The Cost of Magic

by S T G Hill

  "So... You ready to tell me your name yet?" Peter said, offering her a crooked smile.

  Ellie swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. It helped a little with the shakiness. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

  It may have been scratchy, but she liked the warmth.

  "Ellie," she said. She didn't like how weak and wavery her voice sounded. So she cleared her throat and went again, "I'm Ellie."

  Peter glanced around the room and then leaned in closer, "So what happened? 'Cause no offence, but you look like someone didn't just walk over your grave, but sat down and had a picnic."

  Something about sitting down with that blanket over her shoulders helped calm her down. Helped shrink that tight, cold panic in her stomach. "That's a weird thing to say."

  Peter shrugged, that half-smile turning into a smirk, "Sue me. Seriously though, what's up?"

  "There were some men. Four of them. They grabbed me..."

  "Did they start the fire?" Peter asked.

  "No," Ellie shook her head.

  Peter looked around again, checking for eavesdroppers before he asked his next question, "Did you?"

  Ellie shook her head again, "No. I don't know who started it."

  She did know what started it, though. That weird black ball with its weird black lightning. Right after that voice told me I was safe.

  It looked like Peter wanted to ask her more. She didn't want to tell him about magic. And she didn't have the mental energy to make up a convincing lie.

  "So your dad's a cop. That must be... different," Ellie said.

  Peter leaned back and watched her. Once more, she didn't need to be a magical mind reader to tell he was thinking about whether to push her on the fire thing.

  "Yeah, he's one of the good ones though," he said.

  Ellie stifled her sigh of relief. She turned a bit in her chair and peered around the busy office. "What do you think he's doing?"

  "Not sure. Cop stuff, I guess," Peter said, "You got a last name?"

  "Do you?" Ellie shot back.

  "Pitarelli," Peter said.

  This time Ellie smirked, "Really? Peter Pitarelli? Are you sure your parents like you?"

  He crossed his arms, "And I bet you think you're the first person to point that out?"

  "No. And I bet I won't be the last, either," she said, smiling.

  It felt good to smile. Already, she felt so much more relaxed. Peter was an okay guy, and he actually seemed to want to help.

  "Your turn," Peter said.

  “Not yet. Why were you in the car with your dad? That’s weird.”

  Peter shifted in his chair, “He picks me up from school in the cruiser when he can.”

  “Must make things awkward,” Ellie said.

  Peter shifted again, “It’s not so bad. Now you.”

  She didn't get the chance to respond before Grant came back. He arrived with a manila file folder tucked under one arm.

  With both chairs at his desk taken, Officer Pitarelli crouched down beside Ellie's chair, one hand on the backrest for support. "You're Eleonora Ashwood, right?"

  Peter grinned wide, "Eleonora? And you're making fun of my name...?"

  Grant held up his other hand, "Cool it, Pete."

  "It's Ellie," she said. She didn't like the way Officer Pitarelli pursed his lips.

  Peter didn't, either. His laugh stopped and his smile dropped, "Dad? What is it?"

  "Ellie is a missing person," Grant said, "Well, you were."

  "Right..." Ellie said, "I guess everyone wants to know where I've been the last six months or so."

  Her mind raced. What could she possibly tell Grant that he would actually believe?

  Grant cocked his head, still frowning. He opened up the folder and glanced inside of it, "Six months? Ellie, you've been gone for over a year now."

  That stopped her train of thought in its tracks. She snorted and shook her head. She didn't realize it, but she started gripping the bottom of the chair hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

  "No, there's no way," she said.

  Time was different in the Trial, she remembered. Days in that place were only seconds to the rest of the world.

  And Sourcewell, she knew, kept the same time as everywhere else.

  Her skin prickled, and she shivered. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She wanted to say, "It's not possible," but she knew that with enough magic, pretty much anything was possible.

  "Then where did I go?" Ellie whispered. Because if what they said was true, she had no idea where she'd been or what she'd been doing for half a year.

