Wild Fire

by Ally Shields

She peeked up at him, assessing his mood. “Look at the bright side. We all needed a break from research…and a good laugh.”

  He looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Witch.”

  * * *

  The most positive note in their evening of research was Jacob’s call from the library shortly after 9:00. He’d found a copy of the Maleficus in the original Latin. The French museum would dispatch it within the hour by international priority mail service, and it should arrive in Riverdale within thirty-six hours.

  Keyed up by all the coffee and this latest news, Ari found it impossible to concentrate on her reading. She wasn’t convinced it was possible to find a spell or potion that could withstand the elders’ mental abilities. She pushed away from the table and crossed to the couch, laying down on her stomach and propping her chin with one hand. She sighed, watching the fire as if some great idea might be revealed by the flames.

  Jacob’s call had brought her attention back to her bound powers, and that anything else they might do would be less effective unless she could free them. How could she face the elders without her fire magic? It was the great leveler, her one ace in the hole.

  “Tired?” Andreas’s voice rolled across her like a caress.

  “I guess.” She heard his chair scrape as he came to join her.

  He sat on the edge of the couch and rubbed her back. “You should go to bed and worry about this tomorrow. It will not help anything if you exhaust yourself.”

  Ari’s shoulder muscles began to relax. His touch felt so good. “If I go up to bed, will you come with me?”

  His hands stilled for a moment, then resumed a gentle massage across her shoulders. “Do I detect a renewed surge of energy?” His voice held a hint of amusement.

  “Maybe.” She lazily rolled over. “In case I do, I’d like for you to be there.”

  * * *

  “Ari! Ari. Wake up!” The shouting was accompanied by insistent pounding on the bedroom door.

  She bolted out of bed and flung it open. “What’s the matter?”

  Cedric, one of the vampires of Andreas’s lineage, frowned, clearly agitated. “I’m not quite clear on that, but Andreas called from the club saying he was on his way home and I was to get you up. There’s been a summons from Zylla.”

  Zylla? Why would the vampiress need to talk with them so urgently? Unless she’d had another vision. Of something awful. Ari’s stomach knotted. “I’ll get dressed.”

  She slammed the door and was pulling on her boots by the time Andreas arrived. “Do you know what she wants? Why all the urgency?” Ari stomped her heel to push the boot in place as she stood.

  “I don’t know.” He grabbed her hand. “She has never done this before.”

  They hustled down the stairs, snatched their coats at the entrance and hurried into the cold night. Ari spent the entire trip imagining catastrophes that might have resulted in Zylla demanding their immediate presence. Death, invasion by the O-Seven? Since Andreas didn’t say much, she assumed he was envisioning his own horrors.

  When they reached the entrance to Zylla’s cave, Ari froze in the doorway. Instead of sitting in her customary place by the fire, Zylla paced back and forth, muttering to herself, and the werejavey Mangi perched on a nearby ledge watching her. He looked terrified.

  Andreas pushed past Ari and took Zylla’s hands, stopping her frantic movements. “You are distraught, wise woman. Please sit. Tell us what has disturbed you.”

  She clutched his arm. “The city is burning, people running, screaming. Raptors, werebears, hell hounds. Death. You and Arianna…dying.” She shuddered.

  He stared at the old woman face. “Arianna, help me with her.”

  His words prodded Ari into action. She gathered Zylla’s shawl from the floor and placed it around her shoulders, then helped Andreas lead her toward the pallet by the fire. “Mangi, can you get her some tea?”

  Zylla took a deep, shaky breath and appeared to get a hold of herself. “I am sorry. Forgive an old woman’s frailty. I have not seen such blood and destruction since the war.”

