Too Much Magic (WereWitch Book 3)

by Renée Jaggér

  “Something like that,” said Bailey. “Shit, I’m tired. Want to sit down and rest for a minute?”

  The wizard made a half-assed sound of disapproval but then nodded. “Yeah, I think I do. How about by that tree right up there?”

  They walked for another moment, then reclined against the base of a thick tree the color of iron that grew from an elevated patch of land. The height of their resting place kept them above the more waterlogged parts of the ground and offered a mild advantage in being able to spot anything that might approach. The tree looked somehow less sinister than most of the other ones. More natural.

  “So,” Bailey prompted once they were comfortable and had caught their breath again, “about these Vantoretti chicks who seem to want our asses.”

  “’Venatori,’” Roland corrected her. “And I already told you most of what I know.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you? From what I remember, you said a bunch of the kind of stuff someone says when they want to shut other people up without really telling them anything.”

  He groaned and pinched his nose. “Why do women always think that? Never mind. Well, I already told you I’ve never encountered them face to face, and that’s true. I’ve heard the stories; most witches and wizards have. They’re boogeyman-type figures. I suppose in Europe, they’re more real, but even in America and elsewhere, there’s a general understanding that yes, they do exist.”

  Bailey nodded. “Okay. Go on. What’s their, what, their mission statement? You and those agents said they were fanatics but were pretty vague beyond that.”

  “Well,” Roland replied, sounding huffy, “I don’t know all the details. They’re pretty secretive, so the rest of us have had to sort of connect the dots based on what little we know for sure. They think of themselves as the arbiters of what is and isn’t ‘correct’ or ‘proper’ witchcraft, and they act as the self-appointed enforcers of major magical taboos.”

  Suddenly Bailey went cold and felt sick. She flashed back to something Sheriff Browne had said to her a few weeks ago, when she and Roland were preparing to depart for Portland for the first time.

  The thing about werewitches—about the terrible and violent proscription against them in the conventional Were community, and how they used to be burned at the stake in the bad old days.

  Roland went on, “They have tremendous power. They draw their ranks from the most gifted of witches, snatching them up as young children. Their field agents are trained to hunt down societal rogues or dangerous magic users who go warlock—you know, assholes who delve into serious black magic and whatnot—and destroy them. And sometimes, their recruitment drives do not involve consent. There are a few tales of them outright kidnapping children they think would make good assets.”

  “I see,” Bailey responded darkly. “You’re gifted, aren’t you? Did they ever try to ‘recruit’ you?”

  Roland swallowed and fidgeted; he seemed uncomfortable with the question. “I didn’t fully grasp what was going on at the time,” he answered her, “but it’s quite likely that I narrowly dodged them, or their third-party agents. I have the power to qualify, yes, but they’re a matriarchal group, so males aren’t as valued. Plus, whenever I was around people who creeped me out, I would downplay my powers and act stupider than I was. That sort of thing.”

  The girl just stared. It seemed like everyone in the world of American magic had been after Roland in his youth at some point or another.

  “And now I’m too old for their patented brainwashing to take effect, so I think I’m in the clear of being press-ganged into their organization. Of course, they might want to kill us both. You for, well, being what you are, and me for being with you and helping you. Or they might just kill you and then pull a Shannon and use me for breeding stock.”

  Bailey’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what I was afraid of, but not so afraid that I’m just gonna wail and gnash my teeth or whatever.”

  She took his hand, holding his gaze. “That will not happen. Not to either of us.”

  The silver Cayenne drove down the road. Not north, but west.

  “Ugh,” Shannon jeered, trying to control her sudden upsurge in anger. “I cannot fucking believe that those Eurotrash bitches think they have the right to tell us what we can and can’t do.”

  “Yeah!” Callie agreed loudly. “They just want Roland for themselves anyway. What a bunch of fucking bullshit!”

  Aida shook her head. “They looked so graceless, so uncomfortable in those stupid leather outfits. Roland would like us much better, I think.”

  Shannon drove on, staring straight ahead through the windshield at the darkened road before them.

  They’d made a show of driving north, of course. Stopped in a small, repulsive hick town to use the bathroom and gas up the vehicle, and then, when it seemed to be clear, looped back around to go toward Greenhearth by a different route.

  There was no guarantee that the Venatori knew where Bailey and Roland were. They probably just had general reports about the Pacific Northwest, and had then tracked down Shannon via a basic parlor trick that allowed witches to keep an eye on one another.

  As such, Shannon had performed a quick magical “cleansing” on her vehicle, while also cloaking it from remote viewing and ordering Aida and Callie not to cast any spells unless she gave them permission.

  It was, of course, rumored that the Venatori might be powerful enough to overcome such mid-range tactics, but Shannon refused to believe it. Besides, the leather-clad quartet had every reason to believe the trio from Seattle was now headed back home.

  “Uh, hey?” Callie asked as they came into the easternmost foothills of the Cascades. “How do we avoid those skanks if they show up in town?”

  Shannon didn’t feel like dealing with that, but she had to admit it required consideration. “I already cloaked us,” she grated. “And we can just say that going through the mountains and then heading due north is the faster route because it is. We took the long way down.”

