“You better duck,” I called to the rebel below. I focused on bringing the chandelier above me to life.
Rain down.
The chandelier splintered into a thousand pieces that began falling through the gaps in the floor, showering the basement mercilessly. If that didn’t kill the rebel, it certainly would’ve encouraged him to move away from the openings. I darted to the windows by the main door which were framed by long, thick drapery. I brought all the fabric to life. The curtains ripped free then knotted together to form a lone rope. Transforming then tucking my wand into my boot, I grabbed one end of the material and had the levitating lifeline lower me into the basement.
When I touched down and the drapery disanimated, I swiveled around in search of the rebel. There he was. He’d hidden between a chamber the size of a shower and a stone stairwell against the wall. His left arm was bloody from several bad cuts, but he emerged from hiding and lifted his bow toward me anyway. I grabbed my wand.
Shield.
“Crisa!”
I spun around.
“Debbie?” The back wall of the room was a cell, and beyond its metal bars my Fairy Godmother Debbie sat chained to the wall by her wrists.
“Look out!”
Yikes.
My distraction had almost cost me, but I brought my shield up to deflect the arrow; then I ran toward the archer. I skidded to a stop at the metal table in the center of the room. The rebel knocked another arrow. My hand was already fuming gold, and the power engulfed the table, which flew across the room and body-slammed the rebel to knock him out. Or kill him. I wasn’t sure.
Five left either way.
After a quick survey to ensure I was clear of enemies for the moment, I transformed my wand to a pin, reattached it to my bra strap, and hurried to Debbie’s cell. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“The Godmother Supreme sent me and my friend Sonya to rescue some government officials and find out what happened to the first Godmother who was tracking these rebels, my mentor Bernie. What are you doing here?”
“Lenore sent me in for the same reason, and to save you and Sonya apparently. She told me to rescue Godmothers, but neglected to mention you two were the ones in here.”
“She probably didn’t want you to lose focus.”
“Probably. Now stand back.”
“Crisa, don’t—”
My hands gripped the bars of the cell, and I sent my power into them only to reel away a second later with a cry of agony. A horrible pain burned through my fingers and up my arms. I stepped back and glanced at my hands.
“The cell is Jacobee stone,” Debbie explained. “And my cuffs are coated in Stiltdegarth blood. Your magic won’t work on either. No matter how powerful it is.”
“Is there a key?” I asked, shaking my hands as the pain faded.
“The rebel leader of this faction has it. Her name is Stephanie and she has wavy, dark brown hair.”
I nodded. “Okay, sit tight. I’m going to get the key and free you the old-fashioned way.” I looked around the basement. “Where are Sonya and Bernie?”
A terrible expression of nausea and sadness crossed Debbie’s face. She flicked her eyes to the left, where an assortment of silvery weapons was racked. They came in various shapes and sizes, but each of them had an off-white shimmering streak built into the blade or handle, and all bore a red-and-gold Alderon phoenix insignia.
It took me a moment, but then I recognized the weapons. On the bottom rack, several guns were identical to those handheld cannons used by the villains who attacked Lord Channing’s. I began looking more critically at the devices around me until my eyes noted something. Farther down the wall I spotted a large metal panel with a handle. I walked over slowly then opened it. Inside was a brutally bright, blazing fire. It was an incinerator.
I closed the panel and looked at Debbie. “I don’t understand.”
That wasn’t true. I did understand. But I didn’t want to.
“There is a faction of rebels dedicated to weapons development,” Debbie said somberly, eyes haunted. “They have been funded by the antagonists and are by far the most dangerous group we’ve encountered. I volunteered for the task force of Godmothers dedicated to shutting them down before word of their research gets out and causes a panic. That’s why I’ve been MIA from your life recently. I’m sorry about that, but this was more important.” She met my eyes, and all I could see was her fear. “These people have found a way to siphon magic energy from Fairy Godmothers and turn it into weapons.”
“The beam that came from the roof was raspberry-colored, like the lightning from the weapons that attacked Lord Channing’s,” I thought aloud as pieces fell into place. “That’s the color of all Godmother magic.”
