Was he kidding? Could he really manipulate earth energy in addition to people energy? Could I? I thought I had only been harvesting aural energy from people. Did we really have the blood of ancient sorcerers? Surely, the sheriff of Cuckoo Town’s on the hunt for him, right?
“What do you mean the Forbidden Thirteen?” A cold sweat slicked the nape of my neck. “Magic was eradicated. The Forbidden were banished. So what? I’m just a lousy telekinetic. If you tell anyone, I’m going to kill you. I won’t go to jail for this shit you’re spewing and loading the blame on me.” Their silence told me otherwise. Oh, wait. “Your father’s looking for anyone with magic to test to find your mystical Thirteen because he wants to freaking rule the world or something?” And if he tested me, I was doomed.
“Bingo. Give the lady a stuffed dog,” Adam said. Fin snuffled and choked up a hairball, stared at it as if willing it to speak.
As Ronan’s bright and shiny truth dawned, with increasing difficulty, I swallowed, my hands holding onto my stomach as if to keep Riley Senior away from me. “What the living hell on Earth does he need us for? What’s he planning?”
“He needs us to properly open a gateway he found—the Rift—to the Realm of the Void to let the banished magic of the Forbidden return to Earth.” Hunched over, Ronan rested his forearms on his thighs. “My dad thinks you and I together can open the Rift properly using our telekinesis to manipulate the energy keeping it closed. Once open, the Rift should function normally, the way it did way back when, allowing the banished magic to return to Earth. He wants to locate the descendants of the original Forbidden Thirteen, to control the returning magic…to control them.”
A hiccupping laugh slipped out and I slapped a hand over my mouth. Forcing a few calming breaths, I still had to smother a giggle. The Realm of the Void was a plane of nothingness between Earth and the Afterlife, which most people didn’t believe in. Those that believed in it thought it was a place that existed in space, accessible through a space “portal.” Stargate, anyone? There were obscure references to it in old history books as being a plane of existence where ancient magic originally stemmed from…and was banished to. Again, most people just thought it all a big hoax and that the Forbidden simply died off.
Vaguely, I heard Ronan say, “She’s speechless.”
Adam replied, “At least she’s not mad at you.”
“She thinks we’re cracked.”
“Do you blame her?”
“Are you guys off your meds?” Eyes slivered, I glared at them. Fin propped her paws on my knee and planted a sloppy lick on my chin. “Forbidden Thirteen, Rifts, Realm of the Void, and fairies. What’s next?” I grunted unladylike. “Zombies and vampires?”
“Demons too,” Ronan added.
“Possibly. Who knows?” Adam’s eyebrows quirked up, his hair shivering as he shrugged. “Doppelgängers?”
I played the game. “Werewolves and shapeshifters?”
“Definitely.”
Slack-jawed, my mind spun. Could they be any more mental?
“Flies are swarming.” Ronan flicked his hand in the air.
I quickly shut my mouth. “You guys aren’t tripping off the reservation?”
Both chuckled, their laughter stilted and somber, trying to find a skosh of humor in their horror. Ronan tipped his chair on its two back legs. Jerkwads. They had me going. I tightened my arms over my midriff as though to keep the mythical creatures from encroaching on Riley Senior’s primo bounty.
“You’re not kidding about the Rift, are you? Why do I get the distinct impression you’re gonna tell me something about these Rifts I don’t want to hear?”
Adam sobered from their little joke meant to ease my dread. “The Rifts were the doorways the government forced the thirteen most powerful sorcerers to use so they could cull any magical beings left on Earth and abolish magic. They sent all the sorcerers and fae, the last magical beings, into the Realm of the Void through the Rifts. Up to that time, Rifts always existed and allowed magic to flow between Earth and the Void, enhancing the powers of the fae and sorcerers on Earth. When the government figured out the Rifts were truly portals, they concocted their plan to get rid of magic once and for all. They had the sorcerers destroy all the Rifts, until there was one left. One final exit.”
I must have snoozed through paranormal history in high school. At that moment, Charlotte the spider was spinning nonsense in my skull, twisting all that I knew and all my zillion questions into a tangled web of horror.
“The Forbidden Thirteen, the strongest sorcerers alive, created doppelgängers in their likenesses in secret from a heavy mix of fae-sorcery magic, alchemy, changing blood and DNA, using the fae as their guinea pigs. The true identities of the original Thirteen weren’t a secret and they were able to use their fae doppelgängers to take their place in the Abolishment, sending them through the last Rift and permanently closing the gateway, while they stayed safe in their havens on Earth. A suicide mission,” Adam explained.
“Sounds like Frankenstein’s lab to me,” I muttered, trying to absorb their fantastical tale.
