1
PHAEDRA
Charlie sways as we step out of the portal. “Damn, been a long time since I hopped a portal across the pond.” Eyes closed and hand pressed to his stomach; he takes a few deep breaths.
Battered by the crippling guilt swallowing me whole from what just happened withthem, I stare at him until his words trickle past the wall I erected to keep from falling apart. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was a big deal, or I would have hopped a plane.”
He opens one eye to study me. “You don’t feel nauseous? Dizzy?”
“No,” I reply cautiously. Portals make me queasy but more from fear and nerves than the act of traveling through them. Although I’ve never traveled this far in one. “Does it do that to everyone?”
He straightens and opens the other eye to stare at me as if I’m an insect on a microscope slide. “As far as I know. Mages in particular. In fact, not many mages even attempt it. Shorterhops, like Italy to England, are usually the norm. The big hops across oceans or multiple continents is a drain on our powers.”
It’s my turn to study him. We’ve known each other for years, yet I never realized Charlie’s powers were on the higher end of the scale. Maybe because he rarely displays them in front of me. Although…
I frown. “Your scent…” How do I put this?
He carefully considers me before answering. “Masked. Unless they’re protected by the council, most mages hide their magic.”
My brow furrows. “Why?”
He takes a deep breath, hesitating for a second, but with a lift of his shoulder, he eventually replies. “Mages like your Jamison…have it easy. Generational magic gives them a huge advantage from the moment they’re born. Their power only increases as they grow older and inherit more.” He pauses. “And given his line of work, masking doesn’t make sense.”
Your Jamison. The words pierce my chest like an arrow, and a lump appears in my throat. His steel-blue eyes were cold when he walked into the portal to follow Mathias and Hawthorne. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a deep breath and force myself back to the conversation.
“And you?”
His lips curl in a wry smile. “While I was born with considerable magic, I accumulated power a little differently. Inherited a little from my shitty father when he passed. Received quite a bit as payment for services like flying.” His lids drop to half-mast. “And some I stole.”
My mouth drops open, and my mind reels from the info he just dropped on me like a bomb. How did I not know this? “Supernaturals pay with magic? Seriously? And how do youstealpowers?”
“Like gold, magic is a commodity,” he informs me, his voice tight as if he’s uncomfortable with the subject. “It can be bartered or stolen by other mages or supernaturals like demons. Most of the mages I know have accumulated their powers in less than orthodox ways. That’s why we often mask our abilities.”
The repercussions of what he is saying changes everything. This whole time we’ve assumed Jamison’s father is the likely candidate because of his ties to the council and his level of power, but what if we’re wrong? What if someone else is leading the mage rebellion? Someone with a grudge against the council and current status quo?
“I see,” I state slowly. “How many mages would you say were on the same level as Lord de Vere or Jamison?”
His eyes narrow. “Besides them?” When I nod, he inhales sharply. “Not a lot. Maybe forty to fifty, including me.”
That’s hopeful. “Okay, not bad. You don’t happen to have a list, do you?”
While I don’t have the magic to take down the villain, maybe I can at least narrow the list for Jamison and his team. And possibly earn back some of their trust.
Charlie’s lips lift in amusement. “Should I include myself?”
I can’t help but snort. “You and Maverick are both clever and powerful enough to lead a rebellion, but it’s clear that you two abhor politics and associating with other supernaturals. A small private airstrip in the middle of nowhere makes its own kind of statement. So, can you get me a list?”
“Are you sure you want to go down this road?”
I nod. “If we don’t stop the rebellion, the gods could decide to interfere again. I doubt any of us want another war.”
His lips firm as he nods. “Let me talk to Maverick and make sure I’m not missing anyone. His network is a little larger than mine. We’ll get the list to you later today.” With a dip of his chin, he steps into a portal and leaves.
Alone again. I turn toward the garage. There’s only one safe place for these panels. It takes minutes to store them in the vault in a secret compartment similar to the one the key is in. For a second, I stare across at the vase that has been the bane of my life. I’m tempted to smash it into pieces, but until I know whether this box has replaced it, I can’t.
With a heavy sigh, I lock up and head outside, slowly trudging toward the farmhouse standing tall and white in the afternoon sun. A tear slips down my cheek, but I swipe it away. There’s no time for crying. More tears roll down my face, and I furiously scrub them away. But they refuse to stop. Pain mingles with the tears, and my shoulders slump. I climb the porch steps and make my way over to my favorite swing. Sinking into the plump pillows, I grab one and hug it to my chest as all the feelings I’ve been holding back rush to the surface.
Shame. Guilt. Two emotions I’ve let rule my life for thousands of years. I should have owned up to my actions a long time ago. Cleared Pandora’s name. At first, I was scared. The world was turbulent, and the peace between the supernaturals and gods tenuous. As time went on and the years blurred into one another, I managed to convince myself nobody would care. After all, only a handful of people knew I existed. Delusion is my middle name. I squeeze the pillow tighter.
