Misfits, Gemstones, and Other Shattered Magic

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  She smiled, flashing her shark-like teeth at me. “Mira. Yes. That fits this place better.” She released my hand, then spun away, jogging down the alley.

  As I watched, she gathered her magic and disappeared from my sight. I tasted just a hint of her moss-and-evergreen-bark power as she went.

  I had most likely just negotiated and set up the terms of the trap meant for me. But at least I would know when it was coming. And that it wouldn’t be directed at anyone else.

  I turned to open the exterior door of the bakery, hoping that I’d have enough time before Kandy returned to change and to properly blow-dry my hair. Hoping I was wrong about Mira.

  I didn’t much like leaving my city, let alone the country. As a result, I could only barely imagine what it would feel like to be trapped in another dimension. Away from everyone I loved. So even though I was certain I was being played, that yet another game had just been set in motion, I still hoped I was wrong.

  But wrong in a good way for once.

  9

  As I stepped through into the bakery kitchen, feeling my blood wards slide across my skin, a huge pulse of magic erupted in the alley. I spun toward it, calling my knife into my hand. Intense golden guardian magic buffeted me as a portal blew open before me.

  I loosened my hold on my knife. Even I wasn’t stupid enough to want to be caught wielding a weapon by anyone who could walk through portals. The instruments of assassination hanging from my necklace were already a constant source of provocation. For the brief moment that the power of the portal ravaged the air around me, I leaned into it, gathering it greedily as if it were chocolate and I’d been bereft for months. Even years.

  This potent magic and its underlying taste of strong tea and rich cream called to the power simmering in my blood — power stolen and absorbed from Shailaja, child of a guardian herself.

  Then, in a breath, it was gone.

  A large figure stood at the side of the alley, wielding a shortsword embellished with an obscenely large emerald gemstone. He was shadowed by the tall fence that backed the apartment building across the way. All the magic that had sprung forth snapped back, absorbed into the guardian who had just stepped through the portal he’d manifested.

  Pulou.

  Mercy me. The treasure keeper himself. Ankle-length fur coat and all.

  He stepped forward, revealing himself in the light cast by the upper apartments on either side of the alley. His hair was grayer than I remembered it, and the lines etched across his face seemed deeper. He locked his shadowed gaze on me standing with the bakery door open at my back. His grip on his weapon tightened.

  Almost involuntarily, my hand moved toward my neck, to my necklace and the instruments it held. Then I waited. Already breathless from the onslaught of the portal’s magic, I became almost lightheaded as the tension between me and the treasure keeper grew tighter.

  If Pulou attacked me now, I would fight. And I would die. But I would definitely try to take him with me. And then I’d haunt his prejudiced, arrogant ass ever after until the end of his days.

  But before I even had time to think the gesture through — and the strategically weak position it put me in — I bowed my head, dipping into a stiff curtsy and holding it. Then I peered up at the guardian through the golden curls that had tumbled around my face.

  “Treasure keeper. I would have gladly come to you.”

  Pulou frowned, then tucked his sword back into the pocket of his massive coat. “Wielder,” he said benignly. “It was easier to make the journey myself.” His British lilt — the accent the elves seemingly emulated — was a low rumble.

  “Guardian,” I said, straightening. “I was just on my way to dinner. It’s my bachelorette party.”

  Pulou raised an eyebrow in amusement. “I shall not interrupt your wedding games for long. You requested an audience. There has been some annoyance that you apparently need help to deal with?”

  I clenched my jaw, trying really hard to not lose my mind over him calling the elves he’d hidden away in Vancouver without anyone’s knowledge a mere annoyance. “Treasure keeper.” I struggled to keep my tone smooth. “Thank you for coming. I do have some questions. Would you like to step inside the bakery?”

  He tilted his head, making a show of thinking about it. “Are there cupcakes?”

  “Probably not. Nothing fresh, at least. But I believe we were just about to order sushi.”

  Pulou grimaced. “Raw fish.”

  “We could order some tempura.” Yes, I was cajoling one of the nine most powerful beings in the world with deep-fried prawns and veggies. Because I had the feeling it was either that or give in to the need to beat him around the head until he apologized — first for locking me up, then for not telling me about the elves. “And there might be some leftover petit fours.” That was a long shot. I had lost track of the second container of pastries after the earlier skirmish with Jasmine — and as such, had no idea whether the werewolves had subsequently eaten them all in retribution.

  “That will have to do, then. Not created by your hand, alchemist, but I shall endure.” He offered me a smile.

  I returned the smile, though I showed less of my teeth. I wasn’t fooled by his attempt to charm me. Seriously. A girl instinctively knew when her former mentor wanted nothing better than to kick her ass and retrieve the instruments of assassination. By force if necessary.

  Still smiling, Pulou and I eyed each other like gunslingers. Then I stepped out of the way of the bakery door.

  “After you, guardian,” I said as deferentially as I could. I really did need some answers.

  He stepped by me, brushing me with the epic power contained within his coat — and momentarily scrambling my brain. It wasn’t an intentionally aggressive move. At least I didn’t think it was.