  Aida grimaced. “They will not believe that, but it might at least buy us time. We should be alert for them. One of us should scout for their presence, while another looks for Roland. And Bailey.”

  “Yeah,” Shannon said. “It’s your idea, so you can be our Venatori scout. And Callie, once we get into the valley, you start seeking out any signals from those two. Of course, if we run into any of them, let me do the talking.”

  So intent were the three witches on the partitioning of their duties that none of them noticed another SUV, cloaked so well they would have had to use intensive truth-revealing spells to perceive it in any detail, which they passed on a nondescript stretch of black country road.

  Nor did they notice that the other vehicle pulled out perhaps half a mile behind them, tailing them as they drove into the mountains. To the west.

  Since it still didn’t look like the hill, or whatever it was, was getting any closer, Bailey and Roland had simply adopted the big gray tree as their temporary base of operations.

  “Okay,” said the wizard, “so we agree that part of the key here is the ‘thinking without thinking’ state of mind, or ‘no-mind’ as all the kung fu guys would put it. Something like that.”

  They were standing now, though still leaning against the metallic-hued trunk as their strength gradually returned to them.

  Bailey nodded. “That we do. Instinct and intuition, instead of getting all intensive and scientific about it.”

  Roland punctuated his points with gentle chopping motions of the side of his right hand into his left palm. “And,” he resumed, “we agree that part of it is stress and necessity and desperation. That’s almost impossible to replicate when we’re safe, so there must be some other way to access the right frame of mind when we aren’t being menaced by horrible creatures from beyond the grave.”

  Squinting as she glanced around them to ensure that no more wraiths were about to show up, Bailey said, “Yeah, that’s the hope.”

  One of her big
gest fears was that she would not be able to exert willful control over her powers, and would simply have to pray that they worked when she most needed them to.

  “And finally,” Roland concluded, his mouth taking on a cocky twist, “we agree that one thing I said before is still very much true—part of it is focus and concentration. Though perhaps a slightly different type than what I originally had in mind, or what we’re used to.”

  “Yep.” Bailey realized, out of nowhere, that since stepping into the Other, she had not experienced hunger, thirst, or the need to go to the bathroom. That furthered her suspicion that time was somehow suspended here.

  The wizard closed his eyes for a moment, piecing things together. He challenged his considerable intelligence to apply itself in new ways.

  Bailey did the same. She wasn’t sure if she was as smart as he was, at least, as book-smart, but she knew she was far from dumb. She’d always been a fast learner.

  What else was different? she asked herself. Less intensity, greater control. But also…

  She snapped her fingers. “Duration,” she said aloud. “We were consistently channeling the same level of power for…well, a while. It’s hard to judge time here, but a lot longer than I remember using magic for back home.”

  Roland’s eyes flicked open. “Yes, that’s true. Shit.” He blinked and exhaled through his nose. “It’s so obvious, in fact, that I didn’t even think about it, but you’re right. We somehow created a sustained flow of magic rather than hurling it in bursts of elemental power, or even casting conventional spells.”

  Bailey watched him, noting how it almost looked like a new sun was dawning before his eyes. Magic was new to her. That put her at a disadvantage in some ways, but it meant that all that was happening here in the Other was part of her learning experience.

  Roland had already learned. As such, the introduction of new information or even new modes of magic meant he was having to unlearn some of what he already knew.

  “Okay,” the girl quipped, “let’s see if we can do it again, minus our dark liquid-y friends getting involved.”

  For what felt like hours, they tried and tried and tried, without success.

  First they attempted to recall their emotional states during the two battles with the wraiths while concentrating on magic. Bailey summoned a few sparks, and Roland a mild flare or two, but that was all.

  Then they tried ignoring the magical component until their brains were in the right place. Roland related all he knew about meditation, and suggested to Bailey that she imagine she was “in the zone” at the auto shop, working on car stuff that interested her and required all her attention but induced a calm and focused determination.

  That helped some, but they still couldn’t translate it into a successful magical working. There was some important element they hadn’t yet uncovered—a missing link.

  Frustration grew, anger at themselves and despair in rising and falling levels of intensity over whether they’d even be able to get back to the world they knew to make use of their powers.

  Bailey briefly entertained the horrible thought that Marcus had intentionally trapped them here.

  She tried to kill the idea as soon as it arose. He couldn’t have done that, she asserted. There was no reason for it. Why would he have spent so much time helping her, just to set her up for this? If his goal was to destroy her, he probably could have done so outright, given how powerful he was.

  “I wonder,” she said aloud, “if not being able to figure this shit out is the motivation we need?” She clenched her jaw. “But if that’s the case, then we’re right back where we started, with only being able to do magic when it’s absolutely necessary. We’re not really in control then, circumstances are.”

  Roland sighed. “I don’t know. There aren’t any easy answers.” He took her hand again.

  To their mutual shock, two lights flashed, then stabilized into a weak but steady dual glow. Red for Bailey and green for Roland, the illumination was strongest between their hands as a combined golden-white radiance, fading to their respective colors farther out along their wrists and arms.

