by Cat Adams
And house magic comes from the kings, so there was little Tal could comment about. But he could certainly wonder how it came about.
Jason touched Mila’s arm after a shrug. “You just tell me how much magic you need, or what tools, and I’ll bring ’em to ya.”
She shook her head, obviously frustrated and yes … there was fear in her eyes, too. “Magic won’t help. I can’t use it. No, what I need to know from both of you is how important is she to you?”
Tal was surprised by the question, but when she continued, it became clear.
“See, I’ve searched the whole area for power to use while you guys were arguing.” She looked at him and nodded with little tips of her chin. “You’re right about those cult people, by the way. There’s something really wonky about their life energy. They’re not sick … not precisely, but there’s something weird going on. I can’t risk drawing on them for healing energy.” She sighed and looked down at the woman on the couch. “But, unfortunately they account for all the humans I could find and, other than small animals, there’s very little life left in this area … except us. So—” She touched Dareen’s forehead and looked up at both of them with pain and worry clear in her eyes. “Which of us wants to volunteer to die to save her life?”
CHAPTER 14
Jason didn’t hesitate, even though his muscles tensed. Mila hated that she had to ask, but the disease was too far along and she didn’t know what else to do. “If that’s what it takes.” He shrugged and reached down to touch Dareen’s thick long hair with a smile. “She’s me mum, after all. I know she’d do the same for me.”
It didn’t surprise her in the least. She’d understood that was his base nature from the moment she met him. “I wish there was another way—”
Tal spoke up, his voice filled with the same frustration she felt. “Can’t you take a little from the both of us? Spread the load so nobody has to die?”
She wished she understood the process well enough to explain it. “It doesn’t work that way. I don’t have that good of control over it. You saw what I did to the plant in the kitchen … and you were just tired. I don’t know how I affected the hospital patients. I was too afraid to call and ask today. And Jason’s mom is dying. I don’t know how bad the damage is inside or what it’s going to take to heal her. Once I pick a subject to draw from and start, that part of my brain shuts off and I just keep pulling until it’s done. I don’t really understand the process.”
Tal knelt down beside her and reached forward to cup her face in his hands. She didn’t know if he could feel her trembling, but she was. She’d never been asked to take on a healing like this … had never contemplated that there’d be a need. “If you don’t understand the process, then you don’t know it’s impossible. Mila, there’s a time in every crafter’s life when we have to step outside what’s comfortable. We all move from doing what’s simple instinct to gaining control and crafting with purpose.” He obviously believed what he was saying and while she wanted to think it was possible, she wasn’t really crafting … at least as he knew it. She opened her mouth to explain but he shook his head with a small smile. “I know what you’re going to say—that you aren’t a crafter, and don’t use magic to do your healings. But I say otherwise. I saw you at the Tree and if that wasn’t magic—” He paused for a moment, obviously trying to come up with an analogy.
Jason completed the thought, but probably not in the way that Tal might have. “If that wasn’t magic then I’ll be eatin’ me da’s stinky old boot. Not a crafter? Me right eye you’re not. Bleedin’ hell! With branches comin’ to flower all around your head, and grass growin’ up at your feet? If that’s not magic, well—” He squatted down and tucked a finger under Tal’s hands to turn her head. Tal dropped his hands, but took her free hand between his. Jason’s voice was filled with admiration. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you had dirtdog blood. No, ’twas crafting, lass, just of a sort I’ve not seen before. But Tal’s right. You need to learn mastery of it. We’ll do all we can to help. If that means me life in the process, then hell and be done with it. But do at least give it a go to stay your hand before I kick off, hey?” He smiled and winked before giving the tip of her nose a pop with his finger.
Branches flowering? Grass growing? “I don’t remember any of that. I didn’t do anything special … I was just—” She nearly screwed up and said looking for the egg, but didn’t want to open up another whole discussion when Dareen was quickly failing. The way Tal had reacted, she was pretty sure he hadn’t told anyone about the scroll from Viktor’s. “Anyway, I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.”
