Saved by the Spell. House of Magic 2.

by Susanna Shore

  “Nice,” Giselle said, and I agreed. Not that I ever cooked.

  The door to the cellar was next to the pantry, and original by the look of it. It opened soundlessly though, and the electric fixtures on the other side were less than two decades old.

  We headed down the concrete steps, with Amber slowing Blackhart’s descent by holding the ropes binding him. The cellar was typical of houses of this age, which were mostly used for storing food and coal. This one, though, held wine racks on one wall and dried herbs and such on the other. The back wall had a washer and a dryer, which I thought was rather mundane, but I guess warlocks in making needed their clothes washed like everyone else.

  I distracted myself briefly by wondering if he did his washing himself or if he employed a housekeeper.

  Amber let go of the hovering spell and Blackhart dropped to the floor. “We were held here. I think Rupert is behind that door.”

  The last wall held a blast door, the kind that were on boiler rooms in case of fire. It didn’t have a lock on it, but I didn’t doubt for a moment that it would be impossible to open.

  “Does it have similar wards as the crypt door?”

  A snicker sounded from the floor, turning into mad laughter. “Good luck getting through those.”

  We pivoted to Blackhart, who was staring at us with murder in his eyes.

  “How are you awake?” I demanded angrily. At least the ropes still held.

  “I was awake before we left the ballroom. You’ll pay for the insult of dropping me.”

  “I’m shivering in fear,” Amber said.

  “You should. It’s a matter of moment before I’m free.”

  “Not if you can’t speak,” she countered, and sealed his mouth with a sweeping motion of her hand.

  “I didn’t know you were such a powerful mage,” I said admiringly.

  She shrugged, but looked pleased. “I’m not as good as Archibald, but I have my skills.” She turned to face the door. “Now, let’s see what you’re made of.”

  She didn’t need to look long. “These are the same as on the crypt. Only, with the black magic wards still in place.”

  My shoulders slumped and Giselle got tears in her eyes. “How will we get Rupert free?”

  “Maybe he’s not even there,” I suggested hesitantly. “We’d be wasting our time.”

  “Rupert! If you can hear us, bang on the door,” Amber bellowed.

  Nothing happened.

  “Maybe there are wards on that side too, and he can’t touch the door,” Giselle said, worry evident in her kind eyes.

  Then a metallic clang sounded from the inside and we jumped, partly in sudden startle, partly in relief.

  “Hang on, Rupert,” Amber shouted. “We’re trying to figure out how to take down the wards.”

  I bit my lip. “Should I try to call Dufort again? He broke the wards the last time.”

  “No!” the women said in unison.

  “He can’t be relied on any more than that bastard can,” Amber said, pointing at Blackhart.

  “Besides, it’s long past midnight even in France,” Giselle pointed out. “He wouldn’t be happy if you woke him up for a favour.”

  That I could readily believe. The point was moot anyway, as I didn’t have Danielle’s number.

  “We have to do something.” I crossed my arms over my chest in frustration—and felt the dagger I’d hidden inside my sleeve.

  I’d completely forgotten it. It wasn’t large and my sleeve was tight, so it sat snugly inside it, almost unnoticeable once the metal had grown warm against my skin.

  I pulled it out, brandishing it. Giselle and Amber pulled back. Amber glared at me.

  “What do you think that’ll achieve?”

  “You can’t force him to unravel the wards,” Giselle added. “He needs his hands for it, and that would be paramount to freeing him.”

  “I know that. But I have to try something.”

  I studied the trussed-up man on the floor. He was immobile, or pretending to be, but his eyes were fixed on the dagger. Was it a magical dagger? One that would force him to do our bidding? Whatever it was, his face was gaunt with worry.

  And then I remembered: “Blood!” That’s what Dufort had told me, but I’d been too tense to properly listen. “The wards can be taken down by using the blood of the caster.”

  Blackhart’s eyes flashed in impotent fury, and I knew I was right.

