Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Audrey released him. He fell to his knees.

  “He needs to run,” Audrey said. Her words were perfectly formed, though harsh and guttural. The beta was exceedingly skilled at wielding her shapeshifter magic. According to Kandy, talking while in half-form was difficult to master. There was something tricky about keeping human vocal cords intact while transforming.

  Kandy’s answering snarl sounded like a negative response. But then she and Audrey both swiftly transformed again, taking on their wolf forms. Kandy was the smaller of the two, and her pelt was a lighter gray than Audrey’s. They would blend in better in their animal forms, though it seemed doubtful that Westport had many wolves roaming its beaches. However, even among the trees, the werewolf was going to be a little obvious.

  Audrey leaped over Henry and disappeared into the woods. Kandy circled the crouched werewolf, then slammed her shoulder into him, pushing him after Audrey.

  He followed the beta, with Kandy literally nipping at his heels.

  “He’s embarrassed,” Drake said. “Embarrassed about being bitten?”

  “No,” I said. “Embarrassed about not being able to control his magic.”

  “But it’s new to him. He’ll learn.”

  “He’s an adult. He has expectations of himself. Being … clumsy makes us feel stupid.”

  Drake looked doubtful, but then shrugged his shoulders.

  Kett’s peppermint magic moved away behind us. The vampire was tracking the shapeshifters from a distance. Or maybe he was simply patrolling the area.

  Drake followed Kett back through the woods. Warner appeared on the dirt driveway just as the fledgling guardian was swallowed into the darkness on the far side of the acreage.

  I smirked at him over my shoulder. The two of them couldn’t have planned the transition better.

  The sentinel grinned at me but didn’t approach, choosing instead to lean against the front of the Ford Escape that was blocking the drive.

  I crossed to the Brave. Beau was back in his human form, wearing low-slung black sweatpants and giving me an eyeful of his gorgeous mocha-colored, well-muscled chest. Well, as much as I could discern by moonlight. With the green of his shapeshifter magic overriding the normal bright blue of his eyes, he contemplated the sentinel over my shoulder while guarding the door to the Brave.

  “Jade,” he said, acknowledging me but clearly not happy about it.

  “Beau.” I hit him with one of my blinding smiles.

  He smirked, but then looked upset. “Was that my fault? With Henry?”

  “I think the sight of the moon was already swaying him,” I answered carefully.

  “But I put him over?”

  “Probably.”

  He nodded, but didn’t move away from the door.

  “I’m here to see Rochelle.”

  “I got that.”

  “Do I have to go through you?” I said it as a joke, but it fell flat. Unfortunately, when I seriously outclassed someone magically, just about anything coming out of my mouth sounded like a threat.

  “Who’s the guy?” Beau asked, nodding over my shoulder at the sentinel glowering at him from the driveway.

  “Warner,” I answered. “Kett, a friend of ours, and Drake are walking the perimeter.”

  “The vampire and Chi Wen’s apprentice?”

  “Rochelle’s expecting them?”

  “Not exactly. I’m just putting stuff together,” Beau said. “Is Warner a dragon too?”

  “Yep.”

  “His magic smells different than Drake’s.”

  “His magic is different. But we mean you no harm.”

  “But you expected to be followed? Kandy texted that we should be ready to be mobile.”

  Beau was young — a few years my junior — yet he was crazy perceptive.

  “Yeah,” I said, sorry to admit it. “Maybe not, but …”

  “But.” Beau huffed out a sigh. “I’ll get us unhooked.”

  He stepped away from the door. “Rochelle’s waiting on you. She …” He shook his head at whatever caution he’d been about to voice. “Tell her I’m taking care of the Brave.”

  I nodded.

  He crossed around the front of the RV toward the cabin.

  Then, dreading every step, I reached up and unlatched the door before me. Willingly climbing into an RV with an oracle waiting for me was seriously low on my to-do list.

  More accurately, it was seriously high on my never-do list.

