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THERE WAS NOTHING THE trio of assassins could do to stop the carnage that was happening throughout the city, so Sorcha teleported them home. She took them to the living room on the first floor and they waited to see what was going to happen next. Malachi disappeared long enough to retrieve weapons from the training room. “Just in case one of the hounds comes calling,” he said with a nervous smirk as he handed the girls strong metal staffs. They would be ideal for smashing the stone dogs to pieces.
They settled on the couch and armchairs around the coffee table again and various beverages appeared in front of them. Eden drank coffee rather than wine this time. Alcohol didn’t affect her like it did full blood fae, but she still wanted to have a clear head. Malachi could also tolerate alcohol, but he preferred to drink sugary soda. Sorcha stuck to drinking tea.
An hour or so passed, then Sorcha froze with her second cup of tea halfway to her mouth. Her silver-gray eyes went wide and she plonked the cup down again. “I can feel olde-worlde magic being used somewhere nearby,” she said. She didn’t warn her friends when she teleported them this time. They were suddenly on the top of the Magic Guild’s roof and fell on their butts. Malachi almost lost his grip on his staff and had to fumble not to drop it. He shot a dour look at the sorceress, but she put a finger to her lips to shush him and pointed downward.
They followed her finger to the small, ugly square brick building where the stores of magic that ran the City Square was housed. Crowmon and his priests and priestesses were standing next to the building and seemed to be casting a spell at it.
“What are they doing?” Eden asked in a bare whisper. Although their faces were hidden behind masks that had long beaks and black feathers, some of their ears were pointed. That meant some of them were fae. Others seemed to be shifters and vampires. All would have exceptional hearing.
“I think they’re trying to break into the building,” Sorcha replied just as quietly.
“I thought the buildings were all warded,” Malachi said. They were hunkered down, peering over a peak in the rooftop.
“They are,” his blonde colleague said in a disturbed tone. “Crowmon is a lot stronger than I thought. His priests and priestesses are also a lot stronger than they should be.”
“Why are they trying to break into the building?” Eden asked.
“I think they’re planning on stealing the magic that’s stored inside it,” Sorcha surmised.
Eden exchanged a disturbed glance with her half-brother, then they went back to watching the spectacle. The trickster god’s magic was indeed potent, because they managed to break through the wards and entered the brick building.
“They’re casting the spell again,” Sorcha reported as she concentrated on what she could feel coming from the building. “They’re definitely trying to break into the container that’s storing the magic.”
“This is madness,” Malachi muttered and tightened his grip on his staff. “The Immortal Triumvirate won’t allow them to succeed.”
He was right about that and their leaders teleported to the building a few moments later. They stormed inside and shouts sounded. “I can feel a bunch of offensive spells being cast,” Sorcha whispered. “The priests and priestesses are attacking the Triumvirate.”
They all knew they weren’t powerful enough to break through their overlords’ shields, so it was a pointless endeavor.
“Your time has come to an end!” Eden and Malachi heard Crowmon say in triumph above the sounds of battle. “None of you are fit to rule. You’re so afraid of death that you’ve ruined this once great city to save your own pathetic lives! Lord Dallinar used to be so powerful, but he’s just an impotent little drunk now!”
Malachi gasped at the insult. “I can’t believe he just said that!” the incubus exclaimed in quiet horror.
“What?” Sorcha asked when she saw their faces. Her hearing was nowhere near as good as theirs was. “What did I miss?”
Before they could reply, the fairy lord retaliated. They all felt the blast of magic that came from Lord Dallinar. One of the priests was sent flying through the doorway to land on the cobbled square. The mask fell off to reveal the handsome face of a fairy. He’d been knocked out cold, but he was otherwise unharmed.
Eden felt the familiar tingle in her mind as Lord Dallinar prepared the uncursed population to receive a message from him. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a voice that was tight with suppressed rage. “As I’m sure you’re aware, treachery has occurred on a grand scale tonight. Crowmon, the trickster god, has betrayed our trust. He has broken the laws of Nox and he must be punished.”
“I knew this night would come eventually,” Malachi said with a smirk. “Xiara Evora is finally going to get to behead the clown.”
“I don’t think he’s going to execute Crowmon,” Sorcha said. “He has something else in mind.”
“Instead of collecting the Energy Tax from every uncursed being in Nox, I will extract it from Crowmon and his priests and priestesses,” the fairy declared.
He pushed the images of what was happening inside the brick building into the minds of the uncursed population and the three assassins saw it as well. “No!” Crowmon shouted, shaking his fist in rage as magic enveloped him and his people. “You can’t do this! I am a god!”
“Not after tonight you won’t be, you pathetic little clown,” Lord Graham said in contempt and satisfaction as his ally began siphoning magic out of Crowmon.
The uncursed civilians had no choice but to watch the olde-worlde magic being drawn out of Crowmon. The trickster god could do nothing as he became weaker and weaker. He fell to his knees with his head hanging down low in a picture of abject misery.
Lord Dallinar couldn’t absorb olde-worlde magic, so he had to send it somewhere else. There was far too much to store in one container. He had to spread it out to the containers in the City Square and in the Vampire, Fae, Shifter and Demon Districts.
Sorcha’s back stiffened and her head turned southwards. “I can feel magic being used in the Night Cursed District,” she said in a disturbed tone.
“I thought the cursed couldn’t use magic anymore,” Eden said.
“It doesn’t feel like magic the uncursed can use,” the sorceress said. “It feels...familiar.”
Her tone had turned slightly dreamy, but she snapped out of it when Lord Dallinar stopped funneling the olde-worlde magic into the five containers. “It is done,” he said in satisfaction into their minds. “The rebellion has been quashed and Crowmon’s power has been stripped from him. We hereby banish you to your territory in the fae woods. If you or any of your people venture from your domain, you will be punished harshly,” he declared.
The image vanished, but not before Eden saw that the jester’s suit was no longer red and green. The green was still there, but the red side had turned black, just like his priests’ and priestess’ robes. Having his magic stripped from him should have been devastating, but the glimpse she saw of his pale green eyes had looked triumphant.
Lord Dallinar teleported the banished group back to Crowmon’s territory, then the Immortal Triumvirate vanished. Stunned silence seemed to spread outwards, claiming the entire city.
“What the hell just happened?” Malachi asked in a ragged tone.
“A rebellion was stopped and the Energy Tax has been delayed for a year,” Eden surmised. “Crowmon and his people are now powerless. Their ploy to steal the magic failed and they’ve all paid the price for the trickster’s treachery.”
Sorcha was still staring southward, peering intently into the dark area where the Night Cursed beings dwelled. “Something happened tonight,” she said. “Something has changed.”
“Are the Night Cursed going to rise up and slaughter us all?” Malachi said in a weak attempt at humor.
“I don’t know,” the sorceress said. “But I intend to find out.”
