Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller

by Nicolette Jinks

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I tried to read my book, succeeding only in staring unfocused at its pages, a hint of smile on my lips. Warmth spread over my cheeks when I remembered Mordon's hands about my waist. To say nothing of the way his voice made goosebumps rise on my arms. The dragon ring on my finger stirred, lifting its head and licking my skin. Reminded of its presence, I felt a chill.

  I wasn't falling for Mordon.

  I refused to admit to the notion.

  Not that it was anything against him. It was that I had sworn myself to a life of hermit-hood. I snorted. Worthless. It was all worthless. My hormones would do as they pleased, but perhaps that desensitizing potion Nest had mentioned might help matters. I had to watch my own actions, keep a firm rein on my fantasies, and hope that Mordon didn't grow to fancy me any more than he already did.

  Resolved in my course of action, I returned to reading Skills.

  It had a focus exercise for me which involved extending the senses to include the press of an item within the chosen element. Magic could be sensed similarly to any of the five senses, and practicing that sense led to greater control.

  I held a crystal ball in my hand and rolled it around my palm, feeling for the way it carved a path into the air, feeling for a sense of anything.

  When I closed my eyes, I felt the crystal warm on one side and cool on the other as it went around and around. I turned my hand and felt magic cup it, straining beneath the weight. It started to feel heavy. I focused on lowering the crystal ball to the wood floor.

  The door to Merlyn's Market opened; I compensated for the rush of air but the speed of the ball increased. The door slammed. Air clapped over my ears. With a cry, I covered my ears and hunched over in a wince of pain.

  "Leif, don't do that," I snapped, then rubbed a tear away from my eyes.

  "Where is Mordon? He's supposed to be watching you.”

  "He's sorting stock," I lied and made a motion to the far end of the shop. Mordon was looking up those symbols I'd drawn, but he had been wary when I suggested he look for them in colonial-era texts.

  Leif hissed an angry sigh, but before he could start to pick a path towards the back end of the shop, Mordon's boots padded towards us.

  "Where were you?"

  Mordon raised a brow at Leif. His eyes widened when he saw me. He pulled a handkerchief out from his pocket and approached me, his boots crunching on broken shards of crystal upon the floor.

  "I'm fine," I said even as I realized that my ears were muffled.

  Mordon's rings caught the light when they reached for my face. He dabbed at my ear, and when I drew away, I saw a trace of blood on the pale cloth. Mordon frowned, and his voice only held a hint of anger when he said, "There was a reason I had the doors shut and the closed sign up."

  "You shouldn't have been practicing here. It isn't a controlled environment," Leif said. His face held the regret that his tone did not.

  My hands were shaking. I tried to hide it by holding them behind my back.

  Mordon said, "This is where I am strongest, except if I were back home. I see nothing wrong with our chosen venue. It is certainly better than in the commons lounge where a mistake could interact wrong with any one of five magician's spell-casting."

  Leif crossed his arms and sighed. "She's going into shock."

  I wanted to object that I was not, but I'd had enough accidents to identify the foggy dizziness and weak stomach as shock. Pulling up a chair, I sat and focused on relaxing and pulling myself back together while Mordon grumbled, "Of course she is. You broke her out of full concentration. What made you do that?"

  From my new vantage point, I could see that Leif was wearing a ceremonial hood draped down the back of his gray formal robes. He must have attended a formal meeting, and whatever the conclusion had been was not a pleasant one.

  "What did the council say?" I interrupted the two men. "I take it they did not want to meet me?"

  Mordon looked at me; I squared my shoulders and folded my hands in my lap, noticing that though my fingers were cold at least they had stopped shaking. When he looked again at Leif, Leif seemed utterly defeated. Leif took a tiny fork off Mordon's counter and flicked the tongs, letting loose a simple stream of notes. Leif said, "There was…opposition to you by some individuals with a lot of sway. I was able to soften their demands, but you are to be quarantined until a 'more agreed-upon' decision is made."

  "Was the actual word quarantine?" I asked, looking for a loophole.

  "The actual wording was 'restricted to quarters until the subject's safety may be properly assessed'," Leif said the words as though they tasted sour.

  Mordon was frowning. "But Fera needs a variety of experiences which would be insufficient in her quarters alone."

  Leif rubbed his head. "I know."

  I watched as both men kept words back. I said, "Thank you, Leif, for doing what you can. Mordon, would you please help me up the stairs?"

  "Fera, I'm—" Leif stopped himself before he could say sorry, and just opened the wainscoting door.

