Cast Into Darkness (10 page)

As the pain slammed into her head, the Sanctum around her grew dim. Brian’s final word rang out. His spell went off, and a flash of pure white light blanketed the Sanctum. An electric shock buzzed her, as if she’d stuck her fingers in a light socket and gotten a charge big enough to light up the whole South Fork arcing through her body. Every nerve lit on fire.

The power rebuilding her paused.

Then it rushed into her in a torrent of energy that made its previous progress seem like the gentle touch of her mother’s hand. Every inch of her pounded with agony as the magic rocketed straight into every cell, then all the way out.

Beyond the pain, she heard Brian screaming. She had to help him. But she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think. All she could do was hurt. As the blackness rushed in to drag her down into blessed unconsciousness, a faint voice inside breathed a warning.

The stone wasn’t finished.

Kristof climbed the
rough stone steps leading up the steep cliff to his sister’s workroom. Melina didn’t like people dropping by while she worked—with her permanent teleport block extending for a thousand feet around the narrow crag, the staircase provided the only way in or out.

He’d left the skiff he’d rowed to her small island tied to the quay below. The lapping waves echoed against the walls of the inlet. Seagulls circled high above looking for an easy meal, their harsh cries as familiar to him as the sun glinting off the blue-green water.

He ignored them, focused, as always when visiting Melina, on the climb. The narrow steps carved into the stone face of the cliff gave him a toehold, but one false step could be fatal. The drop loomed at a sharp three hundred feet, and the jagged rocks jutting out from the water below looked seriously uninviting. He might have time to get off a shield spell before he hit—then again, he might not.

The jet lag that teleporting across five time zones imposed on his body made the climb even harder. His wrist, healed with a quick spell, still felt stiff. Luckily, the wind was only a warm breeze this evening.

He pulled himself up the handholds carved above the remaining steps and tugged on the short rope ladder leading to Melina’s workroom. Maintaining a solid grip, he hoisted himself up in three quick steps. He rolled the ladder up, securing it under the stone overhang.

The wind, stronger now, snapped at his cotton shorts and shirt and ruffled his wavy brown hair, inherited from his Delacroix mother. No need for a disguise spell at home. He could finally look like himself, not like Kris Stevens, Victor, or a gardener. Sharp, sculpted cheekbones framed eyes as blue as the Aegean Sea below him, his muscles coiled with deep-seated tension alien to a Normal like Stevens, and his olive skin shimmered with the heat of the Mediterranean sun.

He gazed out at the glittering waters, the sun setting to the west, and the peninsula of Greece itself, with the capital Athens spread out before him. Melina may have chosen this perch for its privacy, but the view from this part of his father’s domain never failed to impress. Small fishing boats and larger pleasure cruisers dotted the sea, reminding him that, no matter how isolated he felt up here, a short distance away the world teemed with life. Lives his father controlled, even if those who lived them had no idea Nicodemus Makris decided how they lived and died.

Someday, if one of his relatives didn’t kill him first, Kristof would be the one in control.

Melina opened the French doors of her cottage and leaned out, her brown hair falling in waves around her face. She wore one of those halter dresses she liked: a green one that made her skin seem to glow. The intricate silver-and-amber earrings and rings she wore were bound with spells so complex he wasn’t sure he could name them all.

“Well?” she said. “Did you get the stone? Your messages were so cryptic.”

“My plan ran into some complications.” He took his pack down from his back.

“Papa doesn’t have it, does he?”

“No. The Hamiltons do. Papa doesn’t know anything about the stone. Assuming your cloak spells can keep him from overhearing us.”

Melina smiled. “Of course, brother dear.” She walked outside and hugged him. He caught the aroma of mint and witch hazel on her skin. Beckoning him to follow, she led the way into her workroom.

In the front of the two-room cottage, a white sofa faced two overstuffed leather chairs. Kristof sank into one of them and soaked up the light from the sunset coming in the wide windows while Melina went to the old stove. The faint odors of chlorine and sulfur wafted toward him from the back half of the room, near the door to Melina’s Sanctum. Chemicals bubbled away on a set of burners behind Melina’s wooden desk, which was cluttered with scrolls, silver-and-amber artifacts, and bottles of herbs.

