Unbreak Me (Spellbound Treasure) Page 8

  Tait watched Branson move with the stealth of a cat. She absently admired his abilities while watching him break into the office of the prison commissioner, Roland Marlowe. Behind her, Marcus wove a cloaking spell that hid the three of them from anyone who might look down this corridor. She didn’t know why Marcus wanted to break in. After all, he’d already said they had plenty of evidence against him—most of which lay in the scars on her body made by his magic.

  Branson popped the door open silently and pulled her inside, Marcus so close behind her his body brushed hers. They slipped silently through the outer offices of the clerks and secretaries and down an interior corridor to Roland Marlowe’s private office. The door was locked, but Branson opened it in a few seconds.

  Once inside Marlowe’s inner sanctum, Marcus risked a light. Not the overhead light, but a flashlight created from magic whose light could not be seen by others. Once the light came on, Branson headed for a portrait of the Prime Minister that hung on the wall. He pushed it aside, exposing a wall safe. Tait fought the urge to roll her eyes. Why Marlowe would risk anything in a wall safe seemed beyond stupid to her. Granted, Branson did seem to be working on getting past the magical snares and wards that protected it, but anyone from the Pythian Elite would be able to get past the basic magical security to the physical lock.

  The lock itself didn’t yield to magic so Branson had to resort to breaking into the safe the old-fashioned way. He flexed his fingers, put what looked like a stethoscope in his ears, placed the flat disc against the safe next to the combination lock and began to turn the dial. Less than a minute passed before the lock snicked open.

  Holding the flashlight in his teeth, Branson carefully went through the safe. Several documents went from the safe into a cargo pocket on his dark, Pythian Elite issue, fatigue pants. Marcus tapped his best friend on the arm and frowned at him. Branson nodded and sifted through the papers more quickly. Two more documents went into the pocket and then he closed the safe and snapped off the light.

  They made their way back to the main corridor, slipping out of the office in silence. Tait stood close to the wall to one side of the door as Branson prepared to reset the locks. A faint scraping sound came from her right and she turned her head, simultaneously sweeping out her arm in the Alizar cloak. The movement, the cloak and the incantation she murmured blocked the guard’s view of Branson and Marcus. She didn’t care if she was seen. The Alizar cloak masked her identity. However, Branson and Marcus were obviously Pythian Elite warriors and could easily be identified. She had to draw the guard’s attention to her so that Branson and Marcus would not be seen.

  The instant he saw her in the long cloak his eyes widened, and he started toward her. With a movement so swift he probably didn’t even notice it, she flung one of her throwing stars at him. It pierced his shoulder, the poison rendering him unconscious on impact. She ran down the corridor and pulled the metal star from his flesh, tucking it back into her cloak as Marcus and Branson came up behind her.

  Tait saw the flash of worry in Marcus’s eyes, but she turned away from it and the three of them made their way out of that sector of the Citadel and into the area where the Pythian Elite minister had his office. None of them trusted Truvan Bond, the minister, but since they didn’t have any proof of wrong doing against him, at least nothing they could yet use, they would still have to publically give him proof of Price and Marlowe’s acts against them.

  Fortunately, the head of the Pythian Elite, General Cochrane, might be an asshole that Marcus and Branson didn’t like, but Tait and her father didn’t believe he was part of the conspiracy. Already, General Boland was on his way to Bond’s office with General Cochrane. Having the General call a meeting after office hours might seem odd but they hadn’t wanted to risk bringing her into the Citadel during the day.

  The three of them concealed themselves in an alcove near Minister Bond’s office, using magic to mask their presence as they waited for her father. Marcus’s hands rested warmly on Tait’s shoulders, and she leaned back against him, grateful for his protective, loving presence. Her life would be on trial over the next hour or so, however long it took for Marcus, Branson, and her father to convince Cochrane of Price and Marlowe’s duplicity. Minister Bond would be forced to act against his co-conspirator in order to save himself from exposure. In the face of their evidence, he wouldn’t be able to save Marlowe.

  Marcus had planned the meeting very carefully. Since Cochrane was clean and her father still had a stellar reputation, Bond would have no choice but to send for Marlowe and arrest him, pretending he was just as outraged by the conspiracy as Cochrane was sure to be.

