by Holly Evans
It had been a fun trip. We had been on our way to Argentina when the hawks had had enough of me and almost literally threw us off the airship. The gliders had been the closest I'd ever been to really flying. I made a mental note to return to looking into an alchemical way to grow wings or fly in some other way. There really was nothing else like it.
27
Our plans to get on the Zeifri transport were ruined when a huge dust storm rolled in. We had been out in the city when everyone went quiet and something shifted in the air. The entire city turned to look to the west. It took me a moment to understand before I saw it. The orange dust cloud filled the horizon, and it was moving at a ridiculous pace. We had two minutes to run back to the hotel and take sanctuary in a new room. Fortunately, the city was accustomed to the storms, and the hotel wasn’t affected by it.
I perched on the edge of a chair and watched as visibility dropped to zero and everything became a mask of orange dust. The sound was unlike anything I’d heard before. There was a wailing, crying sound that set my teeth on edge. Logan gently pulled me away from the window. I swore I saw the face of a woman in dark clothes. I blinked, and she was gone.
“They are looking for souls to devour,” Ethan said grimly.
I frowned at him.
He sighed and looked at the floor for a moment. I curled up on the bed in Logan’s arms.
“There is argument as to what they actually are. Some say they are witches, others say they’re pure magical beings like the sylphs and your wisp. During the storms there are sightings of women. These are always dressed in black, with long black hair, and you never see their faces. At least not until it’s too late. Each storm, people are called out into the storms. Their instincts betray them, and they walk out to try and save the women. Sometimes their families can pin them down and hold them back, but usually they will be lost. No one knows what happens to them. It’s thought that the women, whatever they are, devour their essence,” Logan said gravely.
Erin got up and pulled the curtains over the windows.
“I’m not losing any of you,” she said.
I squeezed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.
“Any idea when we’ll be able to get the next transport?” Logan said with a smile.
His arms had tightened around me, and his breathing had quickened. I nuzzled his neck. He didn’t need to worry, I wasn’t going to vanish into the storm.
“The morning, I expect,” Ethan said.
Wispy hissed when something tapped on the window. Everyone tensed and looked at the window, waiting. The tapping came again. Erin grabbed Wispy before he could shoot over there and give whatever it was a piece of his mind.
No one said a word or moved as we waited. The storm howled outside, but nothing more came. After a few minutes, the storm began to calm, and we all breathed a sigh of relief.
We shared the bedroom that night. Erin and Ethan shared one bed, while Logan and I were in the other. It was all very relaxed and friendly. We traded stories about past adventures between trying to see if anyone had missed any clues about the tears. We were in very buoyant moods when we stepped out into the city. I’d been impressed to find it was entirely immaculate, as though the storm had never happened. The city’s inhabitants bustled about their daily routines around us as we headed to the airship dock ready to head over to Casablanca. I wished that we had more time so I could haggle with some of the market vendors. It didn’t really matter what I was buying, I just wanted to engage with the vendors in the game of it.
We reached the dock with five minutes to spare. The Zeifri were every bit as aloof as I'd heard. Their ship was a shining work of art made of sleek blue and silver lines with touches of pale bronze here and there. We were ushered into a modern and comfortable cabin away from the other passengers. Food and drink had been laid out, but there were no Zeifri around for me to question. They even went as far as to lock the door of the cabin to stop us from wandering.
"What if something goes wrong and we need to get out quickly?" I demanded.
Ethan gestured to the small pick type implement. "Then we break the glass."
"No, your curiosity does not count as an emergency," Logan said with a smile as he pulled me close to him.
I leaned my head on his shoulder and stroked Wispy, who had settled into my lap. He was still a bit sluggish, although I did wonder if that was more where he was eating too much. I'd have to cut his portions down some and see what impact it had.
"Maze, the curator contact at the Casablanca museum, thinks that this stone is captured wild magic. No one has handled it without breaker gloves, and thus far only Zeifri and desert elves have been near it. The elves aren't convinced that it's wild magic, but it's unusual enough that it brings in visitors who spend money, so they're keeping quiet," Ethan said.
"What do you think our chances are?" Logan asked.
The breaker gave a small shrug. "It fits the description you gave me. Pale blue, the size of a small fist, has an interesting glow to it."
"There aren't lots of stones like that?" Erin asked.
"Thankfully, no. The shimmers of magic within it aren't like any of the trinkets you'll see in the markets. There's a distinct signature coming from all three of these stones," Ethan said.
I settled into the seat and allowed myself to get some much-needed sleep. The coffee was good, but we couldn't afford to be dim-witted at a crucial moment.
“So what other types of glowy magical stone are there?” Erin asked.
And thus started a long conversation about the trapping of magic in stones, which evolved into a discussion on harnessing and trapping wild magic. There were people who devoted their lives to wild magic in a number of different ways. Some people tried to trap it and sell it on at very high prices; it was incredibly rare and volatile, so people were happy to pay. Others tried to tame small portions of it, only to get themselves hurt by the magic when it finally tired of the games. Then there were those who tried to harness it - they were usually Tinkers. I’d heard about some interesting contraptions the Tinkers had invented which were supposed to harvest excess magic and energy from the wild magic. Unfortunately, the ones I’d been told about had exploded or otherwise failed catastrophically.
