“I can feel him, Zev, that’s all. I’m all right,” she declared. “His presence is strong in this room. It just threw me for a minute, that’s all.”
Zev crouched beside the body, hands reluctantly keeping away from Arno, even though she felt his need to touch the man in a kind of salute. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’ve got this one, Branka. I’m your detail man, remember?”
She nodded. Zev knew Arno far better than she did. If there was something out of place he would spot it. “Take your time,” she cautioned. They couldn’t afford a mistake.
“The stake isn’t right,” he said. “The cord holding his medallion of the Sacred Circle isn’t the one he normally wears.” Without touching the fallen council member, Zev peered closer, studying the small intricate tattoo on Arno’s wrist. “This isn’t right, either, Branislava. Can you look at this for me? I’ll show you what it should look like and you tell me what’s different and why.”
In his mind, Zev produced an exact replica of the Sacred Circle tattoo worn on the wrist by every member. He felt Branislava look it over carefully before she studied the one on Arno. He heard her suck in her breath sharply.
“He’s woven in a death spell. See the black runes between the double rows of the scrolls? Don’t touch the body. Don’t move it. Not yet. And don’t let his blood get on you.”
Zev sank back on his heels, avoiding any contact with Arno.
She passed her hand over the stake, careful not to get too close. “Yes, he’s added some kind of spell to the stake. The cord is definitely rigged as well and looks as if I’ll have the most trouble with it.”
She took a deep breath and stood up, glancing over her shoulder at the three women watching. They nodded to her, prepared to help her.
“What happens if I sever the head and we just walk away from this?” Zev asked. “That’s what you wanted in the first place. I can see your reasoning.”
“I have no doubt that he made that impossible as well. He’s driving us toward Arno’s brain and his memories.”
“We already know his intent now, Branka. Why continue? We can burn the body.”
A small sound escaped from Branislava’s sister. Clearly burning the body wasn’t a good idea. There were few things that made him lose his temper, but feeling helpless was one of them. He couldn’t stand in front of his lifemate and protect her when he didn’t know how. This kind of mage magic was out of his realm of experience.
“Just do what you have to do, Branka, and let’s get this over with.”
Branislava cast her protection circle and then stood for a long moment gathering her courage. Facing Xaviero was becoming easier. She had been so terrified of him, but each time she was successful in destroying his work, she realized how much she really did know. Her education had been complete.
The three brothers had all worked in the laboratory, learning and perfecting skills over and over. There hadn’t been a spell, from the smallest to the most dangerous, that she hadn’t seen and committed to memory. She had nothing else to keep her mind occupied in those long years of captivity. The three High Mages didn’t know more than she knew.
She concentrated on the tattoo first. The dark death spell was woven carefully within the tattoo itself. She knew Xaviero well enough to know he would find it amusing to weave such a deviant spell into what was considered a sacred symbol. Had Zev not recognized that there was that tiny difference, the High Mage would have had his entertainment for the evening.
That which is marked, drawn in black,
I call forth your energy to send you back,
Twist and turn, swirl that burn,
I draw forth your power, which now I return.
Branislava watched the runes slowly disappear from the tattoo. She took a deep, cleansing breath and let it out. “Really study the tattoo, Zev, make certain there isn’t anything else hidden.”
Zev took his time, looking at the tattoo he’d seen a thousand times on various people. The pool of blood prevented him from getting too close, but eventually he nodded. “It looks like it’s supposed to, Branka.”
“The stake is filled with power. I can feel it, much like an explosive. It’s a simple enough spell designed to kill as many people as possible.” The memory of Xavier placing the spell in objects and then sending in his apprentice to retrieve the article for him rose like a nightmare. Both Tatijana and she had tried to warn the various unsuspecting young mages. They had never succeeded and had watched the apprentices die when the spell was triggered.
That which is silver, born of fire,