  Exactly on time, her father appeared with General Cochrane and Minister Truvan Bond. All three went into Bond’s office. Marcus’s hands tightened on Tait’s shoulders.

  “It’s time. Are you ready, baby?” he whispered in her ear.

  Tait nodded. Fear lodged in her belly like stone, but at the same time a rush of adrenaline tinged with a desperate hope zinged through her veins. If this didn’t work, she knew Marcus was prepared to open a portal and take them both to the Xenon realm where they would start their lives anew.

  Branson led the way to Bond’s office. He opened the door and slipped inside. Tait followed him while Marcus brought up the rear. Bond sat behind his desk, with General Cochrane and her father in chairs before him. He looked up at their entrance, anger lighting his dark eyes. Tait had met the minister before but never had she noticed how evil he appeared. Now, he seemed to glow with antipathy.

  “Good of you to meet with us on such short notice Minister,” Marcus said smoothly.

  “Major, what are you and Gaines doing here? This is a private meeting,” Bond barked out.

  Tait’s father smiled, but she saw the ice behind it. Her father could be a deadly man if crossed, and now Minister Bond was in his sights. The General wouldn’t rest until Bond’s part in what happened to her was exposed.

  “I believe we’re the reason for the meeting, sir,” Marcus replied.

  She sensed the anger behind Marcus’s cool demeanor, but she knew he wouldn’t unleash it unless he had to. Her lover could be a very calculating man. She shifted silently, foot to foot. Bond’s eyes fell on her and narrowed. She resisted the urge to shiver, but did feel her hands begin to tremble just a little. Gritting her teeth, she tried to will away the tremors.

  “Who’s this? Your mistress, major?”

  Bond’s derisive tone made Marcus clench one fist, but then he deliberately relaxed.

  “Not at all, sir. This is the victim of a crime. A crime that occurred on your watch by men we all trusted to lead us.”

  Marcus’s words froze Bond in his seat and Tait saw a calculating expression flash in his eyes. He knew what was coming and would be positioning himself to let others take the fall. Revulsion churned the pit of her stomach. She wanted Bond to suffer as she had suffered, but she knew they couldn’t get him yet. Branson, Marcus and her father wouldn’t give up trying to find evidence against him, but for now, they had no choice but to act as if they believed he had no ties to the conspiracy.

  “I can see General Boland is in on this,” Bond rasped, anger tainting his words. “Do you know what this is about, Cochrane?”

  The head of the Pythian Elite shook his head. “I’ve no idea, sir. General Boland asked me to accompany him here tonight because evidence of a conspiracy against Pythian Elite officers had come to light.”

  “It’s true. The conspiracy is real and Major Renniger and Captain Gaines have evidence to that affect. We want justice for the victim and the responsible party or parties must pay for their crimes,” Tait’s father said.

  “Explain.” Bond sat back in his chair and waited, his eyes going from Cochrane to Tait’s father to Marcus and Branson and finally to her. She resisted the urge to squirm. She knew he had to have guessed who was in the cloak. Despite everyone believing she was dead, she had the sense that Bond knew differently.

  “Sir, we have evi
dence gathered by both myself since my return from the Mellonian realm and by Captain Tait Boland at the time of my unit’s capture by the Mellonians that Commander Nels Price orchestrated the betrayal of my unit. He made arrangements with the Mellonians to attack our unit and kill all of us, leaving behind evidence that would point to Captain Boland as the betrayer,” Branson said as he pulled a sheaf of documents from the cargo pocket of his pants.

  He took the papers to General Cochrane and handed them over. The General began to read them and silently passed each one to Minister Bond as he finished.

  “When Tait killed Commander Price, she did nothing more than fulfill the Elite’s code of honor. That code gives any one of us the right to execute a fellow officer if evidence is obtained proving his disloyalty to the Elite and that the betrayal led to the deaths of other officers.” Marcus took up the thread of the story, his eyes never leaving Bond. “She didn’t murder him. She executed him per the code.”

  Bond shifted the papers in his hands. He looked up at Marcus, his face impassive. “Tait Boland is dead. What does this matter now?”

