Benjamin frowned, glancing over at the golden-haired vampire. His inadvertent attempt to captivate me faded. “What do you mean?”
Mory threw herself onto the love seat beside Rochelle. “You were trying to beguile Jade.”
Benjamin looked aghast. “I wasn’t.”
I shook my head at Mory.
She frowned, but quieted.
“I apologize, dowser,” Benjamin said. “If I was … doing anything untoward. You look magnificent.” He glanced at Mory, then over at Jasmine. “I wasn’t aware that saying so broke any sort of rules.”
Jasmine shrugged in exaggerated fashion. “You can lust after whoever you want. That’s none of my business.” She looked pointedly at Mory. “Or the necromancer’s.”
Benjamin had gone still, watching Jasmine intently. The junior vampire was a sponge. Give him another year, and he’d have us all catalogued, assessed, and completely figured out. I had wondered more than once whether that predilection — his need to gather as much information about the Adept world that he had found himself adopted into — was something that had been inherent in his human self. But even if it was, it had clearly been amplified by his transformation.
“Shall we move on?” I asked, trying to be polite, but coming up belligerent. There was a lot of movement happening in and around Gran’s house. Magic being tested, plans being laid out. And so far, none of it included me tearing through the elves’ wards and rescuing my best friends.
Granted, I understood that Rochelle was moving forward with a master plan, testing it step by step to see if a task she set for me, or the plans the others were implementing, triggered a new vision. She was trying to figure out if she was moving us all in a direction that countered the destiny laid out in the first and second sketchbook she’d shown me, rather than bringing that destiny to fruition.
The oracle nodded, gesturing Benjamin toward the sketchbook that lay open on the coffee table. Jasmine folded herself into the antique chair nearest the doorway as Benjamin crouched down to peer at the charcoal sketch. It was a drawing depicting me — or, rather, my hand — holding the fountain pen.
Benjamin studied the sketch intently. When he nodded, Rochelle flipped the page. He then studied the new reveal, which showed him standing in a long hall before a steel door. Rochelle flipped to a third page, and Benjamin leaned forward, face practically pressed to the paper, intently examining the final sketch — the pen pressed against a lock.
“Benjamin, what I’m asking you to do … what I’m going to ask you to do is dangerous,” Rochelle said. “I haven’t seen the outcome yet. At least, I’m hoping I haven’t seen the actual outcome yet.”
“Have you given Mory and Liam and Jasmine the same warnings, oracle?” Benjamin’s tone was pointed but not confrontational. He lifted the edge of the page with long, delicate fingers, carefully flipping back to the first sketch Rochelle had shown him. The pen sitting in the palm of my hand.
Me holding random items had apparently become a bit of a theme for the oracle. First the gemstone, then Liam’s badge, and now Benjamin’s fountain pen.
Rochelle glanced up, ceding the conversation to me.
I laughed inwardly. Apparently, I was better suited to outlining exactly how perilous hanging out with me was. “While I’m not a fan of Rochelle’s plan, or at least what little I understand of it so far, Mory has … been involved in life-threatening situations before.”
“Three times,” the junior necromancer interjected. She had curled her legs underneath her and pulled out her knitting while I’d been focused on Benjamin’s reactions. Of course.
I skewered her with a look. “Once by choice. Twice by being an idiot.”
Mory snickered. “Plus, Jade totally plans on trying to talk me out of coming along. Just as soon as the oracle’s back is turned.”
“I don’t even know what your task is yet,” I grumbled.
No one offered any further illumination. Yes, it was all about baby steps for me today. Which obviously meant that whatever I was being eased into was going to be an utterly horrible idea.
“And Jasmine? And the others?” Benjamin asked.
“Jasmine,” the golden-haired vampire drawled, “is bound by magic to try to rescue her maker.” By her tone, she evidently didn’t enjoy being talked about while she was in the room.
Benjamin sat back on his haunches, looking at all of us in turn. “But that’s not my point. You’d all face this, you’d all stand up, answer the oracle’s call without a second thought. Yes?”