  ∞

  Rochelle was seated facing the door at the far side of a tiny, bright-green dinette table situated on the passenger’s side of the Brave, across from the kitchen area.

  The slight-framed oracle was clad in her typical uniform of a black hoodie, worn black jeans, and white-framed, bug-eyed tinted glasses. Oddly, though, only the lower five inches of her hair was dyed the jet black it had been the first time I met her. Her two-inch roots appeared to be pure white, with one full, thick streak of white running the length of her long wedge cut, from her center part to her blunt tips.

  Rochelle’s hair made me wonder about the far seer’s hair. I’d assumed that Chi Wen wore the visage of an old man by choice. All the guardian dragons appeared capable of halting their ageing process. I hadn’t even thought about his white hair being connected to his oracle or seer magic.

  I’d seen a trace of white in Rochelle’s hair after her vision in Portland and just hadn’t connected it back to her oracle magic. I’d been rather distracted at the time, helping her sneak away and being pissy with Desmond. So did oracle magic wear on the Adepts who wielded it? Differently than a witch’s or sorcerer’s magic?

  The thought was disconcerting, especially when factored in with Chi Wen inexplicably tagging along with Shailaja. Was the far seer losing it? Did seeing the future take a serious toll on an Adept’s mind?

  Though Rochelle’s face was relaxed, her hands were clenched over a large, thick sketchbook.

  I’d been staring at her for too long. “Hey,” I said as I stepped fully into the RV. “Rochelle.”

  “Jade.” She lifted her hand up to touch the thick rose-gold chain that rested at her collarbone. The remainder of her necklace — along with the massive raw diamond that I knew hung from it — was hidden underneath her hoodie. The magic of the necklace and Rochelle’s oracle power tasted of freshly harvested apples — tart and juicy on first bite, but sweet and complexly flavored underneath.

  “May I come in?”

  “Please do.”

  I reached back to shut the door behind me, aware that I was scaring the crap out of Rochelle but having no idea how not to do so.

  “Beau said to tell you he was taking care of the Brave.”

  Rochelle nodded stiffly, but didn’t respond further. Maybe mentioning that my uninvited visit was going to force them to move wasn’t a great lead-in.

  I stood a few feet away, smiling as I kept my hands in plain view. When that only upped the tension that was already threatening to overwhelm the small space, I opted for a benign topic of conversation. Of course, all I really had to talk about was cupcakes, chocolate, and magic.

  “There’s an apple festival at UBC in the fall. Usually in October.” I crossed to squeeze into the dinette across from Rochelle. Living full time in the Brave would be rather confining for me, but it apparently suited the oracle perfectly.

  “Yeah?”

  “They offer over sixty varieties of apples. You know, for tasting.” The RV was warm. I unbuttoned my silk jacket. “I usually just hit the marketplace. People bring toy wagons … you know those red plastic ones? I think they convert into a bench seat? That’s how many bags of apples they buy. I’ve been known to drop over a hundred dollars myself.”

  “I can’t taste my own magic,” Rochelle said, unimpressed.

  I faltered, aware that I was rambling. The tiny girl — woman — across the table from me made me nervous. I could probably crush her without really trying. Well, if I sat on her.

  “I’m here about the fa
r seer,” I said.

  “About? Not for?”

  “No … at least I don’t think so. Jesus. I don’t know. Maybe this is some sort of weird quest he’s sent me on.”

  “And you need to know if I’ve seen anything relevant.”

  I nodded.

  She spread her hands across her sketchbook.

  I flinched. I couldn’t help it.

  “So do you have any sketches of the far seer?” I asked optimistically. I was seriously hoping to do an end run around getting blasted with oracle magic.

  “No.”

  She removed her glasses, carefully placing them to the side, then lifted her oddly pale-gray eyes to meet my gaze.

  I tried to smile. The expression felt instantly false, so I dropped it.

  “I … I didn’t bring a gift,” I said, not knowing I was going to say it until I voiced the thought.

  “That’s okay. I don’t really need anything.”

