Wicked Misery (Miss Misery) (17 page)

Neither of the two security guards ahead were Gryphons because magically gifted adults were just too rare to be wasted on mundane jobs. Both men sat up straighter as Steph approached. Unlike me, she wore no charms. In order to protect her from prosecution if we were caught early in the operation, I was taking all the risk. After all, my ass was already toast.

“What are you here for?” one of the guards asked as Steph emptied her laptop case to go through the metal detector.

“We’re from Bay Tech. We got a call to come check on some equipment that might have been damaged by the salamander this afternoon.” She flashed him a hastily doctored ID badge.

“Yeah.” The guard chuckled. “What a mess that was.”

I waited for a sign that the guards were going to verify our status with someone, but neither one made a move to do so. Word of the salamander fire probably hadn’t spread far so it, plus the doctored IDs, gave our credentials the whiff of veracity.

If the guard had attempted to check on us, I was prepared to bludgeon him over the head with my magic. Then pray the Gryphons couldn’t detect it because I’d never tried magically seducing someone when a Gryphon was nearby. For all I knew, that sort of trick would make me give off the same cold power that preds did naturally.

And there were so many reasons I didn’t want to discover if that was the case.

Steph passed through the detector. I set down my bag on the machine belt and slipped through behind her. Maybe fifteen feet ahead of me was the second gate, this one not controlled by electronics but by several strong charms designed to change color from green to red in the presence of magic. Too many more steps in their direction and they could pick up on my stash.

My bag didn’t arouse any suspicion from the monitoring guard, which wasn’t surprising. In all likelihood, they were only trained to use the electronic machine to search for guns, knives or anything weapon-like. I carried none of those, and the guards showed no intention of doing a more thorough hand search. That meant I’d have to do the next part manually. As I grabbed the bag and swung it over my shoulder, I slid the zipper open.

For a second nothing happened. I held my breath.

One of the guards indicated I should step toward the magic detector. Steph bit her lip, her surge of fear so strong that the taste of sour orange made my lips pucker. There was a backup plan for this too. If I gave the signal, she directed me to get something out of our imaginary van. Her lips moved silently, reciting the words.

I jostled the bag with my elbow.

Still nothing happened, then the bag burst to life with movement. Out flew instant chaos in the form of an imp swarm. Okay, not a full swarm, which would require at least twenty of the stinging bastards, but eight of them. They shot upward in a blaze of lights. Furious about their temporary imprisonment, they took off like bullets, zigging and zagging across the lobby.

The guards swore. Steph swore. I shrieked, pretending as though I hadn’t purposely released the things. For ten or so seconds, long enough for one of the guards to whip out his walkie-talkie, the imps zoomed around our heads, the metal detector, the massive columns and the statues in an erratic flying disaster. We ducked, dodged and cursed.

I dropped to my knees as two swooped down on my head. A breeze from their wings sent strands of hair flying in my face. I clutched the wig, praying I wouldn’t knock it off. Damn it, my anti-imp charms should have repelled them. If I ended up with multiple stings because of this, I’d have to kick myself. This whole plan depended on me being able to work magic. We didn’t have time to wait out my recovery if more than one zapped away my power.

Inspired by the rogue salamander Bridget had mentioned, this had been my idea. It had seemed brilliant at the time. An imp invasion—what could go wrong? Besides everything.

Get on with it,
I willed the creatures.

As though they’d heard me, the storm blew over. All at once, the imps stopped their senseless flying. Crouching by the x-ray conveyor belt, I watched as each one caught wind of the strongest magical presence in the immediate vicinity.

Thank goodness, and the anti-imp charm I wore, that it wasn’t me for a change.

Glowing with excitement, the imps gathered into a faintly buzzing cloud and descended in a blur on the magic detectors. One of the guards yelled and charged forward, swatting futilely. The imp swarm dove into the charms, which swelled from red to green as they attacked. Sparks shot into the air. Charms burst.

The other guard was on his walkie-talkie, alerting the Gryphons. Cursing, Steph dashed for the elevator. I detoured around the malfunctioning magic detector, which was now buzzing louder than the imps, flailing my arms and feigning horror.

I ran smack into the back of the elevator, and Steph jammed the button for the basement. Too slowly, the doors closed. I rested my head against the wall. Plan stage one was a success.

“Well, that was easy,” I said, searching my bag for the distraction charm.

Steph grunted and sucked on a polish-free nail. “Right. Angry imps. Easy. I ought to do more favors for you, Jess.”

“I said I’d be forever in your debt. What do you want? Me to pledge you my firstborn?” I pulled out the charm vial, and she dotted her neck with some of the contents.

“Hell no. One of you in my life is enough.”

I couldn’t blame her for that, especially right now.

I dug into the bag a second time and took out another charm. “Here’s a little extra speed for you. And you know, it just occurred to me—what if the salamander really did screw up their servers?”

“Then we’ve got problems.”

With a ding, the elevator door opened.

I attributed the blissfully empty basement hallways to the imp attack. There was no way the two security guards could control the situation on their own. They’d require serious Gryphon assistance. If we were lucky—which seemed unlikely—the imps would get in a few good stings on the Gryphons before they were contained. The fewer people around with functioning magic, the better.

Most of the doors we passed were labeled—
Storage 1
,
Storage 2
,
Boiler
, and so on—so I supposed we had a fighting chance if Steph’s memory led her astray. I kept my eyes open for any hallway cameras, but none were obvious. The hidden boilers hummed a dreary tune.

As I made note of an open custodial closet on my right, Steph came to a sudden stop. I walked straight into her back.

“Here we are. Do your thing.”

