Magic Shifts

by Ilona Andrews

  “I went to the man who taught me and asked him why this had happened. He said I was too old. I started too late. I realized that my son had to be a better fighter than me. Eduardo was six at the time, so I took him to be trained. When Rima found out, she was furious with me. She wanted an explanation, so I told her everything. I had planned out how to tell her, and it sounded reasonable in my head, but when it came to the actual explanation, everything went wrong. It was a jumbled mess. I must’ve sounded like a man deep in the throes of a psychotic break, raving about murder, holy men, and vengeful ifrits. I had begun to build the box by then, so I brought it out. It was plain steel then.”

  Nitish had said the inside of it was bone. “What is under the steel?” I asked.

  “My father’s skull.”

  Okay, then.

  “The lid is made of my mother’s bones.” Shame twisted his face. “I desecrated their graves to make it. They both carried ifrit blood. I tested their bones for it and the magic in them will help contain him.”

  Yeah, if I were his wife and he had unloaded all of this on me at once, I would be less than thrilled.

  “Rima was horrified. She asked me to check myself into a hospital. I refused. She asked me to stop exposing our son to violence. I told her that violence would find him one way or another. At least we could prepare him. She thought I was mentally ill.”

  He sighed. “My wife is a gentle soft-spoken woman, but when it concerns our son, she is fierce. The next day I went to work and when I came home, she was gone. I found her two weeks later. She had traveled to Oklahoma and joined a werebuffalo community. I tried to reason with her. I stayed as long as I could, but it became clear to me that she wouldn’t change her mind.”

  “Werebison are herd creatures,” Curran said. “And they have a chip on their shoulder. Once she joined them, they would protect her against all predators.”

  Bahir nodded. “Yes. It became clear that I would have to murder all of them to get to her or Eduardo. I loved my wife and son, but I couldn’t bring myself to commit more violence and even if I had, what would it resolve? I left and went about my life, training and hoping that growing up among shapeshifters, my son would learn enough to protect himself when the time came. Meanwhile my wife remarried. Her husband adopted my son. She sent me Eduardo’s report cards, and he was listed only as Eduardo Ortego. It gave me hope that he would be difficult to find. It was a false hope, but I held on to it.”

  “What is his full name?” George asked.

  “Eduardo Bassam Amir-Moez. He was named after his grandfathers.” Bahir sighed. “The visions had died down, and for almost a decade I had barely seen any dreams. Then, a year ago, they started again, more vivid than before. Shakush was growing in power with each new victim and coming closer. He had followed the footsteps of my family.

  “Over the years, as I watched the atrocities he committed, I understood that this is bigger than me or my son. Allah doesn’t charge a soul with more than a person can bear. I’m meant to do this. This is the purpose of my life. If Shakush continues unchecked, he will become a plague on this world, and I won’t let it happen. But the smith who had helped me died, so I had to turn to Nitish to have the box finished. I was preparing myself for the final battle. And then I saw my son and I realized that it all had come full circle. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen to me, so I watched him, hoping to be there when Shakush struck. I tried to give him a weapon that would offer at least some slight advantage. I missed the attack.”

  He had dragged this weight forward for decades alone. It was a miracle it hadn’t broken him.

  “Why didn’t you come to the Order?” Nick asked, his face dark.

  “What would I tell you? That I had visions of distant people murdered? That I was part ifrit? Your Order isn’t known for its kindness toward anyone they deem an aberration.”

  “The Order is people,” Nick said. “People change.”

  “Perhaps,” Bahir said.

  “What about the draconoid corpse?” Julie asked from the couch.

  “It was one of Shakush’s creatures. I had a fear that my sword would pass through it just like the dagger had passed through me when my people tested me for the first time. I wanted to make sure that my blade worked so I could use it on Shakush next.”

  “Talk to me about the box,” Luther said. “It is clearly some sort of transdimensional containment unit.”

  “What does that mean?” Mahon asked.

  “It is an object that exists as one thing in our reality and something else in a different realm. It leads to a place that is attached to our plane of existence but is also outside it.”

  “Like the mists of the Celtic gods,” I said.

  “Yes. That means that someone has to activate a portal to that other place, hold it open, and then close it once the djinn is deposited into the box.” Luther turned to Bahir.

  Bahir nodded. “There is a ritual. I memorized it. The box must rest on the ground—it won’t work on the second floor, for example—and I must draw a complex circle and write sacred verses around it. Then I will open the portal with my blood and hold it open. Once the earring is placed into the box, if everything is done correctly, I will become a conduit and banish it. The problem is getting the earring into the box. Someone must murder the human host and physically take the earring and carry it to me. The box cannot be moved once it’s positioned.”

  “That will be really difficult,” Luther said.

  Thank you, Captain Obvious. Shakush would do everything in his power to keep from being put into the box. Even if we brought the entire chapter of the Order and managed to pry the earring from the current host, whoever touched it would become Shakush’s target. He could go through the knights one by one. Ugh.

  “We will help,” Mahon said into the sudden silence.

  George startled. “Dad?”

  He put his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t care how powerful he is. Nobody touches my future son-in-law.”

