The Witch's Consorts: The Complete Series, page 47
They’d realized I must have taken a consort—or consorts. But they hadn’t known who, at least not then. How much had they already figured out? They’d clearly determined that I’d only formed that bond recently. If my connection to the guys was severed in any way, including death, this early in our consorting, it would wreck me, mentally and magically.
The bigger question was how they’d known about any of that in the first place. What had the lead enforcer said in her accusation? Parties Conwyn and Hallowell.
Hallowell would be my father. They couldn’t know for sure that I’d orchestrated the spell that had made him attack his colleagues with a magic artefact—that spell should have disappeared as its effects wore off—but they must have guessed after getting to Derek. Derek Conwyn, my former fiancé, former consort-to-be. The guy who’d conspired with my stepmother, and through her my father, to trap me in a consorting ceremony that would have put him in control of my magic and made me a virtual slave.
It hadn’t occurred to me that the Assembly’s investigators might track Derek down. The spell I’d put on him to prevent him from sharing what he’d learned about me would still have been active. As soon as they’d detected it, they could have lifted it off him. And then he could have told them straight that he’d seen me casting magic, that I’d told him I’d taken at least two non-witching men as consorts.
Which had brought them straight back to me.
I lowered my head to my covered hands. For just a few hours, I’d thought I’d gotten everything in place. I’d thought the guys and I could live a somewhat normal life, free to be together, even if I had to keep my magic secret from the rest of witching society. Pretending my spark had died with my twenty-fifth birthday, unkindled by any witching man, wouldn’t have mattered to me one bit if we could have had more time like that last afternoon. Our little interlude in the house Seth had fixed up for us to share.
Now I’d be lucky if any of us made it out of this alive. The Assembly, or whatever part of it had been involved in enslaving other young witches like me, might want me living now, but who knew how long that would last? Maybe the investigators just wanted to question me to find out what else I’d done before they snuffed out my spark and my life.
A jitter ran through my body, emanating from the impressions I had of the five guys around me in the building. I straightened up and narrowed all my attention onto that sensation. An uneasy prickling ran down my back.
They were being magically prodded. Kyler and Damon, right now. The investigators would come to talk to the others soon, though. And they obviously didn’t care about any policies around magical coercion when it came to unsparked people.
My fingers twitched inside their imprisoning mitts, but I couldn’t move them enough to cast a spell. I took another deep breath and focused even more intently on those glints of life I held so dear.
There was already a magical connection between four of them and me, and all kinds of emotion if not literal magic between me and the fifth. I shouldn’t need much effort, much motion to send my magic to them as a little shield against the investigators’ influence.
I rolled my shoulders and shifted my head from side to side. The magic condensed around the flare of the brilliantly lit spark in my chest. At my mental push, some of that energy streamed in little threads toward the guys, latching on to them and filling them with a protective glow. It flowed quickly and smoothly to the four who were my consorts, through that tight bond between us. For Gabriel, I tipped my head again, a little extra push, a little extra energy. Maybe not as great an effect, but as much as I could give him.
No one was hurting my guys—not on my watch.
Philomena blinked into being on the bench beside me. Her appearing out of nowhere wasn’t much of a surprise, because she was imaginary. I’d had few enough witching friends that I’d gotten in the habit of picturing the main character from my favorite historical romance as a conversational partner, and after several years she tended to pop up without even asking.
Now she looked as worried as I felt, her usually smooth forehead furrowed and her hands clenched in the folds of her immense skirts. “This is a nasty jar you’ve found yourself in,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” I said. Phil knew all the best old-timey slang.
She peered at me, looking sad but fond at the same time. “It’s not really me you need, is it, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“You have them.” She nodded toward the door. “And you’ve got your imagination. You can bring them to you just as easily as you brought me.”
I could. Maybe the images I created wouldn’t really be my guys, but I knew them well enough to know what they’d say, what they’d do, didn’t I? Maybe having them here even that way would help center me so I could figure out what to do next.
Philomena waved goodbye and winked out of sight. I summoned up my guys in the room around me. They appeared as abruptly as Philomena had, exactly where it made the most sense for them to be. Seth sitting beside me, his strong arm hooked around mine. Jin at my other side, tracing patterns as if with paint on the back of my wrist. Damon stalking back and forth in the middle of the room, his dark blue eyes at full glower. Kyler bending over by the door to study the locking mechanism.
And Gabriel in the midst of them all, standing still and calm, his gaze fixed on me.
“What are we going to do about this mess, Sprout?” he said.
The childhood nickname brought a lump to my throat. Snuff my spark, I wished he and the rest of them really were here, not trapped apart from me in this prison.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’m going to figure out something. I got you all into it, so I have to get you out.”
“We’re standing by you because we wanted to,” Seth reminded me, his arm tightening around mine. “And there’s nowhere we’d rather be.”
