Dead Man’s Deal. Jocelynn DrakeЧитать онлайн книгу.
best spells are the subtle ones. Now talk.”
A smile peeked out for a second. “I still can’t believe you’re a warlock. My brother …”
“My brother, the warlock. Scourge of all that is good and just in the world. Yeah, yeah,” I said a bit irritably. When I lived in the Towers, I was told that I was being reborn into godhood. When I moved back among the “mortals,” I became the bane of their existence. Such a fall back to earth tends to bruise the ego. “Now, what does Reave have you transporting?”
Robert’s smile faded. “I don’t know how he acquired this information, but Reave knows the exact location of all the Towers.”
My heart stopped and then started again, pounding away like a madman on crack. I lurched to my feet, wanting to put some distance between my brother and his words as if I was expecting a bolt of lightning to strike him, but I remained rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move outside of the spell without disrupting it and I definitely needed to do a little venting that wouldn’t be overheard.
The first of the Ivory Towers was built before the Great War, but the warlocks and witches forced everyone after the war to work on building others—one on every continent plus a secret eighth so that they could tighten their hold on all the peoples of the world. As each Tower was finished, the memory of everyone was altered and powerful spells were placed over the Towers to hide them. No one but the warlocks and witches knew where they were, and I believed it to be for the best. If you couldn’t find them, then you couldn’t start shit that was going to get everyone killed.
Reave was going to get us all killed.
“What the hell is he thinking?” I yelled.
“Maybe that he’s tired of being under their thumb,” Robert snapped.
“We all are!” I shouted simply because I couldn’t stop shouting. I dropped back down onto the couch and put my head into my hands, trying to learn to breathe again. When I spoke, my voice was low but not particularly calm. “I don’t want to know what he’s planning. That’s the least of our problems. If they find out he’s got that information, they will come down off the Towers and kill us all.” I glared at my brother. “You don’t know them like I do. If they suspect anyone has that information, they won’t bother to hunt down you or Reave. They will destroy the entire city, every living creature, to make sure the information has been silenced.”
Robert tried to smile. His mouth moved in the right direction, but it was strained, while his eyes flickered with fear. “Then I guess you better come up with something good.”
“Has he told you yet? Do you know the locations?”
“Just one. He said it was insurance so that you wouldn’t try to ‘rescue me.’ He also said that if you tried to erase the location from my memory, he’d kill me.” Robert didn’t look particularly disturbed by the threat, probably because he knew that I would do everything within my power to protect him.
My teeth were clenched so tightly that my jaw had begun to throb. I was going to kill Reave. I wasn’t a killer, but this dark elf was driving me to it. My brother might not have wanted out, but he needed out because Reave was shortening his life substantially by putting him in the path of the Towers.
“I need time to think and prepare.” The words were stiff and hard when I spoke. “When are you scheduled to make your delivery?”
“I get the information in three days. You’ll have one day to tattoo them on me—”
“What?”
“Reave is giving me the locations as coordinates. I can’t memorize seven sets of exact coordinates and he doesn’t want paper or digital copies traveling. He wants them tattooed on me, and you have to include a spell to protect the information.”
Sitting back against the couch, I rubbed my eyes with my right hand against the pain that had started there. There was some small relief that he said seven—even Reave didn’t know about the secret eighth Tower. Hell, even I wasn’t completely sure where it was. All the same, I could feel the strands of the web Reave was weaving around Robert and me tightening, entrapping us so perfectly. It seemed as if he had thought of everything, tying my hands so I couldn’t free my brother.
I needed to think. This was more than protecting Robert and all of Low Town from this information. The Towers had become a powder keg of unrest, and Reave was creating a human torch out of Robert. If the Towers and Robert collided, the war that ensued would make the Great War look like a playground scuffle between third-grade girls.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t turn to Sofie or Gideon for advice. They would have only one answer. Kill Robert. Kill Reave. There had to be another way. I had to figure out what the hell it was.
7
IT WAS DARK. The world had been reduced to shapes lacking definition so that everything took on a menacing demeanor. My eyes strained, desperately trying to give meaning to my world, but it was useless. Any light that crept into the room was quickly swallowed up in the great maw of blackness that enveloped me.
I stretched out both hands, determined to use my remaining senses to figure out where I was, how I had gotten there. My fingers hit cold, damp stone. Dirty grit crusted under my fingernails and embedded itself in the fine grooves of my fingers as I slid them along the rough surface. The wall beside me was composed of giant stones, while the floor beneath my feet seemed to be made of the same uneven rock. The room curved slightly, as if it were circular rather than square.
There was no sound beside the soft scrape of my fingers along the stone wall and the scuff of my feet on the floor. My heart pounded in my ears, frustrating me. Was I alone in this room? Was someone else here, tracking me by my thudding heart and shuffling feet? Would it kill me? Help me?
Footsteps broke through the silence. I froze, waiting in the stillness as they grew steadily closer. The tread sounded even and familiar. A friend? The footsteps stopped close, followed by the clang of metal on metal and then scraping, like a key turning a rusted lock.
Light surged into the room, blinding me. I fell back against the wall, throwing my arms up in front of my face to protect myself from the sudden invasion. Shrinking back, I squinted and blinked, willing my eyes to adjust to the brightness rather than stay frozen and helpless.
“Come along!” snarled an angry voice that chilled the blood in my veins.
I moved shaking hands from my face, praying that I was wrong, but I wasn’t. Simon Thorn stood in the open doorway, a magical ball of white light hovering above his shoulder. This wasn’t right. Simon was dead. I’d killed him months ago. Simon had to be dead.
But if Simon was dead and trapped in the underworld, did this mean I had died as well? Had I passed during the night, called by Lilith to pay the year I owed magic for killing Simon? I couldn’t be dead. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest and the cold seeping from the stones through my thin shirt. I wouldn’t feel these things if I was dead, right? Was I dreaming? Remembering? Both?
In the bright light, I stared down at my hands to find them smaller than I remembered. My arms and body were smaller and thinner, while Simon was taller. It all seemed wrong, but my mind kept stumbling as if the wheels in my brain were slipping as they tried to puzzle out this problem.
“Now, boy, or I’ll drag you by your hair,” Simon said, pulling me from my internal struggles.
As if willed by some unknown force, my body obeyed his command and I pushed away from the wall. On shaky legs, I crossed the small stone cell and followed my mentor down the long, narrow hall marked by other heavy doors in front of silent rooms. There were others behind those thick doors, huddled in the darkness, cold and wounded.
At the end of the hall, we turned left and walked down a wider hall until we came to a large circular room. There was more light here, created by torches and little balls of magical light. A pair of witches and a warlock stood near