Charmfall

by Chloe Neill

  “Try again,” Daniel said softly. “Just one more time.”

  Jill nodded, then repeated her magic prep again. Fists open and closed, rolling shoulders, the pushing of the hands.

  But the bottle didn’t waver.

  Jill let out a soft sob. She turned around, tears brimming in her lashes, and went to her sister. They hugged.

  “This is going to last forever, isn’t it?” Paul asked, panic in his voice. “That machine doesn’t work, and we don’t have any other ideas, and we’re screwed. Our magic is gone.”

  “It’s my fault,” Detroit said, her voice softer this time and not nearly as confident. “The machine doesn’t work. I’d hoped—” she began but she shook her head, then wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I’d hoped I could still do it. Anyone can make a machine. You don’t need magic for that. But I make machines that interact with magic. They recognize it. Test it. Use it. That’s my power. That’s my talent.”

  She quieted and looked away, and this time didn’t bother to stop the tear that slid down her cheek. “My magic is gone,” she said. “Now I’m just a two-bit hobbyist. I might as well start building battle bots.”

  “I like battle bots,” Michael said, a quirky smile on his face. Detroit looked at him and smiled, but you could see the hurt ran pretty deep.

  “Our magic isn’t gone,” Daniel said. “This is Chicago—not some fairy tale city. Magic doesn’t just disappear without a reason. Someone is behind this—someone has turned off our magic, which means we focus on figuring out who that is and making things right again.”

  This might have been hard for all of us, and it might have been hard for Daniel, but you couldn’t see it to look at him. He was a good motivator—a “never let ’em see you sweat” kind of guy. It was just the kind of thing we needed right now.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t give us our magic back.

  “Don’t lose your heads over a temporary circumstance,” he said. “And that’s what this is—a temporary circumstance.”

  “Or it’s practice,” Paul said. “Like losing our magic before we even get good at it. That sucks.”

  “See? It’s an opportunity,” Daniel chuckled. “You guys are seriously making me feel like Pollyanna today.” That got a laugh in the Enclave. “Look, this is hard. This situation sucks, and I know that for sure, because I’m a lot closer to giving it all up than you are. It’s hard to face a lifetime without it. But it’s not impossible. It’s a gift, a really particular kind of gift, but life goes on. And now you know that.”

  Jason’s phone rang, breaking the silence. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen, then frowned. Without another word, he walked to the Enclave door, pulled it open, and walked outside. It shut with a heavy thud that sent a little frizzle of panic through my chest. Was this the call? The one that pulled him home again, never to return?

  Michael walked over. “What was that about?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, eyes still on the door. “Family stuff, I guess.”

  “He’s been quiet about that lately. I don’t think he wants to go home.”

  I looked back at Michael, wanting to believe him. “Why do you say that?”

  Michael shrugged. “He doesn’t talk about it a lot. I think he has a lot of frustration about them, about their ways. He came up here to get away from it, but it seems to follow him. He wants to have his own life, you know? A separate life.”

  “Separate from their rules?”

  “Yeah. He told you it was a curse?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “It weighs on him. He joined up with the Enclave to help make a difference, because he wanted something good to come of it. He thinks you’re something good to come from it, too.”

  I felt my cheeks warm, and I appreciated the admission. “Thanks, Michael. I know he’s glad you’re friends.”

  “He should be. I kick butt.” He did a fake karate chop that most definitely did not kick butt.

  “And speaking of kicking butt,” Scout said, loud enough for the rest of the Enclave to hear, “we can’t just sit around and wait for something to happen. I have to stay busy.”

  “You will,” Daniel said. “There’s one more thing on the agenda tonight.”

  We all looked at him.

  “The Reapers kept their magic longer than we did,” he said. “That suggests the blackout is part of an organized plan. Probably not by Reapers, unless something backfired and rebounded on them. But they’re even keener to keep their magic than we are. So there’s no doubt they’re looking into it. And if they’re looking into it, they’re probably talking about it.”

  “That’s just because half the Reapers are teenage girls,” Paul said with a grin. Jamie punched him in the arm, which Scout and I applauded.

  “Whatever the reason,” Daniel said, “that means it’s time to visit the sanctuary and see what we can see. That’s why Detroit is here—she’ll plant a camera so we have good eyes on the place. The Council was very pleased about the last time the Enclaves worked together. Well, except for the part about imploding the other sanctuary. That wasn’t exactly a Council-approved action.”

  Scout blushed a little, but still looked pretty pleased with herself. We had helped Detroit and Naya, another Adept from Enclave Two who could call and communicate with ghosts, investigate a sanctuary where Reapers had been looking for the solution to magical immortality. Scout destroyed it by sucking everything out of it like a magical vacuum cleaner. It had been pretty sweet, but I could understand why the Council was concerned. A magic spell beneath Chicago sucking out the building’s insides? Yeah, I could see how that would worry people.

