Page 44 of Magick and Lead (Dragons and Aces #2)

CHARLIE

I t was a blur. Grabbing our gear. Mounting the motorcycle. Cutting through the fields and out the back lane. Driving back from the farm to the city along obscure back roads in order to avoid the spooks who were after us.

All the while, as we blazed down those winding back roads among forests and fields, I had been hyper-aware of Essa’s arm around my waist. Would she ever hold me like this again, once this was over?

Would she ever be this close to me again?

I wanted to veer off, to take a wrong turn and drive forever if only that would keep her here, so close I could feel the rise and fall of her chest against my back with every breath.

And yet, there was no avoiding what waited before us, approaching with every revolution of the motorcycle’s wheels, every tick of the watch on my wrist. Tonight, we would face Kortoi.

And then, I would know once and for all what Essa’s feelings for me were.

If I’d destroyed everything between us with my lies—or not.

It was strange… I was about to break into a highly fortified place filled with elite guards ready to kill any intruder with a single squeeze of their trigger.

And yet, the only thing that filled me with dread was the thought of watching Essa mount Othura and disappear into the sky forever—without me.

I’m a fool, I thought. And a damned sap.

And yet, I would not have traded places with any other man. Not for all the money in the world.

Finally, after a trip made much longer by the circuitous route we’d taken, we hit the honking, jerking snarl of city traffic and ground our way through it to the Potholder District where The Mint sat.

We found a little café with outdoor seating across the river from The Mint and ordered a late lunch while we scoped the place out.

There wasn’t much to see. The Mint was a sturdy brick building, three stories tall, part of which was cantilevered out over the river with a deck overlooking the water.

The old wooden beams that supported it ran down to the river bottom and had been supplemented at some point with additional beams of steel.

But that was all we could see from here.

Getting in was going to be a challenge. And?—

“All the gods!” Essa exclaimed, and I looked over to find her mouth full, her eyes wide with wonder. “What did you call this?”

She brandished the bun-clad meat stick in her hand.

“It’s a hot dog,” I said.

She stared down at it. “And the twin sauces?”

“Ketchup and mustard,” I laughed.

She shook her head in wonder. “It’s exquisite. I have to introduce these back in Maethalia,” she held up the hot dog, examining it. “How are they made?”

I chuckled. “You don’t want to know.”

“With machines?” She frowned.

“I’m afraid so.”

She shook her head mournfully. “Well. At least I can enjoy it while I’m here…”

I nodded back toward The Mint. “So, about this mission...”

“Yes,” Essa said, wiping her fingers daintily on a napkin. “Othura will slip out of the tunnels as soon as it gets dark, make her way to the river, and swim here.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Nobody’s going to notice a dragon back-stroking through the city?”

“Librans love to swim, and Othura can hold her breath and swim underwater for ages. The river looks deep enough that she should be able to make her way here without being seen.”

I nodded. “Okay. Next question, how do we get under the building?”

“We could climb down those rocks along the shore and go under the deck?”

I pointed. “Except for those guys. See them?”

“Of course,” she nodded and recited, without looking: “Two black-suited gunmen on top of a building to the left of The Mint, another on the rooftop to the right. And three more of them on the deck.”

“Nice,” I said. “There are a few on this side of the river, too, I’m sure. I just haven’t spotted them yet…”

She nodded off to our left, where a church stood.

“There. In the bell tower. I saw them as we arrived.”

I smiled. “Good reminder not to underestimate the observational powers of a Skrathan…”

“Indeed,” she said. “So… simply climbing down the rocks is out. We’ll have to get under there in the same way as Othura. By swimming underwater.”

When I hesitated, she gave me a look.

“You can swim underwater, can’t you?”

“I can ,” I said. “Just… not well. And I prefer not to. Especially not in the Bentwater River.”

She tsked . “I’m giving you swimming lessons after this…”

Her words trailed off as she looked away, down the river. She’d used a forbidden word: after . It didn’t take dragon intuition to know what was going through her mind. She’d started to imagine us together after tonight. And she’d stopped herself.

Because after tonight, there would be no us —not in her mind. The weight of the realization settled on both of us.

