Soul of the Storm (The Wardbreaker Book 2) Page 15

  “We already tried a direct assault and it didn’t work.”

  “Sure, but last time we tried it, I didn’t have a Guardian.”

  Becket gestured down the hall. I started walking alongside him. “If we’re going to attempt another rescue, there’s one important thing you must learn first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Having a Guardian doesn’t give you superpowers. Now, sit down. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can save your friend.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “What’s that phrase about puppies and Christmas?” Becket asked.

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Pupples are forever, not only for Christmas?”

  “The same rule applies to Guardians. Now that you have one, you’re going to have to get used to certain changes that’ll soon take place in your life.”

  “I get it, everything’s gonna be different now.”

  “Yes, but not just for now—forever. Your Guardian will be with you throughout your entire life, and after you’ve died, when you’re truly alone in the dark, waiting for your soul to shuffle loose the mortal coil, your Guardian will be the only being present. It will be by your side, comforting you, keeping you from the terror of your impending death.”

  “Way to bring the mood down,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “I say this because it’s important for you to understand what has just happened to you. There is another entity coiled around your soul, a being that thinks, and needs, and wants, and will occasionally intrude in your thoughts.”

  I frowned at him. “Wait, so my Guardian can hear me think?”

  “Always. Your Guardian will know everything there is to know about you and the world immediately around you. It sees through your eyes, smells through your nose. It will pick details up that you will miss, it will remember things you thought you’ve forgotten. There are two good reasons why mages are so obsessed with discovering new things—it’s because we never miss a detail, and because we never forget anything either.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about my thoughts not being my own anymore.”

  “Get used to it,” came Ifrit’s voice from somewhere inside the back of my head. It was very much like a thought, as if I’d remembered something it had said, only it wasn’t. Ifrit had said that. That little fire Godling was sitting behind my eyes, listening, watching, observing everything that was going on around us both—and he was commenting on it, too.

  “Living with a Guardian is a boon, trust me,” Becket said, “You’ll come to learn that soon enough.”

  I stared at Becket’s desk, because I didn’t want to look him square in the eyes when I told him what I had to say next. “My magic is stronger,” I said.

  “Your Guardian is a direct bridge to the Tempest. Before now, you had to force the magic through the barrier between worlds. Now, it comes to you freely.”

  “That’s how I was able to…”

  “Kill the crow… I know.”

  I turned my eyes up at him again. “How do you know? You said your demon was injured, or something?”

  Becket paused. “Do you want to know what I traded away a piece of my soul for?”

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly feeling strangely dry. “I do…”

  “I wanted to be able to look at a person and know their sins. I can see your sin, now. It weighs on you.”

  “Sins? Like, secrets?”

  He shook his head. “No, not like secrets. I wanted to be able to go deeper than that, to see the stains on their own souls just as they would be able to see mine.”

  “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Forging the pact with that demon was my choice to make, yes, but the alternative was death. I was dying. It promised it could save me, all I needed to do was forge a pact with it, and it would not only grant me a second chance at life, but it would also offer me a gift. I asked for the gift of insight in exchange for our dark union.”

  “Wouldn’t death be easier than living knowing you’d done something bad to your soul?”

  “Sometimes, yes. I know you’re only asking because you’ve just been joined with your Guardian, and that means you’ve come face to face with just how incomplete you were until you found the other half of your soul. I remember that feeling very well. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always allow us to make choices between right and wrong, good and bad. Sometimes we must choose between bad, worse, and unthinkable.”

  “What did your Guardian say… after, I mean?”

  “My Guardian gave me its blessing. Had I not chosen to live, then perhaps others—innocents—would have died. It is easy to look at someone like me and believe that by forging a pact with a demon I have somehow tainted my immortal soul, and that of my Guardian’s. But the truth is, a Guardian’s soul is the purest thing that exists. It cannot be corrupted, it cannot be tainted… so long as it is attached to a mage, at least. The taint is mine, and mine alone. When I die, my Guardian will remove itself from me, but it will remain pure and whole. The demon I have forged a pact with will be able to feast on what’s left of my broken soul, but no more.”

  I angled my head to the side. “Doesn’t that scare you?”

  “There are very few things that scare Demonologists, Isabella. Demons and dying are not on that list. But I don’t want to keep talking about me—instead, I’d like to talk about you. I’m sure you have questions, and it’s important that you ask them if we are to have any chance of breaking the ward around the scroll.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Ifrit said, “I couldn’t be sure unless we look at it again.”

  Becket’s eyes narrowed. “It spoke to you, didn’t it?” he asked.

  “It did,” I said.

  “What’s its name?”

  I was about to answer, but I didn’t. Instead, I cocked an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  Becket grinned. “Good. Since Guardians aren’t demons there’s nothing I could do with its name, but I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be so quick to give it up, in any case.”

  “You can’t see it, can you?”

  He shook his head. “They live inside us, and that means they aren’t visible to other mages unless they choose to show themselves to them. Tempests also have the ability to manifest their Guardians in a physical form, but we don’t.”

