Gemstones, Elves, and Other Insidious Magic (Dowser 9)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “That’s all good,” I muttered. “But I can’t move my hand.”

  “Just give her permission, then.”

  “Blossom?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  “Please look after my necklace.”

  Magic shifted around me, carrying a caress of lemon. Then it was gone, along with the weight of the chain I’d wrapped around my left hand and wrist. Qiuniu’s power overtook the light touch of Blossom’s magic, spreading through my stomach and chest, down my limbs.

  The healing didn’t hurt this time. But my head still ached. I really just wanted to sleep …

  If I could just sleep, I was certain I would heal.

  They were arguing again. The three guardians. Or maybe they’d never stopped. The power rolling off them and radiating back from the walls and floor was annoyingly and intensely persistent, making it difficult to sleep.

  I opened my eyes. My lashes were stuck together, most likely with dried blood. The room came into focus. I blinked at the decorated ceiling, realizing it showed a scene like an old-fashioned oil painting. A demon of some sort was peeking around the pillar just over my head. Right where it joined the ceiling.

  A demon in the nexus seemed like a terrible idea. But no one else appeared to notice it.

  “I’ve healed everything but the wound in her head.” Qiuniu was hovering over me but looking away, talking to someone else. My father, by the taste of his magic. “She looks as though she’s been in a war zone. And the damage to her organs …” The healer shook his head.

  Pulou grunted, somewhere nearby as well. “That was me.”

  The healer appeared to momentarily consider attacking the treasure keeper. That would have been a sight to behold.

  I giggled.

  The healer cranked his head to look at me, moving so quickly that I was surprised he didn’t hurt his neck.

  “Does your magic work on you?” I asked him, slurring the words. “I can’t taste my magic … can you heal yourself?”

  “No,” the healer said grimly.

  “That’s too bad. There’s a demon on the ceiling.”

  The healer flinched, looking up. Then he sighed. “It’s a painting, Jade.”

  “Really? Who would paint a demon on the ceiling of the nexus?”

  “Who did paint the ceiling?” my father asked. “Baxia?”

  Qiuniu looked as though he might have been contemplating murdering us all.

  I grinned at him.

  “Who cut you, Jade?” the healer asked. He was awfully pretty, perched over me with his smooth, darkly tanned skin, his melted-milk-chocolate eyes, and looking all concerned.

  “I’m about to be married,” I said, feeling a need to remind myself and the healer of that fact. Qiuniu preferred to heal via a lip lock. At least when he healed me. “No kissing.”

  He sighed heavily, firming his tone to a no-nonsense level. “I’m having a difficult time healing the wound on your forehead. Who sliced into your head? What magic did they use?”

  “I did.”

  “You cut into your own brain? Deliberately?”

  “No,” I mumbled. “That happened when I yanked this out.” I dug into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out the gemstone that Reggie had embedded in my forehead, and displaying it in my open palm.

  The healer swore.

  My father started pacing and muttering to himself.

  But Pulou surged into my field of vision, laughing huskily. Then he plucked the gemstone from my hand before I could protest. “You brilliant, brilliant girl. Daft and rash, to be sure. But brilliant.” He held the stone up, peering through it. Tendrils of magic still clung to its edges. “I’ve never seen one intact. With this, we can stem the tide.” Then he hustled off without another word.

  Portal magic bloomed, then faded.

  “He just stole my gemstone,” I muttered. “He is such an asshole.”

  “Yes,” the healer said agreeably. “But with the elves attacking at multiple points, stemming the tide is a good idea.” He glanced up at my father. “So we’ll forgive him the theft.”

  Yazi nodded curtly. “If you save my daughter, healer, I’ll gladly follow your lead.”

  “And if not?”

  A terrible smile bloomed across my father’s normally jovial face. “Then the elves will have competition for the treasure keeper’s attention.”

