The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5)

by Susan Squires

  Aw, shit.

  “Be careful of the girl…” Jason shouted. “Lasers.”

  Lan saw Greta start to raise her light. He couldn’t let her. She’d have to get out front, expose herself. Who knew what powers they had? Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hardwick. Double fuck.

  “I got this,” he said. “Get up the stairs.” She looked rebellious. “I’m right behind you.”

  He shoved her forward and pulled the door shut, leaning against it. He felt Greta pounding on it.

  “Get up the stairs,” he yelled. The guys from the lounge were almost on him.

  “Hardwick,” Jason commanded.

  Lan put the flute to his lips. It was like he was looking at himself from someplace about ten feet above. The pain from his thigh felt far away. Everything slowed. He knew how this worked. You were desperate. Some power popped out. He was either the Pied Piper or Joshua at the walls of Jericho. And maybe he had some control over this. If so, he chose the Pied Piper. He’d love to come walking into The Breakers trailing members of the Clan. Hero. Valuable to the family.

  Sounds good. Funny, that was a joke. He let go a note, all the while thinking about being able to quiet the angry faces and surging bodies.

  Sound crashed over him. He could see the waves distorting the atmosphere as they reverberated outward from his body. He throbbed with the note, but his ears didn’t hurt. The people from the cafeteria fell back through the big arch, covering their ears. Jason and his companions staggered backward. The walls began to shake. Drywall buckled. Ceiling tiles fell.

  Damn. Guess I got Jericho. He pulled his lips from the flute.

  But it didn’t matter. The sound just rolled on, working at some subliminal level even though the conscious mind couldn’t hear it anymore. Everything was shaking like it was an earthquake. He was not in control of this at all.

  Shit. Greta.

  He turned into the door and heaved himself through it. Cement stairs led upward.

  “Lan,” Greta shouted from the top of the flight. He started up as she scurried down.

  “No, no. Keep going,” he croaked. The metal handrail vibrated under his hand as he tried to pull himself up. He felt like his boots had lead toes. His left leg felt almost numb. The shaking was getting worse. Behind him, shrieks rose above the crashing sounds.

  “I will not,” Greta shouted over the din. The whole stairwell was shaking now. She put her arm under his shoulder to help haul him up the stairs. He looked up. There were a lot of fucking stairs.

  *

  “Over there.” Michael pointed.

  Tris felt his spin tingle. Very near here, but below street level, was the last place Michael had Found Lan and Greta. Tris pulled the ’88 Isuzu delivery van up to the loading dock. A single light illuminated a concrete platform, about ten feet higher than the driveway that fronted an industrial looking building. But there was plenty of light. The neon of Las Vegas glared in full display, from the green-lit tower of the MGM Grand to the golden pyramid and the Sphinx of the Luxor itself. The loading dock stood at the back of the hotels, off a side street and away from the glitter of the Strip. It had a forlorn look, with broken wooden pallets and crushed cardboard boxes littering the platform. Abandoned. A little shudder went through the truck.

  “Earthquake?” Michael asked.

  “In Las Vegas?” Tris snorted. “You must be new here.”

  But then they looked at each other. If not an earthquake, what?

  “Let’s go,” Tris barked. Whatever it was, their mission didn’t change.

  They hopped out of the cab. Dev and Kemble were already helping the girls down onto the concrete in front of the loading dock.

  “Tammy, you understand your role?” Michael asked in hushed tones.

  “I stay between Maggie and Tris no matter what.” Tammy rolled her eyes.

  “At least we’re not making you stay with the van,” Kemble hissed.

  “Only because she’s not safe there,” Jane said, frowning at Tammy. That was a lot of disapproval from Jane, who was usually so serene and supportive; in short, a rock for the family. Maybe it was the fact that Jane was pregnant. Tris would bet Kemble was wild with concern for her.

  “I’m meant to be here.” Tammy repeated the mantra they’d all gotten sick of in the last half of the trip.

  “B.S.” Kee muttered.

  “No, she is.”

  Everyone turned to Drew. When Drew said something was meant to be, it really meant she’d seen the future. She must have seen Tammy with them here.

