Blood Magic

by T. G. Ayer

  Don't break it, Mel.

  I lifted the silver hairbrush from the box and sure enough, dozens of strands of jet black hair still clung to the bristles. I glanced up at Saleem. "Can you take a strand out for me and place it on the table?" His eyebrows fluttered in question. "I don't want to touch it until I'm ready." He nodded and proceeded to remove a strand and placed it beside the box. Then he sat back and waited.

  I shook my hands and took a deep breath. Then I reached out and picked up the strand, holding it carefully between two fingers. The feedback was strong and my gut tightened, the strength of the resonance pressed me hard into the back of the sofa. I glanced up at Saleem, who'd moved to the edge of his seat, his face twisted with concern. I gave him an encouraging smile. The strength of the feedback meant nothing yet. Until I tested it, it remained merely a strand of live DNA. I swallowed and sat back. Only when I was settled did I allow myself to test the thread properly, and my mind went flying along the link.

  And touched life.

  The beats of a heart echoed back to me, soft sighs of breath. I felt tension and frustration creep toward me through the connection.

  Then I let go of the connection and leaned forward to place the hair on the table.

  Saleem cleared his throat. "Is she–"

  I raised a hand and he stopped speaking. "She is alive. And it feels like she is well. I didn't sense pain. But I did get a strong impression of anger and frustration. So your mom is certainly not happy about her situation."

  He laughed. "Yeah. Mother isn't the kind of woman who happily sits back and lets things happen. She's a doer and she's pretty feisty."

  I nodded and smiled. "I get the feeling she wouldn't be giving her captors an easy time."

  "Nope." He grinned at me, but there was a hardness around his eyes that spoke of years of worry and grief. "Thanks for doing that for me. Knowing she is alive and well is enough to tide me over until you complete your case."

  I stood up and tightened the muscles in my legs. They threatened to fall from beneath me. I must be far more tired than I realized. Projecting was draining, but not to such an extent that a short test would drain my strength this way. It meant I needed a solid rest before I left to fetch Samantha.

  Saleem spoke before I could. "Is there anything I can do to help you?" When I frowned in confusion, he continued, "In your case, I mean."

  I shook my head. Although I was down one with Drake out of commission, I preferred not to get Saleem involved in my work, especially with his double whammy of Fulbright and Omega. "Thanks for the offer but I'll be fine. I'll contact you as soon as I have my stuff done." Then I turned and walked to entrance hall, and was relieved when he followed me. Before I opened the door, I asked, "Are you okay though? Not feeling dizzy or anything?"

  "Me? No. I'm fine." He laughed. "Oh, you mean after my fainting spell? Yeah, I'm all good. That's some powerful magic you have there. I'll sleep peacefully from now on knowing you are well protected."

  "Who do I need protecting from?" I asked, then blushed at the heated look he gave me. For a moment I couldn't remember to breathe. He didn't answer. Just opened my front door and ran down the stairs and across the lawn to the undercover vehicle at the curb.

  He waved as he drove off and I shut the door, feeling suddenly bereft. Even the room felt empty without his presence. I shrugged the thought out of my head, locked up and headed for bed.

  ***

  Chapter 19

  I rose early, dressing in dark blue jeans and a white peasant blouse, the purple stone sitting comfortably on my chest. I threw on my favorite leather jacket, needing it more for the convenience of its pockets than anything else. Scooping the three vials of black liquid out of my jacket pocket, I placed them on my dresser and brushed out my waist length hair. I threaded a piece of cord through the loops on two of the vials, then as I plaited my hair, I wove each of them tightly into it. I secured the braid then tucked each bottle into the folds of the weave so well nobody would ever know they were there. I slung the final vial around my neck and it lay low on my chest alongside Natasha's protection spell.

  Gathering up my bag as I went, I hurried to pop my head into Steph's room. The door was open and I gave it a knock, leaning against the doorjamb. Steph looked up from the small desk we had installed in her room for her homework. She was odd in that she preferred to keep her schoolwork far away from her tech stuff.

