Trace of Magic: 1 (The Diamond City Magic Novels)

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  The last man was dark skinned and entirely bald, with heavy jowls and a smiling face. His ears stuck out like cab doors, and he looked like he never passed a donut shop he didn’t visit. Jason Drummond. Despite his happy, doughy look, I knew he was as dangerous as the others. He was a tracer like me. A pretty good one, by all accounts, though I doubted he was as strong as me.

  That left Savannah Morrell. She was a maker. A hell of a cast of bad guys, all united against Touray. Or rather, they’d come to bargain with him, Tyet-style. He’d do as they said or Price would die.

  Assuming someone like me didn’t throw a monkey wrench into their plan.

  A reckless smile ghosted over my lips and faded as my attention returned to Price. Blood had begun to pool on the floor beneath his knee. Was he in shock? My gaze flicked to the spreading bruise on this head. Did he have a brain injury? How long could he survive like that?

  I glanced at Touray and then at Josh. The latter was mumbling and weaving drunkenly through the circle, his hands alternately waving in the air and slapping at his head. Would he be any help? I had the tire iron and Touray had strength. If Josh grabbed the gun—

  He might shoot me. He’d already attacked me once. Or maybe he’d just keep wandering around like a drunk bumblebee. Either way, he’d help distract our captors.

  I decided I’d better tune back into what Savannah Morrell was saying. I expected she had a lot more to say. She had the look of a woman who liked the spotlight. As I listened again, I teased the quarter in my cheek with the tip of my tongue. It tasted like blood, metal, and dirt.

  “. . . want the Kensington artifacts and I want Mr. Reist. I’ll leave here today with those, no matter what. The rest is up to you. If you agree to cooperate with us, then you and your brother get to live. If not—” She gave a little shrug, her red lips pursing.

  You’ll notice she didn’t mention me. Her gaze flicked to me and away. Dismissed. I was nobody.

  It took me a second to register what Savannah Morrell had just said—she didn’t have the artifacts. Price must have hidden them before they attacked him. My mouth started moving before I could even think.

  “Touray doesn’t know where they are,” I said. “Price hid them. If he dies, you won’t find them.”

  “Is that true?” Morrell demanded, her voice a whip crack. She was talking to Touray.

  He nodded, his head tipping back defiantly. “So now you’ve got a problem. Kill him and you can’t find the artifacts. Kill me and this disappears forever.”

  He pulled the vial of blood out of his pocket, holding it between his thumb and his forefinger.

  Morrell gasped and paled, if that was even possible for Miss Marble. “Is that—”

  “Kensington’s blood?” Touray lifted it up to let the light shine on it better. He squinted at it, putting on a show. “That’s my guess.”

  He tossed it and caught it again. Morrell made a squeaking noise, and the others grunted and gasped and swore.

  “What are you doing?” Morrell shrieked.

  “Reminding you that killing me or my brother isn’t going to serve you,” Touray said coldly. “If push comes to shove, I will shatter this on the floor and you will never find Kensington’s hidden chamber. Is that a risk you want to take?”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Morrell said.

  Touray looked at Briandi, Ostrander, and Drummond. “I mean it. If I don’t walk out of here with my brother, then I will break it. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Notice how Josh and I weren’t included in his equation? That just gave me the warm fuzzies all over. I guess Touray’s promise to keep me safe came with an expiration date, and losing Josh was acceptable. Fortunately, I didn’t plan to rely on Touray. Much.

  “You wouldn’t,” Briandi said, his voice deep and rumbling. “You want to find that chamber as much as we do.”

  “More,” said Touray. “But I won’t find it if I’m dead, so why let you have it?”

  “Drop it then,” Ostrander said. “Jason is good. He’ll trace it.”

  “He is good, isn’t he?” Touray said. “But is he good enough? You’ll only get one shot on the trace. If he can’t do it, there’s no way you’ll ever find it. Kensington’s been dead a very long time”

  I have to admit, I was getting really curious about what was hidden in Kensington’s chamber. It sounded like Drummond could pick up dead trace. That was news to me. I thought I was the only one. Every year, hell, every minute older that trace got, the harder it was to pick up and follow.

