Boundary Lines (Boundary Magic Book 2) Page 10

  Ignoring the cold coming off the metal bars, I turned sideways on the seat to face her. “There are some big-league spells out there, for things like violence, healing, and protection,” Lily explained. “We call that upper-tier stuff apex magic, and even when you have good intentions, it’s very powerful. Things can go wrong. In Clan Pellar, we stopped teaching it a couple generations ago. My ancestors decided to focus on Wicca, using our magic to do good rather than as a tool for getting what we wanted.” She winced. “But we aren’t the only clan in Colorado. When Maven cut her deal with the witches, she ordered all the clans in the state to bind their abilities. None of us can use apex magic during that twenty-year window.”

  I suddenly remembered Simon’s expression, how he seemed to be holding something back from me about the witches. “Why would she do that?” I asked. “What does she care if witches are using witch magic?”

  Lily sighed. “Her argument was that if witches were using combat magic, they could use it against her, or each other, and restart the Old World war all over again. My mother thought it was a valid point. More importantly, she didn’t think the other witches should be using magic for violence anyway. That catapult spell she used on you? That’s as violent as we get. Mom hoped that weaning the other clans off apex magic would be a good thing in the long run. But there were plenty of witches who didn’t agree with her.”

  She was leading me toward a connection. I tried to push my thoughts ahead to see it. “Was Simon one of those witches?”

  Bingo. Lily’s face went stony. “He wasn’t then. At the time, he threw his full support behind Mom. We all did.”

  “And now he’s changed his mind,” I summed up. I was struggling to see why this was relevant right now, with everything else going on. I was worried about Simon, too, but unlike the sandworm, his problems didn’t seem all that time-sensitive.

  “You were the one who changed his mind, Lex. When you brought him back, it wasn’t just that you used magic to do something that he only expected from science. You also reminded him that there are dangerous things out there, and that our people are no longer equipped to handle them. And we did it to ourselves.”

  “Oh,” I said softly.

  She nodded. “It’s weighing on him. And creating a lot of tension between him and Tracy, who basically worships the ground my mother walks on.”

  I winced, unsure how to react to that. Oops? “Is this why the clan doesn’t like me? Because I represent all the violent magic you guys stopped using?” A new thought occurred to me. “Or because I’m not a clan witch, so I don’t have to abide by Maven’s agreement with you?”

  “Yes. To all of the above.” She sighed. “Look, from their perspective, you came along, proved that you have power over life and death, and immediately threw in with our evil overlord.”

  She was trying to keep her tone light, but failing miserably, and it was obvious from her expression that she felt the same way. I wanted to ask her why no one had told me any of this, but the answer was too obvious: I was an outsider, a threat, and that put me on a need-to-know basis.

  Pressure built in my chest as my temper rose. “Let me show you something,” I said, pulling out my cell phone. I scrolled through the functions until I found what I wanted, a message my mother had sent me that morning while I was napping. I held it up so Lily could see: A picture of my nineteen-month-old niece standing on top of my mom’s kitchen table, holding a giant stack of graham crackers she’d swiped while Mom was in the bathroom. Rather than looking guilty, Charlie’s whole face had erupted into a gleeful, euphoric smile. Everything was right in her world.

  Lily looked at it, then at my face, not getting it. She shrugged. “Cute.”

  “She is cute,” I said evenly, because, well, she was. “And she’s also the only part of my sister that’s left in this world. I would do anything, anything to protect her, just like you’re trying to protect your brother right now.”

  Lily crossed her arms over her chest. “I get that.”

  “No, Lily, you don’t. I don’t really give a shit if Clan Pellar feels hamstrung. I want a good relationship with the witches, but you’ve all made it clear that I’m not actually one of you. And I’m sure as hell not one of the vampires, either, boundary blood or not. All the witches in your clan—even you and Simon—act like I happily signed up to be some vampire hench-slave because I’m an evil boundary witch who doesn’t know any better. But it’s not like that. I didn’t pick Hazel’s side or Maven’s side. I picked Charlie’s.”