I reached out and took her hand.

“Essa,” I said. When she didn’t look at me, I said her name more forcefully. “ Essa .”

This time, she looked.

Her changeable eyes, now reflecting the river and the sky, were a deep green and filled with sorrow.

I saw loneliness reflected in them. My own loneliness.

The life of a boy who’d always felt set apart, even in a crowd.

Who’d felt lost, even when surrounded by an entire Air Force that revered him.

A boy who’d been willing to die to show the world that he was somebody.

I was still that little boy. Still ready to die to prove myself—to Essa, this time.

Just as she was ready to risk her own life to prove herself worthy of being Irska—worthy of wearing the crown, worthy of being the only surviving daughter of a queen who’d died a hero.

“You’ll always be enough for me,” I said.

Her brow furrowed with confusion. She had no idea the train of thought that had led me to utter those words.

But I opened up the simnal now and showed her.

A flow of memories. Feelings. Desires. I saw understanding fill her eyes.

Then tears. Then, she clapped the simnal shut and turned away from me with a shake of her head.

“Charlie…” she opened her mouth, but no more words came. The sentence died, crushed under the weight of everything—two kingdoms. Too many lies. Too unfair a world.

I understood. God, I understood her all too well.

I squeezed her hand. “It’s okay,” I said. “Whatever happens… We’re here together now. And I’m going to stand with you. It’s going to be okay.”

Her eyes glistened with tears, though she wouldn’t let them fall. She gave a bitter laugh.

“Here’s the poet again. Tell me, Charlie. When in the history of our two nations—in the history of the world—has everything ever been okay?”

I took a deep breath. It required effort, as if I were breathing underwater. I turned her question over in my mind.

Then I reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her brow.

“When we were in that cave together on Dorhane. And my arms were around you, and my lips were pressed against your neck, and my eyes were shut, and I could feel your heart beating against me. And I could smell your hair against my cheek. Everything was okay then. Just for a minute. It was perfect. But we can take that perfect moment and we can make it forever, Essa.”

I watched her, watched each wave of emotion that washed over her.

Her eyes brimming even fuller with tears that she still wouldn’t let fall.

Her lips quirking as she thought of some sarcastic response.

Her breath releasing in a sigh as she realized she couldn’t just joke the moment away. In the end, she squeezed my hand back.

There were no words. But our hands linked together—that was enough. It was everything.

A sudden commotion drew our attention across the river. A motorcade of a dozen vehicles had pulled up in front of The Mint. Cameras flashed as reporters took pictures. Citizens shouted and cheered.

“The president’s arriving,” I said.

“And Kortoi,” Essa whispered.

We waited until darkness slipped over the city, the lights in the towering buildings around us blinking on like stars awakening one by one.

In a soldierly silence, we went back to the motorcycle and retrieved my oilskin bag, which contained our weapons and a change of clothes for each of us.

Then, together, we went back to the river.

A set of brick stairs led down to a fishing platform that had been built over the water at the foot of the 18 th Street bridge.

From there, we could see The Mint some seventy yards distant.

Its balcony was lit up with crisscrossing strings of electric lights, and a pair of spotlights shone from the edges of the deck down onto the river in both directions—a security measure, no doubt.

It would make swimming under the deck even more difficult than anticipated. We’d have to take a final breath at least fifty yards away, beyond where the light reached, then remain underwater until we got to the cover of the deck.

Then, there was getting in. And finding Kortoi. We still had no idea exactly where he’d be or what the security situation would be inside—except there would probably be a hell of a lot of heavily armed bodyguards and mages, too.

It was a daunting mission, to say the least. A suicide mission, maybe.

I’d rather have been streaking through the sky at a hundred and twenty miles per hour any day.

I glanced over to find Essa looking at me. Something about her eyes, illuminated by the city lights, reminded me of galaxies. Deep. Complex. Infinite.

“Are you sure you can do this?” she asked, nodding toward the water. “Because I can go alone. In fact, maybe it would be better?—”

I cupped her face in my hands. “Essa. You know I wouldn’t let you go without me.”

