Unless…
What if they kill me instead?
Panic spreads through me, forcing me to my feet. I won’t sit here and rot or wait for my own demise. Whatever they do to me, they’ll have to fight me first.
I recall a spell I haven’t used in many years, but I remember the words. It doesn’t do much, but if I can at least conjure a glass of water, I’ll know my magic still works.
“Aqua frigida ad me veni, sitim, et lenire faucium.” I repeat the incantation several times, waiting to feel the spark of magic inside me, but it becomes obvious quickly that it’s not working. Nothing.
The only sensation I have is a little niggling in the center of my chest. It feels like something I can grab on to, so I close my eyes, focusing on it. It’s unusual, not at all what my normal magic feels like, but it might be a lifeline.
I’m not sure what to do with it, so I ask for help from anyone who might be able to pick this up. I don’t know where I’m at, so I can’t send that out, but maybe, if I’m lucky, my distress will be felt by someone inclined to do something.
I feel nothing in response and huff out a frustrated breath. This might be it for me. Someone more powerful than me got the upper hand. I don’t know where I am and my magic isn’t working. No one is looking for me.
Shit. I don’t know what I’m going to do.
THREE
ATLAS
I have no idea what day it is. Has it been two days or three since Rune was drugged and abducted? My eyelids feel heavy and the words on the page in front of me blur every time I blink. I shake my head sharply and drag in a deep breath. Oxygen will wake my brain up. That’s all I need—a few good, deep breaths.
I reach to flip the page of Rune’s journal, and my fingers swell and harden to stone. I shake that off too with a grunt and another stubborn breath. If I’m losing control of my shift, it’s a sure sign I’ve gone too long without sleep. But how am I supposed to sleep when Rune is out there somewhere, being held prisoner? They could be doing anything to him. Draining his powers, torturing him… And if they’re using dark magic like Cassius said he tasted… I growl at the thought and flip the next page a little too hard.
The sound of paper tearing is like a bucket of ice water over my head, sending a jolt of awareness and adrenaline through me.
“No, no, no,” I murmur, smoothing the ripped page with my fingers as if that will somehow fix it. A sizzle of blue light snakes along the torn edge, and the distinct scent of Rune’s magic tickles my nose. My fingertips tingle as the light races along underneath them, healing the page right before my eyes.
I blink and then huff a laugh. Leave it to a mage to enchant their personal journal to be self-healing. The light fades and I trace my fingers gently along the path again, over the smooth, unblemished paper, hoping to pick up some kind of lingering energy or magic,anything.
“How many times have you reread that thing?” Cassius’s voice startles me. That I didn’t hear or smell him coming is just more proof that I’ve been awake too long.
I grunt in response. Truthfully, I have no clue how many times I’ve reread his journal. Not just in the past few days, but since Drax gave it to me. He and Mac found it in one of Rune’s little hideaways when they were hunting him down to ask him about a cursed amulet for Auri. When Mac touched the journal, it cursed him. But gargoyles are immune to mage magic—for the most part, anyway—so I got saddled with the job of searching it for any clues to his whereabouts or anything else that might have been helpful for getting the boss what he wanted.
Cas’s footsteps are so quiet that mortal ears would never be able to hear them, but now that I know he’s here and I’m paying attention, the featherlight pad of his steps reach my ears just fine. The coldness of his skin has never bothered me. It’s homey in a weird way. Cool and hard, almost as impenetrable as stone. But I shiver slightly as he puts a hand on my shoulder and leans over me to peer at the book.
“You think you’re going to find any answers in there?”
I slam it closed quickly.
“We don’t know how the curse works. You might be infected just by reading it,” I say gruffly, ignoring his question.
Because, no, I don’t think there are any answers inside about who took him or why. It’s a personal journal more than anything, with rambling entries about his day, ideas he seems to have been working through for new rituals to try, and a few recipes for baked goods. But I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do. His scent vanished outside of Full Moon, and we don’t have a single lead or way to find him.
“Mac called Xanthis,” Cas says. “Or, well, he called his brothers, who called Dahlia, and she convinced her mate to take a phone call.”
I perk up, tucking Rune’s journal under my arm so Cas won’t try to touch it. I’m just protecting him from the curse—it’s not because there’s some weird, possessive feeling in my chest that wants to keep the little scrap I have of the mage all to myself. Xanthis is a dragon mage, and a powerful one. Why didn’t I think of trying to get ahold of her?
“What did she say? Can she contact Rune somehow? Does she have any idea who might have targeted him?”
“No,” he says simply, answering all my questions at once.
I growl and start to clamber to my feet. “Then we need to go back to Full Moon and see if Jasper remembers anything else. Or Roman can try harder to pick up the scent of that bald man we saw Rune leave with.”
He gives me a small shove, easily toppling me back into my seat thanks to my exhaustion.
“Roman spent hours with his nose pressed to the ground out there. Whoever that guy is, he has access to powerful enough magic to mask his own scentandbewitch a demon to possess the bartender. Chasing our tails isn’t going to get us any closer to figuring out where your mage is.”
