by Devon Monk
Zay and Roman threw magic at each other so quickly, etching, casting, canceling, and recasting spells in a deadly dance. They were a perfect match. Both had trained for years to be guardian of the gate. Both knew how to use dark and light magic and all five disciplines. It looked like only stamina would win this fight.
Except Zayvion had something Roman didn’t. Us.
I did not want to throw magic at Roman. Adding fire to the fire would only blow off the roof. Shame chanted—Grounding and probably Proxying—for Zay. Terric chanted too, his words harmonizing with Shame’s like they had when they closed the gate in the graveyard.
Oh, so I guess we did have a plan. Zay would distract the man, Terric would close the gate, and Shame would deal with the magical overload.
The plan was working. So well I almost dropped the Shield I was holding around each of us, thinking maybe I could let them finish this without me and catch a cab out to the falls.
Then Grimshaw threw something heavy—the Shackle that bound him—at Zayvion.
Zay Blocked. The force of that spell shattered my Shield and took him to his knees.
The spell clipped Zay across the shoulder. He yelled as magic rolled over his arms and hands. I could feel the burning cold, then complete numbness, as if the spell had hit me.
If that’s what the Shackle felt like, I didn’t know how anyone bore it.
But that pain was not mine; it was Zay’s. My hands were not numb. My hands worked just fine.
Shame threw a spell that looked like a ghostly, howling beast. It struck Roman in the center of his chest and sank magical teeth into his throat.
Roman stumbled back. Shame’s spell clung tight and drained him, while Shame calmly pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Terric almost had the gate closed.
Roman chanted and broke Shame’s spell.
I hit him with Impact; he Blocked and threw Lightning at me. I Blocked that and tasted blood in the back of my throat from the Impact. Man wasn’t screwing around. I threw Sleep.
Hey, why not? Sometimes the unexpected works the best.
His eyes widened. He Blocked it but his reflexes were slower. He drew a glyph—Illusion? And then fell to the floor.
“The gate!” Zay yelled. He was on his feet, running toward it.
And Grimshaw appeared in front of the gate.
I glanced back at where he’d fallen, just as the Illusion of him faded away.
Son of a bitch.
Grimshaw faced the gate and pulled magic through it, canceling Terric’s Closing spells.
“He’s going to jump!” Shame said.
Zay and I threw Impact. Our spells drew like magnets to iron, twisted together, became stronger—more than just one spell, more than just Impact—and arced like a bloody gout of fire across the room.
Roman lunged to the side and whispered a word that diverted our spell, sending the twisted fire of magic straight into the heart of the gate.
Zay and I both threw Cancel, but it was too late.
The gate blew open.
Roman was not opening the gate to escape. He was opening the gate to let something—no, someone—through.
“Enough!” A voice yelled from within the gate, echoing so loudly in my mind, I clamped my hand over my ears.
“I will have my revenge.”
And out of the gate, out of death, strode the one magic user I hoped I’d never see again. Mikhail, the master of death.
I traced the glyph for Impact.
But was too late. Much too late.
Mikhail threw a spell, dark magic crackling from his fingertips and catching us all in a net of magic.
I could not move. I drew upon the magic in my bones, needing to throw something, anything, at him to keep him from hurting us.
No, Allison, do not, Dad said.
I didn’t listen to him. But Mikhail, apparently, did.
“Sleep.” He pointed a hand at me. A hand that carried one of my father’s disks. And then there was nothing but darkness.
Chapter Eighteen
Someone was talking. It sounded a lot like my voice, but I knew I wasn’t talking. Which meant I was probably dreaming.
Strange, since I didn’t remember falling asleep.
“He was supposed to keep her until we opened the gate for you, but he failed in doing so,” I was saying.
“The disk is draining too quickly,” a man’s voice I did not recognize said. “How much longer do I have, Daniel?”
