Inspired by the rogue salamander Bridget had mentioned, this had been my idea. It had seemed brilliant at the time. An imp invasion—what could go wrong? Besides everything.
Get on with it, I willed the creatures.
As though they’d heard me, the storm blew over. All at once, the imps stopped their senseless flying. Crouching by the x-ray conveyor belt, I watched as each one caught wind of the strongest magical presence in the immediate vicinity.
Thank goodness, and the anti-imp charm I wore, that it wasn’t me for a change.
Glowing with excitement, the imps gathered into a faintly buzzing cloud and descended in a blur on the magic detectors. One of the guards yelled and charged forward, swatting futilely. The imp swarm dove into the charms, which swelled from red to green as they attacked. Sparks shot into the air. Charms burst.
The other guard was on his walkie-talkie, alerting the Gryphons. Cursing, Steph dashed for the elevator. I detoured around the malfunctioning magic detector, which was now buzzing louder than the imps, flailing my arms and feigning horror.
I ran smack into the back of the elevator, and Steph jammed the button for the basement. Too slowly, the doors closed. I rested my head against the wall. Plan stage one was a success.
“Well, that was easy,” I said, searching my bag for the distraction charm.
Steph grunted and sucked on a polish-free nail. “Right. Angry imps. Easy. I ought to do more favors for you, Jess.”
“I said I’d be forever in your debt. What do you want? Me to pledge you my firstborn?” I pulled out the charm vial, and she dotted her neck with some of the contents.
“Hell no. One of you in my life is enough.”
I couldn’t blame her for that, especially right now.
I dug into the bag a second time and took out another charm. “Here’s a little extra speed for you. And you know, it just occurred to me—what if the salamander really did screw up their servers?”
“Then we’ve got problems.”
With a ding, the elevator door opened.
I attributed the blissfully empty basement hallways to the imp attack. There was no way the two security guards could control the situation on their own. They’d require serious Gryphon assistance. If we were lucky—which seemed unlikely—the imps would get in a few good stings on the Gryphons before they were contained. The fewer people around with functioning magic, the better.
Most of the doors we passed were labeled—Storage 1, Storage 2, Boiler, and so on—so I supposed we had a fighting chance if Steph’s memory led her astray. I kept my eyes open for any hallway cameras, but none were obvious. The hidden boilers hummed a dreary tune.
As I made note of an open custodial closet on my right, Steph came to a sudden stop. I walked straight into her back.
“Here we are. Do your thing.”
“It’s not my thing.” I swallowed. Although Lucen promised me breaking charms was infinitely easier than making them, my lack of practice or knowledge with either skill didn’t fill me with confidence.
After I shooed Steph down the hall with all our other charms in tow, I held a magic detector to the door. Naturally, it glowed bright red. I’d expected it but swore nonetheless.
Starting at the top left corner, I held the magic-detecting charm centimeters away from the door and inched it across. It was a slow process, but the charm finally deepened in color by the door handle. Well, that made sense. If you were going to put a magical alarm on a door, stick it someplace where it was guaranteed to be triggered.
I stuffed the magic-detecting charm in my pocket and beckoned Steph back. It was time for the hard part.
More was involved in the making of charms and curses than mixing together the appropriate ingredients and learning the meanings of various glyphs. That much I’d learned in school. Except in the most basic sense, magic was not a recipe because no two ingredients were identical. The charm maker had to sense the magical properties they were dealing with and adjust proportions accordingly. It took practice and a certain sensitivity to magic, which was why magi and preds, with their longer lives and greater innate gifts, excelled at it.
Not that a Gryphon with any skill was a slouch, a fact that I was counting on. As Lucen had explained, perversely enough, the better made the charms on the door, the easier a time I’d have breaking it because the counter charms I’d been supplied with were of high quality. For someone as unskilled as me, figuring out which counter charm I needed was a matter of aligning opposing magical energies. So if the protective charm on the door was “hot”, it would break with a counter charm that was “cold”. If the protective charm was poorly made, however, it might only resonate “warm”, which would make the counter charm less effective.
At least, that was how Lucen had described it. The actual energies themselves were nowhere near as clearly defined, and I hadn’t the faintest idea if I could detect the difference.
I rummaged through the duffel bag and pulled out five supposedly all-purpose charm-breaking spells. One of them had better work.
My right hand hovered as close as I dared leave it to the door handle. I closed my eyes and stretched out my gift like I was trying to read someone’s emotions. At first, I felt nothing. Steph’s nervousness overpowered every other sensation. I took a couple deep breaths, imagining my consciousness being forced into my hand. My head fuzzed. My hand shook with irritating tremors. But gradually, I sensed something emanating from the door handle. Something not quite warm and not quite, well, hairy. Something thick and powerful like my skin was brushing against a tangible vibe or a feeling. I had no better words for it, nothing to relate it to. How the hell then was I going to determine its opposite? I only had one chance to get it right. If I used the wrong charm breaker on the handle, I could trip the alarm.
“First,” I said, my mouth dry.
Steph pressed a vial on my palm. Its magic was contained within the glass, and it took longer to force my consciousness through the container. Not to mention I still held the sensation of the door’s charm in my other hand. I couldn’t lose that feeling searching for the counter.