  On cue, Tait raised her suddenly tremor-less hands and pulled off the Alizar cloak. She stood before them all, dressed in Elite fatigues just like Marcus and Branson. She saw Bond’s eyes flicker with surprise as he recognized her.

  “It matters quite a lot,” she said in a soft, firm voice. “Not only was our unit betrayed by Price, I was betrayed. He pinned that ambush on me and planned to use his manufactured evidence to send me to Eagle Island. Even after I executed him for his crimes, his brother Roland Marlowe saw to it that I was court-martialed and imprisoned for his death. Price and Marlowe planned the whole thing. Price wanted my father out of the way of his advancement. Marlowe just wanted me.”

  She couldn’t keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice. She watched Bond carefully and saw him wipe all emotion from his expression.

  “Captain Boland, I’m surprised you survived the prison fire, especially since your father identified your body.” The slight sarcasm in the minister’s voice wasn’t lost upon anyone in the office, including General Cochrane who stared at her in shock.

  “You are making a grave accusation here, Captain. Do you have evidence to back this up?” Bond demanded of her.

  “We do.” Branson answered for her and pulled out another sheaf of papers. “You’ll find there documents from Marlowe’s personal safe that prove Price and Marlowe are related, something no one knew until we started digging. There are printouts of conversations and emails between the brothers that spell everything out.”

  Again, General Cochrane read through the documents and handed them off to the minister who only gave them a cursory glance. Tait didn’t expect anything more from him. After all, he’d been part of the conspiracy.

  “Okay, I’m willing to buy that Price set you all up. But he’s since paid for his crimes thanks to Captain Boland. However, your accusations against Commissioner Marlowe don’t hold much water,” Bond told them almost angrily. “I can’t call him down here on such flimsy evidence.”

  Tait’s father leaned forward, the light of battle in his eyes. “Collusion is a crime, Minister Bond,” he stated in a harsh voice. “Marlowe conspired with his brother Price against officers of the Elite. The evidence is quite solid.”

  Marcus stepped forward, pulling Tait with him. He held up her arm with the prison tattoo emblazoned on it and the network of scars gleaming in the office’s bright light.

  “There’s this evidence too, minister. Marlowe tortured Captain Boland while she was at Eagle Island. That is a human rights violation punishable by imprisonment. Since he is a man in a position of power who used his magic to torture a woman under his care as a prisoner, that violation becomes compounded. Not only did he torture her but he raped her. Multiple times. The special circumstances of such violent crimes warrant his immediate execution,” Marcus said softly. “His magic is all over her. His crimes against her are heinous, and he needs to be arrested now .”

  The cold hatred in Marcus’s voice made Tait shiver. His outline of Marlowe’s crimes brought them all back to her. Three years had passed, and yet she felt as if she had been violated only yesterday. Her skin crawled with revulsion.

  Bond and General Cochrane both stood up. They came toward her, and she found herself shrinking back against Marcus, her heart thundering so loudly she could barely hear the words they spoke. Marcus’s arms enfolded her, but he still held out her arm for them. They both traced the scars with their fingers, finding the identifying footprint of Marlowe’s magic and verifying it against the footprint of the tattoo.

  General Cochrane’s mouth tightened with fury. Bond’s eyes glittered with annoyance. Tait could imagine how pissed he must be at his co-conspirator’s lack of discretion. In order to save himself, he’d have to order Marlowe’s execution. Not only would it serve to satisfy his crimes against her, but it would remove the possibility of the weak Marlowe pointing fingers at the minister.

  “Get Marlowe down here now,” he growled at Cochrane, then turned to Tait’s father. “She’ll be reinstated and all the charges dropped. Everything will be removed from her record. As Minister of the Pythian Elite, I officially extend my apologies to you and your daughter, General. You’re free to go now. No one will arrest her or harm her.”

  The minister’s words were stiff and formal, edged with anger. Tait figured he was not only pissed at Marlowe but pissed at having to apologize for the asshole’s mistakes.

  Marcus stepped forward then. “I think we’ll wait for Marlowe to arrive. I want him to remove the tattoo. And I want him to know who brought about his downfall.”

