Page 30 of Polestar (The Global Paranormal Security Agency #3)

TWENTY-FOUR

“J esus Christ, I had no idea the kind of shit Ana gets into in her line of work. No clue.” Antony muttered as he drifted through the Barentian stronghold, seeking anything or anyone that could help him help Ana escape this crazy situation. “This isn’t what normal people do.”

All the time they’d lived together, when he was on shore leave, he’d always thought Ana was a ranked pencil-pusher at a government office in the town they lived in.

Boring, safe, easy.

“I thought I had the exciting life.” He poked his head through a thick stone wall, expecting to find another bedroom. “Oh-ho! What’s this?” he moved into the dark space between the rooms.

“Of course, an ancient castle has secret passages, on an island with people that turn into polar bears… and is aggressively occupied by a squid man that sells humans for money and a magician that can send me to oblivion. Of course.” He threw his hands up in the air.

He followed the dark corridor to an intersection, where he saw movement. “I hope there aren’t also giant-sized talking rats in this place. I don’t think I could handle that.” He drifted toward the movement, which turned out to be that of a large man.

Ana’s large man.

Relief and jealousy ripped through Antony.

Relief because help was close by for Ana. Jealousy because her lover was close enough to rescue her while Antony couldn’t.

Just because that guy had a body and Antony didn’t. A very ripped body.

Yeah, he’d seen them in bed together. Accidentally. He wasn’t a voyeur or anything. But it was enough to make him realize what he’d missed out on with the woman he’d never asked to marry him, and should have.

Instead, when she’d finally confided her secret ability to him, he freaked out like the coward he was and broke it off, convincing both of them that friendship was the best option.

Until she’d persistently tried to save his life with her warnings of the pending accident on his ship.

Such a coward.

“I never deserved her,” he mumbled, following Magnus along the secret passages, hoping he was making his way to Ana to get her off this damned island so they could get back to the business of rescuing his men from the human traffickers.

His men. His crew were still alive because of her. And they would be rescued because of her, too.

“I know it. Just like I know you’ll get her out of here,” he said to Magnus’ broad back, ignoring how much more muscle he had than Antony ever did.

Magnus paused, facing the wall, running his hands over the surface.

“You’d better be worthy of her, or I’ll haunt the fuck out of you,” Antony growled in his ear.

Magnus’ head jerked toward the sound of Antony’s voice. He stood still, listening, nose twitching as though he was scenting something.

“Did he hear me?” Antony waved a hand in Magnus’ face.

Magnus turned back to the wall. After a moment, an audible click released the panel. He stepped aside as it backed into the space.

Antony passed through the wall ahead of Magnus.

An old man lay inert on a high bed, buried under several thick blankets which barely moved for the shallowness of his breathing. The room was dark except for the few embers amongst the ash in the great fireplace at the foot of the bed.

Someone gasped.

Antony spun as the panel eased back into place, showing a wall lined with heavy bookshelves. His gaze flicked around the room to determine the source of the gasp.

A second old man with a tattooed face and wild hair emerged from a corner, gaping at Magnus in shock and relief.

Magnus ignored this man, his focus intent on the bed, where he dropped to his knees with a low sob. Carefully, he eased the man’s beard and sleep shirt aside, exposing his throat— marred by a black ink tattoo. Retracting his hand, the fabric and beard fell back into place, obscuring the mark.

“Father.” He reached for the sleeping man’s hand. He didn’t respond when Magnus touched him. Magnus’ breath shuddered as he leaned his forehead on his father’s arm.

Antony looked away from the other man’s pain, clearing his throat to ease the dense emotion from his chest. “Yeah, I’ve been there buddy. It sucks.”

“Who are you?” The second old man was suddenly in front of Antony, forcing him back a few paces.

“Wha—You—.” Antony waved at the old man’s finger extended toward Antony’s face. Their hands passed through one another. “You’re dead too?”

