The Magi Menagerie

by Kale Lawrence

  Symon scoffed. “You speak much too boldly, Miss Eridian.”

  Her lips pursed into a grin.

  Movement out of the corner of Ezra's vision seized his attention. The shadow of a man moved across the grass. At first, Ezra figured another member of the Legerdemain Brotherhood had decided to join Symon’s night-time assembly. But that confident gait, the way the man held his shoulders straight and steady...Ezra’s heart leapt in hopeful anticipation.

  Symon drew out an electric torch and directed the beam toward the approaching stranger.

  That was no stranger.

  Ezra could not believe his eyes.

  Tears of joy clouded his vision as Ibrahim Newport closed the space in between them. “Baba!” he cried in disbelief. “Baba, you are alive!”

  “Ezra, my son!” Ibrahim exclaimed, rushing toward him.

  Symon nodded to Andromeda and Mr. Ackerly, who let go of Ezra long enough for him to run into his father’s arms.

  Ezra buried his face into the warmth of his father’s chest and wept in relief. Every painful memory, every bitter thought he had once harboured toward his father faded like fog in the Constantinople harbours. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again!”

  Ibrahim held him close and stroked his hair. He pressed his bearded cheek against Ezra’s tear stained one and whispered softly, almost ominously, “Get ready to run.”

  Ezra pulled backward, reading the desperate look clouding Ibrahim’s face. Instead of communicating anything more, his father leaned in and kissed both of his cheeks.

  In a dizzying explosion of action, three men tore from the hedges. Ezra recognised Jonas van der Campe—and next, Diego and Zaire—and immediately understood.

  This was not a reunion. This was a rescue.

  “GO!” his father screamed as he shoved Ezra forward.

  As Symon, Andromeda, and Mr. Ackerly leapt into action, Ezra tore into a sprint, throwing a hasty look over his shoulder to see two sets of hands restrain his father.

  “Baba!” Ezra yelled.

  “Ah, you decided to play dirty,” Symon chided as he readied for the eminent collision between the two forces. His palms glowed in red hot barbarity; every atom in the air erupted into static electricity. “But so did we.”

  “Ezra, you need to come with me,” Diego beckoned, waving him closer. “Vamos!”

  “Diego, get the kid outta here!” directed Zaire. The Magus manifested energy between his hands and launched it at Andromeda and Mr. Ackerly, effectively releasing Ibrahim. “Get him to safety! Ibrahim – go! Go with them! I will cover Mista Jonas!”

  “These fists can still throw a punch,” Ibrahim insisted. “I’m not leaving you!”

  Not wanting to leave his father behind, Ezra hesitated as a concussive explosion cracked open the night air, making it bleed ribbons of mystifying colours. Out of instinct, he cowered and tripped over a clump of earth in the confusion.

  “Come on!” Diego commanded, grabbing Ezra by the wrist.

  Their footfalls pounded the path in a delirious rhythm as they rushed toward a black carriage.

  WHILE ZAIRE AND IBRAHIM attempted to narrow their odds with the other two Legerdemain, Jonas had one objective: crippling Symon Bellinor. Thankfully, the absence of his father was both a relief and an anxiety. Who knew just where that Wretched Snake lurked, preparing to strike?

  Harnessing an orb of blue-green energy between his palms, Jonas glared at Symon as they stepped toward each other, like great beasts preparing for a brawl.

  “Jonas,” Symon laughed as he readied energy of his own. “Now, isn’t this a pleasure?”

  Jonas narrowed his eyes. “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same.”

  “I see the cavalier attitude you had as a child hasn’t faded in your thirties,” Symon replied with a smirk. “How are things? How’s the family?”

  “Do not bring them into this,” Jonas growled through clenched teeth as he aimed the energy at Symon’s face.

  Symon effortlessly deflected the energy into the earth. “It’s a pity your father had another engagement tonight, but I daresay he would have enjoyed this little reunion.”

  Anger bristling throughout his core, Jonas held his palms out in front of him. An invisible wave of momentum radiated from his hands and through the already fragile air, spiralling Symon into a tumble.