  “What do we do?” Drummond asked his companions in his feminine voice. “I’m not sure I can pick up trace that old.”

  “Walk away,” Touray suggested. Ordered, really. He had balls. “Now. Walk away and prepare for when I come to kill you.”

  “Not exactly a reason to let you go,” Ostrander commented, but I could tell he was worried. He couldn’t stop looking at the vial of blood any more than the rest of them.

  “No? Well I’m not inclined to sugarcoat it. You invaded my house, you shot my brother, and you took me prisoner. What did you expect me to do? Send you flowers and chocolates? You get a chance. Maybe you can run far enough and dig a whole deep enough that I don’t find you. Or maybe you can raise a big enough army to fight me off. Be warned—if Clay dies, I will make you pay with your pain. I will make you suffer more than you can possibly imagine.”

  I believed him. I’d heard more than I wanted to about the kinds of things he was capable of. For a second I thought they might fall for it. But then—

  “No,” Savannah declared. “If you want your brother to survive, then you’ll give us that vial and behave. The longer he lies there bleeding, the closer he gets to dying. We’ll stay here and watch him breathe his last breath, if you like. If you really love him, you’ll save him.”

  I saw Touray swallowing jerkily and felt the furious swirl of his thoughts. Time for me to step up.

  “If you didn’t have this null wall, you wouldn’t be so cocky,” I said. It was all the hint I could give Touray.

  His head jerked toward me, but I didn’t look at him. He’d seen me take down the nulls on the cage. He had to know I was ready to do something.

  I didn’t wait for a reply. Surprise was our best chance. I clamped the quarter null between my teeth and activated it, hoping it would work the way I’d planned. Testing it hadn’t been possible. I meant for it to suck up all the magic in a localized area, then maintain the circumference even on the move. There was no way to deactivate it once set in motion. Absorbing so much magic would burn it out pretty quick, depending on how much work it had to do. It was a good idea in theory. I underestimated reality.

  Imagine one of those big parties where they’ve hung a net up at the ceiling to hold a billion balloons. Suddenly the net vanishes and all the balloons fall on the audience. Now imagine that the balloons are really lead weights and they are all funneling down to one point at ten thousand miles per hour. That’s what this was like. All the spells holding magic in the near vicinity simply vanished. The unbound magic sluiced into me. It pounded me in sticky, smothering waves, then pushed inside me, through me, into the null inside my mouth. My body felt like it was being pried apart, tendons and ligaments stretching, muscles separating, bones splintering. I found myself sprawled flat on my back, unable to move and unaware how I’d got there. As I lay there, the quarter continued to drink down the magic as fast as it came.

  The lights flickered overhead, and I heard noises echoing from the cavern as magic tore away. More flowed through me than I imagined the quarter could hold. It wasn’t long before the flow slowed. I forced myself up. The surprise of my attack wouldn’t last long. I had to move.

  I yanked the tire iron out of my back pocket and lunged at Savannah. I picked her because she was pointing the gun at Price. I needed her threat to be gone.


  She hesitated, distracted by the noise and dying lights. I launched myself over the null line, swinging the tire iron and smashing it into her forearm. A shot exploded and nearly deafened me. The gun clattered to the stone floor. Savannah screamed and staggered back, clutching her arm close, then broke away, running off though the maze of vehicles. One down.

  I whirled to find Touray locked together with Briandi. Ostrander hovered in the background. Jason Drummond scuttled forward, going for Touray’s discarded gun. I looked down, searching for the one Morrell had dropped. Where was it?

  There was no time to look. Drummond stooped. Everything slowed. I heard a fist thud against flesh, and Briandi fell backward a step before launching himself at Touray. Josh yelled something incoherent and ran at Ostrander, driving his shoulder into the other man’s stomach. He picked him up and slammed him into the side of a truck. Ostrander dropped senselessly to the ground and Josh fell on top of him, pounding the other man furiously. His arms jerked like pistons. His face pulled into a snarling mask. Ostrander tried to block the blows, but he had no chance against Josh’s wild fury. I wondered if Josh even knew who he was fighting, or if it was some monster from the nightmares only he could see.

