Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy) (28 page)

I heard the door open behind me and the three men confidently strode out of my vision, the strange one throwing me cautious and appraising looks. His gait was odd and everything about him suggested he had been displaced and was not adjusting to his new surroundings. When he too was gone, Kian hesitantly approached me.

Timidly, he made sure the rope around my feet was secure. He moved to my back and felt my wrists. I resented his touch and felt the anger pushing tears into my eyes. His proximity was infuriating and I hoped my feelings pulsed off me. I hoped he knew how I felt. Especially when I realized he had probably tied the ropes.

I held my breath as he secured the knots, willing him to leave. I didn’t want him to see the tears that threatened to spill over. A voice outside the room called for him. Suddenly, he knelt down and I felt him close to my ear. I tried to move but both his hands were placed on my shoulders.

“Don’t lose faith in me,” he whispered. “I love you.”

He was gone in an instant, and I heard the door shut.

I sat in the room alone, staring blankly at the gilded portrait frames, wondering if his words were in my imagination. Perhaps not all was lost.

I
was left to sit by myself for the remainder of the day. As my stomach grumbled and my limbs ached, I tried to concentrate on everything I had learned so far. My head was pounding and my mouth felt like parchment paper.

Two of the magicians hated me and wanted to enslave me, using my power to further theirs. Just as Kian had said. One had wanted to kill me and get me out of the way. The strange magician did not look as well-adjusted to modern life as the other two, and the reason finally came to me.

I remembered storming their fortress, entering the chamber filled with dead slaves and knowing we were too late. The bodies, painted blue, lay haphazardly in every spare space on the floor. Somewhere, even in that instant, I knew I would have to pay the ultimate price for not stopping them in time. But we had only found two magicians. There were three. My initial reaction was right. The third was somehow transported through time.

A heavy lump formed in my chest when I put the pieces together. There had been no time during our journey to switch sides. Kian had been helping them all along. If his feelings for me did make him help me, it could not have been the original plan. So what was?

I felt like I was faced with a big jigsaw puzzle and no image to work with. Trying to put the pieces together blindly was frustrating. Where were my friends? Were they safe? Where was I?

So little of what had been said made sense to me. Whatever had happened between the magicians and me in the past could not have been important enough for me to consider it a memory worth passing on to my next life. But they obviously still held a grudge. I sighed. Another mystery. I focused on questions of the past so I could avoid thinking of Kian and causing a torrent of emotion to flood my logical mind.

As the hours rolled by, the sun began to set behind the thick curtains, and even with the gilded chandeliers overhead, the room grew dim. The sun would set early in the winter, and as the chill found me, I remembered it was December. They would come for me soon. I was too frightened to use my magic to warm myself. They could feel the power and come in again.

I was starting to tremble in the cold when the latch behind me clicked and the door opened. I was alert in an instant, again refusing to turn in a panic, even though my heart raced.

Only the two modern magicians appeared this time. The satisfaction and victory in their eyes made my stomach do somersaults. Bald Man came over to me and undid the rope binding me to the chair. My skin crawled where his hands touched me. I had a brief inclination to run before a thick and heavy blanket of magic settled over me and I couldn’t move or breathe.

After a few seconds it did not dissipate and I began to gasp for air as Bald Man stood me up on shaky legs and retied my hands behind my back. When spots began to form before my eyes, the magic alleviated and I gasped for air. Their magic was far more powerful than mine, but I refused to show it.

The cold made me shiver and my legs shook from sitting. Kian’s last words to me echoed as I struggled with whether or not to trust him.

We moved quietly through the large Victorian house, only the sound of my stumbling and their footsteps echoing throughout the hall. Corridors led off in different directions and I could not judge how big the building actually was. A grand marble staircase ended the wide hall, and we descended it.

While Smooth Voice walked silently behind, Bald Man squeezed my arm to keep me upright. His iron grip never let up and I fought to keep the pain from my face. I tried to look around at the gilded portraits and marble busts lining the hall, but every time my head turned I would get a small warning shake from the magician.

Downstairs, the front doors were open and led to the courtyard out front. The winter chill hit me full force, biting through my shirt and jeans. It was only as we passed through the entrance that I noticed an administrative desk by the doors and pamphlets littering the counter. A small cash register stood next to a sign telling guests the ticket prices.

I opened my mouth in shock. This was some kind of venue closed for the season.

