Hidden Charm

by Kristine Grayson

  Polly’s gaze met Henry’s. He had the strangest feeling that she wanted him to protest for her.

  “Um,” he said, not wanting to get in the middle of it all, “is that because of her magic?”

  “Your hands have none, unless you summon it,” Panacea snapped, as if blaming him for the way his hands looked. “Polly’s hands have magic already loaded and ready. We need as little magic as possible.”

  “Understood,” Polly said. “Thank you, Panacea—”

  “Get out,” Panacea said.

  Polly nodded, and went back into the kitchen. The door clicked shut as she let herself out. She would probably use magic once she was outside, but her caution pleased Henry.

  “You,” Panacea said. “Get close enough to Rapunzel to hold her mouth open.”

  “Hold it open?” he repeated.

  “Yes,” Panacea said. “Have you never done that before?”

  “Not without magic,” he said. And maybe not even then. He maneuvered himself to the back of Zel’s head and reached his hands around, not certain what to do.

  “Use the jaw as a hinge,” Panacea said, “and maybe a finger as a brace.”

  He glanced at the still steaming mug. He had seen healers screw up before with detrimental results, so he couldn’t keep quiet.

  Before he put his hands on Zel’s face, he said, “You’re not going to pour that into her mouth, are you? It would be like waterboarding her.”

  “Do I look like a member of the mortal CIA?” Panacea snapped. “Just do what I asked.”

  He let out a small breath, trying to release the terror that had arisen again. Part of him found it ironic that he was terrified of this quiet healing, but hadn’t been as frightened by what happened at the house.

  He slipped his hands down the side of Zel’s face, resting his fingertips on her jaw. Her skin was soft and smooth, and he was afraid his dry fingers would scrape her. He could feel the swelling from the bruises she had acquired, and the ridges of various cuts.

  With a little prying, he managed to get her mouth open just a bit. He didn’t want to open it farther, just in case Panacea had lied to him. He didn’t want to make it easy for her to pour liquid down Zel’s throat.

  Panacea picked up the straw and shoved it in the mug. Then she put her fingertip on top of the straw, and pulled it out of the liquid. The straw was filled with the greenish gray stuff.

  She moved it over Zel’s mouth, and, using her fingertip as a control, dripped the liquid onto Zel’s tongue.

  No waterboarding, no sloshing, no drowning. Just a continual drip-drip-drip of the steaming green stuff. Five straws-full managed to get a third of the mug’s contents into Zel’s mouth.

  She didn’t swallow, either, so the liquid must have just dribbled down her throat.

  Then Panacea put the straw in the mug, and leaned back.

  “Now what?” Henry asked.

  “You can let go,” Panacea said.

  “But nothing’s different.” He could hear the panic in his own voice.

  “Patience is a virtue,” Panacea said drily.

  “I’ve never been accused of being virtuous,” Henry said.

  The ghost of a smile formed on Panacea’s face. Then she sat on her haunches and studied Zel.

  Henry had no choice but to do the same. He leaned on the side of the couch, and looked down.

  Zel’s mouth was slightly open, her tongue green and gray from the liquid. She still didn’t move.

  He wanted her to move, to come alive, to do something. He couldn’t help but think of Panacea’s name and the way it was used—often as a negative. A panacea—a cure-all, a myth, something that was a wish fulfillment, not an actual fact.

  This Panacea was known for her potions and her healing power, but her name had become a slur, something—

  “You should probably move.” Panacea didn’t sound critical. She sounded relieved.

  Henry frowned at her, but stepped toward the back of the couch. As he did, he noticed a thin wisp of purplish-green-gray rising off Zel’s face.

  “Step farther away,” Panacea said. “And, maybe, open a window. Wait. No maybe. Do open a window.”

  He nodded, and ran for the nearest window. It was just across the living room, but he had no idea when he had last opened any window in this house. He hoped to hell the window would open anyway, because he couldn’t use magic to do so.

  The window was on a metal track that looked cleaner than it should have. The brooms must have gotten to this too. He hoped they cleaned it enough that it would slide open.

