Cast into Darkness

by Janet Tait

  “I have no idea.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” The blaze inside Kate kindled something she’d never felt before—a spark of power. “And don’t tell me to take some pills and go away. I need to know why Brian died.”

  Her father turned to leave. “Stop worrying about Brian and the stone.” He cleared his throat. “Whatever Brian did, it’s caster business. Not yours.”

  “Stop it, just stop it. You keep shutting me out. I’m sick of it.” Kate spat out the words. The spark of power inside her burst into a white-hot ball of fury, searching for something to burn. It raged inside her mind, rummaging through her thoughts, her impulses, her memories.

  The symbol for fire sprang to her consciousness like a blazing wheel. The same magical glyph she’d failed to conjure up six years ago in the Sanctum. The power boiled over into the symbol, filling its arcane lines with overheated energy.

  Before she could say or do anything, fire formed in the air in front of her and shot toward her father. He had no time to defend himself.

  The bolt of flame hit him like a burning spear, the tip aimed at his heart.

  Kate watched in horror, her anger gone cold, as the impact hurled her father backward through her bedroom door, the crash splintering it into sharp, jagged pieces. He landed with a boom in the hallway. His head hit the polished wood floor with a crack. The fire on his chest smoldered as he lay limp and bleeding.

  The single remaining spark from the fire above her dropped to her bed, flared for a moment, then went out.

  Chapter Eight

  “Help! Brian!” Her stomach seized at the futility of that call. “Grayson! Help!” Kate jumped out of bed and ran toward her father. Swirls of red, yellow, and orange lights moved around her, all jumbled together. Little strands of color jumped off her and twirled out to him, as if she remained connected to him through the lights.

  She blinked, and the colored tendrils disappeared.

  Maybe they were an illusion. Was Dad lying burned and bleeding a mirage, as well, a trick to get her to believe she’d hurt him? Had someone drugged her or cast a spell on her to make her think she had attacked her father?

  Hayley sat right next to me earlier. She must have done something. I can’t trust Hayley. I can’t trust anybody.

  Kate stumbled to the hallway, dropping to her knees and touching her father’s neck, looking for a pulse.

  Please, please be okay.

  Her fingers came away sticky with blood from where a piece of wood sliced him. His chest rose and fell. He was breathing—still alive. But burns slashed across his chest and blood splattered the hardwood floor of the hallway, the walls, the potted hydrangea in the corner.

  Shouts and footsteps sounded from down the hall, and Grayson appeared, Hayley trailing close behind. Kate looked up into her uncle’s eyes, hoping to find reassurance. Instead she saw only questions.

  “Who did this? Is the attacker still here? Are you hurt?” Her uncle’s eyes went from her bloodstained nightgown to her shaking hands. “Kate.” He leaned down and grabbed her arms. “Who did this? Is there someone in the house?”

  Kate took a deep breath. “There’s no one else here. Please help him. I think…I think I—” She couldn’t stop staring at the blood on her palms.

  Grayson pulled her father’s shirt away and assessed his wounds. “These are bad. Hayley, go to my room. Get my bag.”

  He pushed Kate back as Hayley took off at a run. Kneeling at her father’s side, Grayson held his hand about a foot above him. His gaze went distant as he chanted a spell.

  His palms lit up with a yellow glow. The faint aroma of gardenias filled the air.

  Kate rocked back on her heels. She stared as Grayson passed his hands slowly down her father’s chest, and the radiance pouring from her uncle, as golden as sunshine, flowed into her father’s wounds and knitted his flesh together as if he had never been hurt at all.

  She saw the magic. The subtle power she hadn’t been able to see six years ago in the Sanctum, despite the desperate urging of her father, she now perceived as clearly as the blood staining his white shirt.

  Victor, followed by two of his security team, pounded up the stairs, sliding to a stop next to her dad.

  His team took up positions at each end of the hall. Grayson looked up with a start, then turned back to finish his spell.

