Marked by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #4)(55)

“Mrs. Mills is definitely lying,” Fenris said, staring at the woman with disgust. “I, for one, believe Sunaya is right.”

“I know.” Iannis gestured to one of the enforcer mages waiting in the background. “Secure Mrs. Mills. She is under arrest.”

“You will regret your decision in hell!” Thorgana spat, ripping the pendant from her neck. It was a glass pendant, and a chill ran down my spine as I caught sight of a red, smoky substance within it. Leaping forward, I tried to grab it from her, but she threw it to the ground as hard as she could just as I slammed her against the wall.

“Ul’fraith!” Iannis shouted, and I turned my head to see a strange, yellow bubble form around the reddish smoke, enclosing it completely. It pulsed, then flared brightly, and I shielded my face as a shockwave rippled through the space.

“Get off me,” Thorgana spat, shoving me away. To my surprise, I stumbled backward – I hadn’t expected her to be that strong. She made a dash for the exit, but the two enforcer mages grabbed her before she could make it more than three steps.

“I do not know what that was,” Iannis said coldly as Thorgana struggled to break free, “but I strongly suspect you just tried to kill us all, Mrs. Mills. You will be tried and convicted of attempting to kill multiple members of the Mages Guild, in addition to the mountain of other charges the Legal Secretary will file against you.”

“You can’t prove that,” Thorgana cried. “You can’t prove any of it! I’m just the wife of a businessman!”

“Oh, we will prove it,” I hissed, meeting her malice-filled gaze. “And I’ll make sure your victims are avenged, even if I have to do it with my own two hands.”

It was a chore for the enforcers to get Thorgana into cuffs – she struggled mightily against the two large men, using strength that a small human woman, especially a socialite, shouldn’t possess. A theory popped into my mind about the reason behind that, but I filed it away for later consideration. I was still wrapping my mind around the fact that this puny socialite was the Benefactor. Had she acted alone, or in concert with her husband? For all I knew, she had a whole team of co-conspirators. Now that we finally had her in custody, I hoped we’d be able to clear up this mystery. But judging by the ice-cold hatred in her gaze as she passed me, it might not be easy to get her to talk.

“Let’s search this place thoroughly,” Iannis commanded.

Fenris and the enforcer mages left to escort Thorgana back to the Palace, where she would be held and interrogated, while Iannis and I split up with the apprentices to search the house. Iannis took his team to the upper floor, which I knew from my previous stays held the majority of the rooms, and I left the apprentices to search the ground floor while I descended a set of stairs toward the back that led down to the cellar.

The mansion’s cellar proved to be a veritable warren of underground rooms, mostly used for storage. One room, for example, held bulging bags and cases of dry goods – enough rice, flour, sugar, and beans to ride out a siege. Another was filled with racks of dusty wine bottles and other types of liquor.

I examined a bottle of red that was thirty-two years old, according to the label. I gave it a slight shake, but only heard the slosh of liquid, nothing hidden inside. The booze always flowed freely at Thorgana’s parties, so it figured she kept her wine cellar well stocked. Perhaps she took advantage of the inebriated guests. I’d seen her collect donations from sloshed attendees on more than one occasion, usually exorbitant amounts meant to support some kind of humanitarian cause. Had that money really been going to the Resistance?

She probably managed to obtain more resources than just gold, I reflected as I left the wine cellar and moved across the hall to the last room. This one was filled with stacks of boxes. Judging by the variety of shapes and sizes, they could hold anything from dinner plates to pieces of furniture.

As I moved toward the nearest stack, my ears picked up a rustling sound. I froze, listening again. The slight noise, which would not have been noticeable to human ears, was coming from the brick wall on my right.

There shouldn’t be anything behind that except dirt. I pressed my ear to the wall and caught the distinctive sound of something scraping against concrete. I took a step back and surveyed the wall. There was probably a loose brick that had to be pulled, or a lever cunningly hidden somewhere in this room.

“Fuck it,” I muttered, lifting my hands. I didn’t know the Words for the spell I wanted, so I simply channeled my magic into my hands and visualized a huge, incredibly dense ball of air into existence. Sort of like the one the mage enforcer had used on the front door, but much deadlier.

I let it fly, then immediately dashed behind a tower of boxes to avoid the resultant explosion. The sound of the air ball ripping through the brick was deafening. I clapped my hands over my ringing ears and leaned into the boxes to keep them from toppling over as chunks of brick slammed into them.

“What the hell was that?” a familiar voice shouted, and I grinned. Here was all the proof of Thorgana’s guilt we could have asked for: she was harboring Petros Yantz, the former editor-in-chief of the Herald. The man who was directly responsible for the silver murders that had claimed my mentor Roanas as a victim. Yantz and I were going to have a really nice talk right now. One that was going to involve broken bones.

Drawing my crescent knives, I stepped from behind the boxes and through the jagged hole I’d blown through the wall. A large, concrete room lay beyond, a hidden sanctuary that had been fashioned into an apartment with a kitchenette and table, and two beds in the back. Yantz stood panting by the table, dusty with debris from the wall. His tall frame was a lot thinner than I last remembered, and there were shadows in his gaunt face. Good. The bastard was suffering.