Armed & Magical

Chapter 6

The man in Mychael’s office was wearing enough leather armor and blades to make him feel secure in the nastiest sections of town. I’d once found out the hard way that when a man was that big and that heavily armed and wearing an expression that grim, it was good to wait and be properly introduced.

Mychael greeted him with a warm handshake. I couldn’t help but notice that Mychael’s entire hand vanished in the man’s enormous paw.

“Raine, this is our chief watcher, Sedge Rinker. Sedge, this is Raine Benares.”

I crossed the office and cautiously extended my hand. Members of my family were generally greeted with hand-cuffsby law enforcement, not handshakes. Rinker hesitated a moment, then took my hand in a firm yet surprisingly gentle handshake.

“I was in the square this morning and saw what you did.” Rinker’s voice was a basso rumble. “Impressive work—and I don’t mind saying a little scary.”

I grinned. I couldn’t imagine anything scaring this man. “I scared me, too,” I told him.

Sedge Rinker didn’t look like a man who sat behind a desk all day. His dark beard was trimmed neatly enough, but he hadn’t fussed with it. His hair was efficiently short, but style wasn’t something he bothered with or cared about. However, his armor and weapons were of the highest quality and in immaculate condition. I’d seen his like among watch officers many times—they were utterly devoted to their work and the people they protected.

“Did you get anything useful from those two Nightshades?” he asked Mychael.

I gave Mychael a sharp look. “You took two alive?”

“We did.”

“And?”

“And our investigation is ongoing.”

It was his paladin voice, the voice that wasn’t about to tell me anything. His expression wasn’t volunteering information, either.

Rinker looked uneasily from Mychael to me. He’d assumed Mychael trusted me. So had I.

“Janek Tawl is a friend of mine,” Rinker told me, deftly changing the subject. “He says you’re the best seeker he knows. I was glad to find out you were visiting us.”

Janek Tawl was a friend of mine, too. As chief watcher of the Sorcerers District back home in Mermeia, Janek’s path had crossed mine on a regular basis. Janek occasionally sought my expertise as a seeker, and from time to time he was able to give me leads on cases I was working on.

“Janek’s a top-notch watcher and a fine man,” I agreed. “I’m honored that he thinks so highly of me.” I tossed Mychael a meaningful glance.

“Mychael tells me you want to help us find one of our missing students.”

Small talk was over. I liked a man who got right down to business. “I want to do everything I can to help,” I told him.

Rinker pulled a cloth-wrapped object out of a leather bag. He carefully handed it to me without unwrapping it. Good man. He knew his business, and more important, he knew mine. More than once I’d been called to a crime scene only to find that the object I most needed to use had been handled by nearly every watcher on-site, contaminating it and rendering it useless for seeking. It was their emotional imprint I’d get, not the victim’s. So the only person I’d find was the stupid watcher who’d last picked it up.

I took the wrapped hairbrush. “Did anyone touch this before it was wrapped?” I asked him.

“No one,” he assured me.

I smiled at him. “Thank you, Chief Watcher. It’s always a pleasure to work with true professionals.”

He nodded. “I understand you were there when Miss Jacobs was taken through that mirror.”

“Megan Jacobs is the student’s name,” Mychael clarified.

“Yes, I was,” I told the watcher. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t in a position to do anything to prevent it.” I frowned. “I can’t make up for what happened, but I want to help you find her—and the man who took her.”

“You’re familiar with Banan Ryce?” Rinker asked.

“We’ve met,” I said flatly. “It wasn’t professional, but it was hardly social.”

The watcher didn’t ask me to explain, which was good, because I had no intention of doing so.

I turned to Mychael. “May I use your couch? Hopefully I won’t need it, but better comfy than concussed.”

“Of course.”

I went to the couch, sat down with my back against the cushions. Even before my Saghred-enhanced seeking skills, I made it a point to try to sit someplace soft when working. The impressions I got from an object could be vague or jarring, and since I was attempting a direct link with a hopefully still-living person, the disorientation from that link could very well put me on the floor.

I held the wrapped hairbrush in one hand and peeled back the fabric with the other. It was a small silver brush of fine quality. Even better, there were a few long, blond hairs caught in the bristles. Last week, I got to experience a murder victim’s last seconds right along with him—all courtesy of the power boost the Saghred had given me. The victim had been killed the day before, so I’d gotten nothing from his personal object but last impressions and a mild case of the whirlies.

