Blood Storm Magic

by Jayne Faith

  One of them was titled “Magics Utilizing Bodily Fluids for Activation: An Etiological Study.” I had no idea what “etiological” meant, but the bodily fluids part snagged my attention because Florica had said the crimson magic was related to blood sacrifice, and because of Jen’s reaction when I’d accidentally summoned the magic during the coven meeting.

  I began wading through the paper. There was a part about bloodletting. When I got to the discussion about the proposed mechanism of spontaneous healing that had been observed when bloodletting was combined with certain magics, I knew I was on the right track.

  I opened a blank document on my laptop and started making notes. When I got to the end of the paper, I looked up the researcher’s name—Esmerelda Aguilar—and downloaded three more papers she’d written. As I scanned through them, I felt a sudden pang of longing. I wished I could share my newfound academic excitement with the one person who would have really appreciated it: Damien.

  My enthusiasm faded a little as I recalled the oracle’s warnings. I couldn’t succeed alone, and I needed an adversary to turn ally. Damien was an adversary, but I had a feeling he wasn’t the one the dragon had been talking about. He was too far gone and too deeply invested in trying to heal his own lifelong wounds.

  Phillip Zarella, perhaps? Or maybe my uncle Jacob. Either of those options made me squirm—I wanted nothing to do with either man. I’d intended to try to use Zarella, but maybe that was the wrong tactic.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and rubbed my forehead.

  A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

  Loki was wagging his tail before I even opened door.

  “Roxanne?” I said, surprised to see the blond teenager standing on the porch. I’d met her several months ago, when I’d helped her get her brother out of a jam. Ever since, she’d been a sort of unofficial little sister to the coven, and Deb had been mentoring her in magic.

  “Nathan had to take a job on a fishing boat for a while,” she said. She came in and unceremoniously dumped her overstuffed, frayed backpack on the floor. “We gave up the apartment. Deb said I could stay here.”

  I just stared at her for a second.

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” I said finally, alternately impressed and a little concerned about how unconcerned Roxanne seemed about the whole thing and also wracking my memory.

  Had Deb mentioned Roxanne moving in and I just forgot? I looked around the tiny apartment with a sinking feeling. I was already sleeping on the sofa. We were going to have to try to borrow a camping cot or something for Roxanne. I couldn’t even think about what it would be like when I brought my brother home. And then Deb’s baby arrived. Three adults, two kids, and a hellhound-doodle in here? I pulled a hand down my face but then pushed my concerns to the back of my mind. We’d figure it out.

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I asked.

  Roxanne had already flopped on the sofa, pulled up her feet, and was intent on her phone in one hand and absently patting Loki’s head with the other hand.

  She looked up. “School got out, like, a half hour ago.”

  I checked the time on my phone. “Oh, right.”

  “Hey, I want to make dinner for you guys,” she asked. “Can I do spaghetti?”

  I spread my hands in a welcoming gesture. “Absolutely.”

  That was the thing about Roxanne. She acted like a typical sullen teenage girl some of the time, but then she’d make sweet gestures like fixing dinner, or she’d shout your name across a room, run at you, and throw her skinny arms around your waist in a hug.

  “Can I have some money to get spaghetti stuff at the store?” she asked.

  My eyes bugged. “Wait, you’re not buying?”

  “Uhhh . . .”

  “Just kidding,” I said. “Get whatever else you want, too.”

  I pulled a few bills out of my pocket and passed them to her. Roxanne was pretty enterprising—from a young age she’d had to find ways to contribute to household income—but I didn’t expect her to pay for food while she was staying with us. She was also an expert at how to make meals on a tight budget, which was ideal for Deb’s and my current situation. Roxanne knew how to pitch in and understood the concept of pulling your own weight however you could. The thought actually brightened my mood. She was a good kid, and I hadn’t seen much of her in the past few weeks. It’d be nice to have her around. I tried to focus on that rather than the extra mouth to feed and the lack of space in the apartment.

  “Sweet, thanks,” she said, stuffing the money in the kangaroo pocket of her pullover hoodie.

  Roxanne put on her parka and headed out to the grocery store that was a couple blocks away, and I powered up my laptop, ready to throw myself back into the research I’d downloaded. Just as I opened one of the documents, my phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Hi, Ella, this is Becky, your coven sister.”

  My brows drew together. Becky was the one running against me for Keeper of Means, the treasurer position in the coven. She and I hadn’t ever really talked much beyond exchanging pleasantries. She was on the quiet side and hadn’t seemed particularly close to anyone in the coven.

  “Are you alone?” she asked.

  “Uh, yeah, actually.”

  “Good,” she said. “I have some information about the coven’s financials that I think might interest you. But I don’t want anyone else to know, including Deb.”

  Chapter 14

  I CLOSED MY laptop. “You’ve got my attention.”

  “Am I correct in assuming you don’t trust Lynnette?” Becky asked, her tone blunt.

  I slid a guilty look off to the side and gave a short, humorless laugh. “Gee, did I not hide that so well?”

  She snorted. “Not particularly. I think I can prove that she’s cooking the books and lying about a number of things, but I need to get a closer look. Would you be willing to withdraw from the running for Keeper of Means?”