Melina turned on the stove. She pulled out a small metal pot and dumped water, two scoops of coffee, and one of sugar in it, then put the pot on the heat.

“So tell me what went wrong,” she said.

He briefed her on the mission. She didn’t need to know Brooke’s current whereabouts, but he told her everything else. Everything but one important detail on the stone.

The coffee came to a boil. Melina poured the steaming liquid into two small white cups, topping each with a serving of foam. She handed Kristof a cup and sat on the sofa opposite him, taking a drink of her beverage.

“So you’re saying you left the stone with the Hamilton girl when you could have taken it?”

Kristof took a sip of coffee, savoring the bittersweet tang, then another. His teleport lag eased. “Seemed like the best option at the time. If I had taken it, I would have blown the mission with Kate. Papa would have found out, and that would have led to him discovering that we had the stone.”

“Are you sure there wasn’t another reason?” Melina gave him a long look. “Do you have any idea what I went through to find that thing? How hard it was to make sure the information didn’t leak to Papa? Then Brian Hamilton comes along and steals the stone out from under me. I couldn’t track the bastard, he teleported across so many time zones. Couldn’t you have found a better way to deal with Papa’s suspicions than leaving the stone with Kate?”

“I did what the mission required. I always do.”

“Don’t get distracted. If Papa finds out you want to use the stone to overthrow him, being his heir won’t save you. He’ll make good on his threats to name Dmitri heir instead.”

He set his coffee down on the table, gritting his teeth. “I’m not worried about our cousin. Papa’s the problem. If he finds out we went after the stone on our own, then we’re both in trouble. And you’re the one who lost it to Brian. Being Papa’s favorite won’t save you.”

Kristof loved his sister, but there were times he wanted to shake some sense into her. Sure, he liked Kate. Being with her was a part of the mission. A really pleasant part of the mission. He liked the way she shivered when he kissed the back of her neck, the little sigh she gave when she turned over in her sleep, the raw, hungry look in her eyes when she moved under him.

But that wouldn’t stop him from taking the stone back.

“The stone’s in Hamilton’s estate house in the Hamptons. To get it, I’ll need some equipment. Something custom.” He described what functions he needed in a very specialized set of talismans—a weapon that would punch a hole in the Hamilton security grid from the inside long enough for him to teleport in, grab the stone, and teleport out. Something that wouldn’t trigger the grid.

“Embed the talismans in this.” He pulled out the keys he used as Kris Stevens and handed her the fob—a Florida conch shell, shiny bronze, about two inches long.

She turned it over once, then tossed it on the table, her lips trembling. “I can’t. You know I can’t. Papa will find out, and he’ll punish me. He’ll notice the missing gemstones, and—”

He got up and walked to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Lie to him. You’ll think of something.”

“I can’t. I just… I’m already way too deep in this. Papa will punish me if he finds out. I’m not the heir. I don’t have your protection—”

He leaned down. “Did I tell you what I saw inside the stone? It had layers of spells programmed into it. Not one, like a talisman, or two or three big spells, like an artifact. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of complex, layered spells.”

Her eyes widened. “You saw this?”

“Yes.” He gave her a detailed description of the stone—the green fire, the layered spells, how it responded to his casting.

“You said the stone was black, not white?”

He nodded.

“You didn’t touch it, did you?”

“No. Not with my bare hand.”

“Good. Because if it’s the type of artifact I think it is, then it was white before Kate handled it. I think when she touched it, she activated the stone.”

A knot twisted inside his stomach. “That’s bad?”

She looked up at him, her eyes serious. “Get it back. This is too powerful to leave in Hamilton hands for long.”

“You never explained what the hell this thing does, how we can use it to overthrow Papa.”

“Oh, believe me, if it’s the artifact you described, it has more than enough power to take out him, his bodyguards, and anyone else we want. And after Papa, well, there’s always the Hamiltons. You’ll need to cement your position as leader, after all.”

Her eyes had a dark glow inside as she contemplated the destruction she’d outlined with the careful precision of a Mongol general about to sack a city. Kristof felt a disquiet stir deep within him.

