by L. R. W. Lee
“Pell, you let me see you physically. This is not much different.”
Somehow I’m not sure I agree.
“Like everything I told you about your body, let my words about who you truly are, sink deep into your heart.”
“It may take me some time.”
He smiles. “It may, but you’re a pro at this now. And what you can’t quite accept, you’ll have me to remind you of.”
I roll my eyes. “A regular Jiminy Cricket. Will you sit on my shoulder, too?”
We both laugh at that. It’s a needed release. We’ve both been vulnerable. It’s been intense. But I’ve grown. Perhaps he has, too.
Wisps drift by and block him from view and for the first time, I look around.
“There’s so much of it. It’s nearly pitch-dark.”
“Our magic has blended.” It’s nearly a whisper.
“Blended? Was it supposed to do that? I thought my magic was just supposed to let yours have authority over it for a while.”
“It was.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
My eyes go wide.
“Not only did your magic not resist mine, more poured out of you than I anticipated.”
“What’s it mean?” My stomach clenches.
“That your magic wanted this.”
I swallow, hard.
My magic… sought his and blended with it. I look up at him. Does my magic know me better than I know myself? Is it ahead of my head, as well as my heart, because we’ve only known each other ten days, and while I’m a novice in matters of the heart, it’s too soon to fall in love. I don’t know what we have. I want it to grow, but I know it’s not yet love. It can’t be.
He just grins.
Cocky bastard.
“So then—” He clears his throat but doesn’t try to dim his glee. “—shall I teach you how to tripskip now that there’s absolutely no danger of losing you?”
I smack his arm, but I can’t help but laugh.
“Hey, be nice to the one your magic gave itself over to.” He wags his brows.
I roll my eyes and barely staunch a snort as I realize, my shadows are “making out with his,” in a way.
Pe… ell. My inner minion’s not amused.
My brain begs to run wild. There are so many places to go with this much material. I laugh to myself. Regretfully, I have to shut it down.
“Now then, gather your shadows. Leave just a few around our feet.”
Half the darkness evaporates as Harpoc does whatever he does, to remove his magic from the mix, and a minute later, wisps of shadows brush both our legs under the sun that’s come out fully.
Lightness fills my chest as excitement fills me. The air smells amazing after that rainstorm, and Harpoc’s right beside me adding his tantalizing scent.
“Ready Teddy,” that song by Little Richard, rolls through my brain.
Oh yeah, bring it on. I’m ready to trip.
I’m glad Harpoc has no idea how weird I am with all that running through my head, but he smiles all the same, no doubt as caught up as me, especially after my magic did what it did.
“As with every other aspect of your magic, you must will it, then command it to comply.”
He looks around the clearing.
“Tripskipping is essentially envisioning where you want to go, then stepping out to it.”
I shift from one foot to the other. “Do I need to have a mental picture of where I want to end up?”
“It helps, although it’s not necessary. If you have a firm picture of a familiar place in mind, your magic will lock on to that location and take you there when you step into it. If it’s a place you’ve never been, your magic will sense thoughts and feelings about the location and do its best to get you there.”
He makes it sound like secret magic behaves like Facebook when it asks me to confirm that a picture I’m posting is indeed a certain location—only it’s a destination in this case.
I furrow my brow. “It sounds like you can end up someplace altogether different than you intend, if you haven’t been someplace before.”
“I don’t presume to understand it, but it is able to interpret intention. It has never steered me wrong.”
“Got it.” I’m not about to debate the finer points of tripping, I want to get this show on the road.
He chuckles. “For practice, let’s have you work to get us to the other side of this lawn.”
“To that purple rose bush?” I point at a deep purple shrub laden with flowers on the edge of the space.
“Good as any.” He bobs his head. “Okay then, envision that spot, then command your shadows to absorb you and take you there when you step.”
“Absorb me?”
“Consume, ingest, swallow, yes, that’s the gist of it.”
My voice rises. “And you’re sure they’ll spit me out again?”
Harpoc laughs. “That’s why we went through that whole authority business, so if they decide to mess with you, I’ll intervene.”
I give him a long look as I bite my lip.
“Give it a try.”
I run my hands up and down my bare arms, taking a deep breath and letting it out again, then focus on that purple rose bush.
“Okay, magic, I want you to absorb me and take me to that bush when I step.” My shadows continue moving lazily around our feet.
“Add conviction,” Harpoc says.
I repeat the command, this time with more determination, and my shadows respond, moving faster and they start to rise. I hope it’s a good sign.
Harpoc nods his approval.
Must be.
“Keep your destination in mind and step into it.”
My shadows are waist high when I take a step.
But nothing happens other than I’m one step away from where I start. I look over at him.
“Again.” His eyes are fixed on the purple bush.
“Take me to that rose bush.” Maybe I need to add how fast. “Quickly.”
My shadows swirl from my feet to neck and I feel like I’m drowning, but I step anyway.
When they fade, I’m just one more step closer to my destination, but I’ve not yet tripped.
“Again. Don’t fight it. Surrender to it.” His gaze is unwavering.
