Renegade Magic

by Burgis, Stephanie

  I swallowed my pride and reached out my arm. “Please—”

  His face convulsed with horror. He took a quick, shuffling side step against the wall, gave one last look at Lucy in the bath … then turned and fled.

  I was alone.

  At some point, one of the other Guardians in the city would sense the magic here and come to investigate. For once, I would even be grateful to see horrible Lord Ravenscroft. But who knew how long it would take for any of them to get here—or how much damage that thing inside Lucy would do in the meantime?

  I felt a moment of pure despair. Without any Guardian training, I didn’t know what to do. I had nothing on my side.

  Except …

  I pushed myself up to my feet. My legs wobbled under me. The thing controlling Lucy didn’t even see me go; her face was still turned up to the sky, chanting curses and favors in an endless rolling list.

  I shuffled back across the tiles like an old woman, leaning against the stone walls for support. The changing room we’d used earlier was empty; Angeline must have stalked out as soon as she had changed her clothing, and all the cloth-women had fled.

  I went straight to my pelisse where it hung on the wall. I reached inside to the inner pocket I’d sewn secretly, weeks before.

  There.

  Mama’s mirror. My fingers closed around it, and I felt a moment of sheer relief. It was cool and unresponsive, at first. Then the sulfurous dampness lingering on my hand soaked into it, and tingling warmth began to emanate from the golden case.

  I held it cupped between both hands as I shuffled back to the King’s Bath.

  There was no one left in the corridor outside the bath. But the windows of the Pump Room were sure to be absolutely crammed with color now: all of Bath’s most fashionable elite, taking in the show. I gritted my teeth.

  Stepmama really would murder me for this.

  Every step pushed against the pressure of the wild magic, like a giant hand forcing me back. My legs wobbled and shook. But I didn’t drop the mirror.

  I was still a Guardian, whether Lord Ravenscroft wanted to admit it or not. It was my job to protect Society from malicious magic, no matter how intimidating. I was Lucy’s only hope.

  I stumbled and slipped on the damp tiles, forcing my way against the magic. My breath came in short pants of effort. Inside the closest narrow doorway, on the step just above the madly bubbling water, I came to a stop.

  In the center of the bath, the magical sparks formed a tight, whirling cloud around Lucy’s body. Her head was still tipped back, her unfamiliar gaze still focused on the sky above. The great voice rolled through her, as powerful as ever, without so much as a hint of hoarseness.

  I tightened my grip on Mama’s mirror.

  I couldn’t break the cloud of wild magic around Lucy. I couldn’t break the curses being carried through her mouth. But there was one thing I could do.

  I took a deep breath and jumped.

  Eighteen

  Heat surrounded me on all sides. Hot, prickling mist surged through my throat and nose, suffocating me. Sparks battered at my face. The bath didn’t feel intoxicating any longer. It felt murderous.

  I wanted to scream with pain. I ground my teeth together. Blindly, I struck out through the cloud of sparks, gripping Mama’s mirror in my left hand. It trailed through the water of the bath, and I felt it wake to full strength.

  The rolling voice surrounded me. I couldn’t see, but I could hear, and I followed the sound.

  “MY GREAT-UNCLE’S WILL TO BE REWRITTEN IN MY FAVOR.” Magic shot out in a burst, singeing my hair.

  It was the opening I needed. For just one moment, there was a break in the tight cloud of wild magic. I threw myself through.

  My vision cleared. Lucy’s face was exalted, her blue eyes dilated. Her mouth opened again.

  “HAIL—”

  I grabbed her arm. Her skin burned my hand.

  “—SULIS MINERVA!” she bellowed.

  I opened Mama’s mirror, and the world turned inside out.

  I landed hard on the floor of the Golden Hall. My whole body felt raw and scalded by the boiling bath. And I’d hit my head again. Curses.

  Or rather … I swallowed down a sick feeling in my stomach. I didn’t want to ever use, or even think, the word “curses” again. Not after today.

  Lucy. I opened my eyes, feeling the emptiness in my hand where her arm should have been.

  She was lying four feet away from me, limp and thankfully unconscious. Her bare arms looked physically unburned, like my own, despite the heat of the water we’d both stood in.

