by T J Kelly
Peter was sitting beside Kamini. Of course. But to my relief, he looked concerned and caring like normal instead of star-struck by her beauty. “You know you can’t do that,” he said. “We have to stay away until Peony communicates with us.” Peter stood, and I shifted my weight to lean farther from him, feeling like I needed to distance myself from him despite the tiny apartment. He usually supported me.
“Protocol dictates we wait for contact, not initiate it,” Harris said with regret. “We must be patient. Peony and Reg are formidable agents. They’ll be okay.”
I sighed. There was a chair crammed in a corner near the TV. It was the only available place to sit, so I crossed the room and plopped down. “Fine. Let’s just stay here and do nothing while my family and home are being destroyed.”
Peter and Kamini exchanged a glance. How annoying.
“None of us like this either,” Peter replied. “But you’ll find that once you’ve been on assignment a few times the most difficult part of the job is to hold off and judge the right timing.”
My eyes narrowed. The darkness inside me expanded. Was my best friend, my champion, my hero, scolding me like a child? And what did that smug Kamini think of me as he did?
I opened my mouth to answer, but I was interrupted by a snapping sound outside indicating something had just transported to the safe-house.
Peter strode over to the door and pulled it open. He should have checked for enemies before doing so, but an envelope lay on the floor instead of an ambush. I guess I would let it pass. No need to embarrass him in front of the others by pointing out his flaws the way he did to me.
“It’s from Peony,” Peter said as he unsealed the envelope. His eyes rapidly scanned the pages. “Ah. She said the attackers are gone from the castle and the land, but she's concerned they are still nearby. She suggests we make ourselves comfortable and wait a while.”
I stifled a groan. Stay in the safe-house with Kamini? Heck no.
“What about Tian?” I asked. The image of her lying at Reg’s feet haunted me.
“She’s injured, but will be fine. Peony is nursing her until she can be safely moved. She’s called in more guards and the other agents but wants us to wait on another message.”
Ha. I wasn’t going to wait. And those instructions didn’t sit well with the others, either. They would probably go along with me if I came up with a plan.
“How did they get in?” Seth asked. “Ged has that place on lockdown. Nobody, magic or mundane, can break through those defenses.”
He was right. What happened to all the magic Armageddon had woven into his land over the years? And the walls of Castle Laurus were steeped in enough protective magic they would rise and attack a foe if needed.
Except when they didn’t.
“Could be a Drain-flow spell,” Harris suggested. “They could tap into the link to his land and use it to pull down the defenses.”
“No way,” Peter said. He stuffed Peony’s message into his pocket. “He’s too good for that. He wouldn’t let that happen.”
“Unless he’s hurt and can’t defend himself,” I said. I finally realized what had been bothering me the whole time ever since my uncle disappeared. No matter how finicky his assignment, how dangerous his circumstances, he would protect his home, first. He was always connected to his family and wouldn’t leave us open to attack.
That he left us vulnerable meant he couldn’t protect us anymore.
“Maybe not,” Peter said. “It could be any number of things.”
I jumped to my feet, unable to sit still while I was so agitated. “It could be, but I doubt it. It’s not like he’d be tricked into breaking home-and-hearth magic. You know it. Something has to be wrong. And if we can’t go home, we should spend our free time looking for him. I don’t feel a prohibition spell against it, do you?”
“No, I don’t.” Seth stood and walked over to me. “Lia’s right. We can’t sit here doing nothing when Armageddon might be in trouble. We all owe him way too much to hang around playing video games and napping.”
I was glad Seth was on my side. He was the bossier of the Andersson brothers, and sure enough, Harris came to stand by us to support his brother. Not like he was reluctant. I felt nothing but concern and purpose coming from him.
The three of us turned as one to look at Peter.
He shrugged. “Fine by me. You all act like I’m your dad or something. I’ve wanted to help Ged since Mort reported he was missing.”
The corner of my mouth quirked. That was why he was my best friend.