“It’s not my thing.” I swallowed. Although Lucen promised me breaking charms was infinitely easier than making them, my lack of practice or knowledge with either skill didn’t fill me with confidence.

After I shooed Steph down the hall with all our other charms in tow, I held a magic detector to the door. Naturally, it glowed bright red. I’d expected it but swore nonetheless.

Starting at the top left corner, I held the magic-detecting charm centimeters away from the door and inched it across. It was a slow process, but the charm finally deepened in color by the door handle. Well, that made sense. If you were going to put a magical alarm on a door, stick it someplace where it was guaranteed to be triggered.

I stuffed the magic-detecting charm in my pocket and beckoned Steph back. It was time for the hard part.

More was involved in the making of charms and curses than mixing together the appropriate ingredients and learning the meanings of various glyphs. That much I’d learned in school. Except in the most basic sense, magic was not a recipe because no two ingredients were identical. The charm maker had to sense the magical properties they were dealing with and adjust proportions accordingly. It took practice and a certain sensitivity to magic, which was why magi and preds, with their longer lives and greater innate gifts, excelled at it.

Not that a Gryphon with any skill was a slouch, a fact that I was counting on. As Lucen had explained, perversely enough, the better made the charms on the door, the easier a time I’d have breaking it because the counter charms I’d been supplied with were of high quality. For someone as unskilled as me, figuring out which counter charm I needed was a matter of aligning opposing magical energies. So if the protective charm on the door was “hot”, it would break with a counter charm that was “cold”. If the protective charm was poorly made, however, it might only resonate “warm”, which would make the counter charm less effective.

At least, that was how Lucen had described it. The actual energies themselves were nowhere near as clearly defined, and I hadn’t the faintest idea if I could detect the difference.

I rummaged through the duffel bag and pulled out five supposedly all-purpose charm-breaking spells. One of them had better work.

My right hand hovered as close as I dared leave it to the door handle. I closed my eyes and stretched out my gift like I was trying to read someone’s emotions. At first, I felt nothing. Steph’s nervousness overpowered every other sensation. I took a couple deep breaths, imagining my consciousness being forced into my hand. My head fuzzed. My hand shook with irritating tremors. But gradually, I sensed something emanating from the door handle. Something not quite warm and not quite, well, hairy. Something thick and powerful like my skin was brushing against a tangible vibe or a feeling. I had no better words for it, nothing to relate it to. How the hell then was I going to determine its opposite? I only had one chance to get it right. If I used the wrong charm breaker on the handle, I could trip the alarm.

“First,” I said, my mouth dry.

Steph pressed a vial on my palm. Its magic was contained within the glass, and it took longer to force my consciousness through the container. Not to mention I still held the sensation of the door’s charm in my other hand. I couldn’t lose that feeling searching for the counter.

When the new sensation settled in place, my insides twisted in fear. I felt nothing, no relation between the two sensations. Either this charm breaker simply was wrong, or there was something to this process I didn’t grasp. If the protective charm on the door was “hot”, this counter didn’t even have temperature.

“Next.”

The next fared no better.

“Next.” I tried to hide it, but my voice wavered with anxiety.

Glass dropped on my skin. I was getting faster at the sensing bit. My fingers curled around the third vial and something inside my head clicked. This counter charm had heat, or rather lack of heat. Like the spell on the door handle, it wasn’t quite warm or hairy, but it wasn’t quite those things in a very different way, in a way that felt like it opposed the door’s charm. Magic and anti-magic. That had to be it.

“Got it.”

“Are you sure?” Steph asked.

I opened my eyes. “No. But I’m as close to sure as someone who doesn’t know what she’s doing can be. Let’s find out.” I unscrewed the vial’s cap and spilled the contents on the door handle.

Nothing happened.

Steph cringed. “No alarms. That’s got to be good, right?”

“No alarms that we can hear. Take the magic away again. Time to test.” I held the magic-detecting charm to the door, and this time it didn’t change colors. “Hallelujah, and praise dragons. We should be in. It was just the one.”

I turned the handle, and the door popped open. Not even a human lock to pick.

A gust of cold air blew in my face. The room was freezing and buzzed with the sound of machinery. Three tall shelves were filled floor to ceiling with flat, black boxes. Some had lights flashing, others appeared dead.

I stepped aside. “After you, geek girl. I’ll stand guard.”

“And you’ll do what if someone comes?”

“Hide?” I was of no use to Steph, and I didn’t want to hang out in the cold server room.

While she went to work, I hunched over the duffel bag, searching for anything useful in case trouble arrived. We had another speed charm, a disorientation charm—or curse rather—in case we needed to make an escape, two curse grenades that I had no intention of using, and the unnecessary counter charms. Missing was the one sort of magic I wished we had—disguise charms. Although they existed, they—unfortunately—took a long time to prepare, and good ones required personalization. One of the harpies had taken a hair sample from me this evening to begin making a few, but they wouldn’t be ready for at least twenty-four hours.

Among the mundane items in the bag, I had a flashlight and a lock-picking kit. Nothing that would make me useful to Steph.

I tossed the speed charm about in my hand. “Hurry it up.”

“I can only go as fast as the files will move.”

I fingered the disorientation curse and decided to hold on to it for easy access. As I zipped the duffel bag, the sound of footsteps appeared in the hallway. “Incoming,” I whispered. I started toward the server room then caught sight of the janitorial closet.

Much better. I dove inside and shut the door all but a crack.

The footsteps grew louder. Through the crack, I saw a Gryphon appear around the corner. She yawned and paused outside the server room, her brow furrowed. Butterscotch confusion mingled with Steph’s tangy fear. Nasty combination.

I took a cautious step backward and bumped a mop handle. The plastic stick wobbled, and I snatched it before it fell, my heart pounding.