  “You were such a peculiar boy,” Symon sneered as he got to his feet. “I hardly understood why Edison befriended you in the first place.”

  “Because Edison is honourable,” Jonas retorted, rolling out of the way of Symon’s fireballs. “Much unlike his father.”

  Jonas was only partially cognizant of the fierce power struggle between Zaire and his Legerdemain opponents. No matter what the two individuals threw at him, he was able to block with extraordinary precision. But Jonas knew it wouldn’t be long before Zaire’s defences would be shaken. By the looks of things, Ibrahim had managed to physically hold off the Sentinels by wielding a massive tree branch but without any magic to shield himself, he, too, would find himself amidst an uphill battle.

  “Jonas!” Diego yelled as he dashed across the green toward him and Symon.

  “Help Zaire and Ibrahim!” Jonas called out to him.

  Before he could advance any further, one of the Legerdemain conjured a pulsing rope of electrified matter. The energy transformed into a whip, tripping Diego right off his feet.

  “No!” Jonas gasped.

  Symon lunged at Jonas while his attention was displaced. He cringed as he collided against the frigid ground and struggled when Symon pinned him with his knees. The deputy consul fished out iron shackles from his overcoat. Making haste, he clamped them around Jonas’ wrists just before he attempted to blast him backward with his lifeforce.

  Jonas’ eyes grew wide in shock when he realised any effort to emit energy had been rendered completely useless. He stared blankly at his hands.

  What had Symon done?

  “You like these?” Symon asked, flicking the enchanted iron with the nail of his index finger. “You left us just before the Legerdemain started working on them. They’re designed to temporarily keep a Magus’ innate powers at bay. Makes you feel rather helpless, don’t they?”

  Jonas wriggled against Symon’s weight. Upon hearing Diego yelp in pain, Jonas craned his neck to locate him. Just meters away, the young man had curled into a foetal position as one of the Sentinels slammed its pointed feet into his gut.

  “DIEGO!” Jonas screamed.

  “I think it is rather adorable how much you care for him,” Symon remarked as he placed his elbow against Jonas’ windpipe. “Promise me you won’t cry like a fool if his story ends just like that Felix boy.”

  He panted for air. Panic crippled him, making his limbs feel as though they swam through mud and mire.

  “That’s the problem with you, kid. You open your heart too readily,” Symon sneered. The man threw a nonchalant glance over his shoulder, watching along with Jonas as the Sentinel tossed Diego through the air like a toy. He landed with a sickening thud upon the ground.

  “No, stop!” Jonas pleaded. “Please! Please don’t—”

  “You should know by now that loving anyone puts them in grave danger,” Symon interjected with a grin. “Especially your precious Ganymede you brought home from Mexico. Well, Zeus, remember that even the apple of your eye can rot away whilst separated from its tree.”

  Diego’s body laid motionless in the grass but that did not stop the Dark Sentinel from lifting the injured young man and disposing of him in a nearby pond.

  Terror strangled Jonas’ insides. “No! No, please!”

  “Pathetic. One of the most promising Magi on this earth reduced to tears while he begs for his lover’s life. Again,” Symon continued, pressing harder against his throat. “You disgust me, you insufferable sodomite.”

  “STOP THIS AT ONCE!” shouted a woman in the vicinity.

  Kierra.

  “Kierra, get out of here!” Jonas struggled to say,
but his warning came out no louder than a raspy whisper.

  Before anyone could react, Kierra reached up into the night sky with both hands, channelling a fearsome column of energy that disrupted the atmosphere around them. Without hesitation, she forced the Celestial Lifeforce into the ground, causing the land beneath them to tremble. Her red hair whipped wildly over her shoulders while her eyes burned in a terrifying rage, as deadly as the surface of the sun.

  The mystical cyclonic force caused Symon, the other two Legerdemain, and the Sentinels to tumble head over feet. Using the dizzying moment to his advantage, Jonas propped himself up with his elbow and frantically attempted to free himself from the binds.

  His cousin dropped to her knees at his side. “Jonas, are you all right?”

  He nodded and held up his wrists for her to undo the shackles. Kierra waved her quartz crystal pendant over them, causing the enchanted iron to crumble into a pile of grey ashes.

