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Authors: Sonya Bateman

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BOOK: Master and Apprentice
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His clothing, what was left of it, hung in tatters. All his fingers were broken. He had at least three bullet holes in him, ruptured flesh crusted with black blood. Dribbling puncture wounds that looked like they’d been made with nails—or fangs—dotted his arms and legs. His chest and stomach had been flayed raw. I suspected his back looked the same.

“Ian,” I managed through the hitch in my throat. “Are you …”

His head winched up a few notches. His eyes opened, and his mouth followed.

I cast a lockdown at him before he could threaten me with gruesome murder at the top of his tortured lungs. This time I paid attention to the magic. It came up through my feet, where I made contact with the ground. I filed that away for future reference. “Sorry to do this, man,” I said. “But you have to listen, and we don’t have much time.” I gave him the CliffsNotes version of all the fun things his little soul bind had done to me, and watched the fury in his eyes change to shock. “Now, if I let you go, are you going to keep screaming at me? Never mind. Just stay quiet, all right?” I undid the lockdown before I even registered that I knew how.

Ian sagged forward. “Paralysis spell,” he gasped. “How …”

“Old dog, new trick. Long story.” I frowned. “You understand why I can’t kill you, right?”

He made a choked sound. “Cannot destroy your own tether.”

“Ding, ding. You win. So, right now our only option is getting the hell out of here. And we’re not going to kill anyone doing it.” I felt the rage rolling off him, and added, “We’re taking a hostage with us.”

“Never work.”

“Maybe not. But you’re in no shape to plan, and I don’t have any other ideas. So that’s what we’re doing. Now, do you want me to heal you or get you down first?”

He stared at me. Finally, he said, “Heal.”

I nodded and held a hand near his throat, looking for the bright red spot. Found nothing. I closed my eyes and made out a weak glow that was probably all the energy he had left.

When I honed in on it, his pain flooded me.

“Ah, shit,” I ground out. My legs went limp and tried to buckle. Every bit of me shook like a wet dog. I concentrated on the warmth rising up through me, felt it turn white hot. Sent it all toward the dim light at Ian’s throat.
Heal him. For fuck’s sake please …

The glow increased, blazed crimson. Through the pain clouding my head, I reminded myself that I had to pull the light through him. Like threading a needle. But there were so many holes to patch, I barely knew where to start. The indecision had me trying to direct it down and up at the same time.

It worked. The light split, branched, seeped into his body like ink spreading through water. Bones straightened and fused back together, muscle and skin rejoined. Three faint metallic clicks reached my ears—bullets being ejected from him and dropping on the ground.

The heat in me started to burn. I pulled out and dropped to one knee, panting, hoping I’d done enough. I didn’t feel drained the way I did when I ran out of djinn magic. It was more of a wrung-out, raw sensation, like someone had scrubbed my veins with Comet. Probably could’ve kept going if I could take the heat. “Get you down in a sec,” I said. “Gotta catch my breath.”

Chains clanked and popped. Ian dropped in front of me, landing on hands and knees.

“Or you can do it yourself,” I said. “You okay?”

“No.”

“All right. Stupid question. How about this, can you walk?”

He looked at me. “This is not possible. How could you have done that?”

Calvin taught me.
I caught myself before I said it out loud. No way he’d believe that right now, and it’d probably start him screaming and calling me a liar. “Tell you later.”

He crooked an eyebrow. “Old dog?”

“New tricks.” I stood and held out a hand. “Can we please blow this place?”

He let me help him up. “Your eyes.”

“Yeah. Thanks for the makeover. You coming?”

“I suppose I must.”

I would’ve felt better if he sounded pissed at me. Anything but this broken devastation. “There’s a mirror up there,” I said. “Hopefully, we’ll use that to get out. One guard on the stairs—he’s our hostage. Two in the building, if they’re done smoking. Don’t bother with invisibility. They laid a snare spell on the place.”

Ian shook his head. “Where have you been to know such things?” he whispered.

“In a cave. Let’s go.”

Now we’d just have to live long enough for me to explain everything else.

Chapter 25

I
an didn’t try to attack Kit when we reached the first landing. He didn’t even hurl so much as an insult. I wished I could take that as a good sign.

The kid twitched and groaned. He’d come around soon. Knowing what I had to do, and not liking it one damned bit, I got my gun out and laid my other hand on the wall to rearrange the earth again. Kit slumped sideways against the stairs and flinched into consciousness. His eyes flared wide when they found Ian.

