Champagne, Misfits, and Other Shady Magic (Dowser 7)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  They scrambled to comply, Angelica and Peggy dragging Gabby until they were huddled against the wall with Tony. The sorcerer’s medium-brown hair had fallen all around his face. He sorted through the shattered pieces of his electronics with so much dread etched across his face that they might as well have been forever-lost family members.

  Kandy tugged the rug out from underneath a snack-littered coffee table that had somehow remained upright, then from under the sectional couch.

  The crack in the concrete bisected the room. I traced it back to the wall Mory was still huddled against. Thankfully, all the zombie animals she’d called forth were gone, except for her dead pet turtle.

  Ignoring Ed, I shooed Mory out of the way, crouching to taste the magic emanating from the fissure. It was abating, but as far as I could tell, it hadn’t actually come from underneath the house.

  I straightened, contemplating the wall before me, then pointing at it. “The park lies in that direction, yes?”

  “Yes,” Angelica said. “That’s the front yard, leading to the road, the park, the seawall …”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Kandy. My werewolf BFF looked grim. “And the anchor point for the witches’ grid. My anchor point.”

  “Does it taste like witch magic?” Kandy asked. “Like the grid magic?”

  I shook my head, crossing out of the room without another word.

  “We should check the rest of the house,” she called after me.

  Damn it. She was right.

  I took the stairs instead of the back door, with the green-haired werewolf at my heels.

  11

  Kandy and I split the floors of the house between us, but our careful search found nothing that could have explained the magic seeping through the crack in the basement. While we scoured the Talbot home, Angelica gathered all her children into the kitchen. I had checked in on them, seeing Tony pressing frozen peas to Bitsy’s forehead, while holding what looked like frozen mixed berries to the back of his own head. Thankfully, the werewolf had reverted to human form while unconscious, and neither she nor her brother were seriously injured.

  Kandy and I regrouped on the front patio. A glance toward the park confirmed that Burgundy’s circle was still active and glowing softly blue, but I couldn’t see the junior witch herself from this vantage point.

  “Should we get them out of the house?” I asked as soon as the front door latched closed behind us and we had a modicum of privacy. “As far as I can tell, the magic that might have been triggering the amplifier has completely faded.”

  “Until we find the source and figure out how to cut it off, I’d suggest they stay out of the damn basement,” Kandy growled. “Some people’s kids, right? I mean, how didn’t they notice magic seeping into the basement? Then those two morons attack you instead of figuring their shit out.”

  She meant Bitsy and Tony, of course. And honestly, my chest was still a little sore from whatever the sorcerer had hit me with. In retrospect, it hadn’t felt like pure magic, and if that was what being electrocuted felt like, I really wasn’t a fan. But since Bitsy and Tony would both eventually regret what was probably an instinctual need to protect their sister, I opted to let it go. For now. “Angelica didn’t seem affected.”

  Kandy chuckled darkly. “I could have taken her without the cuffs.”

  I didn’t offer an opinion. But it didn’t seem likely to me that Angelica Talbot collected magically challenged teenagers — for lack of a kinder phrase — without the ability to handle them and anything else the Adept world threw at her.

  Except us, of course. But perhaps the Talbots’ relocation had been more about not having to be constantly at war, rather than a lack of ability to protect their brood. In Vancouver, that job belonged to Kandy and me.

  A second after I tasted his magic, Warner stepped out from the shadows onto the path from the sidewalk. He eyed Kandy and me hanging around on the patio. “Why does it look like you had more fun than I did?”

  I glanced down at my waterlogged jeans and T-shirt, seeing no evidence to suggest I’d had any sort of so-called fun. Digging into my satchel, I pulled out some Kleenex and attempted to do something about my apparently runny makeup. I adored being made to feel inadequate by a teenage necromancer. Especially while I was saving her ass.

  The sentinel jogged up the stairs. Kandy, who had managed to avoid the hot shower, was texting with someone.

  “Did the magic of the grid extend all the way to the bakery?” I asked Warner.

