by Sara Hanover
Visions of my doing a Karate Kid on her and flattening her filled my head, immediately followed by lots of whistles from the referees. “Penalties?”
“Not if you handle yourself correctly. Look, she’s going to come straight at you if she can, giving you the perfect opportunity to use her weight and momentum against her. You have to step aside at the last minute, like a matador with a charging bull . . . but you need to put your hip out. You’re a tall, slim girl, but I know you have a butt. You do, don’t you?”
Unless I’d forgotten to slide it into my jeans with the rest of me this morning, you bet I had a butt. I gave the affirmative.
“You angle it this way and when you hit, which you will, let her run push you, and you will also push her thatta way. We don’t hit the way the guys do, their center of gravity is in their shoulders, ours is in the pelvis. I’m going to come at you, and you try it.”
There are few things I’d faced lately more frightening than the sight of my middle-aged coach running at me like a freight train. She intended to steamroll me. I stood my ground, wrapped in my gear and with my stick in hand, thoughts stampeding through my mind, and took a half second to wonder if I were dreaming. Then I could hear her breathing and the thud of her track shoes. Put my hip out, and prepared to pivot away.
A little rough. I staggered more than spun away smoothly, but it worked. She blew by, mostly, and I went off on a side angle, free of her path and on my own. It looked as though I could break relatively free but not being in an actual game, it seemed theoretical.
The coach came trotting back to me. “Not bad. Again.”
And before I could brace myself, she circled off and launched herself at me, twice as hard as before.
I decided she’d been possessed and swore I could see little red flames dancing in the pupils of her eyes as she came at me. Her jaw squared. Her shoulders looked twice as wide as her waist. The noise of her approach even drowned out the busy construction crew at the grandstand.
I had nowhere to hide.
“Run at me! You’re a striker!”
Orders I dared not refuse, I dropped into my familiar mode of intimidating the enemy and quite possibly threatening to bash their head in unless I got the ball and pass. My ears filled with the noise of our headlong rush. Then, before she could knock me aside, I put that hip out and rolled off her body, coming about at an angle she couldn’t possibly follow as she straggled to a halt, defeated.
“Excellent.” Coach grinned at me.
“Thanks.”
And she waved me off the field with everyone else, me trotting in after because not only had she taught me something a little new, but she gave me an idea.
* * *
• • •
At week’s end, we conspirators gathered to make plans on Friday after the away game—and eat pulled pork sandwiches laced with bourbon BBQ sauce and baked beans. I’d also made about a dozen or so deviled eggs which I put atop a little green salad plate for each of us. Sky Hawk had won again, which put us squarely at the top of our division, but only by half a game. Fourteen was right that we’d probably meet in the playoffs. Hunger banged at my ribs and I sat down eagerly to devour the last flavors of an Indian summer. Brian and Carter ate heartily, but I saw no sign of my mother. Unexpected office hours? That could, and did, happen from time to time, so I fell into supper with the rest of them, missing Hiram and Steptoe more than usual.
After dishes were cleared (bless paper plates), I said, “I think I can produce the book. Give me the silver globe, and I think I can cut the binding ties.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I can’t think of any reason Devian would agree to meet with us otherwise. Other than a feline tendency to toy with us.”
Brian tapped the back of my left wrist. “You’re too vulnerable with this.”
“I don’t think so. Because you two are making a fundamental mistake.”
Carter wiped a touch of bbq sauce away from the corner of his mouth. “What mistake?”
“That it’s just a stone.”
“We know it’s not just a stone, it’s an elemental of chaos, charged, and capable—very—of absorbing more.” He wadded up his napkin and dropped it.
“That’s not it.”
Brian made an impatient gesture. “What, then?”
“It thinks. It partners with me, it reacts, and it often works with me. Yet it’s a stone and an inanimate object when it’s not part of me.”
“When it wishes. I don’t buy that it’s sentient. It’s . . . instinctive.”
I shifted a bit uneasily. “That’s true. But it didn’t absorb the book, just a bolt from it, and it might be just as enticed by the possibility of more power as Devian is.”
“Tessa, you can’t play ‘button, button who’s got the button’ with both the elf and the maelstrom stone. You’re playing with fire.”
“I think if we retrieve that dimensional cage Brian and Steptoe made for the book, and I carry that, the stone will unleash it at my command.” More probably, I’d cut it loose, but they didn’t need to know that part of it. I added helpfully, “To get a better sense of it, if nothing else.”
“Good gods.” Brian sat back, looking as stunned as he possibly felt. “You’re talking about dangling a fish in front of a great white shark.”
“Not quite. The stone answers to me.”
“Until it’s taken or is ready to move on. What makes you think that Devian’s power alone isn’t enough to entice it to leave you and go to him? What if Devian offers more?”
“Because it thrives on chaos, and whose life has been more disrupted than mine? Every day I bounce off a new crisis. Losing my father, my chance at a good college, plunging into debt, trying to keep my head above water, falling into magic . . . the list goes on.”
Carter said quietly, “It’s not been all bad.”
