Devon Monk - Magic on the Storm

• Название: Magic on the Storm
• Автор: Devon Monk
• Жанр: Фэнтези
• Год: 2010

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I thought about it. I remembered Stone attacking, remembered him pinning Greyson. And I remembered Chase fell to her knees. I hadn’t watched the rest of it, too angry, too afraid for Zayvion. But Chase had knocked Stone out once before. Maybe she had done it again.

“I didn’t pay attention.” I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. “I should have done something. Should have stopped them.”

Shame gave me a steady look. “No. If you had done anything differently-anything-Zay would be dead.”

I don’t know if he was telling me the truth or just trying to make me feel better.

“You kept him alive, Allie,” he said quietly. “I think you sat there, breathing for him, living for him, for some time before I came to. Nice Sleep spell, by the way. Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Don’t piss me off,” I said distractedly. “What did you do, Shame? What did Terric and you do? I remember you added something to my magic. Helped Zay.”

He held his breath, just the slightest tensing of his body. “Death magic, mostly. Channeling magic, taking a little of our. . life and giving you and Zay something more to work with.”

“Oh, Shame.” I didn’t know what else to say. How could I pay him back for that sacrifice? “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’ll be okay. So will Terric. I know how much to give before things get dire. We’ll recover from this. Eventually.”

There was more to it.

“And?” I asked.

“And it worked. Enough.” He glanced over at Zayvion, and I did too.

“What else, Shame?” I felt like I’d woken up too soon, and into a world that wasn’t the way it should be. It wasn’t just that I was tired and sore. It wasn’t just that Zay was injured and Shame looked like he was on death’s door. There was a deep wrongness about everything that triggered panic in my gut. I wanted to get out of this bed, take Zay-hells, take Shame and Zay and Terric-and get somewhere safe before whatever I was feeling, before the fear that scraped around inside me, got out and became real.

“Magic’s gone,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“Gone. Maybe just off. Certainly not accessible. The backup spells, which carry time-delay triggers-kind of like batteries to keep the city going-are in effect, keeping things like the hospitals and prisons limping along.” He tipped his head toward the window. “The backup spells won’t last long. Then it’s all going to go to hell out there. Soon. Real soon.”

Maybe it was the fact that he said it so calmly. Maybe it was just that he had finally put a name to my fear. Whatever it was, I suddenly felt calm. Reasonable even.

Have I mentioned I am good under pressure, and can handle stressful situations well? Consider it mentioned. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t access it now.

“Has this ever happened before?” I asked.

“Which part of it?”

“Magic being gone?”

“Brief flickers. Usually before storms.”

“So it’s not unheard of.”

“No, but it’s usually just a pause. Magic’s been out for hours now.”

“And are there standard procedures the Authority implements when this happens?”

“We’ve done them. All the things Sedra has allowed.”

“Do I want to know more about that?”

“She doesn’t want any of us screwing with anything more until the storm hits. It makes some sense. When magic is this unpredictable, adding fuel to the fire can be disastrous.”

“Explain disastrous.”

“Magic channels through all the spells set throughout the city, hits hard, blows the network, destroys Proxies’ brains, burns the city down. For starters.”

“So the plan is to do nothing?”

He shrugged one shoulder. It looked like it hurt. “That’s what Sedra wants. She’s been”-he looked over at the door as if expecting someone to walk in-“different.”

The latch clicked and Maeve pushed the door open, letting in the golden glow of light beyond the room, and the smell of lemon wood polish and something more savory that made my mouth water. Clam chowder, I thought. Maybe bread.

I blinked in the raised light. Shame got to his feet and headed over to the shadows again as if even that small amount of light coming near him burned.

“I thought I heard voices,” Maeve said. “I brought food. For both of you,” she said pointedly.

She expertly maneuvered a large tray with bowls, bread, and glasses of water on it over to the dresser, where she set the whole thing down. “How are you feeling, Allie?” She turned, a bowl of soup and hunk of bread on a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

“Can you move the tray?” she asked.

I broke out of the hypnotic trance the food had me in-I was starving-and reached for the medical tray next to the bed that slid on wheels until it was over my lap.

