Olga

by C. T. Adams

Overview

Earth wizard Olga Petrovic is falsely accused of the most heinous of crimes—the murder of two fellow wizards, one of them her own sister! To clear her name, Olga must join forces with her family's hereditary enemy and uncover dark secrets she will wish had stayed buried.


At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781429926720
Publisher:	Tor Publishing Group
Publication date:	02/01/2011
Series:	Tor.Com Original Series
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	32
File size:	213 KB

About the Author

C.T. Adams began writing with Cathy Clamp in 1997. Together, they have published more than a dozen books; you can visit their website for the latest news, writing advice, and more. Cie is currently relocating to the Denver metro area with her dog and cats.

C. T. Adams is a bestselling author of urban fantasy and paranormal romance. Her books include The Exile, the first Book of the Fae; and Touch of Evil, the USA Today bestselling first volume in the Thrall series, which she co-wrote with Cathy Clamp. Cie and Cathy also co-wrote the original Tales of the Sazi--the first in that series, Hunter's Moon, was also a USA Today bestseller-and the first six books in the Blood Singer series, which begins with Blood Song. Cie lived in the Denver metro area for seventeen years before moving to the Texas Hill Country, where she lives with a large dog and several cats.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

"No! Olga!" I whirled at the sound of my brother-in-law's panicked shout. My name hasn't been Olga for more than a century, but that's how he first knew me. I smelled diesel fuel and felt a wave of pure power knock me off my feet, sending me flying backward an instant before a car bomb blew, taking out most of the café and a fair portion of the street. I hit the pavement hard, back first, knocking the breath from my lungs. My head hit next, and the world went dark.

* * *

I came to lying in the center of a circle trap. The silver circle with its golden pentagram was fastened — by magic and mechanics — to the stone floor of a dungeon. I'd never been in "the deeps" before, but I was betting that's where I was — one of the maximum-security prison floors maintained by the Guard. The magical version of the police, the Guard works hard to keep regular humans from catching on to our existence.

I tried to sit up. It was a mistake. My vision swam in streamers, my stomach clenching and heaving. Luckily I hadn't eaten recently, so I only vomited a nasty little puddle of bile. My head felt as if it had been split with an axe. I reached for healing power without thinking about it and was rewarded for my efforts by a surge of magic like an electric current pouring through my body. I screamed and passed out.

The next time I woke, I was not alone.

"Olga Petrovic." Valentin Chrischenko spit my original name out like a curse. For him it probably was one. Valentin and I had quite a history. Once upon a time our parents had arranged for us to wed. We managed to escape that particular horror, but only barely. How many hundred years later, he hadn't changed much at all. He was still short and bandy-legged, with heavy features and a wild mane of coarse black hair. His dark eyes held the flecks of red that were one sure signal of a fire mage. Judging from the way he was glaring down his nose at me, he hadn't lost one whit of his pride or arrogance. "You are here for questioning regarding terrorist acts resulting in the deaths of humans and the deaths of wizards Nadya Petrovic Hunter and Special Agent Roger Hunter."

Nadya ... Roger ... dead. My head swam, and this time it wasn't the concussion. Tears flowed down my cheeks. Nadya — sweet, beautiful Nadya, my baby sister — and oh God, Roger. Both, gone. Their poor daughter.

"What happened?"

"That is what you are going to tell us." He gestured toward a darkened corner of the room. There were shapes there, but I couldn't tell through the obscuring spell whether they were even human, let alone who they might be.

I stared up at him, vision blurred by tears. He really believed I'd had something to do with this? Was he insane? I would never ... "I want to speak with a Defender."

"You have not been charged. Yet you ask for a Defender?" In anger his speech was taking on the old Russian accent. I still sounded fully American, but then again, I'd been away from Mother Russia for a very long time. After a couple of hundred years even the thickest accent wears down.

"If you are the investigating officer and the one conducting this interview? Hell, yes."

