Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

“Shall we all sit?” the Ripper says. He does as he suggests, settling behind the desk. He nods at the drones and they lead Nick, whose eyes look everywhere but at any of us, to a white leather sofa. They push him down to sitting, but he isn’t exactly resisting.

Lucas they let tumble heavily to the floor. He is bloody, filthy, and unconscious. His shirt hangs off. They have stripped him of his weapons.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” the Ripper says like I care. “The name is Eoin. I am only one of our little troupe, but I have been given the honor of working with you. I am known for my powers of persuasion.” He smiles like we’re closing a real estate deal. “I think we should take a minute, breathe as it were, and make sure that we are all understanding the situation clearly.”

“You’re going to kill us all?”

I wonder if Lucas is even alive. He looks terrible and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with remorse at the crappy way I’ve treated him these past few days since discovering who he really is. Freaking out isn’t going to help anyone. I need to go back to finding a plan. I concentrate on our bond, trying to feel him out, looking for signs of life. I catch a heartbeat and focus. It’s weak but steady.

“Tis always the way with the young ones. So impetuous, always rushing to the worst case scenario.”

I take an exaggerated look around the room. “You’ll have to forgive me for being dramatic.” I finish it with an eye roll because being a smart ass gives me courage. “I mean, I am bleeding,” I point out.

“Yes.” He flutters his fingers like he is dismissing my concerns. “That was impetuous on my part. The scent of your power is quite intoxicating. I’m afraid I wanted just a bit of it for myself.”

“Rude. So what do we do now? I assume you’ve gathered everyone here for a reason?”

Eoin folds his hands on the desk, squeezing his fingers together like he’d rather throttle me and get it over with than bargain with me. I guess he isn’t the one calling the shots.

“I think, Tristan, that a person of your obvious analytical skills would have gathered that I have every intention of torturing these two people until you give me what I want.”

“And that’s supposed to encourage me to join up with you? Like be partners? That’s not a very good incentive.” My heart is about ready to pound straight through my chest.

“As I may have mentioned, it is possible for us to simply take your power…”

“By draining my blood. Yeah, I got that,” I interrupt.

“But while that would certainly empower us most significantly, it would not provide us with the same never-ending source of new power that having you work with us would bring. As you mature and grow physically and emotionally, so too does your innate magical strength. That is the most desirable scenario of all. I believe that with a bit of persuasion, you will come to understand how that is in the best interest in all of us.”

I snort. “Does anyone ever actually take you up on this offer?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. “They do and our relationship has been very sweet indeed.”

I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but it sounds gross.

“And why wouldn’t I just want to work for myself?”

I say it to throw them off but it’s not entirely a lie. This whole time that they have been trying to fill me up with the advantages of working for them, I’ve been considering the virtues of working for myself. Why would I share my power? It’s a small thought, but it has been growing steadily ever since the aunts popped in. I’m no killer - well other than people trying to kill me - and I’m not power mad, but only an idiot wouldn’t see the advantages that my abilities offer. I mean, I seriously doubt the Rippers would go to all this trouble - the kidnappings and the killings and the magic spells - if I didn’t have something extremely valuable. It’s something I have every intention of looking into after we crush this guy, blow things up, and get out of here. It is not something I’m going to focus on right now in case Killer here can read my thoughts.

“Because as yet, you are an amateur and there is no one in your life who has any vested interest in changing that. Do you think your grandmother wants you to undo everything she has so carefully put in place? She has no desire to allow us to help you to become as powerful as you might be, preferring to think of you living a very quiet, very average life in which she will always have some say. And Miranda? Ah, the lovely Miranda. Do you really believe she wants you, her upstart little niece, to be more powerful than she? I have read their thoughts many times in the past few weeks, Tristan. Believe me when I tell you, they want nothing more than to have you return to your very boring, very predictable world.”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying - because he’s a liar and a killer and, generally, a completely untrustworthy asshole. So why do I find myself wondering if there isn’t at least a little bit of truth in what he’s saying?

“Tristan,” Nick croaks from the couch. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to get -” With the slightest of motions, Eoin zaps Nick in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He doubles over, writhing in the pain that twists his middle.

