The Potioneer (Shadeborn Book 3)

by K. C. Finn

  As quickly as they had vanished, Lily saw the shine of a head of white hair catching the moonlight within the water. Novel had levitated back up through the column as he’d promised, and Baptiste was flying along in his wake. Novel conjured them both high above the pond in a swish of gravity, and Lily saw them looking down at the portal she had revealed. When the two men landed again beside her, Baptiste crouched at once, rubbing his sopping legs and feet all over.

  “It’s one hell of a drop,” the MC remarked, “I thought for sure I’d break my ankles when I landed.”

  “The place is full of enchantments,” Novel added, his eyes fixed intently on the water column ahead. “I could feel the magic in the walls, in the air… It felt dark. It felt wrong.”

  “Then it’s the Gifter’s Cave all right,” Salem assured him.

  Novel looked nervous and paler than ever by the meagre moonlight. Lily reached out and took his hand, looking up for the smattering of stars that had made their way through the clouds in the sky. When she inhaled from them deeply, the starlight she took in passed through her palm and into Novel, bathing them both in a brief, bluish glow. The illusionist turned to look at her, and his smile was warm with pride, despite that twinge of doubt hanging at the corners of his lips.

  “No sense waiting around,” Lily told him. “We’ve been out here for weeks looking for this place. Let’s wake up the others and get this over with.”

  *

  The blacked out car was, mercifully, parked much nearer to the right water than it had been to most of the wrong ones. Baptiste had stayed behind to mark the pond’s location, so it was Lily who led the way up to the car’s middle door and pulled it open with a hard yank. The scene she found within was one that shook her to her core, as her eyes fell first to Jazzy, who was pale and limp in Jeronomie’s arms. The two women took up the middle seats of the vehicle, with Lawrence in the back, mid-way through a frantic search of what remained of the potioneer’s luggage.

  “It’s marked ‘Revival Tonic’,” Jeronomie barked at him, “a blue bottle, somewhere near the bottom?”

  “What’s happened?” Lily demanded at once. “Jazz? Is she hurt?”

  “She’s sick again,” Lawrence sobbed, his body bent double over the potioneer’s bag of tricks. “We were all sleeping and then Jeronomie woke me up. She said Jazzy had turned pale like before, but this is bad, Lily. It’s so bad.”

  The voodoo boy was right. The little automatic light inside the car didn’t give much in the way of illumination, but when Lily held out a fist in a sudden instinct, a bright ball of flames exploded around her hand. The firelight glowed yellowy-white, and by that glow Lily would have sworn that the pallor of death had crept into Jazzy’s once-rosy complexion. She was as weak and gaunt as the night of the bleeding, when Lily had almost lost her, but now there was no obvious cause for her suffering.

  “What can I do?” Lily asked, “Lawrence, what are you looking for?”

  “My emergency tonic,” Jeronomie told her. She held Jazzy firmly at the girl’s small shoulders, but the potioneer’s expression seemed to have already reached a very serious conclusion.

  “A blue bottle, you said?”

  The question was Novel’s, and Lily had hardly noticed him beside her. He and Salem shared those same horrified looks, meeting one another’s eyes before their frowns of sympathy returned to Jazzy’s lifeless form.

  “I think the airport customs took the blue ones,” Novel said grimly.

  “No!” Lawrence cried, shaking the bag out in the back seat of the car. He was rummaging through everything he could find, shaking his head again and again. “I thought those episodes were over. She’s been fine since the séance. There must be a bottle left here somewhere…”

  The desperation broke his low tone, and Lily felt her heart shake, like someone had cracked it in two. She leaned into the car to touch Jazzy’s neck, feeling for a pulse, and came away more fearful than ever. She was cold, and barely breathing, with the weakest little heartbeat still struggling to maintain her life. The potioneer seemed to have no other solutions to offer, and Lawrence was growing more desperate by the minute. There was only one thing that Lily could think to do.

  “We’ve got to get her to Gifter,” she said resolutely.

  “She’s in no fit state to wish for anything,” Salem mused.