  “It said I needed to see the scroll first, then it could tell me whether I could break the ward or not.”

  “It is getting pretty tired of being called it,” Ifrit said.

  “Fine, he,” I corrected. “Why do I always feel like I’m talking to myself when I’m talking to my Guardian?”

  “Because you are, or at least you think you are. If you were to speak to your Guardian right now, I wouldn’t know. The likelihood is the conversation would take place in your head; you’d only think you were talking aloud. It’s why you’ve never heard me or any of your friends talking to our Guardians.”

  Becket reached into the drawer under his mahogany desk and pulled the little box we’d swiped from the Magister’s vault out. He placed it on the table and unclasped the lock keeping the box sealed, but I stopped him just before he opened it.

  “No,” I said.

  He frowned. “No? Why?”

  “Because I know what’s gonna happen next. I’m gonna look at this scroll thing, and I’m gonna know whether I can break the ward or not. If I can, you’re gonna pressure me until I do, and we’re gonna forget all about Karim until this thing is done—no matter how long it takes. If I can’t open it, then we’re back to square one, and all this has been for nothing.”

  “I take offense to the suggestion that I’d pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do. I will accept, however, that my excitement to unfurl the scroll’s secrets would take hold of me, and that would force me to make questionable decisions.”

  “You can’t open that box. We can’t know whether I can do this or not, not until Karim is free.”

  “But, don’t you want to f
ind out whether you can or you can’t? Isn’t that question burning in your chest?”

  “Like reflux, yes. But none of this works without Karim. We need him back, and until I get him, that thing may as well be Schrodinger’s scroll.”

  Another grin swept across Becket’s lips. “Schrodinger’s scroll,” he repeated.

  “What? Stripper can’t know science stuff?”

  “No, I’m just surprised you used the reference, that’s all. So, until we find Karim, we are to work under the assumption that you both can and can’t unlock the secrets of the scroll.”

  “That’s right, and I want us to get Karim tonight.”

  Becket fastened the clasp on the box and placed the box back into his drawer. He then leaned into his leather chair and ran his fingers across his chin. “And, how do you suggest we do that?”

  I shrugged. “Hell if I know. There has to be a way for us to learn Karim’s location, though, right? Someone has to know of a spell we can use.”

  “I suppose I could send a demon to Asmodius’ residence and have it do a little recon for us.”

  “Awesome, let’s do that—”

  Becket put a finger up. “—but, that’s a tricky proposition. If the demon is caught, Asmodius will know to prepare for an attack.”

  “I killed one of his lieutenants. If we don’t attack him, I’m pretty sure he’ll attack us.”

  “Better, then, to defend our already fortified position than throw our bodies to the angry wolf, wouldn’t you say?”

  I stood up. “You know what? I’ve just learned the difference between us.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “You’re the kind of person who’d rather sit in their tower and watch things happen than get his hands dirty. This is a game to you. A chessboard, and we’re all pieces playing a very specific role.”

  “If this were chess, then you would be the Queen. If you understood the rules of the game, then you’d know that in order to win the game, you have to kill the opponent’s Queen, or at least make it so there’s nowhere she could run. Delivering you to him is exactly what he wants.”

  I remembered the feel of Asmodius’ hand on my wrist, his breath against my neck, his cheek on my cheek, and a shudder ran through my spine. “He had me tonight,” I said, “He could’ve sprung a trap on me if he’d wanted to and stopped me before I made it five steps out of the Athenaeum. Instead, he let me go. I don’t think I’m the Queen he wants anymore.”

  Becket paused. “The devil is an accomplished liar,” Becket said, “Don’t believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Part of me couldn’t believe we were back at Asmodius’ mansion. The other part of me—the part of me RJ had thrown magic at to keep me awake and alert—wanted to get Karim back by any means, even if it meant storming the gates this time. Subtlety was no longer on any of our minds as we made our way to the mob boss’ stronghold. We each knew what we were getting into, what we would be facing head on, and we’d each agreed the best thing to do was to tear the walls down and get our friend back by any means.

  I could see the manor’s lights from where I stood, a short stretch of road showing us the way to where—I hoped—we would find Karim. Already my heart was racing, thundering inside of my chest like a prisoner desperate to taste freedom. The drums of war, I thought, distantly.

  RJ came up beside me, on my right. To my left were Danvers and Axel. All three of them looked equally ready to do what we’d come here to do. And then another body joined the fray. Ifrit made itself known to me, a small spark on my right shoulder turning into a flame the size of a baseball. A flame with a face.

  “You’re meant to know what I can and can’t do, right?” I asked Ifrit.

  “I know exactly what you can and can’t do,” Ifrit said.

  “Can I do this? Can I save my friend?”

  The little fire Godling turned to look at me. “Yes, you absolutely can.”

  “And can I save him without losing anyone else?”

  Ifrit paused. “That’s up to them.”

  I took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply. “Alright,” I said, “Axel, you know this place better than anyone else… any idea where they might be keeping Karim?”