The lively, dead old man puffed up with indignation. “How dare you intrude in this room! You are not Barentian. You’re not even a polar bear. You’re…” he looked Antony up and down. “Human.”

“Yeah, so? It’s not like I want to be here.

I’ve got a friend in trouble downstairs and half a dozen more in trouble on a ship bound for the continent.

And only that guy can help any of them.” He jabbed a finger in Magnus’ direction.

“And yeah, they’re all human, well, mostly human.

And all want nothing more than to go home.

” At least he thought they were all human. Psychics were human too, weren’t they?

“What do you mean, mostly human? Not a shifter? An elemental? A Fae? Sprite? Please tell me not a vampire. Or another one of those sneaky magicians.”

“Wha—No, none of those.” Antony’s head spun. “The only magician I know of is that big Yvan guy who’s holding my friend hostage. She’s a psychic. I don’t know if that’s human or not?”

The old man nodded, grumbling. “Yes, human. Naturally enhanced but still human.”

“Ah. Well, she can see me, so can you tell me how to direct her out of here if I can get her away from that bear woman, the squid guy, and the magician?”

The old man growled. “Those three are abominations to all of paranormal society. They stole my sacred work and twisted it!”

The gnarled finger appeared inches from Antony’s nose again before it whipped toward the bed. “They violated our king! I will not rest until he is restored or avenged.”

Antony approached the bed, peering down at Magnus’ father, who reminded him far too much of his own. The urge to help was overpowering, but Antony already had folks that needed his help.

“How do we wake him up?” Antony looked up at the old man. “If we wake him up, he can stop them, right? He can stop them from hurting Ana or selling her? I need her to help me save a shipload of people bound for the black market.”

“Hmm, filth,” the old man muttered, “Filthy matter. But we don’t get involved in human affairs. We have far more important things to protect.”

Antony grit his teeth in frustration.

“What’s wrong with the king? What did they do to him?” He tried again, hoping to find some angle that would benefit his mission to free Ana. “Maybe Ana can help?”

Antony didn’t know how, but given they were in the king’s room and this guy knew the place, there had to be some way.

“What about you? Are you the king’s manservant? Is there some secret I can relay to Ana, who can tell Magnus?” He knew he was grasping. Desperate. But there just hadn’t been anyone else to communicate with and he didn’t know how much time Ana had left.

“Manservant!” the old man thundered, reminding Antony distinctly of all the dramatic movie wizards he’d seen in his life. “I am the king’s shaman!”

“Shaman! You’re a magic worker too, then?” He glanced at the King. “What happened? Why didn’t you help him?”

The old man deflated. “I was already dead by the time they got to him and cast their twisted spell. I couldn’t protect him like this. Not enough to keep him safe. My energy is keeping him alive as he is.”

“Spell? Is it something we—you can teach to Ana to break it?”

“She isn’t a Barentian priest.”

Antony wanted to scream, but maintained his calm. “But the magician that cast this spell isn’t either.”

The tattooed old man tilted his head up, looking down his nose imperiously at Antony. “They stole our spells. I will only share our sacred knowledge with another Barentian.”

“Even if it means saving your King? If we can get Ana in here and it works, you can help him.”

“Or she would have the power to kill him and enslave the rest, starting with Magnus.”

Antony stared at the highly paranoid old man at a loss.

Magnus got to his feet, rubbing the grief clear of his face, and straightened himself to his full height as he looked around the room, whispering to himself or to his father. Antony couldn’t tell which.

First, Magnus moved toward the nearly extinguished fireplace, knelt and carefully lifted the substantial hearth stone, revealing a deep gap beneath.

Antony couldn’t believe how easily he moved the stone without any noise or effort.

“Christ, I’d have dropped the damned thing on my foot and alerted the whole castle.”

The old shaman grunted in response.

Setting the stone aside, Magnus reached in and extracted a black rock with a leather thong dangling from it. It resembled a shiny piece of coal. He looped it over his head, dropping the rock behind his shirt, then replaced the stone.

