Mystics and Mental Blocks (Amplifier 3)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “And … that’s that?”

  “Until the Convocation weighs in. If you’re really concerned, they can assess Opal for magical bindings.”

  I shook my head, assuming that the process of trying to gain guardianship was going to be disruptive enough.

  Ember, uncharacteristically, laid her hand on my arm. “From a purely ‘on-paper’ perspective, Opal would be lucky to be welcomed into your home, Emma. With your resources and abilities, you can provide for her comfortably.”

  “And my background? The company I keep?”

  Ember shrugged, despite having no real idea of how or why I’d been created and raised. “Why would your background matter? Does Opal want you to adopt her? Can you provide for her, financially and emotionally? Can you offer a home, friends, family? Will you support her continuing education at the Academy?”

  “Opal’s wishes will carry that much weight? Enough to cancel out Capri’s objections?”

  Ember sighed. “I’m not certain. Normally, yes. But Capri is going to argue that the attachment is based in … fear, post-traumatic stress. So it will take time.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not in any rush,” I said, lying.

  Ember laughed.

  “As long as I can watch over Opal,” I amended, “I’m not in any rush. It will be a learning curve for both of us.”

  “I agree. And as long as she’s enrolled at the Academy and performing well, the Convocation won’t be in a rush to decide anything either.” Ember glanced at me, hesitating. “You know Capri just wants what she deems as best for Opal. She’s not … a bad person. She doesn’t think you’re a bad person. I truly believe she helped Opal initially.”

  I nodded, knowing that I couldn’t have helped the young witch at all after San Francisco. I couldn’t have gotten her enrolled in the Academy either. “I’m … I agree.”

  Samantha’s magic wasn’t any more robust by the time Aiden got her situated in a secondary pentagram, etched in salt on the kitchen floor. Ember was still surrounded by paperwork at the table, though her tidy piles were disappearing with regularity. I suspected she had some sort of spell on her briefcase, but I couldn’t feel the magic.

  Opal was upstairs, begrudgingly packing. Still. Capri stood with her arms crossed and lips pursed, watching Aiden as he tried to diagnose the block on Samantha’s magic. Paisley was at Aiden’s side, taking in everything the sorcerer was doing.

  “This is a waste of time,” the telekinetic growled, cross-legged on the white tile floor. “I had it looked at — by two separate sorcerers — before I decided to head this way.” At Aiden’s urging, she was supposed to be meditating. But Samantha wasn’t capable of that any more than I’d ever been.

  “All your magic is chaotic,” Aiden muttered, circling her for the fifth or sixth time, peering through the magical barrier he’d called forth.

  “What did you expect, pretty boy?” Samantha groused. She flashed a smile at Christopher, who was leaning back against the kitchen island at my side.

  The clairvoyant didn’t respond. His reticence wiped the smile from the telekinetic’s face.

  “There …” Capri murmured, taking a step forward and gesturing toward the right side of Samantha’s head. “Do you see that?”

  The witch’s participation seemed almost involuntary, as if she couldn’t stand being in a position to help and not do so. Christopher glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. He’d noticed as well.

  Aiden stepped up beside Capri, narrowing his eyes in the direction of her extended forefinger.

  “A smudge. Like a wound in her magical aura?” the blond witch asked. “You see?”

  Aiden shook his head. “It looks all discordant to me, radiating out around Samantha’s head and hands.”

  “You’re a telekinetic, yes?” Capri asked. “And capable of short-range teleportation?” No one answered her, but the questions were apparently rhetorical because she continued. “I’ve never worked with either ability, but perhaps the white haze, the chaotic energy is due to being able to physically harness and propel magic without a spell or a circle?”

  Opal slipped into the kitchen from the dining room, stepping up beside Christopher. Paisley crossed to the young witch, presenting herself for petting, but kept her attention on the sorcerer.

  I was slightly concerned that the demon dog had decided she wanted to learn how to cast magic as well. Thankfully, her magical bovine bone had remained hidden since the witches arrived.

