Twisted Legends: Twisted Magic Book 4

by Kaye, Rainy

  Bhaskar nodded so hard I thought he might need to sit down for the dizzy spell to pass.

  “We have a more immediately pressing issue,” I said, “and that is the entire reason I came for the keys in the first place. We have portraits that need returned to the vault.”

  Silence settled over the room, but the expectant kind. Everyone was waiting for what I was getting at, but the conclusion brought both fear and relief in a strange kind of swirling whirlpool.

  “I have to speak to the consortium,” I said. “If they have Chaand, I need to get her back.”

  “You think they’ll listen to you?” Otilia said, and I wanted to believe she didn’t mean the sneer that went along with her words.

  She used to make muffins for me.

  The thought of the baked goods brought back the memory of her vanilla-scented house.

  “Oh…You figured out how to throw off the dogs,” I said. “That’s how Bhaskar knew how to hide his scent from the hounds, but the soldiers didn’t realize vanilla messes with them.”

  Bhaskar and Otilia exchanged glances, as if uncertain why I had stated the obvious.

  Well, it wasn’t obvious to me, not until now, but at least they were united in one thing, even if at my expense.

  “Anyway,” Bhaskar said slowly. “I don’t know if you really want to go up against the consortium.”

  “Oh, no.” I shifted in my spot on the bed, trying to get comfortable which was an impossible feat at this point. “I don’t want to take them on.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Randall asked, sitting forward. “How can we possibly convince them to release the key?”

  I turned to him, and my heart skipped a beat, which was stupid timing to have a sudden flare of emotions. I cranked down the dial a bit.

  “Because we have portraits,” I said, emphasizing the last word. “We’ve already caught some that need to go back.”

  “So you think they’ll unlock the vault for us?” Randall drummed his fingers on the mattress, thinking, and then added, “It’s reasonable they’ll trade.”

  I reached my hands up under my hair and lifted it off my gross sweaty neck, then caught a whiff of my armpits and put my arms back down. “I don’t want to trade with them. I want to hand over everything and let them take over. This was their…thing.”

  Silence wrapped around the room, and this time, it was the cold, stifling kind. The kind that said I had forgotten something obvious and important.

  Then Otilia spoke. “Fine. But before you go, I have one thing to do.”

  I started to ask her what, then I realized what I had missed: Yuto. If I involved the consortium, they would put Yuto right back in his prison like they had the first time.

  “I want to help him,” she said. “I want the chance those bastards never gave us. Help me save Yuto, and I will tell you how to reach the consortium.”

  A few feet away from her, Bhaskar bowed his head. I knew his thoughts in an instant: he could bring us to the consortium himself, without her help.

  But he was willing to give her this one wish.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go redeem a dark mage.”

  18

  We all gathered back at Otilia’s house, and it had become quite the party, between Randall and me, reunited with Sasmita and Fiona who remained quiet in the corner, fresh from a nap, our gracious host Otilia, and Bhaskar, the guest at which she occasionally glared daggers.

  It was strange to think that I used to live next door. I hadn’t known back then that the sweet muffin-baking neighbor had once been the most ruthless hunter through ages, until love had been her downfall. Now here we were, about to help right one wrong in her more than fifteen-hundred-year existence.

  “So, how can we help Yuto, exactly?” I asked as we sat around the living room with mugs of hot tea and coffee, and plates with cake. Store bought.

  How times have changed.

  I crammed several large bites of cake into my mouth before I realized I had already downed half of my slice, then forced a bit of self-control.

  Instead, I gulped down my hot tea, despite how it scalded the back of my tongue.

  Otilia waited, perched on the edge of her chair, as if giving me a moment to find my manners. She hadn’t just crossed the Dark Lands, knocked down idol statues, ran from the consortium’s army, and ended it all by falling off a cliff.

  I’d earned my cake.

  “There’s a medallion,” she said, and I groaned around another mouthful of cake.