Megan Jacobs was still alive, as far as we knew. I’d never been inside a living person’s head before. I was pretty sure I could do it; I just didn’t know what to expect. Being the control freak that I am, I always want to know what to expect. Too bad I rarely get what I want.

I picked up the brush and clasped it in both hands.

The connection was immediate, crystal clear, and unnerving as hell.

I was disoriented, but what I felt was sick. I took shallow breaths and blew them out in short puffs, willing the contents of my stomach to stay right where they were. My stomach listened, and I saw the world through Megan Jacobs’s eyes.

The girl was alive, conscious, and scared to death. The scared part seemed like an appropriate enough response to being dragged through a mirror by Banan Ryce. As best I could tell, Banan hadn’t been keeping her company. That was good. What wasn’t so good was that she wasn’t in any place I could easily identify.

It was cold, damp, and almost completely dark. A single small candle in an iron holder was on the floor with her. The floor and walls felt like stone to me, probably subterranean, judging from the temperature, though whether it was natural or a man-made structure such as a cellar I had no way of knowing—and neither did Megan. She wasn’t tied up and could have gone exploring. I know I would have. She just huddled in a corner, shaking. The shaking I could deal with, but if she didn’t stop breathing like she was trying to outrun a demon from the lower hells, she was going to pass out and take me right along with her. She certainly had the right idea about Banan Ryce, but he wasn’t in the room with her now.

But that didn’t mean she was alone.

There was another girl with her. The meager light showed a slender figure, curled on her side. She was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see her face, but I could see her hair. She was a blonde. The slight rise and fall of her back told me she was breathing, so she was either asleep or unconscious.

Megan’s panicked breathing was making me light-headed. Though it might have been less from Megan, and more from what I was about to try. In the good old days of last week, when I was just a simple seeker for hire, I could use an object from a missing person to get an idea of the direction they’d been taken. A vague idea. That’s what I could do in my pre-Saghred professional life. Megan had been taken through a mirror. Mirrors didn’t leave a trail to follow; but since I had successfully linked with Megan, I should be able to pinpoint for Sedge Rinker exactly where those girls were—and better yet, where he could get his hands on Banan Ryce, if the smug bastard was nearby.

Maybe.

Knowing the mechanics of how something was done and actually doing it yourself were two entirely different things. Sometimes those things turned out to be merely unpleasant—sometimes they were lethal.

Ah, the joys of my chosen career.

I loosened my grip ever so slightly on the hairbrush, likewise loosening my direct link with Megan Jacobs. I maintained contact with the girl, although I was no longer inside her head. The impression of the girl remained, strong and clear. It was like keeping someone in your line of sight, but no longer touching them. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even. I was now back in the citadel, no longer where Megan was being held.

Step one successfully completed.

I felt myself start to smile and stopped it. Don’t get cocky, Raine.

I almost didn’t dare to breathe. As a seeker, I knew what to do now; I just didn’t know how far I could go. Logic and the strength of my contact with Megan Jacobs told me I should be able to go from the citadel directly to where Megan was being held.

Sometimes logic didn’t work. And sometimes it bit you in the ass.

I gripped the brush again, but resisted a direct link, instead focusing on direction. I’d just been with Megan; now I needed to know where she was.

The impression of the girl was like a scent. I followed it.

I felt myself leave the citadel and go out into the square where the stage had collapsed this morning. Men were working by torchlight to clear the last of the debris. I followed Megan’s scent into the twisting, cobbled mazes of Mid’s streets, through the college campus, and into the center city.

And lost her.

Not lost as in I lost the trail, but lost as if Megan Jacobs had suddenly ceased to exist. If the girl’s trail had been a lit candle, someone had just blown it out.

I gripped the brush harder. Still no Megan.

I backtracked and tried again. No dice.

Dammit.

Rami Pirin was the son of a bitch who’d taught me everything I knew about seeking. I called him a son of a bitch because his lessons had been unrelenting and most times downright mean. He was also the best seeker I’d ever known or heard of. He could have done what I was trying to do. With my new Saghred-powered magical mojo, I should have been able to do it easily. Rami had taught me that only three things could have caused what had just happened: Megan had been killed; I’d screwed up and lost the trail; or a powerful someone didn’t want me finding Megan and had done some fancy magical footwork to ensure I didn’t.

