Magic Shifts

by Ilona Andrews

  “It has to be at least three miles wide,” Nick said next to me. “How the hell is he folding it into this building?

  “The madman lies.” Adib emerged from the bushes and stopped midway in the pond.

  “The flowers have no scent,” Derek said. “I smell dust and a few other things, but none of this.”

  I crouched by the pond and scooped some water. I could see it in my hand, but I felt nothing. There was no substance.

  “The knight-archivarius must’ve wished for this place,” Luther said. “But the djinn didn’t have enough power, so he gave her an illusion.”

  Bahir reached into the scabbard on his waist and unsheathed a blade. It was a beautiful sword, almost straight, single-edged, with a portion of the blade near the tip, about ten inches long, curved for a vicious strike. Bahir cut his arm. Blood ran down his blade and burst into flame. He raised the flaming sword like a torch. His skin gained a darker golden hue. His eyes turned red like two glowing embers. The garden parted before him, melting. A path opened, about a foot across, the ground not some golden sand, but the typical dirt and rocks found in Atlanta.

  “Lead the way,” Curran told him.

  We followed Bahir toward the palace.

  • • •

  THE JOURNEY TO the palace should’ve taken only fifteen minutes, but it took twice as long. We went over the plan again. Curran had come up with the strategy, and his plans usually worked. Getting everyone to stick to it was another matter entirely. I had asked Nick if he’d brought any more of the Galahad warheads, to which he asked me just how many of the ten-thousand-dollar warheads I thought he was authorized for. I told him that brevity was a virtue and “no” would’ve been just fine as a response, and then Luther had to give us his “save the city and stop bickering” speech.

  Gradually dirt became sand, flowers gained aroma, and moisture saturated the air. About ten feet from the red palace steps, the illusion evolved into reality. I stopped to draw some blood. I could’ve probably done it earlier, but I didn’t want to take chances with its potency. We passed between the colossal columns into a shadowed hall, our steps loud on the polished stone. A throne stood at the end of the hall, a massive carved chair of stone, painted with garish abandon. A woman of incredible beauty sat on the throne. Her dark hair, arranged in artful spiral waves, fell on her diaphanous gown of pale gold and blue. Gold chains wove through her hair, a necklace of blood-red rubies rested around her neck, and a single large earring, its simplicity jarring and out of place, decorated her left ear. A black panther sat by her throne, and the woman stroked the beast’s head with her long fingernails. Oh boy. I had walked into an old Sinbad movie. Too bad the monsters wouldn’t be Claymation.

  Men stood behind the throne, brandishing swords. Some were dark skinned, some lighter, some clothed, others mostly nude, but each was a perfect, handsome male specimen. I did a quick head count. At least forty. She had her own private army of male models.

  I reached forward with my magic and met the familiar resistance. That was a hell of a lot of magic and it was wrapped around her like a shield. Using power words directly against her would be out of the question. Attacking her right now was out of the question, too.

  “She’s shielded,” Luther said behind me.

  “What he said,” I confirmed. “The djinn is pouring every drop of his power into protecting her. We don’t have enough firepower to break through it. We have to get her to transform so she’ll stop shielding and start attacking.”

  “That means she’d have to make a wish,” Luther pointed out. “If she wishes for the ceiling to crush us, there isn’t much we can do about that.”

  “The ifrit is an old power,” I said. “They’re not complicated and they respond well to drama. The ifrit will want to break us himself and see us suffer. We need to nudge her toward a fight.”

  Bahir pulled the hood of his cloak over his face. “Two-thirds of her belongs to the djinn. Leave it to me.”

  “Not until I talk to her,” Nick said. “She is a knight of the Order.”

  I glanced at Curran. He shrugged. We could wait a couple of extra minutes in our rush to die to make sure Nick’s conscience was clear.

  “Remember, he will cover her in metal,” Curran said. “The faster we hit, the better.”

  “Can your sword slice through metal?” a female knight asked me.

  “We’ll find out,” I told her. I’d had just about enough of giants. I had a surprise for the djinn and I couldn’t wait to show it off.