  Ari swallowed her rising fear. In the past Zylla had painted graphic word pictures of the atrocities committed during the early vampire-witch wars. Dismemberments, blood draining, the charred villages left behind. To have such a thing happen to Riverdale…

  Mangi brought the tea. Zylla took a sip and rolled it around in her mouth before she spoke. “Thank you, Mangi. Again, my apologies to you all. But the future I have seen is so terrible we must do whatever is required to avoid it.” She speared Andreas with a pointed look, then Ari, and emphasized it with her finger. “It depends on you. And you. The vision could have more than one ending, but you are the key. If you cannot prevent it, the burning and ravaging will occur. A week or two, possibly a year, but it will happen.”

  “So soon.” Ari stared at her. “What do we have to do to stop it?”

  The vampiress shook her head. “I do not know how, but you both need all your powers.”

  Now it was Andreas who began pacing. “Zylla, we have had this conversation before. Arianna and I are doing our best. A copy of the Maleficus has been found, so we might have the spell words, but we haven’t the ability to invoke the counterspell to return Ari’s fire magic.”

  Zylla sharpened her gaze on him. “Together you do. If you can control your warlock powers.”

  “Do you not realize I have tried?” His eyes flashed. “I cannot develop the control in days or even weeks that is already inherent in the family heirlooms.” He raked his hair. “I do not know where else to look for them. Perhaps, if there was time, I could go back to Italy, check everything in the house again.”

  “Maybe dig up your great-great grandfather’s grave,” Ari said darkly. “Why the hell didn’t he pass them to you?”

  Andreas sighed. “It does not matter why. The truth is…he didn’t.”

  “I may be able to tell you what they are, but finding them…” Zylla’s gaze swung to Ari, “may be up to you.”

  “Me? But how?”

  “In one image I saw you holding something.”

  Both Andreas and Ari moved closer to her.

  “Holding what?” Andreas demanded.

  “A man’s silver ring with a green stone, and a wand that sparkles in the light.”

  “The ring sounds like one of the family emeralds.” He pursed his lips in thought. “There is one missing. Now that I think about it, it was the ring Fredrico always wore. Perhaps he intended for it to be returned to the vault with the rest of the collection, but it was stolen or mislaid at the time of his death.”

  “A ring and a wand.” Ari sank to her knees next to Zylla. “Objects so small could have fallen down a crack or been carried away by a thief. I don’t know where to start looking.”

  “Start at the beginning. The last known place they were seen.”

  “Italy. When Fredrico died in 1813.” Andreas shrugged. “We have checked in the guest wing already, but I will make the call immediately. Perhaps knowing what they are looking for will help their search.”

  “You might have only days to reverse this vision.” Her eyes rested on Ari again. “I continue to believe that you are the answer, my child.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Go to Italy? Dig up the entire estate?” Ari’s face flushed, and she suppressed a scream of denial. This couldn’t be up to her. It wasn’t fair. Her magic churned. How could Zylla say it was her responsibility but not tell her what to do?

  “Arianna.” Andreas put his steady hands on her shoulders. “We have work to do. If Zylla believes there is a way to avoid the catastrophe she has seen, then we must try to figure this out.”

  Ari nodded mutely and got to her feet while Andreas said their good-byes. She’d gone from furious to numb in the last few seconds and was trying to come to terms with what they’d been told.

  She looked at Mangi when he touched her arm.

  “You saved me, found me a home. You can do this too.”

  She
looked blankly at him, then offered a faint smile. “I hope you’re becoming a prophet, Mangi. I’ll do my best.”

  Their walk through the tunnels on the way back to the surface was mostly silent. She and Andreas both seemed lost in thought. As they reached a fork in the path, Ari stopped. “Is this the way to Spirit Cave?”

  “It is.”

  “I’d like to take a detour.”

  He gave her a worried frown. “You are not thinking of harnessing its power for spell casting, are you?”

  “Of course not, but I’m getting another idea.”

  “What kind of idea?”

  His suspicious tone brought a wisp of a smile to her face. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  At the entrance to the Chamber of Ages, two vampires came forward to challenge their identity. Because of the secrets within the adjacent Spirit Cave, the area was guarded 24/7—by the vampires at night, and by security from the Magic Council by day.

