Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,90

my niece?”

“When I found you, I did my homework. Lysander wants Charlotte dead. All nulls dead.”

The sudden fear stung me, but I had to push past it. “My mother, what really happened?” I demanded.

His eyes went distant. “I met her a few times . . . didn’t know her well. My father and the other families, they took her from her home when she was nineteen.” He coughed weakly. “She was never willing.”

My hands balled into fists, and angry tears burned my eyes. They’d let the draugr rape her. I wanted to hit him, to shoot him again, to hurt him like they’d hurt Valerya, but then a hoarse whisper floated from his lips. “The same as they did to Sophia. And every other strong evocator they’ve found in the last five hundred years.”

Through a blur of tears I could see that Emil was fading. I’d held enough dying men in my life to recognize it. “What was the plan?” I hissed. “Where were you going to take me?”

“He wouldn’t say, in case,” he mumbled. “I was supposed to call when I had you.”

Shit. “Where has he been hiding out during the day?” It wasn’t like a blue giant could check into the Holiday Inn.

“My dealer, she hooked him up with a spot.” His eyes were already beginning to lose focus. “He wouldn’t tell me. Didn’t trust me. He just said it was somewhere where he’d feel at home. Lots of dead. Here . . .” His arm floated up to touch his chest. “Take it . . .”

I yanked down his collar to see the heavy crystal necklace he’d been wearing the night of his attack on Maven. Emil touched one stone in particular, tapping at it weakly. “It was Val’s,” he whispered. “Sophia made it for her. I’m sorry, Lex.” His eyes drifted closed.

“The dealer!” I shouted, shaking him a little. “Who’s your dealer?”

I bent my head down and managed to catch Emil’s last, whispered word.

“Atwood.”

Chapter 36

Ardie fucking Atwood. Just like that, I knew where to find Lysander.

I checked Emil’s pulse more from habit than anything else but he was gone. Carefully, I pulled the leather cord over his head and tugged it free. The knot was big and clumsy, but not terribly difficult to pick apart. I slid off the crystal Emil had indicated, leaving the others with his body for now. I didn’t want to mess around with gravitational magic any more than I had to, especially if I didn’t know what it was supposed to do. I was just hoping whatever stone had worked for my mother would work for me, too.

The crystal that had belonged to Valerya was four inches long and cylindrical, only about as thick as my thumb. It was dark green, with tiny red flecks in it. For a moment I thought Emil’s blood had dripped on it, but no, the spots were too tiny. I had seen this stone when I was thumbing through the little book from the New Age store. It was called bloodstone, precisely because of those red flecks.

It hummed softly in my hand, and I understood that this crystal had more power than the cassiterite I’d bought in Boulder, or even the mahogany obsidian around my neck. Emil had probably taken good care of it. I took off my own long necklace and hastily added the crystal to the cord. I wished I remembered what bloodstone did, but there was no time. I was going to have to trust that it was something good.

I was exhausted, and I still felt like hammered crap, but I had to go after the draugr. He was expecting Emil to cart me back to Nova Scotia for him, so I would have the element of surprise, along with my carload of weapons. This was the best shot I was going to get.

I left Emil’s body on the ground and climbed to my feet, looking around the garden. Five lifeless vampire bodies were crumpled on the ground around me, with Opal sitting in the middle of them, her knees huddled to her chest. For the first time I registered that she wore a bloodstained white cocktail dress.

Making my way around the vampire bodies, I went over and crouched in front of her. “What happened to you?” I asked.

“I . . . I’m not sure,” she confessed, looking miserable. If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that vampires hated to be pressed. “The last thing I remember is