Magis

by Sam Cheever

  “What are you gonna do?”

  Grabbing the special clay pot Grams had designed for the purposes of siphoning energy from the portal, I quickly spread large-grain salt and iron pellets over the bottom. The pot was about a foot wide on the bottom and top, widening to eighteen inches in the center. It was infused with nullifying magic so that any of the energy that entered the pot was immediately voided. The sulfurous residue left behind by the process of nullification fell into the mix at the bottom, dissolving the salt and iron and turning them to sludge. When I was done, I’d empty the sludgy mess into another specially warded pot and carry it outside to work into the soil at the back of the property.

  It sounded toxic, but the pot’s magic turned it into something that fed the earth instead of poisoning it. In the area where I buried the sludge, enormous trees reached toward the sky. Some of them only a couple of years old.

  It was a tedious process, made even less palatable by the burn I always got when siphoning the energy. The pot had to be held on its side, opening toward the portal, and I had to get as close to the fiery heat as I could stand to go.

  I’d get what amounted to a bad sunburn from the process. Painful, but not disfiguring in the long run. The process was like releasing pressure in a pressure cooker. Making a volatile magical force safe and harmless.

  For a while.

  It was something Grams had gotten used to during her time in Victoria. And it was something I was learning to manage, though I had a tendency to put it off until it got way too volatile.

  Like it currently was.

  Sissy watched me prep the siphoning pot, her face intent and her gaze speculative. She didn’t ask any more questions, and I assumed she was saving them for when we went upstairs.

  The house rumbled again, the floor beneath our feet rising upward in a rippling movement that threw us to the ground. I just barely managed to hold onto the pot, protecting it with my arms as I fell.

  My elbow slammed painfully against the hard ground and pain radiated down my arm, turning my fingers numb.

  Sissy cried out and my head whipped around as she fell, her body limp and her eyes closed. One arm was outstretched toward the portal, the fingers twitching slightly.

  The portal spit fire into the room, its tentacles barely missing me as I dove to the side.

  Aggression!

  I remembered Grams’ voice droning over and over. You need to siphon the energy while it’s still passive. If it turns aggressive, you’ll be in danger.

  I’d waited too long.

  Fire burst from the portal again, its tendrils forming into the shape of a hand, the fingers curved like claws. It raked the air where I’d been, but I’d rolled away as soon as I saw it coming.

  It knew what I was planning to do, and it was trying to stop me.

  I jumped to my feet, the pot wrapped protectively in one arm.

  With a soft sound, Sissy’s body slid closer to the portal.

  Her eyes were still closed, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. But somehow she’d moved. She slid closer again, and a phantom burn appeared on her wrist, taking the form of the fiery fingers that had searched for me.

  I ran for her and was hit by a sizzling wall of energy, flinging me back to slam against the table holding the siphoning objects.

  Agony speared through me. Something cracked inside my body, slashing fresh misery through my ribs.

  The table fractured under my weight, and salt and pellets slid to the floor. The secondary siphoning pot crashed downward and broke into two equal pieces.

  “Sissy! Wake up!” I screamed, praying she’d hear me.

  But she didn’t respond. She just lay there as the energy tugged her several inches closer. The burn around her wrist turned darker, and blisters formed from the fiery clutch of the magic.

  I shoved painfully to my feet again and started running, snatching up the pot and throwing myself to the ground before the wall of energy could catch me again.

  I skidded across the floor, snatching at Sissy’s small form as she shot toward the fire.

  But she flew out of my grip, sailing quickly toward the burning maw of the portal, her small body limp and helpless. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

  7

  Footsteps pounded down the steps. They sounded thunderous in the closed, heavy air of the underground space.

  I didn’t have time to wonder who it was. I’d managed to wrap a hand around Sissy’s ankle and had turned myself into a physical anchor, trying to keep her from being pulled into the portal. I tried pulling her away from it, but the power tugging her forward was too much for me.