His face flushed, his hands clenching and unclenching in an unconscious gesture of pure rage. Making him angry wasn't going to be helpful, but I was not going to give testimony in front of Valentin — and whoever was hidden in the corner — without a representative.

I lay silently in the spotlight, waiting for them to fetch a defense counselor. It wouldn't take long, since the Investigation, Prosecution, and Defense departments are all conveniently located in the same building.

I used the brief pause to try to recover from Valentin's devastating news. I loved Nadya, and Roger had grown nearly as dear to me over the years of their marriage. The pain of losing them was far worse than my physical injuries. And those were not insignificant.

I've been in worse shape–not often, mind you. My long auburn hair was matted and crusted with blood from a scalp wound. I had a concussion at least, perhaps even a skull fracture. There were deep cuts and bruises wherever skin showed, and the pain I felt every time I drew breath spoke of cracked or broken ribs. Whether or not there was internal bleeding was something I'd need my magic to read. As an earth mage, healing is my gift, but at the moment, my powers were locked away from me by the circle trap. It was clear that my captors hadn't bothered to have me examined. That meant that they either (a) didn't know what they were doing or (b) didn't care whether I lived or died.

Probably (b). Roger was a cop. He'd been popular, and he'd been killed in the line of duty. If they truly thought I was responsible ... well, why waste the energy healing me up just to face the executioner?

But why on Earth did they suspect me? I love Nadya and Roger both ... loved. I felt a stab of pain at the correction. Loved.

I'm not a criminal. But, to be honest, out of the five hundred or so people with mage gifts, I would probably come close to topping the list of the ten most irritating. I am opinionated, vocal, and talented. Not a combination to instill love in those in authority.

But for me — or any magic-worker — to use a car bomb made no sense. Why would a practitioner of any power at all use a mundane method? It was crude. And wasteful. How many ordinary humans had that bomb taken out along with the intended magical victims? How does one even go about building a bomb? I hadn't a clue. But if I was being set up for multiple murder, I'd wager a fair amount they'd found plans for the bomb somewhere among my belongings.

If I wanted to kill someone I'd just call a duel and be done with it. Any earth mage worth the title could cause the heart to stop in your chest or make buildings fall and crush someone. I could do more and worse with little effort.

Right now, though, I was tapped out. Two successive earthquakes in Haiti and Chile had taken the power right out of me. I'd thrown everything I had into stabilizing the underlying pressures to minimize aftershocks. In fact, I was so worn out that my older sister Ana had ordered one of her apprentices, Piotr Chrischenko, Valentin's only child, to transport me to her apartment in New York. And oh, hadn't that trip been awkward.

A shimmer of light parted the shadows in the corner for just a second and a man stepped through. He was gorgeous. Under any other conditions I would've just stared, admiring the view. Because he was definitely worth a long look. Tall, six four at least, with a muscular build that was enhanced by the cut of his very expensive gray suit. His hair was dark blond, worn longer than was currently fashionable, and tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it. You'd think with that hair he'd have blue eyes, but he didn't. They were gray, the gray of storm clouds, with the flecks of metallic silver of an air worker. He reeked of power.

"Why has she not been healed? Or at least put in a position to heal herself?" His words dripped disgust and were aimed at those who watched from the darkness. He was ignoring Valentin. It was a deliberate insult, and not a slight one. Duels have been fought for less.

Of course Valentin reacted. He couldn't not. He did not, however, call the other mage out. "Under the circumstances ..."

"I'm sorry," my defense counsel said as he moved to stand toe to toe with Valentin, "but as with American law, our law states that Olga Petrovic is considered innocent until found guilty. As such she is entitled to immediate medical attention for any life-threatening injury." He shook his head. "This" — he gestured around the room — "is barbaric."

"And what makes you believe she hasn't received treatment?"

"Even from here I can see that her left pupil is blown."

Valentin hissed. As a fire mage he wasn't a healer, but even he knew enough about head injuries to know how bad that was. With a gesture and a muttered curse he released the circle trap and called for an earth mage.

