“Do you have elders?” I asked, instantly curious. “Archmages or some such who are better at magic than all the rest?”
“We do, actually. Problem is, they’re not easy to access.”
“How so?”
He ran fingers through his hair. “They’re old and tend to be cantankerous and reclusive. But they’re powerful, to a point where I’m not entirely sure they are humans anymore.”
“I thought none of the mages are humans.”
He smiled, teasing, glancing at my general direction from the side of his eyes. “I thought we agreed that we’re enhanced humans.”
And I’d thought he hadn’t caught my drift when I’d noted that he definitely was enhanced. Good thing he couldn’t see me blush.
Giselle arrived, took in the scene—or what wasn’t there, namely me—and shook her head. “Why did you have to try it on your own?”
“I happen to be a powerful mage,” Kane said, defensively. “And it wasn’t even a straining spell.”
She didn’t look mollified, and just held out a hand for the notebook Kane was carrying. She studied the contents for a few moments and then headed to her worktop to prepare the counter-spell.
“I was chosen to lead the mages on my skills, you know,” he tried again, but she just glared at him and pointed at the shelf where the chalks were. He obeyed meekly enough.
The counter-spell took a long time to set, even with all three of them working on it, as it required constant consulting of the ancient notes, which were practically illegible. I eyed their proceeding with growing trepidation.
“What if this one turns me purple?”
“I’ve never heard of any spell doing that,” Amber assured me.
“You’d never heard of a spell that makes a woman repulsive to men either.”
She acknowledged it with a wry curl of her lips. “You don’t really have a choice.”
“I could wait and see if this goes away on its own.”
They actually considered it briefly. But then Giselle shook her head. “I can’t deal with an invisible lodger.”
I inhaled, indignant. “But you can deal with a vampire and a werewolf?”
“They don’t creep me out half as badly as you do, speaking out of nowhere.”
In due course, I was told to take my place and they began. The counter-spell was remarkably similar to the original, and with the three of them casting it, the strength of it multiplied too. I was left gasping for breath after the last power word that activated it at the end.
They opened their eyes, and I could see from the way they relaxed and smiled—at me—that it had worked. Giselle pulled me into a hug.
“Thank the goddess. And you’re not even purple.”
Kane hugged me too, awkwardly. I smiled against his chest. “At least you’re not repulsed by me anymore.”
“Oh, I am,” he said. “I just choose to ignore it for a moment.”
Bugger.
Chapter Ten
Kane released me and ran fingers through his thick hair, leaving it in disarray, a sign of his inner turmoil. “I think we should visit Rupert.”
Amber nodded. “Great idea.”
I studied them curiously. “Who’s he?”
“The archmage,” he explained, baffling me.
“I thought you said they are reclusive.”
He smiled. “Yes, but if I don’t give him time to hide, we might have a chance.”
“Can I come too?” Giselle asked. “I’m overdue a visit.”
Amber had to return to the shop, but the rest of us filed into Kane’s Jag. The back seat wasn’t exactly comfortable for my legs, but I tried not to complain. I couldn’t sit at the front because Kane was repulsed by me again. Even the back seat was too close for his comfort, but he didn’t complain.
Rush hour was starting, so the fifteen-minute drive north took about twenty-five minutes. Our destination was Highbury Fields in Islington, a fair-sized park with Victorian villas and terraces on its western edge and modern blocks of flats on the east side.
Rupert Barnet, the archmage, lived in a Victorian villa on Highbury Crescent. It was a three-storey, two-family brown-brick with white trimmings, and columns in every architecturally possible place—and even a few spots that could have done without. The front garden was small, and his side of it was overgrown, the trees and bushes arching over the paved path to the front steps.
“He hasn’t trimmed the garden the whole summer,” Giselle muttered as she exited the car.
“He’s over ninety, maybe even older than that,” Kane reminded her. “He doesn’t have the energy.”
“He could ask for help. Or pay for it even.”
They snorted a laugh.
I followed them through the wrought-iron gate and up the steps to a front door with paint flaking with age. Kane rang the doorbell, but if it worked I didn’t hear it.
It took forever before I heard the lock being rattled on the other side, but Kane and Giselle waited patiently. The door was opened by an ancient man in a morning suit that had faded from black to greyish plum. His face consisted of wrinkles, and his white hair was so thin it was practically non-existent.
“Yes?” he asked in a faint voice, squinting at Kane, as if he couldn’t see properly.
“Good afternoon, Jones. It’s Archibald Kane and Mage Lynn to see the archmage.”
“I’ll inquire if Himself is receiving.” He tottered around, and Kane followed him in.
“No need. We both know he’ll deny the audience and I don’t have time for that today.”
Giselle and I followed them into a gloomy hall. The tile floor was dusty, the drapes were drawn in front of the windows, and only one ancient lightbulb lit the place. But I could see that the hall had once been grand, and the antiques dealer in me was impressed by the furniture.
In a sedated pace, Jones led us down a hallway to a room at the back, gave the door a faint rap and opened it. “Mages Kane and Lynn and Miss…”
“Thorpe,” Kane supplied.
“Miss Thorpe.”
