Ruby Fever EPB, page 28
Your family is my family. My sister and brother both feel the same. You, Arabella, and Nevada are the only older sisters Matilda will ever have. You never have to worry that I would harm any of you.
Cornelius knew. He must’ve forgiven my grandfather. He must’ve forgiven us as a family. And Nevada had known as well. She had interrogated members of the Conspiracy once it fell apart. They would’ve identified Linus. Nevada hated Victoria Tremaine. Our grandmother had put her through hell, and her hatred was justified. My sister refused to allow Arthur anywhere near Victoria. And yet Nevada had forgiven Linus, kept his secret, and let him be a part of her life. Was it because his goal was justified or was it because she learned how close to the edge he had come trying to keep her alive? Perhaps it was both. I would have to ask her once this was all over. This was a quiet conversation we would need to have in private over a cup of tea with lots of calming candles burning.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she were the one who told Cornelius. Knowing her, she probably drove him to that meeting with Linus.
A big oddly shaped spider crossed my desk and stopped directly in front of me. Jadwiga and I stared at each other.
Slowly, carefully, I reached to the side, slid a drawer open, and pulled out a plastic container.
No sudden movements. I hummed softly, sending my magic out, and raised the container, holding it upside down.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word . . .”
Wait, what am I doing? She’s a spider.
An inch. Another.
“Momma’s gonna buy you a mocking bird . . .”
Jadwiga held still.
Maybe it’s working.
The shadow of the container fell on the queen of spiders.
Jadwiga bolted across the desk and skittered down onto the carpet, up the wall, and into an AC vent.
Damn it. I tossed the container back into the drawer.
The sound of panting made me raise my head. Rooster sat in the doorway of my office, her gaze fixed on a point above her head.
Ah. “My sister got under your skin.”
The empty air tore in random spots and melted into Konstantin in his sunny angel form. He was carrying Arthur’s rubber band machine gun.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” he said. “As the best illusion Prime in the world, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Please, come in.”
He entered, sat in my client chair, and put my nephew’s contraption onto the table. “This awkward weapon came for you by drone. I volunteered to deliver it.”
Nevada reminding me of my promise.
“Have you tested it?” I asked, nodding at the weapon.
He nodded. “Surprisingly it works.”
Rooster put her head on his thigh and looked at me. He petted her.
“Traitor,” I told her.
“It’s not her fault. Dogs like me.”
“How about spiders?”
He chuckled. “Not at all, I’m afraid.”
“Of course now that I know you have subverted your guard, I’ll need to replace her.”
“No need.” Konstantin scratched Rooster’s ear. “Arkan landed in Houston twenty minutes ago under an assumed identity. I would guess we have until dawn. He likes to be dramatic. Also, visibility is particularly poor before sunrise. Dusk would also work, but he doesn’t want to stumble around this massive house in the dark.”
It was all coming to an end.
“A penny for your thoughts?” he asked.
“I’ve realized I’m a talented amateur who has a long way to go and I’m dealing with that.”
“Ah. And here I thought you were brooding in here because Alessandro is talking to his mother. I stopped by for a few moments. It seemed very emotional.”
I smiled at him. “I quite liked my future mother-in-law.”
Rooster decided to lie down, and Konstantin put one leg over the other. “Oh? What is it you like about her?”
“She has excellent aim.”
He frowned.
We sat in silence for a few moments.
“Arkan will attack tomorrow,” Konstantin said. “Have you given any thought to what will come after?”
I had given all sorts of thoughts to what would come after, but my plate was rather full at the moment. “I don’t follow.”
Konstantin’s face shifted.
The golden angel was gone. The man remaining in his place was handsome but very much human. He was still blond, but his skin had lost the perfect golden tan. His features were refined, but harsh. A square jaw, an uncompromising mouth, clear focused eyes under thick blond eyebrows. A scar crossed his left cheek from the temple down to the chin, just missing the corner of his mouth. It was almost the same color as his face, so it had to be old, but whatever had made it must have cut deep.
Rooster let out a soft woof. He bent down and stroked her head, and she went quiet.
“I thought it would be best to have this conversation face-to-face.”
His voice matched the new him. Brisk, to the point, without his usual relaxed informality. He was showing me the real Konstantin and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be flattered or alarmed.
“May I see the wings?”
He showed me his. It was only fair.
I let my wings out. They opened above my shoulders, a beautiful shimmering green. I pushed with my magic, and jet-black rolled over them from my back to the feather tips, turning them bloodred for a split second.
Konstantin raised his eyebrows.
I let the black color in my feathers die and shook the green feathers slightly, keeping all of my magic to myself. “Can you continue with the conversation, or would you like me to put them away?”
“Does it drain you?”
“No. The effort is in keeping them contained.”
“In that, we’re similar. Like you, I generate an excess of magic. Maintaining a slight illusion burns some of it off.” He looked at my wings. “They are mesmerizing.”
That’s the idea. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You understand that Alessandro will die tomorrow?”
Anxiety pinched me. “You seem very certain of that.”