  “It thinned, then dissipated before I got there,” he said. “But I checked the bakery and the portal. Both appear undisturbed.”

  “I don’t get it,” I muttered.

  Kandy glanced up from her phone. “Huh. Something happened. The witches had to drop the grid … some sort of weird feedback. A couple of them, Olive and Kelly, fainted while they were trying to test out the barrier spell.”

  “Like there was another magical surge?”

  Kandy grunted in the affirmative.

  “Fantastic.” I gathered my curls into a ponytail, trying to wring the rest of the water out of my hair — or whatever hadn’t already been absorbed into my T-shirt, at least — while I filled Warner in on our hijinks with the Talbot crew. “We felt magic in the basement here. By location, it seems like it should be tied to the grid, or at least to the arm that you traced back to the bakery. But it doesn’t taste like —”

  Movement in the park drew my attention. Warner and Kandy followed my gaze. I stepped down two steps, clearing my view of the leafy branches of a cherry tree at the front edge of the property.

  Across the wide stretch of park between the road and the seawall, an exceedingly tall, white-clad figure was slowly circling Burgundy. The junior witch was still within her softly glowing witches’ circle, but she appeared to be curled up on the ground.

  I was too far away to see the figure’s face, but its pale skin and white hair were almost iridescent, picking up and reflecting the blue of Burgundy’s magic.

  “Who the freaking hell is that?” I was already stepping down onto the front path as I called my knife into my hand.

  Warner touched my shoulder, lightly holding me back. “Don’t run …”

  “What? He’s attacking Burgundy!”

  The sentinel shook his head grimly. “It is better to approach this creature with caution. Calmly communicate, if possible. It will perceive any rushed movement as an attack and perhaps kill the witch before we can draw it away from her.”

  “This creature?”

  “An elf.”

  “Elf …” That gave me pause. “As in, your dimensional interlopers? Possibly wielding knives capable of harming a dragon?”

  “Add in martially inclined and constantly looking to expand their territory, according to the treasure keeper. And yes.” Warner’s magic rolled up and over him, leaving him clad in his dragon leathers. His knife was openly displayed in its built-in sheath.

  “Oooo,” Kandy crowed. “Is it powering-up time?”

  “Your power-up is a little obvious for a residential area,” I said, carefully watching the elf as it jabbed at Burgundy’s circle — with some sort of weapon that I could only barely see, like it was made from rippling air.

  Kandy pouted playfully. But like Warner and me, her gaze was riveted to the new predator who had just appeared on the scene.

  “All right.” I slipped my knife into my sheath. The fact that Burgundy’s circle was still intact meant that the witch was still somewhat protected. For now. Though why the elf had decided Burgundy was a threat, I had no idea. Possibly it was the witches’ grid in and of itself that bothered him. But Burgundy’s circle falling would have no effect on the main grid. “I can play it cool.”

  Kandy snorted.

  Ignoring her well-founded disbelief in my ability to be rational under such circumstances, I tried to calmly assess the situation. “It looks like the elf is favoring its left leg.”

  “Subtle,” Warner said. “But I concur. Watch
out for the blade. Calling it sharp is an understatement.”

  Kandy eyed Warner sideways. “Is that first-hand knowledge?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Angelica Talbot opened the front door of the house behind us. “Ms. Godfrey. I wasn’t aware —”

  “Get back inside,” I snapped over my shoulder. “And Ms. Talbot? I suggest you raise your defensive wards.”

  Angelica’s face blanked. Then she nodded curtly, slamming and locking the door.

  Returning my gaze to the elf slowly circling and tapping on the magic of Burgundy’s circle, I felt layers of sorcerer magic flood across the house behind me.

  Walking determinedly but slowly, I strode across the sidewalk. Warner and Kandy kept pace alongside me, brushing my shoulders as we strolled across the street. I wanted to rush across the grassy expanse between myself and the elf, demanding answers. But I’d try diplomacy if that was what Warner recommended. Right up until the moment I concluded that the elf was the reason Burgundy was curled up on the ground.