  “Perhaps,” Aiden mused. “I see it all tinted light gray.”

  Capri nodded. “Yes, but at her right temple? That spot is darker. When I’m looking for magical residual, that’s often what it looks like.”

  “A binding spell?”

  “Fucking hell,” Samantha growled. “I told you that already.”

  The sorcerer and the witch ignored her.

  “Are you capable of lifting it?” Capri asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Breaking it,” Aiden said. “Possibly.”

  Capri shook her head sharply. “Not unless you want to inflict permanent brain damage. It looks well anchored to me.”

  Aiden sighed. “I concur. Can you treat it with a healing spell?”

  Capri stepped forward, raising the palms of her hands to the edge of Aiden’s pentagram. She stood like that for a long moment, then shook her head. “Maybe under different circumstances. With the backing of a coven. Or even better, a trained healer.”

  “What I need is a telepath,” Samantha spat, speaking to me and Christopher.

  Capri frowned. “I don’t see how a reader could manipulate magic like this. It’s obviously the work of a powerful group of witches. And if witches want your magic blocked, then …” She shrugged. “I imagine you’ll have to make amends.”

  “I agree.” Aiden tugged his notebook from his pocket, paging forward through rune-etched pages to a blank sheet. “Not about the witches, but about doing more harm than good if I try to mess with the block. I might have something to … ease it … maybe …” He started sketching a rune that occupied the entire page.

  “I already had Becca Jackson look at it,” Samantha said. “If any sorcerer could lift it, it would be her.”

  Becca was a demolitions expert. I wouldn’t have let her anywhere near my head, but I was more careful about my personal safety than Samantha was. I had people to look after, and the telekinetic just had raging vengeance to propel her.

  “Ah,” Aiden said, flipping his notebook closed. “If Becca was reticent, I won’t mess with it.”

  “Becca didn’t have a line on Fish?” Christopher asked.

  “If she did, would I be here?” Samantha said caustically. “Kill the pentagram, sorcerer, or I’ll tear it down myself.”

  Aiden knocked the thick lines of salt that created the point nearest him askew with his foot. The magic of the pentagram dissipated with a snap.

  Samantha sucked in a breath, grinning harshly. “Nasty boy.”

  “You need a nap,” Christopher said. “Take my bedroom. The bed isn’t made in the second guest room. I wasn’t certain Socks was going to let you back into the house this quickly.”

  “We need info on the mystic,” I murmured to him.

  Samantha spoke at the same time, eyeing me. “What I need is a boost.”

  “That doesn’t seem advisable,” Aiden said.

  “What do you think you know about it, sorcerer?” Samantha snarled. “We’re made for each other, Socks and me. And him …” She nodded toward Christopher. “Even if he’s being an obstinate asshole right now.”

  I gave Samantha a look. Capri was listening to everything we were saying, and I really didn’t need the witch gathering more information about me. I wasn’t certain how tight a binding Ember had placed on her. I also didn’t know if the Convocation could and would remove such gag orders if Capri indicated she had important information directly connected to Opal’s safety.

  Christopher’s magic shifted across my spine, touching the lowest blood tattoo,
then settling around the magic that bound me to him specifically, on my T3 vertebra.

  I watched as the white of his magic ringed his eyes, intensifying for a moment, then easing.

  He grinned. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Well,” he said. “You won’t kill her.”

  That was interesting phrasing.

  Samantha snorted. “Kill me? With her magic embedded under my skin? That will supersede any stupid block any stupid self-titled mystic could put on me. We are the Five.”

  Christopher gestured from me to Samantha with a sweep of his hand. His tone was mocking. “She’s right, of course. When is she ever wrong?”

  Frequently, I thought to myself. Though admittedly, all my data was eight years old.

  Samantha stood in one smooth, silent motion, wiggling her fingers at me. “Come on, Socks. For old times’ sake? Then I’ll debrief you.”

  A mocking offer. Though I did actually need to know everything she knew about the mystic. But I also needed Opal on her way to the safety of the Academy. “Are you packed?” I asked the young witch.

