talbot, the more likely they’d get through this confrontation in one piece. “Steven, is there anything else we can figure out or plan right now?”

Steven shook his head. “Let’s get to New York.” 198

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The world came into focus with terrifying slowness.

Mackenzie fought her way out of sleep, vaguely remembering she was supposed to be scared but not why.

Then she opened her eyes and saw Marcus, and everything came flooding back. She bolted upright on the bed, her eyes darting around the small bedroom. It was plain but tastefully decorated, with a desk, a bookshelf and an open door that led into an adjoining bathroom. The door to the hallway was open, meaning no one cared if she ran.
Probably
because they could stop me before I got more than twenty feet,
she thought in annoyance, remembering how easily Marcus had restrained her.

She returned her gaze to Marcus. He’d been reading a book, though he closed it now as he smiled at her. “Feeling better?”

“No,” she retorted, annoyed by his dogged friendliness.

She could see the marks her teeth had left on his neck, yet he seemed completely unbothered by the fact that she’d hurt him.

Moira Rogers

He shrugged and reopened his book. “Maybe you need more sleep.”

It was infuriating. “Sleep is supposed to make me feel better about being
kidnapped
?”

He kept his eyes on the pages of the book, though he raised a brow. “Is screaming going to make you feel better?”

“Kicking you some more might make me feel better.” Maybe then he’d show a reaction other than a casual lack of concern.

“You’re welcome to scream
or
kick me again, whichever you prefer.” He tilted his head and flashed her a charming grin. “I’m not all that bad. You’ll see.” He had a dangerous charisma, the kind that made it hard for Mackenzie to remember he was a fanatic. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and pressed her feet to the cool hardwood floor. “You could be the greatest guy in the world, and it wouldn’t make up for the fact that you’ve hurt people to get to me. I’m a prisoner here.”

Marcus actually looked remorseful. “I really wish it hadn’t had to happen,” he told her quietly, laying the book on the bedside table. “If I’d been able to make you understand your importance, your role, none of it would have been necessary.”

“My role.” The words came out flat. “You mean to have your…infectious babies.”

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He threw back his head and laughed, the action stretching out the strong column of his throat. “You make them sound like one of the ten plagues of Egypt, Mackenzie. They’ll just be babies. Babies with an amazing gift.”

“And if I don’t want babies?”
Or if I don’t want them to
be yours?

His brows drew together. “Why wouldn’t you?” The fact that he actually seemed to care about her answer made her pause. Marcus was a fanatic and a shapeshifter and who knew what else but, in the end, he was a person too. A man. If there was one thing she’d always been good at…

Instead of snapping out another angry retort, she paused to consider the answer. “I had a life. I went to college to study dance. I was working at something I loved, teaching lessons, making connections. You obviously know what it’s like to have a dream. Mine was dancing.”

“How am I standing in the way of that?” he asked slowly.

“I don’t understand. I mean, I can help you.”

“When am I supposed to start having these children?” she asked quietly. “How much dancing can I do if I’m supposed to be pregnant all the time?”

Marcus wasn’t laughing anymore. He looked angry. “You think I’d want that?” He rose to his feet. “You’re not meant to be an incubator, Mackenzie. You’re meant to be my wife.” www.samhainpublishing.com 201

Moira Rogers

She forgot about her plans to charm him. “You chased me through four states, made me terrified for my life, nearly killed an old woman and
kidnapped
me, and you’re mad that I’m confused about your motivations?”

“I told you exactly what my motivations were when we first met.”

“And I told you I wasn’t interested,” she snarled. “You took the choice from me. So as long as I have no choice in the matter, you have no right to be all high and mighty with me.” He advanced on her until they were standing toe-to-toe.

“You think I have a choice?” he whispered. “You think I wouldn’t rather strike out on my own and meet a woman who’s a little more suited to me than you? Well, I would, actually, but I can’t. Because this is important, Mackenzie.

Without us doing what we’re supposed to do, our race is going to die. No more cougars. Don’t you
get
that?”

“No!” She took a step back, bumped into the bed and sat abruptly. She clenched her hands around the blanket, her voice dropping to a whisper as well. “I don’t belong to your
race
.

Half the time, I still think I hit my head and have lost my damn mind, Marcus!”

His shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Sometimes I forget you grew up hearing nothing of our destiny. It’s hard for me to fathom, really.” He sat in his chair again. “As for thinking you’re crazy, that will sort itself out 202

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once Dad removes the suppressive spell that’s been keeping you from shifting.”

There it was again. That word.
Dad.
Marcus apparently had no idea that Charles wasn’t his father. She opened her mouth to say as much, but the words died on her tongue.
He
isn’t going to believe you,
she told herself sternly. It was the only weapon she had, but if she used it too soon it wouldn’t work.

Mackenzie closed her eyes and forced herself to relax.

Whatever Charles’s misdeeds, it was obvious Marcus believed in the cause because he’d been told only what Charles wanted him to know.
Just like my parents. Just like Steven.

If she wasn’t going to blame them for believing Charles, how could she blame the man who had been raised by him? It didn’t mean she had to trust Marcus, but it made it easier not to hate him. She had to win him over to her side if she was going to have any chance of escaping.

She needed every advantage she could get.

Mackenzie met Marcus’s faintly worried gaze. “I want him to remove the spell,” she said, her voice trembling. “I want to learn what—who I am.”

And then I’m going to use it to get away.

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Moira Rogers

Marcus came back later that evening with an armful of neatly folded clothing. “I had to guess at the sizes,” he explained as he set the pile on the chair beside the bed. “Once you get dressed, Dad wants to see you.”