  Andreas and Ari crossed to the restricted tunnel. Less than a minute later they climbed through the opening of Spirit Cave and dropped the two feet to the floor. Ari kept her flashlight off, staring at the spectacular sight that never failed to move her. Two greenish-white ley lines, resembling magical glow sticks, crossed about six inches above the surface, creating a pulsing center of swirling energy. A vortex. A place where time stood still and dimensions came together.

  The pale, multi-colored lights in the vortex were mesmerizing, drawing her in. Her magic responded, urging her to move closer. Did she dare? Did she dare not?

  Andreas’s arms came around her. “What are you thinking?”

  “Something crazy. You remember what the vortex can do?”

  “Yes,” he said cautiously. “That is why it is guarded. To avoid unauthorized dimensional and time travel.”

  “Unauthorized is the key word. But what if I obtain permission to go back in time and retrieve your heirlooms?”

  His arms tightened. “You cannot be serious. Please, tell me you are not.”

  “I think I am.” She pushed him toward the entrance. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and talk about it.”

  “What are the risks involved?” He boosted her through the cave opening.

  “Getting permanently lost in time,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Oh, is that all. Then nothing to worry about.” He became more concerned, his questions more pointed as they wound through the tunnels and approached the exit from the caverns.

  “I suppose a lot of other things could go wrong, but I could stay here and get hit by a car.”

  “Do you even know how to do this? Do you know anyone who has?”

  “Well, no.” She stopped as they reached the narrow cliff paths and pulled up her hood. “Geez, it’s snowing again. I haven’t done it, but I know the mechanics, the theories, the spells. I know how to trigger the vortex and set the travel timer. And I know the risks of altering time.”

  He studied her, his eyes dark with worry. “You are arguing yourself straight into this, aren’t you?”

  “It’s making sense. I have the training.” She grabbed both of his hands. “Don’t set your heart and mind against it, not yet. It’s almost dawn, and we don’t have time to discuss the details. I’ll take the idea to the Magic Council while you’re sleeping. If they think it’s possible and give their OK, then we’ll talk it over tonight. But this could be the only choice we have.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ari didn’t make it back to bed. Instead, she put the coffee pot on and spent the last hours of the night reading the section on time travel in the Calin family Book of Shadows. At 7:00, she headed for the lab and spent the morning consulting with its conjurers and historians. At noon she presented her case to the Magic Council president, and he called an emergency meeting of the seven-member executive council.

  Ari stood at the end of the conference table and brought them up to date on Zylla’s visions and the current events—emphasizing the proposed visit of the O-Seven—that gave credence to her prophecy. She followed that with a demonstration of her knowledge of the dangers inherent in changing history and how to avoid them. Finally, she recited the appropriate methods to manipulate time, starting with the triggering spell and ending with the ritual to get her back home.

  “What happens if the spell goes wrong and you get stuck in 1813?” The questioner was Narton, the dwarf representative and representative-at-large to the executive council.

  Ari forced down a wave of apprehension and kept her voice calm, matter-of-fact. “I could try again every year at the same appointed time, but I would have to live totally in that century without revealing any knowledge of the future. I believe I could do that most effectively by living in Spain, a country I know little about. I would be less likely to make an inadvertent reference to their future history.”

  “You seem to have thought a lot about this.” Steffan studied her. “What does Andreas say? Will you go against his wishes?”

  Ari couldn’t tell whether the werewolf leader was for or against her plans. “I’ve thought about nothing else for the last seven hours. Andreas and I haven’t finished talking, but he knows what’s at stake. If Zylla is correct, this is what I have to do.”

  “The truth of the prophecy isn’t totally dependent on Zylla.” The wizard’s voice grabbed everyone’s attention. This was the first time he’d spoken since opening the meeting. “Our own seers have seen warning signs. Not as dramatic as the vampiress’s vision, but nonetheless concerning. I am inclined to believe that we are indeed at peril.”

