Rising Magic

by Tara Lain

  The kitten purred.

  Fatima said softly, “And you, Jazz?”

  He shrugged. “Even though it’s hard for me to believe a lot of the time, I am a wizard of sorts. And the guy at the center of the whole scheme is, well, my boyfriend. So this is my fight.”

  Everything got real quiet.

  “Bulllllll shiiiiiiiit.” Carla slammed him hard in the ribs with her elbow. “You said I was a part of this society. Either I am or I’m not. Either you want me fighting next to you or you don’t. Do you think I give a crap that the enemy turned out to be the whole Empire instead of just Darth Vader?”

  Fatima said, “Jazz, if we wished to only concern ourselves with Dusan objectives, we could have stayed with our sisters.”

  Jazz grinned. “Thanks you, guys. I just hate for you to be in danger.”

  Carla sat cross-legged, getting a short protest from the kitten before she repositioned it on her leg. “So if Dash brings Nardo here, how can we be ready for him?”

  DASH STRODE through the dining hall toward the entrance to the Olympus Club with every nerve-ending tingling. Who will be there? At the same time, he tried to pick up messages, feelings, some sense of assurance that Jazz had received his note and would be ready for whatever came. He got nothing. They must have Arcantaria so locked down with spells and wards, they were lucky they could talk to each other.

  Almost scared to look, he pulled the door to the clubroom open and stepped inside.

  A round table had been set up in the center of the room with about ten chairs around it, a few still empty. Man, they’d gone out of their way to be egalitarian.

  Hillebrand turned and smiled. “Dash, great. Right on time.” Hillebrand pushed out an empty chair beside him.

  Dash took the chair and smiled. “Thanks. I thought maybe I had misunderstood the time.”

  “No. Simply an anxious group.”

  Dash looked around the table, keeping the pleasant expression plastered on his face. Mabel James was there. She winked at him. Marshall Anders apparently hadn’t made the cut, and neither had Kitty. Not surprising. Too much integrity. Kitty, not Marshall. What was startling was Anastasia sitting across the table. She gave him a smile, but it was stressed.

  Dash’s glance drifted farther, and he had trouble holding his smile. Childers Gerd stared daggers at him, and beside him were Winslow Jerns and two other dudes who looked mostly about meanness and muscle.

  Hillebrand said, “Let’s get started.”

  Gerd frowned. “Is this it? The whole force?”

  Hillebrand gave him a cool look and said, “Yes.” Gerd deflated a little, and Hillebrand leaned in. “At a specified time tomorrow morning, Anastasia will see that no major contingent enters the master’s cell, such as for feeding. At the assigned time, Dash will enter the cell and leave with the master. Dash, you’ll bring him here to this room. Please spend extra time cementing the details of the space in your mind.”

  Dash nodded and hoped he looked confident.

  “If all goes well, that will be that.”

  Gerd exploded, “What the hell? How’s this asshole going to”—he raised his voice to a singsong—“‘enter the cell and leave with the master’? Fly?”

  Hillebrand turned the full force of his disapproval on Gerd. “Would you like to leave, Mr. Gerd?”

  “No, sir. I….” He took a breath. “I thought we’d be invading the prison under leadership of my force. I’m just, uh, surprised.”

  Hillebrand smiled slightly. “I understand your enthusiasm and dedication, Childers. You may get your wish if, for some reason, Mr. Mercury is unable to fulfill his mission. We’re dealing with many unknowns. The advantage is that if Dash fails, the rest of our planning doesn’t go down with him. It can appear as though some rogue mage acted alone. No one else will be suspected, and we can proceed with plan B.” He put a warm hand on Dash’s wrist. “And of course he might succeed and save us all some risk and potential discovery.”

  Behind his neutral expression, which might look like humility, Dash tried to swallow the block of ice at the top of his esophagus. He hadn’t quite thought through the fact that they considered him an expendable experiment that would probably fail.

  He pulled in a deep breath. With a little luck, he’d be the most dangerous experiment they ever tried. He cleared his throat. “What time tomorrow?”

  “We’ll tell you immediately before the event.”