  "You ready to go?" she asked, looking at me over the tops of her glasses. Her hair was thrown into an untidy bun at the back of her head and held in place with a nicely sharpened pencil. When I nodded, she said, "Be careful okay?"

  "Aren't I always?" I raised an eyebrow.

  "No. You're not." Her eyes narrowed at me.

  I grinned. Didn't have a worthy response. "Don't trash the place while I'm gone."

  "Damn. To think I had a day of trashing all planned." Steph made a disappointed face. As I moved to leave, she said, "Hey, where's Drake? I haven't seen him since yesterday."

  I hesitated, then turned back to face her. When she saw the look on my face, she gasped, her face growing pale. "No. What happened?"

  "Nathaniel has him. He's holding him hostage until I get him a portal key."

  "A portal key? You mean a jump-to-a-different-dimension kind of portal key?" Her mouth dropped open. Then she shook her head. "But that would be a bad idea. A key in the hands of a sorcerer like him?"

  "Yeah. I'm with you on that. Only I have no choice. It's the key for Drake's life. No choice really." I shrugged. "I'll go for it once I get Samantha safely home."

  Steph gave a slight shake of her head but I could tell she was still in shock. I wanted to comfort her but the thought itself made me feel too vulnerable. As if sharing my fear for Drake would unleash the floodgates. I smiled weakly and turned to leave. Steph sat there in silence.

  I loped down the stairs to the kitchen, glad to be away from Steph's far too perceptive eyes. After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, I was ready to leave. I flipped open Samantha's file and grabbed the plastic packet holding her tooth. I tugged my bag over my neck and slung it across my body. Just being careful, in case I had a hard landing. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the packet and slit the top open, then tipped the tooth into my palm. I felt the immediate connection to the child, the steady thump-thump of her heart and a sense of sadness that would have brought tears to my eyes if I hadn't hardened myself to my emotions.

  Every time I went on a rescue mission, I deliberately tamped down my emotional response. Often I had no idea what I would see when I arrived on a jump. If the person was dying or dead, the last thing I needed was to be bawling my eyes out. I needed to filter my emotions, keep them under control.

  Now I refused to feel the echo of sadness in my own heart. I concentrated on the feedback, grabbing hold of the ethereal link shimmering between Samantha and me. I slid along the thread, allowing myself to go careening along so fast I hit ether in under five seconds. I was more confident with this projection, only because I'd done it before. The only precaution I was taking was to project first, rather than jump right into Dastra.

  Catching my breath, I slid through the ether, ignoring the insistent tugging of the energy waves. At last, I reached the Veil and sighed. The ether taxed my strength with the sensory overload. I transitioned through the Veil and appeared in Samantha's cell. Silence weighed down on the iron room and I blinked in the dull light of the single fluorescent bulb in the center of the ceiling. Movement on the cot bed drew my eyes to the shape beneath the rough spun blanket. The little girl sat up and rubbed her eyes as she stared at me.

  A glance around the room confirmed it was safe. I jumped, my physical body following the thread linking itself to my spirit in Dastra.

  I rushed to the edge of the pentagram. "Are you okay?" I asked her, wanting to jump the ward, grab her and get her out of there.

  She nodded, her lips curving into a cute toothless grin. "I knew you would come back for me."

  I smiled. "I
always keep my promises," I said, giving her a little wink.

  "I know." Her words were solemn, and I did a double take. She was so serious, as if she really did know me. What other powers did this kid have?

  "Okay, Samantha. Can you tell me if the guards come in to check on you regularly?"

  "Sometimes."

  "When was the last time?"

  "Some time ago." She shrugged but the smile she gave me was encouraging. "But it's okay. I can tell when they are coming." She tilted her head to one side for a moment, as if listening to a faraway sound I couldn't hear. "They plan on checking on me but not for a while yet. I will tell you if anyone is coming."

  I nodded slowly. "So you can just read their minds?"

  "Yup."

  "And they haven't tried to block you?"