  But our troubles weren’t over yet by a long way. Standing above Lucy …

  “Interethting,” Lord Ravenscroft lisped, and raised his quizzing glass to study me. He was wearing the same large jeweled rings that he had worn the first time we met, but they glittered more intensely in the golden light this time, catching my eyes. For a moment, I almost forgot my panic. There was something about them, something different …

  His eyes narrowed. I gulped, abandoning all distractions.

  “Very interethting indeed,” said Lord Ravenscroft.

  There was no one else in the Golden Hall, but it was filled with power.

  I wasn’t fooled anymore by Lord Ravenscroft’s dandified appearance or his fashionable lisp. As his right eye, hideously magnified by the quizzing glass, studied me from head to toe, I felt chills run through my whole body.

  The Golden Hall was huge, but it had never made me feel small before.

  Be polite, I told myself. Remember, you came here for help.

  “Please,” I said. I pushed myself up, wincing as my palms pressed against the hard floor. The wild magic might not have physically burned my skin, but it still hurt. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought her here. Mr. Gregson knows—”

  “Mr. Gregthon knowth,” Lord Ravenscroft repeated after me in a deadly tone. “Doeth he indeed?” He turned his head slightly. “Aloythiuth?”

  There was a feeling of pressure behind his voice, one I’d never felt before. Less than a second later, Mr. Gregson appeared behind him, looking startled.

  “What—? Oh.” My old tutor took in the sight before him, and his eyes flared wide behind his spectacles. Then his expression settled out into careful neutrality. “My lord. Miss Katherine. And … Miss Lucy Wingate, I see.”

  “Lucy went mad,” I said quickly. I started toward him, hoping for understanding. “It was at the King’s Bath. When Lucy got into the water, she—”

  “Enough!” Lord Ravenscroft’s voice cut straight through my explanation. The lisp dropped away from his voice as he said sharply, “Aloysius, Miss Stephenson appeared here using her mother’s portal, a portal which I had closed myself, and closed for good. She brought along this girl, a stranger to our Order, who has clearly been possessed by highly dangerous wild magic. And she informed me …” He turned the quizzing glass on Mr. Gregson, and his voice froze into ice. “Apparently, you know all about it.”

  “She informed you of that, did she?” Mr. Gregson gave me a look of weary resignation. “Thank you, Katherine.”

  I groaned. “There’s no time for this. We have to do something for Lucy! When she went into the bath—”

  “Silence,” Lord Ravenscroft said, and shot me a look.

  My voice dried up in my throat. I tried to speak. Nothing came out.

  “Now,” said Lord Ravenscroft, and his voice eased into cold civility. “Tell me, Aloysius. What exactly is going on, and why have you utterly neglected to tell me any of it?”

  Mr. Gregson sighed. “It was my intention to tell you, my lord, the next time we met. The incident Miss Katherine is referring to took place last night. She—”

  I couldn’t speak, but I shook my head vigorously. Today, I mouthed.

  He frowned at me. “Ah, and something new has occurred today? Perhaps—”

  “Later,” Lord Ravenscroft snapped. “Continue.”

  “Yes. Ah.” Mr. Gregson coughed. “A
s it happened, I spent last night in the building that contains the King’s and Queen’s Baths, observing the primary outlet from the springs.”

  “Despite the fact I had clearly informed you that no such watch would be necessary.”

  “As you say, my lord. And in fact, you were correct that the Source itself revealed very little except an increasing surge in wild magic, beginning in the evening hours.”

  “We already knew the wild magic was becoming unpredictable in its rise and fall,” Lord Ravenscroft said. “This tells us nothing.”

  “Not on its own, no. But when added to Miss Katherine’s observations of the King’s Bath …”

  “Ah. Miss Katherine.” Lord Ravenscroft turned his muddy eyes on me. “And what exactly was Miss Katherine doing in the Baths at night? Or in Bath itself, for that matter?”

  I tried to speak, but nothing came out of my throat. I could have screamed with frustration. The look on his face, unanswered, was unbearable.

  “Miss Katherine’s older sister is making her Society debut in Bath this season,” Mr. Gregson said mildly.

