Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  Warner chuckled halfheartedly. “Some knowledge is retained for guardians only. Prophecies, objects of power, and such. Apprentices are usually selected within their first hundred years, but training begins in childhood in the form of stories and magical puzzles. Talents are uncovered. Apparently, since we’re standing before what the sorcerer claims is the shrine of the phoenix, the myth of the phoenix is a truth wrapped within a childhood story.”

  “Nice to know it’s not just me constantly left in the dark.”

  Warner raised his eyebrow.

  “What?” I snarked.

  “Perhaps not the best time for a bitch session,” he said dryly.

  I glowered at him. “Screw you, sixteenth century.”

  Warner laughed, much more wholeheartedly. I struggled to maintain my faked pissiness, but I loved to hear him laugh … especially in my darkened bedroom …

  I sighed. My bedroom felt like it was an epically long way away right now. “So … moving forward, what do I need to know?”

  We turned to face the door together, just as Drake reached out to touch the smooth center stone where the image of the phoenix had appeared.

  The fledgling hissed in pain, ripping his hand back.

  Literally, ripped. Whatever magic guarded the entrance to the shrine had tried to ensnare Drake.

  “Ouch,” he said, shaking his hand and looking back at me mournfully.

  I wondered how long it had been since Drake felt any pain on a level that actually made him acknowledge it.

  “ ‘Where dragons dare not tread,’ remember?” I said sternly. Hanging around Drake made me channel Gran, apparently. I tried to not think about how often I ran around constantly touching magical objects I shouldn’t touch.

  He sulked, then hunkered down to shove his hand into the snow at his feet, treating the wound like a burn.

  I glanced back at Kett. Taking my look as a summons, he stepped close enough that I could see that his magic was already repairing his pink-hued skin.

  “I didn’t know dragons were allergic to the sun,” I murmured.

  “We’re not,” Warner said. “Just naturally nocturnal.”

  “Evolution,” Kett said.

  Warner nodded.

  “Because you used to be beasts of tooth and claw who dwelled in caves and hoarded gold?” I asked.

  Kandy snorted appreciatively as she paced by me. I could always count on a laugh from my BFF.

  Kett smirked, then quickly wiped the expression from his face. Vampires who lived in glass houses and all that.

  “If you will,” Warner said, but his attention was on the door behind me.

  I touched Kett’s cheek, wondering if I could distinguish the magic that had burned him as distinct from his natural peppermint. I couldn’t.

  “This phoenix character is powered by the sun? Or controls it?” I asked.

  “No,” Warner said.

  “Yes,” Drake said.

  Kett laughed.

  “You go first, vampire,” I said. “What do you think you know?”

  Kett flashed his teeth at me.

  I narrowed my eyes at him threateningly. “Looking a little pointy there, friend.”

  “A side effect of being injured,” he said nonchalantly. “A phoenix is a large immortal bird that dies, then rises from its own ashes. Its tears have healing powers. It’s able to carry great weight. Aspects of the phoenix myth have permeated many different cultures and religions, taking the form of any number of gods that die and are perpetually reborn.”

  “And the connection to the sun?”

  “From Greek mythology. The sun sets each night, only to rise again each morning. It’s associated with the deity the Egyptians named the Bennu, with the Native American thunderbird, the Russian firebird … even in Christianity, with Christ’s resurrection.”

  “But we’re in China.”

  “In Asia, the phoenix is the symbol of the empress and feminine grace, as well as the sun,” Drake said. “The sighting of a phoenix is a sign that a wise leader has ascended to the throne, and a new era of peace will reign for a thousand years. A phoenix is goodness personified.”

  “A mythical creature signifying eternal life, destruction, then creation,” Warner said. “From the ashes, a new civilization will rise. But what do you think the ashes are from? What do you think the phoenix destroys to usher in an era of peace and tranquility? Us.”

  Drake straightened from his crouch, grinning up at Warner. “And that is where our bedtime stories diverge.”

  They all turned to look at me expectantly, as if they’d just gifted me with a wealth of knowledge and were expecting me to do something with it.