  The park was wider than it was deep, spreading out before us with the Maritime Museum on its far right edge and a denser treed area on our far left. From this vantage point, I could see the low bracing that had recently been installed on the First Nations-carved totem pole that graced the museum’s landscaped entrance. The massive chestnut tree about a dozen feet to the right of Burgundy’s circle was a dark outline against the deep-blue-black sky. Despite the glare from the city, a few stars had appeared overhead.

  “Something in the dark,” I murmured. “Something trying to break through.”

  “Or maybe something already here,” Kandy added grimly.

  “Explain,” Warner said.

  “Peggy Talbot,” I said. “The telepath. She picked up something. Or someone’s thoughts, I guess. Last night and earlier today. Maybe the elf?”

  Warner grunted in acknowledgement.

  “Who wants to bet we’re about to figure out what the hell is going on?”

  “Not me,” Kandy said. “That’s a loser’s wager. And I don’t lose.”

  “Except for that one time,” I said. “You know, when you drowned.”

  Kandy barked a laugh. “Are you crazy, dowser? That was the biggest win of all.”

  Warner chuckled darkly, completely in agreement with the insane werewolf. But then, he would have known about that sort of thing, having survived being crushed by a freaking mountain.

  Lovely. My companions thought that returning from the dead was all just part of the fun.

  But honestly … feeling my own magic, which had already been riled up by the amplifier, surging through my necklace and flowing into my knife, I really couldn’t disagree.

  The elf looked like just the challenge I’d been waiting a year and a half to face. I only hoped Warner and Kandy didn’t get greedy and take him out first.

  The elf turned to face us when we were about twenty feet away. His movement was casual, almost nonchalant, as though he hadn’t been tracking our every step since we’d hit the grass. But the wary set of his shoulders betrayed him. And yes, I was fairly certain he was male, though the sharp lines of his face and his long, plaited, moonlight-hued hair were fairly androgynous. He was taller than Warner, who was six feet four, but not as broad through the shoulders.

  He was also wearing shockingly familiar clothing. Similar to the items I’d found myself wearing after Pulou had locked me away in one of his magic-nullifying cells. White cotton drawstring pants. A white T-shirt. No shoes.

  Well, that was a weird complication.

  “Note the outfit,” I whispered.

  Warner grunted in acknowledgement.

  The elf’s gaze snapped to me when I spoke. Now that I was closer, I could see that his white skin was finely scaled, currently reflecting the blue of Burgundy’s circle where it still simmered beside him. But based on its iridescence, I had a feeling it might shift depending on the available light, possibly allowing the elf to wield some sort of chameleon abilities. Similar, perhaps, to how Warner’s own magic manifested.

  To literally top it all off, the elf appeared to have some sort of large gemstone, almost the exact color of his skin, embedded in his forehead. An eight-sided stone, echoing the oracle’s sketch just enough to add a low murmur of caution to the gleeful anticipation I was attempting to keep quelled.

  “I probably should have mentioned that Rochelle gave me a sketch today,” I said.

  “You opened it?” Kandy asked.

  “Ah, no … a different sketch.”

  “Of an elf?” Warner asked.

  “Not exactly.” I didn’t want to be more specific in front of the elf. “I probably shouldn’t have brought it up in mixed company.”

  The elf’s gaze had locked onto the sentinel at my right shoulder, as though he might be deeming Warner to be the biggest threat among the three of us. Which was fine by me.

  I still couldn’t taste any magic from the intruder. At least not enough to determine whether he was responsible for whatever had rendered Burgundy unconscious. But him tapping on the witch’s circle was pretty suspicious — and maybe something that could have caused the feedback that had reportedly knocked Olive and Kelly out as well.

  That kind of unprovoked attack wasn’t cool. It was time for him to pick on someone his own size.

  Warner spoke in a language with a lot of long vowels, similar to my vague understanding of what Norwegian or maybe Swedish sounded like. But at the same time, it was nothing like any language at all.

  The elf sneered at him. Apparently, disdain translated through dimensions. “Your pronunciation is atrocious, dragon.” The elf’s English was stilted, and — oddly — carried a British lilt.

