Dark Heart of Magic

by Jennifer Estep

  “Vance!” Devon called out again, annoyance creeping into his voice. “C’mon, man! You can see her tomorrow!”

  No response.

  Felix flashed his light around. “Um, does anyone else feel like this is turning into a really bad horror movie? You know, three kids go into the woods late at night, none of them come back . . .”

  “Well, you can stay here . . . by yourself,” I said in a sweet voice. “Because nothing bad ever happens to the person who stays behind while the heroes go investigate the creepy woods.”

  He swallowed and looked around again. “I’m just trying to avoid becoming a really bad cliché.”

  “Don’t be silly,” I said. “This is much worse than a horror movie. We have real monsters around these parts, remember?”

  “Way to reassure me,” Felix sniped.

  But I drew my sword, just in case he was right. So did Devon.

  We kept going, deeper and deeper into the woods. We didn’t speak, and the only sound was the rustle-rustle of our passage through the underbrush, along with the steady breeze.

  The wind was probably the only reason I spotted it.

  Something fluttered at the edge of my vision, something that wasn’t a shadow, a pile of leaves, or a branch dancing in the breeze.

  “Hold up a second,” I called out.

  Devon and Felix stopped, shining their lights in my direction. I went over, crouched down, and picked up something smooth and silky from the forest floor. Despite the darkness, I could tell exactly what it was—a white feather from a Sinclair cavalier hat.

  So Vance had been back here after all. But the weird thing was that part of the feather was dark and wet as though it had been doused in something sticky. I frowned and stuck the feather out into the beam of Felix’s flashlight.

  Blood glistened on it.

  Felix cursed and almost dropped his flashlight. Devon whirled around, shining his own light back and forth, his sword up and ready in case a monster came charging out of the trees toward us. We all held our breath, but nothing happened.

  And I realized that I hadn’t heard any natural sounds the whole time we’d been walking. No trolls chattering in the trees, no rockmunks scurrying through the bushes, not even some bullfrogs bellowing out a low, steady chorus.

  The woods were quiet—too quiet.

  My stomach twisted. I knew what we were going to find, and so did Devon and Felix, from the worried looks on their faces. I got to my feet, and they came over and shined their flashlights all around the area where I’d found the feather. About five feet away, I spotted another one, and then another one a few feet beyond that.

  All of them were covered in blood.

  I tightened my grip on my sword and followed the blood-and-feather trail. Fifty feet deeper into the woods, I rounded a tree and there he was.

  Vance.

  He was sitting up against the trunk of a blood persimmon tree, ripe fruit littering the ground around him, and a sweet, sticky scent filling the air. Vance’s legs were splayed out in front of him as if he’d had too much to drink and was sleeping it off out here in the middle of nowhere.

  “Vance!” Devon called out, hurrying over to his side. “There you are! We were worried about you—”

  His flashlight beam fell on Vance, and the words died on his lips. Vance’s blue eyes were wide open in pain and fear, and his hands were zip-tied together. His cavalier hat was clutched to his stomach, feathers and all, as if he’d used it to try and stop the blood loss from the deep, vicious cut visible through his white shirt.

  And it wasn’t the only one.

  Almost a dozen cuts marred Vance’s arms, chest, and legs, the red wounds looking almost like the black greasepaint a football player would swipe across his skin. A piece of duct tape had been slapped over his mouth to muffle his screams, and his eyes were already cold and glassy.

  Dead—Vance was dead.

  Murdered.

  We all stared at Vance. It couldn’t have been more than a minute, but it felt like forever. Finally, Devon let out a vicious curse, got to his feet, and ran his hand through his dark hair.

  “Who . . . who would do this?” he demanded. “And why? Vance might not have been the nicest guy, but he didn’t deserve this.”

  Felix shook his head and clutched his stomach. He looked like he was going to be sick. Yeah. Me too.

  I let out a tense breath. “Let me try something. We can’t help Vance now, but maybe we can at least figure out who did this to him.”

  “How?” Devon asked.

  I told him and Felix about what I’d seen and felt when I’d looked into the eyes of the murdered tree troll that we’d found beside the dumpster off the Midway.

  Devon frowned. “And you think that has something to do with this?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. But it’s all I can do for Vance now.”

  He nodded. “Do it.”

  So I sank down on my knees in front of Vance. Devon and Felix moved their lights so that they were focused on Vance’s chest instead of glaring straight into his face. I drew in another breath, let it out, and moved over so that my eyes were directly in front of Vance’s.

  My gaze locked with his, and his pain knifed straight through my heart.

  Over and over again, a dagger lashed out, cutting Vance’s arms and legs and chest. Every time he tried to move, to run, to get away, he would see the black gleam of the dagger out of the corner of his eye. Then the weapon would erupt out of the shadows and slice into him again—and again—and again.

  He couldn’t yell, not with that duct tape over his mouth, and he couldn’t fight back, since his hands were tied together. But I could hear his silent screams in my head as he staggered through the woods. No, no, no, no!

  And that wasn’t the only thing I could hear.

  Soft, heartless laughter accompanied every single swipe of the blade, and it didn’t stop. Not even for a second. Instead, the laughter got louder and louder, the more pain Vance was in, the more cuts were inflicted on him, the more he suffered.

