Bright Blaze of Magic (Black Blade, #3)(62)

Not this time.

But I fought on anyway. And every chance I got, I looked past the tangle of guards, the swirl of red cloaks, and the spatter of blood and focused on Devon, memorizing the sound of his voice, the lines of his face, and the exact evergreen color of his eyes. If this was the end, then I wanted him to be the last thing I ever saw—

Something slammed into the back of my skull, causing white stars to flash in warning in front of my eyes. I tried to blink the stars away, but it was no use. Before I even knew what was happening, my sword fell from my hand, tumbling end over end on the street, and I felt myself dropping down to meet it.

I stuck my hands out, trying to break my fall, but it was no use and the cobblestone street rushed up to meet my face.

Then nothing but darkness.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


For a long time, there was just darkness—just a soft, soothing darkness that I was floating along in.

For some reason, I dreamed or imagined that I was in the middle of the Bloodiron River, with cool water all around me, drifting along on my back like an otter. Every once in a while, something would gently brush against my arm or leg or even my cheek, and I realized that it was a lochness tentacle, almost as if I were some sort of toy boat that the creature was playfully pushing down the river. But I didn’t mind. It was almost . . . fun.

I could have stayed in the dream—or whatever it was—longer, but harsh reality eventually intruded, the way it always did.

The first thing I was aware of was the pain in my head and face, where I’d been hit from behind and had fallen onto the cobblestones. It was a dull, steady ache, one that made it hard to open my eyes and actually focus on anything, but I slowly managed it. Everything was hazy and distorted at first, but I kept on blinking and blinking until my surroundings solidified. Then, once they had, I wished I was still unconscious.

For the third time this summer, I woke up as someone’s prisoner. Heavy ropes wound around my wrists and ankles, binding me to a chair. I looked around, expecting to be back in that office in the Draconi warehouse where Claudia and Mo had been held, but instead of a desk, filing cabinets, and other office equipment, all I saw were gray cinderblock walls and meat hooks dangling from the ceiling, along with a single bare bulb that cast out weak, flickering light.

I was in the abandoned warehouse next door, the same one I’d woken up in when Grant had kidnapped Devon and me several weeks ago. Did the Draconis own this warehouse too? Either that, or they just didn’t want to dirty up their own space when they killed me.

And they were going to kill me—I had absolutely no doubt about that.

Still, I must have been really out of it because a giggle rose up in my throat. Here I was in this dark, creepy warehouse again, more or less right back where I’d started at the beginning of the summer. I’d always thought that bad things came in threes, but this was getting ridiculous—

A pair of fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jerk back in surprise. The sudden motion made more pain blossom in my head and face, and I couldn’t help but groan.

“So, you’re finally awake . . . Lila Sterling.”

I froze at the sound of my real name, then slowly turned my head.

Victor Draconi stood in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest. Something silver glinted in his right hand and I realized it was my Sinclair cuff. He must have found it when I’d been knocked out. And judging from his cold, cold glare, he knew exactly what it meant and who it had belonged to.

Victor stared at me for a second, then started circling, examining me from all angles. Blake stood off to the side, his arms also crossed over his chest as he smirked. He finally had me exactly where he wanted me. Good for him—very, very bad for me.

I forced myself to ignore the pain and focus. Victor might have removed my Sinclair cuff, along with the gold Draconi one I’d swiped from the guard, but I still wore my mom’s blue trench coat, and her star-shaped sapphire ring still glimmered on my finger. I shifted in my chair, feeling the edge of my black leather belt and the three throwing stars hooked to it dig into my stomach.

Once I’d taken stock of everything I still had, I moved on to the one thing I didn’t—my sword.

I didn’t spot it anywhere. Victor wasn’t wearing it, and I could see the dragon crest stamped into the hilt of Blake’s sword, which was belted to his waist. There weren’t any other chairs or tables in here, and the weapon wasn’t lying on the concrete floor anywhere.

What had happened to my mom’s sword?

Tears burned my eyes at the thought that her sword was gone, that someone had swiped it off the street when I’d been unconscious, stealing it the way I’d stolen so many other things over the years. Well, that was certainly some cruel, poetic justice. But I forced myself to blink away my tears. Now wasn’t the time to mourn what I’d lost. Not if I had any hope of escaping.

So I looked around the warehouse again, this time searching for Draconi guards, but I didn’t see any—not a single one. I wondered why none of the guards were here to keep an eye on me. Then again, I supposed that Victor didn’t need any guards, given how much magic he had. Even as he circled around me, I could feel the cold chill of power radiating off his body and I knew it was from the lightning magic he possessed. I wondered if he was going to kill me with it. Probably. The thought chilled me even more.

My own transference power stirred weakly in response to his magic, although not enough to give me the strength necessary to break through the thick ropes tying me down. Still, I slowly started flexing my hands and arms, trying to create at least a little slack in the ropes. The long sleeves of my coat hid the furtive motions.