Forgotten Destiny 2 Page 10

  “I’m sorry? This Peter bastard took advantage of Josh’s sorrow?”

  Frank snorted, either at the fact I was insulting Peter, or my passion for how much injustice had been perpetrated against Josh. “Peter’s done worse. Much worse. He may have the favor of the government, and he may technically have nothing to do with gangs like the Cruze – but at the end of the day, he’s worse. He may not flood the streets with D 20, but a kingpin like him knows how to keep his head above the muck while controlling exactly who else drowns in it.”

  It was a hell of an image, and it turned my stomach. I flattened a hand on my belly and shook my head. “This is awful. There should be laws against this.”

  “In a way, there are, but good luck being a contracted witch and trying to bring a case against your employer. Especially if one of those employers is one of the kingpins. The government gets trapped. If they go after one of the kingpins, that’s one of the primary contractors of witches gone. And they’ve got to put witches somewhere. It’s not just to keep them off the city streets and to keep an eye on them. More than anything, it’s public perception. The ordinary folk want to see the witches being controlled. The very last thing they want to see,” his voice dropped down, “is witches roaming the streets without anything to do.”

  I shook my head. “This still isn’t fair. Peter preyed on Josh’s weakness.”

  “Josh was desperate enough to sign,” Frank commented.

  Before I could snap at Frank for taking Peter’s side, I recognized just how dull his voice had become. It reminded me exactly of the man who’d appeared on my doorstep only several hours ago. The same torn, crushed soul who’d realized he only had one more option left.

  I swallowed. I went to shake my head again but realized there was utterly no point.

  Why had I always been so innocent? That question jumped into my head, and I couldn’t push it away. Before I’d become a witch, I hadn’t exactly been naïve – I’d known about magic. In fact, in some ways, I’d been better informed than your average ordinary citizen. But I hadn’t known any of this. And it’s not because the information hadn’t been available to me. There was no rule saying that a witch couldn’t share their life story with an ordinary citizen. No. I just hadn’t asked.

  My heart sank as I realized how willfully naïve I’d been. Before it could sink too far, Frank nodded forward. We reached a T intersection. “Which direction?”

  It took me a moment to pull my mind off Josh and to settle my attention into the task of finding that alternative entrance. I had to close my eyes and push a deep breath through my teeth. It took several seconds, but finally I latched hold of my magic again. It was unquestionably easier than it had been several weeks ago, but at the same time, considering how much magic I’d drained in our previous fight, I was getting weaker. That headache was lingering, too. Frank was patient, though, and didn’t push me. Eventually I brought up a hand and pointed to our left.

  We continued on.

  We drifted into silence. I could guess what Frank was thinking of. Our impromptu conversation about Josh’s troubles would have brought Frank closer to his own.

  I’d never been the kind of person to get passionately incensed about other people’s circumstances. That wasn’t to say I was a coldhearted bitch – it was simply that I’d never been particularly passionate. I’d always – quite naïvely – thought that most people had each other’s best interests at heart.

  Now my eyes had been opened to the murky world of magic, and they couldn’t be closed.

  We continued down this section of the tunnels, and it got me thinking about the first time I’d been down here this morning. And that? Reminded me of Rodriguez. “Frank, can I ask you a question?” I said out of the blue.

  “Of course.”

  “Just how dodgy is Peter?”

  Frank didn’t even need to pause to think. “Like most of the other kingpins in this city, he’s always careful to walk a line between what is legal and what is not. If you’re worried about Josh—”

  “I am worried about Josh – but not because of Peter. I just want to know why Peter would have redirected somebody away from remand for 15 minutes and what exactly he could have done to them in those 15 minutes.”

  Frank turned all the way around and waited until I drew abreast with him. “What are you talking about?”

  “This morning, when Josh and I were tracking down a criminal through the tunnels, we accidentally burst up during that garden party – that’s where I saw you. Peter was the one who captured our bounty. He insisted on taking the bounty in, too. He asked his men to bring him a pair of handcuffs, and he sent our bounty to remand. But here’s the thing,” I looked right up into Frank’s frowning face, “our bounty didn’t arrive in remand until 15 minutes later.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I compared the times and I asked the Justice Department when he arrived. So what… what exactly could a man like Peter do in 15 minutes? And why would he try?”

  Frank didn’t answer automatically this time. I could see that he was drawn into thought as he cast his gaze toward the wall, his brow knotted with deep concern. “What kind of witch was this guy, anyway?”

  “Warlock,” I answered. “And he was an illusionist.”

  Frank stopped dead. He looked right at me. “Are you serious?”

  A wave of nerves sailed through me. “Yeah, I’m serious. Why? What is it?” My voice quickened with strain.

  Frank latched a hand on his jaw. This time I swore his fingers bent in so much, he was trying to squeeze the bone into dust. “There’s a shortage of illusionists. Ever since the Cruze Gang started soaking them up for their operations, there’s been none for anyone else to employ.”

  I blinked hard. “Rodriguez – our bounty – was hardly employable. He was heading to prison for several years for a life of petty crime.”

  “Sometimes those things can be worked around.”