  “Hell,” Bailey exclaimed. “Wasn’t expecting that. It’s pretty, though. Like Christmas lights.”

  Roland stared, bug-eyed, and then smiled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? And it gives me an idea.”

  “Me too,” Bailey agreed, oddly confident that they were on much the same track. “Something about bouncing a spell off each other or whatever. You’re the expert, so I’ll let you find a more sophisticated way of saying it.”

  He laughed. “Right, right. We will attempt to use each other as nodes in a circuit, essentially. Then, by paying attention to the thoughts and sensations that go with that, we ought to be able to progress toward sustained magical flow separately.”

  Excitement rose in both of them, seeming to fill the air. It even seemed the sky brightened for a few seconds. Bailey wondered if the Other was somehow directly affected by their emotions, but there wasn’t time to ponder that. Their main goal was to try out their new idea.

  “Okay,” Roland began. “You have an affinity for electricity, so we’ll do that. Makes sense anyway since I just used the term ‘circuit.’ I have more experience with defending and redirecting, so try to sort of, well, shock me. Then I’ll loop it back to you, and we’ll see if we can keep it going, and for how long.”

  She nodded, breathed deep, and raised her hands.

  It took a few minutes, but soon enough, their plan started to work. Bailey again conjured a few sparks, staying calm and focusing on the task at hand, and after an agonizing pause when failure seemed imminent, a small and thin bolt of crackling reddish lightning leaped from her fingers into the palm of Roland’s left hand.

  He deflected it into his right hand, turning it green in the process, and gently tossing it back at her. She caught it.

  A loop was established. The odd tingling sensation that Bailey had always associated with magic was present, not an acute alarm like she was used to, but as “background noise.” It was almost pleasant.

  Time passed, and the circular flow of power did not diminish. Bailey thought of what Roland and Marcus had both said about how magic was embedded within the very fabric of reality, and she found herself wondering, Could it be infinite?

  Roland spoke, his voice calm and nearly monotone. “Incredible. We’ve achieved an equilibrium state while casting. I’ve never seen this before.”

  Bailey met his gaze, diverting a small part of her attention while keeping most of it focused on looping the power between them.

  “How do we do it by ourselves, though? Can I just juggle it between my hands or something?”

  The wizard didn’t answer right away. “Maybe. It’s worth a try.”

  He pulled back physically and magically, and there was a crackling sound and an unpleasant sense of disharmony as the linked streams of lightning were forcibly separated. And yet, their attention to the circuit was such that Roland was able to maintain a perfect loop between his hands.

  For Bailey, it was messier and more frightening, but it worked. Violent eruptions of sparks appeared around her, and her hands jerked as the muscles seized. She feared she was on the verge of electrocuting herself, but somehow she kept calm and stabilized the flow. Soon she held a steady bolt of lightning like the ones in those novelty plasma globes between her palms.

  “Ha!” Roland chuckled. “We did it. We pulled this off, and this is a game-changer. I’ve never seen magic used this way before.”

  Bailey closed her eyes and willed the lightning to cease. She directed it downward and felt it jump into the damp earth by her feet. The heat, light, and strange tingling went away.

  Roland did likewise, then he blew out his breath and paced back and forth a few steps.

  “So,” Bailey asked him, “what does this mean? Like, in terms of magical theory.”

  The wizard stopped. “It means we’ve all only been taught part of the discipline. Witches and wizards, in our age
and our current tradition, are trained to use their powers for shows of strength and specific creative tasks, which is well and good. But either someone forgot about this, or no one ever learned it to begin with. I suspect Marcus knows about it, though, so it’s probably just something that fell out of the curriculum—the discipline of long-term sustained channeling, where a spell can be maintained indefinitely and with a minimum of effort once the caster has hit equilibrium. This is huge, Bailey. I’m going to need time to process the magnitude of it.

  “At least today’s training sort of explains the strange results from your blood test. Your magic is different from a wizard’s, which is the device was calibrated for. I mean, it showed you were both strong and weak, which is…”

  At that moment, the air about ten feet from them split open to disclose a shimmering portal of dark purple. Marcus stepped through.

  “How are you doing?” the shaman asked.

  Bailey burst out laughing, partly from relief, and partly from his timing. “Better than we were a little while ago,” she told him.

  Roland nodded. “We’ve made progress. We can’t do much yet, but we just had a major breakthrough in terms of understanding what we’re capable of. It would take a while to explain it.”

  The big man raised a hand in a gesture that seemed to indicate he was letting them off the hook from having to tell him all the details.

  “Good,” he said. “Clearly, your experiences have pushed you toward the ultimate goal, but your education has only begun. It will get rougher from here.”

  Marcus turned around and stepped back into the glowing doorway, beckoning for the pair to follow.

  “About time,” Bailey commented. “I was getting weirded out by never having to pee.”

  Chapter Five

  The night was wearing on. Not only were the roads awful and inefficient, given the rough terrain and lack of habitation in the area, but both groups of witches were terrible drivers.