  “Diego needs help,” Jonas coughed, scrambling to his feet. “He’s hurt.”

  But when Jonas and Kierra reached the edge of the reeds, they froze in pure dread. Waist deep in pond water, Zaire solemnly emerged, carrying a lifeless Diego in his arms.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The Great Escape

  “Back to the carriage! Now!” Jonas instructed.

  Zaire, Ibrahim, Kierra, and Jonas left the battered and confused Dark Sentinels in their wake as they rushed toward the transport. Within moments, the crew had loaded in.

  “Go, go!” she yelled at the horse, who obediently lurched into action upon her insistent tugging of its reins.

  Inside the carriage, Zaire placed Diego on a seat cushion. Jonas crouched beside him and pressed his ear against the young man’s chest to check for any signs of life. Ezra and Ibrahim sat across the way, clinging to each other as they looked on in worry.

  He was breathing. After all the hell he had endured, Diego still had life left in him.

  Thank the stars above...the planets...the Universe.

  Placing his palm on the side of Diego’s bruised face, Jonas fought against the emotion that bubbled like a hot spring under immense pressure. A feeling of complete helplessness quaked through him while watching Diego shiver from his soaked clothing.

  Zaire slipped off his jacket to lay overtop the young man.

  “I am so sorry,” Jonas whispered, tears dripping from his nose as he gently pulled Diego into an embrace. “Christ. I’m sorry for everything. For bringing you to Ireland, for bringing you here, for allowing you to get caught up in all this mess.”

  Zaire gripped Jonas’ shoulder as he returned his injured comrade to the seat cushion. “He’s gonna be all right, Mista Jonas. Diego’s a strong kid. You know that.”

  “I cannot lose him, Zaire!” Jonas wiped his eyes. “I can’t—I can’t do this again! It would break me.”

  “You ain’t gonna lose him,” Zaire insisted. “Now stop talking madness, y’hear me?”

  By the time they had returned to the British Museum, Jonas could barely process anything. All around him, life blurred into a hectic assortment of sounds and faded pigments. He hardly noticed when Ezra and Ibrahim lingered in the corridor outside the storage room. He did not even bat an eyelid when Annabelle, Zaire, and Edison worked to create a makeshift bed for Diego amongst the artifacts. And his mind continued to swirl in a tempest of confusion while Kierra shepherded Aja and Oliver away from the hysteria.

  “Edison, could you gather all the sheets and insulating materials you can find?” Annabelle requested, throwing open her case of oils and crystals. “The thicker, the better.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he responded and dashed off without another word.

  “Kierra, my dear?”

  “Yes, Mum?” she said, rushing over.

  “Would you raise a protective crystal grid over the museum?” Annabelle requisitioned. “I won’t take any chances of having those idiot Legerdemain attempt to infiltrate the premises.”

  The young woman nodded and departed to retrieve her protective crystals from the luggage.

  “Zaire, would you get the poor dear up here?” Annabelle asked, gesturing to the line of wooden crates pushed together. “Also, we’ll need to make this area as private as possible.”

  “You got it,” Zaire agreed. He lifted Diego through telekinesis, laying him delicately on the platform.

  “Oh, Diego, my darling,” said Annabelle as she pushed his wet hair back from his forehead. “What did I tell you about catching cold?” She frowned when his shivering became even more pronounced.

  “Jonas, could you help me get his clothes off?”

  “Wh-what?” he sputtered in an awkward, high-pitched tone.

  “Good grief, you know what I mean,” Annabelle sighed as she undid Diego’s shirt buttons. “Unless you’d rather have Zaire—”

  “N-no, I can assist,” Jonas replied, moving to the opposite side of the platform. His fingers shakily unclasped Diego’s suspenders from his waistband.

  Annabelle studied him through sceptical eyes. “Don’t go too far after this, my dear, because you are my next patient. You’re in shock.”

  “I am not—”

  “Do not question me, Jonas van der Campe.”

  As Jonas and Annabelle worked to remove the last of Diego’s drenched attire, Edison returned with an armful of sheets.

