Fracture (Book 1) Read online

  Darian’s voice was quickly drowned out by cries from his audience.

  “We won’t let it happen!”

  “We’re with you!”

  “Kill the traitors!”

  Lukas motioned for the crowd to settle down, but the corners of his mouth hinted at a smile. “Please,” he said. “Please.” The calls for revenge didn’t stop, but Lukas spoke over them. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The crowd booed.

  “I really don’t. Graeme’s followers are not all bad. They’re scared. Scared of change, scared of what they would do with the freedom we strive for. But even as I say this, my spies tell me that Graeme is mobilizing. I can’t tell you when he’ll be here, but I can tell you that it will be sooner as opposed to later. He is coming. And he’s coming for our blood.”

  “He’s not going to get it!”

  “Let him come!”

  “We’re not afraid!”

  “As of right now,” Lukas yelled over the restless crowd, “we are at war. We are not fleeing. We are not seeking it out. But if it comes to us, we will be prepared. I’ve assigned each of you to a squadron, complete with a squad leader and a second. This information will be distributed along with orders. If they come for us, we’re going to blow them back to Graeme’s doorstep in pieces.”

  The crowed roared.

  It was over. There was nothing Jarrell could do except try to contact Graeme, tell him not to attack and that he was entering a trap. But that would only delay the inevitable. If Graeme didn’t attack, Lukas would. He had fear on his side, and it was as powerful an ally as any. Jarrell had failed. All he could do was cut his losses and run. But he still needed to make good on a promise.

  Chapter 15

  They approached on foot, using the shadows to hide their advance. Allyn crept along in the middle of the file, behind a handful of magi. The magical S.W.A.T. force totaled more than twenty in all and was one of two storming Lukas’s compound. Graeme led this force, Jaxon the other, each approaching from different areas with separate objectives.

  Jaxon’s force was tasked with creating a diversion, assaulting the elevator that led to the top floor of the abandoned warehouse where Lukas made his compound, and then entering through the main entrance. Meanwhile, Graeme and his force would ascend the fire escape and slip in among the chaos, using it to find Kendyl and retreat with minimal casualties.

  It was a sound plan.

  Allyn shivered against the wind. His compression armor did little to repel the rain that poured down in sheets. A river of rainwater flowed down the street against the curb and into a drain in front of them. Save for the hollow sound of splashing water echoing through the open grate, the streets were quiet. Lukas’s compound was in an industrial part of town two blocks south of the Columbia River where more buildings were vacant than occupied. And as late as it was, all the buildings were quiet, their working inhabitants having long since called it a day.

  Lukas’s compound wasn’t much to look at and certainly not what Allyn had expected. Yellow light poured from the grimy top-floor windows of the otherwise-vacant building. Some were propped open, and others were broken. It looked… normal, hardly the sinister building of a psychopath bent on death and destruction.

  Graeme ordered them to a halt, and they slid off the main street into the shadowy recesses of stoops, alleys, and corners, where they waited for their cue to advance.

  Hold on, Kendyl. We’re on our way.

  The lookout’s eyes widened in terror as Jaxon slipped from the shadows in front of him, driving his large fist into the man’s face. Leira caught him as he stumbled backward. White light flared as her bare hand touched his face, forcing him unconscious. Together, they dragged him into the alley where the rest of their force waited.

  Erik, a young bright-eyed magi, handed him the rope. The kid’s hands were trembling. Embarrassed under Jaxon’s gaze, Erik withdrew, joining the others in a silent circle watching Jaxon and Leira bind the lookout’s wrists and ankles. Having trained so many of the magi under his command was an odd feeling. Things weren’t supposed to work that way. Those who did the training weren’t supposed to command. It was too personal.

  Jaxon knew each of them. He knew their strengths and weaknesses. He remembered how quickly some had learned and how some had been blocked for years before finally being able to wield. Most, though not all, were younger than he was, but they were all his magi. And he would have to order some of them to their deaths.

  It’s not supposed to work this way.

  He pulled the rope tight in a complex knot that would likely have to be burned off. In reality, the rope would do little to hold the man once he regained consciousness, but that wouldn’t happen until they were ready. The knot was merely a symbolic gesture. He nodded to Leira and tossed the man over his shoulder.

  She waited, her honey-colored eyes seeming to glow a bit brighter for a moment. Nobody else seemed to notice. Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks, but he felt as if he noticed things about her that nobody else did. Does she notice things about me? The thought scared him more than what waited for him inside that compound.

  “It’s clear,” Leira said.

  He took her word as truth. As a cleric’s abilities grew, they could probe for energy and feel when another person was close. Proximity was important. Not even Leira could feel how many magi were waiting for them in Lukas’s compound. Four guards were all they’d found outside. How many magi had Lukas drawn to his cause?