“It’s been a roller coaster, and I love where I am now, but this stone craves possibilities, the more out of the norm, the better. As I see it, I offer an infinite number of them. A foot in two crazed worlds.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got, then.”
We adjourned to the backyard, for safety’s sake. I rubbed my bare hands together as the night’s edge toward winter fell around us. I set my feet and extended my palm, willing the stone to produce the frayed, leather volume of the old book. I could see it in my mind’s eye as well as if I held it and expected to see it materialize in my fingers. I could smell the musty scent of it, hear the slightly crisp pages crackle as I turned them, see faded ink that made deciphering its language even tougher.
Nothing.
I rubbed my stone lightly, feeling like a gambler at a craps table rubbing his dice. That made me grin a little. The casino had sunk deeper into my blood than I knew. I blew gently across the marble surface. “Come on. Work with me.”
I put my hand out again to summon up the book or at least a reasonable illusion of it, not caring if I had the real thing or a fake. I didn’t intend to let Devian get hold of it, let alone keep it. Perhaps the anarchic bent of the object would entertain the idea of faking Devian out. The stone grew heavy. I don’t remember its weight becoming terrible before, but now my entire arm and shoulder ached and trembled as I stretched out. My whole body quivered with the effort. Was it testing me? I squared myself off. “I have to be able to do it.”
Brian and Carter watched me like hawks on a field mouse in a cornfield. I could feel their intensity while, even in the cooling night, sweat dripped from my right temple and slipped down to my neck. Instead of my inner self seeing the book, I looked into a mass of dancing light and shining obsidian, folding in and out of itself over and over. Was that me? My confusion or knowledge? The thought made me sweat more, and the stone heavier, and the night oppressive. The stone hadn’t felt this way when I called on it at the casino. Was it being stubborn? Or did it now h
ave a darker purpose? Or was I looking into my own soul, which, heaven knew, had its black corners?
That thought stung. I quickly pulled my hand back and tucked it into my waistband for a moment, till the muscle fatigue left. My observers said nothing although Brian searched for and found his pipe. Again, he didn’t light it but stuck it in the corner of his mouth and clamped down on it. I shook both arms out, trying to loosen the tightness I’d begun to feel.
Then I considered the maelstrom stone again. I had to get this done. It was the best, perhaps the only, bait we could offer Devian for another meet. He wouldn’t be too eager to let go of Hiram in his role of mineral prospector, but this book . . . he’d mentioned it himself. He’d been looking for it. He wanted it.
And I wanted to be able to dangle it in front of him. Only the guys wouldn’t let me attempt to free the real thing. Therefore, I had to create its essence out of nothing. No, not quite right. I knew the sight of it, the feel, the ominous mood that descended on me when I’d tried to read it, and the smell of old ink, old paper, and the brown wrapper that held it.
This time a slow cloud of steam, condensation against the evening as if I’d breathed it out, formed. And as it turned, it gained a rectangular form. I could hear the professor chomp on his pipe stem.
“She’s almost got it.”
“Not near good enough. It’s only fog.” Carter folded his arms across his chest. He didn’t look happy.
“She’ll get there.”
With my second hand, I traced the edges of the illusion, correcting the shape of it, and whispering to the stone that I wanted leather, aged brown leather. For a brief, fleeting moment, I had exactly what I needed floating above my hands.
Then, poof!—and it was gone.
“You did it.”
Sweat glued my hair to the back of my neck and threatened to make my eyesight blurry. Swiping my wrist over my face, I tried to clear my eyes. “Would it fool him?”
“If you can hold it for a good three or four minutes, I think so. That was closer to twenty seconds.”
“I’ll work on it.” I inhaled deeply. “What if I had the cage in my pocket?”
Carter and the professor said “No” in unison.
“But—”
“We can’t afford for it to be returned from its location, not until you yourself are stronger and trained. It wants you far more than you want it.”
Brian’s words sent a shiver down my back. “It’s hunting me.”
“If it is freed, it will be.”
Not a question from me, but a statement. “It’s that powerful.”
Brian and Carter traded a look before the professor told me, “Not nearly as powerful as the stone, but we can’t discount the effect it could have on you. It acted to enhance you, and now it needs to possess you. The stone, on the other hand, has always been a sort of partner, not a possessor.”
“Then I have to perfect the book and hope the elf thinks I’m giving it over. He’ll come to a meet for that.”
“If you’re right, and I don’t concede that you are, how would that stop Devian?”
“While he’s looking at me, you two have to hit him with everything you’ve got. I’m the decoy, you’re the attack.”
Brian twitched an eyebrow. “Not likely to kill him, but yes, we could very well knock him from one side of Faerie to another, with the power of an exploding portal behind us. Delay him for a few years on whatever he has planned. What about Hiram and the Eye of Nimora?”
“He’d have to produce them before I show the book. Once outside the arch, Hiram can take care of himself, right?”
“Likely.”
I watched him fidget slightly. Was Brian ready for an epic confrontation?
Carter shook his head. “I don’t like you being within reach of Devian. Or whatever doppelganger he might be using, or near an edged weapon with everbleed, or—” He halted abruptly.