“Have you seen the recording of Alessandro’s father’s death?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Arkan’s magic was unique and terrible. When he unleashed it, he stopped time. It couldn’t be the true nature of his power, but that’s what it looked like. He had gone to the wedding of Marcello’s best friend to kill him, and when Alessandro’s father put himself between Arkan and his target, Arkan had immobilized the entire wedding party. Even their wounds didn’t bleed until the effect wore off. It wasn’t something one would forget.
Konstantin was looking directly at me. He had a magnetic gaze, difficult to meet, but once you did, it held you like a tractor beam.
“Arkan’s magic can’t be countered. Five seconds of pure freedom to do whatever the hell he wants while everyone else stands petrified. His range is twenty-five meters. He can effectively immobilize a chunk of any battlefield. His magic has no name. He’s one of a kind. None of his siblings inherited his power and neither did his son.”
“He has children?”
“Had. A boy. He died. He looked a bit like Xavier.”
“And you kept that fact to yourself.”
He nodded. “You might have hesitated to kill him. We needed Arkan enraged. It’s fortunate that Huracan lived up to his name.”
“You plot too much, Your Highness.”
“It’s an occupational hazard. Alessandro can nullify all the magic around him. In theory, a perfect counter to Arkan. But Alessandro requires a circle to do his ultimate trick, while Arkan does not, and Alessandro won’t use that circle tomorrow.”
Where was he going with this? “How do you know?”
“It’s omni-directional. His power cannot be aimed. He quashes all magic in an eight-hundred-meter radius, an equivalent of a magical EMP bomb.”
It was nine hundred meters, actually.
“Your family requires magic to fight, while Arkan’s people are trained killers even without their powers. If Sasha detonates his antimagic bomb tomorrow, you, your sisters, your cousins, your grandparents, all of you will become ordinary civilians, while Arkan will still have dozens of professional assassins at his disposal.”
He thought Alessandro’s power functioned like an environmental spell, affecting a certain area as long as you were in it. He was wrong. Alessandro’s blast affected people within the area, but not the environment itself.
“Arkan is an excellent killer,” Konstantin continued. “He was trained by the best in the Imperium. Sasha is a superb fighter, true, except he relies on his talent too much. He is younger and faster, but he alone won’t be enough if the rest of you lose your powers. No matter where Arkan will be on that battlefield tomorrow, Alessandro would hone in on him like a guided missile. Whatever plans you’ve made, they will all go out of the window once the two of them see each other.”
A few days ago I might have believed that was true. Even now doubt nagged at me. But Alessandro had made me a promise. Either I trusted the man I loved or there was no way for us to be together.
“You’re probably thinking of your mother and her sniper rifle right now. It won’t work.”
I wasn’t thinking that, but it wasn’t a bad suggestion.
“What I am about to share is a state secret. Technically I’m committing treason.” Konstantin gave me a narrow, humorless smile. “The petrification is Arkan’s active talent.”
Most mages had an active and a passive field. Active magical abilities required conscious effort, while passive powers were autonomic like breathing or sweating. My passive field evaluated strangers for threats and tried to make them like me on its own, which was why I had to constantly suppress it, while singing required a conscious effort and was therefore active. Konstantin’s passive field let him see through illusions, among other things, but to change shape he would need to exert himself.
“Are you telling me that Arkan generates a passive field?” I asked. Nobody had ever mentioned it. Not the Warden Network, not Alessandro’s spies.
“He does. It’s approximately one quarter of an inch deep. No object can penetrate the field without Arkan allowing it to do so. Neither a blade nor a bullet can hurt him. He exerts conscious effort to put on clothes and brush his hair in the morning. He can drop the field long enough to get drunk, although if you tried to pour alcohol down his throat against his will, it wouldn’t touch him. He has allowed himself to be cut on occasion, especially if he suspects he is being recorded and wants to protect his secret.”
Was this real or was he lying? I wished Nevada was in the room with us.
“How does he breathe?”
“The field rejects objects depending on their density and threat level. Gasses are unaffected, liquids are affected somewhat, and solid matter can’t penetrate at all.”
“Then a venenata attack, provided gas is used as a delivery system, would work.”
“Possibly,” he agreed. “Although we are not certain. As I said, it’s not density alone, it’s also the danger that’s a factor. He does get wet in the rain, but he has been repeatedly splashed with acid and it never burned him. Arkan doesn’t have a single poison mage in his inner circle. He employs them but keeps them at arm’s length. He prefers to prepare his own food with ingredients he gets from his own garden. He has a poison tester and travels with his own private shielder who guards his mind. The man is as unkillable as one can be.”
“What about a fulgurkinetic?” I asked.
“Funny you should mention that. That was how we attempted to eliminate him the second time. The field negated the lightning. It also negates flames and enerkinetic fire, we tried that.”
An icy tendril of frost crawled down my spine. “And Alessandro doesn’t know?”
“No.”
This was a game changer. The petrification power was the ultimate move, but it only lasted a few seconds and we counted on Arkan still being semi-vulnerable during it. We had a complex sequence planned including sniper shots, intersecting fields of fire, and poison delivery. That plan hinged on Alessandro not being within Arkan’s range when he stopped time.