“Yes,” I said. “But it would still be a choice.”
“And why should I be any different?” Benjamin asked softly. “It can’t be because I’m a vampire. Kett and Jasmine are vampires, and they’re by your side unquestioningly. And it can’t be because I’m weak, because logically, Mory is more physically vulnerable than I am.”
“That’s debatable,” Jasmine interjected before I could answer. “The necromancer’s necklace alone is powerful enough that even I can feel it across the room. Not to mention the zombie turtle in her bag.”
“Ed!” Mory exclaimed proudly, setting her knitting aside to pull the aforementioned dead turtle out of her satchel. Ed did indeed teem with magic now.
“But it’s a question of morality, not mortality, isn’t it?” Benjamin pressed. “You’re not certain I would risk my life … my existence. You’re not certain I would choose to save others over myself.”
I crossed my arms. My jaw was starting to ache with frustration. I didn’t want to be crafting artifacts and waiting around, making small talk with fledglings about freaking morality.
Benjamin took my silence, my attempt to maintain some control of myself, as a reason to flip through the three sketches again.
Jasmine eyed me warily.
“What am I doing with the pen?” Benjamin finally asked Rochelle, pointing to the third sketch. The close-up of the locking mechanism. “What do you see me doing?”
“It’s a lockpick,” Rochelle said. Then she looked at me and pointedly added, “For magical locks.”
“Well, he doesn’t need it for nonmagical locks, Rochelle,” I said pissily. “He can snap those with his bare hands.”
Benjamin looked intrigued. Though whether it was from the idea of a magical pen or being strong enough to break into wherever he wanted, I didn’t know.
“Though that wouldn’t be terribly polite,” I added.
Benjamin offered me a slight smile. “And why do I need a magical lockpick?”
Rochelle tugged her sketchbook toward her, flipping it open to the drawing that showed Benjamin in the hallway. “The elves have built a maze within the stadium. Yazi, Jade’s dad, confirmed that this is a fortification technique to narrow and direct any possible … ingresses.”
Benjamin nodded. “Limiting, funneling access. So that any invaders can be picked off easily at specific choke points. Like narrow stairwells in castles and fortresses.”
“Uh, yeah …” Rochelle blinked at Benjamin a couple of times, seemingly surprised at his level of insight into combat tactics. “And … they’ve also built rooms on the ground floor where they’ve imprisoned the warriors. Mory verified this with Ed.” The oracle tapped the charcoal sketch lightly. “I see you in this hall, Benjamin. By this door.”
“You think I need to open this door?”
“Three doors,” I said. “The fourth will already be open. Because one of the … warriors will be powering the gateway.”
A bright smile slowly bloomed across Benjamin’s face. “You want me in the rescue party.”
I shook my head. “Not me. I would never choose to put you in harm’s way. But apparently, I don’t have any say. Not this time, anyway.”
“You always have a say, Jade,” Rochelle said, mildly reprimanding me.
Except on this particular occasion, when my actions, my choices, could get everyone killed and the city destroyed. I kept that dark thought to myself, though.
“I had to cut through the magi
c sealing the doors, oracle,” I said instead, pointing toward the drawing. “With my knife. A pen in the locks isn’t going to do it.”
Rochelle nodded. “I can only speak to what I’ve seen, Jade. I’m sorry I can’t offer you more assurances.”
I sighed, frustrated with myself more than anything else.
“You need more chocolate, eh?” Mory asked.
“Yes!” I snapped. “I need more freaking chocolate.”
“Right,” the tiny necromancer tucked her knitting away, keeping Ed in hand. “You make Benjamin’s pen and then whatever Jasmine needs, and I’ll see if Pearl has milk, sugar, and cocoa.”
“What about the chocolate bar in your bag?”
“It’s for later.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
Jasmine bowed her head, trying to hide her amusement. Mory sauntered across the room.
“Check for fleur de sel, as well,” I called after her. “Please.”
“I would, but I have no idea what that is.” The snarky necromancer waved dismissively over her shoulder, crossing out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.