When the new sensation settled in place, my insides twisted in fear. I felt nothing, no relation between the two sensations. Either this charm breaker simply was wrong, or there was something to this process I didn’t grasp. If the protective charm on the door was “hot”, this counter didn’t even have temperature.
“Next.”
The next fared no better.
“Next.” I tried to hide it, but my voice wavered with anxiety.
Glass dropped on my skin. I was getting faster at the sensing bit. My fingers curled around the third vial and something inside my head clicked. This counter charm had heat, or rather lack of heat. Like the spell on the door handle, it wasn’t quite warm or hairy, but it wasn’t quite those things in a very different way, in a way that felt like it opposed the door’s charm. Magic and anti-magic. That had to be it.
“Got it.”
“Are you sure?” Steph asked.
I opened my eyes. “No. But I’m as close to sure as someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing can be. Let’s find out.” I unscrewed the vial’s cap and spilled the contents on the door handle.
Nothing happened.
Steph cringed. “No alarms. That’s got to be good, right?”
“No alarms that we can hear. Take the magic away again. Time to test.” I held the magic-detecting charm to the door, and this time it didn’t change colors. “Hallelujah, and praise dragons. We should be in. It was just the one.”
I turned the handle, and the door popped open. Not even a human lock to pick.
A gust of cold air blew in my face. The room was freezing and buzzed with the sound of machinery. Three tall shelves were filled floor to ceiling with flat, black boxes. Some had lights flashing, others appeared dead.
I stepped aside. “After you, geek girl. I’ll stand guard.”
“And you’ll do what if someone comes?”
“H
ide?” I was of no use to Steph, and I didn’t want to hang out in the cold server room.
While she went to work, I hunched over the duffel bag, searching for anything useful in case trouble arrived. We had another speed charm, a disorientation charm—or curse rather—in case we needed to make an escape, two curse grenades that I had no intention of using, and the unnecessary counter charms. Missing was the one sort of magic I wished we had—disguise charms. Although they existed, they—unfortunately—took a long time to prepare, and good ones required personalization. One of the harpies had taken a hair sample from me this evening to begin making a few, but they wouldn’t be ready for at least twenty-four hours.
Among the mundane items in the bag, I had a flashlight and a lock-picking kit. Nothing that would make me useful to Steph.
I tossed the speed charm about in my hand. “Hurry it up.”
“I can only go as fast as the files will move.”
I fingered the disorientation curse and decided to hold on to it for easy access. As I zipped the duffel bag, the sound of footsteps appeared in the hallway. “Incoming,” I whispered. I started toward the server room then caught sight of the janitorial closet.
Much better. I dove inside and shut the door all but a crack.
The footsteps grew louder. Through the crack, I saw a Gryphon appear around the corner. She yawned and paused outside the server room, her brow furrowed. Butterscotch confusion mingled with Steph’s tangy fear. Nasty combination.
I took a cautious step backward and bumped a mop handle. The plastic stick wobbled, and I snatched it before it fell, my heart pounding.
“Hello?” The Gryphon’s upper torso disappeared from view. I held my breath.
“Hi,” came the sound of Steph’s voice.
“I see you got into the room,” the Gryphon said. “Security told me people from Bay Tech were here about the servers. I didn’t realize—”
“Oh yeah, someone already let me in.”
“Who?” Something darker, bitter, like rich chocolate, emerged within her. Suspicion.
Come on, Steph.
“Sorry, didn’t catch the name. Tall guy, brown hair. I’m almost done.”
“I wasn’t aware anyone had called you. Do you know who placed the service request?”
“Nope, I don’t. I just go where they tell me.”
I wet my lips. If the Gryphon asked to see Steph’s credentials, we were screwed. The fake ID might have been waved off by tired security, but a suspicious Gryphon was bound to take a closer look.
The Gryphon reappeared in my line of sight. She scratched her neck. “All right. Thank you.”
My fist tightened around the disorientation curse as she left. How long had Steph been working? She’d said she’d need ten minutes. It couldn’t have been more than five. Unless the curse was wicked powerful, there was no way it would last that long.
Once my awareness of the Gryphon subsided, I stepped out of the closet and peeked in on Steph. “Well?”
“Almost done. I thought for sure I was busted.”
I rested my head against the wall and exhaled heavily. That made two of us.
I did my best not to bug Steph, knowing that would only slow her down, but the close call with the Gryphon wore on my nerves. The next time I stretched out my gift, I noticed something was different. More emotions. Suspicion. Annoyance. An authoritative anxiety competing with Steph’s furtive anxiety.
Two or more people were on the move, heading our way. Shit. I glanced down the hallway in the opposite direction, but it was a dead end. So this was what it would come to—a showdown in the basement.
“People are coming.”
Swearing, Steph popped out of the server room and shut the door.
“Did it work? They know something’s up.”
“It’s good. We’re good.” She swung the laptop case over her shoulder.
I ran my fingers over the disorientation curse. “We’re not good. They’re coming this way.”