  I turned, catching Kandy’s gaze. “Kandy?”

  The green-haired werewolf shrugged. “If I wanted to go to school, I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off on the side of a mountain in the middle of freaking China.”

  I snorted. “Sorcerer?”

  Squinting in the ever-darkening evening while still jotting down notes, Blackwell didn’t bother to look up at my question.

  “A light might be beneficial,” I said snidely. “I’m sure you have an appropriate magical gadget in your pocket.”

  “Indeed, if I wanted to attract whoever is hunting you to our location.” The sorcerer smirked at me over the edge of his journal. “You know, the person who you won’t admit is following you, but who you were concerned would attack the oracle after you left?”

  I opened my mouth; then realizing the sorcerer was just fishing for information, I snapped my mouth shut on my retort. “The phoenix?” I prompted instead.

  “I have nothing to add to this particular discussion.” Blackwell returned to his journaling.

  Freaking sorcerers. Ever so helpful. For a price.

  “So …” I turned to eye the door. “Is this a shrine or a prison?”

  “Demigods don’t typically build either,” Kett said.

  Warner snorted as if he’d known a few demigods who liked to build shrines for themselves.

  “The chronicle that allowed the sorcerer to lead us here is the clue,” Kett said, continuing as if the sentinel hadn’t scoffed at his conjecture. “As are the first two instruments.”

  “Because you think that a demigod wouldn’t need a magical instrument with which to kill other demigods,” I said, putting a few of the pieces together. “So we’re looking for something associated with the phoenix that can kill guardians. Something created by the phoenix’s followers, perhaps. Not something created by the phoenix itself.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re guessing, vampire,” Warner said wryly.

  “And superstitions are a solid foundation on which to build a hypothesis?” Kett sneered uncharacteristically, allowing the edges of his teeth to show. “Your vision is clouded with ancient, fear-based teachings, dragon.”

  The gold of Warner’s magic rolled over his eyes.

  Ah, delightful. Apparently, getting kissed by sun magic made the vampire rowdy. Good to know.

  I spoke up, injecting myself into the pissing contest before any male members got pulled out for real. “So when I open this door, I won’t be, like … releasing hell on earth or anything like that? Because, you know, this has been a lot of setup.”

  “Assuming you can open the door,” Kett said.

  Warner, Drake, and Kandy all snorted. It was good that three of my four BFFs had my back.

  I smirked at the vampire.

  He shrugged. “You assume I underestimate your talents, when perhaps I simply prescribe caution. You are facing an unknown magic that burns vampires and dragons, and causes even sorcerers to flinch.”

  “But not werewolves,” Kandy said proudly.

  “Not werewolves wearing cuffs of unknown alchemist origins,” Kett said, blithely undercutting Kandy’s magical prowess.

  I eyed Blackwell over my shoulder. He was still fervently making notes.

  “Maybe the power of the door only makes sorcerers flinch who dabble in dark magi
c,” I said, expanding Kett’s interpretation.

  “Then you would have flinched, alchemist.” Blackwell didn’t even bother to lift his eyes from his notebook. “You carry blood magic with you. And I doubt you’ve confined the practice to your knife. No. The magic simply bothered those of us who are hereditarily unaccustomed to the sun.”

  Kandy snorted. “Because you’re from Scotland?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Excuse me while I die laughing.”

  “We’re delaying the inevitable, and rapidly losing the remaining light,” Kett said. “Neither I nor the dragons can touch the door. That leaves the sorcerer, the werewolf, and you, dowser.”

  Kandy strode up to the door, shucking off her gloves and stuffing them in her pockets. Without a hint of hesitation, she placed her hands in the smooth center of the door and pushed. Her feet slid back on the snow-covered granite.

  Blackwell joined her, scanning the edges of the door. Then he brushed the snow away from the base, apparently looking for a handle or a latch. Maybe even a hinge.

  “No runes,” I said. “Is there a pattern in the leaves or flowers? Perhaps a sequence that needs to be triggered? What does the chronicle say, Blackwell?”

