by Lee Roland
He’d stopped struggling and stared at me. I had some idea of what he felt. Something was happening to him, changing him. I remember what it was like the first time the magic quickened in me. But I had my loving grandmother to explain.
“Okay, buddy, here we go. I’d say I’d be gentle with you, but we don’t have time.”
Using his seemingly endless magic, I did two things. I built a better shield around us. It hurt. This earth magic went far deeper than mine. It brushed across things I didn’t understand. Even unconscious, Marisol felt it. She moaned.
Witches use circles and spells for protection. They do it to keep too much magic from burning their souls away. I had none of that. I stood helpless, preparing to use something I did not understand.
I formed the rest of the magic into a giant fist, one that lay heavy in my gut. It seared my mind, my will, with its power. With everything I had in me, I gave the ceiling a massive sucker punch of earth magic.
Once, in Africa, we came under heavy fire from some regular army troops. A misunderstanding, but deadly all the same. An artillery round landed so close . . . the noise, sheer intensity of the blast . . . it was nothing compared to this. The shield protected us from the blast itself, but it was like being inside a bomb. A big bomb, bigger than the one that had dropped a building on us. A big bomb that again hammered us with the sound of tons of concrete being blasted into the sky. Immense pressure made my ears pop.
Marisol jerked. Her eyes blinked open. I tightened our shield. Some of the wreckage I’d punched out did fall back in, but it was minimal. To my amazement, a large swath of blue sky appeared above us. We sat in a twenty-foot-deep hole, but we would be able to climb out. If we could climb. My shield dissipated. I had nothing left in me to hold it. I’d need days of rest and a massive amount of food to recover. I plopped to the floor.
Marisol struggled and reached for me. She grabbed my hand. She didn’t speak. Etienne sat staring at his arms. The tattoos were gone. He looked to me, complete confusion in his eyes. I wanted out, but had to explain.
I struggled to sit. I reached out to take his hand. “I know you don’t understand. I don’t know how to tell you to deal with it. Maybe Abigail can. Those tattoos on your arms were a ward, a binding. You’re a warlock. The male version of a witch. Someone recognized your power as a child and decided to keep you away from it. I removed the wards and used your power and mine to free us.”
He jerked his hands away. He would not bear my touch. He stared at his arms. Did he hear what I said?
“I feel . . . ,” he whispered. “You . . .”
“You probably feel a lot of things. I don’t know what they might be. I know how much you hate magic, but if you’d been trained as you should have been, Oonagh would never have taken you down. Whoever put those tattoos on you put you in a cage far greater than the one she built for you.”
He backed farther away, shaking his head. Denial was taking hold.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. “There’s a lot of loose concrete around us. We can talk later.”
A huge gob of slobber plopped on my head.
“Herschel?”
More trash tumbled down. Nothing big, it wasn’t comfortable. In my face this time, since I was staring up. As I finished spitting out cement, I looked up again. Herschel stood on the rim of the crater my blast had created.
Marisol clung to me, but she hadn’t spoken.
Twenty feet is a long way to climb on unstable rubble. Weakened, I could barely walk. Etienne had recovered enough to help me with Marisol. Surprising since I’d drawn a massive amount of magic from him.
We finally struggled to the top. We were on top of a massive pile of steel and concrete that a person would never guess was a parking garage unless they’d seen it before. I stared back into the hole that could have been our tomb. I searched the area for the wreckage of the truck with the gold and artifacts, praying I wouldn’t find it. Praying the blast completely destroyed it. I didn’t see anything but more concrete.
“You did all this? The hole?” Etienne stared down. He slid an arm around Marisol when she swayed.
“We did that, Etienne. You and I.”
“No!” He spoke the word through clenched teeth.
More rock shifted. We had to get down.