  “That’s disgusting,” Giselle said, but Amber was a former trauma nurse, and she didn’t flinch.

  “That’s black magic for you. He truly is a step away from becoming a warlock. I’ll get a cup.”

  She rushed up the steps to the kitchen and soon returned with a shallow bowl that looked like it was made for bleeding a person.

  She also carried a first-aid kit. I guess we weren’t going to let Blackhart bleed to death.

  She kneeled by him and held out a hand for me. “I’ll do it. You might cut something vital.”

  Since she was right, and I didn’t want to do it anyway, I gladly gave up the dagger.

  She cut the rope keeping Blackhart’s arms bound to his legs, and his legs fell straight with a thump. He couldn’t speak, but I could see the relief on his face and didn’t like it.

  She turned him on his side, left side up. Then she pulled up his left sleeve, chose a spot on the crook of his arm, and sprayed it with antiseptic spray she’d taken from the first-aid kit. Then, like the nurse she was, she used a magical flame to disinfect the dagger as well, before making a precise but deep cut into the vein there.

  Blood welled instantly, and she put the bowl under it.

  “How much do you think we’ll need?” she asked after a while. “There’s only so much we can remove before it’ll damage him.”

  “I’m not feeling charitable, so take all you can,” I stated. Blackhart glowered furiously in return, but the binding on his mouth and body held.

  Amber kept a finger on his pulse. When she deemed it was slowing down too much, she sealed the cut with magic, and handed me the bowl of blood, before proceeding to clean and bind the wound with more mundane means. It was soon done, and she stood up, walking to her wife, placing a hand on her shoulder.

  I held the bowl gingerly. I didn’t want to get any of it on me. “How do you think it’s done?”

  Giselle had been studying the wards the whole time, and she turned to take the bowl from me. “Step back.”

  Amber and I obeyed hastily. Giselle took a hold of the edge of the bowl, and before I knew what she was up to, she threw the blood against the door.

  A loud explosion assaulted my ears, making them ring. Smoke began to waft from the wards on the wall, made visible by the blood, and a horrible stench of burning blood filled the room.

  The smoke made tears fall from my eyes, and I gagged, but nothing seemed to rid the smell.

  The smoke faded mercifully fast once the blood had burned the wards away. The stench lingered though.

  Giselle studied the door with a tilted head. Then she nodded, and reached for the door handle. Nothing happened, and she pulled the door open.

  Rupert stood on the other side. “Well done. Now, where’s that bastard?”

  We stepped aside to show him Blackhart’s trussed up form.

  He wasn’t there.

  Only the ropes remained where Blackhart had been, burned through. “What the hell?”

  I walked closer, staring at the spot where he had lain, as if he would miraculously materialise. I kicked it for the further measure, just in case he had made himself invisible, but my leg only met air, almost making me fall.

  “You let him flee?” Rupert demanded angrily, but Amber was having none of that.

  “We didn’t let him do anything. He’s a powerful mage who had more tricks up his sleeve than we believed possible. He must’ve created a portal.”

  “He could be anywhere,” Giselle said, upset, but I had a more horrifying thought.

  “He could be at Highgate Cemetery!�
�

  The women inhaled sharply, but Rupert shot me an annoyed look. “Why would he go there when we know that’s where his hideout is?”

  “Kane is there, and he’s injured. And Ida too, his accomplice. He wants Ida to defeat Kane to take over the London council.”

  His eyes bulged in outrage. “Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s go help him. You call a cab.”

  Amber and Giselle headed up the stairs with Rupert, but I halted them. “I don’t think you understand. We’re not in London.”

  They turned to stare at me, amazed. “Where in the blazes are we, then?” Rupert demanded impatiently.

  “York.”

  Giselle let out a wail. “We’ll never get to London in time.”

  “We will if we use a portal too.”

  Amber put her arms on her hips, giving me a stern look. “I already told you we are not calling Dufort.”

  I shook my head. “There’s the permanent portal here that leads to the cemetery. And Rupert knows how to open it.”