  It was as if I weighed nothing. She continued to be drawn forward, inches at a time.

  A large hand reached out and grasped my arm.

  I screamed in frustration as the hand wrenched Sissy out of my grip. “No!” I lashed out, reaching for a swirling wave of residual energy and yanking it deep inside.

  It hit me with the force of a punch and the sweetness of a favored treat. The energy slammed through my system and exploded, infusing me with pleasure. Without thinking, I gathered it into a bludgeon and threw out my hands, sending it toward the man who’d taken Sissy from me.

  He flew backward, crashing against the stair rail with a grunt, and slid slowly toward the floor.

  I blinked in surprise.

  It was him. The guy across the street.

  And he had Sissy clutched against his chest, cushioning her from the impact of my magical tantrum. “Get her out of here,” I growled, my voice three octaves deeper than usual because of the power I’d pulled into my body.

  He shook his head and carefully laid her on the floor. “You need help.”

  “I’m fine,” I growled. “Go!”

  The irritating man shook off my order and found the pot. “We don’t have much time. Siphon, fast!”

  I didn’t stop to wonder how he knew what I was about because he was right. We didn’t have much time. The walls of the basement had started to flex, bowing outward as rock dust filtered down on us. Above our heads, things were crashing against the floor as the entire structure was tested against a massive wave of foreign energy.

  I grabbed the pot and braced it against my belly, bending my legs as a super-heated wave of energy flared outward from the portal, searing me in fiery agony. “Porta nomine protectoris virtutem cedere hinc,” I shouted as the energy beat against me.

  Fire lashed out, sizzling the air an inch from my face. The flame formed into a fiery fist but my innate protections, fed by Victoria’s energy and my role as the portal protector, kept it from touching me again.

  The air became superheated.

  The rock walls were lost behind a wavering wall of energy and heat so powerful the surface of the rock began to melt, dripping downward in glistening streams.

  Sweat poured off me. The stench of burning hair filled the partially protective bubble around me. And a grave-scented wind burst from the portal and shoved at me, forcing me backward. I leaned into the powerful gusts, knowing I was playing a dangerous game as I did. If the portal entity withdrew the windy barrier, the loss of resistance would send me hurtling into the gateway.

  Hard arms suddenly encircled me from behind, a powerful body braced against mine.

  Gratitude filled me as I realized the man had figured out what I’d just realized and was making sure it didn’t happen.

  I watched the skin on the muscular arms bubble under the deadly heat, the hairs curling as if on fire.

  He tensed against me, no doubt in excruciating pain, but he never wavered. He held on as the energy finally gave up its resistance and pulled the fiery fist back into the portal.

  “Porta nomine protectoris virtutem cedere hinc,” I screamed again, my voice devoured by the driving wind.

  For a moment, I worried the command was lost. But then the energy began to coil at the center of the portal, oozing slowly outward, thicker at the source and growing thinner in increments. Like a telesc
oping lens oozing reluctantly toward the pot braced at my center.

  It continued to fight the command in the protector’s directive. But, ultimately, the laws of magic wouldn’t allow it to resist. The first wave of energy slammed into the pot. It hit so hard it lifted me off my feet, driving into me like a firehose, relentless and steady.

  I clung to the pot with everything I had, feeling the man at my back through the tension of his unyielding musculature.

  He was strong. And he was stubborn. And he might have been the only thing that kept me from slamming into the rock wall at our backs as the energy hammered and hammered and beat me senseless with its impossible force.

  Then suddenly it was gone. The fire snapped away with a final angry hiss. The edges of the deadly portal retracted, folding inward until nothing was left but a rough-hewn reformed rock wall.

  We crashed to the ground in a pile of heaving chests and painful limbs.

  The wind died. The heat fell away, returning the space to its usually clammy temps. And the basement fell eerily silent.

  The man beneath me pushed me gently aside and rose to his feet, grabbing me under the arms and pulling me toward the stairs.