  “As long as you stay away from the earring,” Curran said.

  Mahon looked at him.

  “He’s worried about the wishes you would make,” I told him. “Wish one, Curran is the Beast Lord. Wish two, George is his Consort. Wish three, you turn into an even bigger bear.”

  George stared at me, horrified.

  “You think so little of me?” Mahon said. “That really hurts.”

  He sounded genuinely upset. Oh no. I had hurt my stepfather-in-law’s feelings.

  “We still don’t know where Shakush is,” Nick said. “Can you sense him?”

  Bahir shook his head.

  “I know someone who can,” I said. I would probably go straight to hell for this, but there was no choice. We had to save Eduardo and the city.

  “You can’t use Mitchell,” Luther said. “First, it’s unethical. Second, it’s cruel. Third, he was my colleague and it’s a matter of basic human decency. He’s a ghoul, for crying out loud.”

  “What if he were no longer a ghoul?” I asked.

  Luther opened his mouth and paused. “Are you thinking of setting him on fire again?”

  “Was that what it looked like?”

  “Yes. I was concerned, actually.”

  “Then yes. Something like that.”

  “I have a moral obligation to safeguard him,” Luther said. “The answer is no.”

  “Why don’t we ask Mitchell what he wants to do?” I said. “If he says no, I’ll walk away. If he volunteers, you’ll help me.”

  “Help you do what exactly?” Nick asked.

  Explaining it was too long and complicated. “You will see. Bahir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why haven’t you turned into a ghoul?”

  Bahir blinked. “Was I supposed to?”

  Ghouls were djinn without enough magic to assume their true fo
rms. He must’ve had enough magic.

  “Can you transform into an ifrit?”

  Bahir smiled. “Not all the way.”

  That explained it. He already had enough magic, so he bypassed the ghoul stage.

  “Okay.” Curran leaned forward, an unmistakable note of command in his voice. Suddenly all of the attention focused on him. “We need to limit this. The more people, the more potential possession targets for the djinn. It will be me, Kate, Bahir, Mahon, George.” He glanced at Mahon. “Anybody else?”

  “I’ll talk to the family,” Mahon said.

  “Me!” Julie volunteered.

  “No,” Curran and I said at the same time.

  “But . . .”

  “You just got a united parental no,” Luther said. “Stay down, you’ve lost the fight.”

  “I will go.” Derek stepped out of the shadows in the hallway.

  Curran thought about it.

  Derek waited.

  “Okay,” Curran said finally. “Who else?”

  “I will come,” Luther said. “With the caveat that if the djinn possesses me, one of you will kill me. My magic reserve is too great.”

  Curran looked at Nick.

  “Six knights,” Nick said. “Including me.”

  “That should be enough,” Curran said.

  Mahon and Nick rose at the same time, heading for the phone. I went upstairs to get dressed.

  CHAPTER

  21

  CURRAN PULLED INTO the parking lot in front of the Biohazard building, following Luther’s truck. Derek stirred in the backseat. He had been so quiet and still, I almost forgot he was there.

  There was a moment on the drive when I wondered if it was ever not going to be like this. But then I decided I was crazy. It would always be like this, riding to certain death every few months, trying to protect people we would never meet. Some people painted. Some people baked. We did this, whatever the hell it was. I just didn’t want to die. I didn’t want Curran to die. I wanted to save Eduardo.

  I wanted there to be a stretch of normal, if not for a few months, then at least for a few weeks.

  The magic ran thick tonight. Warm wind bathed me as I stepped out of the car. A change was in the air.

  A dark shadow slid across the stars above and a jet-black winged horse flew through the air, circling the yard. Arabian horses were never my favorites. They were loyal to a fault and would run themselves to death for the right rider, but they were a bit high-strung for my taste. But this horse was perfect, from the velvet coat and silky mane to the tapered hooves of her elegant legs. Vast wings, black as midnight, spread from her shoulders. She glided on the air currents, a graceful creature of legend come to life. Even Mahon watched, halfway out of his car.

  I caught a glimpse of Curran out of the corner of my eye as he moved to stand next to me. We watched the horse gently land on the pavement, Bahir on her back.

  “Do you ever wish it were just normal?” I asked him quietly.

  “Yes. But then we would never see things like this.”

  Bahir dismounted, light on his feet.

  “Where did you find her?” I asked.

  Bahir petted the horse’s muzzle. “I didn’t. Amal found me.”

  He clicked his tongue at her. Amal shook herself. Her wings vanished.

  Atlanta was getting stranger and stranger by the day.

  “Come on,” Luther called. We followed him into the building, up the stairs, to the far end of a long hallway, where big double doors stood wide open. A large room spread before us, devoid of furniture. The floor was covered with chalkboard paint. Bronze braziers stood by the walls filled with coals ready to be lit. That had to be the incantation room.

  In the middle of the room, in a protective circle drawn on the floor with chalk, Mitchell lay in a small heap. The glyphs around the ward glowed weakly—the spell packed one hell of a wallop. Shreds of fabric littered the floor around the ghoul. A woman sat in a chair by the wall, reading a book.

