Amazing what kind of cell they'd leave you in when they thought you broken. When they thought you were one of the easy ones.
Not Alexander Dare. Not Constantine Leandred. Not even Patrick O'Leary. They would never have put Patrick in one of these lower security cells.
And yet, no one under Level 4, and none of the combat mages—man, he hoped those were the combat mages—wreaking havoc below could get to Level 5.
Mike ripped the canisters and security cards from the fallen techs and broke the capsule wedged in the back of his mouth while putting his hand on the face of the unluckiest one. The tattoo swiveled under his skin and he felt the change overcome his features.
No, the likes of Alexander Dare would be in the maximum-security cells.
Under the assumed face, Mike limped down corridors streaming with guards. Bloody hand prints painted the walls where he couldn't keep his body upright. No one gave him a second look. There were others with wounds much worse. He looked at the skin on the underside of his arm. The arrow tattoo grew ever larger as he drew closer, pointing each direction that he needed to travel.
Everything hurt.
He got to the correct bank of cells, the arrow growing thick and dark. But then suddenly, the arrow split, a tiny slice pointing left, while the larger piece pointed right. He shook his head. That couldn't be correct. He looked right first, seeing exactly who he had expected to see, then looked left.
“Dammit, Leandred,” he muttered.
Leandred and Dare were in cells on opposite sides of the maximum-security corridor, staring at one another in silent communication. Leandred was in rough shape—beaten within an inch of his life at some point in the past ten minutes. Dare was scuffed as well, but he seemed strangely unharmed. Perhaps Stavros wanted to keep him healthy. Who knew with that guy.
The intensity of their connected gazes was freaky, though. Mike sighed. Damn Ren for having the worst taste in men.
Leandred looked at him and smiled, as if he'd heard that thought.
“Probably did,” Mike muttered. His brain was laced in the asshole's magic. It was the only way he'd survived that hack surgeon.
“Here to stab us in the back, Givens?”
“Hardy har har, Leandred. You like your cell?” Mike worked on the magic locking the cells down. “You weren't even supposed to be here.” His bloody fingers slipped, and he swore. Will and Ren were far better at this. Even Olivia had tried her hand at lockpicking with Ren for a roommate.
“Performance issues?”
“I'll leave you in there, Leandred.”
Mike glanced quickly at the opposite cell before giving in to the inevitable—it was the reason Ren had given it to him in the first place—and shot a sliver of wind into the locking mechanism while using the leech Ren had tailored specifically for him to undo the locks. Dare looked bored, splayed against the wall, but his muscles tightened, waiting for the lock to spring. He'd always made Mike nervous. Even as the one he always bet on, his sports hero on the field, Dare had been an unbeatable force, not a person. It had been a real nut kicker to find him on the periphery of their group, slowly tunneling inward.
“Should I leave you two alone after this?” Leandred asked languidly. He still had access to some magic. They had locked down Dare totally, but left Leandred with a bit of magic, just like they had with Mike. Underestimation.
“While you sit in your cell and we leave?” Mike asked. “I'm still deciding.”
Constantine's grin was lazy, but edged. His only real emotions were ever displayed around Ren, and she wasn't here. It made him dangerous and unpredictable in any circumstance that didn't include her.
“You are right to beware.”
“You know, a little more shutting up and a little less loosity lips would do you a world of good,” Mike warned.
Leandred opened his mouth.
“Constantine.”
His lips shut with a snap at the calm utterance of his name from the man in his opposite cell.
Mike worked more quickly. “You weren't even supposed to be here, Leandred. You were the backup,” Mike said.
“As I still am.”
“In there?” He said it sarcastically, but Mike wondered if Leandred had deliberately chosen to be taken, knowing he might not be locked down as tightly, just to keep an eye on Dare and make sure he got free.
“Plans sometimes go awry.” Leandred carefully waved a broken hand, the other one clasped to his chest. Not enough magic to heal, then. “No harm done.”
Dare looked sharply at him. It was obvious that harm had been done to Leandred.
“You exercised loose lips in there, too, didn't you?” Mike said.
Leandred didn't say anything, but surprisingly, Dare tightly offered up, “He forced Mussolgranz into a ten-minute coma and got in the way when the assistant tried to take my eyes.”
Mike felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. “Right.” The locks clicked open and they both were quick to exit.
Two more explosions rocked the building.
“They didn't take them, is the point,” Leandred said, limping with difficulty into the hall. “And we needed them. They take too long to regrow properly. Amateurs.”
Mike disengaged their nullifying cuffs. Dare's magic burst free—the power bending the walls with the wave of it.
“They are coming back with collars as soon as Mussolgranz wakes. Two minutes, give or take one,” Dare said, already reaching out and healing Leandred like it was just that easy—fixing all those wounds. “We need to either wait and take them out or get to the rendezvous point.”
“How is everyone else doi—”
Dare interrupted him, tipping Mike's head back.
“Uh, buddy?”
Leandred came to look at him over Dare’s shoulder, two sets of eyes boring into him.
“Doing five things at once with no one to watch her back,” Leandred muttered.
Dare put his hand over Mike's face—who was now fully freaking out and positive he was going to die—and pulled. The little leech clung to him a moment more, then detached.
Dare cradled it in his hand, looking at it sternly. It squiggled guiltily in his palm. Then he handed it to Leandred who smirked at it and let it burrow into his fixed wrist.
Mike felt only relief.
Dare released him, watching him with those unsettling eyes that scrutinized a field before demolishing any and all participants.
“It was part of the plan,” Mike said quickly.
“Of course, it was.” Dare dismissed him completely, and Mike felt even more relief to be free of that gaze.
“Someone scared of their hero?” Leandred taunted him. He seemed in a strangely good mood.
Freaky.
“I will put you back in there.” Mike pointed. The identity spell he'd stolen released and he shook it free.
They rounded the corner, stopping only when they saw the line of Department soldiers blocking the hall, wards shimmering around them to block their physical and magical signatures from appearing.
Kaine slinked down the hall. “Did you really think anyone trusted you, boy?”
Mike looked steadily at Kaine, though his heart was beating triple time. “No.”