  Shit! His dimples flashed. “Okay. If there’s no additional planning, I’ll go do a little practice.”

  “I’d prefer you rest, but you know best how you want to prepare.” Hillebrand gave him another one of those proprietary pats as Dash rose from the table. He glanced back once at Anastasia, who stared at him intently. With a smile and a nod, he walked out of the Olympus Club. If he had anything to say about it, that would be for the last time.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  DASH SAT on the bed staring at the phony sun rising out his bedroom window. He tried to relax his mind, soften it to allow messages from Jazz to filter through. Nothing. The air around Arcantaria felt thicker, harder to breathe, with the weight of the magic.

  The temptation to teleport to wherever Jazz was and make sure he knew what was happening, that he was ready—somehow—was so strong Dash actually trembled with it. But A, he wasn’t sure he could get out since the wards shimmered in the air; B, if he tried to teleport, it might set off all kinds of alarms that could queer the whole plan to the extent he had one; and C, if he did get out, he wasn’t certain he could force himself to come back.

  He rose, stepped into his small bathroom, showered, and carefully brushed his teeth. Gods forbid he should smell bad when he teleported the most powerful mage in the world—or when he died, whichever came first.

  Funny how different he felt than he had facing Nardo in the summer. Then he’d been part of a community, a force, he’d been carried forward on sheer adrenaline and momentum, and he hadn’t known what he was up against. Now? Alone and, yeah, scared. He’d like to live longer than eighteen years. Oh well.

  After pulling on his favorite black jeans and a green sweater that he knew killed with his eyes, he looked around his room. There wasn’t one thing he needed or wanted to take with him.

  Wonder what Jazz and Carla named the cat? He smiled and stepped out the door onto the staircase. As he trotted down, Childers and two of his muscle-bound cronies stepped out of their hall onto the staircase. Dash caught Gerd’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Gerd paused and gave a slight nod, and Dash kept descending, trying not to sense the daggers being stared into his back.

  He’d received no “Go” signal, so Dash strode to the dining hall. Couldn’t suck much nutrition out of the butterflies in his stomach. Might as well eat.

  He lined up, got a couple of eggs, some raisin toast with peanut butter, and a large cup of tea with vanilla and milk. When he turned around with his tray, he saw Kitty sitting at their favorite back table by herself. Unusual. As he approached the table, she looked up from staring into her coffee, started to smile, then sobered.

  “Can I join you?” He did smile.

  “I don’t know. Can you?”

  He put the tray down and sat immediately. “What’s wrong?”

  Her sweet face looked confused, a little hurt, and maybe a bunch pissed off. “Apparently I was pecked out of the pecking order in the club, which seems to have changed my status. Those who aren’t in the club are afraid of me, and those who are won’t talk to me. Even the others who’ve been drummed out of the corps, like Marshall, won’t speak to each other, or at least not to me.” She gave him that surprisingly direct gaze. “Why are you here?”

  “I tend to miss a lot of memos.”

  She chuckled at that. “You know, no matter what happens or is happening around this place, I want you to know that I genuinely like you. I think you may be the first true master mage I’ve ever met, but way more important, you’re a good man. I know you’re young and struggle with decisions, which
is a good thing, incidentally, but don’t worry too much. You’ve got a lodestone here—” She pressed a hand over his heart. “—that will guide you to your truth.”

  Warmth full of gratitude and sadness pressed at his eyes, and he blinked. “I’m honored to know you, Kitty. You’re one of the best things that’s happened to me at Arcantaria.”

  A shiver traveled up his spine before he raised his head and saw Hillebrand waving at him from the doorway of the dining hall. Dash nodded and murmured, “Showtime.”

  Her lips barely moving, Kitty said, “Is there anything I can do?”

  “I wish.”

  She reached out and gripped his hand. It took a second for him to realize there was a vial in it. He opened his fingers a little and received it.

  Kitty murmured, “It won’t kill. Against my beliefs. But it will render an elephant unconscious.”

  “Even a master elephant?”

  “I think so.”

  He swallowed. “I love you.”

  “Both ways.”

