Wicked Games

by M. J. Scott

"Cassandra, always good to see you." He leaned in and kissed both her cheeks. Then he stepped back to study me. "And this is Ms. Lachlan?"

  I got the same treatment as Cassandra before I could reply.

  "Welcome to my home. I'm Ian Carmichael."

  "Nice to meet you," I said, studying him. A faintly golden stain hung in the air around him. I could see Cassandra's green as well. Why had my sight just kicked back in? My mouth dried. "Your home is gorgeous. And please call me Maggie." At this point, I figured being friendly with the Cestis was the safest approach.

  Ian waved a hand deprecatingly. "I'm a bit of a magpie. Now come along, the others are waiting."

  We followed him out of the room and down a corridor lined with paintings and sculpture of all shapes and sizes. I saw a Monet, a Pollock, a Mondrian, Chinese vases that no doubt belonged to some ancient dynasty, an Egyptian cat statue, and what I thought were a couple of Donovan Harley's moonscapes. Somehow the kaleidoscope of old world and modern worked.

  The room Ian ushered us into was practically bigger than my apartment and dominated by a huge circular table. Two women and another man stood together near an honest-to-God working open fireplace—something I'd never actually seen in a home before. Flames crackled and danced, adding warmth to the light in the room.

  The second man was older than Ian, silver-haired like Cassandra but olive-skinned and hawk-nosed. He didn't look like Santa to her Mrs. Claus, more like an ageing movie star. A Greek god gone slightly to the seed as he’d sauntered over the hill. The glow around him was a warm red.

  The women next to him were a study in opposites. The older of the two had deep brown skin, brilliant blue eyes, and was taller than either of the men. Cropped dark hair skimmed the curve of her head, and she wore gold and multicolored crystals in strands and loops and hoops at her throat and ears and wrists and waist. The crystals sparkled, as did the deep earthy colors glowing around her.

  The second woman—well, she hardly looked old enough to be called that. If I had to guess, I'd say her freckled face and big brown eyes had at least eight years fewer on them than mine. Twenty or twenty-one, tops. Her hair shimmered with a mix of electric red and pink caught back into twisted knots that stuck out at random angles all over her head. Her aura was the same bright pink. She wore a pair of red Vivianne boots Nat would've loved, and a black sleeveless tee that read WITCH HARD OR GO HOME.

  I really wished I could take the latter option.

  "Maggie, may I introduce our fellow members?" Ian said.

  "Antony Donato, Radha Morgan"—the tall woman nodded at me—"and Elizabeth—"

  The redhead grimaced. "Call me Lizzie."

  "Elizabeth Reagan," Ian finished.

  "Lizzie's the one who's going to scry for you," Cassandra added. "She's very good."

  I could almost hear the “for someone so young” hanging in the air.

  "I am," Lizzie said with a grin. She held out a hand. "Welcome to the madhouse."

  "Thanks. Do you think you can find my friend?"

  She bounced on her toes for a moment. "I'll try. Cassandra's good though. If she couldn't find her . . ."

  "No guarantees. I understand."

  "We have some other business first," Ian interrupted. "Why don't we all sit down?"

  Business? What business? I turned to Cassandra, but she just nodded at me. Her expression brooked no argument.

  The five moved toward the table, pulling out chairs in what I assumed was a familiar order. Ian at twelve o'clock with Cassandra and Radha flanking him. Lizzie and Antony took the outer edges. They made a formidable-looking semicircle.

  I rubbed my hands down my legs.

  Directly in front of Ian sat an odd-shaped white ceramic container, some kind of bowl with a domed lid.

  I took the chair opposite Ian's, feeling like a child about to face the principal. Or five principals. Five glowing principals. The energy flowing around them seemed brighter—maybe because they were closer? The colors swirled and bled around each other, making me a little dizzy.

  "Am I in some sort of trouble?" I said, trying not to stare at the fields too hard.

  Ian shook his head. "Not at the moment." He looked at me for a beat, then shook his head again. "Lord, you look like your mother."

  I straightened. "You knew Sara?"