  “Jill, Jamie, Paul, make a patrol of the tunnels. Make sure the Reapers aren’t reacting badly to losing their magic by wreaking even more havoc. Detroit, Michael, Jason, Lily, and Scout, visit the sanctuary,” Daniel said. “Get eyes on the interior and find out what you can. And if you could, come back with an answer about why we have no magic . . . and a solution for getting it back.”

  Oh, so a simple trip, then.

  8

  A few weeks ago, an order like that would have freaked us out. But now it really didn’t sound so bad. Sure, we didn’t have magic. But if Sebastian was telling the truth, Reapers didn’t, either.

  And we were getting better at sneaking around the tunnels. Visiting a sanctuary was mostly about sneaking around tunnels.

  I’d been to this particular sanctuary only once—and that had been to rescue Scout. I’d used my firespell for the first time, and Jamie, Jill, Paul, Jason, and Michael and I had managed to get her out again.

  But that didn’t mean I was thrilled about going back. Sanctuaries were the Reaper versions of Enclaves—where they met, where they made decisions, and where people without magic were introduced to it in the worst possible way—by having bits of their souls sucked away. I was not looking forward to facing down a nest of Reapers if we managed to get caught.

  This sanctuary was in a former power substation, with two access doors—one in front, and one in back. Like Enclave Three, it was also underground, but was separated from our HQ by a lot of dark and twisty tunnels.

  You know, if we knew the way to get to the sanctuary, the Reapers probably could figure out how to get to the Enclave and St. Sophia’s. That explained how they kept popping up at our door. Maybe it was time to think about making some new arrangements.

  “You ever think it would just be easier if the sanctuary and the Enclave were right next door to each other?” Scout whispered.

  The light from our flashlights bobbed up and down as we walked side by side through the tunnels, Detroit in front of us. The boys decided the “strongest Adepts” needed to be at the front and back of the team, so Jason was in the lead and Michael was last.

  “I was actually just thinking about that,”
I said. “It’s too easy to get from one place to the other. I mean, if we’re supposed to be a splinter group trying to bring down the Reapers, setting up camp a few tunnels over isn’t exactly a smart move for security purposes.”

  “It was at the time,” Detroit said, glancing back at us. “The Enclaves were started by Dark Elite members who wanted to change things, but they were still considered part of the Dark Elite. Other Reapers would have been suspicious if they just stopped showing up to meetings and whatnot, so they established little hideaways not far from the sanctuaries. That way, they could sneak over after meetings or whatever.”

  “Which is why, if you look at the map in the City Room, the sanctuaries and Enclaves are always pretty close together,” I said.

  “Yes,” Detroit primly said, and I had the sense the Enclave Two Adepts knew a lot of stuff that we didn’t. “Except for our Enclave. We’re aboveground.”

  Of course they were. We had a stone room in an underground tunnel. They had labs and workout rooms and so on and so on.

  Enclave Three had a werewolf.

  Enclave Two had a benefactor.

  * * *

  We slowed as we got closer to the sanctuary. We also got quieter and huddled a little closer together. There was no telling whether the Reapers had patrols out and about, and it wasn’t like we could do much to defend ourselves.

  After a moment, Jason stopped and put a hand in the air, then made a fist.

  Immediately, the rest of us stopped and switched off our flashlights. I moved a little closer to Scout. This part of the tunnel was pitch-black, and it was comforting to have someone nearby. I strained my ears to figure out what he’d heard, but could hear only the thumping of my rabbit-fast heart.

  That was when I heard them—two voices, a few tunnels away, which gave their voices a weird metallic echo.

  “No, it’s because they think he’s weak,” said one man.

  “He is weak,” agreed another. “We don’t have magic.”

  Scout reached out and squeezed my hand. Sebastian had been telling us the truth—the Reapers didn’t have magic, either.

  “You heard the rumors?”

  “Yeah,” the other guy said after a minute. “I heard ’em.”

  “You think they’re true?”

  “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know fact from fiction anymore.”

  What rumors? I wondered, and had to squeeze my lips together from calling out a question: Who took our magic away?

  “I don’t have a clue,” said the first guy. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “The Scions won’t put up with this for long. And I don’t care how the other sanctuaries do it—we’re the first sanctuary, the alpha and omega. We should not be lying around and waiting for our magic to start working again.”

  “That’s why this entire organization is going to hell,” said the other one.

  The footsteps moved closer, as did the faint glow of a flashlight somewhere down the line. We all froze, our shoulders pressed against one another’s, squeezed into a tight knot as we waited in the dark.

  “I don’t even know why we bother patrolling. There’s nothing out here.”

  “Jeremiah’s nervous. No magic, and you start to think every shadow is a boogeyman.”

  “Says something about life without magic,” muttered the other guy.

  “Yes, it does.” His voice dropped a little deeper, like the conversation was getting more serious.

  There was silence for a minute, but the lights ahead flickered, like the guys were swinging their flashlights back and forth . . . looking for us.

  “Let’s go back.”

  “Fine,” the other one said. “But if he has another fit, it’s your head this time.”

  After a moment, we heard footsteps moving away. And when silence descended again, Jason flipped on his flashlight and turned back to us.