  A slow smile began to spread over my face.

  “On one condition,” I said. “You let me help you take her down.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Becky said. “And actually, I do have something for you.”

  “Shoot, anything.”

  “You’ve got friends at Supernatural Crimes, right?” she asked.

  “I’ve got contacts there, yeah.”

  “As soon as I get into the financials, I want to double-check all of the freelance jobs she’s claimed to have with that organization. I have a feeling there are discrepancies, but I’ll need someone there to verify them.”

  I wasn’t sure I could persuade Lagatuda to help me, but I was damn sure willing to try.

  “I’ll do whatever I can,” I said.

  “Thanks, Ella,” Becky said. She seemed to hesitate over what she wanted to say next. “I know it’s going to cause an uproar in the coven if I come forward with this, but I can’t just stand by and let her continue to lie.”

  Relief flooded through me like a cool breeze on a hot day. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear someone else say that,” I said.

  We hung up a moment later.

  I’d been wishing Deb would come to her senses and quit blindly following Lynnette, but that had proved to be an uphill battle. I’d assumed my next best bet was Jen and hoped she might be an ally in trying to take down Lynnette, but I’d never quite been sure I could trust her. Looking back, I realized I should have made a greater effort to get to know the other women and feel out each of them for where they stood in their loyalty to the coven leader. My mood soured a little as I understood my mistake. Just another example of how my anti-social ways had failed me.

  The door opened, and I jumped guiltily as Deb walked through.

  She peered at me. “Caught you daydreaming?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess I was spacing out,” I said.

  She spotted Roxanne’s things and stopped short, smacking her forehead. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to tell you Rox was coming. My memory is crap lately
.”

  I waved a hand. “No worries. Pregnancy brain.”

  She gave me a grateful smile and went into the bedroom to put down her things and change.

  “She’s getting food for dinner,” I said.

  “Aw, that’s nice of her,” Deb called from the next room.

  My phone pinged with a message, and I half expected it was at text from Becky. But it was an unknown number and the message contained only a Boston address. I frowned. Maybe someone sent it to the wrong number? Then another message came through.

  Your brother is there. Go now.

  My heart skipped a beat, and then my pulse sped. I stared at my phone for a couple of seconds. Who could it be from? Someone who knew I had the ability to travel long distances very quickly. Damien or Zarella?

  I tapped the address to open it in my maps app. I didn’t know Boston, but I was going to have to become familiar with a nearby feature so I could visualize it and use the in-between to travel there, and I needed to do it fast. With hasty swipes, I zoomed in and looked for anything useful. There, Boston Common, a large urban park, was a handful of blocks from the address. There was a statue of Paul Revere on a horse, and there was a fountain near it. That should do.

  I went to the kitchen and began filling the sink with water. While I waited, I studied the photo of the landmark. Loki appeared in the kitchen doorway, watching me. I grabbed his leash out of the drawer. When I turned off the water, he came to sit beside me. We faded into the in-between together.

  I used the water to take us to Boston Common, a ghostly expanse of paths and blank areas probably filled with grass and other greenery in summer. In the in-between, everything was washed-out shades of gray with no signs of life. When we popped back into the land of the living, a little boy of three or four happened to be looking our way while his mother’s attention was trained on another lady as the two women chatted. His eyes widened at our sudden appearance and grew even more surprised when he caught sight of Loki. I grinned at the kid and waved. He just stared.

  I took out my phone, glanced at the map to orient myself, and then snapped Loki’s leash on his collar for the sake of appearances and headed off at a jog for the northwest corner of the park. Boston was overcast, the trees leafless, and the air wintery, slightly warmer but more humid than Boise.

  When I arrived half a block down and across the street from a Brownstone building that had been converted into offices, I paused and checked the address again. That was it. I was just about to cross the street when my phone buzzed in my hand.

  Stay out of sight and watch.

  I blinked at the message and then looked up and peered around, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up as the creepy sense of being watched washed over me in a shiver. I walked a few steps and then backed into the shadowy nook next to a flight of stairs leading up to a residential Brownstone, taking Loki into the gloom with me. I watched the building across the street. A woman came out and hailed a cab. Another five minutes passed, and nothing happened.

  I punched in a reply to the text: Who are you?

  A moment later a response came: Someone who just wants to help.

  I squinted at the message as a tiny point of cold apprehension pinged through me. Who would want to help me, besides Zarella? And if it were Zarella, he’d use his code name. He had no reason to stay anonymous with me in these matters. Who was this?

  What am I watching for? I texted back.

  Nearly a minute went by before I got an answer: The people who get out of the black cars.

  Just then, three town cars with heavily tinted windows pulled up across the street. I pressed farther into the shadows. One-by-one, the drivers got out and went around to open the back passenger doors.

  A stately couple got out of the first car, and my breath caught. It was the Steins, Damien’s parents. A second later, Damien himself emerged from the same car. My chest clutched at the sight of my former partner and friend.

  When two men emerged from the second car, I stopped breathing. One was my brother. The other was my uncle, Jacob Gregori.