  He grabbed the sides and tugged. The window moved slightly sideways, loose in its track, but it didn’t open.

  He thought of shoving his hand through it—his house, his window, after all—and then tried to tug one last time.

  He yanked, and the window opened, letting in the sirens and faint shouts in the distance. The purplish gray green wisps floated past him, like eels in the ocean or bits of cloud that had somehow broken free from some major storm.

  He could smell burnt sugar and grape soda mixed into them. The air felt slightly slimy near them, and he stepped back.

  One of the wisps turned toward him, and he realized he had been wrong. He wasn’t looking at an eel. He was looking at snakes—actual snakes—covered in potion and struggling under some kind of spell.

  He glanced back at the couch. Dozens—hundreds?—of these snakelike things were floating past him, and out the window. As they got outside, they glommed together, forming a big trail that looked like smoke.

  They moved faster than smoke, though, heading back toward Zel’s house.

  If Henry crouched slightly, he could see the big cloud of smoke hanging over the neighborhood. Maybe the snake-things weren’t heading to the house. Maybe they were returning to the cloud of smoke.

  Someone coughed, the kind of raspy cough that had a bit of phlegm to it.

  He turned, saw Zel sitting up, the brace half hanging off the back of her neck. He started to go to her, but Panacea held up a hand.

  “You’ll need to close that window on my command,” she said.

  Henry nodded.

  Zel was coughing and gagging. Panacea removed the brace and placed a soothing hand on Zel’s back. More snakes emerged from Zel’s body, thick and black with no purple at all now. They were also coming out of her nostrils and ears.

  That had to be painful. Henry wanted to look away, but couldn’t. The larger snake-things zoomed past him, as if staying in his house would hurt them.

  Maybe it would.

  The snake-things got smaller and smaller, floating off Zel’s body. She grimaced, but didn’t cry out, although Henry wasn’t sure how she could, since the snake things were emerging from her mouth as well as the rest of her.

  She kept coughing, and Panacea kept watching, as if she was conducting some kind of experiment. The woman seemed to have no compassion in her. Or maybe she just thought it wasn’t safe to touch Zel right now.

  It probably wasn’t.

  The snake-things finally stopped emerging. They kept flying out the window, though, and glomming together. The smoke/snake trail that headed toward Zel’s house had gotten quite huge.

  Henry hoped the smoke/snake thing wouldn’t attack anyone there, but he couldn’t use his magic to warn them. And Selda hated cell phones. She couldn’t keep one near her.

  If he called the mortal police, they would laugh. Beware the snakes in the clouds, he could hear them saying. Yeah, right, buddy. Maybe you should stop smoking whatever it is you’re smoking.

  Zel’s body was now covered in white wisps, like fog on a morning lake. Panacea dipped the mug into the bowl again, wiped off the mug carefully, and handed it to Zel.

  “Drink all of this,” Panacea said. “Don’t stop.”

  Zel coughed again, and eyed the mug as if it was her enemy. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to drink it. He had smelled it. Drinking something that smelled like camphor and mint was not his idea of a good time.
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  She reached her right hand toward the mug. Her hand was shaking, but she somehow managed to wrap her fingers around it. Then she looked at Panacea.

  “All of it,” Panacea said firmly, as if Zel had spoken a complaint aloud.

  That was when Henry realized he hadn’t heard her speak since she regained consciousness. His heart was pounding hard. He wasn’t sure what exactly was going on with her, but it scared him.

  Then he made himself breathe. She had woken up. Tiana never had. The fact that Zel had regained consciousness was a major, major victory.

  He just couldn’t celebrate yet.

  He caught Panacea’s eye, and gestured at the window, asking her if he should close it.

  She shook her head. Not yet, apparently. Did that mean she thought more snake things would emerge?

  He didn’t ask. He was as focused on that shaking potion mug as Zel and Panacea were.

  Zel finally managed to get it to her lips. She had to hold the mug in both hands to keep it steady. Then she drank until she gagged.

  She stopped for breath, and Panacea said, in an even fiercer voice, “All of it.”

