Seeking Magic

by Eden Briar

  All our eyes are on him as he directs the white light in a beam through the prism. It splits into a rainbow of colors. It’s beautiful, but I still don’t get what Archer is trying to tell us.

  “The Seeker is like a prism, acting in reverse. The seven colors represent the seven magic and master races. Their powers, absorbed and combined within the Seeker, are focused into a singular, potent magic. Magic strong enough to destroy Balor.”

  I drag my eyes away from the fascinating light.

  “Let’s say I am the Seeker, and I can act as this prism. How do I get hold of the powers of these seven?”

  Even as I say it, my mind is drawn back to Nana Bridget’s book and the picture she showed me. The girl in chains, imprisoned by seven men. Is that my future?

  “Originally, the seven were the strongest representatives of each of the races. But there was an unforeseen problem.”

  I wonder what he’s about to say, but Ben gets there first.

  “A prism works both ways.”

  “Exactly.” Archer gives Ben a pleased nod.

  “What does that mean?” My stomach lurches as I ask. This conversation is making me nervous.

  “When the concept of the Seeker was first conceived, it was a very different time. Her creators intended her to be merely a channel for the power of the seven.”

  “But it didn’t work, right? Balor survived.”

  “By all accounts, it did work.” Archer’s expression turns grim. “But Balor was able to use the Seeker to get control of the most powerful of the seven. He turned on the others, and they killed the Seeker to break Balor’s hold on him.”

  What Katya told us suddenly makes a lot more sense. “Matthias was one of them, he was there.”

  “Yes, he was one of the original seven. Ever since, he has feared death, feared losing power. The Seeker is the means by which that very nearly happened. He won’t risk it again. Many agree with him, others… see the Seeker as an opportunity to strengthen their own power. Since that first attempt, the magic world has been in conflict over it.”

  “How long ago was that?” I recall the crumbling pages of the book Archer had shown us.

  “Almost three hundred years.”

  Three hundred years…

  “The Seeker is taking her sweet time about it.”

  “The Seeker never lives long enough to carry out her destiny.” Archer’s eyes are heavy with sadness.

  “Why keep making Seekers if they just keep dying?” Zac asks flatly, folding his arms.

  “The magic that creates the Seeker can’t be stopped until Balor dies. But it can be changed. And it has been—tweaked, adapted, and refined.”

  “You’re saying I’m different from the original Seeker? From the girl in that picture?”

  “The Seeker hasn’t always been a half-blood. Full-bloods of different races were tried first. Eventually, it was decided that she needed to be half-blood in order to be strong enough to handle the magic required to destroy Balor. Other aspects of her power have also been changed.”

  “What other aspects?” I feel like we haven’t got to the crux of the conversation, and I’m growing impatient. “What other ways did they change the Seeker?”

  I’m not sure what is it I’m looking to hear. Some reassurance that I won’t end up in chains?

  Archer sets the prism down on the table, the light he cast moving with it. “The original Seeker was just a conduit for the combined power of the seven races. She wasn’t meant to have conscious control over that power. They were.”

  “She was a slave.” My voice is a whisper.

  “In a manner of speaking. As I said, it was a very different time.”

  We lapse into silence for a moment as I imagine how the girl in that picture must have felt. Bound to seven men, some of whom might as well have been monsters, having their power forced through her. It must have been terrifying.

  “And now?” I need to know. “What’s changed? What’s going to stop me from becoming just as much a slave as she was, tethered to seven powerful people?”

  “It was discovered that the power didn’t need to come from the strongest of the pureblooded of each magic race. The Seeker is a half-blood. If she’s bound to seven half-bloods, the effect is just as marked. But Balor shouldn’t be able to exert control over half-bloods as easily as full-bloods.”

  “Great, so I’ll be a slave to seven half-bloods instead. How is that better?”

  “Because you have control over the power they give to you, and they can’t be just any half-bloods. They have to mean something to you. They have to bond to you.”

