Broken Spells

by D. W. Moneypenny

  “Get out! Get out!” she screamed, writhing back and forth.

  Not knowing what to do, Mara scanned the room for signs of Ping. On the ground, below where the portal had spun, she spotted shards of glass—remains of the receptacle. She glanced toward the ceiling and realized what she thought earlier was smoke was actually Ping’s dispersal dust, flung far and wide by the explosion of the portal, taking a little longer than usual to coalesce in the corner of the room. She was in the process of checking him off her list of concerns when Tran screeched in such a high pitch that it hurt Mara’s ears.

  The curate rolled off the riser onto the floor. Thrusting her arms above her, she wailed, and her body rose off the carpet, levitating above the middle of the room at an oddly bent angle, as if her agony could snap her spine.

  Green florescence oozed from Tran’s eyes, like charged gas. Splaying her arms to her side, her hands ignited with a white light, and she shoved them into her face, covering her eyes as she gyrated in the air, screaming a lunatic’s wail.

  A single green spark flew from between her fingers, and Tran went slack, still suspended in the middle of the room. Mara watched the green light bob across the room and descend to the floor near the far wall, against which Sam had pulled himself. It flitted around his head, circling it once and then disappeared into his right eye. Sam blinked a couple times, and the greenness glowed from his eyes, focused on Mara.

  “You’ve got to stop her,” Sam said, his voice echoing, filled with alarm.

  Mara spun back to Tran, still hovering in the air. Her head rolled slowly on her neck, looking as if she were coming to after fainting.

  “I hope this works,” Mara said, holding out her right arm. She focused on the power that flowed through her body, not the metaphysical ability but the energy that gave her life. She willed it to flow from every part of her, down her arms and out the metallic tips of her fingers.

  Five tight blue beams of light shot from her fingers, across the room and struck Tran in the center of her chest. At the point of contact, a blossom of energetic arcs reached out from the curate’s sternum and danced across her body. She screamed raggedly as her body shook, but the sound was cut off by one last violent jolt of her frame, just before she fell in a heap to the ground.

  A wave of fatigue ran through Mara, and she bent over, her palms on her knees for support and balance.

  “Impressive,” Ping said from the corner of the room. “You’ve never used energy so coherently in the past.”

  “That was technology, not metaphysics,” Mara said. She held up her skeletonized arm and waved by wriggling her silver fingers. “Tran has pulled the plug on my abilities somehow.”

  “Metaphysically impossible,” Ping said. “A progenitor’s abilities cannot be stopped as long as Reality exists. It’s a basic principle.”

  “We’ll have to debate the implications of the impossible later,” Mara said. She staggered over to Tran’s limp body and placed two fingers on her neck. “Damn. She’s still alive. We’ve got to get moving. Sam?”

  He stood up by pressing against the wall behind him. “We’re here.”

  Mara noticed his gaze was focused on her. “You can see now?”

  “We can see the way the dead sees,” the two Sams said. “This body’s eyes are blind.”

  There was a kind of vacancy in them, but Sam had no trouble navigating around toppled furniture to stand at his sister’s side. “What happened to your arm?” he asked.

  “Long story. Later,” Mara said.

  Ping approached and took a moment to examine Sam’s eyes, pulling up one of his eyelids with a thumb. “The green shimmer makes it difficult for me to detect any physical damage. Perhaps I could heal him, like Ned Pastor,” Ping said.

  “We don’t have time for that now, especially if he can see well enough to get out of here. The Bowraith Spire is closed off, so we’ll need to retrace the way you three came, across the bridge to the skyboxes,” she said.

  “That won’t work,” Ping said. “We destroyed the bridge when we came across it.”

  “I’ll assume you had a good reason for doing that,” she said. “How do we get out of here?”

  “The ladder we took to come down here from the ceiling of the Arboretum also leads up to the roof of the building,” Sam said.

  “How do you know that?” Mara asked.

  “Phineas knew,” he said. “I’ve got some of his memories.”