“And we’ll do our best to keep your attention focused. Remember,” Tal said as he helped her get up and brought a chair for her to sit on. “Craft with purpose. Surround the flow with intent and you won’t get lost in the moment.”
She wanted to protest again that it wasn’t magic, but these two men had known magic all their lives … for centuries, and swore it was. So what did she know? And, too, their advice wasn’t much different than what Baba had tried to teach her, just using different words. “Think,” Baba had said while tapping her temple. “Use the brain God gave you, yes? Plan the movements … like so—” Mila felt her hand rise, remembering all those lessons; hour after hour of healing the pinpricks on Candy’s arms and legs that Baba had inflicted, struggling to concentrate each time Candy yelped in pain.
Pain … dear mercy, the pain! Dareen might not be conscious, but her mind was aflame with the onslaught of magical tendrils attacking sensitive nerves. Again Mila heard her grandmother’s soothing voice from deep inside her memories. “Wrap yourself around the pain, Mila. Let it flow through and over you. Find the power … find your source and the healing will push away the pain, yes?”
She felt outward and found life and grabbed hold with her mind. It was pure, clean energy that pushed away Dareen’s pain. She began to concentrate on the healing, moving each new pain as she did. Minutes passed as she tried to unravel the knot of infected tissue, one slimy tendril at a time.
Her throat began to feel dry so she swallowed and was surprised at the burning that followed. It even hurt now when she breathed and she couldn’t seem to summon her voice to speak. She opened her eyes in panic to find Tal wrapped around her, one hand on her forehead pulling her against his chest while he uttered soothing words. “Shh. That’s it. I know it hurts, but try to let it go.”
Had she been screaming? Her throat certainly felt like it. She couldn’t seem to move her body, as though she was still in her healing trance. Yet she was aware … could see and hear things outside of the ritual. But I haven’t even called on the powers. Haven’t spoken the ritual to start the process. Yet she could see Jason, bound to her with a glowing white rope as thick around as her wrist. He looked almost serene, but it was obvious the sensation wasn’t completely pleasant.
She smelled flowers suddenly—roses and lilies and then it was like walking through Viktor’s gardens. A riot of colors, smells, and sounds filled her head with life and warmth. “Concentrate on your crafting, Mila. Don’t lose focus.” Tal’s words filtered through the other sensations. Was he experiencing the healing process, too? Could he see and smell the flowers, or was he just guessing and giving her something solid to cling to?
Either way, it did help her focus. She looked down again at Dareen. The squirming lines of red and black were no longer hovering on the surface of her skin. They’d burrowed inside and now stood out in sharp relief under her skin like a tattoo, but twisting and moving with purpose.
There was no time to lose.
She bent down to place her hands flat on Dareen’s chest, and Tal moved with her—not obstructing or limiting her movement but instead giving her additional reach and support, taking her weight so she didn’t have to concentrate on keeping her balance. She began to whisper hoarsely as she drew on the power from Jason. “Vsi srakhy, vsi nervy, vsiu khvorobu. All the fears, all the nerves, all the illnesses. Z pasuriv, pazuriv. G
o out, out. Vse bezsonnia zlo. I send all away.” When she uttered the last word, something hit her chest hard, like a line-drive baseball. It stole her breath and doubled her over so hard that Tal struggled to keep her from hitting the floor. The virus was reacting to her attack, trying to either push away the healing power or infect her. She tried to remember the right words, but the spells were getting jumbled in her mind. It was all she could do to keep an even flow of power into Dareen. Too much and she might do even more damage, too little and the virus would have time to react, to mutate. Damn it, what were the next words? Come on, Mila! Finally she let out a growl and opened her eyes. “Oh, screw the spells. You’re going down, virus.”