  "A little. When she was younger. Before she . . . ."

  "Went rogue?"

  He nodded. "To put it bluntly."

  I got the feeling I knew where this was going. "I might look like her, but I'm not her." In fact, I didn't even think I looked like her, apart from the eyes. Sara had been shorter than me, and beautiful. I was just kind of pretty. I'd never made a man walk into a light pole or a mailbox—something I'd seen happen around Sara more than once.

  "We appreciate that. But the fact remains that you were bound to a demon for many years."

  For a moment their collective glow flared, and I winced. "So? Cassandra says the bond is broken now."

  "We need to know that you’re truly clear of its influence," Ian said.

  That couldn't be good. My mouth dried. I looked at Cassandra. "You didn't say anything about this."

  "I'm sorry, Maggie. This is a Cestis matter," she replied.

  Ian held up a hand. "Cassandra has already told us she believes you’re trustworthy. We’re here to determine if her judgment is sound."

  I stared at him. "How the hell am I meant to prove that I'm just me?"

  "There's the easy way and the hard way," Ian said, putting his hands around the white bowl in front of him.

  "What's the easy way?"

  "This." Ian lifted the lid off the bowl, revealing a pool of silvery liquid that shone eerily, as though it was both reflecting and absorbing light.

  I pressed back in my chair, fighting a distinct urge to run. "What's that?"

  "Demon stone."

  "It's liquid," I pointed out. Liquid and semi-alive, judging by the way the surface rippled even though the bowl was perfectly still. I wrapped my hands around the sides of the chair as I fought to stand my ground. Something about the demon stone had my instincts on high alert.

  "Liquid at room temperature," Lizzie piped up. "Like mercury."

  I gulped. "Mercury's poisonous."

  She nodded. "So is this. If you're a demon or under the influence of one, that is."

  "The easy way is being poisoned?" The words sounded high and thin.

  "Chill. It's treatable, usually. If you're just possessed. Not if you're a demon."

  Okay, so the weird and creepy silvery stuff was poison for demons. Got it. "So why doesn't everyone just carry around some demon stone?"

  "It's very rare. And very expensive," Cassandra said. "It needs magical containment. It's not toxic to humans and won't harm them, but it has an unfortunate reaction with most inert substances."

  "Define unfortunate." I was liking it less and less.

  Lizzie grinned at me. "It eats them. Like hydrochloric acid on lots and lots of steroids. It’ll eat through a foot of steel in seconds. It eats hypercrete too."

  Not good news for buildings and cars and, you know, life in general, then. "Okay. Not safe for public use, I get it. So why doesn't it eat through flesh again?"

  "Magic," Cassandra said.

  "How exactly?" If I was going to do this, I wanted to know how it worked.

  "I could give you the long, complicated explanation, but it wouldn't make much sense to you at this point. Just trust me."

  I swallowed again, looking at the bowl. "How would this work?"

  "You put your hand in the dish." Lizzie snapped her fingers with another grin. "Easy."

  Unless I was a demon, of course. Or irreversibly tainted by the binding. I was pretty sure I wasn't a demon but I had no idea about the second part. Plus, I wasn't too keen on dipping my hand into something that could eat through steel, no matter what they said about it not harming flesh.

  "And what exactly is the hard way?"

  Chapter Sixteen

&nbs
p; "You let each of us read you." Radha's voice was low and sweet.

  The surface of the demon stone shivered almost hungrily. My stomach answered with another wave of queasiness. "That doesn't sound so hard."

  Light caught Radha's earrings as she shook her head. "It can be unpleasant for some. And draining."

  "How exactly do you 'read me'?" I asked, keeping my eyes on her rather than the demon stone.

  "Each of us will make a connection with you—with your energy field, if you want to be technical about it—and through the field, we can sense what's in your mind—"

  "You'll read my mind?" I interrupted.

  "Not exactly. It's more a matter of feeling for any demon trace within you."

  I shuddered, not liking the thought of demon trace or having someone else in my head. "Isn't letting someone connect with your field kind of like what the demons do?"