  “Who the hell is Phineas?”

  “He’s an acolyte who the other Sam possessed on our way here. There’s no time to explain. It’s our only way out of the Apex,” Sam said.

  “How will we get down from the roof?” Mara asked.

  On the floor, a low gurgling sound came out of Tran’s throat. Everyone froze for a minute, but she didn’t move and didn’t look like she was awakening.

  “Scratch that question. We’ll figure out how to get down once we get there,” Mara said. “Where is this ladder?”

  Sam pointed to the hall entrance to the left, the one from which Mara had dashed into the room earlier. “It’s about thirty feet down that hall—a rounded hatch in the wall.”

  “Okay, here’s what we need to do. Those two hallways actually connect at the opposite end of the Apex—it’s one long curved passageway actually. We need to get Mara and Mom, who are in a room halfway down the hall on this side.” She pointed to the right. “But they are being guarded by a bunch of acolytes—too many to confront with just me and my laser hand.”

  “I think I might be able to prompt them,” Sam said. “But with my sight like this, I’m not sure.”

  “Well, you can give it a shot, but let’s not count on it,” Mara said. “Here’s the plan. You and Ping wait here for a few minutes until I can run down the left hall. I’ll circle around from the other side and draw the acolytes away from Mom’s room from the other side. Then you guys go down the right-hand hallway, get Mom and Mara, bring them back this way and cut across the salon to the other hall and to the hatch with the ladder. You should get there before I get back. Just head up the ladder as soon as you reach it. I’ll follow as quickly as I can.”

  “What about her?” Sam pointed to Tran’s prone body.

  “Leave her. We’ve got to regroup and figure out how to deal with her later, hopefully after I’ve figured out how she short-circuited my abilities. You guys understand what to do?”

  Sam and Ping nodded.

  Mara turned to Ping. “Mara might be groggy. You may need to help Mom get her to the ladder. And there’s Ginger. How will we get a chobodon up a ladder?”

  “Go ahead and distract the acolytes. Let us worry about the other matters,” he said.

  CHAPTER 40

  Ping watched Mara jog into the hallway at the right side of the salon before turning to Sam, who stood over the unmoving body of Curate Tran next to the riser in the center of the room. He stared at her, cocking his head to align it with the angle of hers on the floor so he could better examine her face. His own expression struck Ping as frustrated.

  “What’s wrong?” Ping asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. “Something about her is familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

  “Déjà vu?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t know any Vietnamese women or girls. I’m not sure I ever have,” he said. “I didn’t get this feeling when she was at Andrea’s house.”

  “Perhaps it’s a buried memory from the other Sam you’re sensing,” Ping said. “It must be confusing to coexist like that.”

  Sam nodded. “Maybe you’re right. It does feel like it’s coming from his side of things. I’ll worry about it later. We’ve got bigger things to worry about now. How long do we have to wait before we retrieve Mom and Mara from their room?”

  “Mara didn’t say. I’d recommend we move into the hall entrance and wait out of sight until we hear whatever distraction she intends to create,” Ping said.

  Sam turned away from the unconscious curate and followed P
ing to the passageway. Because of the curvature of the hall, they felt safe entering while pressing against the inside wall. After passing a couple doors, Ping held up his hand, pointed ahead and cupped his hand to his ear. He heard rustling and muffled voices.

  * * *

  Mara slowed as she approached the tight U-turn at the opposite end of the Apex. It seemed to take forever to get this far—the distance feeling much greater than the first time she had traversed the hall. Probably because she was tired and someone wasn’t chasing her.

  That’s about to change.

  Ahead, a shadow stretched and shifted along the outer wall—clearly a robed figure just around the bend in the hall. Mara slowed, then decided against the cautious approach and picked up the pace again, running straight up to a cluster of a half-dozen acolytes congregating outside the room that held her counterpart and her mother.