  My hand clutched convulsively around my phone, and it took every ounce of my self-control to keep from drawing magic and sprinting across the street to Evan. My chest hitched as I regained breath, and I took a couple of steps forward.

  My first urge was to charge, but then the doors of the third car opened, and five people stepped out. I could tell even from a distance that they were mages of the Order. They carried themselves the same way the Steins did—standing rod-straight and looking around at the world as if they not only reigned over it but also stood above it. I backed up again, taking refuge in the shadows.

  I watched the group go up the stairs of the Brownstone office building. Damien opened the door and then held it as everyone filed in. Just before he followed them, he flicked a glance left and right, but his gaze skipped right past the place where Loki and I were standing. Damien disappeared inside, and the door drifted closed behind him.

  I was no match for eight mages. It would be suicide to try to go up against them. But I couldn’t just leave.

  Pulling my awareness within, I reached for the realm of my reaper. A moment later, I stood in the gray mist of the in-between. Loki and I waited for a gap in the traffic of vehicles that were driverless except for the filmy, nebulous souls of the living that stood in for their corporeal counterparts. Then my dog and I crossed the street and jogged up the steps of the office building.

  Once inside, I paused. Which way had they gone? The living weren’t visible to me in limbo land. I moved off to the side of the lobby and popped back into the realm of the living just in time to see the last of the mages step onto the elevator. I flattened myself against the wall and waited for the doors to slide closed and then just about plowed into two men in business suits as I hastily scooted over to stare at the numbers illuminating over the elevator. One of them swore when he saw Loki. I ignored the exclamations.

  There was a long pause at floor five, but not knowing whether the group had gotten off at that floor or the elevator had stopped to let others on, I had to stay and track the other stops. Five, eight, and fourteen before it began to descend again.

  Too impatient to stand there and wait, I went for the stairwell and began sprinting up, taking the stairs two at a time with Loki on my heels.

  On the fifth floor, I slipped into the corridor. Some of the office doors were marked with business names, but others had only suite numbers. My heart sank as I realized I’d probably lost the mages.

  I slowed to a wandering pace, not sure how to proceed.

  “Where’d they go?” I muttered under my breath.

  If the mages were close enough, there’d be a little tickle of magical sensation due to the enormous power they were capable of wielding. But my skills were still rudimentary, and I just about had to be staring someone in the face to feel their level of magic. There was no reason to need such close proximity since I’d become a Level III. I just hadn’t learned how to stretch out with my senses.

  I ground my teeth and let out a frustrated growl. Loki looked up at me, cocking his head.

  “Damien?” I asked my hellhound. “Remember him?”

  Loki’s tongue lolled, and he panted a doggy smile. A woman rounded the corner and let out a squeak when she saw us. She backed up, disappearing from sight, clearly thinking it would be wiser to take a different route. It was probably only a matter of time before someone called security on us.

  “Smell his scent anywhere?” I asked Loki, feeling a little ridiculous about expecting him to understand what I was saying.

  He turned and began trotting down the hallway. He slowed and began pausing at every object he encountered—a potted plant, a gum wrapper, a pamphlet stand. After a minute or so, it just seemed like he was fiddling. I was just about to turn around and try the lobby to see if there was a receptionist or anyone who might know where a bunch of mages might be meeting, when he stopped at suite 518 and poked his nose at the door. He backed
up, sat, and looked at me.

  I pointed at the door. “Damien’s in there?” I whispered.

  His mouth fell open and he panted.

  I eyed the door, and then I faded to the in-between. Loki joined me.

  Damn. The door still stood solid before me. All I wanted was a look at my brother. Just to see if what Damien had said was true, if Evan really was getting clean. If he were in his right mind, he could help in his own escape.

  Suddenly Loki began shaking his head and whimpering. I started to bend down to see what was wrong when the door swung inward. Loki disappeared, presumably back into the realm of the living. I nearly followed him but caught myself. If I did, I’d appear right smack in front of whoever had opened the suite’s door. Instead, I stayed in limbo land and darted through the open doorway.

  Panic gripped me as I realized what I’d done—basically trapped myself in an office full of mages while leaving Loki to fend for himself. If Damien saw my dog, he’d instantly know I was nearby.

  But it was too late. The door closed behind me, trapping me inside. The awareness of souls nearby pinged the reaper within. I was more interested in the predicament I’d created. I’d either have to wait until one of the living opened it again so I could escape, or I’d have to leave the in-between and take my chances with the mages.

  I thought I had those two choices. It turned out I was very, very wrong.

  Pressure began to build inside my head. I groaned and then doubled over as it intensified so swiftly I barely keep my balance.

  I flailed out one hand as I pitched into the wall. It felt like someone was poking through my ears with pliers and trying to pull my brain out from both sides. I tried to reach for the ley line magic of the in-between, but the pain was too great. Then I realized what the pulling sensation was. Something—or someone—was trying to yank me out of limbo land.

  With a screech of agony and frustration, I lost my hold on the in-between. Back in the land of the living, I fell to my knees, panting and fighting to keep from passing out.

  Sensing several sets of eyes on me, I raised my head, squinting through the pain.