  Chocolate, if I allowed myself to taste it.

  “It’s always a medallion,” I said through my food and then swallowed down the bite. “One medallion I had to confront a monster in a swamp, and then chase after a crocodile shifter when he stole it. The other, I quite literally fell down the side of a mountain and was buried alive in snow to take it.”

  The first one, I still had on me. The second, I had given to Ever’s sisters, who then dropped it down a ravine.

  Totally worth the adventure. Truly.

  “So what awful creature lurking in some awful place is holding this one?” I asked. “And what are they going to do to me when they catch me trying to steal it?”

  Otilia shrugged. “This one should be easy. The owner is dead.”

  “Easy?” I paused my fork over my last bite of cake and narrowed my eyes at her. “If it’s so easy, why have you waited this long to collect the medallion?”

  “Because Yuto has been in a prison, if you recall,” she said, not at all sweet Miss Rose from next door anymore.

  “It’s specific to his problem how…?” I crammed the last bite into my mouth. Anyone who didn’t like it could write a letter to Miss Manners. Or Dear Abby. Whichever one dealt best with horrible cake eaters.

  “It strips magic from an individual,” Otilia said, and then offered me her plate with an untouched slice of cake.

  I went to take the plate, then looked at Randall who sat next to me with a question on my face if he wanted to share. He waved me off, but leaned forward and cut himself another slice from the remaining cake on the coffee table.

  After I took a bite of her slice, I mulled around what she had said. “Is that how they—?”

  “Stripped my powers?” she asked pointedly. “No, they didn’t need such frou-frou. Don’t underestimate the strength of the consortium. They hunt the dark witches and mages as nearly their equals.”

  I wasn’t sure how to process what she was saying and cake at the same time, so I put a pin in that conversation to circle back around later.

  “This is the plan then?” I asked. “Take a medallion from a dead person and then use it on Yuto to strip his powers and then…”

  I filled the pause in my sentence with cake.

  “Then the consortium will have no reason to force Yuto back into his prison,” she said, rising to her feet.

  I thought she was going to get tea refills, but she stood, towering over us, and I reminded myself of the man she had beheaded when I had first returned to Nebraska.

  Cake and tea were sort of a side hobby.

  “They couldn’t just strip the dark mages and witches of their powers in the first place?” I asked as the thought occurred to me. I finished my cake and, with a tinge of sadness, placed my empty plate on the coffee table. “Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

  “The dark ones are far too powerful,” she said. “Trying to strip one would be dangerous.”

  I didn’t have to ask her if she thought Yuto would give in to our request without a fight. She was adamant in his innocence, in his ability to be saved. I sort of had to agree.

  Yuto had not been like the other dark witches and mages, inflicting mayhem with glee and reveling in siphoning magic from deep within the earth. He had been powerful, but distraught. Whatever he had become was not who he had set out to be, once upon a time.

  I couldn’t imagine, especially after having used my magic with barely more than a thought in the pocket, that I could ever relinquish my powers. Th
en again, a few hundred years in a prison built just for me would probably change my tune, too.

  “Fair enough,” I said. “We’ll get the medallion, bring it to Yuto, and use it to strip his powers so when we approach the consortium with the portraits, they won’t have any reason left to seek him out. Just one question?”

  “Yes, you can have more cake,” she said, and Bhaskar and Randall both snickered.

  I playfully nudged Randall’s knee. “No…I mean, that too, but I was going to ask, I know Eliza Brown tore apart Green River. Any chance the bathroom here still works and I can burn off several layers of muck in a hot shower?”

  “I rigged up the plumbing and electrical after the utilities started going out,” she said, gathering plates. “It’s not perfect, but you all should be able to wash up well enough before we leave.”

  I started to turn to Randall, but a muscle pulled in my neck, and I grabbed my shoulder as I eased myself around to him. “Do you want to go first?”

