Fearless Magic (36 page)

“Sebastian, can you feel any magic inside of you? Is there anything left?” I asked, crossing my arms in determination.

“I don't know,” he sighed, “I guess, I'm not dead. So maybe there's still something there.”

“Ok, so let's try something new, the other way is obviously not working,” I motioned for him to walk over to me.

“Really?” He rolled his eyes, his tired voice finding a strong amount of sarcasm.

“Don't be a smart-ass,” I reprimanded then smiled at his spunk. “Ok, instead of me trying to give you your magic, why don't you try to take it from me,” I suggested but he only squinted in return. “I'm serious, there has to be something there, something for you to pull at. I can't make you take your magic, but you might be able to!”

He cracked his neck and stood up straighter, taking the challenge. I gave him my hands, remembering that most other Immortal's needed to touch someone else in order to take their magic. His skin performed like a magnet to his imprisoned energy. His electricity came alive in my skin, pulsing with the hope for freedom and I said a silent prayer that this would work.

“Ok, so when I take someone's magic, I find it first and then I just kind of like pull at it with my own, like a rope....” I tried to explain, assuming he had never stolen anyone's magic before. “Does that make sense?”

“Kind of,” he mumbled, concentrating hard on the task.

We stood silently for several moments. To me it felt like absolutely nothing was happening, but Sebastian's forehead lined with small beads of sweat and his shoulders started to shake.

I wanted to encourage him to try harder, to shout at him not to give up, but I could see that this was taking everything out of him. So, instead of verbalizing my encouragement, I closed my eyes and became as docile as possible.

I reigned in my own magic, and my carnal need to protect the stolen energies. I could feel how weak he was, how hard of a struggle it was for him to stand and fight, but he was determined. He wouldn't give up.

His fingertips began to buzz with the tiniest pull of electricity from me to him. Immediately my magic fought impulsively back without my consent. My hands sent off an explosion of energy that threw him backwards twenty feet. My eyes popped open and I sprinted over to him, afraid I killed him after all.

He moaned, struggling to sit up and I opened my mouth to apologize.

“Ok, let's try it again,” he cut me off. I helped him stand up and we moved into position, taking each other's hands with hard concentration. I thought about offering to quit for the day, and suggest we try again tomorrow, but his expression had a spark in it that was missing before and I couldn't argue with the life that suddenly gave his chocolate brown eyes spirit.

With his fingers tightly intertwined with mine, his magic surfaced once again; the determination and the desire to go home were there. I closed my eyes again, forcing my aggressively defensive electricity into control and pushing his magic forward.

I breathed deeply, pulling from my yoga training and relaxing into a meditative stance. I had to reign in the energy; I couldn't be blasting him across the field every time he made a little progress.

Sebastian's fingers bombilated with vibration and transferred electricity. He squeezed my hands tighter, working at getting his hands under control. Slowly, tirelessly, he extracted more magic. He worked miniscule amounts at a time, and every time he was able to claim more of what was originally his, I fought desperately against my own magic to let it go.

I often thought of my magic as a separate entity than me. It didn't have what you would call emotions, but it did have connections and habits that dictated its behavior. In the struggle to give Sebastian back his magic, I felt how different my magic could be from me; it was greedy and hungry to keep what did not belong to it. Inside my blood, it melted together with all of the other stolen magics and now restrained that connection with dangerous desire.

My slow, relaxed breathing was getting harder to control. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, fighting against every internal instinct I possessed. Sebastian reclaimed the tiniest bit more and I felt his energy grow stronger. The more he pulled, the easier it got for him in the smallest of increments. I hoped it would get easier for me to let go also, but I was wrong.

I had to force my magic back with every bit of electricity I lost. I felt that I held the leash to a hundred enraged dogs that dragged me behind them as they chased down an intruder that was threatening their livelihood.

Sweat started to appear on my own forehead, trickling down my temples and reminding me of how much work this was. I was thrilled in the success that Sebastian and I finally figured out. But the discouraging factor remained how incredibly long it was taking.

I knew that time felt magnified with the intense effort we both put forward, but even objectively, I knew slow and laborious how the process was. I repressed my fears concerning the length of the process, choosing to remain excited that we figured it out.

Sebastian's strength increased; I could feel him stand up tall and pull at his magic with confidence. I worried for a few moments that neither one of us would know when he was finished, but I rested in the belief that my magic would never let that happen.

Finally, after a long, grueling process, Sebastian hit a turning point and a channel opened between us. It must have been the halfway point because suddenly Sebastian was in control. The rest of the magic took only seconds for him to drain. When I opened my eyes, his face confirmed his joy; he grinned from ear to ear. His face held life again, his eyes no longer sunken and hollow, instead they sparkled with mischief. His skin had color, his hair was shining, he looked like himself and I was relieved.

“Would you be mad if I kept going?” he asked playfully.

“You can try,” I laughed, releasing my magic that had been arduously detained. The rushing energy cracked loudly like thunder, breaking us apart and sending Sebastian up into the air and far away from me. At least this time, now that he had some extent of his magic back, I didn't feel bad about his possible injuries.

He jumped to his feet, the smile never leaving his face, and jogged back to me. The change in him was incredible and I couldn't help but laugh and grin with him.

“Eden, I cannot believe you did it!” he shouted, drawing the attention of the rest of the Resistance.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I joked, sitting down on the porch again and recovering from the effort the process demanded.

“I feel amazing! I completely forgot what it felt like to be normal!” He tested out his magic, picking up heavy objects and moving them about in the air.

Jericho sat down next to me, concern written obviously across his face. “It worked, huh?” he asked, clearly not trusting Sebastian now that he was not weak and incapacitated.