My swirling shadows have risen above my head and my breathing labors. Surrender? Easier said than done.
“Surrender, Pell.” His voice is firm.
I can’t see him with my shadows swirling as thick as they are but I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Take me swiftly to that purple rose bush.” I hold my breath—I can’t help it—as I step.
Like before, I’m just one step closer, but nowhere near the bush.
“Pell, you must trust your magic. Stop pushing it away. It won’t hurt you. It is you, and you are it. There’s nothing to fear.”
I’m it. It’s me.
Still my breathing labors. No, I’m not it, it’s not me. I’m not magic. I despise secrets.
“Pell, it’s your essence. It’s a reflection of what’s inside you.”
“I’m… I’m…”
“It’s you, Pell. You don’t have to like it. But you must surrender to it. Try again.”
How do I surrender to what I hate? I can’t.
He said, it reflects what’s inside me.
It’s dark. It’s my darkness. That, I believe.
But I’ve never surrendered to the dark. There have been plenty of times I’ve wanted to, but in the end, I haven’t.
If these shadows are me, they’re going to have to learn who their master is because I refuse to surrender to that.
I clear my throat. “Secret magic, you serve me, not the other way around. I will never surrender to the darkness. You will surrender to my light. Now take me swiftly to that purple rose bush.”
I hear Harpoc inhale sharply beside me as I close my eyes and take a step.
My eyes fly open when I don’t feel solid ground.
Did I
completely tork my shadows off? Have they swallowed me whole with no intention of coughing me up again?
But familiar darkness surrounds me.
Maybe it’s okay? I hardly have time to hope before Harpoc’s deep baritone voice sounds in my ear. “Step, Pell.”
I open my eyes as I step, and my shadows retreat back around our feet.
My leg brushes up against a deep purple flower on the bush I set as my objective.
“It worked,” I squeal.
A terrified bird screeches its alarm just above my head, making me jump, then flies off in a huff from the branch of the towering shade tree that waves its jade-color leaves.
My pulse speeds. I can’t believe it. Even though I told my magic off, it still worked. It didn’t eat me.
Harpoc’s shaking his head, beside me.
I want to run around and go crazy, waving my arms above my head like that little kid Kevin did, in Home Alone. I settle for throwing them up in the air and whooping it up.
A smile morphs Harpoc’s face as he brings a hand up and brushes my cheek, turning me toward him. “My little harpy.”
His tone drips with endearment, and I eat it up.
“What?” I grin.
He brushes my cheek with his hand, still grinning. “You never cease to amaze me. Despite how frustrated I get with secret magic from time to time, even I’ve never told it off, not like that.” He keeps shaking his head.
I snort. “Beginners luck?”
“I don’t think so. I think it responded when you told it who the boss is, with conviction. You never surrendered to it. Unbelievable.” He draws his hand to his lips and starts tapping.
Did I just teach this old dog a new trick? Is that even possible?
“Let’s see you do it again,” my coach says a minute later. “Tripskip back over to the sofa.”
I do, without incident.
I get more the hang of tripping as Harpoc has me skip to a host of locations in the garden over the next hour and more. It’s actually kind of fun, especially when I don’t feel threatened by the stuff flowing in my veins.
And not once has Harpoc had to bail me out. But I don’t regret giving him authority over my magic. Not one little bit.
“Tripskip us home,” Harpoc says.
I salute, but he holds up a finger. “Your clothes.”
I snicker. Right. I’m still topless.
A corner of his mouth hitches.
I trip back across the manicured grass and grab my hoodie and T-shirt off the sofa.
I hesitate to put them back on. I’ve actually enjoyed the freedom from self-consciousness.
Topless tripping indeed.
“Portia may be around,” he says, no doubt noticing my pause, as he picks up his own shirt.
There’s a dare in his eyes, it’s impossible to miss.
Pell… My inner minion’s tone is low and slow.
She’s on edge, and rightfully so because I’m feeling daring, and she knows it.
Portia’s seen me naked, but... .
I run a hand over my bare chest.
I don’t really want Portia imagining what Harpoc and I have been doing.
I slip my T-shirt on and fist my hoodie. “Show me how to trip home.”
“No different than what you’ve been doing. It’s just further so you won’t feel anything solid beneath your feet for longer, but you know what that feels like. Just stay focused, and you should do fine. Plus, I’m here if you have any problems.”
I send him a frown. “Oh ye of little faith.”
“Nay, little harpy. I abound in faith in thee.”
“Nay? Abound? Thee? Read Romeo and Juliet recently?”
He rolls his eyes. “I was merely replying to your use of old English.”
I laugh. “Yes, William Shakespeare.”
With an open palm, he motions me to proceed.
So I do. I issue the command, then focus on the living room at the top of the steps.
As it happens, Portia’s nowhere around when my shadows fall away. Maybe I’ll try tripping topless in the future.
Pell….
I chuckle to myself. Gotta keep my inner minion on her toes.
