Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic
Page 30
I took the path he’d pointed out to me. For the first time in a long while, I felt that every step I took was by choice.
I was also fairly certain I knew where I was going. And who would be waiting for me.
∞
I might have meandered on the way. Not deliberately. But I was surrounded by so many pretties that I couldn’t help but brush my fingers against all their different flavors of magic as I passed. I’d felt so alone in the white room, without a single taste or glimmer of magic. It was a terrible punishment for any Adept. Which was most likely the point of the prison.
Of course, I might have just been feeling pissy because I could taste my father’s and Pulou’s magic ahead. Apparently, absorbing a crapload of power didn’t make me any less of a brat.
As I rounded the final pile of artifacts that separated me from whatever awaited me in the core of the chamber, I remembered Warner saying that the treasure keeper kept more than just treasure. I felt slightly sickened, wondering how many of the other cells along the hall had contained prisoners. Then I wondered who exactly would be deemed dangerous enough to be locked in a guardian prison.
Most Adepts were overseen by the Convocation, or the Conclave, or whatever organization governed their type of magic. Even Sienna hadn’t been a big enough threat to garner attention from the guardian nine. Well, not until she’d unleashed a demon horde on Vancouver Island. And even then, it was Yazi who’d come. Not Haoxin, though it was her territory. Which probably meant my father had come for me. Not Sienna at all.
So, again, who was so powerful that they had to be locked up in a magic-dampening prison hidden somewhere in Antarctica and guarded by one of the nine?
Um, yeah. That was one of those thoughts best confined to my ‘never needed to know’ list.
Pulou and Yazi were waiting for me beside the stone table where the sentinel spell had been stripped from Warner. My jade knife, my necklace, and my katana were laid out on that altar. The katana was sheathed in the flower-etched black leather case that the sword master had given me. I had been assuming it was long gone, swallowed by the raging sea in Tofino when I fell to Sienna.
The treasure keeper stood slightly to the left, with the warrior slightly to the right, both of them framing the tableau of the magical items on the altar.
The chamber bore no evidence of the fight with Shailaja. The marble floor that had cracked underneath the fallen guardians was unblemished.
Pulou and Yazi were glowering at me as if I were a naughty puppy. So I glowered back at them. The scars that had marred Pulou’s face in the shrine had disappeared.
Then, realizing I was still holding a silver spoon like a weapon, I tucked the utensil behind my back, cursing the fact that I didn’t have any pockets.
My father fought a smirk for just a moment.
“Yazi has secured a majority vote for your release,” Pulou said. His British lilt was more clipped than usual. “A full council will be convened, and you, Jade Godfrey, will stand trial for the death of Shailaja, daughter of the mountain.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“If it were solely up to me, you would have been contained until the nine could be gathered once more.”
“Yeah? Who were the five yea votes?” I asked, vaguely surprised at my own capacity to be glib. “It’s always good to know who has my back … you know, like how I had yours when I stopped Shailaja from murdering you. Unless she scrambled your brain so completely you can’t remember that.”
My father chortled, then coughed to cover his laughter. “You are released under the guardianship of Haoxin, Chi Wen, Qiuniu … Suanmi, and me.”
I didn’t miss the pause before he said the fire breather’s name.
“You aren’t to enter the nexus without invitation or permission,” Pulou said.
“You can keep it. It clashes with my lifestyle. As in, I prefer to stay alive.”
“On the subject of Warner Jiaotuson …”
An insane grin spread across my face. I could actually feel the crazy in it. In me. Maybe I hadn’t walked away from murdering Shailaja — or from the white room — with my mind wholly intact. Epic anger and frustration seethed behind my expression. I had wondered who would be against the idea of Warner and me. Apparently, my former mentor and boss topped the list.
The treasure keeper paused, as if he was rethinking whatever he’d been about to say.
“My consent remains unaltered,” Yazi said. His tone was even and nonconfrontational. “Not that the sentinel would heed any directive. I believe he has made that exceedingly clear in the last two weeks.”
Pulou’s jaw clenched. His large hands curled into massive fists.
“What do you mean?” I said, suddenly uncertain. “I’ve been in that room for two weeks?”
“No,” Yazi said. “Only since you’ve awoken. Your healing was extensive and took the bulk of that time.”
“Your stolen magic was incompatible with your own,” Pulou spat.
“The healer believes you simply hadn’t had enough time to absorb it fully,” Yazi said. An edge was creeping into his even tone.
I eyed the treasure keeper. “You put me in that box.”
“I did.”
With our gazes locked, tension built between us. I could feel the weight of it in my heart. I had saved his life. I couldn’t understand the hate he was pouring my way.
“You may go,” the treasure keeper finally said.
“Sure.” I shrugged to cover my frustration and confusion with nonchalance. “I’ll just collect my things.”
I stepped forward, reaching for my necklace and knife on the altar.
Pulou moved to block me. “Your magical artifacts have been collected, and will be held pending your trial.”
