But it was Jasmine who was calling me from the hall, not the junior witch. The golden-haired vampire’s bright-blue eyes were rimmed with the red of her magic. She reached for me, offering me both of her hands. In friendship.
The pain that felt as though it had stopped up my heart eased a tiny bit.
“I can help,” Burgundy murmured behind me. “I can set my stones.”
“Please do,” Qiuniu said kindly.
I stepped into the hall, taking Jasmine’s hands. She squeezed — a bit painfully. The bones of our fingers ground against each other, but I didn’t flinch. I didn’t drop her gaze.
The vampire tried to smile, but managed only a twist of her lips. “We’ll get them back. With you returned to us, the oracle thinks we can, at least.”
I nodded. I could feel the well of magic underneath my feet, undoubtedly coming from the map room in the basement. Its intensity was nothing like it had been before. I had assumed that was where the others had gathered as I’d rushed upstairs to see my grandmother. I had tasted the muted tenor of Gran’s lilac magic instantly upon entering the house, but the other magic contained within was mixed together so thoroughly that I didn’t actually know who else was in residence.
Jasmine looked almost as drawn as Olive. Her cheekbones were much more defined than before, and deep shadows were beneath her eyes.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
“No. No, I’m fine.” But she was still gripping my hands as if I might have been a lifeline. “I drank some elf blood, which has had an … effect, but otherwise I’m okay. The elves are still keeping to themselves.”
“Your eyes. I’m sorry if it’s rude, but I can see your magic. You look … hungry or hurt.”
She nodded. “Again, I’m okay. Ben has been helping me, but … he sleeps during the day.”
“Okay. Just … let me know. I can try to help.”
Jasmine offered me a saucy grin that was more in keeping with her personality. “If only, my sweet, spicy dowser. If only.”
I shook my head, managing to grin. Fleetingly.
Jasmine nodded, her own expression sobering. “You’re needed downstairs.”
“Yeah, I guessed something was up, based on the mass of magic underneath my feet and the huge freaking dome protecting the city.”
The vampire didn’t drop my hands, though. “I … I think I hated you for a bit.”
“Understandable.”
“It really wasn’t. I saw what that elf did to you.” She shuddered. “I know what it feels like to be controlled.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged offishly. “But something about the elves’ wards around the stadium cut me off from Kett, severed our connection. And I thought … I thought he was dead.”
“I really am so sorry.”
“Jade. Come on. I’m trying to say something important, and you’re being all Canadian with the ‘sorry’.”
“Right. Sorry about that.”
The golden-haired vampire laughed. “I was there when you tore that hole in the elves’ defenses. Watching over Mory, trying to hold her back from charging inside to rescue you. Even Liam misplaced the stick up his butt for a moment, fully prepared to back the silly necromancer. Anyway. I … I could feel Kett again. Just for that moment. So … I knew. I knew he was still alive … well, that he still existed. And I didn’t hate you anymore.”
Jasmine squeezed my hands one final time. Then she let me go, heading off down the hall and the stairs without another word.
Okay, then.
My mother was floating in a column of brilliant white magic slashed through with pale blue. The column sliced through the very center of the map room in my grandmother’s basement. More tendrils of power writhed across the ceiling, spiderwebbing down and across the map of Vancouver that had been painted in black on all four walls. The large space that had once been a rec room contained a number of other people, including my father. The taste of everyone’s magic shimmered underneath the torrent of power that had absorbed and overwritten the witches’ grid.
But I had eyes only for my mother. Her strawberry hair was a brilliant halo around her head. Her calves, ankles, and feet were bare, skin pale against the black silk sheath she wore.
“What the hell?” I whispered past the fear that was threatening to clog my throat. First Gran, and now Scarlett. “Is she trapped in there?” I asked no one in particular, taking another step into the room.