  I almost laughed, understanding the sentiment. He no doubt worried the portal might fire up again at any moment and resume its assault. “It’s okay. It’s closed now,” I told him.

  I climbed slowly to my feet, the pot still clutched against my chest. The magical energy inside the pot swirled in a rainbow of colors, sparking as it hit the edge of the magic containing it. The pot was very warm, on the edge of uncomfortable, but the spell infusing the clay kept it from becoming too hot to handle.

  My gaze fell to Sissy as the man bent over her, and my relief at having the siphoning behind me fractured as I looked at her too-still body. “Is she okay?”

  He scooped her up. “She’s still breathing,” he said unhelpfully. “Beyond that, I can’t say.” He started up the steps and I followed. I took the siphon with me, unwilling to let it out of my sight.

  He laid Sissy on the couch and placed a finger at her throat.

  I headed for the kitchen, setting the pot in the sink so it wouldn’t topple to the floor if the house, goddess forbid, decided to give a final shake after its magical tantrum.

  I opened the cabinet near the back door and pulled out the first aid kit Grams had left me.

  Soft footfalls hit the floor behind me. I turned in his direction with the scratched and rusted metal box that held the first aid items clutched in my shaking hands. “Who are you?”

  I hadn’t meant to ask him that. Had no idea why I’d done it. But it was something I needed to know, so I didn’t regret the question.

  He shrugged. “That’s not important.”

  “Yes,” I said, frowning. “It really is.”

  We locked gazes for a moment. He finally lowered his, giving me the win. “My name is Wilder Hawkins. But most people call me Hawk.”

  I stared at him a moment, seeing the truth in his eyes, and then nodded. “Glynn Forester. People call me Glynn.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you told me. I’d have never guessed.”

  Reluctantly, my lips curved upward. Then I remembered Sissy. “I need to…” I motioned toward the door that he was blocking with his big body.

  He nodded. “Her pulse is strong. She doesn’t seem to be having any trouble breathing. Except for the burns on her wrist, I don’t see anything wrong with her.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.” The word felt inadequate and, at the same time like it was too much. I mean, he had broken into Victoria and forced himself into my business. I wanted to know how he’d gotten past the wards. I wanted to know why he’d interfered. I wanted to know…so many things.

  But I had to tend to Sissy.

  I moved past him and hurried to the couch. Boyle was sitting on the couch next to her, his little form tucked into the curve of her body. One, long-fingered hand rested on her arm above the burns. He looked up as I approached, his bright gaze flicking to Hawk and back to me, dismissing him. “Sissy sick.”

  “I know, honey. I’m going to make her better.” I shooed him off the couch but he didn’t go far. He jumped to the padded back and squatted there, watching me as I opened the metal box.

  “You give Sissy the nasty medicine?”

  He looked so appalled I almost laughed. “No, sweet boy.”

  His face softened in relief. He looked up at Hawk, speaking to him as if he’d always been around. “That purple med-cine tastes like butt.”

  I heard the smile in Hawk’s voice. “Butt, huh? I’ve never tasted butt.”

  Boyle giggled happily.

  I pulled a jar of ointment out of the box and unscrewed the top, dipping my fingers into the foul-smelling concoction. I carefully rubbed it over my friend’s hand and arm, grimacing at the red and swollen skin. The burns went from her fingertips all the way up to her elbow. Guilt ate at me, turning my amusement at Boyle and Hawk’s banter on its head.

  Sissy wouldn’t be hurt if it weren’t for me.

  A warm hand dropped onto my shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” Hawk said as if reading my mind.

  I shrugged him off. “You don’t know that.”

  He fell silent, but I looked up to find Boyle eyeing me with an unhappy look. He didn’t like it when I was rude to people. That was my doing since I’d been trying to teach him by example that he should respect other people and be kind unless they tried to hurt him.