That snaps me back to reality.

“Leave him alone,” I order.

“Just as soon as we come to an agreement,” Eoin counters.

“Fine. I have an agreement for you: go to hell.”

The skin on his knuckles goes white as he squeezes his fingers together, no doubt trying not to just finish me off for good.

“I’m going to attribute your answer to your youth and inexperience and provide you with some time and, perhaps, a little bit of motivation.”

He nods to the drones and they snap into action, dragging Nick off the couch, wrestling Lucas to his feet and, finally, grabbing me up. I would be more than happy to destroy all of them, but I’m not sure I could do it fast enough to prevent Nick and Lucas from being killed. I decide to hold off and wait until we are alone to figure out my next move.

“Let me make myself absolutely clear, Tristan. This is your final opportunity to do things the pleasant way. After that, well, after that, we do things my way.”

The posse of drones surround us and drag us through the room, down the hallway, and into the freight elevator. We descend back to the basement where things have been cleaned up since our last visit and are shuffled into a room with a cage made of chain link fence.

It is easy enough to figure out that the enclosure is completely enchanted, glowing hot with the cool electric blue of a protection spell, but the red heat of something much more offensive.

Eoin strides into the room, careful to sidestep a puddle of something questionable on the cement floor.

“I’m going to leave the three of you alone in here. You are going to try to formulate a way out that doesn’t involve giving me what I want. Allow me to tell you what a complete and utter waste of energy that will be. I am not new at this, Tristan, and I do not fail. You will either agree to work with me, or I will take what I want from you. You know what that entails. What you may not understand, is that before I do so, I will drain every bit of blood from your two friends here, drop by drop, and ensure that you watch every excruciating moment.”

I would probably do a better job of making him think I’m not impressed if every inch of me wasn’t visibly trembling, but there are some things you just can’t control.

“So sit down,” he continues, “resist me, generate your futile plan. Most of all, resign yourself to knowing that your friends will die and the way to save them was in your hands all along.” He turns to the drones. “Take them.”

The drones, in their impassive but determined manner, grab the three of us and push us into the cage.

“And I don’t suggest you touch the sides of the enclosure - any of you. It will leave quite a nasty burn if you do.”

With that, Eoin spins on his heel and stomps away taking his posse with him.

The second they are out of sight, I crawl over to Lucas who is still not talking or moving. There is a large wound on his head that has left a dark, sticky spot that clumps his hair together.

“Is he OK?” Nick whispers. He wraps his arms around his middle, his teeth chattering. “Did they kill him? Tristan, I don’t know where Antonio is. They grabbed us both off the street. We were almost at the shop. I - do you think my family is OK? Oh God. Antonio…”

I shush him gently. “Antonio is fine,” more or less. “I saw him. He’s not hurt. I think they’re just holding on to him for now. And I passed the shop on my way here. Everything looked normal and I didn’t feel any danger. Just try to calm down, OK?”

I lift Lucas’ head and lay it on my lap, searching through the matted hair with my fingers. Finding the source of the blood, a giant gash on his skull, I etch the sigils of the healing spell and utter the accompanying words. The blood slows, then stops. He still doesn’t wake up.

“What was that supposed to do?” Nick asks.

“It was supposed to wake him up. It fixed the cut so there must be something else wrong.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Nick remarks.

“To be honest, neither did I until recently.” I glance over at him. “I’m sorry, Nick. There are a lot of things I should have told you lately but I got caught up in all,” I gesture around at the basement, “this. And now you’ve gotten dragged into it. I swear if I’d known -”

“You can apologize later. And believe me, you will owe me big. Time. But for now, just concentrate on what you have to do. I have no idea what that is, exactly, but I believe in you. You can do this.”

By this I assume he means save all of us. If only I felt as sure. I don’t even seem to be able to heal Lucas.

“Check and see if he’s hurt somewhere else,” Nick suggests.

I open the remnants of Lucas’ shirt, the parts that aren’t torn to pieces, and run my fingers lightly over his arms, his chest. It occurs to me that this would be a lot more fun if we weren’t trapped in an enchanted cage awaiting exsanguination. I tug his t-shirt out of his pants and peek at the skin on his abdomen. All fine.