  "Nope. Only the Cloaked Man is hard to read. It's all a bit fuzzy when I sense him around. And that's not supposed to happen." The little girl frowned. She was clearly unhappy at her apparent ineptitude.

  I only wasted a moment wondering who the Cloaked Man was. Then I grabbed the vial from my neck and began to unscrew the lid. "Since we are all clear for now, let's get this show on the road." I knelt at the edge of the magic circle, which buzzed with energy and stank of dead meat.

  "What are you doing?" Samantha asked. She craned her head to see, while swinging her legs back and forth.

  "I have a spell that will help me break this ward." I tipped the contents of the tiny bottle onto the ground allowing it to cover the edge of the circle at my feet. The line was thick but there was enough blood to coat the breadth of it. The black liquid mingled with the bloody substance of the ward and sizzled and boiled. I held my breath and waited as the energy rose, as if the ward knew it was being penetrated. Then the hum of magic faded away, leaving a simple pentagram drawn on the stoned floor. Nathaniel's charm had worked.

  Although I knew the ward was broken, I wasn't planning on going rushing in. I reached a toe out and touched the outer circle, knowing if the ward had held, it would send me flying through the air like a magical electric shock.

  Nothing happened.

  I stepped into the inner circle of the pattern, my feet smudging the lines of the pentagram at the center. Still nothing happened and I finally led out the stale breath. Spurred into action at the confirmation of the broken ward, I rushed forward and grabbed Samantha, still swaddled in the coarse blanket. She linked her small hands around my neck and smiled at me.

  As I strode out of the circle with her, she said, "Thank you, Miss Morgan."

  Just before I jumped, I said, "My pleasure, Miss Cross. Now hold on tight and don't let go."

  ***

  Chapter 20

  I landed in my kitchen, arms wrapped tightly around Samantha. She looked up at me, her eyes large and round and entirely unafraid. She smiled and her face lit up. My heart clenched. What an adorable kid. But I had no time to fall in love with kids. A friend's life needed saving. Stat.

  Setting her on the ground, I yelled for Steph. The grey blanket slipped off her shoulders to reveal her stained and rumpled clothing. I frowned. "When was the last time you had a bath, young lady?"

  She scrunched her forehead, then shook her head. "Can't remember. I think it was a long time ago."

  "Yeah," I said, waving my hand in front of my nose. "You stink."

  Samantha giggled, her eyes lighting up again. She glanced at the doorway as Steph came barreling into the room. My geek friend skidded to a halt before us. She smiled at our visitor and said, "Now who is this cute little thing?"

  I introduced the two and glanced at Steph. "Can you go grab Samantha some clothes from the store? I'll take her upstairs and get her all cleaned up." Then I looked at Samantha and wrinkled my nose. "She smells." That brought on a fit of giggles and I held my hand out to her.

  Metal tinkled as Steph grabbed her keys from the bowl on the kitchen counter. "I'll go over to Catherine's Kids and get her a few things."

  I nodded, then flicked my eyebrows at my bag. "Take my card."

  I headed up the stairs as Steph rummaged in my bag. The door slammed seconds later, just as we entered the large airy bathroom. Samantha let go of my hand and stared up at the ceiling, then spun around. "Wow, this is a ginormous bathroom."

  "It is." I nodded seriously, then turned my attention to the huge claw footed tub. "Tub's huge too."

  She squealed and ran to the tub, leaning over into it. "Wow. It's so big." Her words echoed inside the empty tub, setting her off into another fit of giggles.

  "Yeah, it needs a whole lot of water. You want to turn the taps on and start filling it? I'll just grab you a towel." I handed her a bottle of bubble bath.

  She bobbed her head and leaned over, twisting the taps open and humming as she poured the soap into the running water. As I fetched the towel, I wondered at her resilience. She'd been kidnapped and kept in a cell for months, yet her personality still made it through. Strong kid.

  Back in the bathroom, we waited, splashing at the water as it filled, steam rising and filling the room. "Right, let's get these stinky things off."

