by S T G Hill
The Omenborn Book 2: The Cost of Magic
S.T.G. Hill
Copyright ©2019 by S.T.G. Hill
Cover Illustration by B Rose Designz brosedesignz.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This one’s for mom.
Prologue: 1203 CE
Constantinople burned.
European soldiers of the 4th Crusade laid siege to the great walls. The Byzantine Emperor’s legions put up a valiant fight, but could not ultimately stem the tide.
The Crusaders fought to depose a usurper to the imperial throne. Or so they were told.
The shadowy figure who stalked down the marbled hallway of the palace did not care why they fought, only that they did.
For this figure knew the true reason for the attack. And it lay far below the streets of the great city that marked the guttering flame of the Roman Empire in the world.
Most of the guards had either fled or joined their Emperor in his counterattack against the invaders.
“Who goes there?” the guard in front of the barred door to the cellars said, lowering his spear and frowning beneath the visor of his steel helm.
The shadowy figure did not have time to dally.
Without a sound, this figure raised a gauntlet-covered hand. The fingers clenched into a fist.
“Who—” the guard started.
A choked gasp was his final sound before his armor crushed him. Terrible noises of twisting steel filled the hallway. Then they stopped.
It looked as though a giant had snatched the poor man up and squeezed him to a terrible end.
The figure waved their hand and the lock that held this huge barred door shut snapped. The door swung slowly inward.
It was deep in the catacombs that the figure found their prize. The steel-banded strongbox sat shut and locked on a column in the middle of an otherwise empty room.
A more avaricious thief may have been fooled by the vaults of gold that could be found nearby.
But what lay in the box was far more valuable than any amount of money.
The figure waved their hand casually. The strongbox’s lock twisted open and the lid flipped back.
The figure’s breath caught.
The Gem of Orlyon lay on its velvet bed, its smooth surface dark and deep. Emperors and generals had smashed their armies to bloody rags for the sake of possessing this gem.
It had lain in the vaults of Constantinople for seven centuries, placed there by the jealous Emperor Justinian the Great, after his general Belisarius had procured it for him from the Persians.
Justinian had been a fool, the figure knew, to keep power like this locked away. For the gem was power. Pure power from ages forgotten to this world. Forgotten to almost all, at least.
It seemed to sense the figure, its surface darkling. The shadows within the vault deepened, the pressure of the air built.
The sounds of fighting within the palace itself reached the figure. The sharp clash and clatter of blade against shield, the cries of the wounded.
With another wave of their hand, the box slammed shut. The figure stole forward and lifted the strongbox from its ancient resting place. It was heavy, but its weight was of no concern.
A portal in the very air stretched wide, offering a glimpse into another darkened place. The magical wards that once protected this room had crumbled along with the city’s defenders.
The figure, their face cloaked within the shadows of a deep hood, considered their prize for a moment, then stepped through the breach portal.
Centuries later, that same strongbox rested in the offices of Darius Belt. How it came to him was a secret known only to Belt himself.
Chapter 1
Ellie's back ached.
Why is this bed so hard? some part of her sleepy brain wondered.
The cot shoved against the wall in Mr. Fichtner's apartment had never felt this hard before. It made Ellie wonder if maybe he'd taken the mattress out from under her.
Still, she didn't want to wake up. Waking up meant facing all her troubles again.
Her hand splayed out across hard, cracked pavement. A few loose pebbles rolled between her palm and the ground.
Pavement? she thought.
The smell hit her, then. Wet garbage baking in the sun, with a strong scent of exhaust just beneath it.
Ellie opened her eyes and squinted against the light coming into the alley. She held her hand up against, squinting.
She sat up and looked around. It was an alley behind some sort of restaurant, gauging by what she saw the rats rooting through in the big dumpster by the back door.
Somewhere a car honked. Brakes squealed. Engines growled. It was Brooklyn, all right. She could feel it in her bones.
Ellie pushed herself to her feet and tugged a wrinkle out of her shirt.
How did I get here? she thought.
One of the rats on the dumpster, a big, mean-looking one with matted black fur, glared at her and chittered something.
I wasn't supposed to leave Sourcewell, she thought.
Then it all rammed her like a fully-loaded garbage truck. Sourcewell, the Trials, going to Belt's sanctuary or whatever that place was.
But most of all she remembered the magic. Real magic. Her magic.
She reached out towards the dumpster crawling with rats, meaning to push it away with a spell so she wouldn't have to smell it anymore.
Nothing happened. Nothing at all. A small sensation of panic, blooming in her stomach, quickly became not so small.
You made it all up, a voice within said. You ran away from Mr. Fichtner and passed out in an alley and dreamed the whole thing.
"No!" she said. Thorn and Caspian and Sybil and Arabella and Aurelius and Darius Belt, they couldn't all have been some figments of her imagination. She refused to believe any of it.
Then she saw it in her mind: that weird black gem in Darius Belt's office. The one that seemed to absorb light.