  Coming to a full stop, Mara extended her right arm, pointed a single finger at the group. At first the posture looked accusatory, then the blue beam of light shot out of it, striking a short rotund acolyte in the shoulder. The light ricocheted and burst into a knot of jagged arcs that danced in the air, clawing over the bodies of the other acolytes, sending them writhing to the floor.

  From around the bend, two other robed figures vaulted toward Mara. She turned and ran just as a ball of flame passed inches from her head.

  Where did that come from?

  She didn’t turn to see as she ran past the spot of wall that exploded in fire and smoke. Leaning into her stride, she plunged forward, knowing she’d have to slow down for the U-turn ahead.

  * * *

  Ping nodded to Sam as screams and gasps, followed by an explosion, reverberated off the walls of the hall ahead. “I think that would be our cue,” Ping said.

  They ran deeper into the hall, rounding the curvature to find a pile of unconscious acolytes lying in a heap, a thin wisp of smoke lingering overhead. A standing acolyte pushed away from the door when he saw Ping and Sam.

  Sam pulled at Ping’s shoulder and whispered, “Let me go first.”

  Ping paused long enough for Sam to pass and approach the acolyte, a middle-aged woman who looked more angry than scared, holding a white cloudy orb swirling above her outstretched hand.

  Sam held up his hands as if showing her that he was not armed. “It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt anyone.” He squinted at her, masking some of the green light that emitted from his eyes, catching her attention.

  “Just relax,” he prompted as he moved closer. Her arm lowered a fraction of an inch, and he nodded to the orb. “Good. Now can you get rid of that thing? You won’t need it.”

  The acolyte tossed the spinning mass straight into the air, and it dissolved into a puff of white cloud that dissipated harmlessly.

  “What was that thing anyway?” Sam asked.

  “A vapor orb—superheated water,” the acolyte said.

  “Definitely won’t need that,” Sam said. “Why don’t you stand aside and let us enter? Stay here and guard the door. Do not let anyone else in the room. Understand?”

  The acolyte nodded, and Sam reached for the latch on the door. When it wouldn’t open, the acolyte handed him a card, which he inserted into the slot. The lock clicked, and he and Ping entered the room.

  Inside, they passed the small vestibule area and found Diana standing next to the bed, on which Mara sat, her legs dangling over the side of the mattress. She looked like she had just awakened, but she was dressed in jeans and a polo. Her sleepy eyes widened when her gaze settled on Sam.

  “It’s really you,” the other Mara said. “Mom says you are carrying the thoughts of my Sam. Is that true? Is he in there with you?”

  In his echoing voice, Sam said, “I’m in here, sis. Sam’s eyes don’t glow like this just because he’s happy to see you.”

  She stood and hugged him tightly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  Sam stood stiff with his arms to his side in the embrace. “A little more touchy-feely than the other Maras I’ve known.”

  Diana smacked his shoulder and said, “Give your sister a hug, you big red-headed Neanderthal.”

  Sam complied and returned the embrace, but he felt his sister sag and lowered her back to the sit on the mattress. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  Mara shook her head and said, “The sedatives haven’t fully worn off. I can barely stand up.”

  A few feet away, Ping said, “It would be best if we left immediately. We’ve got to take the ladder to the roof before Mara and her pursuers arrive, or we may get cut off and trapped here.”

  “Ladder?” Diana asked. “Mara can barely walk. Until the drugs wear off, no way can she climb a ladder, and no way can we carry her.”

  “What do we do?” Sam asked Ping.

  He glanced at Mara and then back at Sam. “Maybe there’s something you can do.”

  Sam’s gaze shifted back to his sister. “I can’t carry her.”

  Ping frowned at him.

  “Oh! You mean something I can do. You think I can counteract the effects of the drugs?” he asked.

  “It can’t hurt to try. Give it a shot. We need to get moving.”

  Sam crouched next to the bed and held his sister’s face. Staring into her eyes, he smiled to see the shimmer of green light from his own reflected there and said, “You feel wonderful, full of energy and ready to run a marathon, if you have to.”

  The other Mara straightened and smiled back at him. “Let’s go,” she said.

