“Be helpful or shut up,” Warner said.
“Oh, sentinel,” Shailaja purred. Well, as much of a purr as anyone could manage with a crazy-sharp knife to their neck. “I like this forceful side of you.”
“Oh, gag.” I returned my attention to the silver-runed chest, very deliberately stopping myself from glancing over at the hot swirl of peppermint magic I could feel behind and to the left of Warner and Shailaja.
“You’re a witch, aren’t you?” Shailaja snapped. “That was your mother and grandmother, yes? Then do what a witch would do.”
“Witch magic isn’t going to work here,” Warner said.
“And she’s not only a witch,” Shailaja countered unhelpfully.
I pulled the pen out of my satchel.
“A pen?” Shailaja snarled.
I looked over at Warner. “It can write runes,” I said. “What are the chances it can read them?”
Shailaja snapped her mouth shut.
“I think it belongs to you,” Warner answered. “And will attempt to do your bidding.”
I placed the pen on top of the treasure chest and tried to just focus on it. Its magic was dampened in here, surrounded by silver, but its golden body stood out against the silver of the box.
I spoke to it out loud, though I probably didn’t need to. “I need to open this chest. Some combination of the runes on this box mean open … or something like open.” I glanced up. “What’s Spanish for ‘open’?”
“Abierto,” Shailaja said testily.
Great. I loved it when my rivals were more powerful and more accomplished than me.
“Abierto,” I repeated, pressing my fingertips lightly along the pen. I used my left hand. My right wrist still ached like a son of a bitch.
The pen lifted underneath my hand, floating a few inches above the chest. Then it started moving, seemingly of its own accord. It was like using a Ouija board. If, you know, I’d been allowed to use such a thing when I was younger …
The pen drew a trace of my magic from my hand … maybe as if it was filling itself with ink? I didn’t remember feeling it do so before, but maybe its magic was so dampened deep within the mountain that it needed the extra boost.
It wrote the first three runes it had drawn on the granite outside. Not that I would have remembered them without seeing them a second time.
The chest clicked open.
Something slammed against the side of the platform we were standing on. If a large stone area the size of a hockey rink surrounded by a river of molten silver lava could be referred to as a platform. Or was that a moat of molten silver? And no, I wasn’t obsessed with hockey.
I stumbled, though of course neither Warner nor Shailaja moved.
“Hello, backlash,” I muttered, tucking the pen into my satchel. “Always with the earthquakes. Well … second time, at least.”
I lifted the lid off the chest, which was hinged along one side. Three silver centipedes were nestled inside three separate grooves carved in more silver. I was fairly certain now that the chest was actually carved as part of the stone table, with its bottom attached. Just as the stone table was carved directly out of the platform we were standing on. It was all one massive hunk of granite, with the interior of the chest simply polished to a silver sheen.
“I can’t take just the box,” I said, wanting to keep Warner up to date as to why I was now reaching inside the treasure chest. Everyone really hated it when I just grabbed magical objects. Well, maybe it was only those who loved me who worried about me screwing around with dangerous unknown magic.
The centipedes were identical, each about one inch wide by three inches long. They looked almost exactly like Rochelle’s tattoo sketch, though not so smooth around the edges.
Yeah, the metal edges on these centipedes looked sharp. Like razor blades, actually.
I gingerly reached around one, brushing it with my fingers as I tried to lift it from underneath, rather than by its nasty edges.
It coiled up underneath my hand, then twisted around my forefinger. Ouch.
Something crashed into the other side of the platform, again forcing me to fight for my footing.
“That’s not an earthquake,” Shailaja hissed as a second centipede latched onto my middle finger just above the first knuckle. “You’ll need to release me, sentinel. Otherwise we’re not getting out of here alive.”
The third centipede twisted around my ring finger as I was attempting to withdraw my hand from the chest. This triggered a third crash from yet another direction — this one violent enough to shake Warner and Shailaja.