  They looked instantly more hopeful. “We weren’t conscious when we were brought from there to here,” Amber said. “This place is huge. We might spend hours searching for it.”

  “I know where it is,” I stated. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I headed up the stairs with more energy than I should have left after the night we’d had. We crossed the kitchen and hurried down the hallway to the staircase. There probably were stairs from the kitchen too, but I thought it best to trace the route Ida had taken me.

  Two flights of stairs up and everyone was winded, although Rupert was doing extremely well for his age and after his ordeals. I had no idea what sort of magic he used for it, but I wanted some.

  The hallway to the other end of the house seemed shorter now that I was walking, and we soon reached the room where the portal was.

  Rupert walked in first. “Let me see.”

  He concentrated, and like before, gathered enough magic to trigger the portal to open. It was as impressive as the first time, but he did look more tired afterwards as we hurried through. We needed to get him home as fast as possible.

  But first, we needed to get into the tunnel and out of the sarcophagus. With the mages’ light balls illuminating the way, the place didn’t seem at all frightening.

  “Did Ida find you here?” Amber asked as we crossed the cellar, the portal closing behind us.

  “No, I managed to get back to the crypt and she was waiting for me there. She’s the one who had the tracking spell on me.”

  I’d have to ask them to remove it as soon as possible.

  At the top of the steps, I had to search for the right brick again, but it was faster this time. I pressed it down and the sarcophagus glided aside. My sigh of relief revealed how worried I’d been that it wouldn’t.

  Amber halted us. “I’ll go first, in case Ida is waiting for us again.”

  “Shouldn’t I go first in that case?” Rupert enquired, but she shook her head.

  “We’ll need you for Blackhart, if he’s here.”

  She climbed out, and gave us an all clear immediately. “We need to hurry. I think there’s a battle outside.”

  We clambered out of the stairs and hurried across the small crypt. Amber opened the door carefully and we peered out. I gasped in shock.

  The night was dark, the moon already setting, but there were a couple of mage lights illuminating the scene.

  Kane and Ida were battling, and by the looks of it, had been for some time. The front of his shirt was burned away, likely already by Blackhart’s spell, and there was a nasty burn mark on his chest. He was clearly in pain, and moving much slower than usual. His energy balls were smaller too, and his throws weren’t as accurate.

  Ida wasn’t doing well either, but she had the upper hand. Kane was falling back, and she was advancing with a volley of energy balls that he barely managed to dodge.

  “Concede!” she screamed.

  “Never!”

  Pride swelled in my chest.

  “Your friends are dead. You have nothing to fight for.”

  “I have London and the mages here to fight for. And I know my friends aren’t dead.”

  “You only hope so,” she screeched, flinging an energy ball that hit him on the shoulder of his throwing arm. That wasn’t good.

  I rushed out of the door. “We’re alive!”

  My shout distracted them both, but Kane recovered faster.

  Using the last of his energy, he conjured a large ball and bowled it at her as if the English cricket glory relied on him in a Test match. It hit her in stomach and she flew back with force, falling on her back. Before she could climb on her feet, Kane had her immobilised with the binding spell.

  He staggered with exhaustion, and I rushed to him, managing to catch him before he fell. He was heavier than I anticipated, but I was able to hold him up.

  “Thank you,” he said, straightening and pulling away.

  My heart ached. If Ida was right, I’d never get the spell lifted, and I’d repulse him for the rest of my life.

  “This does not end here!” Ida screeched. She made to get up, but Kane’s binding held—for now. Exhausted as he was, it was only a matter of time before she freed herself.

  A large grey wolf surged out of the shadows and stood above her, growling. Ashley!

  Only then did I realise that Luca wasn’t there anymore. Ashley must have reached him in time, or his bindings had disappeared when Blackhart passed out and he’d managed to move to safety on his own.

  Kane walked to Ida and stood above her, staring down.

  “In front of these witnesses, you challenged me for the leadership of the council of mages, yes?” he began the now familiar formula.

