Magic in the Shadows (20 page)

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Authors: Devon Monk

BOOK: Magic in the Shadows
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Plush love seats and chairs big enough for two filled the room. Beside each chair was a small table. In the center of each table was a clear glass bowl, lined with lead.
Magic conducts through glass and lead, if the right glyphs are worked into both. I also noted the wallpaper that at first looked like gold and forest green flowers in a repeating pattern were actually magical glyphs. I caught Shield, Ward, and several other negating glyphs around the room before Maeve had crossed to a dark door that did little to call attention to itself.
She lifted the chain at her neck and caught up a key that she used on the door, before letting the chain fall back beneath her sweater.
“We’ll start in here, since it’s nearest the center.”
Center of what? I didn’t ask because the door distracted me. Wood, but with lead and brown glass worked into it to look like the finest beveled stained glass. The lead and glass were glyphs, but so natural they looked like ribbons in the wood grain.
Holy shit, I’d never seen a magic so artfully carved. I couldn’t resist it; I dragged my fingers across the door. Magic shivered beneath my fingertips, licking at my flesh, pooling in the whorls of my fingerprint.
“You can shut the door, Allie,” Maeve said patiently.
Like a kid caught dipping into the cookie dough, I pulled my hand away and closed the door behind me.
Magic pools beneath the city naturally. There are some points where magic is the most concentrated. Wells. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. The wells are heavily guarded gathering places among the Authority. Never revealed to outsiders.
I rubbed at my forehead. My dad was back and more talkative than ever. How great was that?
With the door shut, it completed the outer spells of Illusion and Blocking, and a half dozen more I was sure I didn’t recognize. I could feel the concentration of magic in the room. It burned like a sun trapped beneath the floorboards, filling me up, scraping through me, pressing, pushing against my skin and bone. I held very still and worked hard to hold it all in.
“Did your father tell you about wells?”
“Not really.” It came out calm, not like I was clenching my teeth and trying to breathe evenly so the magic would quiet, settle, and stop shoving at me.
Maeve was across the room, hanging my coat on a simple hat rack. Unlike the parlor, this room had sparse decor. A red oriental rug took up most of the whitewashed wooden floor; the walls were polished slabs of birch jointed together with diamonds of glass and outlined with lines of lead. Pale beaded board with lines of lead and glass running through it made up the ceiling. A small brick fireplace complemented by a grill worked in something way too gothic grounded the corner.
There were no windows. Instead, an aged copper wall fountain took up the space where I’d expect a window to be, and the other window had been converted into a bookcase where hardbound books were stacked in rows. As for furnishings, they were all deep browns and reds, and easy-to-clean surfaces: a couch, four chairs, and a table with a pitcher of ice water and lemon slices next to the fireplace.
Maeve crossed the room toward the pitcher of water. “Did your father tell you anything at all about the Authority?”
“We didn’t talk much. He was gone a lot. And as soon as I was old enough, so was I.”
She poured two glasses of water, floated a lemon round in each. “I see. Then let me explain that magic naturally occurs deep within the earth.” She nodded toward the chairs, handed me a glass of water. I settled on the couch as she continued.
“I’ve always thought of it as hundreds of rivers and streams. In some places magic flows more swiftly; in others it is sluggish, or spread out and swampy. The network of conduits and lead and glass lines your father invented did wonders to mitigate and standardize the flow of magic. That made it safer for the common user to tap into it.”
I took a sip of water, and it felt good going down my throat, trailing cold all the way to my stomach. Magic eased in me a little.
She took a sip too, then set her glass on a table and folded down into one of the plush armchairs.
“Those rivers of magic split, join, knot, and pool together. A lot like those marks on your hand.”
I did a good job of not hiding my hand in my pocket, and instead nodded, like this was the most normal conversation I’d ever heard.
“The wells, and there are many of them, some weak, some incredibly strong, are where magic concentrates and regenerates. Most populated areas are within the range of at least one well. This house, this room, is over a well of magic.”
“I can tell.”
“Really? It is very carefully Blocked and Shielded.”
Should I tell her? That I felt magic all the time? That I held it within me, something no one else could do? Could I trust her?
Did I have any choice? It was either trust her or have the Authority Close me, take my memories, maybe even take my ability to use magic, though that would be a pretty trick since I had magic down to the bone.
“I—”
Killer. Betrayer.
The words rushed through my mind like a winter storm.
She is dangerous, devious. Do not trust her.
A headache stabbed at my eyes. A headache named Dad. I coughed to cover my gasp.
Shut up
, I thought.
“I do feel magic,” I said. “Not as strongly as I’d expect, since this is over a well.”
She held very still, that green gaze roving over me like she could see beneath my skin. I resisted the urge to just get up and walk out of there.
Which was probably good, since it was probably not my urge.
“Have you experienced any residual effects since your father used your mind?” she asked in the firm tones of a doctor or schoolteacher. “Dreams, memories, thoughts?”
No, no, no
, he raged.
“Yes,” I said, a little too loudly, since I was trying to drown out his voice, even though I was the only one who could hear him. Then, quieter, “I’ve experienced all those things.”
The flutter behind my eyes turned into blunt fingers trying to rub their way out of my head. It hurt, but I’d endure a lot more pain than that to get rid of my dad. Besides, I was pretty sure my father and I were at cross-purposes. We’d always been at cross-purposes. I’d long ago learned that doing the opposite of whatever he wanted me to do was generally in my best interest.