  What had happened between touching the warm, smooth surface of that black gem in Belt's office and waking up in that alley behind a Chinese restaurant?

  There was more. When she’d gotten to Sourcewell, she’d been told that Thorn cast a spell to… how did they put it? To put a pause on her life.

  She should never have been reported missing. No one should’ve even noticed she was gone.

  Everything was all wrong.

  "Ellie? What did you say?" Grant said, "Are you okay?"

  "She looks pretty green," Peter put in.

  "I think I'm going to be sick," Ellie said.

  Chapter 3

  Peter took her to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her. Then she opened up the valve on the faucet and let the water hiss down into the basin.

  Then Ellie sank into the corner by the sink, pulled her knees up to her chest, and buried her face in her thighs.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers threaded together between her knees and she squeezed her hands.

  Remember, she ordered herself, Remember what happened. Remember where I went!

  She concentrated hard, her breath held in her lungs until they burned. She forced herself back to that moment in Belt's office. She remembered touching the gem. She remembered holding the gem.

  She remembered the shock on Darius Belt's harsh and noble face.

  A warm white light surrounded her. She remembered that much. The next memory was the hardness of the pavement beneath her back in that alley.

  There had to be more, she knew. Six months didn't just pass by with nothing happening.

  But the more she tried, the less she found. Something had taken a brush to the chalk timeline of her memory and wiped it all clean. Not even any dust left behind.

  She breathed all the stale air out and took a fresh breath, then leaned her head back against the tile wall of the bathroom, staring up at the harsh fluorescent light. It hummed a little.

  Then Peter knocked on the door, "Ellie? You okay in there?"

  "Fine," she called back.

  Nothing felt fine. She had no idea what to do, where to go.

  She stood up and leaned over the sink, wiping at the puffiness around her eyes for a second before she cupped her hands and splashed her face with the cold tap water.

  Were Thorn and Sybil and Arabella all right? What was Belt up to now?

  Did they look for me?

  Or did they think she was still receiving private lessons from Belt after all this time?

  They're not coming. I'm on my own, she thought. Then: What else is new?

  She turned off the water and emerged from the bathroom. Peter couldn't quite look her in the eye.

  "I'm fine," she told him.

  He led her back to her dad's desk. Ellie thought she was in for more of a grilling from Officer Pitarelli, but when they got back Grant wasn't alone.

  A tall woman in an overcoat smiled at her. Ellie knew who she was—or rather, what she was—before she opened her mouth. She'd dealt with enough of these people already.

  "Hi, Ellie. I'm Florence Perkins..."

  "You're CPS," Ellie said. She glared at Grant.

  Florence caught the look. "Don't be upset with Officer Pitarelli here. He's just doing his job to help keep you safe. Do you want to come with me? Maybe grab a bite to eat?"

  Ellie's hackles stood. She knew Florence's type already: the s
ocial worker who still cared about her job. The ones who genuinely tried to help, but were stuck within the system as much as Ellie was herself.

  "I'm not going back to Mr. Fichtner," Ellie said.

  Florence and Grant shared a glance at each other that Ellie couldn't read.

  "Of course you're not," Florence said, "Why don't you come with me and we'll talk about it?"

  "Not like I have anywhere else to go," Ellie replied.

  And just the mention of food set her stomach growling. She couldn't blame it; for all she knew she hadn't had anything to eat in six months.

  Grant put his hands on his hips, "We're going to need to talk to her some more."

  Florence raised an eyebrow at him, "I know that. But the police won't be talking to her again without her legal guardian present."

  She saw that Grant wanted to press the issue. But then he looked at Peter, who shook his head. Grant sighed and turned back to face Ellie, "Right. You rest up. Take all the time you need."

  "Let's go get something to eat, Ellie," Florence said. She turned and started walking down the aisle between the desks.

  Ellie turned to follow, but then Peter put his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you gonna be okay?"

  Again, Ellie found that she liked Peter. He was honest. And even though he barely knew her, he seemed to actually give a crap about her.