  We reached the throne. The woman gazed at us. Flames rolled over her eyes and died down.

  “You should fire your interior decorator,” I told her. I couldn’t help myself.

  The woman gave no indication she heard me. That’s the trouble with ancient powers—no sense of humor.

  “This is nice,” Nick said, stepping forward. “You had your fun, Sam. Time to come home.”

  “I am home,” the woman said, her voice rolling through the cavernous hall.

  “This isn’t you. This is not what we do,” Nick said. “You have a job and a duty to the Order. You swore an oath.”

  “This is me,” she said. “I spent years examining objects of power and resisting their call. Now it’s my turn. I’ve earned this. I am worthy.”

  She sounded distant, the emotion in her voice muted, as if she’d been sedated. Right. Samantha was gone.

  “What happens when the magic ends?” I asked, slipping the backpack off my shoulder. I had brought the last of my undead blood supply for this. Here’s hoping it would be enough.

  “The magic will never end here,” she said. “All of the pleasures are mine in this place. Forever. But you don’t belong here. This place is for me alone. Leave and I will spare you.”

  “Hey, bitch,” George stepped forward, her voice sharp. “Where is Eduardo?”

  Samantha stared at her, her eyes unblinking.

  The skin on Nick’s arms burst open. Two green whips shot out of his arms and bounced off Samantha’s magic shield. The former knight of the Order opened her mouth. Her teeth didn’t belong in a human jaw. She rolled her head back and laughed.

  “Laugh all you want.” Bahir drew back his hood.

  “You!” Samantha hissed. The djinn had to have felt his presence, but seeing him must’ve pushed the ifrit over the edge.

  “I live, creature. I am here. I’ve come to reclaim my son.”

  The magic around Samantha surged up, twisting into an invisible tornado. Her face turned dark, her eyes glowing like two embers.

  “You have no power to defeat me!” Bahir screamed.

  Samantha shrieked, her voice slashing my ears. “I wish for the power to destroy my enemies!”

  Wind slammed into me, hurling me backward. I flew, fell, and slid across the floor and rolled to my feet. To my left Derek caught Bahir in midair and set him on the floor.

  On the throne, caught in the funnel of a magical tornado, Samantha’s body grew. Her legs thickened, her spine reached up, her arms grew massive like tree trunks. Her lips drew back, exposing a forest of teeth; her ears lengthened; her eyes pivoted in her skull, turning into pools of orange fire. The ceiling parted above her, revealing a cage suspended by a thick chain. In the cage Eduardo grabbed the bars and recoiled. He looked like a ghost.

  Samantha raised her enormous arms to the sky, her black claws glowing at their tips, and bellowed.

  The gaggle of men behind her shivered, morphed, and a pack of leonine creatures snarled in unison, spreading massive leathery wings. Manticores. Shit.

  “Clan Heavy,” Curran roared. “Take out the manticores.”

  The werebears went furry. The manticores charged, screaming and gliding above the floor.

  “Take your places.” Curran’s voice cut through the snarls and growls. “Remember the plan.”

  Plan. Right.

/>   I dashed toward the giantess. A manticore swiped at me from above. I dodged to the side. The claws scraped my scalp and then a thousand-pound polar bear leaped above me, ramming into the manticore. They rolled across the floor, snarling. I kept running.

  Samantha’s enormous feet loomed before me. A manticore crashed into me. Its claws pinned my right arm to the floor, piercing my bicep. The huge ugly maw gaped over me, trying to swallow my entire head. I stabbed my throwing knife into the side of its neck, freed the blade, and stabbed it again. Hot blood spurted over me.

  Suddenly, the manticore vanished, jerked aside. I rolled up and saw Adib bite through the beast’s neck with his jaws. Fire dashed down his mane. His claws glowed and bright sparks fell off his furry sides.

  I ran for the giantess. On the other side, three knights were moving together, trying to get in position.

  I pulled the small vial of my blood out of my pocket as I sprinted. The second giant had healed his injuries. This one would heal even faster, and I probably had only seconds before the ifrit regenerated her body, so this maneuver had to be done fast. I wouldn’t get a second chance.