  “Ah. You mean, the witch.” Lord Ravenscroft sneered. “Yes, Lady Fotherington told me all about her.”

  I ground my teeth together.

  “But what Miss Katherine witnessed last night,” Mr. Gregson continued smoothly, “may be just the clue we’ve needed to understand these magical anomalies Bath has been experiencing.”

  “Indeed?” Lord Ravenscroft’s voice dripped with disdain.

  “Indeed. Someone has been studying the ancient magic of Bath’s hot springs—and its usage, of which even I was not aware until last night. A group of young Oxford students last night offered sacrifices in the King’s Bath to the goddess Sulis Minerva.”

  “Oxford students? Invoking the rites of Minerva in modern Bath?” Lord Ravenscroft let his quizzing glass fall to the end of its ribbon. “Really, Aloysius. Is this a serious report, or some misguided attempt at a jest?”

  Mr. Gregson frowned. “Indeed, my lord, I am not speaking in jest. The chants they recited—”

  “The chants Miss Katherine claimed they had recited.” Lord Ravenscroft turned to me, twirling the quizzing glass by its velvet ribbon. His gaze rested on my face, but his words were addressed to Mr. Gregson. “Remind me, Aloysius. Miss Katherine’s father … before he married Olivia Amberson and took orders in the Church, was he not renowned at Oxford as a classical scholar? Even I recall hearing his name mentioned, in my own year.”

  Mr. Gregson blinked. “Why … why, yes, I believe he was. He had a rather prestigious Fellowship, as I recall, and—”

  “Quite. And you say that the entire story of last night’s bizarrely classical rites came straight from the lips of his daughter?”

  I was panting with effort, but no amount of magical pressure could force any sound from my mouth.

  Mr. Gregson’s frown deepened. “Yes, it did. And yet we were both observers when the summoned and unleashed wild magic possessed the unfortunate Wingate girl, so—”

  “Summoned and unleashed indeed,” said Lord Ravenscroft. “And by whom, exactly?”

  “My lord, I told you—”

  “I can tell you that myself, without even having been there,” said Lord Ravenscroft. “Evidence, logic, and history all point straight to the only possible culprit.” He raised his quizzing glass on its ribbon and pointed it like an arrow. “Miss Katherine Stephenson,” he said.

  My mouth dropped open. I shook my head wildly.

  Mr. Gregson said, “My lord—”

  “No, Aloysius. Lady Fotherington was quite right about this girl’s danger … and about your own gullibility to her schemes. If you could swallow such a farrago of nonsense as she fed you about last night’s escapade, you would believe any of her mad deceptions. She is quite as wild and uncontrollable as her mother, and just as irresponsible in her magical usage.”

  My fingernails dug into my palms.

  “My lord,” said Mr. Gregson, “as much as I dislike to contradict you, the magical instability has been ongoing in Bath for almost three weeks. Miss Katherine only arrived a few days ago. She can hardly be held responsible for the surges of wild magic that brought us here for our investigation.”

  “Responsible? No, of course not. These unpredictable surges are undoubtedly a natural phenomenon, as I have pointed out all along. Who can say what might cause flux and flow of wild magic, in the ordinary course of affairs? But when Miss Katherine arrived in Bath and sensed the magical disturbance here, she was quick to make use of it for her own purposes.”

  No! I mouthed. But neither man was looking at me.

  Mr. Gregson said, “What purposes would those be?”

  “Is it not obvious?” Lord Ravenscroft shrugged. “Having been expelled from our Order, she required another magical outlet. More than that, she undoubtedly wished revenge. We have proof enough of that in the fact that she has illicitly reactivated her portal to our Hall. That can only have been intended for a nefarious purpose.”

  I was shaking my aching head so hard it almost blinded me. At the word “revenge,” though, my heart sank. Wasn’t that exactly what Mr. Gregson himself had accused me of the night before? Wanting revenge on Lord Ravenscroft?