He received some sort of permission and stepped aside to let us into the room.
It was a parlour overlooking a lush garden, much larger than what I would have thought houses around here had. Afternoon sun was slanting through the leaves of the trees, illuminating the room with faint greenish light, the only light source it had. It revealed a room with faded Victorian wallpapers—probably red originally—and furniture that had likely been here since the house was built.
A man was seated in a tall wingback by the window, clad in a thick smoking jacket, with a red and green tartan blanket covering his legs. The room was chilly, but there was no fire in the fireplace. A large book sat on his lap.
For all that he could be a hundred, he didn’t look nearly as old as Jones. His thick auburn hair had only a few, faint grey streaks, and his wrinkles were mostly around his eyes and on his forehead. He glared at us with sharp eyes.
“Kane. What’s the meaning of this?”
Kane walked deeper into the room and bowed politely but remained standing. I stood by the door. Giselle had disappeared, likely with Jones.
“Rupert. I’m trying to locate a spell.”
“There’s a library at headquarters. Why don’t you try there?”
“The book’s been stolen from there.”
The older man cackled. “Someone got through your wards?”
“Yes.”
His admission added to Rupert’s mirth, but he bore it well.
“Well, I don’t see how I could help,” Rupert said when he’d laughed enough.
“I was hoping to get a look at your library.”
The amusement was instantly wiped away. “Absolutely not. You’ll get the books once I’m gone and not a moment sooner.”
Kane gave him a pointed look. “You’ve still not selected an apprentice?”
Rupert made a dismissive gesture. “There aren’t decent mages around anymore to teach. What’s wrong with the g
irl?”
The abrupt change of topic didn’t faze Kane. “She’s the reason I need your library. It’s a medieval spell that protects unmarried women from unwanted male advances.”
The archmage shot me a piercing look that made me quake in my boots. “You have an overprotective father, girl?”
I shook my head. “It was maliciously done by a mage.”
“Who?”
“Jack Palmer,” Kane answered for me.
The archmage snorted. “Hardly. He’s not skilled enough.”
“So you know the spell?”
“I’ve heard of it. And it takes a great deal of power that he doesn’t have.”
Kane tilted his head in acknowledgement. “We think he had help casting it. And I’ve been unable to break it.”
“Have you tried a kiss?”
Kane pulled back, and I felt stunned too. “A kiss?”
Jack had briefly kissed me the previous day, but that hadn’t changed anything.
Our reaction amused the old man. “A true love’s kiss no less. Medieval mages were always about clever tricks like that.”
Kane nodded, regaining his composure. “A man who loves the woman so much that he’s not deterred by the repulsion?”
“Could be.” Rupert made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Could be something else, like a blessing kiss of a father.”
“Mine lives in France,” I said, shoulders slumping. “And I don’t have anyone who loves me so much they’d be able to resist the repulsion.”
“Then you’re in a pickle,” Rupert said unhelpfully, but Kane was undeterred.
“But you never are, Rupert,” he flattered shamelessly. “I know you could create the counter-spell even without studying the original.”
“Save it, boy. Have you tried masking the effects?”
“Yes, but it turned her invisible.”
Bushy auburn brows shot up. “Interesting side effect. Or maybe it worked as intended. You won’t be repulsed by someone you can’t see…”
He rolled his lips between his teeth as he pondered the problem. Then he nodded.
“Fine. I’ll think of something. Come back tomorrow.”
I would have wanted a faster solution, but I shouldn’t expect miracles. Kane nodded.
“Thank you. Would six o’clock work?”
The door opened and Giselle wheeled in a tea tray. “I took inventory of your pantry. It’s dismal. And I’ll need to check your magic ingredients too.”
“Leave it, you meddlesome woman. I don’t cast spells anymore. I don’t need ingredients.”
She snorted. “You’re the archmage. You’ll stop casting spells the day you die.”
“Just pour the tea…”
Kane took a seat on an armchair opposite Rupert, and Giselle and I sat on a sofa a little away. I was too wound up to drink, but I pretended to.
“So how come young Palmer targeted this human?” the archmage demanded to know.
“She’s my assistant at the gallery,” Kane explained. “Jack is helping someone to overtake the council, and this is their idea of a distraction. It’s working too.”
“Who?”
Kane took a sip of his tea. “I have no idea, but he’s scary. He frightened even Danielle, and you know what she’s like.”
The bushy brows pressed down. “Blackhart.”
“Who?”
“Julius Blackhart. He’s from the north. Ellis’s apprentice. Very nearly made it as his successor too, but Ellis changed his mind. Said there’s something wrong with the fellow. Too close to becoming a warlock. But powerful.”
Kane’s eyes grew large in dismay. “And he wants to take over London?”
“What else? If he can’t make it into an archmage, and doesn’t want to become a warlock, that’s the greatest prize available.”
Kane nodded. “That is useful information. Now we’ll have to put a face to a name, so that we’ll know who to keep an eye on for.”
“Stay away from him,” Rupert ordered. “Inconveniencing your assistant is small game for him.”
I did not like the sound of that.
We finished the tea and the archmage promised to have the counter-spell by the next evening. “Bring the girl with you. We might as well take care of the matter here.”