  As they headed out the door, Ginger rubbed against Sam’s leg, begging for a scratch. He paused, looked at the creature and turned to Diana. “How will we get her up a ladder?”

  Diana leaned down and picked up Ginger’s leash. “She might be a little chubby, but she can climb herself. Don’t you worry.”

  * * *

  Mara wasn’t sure if it was adrenaline or just sheer stupidity, but she decided that she could make the tight turn at the end of the Apex going full speed without slowing. It was better than being barbecued by orbs. It was also a mistake.

  As she plunged into the U-turn, she leaned away from the outer wall, thinking that somehow the angle would compensate for the centrifugal forces pulling at her body, sort of like a marble spinning around a bowl. Unfortunately the joint between the floor and the wall was not curved, and her foot somehow wedged itself at an odd angle as she entered the turn, sending her careening into the bend, bouncing from one side of the arced hallway into the other, spinning out of control until she skittered across the floor, overcome by dizziness until the carpet burns on her left arm and cheek brought her back to her senses.

  When she looked up, an acolyte bounded around the bend and lobbed an orb at her. Mara rolled to her side, but the swirling brown ball exploded just two feet away. Blinding pain shot through her as a wall of thick grit scoured her body. She screamed until her lungs were empty and her chest burned. Trying to inhale, she gagged on clumps of sand. Spasms racked her body as jolts of pain coursed through her frame. Nothing had ever hurt so much, and, just as she decided it would never stop, the lack of air took away the pain—and her Consciousness.

  CHAPTER 41

  When Mara opened her eyes, it took them a moment to focus on the cluster of acolytes standing several feet away, gawking at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Given how they stared, huddled together like a bunch of rabbits ready to bolt at the first provocation, Mara sensed their curiosity was tempered by fear. When she raised her head to get a better look, one of the acolytes gasped as the group slinked back a step.

  A young acolyte pointed and said, “It’s alive!”

  Mara sat up, pointed a finger back at them and said, “Yes, and it’s pissed off.”

  A beam of light, noticeably weaker than the ones she’d emitted earlier, flew over the heads of the acolytes and struck the ceiling, creating a small puff of smoke and a tiny brown spot. While the gesture struck Mara as ineffectual, the robed figures spun around and disappeared around the tight bend of the
hallway, a couple of them screaming as they went.

  “That was easy,” Mara said.

  With one hand on the dirt-stained wall, she reached to the floor with the other to steady herself to stand. However, her hand grazed something hard and bumpy sitting atop the carpet. She looked down. The metallic bones of her fingers lay atop the copper and bejeweled face of the Chronicle.

  It must have fallen out of my pocket.

  Then she realized it was her left hand that touched it.

  * * *

  As they emerged from the room where Diana and the other Mara had been held, Sam glanced at the acolyte standing guard outside and prompted, “Take us to the ladder that leads to the roof of the Arboretum. Throw one of those vapor orbs at anyone who tries to stop us.”

  Ping patted Sam on the shoulder and said, “Good thinking.”

  A moment later they passed into the salon, where they noted Tran still lay unconscious in the center of the room. Upon seeing her, Sam paused and stared. There’s something about her that I can’t put my finger on.

  Ping and the others had moved toward the exit to the other hall, but Ping turned and asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Sam shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s get out of here.” He jogged over, and they entered the hall leading to the room that held the ladder.

  As they walked behind the acolyte, Diana asked him, “Where’s Mara? I mean, your Mara.”

  “She’s coming from the other direction,” he said.

  The female acolyte slowed and pointed to the hatch in the wall ahead. “This is the way to the ladder.” She stopped next to it without further comment, a vacant look on her face.

  Sam turned to Ping. “What do we do now?”

  “Mara said to climb the ladder to the roof, and she would follow,” he said.

  “Don’t you think we should wait here for her?”

  The acolyte screamed in a high-pitched wail that made everyone jump. Sam turned to her and asked, “What is your problem?”