  Her lovely face hardened. “You walked into this situation that has all these years of history, and you can bring people back to life,” she hissed. “And you just signed right up with the big bad; you didn’t even give us a chance—”

  I couldn’t help it; I started laughing. I was physically exhausted, and so sick of Old World politics that I could scream. “A chance to what? Have the clan adopt me? Pull me into the fold? We both know that’s never going to happen, Lily. You saw how those witches looked at me last night. I’m never going to be anything to them but a black aura and a bad attitude. An atrocity. You and Simon are my friends, and I’ll help you however I can, but your clan’s subservience to Maven is not my concern. Charlie is.”

  Lily’s lips compressed into a single thin line. “I see,” she said curtly. “Good to know where we stand.” She stood up, turned on her heel and strode away without another word.

  I sat there on the bench for a long time, staring into space and absently rubbing my tattoos under my sleeves. I could have handled that better, I knew. Without Simon and Lily, I would never have gained enough control of my magic to earn the deal with Maven. But what exactly did Lily want from me? It wasn’t my fault that the witches had made a deal with their perceived devil. And it wasn’t my fault that I could use magic that existed more or less outside of that deal. Besides, I wasn’t exactly going to apologize for bringing Simon back.

  But you could have been more understanding of Lily’s position, said Sam’s voice in my head. You know what it’s like to be stuck in a deal with Maven, and you didn’t show much sympathy.

  I no longer knew if this really was Sam, talking to me from across the line and through our bond, or just what my imagination told me she would say. It didn’t really matter, I supposed. Either way, she was right.

  I jumped as my phone began vibrating in my hand. I checked the screen. To my surprise, it was Maven, whom I’d just left less than two hours ago. She couldn’t, like, sense when I was thinking about her, could she? Yesterday I would have said no, but it was becoming clear that I had no idea what Old World creatures could do. And also no idea what I was doing.

  I answered the phone. “Lex, you need to get to the Walrus,” came her voice, crisp and tense. There was loud music in the background, so I could barely make out her words. “I need you.”

  “Walrus . . . ? Oh, the bar?”

  “Now!” she hollered, and the line went dead. I shoved the phone in my pocket and started running.

  Chapter 16

  I didn’t actually attend CU, so my personal knowledge of the downtown bars is limited to the ones I explored right after being discharged from the army. I’d poked my head in at the Walrus only once, took a look around, and made an immediate retreat. The place existed to service those reasonably attractive suburban kids who spent high school being athletic, well-groomed, and popular B students, the same kids who got drunk every weekend and cared more about lettering in volleyball than about a war on the other side of the world. Not that I’m bitter.

  Anyway, the place has a reputation for a few things: great DJs, despite a small dance floor; regular reggae nights; and being a welcoming home for douchebaggy behavior. It’s also loud, dark, and below ground—I could instantly understand the attraction for hungry vampires.

  The Walrus was on the corner of 11th and Walnut—literally on the corner; it was one of those businesses where the front door was located precisely where the building’s edges met, like in Times Square.
I ran straight up Broadway to 11th Street, ignoring the students and tourists who paused to stare at me. As I got closer, I realized the bar was too quiet: there was no music, no bouncer, no lit neon signs. When I finally reached the door, beginning to pant a little, I saw that someone had taped a piece of ordinary printer paper to the front door. The words “Closed for Inventory” were written on it in sloppy black marker.

  I’d seen stuff like this at Magic Beans before, and recognized it as one of the vampires’ tactics. This is America; we love obeying signs, even if they look like they were written by middle-school students. I knocked hard on the front door, and when that produced no results, shouted, “It’s Lex!” as loud as I could. A middle-aged dog walker gave me a funny look as he went past. “Supposed to help with inventory,” I explained. He shrugged and moved on.

  I heard the sound of a lock being undone, and the door opened just far enough for me to slip into the building. The entryway was dark, and my eyes hadn’t yet adjusted from the glow of the streetlights when a scared-looking girl of about twenty stepped out of the shadows. I jumped.