“I do not know. It has been through death. It is charged with both light and dark magic, but I have never tried to support a body and soul with this technology. If you are to remain here, you will need to find a living body to possess.”
“A body with your disk implanted in it?”
“We won’t have time to find the disks before the one you hold is empty.”
“You could use me,” another man with a Scottish accent said. “Implant the disk in me; then take my body.”
“No, Roman, you have done enough,” the other man said. “And there is no time.”
“I can endure.”
“Even so,” I was saying, “he will need a body with a disk to hold magic within it and tie the soul to the flesh. You are too alive, too human.”
“Find my solution, Daniel Beckstrom, or our agreement will be terminated.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Shamus Flynn,” I said.
There was a pause. “He is Hugh and Maeve’s son,” I said.
“Where?”
“There.”
Another pause, then the sound of heavy footsteps.
“He has grown into a man,” he said with a touch of melancholy. “Has it been that many years since I was alive?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then it has been too long for her to be in this world, destroying magic, destroying lives. Wake him.”
I heard someone walking.
“How long will his body support me?” the man asked.
“An hour, a few minutes. I do not know,” I said. “He has a strong will, high pain tolerance, and an untested Soul Complement.”
I heard a sigh. “There have been too many Soul Complements in recent years,” the man said. “I have seen their deaths. I have spoken to their spirits. None have found peace.”
“It plays to our hand now, though,” I said. “Soul Complements have always been drawn to Portland. Four wells so close together seems destined to bring Complements together.”
“Wake up, Shamus,” the Scottish voice said. “No, you’re still under our Hold spell, so there’s no need to waste your energy fighting it. Mikhail needs a word with you.”
“What? What do you want?” That, I knew, was Shame. His voice was raw, strained, as if he were working hard to get each word out.
“Your body,” the man said. “Your mind. You will give them over to me.”
“Fuck off.”
“Willingly or unwillingly,” the man said, “I will take your flesh as my own.”
“Bullshit. Allie? Are you in there?”
The sound of my name drew me out of my half-conscious awareness, up into my mind, my body. I snapped into place and opened my eyes.
No, my eyes were already open. I was standing next to Mikhail, who seemed to take up all the space in the room. He was taller than me, wide shouldered, his hair short and black, his eyes an arctic blue, deep and sorrowful in skin that was so white, it was leaning toward pasty green. I did not know how he was alive, how he had walked out of death in the body he had died in.
He was staring at Shame, who sat on the couch. Terric and Zayvion, who both appeared to be sleeping, were slumped at either side of him.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Fucker wants to possess me.”
Dad was standing with me in my mind. I think, if he had wanted to, he could have kept me down, unconscious, or semiconscious, thinking this was all a dream.
Yes, he said, I could have.
I t
ried to pull on magic, to throw it at Mikhail. But it was like a heavy blanket draped around me, making it impossible to draw on magic, making it hard to think, much less remember a spell.
“This will take a sacrifice,” Dad said through me. I pushed at him but couldn’t make him move away.
Crap.
“I understand,” Mikhail said. “Do you understand, Shamus Flynn? To carry me, a price must be paid.”
Roman was shaking Terric awake. No, oh hells, no. They weren’t going to sacrifice Terric for Mikhail’s plans.
Even though I was in the front of my mind, I could not make my body move.
“Get your hands off of him,” I said as he shook Zay awake.
Zay’s eyes rolled in his head; then he blinked several times, as if struggling free of sedation. Terric looked the same.
Shame obviously couldn’t move. He didn’t look terrified as Grimshaw stepped away from the couch and watched them dispassionately. He just looked furious.
“There are many things that you must know,” Dad said through me. “And we have little time to explain it. Allison was correct. Mikhail found a way to heal magic, to bring light and dark magic together again. But in so doing, he caught the attention of Leander and Isabelle. In that one moment when magic was rejoined, Leander and Isabelle opened a gate into life. And Isabelle stepped through.”
“When?” Zay asked.
