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

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  “Risky?”

  “Traditionally, this type of magic … boundaries, wards … is fueled by the caster.”

  “Right. Of course. When Shailaja tore through the wards on my bakery, before I’d fortified them myself, she hurt Gran. Badly.”

  “Exactly.” My father sounded grim. “This level of magic is often …”

  “Soul fueled.” The healer helpfully filled in what my father was hesitating to say.

  “What do you mean? Soul fueled? Like, life force energy?”

  “Exactly.”

  I stepped closer to the boundary, raising my palm to it. As expected, it tasted of grassy witch magic. But the undertone was all sweet, tangy strawberry.

  My mother’s magic.

  Fear gripped my heart. I turned to my father. “You think that if we have to tear through the magic to get into the city we might … hurt the witches?”

  “Possibly kill them.” My father touched something at his hip, most likely the hilt of his sword. He didn’t wear it in an invisible sheath as I did, though. His weapon was a pure manifestation of his guardian magic.

  “And asking Pulou a second time …” I murmured — but I was already certain I knew the answer.

  Qiuniu shook his head. “It is one thing for the treasure keeper to step through, and risky enough to pull you through, even accompanied by him.”

  “And completely another thing for him to send two guardians. That would be too much magic slicing through the witches’ magic.”

  The healer nodded, waiting on me to put everything together as if he had all the time in the world.

  Except we didn’t have that time. I was certain that Reggie had managed to open the gateway fully even before Pulou had snatched me, using the gemstone Alivia had brought. Which meant the telepath had had eight days to recruit while I healed. Eight days of bringing in new forces, unchecked. There could be an entire legion of elves crammed into BC Place stadium, ready to take the city and slaughter anyone who dared stand between them and utter dominion.

  So, yeah. That was cheerful.

  Thinking madly, I threaded my fingers through the wedding rings on my necklace. Specifically, Warner’s parents’ rings. They hung nearest to my heart.

  Another cyclist sped past us. And I realized that I hadn’t yet seen people cranking their necks to stare as they drove by. I wondered if the magic coating my chain mail sweater and the guardians’ armor was layered with spells to hide us from casual glances. If so, it was definitely working.

  “There’s a lot of magic in the dome,” I murmured. “But the bulk of it tastes like my mother’s.”

  “I can feel that as well.” Yazi clenched and unclenched his fist. I could tell how badly he wanted to cut through the witches’ boundary magic with his sword. And I could tell he was … worried. Afraid.

  I recalled the pictures on my father’s bedside table, of my mother and me. Guardians didn’t usually have children, or spouses. As far as I’d been able to figure out, I was the only child among the current generation of guardians. Haoxin had replaced her mother over a hundred years before, and Chi Wen had been centuries before that. Warner and Shailaja were in between those two. But Warner’s mother had passed on, replaced by the current Jiaotu. And the former treasure keeper had died centuries before I’d taken his daughter’s head and absorbed her magic.

  The impasse currently stymieing our forward momentum was likely one of the reasons why guardians didn’t often breed. I was watching the warrior weighing the lives of his loved ones over the safety of the city.

  My stomach squelched. “I’ve made a terrible mess. I never should have taken up the instruments.”

  “I gathered you didn’t have any choice, wielder.” The healer smiled, thin lipped.

  Yazi grunted, agreeing. “Destiny cannot be thwarted, Jade. But we must push forward from here. The healer and I have cleared our own territories of incursions. But based on what Pulou has gleaned from the tight-lipped brownie and the barrier we are currently facing, Haoxin hasn’t been able to do the same. The other Adepts of North America have been scrambling to deal with the incursions themselves, along with myself and the healer. But it cannot be allowed to continue.”

  “Haoxin ran into a bit of a road block,” I muttered.

  “The gem Pulou stole from you proved most helpful in sealing the breaches,” Qiuniu said. “Possibly permanently. But choices need to be made here. Which is why we waited for you, wielder.” He smiled grimly. Again.