  “Is he…?” Victor asked.

  Grayson touched the amber-and-silver cufflinks on her father’s shirtsleeves. “His shield talisman was active but on low power. A lot of energy got through, but the damage is superficial. No major organs were hit. I fixed the worst, but there’s still more to do.” Grayson took a small pill case out of his pocket. He took out two pills and swallowed them. “Any idea who did this?” He stood.

  Victor’s eyes lost focus, then refocused on Grayson. “External shields are all secure. The attack had to come from inside.”

  “Victor, I—” Kate tried to get his attention.

  “Someone or something was already here?” Grayson asked Victor.

  “Yes.”

  “Shut up already and listen to me. I did this.”

  They stared at her. Victor said, “What do you mean?”

  “We were talking. I got mad at him, and I…” Her words trailed off as her gaze fixed again on the blood all over her hands.

  “You can’t do this, Kate. This is magical damage,” Grayson said.

  “Yeah, I know. I can’t explain it. But one minute we were…arguing. And the next, I’d done…something. Blasted him, I guess. Something else, too… I could see the spell you cast, when you were healing Dad. I could see it.”

  Grayson’s eyes flicked to Victor, then Kate. “Come with me. I’ll take you to the Sanctum where we can sort this out.” He reached for her arm.

  Victor stepped between them. “Nope, security issue. I’ll deal with Kate.”

  “Whatever happened here concerns magic, young man, and that’s my arena. You have other things to do.”

  “My first priority is protecting the boss.”

  “So stay here and protect him.”

  “My team can do that. If Kate’s responsible, I need to find out how.”

  “Stop it.” Kate stepped around Victor and glared at the both of them. “You two are arguing while my dad is bleeding. Grayson, don’t you need to finish healing him? I’ll talk with Victor. Okay?”

  A look passed between the two of them, a signal Kate couldn’t decipher. Then Grayson nodded, turning back to Kate’s father.

  Something was going on with Victor and Grayson, and it had nothing to do with territorial posturing.

  Hayley ran over, breathless. She handed Grayson a yellow silk bag. He pulled out a talisman shaped like a silver snake with bloodred stones for eyes and laid it on her father’s chest. Grayson rested his hand on top, and after a brief word, the talisman lit up with a golden light that sank down into her father’s skin. Kate’s vision seemed to shift all of a sudden and the luminescence turned off as mysteriously as it had begun. Glow or not, his angry burns began to turn into healthy pink skin.

  Victor grabbed her arm. Kate stiffened and pulled away. “Let go of me. I’ll talk to you, but I need to clean up first.”

  “Two minutes.” Victor said.

  Kate went inside the bathroom down the hall and closed the door. Leaning against the cold wood, she slid to the floor. She sat staring down at her bloodstained hands in a kind of numb horror. What the hell had happened? One minute she’d been arguing with her father, the next he’d lain in a bloody mess in the middle of the hallway.

  She went to the sink and turned on the water. It washed over her hands, sending the blood swirling down the drain in a pinkish torrent.

  Dimly, through the haze of her shock, she thought she heard a knock at the door.

  She left the water running and sank to the floor again, gazing at the underside of the white pedestal sink. Her eyes followed the S-curve of the porcelain drain until it straightened and plunged down into the black-and-white
hexagonal tile floor. She closed her eyes and let her mind find a pattern in the curves, folding the shape around and around until it resembled one of the magical symbols she had learned in class, years ago.

  One of the designs Brian had traced when he cast a spell.

  She didn’t remember what the curved symbol meant, but that didn’t matter. She wound the curves over and over in her mind, then traced them with her fingers, building the power up until it was hers to use.

  The knock grew more persistent. She ignored it. Her eyes were filled with the curves of the pattern, seeing nothing else. The power rushed through her like a clean, cool wind. She felt lighter than air. She—

  “What the hell is taking so long?” Victor yelled. “Kate! Are you all right?” The door crashed open.