The climb down was worse than climbing out of the hole. Every treacherous step we made threatened more disaster. Dust and more dust billowed and swirled in the breeze. The building rubble moved and shook as if some great creature was under it and trying to dig out after us. The small caverns like the one that had saved us were still collapsing. We were almost there when a large chunk gave way under my foot and I fell. I went crashing across four feet of rubble. I landed on my back, staring up at the sky. At least I hadn’t hit my head again.
Then the pain hit. I screamed in surprise. Pain, throbbed with every heartbeat. It knifed through me. My shoulder. I couldn’t move my arm. Herschel appeared over me. He breathed in my face. His breath wasn’t foul, but warm and comfortable. Fire, my friend. It was temperate and it soothed. The pain didn’t go away, but it dulled.
Then Etienne was there, standing over me. He was not careful. He gripped me under the arms and dragged me away across street and sidewalk. I howled the entire way. The ground rumbled again. I lay there on my back, gasping and fighting pain.
“Other buildings are collapsing around us,” Etienne said. He felt of me. He was, at least, gentle this time. “Damn, witch, you really did it this time.”
Okay, he wanted to reject his part of it and play his blame the witch game. Fine. He had to deal the best he could. “I did it? Who planted the explosives? Witch, witch, witch. Pot calling the kettle, buddy.”
Marisol hovered over me. She looked years older. Her eyes drooped and her skin sagged. Her spell to keep her alive worked, but it had taken too much of her.
“How did you know?” I choked out the words. “That I would come for you. You left spells.”
“I didn’t actually know.” Marisol’s voice rasped. There was none of the musical tone I knew. “The whole situation seemed so dangerous I felt it was prudent to take precautions. I did know that if I was in trouble, if anything happened to me, you were the one Gran would send to help me. You, big sister, were the one who would care the most. The one who could express her caring by kicking ass when necessary.”
I closed my eyes.
As I had been taught, as I believed, I thanked the Great Master of the Universe for my life and the Earth Mother for her guidance through the world of her magic. Then I prayed for the pain to ease.
Chapter 33
I’d like to think that most everything in life and the world was at least marginally planned by someone. That would speak to some sort of order in a chaotic universe. Foolish of me, I know. Oh, there was planning, but results were not guaranteed to turn out the way the planner intended. And sometimes it came down to simple luck. Good luck and bad luck that I had tripped over my own feet so close to safety.
“Help me sit up,” I said.
“No. You’re hurt.” Marisol laid a cool hand on my forehead. “You have a broken collarbone, shoulder, and some ribs, too, I think. Lie still.”
Something was building in me. The knowledge that it wasn’t over. The catastrophe begun when I found the truck was still in progress, still happening. “Help me sit up. I have to see.”
I struggled. Marisol gave a great sigh, but she helped me. Through sheets of pain, she managed to get me in a sitting position against a building wall. Bone ground against bone in my shoulder. I opened my mouth to scream again, but dust filled my throat and I choked. Would the damned stuff never settle? Why couldn’t we have a simple breeze? Finally, she had me sitting against a wall. I gasped for breath, trying not to pass out from the pain.
“I’m too weak to use the magic now, Nyx. Please forgive me. I can’t ease your pain.”
Herschel came to me and gave me a great wet kiss. I didn’t object. I loved the big slob—or at least I
would until he had gas again.
Etienne had returned. He carried a first aid kit. He probably had the SUV parked nearby. Hope nothing fell on it.
“Darrow is coming,” he said. He made a sling to support my arm so the collarbone wouldn’t grind so much. His face was tight, maybe with his own pain or maybe with sympathy for me. He also brought bottles of water. Marisol held mine so I could drink.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
Etienne stared at me. No anger, no fear, simply neutral as always. “Like I have a big worm crawling in my belly, through my veins.”
“I’m sorry, Etienne. I had to. To get us out. And I had to hold you still while I did. I know I did the same thing she did. Abigail can teach you, though. Show you how to protect yourself from me, from the whole world.” I reached for him.
He leaned away, avoiding my touch.
“Okay. You won’t ever forgive me, but we’re all alive. We survived. Think about it when you have time.”
He looked over at the building rubble.