“Actually, I can think of a whole lot of other places I’d like to be,” Damon muttered. He swiped a hand through his spiky hair and shot a softer glance my way. “But I don’t blame you for a second, angel. It’s these bastards who’ve been trying to control your life this whole time.”
Jin leaned in to kiss my cheek, his familiar tangy smoky scent drifting over me. “We’ve worked our way out of a lot of jams before this. And whatever happens, it’s been a wild ride. You know I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
Kyler shook his head, sending his tawny curls into disarray. “I can’t hack my way through this—yet. You’d better believe I’m working on it.”
He probably was, as well as he could, in his own cell. “I’m doing my best not to let them hurt you,” I said. “I’ll send all the magic I can. I—”
The voice in my head fell silent at the very real click of the lock disengaging. If I’d thought for even a second that my vision of Kyler had somehow managed to crack its code after all, that idea vanished along with the imagined guys a split-second later as the door swung open.
Three members of the Justice division walked in. The man who came to a stop directly in front of me I guessed was an investigator. The two women who flanked him wore the loose casual clothing of enforcers, designed to allow full freedom of movement if they needed to cast quickly. In other words, the exact opposite of my current bindings.
The woman at the investigator’s left had a blunt bob of mouse-brown hair. She stared at me with a hard glint in her eyes, and I was abruptly sure she was the lead enforcer who’d taken me in. What did she have to look so pissed off about? I’d never done anything to her.
By all that was lit and warm, I’d never done anything to anyone who hadn’t tried to do a hundred times worse to me first.
The jittering I’d sensed through my consort bonds shifted. I kept half my attention on the figures in front of me while adjusting the streams of my magic with an intake of breath. I couldn’t let myself be distracted from the protection I needed to provide.
“Miss Hallowell,” the investigator said. He didn’t invite me to stand up to face him, just kept standing there looking down at me. I had the feeling he liked that position of superiority. “Do you understand why you’re here?”
“I’ve been accused of unlawful magic,” I said. “I wasn’t given many of the details before your people carted me off here.”
His lips curled into a smirk at my tart tone. “You’d already proven yourself quite resourceful and stealthy, Miss Hallowell. We needed to take appropriate precautions. The list of charges is rather extensive. Not just unlawful magic but also unlawful consorting. I’m sure you were not unaware of the expected proceedings when it comes to taking a consort.”
“Self-defense,” I said. “Does that count for anything? I found out my consort-to-be and my parents were planning to pervert the consort bond so that I’d be in pain if I didn’t follow his commands. But I’m going to guess if you got assigned to my case, you already know about that and don’t care.”
His gaze didn’t even flicker. Oh, he knew, all right. He had to be part of the faction within the Assembly that had supported my father’s actions, had apparently arranged for similar consortings for other young witches. The idea of it turned my stomach. Kyler and I had uncovered conversations between my father and a high-ranking Assembly member named Charles Frankford, but there was no telling how many of the people in the governing body over witching kind were part of that plot.
“So much for ‘justice’ then,” I added. “Their unlawful magic doesn’t count? You’re supporting people who ignore their own sanctions. Who approved of witches being enslaved. I hope you’re really proud of yourself.”
I didn’t know if going on the attack was the smartest move ever, but I obviously wasn’t going to overcome these people with physical or magical force in my current condition. How much had the faction’s lower members even thought about the schemes they were helping enact?
“We’re going to focus on you for now,” the investigator said smoothly. Okay, he didn’t care what I thought of him. “To begin with, do you admit to using psychoactive magic on Derek Conwyn and your father?”
I couldn’t see how admitting to any details directly was going to help me. Did he really think it was going to be that easy? I sat in silence, staring back at him.
He folded his arms over his narrow chest. “Have you magically compelled anyone else, witching or otherwise?”
My lips didn’t budge. His eyes narrowed. Now I was getting a reaction.
“You understand that you can be compelled to give a response to these questions, do you not?” he said.
“Try me,” I said.
He gestured to the mousy-haired enforcer. I braced myself with a twist of my body on the bench. A fresh flare of my magic shot up through my body to shield my mind the same way I was protecting my guys.
The enforcer stepped into a complex form, her arms and hands swiveling so quickly I couldn’t follow the gestures. An instant later, a prickling of magic spread across my forehead. It dispelled against the barrier I’d constructed.
I might not be able to cast anything outside my body, but I could still work the magic inside myself as well as through the connections already in place.
The enforcer frowned and moved to try her coercive spell again. The investigator held up his hand.
“No point in wearing yourself out. We have time. It won’t be long before at least one of them breaks—or her magic depletes itself.” He smiled thinly at me. “Until we see each other again.”
He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, the enforcers right behind him. I sagged against the wall as the door thudded shut. But my gut was tied in knots.
He was right. My magic would deplete itself without my actual consorts next to me to help stoke my spark. And when I was out of energy, we’d be completely vulnerable to anything the enforcers threw at us.