“What is that?” Antony looked to the old man for an answer, but received only silence.

Next, Magnus rounded the enormous bed, reaching behind the solid oak headboard, and extracted what looked like a wall stone.

“Now what?” Antony gaped.

Magnus removed a wrapped object, then replaced that stone, too.

At the foot of the King’s bed, Magnus lay his hand over the sick man’s covered foot. “If I cannot save you, I will ensure Elias receives these.”

The king still did not stir.

“We should never have banished Magnus. Our greatest mistake. Greatest,” the old shaman said, voice heavy with sorrow. “He would have made a fine King of Barentia.”

Magnus triggered the secret door.

Antony spared the Shaman a last look before following Magnus into the passage. As soon as the panel slid back into place, Magnus revealed another hidden cavity where he slipped the wrapped object and concealed it.

That done, his stride more purposeful, he made his way along the secret passages with Antony at his back until they passed through an area where voices echoed along the castle’s arteries.

Magnus found a small panel, slid it aside, and peered into the room below. Antony pushed his head through the wall.

They’d found Ana.

Despite her bruised face and throat, she looked angry. Very angry.

Magnus growled, low and loud. The sound traveled throughout all the corridors, secret and public alike, reaching every wing in the mountain-based castle.

Antony’s incorporeal form vibrated with it.

The king’s banished son was back, and he was pissed.

“All right. Let’s go get our Ana,” Antony said, fisting his hands.

M agnus slid the panel aside, peering down into the meeting room.

Relief flooded his chest on seeing she was here and safe, rather than on a ship bound for Gods knew where to be sold.

Ana sat, spine erect, shoulders set, glaring at the room’s three other occupants.

She turned to address Ulla, which allowed Magnus to see her entire beautiful face.

Her bruised face and throat.

Rage ripped through him, expressing itself in a roar that shook the ancient stones beneath his splayed palms and fingers.

He fought the instinct to shift as he ran down the passage seeking the next exit point.

Reason quickly returned, overriding his animal brain, reminding him that he was in a castle full of Barentian guards that believed he should be in a prison cell awaiting his execution.

And he’d just alerted all of them with his very loud announcement.

Why is Ana here?

Ulla had told him that she was with the traffickers.

Having reached the next exit point, he paused to think.

She’s being held captive. Here. With a bruised face.

Was there any other purpose than to draw him out?

To make a show of his execution? It would settle things for the succession after his father died, which might not be long.

Gods protect Elias.

His hand drifted over his heart as he made the plea, fingers grazing the stone beneath his shirt. The key. He’d hidden the book in the passage’s darkness.

Instinct had bid him remove the sacred objects from his father’s room for safekeeping. They couldn’t be taken by anyone that couldn’t be trusted with them.

Only a king and his shaman had the right to these artifacts.

He would ensure that Elias received them, or that no one would.

He removed the object from his shirt, and likewise hid it as he had the book.

The sounds of guards running and shouting orders met his ears as he waited.

As soon as they saw him, they would converge on him.

When they do, I just have to make sure I’m nowhere near a passage access point so that they won’t discover the tunnels.

The secret tunnels led to the sacred gate for which he’d just hidden the key and spell book. The gate that his family had been charged with protecting for millennia.

I can’t let that end here.

Kane was convinced The Consortium wanted access to it. She was in a race to discover all the gates around the world to ensure their safety before The Consortium found them. Before the portals awakened from their slumber.

I can’t worry about that right now.

Ana was being held captive, and they still had a mission to complete. People to save—if he hadn’t blown it already.

Could he convince the Barentian guards the king was spelled, as was their trusted chief officer?

I have to try.

As soon as the exterior corridor was silent, he eased his way out of the secret passage. Ensuring it was closed and invisible to the eye, he silently made his way down the hall toward the meeting room. In the distance, the guards continued their search.