CHAPTER 2

"Tell me everything." My counselor, Alex Curtis, sat in a chair next to my bed in the small hospital that serves those mages injured too badly to be healed in one sitting. He had a netbook on his lap and was poised to take notes.

"A few weeks ago I was taking a nap when I was jolted awake by something. It was earth magic, but it was wrong. Amazingly powerful but completely uncontrolled. And it didn't have a signature I knew."

Alex looked at me quizzically. "Why would it?"

"I know most of the earth workers, and I know all the ones with that level of power. Seconds later, the earthquake hit Haiti."

He nodded, signaling for me to continue as his fingers tapped furiously across the keys.

"I called Ana, my older sister, to see if she'd felt it. She had, and though she also didn't know who was behind it, she was already gearing up her team to investigate and do disaster relief. I told her I wanted to go with her. We both felt that there was something wrong about the quake."

"One of her apprentices, an air worker named Piotr, transported me to Ana's camp outside of Port au Prince." I paused, at a loss for words. It had been hell on earth. The smell of dust and blood; the air ringing with screams of pain, cries for help, and wails of mourning; the ground shifting beneath me as buildings creaked and groaned from strain, threatening to collapse.

And someone had caused that misery.

Deliberately.

In that moment, I'd hated with a holy passion. If I could've found the bastard who'd done it ... well, I'm not sure what I would have done, but whatever it was, it wouldn't have been bad enough. Not nearly bad enough to pay for the carnage I had witnessed.

"Ana and her apprentices were part of the relief effort. Ana, JoAnn, and Connie, the earth mages, were healing the injured; Robbie, the water mage, was purifying water for them and for people to drink. Piotr, the air mage, was transporting supplies. My job was to stabilize the ground beneath us. I couldn't stop the aftershocks entirely. The tectonic plates were too damaged. But I could release the stress into unpopulated areas whenever possible. And while I worked I tried to find something, anything, that would tell me who had done this ... this ... evil."

"Did you?"

"Not really. The magic was ... strange ... wrong. As if the power was being used by someone who shouldn't be able to use it, and thus couldn't control it."

"What did you do?"

"What could I do? I contacted Roger." Technically I could have reported my suspicions to any of the authorities, but I knew and respected my brother-in-law. He'd take me seriously and push others to look into it thoroughly.

"What then?"

"Then I did my best at earth working until I was magically exhausted. After that I helped with the relief efforts any way I could. I'd still be there if Ana hadn't had Piotr drag me back to New York. Where I learned that she'd called Nadya and told her to keep an eye on me."

"So why were you meeting your sister and brother-in-law at the restaurant?"

"Nadya called just a few minutes after I arrived. She said she needed to talk to me. Katarina, my niece, was in trouble." I blinked back tears, but my voice was steady. I wanted to mourn my sister, and avenge her. But to do either I needed to survive.

"What kind of trouble?"

"I don't know. She was going to tell me over lunch."

"Could Katarina have done the working that caused the earthquakes?"

I shook my head. "Not a chance. She's still young enough to be clumsy, but not like that. And she wouldn't have the power." Unless ...

He opened his mouth to ask the next question, but I waved him to silence. A terrible thought had occurred to me. I hoped I was wrong. Surely Kat wouldn't have ... Then again, she was sixteen, powerful, and rebellious as hell.

"What?"

I threw off the covers and climbed out of the bed. I wasn't moving well. They'd only healed the worst of the injuries, and I didn't have enough energy left to do much more than normal human healing on my own. It didn't matter. If I was wrong, I'd have a longer recovery and look like a fool. If I was right ... Dear God, don't let me be right.

I yanked open one of a pair of drawers and pulled out my clothing. As I strode into the bathroom I said, "There's a spell — a very old, evil spell. It uses murder to steal a mage's power. Get Valentin. We need to go to Roger and Nadya's loft. Now."

