Harley Merlin 8: Harley Merlin and the Challenge of Chaos Read online

  Katherine has been watching me… She might’ve been in the freaking room with me, and I wouldn’t have known. That was the problem with Shapeshifters—you never knew if you’d been talking to a real person or a Shapeshifter version, not unless you knew what you were supposed to be looking for. No matter how hard I racked my memory, I couldn’t figure out which Rita had been in the same room as me. Had Katherine switched in and out as necessary, without the real Rita knowing? Had she been right beside me, and I hadn’t sensed her?

  Paranoia clawed at my chest, and my breath came in stifled gasps. I struggled for air, feeling like I was dragging oxygen through a windpipe filled with cotton. My body began to shake violently, my cheeks flushed with heat, while a cold sweat spread down my back.

  “Harley?” Louella looked worried. “Harley, are you okay?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Breathe. You need to breathe.”

  “No… No, I need to get out of here.” I blinked the black spots out of my eyes. “I’m going to go and speak to Astrid myself. I’m sorry, Louella. I’m sorry.”

  I hurried away from the altars, and my unrelenting pain, trying to push away the vision of Isadora’s pale face. I was practically sprinting by the time I’d reached the corridor of cells and was just about to head up the stairs into the main body of the coven when I almost crashed into someone coming the opposite way. Strong hands held me by the shoulders, stopping me from falling backward.

  “Harley? Hey, hey, what’s up?” I stared into Wade’s worried eyes.

  “I… I can’t breathe,” I wheezed, holding onto him.

  “You’re okay. You’re okay, beautiful. I’m here.”

  I collapsed into his arms, hugging him for dear life. He hugged me back twice as hard, propping me up physically and emotionally and stopping me from crumbling right there and then. He kissed my forehead over and over, breathing slowly in and out until my own breaths started to match his and the tension in my chest began to fade.

  “I’m not going to let you fall, Harley. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you,” he murmured against my hair. “I love you so much. I just wish I could take some of your pain away.”

  “I need it,” I whispered back, nuzzling into his neck. “I need the pain. I just need to figure out how to channel it, instead of letting it overwhelm me.”

  “Don’t rush it, Harley. Don’t do anything you’re not ready to do.” He squeezed me harder. “Please, I don’t want this to destroy you.”

  I don’t want it to destroy you, either. That was why I had to separate myself from him. That was why I had to separate myself from everyone. Isadora’s death had brought me to my breaking point. If I lost more people by having them fight at my side, then I wouldn’t have the strength to carry on. It would crush me to the point of annihilation. And if Wade ended up hurt or, worse, killed, then it’d be game over before I even started.

  I refused to have him or anyone else involved in what I was about to do. That was the only way I could keep them safe and keep myself from ever having to properly face the answer I’d given to the Chains of Truth.

  “We’re with you every step of the way,” Wade continued. “The Rag Team is already looking into what happened in Krieger’s office. Rita has agreed to wear a bodycam and everyone is planning to start up interrogations of the magicals in the SDC, to narrow the field of suspects. We’re all going to do everything in our power to support you.”

  “That’s good to know.” My mind was elsewhere, thinking about my upcoming conversation with Alton. If Astrid had dealt with Rita, and the rest of the Rag Team members were looking into interrogating everyone else, then that meant I was free to look toward the next step in my mission. I had to keep it to myself, not even telling Wade, in case Katherine was still lurking around here somewhere, eavesdropping.

  While Alton hadn’t gone into the specifics earlier, he hadn’t told me it was impossible to do. Normally, a Necromancer couldn’t resurrect someone whose spirit had already “passed on” to the afterlife. My mom and dad’s spirits had passed on a long time ago. So, there had to be more to what he wasn’t saying. There had to be a hope, or he’d have squashed the idea the moment it had come out of my mouth.