“The Thirteen faked out the government and went into hiding,” Ronan added. “It’s not documented for public consumption.”
“You and Ronan are direct descendants of the Forbidden Thirteen sorcerers,” Adam chipped in slowly, gauging my capacity not to go on a berserker killing spree.
I massaged my scalp, spurring my brain cells to perk up. “How do you know all this if it’s not documented?” I squinted at Ronan.
“My father has part of a secret book called the Illuminaria, where it’s all detailed. But he’s missing a chunk of the book. One of the Forbidden sorcerers wrote it in secret to record their history, magic, and the eradication, but over time, the book got split up and separated, until others began to piece it back together. It’s still not complete.”
I starting picking at the cuticle on my thumb, absorbing their maddening tale. “What else is in this mystical book?”
“It’s not mystical. Ronan’s seen parts of it in his father’s safe.” Adam’s hair sifted over the tabletop toward my hand.
“Everything about how to open and close the Rifts, how to control the Forbidden either physically or by using their blood in alchemy is in the book. Basically, how to rule the world either with magic or alchemy.” Ronan scrubbed his face.
My heart stopped. “Where are the missing pages of the book?”
Ronan locked eyes with mine. “Good question. My dad has enough of it to be lethal. He thinks your original Thirteen ancestor wrote the history, spells and alchemic potions, dismantled the book and hid the pieces.”
Holy crap on a crappy cracker. The shit was rising to my eyeballs. Ronan and Adam’s magic cascaded over me, a tingly meld of good and bad aural energy, filling my hollowness with both of them.
The muffled song of my phone blaring the latest alternative rock scattered our co-mingled energy. Our auras settled where they belonged, leaving me empty. I’d so forgotten the outside world that the ringing crashed me back into my sane and safe humdrum existence. Cripes, was that only yesterday?
I followed the tune into the living room where I’d abandoned my purse on the couch in my arrival trance. I rummaged inside my undisturbed purse for my smartphone, punched it on.
“Aria! Where are you? You okay? I’ve been calling you for forever.” Zoe lobbed the words at me, her sultry tone turning shrill with worry.
“Calm down. I’m okay.” A stack of leather-bound books resting on the end table drew my attention. I smoothed my finger over the embossed, worn leather of the top tome, Ancient History of the Magical World.
Ronan advanced, his stance fidgety, fingers extending and curling. I rested my hand on my stun gun, swearing to surgically attach the thing to my palm. He pressed into my side, his lips close to my ear, warm breath caressing my neck. Something weird and welcome tugged on my lower region, almost forcing me closer to him.
“Don’t say a word,” he whispered.
&n
bsp; I backed away, seizing my own degree of personal space. My butt nudged the books, and the top three clunked to the floor, the first one opening to chapter thirteen, The Forbidden. I toed the book shut, hiding evidence of Ronan and Adam’s heritage and the dread rising inside me.
Zoe continued to bitch me out. “Your condo’s trashed…” Her voice faded off.
My stomach lurched. Ronan mouthed something at me, his arms straining the sleeves of his T-shirt. Adam tucked his fists into his pants pockets, a muscle in his square jaw throbbing.
I concentrated on Zoe rather than the two hulking whack jobbers from ancient sorcery town. “What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“In your condo. You didn’t show up for coffee and I got worried,” she said in her classic mile-a-minute fashion. “Girl, you need to hire a brain ’cause your place smacks of a white trash hovel.”
Panic jabbed my heart. I looked frantically at Ronan. My left pinkie kinked. Ah, criminy.
“Hang on a sec.” I swiped the mute button, thankful Zoe hadn’t invoked video to see the terror I couldn’t wipe off my face even with a bar of my favorite Belgian chocolate. “My condo’s been trashed. My best friend’s there.”
“Shit,” Ronan muttered, a stony mask of distrust clouding his features. “More of my dad’s henchmen.”
His aura showered me in sparks, and the cell phone slipped from my fingers. “Get. Away,” I managed to expel between clenched teeth, scratching at the fire licking my arms.
Without wasting a frown, Ronan exited stage left, slamming the front door behind his evil energy.
The stinging abated, and I snatched the phone off the Oriental floral rug. “I’d tell her to get out, but she’ll grill me,” I beseeched Adam before punching off the mute. “You still there?”
“Where are you?” Zoe demanded.
“At a friend’s.”
“Seriously?” The curiosity in her voice killed her initial surprise. “Wait. You don’t have any other friends.”
The new BFF ad was going viral tomorrow. “You’re a few jokes shy of a stand-up routine.”
A snarky giggle erupted over the phone. “You have got to scoop me on what went down with Michael last night.”
Adam clamped his palm over the receiver. “Ask her to meet you someplace just to get her out of there.”