“Yes,” a woman said. It took me a moment to identify Angelica Talbot. The dark-haired sorcerer was unobtrusively standing in the corner to my left, but her dark-eyed gaze was on my father, not me. Magic glistened from each and every piece of jewelry she wore — dozens of bracelets, bangles, and rings, including a set of toe rings visible on her bare feet. “But she isn’t in pain.”
“Isn’t in pain?” I snarled. I was striding forward before I’d even realized it, already reaching for the column of magic. Ready to tear it all down. That was something I could do. I could free my mother, at least.
“Jade!” my father barked, stepping between me and Scarlett. “Wait.”
“Wait? Wait?! How long has she been like that? This is how the witches are fueling the boundary? It’s insane!”
“Yes. But we can’t just rip it down now. The backlash would kill your mother. And quite possibly Rochelle and Jasmine as well.”
I took a fortifying breath, tamping down the instincts roaring in my ears so that I could actually listen to my father’s concerns. “Rochelle and Jasmine?” I glanced around the map room. “Why?”
The oracle wasn’t in the room, and neither was Beau, though I’d felt both of them nearby as I crossed through the house. Jasmine was leaning in the doorway. I must have brushed past her when I’d charged into the room.
“It’s Rochelle’s spell,” the golden-haired vampire said grimly. “Some kind of sorcerer working channeled through the oracle magic with Rochelle’s version of runes. Cast by Scarlett … and me. Activated by the blood of an elf, anchored by your mother.” She nodded toward the column of magic containing Scarlett.
I sidestepped around that stream of magic until I could see my mother’s face. Her eyes were closed. She looked thin. Too thin. “When? When was the last time she ate?”
Jasmine grimaced.
“The magic is sustaining her,” Angelica said. Her tone carried a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense quality that it was easy to imagine her using with her unruly brood.
“How do we get her out?” I whispered. “Does … can I take her place?”
“No!” Jasmine practically shouted. “That would be …”
“Terrifying,” Angelica muttered, likely thinking I couldn’t hear her.
“But you think that an object of magic could take Scarlett’s place?” my father asked, as if he was continuing a conversation he and the sorcerer had been having before I’d shown up.
“If it’s powerful enough.” Angelica stepped up beside me. “But even then, only in the short term. An artifact won’t have the same reserves as a witch of Scarlett’s power. We just didn’t have enough people capable of casting in order to try.” She glanced at me. “Or an alchemist to fuel it.”
“Okay.” I breathed deeply, steadying myself further. I could do this. I could focus past my panic. I could be rational. I could command the power that the witches and the sorcerer needed. “I have …” I looked at my father. “I have Kandy’s cuffs. Warner’s knife. I assume I shouldn’t use my necklace, though. Or my katana?”
Yazi shook his head grimly, raising his hand to the column of magic holding my mother in its grip. He was assessing the spell siphoning her magic, slowly draining her, killing her …
I clenched my fists.
“We already know the object,” my father said, steady and sure, though his expression was deeply conflicted. “It has already been tied to Scarlett Godfrey by Chi Wen, the far seer of the guardians.”
My heart beat painfully, once. As it always did when the far seer was brought into any conversa
tion. Then a couple of puzzle pieces clicked into place. “The dragon-wrought sword.”
“Yes. Constructed by the sword master himself.”
Relief flooded through me. I wasn’t big on walking in the steps of destiny, but if it meant that Chi Wen had seen a way to save my mother, then I was all for it. “She keeps it in her umbrella stand.”
“No,” Jasmine said. “It’s here. In the house. She was … she was kicking some elf ass with it the last time I saw it.”
Yazi laughed, a low, hearty rumble. “Of course she was.” He touched my cheek gently. “She’s the mother of the wielder of the instruments of assassination.” He glanced at Scarlett suspended before him. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less of her.”
Movement drew my attention to the doorway.
My grandmother.
She was alive.
Gran, supported on Qiuniu’s arm, paused behind Jasmine, who stepped away to clear the elder witch’s path into the room. She looked tired … withered … weak, swamped by a thick, dark-gray cotton robe. But her fierce, blue-eyed gaze was firmly glued to her trapped, dying daughter.