She started to send more energy in, cutting off each new path of the tendrils before they could get a foothold. But as the illness redoubled, she found the flow of magic to be fading. There was no time for that to happen. Another sharp blow came, but this time to her forehead. She heard Tal’s voice as if from a great distance, but she couldn’t hear all the words over the roar of the power in her head.
“Master … craft. Give … purpose.” But she was so close. Just a little bit more energy and she’d have it beat.
“Too close. Have to … keep going.”
A rush of wind and sound arrived in a burst of light that cut off all sensation. Tal’s voice emerged from the brilliant void and she realized he’d found a way to mentally connect to her. “Let Jason go, Mila. He’s barely breathing. Control the power and cut the line. I’m here now. I’m with you and we’ll finish healing her together.”
Jason? Who … what? But then she remembered, and knew her fear about killing someone had been well-founded. But Tal had reached her and she could think now. Again she was transported outside her own body to watch the scene from above. Jason unconscious on the floor, Dareen arched on the couch, her mouth open in a silent scream, and Tal … dear Tal, who was holding her so tight his muscles were ropes under taut skin. His lips were pressed to the side of her head, his eyes shut. When she concentrated she could feel the sensation, as faint and pleasant as a dream. She grabbed onto the new line of power, letting loose the other.
The power was a pure white needle of flame that burned through the foul bands of Tin Czerwona, creeping like an evil kudzu vine inside Dareen.
And then it was done. As quickly as the battle began, the last root of the virus was destroyed, right at the base of her neck, the infection point. It told her more clearly than anything that this illness was no accident. What she couldn’t figure out was why. What was Vegre’s goal in infecting random people? What tied Dareen and Suzanne together?
Before she let loose of the flow of power from Tal, she carefully scanned Dareen one more time, looking for any hint of the illness. But it was gone, dissolved away, leaving only pure tissue and blood.
Then her sight took her to the others. Jason was starting to revive, but he was very weak—lower even than Tal had been in her kitchen. But Tal had little to spare himself, having given his all to save his friend’s mother.
That left only her. Normally, she would have called on her own life first, but Baba had always said it was better for the power to come from other family members. Once she got older, it made sense in the same way that doctors look first to the family for blood or organ donations.
But there was nothing stopping her from giving Jason a little boost from her reserves. She was full to brimming with the aftermath of the healing, so she connected to them both once more, long enough to fill their reserves until they were all equally tired, but functional. A quarter tank of fuel each. Enough to make it until we can eat and rest.
By the time she opened her eyes, still cradled in Tal’s arms, Jason was up and at his mother’s side. There were bags under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept for a few days, but from the relief, and joy on his face, she doubted he cared. There was nothing quite like the aftermath of a healing, when everyone knew the patient would recover.
“Ah, Jason me boy.” Dareen placed a gentle hand on his cheek, making him beam. “I knew ya’d find some way to make it right.”
He smiled but shook his head. “‘Twasn’t me, Mum. Not one dosh. This was Mila’s doin’. She’s a—” He paused and Mila caught her breath. Would he start the argument all over again? But apparently, once was enough for him. “She’s a friend of Tal’s and a bit of a doctor, she is.”
Yet her relief at Dareen’s smile and nod was mingled with guilt. What would Baba say to me being ashamed of who … of what I am? She shook her head and gently pulled out of Tal’s grasp, even as he tightened to keep her close. “I’m sorry, Jason. But I just can’t. I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe, but I’m proud of who I am.” Dareen’s brows raised and she looked at her questioningly. “I hope you won’t be offended, ma’am, but I’m apparently from the Parask guild. I didn’t know it until recently, but … well, there you go. I’m a soul-conjurer and I used my talent to heal your illness.”
Jason bit at his lower lip and Tal let out a small sound that she knew accompanied a wince. Dareen held one dark hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Her voice was muffled from behind her hand until she finally remembered to remove it. “So, there are conjurers left in the world. Bless me soul. I thought the hunt was just a way to keep the group busy so we wouldn’t ask questions.”
“The hunt?” That was never a good term for a large group of anything to use. Things tended to end badly.