  I opened my mouth. I closed it. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “That Peter probably offered this Rodriguez a way out.”

  “I get it – Peter may be valuable – but he can’t exactly take on the entire justice system. We definitely had enough information Rodriguez to put him away for years. What exactly would Peter be able to do against that?”

  “You have a lot of faith in the justice system, don’t you?” Frank asked out of nowhere.

  It was a prying question, and to be honest, I wasn’t ready for it. I blinked and swallowed, probably looking like a surprised fish. “Yes, I guess I do. I prefer a society that lives by laws to one that doesn’t.”

  “That’s not exactly what I asked. You have faith in the people who enact those laws,” he emphasized the word people.

  It took me another moment, but I nodded. “I get it – I’m no longer naïve. There are plants in the police department. But I also understand there are people who are trying to find them. And who knows – if we play our cards right, maybe we’ll discover them when we pull apart the Cruze Gang and find Max and Josh.”

  Frank was silent for several seconds. “Even if you pull out those plants, there are more – closer to the top. People who are willing to protect outright criminals if it serves them.”

  I opened my mouth to say that was preposterous, but almost immediately, I reminded myself of Carson Black. Josh had told me several times that Carson had friends in high places. I’d kind of thought that maybe he was friends with one of the kingpins, but now I reassessed that decision. “So you’re telling me that these shadowy people in the upper echelons of the law are allowing men like Peter to do what they want with criminals?”

  “No, I’m telling you this is a complicated world, and it’s always been a complicated world. If Peter puts his foot down, demands an illusionist, and promises to keep him secure and away from public mischief, and if the powers-that-be want to appease Peter enough, they’ll give him exactly what he wants. It’s an I’ll-scratch-your-back-if-you-scratch-mine world
.”

  “Fine. But what would Peter want with an illusionist?”

  “Same thing anyone would want with an illusionist. To track down information and spy.”

  I shook my head.

  Frank arched an eyebrow. “Is that you shaking your head, Beth, or is that your power?”

  It was a sage observation. As soon as he pointed it out, I blinked. I nodded. “It was my power,” I admitted in a soft voice.

  His eyes widened with interest. “What’s it telling you’ve found?”

  I shook my head softly. “I’m not really sure. Just… just that you’re wrong. Peter wants Rodriguez for something more. It’s not just because he wants him on his books because he might one day be useful. It’s….” I closed my eyes, and when nothing came, I opened them with a frustrated breath.

  “It’s okay, Beth. Don’t push yourself. Just calm your mind.”

  “We don’t exactly have all the time in the world,” I pointed out. “Josh and Max need us.”

  “And we’re on our way,” he said as he pushed forward once more.

  I jogged to catch up.

  Frank still had his head turned toward me. “I will watch over you if you need to close your eyes. This is a pretty long, straight section of tunnel, so you won’t have to make another course calculation for a while. Just center your breath and concentrate.”

  Center my breath and concentrate? It sounded deceptively easier than it was.

  I didn’t need to fully close my eyes – and that was probably a defense mechanism against the memory of Josh splattering sewage all over me this morning. All I had to do was draw up an image of both Jeremy and Peter in my mind at the same time.

  The thought came up that told me I didn’t have the ability to find out facts I didn’t know, but I pushed it back. I concentrated on what Frank had promised – that if I could find a safe house, then I could find other opportunities.

  In other words, I didn’t tell myself I couldn’t do this. I just gave it a try.

  ….

  The answer clicked into my head – either because I’d found it, or because I thought it through. “Peter is taking a stab at the Cruze Gang,” I said softly, my quiet voice nonetheless conveying my quick fear. “That’s why he wants Rodriguez.”

  “Peter is a lot of things – but while he dabbles in security, he usually leaves the law up to the cops. Plus, he doesn’t have that much to fear from the Cruze Gang. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to take on Peter directly.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Either they have something Peter needs, or he has some other reason to take them down. Hell,” my eyes suddenly widened as I realized something, “maybe he wants all their warlocks. It makes sense, doesn’t it? If you told me that Peter can get his hands on criminals, then what will happen to all of those illusionists and warlocks once the gang is disbanded?”

  Frank’s mouth was open, but he paused, incapable of answering. He swallowed hard. “If you’re right, that’s a hell of a thing. Peter’s always prided himself on collecting the most powerful warlocks, but disbanding a dangerous gang and taking their men…?” He whistled.

  “I’m right,” I said with some measure of confidence. “Peter’s taking on the Cruze Gang.”

  “Which is just another player to add to the mix between the Arvaks and the Xs.”

  “Unless Peter’s behind one of them,” I said out of the blue. I couldn’t shake the impression that Frank was wrong, and that Peter didn’t sit in his ivory tower waiting for the powerful magical gangs of Madison City to vie for control of the streets. Out of all of the kingpins, Peter would have the most vested interest in this situation. It wasn’t because the gangs were made up of the most powerful warlocks – it was because they would be threatening his role as the security chief.

  A blast of excitement sailed through me at that. “Does the Cruze Gang steal things? Or do they primarily deal in D 20?”

  “Yeah, they steal. Especially weapons—” he stopped.

  “From whom?”