His words threw me completely off balance. I looked to my father for clarification.
He nodded. “A condition of your release.”
Anger overtook my confusion and frustration. I spun on my heel, ready to flee the room.
Then I paused.
It was my freaking necklace. My knife.
Mine.
I turned slowly, raising my chin and locking my gaze to the treasure keeper’s again. “I’ve been manipulated and used. By you.”
“It is you who has colluded against me, alchemist.”
“Don’t be a freaking moron,” I sneered.
Pulou flinched, then lifted his hand slightly to the side. He was showing me that he was armed with his wicked blade.
“Treasure keeper,” Yazi said, aghast.
“You would strike me down unarmed?” I asked.
My father took a step away from Pulou. “Of course he would not, Jade.” Then to the treasure keeper, he said, “My friend, my daughter is young. Perhaps even disrespectful. But she is upset.”
“She is dangerous,” Pulou said.
All my frustration and anger was boiling in my belly. I could feel my chest and face flushed with it. If I was going to be condemned — or even face death — for something that had to be done, I wasn’t going to do it unarmed.
I lifted my arms, reaching for my magic. Reaching for those items that didn’t belong under glass, lock, or key. My creations weren’t going to be tossed into the treasure keeper’s garbage pile.
My knife appeared in my right hand, already raised against the treasure keeper. Its invisible sheath twined around my hip and thigh.
My necklace settled across my collarbone, unfurling as one long loop around my neck and over my breasts. I didn’t have time to loop it a second time and get the chain out of my way, though. Because as it settled, the treasure keeper’s stance shifted.
He was going to attack me.
My father stepped forward. Not between us or blocking the treasure keeper, but a step ahead — so he could turn and face Pulou. Physically indicating that he was firmly on my side. Yeah, my demigod dad had my back. I was going to have to open his Christmas present now.
My katana appeared on my back. I felt it settle
across my shoulder in its leather sheath.
Pulou paused.
Then, inexplicably, the sound of creaking metal rang out from somewhere behind the altar.
A pile of treasure there collapsed.
My father and the treasure keeper spun to face the avalanche. Two more mountains of treasure followed suit.
Gold, silver, and platinum relics collapsed in against each other. Swords, bowls, amulets, and untold other types of magical artifacts crumpled in waves of bright metal and glimmering jewels, first blocking, then erasing the passageways behind the stone altar.
Three more items flew toward me. I didn’t know their intent, or whether it was some sort of attack. But even as I stumbled back, I reached out toward them with my dowser senses. The taste of their magic flooded my senses. Moss and honeysuckle … metal … and pear tea.
Jesus.
The treasure keeper ducked as all three of the instruments of assassination blew by him.
They drove directly for me.
And all I could do to stop them was to claim them. Once and for all.
“Mine,” I whispered, opening myself to their sweet, deadly magic.
They slammed into my chest. All three at once.
“Jade!” my father roared.
I staggered back, my sternum feeling as if it had imploded.
But I didn’t fall.
I ensnared the moss-, metal-, and pear-flavored magic. I fused it with the power in my necklace.
“Mine,” I whispered again.
The centipedes clicked — once, twice, three times — over three wedding rings to the left of Warner’s betrothal bands.
“Mine,” I said, my voice and resolve growing stronger as I quelled one of the three.
The three rainbow-colored silk braids wove themselves through the links of the necklace’s chain, then were still. The magic of the necklace flowed over them, then receded. My claim had encased them in gold.
“Mine!” I cried.
Leaves and flowers exploded from the branch that was the third instrument of assassination, spinning around me like confetti. The now-bare branch fell to my feet, completely dormant. The shredded foliage adhered to the necklace, clinging to every link and ring. I coaxed another wash of golden magic to run through the chain, absorbing the leaves and flowers and embossing every inch of the necklace with a finely imprinted leaf-and-flower pattern.
I swayed on my feet. A flood of utter weariness almost took my legs out from underneath me.
I brushed my fingers along the necklace. It was mine. Every link. The individual magic of the instruments of assassination had been absorbed into the whole.
I lifted my gaze to meet that of the treasure keeper’s. He stared at me, utterly aghast.
Movement drew my eye to my father. He’d pulled his sword at some point. The magic of the blade was potent, but no longer on the edge of unbearable for me. He didn’t look horrified, as Pulou did. He didn’t even look frightened. He looked wary, but proud.
He glanced at the treasure keeper, then loosened his hold on his weapon. The broadsword disappeared.
“A masterful display of alchemy,” my father murmured. But he wasn’t speaking to me.
“Until she loses control of the instruments,” Pulou said.
“I believe it has already been made clear that the instruments of assassination were not as well contained as you thought. The wielder will wield, as the far seer has foreseen.”
“As the far seer has contrived.”
“Perhaps. That doesn’t change the nature of the wielder.”
Pulou nodded once. Just a tight, tiny movement of his chin. When he spoke, his tone was stilted and seriously stressed. “While she awaits further instruction, the wielder will remain at the treasure keeper’s disposal.”