The one that Thorn said Ellie needed to steal from him. That gem.
Ellie leaned over, planting her hands on her hips. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember.
She recalled the way Belt seemed shocked that the gem spoke to her. She recalled the way that he fought to keep her from it.
"Then I touched it..." she said.
Then what?
She squeezed her thighs, trying to focus her thoughts. The surface of the gem had felt strangely warm. And so smooth.
She touched it and...
And...
And nothing. She couldn't remember anything between touching the gem and waking up in this alley.
At least it got me out of that place.
The back of her head didn't hurt anymore, she noticed. It didn't feel like she was going to throw up all the time. So that was something else good, too.
She straightened up and looked both ways down the alley. Steam issued from a grate not far away.
She knew she needed to find Thorn and tell him all this. She didn't have the gem, but she also didn't think Belt had it anymore, either.
With any luck, Thorn would be on his feet. It had been at least a few days at Belt's sanctuary. It had felt that long, anyway.
"Hey, sweetie. You lost?"
Ellie turned towards the voice. Four men in ragged clothes completely blocked off one wa
y down the alley.
Her stomach tightened. "No."
"Really? ‘Cause you seem pretty lost," another of them said. He smiled at her, revealing a mouth of shattered gray teeth, like someone had broken a pane of glass.
"Well I'm not. I'm waiting for my boyfriend. He meets me here after football practice," Ellie said, turning to face them fully. Tingles of warning crawled up and down her spine, urging her to run.
But if she ran, she knew, they would chase her. Like a pack of wild dogs, it would be their instinct.
One guy wearing a tatty trench coat made a show of looking up and down the alley, "Funny place to meet him. Tell you what, why don't we keep you company until he gets here? Keep you good and safe."
Two of them broke off from the group and started down each side of the alley. They meant to get behind her, she knew. Get behind her and surround her.
"He'll be here anytime. I don't need your help," she said, taking a few steps backwards.
She swallowed hard against the copper tang at the back of her mouth. Her heart morphed into a machinegun, hammering out at rapid fire.
Ellie called for her magic again.
Come on, please!
It didn't answer.
"I don't want to hurt you guys," she said, "So stay back."
The guy leaning against the wall smirked, and the other three laughed. "Hurt us? Girlie, give us everything you got and maybe we don't hurt you. Much, at least."
She patted at her pockets, "Sorry, I forgot my wallet at home."
The two guys trying to get around her gave up on that. They dashed in. The alley wasn't wide, and it took them only a heartbeat for each to grab an arm.
They both stank like stale sweat and bad breath.
Ellie struggled, both against their grip and for her magic.
The ringleader shoved his hands into his coat pockets and sauntered forward, his grin widening the more she struggled.
"You're just gonna give us whatever you have..." he said.
"Don't touch me!" Ellie spat at him, "Let go! Let go or you'll be sorry!"
They all laughed again.
Then he reached for her, meaning to lock his dirty fingers in her hair.
She couldn't let him touch her. She wouldn't. Hot rage boiled in her stomach. The sort of rage that had beaten Caspian in an alley like this one. The sort of rage that defeated monsters in the trial.
Except this time the rage did nothing.
"Hold her while I check her pockets! She's holding out on us, I got a feeling," the ringleader said.
Her power didn't answer. As far as she could tell, it wasn't even there.
And the ringleader with his grubby old coat and greasy hair grinned at her powerlessness.
Then the world shook. The dumpster skittered around on its little rubber wheels. The rats all squealed and jumped away.
The gang released her. She fell down onto the pavement so hard that hot pain shot up her spine.
"What's happening?"
"Earthquake!"
"In Brooklyn?"
Ellie crab-walked backwards, away from them. She still felt nothing inside. No surge of power. No tingle of energy.
Whatever this was, she wasn't doing it.
You are safe.
"What?" Ellie said. She had no idea where that voice came from.
Except it hadn’t been a voice, she realized. More a feeling or an impression.
The shaking intensified, throwing the grubby gang off their feet. They all screamed. A shining black orb formed in the air above their heads. Crackling bolts of dark energy lanced out from it.
They sparked off the brick walls. When they hit the dumpster, it caught fire.
When it hit the men, they caught fire, too.
They ran screaming, oily smoke rushing from their bodies.
Ellie couldn't watch anymore. She turned over onto her stomach and pushed herself to her feet. Then she ran, feet pounding hard off the cracked pavement.
She didn't question how she managed to get to her feet with the ground trembling. She didn't care.
Behind her, more smoke filled the alley.
Ahead of her, she saw the street. Yellow taxis raced by as though nothing was amiss.
She almost reached it, her heart yearning for the freedom.
Then another sound joined the cacophony. Police sirens screamed through the air. An NYPD cruiser screeched to a halt in front of the alley, its back end swinging out a little.
A cop jumped out, "Stop!" He grabbed her, "You're okay! What happened? Where's the fire?"