  My attention flicked back to Drummond. He’d swung himself back around, his arm extending, aiming at Touray. I leaped for him, swinging the tire iron over my head. It felt like I was caught in honey. I tripped over one of the steel null blocks and everything whipped into fast-forward. The tire iron went flying, and I staggered forward, crashing into Drummond’s side.

  “Bitch!”

  He grabbed me by the hair and shoved me down. I landed hard on my knees. Pain rattled down my shins and up my thighs. I struggled to get up and found myself looking up the barrel of his gun. The muzzle filled my whole world. I didn’t even have time to panic or for my life to flash before my eyes. I flung myself aside as three shots sounded almost simultaneously.

  My head hit the stone floor. Gold sparks exploded across my vision, followed by a fall of soot snowflakes. I blinked rapidly, taking stock of my body, stunned that I was still alive. Where had the bullets hit? My head throbbed and so did my knees and shoulder where I’d struck the ground, but the burning pain I’d experienced when I was shot before wasn’t there.

  How could he have missed? Adrenaline jolted through me, and I scrambled to my feet. Drummond sprawled in front of me, his legs bent awkwardly, his face slack with surprise. Three bloody holes perforated his chest.

  For a second I stayed glued to the floor, too stunned to move. Then I spun around, searching for my savior.

  I found him on the ground behind me. Price. He lay on his back, holding Savannah Morrell’s gun. His sapphire gaze swallowed me. It was like being swept into a whirlpool. I felt myself spinning and careening, sinking down into a maelstrom. My heart thundered against my ribs so hard I thought it would shatter into pieces. His eyes were full of turbulence and desperate undercurrents I didn’t understand, but they held both promises and demands. My stomach clenched in anticipation.

  Touray knocked into me, and I stumbled aside, losing sight of Price. Shots rang out again and silence fell, broken only by Touray’s deep panting breaths and the thud of Josh’s fists on Ostrander’s flesh.

  The man was unconscious, his face unrecognizable. Josh sat astride him, not yet tiring. I called his name. He hesitated, his fists freezing in mid-swing. His knuckles were bloody and swollen.

  “Josh,” I called again and stepped toward him. “It’s over. You can let him go.”

  He looked sideways at me like a dog protecting a bone, and I barely recognized him for the man I knew. This one was tortured and hard, like he was chiseled from diamonds. He turned away and gripped Ostrander around the neck. Almost gently, he lifted the man’s head and knocked it against the floor. Again. And again.

  The pulpy crunching sound twisted my stomach, and I swallowed hard. I didn’t try to stop him again. I wanted to, but for the first time in my life, I was afraid of him. Mild-mannered, sweet Josh. I was so stupid. It wasn’t over for him and wouldn’t be until the nightmares in his head stopped and even then—who knew what would be left? I hoped to hell his head could be fixed, because no way was he getting near Taylor again otherwise.

  “Clay, are you all right?”

  It was hard to see. Lights still functioned fifty feet away, but we were at the center of a dark circle. My eyes adjusted slowly.

  Touray knelt down by Price. Anderson Briandi had fled, following Morrell. Just down the row of vehicles, a truck window was shattered and another couple of bullet holes pocked the fender. Price must have gotten a couple shots off at him. I bent to check to see if Drummond was still alive. No pulse.

  I stepped away from his body, and the pain of my feet along with all the other bruises swept over me in a black wave. Exhaustion netted my muscles, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball somewhere and sleep for a year.

  No chance of that.

  Touray tied a makeshift bandage around Price’s leg.

  Price grimaced and growled at the pain. “Take it easy.”

  “We have to stop the bleeding. You’ve lost a lot of blood. How’s your head?”

  “I’ve got a hard head. I’ll live.”

  “Good, because I’m going to need you. We’ve just gone to war. Come on. We have to get out of here before Savannah and Anderson come back with reinforcements.”