I knelt and pushed the Sig against his throat. “I will if I have to,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t shake too much. “Understand? Blink if you do.”

He blinked. Sullen fury replaced his fear as his attention shifted to me. Like Vaelyn, they all probably thought I was weak. No threat. That was good. A nasty bruise darkened his chin where I’d clocked him. I thought about healing him, but decided to leave it. He might try to defend himself if I threw magic at him. If he had something I couldn’t counter, we were fucked.

“You’re coming upstairs with us. You’ll live if you don’t do anything stupid. Got it?”

Another blink. Slow, and somehow sarcastic. He didn’t believe me.

That was good too.

I hauled him up by the arm and moved the gun to his back. “Walk.”

Kit muttered something. A single word, muffled by the bandanna. It sounded like
asshole.
But he walked.

I stayed one stair behind and kept my grip on him. Ian followed without a word. This new docile attitude of his scared me more than anything else. I kept expecting him to snap, turn into a wolf and go for Kit’s throat, try to carry out the threats he’d made to me. But he just plodded along, silent and stiff. A motorized husk.

I stopped the kid on the second landing and took the gag off. “Where do these tunnels go?” I dug in with the gun, just in case he’d forgotten it was there.

Kit coughed and spit on the ground. Bright blood winked an accusation from the glob. He didn’t try to run, or scream for help. Smart kid. “Different places,” he rasped. “Whole nest of shit under here.”

Something Billy had said flashed through my mind, about doing a week of digging as a punishment. Christ, it wasn’t bad enough these bastards sent the kids out to fight their battles, to die for them. They used them for slave labor too.

“You ain’t gettin’ out of here,” Kit said, in that same flat tone Billy had used. “Nobody does. Think they won’t kill me to stop you?”

“Your friends up there won’t,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Now move.”

He stood still. A muscle worked along his jaw.

“Jesus!” I whirled him around, forced him to the stairs, and wrenched his mouth open before he could pop the suicide
cap. He fought hard, whipping from side to side like a snake. I planted a knee on his chest and shoved two fingers in his mouth.

He bit down. His teeth broke skin.

Somehow I managed not to scream. I snarled a lockdown spell and pried his teeth out of me. “Fine,” I said. “We’ll do it the hard way.” I probed until I found the hollow point in a back tooth, extracted the glass capsule, and threw it back down the stairs. I checked to make sure it was the only one, then released the spell. “That was stupid, kid. Didn’t I tell you not to do anything stupid?”

He stared at me, mouth hanging open like a loose tent flap. “What was that?” Ian half-whispered.

I glanced back. “Poison. He tried to kill himself.”

Ian turned an alarming shade of pale and backed away—almost the same reaction as Tory’s with the other one. I got the impression that the djinn had a thing about suicide, at least the deliberate kind. But Ian didn’t seem to have a problem with one-against-a-hundred kamikaze attacks that basically amounted to suicide. Or asking—make that demanding—a friend to do it for him.

Kit shivered under me. “The fuck you do that for? You ain’t supposed to save me. You’re the enemy.”

“A dead hostage wouldn’t do me any good.” I got him up and turned around before he could see the bluff written on my face like a banner. “You don’t walk, I’ll drag your ass.”

He hesitated. When he started moving again, it was with a lot more reluctance.

We reached the door at the top without further complications. “Okay,” I said. “We’re going out there, and Ian and I are using your mirror. Then we’ll be out of your hair and you can run off, sound the alarm, marshal the troops and
all that shit. I’m sure somebody around here can get the cuffs off you.”

Kit laughed. It was a low, desperate sound. “No, you ain’t.”

“What?”

“You ain’t gettin’ through that mirror. You think Father’s stupid? It’s spelled so only we can use it.” He jerked a little, but not enough to pull away. “There ain’t no leavin’ here, ’less you’re dead.”

“We’ll see about that.” Shit. There went phase two of the plan. I’d have to improvise. I kept the gun against him, reached around, and pushed the door open. “Showtime. Stage is yours, kid.”

Kit moved into the room. The other two must’ve come in, because the minute he stepped up, Billy said, “Damn, Kit, you’re just buckin’ for—
what the fuck’s goin’ on?