  “I can take you to Astrid now, if you’d like, to put your mind at ease. Or to the Bestiary so you can start your training with Tobe. Whichever will take your mind off things.” Wade pulled away and gazed reassuringly into my eyes. “The rest of the crew are putting feelers out to find Naima, so you don’t have to worry about that. She’s our next target. I think O’Halloran is organizing a covert offensive operation, too, to select prime fighters to go after Katherine once we find her.”

  I frowned. “O’Halloran? I thought he was under the influence of those pills.”

  “Imogene had her man in Seoul send over an antidote. It seems to be working on him. I’ve tried talking to him about Echidna and Levi, and he’s not holding back anymore.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Wade nodded. “Yeah, it really is. O’Halloran is still the test subject, but we’re hoping we can use the antidote on everyone else who’s been affected by the pills soon enough. I mean, we might not be able to summon an army, given how deep Katherine’s influence has spread, but we can at least try to outnumber the cultists and be certain that our people are really on our side, thanks to that antidote.”

  I was too distracted to focus properly on what he was saying. “I need to get away from this for a bit. Can I meet you in the Bestiary later?”

  “Uh… sure. Whatever you need. Do you want me to come with you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine. I just want to go and lie down in a dark room. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to speak with Alton. Now.

  Four

  Katherine

  I swear, if I have to wear another cream suit I may tear my clothes off and go full Lady Godiva. All of these draped fabrics and expensive clothes were driving me crazy. What I wouldn’t have given for one of my dresses. Yes, they were expensive too, but I was desperate for a bit of color. Pure, perfect Imogene—man, she was dull. But at least she’d gotten me out of that close call in the infirmary, so I couldn’t exactly complain.

  I’d never doubted that I’d get out of it untarnished, of course. I’d built my own version of Imogene up from the real one for the purpose of getting me out of close shaves, and it had paid off, but I’d had to do a little improvising. Usually, that kept life interesting, but that run-in with Isadora and Jacob now meant I had to do a bucketload of work on collateral damage. To say I wasn’t happy about it was an understatement. And all the tears… Ugh. I hadn’t cried in almost twenty years, so that had been one for the method actor in me. I’d had to dig really deep to get real ones to squeeze out of my dried-up eyeballs.

  I took a moment to look around my new digs. The SDC director’s office. It was pretty modern, but so painfully monochrome, mostly white and blues, to keep up with the Imogene image. I could’ve had the New York directorship if I’d wanted it, but that ship had sailed a long time ago. Plus, why settle on something so measly, when there were bigger thrones to sit on? I liked a big throne. More ass room.

  “So, I trust you all know what needs to be done, and the time constraints we’re working against?” I addressed the faces staring at me through the video call. Very crass, and totally glitchy, which made for some interesting facial expressions when the screens froze, but not exactly efficient. I’d already seen Nicholas Mephiles stall as though he was mid-sneeze, which was a sight I wasn’t going to forget anytime soon, his jowls in the throes of a frantic jiggle. Disgusting.

  “Yes, Imogene,” the California Mage Council chorused back. I had to admit, I enjoyed that. Obedience gave me a thrill like nothing else. It went right through me, in the best possible way.

  “Thank you for your time.” It was delicious. I was sending them on a wild goose chase to look into how far my influence had spread,
and they wouldn’t find a damn thing. I’d been careful. I was always careful. That’s what pissed me off about Harley and her crew. They kept underestimating my skill, not realizing that they were already against the ropes. I was simply waiting for the bell to ring.

  With a flurry of saccharine farewells that I couldn’t be bothered with, I switched off the video conference and looked to my newfound bodyguard. He was waiting so very patiently, his body as stiff as a Beefeater. I wondered if he’d even blink, if I suddenly ran up to him and shouted, “Boo!” Probably not. O’Halloran was completely under my influence. I could’ve taken off these Imogene trappings and revealed myself, and he’d have just nodded like a lapdog.

