Mine to Fear (Mine #3)(50)

I motion Cynthia to take my spot while I watch Jack's back. The door of the building is unguarded. Probably due to a mixture of having the spells guarding it and being too far out here. Jack motions all of us to move flat against the wall. As soon as we're all hiding, as best we can, Jack knocks on the door.

Several moments later, a burly warlock with a stench I can smell all the way over where I'm at, answers.

“You my replacement?”

“Yes, I am.”

“It's about time you got here. Get in here.”

“Of course. Sorry about being late.” Behind his back, Jack slams one fist on the other, indicating one of us should take this guy out.

I cast a sleep spell, knocking him to the floor. We hesitate a moment, just long enough to see if anyone is coming. When no one does, Cynthia strengthens the spell for him to sleep even more, and we drag him across the ground to the other side of the building out of sight. He's so heavy, it takes all of us pulling and shoving to get him there. The fact that he sleeps through it all is a good sign.

“I'm going to go through first,” Jack whispers. “If this warlock mistook me for his replacement, perhaps the others will as well.”

I nod. If only we knew how many others there are for certain. We don't know exactly what we're walking into.

Jack heads in first. As the rest of us wait outside, I can't help but imagine a plethora of horrid things that could happen to him. What if he never comes back? What if I never see him again? What if he's badly injured? Or worse?

I shake my head in the direction of the door. Chadwick firmly shakes his head and holds up two fingers, indicating we should wait two more minutes. Which maybe we should, but what if he's in there being hexed to death? Waiting is only going to make that worse.

Each second of those two minutes is torture, to stand there and do nothing. When they're finally up, I reach for the doorknob.

“Give him another minute,” Chadwick whispers.

I shake my head, but before I can turn the knob, the door bursts open.

I jump back, but it's only Jack.

He gives me a small grin but tainted with something I fear. “There's no other guards in here. That guy was the only one.”

“Don't tell me that means we need to drag him inside,” I say.

“Let's leave him out here.” He gives me a look. “I think it might be best if you girls stay out here.”

“I don't think so,” I retort.

“What she said,” Cynthia adds.

“It's up to you,” Jack says. “But it's not a pleasant sight in there.”

A chill grips me, pricking my whole body with its iciness. “We can't help if we can't see it.”

Lukas takes a hold of Cynthia's hand. The action makes me want to hold someone’s hand as well. But whose would it be? Chadwick or Jack? Why are either of them even on that list? Chadwick is what's expected of me, and Jack is—now isn't the time to think about this.

Jack leads us in the building. At first it's nothing more than a hallway. Nothing on the walls, just fresh white paint and bright lights on the ceiling. Too bright. Glaring.

We walk into a big, open room, the middle of which is a bright purple spell around some sort of machine that goes up into the ceiling. I don't spend much time trying to figure it out, though, because of what's surrounding it.

Lying on the floor all around it are bodies. Unmoving bodies. Too many of them. Women and men alike, all with one arm tied up to the machine. As I get a closer look, each arm tied to the machine has a cut on it where the purple spell is pulling at it, taking their blood. Their magic.

This is what the Grand Chancellor meant by using people to make electricity? I want to retch. My heart aches in a way it never has before. It’s heavy to the point it physically hurts, the pain overriding my senses.

One of the people on the floor's foot moves. I jump, grabbing onto Jack's arm. He gives my hand a pat and then walks over to the person who just moved. He whispers something I can't hear.

“All is well,” he says louder. “We're here to help.”

More people begin to stir. It's a good thing. They need to be able to move to get out of here, but seeing how alive these people are, what they are going through, is almost more than I can take.

Jack unhooks the machine attached to the foot mover’s arm. The spell releases with the detachment. It spurs me into action. I fly to the machine and unhook as many of the people as quickly as I can. The others help, but it doesn't feel fast enough. We can't get away from this place soon enough.

Hoarse whispers of thanks are mingled with exhausted looks. The people are weak from their ordeal. Seeing them try and do something as simple as walking, seeing them struggle to put one foot in front of the other, to not fall to the ground, all of it makes my stomach sick.

I feel a torrent of rage at the Grand Chancellor for putting these people in this situation. It should never, ever have come about. He should have stuck to his trade routes with Chryos instead of ruining these people.

“How are we going to get them home?” I whisper to Jack.

He shakes his head. “One step at a time.”

“And not get caught?” It's a formidable task. But one we have to succeed at.

We let them rest, giving them what food and water we have, though it's not nearly enough. They have been well fed, but with the strain of giving up so much magic and blood, it's not enough. Half an hour later, we decide that we can't wait any longer, no matter how much these people need rest. Here is not the place to let them have it.