  The idea of shoving my hand into his pocket and seeing what I could retrieve flitted through my mind. Thankfully, I quashed the notion before it was fully formed … though the three-foot-tall smiling ivory Buddha that had once worn my mangled katana like a crown would have totally rocked my apartment entranceway …

  In his coat, Pulou was so massive that he filled the exterior door frame to frame. He stepped through the wards without disturbing them. And even though I’d invited him in, I was still surprised that the defensive magic hadn’t even whispered with his passing. Perhaps that was a side effect of the treasure keeper’s ability to create portals? Though that didn’t explain why Suanmi had been able to pass through my wards just as easily.

  I opened my mouth to ask about it. Then I remembered that my former mentor was probably as close as I was ever going to get to having a real nemesis. So I closed my mouth on the question, and followed him through into my haven.

  The bakery kitchen was pristine. Nary a hint of the tussle that had occurred between Audrey, Jasmine, and me remained. I whispered thanks to Blossom under my breath while Pulou lumbered over to and entered my office.

  I followed, pissily slapping on the interior light. Then I was forced to circle to the other side of the desk in order to stand in the tiny room with him. He was that large. Or maybe it was his magic that took up so much space. He hadn’t bothered to dampen it at all, as Suanmi had when she came to the bakery, and as my father usually did when he casually walked the streets of Vancouver.

  Pulou partially closed the door, revealing the magically layered safe behind it. Without speaking, he passed his hand across the top and down the front, clearly sensing the magic of the wards. But he didn’t try to open it. “It holds the dragon slayer?” he asked. He meant my katana.

  “Yes. Along with some coins, the pen, and other trinkets.”

  He nodded, turning to look at me — and making a thorough examination of my necklace. “But you wear the instruments.”

  “Yes.” When he didn’t respond for an uncomfortably long moment, I found myself needing to explain. “They are a part of me, and will not tolerate being apart.”

  He grunted. Unhappily, I thought.

  �
�And the elves you kept in the prison here?” I asked. I wanted to change the focus, and to hopefully remind the treasure keeper that he wasn’t without flaw himself when it came to the hoarding of dangerous magical objects. And dangerous magical beings. “What should I know about them?”

  “A trio was all that remained of that particular incursion. They surrendered.” Then, answering my unasked question. “It would have been murder to have killed them after that point.”

  “Why not send them back?”

  “I had no ability to do so.”

  “Why not find someone who could?”

  He glowered at me. “Why not release beings who’d tried to invade the world under my protection? So that they could attempt to do so again, forewarned of what would be waiting for them on the other side?”

  “They want to go back now.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve conversed with them?”

  “One. I killed another. A male who was already wounded in some fashion. And I believe the third is their leader. The elf who can construct powerful illusions refers to the telepath as her liege.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I remember this. The final two protecting a third. I had not thought much of it.” He gave me a look, as if anticipating my chastising him. “It had been a lengthy fight, across many continents. ’Twas before your father wielded the sword.”

  “And the fight ended here? Which is why you built the prison?”

  “No. We finally vanquished them somewhere in the Mediterranean. But the cells were already in place, courtesy of the former treasure keeper. And the people who occupied the land were nomadic. Plus, they practiced a different kind of magic. Incompatible. So there was no chance of exposure.”

  “The First Nations peoples?”

  He shook his head sadly. “Most of that magic has disappeared from the world now. We are all the lesser for it.”

  His tone was so mournful that I almost opened my mouth to tell him about the reemergence of the skinwalkers. But instead, I hoarded that piece of information away, silently and vindictively spiteful. Yes, this was what my grudge had reduced me to.

  “Why not take them to Antarctica?” I said.

  He gave me a quelling look. Possibly in response to my sneering tone. “The items that decorate your neck answer that question for you, wielder.”

  Right. If the elves had ever managed to break out within the treasure keeper’s chamber, they would have had access to every magical artifact and weapon it housed. Of course, they would then have had to get off the continent without freezing, and without attracting the treasure keeper’s attention. But in the scenario I was running in my head, Pulou would likely have already been dead if his prisoners were walking free.

  “You’ve run out of questions already?”

  “No. I was thinking.”

  “That’s unlike you.” Pulou smiled, pretending he was teasing.

  I gritted my teeth. “Do you have a way to help them get home or not? Do you know of someone who can open …” — I waved my hand, searching for the correct term — “… dimensional gates?”

  “Sorcerers and witches can reach into the demon realm, but not without grave consequences.”

  I squashed my need to snarl Tell me something I don’t know! and simply nodded to encourage him to continue. See? I could be a grown-up. For short, short periods of time.

  “The elves themselves are the only ones who have the knowledge you seek.”

  “A working, Mira called it. Then she called it technology.”

  “Mira?”

  “The illusionist elf.”

  “You’ve named her such? She is not a friend to add to your … eclectic collection, Jade.”

  Well, that was just a snooty way of calling all of us ‘misfits.’ And only Kandy got away with that, mostly because she included herself in the assessment. I jutted out my chin, ignoring the fact that Pulou sounded exactly like I had when I’d warned Mory away from the shadow leech.