  Mordon was quick to take my arm. Mordon's muscles twitched in his cheeks and his face had grown red. I took the stairs slowly—until I saw the door close behind us with Leif on the other side.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I bounded up the rest of the steps .I cocked a grin over the edge at Mordon. "Hurry it up. I've wanted an excuse to try this."

  Mordon stopped with one foot held over the rung, confusion pinching his brow. He said, "You're feeling perky."

  The tone was accusing. I raised my hand and shrugged. "I recover well. But I needed an excuse to abscond with you without drawing suspicion—unless you don't want any part of my schemes. In which case I'll send word to Barnes."

  Mordon shook his head, but started back up the stairs again. "You were just told you were quarantined, and that the council wants to see you stripped of your magic."

  I shrugged, "Do you want me to mope about that? I was afraid it would happen. When I'm afraid of something, I make plans. Frankly I'm just glad they didn't bust down the door and seize me."

  "I would have laid them flat three times over before you could so much as wave a hand."

  The way Mordon said it surprised me. He said it as casually as I said good morning. He said it as though he were answering a question. Though I had thought he would help me, I had not expected such a level of commitment. I had thought he cared for me, but I didn't think that he cared that much.

  I said, "I have no doubt you can."

  But I was still surprised that he would.

  Mordon stood before me, and I realized that with him two steps below me, we were at eye level. So often I forgot how short I was, and compared to the breadth of his chest, I seemed positively tiny. It was a disorienting realization. He said, "What's the plan, then?"

  I shot him a grin. "It seems that I have a big backyard to play in, but the door to get out there sticks a little."

  A slow smile crossed his face. He followed me as I crossed the common area. Mordon said, "You were just waiting for an excuse to break the rules."

  Flinging open my french doors, I shot him a serious look. "I don't wait for excuses. I just need a little help with one part of the locking mechanism. I thought I'd take advantage of your mood."

  As he followed me into my rooms, he said, "I'm glad you did."

  I blushed.

  Mordon unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a dark gray undershirt beneath, one which was not covered in lines of dust and cobwebs. He said, “Show me how far you've gotten. I'll see if I can tell where you've gone wrong.”

  I reached for my book, watching as he looked around, then placed the black button down on the edge of my counter. Flipping through the pages, I stopped when the book fell open to a page filled with words which quickly swirled into blank page. I let out a groan.

  A second sorcerer is present. Will they be aiding today? The book wrote.

  Looking at Mordon, I showed him the question. He reached over me and used his
fingernail to trace words on the page, which the book filled with its own ink. He wrote, My name is Mordon Meadows. I will be assisting Feraline.

  The book paused. Words receded and the original page came back again. Beneath it, the book wrote, Since the most basic unlocking spells have been unsuccessful, it is time for more. Construct a ward. The spell will be built within the ward, which will prevent others from sensing the construct of the spell, and prevent any damage should the spell go awry. Feraline Swift will need to drop the ward at the same instant that the incantation is finished, which will hit the locking enchantments with a sharp force.

  Mordon frowned at the book.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a candle. “If this goes wrong, you could be in the path of a major recoil. I'm speaking about broken bones and burns. Not to mention, getting the timing right is a little tricky.”

  “Tricks are my trade,” I said, but I took his words seriously.

  “I think the book is playing into that.” Mordon handed me the candle. “I'll be prepared for any recoils. Get to the ward, if the book has taught you.”

  The book hadn't taught me, but I knew anyway. I thought for a moment, to make sure I had the steps of the warding spell clear, then I took a deep breath. I lit the candle with my lighter and muttered, “Beorgan.”

  The candle flame turned orange and green. I held it still for a minute, waiting until I smelled melting beeswax and the tingly sting of a spell in progress ran down my arm. Then, mindful to not let the wax drip, I walked a slow circle around the sun room, speaking words at certain corners, timing the spell a little too slow so I had to hurry through the words by the time I reached the beginning. Facing Mordon, I said the final “beorgan.” The candle snuffed itself out all at once, leaving behind not even a trace of smoke even though the wax was still wet.

  Mordon arched an eyebrow. “Very good. But most people don't learn one like that until much later. There are simpler ones.”

  “My father said that if I were to learn one ward, it had to be that one.” I felt the ward shift as I spoke, and hastily turned my mind back to it. Splitting concentration was something I had been working on in private, but having another person around was surprisingly distracting.

  Mordon took the candle back, his fingers brushing mine. My heart skipped and I nearly lost the ward. When the ward was again stable, I heard Mordon talking.