  He stood, ran his hands down his jeans while slipping the vial into his pocket, and strode with head up and shoulders back out of the dining hall.

  Hillebrand was waiting for him in the hall. “I didn’t want to interrupt you, but the time is now.”

  Dash grinned. “I needed my tea.”

  “Such a human addiction.” Hillebrand raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m a human kind of guy.” Use those dimples, Dashiell.

  “Right!” Hillebrand snorted, laughed, and led the way down the hall.

  “So we’re not starting in the club room?”

  “No. I thought you’d be more comfortable on the obstacle course. Plus I want your operation to be somewhat low-key.”

  Dash side-eyed him. “Since I’m so expendable.”

  “Yes, I rather overplayed that act as a way of keeping the troops in line. Please know that if there’s a threat, I fully expect you to use all your skills to escape.”

  “Escape to where? Here?”

  Hillebrand looked around and pulled Dash into the locker room. “For lack of a better instruction, yes. This will be the staging area for the next phase of the operation, but headquarters will be moved. I can’t tell you that location, and it wouldn’t help you if I could. But here should be safe for the short term.”

  Good to know. “So is it time?” He sounded so confident he impressed himself.

  Hillebrand glanced at his watch. “Almost.”

  “Did you get the noninterference message to Nardo?”

  He frowned slightly. “As best I could. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it’s play-it-by-ear time.”

  Dash nodded. Truthfully, he couldn’t get any words past the lump of dread in his throat.

  “Get ready.” Hillebrand stared at his watch.

  Closing his eyes, Dash centered in his chest. Shoving down the desperate wish that he was teleporting to Jazz, he recreated Nardo’s face in his mind—the mane of streaked brown-gold hair, the cheekbones, slightly too full mouth curved in a sardonic grin, and finally the glowing yellowish eyes. He forced his mind to relax and not shy away.

  The energy gathered, trickled into his limbs until the stream became a small river of heat and light, and…

  “Now!” Hillebrand’s voice shocked Dash’s nerves, shooting the energy into his limbs. If he’d ever been in the Mixmaster before, it didn’t come close to this wacko ride, like he was being disassembled. For a second, panic seized him, then wham!

  He slammed onto the hard plastic/steel surface of the prison.

  Stillness. Scared to move. He hadn’t fallen on his ass like in the past. He was sort of kneeling, one knee bent and one flat, his back bowed. Hopefully he looked more like Thor than Dumbo.

  In the stillness, hands began to applaud. Clap, clap, clap.

  “Well done, young mage.”

  He’d know that voice anywhere. Slowly, Dash raised his head and looked at Nardo, who was leaning ever so coolly against the wall. Yep, grin in place. Fortunately Dash wasn’t too seasick. He was either getting used to it, or Nardo had scared the sick right out of him.

  A movement in the corner of his eye made him look toward the entrance to the cell. There stood Anastasia. He fought to keep from gasping. Hell, is she going to try and stop us?

  Instead, she grinned and raised a hand to Dash in a little wave.

  Nardo said, “Thanks, Anastasia. We’ll be out of here in a minute. Make sure nobody breaks in.”

  “I will, Master.”

  Dash’s stomach turned. Turned was right. Nardo had sure subverted Anastasia. The seduction of power and corruption. Dash pried his eyes away and said, “A lot of mages are going to a lot of trouble to get you out of here.”

  “Including you, I gather.”

  “Yeah.” Dash glanced across to the other cell. BeBop’s small form lay on the cot. Shock ripped through him. Jazz hadn’t succeeded. He didn’t get BeBop out! Hell, is he asleep or…? Got to forget him right now. Gotta do this. He forced his eyes back to Nardo. “You ready?”

  Nardo glanced at BeBop but said, “You think you can do it? Teleport a grown male?”

  “Yeah, unless they’ve got some dampening magic I can’t overcome or you fight me.”

  “Why would I do that?” He grinned, but the emotion dancing in his eyes wasn’t amusement. It was—Dash sucked a little air—rage.

  All Dash could manage was a shrug. “I’m going to hold you against my chest.” Oh man, touching a rattlesnake sounded way more appealing. As he took a step closer, a flash lit up the gray walls.

