Page 54 of Librarian

“Father,” she acknowledges. “Why am I not surprised to find you haunting the farthest backwater of society?”

“Parriarch Emeritus Benjamin,” the enforcer stutters out Benny’s official title as if he’s seeing a ghost. “If you’re breaching the conditions of exile?—”

“Voluntary exile,” Benny corrects. “And thus, unenforceable by law. Now, if you’re looking for my granddaughter, I suspectyou’re about to get the same call I just did.” He pauses, and a chime cuts through the air. “I’ll save you the trouble of answering. Anthea escaped her cell in the McKinley dungeons yesterday. An hour ago, she was sighted in Cambridge. No doubt your best are already in pursuit.”

The officer gapes at him, then turns, giving a few of the others a pointed look. Three of them draw their grimoires, transporting away with hastily murmured spells. He turns back to Benny, but the old man continues before he can say anything.

“And if you’re here to arrest the necromancers responsible for murdering both parriarchs, might I suggest starting with your new rector and the lich hiding in the car behind you. Anthea may have struck the killing blow against Abe Talcott, but it was done on their orders. As for Georgina, Anthea was locked up when they murdered her. We have video footage of her asleep in her cell.”

What follows is too fraught to be called silence. Even the wind seems to quieten in the wake of those bombshells. My heart damn-near forgets to beat.

Benjamin Carlton just appeared out of nowhere and accused Isidora of necromancy in front of a dozen enforcement officers. Then he went a step further and accused them both of murdering the Talcott and Winthrop parriarchs. Is Georgina’s death even public knowledge yet? Worse, this whole thing is being streamed. Every arcanist on the planet will have heard about this by morning.

The officer stammers, tugging at the collar of his jacket as his head turns this way and that, like he’s searching for someone to tell him what to do.

I almost pity him. It’s not every day parriarchs start accusing each other of necromancy in front of you.

Eventually he says, “We’ll need to review any evidence?—”

“Already on its way to your headquarters, along with proof of the corruption within your own organisation that my daughter has been actively encouraging.” Benny’s voice is grave—though he’d have every right to be smug. This must be something he’s planned for a long time. “Every single ranking enforcement officer should receive a copy in five, four, three…”

Another chime slams through the space like a gunshot.

Isidora is painfully still, frozen.

It’s a reasonable reaction, so I don’t notice it’s an illusion until the spell drops, revealing her grimoire hovering in the air in front of her a heartbeat before a wave of lightning erupts out from her in a deadly ring.

No one sees it coming.

The enforcement officers are blasted away from her. The scent of ozone and burning sears my nostrils from the amount of power she puts into the spell. Unless any of them had personal warding amulets on them, they’re dead. There’s no surviving that amount of electricity.

What’s more impressive: every single Carlton remains completely untouched. Her magical control is as precise as it is devastating.

A second crack of lightning barrels towards Benny, Jasper, and Halinor, striking the wards with acrackthat makes my ears ring.

None of them steps back. The wards are singed but unharmed. Surely Isidora didn’t expect that to work? Fort McKinley is legendary for its defences.

Unless she only wanted rid of the witnesses.

Only Halinor’s raised hand stops me from stepping forward and crushing the smiling bitch with her own car.

“Livestream’s over, Auntie,” Hazel calls, loud enough to be heard by everyone present.

The slight widening of Isidora’s eyes is more satisfying than it has any right to be. She thought she just killed all of those officers in an attack she could blame on us. Instead, she incriminated herself.

Halinor’s hand drops.

The car farthest from me flattens into a steel and glass pancake. It crunches, rolling with a screech of metal as I stride forward, the others by my side. It slams into the neighbouring vehicle.

I don’t need to speak a word as I step past the wards. My reputation for using manipulation magic to cause destruction on that scale precedes me. All of them tense.

“Dakari Talcott.” Isidora is less outraged and more resigned. “I should’ve guessed. Were you behind the underhanded use of inept technology as well?”

“That would be my doing,” Halinor retorts.

“And it’sParriarchTalcott,” I correct, but the words are drowned out by the third Aston crumpling like a wad of expensive paper behind her.

One left. I crush it without mercy, hoping that Mathias is still inside. It might not kill him, but I’m betting it would hurt.