“But they say that some weavers can trap and work with wild magic,” Erin said with a frown.
“They say you can ride a phoenix too, but that doesn’t mean I’d like to try it,” Logan said with a grin.
Erin laughed.
“If you do meet someone who can do that, send them my way. I’d love to work with wild magic,” I said.
“Fein probably has someone working for him who traps wild magic, he has connections to everything,” Erin said.
I didn’t miss the slight bitterness to her tone.
“Has Fein done something?” I asked.
She shrugged. “No, I’m just not sure I want to know where his ethics and morals lie.”
“We travel the world stealing magical artifacts…” Logan said a laugh.
Erin snorted but relaxed.
“Ok, I admit we’re not perfect,” she said with a smile.
28
Casablanca was a riot of colours and smells. The Zeifri ushered us off their pristine ship onto the beautiful mosaic paths and into the streets lined with white buildings. Woven baskets bursting with fresh fruit, spices, and alchemical wonders lined the street we walked down. Shifters shouted over elves, each trying to sell their wares, not that I would have needed much convincing. Everything was crisp and full of life. We remained in a close group as we pressed our way through the crowds of elves bartering and Zeifri chittering at the shifters, which only encouraged Wispy to chitter at them in return. The earth magicians wove their way around the edges of the groups, but stood out in their greens versus the whites and blues the rest of the city seemed to favour.
We arrived at the glass and stone fortress of a museum with Ethan leading the group. I was ready to be somewhere a little quieter and calmer by that p
oint. I loved being in noisy bars, but even I had my limits. We stepped into the cool, crisp lobby of the museum with double-height ceilings. It was tastefully decorated with large, pale cream floor tiles and carefully chosen paintings spread across the walls. They depicted proud desert elves, fennec foxes at their feet with Zeifri on the other side, their Enfields casually lounging nearby.
Taking a calming breath, I focused on the job at hand. We had to ascertain whether the stone was the one we were seeking.
"Maze, it's good to see you," Ethan greeted a tall elegant woman with mahogany skin and kind eyes.
"You look well, Ethan, and you brought friends." Her voice carried the soothing notes of a song magician.
"I'm Kaitlyn, this is my boyfriend Logan, and our friend Erin," I said, holding out my hand for her.
She smiled broadly, but her eyes searched my face looking for lies or other potential issues. She shook my hand with a firm grip, which she gave to Erin, then Logan.
"I'm afraid I can't spend all day gossipping with you, please come with me," she said.
We followed her down the wide halls with glass cases full of beautiful finds from ancient pottery to fae made blades and shimmering tapestries.
The stone had pride of place in the centre of the largest room in the heart of the museum. It was quite something to behold. The glow shimmered and moved over the stone in a soothing rhythmic pattern. I gripped my backpack tighter without realising.
Maze left us alone with the stone in the case. Ethan stood looking at it before he sighed.
"It's nothing more than earth magic and a little pure fae magic. It's rare, and likely worth a lot, but," he shrugged.
We all sagged. I hadn’t realised how much I’d been hoping that it would be this simple. After the trouble in Rio with the Garou, I was ready for an easy collection. Erin frowned and slowly turned around in a circle before her eyes darkened and she took two quick steps forward.
“I need you to trust me,” she said, her voice low and her focus on the archway through to the next exhibit.
“Of course,” I said.
She took a slow breath and marched through to the next exhibit. It was a piece on nymphs and their culture. I had no idea their culture was so complex as I saw pieces of exquisite embroidery, long stories, and beautifully made crafts.
Erin stopped dead in front of a glass case with a shard of deep red and green wood in it. She pressed her palm to the glass, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“This is supposed to be blood wood, but the nymph is trapped inside. I can feel her. You have to free her,” she said in a whisper.
Ethan stepped next to her and looked into the glass case. Logan and I spread out to cover the entrance and exit.
Blood wood was a horrifying thing; it was wood taken from the tree of a dead nymph. The trees were often chosen specifically to create the wood, meaning that the nymphs were murdered. I didn’t think it was legal anywhere in the world anymore. Perhaps that had been why it was in the exhibit, to highlight the atrocities that had been committed against the nymphs.
A quiet cracking of glass told me that they were in. Hushed voices behind me sounded like Erin and Ethan were disagreeing. We couldn’t hang around. We needed to move.
“Come on Kit,” Logan said cheerily.
I turned to see Erin slipping the wood into her backpack.
"Oslo or Dubrovnik next?" Erin asked chirpily as though nothing had happened. I went along with it.
"Bed," Logan said.
"I think Logan's right, we all need to rest. We can plan our next move once we're rested," Ethan said.
I walked to Erin and squeezed her hand.
"You can stay with us, if you're worried about nightmares. I'm sure Wispy will keep you company," I said.
Wispy pressed himself against Erin's cheek in agreement.
"Thanks," she said softly.
Ethan looked between us with confusion on his face.
"I was almost sacrificed," Erin said as though it was nothing.
"Tell me about it in the hotel," Ethan said.