  “Blood,” Curran said.

  I glanced at Luther.

  “We tried putting him into a straitjacket so he wouldn’t hurt himself.” Luther sighed. “He keeps trying to crack his skull against the floor.”

  “What happens during tech?” Nick asked.

  “Bars come out of the floor,” Luther said. “They’re down now to keep him from throwing himself against the metal.”

  I approached the circle. “Mitchell.”

  Mitchell gave no indication he heard or smelled me.

  “He won’t respond,” Luther said. “I tried.”

  “I tried screaming a while ago,” the woman said. “He’s gone somewhere deep inside his head.”

  I glanced at the lines of the circle. It was designed to keep magic in, not out. Hmm. I had never done it before, but it worked for my father.

  I pulled my magic to me. It came eager and ready like an obedient pet. I gathered it all around me, packing it tight, and let it fuel my voice, reaching to Mitchell with my power.

  “Mitchell.”

  Luther startled. “Jesus, Daniels.”

  The ghoul uncoiled, raising his deformed head, and rolled to his feet. I walked along the boundary of the circle. The ghoul turned slowly, moving to face me. Up close I could see smears of blood on the paint inside the circle.

  “You . . .” the ghoul whispered.

  “Can you sense the ifrit? Is he calling you now?”

  “Yessss.”

  “Do you know what you are?” I asked.

  “Yessss . . .” He ducked his head, but his gaze bore into me. “I am flame. I am smokeless fire. This”—he stretched his arms to me—“is my prison. Kill me.”

  I knelt on one knee. He leaned in as close as the boundary of the circle would allow. A mere three inches separated us.

  “I can make you whole,” I whispered. “But there is a price.”

  “I’ll pay.”

  “Stop,” Nick said. “She’ll promise you the world and then she will make you her slave. She can’t help it. It’s in her blood.”

  “Wait, what is this talk of whole-making?” Luther waved his arms. “What’s going on?”

  Mitchell’s gaze never wavered. “I would rather be a slave than be this.”

  “If I make you whole, you must help me fight the ifrit,” I told him. “Can you find him once you are whole?”

  “Yes.”

  “Once finished, you will make your home here, in Luther’s custody. You will serve the Biohazard Division for five years.” That ought to give them enough time to figure out what to do with him.

  “Yes.”

  “Swear on the fire that burns in you.”

  The ghoul opened his mouth. “I swear.”

  I rose, pulled the book out of my backpack, and thrust it at Luther. “I’ll need these supplies.”

  He scanned the pages. “What is this?”

  “We’re going to evolve Mitchell to his proper state.”

  “Oh, okay. Wait, what?”

  • • •

  THE COALS HAD been lit. I finished drawing the alchemical sign for the ether and was about done with the symbols. Mitchell sat within the two triangles. Just outside the two triangles, a half-gallon beaker of clear liquid, trimethyl borate, waited on a table next to matches and a small vial of my blood. I had drawn it before we left the house.

  A gaggle of Luther’s colleagues gathered in the room. I had walked him through the djinn ground-state theory and he had explained it to them. The reactions were mixed to say the least. Voices floated to me.

  “You do realize that if this works, we’ve found a cure for ghoulism.”

  “Yes, but the cure is worse than the disease. We can’t run around the countryside turning ghouls into djinn.”

  “Technically they are already djinn.�
��

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “We have no idea what they are capable of.”

  “What’s in the vial?”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t do it?” Luther asked.

  “No,” a woman said. “I’m saying that it’s illegal, dangerous, and possibly unethical, but we should definitely do it.”

  “Yes, what Margo said.”

  “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “Just as an experiment.”

  Mages.

  “How do you feel about her doing this?” That had to be Mahon. That low-pitched growl could only come from him.

  “We let each other be who we are,” Curran said. “I don’t have to like all of the things she has to do. I love her.”

  I love you, too. Just keep this in mind after you see what I am going to do.

  I drew the final circle around the glyphs. Wards came in all varieties and this one wasn’t a containment; rather it functioned like a mirror, focusing any magic entering the ward on the creature within it.

  Mitchell looked up at me. “Hurry.”

  I picked up the beaker of the trimethyl borate and poured it over him, saturating the triangle on the floor.

  “She does know it’s flammable, right?” someone asked.

  I picked up the vial of my blood and pulled out the cork.

  “Drink this when I say.”

  He stretched his clawed hands to me.

  “There is still time to step back,” I told him.

  Mitchell took the vial with his claws.

  I struck a match. “Now.”

  He gulped the blood. I let the match fall into the ward. Emerald-green flames surged up. Mitchell spun around thrashing, his skin blistering, screaming. I focused my magic on him and felt the magic amplify it. My blood burned through him, sliding down his throat, deep into the pit of his stomach, and awakened a weak spark of fire. I reached for it, as it bathed in my blood, and whispered a power word.

  “Amehe.” Obey.

  The shock of it tore at my mind. Agony ripped through me. The world turned hazy. I fought it, trying to keep hold on the flame inside Mitchell’s body. If I let my grip slip, it would be all over.