  “No, it’s fine,” he said, pushing to his feet. He gathered silverware lying around on the coffee table and end tables. “Go have fun. I’m sure we have another long adventure ahead getting the medallion. These things never go quite like we expect.”

  I bobbed my head, too tired to make an actual comment.

  “However…” He pointed an unused fork at Bhaskar. “Where did all these medallions come from?”

  Sasmita perked up but didn’t comment.

  In the kitchen doorway, Otilia leaned back, holding a stack of plates, and tipped her chin up at Bhaskar. “Yes, Bhaskar, do tell us the story of the medallions.”

  Her tone said she already knew, but she delighted in putting him on the spot.

  His back stiffened.

  “It’s simple,” he said, his tone unamused as was the look he cast at Otilia. “About sixteen hundred years ago, a blacksmith forged a series of medallions that he melded with different kinds of magic, with the help of several witches and mages. No one had attempted anything like that before, not in the way he did—and not with his success.”

  Otilia released the plates with one hand and waved him on.

  He sat forward in his chair, elbows on knees. “The consortium was concerned about magic becoming that accessible and put it to an end.”

  “They didn’t think to destroy the medallions too?” I scoffed, heading for the hallway that led to the bathroom. “Here I thought they were some badasses.”

  “Sahir’s people smuggled the medallions to safety before the consortium arrived,” Otilia said.

  Even as the questions surfaced, I knew Otilia had phrased her comment that way on purpose. It sounded…oppressive. Sinister. Like regimes throughout history.

  That couldn’t be right, could it?

  And hadn’t Sahir been the name of the man we’d met in Drop in the Rock?

  I shook off the thought for now. First, I needed to de-smell. I wasn’t going to solve ancient history in the span of taking a shower.

  In the bathroom, I peeled out of my clothes and stepped under the spray before it had finished warming. My body clenched as blinding pain shot through me, and I nearly let out a yelp, but I eased myself through the agony. It took a fair bit of soap to determine what was dirt and what was injuries. Further inspection revealed significant bruises and gashes.

  When I finished washing, I didn’t look a whole lot cleaner, but I certainly felt it and my own stench didn’t make me want to throw up in my mouth anymore.

  As I toweled off, relishing in small comforts like a fluffy towel and not being in the middle of a moment where I might die, someone knocked on the bathroom door.

  “It’s me, Saf,” Randall called from the other side. “Unlock real quick.”

  The knob wasn’t locked, anyway.

  After wrapping the towel around me, I pulled open the door.

  Randall stood in the hallway, holding a stack of folded clothes that may have once belonged to me. It seemed like a long time ago now.

  “I went to your…I went next door,” he said, eyeing my face. “I grabbed some clean outfits for us to wear.”

  Not quite sure how to process he had returned to my home—or the house next door, as it was now—I took the stack of clothes, my fingers sinking into their softness

  “You had clothes…there?” I asked, dazed, as I placed the garments on one side of the vanity.

  He huffed out a laugh. “I had a few things there from way back when I helped Otilia with some gardening and brought a change of clothes to your house.”

  “You mean,” I said, whirling on him, biting down a smile, “I was doing your laundry this whole time?”

  Now that he mentioned it, I did remember occasions where he brought an overnight bag for an afternoon visit that lasted a week.

  He grinned, grabbing for the doorknob. “It all worked out in the end. Otilia repaid my help by showing us how to reach the keys.”

  “She sent us through the Dark Lands,” I said, shaking out the clean black shirt with a few brisk snaps. “I don’t think gardening should go on your resume.”

  He laughed, pulling the door shut.

  “Thank you!” I called as the door clicked into place, and then I dropped my towel and pulled on the clean outfits. Even though it felt strange to be in different clothes, that the previous ones had somehow become my outfit for the apocalypse, wearing something fresh and that belonged to me was an invigorating follow up to the shower.

  Soon, I would be ready to take on whatever stood between me and the medallion for Yuto.

  19

  As it turned out, the medallion was located on a private estate eight hours away in northeastern Minnesota. That was where Otilia had tracked it down while she had been stewing for a few hundred years. At least she had a plan.