Debbie nodded tiredly. “Do you remember Tami Robinswood?”
It was my turn to nod. Tami was a Fairy Godmother who turned traitor and started working with the antagonists.
“You see that chamber in the corner?”
I looked over to where the archer had fallen.
“The Fairy Godmother Agency uses Stiltdegarths and chambers like that to remove pretty much all the magic from Godmothers when they retire. The minuscule amounts they are left with as a retirement gift to do housework and so forth are so tiny they don’t require a wand. The majority of retirees’ power is transferred into new recruits, who their wands get passed down to.”
“Yeah, I remember how it goes,” I said.
“Tami stole one of those chambers from Headquarters before fleeing. She’s been working with the rebels under the antagonists’ instruction. They’ve taken our power transfer process to the next level by figuring out how to suck energy from Fairy Godmothers and transfer it into their weaponry.”
“But the full force of Fairy Godmother magic can only work with Fairy Godmother wands. That’s why retirees pass their wands on to new hires as well . . . Emma told me.”
Debbie bowed her head and sighed. Her red hair hung messily around her face to frame her expression with chaos.
“Godmother wands were previously thought to be indestructible, but these rebels have discovered how to shatter them. If one piece of a broken wand is put into a weapon, that weapon can host the magic of the Fairy Godmother who owned the wand, and then anyone can operate it.” She shuddered, then looked up. Debbie was only ten feet from me, but the distance in her blue eyes was twenty times that.
“They’re calling them FGWs, Fairy Godmother Weapons. Those on the wall, as well as the cannon on the roof, are powered by Sonya’s magic and wand fragments. The weapons powered by Bernie have already been shipped out, no doubt to other rebel forces or to the antagonists who funded all of this.”
“And the Godmothers?” I asked.
Debbie’s eyes drifted to the incinerator. “Once their magic was taken, the rebels had no use for them.”
I swallowed in horror. “Have they taken your magic yet?”
“No.”
“Where’s your wand?”
“Stephanie has it.”
I clenched my fists. “Wait here.”
Anger, hatred, and disgust crawled up my skin and infected me like ants infesting a picnic basket. It tingled all over. I climbed up the basement’s stone steps and didn’t look back. I didn’t draw my wand either. Now was not the time for fighting.
Magic fumed and power throbbed. Emotions swirled into my deepest will and with every step, my entire form glowed brighter. By the time I made it to the foyer, I was surging with as much brilliance as a star.
I opened the front door and stepped outside. Roaring with magic, I pressed both hands against the wall of the chateau. Split, I commanded. Don’t let anything happen to the prisoners.
My gold pulsed over the building with a single massive ripple. The entire compound shook, and I ran back a couple hundred feet. The sound of cracking frames, splintering wood, and panicked shouting came from within. Then, with a merciless snap, the chateau split itself open. Like a dollhouse, the front half of th
e building pulled to the side. Rooms were torn in half, bits of ceiling and plaster crumbled down, and furniture—along with one person gripping a bow—tumbled out.
Hm. Four rebels left.
Now I faced the chateau’s innards in their entirety—every room spread out openly before me with no secrets, hiding places, or surprises. On the top floor, the remaining rebels stood guarding a prison cell where a handful of people were being held captive. It looked like a part of the compound’s flooring had transformed around that room to keep the prison cell intact so it wouldn’t fall over the edge.
Hm. Good magic, I thought to myself—praising my power.
A woman with wavy, dark brown hair stood on the brink of the ripped room, no weapon in hand.
“You must be Stephanie!” I called up.
“You must be Crisanta Knight!” she called back.
“Do you have my Godmother friend’s wand and the keys for the dungeon in the basement?”
“Yes!” Stephanie shouted. She paused a moment before continuing. “Promise to walk away and leave my remaining men be, and you can have both. I’ll toss them down. We surrender.”