  “No,” Lily answered solemnly, “but I am.”

  Lawrence looked up, his pale brown eyes huge with pleading and surprise.

  “But… your curse,” the voodoo boy whispered.

  “I’d sooner live cursed than see Jazzy die,” Lily answered swiftly, “Novel, pick her up. Let’s get moving.”

  The band of beings that moved through the depth of the American night was a strange collection. Novel held Jazzy in his arms, cushioned by his powers of levitation, with Lawrence trotting dutifully at her side. The voodoo boy held the little Indian girl’s wrist, monitoring her pulse with every step the travellers made, and Jeronomie brought up the rear with a ball of bright light that she contained within a jar of glass. Salem led the way back towards Baptiste and the pond, but he and Lily kept looking back to the dying girl, hoping every time that Lawrence would give them the nod that meant she was still all right.

  “Can this Gifter do it?” Lily asked Salem as they raced through the reeds. “Can she bring Jazzy back if we get there too late?”

  “Life and death’s a whole ‘nother type of magic, sweetheart,” Salem confessed, “We’ve got to hope we get her there before that happens.”

  When Lily saw the shadowed, waving figure of Baptiste Du Nord among the trees ahead, she raced on again to part the water and clear the way for Novel to take Jazzy down into the cave of the djinn.

  Deal

  “I’ve been here before,” Lily said, her whispered voice echoing along the dark passages of the cave.

  She was the last to follow the winding dark corridors of the underground cavern, for she had used her powers to help everyone else levitate down through the water column, but now her eyes were adjusting to the dark, and beginning to recognise everything anew. There was a stream to leap over, just as there had been in the Dreamstate, though this time no mocking grin of djinnkind lay within the waters to spy on her. The too-big fireflies were latched onto the walls, glowing with pastel lights that cast shadows like faces on the surfaces of the cave.

  “The Dreamstate,” Novel said from somewhere in the shadows ahead. “It appears we were always meant to come here.”

  He didn’t sound happy about the fact, but he was leading the group forward at a swift pace nonetheless. Some of the oversized bugs fluttered to and fro as the travellers strode past them, and Lily heard them buzz with a strained, high-pitched tone as they scooted by her ears. Novel had been right about the magic in that cave, and with every step she took, Lily felt her veins screaming at her to turn back. The magic here was wrong in every sense that it could be wrong, sending shivers up her spine and sickness to her throat and stomach, all at once.

  “I don’t feel right here,” Jeronomie whispered.

  “You didn’t have to come,” Salem bit back at her. “Now hush, and listen for anything-”

  Before Salem could even end his sentence, a voice that crunched like broken glass broke through the cave to shatter its silence.

  “Oh… I’d recognise that voice anywhere. It’s been quite some time, Alexander Cross.”

  Lily was the last to see the Gifter, and when she rounded her way into the huge cavern at the end of the dark tunnel, the five conscious people before her were already frozen in their shock. For her part, Lily found the female djinn before her to be less intimidating than she’d imagined. Gifter’s eyes were more orange than red, like orbs of coral, and her pale, bluish features had a slender kind of beauty. Lily reasoned that she had seen a far worse face on the male djinn who had been haunting her all year, and for that reason she was the one to step forward whilst the others hung back.

  The thing that was truly surprising
about Gifter was that she was on the wrong side of her mirror. The large, oval looking glass lay within its frame to the djinn’s left, and the creature was floating beside it. She wore a shifting short of smock that barely covered her glowing frame, and where her legs ought to have sprouted from the dress, there was only a wisp of smoke. Lily knew then where the old human legends of genies had come from, and she understood why tales like the Arabian Nights had warned against the perils of wishing. But Lily knew she had no choice in the matter, and her eyes flew just the once to Jazzy’s limp features before she addressed the djinn before her.

  “Gifter, I’m here to make a deal with you,” Lily stated.

  The djinn let her fair brows rise in surprise, over those eyes without white or pupil.

  “Direct,” Gifter surmised. “An admirable quality in a young lady, but I’m afraid I’m in charge of this domain.”