One, I would have known if Megan had been killed. Two, I knew I hadn’t lost the trail. That left option number three. Rami had always taken that particular option personally. Like teacher, like student. If that meant I had to find Megan and Banan Ryce the old-fashioned way, so be it.

“I’m just an old-fashioned girl,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

“What?”

It was Mychael’s voice.

I took my hands off the brush and completely broke contact. I slowly opened my eyes. Everything was a little swirly there for a moment, but I was still on the couch and still upright. I was safe, but those girls weren’t. And worse yet, someone packing mage-level power didn’t want them found.

“Where is she?” Mychael asked.

“Cut right to the chase, don’t you? I’m fine, by the way.”

“Good. Where is she?”

“Relatively small room, completely dark, stone walls and floor. She’s not tied up, but she’s too scared to do anything about it. She’s alive and unhurt—for now.” I paused and glowered. “And as best I can tell, she’s being held in the central city.”

Mychael glowered back. “Best you can tell?”

I resisted the urge to snap. “Yes, as best I can tell.” I told them both about the trail vanishing, and Rami’s three reasons why it could have happened.

“Do you know if Banan Ryce has that kind of power?” Mychael asked me.

“He’s been known to pack a punch, but he can’t do anything like that.”

Mychael was silent for a moment. “That’s a lot of trouble to go to for a getaway hostage.”

“Yeah, it is. But Megan Jacobs isn’t alone. There’s another girl being held with her.” I looked at Sedge Rinker. “Did you know that you have two kidnapped girls?”

Mychael looked sharply at the chief watcher.

The watcher clenched his jaw. “Megan Jacobs was the second victim,” he told Mychael. “The first was taken last night.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Mychael wanted to know.

“Her parents are here and want to keep it quiet.” It sounded like Rinker liked saying that as little as Mychael liked hearing it. “If it was a random kidnapping, they don’t want the abductors to know who she is. They also don’t think we’re working quickly enough, and have hired their own investigators.”

Mychael scowled. “Who’s the girl?”

“Ailia Aurillac.”

Mychael’s scowl deepened. “Her father is Gerald Aurillac,” he told me.

“The shipping magnate?” I certainly recognized that name. Phaelan had helped himself to several of Gerald Aurillac’s ships over the years. Rich takings, quality merchandise. No doubt Aurillac would be put out at the Conclave college losing his little girl. I thought I’d keep my family’s connection to the Aurillacs to myself. If Sedge Rinker didn’t know, I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. He had a good opinion of me; I thought I’d let him keep it a while longer.

“She’s petite and blond, right?” I asked.

“Yes,” Rinker said.

“That’s probably her then.” Even worse for local law enforcement—a missing heiress.

“When two of my men went to the Aurillacs’ yacht to inform her parents, Magus Silvanus was already there and had broken the news.”

Mychael didn’t swear, but his eyes sure did.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“Carnades Silvanus,” Mychael told me. “The senior mage on the Seat of Twelve.”

“How does he know the girl?”

“He’s her faculty advisor,” Rinker told me. “As soon as her dorm housemother discovered she was missing, she notified the magus and then the watch. The magus went directly to the girl’s parents.”

And stepped hard on some city watch toes when he did. Bet that hadn’t earned him any popularity points with Rinker’s people.

“What’s in it for him?” I asked. “Besides a brown nose?”

“A black eye for local law enforcement,” Mychael said. “Guardians included.”

I carefully wrapped the hairbrush. “Banan Ryce took Megan Jacobs. Since Ailia Aurillac is with her, I think it’s safe to say that Banan or his Nightshades are responsible for her as well. Where was Ailia taken from?”

“Her dorm room.”

So much for campus security.

“By any chance does she have a large mirror?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine a wealthy heiress who wouldn’t.

“She does,” Rinker said.

The girl I saw with Megan wasn’t dead, but she wasn’t moving, either. “Were there signs of violence found in the room?”

“None. But we did find a rag soaked with wiccbane.”

“Good,” I said.

That earned me an odd look from both men.

“I’d rather get wiccbane than clubbed over the head,” I told them. “Linking with her might make me woozy, but that’ll be it.”

“But you’ve already seen Miss Aurillac,” Mychael said.