  I’d told the Rag Team that I was trying an antidote on O’Halloran, but I’d just replaced one mind manipulation with another, courtesy of my dear friend Kim Dong Wook of the Seoul Coven. An actual genius with medical mind manipulation—there was nothing that man couldn’t conjure up, with the right threats applied. Although, I supposed that could have been true for just about anyone. The Rag Team were none the wiser, of course.

  “Imogene?” There was one video call still flickering. I’d presumed it had just frozen, but apparently not. Remington was staring through the hologram screen.

  “Remington?”

  “Are you sure this is where we should be focusing our efforts? It hasn’t turned up much so far. I didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but I was wondering if we should be directing our efforts at finding Katherine. Cut the head off the snake, and the rest dies, right?”

  You won’t be cutting the head off this glorious snake, thank you very much. I’d show him just how reptilian I could be. Arrogant ass. He was going to be trouble. The rest of the Mage Council were sheeple, eager to follow someone, but Remington… he was a little too independent for my liking. Always had been. And those tattoos—so tacky. Though I had one I’d like to add to him, one way or another. He’d look quite handsome with a golden apple on his body, and I’d be only too happy to apply it myself. I wasn’t a fan of men, in general, but I couldn’t ignore a stone-cold fox when I saw one. Remington looked like he belonged on a rock poster, rather than on a stuffy Mage Council.

  “We need to discover how deep this runs,” I insisted. “If we can do that, we may find Katherine through one of her hidden cultists.”

  Remington nodded. “That’s fair.” He paused, making me tap the video device to make sure it was working. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Much obliged.”

  “Take care of yourself, Imogene.”

  I smiled sweetly. “And you.”

  As he signed off and closed his end of the call, I sat back in my chair and sighed. Remington was a growing concern, and so was Levi, despite his current zombie state. I almost wanted to somehow unleash that djinn of Raffe’s on the sly, so he could finish the job on old daddio. An ex-director with a shattered skull was way easier to explain than a man with suspicions about the woman who’d taken over. Men like Levi hated women in power. I wouldn’t have gone so far as to say all women, but he’d never been my, or rather Imogene’s, biggest fan. He’d have jumped on the accusation train, if he was awake, and I had a sneaking suspicion he’d still jump on that irritating bandwagon when he finally did come around.

  Well, I had plenty of ways of dealing with nuisances. Once they witnessed my overwhelming power and influence, they’d have no choice but to join me. If they didn’t, they’d die. It really was that simple a choice. It’d be the same choice I gave everyone else, when the time came. Until then, they were still useful. Remington was a decent little investigator, and I wasn’t the type to just do away with folks for the hell of it. There was always a logical purpose to my killing. If people could be used, they could be spared, until they no longer served a purpose, or until they became more of a problem than a tool. A lot of them are still tools, even at that point.

  Suri was the perfect example. She’d served her purpose, and now she was dead. Like a battery that ran out—where else was I going to put her but in the trash? Isadora was a more unfortunate loss. She’d still had potential, but the way she’d chattered on… anyone would’ve put a knife in her heart, to shut her the hell up. Call it a crime de passion. I couldn’t keep a lid on that all the time. There was still a speck of human left in me, and that came with its impulses. Sometimes, people were just so annoying that they needed to be ended.

  “O’Halloran, could you go and check on things in the infirmary?” I looked to my lapdog.

  “Yes, Ms. Whitehall.” He dipped his head and exited. I was surprised he wasn’t drooling at the mouth, after the massive dose of mind control I’d put in his water.

  As soon as he’d gone, I walked over to the plush cream rug that lay in the middle of the room. All the cream, all the time. I pulled the rug aside to reveal a Strainer pentagram. On the wall opposite, I’d hung a ceiling-to-floor mirror. I stared at Imogene, hating her. She’d served her purpose, too, but we were coming to the end of that. Another one for the trash.

  Sending a ripple of Shapeshifter goodness through me, I watched as delicate, ethereal, dull-as-dishwater Imogene faded away, replaced with my eminently more interesting face and shapely physique. That’s more like it. Now, in an emerald dress, with the contrast of my copper hair against it, I finally had that flavor of color I’d been craving. I was going for Celtic goddess vibes, and I hit the mark. This was the type of woman people wanted to follow.