  “Nothing about the door. It was simply the similarity of the markings in Rochelle’s sketch that reminded me of the rubbings in the journal.”

  The sorcerer and Kandy stepped back to gaze at the carvings. Then the green-haired werewolf started tracing the branches with her fingers.

  I sighed. Blackwell’s mention of Rochelle reminded me that I was ignoring the obvious.

  “It’s me,” I said. “I have to open it. I’m not sure how, but in Rochelle’s sketch, I’m standing in the center with all of you winged out around and behind me.”

  I hated following any sense of predestination, but we were wasting time. Being ignorant and scared were way different than being willfully stupid. I was done with willfully stupid behavior.

  Drake and Kandy stepped up behind me. Warner and Kett crossed to either side. Blackwell hung farther back, hovering between Kandy and Kett with his notebook still in hand. It was somewhat amusing that he deemed a werewolf and a vampire — both of whom had reasons to hate him — safer companions than two dragons.

  I palmed my jade knife, feeling the magic contained in the sharpened stone flow together with my own magic. The blade was really just an extension of my alchemist power … a deadlier aspect. I strode up to the door.

  “You’re going to try to cut the magic with your knife?” Drake asked.

  I couldn’t answer because I wasn’t sure. I had cut through magical wards before. But as I reached out with my dowser senses to the power coating the door looming over me, I knew instantly that I was dealing with something different.

  I didn’t think — or, rather, instinctively feel — that the pear-and-toasted-grain magic could simply be severed from the stone. Tracing in my mind the route it had followed, I recalled how the magic adhering to the door had rippled, then flared when the sun hit it. I got the sense that the magic was permanently anchored, not just triggered by the touch of the sun … or by Drake’s hand. It had simply been revealed on a visual level. If we’d arrived before sunset, the door might have been fully lit when we’d happened upon it.

  “I don’t think this is defensive magic,” I said.

  “What about it burning the vampire?” Drake asked.

  I shook my head, though I was only guessing. “Just a powerful reflection. It might be witch magic by the way it’s embedded in the stone rather than simply wrapping around it. But not from any sort of witch I’ve ever met. And there’s nothing malicious here. Not like the stone warden powered by metallurgy in Peru. Or the defenses Shailaja stripped away from the temple in Hope Town by sacrificing her sorcerers.”

  I paused, trying to figure out what my senses were telling me. It was so quiet that all I could hear was the scratching of Blackwell’s pen again. I probably shouldn’t have been thinking out loud.

  “Who visits a shrine?” I asked.

  “Worshipers,” Kandy said.

  “Mourners,” Warner said.

  “Supplicants,” Kett said.

  I stepped back from the door. “But we aren’t any of those. So the door doesn’t want to open for us.”

  “We can’t muscle or trick our way in,” Kandy said thoughtfully.

  “What about searching for another entrance?” I asked, clinging to a sliver of hope that I wasn’t simply doomed to follow destiny’s path as dictated by the far seer and the oracle.

  “In the dark?” Warner said. “That puts you and the sorcerer out of commission, and eventually Kandy.”

  “The moon will be up soon.”

  “I looked as I was climbing,” Kett said. “This is the door we are seeking.”

  “Okay.” I sighed.

  Then I did what I was created to do. What I was born to do. What I did best. I reached out to the magic embedded in the door with my dowser senses, grabbing hold of it with my alchemist powers.

  The flavor of tart pear and tea instantly overwhelmed my taste buds. My mouth watered from the acidity carried within the unknown witch magic as I gathered it toward me. And when I’d gathered too much without even having dented the power flowing over and through the door, I claimed it as my own, channeling what I could into my necklace and knife.

  I began to sweat beneath my multiple layers of clothing. I kept pulling the pear-tea magic toward me.

  My head began to ache. I gritted my teeth.

  “Jade?” Warner whispered.