  “…strong enough for most all purposes, easy compared to other advanced wards. Makes it very efficient. What did you say he did for a living?”

  “They hunt demons. I got out when it became too risky.”

  Mordon's brows shot upward in surprise. “You assisted them while scint? I'd love to hear some of those tales.”

  I realized he was preparing the spell for me, setting out the chalks and tearing a silk scrap, giving a silver dish a quick shine. I said, “It was a time I'd rather leave in the past.”

  “Understandable. Come read your book.”

  I did. I read it twice, checked on the items, then I began. I picked up the silk scrap and envisioned that it was the locking spell on the doors, an enchantment made of words woven together to be strong with one another. Then I pulled a string off the end of the fabric, imagining that was what I was doing to the spell outside. The more threads I pulled, the faster the scrap disintegrated. I dropped the strings into the dish, realizing at some level that I needed to do something with them so they wouldn't become entangled. The book mentioned nothing on this point, so I assumed that whoever had recorded the spell had their own method.

  I straightened out the threads across the dish, imagining the words of power adhering to the house as a protective skin.

  Then I spoke the words in the book, feeling the air thicken with the invisible structure of the spell. I suppressed a shudder and the worry that someone would distract me; even a small mistake would send words flying like shattered glass. Intimidating though it was to be doing spell-craft again, I was glad for the second chance.

  The strands in the bowl were glowing, light running from one side down to the next, the thicker strands gleaming brighter. I stroked them with my fingers, not sure why but not sure why not. They rose into the air and hardened, angling towards the doors like needles.

  As I took a breath, I met Mordon's gaze and pursed my lips. He crouched when a cluster of silk needles moved in his direction. Taking the chalk in my fist, I crumbled the sticks and let the debris fall. It didn't reach the floor, instead the dust and small bits suspended in the air.

  I said the final words and dropped my ward.

  It sounded like Mother's shotgun. My ears pounded and I heard the shards of the locking spell crash to pieces. The house shuddered and windows rattled in their frames.

  Then empty silence washed over me.

  Mordon stood. “Impressive.”

  My heart was pounding. “Did it work?”

  “It worked fine, the question is if it succeeded,” Mordon answered. He walked towards the outside door. “I am glad I didn't have to defend us against your spell, though. This opens up very exciting opportunities for precision spell-crafting, you know.”

  I laid a hand over my heart and exhaled, feeling both relieved and giddy at my success, but also apprehensive of trying again in the future. “I can't promise a repeat of today. I hate doing structured spells.”

  “More's the pity.” Mordon reached for the door, but it opened of its own accord. With a flourish, Mordon said, “After you.”

  Already the spell-casting whittled at my energy, but for now I didn't care. I stepped out onto the porch and my breath caught.

  All around me was open skies, with the house situated so near the cliff as it was. The clouds seemed huge, white cotton fluff against a blue backdrop. When I looked down the cliff, I saw that a set of stairs led to a slope which plummeted into the valley.

  Standing at the edge of the porch, I took in the scenery. With a glance back at Mordon, I teased, “How much of this do you think that I could claim was my backyard?”

  Two hands seized onto my shoulders and he pulled me back from the edge.

  It was then that I saw the first of the dragons emerging from a cloaking spell in the clouds. Mordon's fingers tensed on my shoulder, and when I looked back at him, his jaw was set and his eyes were focused.

  “Go back inside,” he said.

  The first dragon, a mottled brown and blue male with the lankiness of an adolescent, dropped low and blew flames above a small hut. A cry came up from the fields, and a man ran towards the house.

  “Go now,” Mordon commanded, and I saw scales taking over his skin.

  Before this instant, the full meaning of the title Drake Lord hadn't really sunk in. I'd heard of people with second forms, even encountered a werewolf once, but I hadn't stopped to think that drake meant that Mordon could change forms. To me, he'd always been that slightly-odd human shopkeeper. Seeing him change was peculiar. Perversely, I was disappointed that his sorcering robes were enchanted to gracefully disappear with the advance of scales.

  Did he know I was ogling him? I was totally ogling him.

  “Go!”

  I nodded, startled when he looked at me with bulging vertically-slit eyes. By the time I made it to the door, the entire porch moaned beneath the weight of his dragon form, and a red tail with yellow and black stripes flicked towards me. It twitched and whisked over the porch as Mordon took flight, fully in dragon form, and scarcely as large as the youngest dragon.

  For a brief second, I considered watching. But then I felt the air against my skin coming through the door. I sighed, feeling bad about lying to Mordon, and I put my invisibility ring on and went outside again.