  Jaxon stepped out of the alley. The limp man was dead weight on his shoulder. He jogged along easily, and the rest of his force followed, with Leira bringing up the rear. The man’s face bounced against Jaxon’s shoulder. He would probably wake up with a broken nose, but he would wake up. He would survive. Jaxon was relieved Graeme had ordered him not to kill unless they couldn’t help it and only if they were provoked. They were there for Allyn’s sister, nothing more. Graeme still held out hope that war could be prevented, though neither of them believed it could.

  Still, it was good to hope.

  Laying the unconscious man on the ground, Jaxon selected the clerics, eight of them in all, and silently counted to three with his fingers. On three, he slid into the deserted warehouse, clerics streaming in behind him, as silently as possible. Dust hung heavily in the air, and pools of standing water spread across the concrete floor. Obscured by the dirty windows, dim light came from streetlamps across the street. A metallic smell mixed with exhaust from large metal fabrication equipment.

  They fanned out, searching from corner to corner, ready to force more guards into unconscious submission. Fire and air concussions were dramatic, even intimidating, but would prematurely alert Lukas to their presence. They didn’t find any other guards, confirming his expectations that Leira would have alerted him if more guards were waiting.

  Even in almost complete darkness, Leira’s eyes seemed to glow. There was no way it was a trick. He could tell when she was wielding.

  “Clear,” he said in a forceful whisper. Magi swarmed in behind him. Erik and another young magi carried their captive inside by his hands and feet.

  Jaxon found a metal folding chair tucked away in a corner. Metal shavings covered the seat, but it would do. It didn’t need to be comfortable. He carried it to the back of the warehouse, where a freight elevator sat open. A wave of relief flowed through him. They’d passed the first known variable in this operation. He shuddered to think of what they would’ve done if the elevator hadn’t been waiting. He just hoped it was operational.

  Jaxon placed the chair in the middle of the large elevator then climbed atop it, probing the ceiling for the maintenance hatch. When he found it, the dry hinge squealed as he propped it open. The rooftop was three stories up, and it would be tight, but they should have enough room. Satisfied, he stepped down.

  “I f
ound it,” Leira whispered, stepping toward him.

  “The breaker for the plant or the floor?” Jaxon asked.

  “An emergency shutoff. We pull the lever, and the lights go out in the entire building.”

  “Good work.” He turned to Erik. “Follow Leira. When we give the command, I want you to pull the lever. Understand?”

  Erik nodded and left with Leira.

  “Tie him to the chair,” Jaxon said, pointing at the unconscious guard. “We’re going in.”

  The compound bustled with activity as magi under the watchful eyes of Lukas and Darian Hyland built makeshift barriers, bunkers, and traps. They used whatever they could find: chairs, tables, buckets, even a broken toilet, tossing them onto heaps meant to slow an incoming attack. They quickly ran out of things to build barriers with. When someone brought this up to Lukas, he looked at him incredulously.

  “We’re on the top floor of an abandoned warehouse,” he said. “Go downstairs and find something!”

  The young man paled then vanished, likely rushing downstairs to gather more supplies. He was one of the last to seek Lukas with a problem. He found the rest on his own.

  “You’ve funneled them this way but haven’t left yourselves anywhere to retreat,” Lukas said, observing one of the makeshift bunkers. “What happens when they advance and your backs are against the wall?”

  “We’ll kill them all.”

  “I like the sentiment,” Lukas said. “But it’s not going to work. Turn this into a false trail. Back there by your second barrier, leave a small opening against the wall where you can double back and get behind the enemy. Turn this into a bunker facing that way, against the wall. They’ll be like prisoners in a shooting range.”

  The revision meant removing hundreds of pounds of broken bricks and cinderblocks, but the men followed Lukas’s orders without question. Elsewhere, Lukas sent a team of magi to gather discarded drums of oils and solvents, which they positioned outside doors, in well-trafficked hallways, and exposed rafters.

  “All this oil won’t be easy to put out,” Jarrell said, rolling a barrel into place.

  “It’s not supposed to be.”

  So Lukas isn’t intending on staying here. He’s willing to bring the whole building down on us as long as it means killing Graeme in the process.

  Lukas hadn’t divided the men into squads as he’d indicated he would—he probably hadn’t expected the men to jump straight to work. But once they did, he wasn’t going to stop them. Without a squad or someone telling him what to do, Jarrell was left to his own devices. Having long since learned that the worst jobs often went to those who waited to be told what to do, he did just enough to look busy. It gave him an opportunity to see the layout, and what he saw sent chills down his spine. If Graeme assaulted this compound, it would be a bloodbath.

  He had to get word to him somehow. But the compound was on lockdown. He couldn’t slip out like he had before. And Graeme’s estate was across town. He couldn’t just slide a note under his door. Jarrell didn’t have a cell phone, and even if he did, he would have to contend with Graeme’s cursed jammer. He had only one way to get word to Graeme—in person.

  He had to flee. But he wouldn’t do it alone.

  Jarrell strode through the chaotic halls like a man in the middle of an important task, pushing past other workers, dodging looks, and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. The last thing he needed was to be summoned by someone in charge or someone who thought they were.