“Well, then,” Kamini said. All eyes focused on her. I wish she stayed out of it. This was Irregular business, she wasn’t powerful enough to be an agent. “It looks like you guys have a new plan. What will you do first?”
I swear she was looking at me. Maybe she thought I would have no idea, and it would make her look smarter and more mature if I was clueless, even if she was almost all light inside and was supposed to be above such tricks. Maybe she was working that ten percent of darkness for all it was worth.
“I know exactly what I'll do,” I said with conviction. “I’ve been developing a Blood-of-my-blood spell, and I’m going to find him.”
Peter’s eyebrow rose. “How will you keep them from tracing the spell back to you?”
“Easy. I'll piggyback it with lead. Just like I altered Earth magic to use Air.”
I admit, it felt great to be the recipient of three admiring looks from my team. And one confused look from my newly discovered rival.
“Brilliant!” Harris said. “Let’s do it.”
Lead was basically the opposite of blood. It was inert, dense, heavy, dead. Blood teamed with life. It was vital and important and created some of the most powerful magic in existence. Lead was lowly, reviled, and poisoned anything it touched. Practically worthless - and ignored by magicians. Only alchemists tried to use it. There wasn’t anything else less like blood.
Harris and Seth shoved the furniture back. Peter and Kamini stood to the side while I stepped into the center of the room. I sat with my legs folded into a lotus position and used the extra darkness that had been building up inside me to create a circle of seven creamy-brown beeswax candles around met. I snapped my fingers as I imagined them on fire just because I thought it would look cool when they lit.
Showtime.
I closed my eyes and sucked in a cleansing breath, meditating to clear the built-up emotional turmoil. I was focused, fully aware I was about to try something nobody had ever done before. I also had to push away the excitement that came with working magic, difficult magic, new magic. It felt good to be a part of the world my inability to tap into my magic had kept me from for so long.
On a whim, I removed the silver star necklace from around my neck. It was about time for me to practice magic without it. I wished my uncle was there to see, to comfort me, to guide me. But he wasn’t. Instead, I was doing this to find him. I needed access to every bit of my power.
When I was ready, I leaned into the spell and heaved.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Contact
The floodgates opened. Air rushed around me like I was drowning in it, my perception of reality and the elements mixed and confused. Blood magic was powerful. Tapping into it the way I did, warping it through the lead to suit my needs, using it to be the opposite of what it was intended to be, flipped my world upside-down.
I think. I could have been right-side up and the entire rest of the world upside-down for all I knew.
When the colors settled and I could breathe again, I found myself locked in a box. At least, it felt that way. There was pressure on all sides of me, and blackness blinded me. I wished, for the first time, that I had brought the bracelet Chas made that enabled me to see in the dark. I had hidden it away so the sight of it wouldn’t hurt me. I shouldn't have been such a baby. Useful tools should never be scorned because of their source. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I could hear, though. Something was moving
near me, making a strange popping sound infused with a distinct liquid noise. It wasn’t like anything I had ever heard before, and my ears struggled to identify the source. After another few seconds of trying to make sense of it, all I could determine was the noise was coming from behind me.
My body remained motionless despite my efforts to turn around. I tried to raise my arm to see if I was near anything, but I couldn’t.
But the smell. I smelled that before in my locker. Rotten eggs.
Except no, not quite the same as eggs. I sifted through my school memories, not all that pleasant a task, and came across a fleeting thought about my chemistry exams. They were the most brutal finals we took. Not only was chemistry difficult because we had to learn mundane as well as magical formulas, it was closely related to alchemy. And since I couldn’t access my magic at the time, people called me an alchemist a lot. It was especially painful because even if I had nothing against alchemists personally, everybody knew they were a total joke.
Well, everyone except me. Not anymore. Not now I realized lead was much more powerful than I was taught. And alchemists used it all the time.