  "We don't try and take you over," Ian said with a piercing look. "Or feed off your energy."

  "Then why is it draining?"

  "It takes energy just to maintain the connection. The fields effectively flow around both people while they're joined. A bigger field takes more energy to sustain, just like using energy for a working does."

  Demon stone or sharing my head with five strangers. Hello rock, meet hard, hard place. I'd had a demon piggybacking on me for years; I wasn't keen to let anyone else attempt anything similar, magical cops or not.

  So it mostly boiled down to whether or not I trusted Cassandra's assessment that I was truly free of the demon and therefore the demon stone couldn't hurt me.

  Cassandra's eyes held a quiet sort of strength. I latched on to that. She'd helped me. Healed me. If I trusted any of them, it was her.

  "Thanks, but I'll take my chances with that." I nodded at the bowl.

  Cassandra's eyes crinkled at the corners, deepening her wrinkles as she smiled approvingly. The others all looked surprised. My stomach flipped and churned again. Did they really think I might still be under the demon's sway?

  If they were right, I could be about to die. Then again, if they were right and they found the demon trace by reading my mind, I doubted they'd go easy on me either. This was quicker. A binary situation.

  I eased my fingers free from the chair and straightened, smoothing my shirt as I looked at the demon stone. "What do I do?"

  "Stay right where you are." Antony picked up the bowl with two hands and carried it around to me, each step slow and cautious. Ian watched with great concentration. I didn't blame him. If they were right about what demon stone could do, then the amount of damage it would wreak on the art and furniture in this apartment if it spilled was not pleasant to contemplate.

  "Cassandra, go help," Lizzie suggested.

  I waited for further instructions. Cassandra came over to us and took up position behind me, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. Her touch eased my fear a tiny bit.

  "Ready?" she asked.

  I nodded, and she said something I didn't quite catch.

  A field of white light sprang up around us.

  "Just in case of spills," Cassandra said as I flinched in surprise. "Ian wouldn't want you ruining his rugs."

  Or his whole condo. I didn't welcome the reminder of the potential destruction—including my own. My next breath shuddered.

  Antony leaned down and held the bowl in front of me. "Just put the flat of your hand against the surface."

  I took another shaky breath. Then another. When I felt I could lift my hand without it trembling, I did as he'd instructed.

  The liquid . . . metal. . . whatever was ice under my palm. It quivered for a moment, then flowed over my skin, engulfing my hand.

  "Don't move," Cassandra warned.

  She didn't have to worry about that. The touch of the demon stone held me frozen, not even breathing, as ice-cold fluid encased my hand and wrist. Somehow it wasn't smooth or slick like water or oil, but rather slightly rough as it flowed over my skin. Rough and freezing. My hand shone silver, like it should belong to an alien or a robot. Not like anything that belonged to me.

  Creepy.

  The stuff moved like some sort of living thing, questing for prey like a snake sliding through grass. The back of my mind chittered with fear. If it was the snake, I was the small, furry, vulnerable thing. But I stayed motionless, not daring to move as a thin trickle separated from the rest of the stone and started to flow toward my elbow.

  Numbness spread up my arm as the demon stone paused, trembling in place. Almost if it was thinking. The urge to bolt or burst into hysterics screamed in my mind as the cold surrounding my arm intensified to the point of pain. My teeth dug into my bottom lip and the hot salt of blood hit my tongue.

  The thread of demon stone darted higher then paused again. I held my breath, unable to look away, wondering if it was about to flow right over me, choking me with cold. Wondering if the last thing I'd see would be silver flooding my eyes.

  I couldn't hear anything else in the room over the roar of my pounding heart, but I got the impression that no one else was making a sound.

  Then, just as I decided I couldn't take another second, the demon stone reversed direction and flowed back into the bowl, leaving my hand bare but freezing, the skin pale and blue as though I'd plunged it into ice water.

  I gasped in relief, and everyone seemed to start breathing again at the same time.

  "I guess that solves that," Cassandra stated with satisfaction. "You can take your hand back, Maggie."

  I pulled my hand away from the bowl as fast as I dared. My skin started to redden, the return of blood and warmth like acid flowing through my veins.