We left the museum and began looking for somewhere to sleep. The idea grew on me with each step. How long had it been since I'd slept, anyway? Wispy curled up under my hair and snored in my ear as we walked through the streets, looking for the hotel Logan had picked out. My wisp had the right idea.
29
By some miracle, we made it out of the museum without anyone saying anything. Once we were safely in the hotel, Ethan explained that he’d put a small wooden weight on the pressure sensor; no one would realise the blood wood was gone unless they knew what they were looking at. By the time someone with the right knowledge happened along, we’d be long gone. Or so I hoped.
Erin pulled the wood from her backpack and sighed softly.
“Ethan broke the bonds to the wood in the museum, she’s free. Can you turn it to ash, Kaitlyn, please? I want to be sure that there’s no trace of this horror left,” Erin said with tears in her eyes.
“Of course,” I said gently as I took the wood from her.
The residual magic left in it felt sticky and warm, much like the blood it took its name from. I hoped that the bastards who had created it suffered greatly for the pain and anguish that had caused. Logan and Ethan stayed with Erin and comforted her as I took the wood over to the desk and covered it in fire powder. It disintegrated in barely more than a breath. It would cause no more suffering.
After a good night's sleep and a large breakfast, we were ready to head to Oslo. There was something about the photos of the stone in Oslo that made the guys more confident that it was the one. We packed up and put Wispy in his cage. He was particularly grumpy after his half ration for breakfast. He continued to groan and roll around his cage as though he were dying for a good ten minutes after we'd left the hotel.
Ethan had arranged for us to do our first leg of the journey via sylph. They weren't the most common of transport methods, partially because they didn't deal in money. They dealt in whatever made them smile, which could be awkward. Thankfully, our sylphs didn’t want anything more than a little story about our day-to-day lives. I told them about Elle Klyne and how Erin and I enjoyed curling up on the sofa and watching it. Logan told them about his runs down by the river, Ethan talked about his weekly trip to the book store, and Erin talked about her trips to the alchemical supply shop. The sylphs were absolutely delighted.
Upon the completion of our stories, we were picked up and began our journey. It was a bizarre sensation that I didn’t entirely enjoy. I was wrapped up in a moving bubble of air that was somehow only semi-translucent, meaning that everything was a blur of muted colour as we shot by it. The sylph sung to herself for the duration of her journey, which would have been pleasant had she have been able to hold a tune. She kept getting distracted and changing song halfway through a tune, and it came out as a mangled mess of noise.
The second problem with sylph transport is, they aren't always entirely reliable, as was demonstrated quite thoroughly. My sylph dropped me on the far side of Madrid from the others, and I had to jump in a taxi to reach them in time to get on the air transport to Oslo. Aside from that little problem, the trip to Madrid had been uneventful and swift. It had taken the sylphs barely more than twenty minutes to cover the distance, but none of them wanted to be cold, so we only made it to Madrid. I didn't know how they worked, and touching them was very much off limits, so I couldn't use my alchemical sight to try and figure it out.
I was glad to curl up in Logan's lap in the last booth on the commercial air transport. An old woman narrowed her eyes at our open display of affection. I kissed Logan hard in return. Yes, it was petty, but I was weary and ready to get to the next leg of our adventure. Traipsing around museums wasn't my idea of fun.
Oslo was a collection of sharp, hard lines, ice, and glass. It stood in such complete contrast to the previous locations of the week. I paused and took it in as the sharp magic bit into my fingertips and tested my will. Wispy growled at it a
nd demanded to be let free. I complied. It was addictive and haunting like Rekyavik had been. It was more aggressive.
"Come on, Kit, let's get to the museum," Logan said as he kissed behind my ear and wrapped his arm around my waist.
Erin ran her fingertips over mine.
"Is it calling to you?" she asked quietly.
I gave her a confident smile.
"No, it's just a big shift, is all," I said.
As much as the magic was aggressive, the overall feel of the city was quite the opposite. It somehow felt welcoming and warm, much like a comfortable old cottage where you could sink into the familiar grooves and patterns. The contrast between the tinker buildings, with hard lines, which were the epitome of cold modernity, and the sensation of homeyness that came from the magic, threw me. I didn't like it. I couldn't relax. It felt as though it were trying to deceive me somehow. The lack of wild magic that I could see only added to that suspicion.
We walked directly to the museum, another bright silver building with masses of glass and razor-sharp edges. The feeling of history rolled off it, and I wondered if that was an illusion or something the tinkers had woven into the metal of the building. The windows had the faint spark of fae magic about them. I didn't think I'd ever seen so much fae glass in one place before. It was notoriously expensive. Even the richest of people didn't get more than a few chandeliers or focal pieces.
The foyer was every inch as modern and clean as I expected. I looked around, trying to decipher what exactly would justify quite so much money being thrown into the building.
Erin gasped. "Is that the Cavalon amulet!?”
There it was, there on a poster three times as tall as I was. The Cavalon amulet, complete with a professor from London giving a talk on it. I did hope that we didn't bump into said professor; I'd had a few run-ins with him in college, and had no desire to repeat the experience.