Sorcerybound (World's First Wizard Book 2) by Aaron Schneider (best color ereader .TXT) 📗

a fit of gibbering tears, but the eagle’s beak hooked his cheek and dragged his eyes back to the magus’ face.

“Look into my eyes and tell me you understand,” Milo said in a whisper-soft voice. “I want you to show me you understand what is at stake.”

The commissar’s whole body shook as though it took all his strength to meet Milo’s eyes, but self-preservation lent him uncommon fortitude. With jerky movements and a wet gulping noise in his throat, Beria nodded vigorously.

“I understand. Yes, I understand.”

Milo searched the terrified expression for several heartbeats before drawing the cane back and straightening. He realized then that both Ambrose and Rihyani were at his shoulders once again, their faces grim and their eyes locked on Beria.

“All right, voenkom,” Milo said with deadly softness. “Tell me everything.”

Ambrose came back from tying Beria to the fountain like an untrustworthy pet, shaking his head as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

“I don’t know that I believe a damn word that weasel said.” He grunted as he settled on the steps of the mosque where Milo and Rihyani were sitting.

“With enough time, we could make sure he’s not lying to us,” Rihyani offered, but Milo shook his head.

“We don’t have time,” he said, frowning at the blue sky overhead. “We’ve been here long enough. If we stay much longer, there’s a good chance that we’ll be caught by another patrol.”

“Or the villagers will return, and who knows how they’ll react?” Rihyani said, her expression inscrutable.

“I’ll give you three guesses what I think they’ll do with him,” Ambrose muttered as he did a quick spot clean of his Gewehr. “And doesn’t matter what it is because it’ll be better than what he deserves.”

Milo bobbed his head, listening but unable to bring himself to say anything. Suspicions notwithstanding, Beria had been a fount of information, providing Milo with an abundance of information regarding Stalin’s operation. He knew almost nothing about the supernatural influence, thinking it was only the force of Stalin’s charisma, but even with this disappointment, the intelligence he provided was invaluable. One item in particular was rolling around his mind like a grain of sand on its way to becoming a pearl of a scheme. All this would, of course, be cold comfort to the elderly couple and the teenage girl they’d buried less than half an hour before.

Milo felt a heavy weight settle across his shoulders, and he dreaded what he knew came next.

“We can’t bring him with us, though.” Ambrose huffed as he let the rifle settle into the crook of his arm. “We can’t fly with an extra man, and we can’t drag him along by foot without risking him bolting at the first opportunity.”

Rihyani looked at the commissar sitting in the fountain, head hung miserably. Her lips worked in a humorless smile, peeling upward to reveal lethal fangs.

“Are you intending to let him live?” she snarled in a low, throaty voice. “After everything he’s done?”

“And what he will do if we let him go,” Ambrose added.

Milo sighed and pressed a thumb to the hardening ache between his eyes, realizing that his jewel of a scheme might come apart if the commissar managed to warn Stalin.

“I know all the reasons why I should put a bullet in his head,” Milo said heavily. “But I gave him my word that if he gave us information, we’d let him go. I don’t see how I can go back on that when he kept his end of the bargain.”

Ambrose snorted, and Rihyani suddenly found something interesting to look at in the sky above.

“What?” Milo demanded, eyes darting between the two of them. “You’re saying you’d kill him even after he fulfilled his part of the deal?”

Ambrose nodded while Rihyani turned a flat, chilly stare on him.

“Yes,” they said together.

Milo pinched the bridge of his nose and fought to keep his temper under control.

I agree with your companions, Imrah announced in Milo’s head. The cane rested against one leg.

“Who asked you?” he growled, kicking the fetish away angrily.

“Even the ghul agrees with us.” Ambrose chuckled.

“For all the wrong reasons, I’m sure,” Milo spat, then raked his fingers through his hair. “Fine. Tell me, how does killing him now not make us just like him?”

Ambrose and Rihyani glanced at each other and back at Milo with an almost pitying look. Milo had no memory of his parents, but sometimes the wardens at the orphanage had shared similar looks when they thought their charges were being particularly stupid or naïve. Milo despised the look, and it took more self-control than he would have cared to admit not to throw something at them to dispel their condescension.

“Last I checked, I never raped a little girl,” Ambrose said flatly. “Or forced civilians into service at gunpoint.”

Milo ground his teeth together.

“I gave my word!” he roared as he sprang to his feet and began pacing. “That has to mean something. To me, if nothing else.”

“Some creatures have chosen to be unworthy of such things,” Rihyani said, her words tender and patient as she watched him, but it was no use. Milo felt the gravity of certainty grip him and he knew nothing could set him free.

Nothing except doing as he’d promised, as sick as it made him feel.

“Then I suppose I shouldn’t have given my word,” Milo snapped. “But since I did, I need to honor the terms. It is as simple as that. Maybe it’ll ruin everything, but I’m doing it.”

Ambrose opened his mouth to argue, then stopped, cocking his head to one side. Milo recognized the signs of Ambrose’s inhumanly keen hearing at work.

“What is it?” he asked, eyes sweeping to the edge of town, but he saw nothing.

Ambrose shouldered his rifle and drew his bayonet blade.

“Time to go,” he said quickly before heading toward the fountain where the commissar squatted.

“What are you doing?” Milo called after him, shuffling an uncertain step after him.

“You said you wanted him to go free,” Ambrose answered over his shoulder. “Fine, let