I turned to the dark-haired vampire still peering at the sketch of himself in the hallway. “You haven’t said yes, Benjamin.”
He slowly stood, smoothing his sweater.
“You came to Vancouver as a … safe haven.” I tried to keep my tone neutral, but was struggling to do so. “Not to fight in some elf war.”
“It’s a privilege.” Benjamin smiled softly. “For a vampire to be taken in by a coven. This coven, specifically. To be given access to the city and the Adepts who reside here. To have conversations, build relationships. I understand that. I also understand that the oracle hasn’t seen everything that is to come, and that she can’t guarantee my safety. That you, Jade, can’t always watch over me.”
He looked down at Rochelle, then to me. We both nodded.
Benjamin grabbed the black leather satchel he’d set by the leg of the coffee table, fishing his fountain pen out of its depths. Then he gently laid it down next to Rochelle’s open sketchbook, flipping back to the image of me holding the pen in my palm. It was an exact match — the shape of the barrel, the top of the cap, the design of the clip, the overall length.
Benjamin looked up at me. “I’d say fate has already decided for me.”
I shook my head. “That’s our point. Choice is still a factor.”
“I choose to stand by you, Jade. You, and Rochelle, and Mory, and Jasmine. All of you. Even if I’m just a cog in the wheel. You wouldn’t do any less for me.”
“Bring me the pen,” I said gruffly, trying to hide the welling emotion threatening to clog my throat.
Benjamin plucked up the pen and was standing before me in practically the same motion, moving quicker than he usually did. Most likely unconsciously.
I took the pen from him, feeling the residual magic that already resided in it.
“This fountain pen is an antique,” I said as I first stirred, then tried to taste the energy embedded within it. “Actual gold. A little too heavy, I suspect, for a mere mortal to comfortably wield. Given to you by Kett, yes?”
“Yes.”
“But it belonged to a vampire powerful enough to leave behind residual magic. Perhaps even the executioner himself. Though there isn’t enough magic in it to hold a taste, so I don’t know for certain.”
“The pen is magical?”
I laughed quietly at the wonder in Benjamin’s tone. “No. But if an Adept uses or wears an object receptive to magic for long enough, it accrues a … lick of their power. Like the wedding rings on my necklace.”
“Or the coins on Mory’s?”
“Yes. Metal, especially gold and platinum, collects the most. Or certain gems, raw better than polished.”
Benjamin eyed the pen in my hand. “You think that’s a solid gold pen?”
“The housing, at least.” I pulled off the cap, peering at the tip. “And the nib is white gold, I think. Hold out your hand.”
He complied.
I recapped the pen, placing it in his palm. I folded his fingers over it loosely, so that I could still weave my fingertips through his and touch the pen. “I take some of your magic and weave it into the residual contained within the pen. Then I cement it with my own, and I … direct the alchemy. I inform it of its function.”
“Wait, my … magic? I mean, I know you said I tasted like …” — he lowered his voice — “… sour-grape jellybeans. But I don’t … I can’t wield magic.”
“Grape jellybeans. Well, that makes sense,” Jasmine muttered from the other side of the room. I had no idea what she was talking about. As far as I knew, I was the only one in the room — possibly the only dowser in the northern hemisphere — who tasted magic.
“You don’t wield like a witch,” I said to Benjamin. “But you still have magic within you. Within your every cell. And I steal a bit of that power and feed it into the pen to create a magical artifact.”
Benjamin twitched, as if he had just stopped himself from shoving his hand into his satchel and pulling out his notebook to write all that down.
I smiled at him. “I can explain it again later. If you don’t remember it word for word.”
He nodded, prompting. “So you tie the pen to me …”
“Yes.” I coaxed strands of his magic forward as I spoke, weaving them through the residual already in the pen and cementing the combination with my own alchemy. “Which means that no one but you can use the pen, not unless you’ve given them explicit permission.”
“Like how? With a spell?”
“No. Magic is about intention. Witches use words and candles and compass points. And sorcerers use pentagrams and runes and magical objects. But those items are just focuses for their intention.”