“Many years ago. She struck swiftly. Possessed quickly. And has been in this world ever since.”
“Who did she possess?” Zay asked.
Dad opened my mouth to answer, but it was Mikhail who spoke.
“Sedra. She tore my beloved’s soul in half and burrowed into her. All these years she has held Sedra trapped. Neither alive nor dead. While Isabelle uses her body and her power.”
“Yes,” Dad said softly. “Sedra.”
Zay’s expression went from shock to horror to anger. He had sworn to follow Sedra’s orders, to treat her word as law in the Authority’s business. How many people must he have Closed at her command? How many must he have killed?
It was not Sedra who had been running the Authority. It was Isabelle—the woman who had been dead for hundreds of years. The woman who, along with her Soul Complement, Leander, had gone insane and killed her way across the world before the Authority broke magic to break them.
When Zay looked at me, his eyes were wide, shocky. “Is this true? Allie, can you tell if he’s telling the truth?”
I nodded. Well, what did you know? Dad was letting me have a little control. “It’s true. Dad thinks it’s true.”
Shame, for perhaps the first time, was so angry, he was completely silent.
“Mikhail can find her,” Dad said. “He carries a small piece of her soul within him.”
“Then find her,” Zay said.
“It is not so easy, guardian of the gate,” Mikhail said. “This disk is nearly empty, and it is all that is keeping my body alive. I will die in this world without a body to possess. My soul will return to death, and Isabelle will go free.”
“I will carry you,” Zay said without hesitation.
Roman made a sound of appreciation. “The old training is still strong.”
“You cannot hold him,” Dad said through me. “He needs a body between life and death. One with a disk to support and connect his soul to flesh. Only magic and technology can make that happen.”
“You possess Allie without a disk,” Terric said, his voice rough, as if he were bearing a heavy load or heavy pain.
“Yes. We are father and daughter, blood of blood. It is a rare but perhaps a more organic possession. There is no blood relative who can support Mikhail here.”
“Then who?” Terric asked.
“Me,” Shame said. “And you’re sure as hell not getting my body unless I get something out of it in exchange.”
“You are in no position to negotiate, Hugh’s son,” Mikhail said. “What is your price?”
“That you fix what I did to Terric.”
“Shame,” Terric breathed.
“Shut up,” Shame said. “If you can put light and dark magic back together, then you can put him back together. Heal the scars I left on him when I tried to kill him. Make it so he can use Death and Blood magic again.”
“Do you think I want that?” Terric asked. “Don’t do this, Shame.”
Mikhail looked at Terric and cast a Sight spell much like the one I’d seen Dr. Fisher use. He peered at it for a long moment, then canceled the spell and slowly shook his head. “I am not a healer, Shamus Flynn. That destiny belongs to a soul much less dark than I. I cannot heal him, though I may be able to ease the pain of his wounds.”
“You’ll take away as much damage as you can.”
“Are you sure you understand what you ask of me? That I will do what is within my power to make it easier for Terric to use Blood and Death magic?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
“No,” Terric and I said at the same time.
“Shame,” I said, “you don’t have to do this. Don’t have to let him possess you. There could be another vessel. Stone held Zay. Maybe we could get Stone to do it.”
“There is no time.” Mikhail opened his hand. I am no expert on the disks, but the disk in his hand was ashy gray and crumbling at the edges, as if simply being in contact with Mikhail’s flesh aged and eroded it.
“Shame,” Terric said. “Do not do this.”
Shame looked over at him, gave him that self-mocking smile. “Tell me you don’t want to be healed.”
“I don’t want to be healed.” Flat. Clear. He meant it.
“Too bad.” He nodded at Mikhail. “Do it.”
“Wait,” I said. Mikhail did not wait. He walked over to Shame. The weight of his footsteps vibrated through the floor as if he were eight feet tall. He was a big man, but he wasn’t a giant. No, each footstep instead seemed heavy from years of his body and soul existing in death, years he spent gathering to him the magic he would need to reenter our world, body and all.