  Her vision came rushing back. The expression on Victor’s face was priceless. But what was he gaping at? Then she caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  She hovered halfway between the floor and ceiling with nothing between her drawn-up legs and the ground but several feet of air.

  “Oh my God.” Kate fell hard, losing her breath along with whatever force was holding her up. She slammed her wrist on the sink, sending a jolt of pain shooting down her arm.

  Victor lunged at her, reaching with strong arms to catch her before she hit the floor. “What the hell?”

  Kate was pressed against Victor’s chest, heart beating fast, his arms holding her way too tight.

  Victor’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

  The cotton of her nightgown seemed very thin all of a sudden. “Let go of me. Please.”

  He set her down and took a step back. “What happened? Did someone—”

  “No one did anything to me.” She grabbed her bathrobe, which was hanging on a hook by the shower, and pulled it on, wincing at the pain in her wrist. “Whatever I’m doing, I did it myself.”

  Unless Victor was responsible. Maybe he made me attack Dad. Was he behind everything?

  Victor waited just outside the door, eyes steady on her.

  “Where do you want to talk?” she asked.

  “Your dad’s office.” He turned and walked down the hall, clearly expecting her to follow.

  Shields protected her father’s office. If Victor wanted to try something, no one would know. Kate shook her head. That’s just silly. I’m as twitchy as a caster.

  She went with Victor to her father’s office. He motioned to her to sit in one of the leather chairs next to the brick fireplace. She hesitated, then sat. This room had her father’s stamp on it as much as his DC office did—his mahogany desk, Arkady Makris’s amulet, kept in a secure display case on the mantel, an oar mounted on the wall from his championship rowing days at Harvard. She shifted in her seat and focused on the imposing portrait of her mother, painted when Kate was six. Maybe she could draw some comfort from the painting. Then again, maybe not. Faith Hamilton, red hair wild about her shoulders, blue eyes blazing, shined forth as everything Kate wasn’t. A caster, a wife, a mother, a powerful woman.

  Victor went to her father’s liquor cabinet and poured them each a glass of wine. He handed her one, then sank into the chair facing her.

  “You know Dad doesn’t approve of underage drinking.” She rolled her eyes as she took the glass.

  “After what happened tonight, even he’d make an exception. Tell me everything,” he said.

  Kate sighed. She told Victor all she remembered about hurting her father, from the time she woke up until Victor arrived and saw her father lying in the hallway. Parts of what happened in her bedroom, like when she got angry with her father, seemed vague and distant, almost like a dream.

  “You’re not being very clear.”

  She squirmed in her chair. “No. Well, I don’t understand exactly what went on. I know what I did, but how could I have done it? One minute we were having an argument, and the next…” She took a sip of her wine to cover the rush of emotion, her throat tight. “He was all crumpled up in the hallway, hurt. I don’t know how I could have blasted him. I’m a Null.”

  “That’s what I was told.”

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  Victor sat silent for a moment. Then, “Tell me how you feel right now.”

  “Fine.” Kate crossed her legs.

  “Really? Your brother’s dead and your father’s lying on the floor bleeding upstairs, and you’re just dandy? Bullshit.” Victor leaned forward. “I asked you a question. How do you feel?”

  “None of your goddamn—You really want to know?” Kate’s voice rose as she got up from her chair. “I feel like shit, okay? Is that what you want? It’s my fault Brian’s dead, and it’s my fault Dad’s lying upstairs bleeding. Do you think I wanted to hurt him? Do you think I want to be here, talking to you? I don’t even trust you, okay?”

  She walked over to the desk. “For all I know, this is something you planned. Maybe Brian got the stone from you. Or you were trying to get it from him. Maybe you put a spell on the thing to control me.”

  “Listen to yourself.” Victor said. “If I said to you what you just said to me, what would you think?”

  She took a sip of her wine. “You were twitchy after a spell.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m not a caster. I don’t—”

  “It’s clear you are casting spells and getting the aftereffects. There are three ways I can explain this.” Victor paused, taking a drink from his glass.