  “My friend is dying,” Lily answered at once, “so you’ll forgive me if I want to hurry things along.”

  The djinn floated forwards a little from her station at the mirror, and she craned her slender neck to observe Jazzy, who lay still in Novel’s arms. The illusionist looked fearfully protective, grasping the girl tightly to his chest. Gifter smiled at them both, but it was an absent, calculating sort of look. She shook her head briskly, and turned her attention back to Lily instead.

  “She will not die here,” the djinn proclaimed. “She cannot, in this place. It is neither your world, nor mine, but an in-between. We have time to make our negotiations in the proper fashion.”

  Lily felt her teeth gritting together, her fists wanting to ball and burst with flames again.

  “You’d better be right,” she said, and the words came out almost as a growl.

  Again, Gifter seemed amused and a little impressed by her demeanour, but the djinn was not to be deterred from her scheme. She floated to the space right beside where Lily stood, and a wave of shocking energy passed through Lily, like the chill breeze of a door opening suddenly. Gifter was busy admiring Salem with a proud sort of look, and she went so far as to touch his chin with her spindly blue fingers.

  “You know you can’t have another wish, don’t you sweet child?” she asked him. Salem was tight-lipped, and shaking just a little, so the djinn continued to taunt him. “You lost a hero’s name, Alexander, and look what being a hero got you. Three centuries since you came to me, and now you’re more pathetic than ever.”

  Again, Salem had no answer, and his eyes shone in the semi-dark with a look that suggested he agreed with every word Gifter said. Lily bristled yet more at the way Gifter bullied him and enjoyed it, and her anger only got worse as the djinn moved along the line casually, towards Lawrence and Baptiste.

  “No,” the djinn sneered, “unfit for wishes both. You…” – at this, she looked Baptiste over – “shouldn’t even exist. I find I have no reward for such a mongrel. And you…” Her eyes seemed to light up with all their coral brightness as they shone on Lawrence. “You are unmade. Interesting, but far beyond my help.”

  Lily had no idea what the Gifter could possibly mean, but both Baptiste and Lawrence were cowed by her words, like she had looked inside them and seen exactly what to say to hurt them deeply. It was cruel, and the djinn was growing happier with every victim she slayed in words. All the while, Lily grew hotter and wilder in her own fury. When it was Novel’s turn to be appraised, Lily was certain she would burst with raging magic, but her temper seemed to be contained within in her blood, like her body was saving up all the anger for the opportune moment.

  “You!” Gifter proclaimed gleefully. “You must have a gift first. Oh, yes, yes. Leave the girl there, and step forward. Your heart’s desire will be granted, beautiful child.”

  Novel did not leave Jazzy where Gifter’s wayward hand had flapped, but passed her gently to Lawrence and Baptiste to hold. The illusionist straightened his dark waistcoat, watching for a moment before he followed the djinn back towards her mirror. Lily hated the sight of him walking away at once, and before she even knew it, she had stepped up to join him on the creature’s rocky plinth. The mirror stood between where Gifter posed and where Lily and Novel waited, its shining surface obscured by the brightness of those strange fireflies still flitting around the cave.

  “We will discuss terms before you bestow any gift to me,” Novel seethed, his bitterness evident in his every word and action.

  He, like Lily, was raging and visibly braver than the troupe behind him. Lily wondered if that was the very reason that Gifter was willing to grant him a wish, for she looked so amused by his words that she might have applauded them like a gleeful child.

  “Name your terms then, shade boy,” Gifter crooned.

  Her shrill voice was cutting at such close quarters, but neither Lily nor Novel flinched in their stance. Novel looked to Lily, then back at Jazzy over his shoulder, and spoke with all the clarity and precision he put into every day of his life.

  “You will grant Lily a wish after mine is fulfilled, won’t you?” he asked.

  Gifter gave a little bow, lowering her head. When she resurfaced, she was grinning with a mouth of quartz-bright teeth.

  “She will be gifted the vitality of her friend,” the djinn promised. “It is her heart’s fondest wish.”