  “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you. You’re the boundary witch, right?” She raised the back of her hand to her mouth, and I realized she was wiping a smear of blood off her chin. I automatically shifted my weight to fight, wishing I’d brought a shredder stake with me.

  Sensing my wariness, the girl raised the other hand, too, and took a step backward. “Easy, there. I’m Opal,” she said, trying to mollify me, “one of Maven’s vampires. I’m supposed to bring you to her.” The girl took a couple of steps deeper into the bar, gesturing for me to follow. I did, slowly.

  The dance floor was, as promised, especially tiny. It was also covered in blood, which showed up well against the wood floor. The blood was bright red, still wet, and smeared around in puddles like someone had tried to make a snow angel in finger paint.

  There were a number of people in the back of the bar, but my eyes shot straight to Maven, partly because her power drew me in, and partly because everyone else was staring at her too. She looked like the poster for a horror movie, standing on top of the bar in a tight black miniskirt and the remains of a torn tank top. I couldn’t tell what color it had once been, but now it could best be described as bloodred. Her feet were bare, and long ribbons of blood ran down her legs, but I didn’t see anything that looked like an injury.

  Some of the blood probably belonged to the two vampires she was restraining. In one hand, Maven was holding a broken pool stick to the heart of a vampire who was splayed on his back on top of the bar, hands held defensively near his shoulders. The wood had already pierced his shirt and drawn blood, but it must not have gone deep enough to reach the heart yet. In the other hand Maven clenched a handful of black curly hair belonging to a second vamp, a man who had to weigh well over two hundred pounds. She held him at a strange angle—on his knees with his face tilted up—and from the expression of agony on his face, I was pretty sure she could snap his neck with a simple twist. I’d seen a vampire do that before.

  It was obvious that I’d just missed a fight, but something felt wrong to me, too still. Then I realized that no one was breathing hard, because they didn’t have to. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “Hello, Lex,” Maven said pleasantly. “Thank you for coming.” She looked up at me, and I almost gasped. Gone were the enormous soda-bottle glasses, and her orange hair was slicked back against her skull, possibly with blood. She was stunning, probably the most beautiful person I had ever seen. Her power was practically pulsing out of her, and I had to resist the urge to fall to my knees.

  “Hi, Maven,” I managed to say. “I like the new look.”

  In a sublimely human gesture, Maven looked down at herself. “Oh, thanks,” she said, giving me a little what, this old thing? shrug. “When in Rome.”

  “Uh-huh.” There were bodies on the floor, at least five of them, mostly close to the bar area. Blood was sloshed over the walls and tables, and I heard whispers coming from the far side of the room, behind Maven. I circled slowly into the center of the space, and saw that Quinn was crouched in the corner next to the bar with a dozen or so terrified-looking college kids. Judging by their wide eyes, and a few urine stains on their clothes, they were human. Quinn gave me a quick nod, and turned back to the group, keeping them calm. He was obviously awaiting further instructions.

  So was I. “What exactly can I do for you, Maven?” I asked.

  “These two,” she said, tilting her head at the two male vampires she was restraining, “broke the peace in my territory. They started a bar fight”—she spat the words distastefully—“and killed humans, revealing themselves to the human world. Their punishment is death.” Her fingers must have tightened on the bigger vamp’s scalp, because his face twisted into an agonized grimace.

  “Oh-kay,” I said cautiously. I had no problem with putting down vampires who’d killed humans, but it kind of seemed like she had all this under control. Why was I here?

  “Before they die,” Maven went on, “I want you to press their minds and find out who compelled them to do this.”

  Oh. “But . . . they’re vampires. Isn’t this kind of what they do?”

  Across the room, I could see Quinn wince. Maven hissed, “No. Week-old vampires have better control than this. Someone put them up to it, in an effort to further destabilize my territory. I will have that name.”

  Her voice chilled me, and I found myself glancing at Opal for some reason. Vampire expressions were usually pretty impassive, but her face flooded with pure fear as she looked at Maven. Oh, good. It wasn’t just me then. “Yes, ma’am,” I said, stepping forward.