  A black viscous liquid coated Samantha’s skin, emerging from her pores like sweat. A slightly sweet odor saturated the air. The djinn had covered her in crude oil to keep us from climbing her. The sonovabitch was learning, but not fast enough.

  I drew Sarrat. A huge foot rose above me, its sole glowing-hot, the first hint of metal forming in long scales over the skin. I dashed to the side and spun about as she stomped and crushed the vial of my blood onto Sarrat’s blade. My magic sparked, reacting to the saber’s magic, forming a second edge, crimson and unnaturally sharp.

  Above me, Bahir screamed. “Face me!”

  Amal swooped down at the giantess’s face, like a hawk, and he sliced her cheek with his burning blade. I caught a glimpse of George climbing up the column toward Eduardo’s cage.

  The giantess swatted at Bahir, trying to grab him with her clawed fingers, forgetting I was even there.

  Thank you, Bahir. I charged forward and slashed across the back of the giantess’s leg. The crimson edge sliced through the thin fledgling metal and Sarrat cut into the springy mass of tissue just above the heel, severing it. Bye-bye, Achilles tendon.

  The giantess bellowed and kicked at me with her now-useless leg. I jumped as far right as I could and instantly knew it wasn’t far enough. Curran caught me in midair, the force of his leap taking us to safety. The foot missed us by inches. His feet touched the ground. He twisted and threw me back toward the giantess. We’d practiced this move in our morning sparring, and the conditioning took over. I landed on my feet, sprinted, and sliced the second tendon.

  The giant screamed, her roar punching my eardrums. I backed away.

  Forty yards away Curran’s body boiled, turning leonine, as he tried to build up mass. Next to him Mahon roared, a huge Kodiak.

  Samantha fought to stay upright; spun, reeling, as her ankles refused to support her weight; and saw me backing up. Shit. She was facing the wrong way. If they hit her now, they would fail. I had to get her to turn her back to them.

  “Is that all you’ve got, weakling?” I ran around her. She turned toward me, swaying.

  The lion and the bear surged forward, breaking into a run.

  Samantha’s mouth opened, thunder clapped, and a glowing torrent of magic tore toward me. There was no place to go. I threw my arms up. The magic smashed into me.

  It didn’t hurt.

  It felt like an elastic wall had formed between me and the torrent of power. The magic hit it, the impact knocked me back a few feet, but it didn’t hurt.

  The giantess reeled, clutching at her head, off balance.

  Ha! The resistance worked both ways. Payback is a bitch.

  The knights closed in on both sides.

  Curran and Mahon smashed into the back of the giantess’s knees. The impact of their combined weight proved too much for her injured legs. She dropped to her knees. Her palms touched the floor.

  Curran’s body twisted, flowing into warrior form.

  The knights rushed to her. Four of them thrust huge lances into the back of her hands, trying to pin her. Nick’s flesh ruptured. Twin whips, green and textured, like the shoots of some magic trees, shot out of him and wrapped about her neck. The knights shot hooked chains into her flesh. Three of them pulled on one side, and Curran pulled on the other, bringing her head lower and lower. The manticores tore at us, and Clan Heavy ripped into them, trying to keep the beasts off our backs.

  The giantess raised her shoulders and tucked her chin in, hiding her neck. Nick growled like an animal, straining. His whips snapped and he stumbled back.

  “Time!” Luther cried out.

  The floor burst and plants spiraled to grab at the giantess’s neck and body. Bahir dropped onto her spine and began hacking at the narrow exposed band of her neck with his sword.

  “Applying the vector now,” Patrice announced. “Three, two, one . . .”

  She clamped her hands to the giantess’s arm. The giantess shuddered, shaking, as the djinn struggled to regenerate. The giantess’s head lowered another foot.

  Heat bathed us. Sweat broke on my face. It was hard to breathe. Luther’s plants began to wither. Patrice cried out and stumbled back, her palms steaming.

  The giantess roared. Metal began to climb up her chest to her neck. Shit.