  It was the most horrible sound I’d ever heard.

  I gasped, trying to look away from Vance’s sightless eyes, desperate to wrench my gaze from his, but I couldn’t—I just couldn’t.

  A choked sob escaped my lips, and more and more pain spread through my entire body, tearing through my skin and muscles one at a time as though that dagger were slicing through me instead of Vance—

  Suddenly, Devon was there, pulling my face into his chest and away from Vance’s awful, awful gaze.

  “It’s okay,” Devon said, rocking me back and forth the way he might a child. “It’s okay. It happened to him, not you. You’re safe, Lila. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  I buried my face against his chest, not even trying to hold back my sobs anymore. Devon’s hand slid through my hair, trying to soothe me. I shuddered and let him hold me.

  But all the while, that terrible, terrible laughter echoed in my head.

  The same cruel, evil laughter I’d heard when we’d found that murdered tree troll behind the dumpster on the Midway.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Felix called his dad and told Angelo what was going on. We stayed with Vance until the rest of the Sinclairs showed up. Claudia, Angelo, Reginald, Mo, Oscar. They all came, along with several guards, and they all stared at Vance’s body, as shocked and horrified as the three of us.

  I told Claudia and the others what I’d seen when I’d used my soulsight on Vance, and she and Mo put their heads together, wondering who might have done this. But I hadn’t seen the killer, only heard that sick, sick laughter. I hadn’t liked Vance, and he hadn’t liked me either, but Devon was right. Vance hadn’t deserved this—this level of heartless cruelty. And now, I couldn’t even tell Claudia who had murdered him.

  I felt like a complete and utter failure.

  I didn’t dare look at Vance again, not even for a second, so Devon put his arm around my shoulder and led me out of the woods, with Felix on my
other side and Oscar fluttering around us. We got into one of the Sinclair SUVs, and Reginald drove us home.

  Devon made sure that I got to my room okay, then handed me off to Oscar, who ordered me to take a hot shower, put on some pajamas, and get into bed. I did as the pixie asked, even though I felt disconnected from my own body as though someone else were going through the motions for me.

  Oscar fussed over me, pulling the sheets and comforter all the way up to my chin. Then he flew over to his trailer, rustled around inside, and came back out with a pixie sword. It was no bigger than a needle, but a dull stain on the end told me that it had been dipped in poison, probably copper crusher venom. Poison was often the only way pixies could survive against larger mortals, magicks, and monsters.

  Oscar fluttered back over and landed on my nightstand. “Don’t you worry about a thing, cupcake. I’m going to keep watch tonight. Ain’t nobody getting to you the way they did to Vance. Tiny will stand watch too, won’t you, Tiny?”

  Over in his corral, the tortoise let out a low, huffing noise that sounded like a yes, his black eyes strangely bright in his green face.

  Oscar saluted me with his sword, then started marching back and forth on my nightstand, moving from one side to the other with quick, precise movements, like a soldier standing guard.

  The idea of him watching over me was comforting, and I fell asleep with the steady clack-clack-clack of his cowboy boots ringing in my ears.

  I didn’t think that I would rest at all, much less sleep, but I didn’t wake up until Oscar nudged my shoulder the next morning.

  “What’s going on?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”

  The pixie looked at me, his violet eyes dark and serious. “Claudia wants everyone down in the dining hall ASAP.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the black duffel bag sitting on the coffee table. “I’ve already got your stuff packed up for the tournament.”

  That cleared the last dregs of sleep from my mind. I sat up in bed. “The tournament? Don’t tell me they’re still having it? What about Vance?”

  Oscar shrugged. “Claudia told the other Families, but they think it’s an accident—that Vance went too far into the woods and got clawed up by a monster.”

  “A monster that can use duct tape and zip ties? Yeah, sure.” I snorted. “A monster killed him all right—but it was a human one.”

  “I know,” Oscar said in a somber voice. “I’ve never seen anybody cut up like that before. It was . . . vicious. Even though there wasn’t all that much blood.”

  No blood, just bones and blades . . . bones and blades . . . bones and blades....

  Seleste Draconi’s singsong voice echoed in my mind. I shivered the way I always did whenever I thought about her creepy warning, but this time I forced myself to really think about her words.

  No blood, just bones and blades. . . . No blood, just bones.... No blood....

  That’s what all the horrible things that had happened over the past few days had in common—no blood. The murdered tree troll behind the dumpster off the Midway. The slaughtered troll that Devon, Felix, and I had found on the Draconi property. All the other troll bodies in the ravine. And now Vance.

  None of them had been as bloody as they should have been, despite all the deep, vicious cuts on their bodies. Of course, Vance’s blood had probably soaked into the ground. But something about no blood kept nagging at me—

  “—but surely, that’s not the first time you’ve seen something as horrible as Vance’s body,” Oscar said. Apparently, he’d been talking this whole time. “I mean, that library where you lived was in a bad part of town. There are plenty of monsters there, especially at night.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. And every once in a while, I’d see the remains of some smaller creature that the bigger monsters had snacked on. But Vance . . . all those cuts on his body . . . it was something else. Worse than anything I’ve seen before, except for finding my mom’s body—and watching Grant and those two guards getting eaten by the lochness a few weeks ago.”

