Bright Blaze of Magic

by Jennifer Estep

  I’d always thought I understood exactly how my power worked and everything I could do with it, but now I was wondering if there was more to my transference Talent than I’d realized, the same way I’d wondered about paying the lochness toll at the bridge and what it might really mean to the creature. But I pushed my thoughts aside. Right now, I needed to focus on getting to the mansion and finding out what had happened there. Not this strange new ability I might or might not have.

  I looked at the others. “We all know that things at the mansion are probably going to be bad. So just follow me, and stay as quiet as possible. Okay?”

  My friends nodded back. I took the lead, and we left the parking lot behind and plunged into the forest.

  The moon and stars were still shining in the night sky, but the thick canopy of leaves blocked out most of their light, and the way the branches arched up and merged together overhead made it seem like we were trudging through a dark cave instead of the middle of the woods. The clouds of mist from the waterfalls were particularly thick tonight, obscuring the landscape even further, but I welcomed the white blanket that cloaked everything, including us. If there were any Draconi guards in the woods tonight, they’d have a hard time spotting us.

  We moved through the trees as quickly as possible, but we hadn’t gone far before I realized how absolutely quiet it was. No rockmunks scuttled through the underbrush, no tree trolls hopped from one branch to another, no bugs or birds of any sort darted through the air. Nothing moved or stirred, not even the wind.

  It was quiet—too quiet.

  The sort of too quiet that usually meant death.

  My heart clenched, dreading what we were going to find at the mansion.

  But we hadn’t even reached the grounds before we came across the first body.

  It was a Sinclair guard, wearing a black cloak and matching cavalier hat. He was sprawled across the ground, clutching at an ugly stab wound in his stomach with one hand, his sword hanging slack in his other hand. I didn’t have to use my sight magic to see the blood that coated his body and blackened the leaves all around him.

  “That’s Charlie,” Devon whispered in a sad voice. “He worked for the Family for more than ten years. He was a good guy.”

  We all stared at the body. Devon sighed, then leaned down and gently closed Charlie’s open, sightless eyes. He straightened back up and his gaze locked with mine, all of his soul-crushing grief, stomach-churning fear, and sharp worry filling my heart as though they were my own emotions.

  They definitely were tonight.

  The closer we crept to the mansion, the more bodies we found, Sinclair and Draconi alike. My stomach knotted up. I wondered who had won in the end, if the Sinclairs had pushed Victor’s guards back or if the Draconis had wiped them out.

  We were about to find out.

  Finally, we reached the edge of the woods that ringed the mansion. Still being as quiet as possible, we crept forward, hunkered down behind some bushes, and peered around the branches.

  No guards patrolled the outside of the mansion, although more bodies littered the lawn, both Sinclairs and Draconis. The coppery stench of blood filled the air, and flies and mosquitoes buzzed over the bodies in thick, grotesque black clouds. Beyond the lawn, lights blazed in practically every room in the mansion, but no one moved back and forth past the windows, and I didn’t hear any yells, shouts, or screams. Whatever had happened here, it was already over.

  That cold fist of fear wrapped around my heart again as I worried about Oscar and Tiny. They’d both been in the mansion when we’d left, along with dozens of other people and pixies.

  If Oscar and Tiny were hurt . . . if they’d been captured. . . if they’d been killed . . .

  Tears pricked my eyes, but I forced myself to blink them back. If anything had happened to the pixie and the tortoise, I would never, ever forgive myself.

  Because this was all my fault.

  I should have realized that Victor wouldn’t wait forever to use those black blades and that the Family dinner was the perfect time for him to strike. Stealing the weapons hadn’t been enough, and I should have found a way to stop him completely. Now, people were dead—people I knew, respected, and cared about.

  More tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back as well. I couldn’t change what had happened; all I could do now was press forward and do my absolute best to make sure that the rest of my friends stayed safe.