But my bubble of happiness bursts when Harpoc says, “Let’s go change. It’s time we pay the Queen of Scarabs a visit.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
My heart hasn’t stopped racing since Harpoc said we’re going to visit her heinie Queen Scarab, and nothing improves as what I’m assuming is the Empire of Scarabs comes into view as our tripskip ends.
Harpoc moves me into his arms, and I clutch a lapel of his gray leather duster, nervous energy fueling a death grip.
I’m trying not to totally freak because I can’t stand vermin with a hard coat and wings, not since my run in with Demon the Cockroach.
It’s humid, and the place smells of decay. Steam rises off a giant mountain of debris in the distance. It reminds me of the empire of rats, but the landscape isn’t as colorful as discarded trash.
We fly over blood specked, white furry bodies, more of Arimanius’s overlarge rats that lie everywhere in various stages of dismemberment, and my stomach starts to churn. They attacked here, too. No surprise.
A host of scarabs is at work, so many that the ground looks like it’s moving, and a shiver makes me squirm, especially when I realize they’re cutting up corpses with their large pincers, like a carcass at the butcher.
The scarabs are excited, shouting and having a good old time. I only know because secret magic interprets their profanity over what they plan to do to further desecrate each corpse. I have no love lost for rats, but still…. Another shiver runs up my back.
I have to look away. I want to plug my ears, but I won’t let go of Harpoc.
He gives me a squeeze. “Don’t think humans have a corner on desecration.”
It’s not that. I’ve seen my share of what humans are capable of, despite being old, dead, and dried up. My squeamishness is over the fact that there are hundreds of roaches below.
Uuuuugggghhhh.
“I thought you worked with only the most powerful. How can a glorified roach merit your attention?”
“Not so loud. They don’t appreciate being called anything but scarabs. With their Egyptian notoriety, they believe they are superior to the common roach.”
“Well, excuuuse me.” I shake my head trying not to totally lose it.
“Know any roaches?”
“Only dead ones.”
A corner of his mouth hitches. “Roaches have existed nearly since I was created, and they have power or they would not have survived this long. Where do you suppose the roaches you’re familiar with originated?”
“Hell, Hades, one of those places.”
Harpoc chuckles. “Roaches started here and spread out over the whole of many galaxies. Most are smaller than their queen.”
My eyes go wide because the scarabs below are probably three feet long and two high, aka monster big, and there’s not one redeeming thing about them.
“You’re saying their queen is bigger than these?” My voice squeaks.
“She is.” I clutch Harpoc’s lapel even tighter, if that’s possible.
Gold eye, silver eye.
I shriek when a scarab launches and flies waaay too close for my liking—that’s to say it comes within twenty feet of us.
Shit. These suckers fly!
I do a double take as we approach an area with… It almost looks like a dumping ground for…
“What…?”
“Scarabs, all roaches, grow only when they shed their shell.”
“Is that…?” I’m squeaking again, and my breathing labors. As far as I can see, roach shells litter the mountainside.
I recoil, pushing further into Harpoc’s chest.
These things are more gross than I ever knew.
Harpoc heads right, toward the mountain where I see a bunch of vile creatures congregated around a large opening in the slope of the rotting ground.
&nb
sp; “Tell me we don’t have to….”
“Her throne is below ground.”
I do my best to take slow, deep breaths because I’m seriously about to lose it.
The closer we get, I start hearing… Oh god, no… hundreds of feet. The memory of Demon crawling up the back of my window shade shoots to the forefront of my mind.
Harpoc must notice my distress because he kisses my temple and gives me another squeeze. “Pell, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, but it’s up to you if you want to go in or not.”
“I’m not going to stay out here.” My voice quivers.
“You can tripskip home.”
Harpoc veers left instead of setting down, causing some of the scarabs below to start yelling at us to declare our intentions or face the consequences.
He’s right, I could trip. I’m not that practiced, but as motivated as I am, I’d force my magic to get me there.
You promised Harpoc you’d help him solve these leaks. How serious are you, Pell?
I growl. Damn you, inner voice.
She clears her throat. She’s pissed. But she’s also right.
I exhale loudly. “I’ll come.”
But no sooner have I said it, than two scary scarabs surround us, one on either side, and I shriek. These things are waaayyy inside my comfort zone.
“State your business,” the one on the left demands, flying so close it’s almost hitting me with its wings.
“We… have an audience with her majesty.” Harpoc’s voice is strong and confident despite my hysteria.
The one on the right makes a clicking sound that I’ve no idea what it means—my skin crawls all the more—but that’s the last question they ask as they escort us to the dark, gaping mouth of their subterranean domain, and we all set down.
Harpoc grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze.
After hushed conversation with two of what must be foot soldiers— it’s my best guess since they don’t wear uniforms or bear weapons, not that those pincers aren’t deadly—the aerial scouts pass us off.
“Follow me,” one of our new icky escorts instructs.
The other follows us, no doubt to make sure we don’t “get lost.”
No worry there, gross guard guy.
I focus on rhyming because the sound of their way-too-many feet scratching the hard-packed ground and the armored wings on the no-cherub scarab we follow are wigging me out.