“That’s where my coach comes in. I learned a little lesson earlier this week.” And I told them what else I had in mind. They were listening closely when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the phone number.
It was my mother. When I answered, she said tersely, “Put it on speaker.”
“Where are you?”
“Do as you’re told, Tessa.”
So I did.
My mother’s voice choked up, then Devian’s voice came over the line smoothly. “Good evening, all . . . I assume I’m speaking to your little cadre? If not, I trust you’ll relay all the pertinent information. It’s a new moon coming at week’s end, an auspicious omen for many projects, particularly new starts. I suggest we meet accordingly. I’ll text the location and timing. And precisely what it is I expect you to trade.”
I didn’t want to sound eager, so I answered, “What if I’m not ready?”
“Then get ready. I have both Mary and April Andrews with me, and—frankly—I don’t think they’re enjoying themselves.” The phone went silent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
NOW YOU SEE IT
I WANTED TO smash the phone. Carter reached out and snagged it, examining the information about the call, which didn’t appear helpful, name and number successfully blocked. He set it back on the table. “I could take this into the Society and they might be able to wring its secrets out of it, but that will take time. And neither Brandard nor I have a lot of confidence in them at the moment. I’d say it’s up to you, but I don’t think you have a choice now.”
My throat dried and I couldn’t talk for a second until I picked up my glass and took a hefty swallow of weak sweet tea and melted ice cubes. Then my voice squeaked out. “How did he get them? And he didn’t say what he wanted to trade for. Yet.” A text would be coming, but would we have time to make preparations?
“He could have used any number of tricks to get them to come to him. Speaking from my experience at the department, it’s likely he told them you’d had a car accident and where to meet him. Then he just took them.” Carter paused. “As for what he wants, I think we can assume it’s the stone, or you and the stone, and the book.”
“And we have to do this.”
Carter met my stare. “You were ready to do this before.”
“That was different! This is my mom and Aunt April we’re talking about. Why don’t we—what about the FBI?” Quantico was only a ninety-minute drive from Richmond, and they seemed handy.
“Tessa.”
“Or the Society? What use are they if they don’t help at times like this?”
“Tessa.”
“It’s my mom.” I tugged at a string of my hair that couldn’t decide whether it would hang in my eyes or where it belonged tucked behind an ear. “This is different.”
“Not really,” Brian answered me, his voice low and even.
My world was ending. I thought then of Malender and my dream of days and days ago as he told me how the world ended. A ripple of decision passed through me. High stakes and I couldn’t afford to bow out. Now was when I needed all that I could muster. I folded my arms. “Right.”
“We can put him off, possibly.”
“No. I’m ready. I will be ready. He just shook me.”
“As he intended.” Brian stood up. “I’ve a few things to get from the basement.”
As he descended the stairs, I called after him, “Don’t forget I have flash-bangs!”
“Oh, right!” he called back up. “I had forgotten! Those, my girl, can make the difference!”
I felt a little better.
“So we’re still on for the illusion and switch?”
“I don’t know any other way to play it.”
Carter reached out and put his arm around my waist. “We’ll get them back, and he won’t be taking you. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Since we don’t have Steptoe or Hiram, I’m going to pull
in Goldie.”
“Will she fight for you?”
“I think so.”
He nodded. “She might be a good ally.”
I couldn’t let him see the tears in the corners of my eyes, or the doubt I felt coursing through my body. He’d do all he could. I would do all I could. I didn’t know about the professor or the other person in our plan. All I could do was hope.
When Brian returned, he put his hand out. “Give me a flash-bang.”
I went up to my room to retrieve a few, but he solemnly counted out just one and told me, “When I return it, mark it as the first one you throw. Put it somewhere you won’t forget which one it is.”
“You’re going to alter it.”
“Of course, I am. Devian deserves all we can toss at him.” And he gave me a professorial wink before disappearing to his workroom in the garage.
I sat down on the cellar stairs. The house seemed dreadfully empty without my mother; even though I’m used to her working hours, knowing she would return home at some time filled the place with her presence. I don’t know how Devian had gotten his hands on her. Or Aunt April. I’d placed them in jeopardy without knowing. It was fine when I thought it was just myself who needed to be on the lookout. I should have felt Devian watching us, learning about us. The tell-tales and Scout hadn’t protected us.
The pup in question sidled down the steps after me, and curled up under my knees. He’d grown big enough that a single step couldn’t hold all of him anymore. I looked at an outstretched paw and calculated his potential size. As Carter and I had discussed, he would be on the small side for a Lab, which was good for me, and he hadn’t the sprung rib cage of a big retriever, either. He’d be neat and quick on his feet. But I couldn’t imagine him as a hound of the Great Huntsman and the Hunt. Devian seemed to be the kind of ruler who ruled best by fear, and he’d done what he could to strike that deep into me. I didn’t want to be afraid of my dog, and I wouldn’t be.
Not that I’m the bravest bear in the woods, but I’m not the most stupid either. Unfortunately, I cannot tell when the magic is real or a bluff, and that would put me at a distinct disadvantage. Carter and Brian reacted to Devian as if he could be a real nasty customer, and that worried me.
