Chapter 13

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Hi!

You know, it occured to me that in many countries the number 13 is considered an unlucky number. For me that can't be said of Chapter 13. Not unlucky at all - in terms of having fun while writing it. When it comes to Anna and her fate... well that's another story.

What do you think, is she doing the 'right' thing?

Lara

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Chapter 13

We'd landed on a rooftop, surrounded by lofty skyscrapers and sleek edifices. The wind raced back and forth, cut through the silent rows of rogues behind like an icy seesaw. I blinked, stared at the dark-glassed building on the other side of the street.

I was expecting another glimpse of New York City in ragged clothing; yet another cluster of crumbling warehouses and abandoned buildings. I was prepared for another stealth attack in a dangerous, but mostly vacated area.

I was wrong. The place we were in smacked of swept pavements, polished shoes, long cab lines, and money. We were in a part of New York that sported structured buildings aligning in perfect sync.

We were close enough to the Circle's headquarter to see the familiar logo in the distance, the letters Spira like bloody tears in the night sky. Would it be far enough away for the Circle to be oblivious to whatever pandemonium the Brotherhood was about to cause?

Not that the Raven seemed to care much. He was focused on the building on the other side of the street. I could see the security cameras on the rooftop across and down on the street from where I was standing. Whatever company was behind its walls, it had money. Enough money to arm itself with human technology, and protective spells.

Even without going into second sight I could feel the buzz of wards, welcoming our arrival like an electrically charged handshake. Their security was tight. Maybe not as tight as the Circle's own, but enough to give me goose bumps just from standing within a forty-feet-radius. So how, with a handful of dark witches and an unstable mind, was the Raven going to get in there? Was that even what he wanted?

Hadn't I been staring at him, I might have missed the exact moment. His hand vanished in his coat, gone and lost in black leather. When it came out he was holding a silver disc, no bigger than my palm.

I froze. I knew, knew what it was without a doubt.

The wards were too strong to break or counter them with magic. Medici wasn't going to use magic, he would annihilate it. He was going to use a null-bomb.

I expected the Raven to hand the disc to Walter, one of his most trusted rogues. Instead the unthinkable happened. With a smile Raphael Medici turned to me, holding out the thing as if it was my freaking birthday present. I blinked, stared at the disc, before my eyes made the long way up to his face. Warily. Painfully slow to adjust to this new situation. Yet another two-forked lane to hell.

"Take it. Walter will bring you down. Walk up to the building, as close as you can get without getting too close to the wards," Medici said softly. "Don't accidently trigger them."

Why me?

I didn't say the words out loud. No need to. The answer presented itself on its own. Two answers in fact. Both equally plausible and revealing. One: There was a small chance that even these magical artifacts could only be triggered by elementary magic, something most non-rogues couldn't do anymore.

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