  “You,” a voice called out. Kaleb. He was exactly the type of person Jarrell was avoiding. Jarrell kept walking. “Jarrell!” Kaleb yelled above the commotion, too loudly for Jarrell to act as if he hadn’t heard him.

  I’m an important man on an important errand, Jarrell told himself, steeling his confidence. Not missing a step, Jarrell turned to him and held up his finger. “One minute,” he said and kept on, continuing his pretend task.

  Kaleb blinked. He wasn’t used to being blown off and would likely find a way to punish Jarrell for the public swipe at his authority.

  Jarrell slipped into his room and closed the door, muffling some of the commotion outside. He observed his room. What would take with him? What did he need?

  Nothing. I don’t need to bring anything. He rubbed his forehead. Beads of sweat poured down from his thinning hair, the moisture fogging up his glasses. When did I start sweating? Was it the nerves or the work? It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was… Lukas is alone.

  Alone.

  Where is Kendyl? Lukas never let her out of his sight. She was like an abused pet, always cowering but never raising a fuss. Lukas didn’t keep her at his side for that reason alone, though. It was a mind game. She was the embodiment of the war against Graeme and a walking example of their first victory—a trophy to be admired. As long as she was the center of attention, she couldn’t escape. And a trophy would be locked up safely in only one place.

  Jarrell strode through the halls toward Lukas’s private chambers before he realized what he was doing. This area of the compound was deserted and the sounds of battle preparations distant. Reyland, Lukas’s most trusted bodyguard, stood outside the door, and Lawson, a newer guard, stood at attention beside him. Reyland’s disheveled black hair clung to his pale forehead, and his eyes, which were even darker even than his hair, latched onto Jarrell as he approached. He scared the death out of Jarrell.

  His mind told him to stop, turn, and run, but his body disobeyed and continued forward purposefully. Get control of yourself, old man. You are a trusted member of Lukas’s followers and were sent here for a specific reason. “I’m here for the girl,” Jarrell said, stopping in front of Reyland.

  “Lukas said nobody in or out,” Reyland said. They were the most words Jarrell had ever heard the man utter—Reyland would rather kill a man than talk to him.

  “Now I’m telling you different,” Jarrell said. “Let me in.”

  “No.”

  “Do you really think I’d be here if Lukas didn’t send me? What business do I have with the girl?”

  “Nobody in or out. Those are my orders.”

  “Look,” Jarrell said irritably. “I understand the good-soldier routine, okay? I’ll even tell Lukas about it, but right now, I need to get into that room.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Then you’re going to have to stop me because I’m not going to find Lukas just so he can tell you different.” Something about acting tough and talking tough actually made him feel tough. Jarrell pushed his way forward and was immediately met with a hand to his chest. Reyland’s eyes bored into Jarrell’s, probing for something. Fear, Jarrell realized, setting his jaw and meeting Reyland’s gaze.

  “Find Lukas,” Reyland said, his eyes still set on Jarrell’s.

  Lawson obeyed without a word.

  Once Lawson was out of sight, Jarrell snatched Reyland’s hand and wielded. Reyland’s fatigue was like a vast underground lake, deep and hidden from the surface, but still present. Lukas was riding them hard, those closest to him the hardest of all, and for once, Jarrell appreciated it. He gathered his own fatigue to the surface and projected it into Reyland. Almost immediately, Reyland fell to the floor, unconscious. Checking the halls for onlookers, Jarrell grabbed Reyland’s arm and dragged him inside Lukas’s chamber. The lack of guards would be suspicious, but one lying unconscious outside would be even more so.

  Entering Lukas’s chamber, Jarrell immediately found Kendyl. She was in the corner where the concrete wall met the brick exterior wall, gagged. A single naked light dangled above her. Rope held her hands behind her back, and her ankles had been tied to the legs of a metal folding chair. If she saw him, she didn’t acknowledge him. Jarrell dropped Reyland and rushed to her.

  “Can you walk?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, working at the
knots that bound her ankles. She grunted something inaudible. Jarrell cursed himself and removed her gag, a dirty piece of worn cloth soaked with saliva. She was fortunate she hadn’t suffocated.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, panicked.

  “We’re leaving.”

  “No!” Kendyl shouted, thrashing, pulling the knots from Jarrell’s hands.

  “Stop. I can’t untie you if you keep doing that.”

  “Please,” Kendyl pleaded. “Just go.”

  “Don’t you want out of here?”

  “He’ll catch me.”

  “No, he won’t,” Jarrell said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  She stopped thrashing, and Jarrell restarted on the knots.

  “My friends are coming, and when they get here, Lukas is going to kill them. I have to get out of here. I have to stop them. And you’re coming with me.” The ropes fell limp, and Jarrell unwrapped them from her legs. The skin around her ankles was raw. He would have to heal them before they got infected—it would help him earn her trust—but it would have to wait until they reached safety.

  “Why are you doing this?” Kendyl asked.

  Jarrell walked behind her to begin on the knots that bound her wrists. “I told you I would get you out of here.