  “Now what?” Felix said. “I don’t see any signs of life, and nobody is answering their phone. I’ve tried every single person I can think of, and no one’s picked up.”

  “Now we go into the mansion and see if anyone’s left,” I said. “Maybe some folks were able to hide before the Draconis found them. Then we get the black blades, get out of here, and figure out what our next move is. Follow me.”

  I headed toward the mansion, and the others fell in line behind me. Our footsteps didn’t make so much as a whisper in the grass as we crept closer and closer to the mansion. Felix stopped to grab a sword from a dead guard, and I used my magic to look ahead, to stare in through the windows and get a better sense of what might have happened inside—and especially to see if there were any survivors.

  But no one moved into my line of sight, and the mansion seemed completely empty and deserted.

  We reached one of the side doors. I didn’t even bother trying the knob, since all the glass in the door had been busted out, probably by someone slamming a sword through it. I looked at my friends, and they all nodded back at me. I stepped through the shattered glass, with them still following along behind me, all of our swords raised and ready.

  The inside of the mansion was a disaster area. Glass had been smashed out of windows, locked doors had been broken down, tables, lamps, and chairs had been knocked over. It seemed as though every single piece of furniture had either been upended or shoved over onto its side, and then stomped on for good measure. Pillows were scattered everywhere, along with books, paperweights, and crystal candlesticks that had broken apart into jagged chunks when they’d hit the floor.

  But the worst part was the bodies.

  They were everywhere, crowded together right in front of the doors and windows, sprawled in the middle of the hallways, slumped over the stairs. Some of them were even pinned in place with swords up against the walls, looking more like dolls than real people. And blood covered everything, from the white marble floors to the few paintings still hanging crookedly on the walls to even the crystal chandeliers that dangled down from the ceilings.

  The sight of the bodies was horrific enough to freeze us all in place, but I signaled to the others that we needed to keep moving. They nodded back, and still being quiet, the four of us tiptoed down the hallway and headed toward the dining hall. I was hoping that some folks might still be alive in here, but it was just as big a mess as everything else was.

  Broken tables and chairs littered the area, along with trampled platters of food. Puddles of water, lemonade, iced tea, and more covered the marble floor from where folks had dropped their drinks and the glasses had shattered. But the weirdest thing of all were the knives and forks stuck into the tables, walls, and even the ceiling, as if people had gotten so desperate for weapons that they’d started chucking silverware at their attackers.

  Dinner must have been under way when the attack had started because the majority of the bodies were clustered in here. Guards, workers, even pixies, their tiny, crumpled bodies looking like small, sad butterflies compared to the larger humans. I’d hoped that we’d find some of the Sinclairs still alive, but it didn’t look as though anyone had survived the attack.

  Tears burned my eyes like acid, and I had to swallow down the screams and bile rising in my throat. This was . . . this was . . . horrible. One of the worst things I’d ever seen, right up there with the aftermath of my mom’s murder. But what made this truly heartbreaking was that I’d had a chance to stop it, and I’d failed miserably.

  My mom would have been so disa
ppointed in me.

  Beside me, Felix sniffled and wiped away the tears streaming down his face. So did Deah. But Devon was as stone-faced as I was, although his grief, disgust, heartbreak, and rage made his green eyes burn as bright as stars in his face. His emotions matched my own perfectly.

  As I looked out over the blood and bodies, I focused on the white-hot rage burning in my own heart, more intense than any magic I’d ever felt. In that moment, I made a silent vow to myself. Victor Draconi was more of a monster than any creature that lurked in the shadow-filled alleys of Cloudburst Falls, and he was going to pay for what he’d done to my friends, my Family.

  Whatever it took.

  “Come on,” Devon whispered in a rough, ragged voice. “There’s nothing we can do for them. Let’s check the rest of the house and see if there are any survivors.”

  He whipped around and quickly strode out of the dining hall, as if he had to get out of the room before he broke down and just started screaming. Yeah, me too.