  "I don't know yet," Ellie said, which was the truth. About pretty much everything, actually. She felt like she knew less than nothing about anything, least of all herself.

  Peter smiled, "Well, don't be a stranger, okay?"

  "Sure," Ellie replied.

  "Ellie? Aren't you hungry?" Florence said. She'd turned around a ways down to the aisle to watch.

  "Yeah, I'm coming," Ellie said.

  They got to the elevator, which Florence called with a quick jab of the button. Inside, Ellie listened to the mechanical hum while watching the digital floor counter descend.

  "What's going to happen to me now?" Ellie asked.

  Chapter 4

  Darius Belt stood in the open center of the large circular table. He kept his hands clasped to the small of his back.

  Around that table sat the eleven other members of the Council of Magisters, all of them watching him.

  All quite powerful in their own right, Belt knew. But even without the Gem of Orlyon, they were nothing compared to him.

  And so their sharp stares didn't bother him in the least.

  Let them stare, he thought. He needed them. Or their resources, at least. For now. He also knew that if there were any real sense to things, they would follow him and do as he asked, and gladly.

  "As you can see, my fellow Magisters, we are faring poorly," Belt said.

  He turned his left hand so that his palm faced up. A moving image appeared above his head. Light flashed in the battle the image depicted. The light of deadly sorcery flung with ill intent.

  So much of it, Belt knew, spent in vain.

  "How are they so powerful?" Magister Mbutu said, his well-kept white beard a sharp contrast to the darkness of his skin.

  He didn't ask his question in English. Not that Belt heard it in English. No, his thoughts spoke in a tongue ancient and extinct except to him.

  "Indeed, how?" Aurelius Cassiodorian said. He sat on the opposite side of the table from Mbutu. "Given that they were nothing but bickering clans a year ago."

  Belt turned to Cassiodorian. He could feel Cassiodorian attempting to poke around inside his mind. And to climb up and down the many branches of time to see how they had arrived on this particular path.

  "I think that you, least of all, need reminding of what the Errants are capable of," Belt said.

  Sourcewell Academy still hadn't yet fully recovered from the attack.

  Before Belt could continue, Cassiodorian glanced back into the darkness surrounding the table, "Your apprentice brings you news."

  Belt turned and watched Caspian walk towards them.

  He sensed something of Caspian's thoughts, but not all. "Excuse me, I'll return shortly."

  With a blink, he willed himself out of the center of the table and stood beside Caspian. Before either of them spoke, he created an impenetrable bubble of silence around the two of them.

  "Tell me what you've found," Belt said. He didn't congratulate Caspian on blocking Belt's inquiry into his thoughts. Too many rewards spoiled people, he knew. Made them careless.

  "She's back. Ellie's in New York," Caspian said.

  He brought out a decidedly not magical smartphone and called up a video of a policeman comforting a girl. Belt recognized her immediately.

  "Watch her," Belt said.

  Caspian looked up in surprise. "You don't want me to get her for you?"

  Belt raised an eyebrow at his apprentice, who sulked beneath the look. Thorn would have realized why, he thought.

  "She has the Gem. If she's learned how to use it, she could singe you to dust with a thought. No, watch her," Belt said.

  Caspian locked the phone and shoved it back into the pocket of his robe.

  Finally, some good news, Belt thought. Finally, I’ve smoked her out. It only took a war. But wars, as Darius Belt knew, were all too easy a thing to start.

  Chapter 5

  "You'll like them," Florence said, "They're good people."

  "Sure," Ellie replied as Florence pulled her plain silver government sedan into a vacant parking spot in front of a row of brownstones.

  "They'll take you out shopping for some new clothes. School supplies. You'll start back at school next Monday. As a sophomore."

  Ellie's lips pursed. She'd been gone more than a year, and her education at Sourcewell hadn't exactly been the curriculum as outlined by the New York State Department of Education. And she still hadn't told anyone here that she'd been at Sourcewell in the first place.