I was pushed through the giant double doors and blinked in the fading daylight of winter. Grey frost covered the fields surrounding the house, and soon my feet were soaked, adding to the chill. The sky was clear of clouds, and the sun set low on the horizon, illuminating the frost but casting everything else in shadow.

We walked to the back of the large house, where I could see remnants of a garden maze and pond, frozen over. Nearby, a few rocks stuck out of the ground at strange angles. They formed a shape, but it was hardly a perfect circle.

They looked more like old waystones than monuments. Two figures moved among them, arranging stones in various patterns and drawing strange symbols in charcoal: Kian and the third magician.

Bald Man increased the pressure on my arm and shoved me forward. I landed on the hard ground, trying to use my shoulders to break my fall, since my hands remained tied behind my back. Kian turned to me briefly but then carried on with his work. I could not see his face.

“Ready her. Call when you are prepared,” Smooth Voice said to the third magician.

I looked up in time to see Third Magician glaring at their backs as they walked away. Then his eyes fell on me. A black look settled over his face and I could feel restrained magic pulsing off of him. When he opened his mouth to speak, sounds I could not understand came out.

“Stupid girl,” he finally spat at me. My confused look enraged him further but he turned back to the symbols.

Kian still worked quietly, drawing on the stones.

“Why are we here?” I asked. My voice came out shaky and quiet.

“It is holy site for the magicians,” Kian answered without looking at me. “The place of death and ritual.” His voice sounded bored and unconcerned.

“Shut up!” the third magician yelled. “You will be quiet!”

I lay in the frost, shaking, for another few minutes. The magician began to gather wood from a nearby stockpile and created a fire in the centre of the waystones. The heat comforted me, even if it brought me closer to the ritual they were planning. I heard him bark orders at Kian as it began to snow.

Large flakes fell onto my eyelids and I blinked them away, savouring the feeling in case it was the last time. I had rolled onto my back and watched the darkening sky. So many thoughts swirled in my mind that I imagined them as the snowflakes, melting as soon as they touched the surface of my skin.

Kian appeared in my vision. He held a long knife that looked chipped and worn. It was thin but razor-sharp. “Do not move,” he said, raising his eyebrows to emphasize his words.

I felt a magical pressure around my throat. Kian had no real magic. I turned my head and saw the magician watching me with displeasure.

“He will tighten it and kill you if you try to run,” Kian said in a low voice.

I lay still, lacking other options.

He cut the rope around my ankles and then gently turned me to free my hands. I brought them to the front of my body, lying back and relishing the release of tension from my back.

The wind began to howl around us and soon I was shivering uncontrollably. When Kian had freed me of the rope, he let one hand slide subtly over my cheek. My emotions warred, so I stayed still like I had promised, delaying any reaction.

Over the sound of the wind, other sounds were lost and Kian looked back to see that the magician was busy. The sky was nearly black now.

“Remember your fire,” he whispered to me, moving the rope back and forth in an effort to look busy. When I squinted at him in confusion, he sighed.

“You did not possess the magic of fire in your past. It is a new development. They do not know about it. Use it when the time comes,” he said, and then turned to go back to the symbols on the stones.

I thought of the last moments before we died. I ran through the fire, using my magic to shield myself, yet the fire clung to me even as the ritual was performed and I was torn from my body. It was because of how I had died that I had this new power. Finally, a surprise the magicians were not prepared for.

The magician fed the fire as Kian worked. The darkness unsettled me and I strained to listen for anything around me. Eventually, footsteps came close. As I lay on my back, struggling to ignore the pressure of the magic on my neck, the two magicians came back from the house.

Both were barefoot and wore no clothing on their torsos. The suit pants and belts looked out of place on their bodies as they settled near the fire and I could see the same strange language drawn on their bodies in charcoal. The muscular chests and arms did not fit their aging faces. They talked in hushed tones as they glanced back at me with satisfied looks. Their hands were covered in black, as were half of their faces.

“Colour her,” Third Magician yelled at Kian.

I saw Kian turn with a bowl in his hands. He began to come towards me as the balding magician stuck out an arm to stop him.

“Bring her here,” he said, “then do it.”

The grim look on Kian’s face worried me more than the words. He put down the bowl and came over to me, helping me up by my arms and leading me over to near the fire. He stood me next to the light, the flames separating the two men and me. The third magician was still inscribing on the stone, running his fingers over the symbols and redrawing them.

