Retribution (40 page)

“Yes, but most of them will give you their first and last names, and most of them will tell you they're here to fight Agro and why, exactly, they hate him. We know for a fact the mercenaries aren't here for personal reasons. They don't have a vendetta to carry out. They're here to make money. How much money do you think it would take for a magician to face their death?” He gave her a moment to consider this then answered. “A lot. Now how much money do you think it would take for a magician to go snatch a witch? A lot less. It doesn't seem likely they're here to enter a battle against an army that's survived for over sixty years. Maybe they're suicidal idiots, but I sure as hell wouldn't take money in exchange for my life.”

“I see,” Layla mumbled. “So what will we do? Send them away?”

“No.”

“But you're right. Who would accept a mission like this? It seems obvious they're here for other reasons.”

“Yes.”

“So why let them stay?”

“Do you think they'll just go away?”

“Oh,” she breathed, her shoulders sagging.

“Mercenaries don't quit,” Quin added. “That would give them a bad reputation. Then they’d be out of a job. They may agree to vacate the clearing, but they won't leave the area. They’d stay close, watching us, but we’d have no clue what they're up to.”

“So we let them see us?”

“We have to.”

“That's risky.”

He pulled her close and brought her palm to his heart. “If they’re here for you, it’s unlikely they know what you look like. Even the best soothsayers can't summon clear visions of a person they've never laid eyes on in reality. They might know you're female and your age, maybe even your eye color and hair color, but as far as the big picture goes, they shouldn't see you clearly, unless they’ve met someone who’s met you.”

“What about my name?”

“Magicians don’t put a lot of stock in names, and mercenaries are thorough. They won’t act until they have more proof than a name.”

“Well if they have any of those descriptions, and I'm walking around with my lights hidden, performing powerful magic, don't you think they'll figure it out?”

“Yes, but they'll wait for your aura to be revealed before making their move. It will be the surefire proof they'll require to complete the job.”

“Okay. And then?”

He lifted her palm into a kiss. “One problem at a time, love, but for now, don't let those beautiful lights slip a bit, keep your amazing magic to a minimum, and don't you dare leave my side.”

“You'll not hear me argue with that,” she assured, holding him tighter.

He kissed her head then looked at Weylin. “Did the other army show up, the group of fifty?”

“There are fifty-eight of them,” Weylin clarified. “And yes, they’re here.”

“Good,” Quin approved. “Anything else to report?”

“No, but I have to tell you, man, I spent some time down there last night, and you have a lot of edgy magicians on your hands. Some of them are shady, some are terrified, and some are ready to defeat the Unforgivables all by themselves. Few of them can be trusted, and none of them are trusting anyone else, least of all us.”

Quin shrugged. “It's about what we expected, but there's nothing we can do about it. It's always better to trust the guy standing next to you when you're facing a fight, but it's either this or we're done. Agro has over 150 soldiers. If we don't have these magicians, the fight is over and we're gone, whether we die or spend the rest of our lives hiding. Hopefully the vengeance boiling everyone's blood will provide a united front that will push beyond the mistrust. We may not be alike or know each other, but we do have one thing in common – our search for retribution. That’s what will bring this army together. It has to. It's our only hope.”

“Hear, hear,” Caitrin agreed. Then he slapped Weylin's massive chest. “Go get some rest, Weylin. We're looking at tomorrow or the next day, so we have a busy evening ahead of us.”

With the mention of the timeline, Layla's muscles went numb, all of them save for her heart, which jumped into action. She looked at her chest, wondering why in the hell it was slamming against Quin's side. Caitrin's comment hadn't alarmed her any more than the rest of their conversation.

“Damn it,” Quin hissed, picking her up in one arm while laying a hand on her quivering bodice.

“I'm okay,” she assured. “Please calm down.”
 

He didn't listen and was already performing an examination. “Why?” he whispered.

“I'll slow it down,” Layla offered, laying a hand on his tense bicep.

“Wait,” Serafin interjected.
 

“What in the hell do you mean
wait
?” Quin barked.

Layla's mouth dropped open. “Quin!”

He slowly inhaled then looked at her. “It's not right, Layla. Everything isn't fine.”

“Maybe it is,” Serafin suggested.
 

Quin scowled at him. “Why would you say that?”

“I don't have the answers, Quin, but Layla’s a miracle in every way. Her magic, her mind, her soul, her
heart
, they're all perfect, but they're not normal. Nothing about her is normal. She's extraordinary right down to her toes. She doesn't function the way we do. We've known that all along. Her mind works differently, she feels things differently, and she sees things differently. Is it so hard to believe her body works differently? Because you have proof beneath your hand that it does. Her heart’s beating like that for a reason. I don't know what it is, and I can't promise you it's a good reason, but it has a purpose. And her body has somehow adjusted to its need, because she's not affected by it in the least bit. Look at her face, Quin. Forget the organ for a minute and look at her. That's where you'll find your peace-of-mind, because she's fine aside from her concern about you.”

Quin searched every inch of every feature, looking for the peace Serafin spoke of. Her expression wasn’t pained or panicked, even as her body performed a feat none other could possibly execute. Maybe she shouldn’t alter her heart's abnormal yet natural reaction. Quin hated to think it did more harm than good. “Are you sure you're not hurting, love?”
 

“I'm sure, Quin. Everything's numb except my heart.”

“Does
it
hurt?”

“It feels weird, but it doesn't hurt.”

“At all?”

“I swear, Quin, I don't feel any pain, anywhere.”

“You're numb everywhere?”

“Yes.”