“Healer?” Yazi asked.
“My apologies, warrior,” Qiuniu said ruefully. “I found myself unable to refuse the head of the Convocation’s demands without … well, without being rude.”
Gran pushed away from the healer, taking a tentative step into the room. Magic rippled all around her as the anchor point of the boundary spell reacted to her presence. It might have done the same when I’d entered, but I hadn’t noticed. Energy rippled across the walls and over the ceiling, then filtered down into the column that held my mother.
Gran took another step, then another. She brushed away my attempt to reach for her, circling the stream of magic with her hands raised before her. Feeling the power.
“Mom?” my mother whispered suddenly. Her eyes blinked open, blazing the blue of her witch magic to obscure her expression. But I could hear the desperation in her voice.
My heart squelched.
“I’m here, my girl.” Gran held her palm to the shimmering column of magic between her and the daughter she’d always underestimated. “My beauty.” She cleared her throat of the emotion threatening to swallow her words. “You’ve done marvelously. But it’s time to get you out.” Then she brushed her hands together, looking at each of us in turn. Me, Yazi, Angelica, Qiuniu, then Jasmine. She nodded. “Is there a plan?”
“I need to find and fortify a sword,” I said, utterly relieved that my grandmother was going to take charge. Beyond grateful that even despite the healer’s obvious caution, she was well enough to do so. “Angelica?”
The dark-haired sorcerer nodded. “Jasmine, Olive, and I have been formulating a spell. But we needed at least two more experienced casters and an object of power.”
“Myself and Jade, of course,” Gran said.
“The oracle is sleeping,” Jasmine said. “Involuntarily, I might add. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. But she needs to see Jade as soon as she wakes up.”
“Liam and Mory are on their way back,” Angelica said. “Despite the extra protections provided by Jade, the elves have finally found a way to block the necromancer’s incursions.”
“Extra protections?” I echoed. “Incursions?”
Angelica ignored me, intent on filling my grandmother in. “Tony has been working nonstop with Liam and Jasmine since Jade requested his help, developing tech and —”
“The time to talk is over,” my grandmother barked. “Jade, find the sword. Angelica and I will set up the spell to free Scarlett. We need the room cleared.”
And with that pronouncement, my grandmother practically shoved everyone but Angelica out of the room and into the hall.
“Pearl,” the healer said, gently protesting. “You really should be resting.”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, guardian. Just as soon as my girl is on her own two feet.”
Then Gran shut the door in the faces of those of us clumped together in the hallway. Cut off from the potent magic spilling out of the map room, it was suddenly dark.
I glanced over at Jasmine.
She snorted, shaking her head. “I’ll get you the sword. I know where to look. Then I’ll fill you in.” She took off toward the stairs.
My father touched my shoulder. “I’d prefer to not leave the house, but I’d like to scout the area around the stadium. Beau will escort me, so you can remain here and help your mother.”
“Okay.”
He turned to the healer. “Will you stay?”
“For as long as possible. Though I might need to cross through the boundary quickly, so if the witches can provide passage, that would be ideal. I’m not sure if Pulou can even contact me while I’m within the city ward. Have you tried to speak to him since we entered?”
My father shook his head. “The treasure keeper and I aren’t on speaking terms.”
Because of me. Warmth bloomed in my chest, and I stifled a pleased, childish grin. “It’s funny that the portal in the basement of the bakery doesn’t work. I mean, the elves have the dimensional gateway running despite the witches’ boundary …”
My father was staring at me, narrow-eyed.
“What? Am I missing something?”
“A portal in the basement? Of the bakery?”
I glanced between my father and the healer. Right. Was that still a secret? Even with Drake and Warner using it regularly? “Um … yes?”
Qiuniu started chuckling.
My father’s glower deepened.
“The guardians do like their secrets,” the healer said.
“I just assumed Pulou put it in when he stored the elves in Vancouver,” I said. “And, you know, didn’t mention the portal or the elves to anyone.”
