Page 8 of Gemini Kings
The floor rushes up to meet me.
Somehow I get my hands underneath me to catch myself. But the casino’s all blurry and wavering.
“Sorry for that, Pendragon,” a voice growls in my ear. A voice that sounds like Vasili’s Russian accent on steroids. “I cannot have you in the harm’s way, yes?”
Bollocks. Who the fuck is this now?
I’m swaying on hands and knees, struggling to swing round on whoever’s just sucker-punched me so I can bring my fire into play, when another blow connects with the back of my ringing head.
And my whole damn world goes black.
Chapter Three
Zara
I slither through the chute like an electric eel, with nothing to light my way except the witchy purple light that’s leaking from my eyes. That’s my power rising in anticipation.
Which, if you’re just tuning in to the Zara show, is worrying news.
Because I definitely don’t plan to use it.
My Gemini witchcraft is still way too unpredictable and way too dangerous for casual use, especially without Lucius here to ground me. Every time my palms make contact with the metal chute, sparks crackle and snap from my fingers.
And that shitstings. I hunker down flat and wiggle through the chute on my elbows, just so I don’t electrocute myself by mistake.
Or warn Xiao that I’m coming.
The muffled whoop of the fire alarm makes me smirk with satisfaction. Yeah, I don’t think my lying shit of an ex will be seeing my lizard king dad anytime soon. Maybe Xiao isn’t even gonna get paid the last installment of that blood money.
Especially since, you know, I’m still breathing.
Dead ahead, lamplight leaks through a grate.
Almost through,I send to my guys, feeling all floaty with expectation, but also kinda apologetic over our big blowup (now that I’ve gotten my way, but at what cost?)I appreciate the two of you.
But the bond between us is, like, empty. Which is weird.
And unsettling as fuck.
I’ve had the guys at my fingertips… mentally and physically, inallthe ways… since we first hooked up. Now I give that bond between us a good mental tug, because I promised the guys I’d stay in contact.
No joy.
Well, I’m already smelling smoke, so maybe Ronin’s got his hands full. And Vasili’s a Mogadon and not a strong natural telepath like Ronin and (it turns out) me, so maybe we’re just too far apart right now for the mumbo-jumbo?
I fish out my burner phone, which I made sure to charge before we left. I’ve got the guys on speed dial, but turns out it doesn’t matter. The freaking phone’s dead as a rock.
Peachy.
Apparently I’ve accidentally shorted the gizmo. You know, with my Gemini witchcraft. (That whole unpredictable power thing, right? Now you see how it works.)
With a grimace, I tuck my useless phone away. This development makes me even more cautious as I wiggle the last few feet down the chute and peek through the grate.
My dad’s offices all have a certain look. All gleaming wood he pays someone else to polish and vintage artwork he never pauses to appreciate and shelves loaded with classic literature he never bothers to read.
It’s all meant to impress whoever he brings in here.
He’s a warlock too, of course, because witchcraft is genetic in the arcane races. The basic traits are inherited, and we hone them (or not) at the Academy. But Gemini witchcraft is sex-linked to the Y chromosome, so Gemini women have all the power, like the lightning voice. The men just pass it down to their offspring. That same power killed my mom—a night I’ll never unsee and a guilt trip I’ll drag behind me like an anchor till someday, maybe, that power kills me too.