  I could read epic amounts into his expression. “Which is why you’re here? Not to heal me further, but in case my mother … in case she’s tied herself too tightly to the grid. And …” I looked over at my father. “Pulou should never have punched through to grab me!”

  “He did what he was asked to do.”

  “Except for the beating,” the healer murmured.

  Yazi gave Qiuniu a withering look. “He will answer for the beating.”

  I ignored them both. My mind whirled with all that could have happened to my mother, to the witches, to the city, just because I needed to be rescued. “He could have … what if …”

  “The boundary still stands, daughter. You say it tastes of your mother’s magic.”

  “Yes, but —”

  My father raised his hand to silence me — and for the first time in my life, I obeyed him. “The far seer’s counsel is never overlooked. The treasure keeper and I would never ignore a surety for what might possibly happen.”

  I felt a little lightheaded. Overwhelmed at the idea that Pulou rescuing me could have killed my mother. That even entering the city to rescue the others now could kill my mother.

  “We gave Haoxin time to resolve the incursion here herself.” Yazi’s tone was gruff — and rather judgemental, frankly, for someone who’d tangled with the instruments of assassination himself.

  And then it hit me. They didn’t know.

  Somehow, they didn’t know that it was me — or, rather, through me and the instruments — that the elves had gained a foothold in the city.

  “But we cannot wait any longer,” Qiuniu said kindly but firmly. “Not only have we not heard from Haoxin, but the far seer cannot clearly see what is occurring beyond the barrier. Not since he caught the glimpse of you and asked Pulou to retrieve you.”

  “He’s not sharing what he sees, healer,” my father said. “That is different.”

  Qiuniu nodded, acknowledging Yazi’s statement but continuing with his own line of thought. “We are hoping you will be able to cross through without ramifications, then allow us entry.”

  I cleared my throat, trying to loosen what felt like epic amounts of guilt clogging my vocal cords. “Right. Um, I thought Drake would have told you …”

  “He sent word as you bade him, Jade,” my father said. “That the elves had attacked, that you and Haoxin were bargaining with them on behalf of the treasure keeper. He was most frustrated that your grandmother sent him away without more information. But the elves have kept Suanmi and Drake busy throughout Europe and Asia, playing games.”

  “Keeping us distracted and divided,” the healer added.

  “Yes.” My father nodded curtly. “And the boundary was in place before I could return to Vancouver.”

  “This is … all of this is my fault.”

  “You’ve been clouding Chi Wen’s sight?” Qiuniu asked. Once again, his tone held more amusement than was healthy for him — especially since I apparently wasn’t opposed to unleashing the instruments of assassination with only minimal provocation. Well, maybe a little more than minimal.

  “No … I … I assume it’s the elves’ wards on the stadium, BC Place, that have blinded the far seer. If he actually isn’t seeing anything. That’s where they’re holding Haoxin, Warner, Kandy, and Kett. But what I meant was … it was me … who took out Haoxin.”

  “Took out?” the healer echoed.

  “Yes. With the instruments.” I rubbed my forehead, which was starting to ache. Again. “Haoxin and Warner. I th
ought maybe … I mean …” I looked at my father. “I said I had things I needed to tell you. In the nexus. Actually, everything is a little hazy. Except my culpability. That I remember clearly.”

  “Rapid healing can muddle memories.” The healer narrowed his eyes at me. Well, at the center of my forehead. I gathered the huge scar there was bothering him.

  I pushed forward with my confession. “Reggie … the elf that the others refer to as their liege. She got that gemstone on me.”

  “Yes,” the warrior said. “And you carved it out of your forehead.” Daddy-O was starting to sound just a little impatient.

  “Before that, she made me use the instruments. Haoxin was taken because of me. The witches have been alone in the city … with … with … a bunch of fledglings. Because of me.”

  My father’s gaze rested on me heavily. I could see that he understood, finally. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw tense.