  “But is this trip the answer?” It was Narton again. “Even if we ignore the obvious risks to Ms. Calin, the risk of changing history has to be considered.” He addressed Ari directly. “I appreciate your willingness to go, but I need some reassurance that we won’t be taking this risk for nothing. If you succeed in bringing back the magic items, will they defeat the O-Seven?”

  Ari spread her hands. “I can’t guarantee that. But I believe we don’t have a chance without them.”

  A heavy silence followed her words, until the wizard cleared his throat and called for the vote. Ari turned to leave so the decision could be made in private, but the wizard stopped her.

  “Arianna, please stay. This is a critical choice, and history will hold each of us accountable. Since you have proposed taking on this task, you deserve to witness the vote.” He switched his attention to the executive members, his bushy white brows lowering. “I sincerely wish there was time for all forty members of the Magic Council to be polled, but that would take days, which we don’t have. The issue before you is clear: Do we grant Ms. Calin permission for time travel to the year 1813 for the purposes previously stated.” He scanned the faces around the table. “Consider your conscience, choose wisely. I will have your votes now.”

  Permission was granted: seven to zero. The wizard announced the lab would immediately begin working on the coordinates to put her in Italy a week or ten days prior to the death of Fredrico Valvano on June 9, 1813.

  * * *

  Ari sat in the study at home, watching the clock. 2:45 p.m. Not long now.

  At 3:05 she felt the surge of power as Andreas woke.

  At 3:15 he appeared in the doorway. Long, lean, immaculate in a black Armani shirt and jeans. His eyes were hooded, unreadable.

  “You are going.”

  “I think I should.”

  “Then the Magic Council gave their approval.” He still didn’t move from the doorway.

  “Unanimously.” She stood and searched his face.

  He walked slowly toward her and stopped only inches away. His eyes sought hers. “I want to ask you not to do this. But neither of us has much choice. I wish it were otherwise, but that does not make it so.”

  She took a step forward, and he wrapped her in his arms, resting his head against her hair. “Come back to me,” he whispered.

  “Always.” She barely breathed the word, but he sighed.

  He finally released her
and walked over to stand before the fire. “When will you leave?”

  “As soon as possible. But there’s no way I can be back by the time the elders come on Friday. I need time to prepare. The earliest I could leave would be late tomorrow and the return will be set at least forty-eight hours from there. The coordinates are never exact, and we can’t afford to overshoot on either end.”

  He frowned. “Didn’t you tell me that time within the portal works differently?”

  “It does. I could be there hours, days or weeks in 1813 time, whatever it takes to find the heirlooms, but when I return here, it will be at whatever time we’ve preprogrammed. Most likely on Saturday.”

  “If you can preprogram the time, why not return Friday or even Thursday, the same night you leave?”

  “The forty-eight hour window can’t be shortened. If we overshot the date, I’d be stuck in the future at least days or weeks ahead of you. Think of it as a ring on a target. The forty-eight hours would give us a bigger ring to hit than just an hour or two. Research has calculated it as the minimum period that gives the highest odds of success.”

  His frown deepened. “This is beginning to sound more risky all the time.”

  She went to him and put her head on his shoulder. His arm circled her waist. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I’m not scared. It is risky. That’s why we have to follow the guidelines.”

  His arm tightened. “I am all for whatever will bring you back in one piece. If you leave tomorrow, then I will too. I’ll send the plane back so you can join us on Saturday or Sunday.”

  “Can you stall things enough for my trip to make a difference? By Saturday, the elders will have been in Toronto for twenty-four hours, and I’d still have a three-hour flight to Toronto before I could get you the heirlooms. What if they start something on Friday?”

  “That will be my problem. And Daron’s.”

  She started to protest, but he placed a finger across her lips. “You have your task. I have mine.” He took a step back so that he could take a look at her. “You will need different clothes. You cannot appear in 1813 wearing jeans, T-shirts, and designer boots.”