“I’ve been having to ask permission to travel here,” my father spat. “Every single time. When there was an anchored portal in the basement of my daughter’s bakery.”
“All good, Pop-Pop,” I said pertly, patting his bulging bicep in an attempt to derail the rage he was working himself into. “If the portal is working, it means the healer can come and go as needed, yes?”
Tension ran through my father’s jaw. “Yes.”
“All righty then.” I nodded to them both as I took off down the hall after Jasmine. I didn’t want to leave my mother trapped for a second longer than necessary. I heard my father and the healer talking behind me as I went, though.
“Haven’t you been to the bakery multiple times?” Qiuniu asked.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t notice a portal?”
“No.”
“So the treasure keeper can mask his magic,” the healer murmured. “From us.”
My father grunted, then changed the subject. “Look after my girls while I’m gone?”
“For as long as I am able, warrior. Pearl needs another round of healing as well, after she sleeps.”
Their voices finally faded as I cleared the stairs and hit the main foyer, then followed Jasmine’s sweet peppermint magic up to the second floor.
The taste of Jasmine’s magic led me past Gran’s bedroom and into the guest room connected to the main bathroom. The glimpse I caught of it was all smoky blues. Gran had painted and spruced up all the linens in preparation for Warner’s and my engagement party in September.
And at that stray thought, a sharp pain shot through my chest, forcing me to actually pause in the doorway to absorb it. I should have run off with Warner a year before. We should have gotten married on an obscure beach somewhere. But I’d allowed all of Gran’s coven politicking and Warner’s unpredictable schedule to push the date further and further.
And now I’d missed my own wedding.
Ruined my own wedding.
“Jade?” Jasmine whispered. She was in the guest room, and had backed away from me as I faltered. Retreated from me. Her fists were clenched at her sides, the red of her magic overwhelming the natural blue of her eyes.
She was scared of me.
>
Another deep ache sliced into my chest, settling heavily around my heart. The golden-haired vampire had witnessed my … my … Jesus, I couldn’t even stand to recall what I’d done to those I loved most. I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, covering the scar that broadcast my shame.
“I’m fine,” I said. But I really wasn’t. More and more, it seemed as though each time I found my footing, it would get kicked out from underneath me by a mere thought.
Suddenly Jasmine was wrapping her arms around me, hugging me and cooing. “I know … I know … it’s okay. You aren’t responsible … you didn’t ask for it, Jade. You didn’t do anything to cause it.”
I stifled the sob threatening to tear through my throat. I was the one who was supposed to be comforting, to be caring. Yet Jasmine, who’d had every reason to think I’d murdered her master, was the one voluntarily touching me. Holding me, even though her hunger must have been acute.
I wrapped my arms around the golden-haired vampire, clutching her like a child.
And I wept.
I sobbed.
I cried until I couldn’t see through the torrent of tears, until I could no longer breathe through my nose.
I cried for everything I’d done. For the plans I had ruined. The people I’d hurt. Then I cried for the elves I’d slaughtered — even they were simply acting under orders from Reggie. The warrior elves were ultimately just as compelled as I had been, by their upbringing, by their training. By their responsibilities.
As Jasmine rocked me, I sobbed for everything that had been taken from me, stripped from me. Without my consent.
My mind invaded. My body abused. My magic subverted for another’s gain.
My soul raped.
And I’d been powerless. Powerless to stop it.
“It’s okay,” Jasmine murmured over and over again. “It fades. It fades. Trust me. It’s okay. No one blames you.”
Jasmine loosened her hold on me, guiding me into the bathroom and sitting me down on the toilet. She shoved a handful of tissue into my hands, then wet and wrung out a navy-blue facecloth.
My sobs eased into an occasional shudder. I blew my nose, my hands shaking. Weakened by my grief, by my self-loathing.
Gemstones, Elves, and Other Insidious Magic (Dowser 9) Page 11