"Prophecy?" the Mauvais said with a chuckle. "You think this is your savior? Well, I’m certainly shaking in my boots. Let’s see what she can do. I hadn’t really planned on my next strike, but shall we make Portland next?" Alastair and I both remained silent. "Yes, what a lovely idea. You know, if I want to have an intelligent conversation these days, I have to talk to myself. The Portland community has refused to agree to my terms, and," he glanced down at the non-existent watch on his wrist, "it seems they’ve reached their deadline."
The Mauvais closed his eyes in concentration and from somewhere above the underground lair, something rumbled.
"What was that?" I asked, my voice quiet with worry as dirt cascaded from the ceiling just behind Alastair.
"The Steel Bridge has just collapsed."
"But we’re not far from there." My eyes darted around the storage room. That support beam would not hold up if he hit a nearer target like the Burnside Bridge. "We’re in the Shanghai Tunnels, aren’t we?"
"Very clever of you. Not the tourist bits of the Tunnels, obviously, but the darker sections. The Magics’ sections." The Mauvais strolled around, speaking almost wistfully. "They really were the perfect hideaway for those of us who believe the Magic Morality Code is little more than a suggestion. Allie, you used to spend time here, didn’t you?"
"Only to spy on you."
The Mauvais’s face twitched. It was only a slight, subconscious movement, but that little tell revealed he honestly thought Alastair had been a true-blue convert to his cause. Hubris certainly does breed stupidity.
Again, from somewhere in the tunnels came that crackling sound. I glanced up, uncertain how long these wooden beams could hold up the weight of the world above us. Portland was known for its fair share of wet weather, and the area of downtown Portland where the Shanghai Tunnels were located had regularly flooded in the city’s early days. Where did these tunnels lead out at? Was there another way to escape if I couldn’t get back to the portal? Or if the portal timed out. Would Alastair and I make it before the tunnels caved in from the rumbling above? I had a very sudden, very strong, very claustrophobic-filled urge to be out of the contraption. Well, stronger than it already had been.
"If that’s what you want to tell yourself," the Mauvais said through tight lips. "But you, Cassie Black, will lend me the power to turn the City of Roses into the City of Rubble. Prophecy my ass. You know what I prophesy? Your magic soon filling every absorbing capsule in that container behind you. I’ll have enough of your magic for a lifetime. It might turn you into a moron, but maybe I’ll keep you around. You know, like keeping a stupid pet."
This couldn’t happen. Not just because I didn’t want to see my hometown turned into the latest natural disaster, not just because it would mean the deaths of thousands, including Mr. Wood. I even worried for Morelli. Those things mattered, but if Olivia’s count was correct, the Steel Bridge damage was the Mauvais’s thirteenth D-spell. If Devin Kilbride called for one more destructive hex, my parents would be pushed out of range. My parents would only have an instant recovery if he died—
When he died, I corrected myself.
He had to die. The only way any of this would be worth the trouble and the only way to return the magic world to safety would be if the Mauvais died. You know, take no prisoners, and all that.
But at that moment, I couldn’t see how on earth that was going to happen. I was the prisoner, so my whole heroic thing wasn’t going any farther than my own imagination. And while I do have a rather vivid imagination, it’s never done much to save my butt from a life-threatening situation.
The Mauvais reached for the switch. My body tensed. How bad would it hurt for all my power to be turned into magic gumballs?
I wasn’t ready to find out.
"The City of Roses to the City of Rubble. Really?" I jeered. The Mauvais whipped around, pure hatred on his face. I guess Mr. Evil didn’t like being heckled. "That’s the best you’ve got? You’ve had over twenty years to come up with plenty of wicked wizard witticisms and yet you continue to disappoint."
"Cassie, don’t antagonize him," Alastair pleaded.
I flicked my gaze toward Alastair. I hated the sound of defeat in his voice. I hated that I felt that same defeat in my own heart.
Just as I started my stroll down Mopey Lane, from the entryway to the Mauvais’s chamber of torture, something caught my eye. But before I could process what I’d seen, there came a metallic snap.
The Mauvais had hit the switch.
41 - BECOMING THE BATTERY
I GRIT MY teeth. I tried to picture a wall around my magic, a cork crammed into my magic bottle, my magic turning into solid rock that wouldn’t flow. None of it helped. Plinking sounds kept coming from the gumball machine as fully-charged absorbing capsules rolled into the dispenser.
Eventually — after what felt like days of needle-pricking, razor blade-slicing, cat-scratching agony — the Mauvais turned back the dial.
My veins hurt as if they’d been stretched too far by the magic surging through them. I wanted to fight back, I wanted to demand he at least let Alastair go, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was a groan of misery and despair. Tears flowed from my eyes, both from the pain and from the sheer exhaustion of so much of my power being pulled from me so quickly.
At the sight of my waterworks, the Mauvais got a good laugh. Really, if this guy wasn’t trying to enslave every non-magic in existence, he seemed like an easily amused fellow who’d be a real hoot to hang out with. But, you know, circumstances being what they were, I didn’t think we’d be sharing a table and having a few beers at the comedy club any time soon.