  Even with my mind in its present state, that sounded like a bad idea. The warrior couldn’t be pitted against the treasure keeper …

  “Don’t worry about it now, Jade,” the healer murmured, as if maybe I’d been talking out loud. “I need you to concentrate just a little longer.”

  “I think I’ll just lie here for a moment more,” I whispered. Though I had managed to make my arm work earlier, I was actually having a hard time feeling all my limbs. Or my torso …

  “Jade, Jade.” The healer touched my cheek, pulling my attention to him. “I need you to key me into your knife. Then you can sleep.”

  “I usually just stab people with it.”

  “That would work as well. But I’d prefer to not be bleeding as I heal you.”

  “Okay,” I murmured. “But no kissing. I’m about to be married.”

  “To that, I make no promises.” He laughed. “And the sentinel would want you healed above all else.”

  The sentinel. Warner. “I have to go back.” I tried to move but didn’t manage to even flinch. “I have to rescue the others.”

  “First healing. Then rescuing.”

  Qiuniu laid his hand over my knife, which had returned to its sheath at my hip. Then he placed my hand on top of his. “Just one more thing, then you can sleep. Allow me to wield the dowser’s knife, Jade Godfrey.”

  “I allow it, Qiuniu, healer of the guardians. Thank you.”

  Magic shifted between the knife and me, between the knife and Qiuniu.

  His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then he smiled sweetly. “Ah, I see. Pulou is right. You are brilliant.”

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss to my lips. I closed my eyes and accepted his offer. Magic tasting of dark, bitter chocolate and darkly roasted coffee flooded through me. I breathed it in. I gathered every last drop I could hold.

  I had to get back.

  I had to rescue the others.

  And I had to be able to at least walk to do both those things.

  A comforting darkness swept over me, along with a whisper of sweet, soothing music.

  “Why does that feel like it won’t be the last time I’ll kiss death from Jade Godfrey’s lips?” the healer murmured.

  Then I slept.

  4

  I woke in the middle of an enormous bed, swaddled in silk, cotton, and goose down. For a moment, I envisioned myself drowning in the luxury fabrics. Then my conscious mind intruded and I remembered … everything.

  Where I was — the nexus.

  Who I’d left behind — Warner, Kandy, Kett, and Haoxin.

  And what was about to happen with the elves and the gateway — if it hadn’t happened already.

  I bolted upright. And was rewarded for that hasty movement with a slash of pain emanating from my forehead, then rebounding back and forth inside my skull to blur my sight. I held myself as still as possible through successive rounds of dizziness.

  I wasn’t wholly healed, then.

  I worked one arm out of the silk sheets that someone had attempted to mummify me within, then carefully touched my forehead. It didn’t hurt to do so, but a thick ridge of scar tissue marred the skin there. I traced the edges, discerning a circular shape. From the gemstone.

  I was … scarred … disfigured. Maybe permanently.

  That was …

  Warring emotions rolled through me. I squeezed my eyes shut, absorbing the shock and the sadness, denying the pitiful tears that welled up. I was being silly, stupid. I was alive. That was what counted.

  I untwined my legs from the sheets, perching on the edge of the bed to get my bearings. The mattress and bed frame were so ta
ll that my feet dangled about a foot and a half from the floor.

  I didn’t recognize the room. Well, with a sitting area and what appeared to be a huge marble-encased bathroom off to one side, it was really more of a suite. But despite the luxurious sheets and huge four-pillar bed, the remainder of the room’s decor was austere. Dark-stained, heavy wooden furniture. Thickly layered rugs. And weapons.

  I was in my father’s quarters. The three sets of armor lined up against the wall, all of varying weights and materials, gave that away. Another space where a fourth set would have stood was empty.

  A picture of my mother and me on the bedside table was another pretty obvious clue to my location. It sat next to a leather-bound book, with a title along the spine in lettering that I was pretty sure was Greek — which, of course, I couldn’t read. The photo was set in a jewel-encrusted, magically imbued frame that my father must have fished out of the treasure keeper’s stash. But I didn’t immediately recognize the picture itself. The shot had been clearly taken on the beachfront at my grandmother’s house. I appeared to be around nine or so.