  Samantha toed off her sneakers, then leaned against the tub to remove her socks. She wrinkled her nose and held it away with two fingers before dropping it onto the shoes. I smiled. She was so cute. The other sock gone, she dragged off her shirt and flung it onto the growing pile. I examined her body as she removed the rest of her clothing. My greatest worry was that her abductors had beaten or abused her or worse, but she looked fine - no physical damage that I could see.

  I knew I had to ask the hard questions soon, but I wanted to wait until she was more comfortable.

  Samantha climbed over the edge of the tub and sat into the water with a plunk. She giggled as clumps of foam rose around her neck. Soon she was content to play with the clouds of bubbles.

  "How are you feeling honey?"

  She turned her gaze to me. "I am fine, Miss Morgan. And you don't have to worry about me. Those horrible people didn't do anything to me. They wanted me safe and alive so I could be trained to do what they wanted." I did a double take, shocked at the mature, serious way she spoke. I'd totally forgotten she could read minds. Score one for the kid.

  "That's good then." I hesitated as I poured shampoo into my palm. I spread it on her head and began to scrub as I asked, "Do you have any idea what it is they wanted you to do?"

  She nodded as I lathered. "Their plan was to take me to a party soon. A big party. They said they wanted me to listen to a few people and tell them what those people were thinking."

  "Any idea where this party was or who they wanted you to listen to?" I asked, then instructed her to rinse.

  She held onto the sides of the tub and bent her head back, dipping it into the water. I scrubbed her hair, rinsing off the soap. When she sat up, she said, "No. They never mentioned any names to me." Her mouth turned down. "They treated me like a kid."

  I hid a smile. "That's not very nice of them. Especially since they wanted you to do stuff for them." Samantha nodded and her expression cleared. "Right, as soon as Steph gets back with those clothes, we can get you dressed and call your dad to come fetch you."

  "My dad?"

  My stomach twisted at her oddly sad expression. "Yes, honey, your dad sent me to find you."

  She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. "But my daddy is dead. They told me so."

  "No, honey. He is very much alive and he asked me to find you and bring you home." I reached out and stroked her now pink cheek. "Those people were evil. They probably wanted to convince you he was dead so you wouldn't think of home."

  She nodded, then made large circles in the water, tracing deep valleys in the piles of bubbles. She was about to speak when we heard the front door slam again. "That would be Steph with your clothes." I handed her a sponge and a bar of blue soap. "Here, scrub up. The water's getting cold."

  She obeyed and I went to the door to wait for Steph. She strode down the passage, a pretty pink and cream striped bag in he
r hand. She handed me the card. "Jen refused to take it once I explained who the clothing was for."

  I smiled and pocketed my card. "Leave it in the spare room. And Steph, thanks."

  "Hey, I loved it. Haven't shopped for little girls clothes since . . . Well since I was a little girl." She giggled and it was infectious. I returned to the tub, grabbing the large bath towel. "Right, Stinky. Out you get." She giggled again and stood up, water draining off her reddened skin. I wrapped her in the towel and carried her out of the tub, setting her down on the lush mat. As I rubbed her dry from head to toe, I sniffed at her cheek. "Okay, maybe I can't call you stinky anymore. You smell like roses."

  Her grin was wide, revealing her toothless gums. She submitted to the drying then pulled the towel around her as I rose and led her to the room. Step had laid out a pair of pink jeans patterned with multi-colored glittery splashes. Beside it was a hot pink belt and an equally hot pink t-shirt with the words 'Too Kewl for Skewl' on the front. Underwear, socks, headbands and a brush were piled beside it.

  "Wow!," Samantha squealed with delight and ran to the bed. Then she turned to me. "Thank you," she said shyly.

  "My pleasure, Samantha." And it really was a pleasure to see this kid so ecstatic. "You get changed and I will ring your dad. I have to go out for a while, but Steph will get you something to eat." She nodded and I left her to change, heading downstairs. I fished my phone out of my pocket and dialed Martin Cross's number.