Legacy of Flames- The Complete Trilogy, page 45
part #1 of Legacy of Flames Series
Wait. I knew that smell. Undead.
Could undead bypass mage wards? Apparently. But why come here? I guess someone had left a gap in their security. But it seemed careless, not to mention out of character.
I shoved the door, earning nothing but a bruised elbow. “I’m trying to save someone, you stupid security door. Stop that!” I yelped as I got another shock from the wards. “Kit, you okay?”
“No,” he moaned. “There’s a dead man here.”
“I gathered. I can’t get out the door without being zapped. Can’t you call the mages back?”
“I don’t know where they went.”
“There’s gotta be an emergency ward. I can’t reach anything in here.” Nor did I know whereabouts my friends were. “Can you check on the others?”
“Okay—” He stopped. “Someone’s coming. A mage. I have to go.”
Hurried footsteps rang down the corridor, followed by more crashes and then another flash of light. Not green, but purple. A mage ward. My heart raced in my chest, and I waited by the door, prepared to attack—
Someone paused outside my door. “What the hell is going on?” I yelled through the gap.
The mage jumped a foot in the air. From what I could see through the bars, he was younger than most mages I’d seen—a teenager. “That’s what I want to know,” he said, in an apparent attempt at authority. “You’re the dragon, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Did you see the zombie?”
“Zombie? That’s what tripped the wards?”
“Why do you think it smells like a dead troll in here?”
“Hang on. I’ll get someone.”
He fled. Great. Kit didn’t return either, so I assumed he must have hidden out of sight. Faerie glamour was good for that.
At least the dead can’t get in here, I told myself. And wards kept out worse threats. Though a lone undead might easily be the precursor to something worse. With the veil between this realm and the spirit world unstable since the faeries’ arrival, the dead sometimes rose of their own accord, but were effectively brainless. If one had walked in here with purpose, it meant someone was controlling it. A necromancer. No other supernaturals had the ability to control the dead. The necromancers were supposed to be in charge of getting rid of the ghosts swarming the Underground. It turns out building around old plague pits and burial grounds in a city with more dead people than living has unwanted side effects when the veil between life and death goes haywire. Apparently a rogue necromancer had decided to send their pet undead into the mages’ jail for some bizarre reason. It surely wasn’t to do with the hunters.
So why did I think I’d smelled them?
Five minutes later, Lord Smyth opened the door, wearing a harassed expression. “My apprentice tells me you saw the break-in. The wards caught something, but whatever it is, it isn’t human.”
“It’s undead. I’m pretty sure we all know what one of those buggers looks like.”
Lord Smyth glanced behind him. “Unfortunately, our security wards were a little too effective. Come with me, and don’t run. Keep an eye on her,” he added to the nervous-looking young man at his side. His apprentice, I guessed. With most of the mages gone, it’d be easy to take my chances and run, but I wanted an explanation.
At the intersection between this corridor and the one that led to the floor below, a bloody mess was splattered on the ground. Several gleaming wards on the floor and ceiling surrounded what had clearly once been person-shaped. The apprentice pressed a hand to his mouth and looked away.
“That’s what happens when you run into a security ward?” Now I wanted to throw up. Really good job I’d kept my dragon instincts under control. The trespasser had dissolved into a puddle of goo. Okay, he’d been dead already, but still.
“If you’re an intruder intending harm, yes,” said Lord Smyth.
“Someone must have been controlling it,” I said. “Undead wouldn’t wander in here by accident, right?”
“Are you positive the trespasser was dead?” he asked, turning his back and beckoning to his nauseated-looking apprentice to follow us.
I walked alongside him. “Yeah, he smelled like an undead. But I couldn’t see anything from my room except the flash when the wards went off. What was so urgent? Does it have to do with why you all left?”
“Perhaps.” He turned to his assistant. “Roger, go and tell the others to give me five minutes with Ember. I needed to talk to you anyway.”
“About Cori?”
“No, about your hunter friends.”
My heart sank. I’d deny they were my friends—well, Giselle wasn’t, but she was gone. Astor and I… Actually, I didn’t know what we were. Allies. Potentially boyfriend-and-girlfriend, or dragon-friend, if I ever figured out if what I felt for him was human desire or shifter instinct alone. Considering he’d been transported to an unknown location, figuring that out had never seemed further away.
Lord Smyth steered me back into my cell, but came in with me. After seeing the mess the wards had made of that zombie, I wasn’t anywhere near as keen to try to escape. Guess I had to get out the legal way.
“I don’t know where the Moonbeam sent them,” I said. “I told you. Is that what this is about?”
“No.” He paused. “The hunters are involved, but not in the way I expected. We found three hunters dead in the river today.”
“Dead?” I frowned. “What, from the battle?”
“More recent. The bodies from the battle were destroyed.”
Oh, yeah. The fire mages, as I’d recently found out, had the fun job of cremating anyone who died in the city, so their bodies didn’t rise as undead.
Wait a second.
I bit my tongue on my suspicion—I wanted to hear the rest of it. “So… how’d they die?”