  “If you’re asking whether my house has a dungeon,” he said, “No, it doesn’t. But it does have a basement where prisoners are kept under armed guard—most likely in a room charmed by a Tempest to prevent the use of magic. His living conditions will be spartan, at best.”

  “Although, knowing him, he’s probably made enough friends that they’re serving him tea and biscuits every couple of hours,” Danvers said. She turned to look at Axel. “Also, a seedy basement prison is basically the definition of a modern-day dungeon. Thinking about it, Karim would probably feel quite at home, there.”

  “Not unless he’s being tortured.”

  “And we know Karim isn’t being tortured?”

  “Guys,” I said, cutting through the banter. “I really don’t want that visual in my head.”

  “Really?” RJ asked, “Because it’s pumped me the fuck up for this. Let’s go get our boy.”

  I nodded. “We go in hard, and we go in fast.”

  Danvers chuckled. “That’s what he said.”

  “Could we concentrate a little?” I asked, a scolding tone to my voice, “Please?”

  “Yes, of course,” Danvers said, pretending like she was zipping her mouth shut. “Sorry…”

  I rolled my eyes. “See? Now you’ve taken the steam out of the whole—”

  RJ made his move, sprinting down the path like a freight train. “Shit!” I called out, starting my run, “Wait for us, RJ!”

  “You snooze, you lose!” he yelled, “More party for me!”

  RJ leapt over the gate as soon as he reached it, clearing it with ease and instantly taking the shape of an overly large raven with massive, black wings and wicked looking claws. He cawed as he took to the sky. A moment later, a guard stepped out of a booth behind the gate, pulled out an assault rifle, and started taking shots into the air—completely ignoring the rest of us.

  I arrived at the front gate with the full power of the Tempest behind me. Thrusting my hands forward, I sent a wave of telekinetic energy slamming into the gate, the guard, and the booth the guard had come out of. The gate ripped open, the booth’s windows smashed, and the guard flew ten feet into the air before finally hitting the ground and rolling to a halt.

  “Holy shit!” Danvers said, speeding through the busted gate. “That was awesome!”

  I followed her, Axel trailing after us. Already the grounds were coming alive with movement, guards spilling out from dark corners with guns and tactical armor ready to take us all out. A group of three crested a small hill, took up firing positions, and prepared to open fire. Axel flung a bolt of magic at one of them, making him turn his gun on the other two. In the confusion, Danvers and I hit the other two with stunning spells, making them both tumble to the ground.

  High above, RJ continued to caw, drawing attention—and some gunfire—from the ground and from the snipers on the roof. He was too hard a target for the guards with the assault rifles, but those snipers were probably wearing equipment to help them track even his dark, winged form.

  Scanning the parapets at the top of the manor only for a second or two, I was able to spot at least one sniper lining up his shot. I wound back my arm, charging a lightning bolt up in my fingertips. When I released it, the night sky itself lit up and thunder roared. The lightning took a bite out of the stone wall, sending an explosion of stone in all directions. It also struck the sniper, who violently convulsed before falling out of view.

  RJ then descended on the roof, his talons extended, changing shape to become a beastly lion an instant before landing.

  Out on the courtyard, Axel and Danvers were making short work of the guards trying to block our advance toward the mansion’s main doors. Asmodius was inside. I could feel it. The last time we’d been here he’d
been away from his home, and his absence had left a kind of vacuum. That vacuum wasn’t there anymore. In its place was a presence that wanted to be felt. A warning of what was to come.

  The mansion’s doors opened before we reached them, light from inside spilling out onto the driveway in front of them. Four more guards hurried through, their bodies clad in armor, their guns raised; and behind them, Greaves. He towered above them, his muscular form dwarfing the men around him, and he was armed, too.

  “That’s far enough!” he yelled, leveling his rifle at us.

  I stopped, sticking my hands out to make Axel and Danvers stop, too. “Get out of our way,” I said, “We’re here for our friend. Give him up, and nobody else gets hurt.”

  “Tell that to your lion on the roof.”

  “He’s a little overexcited, but I can get him to stop. All you have to do is give us our friend, and we’ll be on our way.”

  “There’s only one thing I have to do, and that’s keep you sorry sons-of-bitches from entering this mansion.”

  “Are you really willing to die for your employer? I know I wouldn’t.”

  “That’s because you don’t understand loyalty.” He turned his eyes on Axel. “How could you do this to your family? To your father?”

  “That man stopped being my father the day he tried to erase my mother’s memory from existence,” Axel said.

  Greaves’ eyes hardened. “Open fire!” he screamed, and then all five of the assault rifles pointing at us started spitting hot chunks of brass at us.

  Muzzles flashed, the bullets speeding out of them at incredible speeds, but magic was faster, and I’d been ready. With little more than a thought, I willed up a barrier of invisible energy that caught each of the bullets as they sped toward us in midair. I watched the bullets slow to a crawl, then to an eventual halt.

  Still full of the energy pushing them toward their targets, the bullets squirmed in the air like tiny worms. When the guards had emptied their magazines, they watched on, astonished that none of their bullets were finding their marks. I let my eyes fix on the guards, the bullets falling out of focus for a moment.