The mere notion of having that man perform a spell on me was frightening, but it was better than the alternative.
That the spell remained.
Kane dropped Giselle and me at the shop but didn’t stay for dinner. We didn’t need to ask why.
Setting the table while Giselle prepared the dinner, I asked her what I’d been wondering the whole drive home: “Why don’t the archmages rule the mages?” Even I could tell that Rupert was powerful.
“They’re not exactly reliable leaders. Their minds are too full of higher magic,” she explained as she sautéed the pork loin. With a werewolf and a vampire living here, this was not a vegetarian household, although Giselle tried to introduce non-meat options every now and then too.
“They dedicate their lives to learning and improving spells. Moreover, they’d be too powerful for anyone to challenge for the leadership. If they happened to be a tyrant or otherwise inept to lead, we’d have no way of getting rid of them, especially since they live longer than regular mages. So they’re excluded from the leadership.”
“That sounds practical.”
“It’s bought with experience,” she said dryly. “There’s a spell over London enforcing it. Other places have something similar, but only large cities have truly powerful ones. It prevents archmages from rising to power and governs the leadership challenge in general. The words Archibald used after defeating Cynthia triggers it. It allows only one challenge per mage per cycle, and should the leader lose, transfers the power to the new leader.”
I paused in the middle of the floor, squeezing a bouquet of forks and knives in my hand, as if repelling the realisation I had. “And now someone who’s powerful enough to be an archmage but actually isn’t wants to take over…”
She nodded, looking as queasy as I felt. “It must be the spell over London that lures him. Every mage donates a smidgen of their energy to it, keeping it constantly powered. In return, the council leader can use it to protect us. Imagine if someone close to being a warlock got their hands to it.” She shook her head. “We can’t let that happen.”
“How will you stop him?”
“We’ll have to band together. Defeat him before he can challenge Archibald, because if he has a chance to do that then we can’t interfere. The spell makes sure of that too.”
She took the frying pan off the stove and pointed at the cutlery I was holding, raising her brows in a not-so-subtle hint that I should do something about them. “With the magic of London to draw on, we might succeed.”
“Couldn’t Rupert train one or more of you to counter this Blackhart?” I asked as I continued my task and she returned to hers.
“Archmages don’t like to do that. They only train one, carefully selected successor at a time, so that the balance of power doesn’t get distorted.”
“And Rupert doesn’t have a successor?”
She shook her head. “He wanted to train Danielle, but Kane talked him out of it.”
“So she went to a warlock instead.”
Warlocks started as mages, but they shed their humanity with human sacrifices. Kane’s ex-wife was power hungry enough to try to learn from one. If she had become an archmage, she probably would’ve tried to take over the council too, prevention spell or not.
Giselle put the meat in the oven and closed the lid. “In hindsight, that’s not much better, but at least she won’t be our problem. But now Rupert has no successor.”
“He didn’t want to train Kane?”
She gave it a thought. “Possibly. Archibald has never had the same yearning for power as Danielle, so he may have refused. But if Rupert doesn’t train someone soon, it might be too late.”
“How many archmages are there? Co
uldn’t one of them train a successor for Rupert?”
“No one knows their number for sure, but each of them has their own special spells and wards that they’ve perfected over the course of their long lives. If Rupert doesn’t train someone, that knowledge will all be lost.”
I could understand why it was vital he trained someone.
The next day, Giselle gave me a lift to work so that I wouldn’t have to suffer the Tube—or be the cause of suffering there. It was bad enough that I distressed Kane with my mere presence, but at least he could close the door to his office. We passed the day by barely seeing each other.
However, he offered to drive me home after work so that we could go see Rupert together. He tried to hide how much it strained him, but a bead of sweat began to trickle down his temple long before we reached the House of Magic.
“Is the effect growing worse?” I asked, concerned.
“I think it is,” he said, swallowing to ward off nausea. “But the good thing is, it’ll be over tonight.”
“What if Rupert hasn’t found the counter-spell?”
He shot me an amused look. “He doesn’t find spells. He creates them.”
We had an early dinner before heading to Rupert’s. Luca declared he would come with us too.
“Ashley said Kane needs a bodyguard.” He was dressed for the role too, in black cargo trousers and a black T-shirt, his hair in a tight ponytail. The only thing missing was an earpiece and a mic on his collar.
Kane rolled his eyes, but he let Luca come. The two of them took Kane’s Jag, much to Luca’s pleasure. Giselle, Amber and I followed in Giselle’s small Nissan.
Rupert’s side of the house was dark. My gut tightened in disappointment as I imagined that Rupert had fled the house in order to keep us from intruding on his solitude. But then I remembered the drawn curtains and insufficient lights. He would be home.
Kane rang the doorbell. We waited for a long time, allowing Jones time to make his way slowly through the house, but nothing happened. He rang the bell again, and again we waited.
Still nothing.
Frowning, he pushed the door and it opened. He didn’t step in but checked the entrance for wards. The tightening of his face told me something was wrong before he spoke in a low voice: “These have been breached.”
Saved by the Spell. House of Magic 2. Page 8