  Michael was the first to speak. “That confirms their magic isn’t working.”

  “And they don’t seem to know why,” Jason added.

  “I am very happy their magic isn’t working,” Scout said. “I also want to know what rumors they’re talking about. Let’s move closer.”

  “Is that a good idea?” I asked. “We’re, what, five hundred feet from the sanctuary? It’s not going to get any safer.”

  “We have to plant the camera,” Detroit reminded us. “We have to move closer.”

  “We’ll go lights out,” Jason said, switching off his flashlight again. “We’ll get as close to the sanctuary as possible, and we’ll see if they have any guesses about who’s turned off the magic. If all else fails, I’ll change, sneak in, and check things out. No problem.”

  Without a better plan, we kept moving.

  * * *

  After a few minutes we reached the well-lit area where the tunnel opened into an access area. From there, you could get to other parts of the city’s underground tunnels or head upstairs to the street. Or, if you really wanted, you could climb the set of concrete stairs that led up to a small platform and a metal door—the front door to the sanctuary.

  We crowded into the threshold of the tunnel and peered out. There was no sign of the men, who’d either gone back into the building or disappeared into a secondary tunnel. But that didn’t slow my heartbeat any. Inside the sanctuary was a giant banner that bore a Reaper quatrefoil—and beneath it was the table where Scout had been used by Reapers for her own energy.

  I reached out and squeezed her hand. It was cold and clammy, and when I glanced over at her, she looked a little pale.

  “You okay?”

  “Just . . . remembering,” she said, but swallowed hard. “No problem.”

  “Should we go in?” Michael whispered.

  For a moment, no one answered.

  “I’ve got one more thing to try.”

  We all looked at Detroit. Nervously, she opened her black satchel and pulled out a black plastic beetle a few inches long. She held it in the palm of her hand.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s like an X-ray camera,” she said. “It will filter out the concrete and pipes and stuff and we can get a visual on the room. Sound, too. It’s a bug,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Get it?”

  “What’s the catch?” Jason asked.

  She looked up at him. “We have to get it inside. Just sticking it on the door isn’t enough. It can see through only so much concrete, so it needs to be on the wall of the room you want to look into.”

  Jason winced, then looked up at her. “I hate to ask—”

  “It will work,” she interrupted. “I promise it will work.”

  There was another moment of silence as we debated our options. Going inside the sanctuary was a huge risk, and if Detroit’s beetle thingy didn’t work, it was a huge risk with no benefit. On the other hand, if the Reapers weren’t responsible for the magical blackout, who was? Who else had the power to do it? We had to find that out.

  “It will work,” Detroit repeated, and I held out my hand. Everyone looked at me.

  “It will work,” I said. “I know it will. And I’ll get it inside. You just need to tell me how to do it.”

  Her eyes widened. “You believe me?”

  “Your word is good enough for me,” I said. After all, if I could trust Sebastian, the least I could do was trust an Adept. That was a no-brainer.

  Detroit nodded and handed over the beetle. It was heavier than I thought. It was nice and solid, and that was comforting somehow.

  But Jason wasn’t thrilled with my plan. “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “You could get hurt.”

  I shook my head. My mind was already made up. “I’m the only one who can go. Detroit’s too valuable to risk—she’s the only one who can actually do something useful r
ight now. Scout’s a spellbinder—she can’t be risked—and Michael’s a pacifist.”

  That was only half-true. He probably wasn’t really a pacifist, but he wasn’t a fighter, either.

  “And me?” Jason asked.

  “You need to stay out here and keep them safe. And if I get pinched, you need to come rescue me.”

  I thought that sounded cute, but he didn’t really look swayed. Stubborn werewolf boyfriends.

  But since he wasn’t going to suddenly agree this was a good idea, I looked at Detroit. “There’s a main meeting room inside the sanctuary. It’s just at the end of the hall. I’ll pop in, stick the bug on the wall, and be right back out before you know it.”

  “She’s right,” Scout said. “She’s the best one for the job.”

  It took a minute, but Jason finally nodded. “Fine. But if you get hurt, I’m going to be really irritated with you.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I hoped it would be good enough.

  9

  It should be a simple operation: climb the steps, open the door, walk down a hallway, and stick the beetle on the wall outside the sanctuary’s main room. I had to press a button on its back to turn it on, and as soon as a light came on that confirmed it was connected to Detroit’s video screen, I was done and could run out again.

  It should be simple, but with nerves pumping, it sounded like a lot of steps to me.

  We were still stuffed into the opening of the tunnel, while Detroit walked through the steps one more time. But I hardly heard her. My eyes were on Jason, who stared back at me just as hard.

  “Could this be a trap?” I asked, my hands shaking with nerves and adrenaline. I squeezed my fingers around the bug to keep from dropping it.

  “It’s not a trap,” Detroit said. “It’s an Enclave Two–style mission. You can do this.”

  “You can do it,” Scout agreed, putting an arm around my shoulder. “Pop in, pop on, pop out. Get it done right and I’ll let you borrow my messenger bag, skull and all.”