Oh. I had been making gunpowder. We learned how to do that in seventh grade, crazy as that sounds. It was one of the ways teachers showed magical neuters like me the basic steps to mixing spells. You had to be exact, or there were very real consequences, just like with magic. Skills also useful for the workers in the warehouses and back rooms of businesses all over the globe, building up stock for the magicians doing the real work.
For some people, learning support skills was humiliating. I didn’t mind, but I was scared I would end up one of those magicless workers, turning Chemistry into the worst class I ever had to take. I was so preoccupied with the idea everyone must be laughing at me that I dropped an ingredient all over the floor. Sulfur. Which smelled like rotten eggs.
The stench of sulfur filled the air as I sat in that strange box.
My skin was tacky and damp. And it was warm, much too warm, warm enough I was parched and really, really needed a drink. I would make myself one out of the surrounding Air, using the humidity in my favor, but the box encased me, separating my magic from everything else, including the elements. There was nothing left to connect me to the world.
It wasn’t until somebody kicked me in the back, knocking me to the ground, that I understood I had been sitting in a chair. Connections and events flooded my mind. The reason I couldn’t see anything was because I was blindfolded. The box was really a skin-tight shield. It kept me frozen in place, and I had been working on a way to get out. I must escape and face my attacker, stop him from hurting my family.
Hurting Peony, my wife.
The darkness shattered when I realized I was merged with Armageddon’s mind, thinking his thoughts, using his senses.
He could see light around the bottom edge of the blindfold, a pulsating glow throbbed in the distance, in the direction of the heat. I needed to communicate with him, but something tugged at me, hard, jerking me away. I shouted his name.
Armageddon.
He was a quick thinker. Despite how confusing it must have been to hear my voice ricocheting against his skull, my uncle instantly responded. In the seconds before I disappeared from his mind, my brain expanded with a torrent of information.
Then he was gone.
◆◆◆
“Lia? Can you hear me? Lia?”
My brain slowly embraced reality. Peter sounded worried. He was holding my hand. The candles surrounding me had been extinguished. Wax pooled by my face.
“Why am I on the floor?” I asked as I sat up. My cheek was itching from the carpet fiber. I would have to wash again because who knew how many feet had tracked in goodness knows what while skulking in and out of the safe-house? My elemental senses identified several types of dirt and vegetative particles. Ha. Kamini must not be big on vacuuming, the slob.
The silent insult made me feel better. My good humor tilted the balance of light inside me, finally outweighing the dark like it was supposed to.
Peter helped me to my feet and kept me steady, his warm hand wrapped firmly around my upper arm.
“Man, it was so freaky,” Harris said. “You lifted into the air, spun in a circle, and then hovered like you were sitting in an invisible chair. Then out of nowhere you dropped to the side and slammed into the ground. How’s your face?” He sounded worried but also impressed. I was coming to recognize that tone from the people around me.
“My jaw hurts,” I said, surprised as the pain descended on me. “And my cheek. Shoulder. Elbow. Wow, that must have been some fall.”
“No kidding,” Peter said. “Can you remember what happened? You were in a trance.”
I ticked off the events in my head, processing my experience. I sat on the carpet. I created the candles. I invoked blood magic using lead.
Shocking. Alchemists knew more than we realized. I made a mental note to research their methods. They weren’t well-respected in the magic world. Yet not only could I use lead to create untraceable blood magic, I also learned that lead amplified magic beyond anything I could have imagined. Alchemists must use it to strengthen their magic, too.
My face twitched. I didn’t like my attitude about alchemists, same as any other judgmental magician, was limiting and unfair. Lead was awesome. Why did we mock somebody for using it? It was unkind and blinded us to magical realities.
I pushed away that uncomfortable thought and then concentrated on what had happened next when I visited my uncle’s head.
As if they had been waiting for me, memories exploded behind my eyes. Landing in the dark box, the slow return of my senses, realizing I merged with my uncle when I thought of Peony as my wife instead of my aunt. Because of the amplified blood magic.