  Felix, Deah, and I followed him. Together, the four of us checked every single room, every hallway, every broom closet, pantry, and cubbyhole where someone might have holed up during the attack. But we didn’t find anyone, not so much as a single pixie, so we moved up to the next level and then up and up through the rest of the mansion.

  Almost all of the bodies were on the first floor, so the destruction wasn’t nearly as bad on the upper levels. But it was still easy to tell that the Draconi guards had been through here because of all the things they’d stolen.

  Silver bookends, crystal keepsake boxes, wooden carvings. All of them were gone, and the Draconis had even used their swords and daggers to pry sapphires, rubies, and diamonds out of other expensive knickknacks. I spotted one gray stone statue of a Fenrir wolf that used to have amethysts for eyes, although the sockets were empty now. The creature almost seemed to be snarling, as if it wanted to track down and bite the person who’d stolen its eyes. I knew the feeling.

  The more I looked around, the tighter my hand curled around my stolen sword, and the more white-hot rage surged through my body. It wasn’t bad enough that the Draconis had killed so many people tonight. Oh, no. They’d had to destroy the mansion and take everything that belonged to the Sinclairs too.

  It wasn’t right—it just wasn’t right.

  I might be a thief, but at least when I stole something, I didn’t hurt the person it belonged to, and I didn’t wreck the rest of their possessions just for fun. This . . . this level of gleeful cruelty disgusted me.

  In that moment, I wanted to destroy every single Draconi the same way that they’d destroyed the mansion and all the people inside. Cut and stab and hack and slash until there was nothing left of the Draconi Family. No guards, no workers, no castle, not so much as a single paperweight with that stupid dragon crest on it.

  We moved on. Still, the longer we searched, and the more rooms and floors we went through, the more a teeny, tiny bit of hope sparked to life in my heart. Because I didn’t see Oscar or Tiny anywhere among the bodies. Maybe Oscar had realized what was happening, that the Draconis were attacking, and had managed to get himself and his pet tortoise outside the mansion to safety. That was my hope anyway.

  I didn’t want to think about the alternative.

  Finally, we reached my bedroom. The door had been busted open, just like all the others, and the wood was splintered right down the middle like a tree that had been struck by lightning. So the Draconi guards had been in here too. Of course they had. I drew in a breath and slowly let it out, steeling myself for the destruction—and the two small bodies—that might be waiting inside.

  Devon put a hand on my shoulder, his face somber. He knew how worried I was about Oscar and Tiny. I reached up and squeezed his hand with my own. Then I faced the door, slowly eased the part of it that was still clinging to the frame open with the point of my sword, and stepped inside.

  My room didn’t have nearly as much damage as some of the others. Mainly because I didn’t have anything that was worth stealing. Someone had rifled through my closet and tossed my clothes all over the floor, along with my ratty sneakers. They’d also ripped into the couch cushions and had even dragged the comforter, pillows, and mattress off my bed and cut them all open, so that piles of white, fluffy stuffing covered the floor like snow drifts.

  But my gaze quickly moved past the debris and locked on to Oscar’s trailer.

  The ramshackle pixie house, corral, barn, and surrounding fences had all been knocked off their table, and splintered pieces of ebony littered the floor, as though someone had stomped on the wooden structures over and over again in order to smash them into as many pieces as possible.

  Blake, I thought darkly. He was the one who’d done this. I was sure of it. He must have driven up to the Sinclair mansion after he’d left us at the lochness bridge. Blake would have come to my room looking for me, just to make sure that I wasn’t still alive and up here hiding. While he was here, he would have delighted in destroying Oscar’s pixie house and the rest of my things just because he could. Something else that he and Victor were going to pay for.

  But I pushed my anger aside and scanned the room again, looking for the two most important things.

  “Oscar?” I called out. “It’s Lila. Are you in here?”