  More guilt chewed on my insides. I shoved the jar back into the metal box and pulled out a tiny bottle, removing the lid and holding it under Sissy’s nose. The jar contained smelling salts, with a bang. A special herb that could pull people from magical oblivion.

  For a moment, nothing happened. I was starting to panic when she finally coughed, her hand pushing the jar away. Then she winced. “Ow.” Sissy’s eyes opened, her gaze unfocused for a beat and then narrowing in on me. “Glynn?”

  I tucked the salts away and closed the kit. “How are you feeling?” I asked my friend.

  “Like a dog’s backside,” she murmured, trying to shove herself to a seated position and wincing again. “My arm’s killing me. What happened?” She looked down at the swollen skin and frowned. “It looks burned.”

  “You got too close to the portal,” Hawk said.

  Sissy jumped and gave a surprised yelp.

  Despite myself, I felt my lips curve into a smile.

  “What in the…” She widened her eyes at the big man standing next to me. I understood her shock. I never allowed strangers into Victoria.

  Especially not big muscular ones with piercing hazel eyes.

  “Sis, this is Hawk.”

  The surprise left her face, and a sly smile replaced it. “Yes, he is.”

  I cleared my throat and she turned to me, horror filling her expression. “Did I say that out loud?”

  I nodded.

  She covered her face. Laughing nervously, she started to offer him her hand and then realized it was the burned one and switched. “Sissy Valkyr.”

  I tensed, but Sissy didn’t seem to notice.

  They performed an awkward left-handed handshake.

  Then Hawk said, “Valkyr? As in Statesman Valkyr?”

  All the color left my friend’s face. She didn’t generally share her last name for obvious reasons. At that point, she couldn’t exactly deny the connection. Since she’d turned the color of paper at the question. “I shouldn’t have told you that,” she said instead.

  He nodded. “No, you probably shouldn’t have.”

  Shocked silence filled the room.

  Hawk looked from one to the other of us and seemed to realize how that had sounded. He lifted his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not a reporter and I don’t work for a rival politician. Believe me, I couldn’t care less. You don’t have to worry about me spreading gossip.”

  I wasn’t sure if his denial made me feel better or not. From the tense look on Sissy’s face, I didn’t think she was
sure about it either.

  Hawk turned to me. “I need to know about that portal.”

  “No,” I said, plucking the kit off the couch and standing. “You don’t.”

  I started toward the kitchen and he grabbed my arm, stopping me. I glared down at his hand and then back up to his face.

  He got the message, releasing me. “Look, that came out wrong. I’m not trying to stick my nose into your business.”

  “For a man who isn’t trying to stick his nose into my business, your nose seems to get into my business an awful lot.” I didn’t wait for his response. Heading into the kitchen, I stowed the kit back in its spot in the cabinet. When I turned back around, he was leaning against the doorframe, watching me with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

  “Glynn…”

  I shook my head. “You want me to tell you my private business. I don’t even know you. For example, I don’t know why you showed up in Render and why you’ve been watching my house. I don’t know why you keep injecting yourself into my life. And I don’t know how you keep getting into my house.” My voice rose at the end because that was the part that bothered me the most. Victoria was my safe haven. It was how I protected Boyle and me. And the man standing in front of me, sexy face looking stern and judgmental, had breached it twice.

  “That last part is simple,” he told me. “The boy let me in again.”

  That stopped me in my tracks. I was going to have to have a stern discussion with Boyle. “He shouldn’t have. He knows better. What did you do to him?”

  Hawk blinked at that, anger bringing fresh color to his face. “I don’t hurt children.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t really know if that’s true, do I? I don’t know you. And when I ask you a question, you rarely answer with the truth.”

  “I don’t lie.”

  “Maybe not. But you’re pretty good at evasion, aren’t you?”

  He stared at me for a long moment, his body resembling the side of a mountain for its rigidness. Then he pushed off the doorframe and inclined his chin. “Have a good day, Glynn.”