“Focal points.”
“Yes. And triggers, I suppose. If I’m simplifying it. So I tell the pen and all the magic contained within it that its job is to open locks for its wielder.” And then I did just that. Closing my eyes, I smoothed the layers and layers of magic I’d coaxed forth into the pen.
Shifting through my hazy recent memory, I recalled the magic I’d sliced through to free myself from my room. Then the door that had stood between Warner and me, remembering the feel and tenor of the power that had locked him within and me without.
I had used my knife, which could cut through any magic. Well, any magic I’d had the chance to try it on so far. But the pen would have to somehow fit the locks of the doors — three locks in each steel-reinforced door, if I was remembering correctly. And in turning those locks, the pen would need to neutralize the magic that sealed the entire door.
I stole a lick of magic from my knife, feeding it into the pen sandwiched between Benjamin’s fingers and mine. Then, with all of my gathered remembrances and all the intention I could muster, I allowed the energy to settle within the pen.
It had to work. An oracle had said it would be so.
I opened my eyes and dropped my hand.
“Just like that?” Benjamin whispered, enraptured.
“Pretty much.”
Jasmine chuckled. “If you’re an alchemist. No one else can perform such magic.”
I took the pen from Benjamin, holding it in my hand for a moment to reflect the oracle’s vision. Then I offered it back to the dark-haired vampire.
Benjamin looked at me solemnly. We were exactly the same height. Then he took the pen with reverence. “It is a blessing to wield an artifact of Jade Godfrey’s creation. I shall cherish it. And I will never use it for evil purposes.”
“Okay,” I said, matching his serious tone. “All objects of my crafting are tied to me, Benjamin. Don’t make me take it back.”
“I won’t.” He ran his fingers along the pen.
I wondered if he could feel the magic embedded in it now — it tasted of vampire and sugary-sweet jellybeans to me — but I didn’t want to be rude and ask.
I glanced beyond Benjamin’s shoulder
to where Rochelle was perched on the couch. She was hovering over a blank page in her sketchbook with a piece of charcoal in hand. Waiting. The dark-haired vampire tugged his notebook out of his satchel, sat in the window seat, and began writing madly. Every couple of sentences, he would pause to admire the pen in his hand.
Rochelle looked up at me, shaking her head. She had apparently hoped that something would shift when I gave Benjamin the pen.
I took a breath before speaking. “I still don’t know that it’s going to open the rooms the elves have warded,” I said. “Sending Benjamin in with just a pen seems … risky.”
Rochelle nodded, then she glanced at Jasmine. “He won’t be alone.”
“Batter up,” Jasmine said chuckling. “What piece of magic am I to be gifted with?”
Rochelle shook her head, then she flipped back in her sketchbook to a charcoal rendering of Jasmine. It was a head-and-shoulders detail of the golden-haired vampire in profile, wearing her necklace decorated with a cluster of tiny cubes. Reconstructions from her cousin Wisteria.
I reached for it, I’d be able to taste the hint of nutmeg that always accompanied Jasmine. The nutmeg that defined the taste of Wisteria’s witch magic. Though I had no idea what reconstruction each cube held, I did know that Wisteria had collected one of them in the bakery over a year before. Before Jasmine had shed her mortal coil and become Kett’s child.
“Just hit me with it, oracle,” Jasmine said. “I don’t need to be eased in.”
“Okay.”
“Wait!” I cried, just a little mockingly. “I get treated like a freaking baby, but you’re just going to lay it all out for Jasmine?”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to run off and try to take it all on myself, am I?” The golden-haired vampire offered me a toothy smile. “I’m a good foot soldier.”
I gave her a scathing look that I hoped expressed my utter displeasure.
She laughed.
“Invisibility,” Rochelle said. Her tone was becoming slightly edgy. Yeah, I wouldn’t want to put up with myself for very long either.
“Excuse me?” I asked. “Invisibility?”
“Yes.”
Gemstones, Elves, and Other Insidious Magic (Dowser 9) Page 17