  Touray helped his brother to his feet. I hung back. After my earlier realization about how much I loved Price, I was turning chicken. A Godzilla-sized chicken. I wanted to run and disappear almost as much as I wanted to wrap myself around him and not let go.

  He looked haggard and gray. Blood smeared his face and crusted in his hair.

  I’d almost lost him. I was still going to lose him.

  No. I forced myself to be honest. I was going to give him away. Or more accurately, I was going to run away. For the first time since I’d fallen in love with him, I asked myself why my gut was still urging me to run, and none of the answers seemed good enough.

  “Are you okay?” he asked me, one arm over Touray’s shoulder.

  Just like before, I fell into his eyes and lost hold of reality. Tides of emotion swirled around me, pulling and pushing. I couldn’t get a breath. I was drowning in him, in his demand and the anguish twining around my bones.

  When I didn’t speak, he scowled and started to say something, but his brother interrupted.

  “Can you bring Josh?” he asked me, only it was more like a command. Then to Price, “Are the artifacts safe?”

  I didn’t listen for the answer. As Price looked away from me to his brother, I could suddenly move. I drew in a long, shaky breath. This was it. This was my chance to run with Josh. I could null our trace with the tire iron. The storm would cover our escape. We could just jump into a vehicle and go. They all had their keys inside.

  If I could get Josh to go with me. If I could find someone to try to heal him. If Touray and Price didn’t catch us first. And the biggest if of all: if I could walk away from Price.

  I looked up again to find him watching me. His jaw was knotted and white lines bracketed his mouth. He knew what I was thinking. Expected me to do it, even.

  He gave himself to his brother for you. What else do you want?

  I caught myself before I could even consider. It didn’t matter. Price was never going to betray his brother. I turned away.

  Josh was still banging Ostrander’s head against the ground, slowly, deliberately. Blood pooled around the prone man’s head. I went over and put my hand on Josh’s shoulder.

  “We need to go,” I said firmly, pulling on him. “The others might come back. We need to find someone to help you.”

  I don’t know how much he understood, but he did let go of Ostrander and stood up. His hands were swollen an
d covered with blood. He wiped them on his pants. I looked away, feeling green.

  Touray and Price started up the row of vehicles again. I hobbled after them with Josh in tow. I still couldn’t decide what I should do. I’d befriended a lot of people with abilities over the years, but I avoided dreamers. I had too many secrets to lose, and I was terrified they’d sneak into my head without my knowing. The only dreamer I knew was Cass, and it would take time to find her. Price would guess that she’d be my destination and follow. I didn’t have a choice. I had to stay with them.

  That made me happier than it should have.

  Did I really want to pick safety over this amazing thing between Price and me? Even if what we felt only lasted an hour or a day or a week? Was I being a coward?

  The answer to that was obvious and not one that I liked thinking about. But now I had to decide if I wanted to stay a coward. Did I want to live a long life of fear? Or did I want to grab what joy I could get and suffer the consequences?

  That answer was obvious, too. If I had the courage to follow my heart. At that moment, if my arm hadn’t been linked through Josh’s, I would have jumped in with both feet and said, fuck it. I’d deal with Touray and whatever else I had to. But the reality of Josh stopped me. He’d been kidnapped and tortured by people like Touray. I could never be one of those people.

  I looked at Price leaning heavily on his brother. A salt smile curved my lips. Touray was in for a surprise. Price was never going to be able to do that kind of thing either. He didn’t have to tell me he’d stayed out of his brother’s business and become a cop in order to do good. He was a tough and dangerous man, and he was a good man. I didn’t know how he was going to survive living in that shadow world. He’d have to change it. I wondered if Touray was prepared for that.

  Chapter 23

  TOURAY HELPED Price into the passenger seat of a one-ton Chevy SUV. I pushed Josh into his seat, bending his arms and legs like a stiff doll until I could buckle his seat belt, more to keep him from freaking out and attacking the rest of us than anything else. I hobbled around to my side and slid into my seat, shutting the door with a long sigh.