  Taking out five bowls from the desk, complete with the trinkets and herbs that got this portal show on the road, I set them out, stood in the middle, and spoke the necessary words: “Ex terra ligare Munera tua potestate ut educeres nos iter est.” Latin always felt good in my mouth. I couldn’t believe the cheek of Echidna, when she’d said I was butchering it, back in Lethe. Well, I’d butchered her, so I guessed we were even.

  I reappeared in the glass-fronted building of our latest installment of Eris Island, now situated off the coast of Oahu. A beautiful part of the world. Not that I got much time to see it. Relaxation didn’t exactly fit my current MO, but there’d be time for that once I had everything in order. There was one massive benefit of being here, though—the Honolulu Coven was so laid back they were practically horizontal. I could’ve taken up residence right in the middle of one of the main islands, and they wouldn’t have noticed.

  “Eris, you have returned.” Naima stood waiting. Another of my loyal lapdogs, though she’d put me through the wringer of late. I was starting to wonder if she was worth the hassle, not that I could do much about it. She and I were bound by Chaos. If I killed her, I’d kill a part of myself, too. If she continued to prove herself to be worthless, I’d have to get someone else to do it. Not ideal, after the last couple of mess-ups with delegation, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” I replied.

  “No, of course not, but you have been gone longer than I expected.”

  I smiled. “Aww, were you getting worried?”

  “Always, Eris.”

  “As much as I’d love to hang around and chat, I’ve got things to do. This new world order isn’t going to stop for anyone. So, first off, I’d like to see the magical children. I’m sure they’re missing me, too.”

  Naima bowed her head. “Of course, Eris.”

  * * *

  Without the ancient ruin of the old hexagon at Fort Jefferson to accommodate my main compound, it didn’t quite have the same impact that it used to. The building was still hexagonal, but I missed the familiar ruins. That served me right for thinking I’d always end up back in Dry Tortugas—my grandfather’s favorite place. It was just another reason to hate Harley. She’d messed up my aesthetic, and that was tantamount to treason. At least we were safe here, though. One bonus to having a jumping island that could go wherever it wanted. Or, wherever I wanted.

  A short while later, I arrived outside the laboratories, where we were keeping the rare magicals. The guards o
n duty bowed to me as I entered. That would never get old. I loved a bow, especially the really low, really awkward kind.

  Inside, a group had gathered. They were watching the rare magicals, who sat around in a clinical room beyond, through a one-way mirror. So far, I had nine, including the tiny Necromancer, whose cat I had exploded after he’d bawled all the way from LA. Try bringing it back to life now, Micah. And that sullen teenager, Marjorie, who’d made the fatal mistake of wanting to come to LA with the others. Foolish girl. Not that she’d have escaped me if she’d stayed with Harley and her do-gooders. I already had plans for retrieving Louella. Marjorie had just made it easier on me.

  The gathered group bowed to me as I paused in front of the one-way mirror, observing the magicals. Micah was still being comforted by Marjorie, snuffling disgustingly. Well, he’d be joining his puss before he knew it, and then he could finally stop his incessant whining. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

  Ifrit Laghari, Coral Falkland, Bakir Khan, and Delphine Basquiat stood before me—my trusty quartet, taking over from Tess after that colossal disappointment. Delphine had been the one to explode that damned cat, actually. It was good to have a Cellular around, for just that reason. If I needed someone blown up, she was my girl. However, they had one person standing with them with whom I’d only recently been acquainted—Herman Striker, a skilled Electro pilfered from Frankfurt and a massive waste of potential. I’d have preferred to let him replace that treacherous Crux bitch, but I needed him to die in the last ritual. It was a huge shame, considering how skilled he was and how malleable he might have been, to fit my needs. But hey, you win some, you lose some. And there’d be a lot more people in the lost category before my Challenge was complete.