Something was circling the platform. Something massive enough to make stone shake. Something powerful enough to exist in a river of molten silver … or maybe it was the river.
Ah, damn.
The centipedes twisted around my fingers and up across my palm. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the metal scraping against my skin was uncomfortable. More metallic magic flooded my mouth. If I had a better palate for metals, I might have been able to distinguish nuances in the magic. But it all tasted the same to me — terrible.
I stepped back from the table with my hand held out before me. The centipedes twined together, clicking end to end, then corkscrewed over the heel of my hand and wrist, heading for my forearm.
“Claim the magic, you nitwit!” Shailaja screamed as another boom sounded out, the impact coming approximately a quarter turn away from the last one.
Not a boom. A thing. A really, really big thing living in the lava. And circling us.
Another earthshaking crash — this one accompanied by an explosion of stone — threw me back against the granite table. I managed to not smack my head this time, but it felt like I might have cracked my back.
Warner and Shailaja stumbled closer to the edge of the platform. His knife was still at her neck.
I landed on my ass with my aching back resting against the pillar beneath the table, and my arm held as far away from my body as possible. The centipedes had wound their way around my bicep now. At a glance, they probably looked like a stylish upper-arm cuff, but there was nothing cute about their magic. I could almost feel the taste of metal boring into my brain …
Oh, God. Were they heading for my brain?
Freaking hell.
As the ground continued to rumble and roil, Warner and Shailaja were locked in some sort of awkward skirmish while fighting for their footing. Silver lava started splashing over the edges of the platform. I desperately tried to focus.
Jesus, I was wasting too much time. I needed to help Kett. The interconnected centipedes slipped up over my shoulder as I looked around for the vampire. He appeared to still be caught in the whirling vortex of shadow leeches. Beyond that, I caught a glimpse of what looked like gigantic silver antennae rising out of the river.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Claim. Claim. Claim the magic.
The centipede was moving along my collarbone, almost at my neck. I instinctively reached out and coaxed an extra layer of shielding magic from my necklace.
The centipedes attached themselves to my necklace with a click.
Then nothing.
Even the ground stilled. Whatever creature I had awoken had settled back down into the silver river.
I opened my eyes. The centipede had separated into the original three artifacts, with each one threaded through a wedding ring on the right side of my necklace. They hung there like silver charms.
I reached up around my neck while double-checking the taste of the necklace’s magic, which felt as neutral as it always did. Then I readjusted the loop so the centipedes hung at the bottom of the chain for balance.
“Hey!” I cried, grinning madly as I scrambled to my feet to look for Warner. “I did it.”
Kett ripped his way out of the vortex of shadow leeches. Literally, rending his way through them with three-inch claws and fangs.
Holy Jesus.
Warner and Shailaja had been wrestling for control of the knife. The sentinel
— being taller and stronger — had the upper hand, but his back to the edge of the platform meant he was distracted by his footing.
Kett — all bestial fangs and bloody red eyes — leaped for Shailaja. He landed on her back like an enraged monkey, then chomped down on her neck.
“No! Not her blood!” I shrieked, palming my knife and lunging for the trio poised on the edge of the river of silver lava … and the monster that lived within it.
Shailaja screamed and let go of the sacrificial knife, which off-balanced Warner.
One more step and I’d be right beside them.
I wasn’t fast enough.
Even with Kett trying to drag her down, Shailaja managed to slam a kick to Warner’s knee. Then, as the sentinel canted sideways — twisting to compensate for the fall, trying to catch the edge of the platform — she punched him in the chest and screamed.
“Your services are no longer required, sentinel!”
Magic exploded between them, the gold of it searing my still-sensitive eyes.
I blinked.
Warner was gone.
Shailaja fell to her knees. Kett, a pale demon perched on her back, followed her down.
A third step brought me to the cliff.
Too late. Too late.