  She turned her left hand palm up, then slid it halfway across the table toward me. Charcoal dusted her fingertips. I wondered if she’d been drawing before we arrived, or whether the tint was permanent.

  “No,” I said. “It’s … proper. A formal exchange.” I lifted my gaze from her hand to her necklace. “I’ll fortify your necklace. As I promised in Portland.”

  Rochelle instantly withdrew her hand, touching her necklace protectively.

  “You won’t have to take it off.”

  Relief flushed her face momentarily, but she quickly replaced it with a scowl. “Not necessary,” she muttered.

  “I can’t reach properly over the table. Come stand here.” I swung my legs off the edge of the bench seat so that Rochelle could stand before me without anything in between us. Then I waited for the oracle to make her decision.

  She slowly straightened from behind the table, keeping one of her hands curled around her necklace and one pressed over the sketchbook.

  “It won’t hurt. You probably won’t even feel it.”

  “I can feel you. Before you even entered the Brave. I can feel your energy. Your magic.”

  That was surprising. I didn’t know oracles could sense magic that way. I closed my eyes, giving my neck a roll. Then I inhaled to center myself, coaxing my necklace to absorb and dampen my magic. I’d never thought to do so around anyone else before, and I wasn’t certain how successful I’d be at it.

  Energy thrummed through the chain currently twined three times around my neck. I opened my eyes. “Better?”

  Rochelle nodded, stepping over to stand before me. Her fingers hesitated at the zipper of her hoodie. “What do you mean by ‘fortify?’ ”

  “What do you want?”

  “Can you hide my magic? Like you just did with yours?”

  “No. I don’t think so, anyway. I think you have to learn to do that yourself. But I think your necklace would already be receptive to that.”

  “Learn how? You just closed your eyes and breathed.”

  “I … um … Well, I’m not sure it works the same for you. It might be part of my alchemist powers. But I think it’s a matter of focal points. You know, grounding your energy within the energy of the necklace.”

  Rochelle nodded thoughtfully. Her gaze was cast somewhere around my left shoulder, but I didn’t think she was treating me warily, as she would a shapeshifter. She was simply thinking about her magic.

  “What fortifications can you offer, then?” she asked.

  “I can make sure no one but you can remove the necklace. I can lay protection spells on it so that it helps deflect any malicious magic flung your way.”

  Rochelle shifted her feet. “But you can’t take away the visions.”

  Something in her tone put me on edge. “I wouldn’t.”

  “But you could,” she whispered. It wasn’t a question.

  “So you’ve seen? In the past or the future?”

  “The past, I think. With the black witch on the beach.”

  I nodded, not sure what to do about Rochelle knowing my secret. Though the knowledge that I could drain the magic from an Adept really wasn’t that much of a secret anymore, now that Shailaja had my mangled katana. The oracle probably knew a lot of things about me that I would rather she didn’t.

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I said carefully. “I won’t harm you.”

  “I know. But if I asked?”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No. I would never steal your magic. I’ll never do it again. I’m not certain I was wholly aware I was doing so the last time.”

  Rochelle looked at me for a moment. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. The only times she appeared truly engaged were when Beau was around, and when she was wielding her oracle magic.

  “I’ll show you what I know,” she finally said. “What I’ve seen of you. And you’ll lay protection spells on my necklace so that no one can take the chain from me or harm me with magic.”

  “I can’t guarantee the second part. I can’t block against specific spells, but I can create a shield of sorts. A personal ward.”

  “I understand your stipulations.”

  I laughed. “Who have you been making deals with?”

  Rochelle stiffened her shoulders. “It’s important to be clear on our terms.”

  “Okay.”

  She reached for her necklace.

  “Leave it on. I’ll use your magic to tie it to you.”

  She bit her lip, then unzipped her hoodie.

  I reached up to place my forefinger and thumb on the chain, leaving my other fingers splayed on her upper rib cage and collarbone.

  I smiled. “I’m going to need some apple pie after this,” I said jokingly.