The Mauvais made some snide joke again about the prophecy. Banna had been wrong. I would not be his end. I would be his new beginning. There was no way I could destroy him. Even if I got out of the chair’s bindings, I was too weak to do anything. Alastair, he’d been the guinea pig for this thing, and now look at him. I could still smell the magic on him, but it was faint, like a whisper of a scent.
As the Mauvais chuckled, enjoying his own cleverness, he moved over to the gumball machine. From the corner of my eye, I could see a pile of absorbing capsules that glowed purple like a brand of grape-flavored candies that would stain your tongue for days after eating them.
Kilbride might take one, he might take ten, but it really didn’t matter. His next destructive spell would be the one that would put my parents out of range. I had to get out of the contraption. I had to stop him. But at his promise of a break, all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry myself to sleep.
But even that was too much to ask for. The Mauvais moved in front of me. With a snap of his wrist, he whipped my head back. It was then — with that quick, forceful action of my chin being magically jerked up — that I caught movement over the Mauvais’s shoulder.
My eyes couldn’t focus, but I recognized his walk, his height, and even the smell of my magic on him.
It was like my life was a music track stuck on repeat.
Tobey had found the portal. Then, just as the idiot had done the last time I was trying to have a little one-on-one time with Devin Kilbride, he’d followed me into the fray.
Only this time, I was actually glad to see Tobey Tenpenny.
And if you ever tell him I said that, I will magic your hair into a crown of earwig-infested pine cones.
Tobey inched toward us. The Mauvais, tumbling a cluster of absorbing capsules from his left hand into his right then back to the left again, was too distracted by his own success to notice.
"We’ll give Little Miss Savior a break, shall we? I mean, it’s only fair I allow HQ one more chance to meet my demands. Or should I take down the Hawthorne Bridge too, just to show them I’m serious? What do you think? Too much? Or would it send just the right message?"
I was exhausted, but I had to keep him talking. I only needed Tobey to release the straps. He could do that with e
ither a Breaking Charm or a Shoving Charm applied with the right finesse. He had that finesse, but there would be no second chance if he missed. I needed him to get closer to have a clear shot.
"Why would they give in?" I asked groggily. "Like you said, they want to extract me. You know why? Because we’re entangled. The quickest way to destroy you is to destroy me."
"You don’t understand a thing about how this works, do you?"
"Since we’re taking a break, why don’t you explain it to me. Be better than hearing more of your lame jokes."
The Mauvais, the person who had wreaked havoc on how many magic communities, actually looked hurt and taken aback that I thought his jokes were lame. Everyone’s got a weakness, I suppose.
As Kilbride searched for a snappy retort, Tobey made four chopping motions in the air.
At that very instant, all I could think was, "Oh dear Merlin, he’s going for the Slicing Spell," and expected to spend my final moments of life with stumps instead of hands and feet.
Unfair, I know, but what can I say?
Still, surprises are like dogs. Some will bite your ankles, poo on your lawn, and make a nuisance of themselves. Others will come up to you with their tongue lolling and turn your day for the better.
This surprise was of the tongue-lolling variety. The straps slashed down the middle and fell open. I did later find superficial cuts at my wrists and ankles, but I wasn’t about to complain.
I was however, about to kick. I jerked my legs up and shoved out as hard as I could with my feet against the Mauvais’s knees. The capsules he’d been playing with skittered across the floor as my nemesis staggered back, grunting with pain.
"Tobey, quick, give Alastair some of those capsules," I shouted as I dropped from the chair — my unexpected freedom might have given me a boost of happy chemicals, but it hadn’t offset my Mauvais-induced weariness. I scrambled for a few of the capsules, which were easy to find thanks to their purple glow. The moment I had three of them in my hand, I squeezed tight, pulling my own magic back into myself.
Or so I’d hoped.
Before the magic could do, well, its magic, the Mauvais’s foot connected with my ribs. I screamed, but he’d already done some damage and the cry sent electric pulses of pain through my chest. Still, I’d spent my life taking a beating and that kick wasn’t enough to make me drop the capsules. My fingers tingled as magic pulsed into me.
And then his foot came down on the fist clutching the capsules. Seriously, why did my life have to keep repeating itself? And what was it with this guy and my hands?
Thankfully, the Mauvais had on rubber-soled athletic shoes, so that first stomp didn’t break anything. Nevertheless, it was enough to flatten my hand, send more shocks of pain through my body, and force me to drop the capsules. Then the foot came down again. This time the bones of my hand crunched like a rat under Chester’s boot.
"I should have never agreed to send you back," the Mauvais growled, but not at me. On my knees now, barely holding myself up with one arm, I turned my head to see Tobey backing away from the Mauvais’s wrath. Kilbride’s legs tensed, ready to spring.
"Get out of here, Tobey," I grunted.