  Zel closed her eyes, and kept drinking, making gagging noises as she did. It must have been painful to drink something that warm that fast, but she managed.

  Then she handed the mug to Panacea. Panacea looked at it, swirled it, and handed it back.

  “One sip remains,” she said. “Drink it. All of it.”

  Zel made a disgusted face, but took the mug and drank the last of it. Then she winced, and shuddered.

  Henry felt for her. He could almost taste the bitterness of the drink, feel the tingle of the magic as it ran through her.

  He snuck a glance out the window, at the undulating snake thing still floating its way toward the remains of her house.

  He had no idea what he had been seeing, but it niggled at some kind of memory for him. He had seen something like it before—a long, long, long time before.

  “Isn’t this fascinating?” Panacea said.

  He turned, frowning. Panacea had her head tilted sideways and was regarding Zel as if Zel had just appeared from one of the Kingdoms.

  “What?” Henry asked, and then he saw it. Zel was turning silver, and she didn’t even seem to know it.

  Chapter 18

  Her entire body ached. Some parts actively hurt. Her throat felt rubbed raw. The inside of her ears burned. Her nose felt like it had swollen to three times its size.

  And now Panacea was looking at Zel like she had turned into some subspecies of bug.

  Zel wanted to ask what was going on, but her throat hurt so badly that talking felt like a bad idea. Her mouth tasted foul anyway, thanks to that potion, and she didn’t want to spray camphor breath all over Panacea.

  Then Henry sprinted across the room from the window, looking somewhat terrified.

  Zel frowned at him, or tried to. The aches in her face and body were stiffening, the way that deep injuries often did. She would have thought that Panacea’s potion would actually heal her, not just dispel whatever had gotten inside her. But no.

  “What is that?” Henry asked as he reached the couch.

  “You left the window,” Panacea said. “I told you I needed you at the window.”

  Zel glanced at the window. It was open, and through it, in the distance, she could see something black and purple and green dominating the night sky. Only it didn’t seem like night—not from the other windows.

  And where the heck was she, anyway? The living room was old and low-ceilinged, with molding that had to date from the last century, and chairs that had seen better days. Panacea sat on the edge of the couch, with a bowl that reeked of the vile camphor-and-mint thing that Panacea had made her drink.

  Henry hadn’t moved. He was looking at Zel with great concern.

  “Get back to the window!” There was urgency in Panacea’s voice.

  Henry frowned at Panacea, then at Zel. He started to reach toward her, but stopped, as if he wasn’t sure he had permission. Or maybe he didn’t want to touch her at all.

  “Do you want this all to be for naught?” Panacea said to him.

  His lips thinned. He seemed to be holding back an anger that surprised Zel, then he crossed the room and stood near the window.

  “Can I close it?” he asked, his voice filled with sarcasm.

  “Not yet,” Panacea said. She looked at Zel. Panacea’s eyes were dark, and almost impossible to read. “Extend your hands toward me.”

  Zel did—or rather, started to. Her entire body felt stiff, as if all of the muscles had frozen up. Her hands weren’t moving at all.

  “I can’t,” she started to say or wanted to say or almost said, but really, she didn’t say it at all. Her lips weren’t moving either.

  But her eyeballs did. She looked down at her immobile arms.

  They were silver. Shining, pure, beautifully polished silver.

  And as she stared at them, she thought she saw some familiar designs embedded in her skin.

  Panacea touched Zel’s right arm. Or rather, Zel saw her do it, and assumed there was a touch. Zel felt nothing.

  “This is lovely,” Panacea said. “I had no idea that Sonny loved you so much.”

  What? Zel tried to ask, but couldn’t. Sonny had done this to her? He wouldn’t hurt her. What was going on?

  “What the hell is happening?” Henry asked from the window.

  “Give me a minute, Henry,” Panacea said. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  She ran her finger up and down Zel’s arm. Zel felt nothing, but in the wake of Panacea’s touch the designs rose and stayed visible for a good five or six seconds.

