Ilona Andrews - Magic Binds

I finally pinned down their expressions. Awe.

Rowena knelt. Filipa was praying, her voice an urgent whisper.

Ghastek walked toward me and went down on one knee, looking up at me.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Saving all of us from being drowned in our blood and my father’s fire,” I whispered. “He’s going to throw you and your vampires at the Keep. You will be decimated. Your vampires will be gone; your position within Atlanta will be eliminated. If you survive, you will have to start from scratch, Ghastek.”

His face told me he didn’t want to start from scratch.

“You’re outside the inner circle. It will take you years to climb higher. Even if you become his Legatus, your life will be short. He will never care about you, Ghastek. I care. You are my friend. You are the best there is at what you do. This is your chance. Don’t do it because of what’s happening now. Do it because it makes sense.”

“You know my price,” Ghastek whispered.

“I know.” The irony was that he already had what he was asking for. He was my friend. I already cared about him. I would already do whatever I could to keep him breathing.

“Swear it,” Ghastek said.

I smiled at him. My voice rang. “Rise, Legatus of my Legion. Work with me, advise me, be my friend, and you will live forever.”

THE AIR OUTSIDE the Casino tasted sweet.

“How did you do that?” Curran asked.

“She burned her own magic,” my aunt said. “If she were a normal human, you would’ve seen her aging.”

The look on Curran’s face was indescribable.

“Relax, half-breed,” Erra said. “She has lifetimes to spare. That wasn’t half-bad for your first time. You’ll get better with practice.”

“I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have no plans to conquer. I don’t want any more troops. I don’t want to do any more persuading.”

“You say that now.”

I turned toward her. “Look inside me.”

Erra’s eyes narrowed. “You mean it. You have no ambition.”

“No. I don’t want to conquer or rule. I want to contain my father.”

“This will be interesting,” my aunt said.

Behind us the banner of In-Shinar, a field of pure emerald green with a single blue stripe, streamed from the spire above the Casino’s walls.

THE PACK ARRIVED in time for dinner. One moment our kitchen was empty and Curran and I were quietly cooking dinner, while Julie tried to make it through some ancient text Erra decided she should read. The next it was filled with shapeshifters. Jim and Dali, Robert, and Andrea and Raphael. Jim’s face was flat. His eyes told me that he hadn’t come because he wanted to patch things up with me. He’d come because his back was against the wall. Our friendship was truly over.

“Where is the baby?” I asked.

“With about a dozen babysitters in the bouda clan house,” Andrea said. “You just want me for my baby.”

“Yep, you nailed it.”

“Peace offering,” Robert said, holding an envelope out to Julie.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Jezebel’s confession,” Robert said. “We found it in her quarters. Some of it is addressed to you.”

She grabbed the envelope and bolted to the living room couch with it. I could still see her. That was the fun of an open floor plan. We were never too far from each other.

“Give me a CliffsNotes version?” I asked.

“Jezebel, Salome, and the woman who was supposedly their mother joined the Pack when Salome was seventeen and Jezebel was fifteen,” Robert said. “Clan Bouda failed to verify their background.”

“Oh please,” Andrea said. “Please make it sound like it is all our fault.”

“The clan had very low numbers at the time,” Raphael said. “This woman showed up, told my mother a sob story about running away from abuse, and offered herself and two able fighters who were almost adults. My mother took them in.”

“He approved it.” Andrea pointed to Curran.

Curran shrugged.

“Veronica, Jezebel and Salome’s supposed mother, left the Pack about four years after joining,” Andrea said. “According to Aunt B’s records, she met a man from Montana and went with him. Salome and Jezebel stayed behind.”

“Jezebel had written a summary of her life before joining the Pack. Does the word ‘sahanu’ mean anything to you?” Robert asked.

“Julie, can you get Adora for me?” I asked. Julie got up and left the living room.

I went into the hallway, took a framed photograph off the wall, and brought it into the kitchen. It showed Julie and her friend Maddie, smiling and making cute faces at the camera. Jezebel loomed to the side, watching over them.

Julie returned with Adora. I showed her the photograph. “Do you recognize this woman?”

“Isabel,” Adora said. “She and her sister, Leanna, were in the fort with me. They transform into hyenas.”

“What happened to them?”

“One day they disappeared. We were told they were needed elsewhere.”

“Thank you.” I turned to Robert. “Sahanu is an order of assassins created by my father.”

“He must’ve pulled them out of training and inserted them into the Pack,” Curran said.

“That appears to be the case,” Robert said.

“It says here she did it for me,” Julie said, her voice quiet. She took the papers and went upstairs.

“Jezebel’s assignment was to get as close as possible to the Beast Lord,” Robert said. “When Kate entered the picture, Jezebel saw an opportunity. She and Salome put on a show for Aunt B and afterward Salome suggested that Jezebel should be reassigned. Then her assignment changed. Julie became her priority. She loved Julie very much. She wanted to separate with you but was ordered to remain with the Pack. Eventually, she was ordered to kill Andrea’s child. She refused and was told that Julie would suffer if Jezebel failed.”

“Where is Salome now?” Curran asked.

“Dead,” Jim said. “Anybody who touches Dali is dead. Anybody who helps them is dead.”

Dali sighed. “I’m okay. I’m here, I’m alive, and I would appreciate it if everyone butted out and stopped making a giant deal out of this.”

It hit me. Jim was an excellent Beast Lord: smart, efficient, and painfully fair. He would be admired and respected, but he would never be loved the way Curran was. Curran had wanted to be loved, needed it because he’d come to the Pack as an orphaned kid. Jim didn’t want to be loved by anyone except Dali. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t want anything else. Only Dali.

“Why are you here?” Curran asked.

“You know why,” Jim said. “You’ve taken the People. Are we at war?”

Oh my God, you moron.

Dali elbowed Jim in the ribs. “What he meant to say was he is sorry that duties of his office and his own paranoid nature caused him to overreact.”

Jim looked like someone had hit him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. “Yes.”

“And he knows that both of you have been his friends, of which he doesn’t have many, for years. He is aware that you would never do anything to harm us or the Pack and that you have protected us on several occasions and have been injured as a result several times.”

“Yes,” Jim said.

Dali looked at him. Clearly, there was more.

Jim turned to me. “I apologize.”

“Not a problem,” I told him.

Jim faced Curran. “And I would be honored to still be best man at your wedding.”

Jim was who he was. This was the best we were going to get, and we wouldn’t even have gotten that without Dali.

Curran smiled. It was a bright, infectious smile, the kind that could change the mood of an entire hall of shapeshifters. I had seen it in action before. It signaled that all was forgiven. The tension in Jim’s body eased. But I knew Curran better than Jim did. Curran would never forget this.