  “Then my request is for Lily’s djinn curse to be lifted,” Novel proclaimed. “What would you have me give you in return?”

  “Your magic,” Gifter said simply, bringing her hands together with expectant greed. “All of it.”

  “No,” Salem said, finding his voice at last.

  “You can’t,” Baptiste added, sounding equally desperate.

  Lily wanted to protest too, and she was about to do just that when Novel silenced her with a look of abject certainty. It was as though he had known all this was coming, because the illusionist showed not a glimmer of surprise or outrage. He simply nodded, and held out one hand in a gesture to shake with Gifter.

  “The deal is struck,” he declared.

  A chill swept through the cave again, forming a cyclone around Lily and Novel for a moment before it ebbed away. In the small space of time where the wind whipped up, Gifter leapt forward and took Novel by the hand before anyone could move to stop her. Because he was willing, the shock of her magic hit him, but did not make him fall. Novel clenched his teeth hard, perhaps so he would not cry with the pain he was clearly facing, and Lily found herself screaming in protest as she watched him buckle. His back bent out of shape as he began to sink down towards the hard cave floor, and then he was crippled onto his knees, one arm still outstretched to hold the Gifter’s grip.

  By the time she let him go, Novel’s white hair was blonde, a colour it had not been for centuries.

  “Are you all right?” Lily sobbed, craning to pick her true love up from the ground.

  Novel was heavy in her arms and panting with exhaustion, but he nodded and shook the tears from beneath his eyes. He felt smaller somehow in Lily’s grip, and even his voice had lost its firmness when he managed to speak.

  “Make your wish,” he told Lily hoarsely, “and let’s go from this awful place.”

  Lily could have thanked him for his incredible sacrifice. She could have kissed Novel and told him that he shouldn’t have given everything just for her sake. She could have told him that she loved him, and that she would always love him, whether he was human or shade. But the next thing Lily beheld stopped her from speaking at all. She was still holding Novel at his shoulders, but her eyes had travelled over his bent form, and her mouth was wide with horror and shock.

  The other djinn had come to the mirror.

  He was worse than he had ever been now that he was clear to Lily’s view. Those sharp cheeks were sucked in tightly against bones that shone like cut glass, and his eyes swirled like liquid blood within their pale sockets. The djinn who had cursed her, and taunted her with so much death and dismay, was frocked in a splendid golden waistcoat, his lower half melting into smoke where he stood in his full gl
ory in the long, oval looking glass. Even Gifter seemed surprised to see him there, and the female djinn bowed so low that her slender face was almost touching the rocks to show deference to him.

  “My Lord Glassman,” Gifter whispered, “What brings you to my dark dwelling?”

  “You did, Banished One,” the male djinn replied, “by lifting my curse on this daughter of shades.”

  Pascal had been right. Lily knew from the stories she had read, even without Gifter’s pleading and begging, that the awesome and terrible figure she beheld was the Glassman himself. His voice rolled with that horrible depth that it had the first time he had spoken to her, on the ceiling of the lecture hall when she fell and smashed her body to bits. The djinn of all djinns had been trying to end her life and threaten her friends for months, and all Lily could think was that he had yet to succeed. She let go of Novel, who stood beside her, exhausted and in shock, and folded her arms as her blood pumped once again with anger.

  “The Glassman,” Lily said, sucking at her teeth, “Well, aren’t I honoured to have been cursed by a legendary pain in the neck like you.”

  The djinn behind the glass grinned his horrid, sharp grin.

  “Impish girl,” he said with clear amusement. “You’re quite the attention seeker. Would you mind awfully if I dealt with this wretched underling of mine before you and I conclude our little tête-a-tête?”

  “Provided I’ll still get my wish,” Lily answered.

  The Glassman bowed in acquiescence, then his sharp features turned back to Gifter, who was still begging, close to the ground.

  “Do you honestly think I would allow a beast of the in-between to keep the powers of two shades to herself?” the Glassman chided. “So with the father, as with the son, you have stolen magic that does not belong in the clutches of the lowest djinnkind.”