  “I have no doubt,” Lord Ravenscroft continued, “she was surprised and horrified to see you last night in the midst of her magical misdemeanors. So, what did she create as an excuse? Why, exactly the sort of tale she must have grown up hearing from her own father, particularly since their arrival in Bath. That was where Miss Katherine made her error. No one but a classicist—or a classicist’s daughter—would even guess at the true ancient uses of the spring below the Baths. Certainly the average Oxford student would not. The very speed with which she came up with her story is proof enough of her deception.”

  “Well …” Mr. Gregson’s eyebrows were pinched together; he didn’t spare a glance for my shaking head, or for the words I was frantically mouthing at him. Finally he said heavily, “I cannot believe she would have intentionally harmed her friend. Her distress at Miss Wingate’s predicament was very real, and could not have been feigned.”

  “Perhaps not.” Lord Ravenscroft glanced down at Lucy’s limp body without interest. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that had been an accident. Wild magic is nothing to trifle with. That is exactly why we must be so stern in our punishment of any magic-worker so rash and misguided as to manipulate the natural sources of wild magic. Her malicious and selfish recklessness can only endanger everyone around her.”

  I didn’t, I mouthed. It wasn’t me!

  Mr. Gregson said, “Last night … Miss Katherine said she’d heard the students in the bath talking of another man, someone who had persuaded them into performing the ritual.”

  “Really, Aloysius. Haven’t we heard enough already of these mythical students?”

  “There were other people in the bath last night, though,” said Mr. Gregson, and I breathed a sigh of relief at the firmness in his tone. “I heard stealthy footsteps earlier in the evening—someone approaching the room where I waited. I believe that that person only turned back when they realized the room was occupied.”

  Lord Ravenscroft tapped his fingers on the silver rim of his quizzing glass. “The stealthiness of the footsteps was probably a figment of your imagination. It was probably the manager performing a last check of the building, or one of the cleaning staff.”

  “Perhaps,” said Mr. Gregson. “But the two girls were definitely being chased when they came upon me.”

  “No doubt they had angered the night watchmen.” Lord Ravenscroft shrugged. “Miss Stephenson has a talent for such things.”

  Mr. Gregson sighed. “Yes,” he said, and turned to look at me gravely through his spectacles. “That, she most certainly does.”

  I didn’t do it! I mouthed at him. I prayed he could read the truth in my gaze.

  He was my tutor, the one who’d told me about my powers and invited me into the Order in the first place, despite the
opposition from Lady Fotherington and everyone else who had hated my mama after her expulsion. He had been Mama’s tutor too, and the only one not to despise her for turning to witchcraft when she fell in love with Papa. Surely he had to have some faith in me, no matter how angry he’d been the night before. Surely …

  “I did think at the time there was something odd about her story of the students,” Mr. Gregson said, and I closed my eyes in a moment of pure despair.

  “Well, then. We are in agreement,” Lord Ravenscroft purred. “In that case, there is only one thing to be done. As an inveterate and irredeemable misuser of magic to the danger of all Society, and as someone who can no longer be trusted with the possession of her own powers, Katherine Stephenson must be … pacified.”

  Nineteen

  Pacified. I froze.

  “It could destroy her mind,” Mr. Gregson said.

  Pacification was the worst punishment the Order could bestow. It took away a magic-worker’s access to her own powers—and to those parts of her mind that had been used to control them.

  “Better that her mind be destroyed than that she should cause havoc to all the innocent members of Society around her.” Lord Ravenscroft raised his quizzing glass to study me. “Yes. It only takes one look at her face to see that her willfulness is quite irredeemable. If her expulsion from the Order could not teach her humility, nothing can. Should you like to do the procedure yourself, Aloysius, or shall I?”

  I looked around the Golden Hall wildly, searching for an escape route. But there were no windows or doors in the smooth arching walls. I could catapult myself and Lucy out of the Hall with magic—if I was quick enough—but that would take us straight back to where Mama’s mirror waited for us, deep in the steaming King’s Bath.

  For a moment that sounded almost tempting.

  But if I dived back into the bath with Lucy in tow, Sulis Minerva would come back in full force, cursing with abandon. How many innocent people would sicken or die, just to save my mind and powers?

  If I risked that for my own safety, Lord Ravenscroft would be right about me. And that would be the worst thing of all.