  He ticked his head to the side and looked at me meaningfully. “A couple of weeks back, by the sounds of it, they did assault one of Peter’s training areas. But do you really think this is a revenge mission?”

  “No, I think it’s everything we’ve already stated, from Peter wanting to get his hands on the warlocks, to him wanting revenge. The point is, he’s probably out there somewhere.”

  This made Frank stiffen. “Great – as if this situation weren’t complicated enough as it is. That being said, we still need to concentrate on getting to Max and Josh. Disbanding the Cruze Gang will come later.”

  We reached another fork in the road, and I confidently pointed to the right. Though the move was confident, it was also labored. My body wasn’t exactly tired, and yet at the same time, I felt a weird weariness pushing through my mind. It was the same kind of fog you get after a hard day studying. It told me that I was rapidly approaching the natural limit to my magic.

  I didn’t bother to point that out to Frank. He could probably already see it in my labored movements and the fact it was taking longer and longer to figure out the coordinates. But soon enough, we finally reached an old rusted door that was padlocked closed.

  Stupidly, forgetting who I was with, at the sight of the padlock, my shoulders sank.

  Before I could look around for a handy bolt cutter, Frank simply leaned forward, latched his glowing green hand over the padlock, and pulled it off. The sound of shattering metal filled the air as he easily crushed the padlock. He tossed it to the side, and it tumbled over the concrete, banging against the wall.

  He locked a hand on the door and wrenched it open.

  It led to a darkened corridor, but the magic spilling off Frank was more than enough to see by.

  He leaned toward me. “You ready for this? You’re tiring, but do you think you’ll have enough magical juice left in you to find our targets and save the day?”

  I didn’t answer automatically. Instead, I tried to find the answer. I closed my eyes and genuinely asked myself if I had more to give. My body answered by reminding me of Max. The tether that connected us welled in my mind, and I swore I could almost see him. It was no trick of my mind. For a split second, I saw an image of him imposed over my mind’s eye. He was tied to a chair, his head between his shoulders.

  It sent a pulse of fear through me, and I finally gave Frank his answer as I pushed past him and jogged into the darkened corridor.

  “Wait up for me,” he rumbled from behind.

  Something told me I was running out of time. Because Max was running out of time. And Max and I were….

  Several weeks ago, after the incident at the stadium, Max C. Knights had looked me in the eye and asked me to find my husband. At the time, I’d thought he was playing a game, now I wondered if it wasn’t a game, after all.

  I had to be honest with myself – I fancied Max. It wasn’t just his attractiveness. In fact, it had absolutely nothing to do with how he looked and how much he was worth. It was this deep gut-reaction inside of me – the same thing that forced me to dream of him every night.

  So maybe, a hopeful little voice in my head said, I’d already found my future husband?

  It was a silly, girly thought – especially to have at a time like this. Fortunately Frank couldn’t read the contents of my mind.

  We continued along down the darkened corridor. We reached another door, and Frank did the same – blasting off the lock with his magic.

  I felt like we were getting nearer to our goal. The problem was, I couldn’t quite tell which goal that was. I knew what my mind should be focused on – Max and Josh. But instead it kept playing around in circles, focusing instead on Max’s request to find my future husband.

  Why was I suddenly so obsessed with this thought? Now, when Max and Josh were on the line, I was obsessing over some ridiculous prospect that would probably turn out to be nothing more than Max playing games with me.

  Even as I thought that, I shook my head. It was
true. It was real. I had a future husband out there somewhere, and I was getting closer to him with every second.

  If Susan were here, she would probably slap me and tell me to get a hold of myself. If Josh were here, he would tell me I was an idiot. If Max were here?

  “Max,” I said under my breath, quiet enough that no one would be able to hear.

  “Sorry?” Frank said. “Are we getting close?”

  “… Yes,” I managed, “we are getting close. Just… just another turn around the corridor.” As soon as I said that, we reached the turn in the corridor, and we took it.

  Before us was a closed door. This one was a heck of a lot thicker than the others we’d encountered thus far.

  Frank didn’t race toward it. He slowed. “Now let’s go over the plan once more. We go in, we grab them, and we get out. And all the while, we do as much damn damage to the gang as we can,” he said through clenched teeth. “That being said – if you find the head of the gang – you tell me.” As Frank spoke, his hands were rounded into fists. Though he was usually good at controlling his anger, now I swore it blasted off him like excess heat from a welding gun.

  I nodded. “Let’s go – no time to waste.”

  “No time to waste,” Frank repeated.

  He reached forward, locked a hand on the door, and sent a charge of magic into the handle. It exploded, and Frank brought up a foot and kicked the door. It opened. And all chaos erupted.

  We’d wandered right into the middle of a den of warlocks.

  There was at least eight of them at first count, then I heard the sound of footfall, and five more entered the room. They were everything from illusionists to standard military warlocks.

  And we were screwed.

  Frank didn’t back away, instead plunging forward, aiming for the closest illusionist.

  Though my mind vibrated with fear at how many enemies we’d encountered, at the sight of Frank selflessly throwing himself forward, I snapped into action and started telling him what to do. “To your left. Two meters up,” I boomed.