  Enticed by the magic I could feel emanating from it, I reached for the frame just as the picture faded and was replaced by another more recent photo of my mother. In that picture, my mother’s blue eyes sparkled. Her strawberry-blond hair was wild in the wind, long tresses cascading over her bare shoulders. She gazed at the camera — at the photographer — in a way that was … loving and sultry and …

  I glanced away, suddenly feeling as though I was invading my mother’s personal life. And my father’s, for that matter.

  The idea that Yazi had pictures of us, of the people he loved, by his bedside was so ordinary that it was completely unexpected. Ordinary and utterly heartwarming.

  I slipped off the bed, testing my ability to stand — and actually managed to stay upright. I was dressed in white cotton drawstring pants and a tank top. A combo that I’d once worn while imprisoned by Pulou.

  But it was a safe guess that the treasure keeper wouldn’t be locking me up this time.

  My stomach growled. Loudly.

  Accompanied by the taste of lemon verbena, a tray of food appeared on the bed beside me. Breakfast in bed, replete with scrambled eggs, multigrain toast, blackberry jam, and what appeared to be fresh-pressed apple juice. A note scrawled on a small piece of ragged-edged parchment sat propped on a banana. I recognized the handwriting as Pulou’s, and I knew even before I read it that I wasn’t going to be pleased with the instructions it was certain to contain.

  You are to remain in the nexus until further notice.

  Yep, I had that pegged.

  He had added a second line. The color of the ink was slightly diluted, almost as if he’d jotted it down as an afterthought.

  Your family has been informed of your survival and ongoing recovery.

  I snorted as I tossed the parchment onto the tray. Then I propped up the pillows against the headboard, climbed back onto the bed, and tugged the silk sheets around me. Settling back, I placed the tray over my lap and spread some jam on the toast.

  I needed a plan.

  I needed help.

  But first, I needed food, clothes, and my weapons.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, a familiar wooden table pockmarked by magic materialized at the foot of the bed. The same table had materialized to hold my weapons when I’d been summoned to stand trial before the guardians. My katana, my jade knife, my satchel, and my necklace — including the instruments of assassination — were arrayed across it.

  “You read minds now, do you?” I asked the empty air around me, speaking to Blossom, who was obviously in the process of anticipating my needs.

  I reached for the necklace with my magic. Because my hands were rather busy shoveling food into my mouth. It settled around my neck, its weight comforting even though the gold was momentarily cold against my skin.

  I ate the eggs, sipped the juice, then explored the rest of the room while nibbling on the last piece of toast. A large dark-wood wardrobe was filled with my father’s ‘off-duty’ clothing. Though I was only a couple of inches shorter than Yazi, anything that stretched over his shoulders was going to totally swamp mine. Which wouldn’t have presented that much of a problem unless I was planning to race into battle.

  I was.

  “Blossom?” I had to hope that the brownie would be willing to fetch me some clothing, if she wasn’t otherwise busy.

  I waited, finishing the toast and the juice, but Blossom didn’t appear. Though I would have sworn that I could feel her nearby, I couldn’t taste her magic. But then, the brownie could hide from me if she so wished.

  She was probably just busy. As I should have been.

  So I made a decision. I would return by way of the portal into the basement of the bakery, then outfit myself at home. I had an older set of training leathers that would do just fine.

  I availed myself of the facilities, then grabbed my weapons and satchel. Then I headed off in search of the hub of the nexus.

  I expected to get lost on my way. The nexus shifted aspects, or so it seemed. As far as I’d been able to figure out, the other-dimensional space was anchored in Shanghai, China, but its interior architecture was prone to … mood swings. Yes, as if the site had some form of sentience. I’d previously suspected that the heart of the guardians’ power base simply didn’t like a half-dragon — namely me, since I was the only half-dragon in existence — wandering around unaccompanied. Because I had never gotten turned around when accompanied through the halls by Drake or Warner.