Lucas coughs. “Can I help you with something?” he grumbles.

“You’re alive,” I shout, grabbing him by the shoulders.

He lets out an oof sound. “You thought I was dead so you were molesting me?”

“She was healing you,” Nick explains.

“You’re welcome,” I add.

Lucas slowly rolls up to sitting, groaning all the way. “Good as new,” he proclaims. “And what is this new predicament we are in?”

Nick crawls up beside us. “They dragged me and Antonio in off the street, beat the shit out of you, and now we’re waiting for them to kill us.”

Lucas looks between the two of us.

“That about sums it up,” I say. “Basically, they - excuse me, Eoin, because apparently monsters have names - gave me the same speech about the virtues of working for them and becoming my truly powerful self and saving both of you…”

“Yada yada yada,” Nick adds.

“I told him to shove it and he told me to think it over. When he comes back, he plans on killing you both while I watch. Once you’re both dead, I’m next. I’m not a fan of any of that.”

Lucas wipes a hand across his face. “Nor am I. Any indication as to how long we have before they’re back?”

“Long enough for you guys to come up with a shit plan,” Nick offers.

“He said he knows we’re going to work on a way out, fail, and then he will torture you both to death.”

“So, the usual,” Lucas observes.

“Any ideas?” I ask.

“I don’t suppose you would want to take them up on their offer?”

I frown at him. “Are you kidding? Be trapped to people who killed my best friend and my -” I stumble, “my Watcher,” I recover.

Nick rolls his eyes. “Whatever. And that sounds like a very bad plan. What makes you think they would let her do things her way if they worked together? She could end up as some kind of magic slave.” He’s talking very fast now, the nerves taking over. “Besides, she would be much better off working for herself. What could you be? Some kind of super witch?”

Lucas raises an eyebrow at me.

“He’s really freaked out,” I explain.

“Which means I talk non-stop. Please say you guys have a plan. Because my family really needs me at the store and things were just getting good with Antonio so dying isn’t really on the table right now.”

“No one is going to die,” Lucas assures him.

“You almost did.” I point it out not to be obnoxious, but because the few minutes where I couldn’t wake him up were terrifying. And what if Eoin is right and I can’t formulate a decent plan? What if he kills two of the most important people in my life right in front of me? I could never live with that.

Lucas takes my hand between both of his. “But I didn’t. And I won’t. Think clearly, Tristan. There is a way. There is always a way.”

I nod and wipe my hair out of my face. There is a way. There has to be a way. I scan the cage looking for a weak spot, but there is nothing. The wire links glow an even red. Somewhere beyond this room, a door opens and feet shuffle.

I exchange a look with Lucas, my heart pounding. The door slams.

“Not yet,” he says. “You need to clear your mind, Tristan.” He looks at me, holding my eyes with his like I need to pay attention. “You are part of a long line of powerful, ancient Seekers. Call on them. Maybe one of them will hear. Maybe someone will send you the answer we need.”

“You mean like praying?” I ask.

“In a manner of speaking. Your grimoire speaks to you and your ancestors speak through it. Perhaps they can provide the guidance we need.”

Maybe he has a point. I’ve been assuming it was the book talking to me when maybe it was really all those women who wrote down the words. Maybe we’re all connected to one another, generation after generation, through the magic in our blood.

I close my eyes and empty my mind, trying to push down the panic at thinking that Eoin and friends will be back any second. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on the magic, forget the present, forget where I am and what awaits.

The room falls away and I am in a dark space, even darker than the place with the cage. The walls are thick stone, damp and cold. It smells like mildew and damp earth and something else, something metallic, brass - no, copper. It smells like blood. I wrap my arms around myself and look but it is almost impossible to see anything.

Something shifts in the darkness and I pick up on a shuffling sound, a whispering. I squeeze my fingers together in fists.

“Who’s there?” I whisper.

A pale greenish glow illuminates the walls now and, as I watch, the stones shift and transform. What were once chunks of rough edged granite become human shapes. They peel themselves away from the wall one after the other until I am surrounded by black forms without detail.

“Who are you?” I say into the dark. “What do you want?”

