Page 12 of Broken

Chapter 6

Cole thought about that the whole time he was cleaning himself up and changing his clothes.

He thought about it while he was rerouting all the feeds from the house’s security cameras to his laptop in the bedroom, so he could keep an eye on Ireland and the feeds at the same time.

He thought about it while he was cleaning and reloading his weapons, as well as those he’d taken from Riker’s body. Because you always took care of your weapons on a mission—you never knew when you might need them. And the familiar, repetitive task usually cleared his mind after a mission.

Today, not so much.

After the weapons were done, he re-checked the security feeds, checked on Ireland, and then went out to the garage to get the bags out of the van. Having those magic items out of his sight gave him an itchy feeling.

But after all that doing and thinking, he’d still come to exactly zero conclusions about what to do with Ireland—or why he was resisting calling Outlaw Ridge and reporting to Thanatos. He’d finished the mission, with fairly satisfactory results—although Riker’s death was definitely more satisfying for him than it would be for Thanatos.

But Riker was neutralized. Cole had rescued the victim, and most likely Riker’s magical target—one of the items in Ireland’s bag. Although, he was a lot less sure now if that mission had been Riker’s agenda, or Ireland’s.

Because she was pretty desperate to get her hands on whatever had been in that safe—desperate enough to try to get to it when she wasn’t even fit to walk.

Cole wasn’t used to making these kinds of decisions. He did the mission, rescued people, turned everything over to his commanders. Let them figure out what to do with the victims—innocent or guilty. All that was above his pay grade, and he liked it that way.

But…

Yeah. But. There was something about Ireland that got under his skin; something that didn’t add up. Hell, lots of things. Starting with why she’d teamed up with Riker, what those bracelets were about, and why her magic hadn’t seemed to work after Riker’s came off.

Maybe the items themselves would give him a clue.

He slung Ireland’s bag on the table, sat down and started unpacking it. Most of what was in there was cash—the wizard who used to own that place had obviously kept a substantial stash on hand. There was also a ledger detailing his dealings with various people Cole had never heard of. He put all that aside after giving the ledger a cursory glance. No doubt the guy had had dealings with Riker’s old boss Maximilian, or Riker wouldn’t have known about his lair. Cole didn’t need to waste time right now verifying the obvious.

The only thing left were two velvet drawstring bags—about twelve by fifteen inches each. One was deep blue, and the other black. The blue one was embroidered with a full moon, shining over an oak tree in full leaf.

The other just had two eyes looking out, red as flame, with slit pupils.

They both obviously contained books.

Cole could smell the magic on both of them—hell, he could feel it. He didn’t like magic—he’d only bought the magic blade because he was going to a sorcerer’s lair, and it was stupid to go off on a mission without bringing every possible defense against the weapons you might face.

If nothing else, he was a professional.

He took both the books out of the bags, touching them only around the edges. They were heavy and thick, their covers matching the bags.

Then he ran Thanatos’ little wand around them, to see if they were spelled with any nasty surprises for anyone who opened them.

He got nothing, so he opened the blue one to a random spot. It looked handwritten, in a language he didn’t understand, and the ink seemed to have a faint glow to it. But as soon as he touched the page, he smelled a breath of spring air, the first scent of new growth and the light returning to the earth.

Ancient, and yet joyful.

Despite himself, he took another breath, this one full of the smell of baking bread, the scent of flowers. Warm and sweet, almost like what he’d scented when he carried Ireland.

Good magic? If there was such a thing.

But it was the other book that called most strongly to him. He put down the blue one and picked up the black. The eyes on the cover seemed to be watching him. Assessing him.

If they blinked, he was going to throw the fucking thing across the room.

But they didn’t. And as soon as he opened it, he felt the darkness in it. But it was a familiar darkness: night in the forest, the mystery of shadows, the rustling of creatures in the woods that came out only at night.

The smell of winter in the mountains, bright and hard. Cold stone and frost.

It called to something inside him, filling his heart with pain and joy. It was the dark night of the predator, blood calling to blood, the hunt under the full moon.