But Dareen ignored her question. She grabbed onto Jason’s arm, nearly pulling him down on top of her. “I must see King Kessrick right away. Help me up so I can get out of this robe, lad.”
Jason and Tal looked at her incredulously, and Mila supposed their reaction was similar to her own mother expecting to be admitted to the White House. “King Kessrick? Bleedin’ hell. He isn’t seeing anyone right now, Mum. You know that. He’s been locked in the palace, seeing only courtiers since the evacuation weeks ago. Not to mention,” he added with a stunned note in his voice, “that you can’t just expect to walk in the bleedin’ palace, or be granted an audience, without stacks of paperwork.”
She blew out a harsh breath and nodded her head angrily while tapping one finger on her leg. “That’s right. Forgot the bloke’s a bloody coward.” She looked up again when Mila was forced to stifle a snort. “Well, he is. Hidin’ away from his own subjects just because the world’s gone a bit wonky. His da would have been ashamed of how he’s actin’.” She swung her legs to the floor briskly, as though she hadn’t almost died moments before. “It’ll have to be King Mumbai then.” She looked at Jason, and disapproval spilled into her features. “I’ll be expecting one of these gates of yours leads to Shambala? While I’m not pleased with you, son—not one dosh—those gates just might have some use. But if I were you, I’d be thankin’ the Blessed Tree that you’re not layin’ over my knee this moment.”
Jason couldn’t meet her gaze. He began to study his hands while she kept the motherly evil eye on him and waited for an answer. “Well? Does a gate lead to Shambala?”
Tal cleared his throat before Jason could respond. He got to his feet and then offered Mila a hand to stand. She moved over to where Dareen was leaning against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest while he spoke. “I hope it’s not too impertinent to ask, Mrs. Rockwell—but what do you need to see the kings about? Is there anything we can do?”
“Nay, lad. ’Tis far too—” She paused and then stared at the three of them, each in turn, for a long moment. “Bless me … now that you mention it, you just might. In case it’s worse than I fear, or I don’t make it back, someone else should know to get word to the kings.”
“Mum, don’t talk that way!” Jason nearly yelled the words and reached out to grab her hand. “I’ve just barely got you back. Cheatin’ the devil once is more than most get.”
She patted his hand, but her expression was no longer warm. The brown eyes had turned to black, steely with determination. “There are things in life worth dyin’ for, boyo … an
d stoppin’ that scoundrel Vegrellion is one of them.”
“Vegre?” They couldn’t have planned it better if they practiced, for all three voices said it simultaneously. It was Tal who continued. “I knew he’d come to Vril after escaping. Do you know what he’s planning?”
She nodded. “Indeed I do. Why do you think he wanted me dead, then? He’s the leader of Demeter’s Children, though the others are too befuddled to realize it. Many of them are too young to recognize him—calls himself Reilly in the group. But I spotted his black heart at one of the rallies straight away and wondered what he was up to. So I stayed around to join up while Patrick left with the others. Our little town of Ryver was the first to be hit by the red death, ya know—when he was still full of himself and not afraid to be seen. But I never expected he might recognize me in return. Bad mistake on me part, and very nearly the death of me.”
Mila found herself nodding. “I knew you’d been intentionally infected. It was exact same spot as Suzanne. But I still can’t figure out why he’d attack a little girl up where I live … one who doesn’t even know about any of you or this place.”
Dareen’s expression turned canny. “Don’t ya, lass? Are you very sure you don’t know why? Think on it for a bit.”
She felt her head shaking no in tiny movements. “Not a clue. Really. I’d love it if you’d tell me.”
She leaned forward and poked a finger into Mila’s stomach. “He’s flushin’, lass. Bringin’ the conjurers out of the brush, he is. With every illness that’s magic in nature, they come because they can’t help themselves. It’s in the blood, don’cha know. But ‘tis an absolute disgrace, what he’s doin’, and I mean to put a stop to it.”