by Rachel Aaron
When Marci looked out, she saw why. The stretch of dirt behind the house was filled with the same haze of multicolored magic as everywhere else, and bounding through the glowing drifts like kids in the snow were the Mortal Spirits. They were both in what Marci had come to think of as their “casual” forms—Ghost as a cat, and the DFZ as a large rat—and they were clearly having the time of their lives. Ghost actually flipped over as she watched, rolling on his back through the magic like a normal cat would in a field of catnip. The DFZ was just as bad. She hopped through the magic with happy squeaks, her beady orange eyes gleaming with sheer delight every time she landed in the soft, glowing piles.
“Well,” Marci said, grinning despite herself. “At least someone’s having a good time.”
“More than a good time,” Myron replied, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. “Can’t you feel it? It’s like they’re reborn.”
She could feel it. She’d been so happy herself these last few hours, she hadn’t noticed, but now that she was looking at him, Marci realized she could feel the Empty Wind’s joy like a wave in her mind. Power was pouring into him, filling the emptiness at last. For the first time since she’d found him latched to that poor old cat lady’s chest, the god of the Forgotten Dead felt alive, and it was beautiful. So, so beautiful.
“I can feel her delight,” Myron whispered, reaching up to wipe the suspicious wetness from his eyes. “It’s… I don’t have words, honestly. I’ve never been this happy, and I’m only experiencing a reflection.”
“Of course they’re happy,” Marci said. “This is how they were always meant to be. Ghost was around before the drought, but the DFZ is new. She’s never had proper levels of magic before. No wonder she’s celebrating.”
The rat changed shape as she said this, shifting back into the androgynous-looking human girl Marci had seen before. But though the spirit still looked like anyone you might see on the city streets, she was no longer dressed in black. The clothing she manifested this time was a riot of color as bright as the neon in the DFZ Underground’s most garish party districts. Even through the glow of the magic, she was shining, and the longer Marci looked at her, the more certain she became that—even if it had happened by accident—this was the right thing.
“If we’re all here.”
The stern voice spoke right in her ear, and Marci turned to see General Jackson standing behind them, tapping her makeshift body’s scrap-metal fingers impatiently. “Myron?”
“Right,” the mage said, clearing his throat as he pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of his rumpled jacket. “Since we’re all in this together, General Jackson and I have decided to share information to increase our odds of survival. Over the last eight hours, we’ve been on the phone with UN Central Command, my lab back in New York, and various other magical institutions all over the world.”
“I’m just shocked the phones are working,” Amelia said, winking at the Qilin. “Lucky break.”
“Very lucky,” Myron agreed. “There is absolutely no reason we should have internet access here in the DFZ, but we do. That’s hardly the strangest thing that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, though, so I’m not even going to question it.”
“Enough about how you got the information,” Chelsie growled. “What’s going on out there?”
“Everything and nothing,” General Jackson said, walking over to pick up the two personal pizzas that were cooling on the stove top. She placed one down in front of Julius and one down in front of the seat he’d squeezed in next to his, which was apparently for Marci. “Eat,” she ordered. “This will take a few minutes, and there’s no reason you have to be hungry during them.”
The general didn’t have to tell Marci twice. Now that pizza was on the table, her body was reminding her loudly that it hadn’t eaten since before she’d died. She practically dove into her chair, trying not to burn her tongue as she stuffed a slice of cheap, and surprisingly delicious, pepperoni pizza into her mouth.
“Good, isn’t it?” Amelia said. “I didn’t think there was any food left, but then I found a pile of those in the back of the freezer.” She wiggled her eyebrows at the Qilin, who was starting to look uncomfortable. “That’s lucky break number two. Now we just need to stumble onto your forgotten tequila stash and we’ll have a grand slam!” She turned her grin on Chelsie. “Can you kiss him or something? We need another luck blast so I can get a drink.”
“Amelia,” Chelsie said in a low, deadly voice, “shut up.”
The Spirit of Dragons lifted her hands helplessly and motioned for General Jackson to continue.