  No answer, and nothing moved or stirred in the debris. I went over to the patio doors, which had had the glass busted out of them, stepped outside onto the stone balcony, and tried again.

  “Oscar?” I called out again. “If you can hear me, please come out.”

  Still, no answer.

  My heart dropped, my stomach clenched, and more tears gathered in my eyes, but I blinked them away and trudged back into my room. Given their small size, pixies were very good at hiding, and I had no easy way of finding Oscar. All I could do now was hope that he and Tiny were somewhere safe.

  Devon and Felix looked at me, asking me the same silent question, but I shook my head. Their faces tightened and sympathy flashed in their eyes. They knew how much I cared about the pixie and his tortoise, how much I valued Oscar’s friendship and Tiny’s too, even if the tortoise couldn’t actually talk.

  I wandered around the room, kicking my way through my trampled clothes and causing the mattress stuffing to fly up into the air like snowflakes before slowly drifting down again. Devon and Felix stared out over the destruction, their faces still sad, but Deah looked much more thoughtful as she glanced from one side of the room to the other.

  “Okay,” she said. “So where did you stash your sword and all your other important stuff?”

  I arched my eyebrows at her. “And what makes you think I would do something like that?”

  She snorted. “Because you’re not running from one side of the room to the other, ranting and raving about how the guards either destroyed or took all your stuff. That means the things you really care about are probably still here, hidden away somewhere. Once a thief, always a thief, right?”

  “Funny you should say that. I might have tucked a few things away here and there before we left the mansion tonight. Just in case things didn’t go so well at the dinner.”

  Deah winced at my careless words. Yeah, me too. The images of all the blood, bodies, and destruction at the White Orchid and here in the mansion flashed through my mind, making me even more heartsick.

  I jerked my head. “Here. I’ll show you.”

  I passed my stolen sword over to Devon, then went over to the corner of the bedroom, where a small plastic Karma Girl trash can was sitting upright and in its usual place against the wall. It was just about the only thing in here that hadn’t been torn apart, knocked over, or stomped to pieces. I tossed out the crumpled tissues, empty candy bar wrappers, and other actual trash inside, reached down into the bottom of the can, and drew out a clear plastic bag. My black, chopstick lock picks were nestled inside, along with my ironmesh gloves, and I held them up where my friends could see them.

  “Nobody ever thinks to look in the tras
h for anything good,” I said.

  The faintest hint of a smile flashed across Devon’s face. “A thief would.”

  I nodded back at him. “This thief definitely would.”

  I left the gloves in the bag, although I fished the chopsticks out of the plastic and stuck them through my ponytail like usual. Then I stepped into the adjoining bathroom, which was just as messy as the bedroom. Bottles of shampoo, conditioner, lotion, shower gel, and more had been opened up and poured all over the floor, creating a gloppy, sticky mess. The towels and washcloths had been pulled out of the bathroom closet and thrown down onto the floor as well, so that the goop there would soak into them. Someone had even ripped my bathrobe off the hanger on the back of the bathroom door, tossed it down, and stomped all over it, leaving dirty black footprints behind all over the fluffy white fabric.

  I stepped on a couple of towels, trying not to get any more slime on my sneakers than necessary, and grabbed the robe off the floor. Then I reached down into a hidden pocket on the inside of the robe and pulled out a piece of sapphire-blue fabric about the size of my palm.

  “And no one usually thinks to look in pockets either,” I said, dropping the ruined robe back down onto the floor.

  I carefully unfolded the sapphire fabric layer by layer, then gently shook it out. Despite how tightly the fabric had been packed down, it quickly sprang back into its original shape—a long trench coat.

  “Spidersilk,” Deah said in an approving voice. “I forgot that it always retains its shape, no matter how you wad it up or how small you fold it.”

  “Yep.” I shrugged into the coat and smoothed some more of the wrinkles out of it before sticking the plastic bag with the ironmesh gloves into one of the pockets. “And now for the most important thing.”