I stared up at Stephanie. What I did the day of the Twenty-Three Skidd attack was an accident; my emotion got out of hand and Magic Instinct took over. The same rage and loathing that had filled me up in the arena pulsed through me now, but unlike then my mind was clear. Though my breathing was shallow and my heart thumped intensely, I remained in control. I could make a choice. Had other people—SJ, Daniel, and so on—been present, they might have influenced that choice, but instead my conversation with Javier echoed in my mind. He’d said that when the time came to make a decision I should listen to my head and heart, not stress about other people’s opinions or traditional views of darkness versus light. I needed to do what I believed in my soul to be the right move. And in this case . . . I felt deep in my core that what my magic viewed as the right course of action and what I viewed as the right course of action were the same thing.
“There must be some kind of mistake,” I called back. “I’m not interested in surrenders.”
I couldn’t see Stephanie’s eyes, but I’m sure they went dead when realization hit. Then I ensured the rest of her did too. With great control and calm, not rage or reflex, I flashed with golden energy and slashed my hand forward. The four remaining rebels were consumed by light. The gold that encased them glistened with swirls of gray before all that energy dispersed at once and their bodies dropped. Stephanie fell over the edge of her severed room and plummeted three stories to hit the dirt with a thump.
Zero rebels left.
Instantly, I felt the magical tether of Lenore’s genie command release me. I’d completed her order. Just with a little extra violent creativity.
“I’ll call the Godmother Supreme to come help you all out in a minute!” I shouted to the prisoners. Then I marched across the disarray and destruction to Stephanie’s body.
She’d landed on her back. My eyes glazed over and I barely looked at her as I flipped her over with my boot. She didn’t matter. She wasn’t a real person, just a villain. A key ring glinted from her belt, and a wand stuck out from her back pocket. I retrieved both and maneuvered through the wreckage to the stone stairwell that took me back to the basement; it was super exposed now that the floor above it had been pulled apart when the chateau opened up.
“I heard what happened,” Debbie said to me softly when I finally reached her cell. I unlocked the door then freed her wrists.
“I suppose you’re disappointed,” I said, not meeting her gaze.
“Surprised, but not disappointed,” Debbie replied. She rubbed her wrists and stood slowly. “Honestly, while I don’t consider myself a vicious person, I would have done the same. Sonya and Bernie were my friends. And Stephanie was a cancer of a woman, as were the people who followed her. We’re better off with them gone. To that end, I am proud of you.” She took a deep breath with her eyes closed then exhaled and reopened them. “How do you feel about the situation?”
I took stock before answering.
The fire that had been inside me had dissipated. I felt still and cool, but strong and unbreakable—like the gold Chance had described earlier. It was interesting and also satisfying.
Maybe this whole time I had been viewing taking life the wrong way. Maybe it was all context, and having the strength to do it was comparable to having the strength not to; it just depended on the circumstance and you had to be brave enough and heroic enough to make the right call, as Javier said. Based on the way I felt now, I understood what he meant about changing my perspective on darkness. As of this afternoon I’d given myself permission to let that change, and as a result, even though I crossed the Malice Line, I felt I could breathe easier than I had in a long time. I stood by what I had done, and I wasn’t ashamed of it.
I sensed gumption brewing within me, a certainty of direction. Pure Magic energy was black for corrupted carriers. Today, like in the Twenty-Three Skidd attack and my other Malice Line instances, my magic had fluxed with gold and gray. Such a swirl of color inferred that I was making morally hazy choices, not completely good or bad ones, and I could live with that. I could get behind doing something that was bad at its base form, but generated good and protected good.
Crossing the Malice Line was like any other form of great power—dangerous in the wrong hands, but effective in wise ones. And there was no darkness in using your power and potential to save others and rid the world of wickedness. That’s all I wanted. Which meant I was up for the challenge of perpetually existing in this morally gray area. As long as I kept in control and kept making the right choices, I saw no reason to worry about being corrupted by my Pure Magic even if I did occasionally cross the Malice Line in the name of the greater good. I could live in this state forever and be fine. I was strong enough.