  Still, I didn’t get lost this time.

  I was just locked in.

  Yep. Every single door in the nexus was warded against me. Every single door along the long twisted corridor between my father’s rooms and the hub of the nexus was sealed. I was certain of that because I’d tried all of them, one at a time, after I’d tried all the portal doors in turn. The only door that would open for me was the door that led to the treasure keeper’s chambers.

  So I could stay in my father’s chambers. Or I could visit Antarctica. But I, being the wielder of the instruments of assassination and the dragon slayer, certainly wasn’t in need of anything from the treasure keeper’s chambers.

  What I needed was to go home, grab some clothing, and carve out Reggie’s heart.

  All this power hanging around my neck, all the stolen magic thrumming through my veins, and I couldn’t open a single freaking door. And I knew without even trying that these weren’t just simple wards I could cut through with my knife. It was as though the passageways themselves no longer existed. For me, at least.

  I was trapped in the nexus. And not for the first time, though my current prison featured a larger footprint and an actual bed. That was a massive step up from the white-cubed cell that had nullified my magic.

  Freaking know-it-all guardian dragons.

  My head was hurting again.

  I stopped pacing, pausing in the center of the hub of the nexus. Surrounded by gilded pillars and nine decorated doorways, I simply breathed. Then I divested myself of my satchel and katana, sat in a lotus position on the white marble floor, and tried to meditate.

  I noted that the damage the nexus had taken during my brawl with the treasure keeper had disappeared. Whether that was the doing of Blossom or one of her fellow brownies, or whether the nexus was fueled by self-repairing magic, I didn’t know.

  What I did know, and all that really mattered in the immediate moment, was that I needed to get home and rescue my fiance and BFFs. Eventually, a guardian would walk through one of the portals. Then I would persuade whoever appeared to transport me … somewhere … and from there, I could figure out how to get to Vancouver. The particulars didn’t matter. I needed to be focused. I needed to heal.

  I needed to be ready.

  “Mistress?”

  I opened my eyes. Blossom had appeared — without a hint of magic to announce her arrival. The brownie was standing between me and the carved door that led to th
e North American territories, twisting her large hands together fretfully.

  A piece of folded paper was sticking out of the pocket of the Cake in a Cup apron she wore as a dress.

  I recognized the thickness of the paper stock and the darkly smudged edges. My stomach squelched. Ignoring my cowardly reaction, I steadily met Blossom’s gaze. Her large dark-brown eyes were rounded with what appeared to be agitation … and concern.

  Oh, God. I so, so didn’t want her to be delivering bad news.

  “Blossom.” I forced myself to smile. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  She bobbed her head, casting her gaze around the nexus. “The treasure keeper wishes you to remain here, mistress.”

  “Yes. I got his note. But you know I have things to do. People to care for. Like you.”

  “Yes. I understand.” Blossom shuffled her bare feet, gripping the white marble of the floor with her toes.

  “What’s happened?” I asked, my voice catching in my throat. “Please just tell me.”

  She nodded, looking at her hands now. “I’m bound to the treasure keeper … and to you, mistress. And to the oracle.”

  Ah … suddenly her demeanor made perfect sense. She was conflicted in her sense of duty. “I’m sorry if we’re all placing you in an uncomfortable position, Blossom. I would never ask you to betray the treasure keeper.”

  Then the brownie surprised me — by smiling slyly. “He has not given me a direct order.”

  I laughed.

  “I have placed items you will need in your father’s chambers.”

  I touched my sheathed katana. The weapon was sitting on the marble floor by my left knee. “Yes, thank you.”

  “No … those are yours, mistress. I bring you gifts … wedding gifts, from your father and the sentinel.”

  Painful emotion flashed through me, compressing my chest and clogging my throat. “Have you seen Warner?”

  “Not with my own eyes.”

  That was a very specific wording that I wasn’t certain I wanted to dissect. “But, to the best of your knowledge, he is alive.”