Jocelynn Drake - Dead Man’s Deal

Legally .

Now, that was the big joke. A witch or a warlock could come down from the Towers and strike down anyone they wanted with no fear of retribution from anyone. However, there were rules for killing a witch or a warlock. Problems within the Towers were brought before the council to be decided on and people were punished accordingly—most of it being a painful death sentence. Of course, there were exceptions: people who secretly took matters into their own hands. But I could guess why most wanted me put down legally and it had to do with the recent jump in the number of runaways from the Towers.

“And since you’ve not succeeded in bringing me back before the council for my inevitable execution …”

“They are considering replacing me with someone who will get the job done,” Gideon finished.

“Does anyone suspect that you’re helping me?”

“I’m sure someone does, but so far no one has dared to voice it out loud.” Gideon paused and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. There was something he needed to say, but was holding back.

“Spit it out.” My nerves were already frayed with fear. I didn’t like being pinned between the forces of the Towers and Reave’s Mafia.

“I’m currently left with two choices. I think I’ve got a matter of weeks before they agree to replace me, if not less time. I can either find a reason to bring you before the council …” Gideon paused again, lifting one hand gracefully toward the house I had “protected.” “Or I can let them replace me, leaving you to fend for yourself.”

“Does the council still have an empty seat?” There were a total of thirteen seats on the council, but if there was one open, a tie vote would mean at least a temporary stay of execution.

“Yes, but with things in such turmoil, I don’t think you’ll get the tie vote you’re obviously hoping for. You’ll be dead within an hour of arriving before the council.”

“Fuck.” I sighed, dropping my head into my hands while resting my elbows on my bent knees. The Ivory Towers needed a scapegoat, someone they could use as a warning to the others who were training to be witches or warlocks. There was no escaping. There was only one way in the world—theirs.

Sadly it took me a minute to think of another angle. My head snapped up so I could see Gideon again. “Are you safe?”

“What do you mean?” Gideon demanded. His brow furrowed at the sharp question, casting his gray eyes in shadow.

“If they replace you, it’s likely they suspect you’re at least a sympathizer. It would put you in a dangerous position. You and your family. Are you safe? Are they?”

A ghost of a smile crossed his grim mouth. “They are safe for now, and I will manage. But if it comes down to protecting them and protecting you, I’m sure you know how I will choose.”

With a grunt, I pushed back to my feet and brushed off the back of my pants. They were damp from where I had been sitting on earth soft from the recent rains. Unfortunately, I had bigger problems than a mud stain on my ass. “Yeah, I know.”

“Have you spoken to any of the runaways?” Gideon suddenly asked.

I blinked, my mind struggling to keep up with the swift change in topics. “Not knowingly.”

“Are you sure?”

“Look, I don’t know who left the Towers. I didn’t know any apprentices while I was there and you and Sofie are the only ones that I speak with now. If one stopped in the parlor, I wouldn’t know it. Are you saying they’re in Low Town?”

“Yes. My group knows they’re in town, but rumors are starting to circulate in the Towers that they’re here.”

“And I imagine rumors are stating that I drew them here,” I grumbled. “Damn it, Gideon! The Towers aren’t even supposed to know where I am.”

The warlock nodded. “Four more left recently. We’ve tried isolating the apprentices more than ever before, but it seems to be getting worse.”

“Four? What’s that make it? Seven here in Low Town.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Five. Two were killed in their escape attempt.”

“Wouldn’t it be best if these runaways sought Gage out?” Bronx inquired.

“No!” Gideon and I said in unison. For a moment I had forgotten that the troll was even there, I had been so lost in a world that I had tried desperately to leave behind.

“But you’ve survived; thrived even. You could help them,” Bronx suggested.

“Things were different when I left ten years ago.” I looked down at my hands and tried not to imagine the blood that had been splattered across them during my short time living in the Towers. “I was the only one to ever consider leaving. An anomaly. They let me go, but with restrictions, and many are still calling for my head.”

Gideon shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “If the Towers can confirm that Gage has anything to do with the runaways, they will see it as a sign that he’s attempting to lead some kind of revolution.” The warlock frowned, staring at me. “It will be war, and the Towers won’t stop until Gage and all the runaways are dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if they chose to wipe out an entire generation of human children as a warning. It’s been done before.”

I leaned against the side of the car, my hands shoved in my pockets. Low Town was becoming a dangerous place for me and there wasn’t much I could do about it. I was tempted to ask how well known it was in the Towers where I was located, but I bit back the question. Running would happen eventually, but not yet. I’d make plans, but I wouldn’t leave yet. There were too many things I needed to get done here first.

“Thanks for the heads-up on everything,” I said. My mind wheeled in endless circles, leaving me with more questions than answers. And the answers that I did have were pretty shitty.

Gideon nodded, his mouth quirking slightly as if he were trying to fight a smile. “I have to go. It’s dangerous to be around and not try to kill you.”

“You’re not the only one who feels that way,” I grumbled, glaring at the ground.

“But … I could use a favor,” he said. He wet his lips, hesitating as if he was afraid I would instantly turn him down. That or he simply didn’t want to feel like he needed me for something. “Find out who cursed Sofie.”

“That was a long time ago.”

Some of the tension eased from his face. “Afraid she forgot?”

“Not likely. You thinking of helping her?”

Gideon remained silent so long, staring off in the distance, that I thought he might not answer me. But when he spoke, my stomach knotted in pain for the man who wasn’t my friend but was. “I thought if Sofie were human again, she might like to take on an apprentice. If I remember correctly, she had a gentle way with children.”

My mouth fell open and some part of me wanted to say something comforting, but there weren’t any words. Gideon must have known, because he stiffly nodded to me and disappeared. I leaned my head back against the roof of Bronx’s car and closed my eyes. Poor Gideon.

“I’ll admit that I didn’t understand a lot of what you were talking about,” Bronx said, drawing my eyes open again. “But that part about Sofie … why is he interested in her? Is he trying to get her to go back to the Towers as a spy?”

“No,” I said, straightening. “Let’s get out of here. Now that he’s gone, I’m sure the cops will want to descend on the house.”

Bronx nodded and punched his key remote to unlock the doors. We got the hell out of there, letting me sink into silence for a minute and get lost in the rambling thoughts.

The Ivory Towers were the ultimate rulers of this world, deciding life and death (well, mostly death) for its inhabitants, but when they weren’t around, the cops tried to maintain some semblance of peace. The fix maker’s death would be chalked up to a DBW—death by warlock/witch and the book would be closed. Naturally, they would search the house and find the drug-manufacturing equipment. The house would be confiscated, but I knew better than to hope that it would be tied back to Reave. He was too smart for that.