  As I moved closer, the kneeling vampire gave an anguished cry and twisted out of Maven’s grasp. I heard the sound of his hair ripping out by its roots as he did a neat roll onto the floor and charged straight for me.

  Quinn’s voice rang out, screaming my name, but I ignored it and shifted my weight. Vampires were fast, much faster than humans, but I’d had years of combat training, and this guy clearly hadn’t. He just raced straight toward me, intending a simple tackle, so I stepped aside and thrust out my right arm, clotheslining him with my forearm. It nearly dislocated my shoulder, but he crashed to the floor. Curly shook his head hard and popped back up within seconds, faster than I could see.

  Luckily I’d already picked up a high-legged bar stool, and before he rushed me again I wielded it toward him like a lion tamer, throwing all my weight against it. Three of the four metal legs drove into Curly’s torso, drawing blood and forcing him back a few steps, but I’d come nowhere near the heart. I clenched the seat and twisted as hard as I could, but with a scream of pain he tugged the stool legs out of his torso and threw his weight back against it, sending the seat straight into my chest.

  I flew backward, my back hitting the edge of a table as my feet lost purchase. Ow. While I was still struggling to get back up, the vampire spun to my right, apparently deciding to cut his losses and flee.

  I may not have had a stake, but that didn’t mean I was unarmed. I dropped to the floor and pulled the Springfield subcompact out of the ankle holster on my right foot. There’s no point in threatening werewolves with silver bullets unless you have the means to back it up.

  I’m fast, but by the time I stood Curly was throwing Opal aside—the female vamp had apparently tried to slow him down. As soon as she was out of my line of fire, I raised my weapon and put three shots into his spine.

  Curly went tumbling to the floor, and I came after him, sticking the Springfield in my jacket pocket as I walked. “Lex!” Quinn called out from the other end of the room. I turned my head to look at him, and just managed to catch the spelled stake he’d thrown in a soft underhand toss. I nodded my thanks and glanced quickly at Maven, who was watching me with widened eyes. She hadn’t moved from her position on the bar, except to lean a little harder on the pool cue—the prone vampire’s eyes were bulging with pain.

  Maven gave me a curt nod—permission—and I s
talked over to Curly, who was writhing on the floor, on his stomach. Only his arms seemed to be working at the moment—I’d severed his spine. Good. My back hurt too. I kicked him over and plopped down on his chest, pressing my hands against his face so the tips of my griffin tattoos made contact. “Hi. What’s your name?” I said conversationally.

  Glaring and cursing at me, he tried to shove me off with his arms, but his body was so busy trying to heal the bullet wounds, he didn’t have the strength. I fended him off easily and put my hands back. “Name?” I asked again.

  “Tony,” he growled.

  “Hey, Tony!” I shouted, leaning forward, and for a second the vampire was so startled that he forgot he was fighting me and looked right into my eyes. Which was exactly what I wanted. Keeping the eye contact, I dropped into the mindset that allowed me to create a mental connection between the two of us. It was sort of like opening your eyes inside a tunnel, and focusing on the light at the far end. Then I sort of willed myself into that light.

  And just like that, I had him.

  “Tony,” I said softly. There was no reason to yell at him now. He’d do anything I wanted. “Who sent you?”

  Confusion erupted on his face. I knew the look—he wasn’t refusing to answer; he just didn’t understand my phrasing. Belatedly, I remembered that commands got better results than questions. “Tell me what happened at the Walrus tonight,” I said, pressing the demand into him.

  “Darren and I came to hunt. We just wanted to feed.” His voice wasn’t defensive; it was toneless, as if he were talking in his sleep. “Then we couldn’t stop.”

  Cold fear sparked in the back of my mind, but I had to stay focused or I would lose control of him. “Tell me who wanted you to come here tonight.”

  Confusion again. “No one. We met at Darren’s apartment and decided where to go.”

  I risked a quick glance at Maven. From past experience I knew I could look away without breaking the connection, but I didn’t dare do it for long. Maven was giving me nothing, just a slight furrow of her eyebrows that said she was as confused as I was.