CHAPTER 3

"I do not like this," Valentin grumbled. He'd been grumbling since Alex had dragged him out of bed at my behest. It had taken a couple of hours to get me released and obtain authorization to come here. After two hours of listening to Valentin's complaints I was even more grateful than usual that we hadn't wound up married.

Much of the delay had been Valentin's fault. He had refused to let me leave the hospital until his assistants had checked out my story. Once they'd contacted Ana and Piotr and verified that I couldn't possibly have had time to build and plant the bomb, I'd been released. Since I wasn't technically under arrest, I didn't have to include him in what I was about to do, but I wanted him there. First, he was an official with the Guard and could get us past any spells guarding the house. Second, he'd give our mission legitimacy if I was right.

That didn't mean I was enjoying having him along. "Will you just stop?" I snarled. "It's not like I'm enjoying this any more than you are. I need to make sure the grimoires are still protected. Nadya and Roger were guarding them for me." I didn't say what I feared, that one or both of the books were missing.

Valentin paled and began swearing under his breath in Russian. I hadn't heard those particular phrases in a while, but they're fairly memorable. I almost smiled.

"What's so important about these grimoires?" Alex asked.

Valentin responded, saving me the trouble. Just as well, since I was busy taking down the wards. They were complex, and while they wouldn't kill us, they'd put us back in the hospital if they weren't properly disarmed. "They were our fathers'." He turned to me. "Do you need help with that?"

"No. I've got it." The wards fell as I spoke. I used my key to unlock the deadbolt.

I opened the door, but Valentin entered first, power at the ready. We were all nervous. Even Alex, who didn't have any idea just what was in those grimoires, was tense, his breathing harsh in my ears.

"Stay here," Valentin ordered. I obeyed. He knew what he was doing, and in my current state I wouldn't be any use in a fight.

He moved silently, with speed and surprising grace, from one part of the loft space to another.

When he gave the all-clear I hurried into the bedroom area, to my sister's jewel case. It was a moment's work to find, in the top drawer, the charm bracelet she'd been given by our mother. Nadya, Ana, and I all had identical bracelets. Hidden among the shining silver kittens and stars was the key to my sister's hope chest. I'd never completely understood why she chose to keep those dangerous books at the foot of her bed. If she'd used a safe, she'd said, any idiot burglar might stumble onto them. She wanted them close to hand, where she could keep an eye on them, but still hidden. Still locked up.

I muttered the words to drop Nadya's wards as I slid the key into the lock. A deft twist of the wrist and the lock clicked free and I was able to lift the lid.

There was a flash of light, and I had an instant to regret my actions before the pain hit. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't swear. I couldn't even breathe. I'd tripped a spell, but it wasn't earth based. I didn't know what it was, and I couldn't have spoken words to counter it if my life depended on it. Which, in fact, it might.

Even as my sight dimmed and I struggled to cling to consciousness I saw Valentin grab one of my sister's lipsticks from the dresser and use it to trace runes on the floor. He and Alex were both chanting. Seconds later, the pressure on my chest vanished.

I coughed and choked, sucking sweet, fresh, blessed air into my lungs in deep gasps. Somehow, Valentin had caught me as I fell. Now, with more gentleness than I would have expected, he steered me over to the bed, where I collapsed into a sitting position.

"What should I be looking for?" Alex was staring into the hope chest.

"A pair of ancient grimoires, leather-bound, with symbols and Cyrillic lettering on the covers. One black, one red."

"There's only the black one here."

It wasn't that I doubted him, but I had to look. Had to. Because while I absolutely believed what he said, I wanted ... needed him to be wrong. I peered over the open wooden lid and saw my father's grimoire, exactly where it should be. And next to it? Nothing, just a void in the dust in the shape of a large rectangle. The grimoire of Vladamir Chrischenko, the book detailing some of the most evil spells and workings in the history of man, was gone.

(Continues…)

---

Excerpted from "Olga"
by .
Copyright © 2010 C. T. Adams.
Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---