  I waited for his judgement. For his condemnation. I deserved nothing less.

  “Are you done confessing things that were completely beyond your control?” he asked pissily.

  “I just … I thought you would have heard … from …”

  “Who?”

  “I really thought, I hoped, that maybe Blossom might have mentioned something.”

  “Your brownie?” My father snorted. “She’d rather die than betray you.”

  Good to know. And a little overwhelming in its implications. “Right. Okay. Well, we’ll just go retrieve Haoxin from the elves, along with the others, and everything will be … fantastic.” I sounded as though I didn’t believe a single word coming out of my mouth. I was going to have to work on that.

  “Jade,” my father said gruffly. “It isn’t for the healer or me to absolve you. Things happen. We all do our best, but despite how some of the other guardians act, we aren’t gods. We aren’t infallible.”

  The healer chuckled quietly in agreement.

  “Okay.”

  Yazi touched my shoulder lightly. “My heart is full, seeing you striding over the bridge a moment ago, rather than teetering between life and death. I … I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you so soon after having you tumble into my life.”

  I nodded, holding back tears.

  My father lifted his gaze to the dome of magic shimmering behind me. “The elves will fall beneath our swords, my daughter.”

  “There are a lot of them here now,” I said. “Even more than I let through myself, if Reggie managed to fix the damage I was doing to the gateway.”

  Yazi grinned at me. He rested his hand against the side of my head gently, brushing his thumb over the scar on my forehead. “Against all odds, from birth ever after. That’s you, my Jade.”

  The healer cleared his throat. “Not to interject, but we really need to assess the boundary and move forward. With the other seven still dealing with the last incursions, I don’t imagine I will be at leisure for long.”

  Nodding, I turned back to the boundary, raising my hand to it a second time. I could definitely feel a resistance, despite the fact that it was constructed at least partly from my mother’s magic. I didn’t think it was going to let me pass easily.

  “You can walk through the wards on the bakery without any issues,” I said, questioning my father without looking at him.

  “Of course. They are of your construction. All the guardians will be able to pass. We all share the same magic.”

  Well, that was news. And a little staggering. And best left to be examined at a much later date. “And Gran’s wards?”

  “I have an open invitation.”

  “What’s different about these?” I murmured, more to myself than my father. “They feel different … not just witch magic. Maybe …” I caught a fleeting taste of tart apple. Then something … green, mossy. “Rochelle. And an elf.”

  “The oracle,” Yazi murmured behind me, talking to the healer.

  “Adepts working together? Intriguing.”

  I glanced around, trying to discern the specific anchor point — one of thirteen points arrayed around the city — from the boundary magic. I knew that one of those points had been situated at the base of the bridge, but I couldn’t remember who among the witches had cast it.

  On the other side of the boundary, a set of concrete stairs led upward from the sidewalk through evergreen trees to a lookout point. Vehicles streamed steadily past us, still crossing through the magic effortlessly.

  Picking out the anchor point was beyond me. But honestly, the hope that knowing the witch who had cast it would help me figure out how to get through was just grasping at straws. The boundary shimmering before me was exceedingly different than the witches’ original grid. It was almost as if it was composed of completely different magic — power that had maybe consumed the anchor points in order to utilize them.

  I rubbed my forehead. Again. “We’re going to have to cut —”

  A brown-haired woman in her early twenties and a tall, darker-skinned man in his mid-twenties were walking up the sidewalk toward us. I could see fading blue streaks in her hair that matched her wool peacoat. Her watermelon-infused witch magic was riper and richer than it had been when I first met her. He was well over six foot — easily Warner’s height — dressed in a hoodie over sweatpants. Though I knew he could stop traffic anytime he wore a suit, this outfit had been chosen in case of any sudden need to shift into his tiger form.

  Burgundy and Beau.

  I smiled. “Well. It seems the oracle isn’t having any trouble seeing us.”

  “Welcoming committee?” the healer asked.