As a bonus, breaking away from the stifling moral opinions of others meant I could continue avenging the innocent people who’d already fallen. I had been up to a thirty-eight count of people who’d been killed because of villainous action aimed toward me. That felt awful, but I noted that I felt a bit better every time I killed a bad guy in return. Maybe that was because I was evening the odds. If I factored in the lives I was certain I’d taken up ‘til now, that reduced my number to twenty-eight. Not great, but it was an improvement.
With all this in mind, I answered Debbie honestly and surely.
“Everything’s still sinking in, but I think I’m going to be okay.”
I handed my Godmother her wand then pulled out my Mark Two and summoned Lenore. The Godmother Supreme’s magical comet appeared in the sky a minute later and landed beside us in the basement. Debbie gave a brief recap of what happened.
“Surprising and effective work once again, Crisanta,” Lenore said. “And, Debbie, I am very glad you are all right. We’ll get you home and have the healers take a look at you. Maybe our live-in psychologist too—I know Sonya was your roommate and Bernie your mentor—I am truly very sorry.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Godmother Supreme,” Debbie said. She swallowed hard. “And all I need is a night’s rest. Tomorrow I intend to rejoin the task force and hunt down the FGWs that this rebel base shipped out. The ones they powered with Sonya are all here, but the ones made from Bernie are out there. Stopping this faction of the rebellion will be my therapy.”
“How many weapons are at large?” Lenore asked.
“About three dozen.”
“With that kind of power, an attack could level even the most fortified stronghold.” Lenore’s face tightened with deep reflection then softened slightly. “Your bravery is appreciated, Debbie. If there is anything I can do for you—”
“Crisa’s already done it,” Debbie said. “And you should thank her properly for that. She can do what our team and the rest of realm security have been unable to—get the job done. I understand why you have feared her in the past, Godmother Supreme, but she is an excellent ally, a brave young
woman, and a person driven by honor. She deserves your respect and perhaps some compassion too. Especially given this arrangement you have forced her into.” She gestured at my genie cuffs.
Lenore turned toward me and raised her brow. “Do you think you deserve my respect and compassion, Crisanta?”
I crossed my arms. “Yes. But I don’t need it. You may have forced me into raiding this base, like the one in Lernon, but if you’d just asked me, I may have done it of my own free will. I’m not nuts about you as a person, Lenore, but as I tried to communicate with you yesterday, we’re on the same side and I would like us to start acting like it more often. I don’t want rebels making these FGW monstrosities, especially since the antagonists funded the project and are probably using them too. Having said that . . .”
I took a deep breath. “My friends and I have our own plays to make against the knotted conflicts affecting our realm, but I want to help whenever and wherever I’m needed—with or without your respect and compassion, and even if it means being a servant to these.” I held up a cuffed wrist. “I’m in, Lenore. Not because I have to be. But because I want to be.”
Lenore looked at me thoughtfully. “I’ll take your word on that, Crisanta. Which means I may be calling on you regularly.”
“Who isn’t these days?” I shrugged. “Now is there anything else you want from me right now or are we done here?”
“We’re done. Unless you have any other bold thoughts to voice.” She had meant it sarcastically, but something I’d been mulling over sprang to mind.
“Just an economics question—I know the antagonists have been funding the commons rebellion, and now this FGW project, but how are they doing that? They’re in Alderon. Do they even have money? Can’t you just freeze their assets or something?”
Debbie cocked her head at Lenore with a raised brow, as if it’d been a conversation they’d had before. Lenore stiffened but answered. “We have been shoving our villains in Alderon, chosen for its barrenness, for decades. We did not foresee that over time the antagonists would organize, build their own society, and discover natural resources to use for their advantage. Bountiful magic dust reserves buried deep beneath the entire kingdom of Alderon were discovered under Nadia’s reign, allowing her to consolidate power and bring a form of wealth to the kingdom. That, combined with the wormholes that periodically appear there, have let the antagonists in Alderon thrive in their own way. We have no way of taking either resource away from them.”
Into the Gray Page 37