“Moving on,” Emily said irritably. “As Sir Myron predicted, the breaking of the Merlins’ seal has created a global crisis. As the epicenter of the breach, the DFZ was hit the hardest, but we have reports of dangerously elevated magic levels all over the globe.”
“Dangerously?” Julius said. “How dangerously?”
“That depends on where you were when it happened,” Myron said. “Not everyone was lucky enough to have a warded bunker nearby. But high as they are, the elevated magic levels probably won’t be fatal to healthy individuals. Highly unpleasant, certainly, but not deadly. The danger General Jackson refers to is more of a long-term problem.” He glanced at the glowing particles drifting up from the ground outside. “This is actually quite similar to the night magic first returned, only stronger. How much stronger varies depending on the local ambient magic, but the numbers I’ve seen generally seem to be clocking in at two to three hundred percent higher than normal.”
“But that still shouldn’t be more than humans can handle,” Marci said with her mouth full. “We didn’t make new magic. Everything that’s here now was here before the drought, and humanity handled it fine back then.”
“We did,” Myron admitted. “But while the raw amount is the same, the majority of the magic back then would have been tied up in natural systems, not dropped on people’s heads all at once. We don’t know if the world has ever experienced a flood of this magnitude before, but we can say for certain that no living human has ever been doused with this much free-floating magic. Unless they were able to flee to a warded location, as we were, new manifestations are inevitable.”
Julius went pale. “Manifestations?”
“He means new mages,” Marci explained. “The night the magic came back, a whole bunch of people with the right combination of genes were suddenly able to use magic. Most of those burned themselves out in the first hour. Another good chunk went crazy. Only a few could actually handle the change. It was only later, when mages started being born naturally and growing into their powers slowly, that magic stopped being a death sentence.”
“And you’re saying we’re going to see that again,” Julius finished with a frown. “But isn’t everyone who could be a mage one already?”
“Everyone that we’re aware of,” Myron said authoritatively. “But we’ve never been able to pin down the exact genetic combination that gives people the ability to consciously control magic because the range is too enormous. Half the human population has at least one of the markers for magical potential. It’s been theorized that those people failed to become mages not because they lacked the fundamental ability, but because magical levels were simply too low for them to access. Now that magic is shoving its way down their throats, however, that could change.”
“We might see a whole new wave of mages!” Marci said. “Assuming they don’t all go nuts first, of course. But everyone knows magic is real now, so the transition should be much smoother this time around.”
“That’s good for them,” Emily said. “But the situation right here and now is anything but. We have no official measurement devices left in the DFZ, but from the visual clues, Myron’s estimated that the magical levels here are much higher than the rest of the world’s.”
“At least a thousand percent higher than normal,” Myron agreed. “Maybe more.”
“And that’s why we can’t go outside,”
Raven finished, turning on Amelia’s shoulder to give the frolicking forms of Ghost and the DFZ outside the evil eye. “True mortal spirits might be big enough to roll such power off their backs, but the rest of us are grounded. Even I can’t fly in a storm like this.”
“Nothing can fly,” the general said angrily. “I’ve been on the horn with our air base in Canada since six this morning. They can’t get anything within fifty miles of the DFZ due to the magical interference. Planes, jets, helicopters—they’re all useless. Even the satellites can’t see through the glare of magic rising off this place, and that’s a problem, because without eyes, we can’t see what Algonquin’s doing.”
“So send one of the Mortal Spirits,” Chelsie suggested. “They’re clearly not having a problem, and we need information.”
“I’ve tried,” Myron said. “But I’m afraid my spirit is not in the correct mindset to… that is, with the current environment…”
“He can’t ask them because they’re high out of their minds,” Amelia finished. “They’re so drunk on magic right now, they don’t know which way is up, the lucky bastards.”
Chelsie gave her sister a flat look. “I’m surprised you’re not out there with them.”