“Can you still use your muscles?”

She tested them by lifting her arm and making a fist. “Yes.”

“Did you feel that?”

“Kind of, but it's not a normal feeling. There's no resistance.”

“Squeeze my hand as hard as you can.”

She obeyed then looked to his eyes. “How was it?”

“You couldn't tell?”

“Not really. Have you ever had a dream where you're hitting something as hard as you can, but it's like you're not hitting it at all?”

“Yes.”

“Well it's like that. I knew I was squeezing my hardest, but I couldn't tell if it made a difference.”

“Hmm...”

“So how was it? Was it weak? Weaker than normal I mean.”

“No, it was stronger.”

“Really?” She grinned and raised her eyebrows at Weylin. “Want to arm wrestle?”

Quin soberly interrupted before Weylin could answer. “Layla.”

“What?”

“Not the best time for jokes.”

Her expression fell as she met his steady stare. “I'm going to tell you something you once told me. Life doesn't stop when times are bad. It’s worth living, always. I won’t deny myself life's pleasures just because they're being threatened.”

“Wise words,” Kemble commended. “I'm proud to be the father of the man who said them.”

Quin sighed as he looked at Layla's rapid heartbeat. Then he closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face, forcing himself to accept the odd occurrence while resolving to look beyond it. When he opened his eyes, he took her flushed cheek and drifted a thumb across pulsing lips. “If anything changes, and I mean anything, I want to know immediately.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “If anything changes, you'll be notified at once.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Quin, but you'll probably know before me, so I doubt the promise is necessary.”

Keeping a firm hold on her, he glanced at the others. “Ready to get this over with?”

They nodded, and Quin returned his gaze to Layla. “Don't leave my side under any circumstances, and if I tell you to do something, don't hesitate.”

“What if you tell me to leave your side?” she returned, flashing an ornery grin.

He cracked a smile as he lowered his feet to the land shield. “My funny, funny angel.”

Surrounded by six loving bodyguards, Quin opened the barrier and dropped into the clearing, keeping Layla tucked under a tense arm. He slowly descended toward the center of the glade, but halfway down, they gained the crowd’s attention.

Silence captured the air as curious and suspicious gazes traveled over the newcomers, noting the lack of auras and not liking it. Those who were sitting rose to their feet, and those who were standing inched forward.
 

Quin tightened his grip on Layla and halted twenty feet in the air, and the six surrounding him followed suit. Then the family and friends among the crowd moved to the center of the clearing and formed a protective circle.

For a long and tense moment, no one spoke or moved. Then a tall and brawny wizard in a blue cloak stepped away from his comrades and held out his arms. “It would be wise of you to reveal your colors. There are a lot of magicians down here waiting for them.”

“That's not going to happen,” Caitrin replied. “Our auras will remain concealed.”

Murmurs floated through the crowd, and the wizard in blue glanced at the men behind him. “Then perhaps an explanation is in order,” he said, looking back up. “Or maybe you should leave and not return.”

The bold suggestion raised some eyebrows and spiked the anxiety, but Caitrin took it in stride. “We're not going anywhere, and we're not offering any explanations. This is our party. We're the ones running the show, so if you have a problem with us, you and the rest of your comrades can decamp.”

More mumbles drifted through the clearing, and the wizard in blue took another step. “You're the family who called us here?”

“Yes. I’m Caitrin, a lifelong resident of a local community that's been visited by Agro three times in the past two weeks.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you regardless of the absence of your auras?”

“Do we look threatening? We're merely hovering here. It's you who’s on the edge of hostility.”

“Why is Agro targeting you?”

“We won't answer that.”

“Why? Do you have something to hide?”

“Yes,” Caitrin confessed, “and we don't know you, so we won't reveal it.”

“You know why we're here,” the wizard countered, motioning to the people around him, “yet you won't provide us with the same courtesy?”

“We don't know everyone's history, and we're not asking for it. We know most of you are here to put an end to Agro's cruelty, and I can assure you we're here for the same reason.”

A formidable looking wizard with steely eyes stepped from a large group wearing olive-green cloaks. “We’re not hiding our auras,” he noted, his voice calm and cold. Then he motioned toward those forming a protective circle in the center of the clearing. “And neither are your defenders. Why do you feel the need?”

“Who are you?” Caitrin asked.

“Sloan, leader of the New England Mercenaries.”

“Isn't it interesting,” Caitrin countered, “that a mercenary is questioning our motives. Who accepts payment for a mission like this, Sloan? How much money does it take to sacrifice life on earth?”

Sloan and his mercenaries shifted as the crowd’s suspicion turned on them.
 

“That would depend on the life,” Sloan answered, “but our compensation isn't up for discussion. We have a confidentiality agreement with our boss, and we won't reveal him or the amount of money he's paid us. However, we're not hiding our auras, and neither is anyone else.”

“That's your choice,” Caitrin pointed out. “We haven't been requiring them for entrance into the camp, so anyone interested in lightening their auras, go for it. You have the right. We're not here to control you. We've asked for your help, not your servitude.”

A feminine voice arose from the other side of the clearing. “So how can we trust you? Who's to say you haven't called us here to feed us to the wolves?”

Layla looked at the witch, who was about the same age as her and seemed to be by herself. She looked scared, like it had taken the last of her bravery to speak, but her aura was beautiful – bright and exceptionally powerful.

She was staring right at Layla, who gave her a reassuring smile and a little wave. “Hi.”

The witch’s mouth hung open for a moment. Then she swallowed and waved back. “Hi.”

“You have a pretty aura.”