  Dash looked around and this time did gasp. Jazz stood in BeBop’s cell.

  Dash froze. How the hell could this happen?

  Jazz gaped, but he shook himself like a wolf, grabbed BeBop by the wrist, and pulled him into his arms.

  Dash grabbed Nardo and gathered the heat in his chest, schooling his mind to picture Jazz’s apartment detail by detail. As the energy exploded, he heard Nardo say, “Very interesting.”

  The crane of the universe picked up Dash. Nardo’s weight—maybe physical, maybe psychic—dragged on him, but the wild ride commenced, dropped back, rose, and broke free. Suddenly, Nardo’s body flamed in a flash of heat, a shock like a sonic boom blasted out of Dash’s chest, and he gulped for breath. A white mist swirled, and he felt like he was falling and rising at the same time, so nauseated he could barf. Then…

  What the bloody hell? Nardo’s weight vanished, to be replaced by a light, almost airy burden. And then Dash was falling, falling, but not onto his feet.

  With searing pain, he landed on his back on some unknown surface—at least it was kind of soft. A light weight thudded against his chest and slammed into his chin. “Ow!”

  “What the hell?”

  Dash’s eyes flew open because the voice was BeBop’s.

  All around, people were crying out.

  “Dash, are you okay?” That was Carla.

  “BeBop, let me help you.” Dash recognized Fatima’s soft voice, and the weight lifted from Dash’s chest.

  The next voice made him sit up. “Where’s Nardo?” That question, came from Lysandra.

  Then Carla’s voice overrode Lysandra’s, high and strident. “Where’s Jazz?”

  Dash looked around. The room was full. Carla, Dij, Fatima, Lysandra, two of Jazz’s brothers-in-law who were human law enforcement, plus the huge, gorgeous, and terrifying werewolf alpha and FBI agent, Winter Thane. As Dash gathered his brains, he realized that they were the force assembled to deal with Nardo when Dash brought him here.

  But Nardo wasn’t here.

  Dash leaped to his feet. “Shit!” He started to wobble, and the big cop, Seth, stepped over to steady him.

  Seth said, “Tell us what happened.” Seth helped Dash to the couch, and he sat gratefully.

  “As I was about to teleport Nardo, Jazz appeared in BeBop’s cell.”

  Carla wiped a hand over her face. “We had to guess on timing because Jazz couldn’t get through t
o you by mind meld. Jazz desperately wanted to get BeBop out of there before you took Nardo so they didn’t hold him responsible.”

  Dash wet his lips. “It was a shock. So Jazz starts to teleport BeBop, and I’m teleporting Nardo. It’s like we reached a point of no return, and suddenly all hell breaks loose. My guess is we got out of range of the spells that were binding Nardo. Somehow, he traded places with BeBop.”

  Carla wailed, “But Jazz was bringing BeBop here.”

  “Nardo had different plans. My guess is, he would have taken me to a different location as soon as he got his powers, but he wanted Jazz more.” Dash sounded bitter to his own ears. “Nardo never trusted me for a minute.” He made a rude sound in his throat. “I wonder if Hillebrand did, or if he and Nardo just used me from the start?” He inhaled. “Only one way to find Jazz.”

  Lysandra grabbed his arm. “You can’t teleport. The only reason you’ll be able to teleport to Jazz is if Nardo wants you to.”

  “What else can I do? They could be anywhere.” He shook her hand off his arm. “We can’t wait, Lysandra. Some of the plotters are still at Arcantaria. You could take members of the MagiCouncil who are actually on the side of magery and go arrest the others, but you have to move fast. As for me, I have to get to Jazz before Hillebrand and some of the others get there to reinforce Nardo’s power. I don’t know how long I have.”

  Lysandra frowned. “I should come with you. He won’t be expecting me.”

  “But you’re the only one who can mobilize the council. You have to stay here.”

  “Then take me.” The deep voice rumbled from the chest of Jazz’s brother Winter.

  Dash actually smiled. “That’d surprise him, but no. I’m not sure I can transport a werewolf. The power signature’s different, plus I don’t think I can carry you.”