  So it made sense they'd hold her back a grade.

  And she scoffed internally at the idea of being taken clothes shopping. The Williamsons, the family that CPS had assigned her to, would likely take whatever stipend provided and drink it away or spend it on anything that didn't benefit Ellie.

  It wasn't her first go around this track.

  "There they are! See, good people!" Florence said, throwing her door open after glancing to make sure the way was clear.

  Ellie hung back a moment longer.

  The Williamsons stood on the stoop of their brownstone. A pretty couple, fairly young, both in jeans. She in a blouse and he in a button down.

  Ellie admitted that they looked nice and friendly. Though a growling pit bull would look friendly standing next to Mr. Fichtner.

  Come on! Florence's hand gestured when she saw Ellie still sat in the car.

  Florence introduced them as Brenda and Walt.

  "And you must be Ellie!" Brenda said, beaming a smile.

  Before Ellie could reply, Brenda swept her into a hug. The woman smelled of soft perfume. Ellie's back went stiff, but no one could hold out against such a warm hug for long.

  She reminded Ellie of Arabella.

  "Come on inside, you must be starved!" Walt said, opening the door to the brownstone.

  "Which floor are you guys on?" Ellie said.

  From what she could see, the brownstone looked well cared for: shining floors, even paint, furniture that matched.

  Brenda and Walt looked at each other, "All of them."

  Ellie followed them inside. Someone, probably the Williamsons, had spent a literal fortune remodelling and modernizing the old home.

  "It's so quiet," Ellie said when Brenda closed the door behind them.

  Mr. Fichtner may as well have been living on the sidewalk for all the road noise the place got. Here, though, Ellie couldn't make out the sound of anything quieter than a car horn going off right outside the door.

  Brenda came up behind Ellie and placed her hands on Ellie's shoulders, "Walt, will you go put a plate together for Ellie? She's all skin-and-bones!"

  "Of course. And I'm betting someone
wouldn't say no to a milkshake either, would they? It's vanilla bean!" Walt said, pausing at the foot of the stairs. The kitchen was on the second level, apparently.

  "Uh, they wouldn't," Ellie said, bewildered.

  She turned around and glanced through the window on the front door, wondering if the Williamsons were putting on a show for Florence. But Florence and her boring silver car were gone.

  Ellie and Brenda watched Walt take the stairs and disappear around a corner. Soon the soft clatter of dishes announced Walt's meal preparations.

  "Look, Ellie," Brenda said, keeping one hand on Ellie's shoulder while she came around to stand in front of her, "I know all about your last guardian."

  "Me too," Ellie said. She couldn't find a single good memory about Mr. Fichtner in her head. Florence had questioned her gently about Mr. Fichtner, asking in several different ways if he had anything to do with her disappearance. Ellie guessed that her answers had satisfied, because Florence had stopped talking about it.

  "Men like that shouldn't be allowed to foster children! And I'm sorry you had to go through it. The things they found out about him! I can't even stand to think about them," Brenda said.

  Ellie thought she actually saw tears forming in Brenda's soft brown eyes.

  "What do you mean?" Ellie said.

  Brenda gave her the whole story.

  A CPS agent had checked in on Mr. Fichtner and discovered Ellie missing. When he wouldn't reveal her whereabouts he became the prime suspect in her disappearance.

  During the investigation, the NYPD discovered that Mr. Fichtner had his fingers stuffed knuckle-deep in a variety of illegal pies.

  Long story short, it turned out that even with Ellie's reappearance Mr. Fichtner would be spending quite a while at Rikers Island.

  Just where he belongs, Ellie thought.

  Ellie squeezed her eyes shut. Her body relaxed as though Brenda had just shifted a huge weight from her shoulders.

  When Brenda saw, she pulled Ellie into another hug, one hand straining through Ellie's hair while she cooed and whispered, "It's okay. You're safe now. You're okay now. I promise."

  This time, Ellie hugged her back.