  She nodded, jutting out her chin but not protesting. We had already made our deal.

  I met Capri’s gaze and she nodded. “As soon as Ember is ready. We’ll fly out of Nanaimo or Victoria into Seattle. I’ve been keeping an eye on the schedules.”

  I stepped forward, taking Samantha’s hands in mine, allowing my magic to flow into her. She sucked in her breath — a sound filled with anticipation. Her own magic writhed under my hands, then up her forearms.

  I hit the block almost immediately, closing my eyes to visualize teasing my magic around its nebulous edges. It fought me.

  Samantha whined quietly. Not in pain, but with disappointment. An emotion I could clearly feel through our empathic connection. I released her hands, reaching over her shoulder and working my fingers into her collar. She unzipped her tight jacket halfway down, allowing me to press my hand against the skin of her upper back.

  With my fingers pressed to the blood tattoo that bound Samantha to me — for better or, usually, for worse — I pumped up my power, twining it in through her own magic.

  I hit the block again — harder this time, resulting in feedback. It actually stung my fingers. Frowning, I settled my free hand across her collarbone and neck, seeking more skin contact. She pressed her hand over mine.

  Then I tried to shove my way through the barrier.

  Samantha gasped, then moaned. Shaking.

  I pushed harder, feeling the binding folding in on itself in reaction to my thrust of power. I added more magic, creating a dense wall of energy and pummeling —

  “Emma!” Aiden shouted.

  “Stay out of it, sorcerer,” Samantha snarled. Then she abruptly sagged against me.

  I took her weight easily, opening my eyes as I lowered her to the floor. Her eyes had rolled back in her head. I released my hold on her as she started convulsing.

  Aiden lunged forward, rolling her over onto her side. His expression was grim.

  She stilled for a moment. Then she jerked, convulsing again, energy flowing down her arms.

  “She’s … she’s rejecting my magic?” I whispered, glancing over at Christopher. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

  The clairvoyant was grinning nastily, his narrowed eyes tightly ringed with the white of his magic. He’d obviously known — had seen — what Samantha’s reaction to the amplification would be. And he still hadn’t stopped me from trying.

  Paging through his notebook with one hand, Aiden wiped his fingers across Samantha’s cheek. They came away bloody. She was sweating out my magic, and the process was obviously debilitating.

  Samantha grabbed Aiden’s hand. “That’s a big no, sorcerer.” She sucked the blood from his fingers.

  Aiden swore in that lyrical language of his, tearing a page from his notebook. “Healing rune?”

  “Don’t waste it.” Christopher crossed around the island, grabbing a clean tea towel and tossing it in Samantha’s face. “She’ll be fine.”

  Samantha laughed nastily, using the towel to wipe her face. The first pass came away bloody, but the second didn’t. “Out of practice, eh?” she asked the clairvoyant mockingly as she managed to sit up.

  He shrugged, crouching down beside her with narrowed eyes. “I just said it wouldn’t kill you. You deserve a bit of pain for almost killing Paisley.”

  The telekinetic’s jaw dropped, and she laughed weakly, looking at me. “You’ve been hanging out with Socks for too long, Knox. You’ve forgotten who your family is.”

  He reached around the back of her neck, presumably pressing his fingers to the blood tattoo that bound them. “I see everything you’ve wrought, Zans. Everything you’ve brought with you. And Fox in Socks is going to save your ass, like always.”

  Getting Samantha out of trouble usually meant there would soon be bodies on the ground. But the fact that Christopher was punishing her preemptively — through me — didn’t bode well.

  “You’re such a jerk,” Samantha said. “Sitting here looking pretty and tucked away all safe, playing house. With the rest of us making sure you don’t go crazy, like you’re the best of us. Like you’re the only one who deserves to be loved. Well, I know better … I …”

  Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. “I … might need that nap … now …” She fell back.

  Christopher lunged forward, cradling her head. Then he looked up at me grimly. His eyes were blazing white. “You’re going to need your blades.”

  I stood, already spinning to grab those blades where I’d left them on the kitchen island. “Ember, I need you all gone.”