Chapter Two
Gabriel
I almost would’ve been insulted that Rose’s “Assembly” had sent just one person to deal with me—and that the person in question was a woman so short and skinny you could have taken her for a fifth grader if it wasn’t for the lines starting to form at the corners of her eyes. Except I’d been around Rose and her witching kind for long enough to know that they didn’t need physical strength to be plenty threatening.
This witch made that very clear from the moment she sat down across from me, with a quick flip of her hand. All at once, a piercing sensation formed at the back of my skull. My tongue seemed to loosen. I gripped the edge of the bench so tightly the hard underside dug into my fingers, but I could tell I wouldn’t be able to withstand her magic.
I gritted my teeth, prepared to hold out as long as I possibly could, and a whisper of Rose’s energy washed over me. I’d have recognized her anywhere—even across a building, apparently. Her touch wrapped around my mind and deflected some of the pressure.
Only some. I couldn’t imagine how many battles she might be fighting at the same time, between protecting herself and whatever she needed to do for the other guys. I couldn’t ask for more help than she was already giving me.
That was okay. Self-control was a skill I had a lot of practice with. And I had my own ways of bolstering my resolve. I drew up my memories of Rose from the last few weeks like a shield. Rose’s smile and embrace when I’d turned up at Jin’s art gallery and found her waiting for me. Rose leaning into me as she admitted her fears. Rose’s mouth against mine, her body hot beneath me. The rush of awe that shot through me when I watched her work her magic.
And love. That intensely tender swelling of love that awoke behind my ribs every time I thought of her.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think that love could shield me from everything. But it made me even more ready to fight for it, for her.
The witch interrogator leaned forward in her chair, her eyes intent. She tapped her foot against the floor in an erratic rhythm that might have been strategic or just a personal tic. No other sound except that occasional patter penetrated the white walls of the little room they’d stuck me in. They had the air conditioning turned up too high. Goosebumps had popped up down my arms below the sleeves of my T-shirt.
“There’s no point in fighting,” the interrogator said. “We know at least some of you have completed the consorting ceremony with Miss Hallowell. Let me know whether you’re one of her consorts, and we’ll be done here.”
I didn’t believe that we’d really be done, not for a second. And especially not when she followed up the question with a flick of her fingers that sent another jolt of pain through my head. I winced in the second before Rose’s moderating influence closed around it, numbing the worst of the effect.
These weren’t the sort of people who simply had a little chat with you and then sent you on your way. No, they’d much more likely dump me lifeless in a ditch once they’d gotten what they wanted. They had done that to at least one other guy who’d hooked up with a witch, from the stories our brainiac Kyler had discovered.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I said.
She let out a huff of breath. “What has Miss Hallowell told you about witching society?”
“None of your business.”
“Which of your friends has taken the role of consort?”
“None of your—”
Another spear of pain cut off my words and my breath. My tongue slipped. “They all—”
The pain numbed just slightly. I clamped my mouth shut, watching the interrogator. She was frowning, so I guessed those two words hadn’t given her enough to draw any conclusions.
As she kept asking her questions, I kept repeating my standard line. “None of your business.” She asked about my job on Rose’s estate and how I’d known her and what my association with the other guys was, but mostly she kept coming back to the same subject: Who Rose’s consorts were. Whether I was one of them.
Apparently they couldn’t just tell. I kind of liked the idea that a bond like that was private between the ones who’d formed it, unless they chose to tell people about it. Even if I wasn’t one of the recipients of that bond. Yet. Possibly ever, if we didn’t make it out of here.
I gathered myself, trying to find more of my own inner calm to steady myself alongside what Rose was offering me. An echo of her voice, just a couple nights ago, swam up in my mind. Haven’t you always done everything you could to help me, to help everyone you care about? I want all of you, even the parts you’re scared of.
There were ways I could work this. Turn the conversation around. Find a point of entry. I knew how to talk to people. Maybe that could get me somewhere useful.
“It’s really important to you to put names on Rose’s consorts, huh?” I said. “Just for your records?”
“Something like that,” the interrogator said narrowly. Her shoulders had stiffened a little. She didn’t like me asking her questions.
“Does that have anything to do with our arrest?” I asked. “Can a consort be charged for the same crimes as a witch because he helped kindle her magic?”
“You don’t need to worry about facing those sorts of sanctions.” Her tone was not at all reassuring. “It will simply help us get a full picture of the situation.”
There was obviously more to it than that. What had Rose told us about consorting? Having an intimate partner was necessary for witches to maintain their magic, but if that was all these people were worried about, they could have killed us right now and cut her off permanently. What would it matter who was who? I didn’t for a second believe they cared about sparing any of us who weren’t that closely tied to her. We all knew too much.
But they didn’t want to hurt Rose. The woman who’d led the charge when we’d all been taken had mentioned that. Was that it? Rose had also said the consort bonds could be broken, but not during the first few years when they were fresh—not without major consequences. She’d only taken the other guys as consorts in the last month. How much would it hurt her if those bonds were severed now?
