Thicker Than Blood (9 page)

Kira had more or less said I was useless. Sitting here alone in the library, I could grudgingly admit that maybe I was. I half-expected Noah to come after me, but he left me alone to wallow. It felt totally shitty to be sidelined like this, no matter how much truth was in it or how dangerous it might be for me to try to get too involved. There was probably a life lesson in there somewhere, but I was speeding along the Sulk Highway to Pityville so fast I didn’t want to detour down Introspection Lane.

There was only so much sulking I could handle. I was in a library, after all. I walked slowly around the room, gently touching titles, thrilled that I could still read the spines. I hadn’t lost my wicked-cool ability to read any language. I had seen a red book last time I was here, with a dragon on it. I went hunting for that but another title caught my eye almost immediately. It was new leather, black with gold stitching, standing out among the other books for its thickness and its shiny newness.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
by Susanna Clarke. I’d never read it, opting to watch the miniseries instead. I’d been impressed with the magic system and meant to read the book, but I’d had so little time the last year for reading. Gaming was my first love anyway, right after trying not to get killed by my ex.

I thumbed it open. It was special edition, signed by the author. Made sense, I supposed, though I wondered how Noah had it in here among thousands of far more archaic books. Maybe it had been mis-shelved and there was a fantasy section around somewhere.

If only I had a couple magicians to imbue me with all of English magic right about now
.

I should have been born a wizard, I guess. But I was sorcerer to my core. I’d even learned to control my magic through D&D spells the way a sorcerer would, not learning them by the book, but taking the essence of the listed spell and practicing with my will, bending my magic to do my bidding without ingredients and incantations, or study.
Prestidigitation
had been my favorite. It was fun to say, too, a good word to work into random sentences. It was a wonder I hadn’t been more popular at parties. Using something like
Ray of Frost
would have made me way cooler, but probably raised too many questions.

I took the novel back to one of the padded benches and sat down. I figured someone could come find me if or when they got a solid plan. Meanwhile, I could read and cool off and hopefully Kira and I would stop wanting to kill each other. Who knew? Maybe I’d learn a thing or three from Jonathan Strange.

I started to smile at the thought and my cheeks froze in mid-pull. My heart started to thud into my ribs. I almost face-palmed for realsies.

I didn’t
have
magic. That didn’t mean I couldn’t
do
magic.

People, normal humans and witches and whatever, they did magic all the time. Well, not all the time, it took rituals and knowledge, and discipline and a non-fake spell to go on, but… magic wasn’t just the providence of sorcerers. We were just better at it.

I dropped the book onto the bench and started for the door. Then stopped. I had a lot of suspicions about this warehouse and its owner. Time to test one of them.

“Noah Grey,” I said, trying not to yell. I didn’t think I needed to speak too loudly.

Suspicions were confirmed when he walked through the door not thirty seconds later.

“Yes?” he said. His angular face carried a half-amused, half-curious expression.

“Do you have spell books?” I said. “Real ones, not like fake New Age bullshit.”

The vampire tilted his head to one side and raised both eyebrows.

“Okay,” I said. I started thinking as quickly as my excitement would allow. “Stupid question I guess. I need spells. Ones that deal with seeing invisibility, also some simple stuff, too, so I can test and see if this will even work.”

He studied me for a moment and I wondered if he’d start demanding another drop of blood or something. I was willing to give it. Anything to be of use, anything to do magic again, even if it wasn’t exactly the same.

“Wait here,” he said. He left as silently as he’d entered.

Fuck yeah
. Allowing a small fist pump, I grinned. I was about to gain my first level of wizard.
We’ll see who is useless now, bitch
.

Harper wasn’t unconscious long, unfortunately. She came to, still a fox, with Samir looming over her. The moment her eyes opened, he kicked her.

“Stupid fucking animal,” he spat, lifting his boot again.

She didn’t hesitate, despite her ribs letting her know they were going on strike and her hip screaming its death scene.

Harper sprang as soon as she had a leg under her, shifting to human in mid leap and slamming into the surprised Samir. She went for his throat with her hands and teeth, uncaring this was her weaker human body. Human teeth could still rip and tear, and she was still shifter, still strong.

Samir slammed his elbow into her ribs, knocking the wind from her laboring lungs. His hand snapped up and closed on her throat, barely keeping her teeth from his neck. Her hands closed on his jacket, and for a moment, they struggled before he threw her backward into the snow, her strength waning.

She curled on the snow around her aching ribs, spitting blood and wheezing. Samir made a fist, and crackling energy, barely visible in the fading daylight, formed around his hand.

“That’s right, motherfucker,” Harper snarled. “Kill me. Kill me, pickledick. Fry me. Do it.”

Dying had been, like, plan zed, but she hurt so much she found she didn’t care. The unicorn was free. If she was dead, the pain would stop. Samir wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore or use her to hurt anyone she loved.

“No,” he said. “Stupid bitch. You are going to live and watch your friends come and die here, one by one.” He kicked her again but she twisted and took the worst of it on her thigh muscle. “Get the cage,” he told one of the men.

Harper allowed herself the tiniest feeling of relief. Not dead. Not yet. She clutched her hands to her chest as one of the mercenaries grabbed her legs and started dragging her back to the house. She started reciting Pi in her head to keep herself conscious. It was back to plan C.