“Are you experiencing them right now?”
I have never felt my father’s raw fear before. It was just a flash, a moment. Then I could not sense him at all.
“I was,” I said. “Not right this second.”
“I need to look in your mind.” She sat forward, her hands clasped loosely at her knees.
She’d done this once before. I didn’t know why my palms were suddenly sweaty, didn’t know why my mouth was so dry.
“Like last time?” I asked, stalling.
“Exactly the same. You might feel it a little more, though. Since we are so close to the well, I will be able to look more deeply than I did before, to see if it is just residuals of your father’s thoughts and spirit, or if it is something more.”
“Okay.” I was pretty sure it was something more, like maybe his entire disembodied/reembodied spirit, but I’d leave that assessment to the expert.
Maeve placed her hand on my left wrist—the part of me closest to her.
No glyphs, no chanting. She just closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
This time, I could sense the magic rising from far below us. The magic flooded through her—something I’d never seen anyone try—then settled like a cloak or aura around her. And even though magic is fast, the way she called upon it, it was slow and I could see the white and blue shimmer of it with just my bare eyes without calling upon Sight.
She opened her eyes, shockingly silver, shadowed by shots of her normal forest green.
With magic around her, Maeve looked
into
me.
Magic in me flickered, burned too hot along my right arm, too cold along my left. I did not want to use it, did not want to cast magic. But like fire jumping a line, it ignited, filled me.
Maeve blinked, tipped her head to the side. “Allie?”
“It’s okay,” I said as I recited a mantra. Just the first two lines of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” over and over. “Give me a sec.”
How was I supposed to get rid of so much magic when there was so damn much magic filling the room?
Maeve stood, and I would have worried about that, but I was a little busy trying not to explode and burn the place down. I had a feeling they wouldn’t let me come back to school if I killed the teacher on the first day.
Magic burned, squeezing my bones. I bit my lip to keep from moaning and twinkle-twinkled with all my might.
Something cold and heavy dropped into my lap.
Like blowing out a candle, the magic in me went dead.
Okay, this time I moaned, not from pain, but from relief.
Maeve was standing next to me, bent a little. She studied my face. “I can’t believe it. I never thought . . .”
I blinked, looked down at the heavy thing in my lap. A rock. A plain black and gray river rock, smooth and oblong, about the size of a loaf of bread.
“Here,” she said.
I glanced up and took the ice water she offered me.
“Thanks.” I drank, and when I was done, she set the glass back on the table. “Really nice rock,” I noted.
Maeve sat on the coffee table in front of me and put one hand on my knee. “How long have you held magic inside of you?”
“You could tell?” I asked, probably stupidly.
“Not before now. I knew magic had marked you. From the outside . . .” She leaned back a little and her gaze wandered over me, her eyes still silver, but with a lot more green in them. “From the outside it does not show.” She shook her head. “Are you Shielding?”
“No. Mostly I just try not to let it burn me up.”
“But you have used it? Drawn upon the magic within you and successfully cast spells?” I couldn’t tell if she was excited or worried.
“A lot. I Hound for a living, remember? Why? Is that a problem?”
She laughed, but it came out a little shaky. “I wouldn’t call it a problem. It’s just so unheard-of. How long have you been able to carry magic?”
“All my life. Just a small bit, enough to work one minor spell. It always took a while to fill back up.”
“You were born with it?” She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. When she exhaled, she muttered something that involved my father’s name and a couple curse words. “No wonder he never brought you to us, never let you learn.” Maeve’s hand dropped to her lap. Her eyes were almost all green now, and she looked resigned. “You hold much more than a small amount now, don’t you?”
I nodded.
“And that changed when you received those marks on your hands? Positive”—she pointed at the wild whorl of colors up my right arm to my temple—“and negative.” She pointed to the solid black bands around each of the knuckles and the wrist of my left hand. “Classic natural representation of the give-and-take of magic. Pleasure and price.”
“Yes, it changed when I got marked.”
“When did that happen? How?”
I didn’t want to tell her. Didn’t want to be vulnerable, exposed. Have I mentioned I have trust issues?
“Do you really need to know that?”
“If you want me to stand as your advocate at the testing ground, yes, I really need to know that.”
“Testing ground?”
“In three days, your control of magic will be tested in front of the members of the Authority.”
This must be the test my dad kept talking about.
“Is that when you decide if I deserve to use magic? If you should just erase all my memories about the Authority and put limits on what I can do?” It came out angry, which was no surprise since it pissed me off that someone else thought they could tell me how to live my life.
Yes, I knew that wasn’t the worst thing they could do to me. Zayvion had told me they could go so far as try to kill me if they thought I was too much of a danger or risk to myself or others.
Of course, I wasn’t going to just stand around while they threw rocks at me, or whatever they did to get rid of people they didn’t want in their little club.
Maeve stood and sat back in the plush chair. “It may not seem fair, or lawful in the ways of the modern world. It is an ancient custom. A test to discover your abilities, your limits, your control. Things that can mean the life or death of those you would stand beside. It is necessary. Every person in the Authority has gone through it.”
“So I don’t have to like it, but I still have to do it?”
She nodded.“Tell me when magic claimed you with those marks.” Woman was all about getting down to business.

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