None of that would work now.
“Although of course you will tell him the moment we’re done talking.” Konstantin sighed. “It will change nothing. Sasha is an optimist. Must be the Italian side of the family, because in Russia we view pessimism as an Olympic sport. We will kill Arkan tomorrow. Either your brother-in-law, your best friend, or your younger sister will injure him. Perhaps you can sing him to death. Make him slit his own throat. But none of you will be fast enough. Sasha will get to him first, and Arkan will end him. Which brings us back to my original question, what will you do after?”
What would I do once Alessandro died? “I don’t know.”
“Would you remain in the house where you and he were happy?” He glanced around. “This place holds so many memories for you, of making love, of planning a future, of laughing together, and every one of them will be tainted, because he will be gone. Will you stay here, hoping for an echo of that warmth or would it be too painful?”
“What are you trying to say?”
“If the hurt is too much, come to Russia with me.”
I had expected something like that but he still caught me off guard.
“I know it feels like a betrayal. After all, he’s still alive, talking and breathing. You can still hold him. But tomorrow, when all of that is over, you don’t have to face it alone. You can have a fresh start far away from all the things that happened before. No judgment, no guilt. A new life.”
“Is this a formal employment offer from the Imperium?”
“It’s an invitation from a prince of the blood to be his cherished guest,” he said.
“Aren’t the two synonymous?”
“Not necessarily.”
I sighed. “Konstantin, we both know that if I came with you, sooner or later someone would suggest that I should do a little favor for my hosts.”
“Nobody would ever suggest that. I would not permit it.”
He didn’t simply say it. He said it like he was ordering an ancient warrior to hold a bridge against an invading army. There was weight behind his words and complete assurance. There were very few places in the modern world a royal could say those words in that way and mean it.
“I would be lying if I said the Imperium wouldn’t want your talent. A mage of your caliber with your skill set would be a very desirable addition to the royal family’s arsenal. That’s not why I am extending this invitation.”
“Your Highness, I’m confused.” I’d managed to keep sarcasm out of the Highness somehow.
“I’ve watched a lot of Arkan’s surveillance video. There were days when I did nothing but stare at the screen for hours to gather the intelligence I required. Strange as it seemed, I began to look forward to it, because sometimes that surveillance was of you. I saw you in the Pit singing to a man-made god. I saw you go into prison to visit your grandmother and be sick after. I saw you walk your dog in the rain.”
I did not like where this was going. “It wasn’t me, Konstantin. It was an idea of me. You were in a terrible place, surrounded by enemies, pretending to be someone you are not, and having to constantly watch yourself, and you were staring at screens for days.”
He gave me a rueful smile. “This wasn’t the first time I’ve been away from home. I’ve run this kind of operation before, more than once, more than twenty times, yet I’ve never developed an interest in anyone. Everything I’ve said since we met, the ridiculous conversation with Sasha in the car I knew you would watch, the time you introduced the dogs to me, our chat in the kitchen, all of it was designed to find some flaw, some reason for me to walk away. Instead, here I am, wearing my real face.”
He knew we were watching him. Every moment had been calculated. Wow.
“I like the way you think. I like the way you smile. I notice how your face looks when the light from the kitchen window catches it while you chop vegetables on a cutting board. I look at you and I feel like a beggar, because I realize that half of my life something has been missing, and now I know exactly where it was all along. We are two of a kind. A matched pair.”
I wished with all my heart that this was another ploy like all the other games he played, but it wasn’t. He was completely sincere.
“I don’t expect to win against Sasha. You love him. But tomorrow he will be gone. This will become a house of painful memories, an unbearable place. The Wardens can expect nothing more of you. You would have more than fulfilled your duty. Either of your sisters can easily pick up the reins of your House. And they might be better suited for it because you will be drowning in grief. Your younger sister is a calculating pragmatist. With Nevada and your grandparents to guide her, she would have no problem steering the family forward.”
Strangely, he wasn’t wrong about Arabella.
“If you choose to give me a chance, the Baylors will become untouchable. They will be guaranteed Imperial citizenship and protection, and even if they choose to remain in the US, they will enjoy special status. Your cousins and Arabella will be welcome at the highest strata of society. They will never have to fight another feud, because the might of the Imperium will loom over their shoulders.”
He shrugged as if getting rid of a heavy weight.
“None of this will be the deciding factor, but there is one more thing I want to mention. When I told Alessandro that you are wasted on Texas, I meant it. Your stage is meant to be so much bigger, Catalina. Russia is vast and our interests are many. Some part of you must be tempted by the sheer scale of the playing field. You can test the limits and find out what you can really do.”
“Perhaps I want a simple life,” I told him.
His face blurred one more time. He was me. A little older, a little sharper, with a knowing look in my eyes. I wore a formal gown, deep green with a hint of gold. A golden tiara studded with emeralds rested on my hair. I looked beautiful, untouchable, and regal. That’s how he saw me.