I pushed in behind him and made room for Ian. Billy already had a hand in his coat. “Uh-uh, Billy,” I said. “Hands up, unless you wanna take a shower in your buddy’s blood. You too Penny.”

They both complied, with identical expressions of shock. Billy kept his eyes on me. Penny, a pretty brunette of sixteen or seventeen with the mound of her belly clearly showing her condition, stared at Ian with quivering lips. “He’s gonna kill us,” she moaned. “He’s gonna
eat
us, Jesus, Billy, do something!”

“Quiet,” I said, noting with relief that the outside door was closed. We might have a few minutes. “Whatever they said about Ian, it probably isn’t true. Well, most of it. He’s not going to eat anybody.”

A soft thump behind me drew my attention. I glanced around. Ian leaned against the wall by the basement door, staring back at the girl. “Children,” he whispered. “They are all children.”

“Not all of them. There’s at least two generations here, maybe three.”

“Two. Penny’s havin’ the first number three.” Kit let loose another wild laugh. “So how you gettin’ out, genius?”

“I know how,” Billy said quietly.

“Billy, don’t!” Panic shrilled Penny’s voice to a high, breathless whisper. “You can’t help them. They’ll—”

“Hush up, Penny.” Billy hadn’t looked away from me. “I tell you, and you don’t hurt Penny. Neither of you. Deal?”

I nodded. “Deal.”

He flipped a hand back, indicating the table. “Trapdoor under there, goes to the crawl space under the building,” he said. “The snare don’t work there. I got a hollow spot dug out around the back. Lets me sneak a joint now and then.”

“Billy, you slime-dog,” Kit said. “You ain’t never told me that.”

“Well, you know now, don’tcha?” A sardonic smile stretched his lips. “Ain’t much to do ’round here except smoke, and train, and fuck. You prob’ly noticed we do that lots.”

Penny blushed at that and ducked her head.

I bit back a smile of my own. “How do I know you’re not sending us into a trap?”

Billy shrugged. “You don’t.”

I looked at Ian. He nodded once.

“All right. You keep your end, and we’ll keep ours. You first, Ian.”

“Wait.” Billy’s mouth thinned. “Before you go … mess me up like you done Kit. Maybe they think we tangled with you, they’ll let us off easier.”

A small sob escaped Penny, but she didn’t argue. The fact that she understood so quickly made things even worse.

“Okay.” The lump in my throat made it hard to talk. “Ian, can you—”

“I’d rather you done it,” Billy said. He tried to laugh, but fear colored his tone. “No offense to you, uh, Prince, but you might break somethin’ that can’t be fixed.”

Damn it. He did have a point. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.” It was hard to say. It’d be harder to carry out. “You come here and take this, Ian.” I wiggled the gun, still pointed at Kit. As cooperative as they seemed to be, I wasn’t going to take any chances.

Kit blanched when Ian approached him. He didn’t say a word, but he seemed to almost shrink, like he was a turtle trying to pull into his shell. Ian showed no expression as he took the Sig from me. But I thought I saw something soften in his eyes, just a little.

I walked over to Billy. “Let’s do this.”

“Yeah.” He shivered once. “Don’t look, Penny.”

She closed her eyes. I wished I could afford the same luxury.

The longer I waited, the worse it’d be for both of us. I drove a fist in his gut, doubled him over so he wouldn’t see the other blow coming for his face. My knuckles met the bridge of his nose with a dry snap. I pulled the punch at the last second, but it still dropped him to his knees.

“Mother
fucker,
” he gasped, and clapped a hand under his nose. Blood leaked from between his fingers, ran out over his mouth. He shook loose and spat a few times. His shoulders heaved. “Goddamn. Think you cracked a rib too.” He raised his head. “Thanks. I guess. Now get the fuck out.”

I nodded, backed up, and held out a hand toward Ian. He pushed the gun into it. “Go on,” I said to him. “I’m right behind you.”

Ian went to the table. He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t smile or frown or speak. He crawled under, found the trapdoor and opened it, slid through in silence.

Once he was out of sight, Kit turned to face me. “Take me with you,” he whispered.

My eyes bugged and tried to pop loose. “What?”

“You could still use a hostage. Take me.” His mouth twitched. “I can’t stand it here. Tell ’em you killed me.”

“Stop it, Kit,” Billy said hoarsely. “You know what happened last time you tried runnin’.”

BOOK: Master and Apprentice
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