  “And?”

  “One: you’ve gained the ability to cast. I don’t see how that could have happened. Nulls can’t do that. Two: someone else, an enemy, most likely, is controlling your actions. Or three, the stone is still possessing you.”

  “How do you know so much about the stone?”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing all night? Cleaning up your mess. And from what I’ve seen, possession by someone, or something, is the most likely explanation. And if you are being controlled, then we’re all in a lot of danger.”

  She looked down at her wine, trying to mask the fear in her eyes, then took a long drink. “But Brian freed me from the stone’s control.”

  Victor’s face started to waver in her vision. How strong was this stuff?

  “Maybe.”

  She put the glass down. “Is there a way you can tell?”

  “I can do some diagnostic spells. They’ll tell me if you are under someone else’s control. Just like possession. As for the stone, well, that’s more Grayson’s area.”

  “Then why are you asking me all these damn questions? Do the stupid spell.”

  He smiled a tight smile. “A couple of reasons. If someone is controlling you, you might tell me something useful.”

  “Like what? ‘And now I will reveal my master plan?’ That only happens in B-movies.” She blinked, her eyelids so much heavier than they should be.

  “You would never make things that easy on me.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  The room’s getting dark. What happened to the lights?

  “I had to give the drug time to work.”

  “You…asshole.” She slid into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Nine

  The Sanctum woke Kate.

  Its song came up through the smooth rocks and crystals embedded in the floor, through her nightgown and robe, and into her skin, her bones. The low hum of a thousand small things working in harmony—a quiet symphony of energy—vibrated inside her as she lay on the hard, flat surface.

  It felt like being a part of all the power of creation.

  Basking in the feeling, she enjoyed the energy flowing over her skin. It seeped into her bit by bit. Keeping her eyes closed, she followed the hum to the source of the energy—the crystals and rocks beneath her, and through them, the stones of power all around the room. The song she heard playing in her soul came from them. She knew it.

  The Sanctum was alive for her. Just as it had been for Brian.

  Kate’s eyes opened. She remembered wh
at had happened in her father’s office.

  Victor. I should have paid attention to those little voices in my head—should have known better than to trust him.

  She shut her eyes. Better that she stay still and pretend to be asleep, until she could figure things out. Faking sleep proved easy; she let herself sink into the rhythm of the crystals.

  Footsteps rang against the stone floor, then her uncle’s voice sounded close by.

  “Well?”

  “She passed the simple tests.” Victor’s voice, from a few feet away. “But they don’t explain how she did what she did back at the house. Now we have to bring out the big guns.”

  “We need her awake for that,” Grayson said.

  “She’s waking up now,” Victor said. “Faster than she should be. I gave her enough tranquilizer to knock out a rhino.”

  “You should have let me handle her. This is my business, not yours.”

  “I’m not leaving until I know who, or what, attacked the boss. They shouldn’t have used Kate to do it. Whoever they are, I’m going to make them pay for that.”

  Victor? Caring? Will wonders never cease.

  “It’s not what you think,” Grayson said. “Look around you. The Sanctum’s responding to her. What happened in here earlier, with the stone, is nowhere near as mundane as her being used.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not as convinced as you.”

  Kate heard her uncle sigh. Footsteps approached her, then stopped. “Sweetheart, sit up,” Grayson said. “We need to talk.”

  A part of her wanted to keep lying on the Sanctum floor and never open her eyes again. She wouldn’t have to think about Brian or her father. But then she wouldn’t find out what she needed to know: What had happened to her? What did the stone actually do, and why is it so important to everyone? And how had Brian died?

  She sat up slowly and pushed her hair out of her eyes. She lay inside the ring of circle stones, glistening amber in the Sanctum’s light. The crystals on the walls shone brighter than ever. Their facets sparkled with a million shades of red, yellow, and orange. The spiral patterns on the walls seemed to pulse in time to the hum she felt throughout her body.