“Yes, it did. I know exactly what to do now when we get to Avalon,” I smiled, leaning over and resting my head on his shoulder.

“You seem tired,” Jericho commented, more misgivings affecting his tone.

“I'll be Ok,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. I
was
tired, exhausted in fact, but I also felt better. I had taken an entire magic out of my blood and my energy was more relaxed because of it.

“So what are you going to do with him now? Should we restrain him?” Jericho asked. I was happy someone didn't trust him. I knew that my attachment to Sebastian was completely out of place and irrational, especially now that he possessed magic again.

“I was thinking about another prisoner exchange,” I sat up and opened my eyes, gauging Jericho's reaction. My guilt was still thick from the last exchange that I forgot Jericho didn't know the specifics.

“That's a good idea,” Jericho agreed. “Who did you have in mind?”

“I suppose a prince should be worth something, hmmm?” Jericho nodded his agreement. “Worth maybe four, tired, magic-less Immortal's?”

Jericho's eyes lit up with revelation; he smiled at Sebastian who was having a contest with Titus over who could lift the heaviest object, Sebastian with his magic, Titus with his brute strength. “Clever, Eden. Very clever.”

“We'll see if it works, I am learning the hard way that Lucan is not an idiot,” I mumbled.

“But his favorite nephew might be good enough incentive,” Jericho countered and I hoped he was right.

“This time, let's just make sure Lucan is the one on the other end of the phone.” I stood up, angry at the memory of Morocco.

Jericho stared after me with a hundred questions, but I never wanted to have that conversation. I walked over to Sebastian, hoping he still wanted to go home.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“Ok, do you remember what you're going to say?” I asked Sebastian. With a sour look on his face, he held Gabriel's cell phone, flipping it over and over in his hands.

“Are you sure you want to trade me?” he asked and I took a step back in disbelief.

Sebastian was sitting in the living room, on the over-stuffed couch at Aunt Syl's, full of magic and attitude. I wondered if I would have problems with him once he was feeling better, but it was the contrary. He was more involved with the Resistance, helping others train, offering to assist with meals and cleaning up after everyone. At first, I chalked it up to all of the energy he had with his magic back, but now I was starting to worry that he felt like he was one of us.

“Yes, Sebastian! I'm sorry if you don't want to go home, but I can't trust you for one, and second, I need to get those guys back their magic, and not even for their sakes! Physically, I need to get rid of more magic!” Exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally I held on to the hope that once I gave Avalon's old team back their magic, I would feel a hundred times better.

“Eden, of course I want to go home. I mean, obviously.... I mean, clearly, you are the bad guys, it's just that, aren't you worried I know too much?” he questioned, squinting his eyes at me.

“What? What do you know?” I demanded, wondering if he did know something but then dismissed the idea immediately. The only thing that could possibly hurt us was our plan for the first of May, but Jericho and I hadn't even told the rest of the Resistance yet so I was sure that it was impossible for him to know any of those details.

“Well,” he started, searching deeply for information that would grant him stay, “I saw your parents, that's something.”

“Ok, but your uncle knew they were here, he sent Guards after them,” I answered, remembering the team of Titans that swept through Omaha without even paying the rest of us a visit. They pursued my parents and only my parents.

“All right, well what about this? I know how you can give magic back, that kind of information cannot fall into the wrong hands, and you never know what they might do with it!” He had yet to be even slightly convincing.

“Sebastian, what? What would they do with it?” I asked, genuinely curious how that kind of information could hurt me. I struggled to picture Lucan working as hard as I did to quell my magic and set it free.

“What about your relationship with Jericho?” His eyes lit up as if that was the most brilliant idea he had ever had and he pointed his finger between the two of us rapidly.

“I would actually prefer it if you let that be known,” I rolled my eyes, “now call Lucan!”

“Fine,” he huffed, turning on the phone and dialing the number.

“Make sure you talk to Lucan, Sebastian,” I quickly reminded him, dreading another Morocco fiasco. “I'm serious; make sure you get Lucan on the phone. You know what; just put it on speaker phone, that will make it easier.” I tried to grab the phone from him to do it myself, but he brushed my hands away, working swiftly to obey.

Now Jericho and I could hear the dial tone, while Sebastian held it away from his face. The phone rang for a while before Talbott answered the other end.

“Talbott, it's Sebastian, can I speak with Kiran?” Sebastian asked politely. I immediately started waving my arms in the air to get Sebastian's attention quietly, cutting my finger across my throat and reminding him non-verbally, that I wanted to speak with Lucan.

“What are you doing? Stop it! There are proper channels one must use! just relax,” Sebastian covered the mouth piece of the phone with his hand and whispered to me harshly. “Sorry about that,” he said, tuning back into the conversation Kiran was trying to have on the other end of the phone. “Hello, cousin.”

“Bastian? How are you? Are you all right?” Kiran was overly surprised, and happy to hear from his cousin. I was equally surprised to find that the sound of Kiran's voice didn't bother me tonight. No flood of emotion or torrent of memories troubled me; it was just my enemy on the other end of the phone and I was fine with that.

“Yes, I'm all right. How are you doing? I was glad to hear you're better,” Sebastian said sincerely and I couldn't stop from rolling my eyes again, while the two of them caught up. I kicked Sebastian in the shin aggressively to remind him there was a point to this phone call. “Ow!” he shouted, and glared up at me. “Hey, Kiran, sorry to move along so quickly, but I need to speak with your father, is he available?”

“He is around, but he won't get on the telephone, can I pass along a message?” Kiran asked, sounding severely curious.