I wasn’t big on being talked about as if I wasn’t still in the room. “Nah,” I said. “I quit. Next time clean up your own mess.”
Then, armed to the teeth, I turned and walked out of the treasure keeper’s chamber.
No one tried to stop me.
∞
I stepped through the portal into the bakery basement. Relief flooded through me the instant I felt dirt instead of cool marble underneath my feet.
I was home.
The portal snapped shut behind me. As it did so, I realized that its magic felt different. More substantial, as if I might be able to touch it. Perhaps even manipulate it into other forms. In my rush to leave the nexus, I hadn’t noticed anything odd about the crossing. But now … it felt as though I might be able to seal the portal. Maybe even disconnect it if I wanted to.
I reached out to test my theory. But before I got any further, I tasted dark chocolate, sweet cherry, and thick, creamy whipped cream behind me.
Warner was in the bakery.
I crossed the space between the brick wall that held the portal and the wooden stairs without another thought, leaping up the stairs and into Warner’s arms a split second after he’d slammed open the door to the pantry.
I crashed against his chest, already kissing him.
Then I tasted Kandy’s and Kett’s magic.
Keeping one arm looped around Warner’s neck, I reached out as my BFFs squeezed into the pantry. Wrapping my free arm around their necks and shoulders, I hugged the werewolf and the vampire fiercely.
They gave as good as they got.
Drake slipped through the door behind Kandy and Kett, grinning madly. Even though the pantry was crammed to capacity, he burrowed his way into the Adept sandwich.
My mother, then Gran, appeared in the kitchen beyond the pantry door. They both looked weary and red-eyed. Also fierce and overjoyed.
I closed my eyes and inhaled. Cherry, chocolate, peppermint, almonds, strawberries, and lilac mingled with vanilla, cocoa, sugar, cinnamon, and all the other delicious aromas of my pantry and bakery.
The magic of everyone I loved combined with the scents of all my favorite flavors in the world.
I was home.
For Michael
For always finding me when I’m lost
Acknowledgements
With thanks to:
My story & line editor
Scott Fitzgerald Gray
My proofreader
Pauline Nolet
My beta readers
Terry Daigle, Angela Flannery, Gael Fleming, Desi Hartzel, and Heather Lewis.
My cupcake recipe testers
Angie Bartley, Diane Castro, Karie Deegan, Temperance De’lonkcra, Kimberly Dicken, Megan Gayeski, Andrea Guido, Amy Lynn Haskins, Amanda Hendrix, Coreen James, Kendall Jarish, Traci Leigh, Gina Loss, Lisa Moody, Wendy Novak, Theresa Russell, Johanna Sol
For their continual encouragement, feedback, & general advice
Angela Brown – for finding an error that no one else saw in Dowser 3
Jodi Maguda – for the Alberta weather report
The Office
For her Art
Elizabeth Mackey
Meghan Ciana Doidge is an award-winning writer based out of Salt Spring Island, British Columbia, Canada. She has a penchant for bloody love stories, superheroes, and the supernatural. She also has a thing for chocolate, potatoes, and sock yarn.
Novels
After The Virus
Spirit Binder
Time Walker
Cupcakes, Trinkets, and Other Deadly Magic (Dowser 1)
Trinkets, Treasures, and Other Bloody Magic (Dowser 2)
Treasures, Demons, and Other Black Magic (Dowser 3)
I See Me (Oracle 1)
Shadows, Maps, and Other Ancient Magic (Dowser 4)
Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser 5)
I See You (Oracle 2)
Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic (Dowser 6)
Novellas/Shorts
Love Lies Bleeding
The Graveyard Kiss
For recipes, giveaways, news, and glimpses of upcoming stories, please connect with Meghan on her:
NEW RELEASE MAILING LIST
Personal blog, www.madebymeghan.ca
Twitter, @mcdoidge
And/or Facebook, Meghan Ciana Doidge
Email, info@madebymeghan.ca
Please also consider leaving an honest review at your point of sale outlet.
Oracle Series — Book Three
EXPECTED EARLY FALL 2016
Reconstructionist Series — Book One
EXPECTED WINTER 2016
And yes, the dowser will return.
Join the author’s NEW RELEASE MAILING LIST to be the first to know.
ARTIFACTS, DRAGONS, AND OTHER LETHAL MAGIC (DOWSER 6)
Copyright © 2016 Meghan Ciana Doidge
Published by Old Man in the CrossWalk Productions 2016
Salt Spring Island, BC, Canada
www.oldmaninthecrosswalk.com
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be produced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, objects, and incidents herein are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual things, events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Library and Archives Canada
Doidge, Meghan Ciana, 1973 —
Artifacts, Dragons, and Other Lethal Magic/Meghan Ciana Doidge — KINDLE EDITION
Cover design by Elizabeth Mackey
ISBN 978-1-927850-35-0