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The prices made her head spin. When the auctioneer called for one million quants, the man on the left dropped out. But Dawson kept going. The numbers jumped higher, and she felt dizzy.
“Four million quants,” the auctioneer called, and Dawson and the two men in the middle lifted their paddles.
Finally, when the auctioneer called six million quants, the men in the middle kept their paddle still. There were rumors as to how large the Dawson fortune was. Some said it was mostly depleted after the war. Others claimed the Dawson family had money stored away and didn’t suffer financially.
“Going once, twice, to the gentleman in the back.”
The hammer fell and with it, the auction concluded. Dawson stood and reached a hand out for her, helping her stand. The two men in the center of the room looked at him carefully. She had a feeling what would happen next was not going to be civilized.
Placing a hand on her lower back, Dawson guided her to the exit. The tension in the room was palpable, and all eyes seemed to be on Dawson.
They walked along an old tunnel, which was supported by metal enforcements, until they finally entered a dark room, illuminated only by candlelight. A gold safe sat to their right.
Dawson pulled her in. “Stay close to me.”
Clearly, he didn’t expect this to be an easy transition either.
The door opened and the auctioneer walked in with a smile. “Aidric Dawson, I should have guessed. Please, take a seat.”
She could sense the tension in Dawson. His eyes had already mapped out the entire room, carefully cataloging every detail and exit.
“I believe you’re familiar with our protocol?” the auctioneer asked.
Dawson nodded. A scroll appeared before him and he signed it. Through a magic gate, six million quants appeared on the desk in neat stacks and disappeared just as quickly into the account of whoever the seller was.
Mira swallowed.
The gold safe opened, and in that moment, the door they had entered through exploded off its hinges. The two men from earlier stormed in and then everything happened at rapid speed.
Dawson pushed Mira behind the desk.
A cloud of gray fumes exploded in the air. She coughed, but whatever it was, it wasn’t deadly.
A dark spell zapped right above her, and with a loud thud the severed head of the auctioneer landed next to her feet.
26
Mira knelt on the floor behind the desk, trying desperately to connect with her powers as wood around her splintered and glass exploded.
She could barely see through the gray haze, but she heard Dawson’s spells rumble through the room. It was still difficult for her to control her dark powers, and she wasn’t even sure if she could land a spell on the other Wielders. Instead, she crawled to the open safe as spells zapped around her.
The air was thick with spent magic. When she got to the safe, she put a simple shield around her. It wouldn’t withstand many dark spells, but it was at least a bit of protection.
She removed the relic encased in a glass box and then realized how quiet the room had become. When she turned around, Dawson stood over the three dead bodies. Blood dripped down his arm.
She ran over to him. “You’re hurt.”
“No time for that.” He pulled her by her arm.
“Wait.” She picked up his jacket from the ground, put her arms into it, stuffed the glass container in the pocket, and they took off running.
Her shoes were sticky from the auctioneer’s blood as they rushed through tunnels and climbed up a set of what felt like never-ending stairs until they made it outside.
When they flipped their coins, nothing happened.
“Fuck,” Dawson hissed. “Anti–coin travel gas.”
Before they could come up with a plan, the door behind them opened and twelve men in dark suits bolted out of the club with their hands pointed straight at them.