  The white light vanished, and Antony carefully carried the bowl back to the table and replaced the lid. I stayed where I was, rubbing my skin, trying to ease the pain.

  "Radha," Cassandra said. "Perhaps you can help Maggie out."

  Radha nodded and came to join us, placing both her hands around mine. A glow of green flowed around my arm and the pain increased exponentially for a second, making me whimper. Then it was gone.

  "There." She smiled. "That should be enough."

  I flexed my fingers. No pain, just a hint of pins and needles. "You're a healer, right?"

  "Yes. When I'm not doing this." She gestured at the other four.

  I craned my neck around to Cassandra. "How much time do you spend on 'this'?" The papers weren't exactly filled with stories of witches gone wild. Probably just as well. The normals outnumbered those with any sort of magical ability about five to one. There'd been a few points in history when witches had been persecuted, but now normals and those with magic got along as well as anyone could expect.

  The rising temps and water levels of the early twenty-first century, as well as the upheavals of the following decades and the accompanying food and water crises had made a lot of other concerns seem petty. Humanity had remembered how to play nicely, and that attitude had largely stuck.

  Not that that couldn't change in a heartbeat if witches started doing bad things on a large enough scale to raise the normals' fears.

  I wiggled my fingers, trying to shake the last of the tingling away. None of the Cestis had answered my question. Guess I didn't have the right security clearance or something.

  Right. New subject. "What would’ve happened if I failed the test?" I asked out of morbid curiosity.

  "That would depend on how bad the taint was," Cassandra said, patting my shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

  Easier said than done. Like it or not, I had to know how this thing that was after me operated. "The taint would make it easier for the demon to control me?"

  "Yes. It helps them make a connection."

  "Like a computer virus? A vulnerability waiting to be exploited?" I said more to myself than Cassandra. If that was the case, then I just needed the right antivirus. Good in theory, not so good in practice when it seemed the right antivirus was magic.

  Lizzie nodded at me from across the table. "Close enough. The demon trie
s to take over your programming via whatever means it can."

  "Lowered barriers. Right, Cassandra mentioned that already."

  Something was nagging at the back of my brain, but I couldn't quite grasp it. I worried at the feeling for a few seconds but nothing became clear, so I let it go. We had more pressing concerns. Like Nat. And where the hell she was.

  I straightened and turned my attention to Ian. "All right, I passed your test. Now what?"

  "Lizzie will try and scry for Nat shortly," Cassandra said. "But first we wanted to talk to you."

  I fought the urge to yell, “Can we just get on with it?” Nat was somewhere out there, and I didn't want to chitchat. But the Cestis held all the cards, so I had to play the game their way. Arguing the rules would just slow things down even more. "Talk away."

  "Cassandra tells us you only have a basic knowledge of magic. Yet you killed an imp," Ian said in a tone that was distinctly principal-reprimanding-naughty-student.

  “Beginner's luck," I said, keeping my own voice calm.

  Antony frowned at me with his magnificent eyebrows. "Relying on such luck is dangerous."

  Okay, this was wasting my time. Worse, it might be wasting Nat's, and we didn't know how much time she might have.

  "Look, Cassandra already gave me this speech. I'm not going to run around setting fires, I promise. I really don't want anything to do with any of this."

  "This?" Radha said with a rattle of bracelets.

  I wiggled my fingers in the air. "You know, magic."

  Four sets of eyebrows shot skyward. Cassandra just looked resigned.

  "Why not? You have the power," Ian asked.

  "Power has never done anything for me so far. In fact, it's caused nothing but trouble. My mother was hardly a good role model, and then I was bound to a demon. That demon is now hunting me, if you're all telling me the truth. Any sane person would be running away screaming at this point."

  The five of them exchanged somewhat appalled glances.

  "Yet here you are," Ian said.

  I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm here to find Nat, to make sure she's safe. I'll do your lessons and learn what I need to be able to protect myself, but that's where my interest ends. I don't want this." I looked at each of them in turn, hoping they could see I was serious.