  Zel frowned, or she would have if she could have moved her face. The designs weren’t wards. But they did look familiar. It took her a moment to place them.

  They were scrollwork. They had run along the blade of Sonny’s sword.

  Panacea sighed. “Close the window, Henry.”

  “About time,” he said, and the window slammed. Zel couldn’t even move her neck to see what he had done. Would this silver stuff get deep inside her? Would it make her stop breathing?

  She felt panic rise within her, but she didn’t know how to communicate it.

  Henry stalked over to the couch from the window, took one look at Zel, and the blood left his face. “What are you doing about this?” he asked Panacea.

  “Exploring it,” Panacea said.

  “Well, do something now, because she’s in distress,” he said.

  If Zel could nod, she would have.

  “I’m not sure what, exactly, to do,” Panacea said. “You see this?”

  She ran her hand along Zel’s arm again. The scrollwork rose and remained visible for even longer this time.

  “I believe it’s Sonny’s sword. It is part of her,” Panacea said. “I believe the dark magic we removed from her wasn’t directed at her. It was directed at Sonny.”

  “Or embedded in the sword,” Henry said.

  Or absorbed by the sword, Zel wanted to say.

  “You’ll have to get it out of her,” Henry said.

  “I’m not sure I have that kind of magic,” Panacea said. “I don’t think healing magic will fix it. And I’m not sure it should be removed.”

  “I am,” Henry said. He reached down and wrapped his fingers around Zel’s wrist. She couldn’t feel those either.

  Panacea put her hand on Henry’s arm, stopping him. “This isn’t a malicious spell. This is a protect spell.”

  “I see that,” he snapped. “I also see that it’s killing her.”

  He pulled Zel’s arm upward. The movement ached something fierce. Her rigid muscles creaked and popped, and then she felt something loosen in her wrist.

  Henry was holding a hilt—a familiar hilt. It was the hilt to Sonny’s sword. Not the faded, rusted, and graying version of the sword that Zel had seen at the house, but the polished black hilt that sparkled in the light.

  Henry stepped bac
kwards, pulling on the hilt. As he did so, the sword left Zel’s body, rising like a coating that was inexpertly applied. As it moved off her, she could feel the stuffy air in the room on the skin of her arm.

  Panacea watched, her expression flat, as if she wasn’t sure this was the right thing.

  The sword had spread out over Zel’s skin, and was now reassembling itself. And it looked healthy and glowing, not like the dying version she had seen beneath the skylight.

  She felt lighter as the sword left. Her muscles loosened, and the stiffness left.

  She leaned backwards and would have fallen onto the pillows if Panacea hadn’t put her hand behind Zel’s back, keeping her upright.

  “Are you all right?” Panacea asked.

  Zel licked her lips, happy to be moving. She was about to answer, when she saw Henry stagger backwards under the weight of the sword.

  “You need to set that down right now,” she said to Henry.

  He looked at her over the sword. “I—”

  “It’s warded,” she said. “That’s Sonny’s sword. You can only touch it if you have Sonny’s permission. And if you don’t—”

  Henry bent down and set the sword on the floor. Not a moment too soon either, because it flared its warning magic—bright red. If Henry had still been touching it, that flare would have been followed by a sharp jolt of energy. If that hadn’t forced him to drop the sword, the repeated jolts would.

  “Wow,” he said, staring at it. “Thank you.”

  Zel nodded. Her throat still ached, but she felt a lot more like herself.

  “How the heck did that sword get inside you?” he asked Zel.

  But Panacea answered—thank the Powers, because Zel had no idea.

  “It had a protect spell, one designed to protect Rapunzel,” Panacea said. “It clearly activated, but the spell went awry, I think. The sword tried to become a shield, protecting her from all that dark magic.”

  “The dark magic coated the sword?” Henry asked, still looking down.

  Zel shook her head. “The magic was inside me,” she said. “The sword—”

  Well, she wasn’t certain. Because there were two ways this could have gone. She could have been carrying the darkness for a long time. Then the sword tried to protect her, and the darkness caused the sword’s magic to go awry.