I peered over the edge and saw nothing but silver, silver, silver. The sight of the molten river didn’t blind me. Maybe I’d built up a resistance to the metallurgy. Or maybe it was a result of having the centipedes attached to my necklace.
But I wanted to be blinded.
Because if I was blind, I wouldn’t know that I couldn’t see Warner.
I couldn’t even taste his magic.
Numbness flooded my limbs. I squeezed my eyes shut. The silver of the river’s magic was imprinted on my eyelids, imprinted on my brain.
It had been difficult to taste Warner’s magic before because of the interference from the silver … so maybe … I rationalized myself through the fear. I shut away the thought that I’d just lost Warner before ever really knowing him. I shut away thoughts of all the other people I’d lost and almost lost — Hudson, Sienna, and Kandy.
I spun to Shailaja and Kett. The vampire was still feeding from the rabid koala. She was — oddly — kneeling with her hands folded in her lap, as if waiting. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful.
Kett stilled. His blood-red eyes snapped open. A wave of gold rolled across the red, then he fell back without a sound.
Shailaja’s neck was a bloody open wound, all torn flesh, veins, and bone. Yet she still opened her eyes and smiled at me.
“Now it’s just us,” she whispered.
So I stabbed her in the gut.
Which was a bitch, because I’d been aiming for the little creep’s heart. She deflected the blow with a downward strike of her palms at the last second, though.
My jade knife slipped smoothly through her dragon hide, stopping only when it reached the hilt.
This strike brought me to my knees and us face to face.
She blinked, her brown eyes surprised but surprisingly lucid.
“Let me properly introduce you to my knife,” I growled. Yeah, that was trite and obvious of me, but I was really pissed off.
“Hello, knife,” Shailaja whispered. A speck of blood appeared on her lower lip and she licked it off. “Are you done pouting? You have magic to perform.”
Well, I had to give her points for style.
Her gaze dropped to the centipedes on my necklace and she smiled. Her teeth were slicked with blood. She’d underestimated my knife. I’d hurt her badly.
But not badly enough.
I withdrew the knife, aimed for her heart, and stabbed her a second time. Again, she deflected the blow, but by the hacking, bloody cough that followed, I was pretty sure I’d punctured one of her lungs.
Shailaja gripped the forearm of my knife hand, then wrapped her other hand around my head in a rough caress.
“Ouch,” she said. Then she started laughing.
Bubbles of blood formed at the edges of her mouth, and still she hacked and laughed. My recently healed wrist screamed with pain as she attempted to twist my arm and the knife away.
“You’ve wounded me,” she said between bloody bouts of laughter. Blood dripped from her mouth and down her chin.
I didn’t take my eyes off her as I finally managed to pull my arm and knife from her grip. I drew it back to stab her a third time.
“Thrice said, thrice meant,” I said, echoing Kett’s and Warner’s invocation just felt appropriate. But, as my alchemist magic rolled through the knife to absorb the dragon’s blood into the blade, I twisted the saying with my own intention. “Thrice done is done.”
Shailaja threw her head back and laughed.
“Stop laughing while I’m killing you,” I cried.
“You aren’t killing me, Jade,” she said. Her use of my given name was sickeningly intimate. “Dragons don’t kill dragons.”
“I’m not that kind of dragon.”
I grabbed her by the shoulder, leveling my blade in line with her heart. She wouldn’t be laughing in a second.
A portal blew open behind me. Smokey, dark-chocolate magic blasted through the cavern, actually blowing my curls around my head and into my eyes. It was the kind of magic that made mere mortals quake with awestruck fear. I’d been wrong about thinking it was more terrifying when he laughed.
I didn’t need to turn to see the warrior of the guardians step through the portal to find me with my knife poised over Shailaja’s heart. His golden sword resonated behind me with a power I could actually feel. Guardian power. The blade’s magic was a terrible song, similar to how I always heard music when Qiuniu used his healing magic.
The warrior had stepped where dragons dare not tread to rescue a daughter bent on becoming a murderer.