“I saw her, but I didn’t see how she got there. Megan Jacobs is conscious and scared to death. The only thing I’m getting from her is light-headed. Ailia Aurillac is asleep or unconscious. That means a link with her just might let me see the last people she saw before the wiccbane got to her.”

Rinker’s dark eyes shone. “You can do that?”

I met his gaze. “I can do that.” Then I leaned forward with a conspirator’s smile. “And I’m betting you have something of hers in that bag.”

“I do. I was one of the first watchers on the scene. I found a gold locket on the floor of her room. The chain was broken.”

“Any blood on it?”

“A little.”

Bad for Ailia, good for me. That should make my link all the more powerful. I held out my hand. Rinker dropped the pouch into it.

I opened the bag and dumped its contents onto the couch beside me. I picked it up by the chain, careful to avoid for now the specks of blood on one section. I’d found through unpleasant experience that a chain conducted images a lot less than a pendant. I didn’t know why; it just did. I looked at Ailia’s pendant—gold, high quality, beautiful workmanship. The pendant was large enough to contain engraving inside or even a tiny painting. My money was on the latter. The Aurillacs could certainly afford a miniature portrait, or perhaps it was a gift from the girl’s fiancé.

“Is she engaged?” I asked Sedge.

“Not that I am aware of.”

Probably a gift from her parents then.

I hesitated a moment longer, then dropped the locket and chain into my hand and closed my fist around both.

I had been grabbed from behind before. I knew what to do. I had a couple of responses that had served me very well. Ailia had never been attacked. Panic was the only response she knew. I didn’t enjoy feeling it along with her. Panic, terror, frantic struggling against at least three attackers in the near darkness. She didn’t stand a chance and they knew it. They were laughing. She managed one muffled scream before they’d made sure she couldn’t. Two wore masks; one didn’t. I knew the one not wearing a mask. Ailia didn’t, but she saw him. That wasn’t good. Generally kidnappers who let you see them might be planning on collecting a ransom, but they weren’t planning on letting you go once they did.

The unmasked kidnapper was Banan Ryce. That made it even worse.

The last thing both Ailia and I saw was Ryce’s green eyes.

The next thing that blurred into focus was Mychael’s concerned blue eyes, which was a vast improvement.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I nodded, then shook my head to clear it. “Do you know if Banan still has those two mirror mages working for him?” I asked Mychael.

"He does. ”

“Looks like they’re earning their keep.”

Banan’s two mirror mages were identical twins, bound to each other by more than appearance. To take something or someone through a mirror took a pair of mages working in perfect unison—one at a receiving mirror, one at the origin mirror. Anything less and a mirror was just a mirror. Banan’s twins were good, the best I’d ever seen. One of the twins had probably been hiding in that courtyard this morning, keeping the getaway mirror warm and running for his boss. A lot of stolen goods—or two kidnapped girls—could be passed through two magically connected mirrors.

“Are Megan Jacobs’s parents wealthy?” I asked.

“They’re well off,” Rinker told me. “But not anywhere near the Aurillacs.”

“Banan Ryce could still be after a ransom,” I said. “But I doubt it. Even the Aurillacs would be small change for him. And Banan Ryce doesn’t take a job unless he’s paid a lot of gold up front with more on the way.” I paused uneasily. “He’s got some—shall we say—expensive tastes.”

Neither man asked me to elaborate and I was grateful. I still felt queasy enough from the link.

“I don’t care how good they are—Nightshades can’t completely go to ground,” Rinker said. “They have to eat, and eating means supplies. I know of a few houses where they’ve holed up in the past. I’ll have my men stake those out. Miss Benares, is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Hurry.”

“That’s a given.”

I indicated the brush and locket. “May I keep these for now? I’d like to use them again. Maybe next time I can catch Banan’s mage employer off guard and get some specifics for you.”

“Of course.” Rinker retrieved his cloak and headed for the door. “I’ll be in touch. Let me know if you find out anything else.”

I nodded and rubbed my temples. I had a hell of a headache coming on. No surprise there. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Headache?” Mychael asked.

I didn’t open my eyes. “Not yet, but I’ve got a doozy on the way.”

Mychael had walked Sedge to the door, but didn’t close it after him. “Vegard?” he called.

I opened my eyes.

“Sir?”

“Could you have the kitchen send up something for Raine?”

“Yes, sir.” Vegard glanced in and gave me an encouraging smile. I returned the favor as best I could. “You okay, ma’am?”