Plan C was in her hands. Literally. Harper closed her fist tighter around the ruby vial she’d taken off Samir’s neck in their struggle. She mentally thanked Uncle Darragh and his lessons with the bells.

Still alive. Almost kicking.

Samir didn’t take chances this time. No more chains. He had two of his men bring a heavy cage up to the room she’d been in before and they stuffed her into it. It locked with a thick chain through bars and a welded loop on the top, nowhere near the slits at the front. No way for someone inside to reach and pick the lock.

Harper let herself pass out once inside the cage, after tucking her tiny prize into her jeans pocket. She heard Samir giving instructions that someone was to remain in the room with her at all times before exhaustion and injury pulled her back into the dark.

She didn’t know how long she was out, but the pains had faded somewhat and the room was full dark when she awoke. A guard, the young-looking, flat-expressioned brown-haired man who had come back with Samir and the unicorn, leaned against the wall near the door, flipping a coin. Could have put his picture next to the dictionary definition of boredom. A different guard than before. Time was definitely slipping away from her.

Her friends would come for her. Hopefully they wouldn’t be totally stupid and walk right into an obvious trap, but Harper didn’t feel much like waiting around to be rescued. She was no kitten and she’d get her own damn self out of this tree. Somehow.

“My mouth tastes like ass,” she said, opening conversation. “Water?” She didn’t see any around him, not even a cup or a bottle, but maybe she could get him to leave and get her some.

“No,” he said.

“No? Just no?” she asked, licking her chapped lips. She really did want water.

He shrugged and slipped the coin into his pocket.

Harper tried a different plan.

“You’re stuck in here with me,” she said. She awkwardly tried to pull down her filthy bra strap, exposing an equally filthy, and bruised, breast. “We could pass the time more pleasantly.”

It was a Hail Mary to end all Hail Marys, she recognized, but figured at worst he would say no again.

“Not into rape,” he said with another shrug, his voice still calm and flat.

“Not rape if I’m willing,” Harper said, pressing her cheek to the bars. This always worked way better in the movies. She needed a makeup crew. And a nap. And a hidden gun.

I watch way too many movies
, she thought, still trying to look even marginally appealing. She mostly felt utterly pathetic.

“Technically,” he said, moving away from the wall and walking toward her, “it’s still rape. I have total power over you in an illegal situation. You can’t consent.”

“Great,” Harper muttered, dragging her bra strap back up into a position that didn’t push too hard on her bruises. “What are you, a fucking lawyer?”

“No,” he said, his mouth twitching in the barest hint of a smile. “I’m not a rapist.”

Harper leaned back against the side of the cage and drew her legs up. She couldn’t reach the lock. This guy wasn’t going to fall for stupid movie tricks. She’d have to wait for another opening. Maybe his replacement wouldn’t have qualms and would only see a helpless female.

“Besides,” her guard said after a long moment. He bent down in front the cage, out of reach. “You’re just trying to get me to unlock this thing for you so you can try to escape again.”

“Now you’re fucking Sherlock Holmes.” She closed her eyes. “Aren’t you people worried about the Council of Nine sending a Justice after you?” she asked finally, trying one last line.

“No,” he said, his tone so sure she opened her eyes and looked at him again. “Lots of us have been operating for years without trouble. Long as you don’t do certain things, nobody cares. The Nine aren’t quite the all-powerful gods some think.”

“You going to explain that?” Harper glared at him. She was learning the hard way that he was right. The shit that had gone down with the rogue wolf Justice and the Alpha of Alphas mess had shown that. Plus whatever weird stuff was going on with Alek.

“No,” he said.

Harper sighed. She was bone tired, hurting, and out of ideas. Maybe the next guard would be a lot more stupid. A nap sounded like the only real plan left to her.

“You could ask nicely,” the guard said after a long moment, his smile sly and big enough to flash a hint of teeth.

“What?” Harper eyed him, feeling like she’d lost some key context. Maybe she’d passed out again without knowing it and missed a whole chunk of conversation? More likely he was messing with her.

“You want out of the cage?” he asked.

“Is that a trick question?” she asked back.

“No, but I suppose it is an obvious one. I could let you go. I don’t think you’d get very far though.” His eyes were a shade lighter brown than his hair; his smell was clean and woodsy, tinged with the scent of wolf. A hint of weariness in his gaze made Harper guess that he was a lot older than he looked.

“You could let me worry about that,” Harper said. Her heart sped up. He was fucking with her. She tried to remember that.

“Of course, if I let you go, I’ll be held responsible. The boss isn’t a very forgiving man, nor, I think, is our employer.” He sat back on his heels, his tone still conversational, but that sly look was getting more obvious by the second.

“Escape with me?” Harper suggested. This bastard was a real sadist, she decided. He was hurting her with the only thing she really wanted, damaging her with hope.

“No. I like my job, and I like living. You fuck up in this business, you get retired with flowers and an unmarked grave.” He shook his head. “But maybe I can get someone else to let you out. After that, whatever happens isn’t my problem. We catch you, we kill you, understand?”

It’s a trap, it’s a fucking trap, stop even thinking about this
, her brain screamed at her. She shoved away the voice of reason. None of her choices were good, so she was going to choose the one that dangled freedom.