Page 39

Color sharpened past color. Magic separated into threads, tones, currents, and frequencies. Guy’s kitchen glowed with layers of protection and age, every beam and stone washed in repeated passes of Dragon Magic and Bernie’s cool, grave-deep Enchantment. Bernie shone like moonlight poured over old bones. Guy blazed bronze-gold, his Magic woven outward through the walls, down into the land, and beyond the windows into the Wards.

And Knox…

My breath caught.

Knox stood wrapped in violence, grief, and a contained wildfire of Dragon Magic, but the Hellmark on his arm was the ugly, screaming wound in the middle of all that power.

This time, the tether didn't merely point outward into the unknown. For one brief, horrifying second, it branched.

One line vanished into the Ether, stretching toward wherever the unseen holder waited. The other line threaded through the ambient Magic surrounding Knox, testing, tasting, sliding along the nearest resonant path.

Toward the Wards.

Not Guy.

Not Lou.

The Wards.

Because Guy’s Dragon Magic was woven through them so thoroughly, the barrier carried his signature like a pulse. And because Guy’s Magic was kin to Knox’s, that second thread vibrated with a frequency close enough to make my teeth ache.

The branch flashed. Then vanished. I staggered back one step.

Knox looked right at my face and went rigid. “Maisie.”

“It changed,” I whispered.

Bernie moved closer without touching me. “How?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not just looking for Knox anymore.”

Every single person in that kitchen froze.

The Hellmark pulsed again, smaller this time, like something tapping on glass from far away.

I forced myself to look at the Wards through the window, then back at Knox’s arm. “It’s learning.”

Guy’s voice dropped. “Learning what?”

“Not thinking,” I said quickly. “Not like a person. Not sentient possession or anything like that. More like…” I searched for the right comparison and hated every single option. “Like a tracking system repeatedly testing a route. It keeps pinging Knox, then the Wards, then Knox again.”

Carrick’s voice sharpened. “A mapping behavior.”

“Yes.” I nodded, the pit of my stomach going cold. “Exactly.”

Knox looked from me to the window. “What did it map?” he asked.

I really did not want to answer that. Sadly, my mouth loved ruining my life. “The shape of the lock.”

Silence exploded across the kitchen. For half a heartbeat, nothing moved.

Then Knox stood. “I need to get away from Guy’s house.”

Guy’s head snapped toward him. “Knox…”

“I’m not running into Hell.” Knox’s voice was hard, clipped, and completely controlled. “I’m reducing exposure.”

Something in my chest twisted. Because that was not Knox the Martyr.