A wind rushes past me, ruffling the curls that hang alongside my face. It swirls around me and I suddenly realize that this is no wind, but words. I can’t make out any individual words, though, just a general whoosh as the breeze flutters by.

“Again,” I try. “Please tell me what I need to know.”

“Tristan.” It comes to me on the wind.

“Please,” I beg. “I’m here and I’m in a real mess. Please tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

The air around me starts to stir, slow at first, then picking up speed. I concentrate, standing totally still so my own movements don’t create any noise. Something repeats my name. It rushes past my ear on the wind.

“Tristan, you have the power always within you,” the voices say. “The answer is in your blood. Harness that. Use it. Most of all magnify it.”

Magnify it. But how? How can I make my magic stronger than it is without joining forces with the Ripper?

“The Rippers,” the voice nearest me says. I turn in the direction of the words and a woman stands in front of me, the green glow lighting her face. Her hair, black like mine, curls around her face. Her eyes, no doubt as green as my own, glitter in the light she and the others seem to be generating.

“The Rippers use blood magic to enhance their powers. They are weak, but with the blood of others, they can be strong, nearly as strong as we. So too can you magnify your powers with the blood of others. But choose wisely, Sister. Take only the blood of those you can trust for you will be in a bind with them forever. Should they turn on you later, your only recourse will be to kill them.”

“Take their blood?” I ask. “All of it? And do what with it?”

“Mingle their blood with yours. Take only enough to ensure a mix of yours and theirs.” The words come to me without my seeing anyone speak them.

“Use the blade and no other lest you do harm. We will be with you, Sister.” The breeze whooshes around me again, less like a voice and more like the rustling of leaves.

“Do what must be done.”

“We will be with you when you need us.”

Nick’s arm is around my shoulder. “Tristan,” he whispers. “Tris, are you OK?”

I take a deep breath and open my eyes.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “But…I’m not sure...” The blade. How can I still have the blade after that little blackout with the Rippers? They must have taken it. I reach for my belt and feel the outline of the sheath, the handle sticking up.

“They can’t take it from you,” Lucas explains, “and they can’t use it against you. So? What now?”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “There wasn’t some kind of master plan, but instructions on how to become more powerful.” I look at both of them. “I’m afraid it isn’t pleasant.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, honey, but none of this is pleasant. I’m up for anything that will get us - and Antonio - out of here.”

Lucas nods. “I’m with him.”

Somewhere in the distance, a metal door slams. There are voices murmuring. Lots of them.

“And I think we should hurry,” he adds. The voices fade.

“I need your blood,” I announce.

Nick rolls back on his heels and his eyes go wide. “Like how much?”

“Enough as it takes,” Lucas answers. He takes off the rest of his shirt and bares his forearm to me. Scars of varying depths and lengths criss cross.

“Jesus,” Nick mutters looking at the wounds.

“Nick? I’m sorry but this is the only way.”

His breathing is rapid and shallow, but he begins neatly folding up the sleeve of his shirt. “Like I said, you really owe me.”

I smile at him. “Anything. I swear it.”

“We have to mix our blood,” I explain, pulling my sweatshirt over my head.

“That sounds super unsanitary,” Nick comments.

“Really? Look around you, Nicolas.”

I reach under the hem of my t-shirt and slide out the knife. Nick pulls in a sharp breath and lets out a string of curses.

“It’s very sharp,” Lucas remarks. “You’ll hardly feel it.”

Not helping.

Nick sits with his hand clamped down over his forearm. “I could really use a drink right now,” he observes.

“You and me both,” I agree.

“I, too, wouldn’t mind,” Lucas chimes in. I look at him, my super serious, straight edge Watcher and laugh.

“That I need to see. Also, we need to get going. Who first?”

“Get it over with,” Nick says, thrusting out his arm and closing his eyes.

I slice Gae Buidhe across his brown skin as lightly as possible, but enough to draw blood. A scarlet line rises to the surface.

Lucas offers his arm and I open it as well, careful to avoid some of his less healed wounds.

Finally, I take the blade and bring it down on my own arm. When the blood flows I hold it out between the two of theirs.

“Hold yours over mine,” I instruct. “Make sure your blood mixes with mine, both of you.”