  Another tremor rocked them. Standing on the concrete apron to the dock they all felt it.

  “What the…?” Devin said.

  “Let’s go.” Michael was all business. “Everybody knows their role. Now let’s execute, people.” He’d organized this thing down to the last detail.

  Car lights swung into the service road.

  “Everybody behind the van,” Michael barked.

  They scrambled to obey. Tris herded everybody he could reach, finally grabbing Tammy and shoving her behind him. He peeked around the side of the van. A limousine coasted to a stop about a hundred feet away in front of some concrete stairs that led up to a flat metal door. The rear car door opened explosively and Morgan Le Fay, leader of the Clan, pretty much leaped out. She had the Wand. Shit. Tris whirled to press his back against the truck’s side.

  “Morgan,” he mouthed to the others. “Wand.”

  Jane and Drew both went a whiter shade of pale. Kemble and Michael looked grim. Michael motioned him to look again. Tris peered around the corner. Morgan was gathering a young man—fresh-faced and wide-eyed—out of the limousine. He looked real nervous, craning his head to stare at the neon lights above them like he’d never seen anything like them. A new member of the Clan? The Tremaines knew way too little about what powers the people in the Clan actually possessed. And the Clan looked to be growing by leaps and bounds. Two other guys got out of the front seat—hard-looking and built like tractor-trailers. Security or bodyguards. Might or might not have powers. Morgan rushed up the stairs, hauling the kid with her. She looked younger than when he’d seen her at The Breakers last. Nobody seemed interested in the van parked at the loading dock.

  Until the security guy bringing up the rear turned at the door. Morgan had the kid already inside. The muscle stared at the van and called something to Morgan.

  The building gave a shudder and everyone staggered, both Tremaines and the Clan. Tris rolled back behind the truck. What was going on here? Was that an explosion? Kee and Tammy both yelped in surprise.

  Damn. Now we’re screwed.

  “We’ve got company,” Morgan shouted.

  Oh, shit.

  Tris signaled to Michael. They all knew Tris was the only one who could neutralize the Wand. He wasn’t sure how. Was it mechanical? Didn’t seem likely, but it didn’t matter. He could and that was enough. Fighting the Wand hadn’t been his favorite all-time experience.

  Maggie clutched his arm, pleading in her eyes, but then she steadied and let him go. This was his job, and it might mean their lives. She knew that. The truck was rocked by a blast. The Wand. This time Kee stifled her scream with her hand. Tammy looked dazed. Tris smelled gasoline. She’d nicked the gas tank. Sure enough, a wash of gasoline swept out from under the truck. They were damn lucky it hadn’t exploded. Unless he was quick, that luck wouldn’t last.

  Tris motioned the others back from the truck as he stepped out, opening that calm place inside himself to the earth beneath his feet. Power rumbled down deep in the ground, surging up through him, ready to obey his command. Morgan lifted the Wand. The two security guys drew guns. But he couldn’t take care of them right now. The Wand was far more dangerous. He pushed up a hand and felt the earth’s power extend out through it, crossing the space between them. Invisible power heated the Wand, even as the Talisman shot another channel of light toward the truck.

  Morgan yelled in frustration as the Wand grew too hot to hold. The channel of lig
ht sputtered over the hood of the truck, slashing metal. But at least the river of gas didn’t ignite. Maggie eased out beside him. Under her ministrations the two security guys got loopy looks of relaxed enjoyment on their faces and slumped to the ground. Good girl.

  Another explosion or something rocked the building, this one throwing both Tris and Maggie to the ground. What the fuck? The building swayed, cracking around the doors. The loading dock began to crumble, fissures opening in the concrete. The air filled with dust and the shriek of twisting metal.

  As Tris tried to get to his knees, he saw Tammy walking past him like she was in a trance. “Tammy,” he yelled, “Get back here.”