  Aiden, who had stood as well, suddenly stiffened. Then he convulsed in pain, gasping, “The wards!” Blood poured from his nose, then his knees buckled.

  I caught him, lowering him to the ground beside Samantha. Someone had just breached Aiden’s boundary magic in the most aggressive way they could.

  “Go,” the sorcerer said, propping himself up on one hand and wiping the blood from his face with the other. “I’m fine.”

  Christopher grabbed his sword from the island, stepping into the hall.

  “Paisley,” I barked. “With Christopher.”

  The demon dog followed without protest.

  “Stay away from the windows,” I said, taking a single moment to look at Opal. Her eyes were wide, but her fists were clenched. “Listen to Capri. Please.”

  She nodded, already crossing to stand with the witches. Ember and Capri were both crouched down, already chalking protection circles on the white tile. The witch lawyer muttered quietly to herself, activating her circle verbally. That made sense, given that she most often wielded her power in written form.

  I stepped into the hall, turning back to look at Aiden. He was still down, but was in the process of reforming the pentagram around Samantha. He met my gaze, nodding at all my unvoiced declarations. “I’ll see you in a couple of minutes. Even if he’s in asshole mode, the clairvoyant would have told us if he’d seen otherwise.”

  Maybe. But Christopher liked a good fight. Plus, he was seriously pissed at Samantha. Angrier than I’d ever seen him. He was rarely vengeful, and using me to inflict pain on one of the Five was way out of character for him. And added all together, that meant that whatever he saw coming was going to hurt.

  There were too many vulnerable people in the house. With two of our most powerful magic users — Samantha and Aiden — already compromised.

  But then, nothing — no one — had ever stood against us when the clairvoyant and I worked together. Not for long anyway.

  I grinned at Aiden. “It’s almost time for tea.”

  He smiled. “And there’s more banana bread.”

  “Be right back.” I strode off down the hall without another word.

  Chapter 6

  Christopher stood at the top of the stairs on the skirted front patio. Paisley sat to his left, face lifted toward the sky, eyes closed, as if she were sunning herself. Still barefoot, the clairvoyant’s
blazing white gaze was riveted to the driveway. The gate, which should have been closed, was half hanging off its hinges, as if it had been flung to the side with great force.

  That was rude. And completely unnecessary. The wards could have been breached without inflicting property damage.

  Water dripped steadily from every edge of the roof and the gutters as the snow continued to melt. Long, thick, dripping icicles ringed the patio overhang, as if we might have been standing within the giant maw of the house. That image pleased me. Though the emotion storming through my veins might have just been the anticipation of wielding my blades. I couldn’t completely deny the impulses that had been bred into me. I had no desire to reject the aspects of my past that benefited me and those I owed protection to.

  Two wide swaths cut through the wet snow covering the driveway. Tire tracks from all the vehicles that had been coming and going from the house, exposing the packed gravel.

  “Wards are down,” Christopher said observationally. “All around the property. That was a hell of a breaching spell.”

  The clairvoyant could sense magic more accurately than I could. “Stupid,” I said. “Showy. A massive expenditure of energy. There’s no way a telepath tore Aiden’s wards down.”

  “Witches.”

  I nodded. “Two bodyguards. Twins, Samantha said. Called Onyx and Jet.”

  Christopher snorted. “Of course they are. How far onto the property do you want to let them get?”

  “Away from the road, but still out of range of the house. They’re moving cloaked?” I couldn’t see or sense any movement, magical or otherwise.

  He nodded, then grinned nastily. “Also a stupid expenditure of energy.”

  I sniffed derisively. “They were always going to be outmatched here. Let them show off if they want. It won’t change the outcome.”

  “No, it won’t.” Christopher grimaced. “But it’s still going to sting.”

  I brushed my fingers over Paisley’s broad head, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. The demon dog offered me a toothy smile, pressing her wet nose to my wrist. The clairvoyant’s magic shifted and shimmered, but he didn’t offer any hint of the future he saw unfolding.