“How much?” Nick asks.

“I’m not sure.”

“You’ll know,” Lucas assures me. “But make sure your blood doesn’t mix with ours.”

I want to ask why, but there isn’t time for that. I can already feel a disturbance in the energy around us. Something dark is coming, getting closer with each second.

“Hurry,” I say.

Nick’s arm shakes, but he does as he’s told, holding it above mine, but not touching. He angles it so that the blood pours in rapid drips onto my arm. I rub it in in quick strokes, wincing as my fingers run over the wound.

Lucas is up next. He holds his arm just an inch or so above mine and squeezes the edge of the cut with this other hand. The blood flows faster and pours into my arm.

I don’t know what I was expecting, a burst of fireworks or some superhero-like moment where I suddenly grow these massive muscles or burst out of my clothes or something. This is pretty lame by comparison. I don’t feel one bit more different than I did a minute ago.

“I don’t think it worked,” I whisper looking desperately at Lucas. “What did I do wrong?”

“Shh,” he says, laying a hand on my leg. “Give a second.”

I can hear the gate on the freight elevator open.

“I don’t think we have a minute.”

Lucas pulls his eyebrows together. “Why?”

“Didn’t you hear the elevator?”

He smiles which is totally not something I would have expected in this situation. “It worked.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your increased senses. I didn’t hear that and I’m trained to hear everything. Try disarming the cage.”

“Disarming?”

“Kill the power. Override it. Tell it you are in control.”

I slip the blade back into the sheath and push myself to my feet. The blood has already stopped, a scab forming. Facing the cage, I let my magic rise up and while normally that is a process that takes a minute or so, now it responds to my command instantaneously. Magic pulses through every vein, every artery, every cell of my body.

Lifting my hands toward the cage, I shoot a jolt of my own energy. The red glows, flickers, fades, goes out. I step up and grab the fence with both hands. Nothing.

“Excellent,” Lucas says. “Now turn it back on.”

“Turn it off. Turn it on. What the hell?”

“We don’t want to let on that anything has changed. Let him think we’ve worked up some weak escape plan, but do not allow him to see that you are stronger than you were. Taking them by surprise is of the utmost importance. You will need to wait until the very last minute and then, you must unleash your full power - no matter what the outcome.”

“No matter what - what outcome?”

I picture the building coming down, imploding, trapping everyone inside, trapping all of those people - Antonio included - in their cells, never knowing what hit them.

“I’ll let you know when to go,” Lucas says to Nick. “And then you go. You do not wait around to see what happens. You do not try to help. When the end comes, there will be nothing you can do to help, except maybe to get as far away from here as possible so that Tristan is not distracted worrying about you. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Nick answers.

“And can you do it?”

He looks at me and I know that Nick leaving me here without knowing the outcome will be pretty much impossible for him. My partner in crime. My best friend. Closer than a real brother could ever be.

“You have to, Nick. Your family needs you. Antonio needs you.” Antonio. I haven’t even told him about that yet. And I’m not going to, not now. I need to be sure Nick runs home to safety, not down into the cells and certain death.

He reaches out and pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “You can do this,” he whispers into my ear.

“See you on the other side,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.

Nick steps back. Lucas is behind us, watching.

“Let them think that your plan is to take them out when they get here. Hit them like you mean it but hold back on your full power. The new you has to come as a surprise. Wait until the last minute. We’ll wrestle with them a bit, let them think we’re putting up a decent fight, then, when they believe they have the upper hand and the time has come, give it all you have. Work your way through the drones - I will help with that - but do not truly focus on anything but taking out Eoin. You will know when the time has come. This is your destiny, Tristan. You were born for this, for taking out evil and bringing balance. I believe in you.”

“We believe in you,” Nick adds.

I grin at him. “But I owe you?”

“Oh yeah.”

Lucas clamps a hand down on Nick’s shoulder. “This is going to be ugly,” he says, “but with any luck, you’ll be back home before dinner and this will all be a bad memory.”

Metal clangs. The door scrapes across the concrete.

Lucas brushes his hair out his eyes and grins at me. “Here we go.”

Here we go indeed.