Whoever had made the disorientation curse had stuck it in a small spray bottle. Convenient. I positioned my finger on the trigger.
“You sure they’re coming about us?”
“Pretty sure. They must have checked with Bay Tech, or figured out no one called.”
“Great. Now what? Despite what I said earlier, I really don’t want to get arrested.”
“You don’t want to get arrested?” I grabbed her arm. “Walk. Look confident.”
No sooner had the words left my lips than two Gryphons—the woman from earlier and a man—turned the corner. I marched straight toward them, balling my magic in my gut as a last, most likely useless, resort. I’d never tried ensnaring a Gryphon before, and I doubted I was powerful enough.
“Excuse me.” The male Gryphon raised an arm to stop me, and I sprayed the curse in his face. He stumbled backward.
His companion reached for something on her belt. A gun? A stunning curse? Whichever, I got to her first. Two more sprays each and they were clutching the wall for support, the world probably spinning beneath them. Too bad it would be over in minutes.
I hightailed it to the stairs, hearing Steph pant as she brought up the rear. We tumbled out of the stairwell into the quiet lobby. The two security guards stood idly by while Gryphons disentangled dead imps from the defunct magic-detecting charms. I held my head high and strode to the doors without giving the Gryphons a second look. Between their fighting with the magic detectors and our distraction charms, they probably never noticed us.
The anticipation of freedom tortured me as I fought to keep my steps unrushed. I opened the front doors and sucked in a mouthful of night air. A great deal of Steph’s tension lifted, leaving me listless. Slowly, step by step, we descended the front stairs. Any second I expected the doors to burst open, to see Gryphons come flying out to grab us.
At street level, I turned to Steph and nodded. Then we made a mad run for half a block to where Lucen sat in his car waiting to make our getaway.
Chapter Thirteen
“Got it,” Steph said. “What was the last guy’s name?”
I dredged the name from the depths of my memory. “Gregory Penfield.” Had it really been only three days since I’d taken blood from him? Yawning, I glanced at my watch. Okay, technically it was now four days. No wonder I felt at death’s door.
I sipped my coffee, but caffeine was failing me. Adrenaline had come and gone. Once Steph had established she could get into the Gryphons’ system, I’d crashed. Utterly. She, on the other hand, had perked up considerably from the challenge. We were on borrowed time. Steph didn’t think it would be long before the real Bay Tech closed the breach, and she had to rush. Not even Lucen, Dezzi and the two other satyrs watching over her shoulders could spook her.
Well, not too much, anyway. Steph shifted closer to her laptop as Dezzi rested a hand on the back of her chair. “Here he is. If I send you all this information, can I go home now? Jim’s probably freaking out.”
“Of course,” Dezzi said. “Lucen, call her a cab.”
Scowling, Lucen shuffled through slips of paper by the bar. “You’ll have to meet them at the T stop. Human cabbies don’t venture deeper into this neighborhood at night.”
“Not the smart ones,” Steph muttered.
Lucen hung up the phone after explaining three times to the dispatcher that the cab was for a human who was heading away from Shadowtown. From the sound of it, there was going to be an extra fee added to the ride for hazard duty.
“Jessica needs sleep,” Lucen said. “She’s been up way too long.”
A protest formed on my tongue and died of its own absurdity. Lucen was right. Yet as exhausted as I was, I didn’t believe I’d actually get any sleep tonight. For one, I’d be in Lucen’s apartment. Two, the clock was ticking. Sleep wasted valuable thinking hours.
Dezzi nodded. “We will reconvene the whole council tomorrow.”
I shuffled upstairs, weirdly conscious of Lucen behind me and a thousand other random thoughts
. To distract myself from visions of him sleeping mere feet away, I gave voice to one of the less bizarre ones. “I don’t have a toothbrush.”
“I have unused ones.”
“You keep unused toothbrushes lying around?”
He unlocked the apartment door. “I don’t like my visitors to have morning breath.”
“You mean your addicts?”
He didn’t contradict me. Feeling more ill than tired, I followed him through the kitchen and to the second floor.
“Spare room,” Lucen said, opening the door at the top of the steep stairwell and turning on the light. “You can use it as long as you need. I’ll get the toothbrush.” His voice was flat. I thought maybe he was tired too, but he had no reason to be.
The room was small with barely enough space for the bed and a dresser. The two doors on the right led to a closet and a bathroom. I checked over my shoulder then sniffed the bedsheets. A hint of detergent tickled my nose, but no cinnamon. That was a relief.
The sheets were a navy satin, cool and slippery under my thumb. I shuddered to consider how many other people might have enjoyed themselves beneath them. Thank whatever that satyrs, like all preds, kept their world clean.
“Your toothbrush, little siren. And a towel.”
I jumped and slid the blanket back in place. “Thanks.”
“Do you always sniff where you’re going to sleep?”
“Yes. I mean, no. Your, uh, clothes had a certain scent to them. I wondered if your linens had it too.”
He raised an eyebrow and seemed to be fighting a smirk. “I think you need your rest. I’ll probably be sleeping when you get up. Feel free to make yourself coffee or toast or anything when you do.”
“Thanks.”
Wicked Misery (Miss Misery) Page 13