  Around me, the guys go still as they work out why they’re here listening to this alongside me.

  “No.” I speak before they can. “I’m not dragging the three of you into this. It’s not fair. It’s bad enough that there’s a target on my back. If even a rumor that I’m the Seeker gets out, whoever is close to me is going to end up at the top of Balor’s hit list.” I meet Archer’s gaze head-on. “Enough people have died.”

  Ben’s soft voice breaks our stalemate.

  “But more people will die. Lots more. I’ve seen it, Indy. So have you. If Balor returns to power, the world will be torn apart. And we’re not just talking about the magic world.”

  “I’m in, Blue,” Zac interjects quietly. “If you are.”

  “Where you go, I go,” Jazz adds.

  I close my eyes, fighting back a wave of tears.

  “You guys are crazy. Do you all have a death wish?”

  Jazz nudges my hand.

  “Death’s coming for us, one way or another. We survived the Cull, which now I’m thinking had more to do with the Seeker than the races suddenly believing in purity of blood above all else.” He looks questioningly at Archer as he says it.

  “Yes. It was an unforeseen consequence. The previous Seeker reached adulthood, protected by the guild. She formed bonds with two half-bloods before they were discovered and killed. Matthias and the other leaders ordered that all the half-bloods be eradicated to prevent it happening again. They only rescinded that order when they captured the next Seeker.”

  All those people dead, and for what?

  “Balor was probably the one pulling Matthias’s strings. He’s already out for our blood. I’d rather go down fighting.” Jazz’s anger is almost palpable.

  “Right now, Balor and those in positions of power in the magic world think the Seeker is under wraps,” Archer adds. “We’ve never had a better chance to act unseen.”

  “But we can’t act until we have… how many did you say it was?” Ben asks.

  “Seven.” Archer doesn’t quite meet my gaze and I wonder why.

  “Fine, let’s go round up another four hot half-blood guys and get this show on the road.”

  I make as if to stand, and Archer frowns across the table at me. Zac laughs out loud, and even Ben is smiling.

  Jazz grins, raising his eyebrows. “You think we’re hot?”

  I roll my eyes. Trust that to be what he focuses on.

  “Four random half-bloods wouldn’t work,” Archer forces out.

  I’m surprised at the strain in his voice, until I remember that he is my father. This has got to be an awkward conversation for him.

  “You don’t just need to form an... emotional and physical connection in order to bond. The seven must be an equal representation of the seven races. The three of you add up to a full caster and half each of vampires, druids, shifters, and clairvoyants. The final four must complete the magic of the seven, including half-dragons.”

  “Where are we going to find two half-dragons?” Ben’s voice is hushed. “That could take years.”

  “It will take years. Years where you’ll be at constant risk of discovery. Once Balor becomes aware of your existence, his people won’t be the only ones hunting you down.”

  “But if we don’t do this, Balor gets us all anyway,” Ben points out.

  I push my chair back and stand up, drawing all eyes to me.


  “What if I’m not the Seeker? You said they caught her, trapped her in living death. Which means I can’t be the Seeker. But if Balor thinks I am, and we go along with this foolish plan to find me seven half-bloods to bond to, then we might all die for a case of mistaken identity.”

  Jazz groans and rubs at his eyes. “We’ve come full circle. There must be some way to prove, once and for all, that Indy is the Seeker. Otherwise, we’re getting nowhere with this.”

  “If identifying the Seeker was easy, it wouldn’t give them a high chance of survival, would it?” Archer retorts. “But there is one way I know of.”

  That catches my attention.

  “What way?”

  Archer extinguishes the light going through the prism, and the room’s lights turn up. As he gets to his feet, he speaks once more. “The four of you should go for a drive this evening.”

  “A drive where?”

  “Pay a visit to the oak tree,” Archer suggests.

  “The oak tree?” This does not seem like the time for sightseeing.