  But if she heard him, she didn’t react. She was staring at something. Not Morgan, who leaned over the railing, screaming at the security guard. No, Tammy was staring at the doorway at the top of those stairs. Tris hauled Maggie up and gathered her into his arms. “Tammy!” The dust was settling. In the doorway, the young guy who’d arrived with Morgan, stood haloed in flame that licked out through the doors. The explosion must have started a fire inside the conference center. God help them if it spread outside to the gasoline coating the cement around them.

  Wait! Lan and Greta were in there somewhere with all that fire. Damn. He made sure Maggie was on her feet, coughing, but okay. Then he lunged for Tammy, pulling her back.

  “You go for Lan,” Tris choked out to Kemble. “I’ll hold off Morgan.”

  “They’re not below us anymore,” Michael yelled as the building started shaking again. Michael was holding Drew on her feet. She had a cut over her eye and it was bleeding down her temple.

  “Where?” Kemble asked, gathering the others. Tris was glad to see his brother now had a firm hold on Tammy’s arm. What the hell had gotten into her?

  “North,” he said, pointing. “They’re on the move.”

  “Around the outside,” Kemble said. “We can’t risk going through the building with Morgan and her crew alerted to our presence.”

  Kemble could sound like a CEO even when the place was crumbling around him. Tris gave a nod, pushed Maggie in Kemble’s direction and stepped through the leaking gas and around the truck to take on Morgan.

  But Morgan wasn’t there. The guards still had their stupid grins, but Morgan and the kid must have ducked back inside the building. Good. Maybe it would collapse on them. He just hoped it wouldn’t collapse on Lan and Greta.

  He set off after his family at a lope.

  *

  Lan’s body slammed Greta against the wall. The building shook again. He was getting weaker. She had no idea exactly what he’d done, but he seemed to have set in motion some chain reaction. He wasn’t actively creating those shuddering vibrations or that horrible sound anymore, but the tremors hadn’t stopped. She struggled to right herself.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  She got her arm more securely around his waist and pulled his arm over her shoulder. He was still clutching his flute as though it was some kind of a lifeline. He was leaving bloody footprints down. So much blood.

  You can’t afford to panic, she told herself. Okay. Not panicking. But she had no idea where they were or whether the Clan was still after them. She thought not. Just remembering those awful shrieks made her shudder. So she wouldn’t think about them.

  The stairwell dumped out on another kind of lobby as a cloud of dust and debris came up the stairwell after them. Both Lan and Greta coughed and fought their way out into the larger room. Huge escalators angled two stories up, out of a sea of carpet covered in orange and purple starbursts. Vast stretches of glass at the top of the escalators showed green and golden lights. At least now they were only an escalator ride away from ground level. And she knew where they were. Where else but Las Vegas had that much green neon? And then, of course, there was the Sphinx. She pulled Lan toward the escalators as the floor rumbled below her feet.

  That was when the windows shattered and sheets of broken glass cascaded downward.

  *

  Tris and the rest of the family dashed through fancifully lighted palm gardens behind the central pyramid of the hotel. The glass pyramid was swathed in gold light, a shining beacon of incredibly bright, white light thrust up into the desert sky from the tip. The rumble underground had hotel guests who had been roaming the garden shouting and running for the pyramid. Probably not a good choice with all that glass. But at least no one had noticed the Tremaines hurrying along behind Michael. He led them toward a darkened metal service building with a sign that said, ‘employees only’ on it. As he ground to a halt in front of double metal doors, the Tremaines piled up behind him. Off to the left, Tris saw a three-story tower with a glass front. The sign said ‘Luxor Conference Center’, but it wasn’t lighted.

  Michael’s head swiveled. “They’re under us, over there.” He pointed to the right, away from the glass tower. “They’re coming up from underground.”

  “Over to the entrance?” Tris asked, pointing to the wall of glass. Which at that moment shattered in a cascade of viscous shards. Flames licked up through the dust and smoke.

  “Guess not. Service entrance it is,” Kemble said grimly. His face went very focused and the keypad lock to the right of the double doors clicked audibly.

  Michael jerked the metal doors open. Smoke billowed out of the doorway.

  “Damn,” Michael said. “Sprinkler system must be malfunctioning.”