“I would be if I could,” Amelia said, her voice pained. “Alas, like Raven, I’m too much of a hybrid to actually enjoy the current situation. If I went out there, I’d be squished as flat as the rest of you. Not exactly a useful scout.”
Myron turned to Marci. “I was hoping you’d have more luck with Ghost. He’s been in magic like this before, and he seems more disciplined. Whenever I ask her to help, the DFZ just laughs and tells me to come out and play.”
Marci understood the importance of what he was asking, but interrupting Ghost’s pure joy felt wrong to her. This was an emergency, though, so she reached out reluctantly with a mental hand to tug on her connection to the Empty Wind. The moment she touched it, a flood of happiness washed her under. Ghost’s hands followed, clutching her mind and tugging on her to come out and bathe in the glorious magic with him. It was so intoxicating, she actually stood up before she realized what she was doing.
“I don’t think he’s doing any better than the DFZ,” she said, gently prying herself out of her spirit’s delirious grip as she sat back down. “But the fallout has to be almost over. What time is it?”
“Noon,” General Jackson replied.
Marci blinked. She’d known she’d lost track of time in Julius’s room, but she didn’t think they’d been in there that long. They hadn’t even gotten to the house until eight last night, which meant… “We’ve been experiencing magical fallout at the visible level for sixteen hours?”
“I told you it was severe,” the general said. “But all these worries are secondary to the threat of the Nameless End.”
“You refer to the thing from beyond the planes,” the Qilin said, his perfect face worried. “The devourer of worlds Amelia was telling us about earlier.”
“One of the devourers,” Amelia corrected. “There are as many Nameless Ends as there are endings. I’m not sure which specific flavor of destruction Algonquin’s hooked up with, but if he was crafty and patient enough to get this much of himself into a healthy plane, he’s not going to stop until he gets the rest. According to Raven, Algonquin was the only one holding him back. Now that she’s freaked out, I have a feeling we’re going to discover exactly what sort of end we’re up against.”
“I fear the worst,” Raven said sadly. “Algonquin would never barter with something that couldn’t get her the total new beginning she needs to return this world to the spirits. If the Nameless End plays her fair, he’ll scrub every living creature off the face of our plane. If he’s playing her for a fool, which is what I suspect, he’ll eat her and use her vessel as a platform to eat everything else, leaving our reality an empty husk.”
“Then we have to stop him,” Marci said. “I know Nameless Ends are serious business, but the fact that we’re here having this conversation proves that he hasn’t gotten enough of himself inside our plane to start the carnage yet. If the only thing he’s eaten so far is Algonquin, then we’re still sitting pretty. She might have been the biggest spirit around sixty years ago, but she’s nothing these days. I mean, look at us.” She waved her hand across all the fantastic, beautiful, stupidly magical creatures sitting at the table. “We’re packing a lot of firepower, some of us literally. If it’s all of us versus Algonquin-plus-one, that’s not even a contest.”
“Assuming we can fight it,” Emily said. “We’re still talking about a being who lives in the void between worlds. We don’t know what it’s made of or how it works. We don’t even know if we can hurt it.”
“Actually, I think Marci’s onto something,” Amelia said, tapping her sharp nails on the table. “As strong as Nameless Ends can be, this one’s still an interloper. The Nameless Ends are scavengers. They prey on the weaknesses of dying planes, not healthy ones. The only reason this one was able to get inside at all is because he tricked Algonquin into letting him use her as a foothold. You can’t kill a Nameless End because they’re forces of the universe, but if we can find a way to dislodge him from Algonquin, we’ll destroy his anchor to this world. Once that’s gone, the natural defenses of our otherwise healthy plane should be able to force him back out with no further help from us.”
“Like a body defeating an infection,” Marci said, nodding. “That’s fantastic. All we have to do is defeat Algonquin, and our problem’s solved.”
“But Algonquin’s already defeated,” Raven said sadly. “That’s how this started. She’s already given up and turned her water over to that thing because she’d rather die than lose. We can’t beat her any lower than she’s already gone. I don’t even know if she’s alive anymore, and I didn’t think spirits could die.”