But it wasn’t Tobey the Mauvais lunged for.
42 - THE FINAL SPELL
LIKE A CLASSIC-movie version of Count Dracula, the Mauvais flew toward Alastair. It was probably nothing more than some form of Floating Charm, but it was fast enough and sudden enough that Tobey hadn’t had time to pass the absorbing capsules he’d gathered to Alastair.
With a snap of his fingers, Alastair’s bindings came loose and the Mauvais, using a Compulsion Hex, forced Alastair to stand.
"Get back in that chair," the Mauvais ordered me. "Rosaria, all the magic communities have had their chance. No more toying around."
One more spell, I thought. One more spell and my parents might never be who they once were. I needed time. I needed to throw the Mauvais off his game just long enough. If Tobey had made it through the portal, surely someone else would find it and be curious enough to wander through.
Unless it had closed itself off. As Morelli had told me, person-to-person portals had limited usage and lifespan. Which meant the portal may have already stopped working. Help might not be on the way. The cavalry might never ride in. The Mauvais would cast spell after spell until, even if I managed to finish him off, he would leave irreparable damage to millions of people across the world.
Look at me caring about the plight of others. I’ve come quite a long way, haven’t I?
I had to stop him. I had to do whatever it took. I’d known it the moment I stepped through the portal, didn’t I? Whatever happened between me and Devin Kilbride, one of us was not leaving this underground den alive. And I really wanted to keep that "one" from being me.
If there was going to be any possibility of me getting my magic back and getting out of here alive, I had to distract the Mauvais. An idea formed in my head. A crazy idea, but goading him into performing a D-spell might throw him off his game. Even if it was only for the briefest moment, it would give me the chance I needed. But if I failed to act quickly enough, I’d put my parents out of range and achieve nothing in return.
One more spell. Save the world or save my parents?
"You’ve got enough magic in you now," I said, each word sending a small stab of agony through my ribs. "So, go ahead and destroy Portland. Why would I care what you do to the place?"
It didn’t work. Kilbride only stood there, watching me with bewilderment in his eyes.
"Because it’s what people do," he said as if explaining to a toddler that you needed to put on clothes before going outside. "You’re supposed to care. Empathy? Heard of it?"
"Tried it once. It didn’t stick."
I’ll confess, I had no idea how I maintained this cool detachment. My pain receptors were on overdrive. I was more scared than I’d ever been in my life — and that’s saying something. My plan hadn’t worked, but as long as the Mauvais was talking, he wasn’t doing any damage.
"You must care about something," Kilbride prodded, "or you wouldn’t be here."
My eyes, my damn betraying eyes flicked for only the briefest nanosecond to Alastair. The Mauvais, seemingly perpetually entertained by me, laughed again.
"Oh, that’s too sweet. You really came here for Allie? Although I am a little hurt," he said, his tone a mocking pout. "I thought you came here for me." With his lower lip jutting out petulantly, the Mauvais raised his left arm then squeezed his hand as if gripping a rope for dear life. Alastair instantly began gasping for air. The frightened, desperate sound proved breath was not making it beyond his trachea. "Love is so charming."
The final two words were delivered with patronizing glee. They were spoken by a man, a wizard, who knows just where to hit the hardest.
And there I found my chance. The risk I had to take.
His left hand still clenched, the Mauvais pointed the thumb and forefinger of his right hand at Alastair’s head like a child’s make-believe gun.
"Shall I?" Kilbride asked.
Alastair struggled, his reddening, swelling face looking for all the world like that of a man who’s just been strung up at the gallows. The gasping noise turned to something that sounded like a plea. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t look at his face.
One more spell. One tiny distraction.
A sacrifice was the only way.
So, to the Mauvais’s smug sneer and questioning expression, I merely shrugged.
The dismissive body language wasn’t enough to break the Mauvais’s full concentration, but he knew there was something between me and Alastair. As such, he’d expected me to plead for Alastair’s life. He’d expected me to beg him not to kill Alastair. Which meant my disinterest in Alastair’s survival crumbled a small section of the Mauvais’s rocky focus. The chokehold he had on Alastair’s throat loosened.
Alastair sucked in
a great gulp of air as he blurted, "Cassie, please."
The words and the pain behind them hurt. More than the contraption’s surging power ripping my magical cells to shreds, it hurt. If this didn’t work—
No, the capsules were right there. Right at my feet. The slope of the floor had sent them rolling to me. It would only take an instant to grab them and reabsorb my power. I needed the distraction. I just hoped it would last long enough.
"Cassie, please," the Mauvais mocked, looking at me as if asking whether I was sure about this.
I shrugged again. "Go for it. He’s practically dead anyway, isn’t he? No magic in him. What’s the point?"
Saying those words stirred a rancid bile in me that surged into my throat. It burned as I swallowed back both it and the wrenching that went deep into my heart. I didn’t look to Alastair, knowing that if I did, I would not be able to hide my desire for him to understand.
The Untangled Cassie Black Page 27