  “It’s endless.” I gasped. With a shudder, I was forced to release the magic I had gathered. I was panting, exhausted as I leaned forward to rest my hands on my knees. “I can’t hold it all.”

  “Magic doesn’t have weight,” Kett said. “Or fill only a certain space.”

  “Then you do it,” I snapped. “Because it’s too much for me to hold. I didn’t even dent it.”

  “Then don’t,” Kett said. “Don’t try to just dent it.”

  “Speak plainly, vampire,” I said, still breathing heavily. “Or forever hold your peace.”

  “Do you remember the ward the sorcerer held against us in the Sea Lion Caves in Oregon?”

  Blackwell shifted uncomfortably in my peripheral vision, but I kept my focus on Kett.

  “It’s difficult to forget,” I growled, straightening from my undignified bow. Now was not the time to reopen old wounds.

  “The alpha, rather majestically but ill advisedly, cracked that ward.”

  “With his head,” I said, remembering. “I don’t think any of us should run headfirst into the freaking door.”

  “I assume that was the ill-advised part?” Drake said.

  “Shut your trap,” Kandy snarled. “Like you were even there.”

  I turned my attention back to the door, shutting out Kandy and Drake’s playful bickering.

  Simply cracking the pear-scented magic wouldn’t let us pass. And I’d already figured out that I couldn’t cut it with my knife … unless maybe I thinned it first.

  I reached out to the magic again, foregoing all the foreplay and instantly claiming it as my own. I gathered the power to me with full force until I could actually see the deep amber energy writhing and coiling around my hands and arms.

  I was shaking with the effort. I just needed the magic to thin, even slightly. I should be able to pull enough to dilute it or … maybe …

  Maybe it was like making a pie. I never made pie, because I always screwed up the pastry. I always rolled it too thin, and then it broke, and I had to piece it together into a lumpy, thick crust. I wasn’t a fan of lumpy. Or pastry in general, actually. Mostly because I found the insides of pastries tastier than the outside.

  If I was crazy careful, took my time, and the surface I was working on was well floured, I could roll pastry very thinly without breaking it.

  But if I was harsh, hasty, and unfocused …

  I clumsily ripped the magic away from
the door, screaming with the effort of doing so. I managed to slash my knife forward at the same time. Using the door’s own magic against it, I slammed all the power I’d gathered into me back against the stone door.

  A crack shot through the door from top to bottom, splitting it in half.

  Drake whooped.

  The magic I’d torn away from the door roiled around me. I tried to channel it into the knife and the necklace, but no matter what the vampire claimed, both vessels felt as if they were at full capacity.

  Unable to contain or hold the power, all I could do was scream again.

  Warner reached for me, but I shied away from him.

  The pear-tea magic was coating me, smothering me. Swallowing me whole. So I did the only other thing I could do. I reached out for every source of magic I could sense on the open path around me. Then I shoved all the pear-tea power I couldn’t hold toward it.

  Kandy and Blackwell flew back, slamming into the cliff face and dropping to the ground.

  Drake spun, pivoting and falling to one knee as if a giant had grabbed him by the backpack and shoved him down.

  Beside me, Warner grunted. He stumbled a single step back as if someone had pushed him.

  Kett didn’t move.

  And I was free of the magic.

  Half of the sundered stone door tipped toward me and crashed to the ground.

  “Took you long enough,” Kett said, sounding as pleased as he ever did. Then he strode forward and through the gap I’d created.

  “Keep an eye on the vampire,” Warner said curtly.

  The order was for Drake, who scrambled to his feet. He approached the door more cautiously than Kett had, though.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Kandy said as she stood. “What the hell was that?” She touched the back of her head, then looked down at her hand. It was bloody.

  I was still shaking, not quite in control of my limbs yet as I reached toward her.

  Then the shadow leeches flooded across the open path, taking all sight and sound with them.

  Kandy screamed.

  I could taste the magic of Warner’s blade even as I drew my own. Then I tasted baked potato with sour cream and butter. Blackwell’s amulet.

  The maelstrom of shadow demons blew through and around us, then funneled through the open door.