  “I’ll bring sandwiches for the trip,” she said as we gathered around the living room, freshly cleaned.

  Randall had taken the liberty to raid my closet for a change of clothes for Sasmita and Fiona as well and managed to find items that fit them reasonably.

  “You two should rest up.” Otilia indicated between me and Randall. “One of you can sleep in the guest room and the other can take my bed.”

  I pointed at Sasmita, too tired for words.

  “It’s fine,” she said, waving us on. “Fiona and I rested while you were…away.”

  Guilty relief washed over me. I really didn’t want another crowded sleeping arrangement, at least for a few hours. It had been a while since I could fully stretch out and drool and whatever else needed to achieve maximum relaxation.

  With a nod, I headed with Randall down the hallway, passing the steamy, humid bathroom, to three undisturbed doors.

  Randall stepped around me and pushed open the one directly ahead. The laundry room beyond was barely more than a closet, and he closed it.

  “Left, or right?” he asked.

  I grabbed the doorknob closest to me, the left.

  “Show me what’s behind door number one,” I said, and then pushed it open.

  A queen-sized bed done up with an oatmeal colored duvet was pressed against the wall, and heavy blackout curtains hung over the single window. A pair of shoes rested on the fluffy rug near the bed, and several medication bottles were gathered on top of the nightstand.

  “Looks like I got Otilia’s room,” I said. “Catch you on the flip side.”

  With that, I shuffled into the room, eased the door closed, and then dropped face first onto the bed. It took everything in me, and several long moments, before I had the energy to push myself over, kick off my boots and socks, and slide under the blankets. Perhaps a good guest would have rested, nearly floating, on the duvet and nothing more intrusive.

  Today, I was not a good guest. I was a tired, beaten mess that just wanted a few hours of blissful unconsciousness in a pile of blankets and pillows, even if someone else had slept in them last night and I could vaguely pick up their floral perfume, a scent I had never really noticed but recognized, on the bedding.
>
  I had barely finished telling myself I should be disturbed by someone else’s scent on the bed before I was out.

  So much for being invigorated.

  Someone nudged me awake where I lay buried under the bedding, bouncing me a little on the mattress. I knew it was Randall even before he spoke.

  “Safiya, we gotta go,” he said.

  I moaned-whined and rolled over, twisting the duvet around me and pulling it up over my head. “Just give me a few more…hours.”

  “You can sleep on the road,” he said. “We have a long drive.”

  “I don’t want to…”

  “I know,” he said with more sympathy than I deserved. He hadn’t experienced any less of the nightmare than I had. “Come on.”

  With that, he maneuvered around the blankets and heaved me upright. I flopped forward as he tugged me to my feet and then adjusted a blanket around my shoulders. My vision hadn’t quite cleared yet, and I didn’t want it to, because then I would be fully awake and obligated to go steal a medallion from a dead guy and talk an out-of-control mage into letting us take away his powers, indefinitely. Despite Yuto being more than a cookie-cutter villain, he was still one of the most powerful mages to have ever walked the earth. That counted for something.

  I sagged against Randall as he clasped my opposite shoulder with one hand and guided me down the hall and outside where everyone had gathered around our motorhome in my old driveway. Dried grass poked at my bare soles, but my toes flexed in the chilly freedom.

  Sasmita and Bhaskar were loading up tote bags brimming with paper towels, lotion, and who knew what else stuffed inside.

  Otilia stood with a closed ice chest next to her, presumably with the promised sandwiches. She had more foresight than I did, instead of running off without much thought about what we would need when we reached our destination, but I supposed a thousand years or so did that to a person.

  Near them, Fiona hunkered on her haunches by the back tire, one hand to the ground, and I recalled how she had lost it at the ranger station in Haven Rock. She didn’t seem far from that now.

  Being locked in the motorhome for the next eight hours was increasingly worrisome.