  I nodded, lifting my hand to wave at the approaching witch and shapeshifter.

  Burgundy smiled, picking up her pace. But her tentative glance at Beau let me know that trouble was brewing. Of course, the werecat’s intense glower and fixated focus — on me — was also a dead giveaway. His obvious anger immediately irked me. Whether or not I deserved it.

  I turned my attention back to Burgundy as she approached close enough that I didn’t need to shout, gesturing toward the wall of magic between us. “What the hell is this?”

  Burgundy opened her mouth to reply, but Beau interrupted her. “The witches’ grid. Nothing magical can cross through. Not even the elves, though they can still hide from scent and sight.” The green of his shapeshifter magic rolled across his eyes, brightly enough that I was able to easily distinguish it from the blue of the witches’ boundary magic.

  Burgundy dug into her purse. “We’re here to let you in.”

  “Not yet,” Beau said darkly. Then he pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Opening it, he stepped up to the boundary so that only the blue barrier and about a foot of space stood between us. He held up a charcoal drawing that had obviously been torn from one of Rochelle’s sketchbooks.

  I glanced at the rough sketch — and felt instantly numbed by its contents. Then I resolutely returned my gaze to Beau. The drawing looked unfinished, at least compared to the sketches the oracle usually shared with me. It depicted a young girl standing on a perch of rubble with some sort of demon. The nature of the taloned, black-scaled creature was unmistakable, even though I’d never seen its like before. It was dwarfing the girl it appeared to be guarding.

  “Who is that?”

  “Our daughter,” Beau said, threat underlying every one of his words. “After you destroy Vancouver.”

  I continued to meet his blazing green gaze steadily, refusing to look at the soul-crushing sketch a second time. When I spoke, my own tone was hard edged. “Did you steal that sketch from your wife, Beau?”

  Tension ran through his clenched jaw. He spat out his demand. “You will listen, Jade. You will obey.”

  My father and the healer shifted forward, tightening the space behind me. Beau’s gaze flicked to them, momentarily disconcerted. Then he looked back to me.

  “Or what?” I asked, quietly dangerous. “Will you kill Burgundy? Snap her neck before she can open our way?”

  Burgundy took a s
tep away from the irate shifter.

  “Will you kill your own mother tearing through the grid yourself?” Beau spat back.

  “Threatening the mother of my child will not be tolerated,” Yazi growled. His magic shifted around him, intensifying. Smoky, spicy dark chocolate flooded my mouth. And for the first time ever, the taste wasn’t comforting.

  All the hair on the back of my exposed neck lifted. I shook my head, raising my hand to the boundary magic that stood between me and the pissy shifter. Beau took an involuntary step back.

  Burgundy was gripping the focal stone she’d pulled out of her bag so harshly that her knuckles were white. If looks could kill, Beau would have already been lying at the junior witch’s feet.

  “I don’t have to tear through this magic, Beau. It would be easier, safer, to have Burgundy grant us passage. But I have no doubt I could slice through. It’s my mother’s magic, after all.”

  Beau swallowed. He glanced at me, then at my father and the healer in turn. His face had turned ashen. He’d miscalculated. Badly.

  But what else was a shifter desperate to save his wife and unborn child to do?

  I dropped my hand. “I was planning on taking the oracle’s advice, shifter. She’s gotten me this far. But I assume if she wanted me to see the sketch you’re holding, she would have chosen to show it to me herself.”

  Beau closed his eyes, pained. “Right. Maybe don’t mention this to Rochelle?”

  “The sketch is a little difficult to unsee.”

  He swallowed. “Yes. But … you’re right. Rochelle will show it to you if she thinks you need to see it.”

  “And then I’ll react accordingly.”

  Beau nodded, then looked over at Burgundy.

  The witch jutted her chin out at him. “I’m never partnering with you again.”

  “I’m sorry —”

  Burgundy raised her hand, effectively shutting Beau up with a single gesture.

  Now why didn’t that sort of thing ever work for me?