  Tris could see flame flickering in the darkness within. The place looked pretty much like Hell itself. If Lan and Greta were in there…he didn’t want to think about that.

  Michael turned back to the others. “Too dangerous to risk all of us. Let me go.”

  To Tris’s surprise, Devin stepped up. “Nah. This one’s on me. Fire is my specialty.”

  Michael swallowed, then nodded once. Not easy for Mr. Ex-Delta Force to let someone else take risk. But Dev was right.

  Dev went still for just a moment. Smaller explosions started going off inside the building. Tris knew what that was. Pipes bursting. The smoke from the doorway darkened. The ground was really shaking now. The shouts of tourist gamblers were turning to screams.

  “I’ll keep bursting pipes ahead of us,” Devin yelled. “Just stay behind me.”

  “Too much danger of smoke inhalation,” Michael said.

  Kee held up the hem of her flouncy dress. “Any of you boys got an army knife?”

  Of course it was Michael who stepped forward. “Okay, Devin, you’ve done your thing. Now Tris and I will head in and find them.” He cut a fat strip off her skirt and sliced it into big squares. The whole place rocked again. Part of the garden off to Tris’s right began to collapse.

  Tris turned to Kemble, who wore the predictable look. “Bro, we’re counting on you to stand tall for the family. Let us do this.” The look of painful recognition that somebody needed to stay with the others was all Tris needed.

  Dev soaked the fabric pieces in water spewing from a pipe just inside the door and handed one to Michael and Tris. Tris put it up to his mouth and nose. Michael pushed inside.

  Before Tris could dash into the building, Drew’s hand snaked out and clutched his biceps. “Wait,” she shouted. Her eyes flickered, unseeing.

  Uh, oh. Vision time. “What?” he shouted over the noise of screams and rending metal.

  “Elevator. Get to the elevator. You find them there.”

  Relief swept through him. “Got it.” He pushed inside and caught up with Michael. “We’re looking for an elevator.”

  “Drew?” Michael asked. He knew what his wife’s gifts could do and what they cost her.

  Tris nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” Michael muttered, looking around in the dim light from the open doors behind them. The place was filled with electrical panels and complicated wiring, probably for the phone system, the intercom, the audiovisual stuff and like that.

  “Fuck,” Tris said. Michael turned. Tris pointed. Little thrusting pulses of flame had started to lick up from the wet wal
ls. What kind of fire was this?

  “Better find an elevator fast,” Tris muttered. Service elevator? Maybe. Or maybe the elevator was someplace else entirely. Why hadn’t Drew been specific? But then mostly, her visions never were. They pressed on through the sludge and the swirling muck.

  The far right side of the room started to collapse. Shit. Michael took off toward the left, climbing around wet wiring on exposed boards supported in grids of metal struts. Had he seen an elevator? Tris set out in pursuit. Dust from the collapse of the far wall mingled with the continuing spray from the pipes. That settled the dust, but the water vapor in the air made breathing tough.

  Tris pushed aside a falling panel, tripped over a bucket of something that immediately sprouted flames, and…there was an elevator.

  Michael stood in front of it, pushing the single button frantically. Nothing happened. No light, no bell. Behind Michael, a panel of wiring ignited. Cripes. “What are we supposed to do, wait?” Tris yelled. They sure couldn’t wait long. Crashing and rumbling cascaded over them. This whole place was crumbling.

  Tris and Michael looked at each other. Tris saw his own panic reflected in Michael’s usually steely expression, now illuminated by light from the fires starting around them. How long it would be before they had to call it quits and dash for the exit? If the exit still existed at that point. Could they abandon Lan and Greta? What if this wasn’t even the right elevator?

  *

  Greta couldn’t help the scream that escaped her when the glass at the top of the escalators shattered, the metal frames of the huge panes pulling apart and twisting. The rolling floor made her stagger. Lan was hardly able to keep his feet as she struggled to keep them upright.

  “Come on, Lan. You can make it.” She dragged him over to the escalators. His chest was heaving and his shirt was soaked in sweat. He was limping so badly she was practically supporting him.