“There were strange marks on their bodies. It’s very odd. They appear to have washed ashore from somewhere further up the river.”
“You mean claw marks? Did the gargoyles finally figure out the hunters were tricking them?”
“What? Not gargoyle kill marks, no.”
He’d probably be able to tell. The mages were involved in all the shifters’ business in the city. Except ours—until now.
“Have you seen the gargoyles recently?” I asked.
“No. They seem to have stopped patrolling the air. There’s nothing we can do about what they do on their own territories.”
“Even attacking us?”
“From what I gather, the attacks were provoked. Ember, I’d like you to be involved in this investigation. Given your history with the hunters, I think you could be an asset.”
Just like the mages had said to Cori. Rather me than her. “Okay, but… Cori. She did nothing wrong.”
“I’ll free her as I promised, but you have to choose whether to involve her in this or not. We haven’t forgotten the hunter, no matter how exemplary your behaviour has been.”
Damn. “Okay. What about my friends? They know as much about the hunters as I do, maybe more. And they’re more innocent than I am.”
“The group of you tend to create trouble wherever you go.”
I nearly said, you let Kit go, but remembered I wasn’t supposed to know. “I caused more trouble than they did. Cori and Kit didn’t do anything wrong.”
“The half-faerie has been set free, but has elected to stay here of his own accord. It’s impractical for us to arrange transport for him, so he’ll most likely have to move into one of the half-blood territories.”
Not bloody likely. Kit had shown no signs of wanting to run off and live with the other half-faeries. “He grew up with humans,” I said. “I don’t know what he wants. Anyway, Will and Becks never wanted to work with ex-hunters. We didn’t have much choice.”
His suspicious look didn’t waver, but he said, “Whatever the case, we require the help of someone who has been near to the hunters for this investigation. Would you be able to do that?”
“Yeah, sure.” I was curious, actually, about what had killed them. Though they were far from invincible, being pure humans with no supernatural talent, they tended to die in confrontations with shifters, not back-alley murders. “Were the bodies Elites or regular hunters?”
“They weren’t wearing masks, but they look the same otherwise.”
They did, because they were all non-supernatural humans—though the Elites had tattoos which gave them enhanced speed and strength like shifters had.
“All right,” I said. “I think I’ll have to get a closer look at the bodies. But I meant what I said—my friends have different areas of expertise. Will knows spells. Becks… she saw parts of the prison the rest of us didn’t.”
“It’s a stretch just persuading the others to involve you in the investigation, Ember,” said Lord Smyth. “Come with me.”
Outside the building, flanked by two mages, was Cori. “Hey, Ember. Ready to go and look at some dead bodies?” Her cheery tone disarmed me, though it was probably because we’d get to spend more time together. Not that the mages seemed keen on it.
Her two guards steered her towards a car before I had the chance to break away from Lord Smyth and hug her. Cori looked great, actually—maybe she’d lost a little weight since being stuck in a coma for a month, but her smile was practically radiant. It made me want to smile too, despite our gruesome task ahead.
The mages drove us to a red-brick building and parked outside. I assumed they’d swept into a regular police station and taken over, because the entryway was filled with uniformed officers who looked like they weren’t sure where to stand. With their long coats and sheer presence, mages seemed to take up twice as much space as normal people did. I’d thought there were fifteen mages or so in there, but it turned out to be only six. I kept close to Cori, wishing she didn’t have to be involved in a murder investigation, and wondering what to do if they decided to let her go and not me. She was a minor with no home. I guessed I’d count as her legal guardian, if such things mattered anymore. Kids and teenagers living rough had become a normal sight, but I didn’t want Cori to end up on the streets. Which meant I had to play nice with the mages, and give them the best chance possible to let me go, too. For Cori.
The bodies were laid out in a room at the back, to the clear displeasure of the regular law enforcement. As the Mage Lords were more or less the ruling class, they could disrupt murder investigation procedures as much as they liked—though admittedly, most supernatural murders went undiscovered these days, what with the chaos of the faeries’ arrival, the ongoing gargoyle clan wars, and the hunters attacking supernaturals.
Three bedraggled bodies lay on tables marked with mage wards. One body was surrounded by a spell circle, and a female mage spoke incantations over it—she must be part witch, and using a spell of some kind. She looked up as Lord Smyth led Cori and me over. She was a head shorter than Lord Smyth, with Asian features.
“The cause of death is uncertain,” she told him. “It’s possible they drowned, but there’s substantial evidence that they were dead when they hit the water. But there are no marks on the bodies. Aside from… the usual.” She spoke with distaste, indicating the visible tattoo lines on the man’s collarbone. I didn’t particularly want to get this close to a dead body, even a hunter, but Lord Smyth’s mages stood behind Cori and me, preventing us from moving away.
“It’s okay,” I whispered to her. “You don’t have to look.”