Then more memories, other thoughts that weren’t mine. Cupping Peony’s cheek before turning to leave. Looking down on the lavender bush that was usually taller than I was but Armageddon towered over, then the bright red of the roses. Stepping into my uncle’s carriage. Except in my newly acquired memories, it was my carriage since I was thinking from his point of view. Then having a fleeting thought about protecting my niece Lia, me, myself, herself, the sweet girl my uncle loved more than she would ever know.
But I did know because I felt it. And I loved him and my aunt just as fiercely.
A tear escaped. Peter dried it, cupping my cheek the way my uncle had cupped my aunt’s, gazing down at me with concern. Fingers touching a sore spot below my eye, probably a bruise.
Then I jerked away from Peter as the memories of nights later, weeks later, an ambush flooded my vision. My magic, no, Armageddon’s magic, being frozen, cut off, separated somehow. A box, a shield, a skin-tight trap. And a voice echoing in my memory, a man’s voice, telling me he had taken me, that soon it would happen, that he would kill me when the time came.
Not me. My uncle. Armageddon was the one who was going to die.
And then more tears fell, my tears, Lia’s tears. Peter grasped my arm, refusing to let go, me being grateful he wouldn’t.
A vision. My uncle, trapped. Lost. Fire pulsating in the distance. The smell of rotten eggs. And a structure, a small tower, glimpsed before the blindfold was tied over my Armageddon’s eyes.
“He’s at a volcano,” I said. “I’m not sure how, but I was a part of him, and he saw it.”
“Did you recognize anything? Do you know where it is?” Seth asked. The guys were standing close, too close, but at that moment I welcomed it. Their proximity comforted me.
“No, I haven’t. But Uncle Ged has. He’s been there before with his sons when they were little. It was Mount Lassen.”
“And it’s active?” Harris asked. His forehead wrinkled, magic humming in the air around him. Stress and anger, worry and resignation. Protection.
“Looked like it. Smelled like it, too,” I said, wrinkling my nose.
“Okay, then,” Peter said. “Now we know where we’re going.” He led me to the couch where I flopped
down. He reached forward and tugged my little star necklace out of my vest pocket and fastened it around my neck. Good idea.
Kamini was in the corner watching us. “I can give you provisions, of course,” she said. “Will you stay the night before leaving?”
I guess being in the clan who ran safe-houses for the government would make a person able to roll with quickly changing events. Good for her. I was having a hard time keeping up with what had just happened, myself.
Heaving a sigh, I rested my head against the back of the couch. I was exhausted, but I also wanted to hit the road and save my uncle. We had to avoid magical means of transportation. Traveling to California would be quite a drive.
“We should stay,” Peter said.
“We should leave,” Seth argued. “We have no idea how much trouble he’s in or if we’ll get there in time.”
Nobody asked what would happen if we didn’t get there in time. We already knew what he meant.
“He’ll be okay for a while longer,” I said. I cringed inside knowing my uncle was dying of thirst, truly desperate for water, and hurt. I also knew from the memories Armageddon implanted in my brain there was a routine, and the man who held my uncle against his will was done for the night. He wanted to keep my uncle alive for a while, so one of the guards would eventually give him something to drink.
The age-old struggle went on inside me. Should I or shouldn’t I?
I needed to get to Armageddon, and fast. Nobody knew why the enemy had taken my uncle prisoner instead of killing him right away. There was no way to tell when the ax would fall. But I couldn’t face what was coming, whatever that was, unless I was fit. Well-rested. Ready. Sharp.
Same with my teammates.
That was it, too. I realized in that instant the love I felt, however real, however profound, was blanketed over with a steel-core of practicality, logic, and odds. It was a balance I knew well. The Rectors had always been torn between light and dark. We knew how to utilize all sides. I had learned realism at my father’s knee. A lesson I could never forget because it made me who I was, flowing in the Rector bloodline. And if we were going to win, we needed to be at our best.