  The treasure keeper sighed. Heavily. “A working …” Then he dug into his pocket, pulling something out from within the endless depths of its magic.

  I flinched, forcing myself to not respond by reaching for my knife.

  Pulou hesitated, noting my reaction with narrowed eyes.

  Yes, I had instinctively thought he was going to attack me.

  “I would not be so careless, wielder,” he said mildly. “To try to take you within the center of your power. I assumed you would be more at ease here.”

  I huffed out a sigh, relaxing my hands. “How about … you wouldn’t attack me because we’re allies?”

  “When you prove we are, then I will add that addendum. But for now, you are simply an asset … and the child of a guardian.”

  Unable to come up with a response that didn’t involve yet again wanting to pull my knife, I glanced down at the object in his hands. It was a half circle of layered metal about ten inches in diameter, somewhere between silver and gray in color. It appeared to have been sliced down the middle with something wickedly sharp. I would have classified it as a magical artifact — except it held no magic. Nothing I could feel or taste.

  I slipped around to the other side of the desk, attempting to get a closer look at the half circle. When I did, I saw that it was actually comprised of a series of metal pieces, or components, slotted together. A number of gemstones were attached to it, but I didn’t recognize any of them. They might have been rare … or they might have been from the elves’ dimension. Most of them looked damaged, cracked and missing shards.

  “Elf technology?” I asked.

  “Indeed.”

  “But it’s broken?”

  “Sliced in half by the warrior’s sword.” He didn’t mean my father.

  “This is part of a dimensional gate? Similar to a portal, but opening between worlds?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Could you get it working again?”

  “Not without the other half. And even then … no.”

  “What about …” I looked up to meet his dark-brown gaze. “An alchemist?”

  “Even if you had the second piece, the operation of the device would likely kill you, Jade. The force it takes to tear through dimensions would swallow you. Burn you up.”

  I glared belligerently.

  His tone softened. “Trust me, alchemist. I have seen it with my own eyes. The warrior walked into the sphere of this device’s magic and … was never the same afterward.”

  “But … Warner, Haoxin, and my father have been dealing with other incursions for months.”

  Pulou shook his head. “Minor pathways opened from the other side. This device was at the center of an attempt at a full invasion, and was set up on our side. It likely took them years to gather enough energy to open it. All the while fleeing from the warrior’s pursuit.”

  “They know how to remain hidden effectively, that’s for sure.” I looked at the piece of broken tech in Pulou’s hand glumly. “So … these minor pathways are … like what? Weak spots?”

  “Thin spots, yes.”

  “So, if you know where they are, we could … I don’t know … negotiate with the elves? Promise to get them back to the other side through one of those spots … if … um, well, if another elf opens it from their dimension …” I trailed off, already knowing that the idea would go nowhere because it had nowhere to go.

  Pulou began to stuff the piece of elf tech back into his pocket.

  “Wait … can I have that?”

  “Can you have a piece of a dimensional gate? For what? Your trinket collection?”

  I huffed — again — but this time indignantly. “It’s broken, right? I can’t feel any magic from it at all. Plus the other half is missing, correct?”

  “It’s likely that the second half is simply buried among my treasure. Items do … on occasion … get misplaced.”

  I chuckled snarkily at this admission of being less than perfect.

  Pulou narrowed his eyes and frowned.

/>   Reminding myself of my goals — getting rid of the elves as peacefully as possible — I curtailed my sneering. “So … let me use it as a bargaining piece.”

  “You want to bargain … with elves.”

  “Listen, they’ve been in your prison a hell of a long time … like what? Five hundred years?”

  Pulou’s glower deepened, but he didn’t correct me.

  “They want to go home. We just … we say that we have the second piece.”

  “You’re going to lie to them.”

  “Okay, not lie. Just a show of good faith. They want to talk with you. I arrange a meeting, say we’re trying to figure out a way to get them back. Flash the useless piece of tech as proof. They agree to meet. And we figure out the second part after.”

  “The second part.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where we take them to one of the thin spots and wait for another elf to attempt an incursion.”

  “Listen, it’s diplomacy, right? We negotiate a ceasefire on this end, then we send back the two elves to negotiate a ceasefire on their end. You already said that you didn’t even try to send them back originally because they knew what was waiting for them over here. We can use that to our advantage now. So … we let them take that info back … that the guardians are insurmountable … and maybe we stop the incursions altogether. Countries do this sort of thing all the time.”

  “Not terribly successfully.”

  “In some cases. But in other cases, peace works.”

  “Are you planning on baking them cupcakes and hosting peace talks, alchemist?” the treasure keeper asked with amusement.

  Seriously, I preferred it when he was pissed off at me. “Can I have the broken tech or not?”

  Pulou shrugged. Then he handed over the half circle of metal. Even in my hands, it still felt completely inert.

  “You negotiate the meeting,” Pulou said. “If you are successful, send Blossom with the time and location. The warrior and I will do the rest.”