Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(104)

"No, I won't."

Victoria laughed. She actually laughed. "You're everything I ever wanted."

My phone chimed. I checked it. A text from Bern. Get out of there.

I jumped to my feet.

Five men walked into the restaurant, guns drawn. "On the floor," the lead one ordered. The hostess dropped down. On my left, the two chefs behind the sushi bar hit the floor.

"Hands where I can see them," the leader ordered.

They hadn't fired, so they wanted me alive. I held my hands up and glared at Victoria. "Really?"

She was looking past me at the men. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Alexander says he's sorry," the lead man said. "He needs the girl. This is for the cause. He said you would understand."

"Oh no, my dears," my grandmother said. "This isn't about the cause. This is about family."

Magic snapped out of her. When I clamped people with my will, my magic turned into a vise, a net that smothered and bound them. Victoria turned hers into a blade and stabbed the leader with it. He cried out, a weak fading sound, his eyes rolled back into his skull, and he collapsed.

I jerked my Baby Desert Eagle out.

In the same instant, the man to the left of the leader yelped and clawed at his eyes. The man on the right fell to his knees and hit his head on the floor.

I got off four shots before I realized the two remaining targets stood completely still. My bullets ripped into their chests. Slowly, they toppled over. Five dead bodies lay on the floor. There was nobody left to kill.

Someone shoved me from behind. I stumbled forward. The sound of shattering glass cut at my ears, impossibly loud. I swung right, toward the broken window. A man stood with his rifle up, taking another shot. A Ford Explorer exploded out of the parking lot and smashed into him. The shooter went down, a rag doll under the wheels. Bern drove over him, his face bloodless, reversed and backed over the body.

I turned to Victoria. A dark wet stain spread through Victoria's shoulder. She'd pushed me out of the way. The bullet with my name on it had torn into her instead.

"You need an ambulance."

She grimaced. "I'll be fine. I have a private physician."

"You'll bleed out. You need paramedics now." I grabbed my phone to dial 911. "Why did you do it?"

"Because you're my granddaughter, you idiot."

My phone died. What the hell, I had fully charged it in the car . . .

"Wait . . ." Victoria turned pale, looking at something past me.

I glanced over my shoulder. A darkness spread through the restaurant, expanding from the entrance, climbing over the walls, claiming the space. An ancient darkness that took me into its maw and made me still.

Michael from the Office of Records walked into the restaurant. He still wore the sharp suit and a crisp shirt, blindingly white against his tattooed neck. His hands burned with blue fire.



       
         
       
        

He didn't look like a gangster at a funeral today. He looked like the twenty-first century Grim Reaper.

"I didn't break the rules," Victoria squeezed out through her clenched teeth. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She strained, locking her teeth again.

Nothing happened.

I tried to grab hold of my magic. It flowed out of me. The darkness pounced and devoured it. It hurt. The pain ripped a gasp out of me. Oh, it hurt.

Michael held up the phone. On it the Keeper of Records smiled. "But you have, twice indirectly and now in public. It is time for punishment, Victoria. So sorry."

Michael raised his right hand. The blue fire leaped across the space and splashed onto my grandmother.

Victoria Tremaine screamed.

The blue fire poured on.

Victoria slid off the chair and dropped to the floor. They weren't just hurting her. They were killing her.

I heard my own voice. "Stop! Please stop!"

"Michael," the Keeper of Records said.

The blue flames ebbed. Victoria strained to breathe, her skin ashen.

"Are you asking us to stop, Ms. Baylor?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"She's my grandmother. She saved me. I don't want to start our House with her death."

The Keeper of Records considered it. "Is it a formal request, Ms. Baylor?"

"Yes."

"The Office of Records will grant it, provided you will grant us a favor in return in a place and time of our choosing."

"Don't take it," Victoria squeezed out, her hand on her chest, blood dripping from her fingers.

"I agree."

"Very well," the Keeper said. "We will see you at trials, Ms. Baylor."

The phone went black.