“Jade,” he bellowed. “Enough.”
Shailaja wrenched herself away from my grasp, scrambling to prostrate herself at my father’s feet.
“Guardian,” she cried.
Behind where she’d just been kneeling, Kett groaned and rolled away from the portal magic. I saw wisps of smoke rising off him and thought it might actually be burning him.
I didn’t bother standing up. I simply turned my head and watched as my father, who was dressed head to toe in his samurai-inspired black armor, scooped Shailaja into his arms. His face was stern and unyielding.
“Gee, dad,” I said. “Don’t remember you ever holding me like that.”
He frowned. Yeah, I’m not sure how I find the strength to wield scathing sarcasm when under stress. It’s a gift. And maybe a curse.
“Come, child,” Yazi said. “The treasure keeper can’t hold the portal open for long.”
I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking to me, though he rested his green-eyed gaze on me for a brief moment. Then he turned to walk back through the portal with the sweet, bat-shit crazy koala cuddled in his fatherly arms.
Shailaja peeked over my father’s shoulder as he carried her through the golden magic. She wiggled her fingers at me.
Good freaking riddance. Let the guardians deal with the crazed teenage dragon.
“I’d keep her away from the braids!” I yelled after them.
Jade. Amplified by the portal magic, my father’s voice sounded out in my head. I expect you to follow.
I didn’t follow.
I didn’t feel like following, and I wasn’t going to drag Kett through the portal or the magic of the nexus. I was a hundred percent sure he wouldn’t survive.
“Go,” Kett whispered. “Leave me.”
“Yeah, right, asshole. That’s so me.”
Jade! My father roared through my head. The treasure keeper can’t —
His voice cut off. The portal snapped shut.
“You’re freaking welcome,” I muttered. Then I crawled over to Kett. I could have stood. There was actually nothing wrong with me. But crawling seemed faster.
The vampire looked freaking terrible. I hunched over him to to
uch his shoulder and he flinched away from me with a hiss. He wasn’t in full bestial form, but he hadn’t retracted his fangs and his eyes were a dull red I’d never seen before. He looked withered. Even worse, I swore I could see the dragon magic he’d consumed writhing in his veins.
I sat back on my haunches and reached out with my dowser senses, but I still couldn’t pick up any hint of Warner nearby.
Kett dragged himself into a half-propped position. “The sentinel?” His cool tone was marred by speaking through his fangs.
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry,” he said, starting to shiver. “I thought to distract her, not him.” He clasped his hands together as the shivering turned into violent shaking.
“You’re going to need blood,” I said, as pragmatically as I could suggest such a thing.
“Not yours.”
“I get it. You should already be dead.”
“Yes. I should.”
Ballsy as ever — even though I was fairly certain he was dying — Kett grinned at me. Then he threw up a gusher of dragon blood. All over himself and me. “Damn,” he choked. “Such a waste.”
“Yeah, yummy.” I wiped the vomit off my face, then dried my hands on my jeans. “Deadly and sweet.”
“Just like you.”
“Don’t sweet-talk me, vampire. I already know I’m going to have to carry you.”
Resigned, he nodded. “One of two things is going to happen next.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ll lapse into a fugue state.”
“Been there, done that.”
Kett shook his head. “I will, for all appearances, be dead. I’ll need you to take me to my maker.”
Delightful. I really, really wanted to reenact the scene in London with Kett’s maker. What had she said to me? If Kett died, she would suck the marrow from Kandy’s bones and make me watch? Then if I set even one foot in London, she would take everything from me?
“Getting you through customs will be fun.”
“You’ll take the jet. There’s a coffin among the cargo.”
Wow, doubly delightful.
“No,” Kett amended himself. “Take me to Vancouver. You’re stronger there. Then you call her.”
“You have her on automatic dial? Under what, Audrey Hepburn?”
Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser Series Book 5) Page 20