Maeve placed the food and drink on it, adjusted the tray height without spilling a drop, and put her hands on her hips, giving me a motherly stare. “Headache?” she asked.

I already had the spoon in one hand and had gotten a mouthful of the creamy, rich, salty, buttery soup down. Still, I frowned. I didn’t have a headache. I didn’t really hurt at all, though I should. I’d used a lot of magic, and using magic always meant paying the price in pain.

“No headache,” I said. “I should, though.”

She nodded. “If there were magic flowing right now, under the ground, or inside you, you’d feel the pain. That’s why you still have the void stone on. As soon as magic kicks back on again, there’s a chance we’ll all suddenly feel the price of using.”

Didn’t that sound like fun?

“Any idea when that might happen?” I asked. “I like to plan for when I catch on fire.”

She turned back to the dresser. But Shame had already scuttled from the shadows and taken his share of the food. He was back in the chair in the shadows by the window, bowl in one hand, slurping it down.

“Utensils, Shamus,” she said.

“Mmm.” He pulled the bowl away long enough to get the hunk of bread involved.

“Magic will revive when the storm hits,” she said, “maybe sooner. It’s difficult to know. These things don’t calendar well.”

She walked to Zayvion’s bed, brushed her fingertips across his forehead. She had done that a hundred times for me in the last few months I’d been training. Her touch brought a sense of soothing, an ease of pain. She said it wasn’t so much magic as it was a knack. A little like my father and I have a knack for Influencing people, she said, she and her kin had a knack for settling the mind, soothing the body, easing, just a slight amount, the pain magic made you pay.

If Shame had the knack, I had no idea. I’d never seen him use it.

Zayvion didn’t move, didn’t so much as stir at her touch.

“He’s in a coma, isn’t he?” I asked quietly.

Maeve nodded. She folded her hands in front of her, fingers twined. I’d never seen her look helpless. “We think he’ll come out of it. When magic stabilizes.”

I was pretty sure she was trying to convince herself of that, because I wasn’t buying it. I’d seen Zay fall. I’d seen his spirit, his soul, get sucked into the gate. And I didn’t think magic coming back was going to fix that. Fix him.

Well, unless it blew open a gate. And if Zayvion was still capable of finding his way home through that gate, maybe that would work.

“He went through the gate,” I said.

Maeve looked over at me. I’d never seen that expression on her face before, but I knew what it was: horror.

“He what?”

“Went through the gate. Chase and Greyson opened it. I watched Zayvion’s soul cross over the threshold.”

It sounded like I’d just said he died. And in a way he had. But he was still breathing. He was right here in the room with me. Still fighting to live. I refused to give up on that.

“I see,” Maeve said, no more than a whisper. “That changes things.”

“How?”

She just shook her head. “Let me talk to some people first. When I know, I’ll tell you. Right now, you should rest. I want you to stay here until you are feeling better.”

“I’m fine.”

She raised one eyebrow.

To prove how great I was feeling, I pushed the tray away from the bed and then the covers away from my legs. Pajamas, plain blue, flannel. Not mine, but nice not to be in nothing but panties.

I stood, and brushed my hair back behind my ears. My hands didn’t even shake. Much. And the good thing? I wasn’t dizzy.

“You want to leave?” she asked.

“I’m not staying in bed.” I took a few steps. My body didn’t ache, really. Other than the hollowness of magic not in me, I didn’t feel like I’d done much more than work out really hard.

“Can I do anything for him?”

Okay, I’ll admit it. I was afraid to touch Zay. Afraid that if I did, I would have to come to grips with him not being there, not being present in his body. That I’d realize he was little more than a breathing corpse.

No. I pushed that thought away.

Maeve wove her fingers together again. “I don’t know.”

Three words I didn’t want to hear.

“So there’s not a lot about this in the histories?”

She shook her head. “Did you see him go through the gate with your bare eyes, or were you using Sight?”

“I don’t remember. I don’t think I was holding magic. It all happened so fast.”

She sighed. “I’ll talk to Sedra. To Liddy. To Victor. To Jingo Jingo. We’ll contact other members of the Authority outside the city. See if anyone has experienced this before.” She was suddenly all business again. Busy was her default mode when she was faced with an emergency.