The passenger door of the cop cruiser opened up. "Dad? What's going on?"
"Stay in the car, Peter!" the cop said.
Peter leaned against the hood of the car. Ellie glanced at him, then looked back down the alley. A thick plume of oily black smoke rose lazily between the roofs.
Old, rotten Chinese food burned in the dumpster, making her wrinkle her nose.
"Miss? Are you all right?" the cop said. He gave her shoulders a squeeze. Just a light one, enough to get her attention.
Enough to make her think of those two guys who'd just grabbed her and held her while that other man reached for her...
"Get off me!" she said, struggling. She slapped at his hands.
Her stomach clenched up. Her heart strained in her chest. She wouldn't let anyone hold her against her will again. Not after those guys in the alley.
Not after Darius Belt and his chair in that octagonal room.
The cop relaxed his grip but didn't let go. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay. No one's going to hurt you,” he crouched lower, putting his face on level with hers, "Just tell me what happened."
"She's freaked out, dad!" Peter said.
Peter came around the hood of the car. A not inconsiderable number of people began gathering at the mouth of the alley, pointing at the greasy smoke and then at her.
More than a few whipped out their phones, recording the whole thing.
Peter looked a lot like his dad. Dark-haired, light skinned. A nose his dad had grown into but that he hadn't quite managed to yet. Tall.
But not as tall as Thorn, Ellie thought. Ellie thought he was about her age, give or take a year or two.
He put his hand on his dad's shoulder, right beside the clipped-on radio, and eased him back.
The cop's hands slid from Ellie, down her arms. They got to her wrists and pulled her hands out. He gave them a reassuring squeeze.
Then she saw him catch sight of the missing tip of her left pinky. He frowned beneath his patrol cap. Somehow, her stomach managed to clench even more. She yanked herself away from him.
Peter kept back from her, like she was some alley cat he wanted to befriend.
"Hey, I'm, uh, I'm Peter. But you probably already figured that out. This is my dad, Grant. He's a cop. But you probably already figured that out, too. Jeez, I'm a master of the obvious, aren't I?
"I don't know what happened, but we're gonna help you. K? Right, dad?"
"Yeah, this is Unit 52, we have some sort of a fire on Nostrand just off Linden by that Chinese place... What was that, Pete?" Officer Grant said, letting go of the button on the radio. It chirped when he did that.
"We're gonna help her, right?" Peter said. Peter glared around at all the bystanders recording the whole thing, frowning as though he wanted to put a stop to it. "She's in shock, dad."
Grant looked from Peter to Ellie, then nodded, "Yeah. She's gonna have to ride in the back, though."
Grant opened the back door of the cruiser, revealing the beltless bench seat inside. A bench seat within cage of wire-reinforced Plexiglas.
Grant put his hand on her shoulder again, more gingerly this time, and tried to guide her into the back seat.
Ellie shook him off. She couldn't go back in a cage. "I have to find Thorn."
She knew that she'd become a ball of uncontrollable panic. Some part of her even observed the whole thing impassively from within. But she couldn't make herself stop.
"Unit 5
2," Grant's shoulder radio chirped, "The fire department's been notified."
"I have to find Thorn and tell him," Ellie said.
Then Peter planted himself in front of her, "Just come down to the station with us. Maybe we can help you find him. Look, I'll even get in the back with you. If that's cool?"
Ellie's whole body shook like she'd been shoved into a freezer. Somehow, she managed a nod. Peter guided her into the back seat and slid in beside her.
There was no handle on the inside of the door. Officer Grant peered down into the back of the car, concern radiating from his frown.
"I'll be fine, dad," Peter said.
"Sure," Grant replied. He closed the door.
Then he turned to the crowd, lifting his arms. The car muffled his words, but he told the crowd to stay back.
As soon as they heard the familiar screech of approaching fire engines he climbed into the driver's seat and they took off down Linden.
"I've never been in a police car before," Ellie said. She held onto the edge of the bench seat hard enough for her fingers to push into the foam padding.
Peter turned to her, "This is my first time in the back myself, actually. Don't worry, dad'll let us out when we get to the precinct."
Ellie looked up and saw Grant watching her in the rear view mirror.
She didn't need her prognosticative powers to tell her that the cop suspected something about her.
I need to find Thorn, she thought. She needed to tell him that she'd gotten the gem away from Belt. There still had to be time to catch Belt in that fortress of his.
Chapter 2
Grant and Peter took Ellie to the 67th Precinct on Snyder, where Grant worked.
There, Grant took her inside and gave her a scratchy wool blanket and then led her into the back offices, which were really just various desks with no real walls between them.
It was a noisy, busy place. Phones rang all around her.
Grant sat her down at his desk, which was neat and tidy. A picture of Grant, out of uniform, and Peter at Central Park by Belvedere Castle sat beside the computer monitor.
Peter sat down in his dad's office chair. When he pulled himself closer to Ellie, one of the castors squealed against the linoleum.