His gaze wandered to a photo on Melina’s desk—one of him, his sister, and their mother. It had been taken on his third birthday when they swam in the cool ocean of Mykonos, his sister holding him above the waves as his mother stood in the waist-high water next to them. He looked up at Melina, pure trust shining from his face.

She wasn’t telling him everything she knew about the stone. But how much did that matter, if it did what she said it would do?

“So you’ll make what I want?” Kristof asked.

She took the key fob from him. “It will take a few days.”

“Let me know when it’s done.”

Kate’s eyes opened.
Light filtered into her consciousness. So did pain.

She felt like she’d been thrown from her car and dragged behind it for a few miles. Every muscle in her body ached. Even her aches had aches. Each time she moved a sharp jolt of pain from her ribs made her want to stop.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to remember what had happened. That stupid stone had taken control of her, made her bring it inside the circle stones with Brian. He’d cast some kind of spell, the stone had done something, and then… Oh God, the pain. She’d heard Brian screaming, then she’d blacked out.

Her eyelids fluttered open again. She lay in her bed, the only light in the room shining from her bedside lamp. Someone had dressed her in an old, white cotton nightgown. Her alarm clock read
2:00 a.m.

“Kate? Oh my God, Kate? Are you awake?” Hayley sat next to her, shoulders slumped forward, eyes red.

“Wha…what happened?”

“Don’t try to talk. My dad healed you, but you’re still not, um, really better yet.” She sniffled and reached up to wipe her nose with a tissue.

Kate shifted, then winced.
If Grayson healed me, I’m glad I wasn’t awake when I was hurt.

Hayley put a hand on Kate’s shoulder, her fingers pressing in.

Why was Hayley crying?

“Where’s Brian? Is he okay?”

“I’m…supposed to let your dad talk to you.” Hayley’s eyes were wide and filled with tears that trembled on the brink of her eyelids. She sniffled again. “I’m not the one who should…”

Kate’s pulse picked up speed. “Not the one who should what?”

“Brian’s dead,” Hayley blurted out, tears spilling down her face. “He’s dead, and no one could save him.” She shot to her feet. “No one. Brian was gone…just gone.” She ran out the door, leaving it swinging open.

Hayley’s words rang through Kate like a lightning bolt. “No. He can’t be… There’s no way he’s—” Hayley was wrong. Brian wasn’t dead. There had to be some mistake. No way would her father let that happen.

Kate threw off the covers and slid out of bed. She had to find Brian. He must be here, probably right next door, messed up and in pain like her. She’d go to his room and see him lying on his bed, his head nestled among the striped pillows, and his face would light up when she walked in.

She flew out of her room and threw open the door to Brian’s.

His bedroom sat dark and cold and empty.

Like her heart.

Crumpling to the floor, the emptiness took up residence inside her, in the place where the brightness that was Brian used to live. Now there was only a crushing, anguished pain, a pain so overwhelming she wanted to scrape her nails down her face to have something else to feel.

She couldn’t imagine Brian being gone. Couldn’t think of living through the long years that stretched ahead—of finishing college, of acting, of having a real life—without sharing it all with him. What was the point? She had always been part of Brian and Kate, from the day they were born, him three minutes before her.

As the ache in her body rushed up to gray out her vision and pull the breath from her lungs, one last thought grabbed her and held on.

Brian’s death was her fault. All her fault.

The sound of
her bedroom door opening brought Kate awake. She turned over in her bed, onto her back, her body aches a little less noticeable now. She felt hot under the covers. Too hot.

How had she returned to her own bed? Did someone find her in Brian’s room and bring her here…

Oh God. She remembered everything. A sob rose up from deep inside.

Her father came in and shut the door behind him. She gulped down her tears.

The lines on his face looked deeper, more pronounced than they had been yesterday. He still had on the same suit he’d worn at the office, his tie hanging undone and forgotten around his neck.

“Hayley told me about Brian.” Kate’s voice was flat. “I don’t believe he’s dead. You wouldn’t have let him die. You would’ve saved him.”

Her father sat on her bed, his normally straight hair in disarray. He took her hand in his. “I did everything in my power. I love Brian. He’s my son. But I’m not a god.” His gaze slid down, off her face to the floor. “I couldn’t do anything. Neither could Grayson. By the time we got to the Sanctum, he was gone.”