“What the hell was in that truck?” I asked. “Besides that loot.”
“Stuff that makes a big boom. I’m surprised that it was still viable. It’s been there since I parked the truck. I wanted to be sure Oonagh never got to use that gold. I set it to go off if she moved the truck.”
“What if you were with her when she did?”
“Then it would happen.”
I saw him coming. I was right. Our big climax wasn’t over.
Aiakós marched toward us. And he was pissed. I knew because of the snarl on his face, his red glowing eyes, and the extended claws on his fingers. His clothes were torn, but otherwise he appeared unharmed.
He stopped and stared down. “Etienne and I will now discuss his forgetting to inform me of the truck’s location before I spent years searching for it. And this immunity to magic . . .” He reached out and grabbed Etienne by the upper arms and hoisted him off his feet. The claws tore through flesh. Blood streamed down and dripped off his elbows. Etienne struggled but didn’t make a sound. I reached beyond pain for the magic. It slipped away from me.
Aiakós released one arm, but still held Etienne dangling. He held the up-clawed, blood-smeared hand. “I am going to tear your face off. I’ll leave your tongue so I can hear you scream.”
“No, you are not.” The surprising voice interrupted his act of violence.
I had to turn to look toward the sound. That sent another round of pain coursing through my body. No matter. It was worth it.
Sisters of Justice, three of them, the same three who had captured me and brought me back to the Georgia swamp, stood fifteen feet from us. And they were ready to rumble. One carried a fierce automatic rifle and one carried a sword. The third had an old-fashioned double-edged battle-ax she kept shifting from one hand to the other. “Now look what we have here,” the one with the gun said. “A Drow. It’s been ten years since I’ve had one to kill.”
“Longer than that,” the one with the sword said.
I had no idea what a Drow was. I didn’t care. The Sisters served the Mother and they didn’t like Aiakós. That was okay by me.
Aiakós, suddenly realizing that he had a real threat on his hands, dropped Etienne. Etienne collapsed beside me, struggling but still silent. His face twisted in pain.
Aiakós glared at the trio, the Triad, obviously assessing his chances. I didn’t know about his actual strength, though I presumed it was formidable. I’d say the odds were even. He’d go down, but he’d take them with him.
“The Barrows is mine,” he snarled.
“Maybe,” the one with the gun said. “But we claim the witches. They’re ours. Always have been. And the man. We’ll take him, too. I’m not particularly interested in him, but I have instructions.”
Aiakós relaxed a fraction. “Instructions? And do those instructions include killing me?”
Obviously he knew the Sisters took orders from the Earth Mother. He had to be uncertain. Had she withdrawn her protection of him?
“Killing is an option,” the Sister said. “I certainly prefer that one. But only if you don’t behave. Go back to your pretty palace, Drow. This day is not yours. Here in this place you serve the Mother, too. Whether you accept it or not.”
Aiakós glared at them, then down at me, Etienne, and Marisol. I did hear the sound of approaching vehicles. He’d soon be vastly outnumbered.
“This isn’t finished.” Aiakós turned sharply and walked away.
The Sister with the gun approached. “Now, that was truly disappointing. I had hoped . . . No one likes a good fight anymore.”
She gave a great sigh and turned her attention to Etienne. “You have certain items that belong to us, man. Will you surrender them, willingly?”
Etienne had managed to sit up. Blood seeped from holes punched by Aiakós’s claws, but it didn’t seem critical.
The Sisters referred to the Solaire and Morié, of course. The Morié was in his sheath and the Solaire remained around his neck. Why didn’t they have him screaming in pain the minute I released his magic? I hadn’t thought of that. Did they only work on women? That was possible since there were so few men who could use earth magic.
Etienne was smart enough to know he’d never win with them. He slowly drew the Morié blade from the sheath at his side and tossed it toward the Sisters. A very short toss, since he was bleeding from punctures in his arms. He removed the Solaire and tossed it to the blade. That cost him more, since he had to lift his arms.