  “But you were just defending yourself and Devon,” Oscar said. “Grant betrayed the whole Family, and he tried to rip out Devon’s magic. Yours too. At least the lochness got a meal out of him before the end. Monsters have to eat too, you know. But poor Vance. He died out there in the woods all alone. And for what? Nothing.”

  I frowned. Something about Oscar’s words tugged at a corner of my mind. Something about Grant and the horrible things he’d done to Devon and me. Something about ripping out a person’s magic.

  And just like that, part of the puzzle clicked together in my mind.

  “No blood,” I whispered. “No blood.”

  Oscar frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Vance,” I said. “He was cut to pieces, but there wasn’t a lot of blood on him or even around his body.”

  “So. . . . ”

  I drew in a breath. “So there wasn’t any blood because somebody ripped his magic out of him. That’s why they cut him so much. They wanted his blood, his power, his magic.”

  I thought back, picturing that dagger I’d seen cutting into Vance again and again. I hadn’t been able to see any scrollwork on the hilt, but the blade itself had been dark—pulsing with a midnight-black glow. I could have smacked myself for not remembering it sooner.

  “The person who killed Vance had a black blade,” I said. “And they used it to soak up all his blood, all his magic.”

  “But why take Vance’s magic?” Oscar asked, his wings twitching in thought. “I mean, yeah, he had Talents for speed and strength, but Vance wasn’t the most powerful guy around. If you were going to take someone’s magic, wouldn’t you try to get the strongest person with the most power?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. “But I’m going to find out.”

  I took a shower, put on my ren-faire getup, and went to the dining hall. Practically everyone in the Family was crowded inside, but the room was quiet, and the mood was somber. Everyone knew what had happened to Vance, and it had shaken up all of us.

  I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I piled a plate full of food, heavy on the bacon strips, and headed over to the table where Devon, Felix, and Mo were sitting. All of them looked tired, and they’d barely touched their breakfasts.

  “Hey, kid,” Mo said, his voice flat and lifeless as he picked at the pancakes on his plate. “I hope you got more sleep than the rest of us did.”

  “I think I know why Vance was killed.”

  That got their attention, and their heads snapped up. I leaned forward and told them what I thought had happened to Vance.

  When I finished, Devon frowned. “But why Vance? Oscar’s right. If you were going to rip out someone’s magic, wouldn’t you do it to someone more powerful? Or someone who had a more unique Talent?”

  “Like soulsight, compulsion, or transference magic?” I asked in a wry tone.

  Devon winced, but he still nodded. “Yeah. Like those.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Vance was already out in the woods. Maybe he’d been making out with a girl, like you said. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “But you thought Vance was a bad guy,” Felix said. “That he was the one who cut the rope ladder.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. I don’t know anymore. And I don’t know how Vance’s murder fits in with what happened to all those tree trolls.”

  “I asked around about your murdered monsters,” Mo said. “It’s probably some idiot in town for the tournament, trying to prove what a tough guy he is by trapping and killing a bunch of monsters. Some folks like to show off like that. It happened last year.”

  “What happened last year?”

  “A couple of tree trolls were found all cut up,” Mo said. “I heard about it from one of the Volkov pixies when I was making my rounds at the tournament yesterday. Their guards found the trolls on the edge of the Volkov property arou
nd this time last year. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and it sounds just like what you, Devon, and Felix saw the other night.”

  I frowned. “Did the Volkovs ever figure out who had killed the trolls? Or why?”

  Mo shrugged. “Not that the pixie had heard.”

  I started to ask another question, but Claudia strode into the dining hall, a sword dangling from her hand. Everyone stopped eating and talking and turned to face her. She was wearing another black pantsuit and heels, with her silver cuff flashing on her right wrist. Her makeup was flawless, but tired lines grooved around her mouth and eyes. No doubt she’d been up all night, dealing with the Vance situation.

  Claudia looked out over her Family, her gaze moving from one face to the next. “By now, you have all heard what happened to Vance,” she said. “That his body was found cut up in the woods along the lake. With the tournament and all the tourists in town right now, the other Families have declared it a tragic accident. They’re saying that Vance wandered too far into the woods and was attacked and killed by a monster. As a result of their declaration, the Tournament of Blades will proceed as scheduled today.”

  Mutters of shock and surprise rang out, with the loudest and angriest ones coming from the table where Vance’s friends were sitting, including Henry, who’d made a full recovery from his broken leg.

  “But we all know that it wasn’t an accident,” Claudia continued in a hard voice. “That Vance was an experienced guard, too experienced to be taken down by some mysterious monster without fighting back for everything he was worth.”

  Murmurs of agreement rippled through the dining hall.

  Claudia waited until the noise died down before she spoke again. “There is nothing I can do about the other Families declaring Vance’s death an accident. So we will go to the tournament today, and we will fight, and we will honor Vance the best way we can. Understood?”

  This time, the murmurs were much louder, and every single person nodded his or her head in agreement, including me.