  Curran dropped his chain and lunged under the giantess’s chin. His massive arms strained. He snarled and lifted her chin up, stretching her neck. It was my turn. I slipped into the opening. Sarrat kissed her neck and I moved clear. The saber’s new blood edge crumbled, its magic exhausted, but the damage was done. Blood poured from both sides of her neck. I had cut both the carotid and the jugular, opening a gap in her neck.

  The giantess strained, trying desperately to pull her head down and close her wounds. Curran groaned. His frame shook. His eyes were pure gold.

  Two figures fell from above, landing on the giantess’s face. George and Eduardo. Eduardo clamped his fists together and brought them down straight onto Samantha’s left eye. On the other side a three-legged bear tore into the giantess’s right. The last thing she ever saw was the son of the man she hated and the woman who loved him.

  Above us, on the giantess’s neck, Bahir screamed. Fire sheathed his sword and spread to engulf him. His eyes blazed, bright red, their glow visible even through the flames. Bahir swung the blade into the gap I’d made, and severed the giantess’s head from her body. Curran grunted and pushed it aside. It fell into the blood. Her body trembled and sank to the floor.

  A bright spark of gold shone in front of me—the earring, tiny in the giantess’s ear. I lunged for it, but Nick beat me. He slashed at her earlobe with a short sword. The earring dropped into the pool of blood.

  Samantha exhaled in a long gurgling sigh. Her body turned to ash and fell apart. The ash melted into the wind. The manticores vanished; the palace wavered and went out, like the flame of a dying candle. We stood in the empty paved lot, the ruin of the hospital behind us.

  “Now!” I yelled at Bahir. “Put the spell down now!”

  Bahir grabbed the chalk and drew a circle on the ground, as close as the puddle of blood would allow. His hands shook.

  There were at least twenty-five feet between the earring and the circle. Oh hell.

  Nick reached for the earring.

  “Clear!” Curran roared. “Clear if you want to live!”

  People scattered, putting distance between them and the earring. We had to get it to Bahir’s box or it would claim another life, and we weren’t in any shape to stop another giant.

  Nick’s fingers touched the gold. He took a step toward the circle. His eyes turned white.

  His body snapped into a rigid stance. His hand crept up, shaking from the muscle strain. Muscles in his face jerked. An in
ch. Another inch. The lure of the djinn was too great. It promised Nick anything and everything, every desire fulfilled, every wish granted, unlimited power, untold wealth, supernatural justice . . . It told him he could have anything he wanted. Nick was about to slide the earring into his ear.

  Curran smashed his forearm into the back of Nick’s head. The knight crumbled to the ground. The world slowed to a crawl. The earring flew through the air, painfully slow, and Curran’s fingers closed about it.

  No.

  Curran’s fur stood on its end. His face turned flat. He took a slow small step toward the circle. His eyes stared into the distance, unseeing, as if he had gone blind.

  No, no, no.

  “He can’t have you,” I told him. “You’re mine. Fight him. Fight him, Curran.”

  The muscles on Curran’s face shook, reshaping his head. His jaws lengthened. Bigger fangs thrust out of his jaws. He was becoming something monstrous.

  Another step. His fur began to smoke.

  I was losing him. I could feel him slipping away behind the curtain of the djinn’s magic.

  I stepped in front of him. “Curran, do you love me?”

  He focused on me. Bald patches formed on his hand, the skin bubbling up.

  A shape began to form in the air just ahead of us, translucent and weak, but I would recognize its outlines anywhere. The djinn had searched Curran’s mind for a powerful emotion and found hate he could use. He was conjuring Hugh d’Ambray, because Curran wanted to kill him. If Curran took the bait, I would lose him forever.

  I cut my forearm. My blood ran down my skin, wetting it with liquid heat. “Give me the earring. If you love me, give me the earring.”

  Curran shook, every muscle on his frame rigid with tension.

  “If you ever loved me, you will give it to me. Just open your fingers and let it fall.” My blood snapped into a gauntlet, obeying my magic. It should shield me, at least for a few seconds.

  Hugh’s form was almost solid.

  Curran snarled. His fingers opened. The earring fell and I caught it with my gauntleted hand.