“I’ll get there. I’m not hungry,” I told both of them.

“You need to eat,” Mychael said.

“Is that your healer’s voice I hear?”

“It’s one of them.” He turned to Vegard. “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just food and make it fast.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mychael closed the door.

I leaned back on the couch, and let the quiet grow for a few moments. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d taken a pair of Nightshades?”

“We have yet to gain any useful information from them.”

“Useful information? Or any information you’re willing to share with me?”

Mychael didn’t answer. Sometimes silence said more than a whole mouthful of words.

I took a breath and let it out slowly. “That’s what I thought.”

Mychael’s eyes softened a little. “Raine, I’m telling you the truth. We haven’t learned anything from them. But if we do—”

“You still couldn’t tell me.”

He hesitated. “I’m under direct orders not to.” From his tone, he liked saying it as much as I liked hearing it.

I just looked at him. “Justinius. The old man doesn’t trust me as far as his bony arms could throw me.”

“He didn’t get to where he is, and stay there for as long as he has, by taking unnecessary risks,” Mychael told me.

“So telling me what’s going on would be both unnecessary and a risk.”

“In Justinius’s opinion, yes.”

“What about yours?”

“If I learn anything that tells me you’re in more danger than you already are, then I will share that information with you. I feel responsible for getting you into all of this, and I will protect you.”

“I know, because it’s your job.”

His eyes were on mine, steadfast and resolute. “It’s more than my job,” he said softly. “I think you know that.”

I did.

Mychael sat down next to me, and raised his palms toward me.

“I can help with that headache. May I?”

I hesitated only a second before nodding. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but I had a feeling I’d like it and my budding headache wouldn’t.

He placed his thumbs against my temples, his strong hands wrapping around my head, his fingertips a warm pressure against the base of my skull. His thumbs started doing wonderful, circular things to my temples and his fingertips were doing likewise to the back of my neck. Oh my. I dimly heard myself make a little sound of contentment. No headache could survive that tactile onslaught.

“How’s that?” Mychael’s voice was a bare whisper, a deep, rich, wonderful whisper. It was his spellsinger’s voice. I closed my eyes and let it work its magic.

“Good,” I murmured. “Perfect even.” I might end up in a puddle on the floor, but I was fine with that. Puddles couldn’t have headaches, or not be trusted, or worry about kidnapped girls, or connections to soul-sucking stones.

I took a breath and let it out on a sigh. “So what do you think Banan wants with—”

“Shhhhh. Relax.”

I smiled a little. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Apparently it’s not easy for you to do.” I heard the humor in his voice.

I opened my eyes. Mychael’s eyes were close to me— and so was the rest of him. I remembered what had happened last week at the goblin king’s masquerade ball when we were this close and my face was cradled in Mychael’s hands. My heart did a double thump at what we had done next.

“This isn’t relaxing,” I breathed.

Mychael’s blue eyes had darkened. “No, it’s not.” His voice was deeper, huskier.

I swallowed. “Relaxation’s way overrated.”

Mychael was close enough to kiss for the second time today. This morning we had Ronan Cayle and four Guardians watching us. No kiss then. No one was watching us now.

Mychael bent his head until his lips barely brushed mine. I felt the warmth of his breath and the rapid pulse of his wrists against my face. We stayed that way, breathing, barely touching. Then Mychael slowly moved his lips to my forehead, resting them there in a lingering kiss, a kiss that banished my headache, erased my tension, exiled my fatigue, and made my toes tingle. Spellsinger and healer. Nice combination.

“You’re a really good kisser,” I whispered, kind of dazed.

I felt Mychael’s lips curl into a smile. He gently tilted my face up to his.

“You should go to bed.” His voice was low and vibrant.

“Bed?” I was dazed, but I was liking it. Actually what I felt was a little tipsy. If this was what a master spellsinger could do to a girl, he could keep right on doing it.

“Bed,” he repeated, like he thought he wasn’t getting through to me. “You need to rest.”

I felt a giggle bubbling up. “Whose bed?”

Mychael blushed and lowered his hands from my face to my shoulders. Much to my disappointment, the tipsiness immediately started to go away.

“That would be your bed,” he told me.

I grinned crookedly at him. It might have been leftover tipsies, but I do believe I detected regret in that yummy voice.

Mychael took his hands off of my shoulders. “I’ll have Vegard bring your dinner to you there.”