“In the meantime, you’ll stay here. Not because I don’t think you are well enough to leave. We may need you once magic flares again, once the wild-magic storm hits. It would be easiest for us if you were nearby.”

“I’ll stay awhile,” I said.

“Good.” Maeve looked over at Shame, who had been sitting quietly, head back, eyes closed, for most of the conversation. It didn’t take magic to see how her body language changed once she looked at him. She was worried for him. She was afraid for him. I’d never seen her doubt Shame’s strength. Not even when magic had taken him to his knees.

“Will you sleep?” she asked like this had been a point of contention.

“Not yet.”

“Terric sleeps.”

Shame nodded, though he did not open his eyes. “I know. Why do you think I’m awake?”

I gave Maeve a questioning look and she only shook her head. Okay, fine. If she wouldn’t tell me what was going on between Shame and Terric, I’d make Shame tell me.

“Eat again, soon,” Maeve said. “I’ll bring you something in an hour or so.”

Shame didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.

With one last brush of her fingers over Zayvion’s hand, Maeve turned and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

I stood there a minute, trying to make sense of everything. Zayvion had been killed-no, sucked through to death. Magic was gone, or at least not accessible. Shame was half dead. I didn’t know what was up with Terric.

And Chase and Greyson, as far as I knew, were still on the loose.

It didn’t look like the good guys were winning.

Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for magic to bail my ass out. I could take care of this without magic.

“You have some problem with light?” I asked.

Shame frowned, opened his eyes. “Why would you even ask that?”

Because you look like a vampire or a corpse, I thought. But I said, “Yes or no?”

“No.”

“Then open the curtain. I need to see Zayvion better.” And find my clothes, my shoes, and my gear. It was time to go hunting.

Shame pushed up on his feet. He moved like every muscle in his body was on fire.

“Maybe you should be in bed too,” I said.

“Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself.”

He grunted softly as he tugged the curtains over to one side of the window.

Evening light poured into the room. I hadn’t expected it to be that late. But it was still bright enough that the cool gray light revealed the room-white plaster walls and dark wooden beams and floor. Even better, I could see Zayvion.

He was breathing normally, deeply, as if he were sleeping. The IV attached to his arm was wrapped with gauze that I thought might have a spell woven into it. He looked like he was sleeping. Just sleeping.

I reached over, gently brushed my fingers across his lips.

The awareness of Zayvion, of his soul, his mind, his emotions, was absent.

Fairy tales said all it took was a true love, a kiss, a tear. But Zay wasn’t enchanted. He was gone. Dead. And I didn’t think there was a fairy tale that could make this turn out happily ever after.

The tight tension of sorrow made me swallow hard. I was not going to cry. Because I didn’t need a fairy tale. All I needed was one beauty and a beast-Chase and Greyson.

Zay had sat by my side for two weeks not knowing if I would recover from magic that had nearly killed me. I wasn’t about to give up on him on the first day.

I let my fingers wander, knowing I could never give the gentle comfort that Maeve could, but needing him to know I was there, I was with him. I traced his forehead, eyelid, cheek, and down the rough edge of his jaw. Nothing. Nothing stirred within him. He was empty. Silent.

I bent and kissed him, then rested my forehead against his. “I’ll make it right,” I told him. “Don’t give up.”

Then I straightened. I pushed my hair back behind my ears again and looked over at Shame.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Nice,” he said. “How exactly are you going to make it right?”

“By finding Chase and Greyson. And doing whatever it takes to get Zayvion back.”

Like gasoline catching a spark, Shame suddenly seemed much more awake. An anger, an animalistic hunger, flared in him. I wondered if he’d given up a little of his sanity too. Wondered what happened when an untested Soul Complement used magic with his possible Soul Complement-Shame and Terric. What happened when that magic involved Death magic, and a good friend dying?

Just what kind of man was Shame when he was this angry and this wounded?

“Whatever it takes?” he asked a little too casually.

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t that sound like fun?” he murmured.

I looked away from him because I didn’t like his smile. I searched for my jeans and sweater-found them folded, obviously laundered-in the dresser drawer.

“So what’s going on between you and Terric?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I straightened, huffed out a breath. “Are you still angry with each other? Did using magic together make things worse? Have you killed him and buried him in a box somewhere?”