I’d had more than my fair share of experience of death, and I’d never mourn a member of the Orion League, but there was something pathetic about these sopping wet corpses. The witch-mage moved aside, chanting under her breath. There was a flash of light, and some of the marks on the man’s pale chest lit up like neon paint. I’d never seen a hunter’s tattoos up close before—even with Astor, I’d only seen fragments—so I didn’t know if the Elites had different markings or not. I did know that the tally marks on their collarbones meant targets killed. There were more markings on his chest, but all were covered up by a circular symbol of some kind. Like a witch circle or a mage mark, maybe.
“It’s reacting to the marks,” said the witch-mage. “That means the cause was supernatural.”
“What’s the deal with the glowing marks?” I asked. “You can see them, right?” They glowed green, but couldn’t be faerie marks, otherwise they’d be invisible to everyone without the Sight.
“Yes, I can,” said Lord Smyth. “These were ritualistic killings. There’s a necromancer involved.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Cori looked puzzled. “Since when did the necromancers care about the hunters?”
“Good question,” said Lord Smyth.
Yeah, especially since a necromancer apparently sent an undead to break into the mages’ jail. I held my tongue, unsure if he wanted word getting out amongst the others here. But the necromancers… in theory, they were as likely targets for the hunters as anyone, but I’d never heard of one falling victim to them before. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because necromancers were hard to tell apart from regular humans—their sole supernatural talent was raising and communicating with the dead. They also travelled in packs and wore long black coats much like the mages, which made the hunters less inclined to take shots at them. Other than that, I didn’t know. I’d never met one.
“Well, it’s good news for us if the necromancers have finally decided to take some responsibility for helping to clean up this city.” Lady Clare moved in alongside us. She was the mage who made me the wariest—her ability involved reading minds and affecting thoughts, though she didn’t use it all the time. She was a pale brunette who looked surprisingly ordinary for someone who could break your mind. That’s what made mages scarier than most other supernaturals.
“Perhaps we can call upon one of our contacts,” said Lord Smyth.
I looked at Cori again. They were so preoccupied with the dead hunters, we might have been able to sneak out if not for the number of witnesses. Why’d they need us here? We weren’t exactly detectives. I didn’t know what the markings meant. They might even have been placed there by the hunters themselves. Malkin had already proved he wasn’t above picking and choosing which forms of magic to use on himself, all the while denying he was anything more than fully human.
But ritual sacrifices? That was a tad more serious than most magical problems I’d seen from the hunters before. Okay, the giant beasts attacking people had been pretty damn serious, too, but rituals meant dark spirits and evil fae. They meant someone meddling with arcane forces no normal human could comprehend. Certainly, the hunters couldn’t.
“Can we go?” I finally asked. “My sister’s had enough of looking at dead bodies.”
“I can speak for myself,” said Cori, but in a teasing way. “But yeah, I don’t know how they died. Or why.”
“Nor me.” I scanned the bodies again. No obvious marks, except those symbols. A circle, with writing in the centre. I drew closer.
On each body, the circle had been broken by a shallow cut across the chest. Not deep enough to kill. But a chill raced down my back all the same. The text underneath glowed too brightly to read, but weird symbols and dead bodies didn’t go together well. At all.
“If they were sacrificed,” I said, “then was the necromancer on our side? Or…?”
Lord Smyth stepped back from the table. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
3
Cori and I were sent outside to await further instructions—flanked by two mages, of course. I couldn’t get the marks on those dead bodies out of my head. Was Malkin meddling in darker magic than he had before? Worse even than using the Moonbeam to control shifters?
The second we were alone together, I wrapped Cori in a hug so tight, she squeaked in protest. “Ember! Can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.” I loosened my hold a little. “You scared the crap out of me, Cori. I thought I’d lost you.”
“Like I’d let a bunch of bars get between us.”
“I meant before. The hunters. You’ve been on a wild ride across the city, Cori.”
“And I missed all the fun because I was asleep.” She wriggled out of my arms. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. I don’t think I’ve felt this good since before the invasion. That Moonbeam is something else.”
“Yeah, and it belongs to the mages now.” I glanced behind me at the two guards. “Becks and Will are still in jail, but the mages are thinking of letting them out. They must really need our help looking into the murders.”
“Because the victims were hunters?” She frowned. “I know, I don’t get it. They have all the necromancer contacts they need to confirm it. They don’t need us.”
“But we know the hunters. The mages have only met them in battle. They don’t know what we do.”
“They do now,” said Cori. “I told them everything. I wanted to help you get out.”
“Of course.” I hugged her again. “I get it. And the mages do need to know. But… I’m not entirely certain they understand Malkin. Also, we need to find the other dragons.” As to whether the mages would support that particular endeavour, I didn’t care. They had no idea what it was like to be hunted the way we were. Adrift, our memories uncertain. I didn’t want Lady Clare poking around in my head, but I couldn’t help wondering if abilities like hers would be able to find out who’d erased our pasts in the first place… and why. Where did the Moonbeam fit in? Why did it react specifically to dragon shifters?
Too many questions, not enough answers, and the dead hunters were pretty low down on my priority list. I needed my notebook back, at the very least. Because the idea of Malkin knowing more about our fellow dragons than we did was unacceptable.