  “Go to hell.”

  He gave her a level look. “I’ve invoked the spell. It has to be followed through. Answer the question.”

  “Yes,” she spat.

  “In front of these witnesses, your challenge was accepted, yes?”

  Her jaw tightened as she ground her teeth together. “Yes.”

  “And in front of these witnesses, I won and you lost, yes?”

  This time I was certain she wouldn’t answer, but Ashley growled, and she nodded. “Yes.”

  “As I free you, you agree not to challenge me again during this cycle?”

  “I’ll never agree to that!”

  Kane cocked an inquiring brow. “Are you sure? It’ll be a long eternity bound like that. And it won’t be me holding you, it’ll be the entire London. Good luck breaking that spell.”

  She growled, and Ashley growled in return. Hers was more impressive.

  “I’ll ask you again,” Kane said. “Will you agree not to challenge me again during this cycle?”

  “Yes.” She shouted the word with all her anger. “But don’t for a moment think you’ve won. Julius will defeat you.”

  Kane nodded. “So be it.”

  He moved his fingers, releasing her. He held a hand to her to help her up, but she refused it and pushed to her feet.

  “Am I free to leave?” she asked scathingly, and Kane stepped aside, making a sweeping gesture towards the path down. We turned with him—and froze in horror.

  Jack was standing on the path below us. He was holding a gun, pointing it at Kane. “I think we’ll negotiate the council leadership again.”

  Kane huffed, not at all frightened by the weapon. I could barely breathe; my heart was beating so hard.

  “You cannot challenge me again.”

  Jack tilted his head. “No, but you can concede. I checked.”

  “For you?” Kane asked, his voice full of disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “What the fuck, Jack?” Ida demanded. “I’m the one who will lead.”

  “I’m not happy with that arrangement anymore.”

  “Neither of you will lead,” Kane said, sounding surprisingly patient. “I won’t concede to either of you. No matter what sort of gun you point
at me.”

  “How about her, then?”

  The gun turned to point at me.

  Kane didn’t hesitate. “Fine. Put the gun away.”

  I faced him, outraged. “Are you out of your mind?”

  His look was very gentle and patient. “This isn’t a great hardship for me. You’re more important.”

  That did warm me, but I wasn’t moved. “Think of the poor mages if Jack leads them.”

  “He’ll lead no one,” Ida shouted. “Julius chose me!”

  I turned to her. “No, he didn’t. He lied to you.”

  “He’s just confused,” she said, her jaw jutting up with stubbornness. “He’ll recognise he needs my help.”

  I spread my arms. “Meanwhile, he fled, leaving you here, at the mercy of us—and the archmage.”

  Rupert was standing at the edge of the group, supported by Giselle. Age and exhaustion had finally caught up with him too. But now he straightened.

  “Neither of you is fit to lead anyone, and Blackhart will soon be dealt with. I suggest you make yourselves scarce before I have to deal with you myself.”

  “No!” Jack roared. The gun was still pointed at me, but his hand was shaking. I feared he would fire it by accident. “Concede the council to me or I’ll kill her.”

  Angry calm washed over me, and my skin tingled like when magic was gathering, my fury tightening it. I took a step closer to him and stared him down, defiantly. “Go ahead, kill me. Because of you, my life is ruined anyway. You might as well finish the job. But Kane will not concede to you or Ida.”

  Several things happened at once. A dark figure sprang from the foliage, superhumanly fast, and wrapped fingers around Jack’s throat. I saw a flash of fangs, before my view was obstructed by Kane, who had thrown his body in front of me. He wrapped his arms around me, pressing me against his—bare!—chest. A shot rang out.

  I stiffened with anticipated pain, but it didn’t happen. Kane didn’t collapse on me either, so the bullet hadn’t hit either of us.

  “I think you can let me go,” I muttered against Kane’s bare(!) chest. He glanced behind him, and released me. I tried not to be disappointed.

  “I don’t think you should look,” he said, so naturally I had to peer around him.