The table fell silent as he finished. Marci poked her empty plate, trying to think of something that might turn this around. Then, out of nowhere, Amelia said, “We could wait for Bob.”
Chelsie snorted. “That’s your plan?”
“It’s been my plan my entire life,” Amelia said stubbornly, lifting her chin. “You think he didn’t know this was coming? He’s a seer. He’s been working on this for centuries.”
“Okay,” Chelsie said, crossing her arms in front of her daughter, who’d fallen asleep in her lap after she’d finished her second pizza. “What’s his plan, then?”
Amelia bit her lip. “I… don’t know,” she said after a long pause. “Knowing your future changes it, so he couldn’t tell me anything past my death, but I know he’ll come through. He’s never let us down before.”
Chelsie looked away. “Speak for yourself.”
“Would you knock it off?” Amelia growled. “Your secret’s out, Chelsie. We all know that mess in China was entirely your own making. You’ve been blaming everything on Bob for centuries, but he wasn’t the one who panicked and bolted. Bob could have just let the Empress Mother kill you, but no. He pulled a miracle out of his ear and got Bethesda to China to beg for your life. It’s thanks to him that you’re still alive to hold your grudge. How can you be so ungrateful?”
Chelsie opened her mouth to retort, but Fredrick beat her to it. “Ungrateful?” he snarled, moving away from Julius to stand behind his mother. “Brohomir left us to be Bethesda’s slaves for six hundred years! He only cares about his future, not about those who suffer to create it!”
Marci leaned back in her chair. She’d never seen the normally quiet F this angry. Amelia was looking uncharacteristically pissed off as well, with dangerous curls of smoke leaking out from between her lips. The atmosphere in the kitchen was getting so tense, Marci was considering preemptively ducking under the table when Julius suddenly stood up.
“You’re both wrong.”
The whole kitchen turned to look at him. His time as clan head must have done something, though, because Julius didn’t even flinch at all when all those predatory eyes landed on him. He just stared back, and when he
spoke, his voice was steady and sure.
“Bob’s not nice,” he said. “But he’s not evil, either. He’s not like Bethesda, who steps on dragons for the joy of feeling taller, but he’s also not afraid to crush us under his heel if that’s what he feels he needs to do to guarantee the future he wants. Like Fredrick, I don’t think that’s right, but it also doesn’t mean that Amelia is wrong.” His green eyes flicked to Marci. “As someone very smart told me earlier today, Bob’s the reason we’re in a lot of these messes, but he’s also the one who made sure we got out, and he’s the one who brought us all together here.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Fredrick asked angrily. “No offense, Great Julius, but we’re cowering in a hovel while an enemy we may not even be able to fight is coming to power above our heads. If this was truly the work of a seer and not mere chance, where is our advantage? Where are our weapons and our armies? Why would Brohomir put us through all of this just to leave us stranded and desperate now?”
“I don’t know,” Julius said. “But I’m certain this is Bob’s work, because she”—he pointed across the table at General Jackson—“is the Phoenix, and Bob told me ages ago that I would have lunch with the Phoenix on my birthday.” His face split into a smile as he turned back to Fredrick. “Don’t you see? This is all Bob’s plan. Yes, we’re trapped, but we’re trapped together. All of us are here in this house because of Bob’s meddling. He’s the one who arranged to bring Marci back from the dead, and he’s the one who finally fixed our troubles with the Qilin.”
“Both of which were problems he caused,” Chelsie growled. “I’m not going to praise him for wagging the dog.”
“Did he?” Julius asked, turning to face her. “Did Bob tell you to run from the Qilin? Did he tell you to lie when Xian asked you why?”
Chelsie’s answer to that was a deadly glare, and Julius sighed. “I’m not trying to poke at old wounds. I’m just saying that Bob isn’t always the total villain you make him out to be. There’s no question he’s run roughshod over all of us, but you know as well as I do that he’s been building toward something huge for a long time now, and I can’t think of anything bigger than the end of the world.”