  “We had these in a storage closet from our last exhibit opening,” Edison explained as he offered the fabric to the Magi. “They worked well to keep the artifacts under wraps, but I think they’ll work even better to get him warm.”

  Jonas forced a weak smile. “Thanks, Edison.”

  Annabelle draped the multiple layers over Diego and tucked the edges close to his body. “Jonas, what happened out there?”

  He crossed his arms. “Exactly what I thought would happen.”

  Without warning, Diego’s eyelids shot open. He gasped for oxygen and promptly grimaced.

  “Argh!” he yelled, clutching his ribs. “Dios!”

  “Try to stay as still as possible,” Annabelle instructed him, holding his shoulders down.

  With every strained breath, tears of pain built in Diego’s eyes. “I—I cannot breathe, Mamá,” he cried.

  “Shhh, I know, sweetheart,” Annabelle answered in a motherly tone.

  Methodically, she positioned an open palm a few centimetres above his forehead, closed her eyes, and began her mental assessment of his injuries. As her hand progressed past his ribs and abdomen, her facial expressions became increasingly concerned. While Jonas had watched her conduct energy healing many times before, this moment seemed almost unbearable to observe, especially when she remained silent for several excruciating minutes following her evaluation.

  “Mamá?”

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “Am I dying?”

  “No, you are not dying,” Annabelle insisted as she rummaged through her case for the appropriate crystals.

  “Jonas?” Diego croaked.

  Jonas scrambled to grasp Diego’s clammy hand. “I am right here.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Am I...” Jonas laughed uneasily. “Am I okay? Yes, I’m all right. Are you?”

  Diego squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesucristo. Everything hurts.”

  “Hmm, well, it should,” Annabelle remarked, now rummaging through her medicine case. “You have got two fractured ribs, bruising, mild hypothermia, and a concussion. From now on, you do not leave my sight without encasing yourself in a balloon full of cotton, feathers, and kittens. Is that clear, young man?”

  “Mamá,” Diego whined.

  “Here, drink this,” Annabelle said, holding a small glass of dark liquid to his lips. “It will help the pain.”

  Diego took in a mouthful of the medicine only to promptly spit it back out again. “Ugh, this is muy horrible.”

  “It is either that or you writhe in agony all night,” Annabelle stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “Take your pick.”

  “Pl
ease take it,” Jonas urged him. His gut churned with every shallow gasp Diego inhaled. Seeing him in his current state slashed Jonas like a sword, and he was not sure he would be able to stomach the torture he would inevitably undergo without Annabelle’s healing concoctions.

  “Fine,” Diego complied, tipping back the contents of the cup. He shuddered and handed the glass back to Annabelle.

  “At any rate, you will need to rest for some time,” Annabelle responded as she mixed oils and herbs into a thick salve. She pulled back the coverings long enough to apply the mixture over the left side of Diego’s chest. “No gallivanting across the continent or fraternizing with Miss Stella until you are all healed up, understood?”

  Diego narrowed his eyes while Jonas rolled his.

  Annabelle caught both of their expressions. “You two are an everlasting enigma. You do realise that, right?”

  But Jonas had not heard her, for he had already given himself over to his anxious mind. Flashes of what had just transpired at the Royal Observatory flickered through his memory like an out-of-control film projector. And with every jolting visual came the sound of a voice Jonas hoped to never hear again. Symon’s words tore through him, brutal and fierce. If there was one thing Symon Bellinor excelled at, it was ripping open old wounds.

  “Jonas?”

  “Hmm?” he murmured, his vision refocusing on the scene before him.

  Annabelle shook her head as she navigated around the makeshift bed. She placed her hand on his arm and guided him away from Diego.

  “Let him rest, my dear. He is going to be just fine. Right now, we need to get you back to your chipper old self.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Coming to Peace

  While Jonas and the Irish Chapter ran amuck to revive their fallen comrade, Ezra lingered in the museum corridor away from the madness. The longer he stared at his father, the more convinced he was that he had somehow been trapped in a dream realm. No other explanation for Ibrahim’s timely reappearance in his life made any sense.