She shook her head. “Right now, everyone in this city thinks you’re a hero, Charlie. But from this moment on, even if this works, you’ll be a criminal. You’ll be throwing away your life. And if it doesn’t work…”

“It’ll work,” I said. That was the mindset I approached every mission with, a game I played with myself. Success was inevitable because I was the goddamned Silver Wraith.

“Still….” She looked away from me. And the dragon intuition twinged inside me, telling me what she wasn’t saying. She wasn’t just worried for me. She was worried about whether she could trust me. Still. Even after everything…

I bit back my frustration, and I followed her gaze to the dark water flowing past beneath us.

We had to put the relationship shit aside—for the next hour, at least. Mind on the mission…

“Is Othura on her way?” I asked.

She closed her eyes for a second, communicating, then nodded. “Yes. She should be here soon.”

“Good then,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Before she could object, I hopped up to sit on the railing and pitched myself backwards, going head-over heels into the river.

The water was further down than I realized, and I hit awkwardly, getting a slap on the back and a nose full of water.

I came up coughing, and Essa leaned over the rail and hissed down at me:

“Show off!”

With far more grace than I’d displayed, she vaulted the rail and entered the water with hardly a splash.

She disappeared, and for an instant, it felt as if my heart stopped.

But a second later, she broke the surface again, already swimming, long sidestrokes that utilized her one intact hand to great effect. I followed her, hardly able to keep up.

“Shh!” she admonished me in a whisper. “Quit slapping the water. You sound like a child in a bathtub.”

I readied a retort, but that would only have made more noise, so I contented myself with swimming along behind her as quietly as I could, distrustfully eyeing the dark water around us as I went.

I realized, too late now, that we were swimming against a surprisingly strong current, something that would make the task twice as difficult as it would have otherwise been.

We’d have to swim for fifty yards underwater, against this current, and if we so much as popped our heads up for a breath, we were likely to take a headshot from one of the rooftop snipers who no doubt had their eyes glued to the river.

To top it all off, the water was cold as hell.

Already, I could feel my leg muscles cramping. Not ideal…

Ahead, a pale arc traced the surface of the river, the edge of the spotlight’s illumination. We’d be swimming underwater from here on out. Essa turned back to me, treading water.

“You ready?”

I wasn’t. Not remotely. I was out of breath. Waterlogged. Freaked out by the black water and skeptical of my ability to swim the necessary distance underwater.

But I was the goddamned Silver Wraith.

“Ready,” I said.

I expected more. A recap of the plan. A kiss for luck. But already the current was pushing us backward; there was no time for chatter. Essa took a breath and, as gracefully as an otter, ducked under the water and disappeared.

“Sophi, daughter of God…” I prayed. “Grow me some gills, would you?”

And I gulped a breath and ducked under the water, following Essa.

It was damned cold, and the water was murky and full of silt. I wouldn’t have been able to figure out where I was going at all, ironically, if it weren’t for the spotlight. I swam toward its glow like a flower turning toward the sun.

The current pushed against me. I pulled myself ahead. The current pushed against me. I pulled myself ahead—an endless tug of war. With each stroke, the burning in my lungs grew until it felt like I was holding a lungful of fire.

I had to breathe—had to breathe now. But if I did, the snipers would have me.

The idea that I could fail here, after everything I’d been through… When I was so close to helping Essa get her revenge? I couldn’t let that happen.

I swam harder, pulling my way forward with every bit of my strength.

But the current was just too strong. Spots danced across my vision. My limbs felt leaden. The world seemed to be shrinking, encroaching darkness and cold narrowing my vision to a point.

I was going to pop to the surface and get my head blown off.

I was going to pass out and drown.

Essa! I tried to call, but all I did was cough a mouthful of bubbles as the cold and dark around me drew its noose tighter.

My legs were cramping worse now, my left hamstring going taut as a fist, making the leg barely usable.

My lungs sizzled. My mind rang with the alarm of an air raid siren.

I’m going to drown. I’m going to drown. I’m going to?—

The hell I am. I’m the goddamn Silver Wraith.

But flying a plane was one thing. Swimming was another.

The blackness closed on me like the mouth of some terrible beast, and I knew no more.