Kian knelt in front of me. He gave me a look that spoke to me. I could almost hear his words in my mind, telling me to relax. Stay calm. Then he began to undo my pants. I leaned forward to stop him, but the pressure on my throat tightened suddenly and I couldn’t breathe. I moved back to alleviate the pain.

“Be a good girl,” Bald Man called to me. As the firelight danced on his face, the look of hunger in his eyes disgusted me.

I wanted to cry and scream and cover myself, but the magical collar and the lack of a place to run to prevented me from doing so. Instead, I tried to focus on the fire. To internalize it and be ready to use it when I needed to.

Kian began to spread blue paint onto my legs. It had the texture of cement or mud, and it dried quickly, caking onto my skin. His touch calmed me, but the panic returned when he finished, stood, and moved to take off my shirt. I forced myself to stand still as he proceeded to paint me again, and I tried to remember that I wasn’t completely naked and at least it was Kian touching me and not one of the magicians. He drew lines on my face with the paint, which I guessed was clay.

My blood froze when Kian stepped away and Bald Man squinted past the fire. I guessed he could barely see me, and it probably wasn’t an accident that Kian had chosen this spot.

“She is not completely unadorned, is she?” Bald Man said disapprovingly. When Kian failed to move, Bald Man’s voice lowered. “Do it or I will.”

I could feel magic fill the air and Kian moved towards me once more, hesitantly, and shielded my body from the others, if only for a moment. He met my eyes but then closed his, squinting in pain. He looked tormented and I wondered if magic forced his movements. Slowly, he placed his hands on my hips just above my underwear. I held my breath as my heart beat wildly.

“We are ready,” Third Magician’s voice cut through the night.

Kian relaxed and turned back around, his body still shielding mine.

“Let’s get on with it then,” Smooth Voice said, waving a hand dismissively in my direction. Bald Man opened his mouth to protest but was quieted with a look from Smooth Voice.

“Later,” Smooth Voice said. “I don’t care what you do with her body. I want her magic. Now.”

If the comment was meant to fill me with fear, it worked. I felt Kian tense. I glanced down. His hands were bunched into fists. The short moment of relief I had when Third Magician’s voice interrupted my painting ceremony was put to an end.

Third Magician walked over to me and prodded me with a staff he had laid on the ground. His disdain was obvious. He did not even want to touch me. He pushed me until I was facing the fire, so close that the heat threatened to overcome me. I tried to take calming breaths but my pulse raced when the two other magicians came to each hold one of my hands.

Bald Man was on my right and Smooth Voice on my left. Third Magician came to stand between them, holding their hands and making a circle around the fire. I still had no idea what was going on, but my time was limited. Third Magician closed his eyes and began to hum.

“He is connecting to our ancient magic,” Bald Man told me jovially. He squeezed my hand as if we were old friends. “Soon you will feel the magic being torn from your soul. You will be divided into two halves. Your power will reside in us, and the other part,” he eyed me up and down, “will be mine. Forever. Or until I tire of you.” He shrugged.

This sadistic speech was meant to enervate me. Smooth Voice still held my hand in an iron grip, but I thought I saw a small smile flit over his face.

Kian stood off to the side behind me, and I was afraid to turn. When the humming turned into words, the sound echoed unnaturally in the open night air. Third Magician’s words turned into forces that resounded around us. I could not tell when it stopped being his voice and became a chorus of voices, crying out with him. The magicians on either side of me had closed their eyes and stood stock still, as if frozen in time. Behind me, someone kicked my ankle.

I guessed that was my sign. I felt the magicians were far away, in another place and time, as part of the ritual. I had a very small window to use my magic.

I began to draw energy to me and fill it with magic. I remembered the fire sticks at the club in Manhattan, what felt like ages ago. I thought of how I had ignited the canvas wrapped around the metal rods. I had fed them the energy from inside me.

The noise in the air swirled around my head until the voices surrounded me, dragged at me and I felt them against my skin. They cried out. I knew in my heart these were the slaves, captured and stolen by the magicians.

With effort, I ignored them, pushing my awareness away from the sound of the ritual and the two hands holding mine. I pushed past the cold biting at my body on one side as the fire licked up the other. Even blocking out the distractions, it wasn’t enough. My magic felt small and brittle next to the force around me.