  “I didn’t expect you to speak any earth language,” Warner said stiffly.

  “My jailor was English, after all.”

  Well, that explained the clothing. But not the elf’s presence in Vancouver.

  “This territory has certain protocols,” Warner said. “You’ve already broken several.”

  The elf raised his hand toward Burgundy’s circle, then shifted it as though he was feeling one of the wings of the magical grid. “Witch territory.” He didn’t sound impressed.

  “Does Pulou know you’ve gone for a walk, elf?” I asked.

  The elf bared his teeth at the question. They were jagged, like a shark’s. “Are you so scared, so worried that your warriors cannot deal with me on their own, that you need to call in a guardian, witchling?”

  Kandy laughed darkly. “You know I love it when they underestimate you, dowser. But this asshole is all bluff. I say we stuff him back wherever he came from and go for dessert.”

  The elf turned his attention to Kandy. “I will not be going back.”

  “Dead or alive. Elf, demon, or any other dimensional creep,” she said. “It makes no difference to me.”

  Magic slipped up and then around the elf, forming the long, slim blade I’d seen before at the end of his right hand. Seen up close, it appeared to be made out of some sort of crystal substance, not air as I’d originally presumed. The already-brown grass withered even more, turning black underneath his feet.

  He was pulling magic from the earth, as witches did. But his draining was destructive.

  Warner and I drew our weapons, anticipating an attack. But instead of stepping forward to meet our blades, the elf spun, slicing through Burgundy’s circle without effort. The severed magic rebounded off the elf, buffeting Warner, Kandy, and me as we surged forward.

  The junior witch convulsed, writhing on the ground and screaming silently.

  The elf lifted his blade, as if intending to bring it down in an arc that would decapitate the witch.

  The shadow leech appeared out of nowhere, wrapping itself around the elf’s hand and momentarily checking his attack. I ducked underneath the weapon, ceding the lead to Kandy and Warner so I could focus on the junior witch. I wasn’t certain Burgundy was still breathing.

  Even as Kandy stepped in
to the fray, she transformed in a flash of magic into her half-wolf/half-human warrior form. Standing as tall as the distracted elf, she easily caught him in a chokehold.

  I darted around the elf’s legs, sheathing my knife as I grabbed Burgundy’s shoulders and dragged the witch out of the way.

  The elf stumbled backward, trying to twist from Kandy’s grasp. At the same time, he flicked his hand, throwing his blade — and the leech — directly at me.

  I ducked, gently propping Burgundy against the chestnut tree. The elf’s blade skewered the shadow demon to the tree trunk just over my head.

  The witch moaned quietly, thankfully assuring me that she was alive. I stepped in front of her protectively, returning my attention to the skirmish.

  Warner was looking for an opening, but Kandy was effectively blocking him from engaging the elf. The massive werewolf still held the creature fast in a chokehold he couldn’t seem to break.

  So the elf changed tactics. His magic shifted again, manifesting short, double-edged blades in both hands — at the same time as he slammed his fists into either side of Kandy’s rib cage.

  The werewolf howled in pain, listing to the side.

  Warner slammed a kick to the elf’s left leg — the one he’d been subtly favoring. The elf went down on one knee, but he managed to keep the still-skewered Kandy between him and the sentinel as a shield, held fast by his blades.

  Warner slammed a right jab into the elf’s face, just beside Kandy’s head. Then as the elf reeled back, he grabbed Kandy and tore her from his grasp. But the blades snapped off as he did, still embedded in the werewolf’s ribs.

  The elf, whose face and leg had taken heavy damage from Warner’s blows, twisted sideways, knifing Kandy in the stomach with a third blade that appeared out of nowhere — and which he left jutting out of her back.

  Warner stumbled.

  He stumbled. Trying to keep himself between Kandy and the elf, even as the werewolf tumbled from his grasp.

  And in that brief moment in which the sentinel’s attention was diverted, the elf reached up and snapped Warner’s neck.

  Bone and cartilage crunched.