“You said there was a price to pay,” I said. “What price? Who’s paying it?” I tried to move my hand, to think my way through a Hold spell, a Shield spell, but the heavy blanket of stupid was still draped around my mind, dampening my ability to use magic.
“A life for a life,” Roman intoned.
“A death for a life,” Mikhail said, staring into Shame’s eyes, while Shame glared right back at him. “Every moment I live will draw you closer to death. That is the price you will pay.”
What does he mean? I asked Dad. How is Shame going to pay that?
“Hush,” Dad said.
Oh, no. He had not just hushed me with my own mouth.
“Drop the Hold, Grimshaw,” Shame said. “Damned if I’ll do this sitting down.”
“Mikhail?” Roman asked.
He nodded.
Roman wiped his hand in a half circle and canceled the spell. Or at least enough of it that Shame could move.
Shame took a deep breath and stood.
“Don’t,” Terric said.
“Easiest way to take care of everything,” Shame said. “He finds Isabelle, he finds Sedra. I figure Leander will be near Isabelle, right? We deal with them, we solve Mum and Victor’s problems. We end this bloody mess now. Painful, but simple. Just the way I like it.”
Mikhail placed his hand with the disk in the center of Shame’s chest, over the crystal embedded there. “How long will the crystal support me?” he asked Dad.
I, or rather, Dad, answered. “I do not know. This has never been tested. I am unclear how I would possibly re-create this in a lab setting.”
“Will I have hours, days?”
“Perhaps an hour. Perhaps a day. Perhaps no more than five minutes. I dislike guessing when I have no hard evidence.” There was more he wasn’t saying. I could hear it in his thoughts. There was a very good chance this wouldn’t work at all. That it would not only kill Mikhail, but also kill Shame.
“W
e will need to move quickly,” Mikhail said.
“Yes,” Dad agreed. “The less time you spend in Mr. Flynn’s body, the better for you both.”
“I will touch your mind,” Mikhail said.
“Don’t fuck this up,” Shame said.
Mikhail raised one eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
No, I thought to Dad. Don’t let him. Please, Dad, don’t let him kill Shame.
He ignored me.
Mikhail intoned a chant. Dark, the words were made of hard sounds and cutting edges. It made my ears and my head hurt.
He reached out and placed his fingertips in a circle in the center of Shame’s forehead.
Shame’s entire body tensed, his back arching, his eyes going wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream.
He did not scream, but Terric yelled out in pain.
“Stop,” I yelled. “Mikhail, you’ll kill him!”
But Mikhail did not stop. He chanted, short, slippery words that made me think of graves and darkness.
“Let him go!” Terric yelled. “Stop. God, please stop.”
“Death for life,” Mikail said. “Until my revenge is done.” The disk in his hand pressed against the crystal in Shame’s chest and smoked.
Shame rocked up on his toes and arched his back even farther, his arms thrown behind him as if hooks dug deep into his ribs and threatened to pull him off his feet. He inhaled, the smoke from the disk streaming up into his mouth, his nose, his eyes.
Mikhail’s knees gave way, and he slumped forward.
Roman was there, catching him and lowering him to the floor.
Shame collapsed. He fell back onto the couch in a heap. The Hold spell must have broken, because Terric and Zay were both moving again. Terric moved aside and knelt by the couch so Shame could lie down.
“Zay?” Terric looked up, lost, frightened. I think he was going into shock. How much of Shame’s pain had he also endured? How much did he still feel?
Zay was already on his feet, drawing a spell, striding to Roman, who surged up to stand guard above Mikhail’s body, Impact drawn in warning but not yet filled with magic.
Before Zay or Roman could cast, Shame opened his eyes. He pushed away from Terric and stood.
“Enough. Both of you,” he commanded.
Only that was not Shame. That was Mikhail.