  They looked up then as the door opened, and General Cochrane escorted Roland Marlowe in with a laser pointed at his head.

  “Truvan! What’s going on? Why did you send the General to drag me from my dinner party?” Marlowe blustered.

  Bond glared at him and gestured toward Tait. “Your crimes have been exposed, Marlowe. You’re under arrest.”

  Marlowe’s eyes widened when he saw Tait and fury flushed his face. “You fucking bitch! I thought you were dead!”

  “You thought wrong, warden,” she said softly, trying to clamp down on the revulsion churning in her guts. “And your eagerness to use me yourself has been your downfall. The evidence against you lies in the footprint of your magic which is in every scar you left on my body, you fucking pervert.”

  “You liked it, you cunt,” he spat, his face contorting with rage.

  Marcus and Branson took a step forward, and Tait’s father rose from his chair, but it was Tait who backhanded the former warden across the mouth. Bond stood beside his desk, impassive as blood flew from Marlowe’s split lip.

  “Remove the tattoo,” Marcus ordered, grabbing her arm and holding it up.

  “Fuck you,” Marlowe told him with a sneer.

  “Remove it or I’ll remove your balls,” Branson said softly, coming up to Marlowe with a razor sharp assassin’s scalpel in his hand. “You won’t like how that feels.” He pressed the point of the knife to the seam of Marlowe’s suit pants, just below the zipper.

  The former warden hissed in a breath and fear began to take over his expression. Marcus moved Tait’s arm toward him and Marlowe began to mumble an incantation that sounded like a removal spell, a reversal of the spell that put the tattoo on her arm in the first place. He touched the tattoo with one finger and Tait wanted to recoil in revulsion but Marcus held her arm steady. She could feel the tendrils of magic weaving their way into her skin. It burned and stung, but as she gazed at her forearm she could see the tattoo melting away. In a couple of minutes, the entire tattoo was gone.

  Marcus pulled her away from Marlowe the instant the removal finished. He glared at the former warden, the light of hatred shining from his eyes.

  “I wish I could execute you myself for what you’ve done to her, but I’ll be satisfied when I can spit on your unmarked grave, you bastard,” he hissed.

  Ma
rlowe sneered at him. “Yeah, and every time you fuck her you’ll remember that I had her too.”

  With a loud crack, Marlowe’s head snapped back from the force of Marcus’s fist against his jaw and he fell to the floor. He didn’t even try to get up, but lay sprawled on the carpet, wiping his bloody mouth.

  Tait grabbed Marcus’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure my father and General Cochrane can handle it from here,” she murmured, just wanting to get away from Marlowe’s evil glare.

  Marcus spun on the balls of his feet and swept her against his side. She almost sighed at the sense of comfort she received from his closeness, despite the waves of rage that emanated from him. Branson fell into step beside them as they left the minister’s office. Tait didn’t even notice where they were going until she saw the blunt spires of the Pythian Elite complex looming before her.

  They entered the building and ignoring all the stares from other officers, Marcus headed toward his quarters. At his door, Branson leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “Welcome back, Captain Boland,” he said with a grin.

  Tait reached out and hugged him tightly for a moment before stepping back into Marcus’s arms. “Thank you, Branson. We couldn’t have done this without you. I owe you my life.”

  Branson shook his head. “You don’t. We’re square. Just be happy and make the big guy happy too.”

  He melted into the shadows and Marcus opened the door to his quarters. He locked it behind them and pulled her into his arms. Their lips met in a fierce kiss. Before Tait could thrust her tongue into his mouth, Marcus pulled away.

  “I don’t want you going back to Hawksmoor,” he said with a frown.

  She shook her head. “I don’t need to. The only thing of worth that I have is the heartstone and it’s here.” She pulled it from her pants pocket. It glowed brightly, heat emanating from the runes that glittered on its surface. “Branson can pick up my tech and arrange for the house to be sold just to clear up loose ends.”

  Marcus pulled her into his bedroom and stripped their clothes from them. Once they lay naked on his bed, he picked up the heartstone and placed it in her hand. Then he folded her fingers around it. Tait could feel it pulsing against her palm as Marcus enclosed her hand in both of his.