  Rochelle nodded, completely serious. “I’ll warm some up for you. It’s not homemade, but Beau liked it.”

  I laughed.

  Rochelle cracked a rare smile.

  Then I set to work on her necklace, tangling her magic with the magic already bound to the gold and the diamond. Smoothing it all with my own magic.

  I informed the necklace that it belonged solely to Rochelle and no one else. But I got some sort of feedback. “Huh,” I muttered. “Has anyone ever tried to take the necklace?”

  “No.”

  “I doubt they could have. When I tuned it to your oracle magic, I guess I already created that protection. Or it was inherent to the necklace.”

  “It was my mother’s.”

  Right. I’d known that. Rochelle’s mother had died — while possibly wearing this necklace — at the moment of her birth. I wondered if those coinciding events had magical ramifications as well.

  I turned my attention back to my alchemy, tugging magic from my own necklace and channeling it through my fingers into Rochelle’s chain. Then I blended it all, fusing it together to create a magical shield tied to the oracle.

  “Your eyes are glowing,” Rochelle murmured. Enamored, she brushed her fingers through my curls and got them tangled. “And your hair. Like you glow in my visions.”

  I lifted my hands away from the necklace, disengaging myself from Rochelle’s magic.

  She looked startled, as if only just realizing she was touching me. Hastily, she withdrew her hand. “Okay. My turn.”

  “Sure,” I said, attempting to not grind my teeth at the thought of having her oracle magic invading my mind.

  Rochelle zipped up her hoodie, hiding her necklace. Then she spread her feet slightly as if to anchor herself. “I’m still practicing,” she said apologetically.

  “Delightful.”

  She touched her fingertips to my forehead.

  Nothing happened.

  She pressed a tiny bit harder.

  Still nothing.

  “I … I don’t understand.”

  I sighed. “I do.” Casting my dowser senses outside, I tasted honey-roasted almonds more distinctly than black forest cake. I raised my voice slightly. “Drake?”

  A brief murmured exchange occurred outside the door between Beau and Drake. Then the fledgling guar
dian opened the door and climbed into the RV.

  “Hey, Rochelle,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

  The smile she offered him was fleeting but genuine.

  I took my necklace off and held it out to Drake.

  Rochelle stepped to the side, allowing Drake space to kneel before me. I looped the chain with its wedding rings around his neck twice. Then he rose.

  “Should I step out?”

  “I think so.”

  Drake flashed Rochelle another toothy grin, then left as quickly as he arrived.

  “Try again,” I said.

  Rochelle swallowed. Then she touched my forehead tentatively. The taste of apple intensified in my mouth.

  “Be specific,” I said. “Just show me exactly what you think is relevant.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

  Then the oracle electrocuted my brain.

  Okay. It wasn’t quite that bad. But she did shove a series of images at me so quickly that I couldn’t see or hear anything else.

  “Jesus!” I cried out without meaning to.

  Rochelle gasped, removing her hands and curling them into fists.

  “Just do it, oracle,” I growled as I squeezed my eyes shut.

  Her cool fingers touched my temples. Then I was standing ankle-deep in the snow on a smooth stone pathway, looking at a doorway carved into a mountain.

  I’d been there before.

  “This is wrong,” I said, realizing that it was the time of day that was wrong as I spoke. I’d assumed I was looking at the door to the temple of the centipede, but the mountain before me was illuminated by evening light. It was too dark to have been that day in Peru. The snow was too plentiful as well. And as the vision grew clearer, I saw that the door was carved into the granite, not simply outlined by glowing runes.

  Leaves and flowers were embossed into the stone of the doorway, which was easily fifteen feet high and eight feet wide. I couldn’t see a handle or hinges.

  I blinked. Then I found myself looking at Rochelle, who was chewing on her lower lip.

  “Stop doing that,” I said. “You’ll get chapped.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me grumpily.

  I grinned. It was better if I annoyed her. I’d take that over scaring her any day. “Do you know where that door is?”

  She shook her head.

  “Do you have a picture?”