The Sister picked them up and stared at them. “These things are more trouble than they’re worth.” She grinned at me. “Unnecessary, dangerous trinkets. You witches aren’t as tough as you think you are. But that’s just my opinion.”
The trio left us there, but they didn’t go far. They stood in the shadow of a building and then left when the shouts of Etienne’s men came close. I presume to make sure Aiakós didn’t return.
Next thing I knew, Darrow was beside me. He looked at me a long time, then at the parking garage. “Did you do that?”
“Not me, buddy. I already learned my lesson. Setting off explosives while still inside a building makes bad juju.”
Etienne was on his feet now. Rocky held him steady when he swayed.
Darrow held me by the waist and lifted me, but I couldn’t stand. “Bring a stretcher,” he shouted. I felt really light-headed, which was a good thing. The pain wasn’t so bad like that. I wasn’t totally there when they lifted me onto a stretcher. I did see Rocky with Marisol in his arms. About that time I remembered Herschel. I shouted his name, only it came out more of a squeak. A single bark answered. Since I was already lying on my back, I looked up to see him on a ten-foot pile of rubble. He barked again.
“He can’t get down.” I don’t know why I said that. I heard Darrow tell someone to go help the dog. They didn’t need to. Herschel could go anywhere he wanted when he wanted. He must have been bored and wanted to play.
“Take them to Abigail,” Etienne said. Going to Abigail sounded like a good idea. A lot better than going to the hospital like I did last time. Besides, I wanted to deliver a blistering, obscene message to the Earth Mother and that seemed a good way. Make Etienne trust you. Your gift. Gift my ass. It was all a game. A game played by a goddess with less compassion than a rat crawling through the Barrows’ ruins. She might not be omniscient, but she could try to have a little more empathy.
They strapped me down to the stretcher, put me in the back of a van. Rocky sat beside me with Marisol still in his arms. His expression was one of great curiosity. “Oh, I bet little Nicky has a story to tell. When you get back, I want to hear it. Every word. Especially since you selfishly refused to share the action with us.”
I sighed. Yes, I would have a tale to tell.
When they hauled us into Abigail’s house, Abigail simply shook her head when she saw me. “You’re as bad as Cassandra,” she said.
“Sorry, it went boom before I could get away,” I apologized. “Take care
of Marisol first.”
“I’m okay,” Marisol said. “Just tired. Not injured.” I couldn’t see her, but her voice was still strained.
Abigail opened her cabinet, picked out a small bottle. She popped a cork from it, waved it under my nose, and said, “Breathe deep.”
“Wait. Abigail, you have to go see Etienne.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No. Yes, some. The building collapsed on us. I had to remove the bindings on him, take and use his magic with mine to get us out. I had to hold him still. I had to control and direct the power.”
Abigail’s eyes widened and the shock spread across her face. “And that worked? You? You removed those bindings? I couldn’t do that. They were too powerful. You were able to use both your magics? Male, female, together?”
“Yeah. But now he’s pissed. Don’t blame him. Now he’s got this stuff inside of him and he doesn’t understand.”
Abigail shook her head. The expression on her face said I’d probably rendered her speechless.
I breathed in and the world faded away. When I opened my eyes again, the pain was gone and Marisol was sitting in a chair beside me.
Chapter 34
“About time,” Marisol said.
I hadn’t seen her in ten years, but she’d recovered from her ordeal and seemed young and pretty as ever. Powerful witches live a long time and she hadn’t aged a day. She wore a white knit top and a flowered skirt, the kind of feminine outfit she had always favored. I was, of course, the jeans-wearing rogue of the family. She had her dark hair drawn back and clipped at the nape of her neck.
I stretched. “Were you hurt?”
“A few nicks and bruises. Mostly just tired. Depleted. I didn’t need healing like you did. I’m told you’ve been accident-prone lately.”
“I guess.” I chuckled. “I’ve been hurt more since I came here to the Barrows than I have in the last ten years. Even in an African war zone.”