  “Don’t we need permission from the head druid?” Ben asks.

  “Ordinarily. However, I would rather this visit not be arranged through official channels.”

  “How will we even get in there without permission?” Ben presses.

  “The tree has been known to make exceptions.”

  Archer’s cryptic reply bothers me, but it seems I’m the only one.

  Jazz jumps to his feet with a whoop. “Road trip. I’m driving.”

  31

  We leave right after a late dinner. True to his word, Jazz drives. Far from calling shotgun, it looks like Ben and Zac are about to argue over who sits with me in the backseat. When I slide into the passenger seat next to Jazz, he grins and nods. There’s a pause before the other two climb into the back with matching grumbles. I ignore them, turning my attention to our destination.

  “How far to the tree?”

  “This time of night?” Jazz glances at the clock on the dashboard. “Fifteen minutes. Plus however long it takes us to get through the maze.”

  Did he just say maze? “Wait, what? No one mentioned anything about a maze.”

  “It protects the tree from unwanted visitors.”

  “Then how are we going to get through? Aren’t we the definition of ‘unwanted visitors’?”

  Silence greets my question.

  “Guys?”

  In the rearview mirror, I see Ben tug at his hair. “Archer thinks they’ll make an exception for us and let us through.”

  “Is he right?”

  Jazz snorts. “Usually. But when he’s wrong, he’s really, spectacularly wrong.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s reassuring.”

  We pull up onto the street, and my attention is taken by the city. It’s still bright out, but the streetlights are starting to come on.

  “Wouldn’t we be safer visiting in daylight? You know, no vampires.”

  “Going after dark means less chance of anyone seeing us.”

  “Would that be bad?”

  “Maybe,” Jazz hedges. “Archer certainly seems to think so.”

  “People don’t go there often?”

  Ben leans forward, resting his hand on the back of my seat. “Going there carries significance and is permitted only in exceptional circumstances. People visit the tree seeking guidance and wisdom.”

  “That’s one special tree.”

  It comes across more flippant than I mean it to, and Zac speaks up quietly from the back.

  “The tree is the city, Blue. It’s the source of all the city’s power.”

  “Right, it’s a magic tree. I remember.”

  “Not just a magic tree. An oak tree.” At his tone, I twist around to see his face, catching the faraway look in his eyes. “You’re half-druid, Blue. Haven’t you ever felt the pull of an oak tree?”

  His question nudges at my memories. Not those distance recollections from before I was found. The ones after.

  I face forward, wrapping my arms tightly around my stomach as I try to hide a shiver.

  “Indy?” Ben’s hand touches my shoulder.

  “One of the foster homes I lived in, back when I was… six or seven. It was out in the countryside, and there was this huge backyard. The dad of the family… he used to fly into these rages. I was the youngest there, and the other kids would blame stuff on me—if they took food or broke things. The dad, he… he never hit us or anything, but I hated being yelled at like that. It was terrifying, and it felt like it went on for hours. So I’d run outside, to this huge old oak tree, and curl up against the trunk. People would come looking, calling my name, but they’d never spot me hiding there. When it got late, and everyone had gone to bed, I’d sneak back inside.”

  It was so long ago, I’d forgotten all about it. A strained silence greets my story before Jazz pulls the car over.

  “How many?” he asks.

  “How many what?”

  “Foster homes.”

  “Lots.” A shudder runs through me as I rub my hands up and down my arms.

  “How many worse than that one?”

  And the awkward questions just keep coming.

  “A few. But not usually worse for me.”

  I can feel their eyes on me, seeking answers.

  “The older I got, the better I was at being the kid that went unnoticed. Never loud enough to draw attention, never so quiet that people wanted to draw me out of my shell.”

  In the bad homes, I’d been the lucky one. But in the good homes, the ones that became real homes for some, being ignored hurt like hell.

  I try to explain that but the words come out all muddled.

  Jazz cups my cheek. “Welcome to the crappy childhood club. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but you’re here now, and we see you.”

  I manage a shaky nod, twisting around to make eye contact with Ben and Zac in turn.

  “Oak trees are magic, huh? Any other special druid stuff I should know?”

  I’m more than ready to change the subject.

  “Druid magic is a little harder to pin down than, say, clairvoyant or sorcerer,” Zac admits. “It’s rooted in nature, and nature is… inconstant.”

  “Nature is a fickle bastard,” Jazz agrees as he gets us back on the road.

  “How would you know?” Zac throws back.

  “I’m half-shifter, remember?”

  “Being half a monster doesn’t make you close to nature any more than being able to cast spells.”

  Ben wades in. “Oh, and being a tree-hugger does?”

  And just like that, the three of them are bickering. Again.

  I blow out a breath of frustration and cross my arms, turning my head to stare out the window. Each second that passes brings us closer to the tree. It takes up more and more of the view.

  Jazz turns off the road, and the car falls silent.

  “We’re here.” His voice is replete with tension.

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Zac says from the back as we come to a stop.

  Before they can continue, I push open the door and get out. We’re parked in front of a wall. And still quite far from the tree.

  The others pile out of the car behind me. Thankfully, they’ve stopped sniping at one another.

  “Uh, guys? I’m not sure even Jazz can scale a wall that high.”

  “It’s a maze. There are ways in,” Ben says confidently.

  “Yeah,” Zac adds. “Getting into the maze is the easy part. Getting through it is where it gets tough.”

  “Like you’ve ever done it,” Jazz levels at him. “Vampires aren’t welcome.”

  “Good thing I’m only half-dead.”

  Zac doesn’t wait, striding toward the wall with a determined look on his face. Exasperated, I throw up my hands and follow.

  “Look, it’s all well and good you three pledging to be by my side and save the world and everything, but how are we going to do that with you constantly at each other’s throats? Can�
�t you find some common ground?”

  I catch up with Zac, and we walk along by the wall. It looks solid, but I can’t always trust my eyes where magic is concerned. Zac runs a hand along the stonework, moving at a fast pace.

  “We don’t need to get along like one big, happy family to get things done,” Jazz argues from behind us.

  “Come on, Jazz. She has a point,” Ben says quietly.

  I mentally cheer him on, hoping he can hold onto that frame of mind when the next fight starts.

  “Seven half-bloods, all different mixes of magic. Like tying cats in a bag and tossing them into a…”

  I wince at the imagery Jazz’s words provoke.

  “Got it.” Zac discovers a break in the wall large enough for us to pass through. I’m grateful for the distraction, marveling at how well concealed the entrance is.

  “And we’re in.” He takes an exaggerated step across the boundary. “Let the fun begin.”

  He holds out a hand to me, and I take it, following him across. We’re standing in a passageway, stone walls on either side. The passage curves in the near distance, obstructing our view.

  I look left and right. “Which way?”

  “I don’t think it matters. Everyone walks their own path through the maze,” Ben points out. I don’t like the sound of that. Maps and directions are more my speed.

  “Left it is.” We start walking and, whether by intention or design, I wind up in the middle of our group. Zac takes the lead, while Jazz and Ben walk behind me.

  “Why do I feel like I’m being escorted off the premises by security?” I’m struggling with the idea of them being so protective of me that it overcomes their obvious differences. How can I be worthy of that?

  “A familiar feeling, huh?”

  I laugh at Zac’s teasing. It feels good to smile.

  He marches on confidently, trailing a hand along the inner wall to find the next opening. The walls of the maze are so high, all we can see are glimpses of the tree’s outer branches. It’s hard to tell how far we’ve come. Each section of the passageway is much like the next, from the leaves strewn on the path to the moss growing on the walls.

  As we walk, the light grows dimmer. Just when I start to wonder if we should have brought flashlights, the moss on the walls starts glowing. I guess magic has to have its perks.