An idea flowered. We normally met at the mall’s digital media store & coffee shop every weekend. So sue me for being a book whore. Of course, we worship coffee and shopping for all things girlie. I engaged speakerphone, suggested we meet in half an hour. About to hang up, I heard familiar door chimes in the background.
“Hey, someone’s at your door.” Zoe’s footsteps click-clacked across the tile floor, a haunting din in my ears.
My heart clogged my throat. “Don’t answer it,” I shouted.
“What’s the big frickin’ deal? Hang tight.”
“Zoe!” I stamped my foot. A faint male voice mumbled something.
“Aria’s not home,” she replied.
“Will she return soon?” asked the man with an unrecognizable Scottish accent.
My heart thumped in my ears. My left pinkie twitched again.
Caution trickled into Zoe’s voice. “Who’s asking?”
“Family friend.”
“I think not,” she taunted. “I know all her friends.”
I heard a sharp click, and then a thud hit the wall. Zoe’s cry erupted from the phone, setting off a mini riot in my ribcage. Furniture banged to the floor. Glass or porcelain smashed and tinkled onto the travertine tiles. Mom’s favorite vase?
“Aria Walker?” a man growled into the phone, then snarled in an explosion of rage.
The crack of a palm on skin and Zoe crying out thundered through my senses. I’d give up my puny life for Zoe. Not until I offed the person who hurt her, though.
“Aria Walker?” The man’s Scottish burr thickened. “I know it’s you. Your number’s on your friend’s caller ID.”
Adam and I locked eyes. He plucked the phone out of my hand. “Who the hell is this?” His formerly cultured, monotone voice mimicked arctic Ronan way too much.
“Where’s the psychic?”
Ready for an onslaught of negative energy, I ran to the front door and motioned for Ronan to return from where he waited beneath a scraggly oak at the far side of the front yard. His long-legged stride swallowed the distance in a blink.
I returned to Adam’s side. Hearing Zoe struggle and the man yell at her on speakerphone sent my adrenaline surging. My hand flew to my mouth and I stifled a savage cry.
“Riley?” The Scottish brute panted as if battling a tribe of Amazonians. “If you give up the Walker psychic, this one lives.”
Ronan snatched the phone from Adam. “Who the hell is this?” Steel encased his icy voice, and I shivered at the lethal protectiveness he exuded.
“I think you know.”
“Ian?” Ronan punched his fist into the entryway’s stone wall.
More laughter erupted from the phone, quickly chased by a struggle and another loud slap on skin. “You little bitch!” he shouted. “I’ll kill you if you don’t buck up.”
“Ronan, do something!” Fear vibrated through me.
Ronan held up a hand. “She’s an innocent, Ian. Let her go.”
“Not from where I’m standing. Not until I get what I want,” Ian taunted. “Stay in touch.” He laughed. The phone clicked off.
I raced to the end table and reached for Adam’s cell. Before I picked it up, he grabbed it from beneath my hand.
“No cops.” Adam pocketed the phone.
I spun on him, hands on my hips. “It’s time for real cops, not co-eds playing cops and kidnappers,” I said the last with a sneer directed at Ronan.
“My father has eyes and ears everywhere. The minute you call the cops and give up your location, he’ll have his minions on your lily-white ass in five minutes.” Ronan blanched, scrubbing his head with both hands.
Chapter 6
Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I dashed to the entryway, tripped over a rug, and caught myself on the stacked stone wall. “We’ll finish our convo on our rescue mission.” Acting as if I didn’t almost just bash my brains in, I squeezed past Ronan in the doorway.
He grabbed my upper arm before I clawed through the screen. “Hold on.”
I tried to shake him loose, but his grip was lethal. “Do you want another murder on your rap sheet?” I flung open the screen door, slamming it against a bench on the wraparound porch. A basketball hit an open box of dog treats and tipped crunchy nuggets into a tinkling lily pond. Sighing, I muttered, “Adam, I fed your fish.”
Ronan loosened his grip without releasing me, his face a roadwork of granite. “Ian won’t hurt Zoe. He needs leverage.”
“Screw leverage. Let’s go.” I pushed ineffectively against the mountain of testosterone. Willing my drumming heart to chill, I drew in deep, even breaths.
A muscle stood out in a ridge along Ronan’s jaw. “He won’t hurt her.”
I wrenched my arm again. Losing my footing, I staggered into the doorjamb, banged my funny bone against the stone wall, and caught my balance on the coat rack. Stars exploded in my vision. The sleeve tore on a defenseless windbreaker and the ripping grated on my ears. Dread surpassed my anger as I rubbed my throbbing elbow. “Okay, I get it. We’re wasting time.” Normally, with this kind of lame luck, I’d go back to bed and save the world from me. Not at the expense of Zoe, though.
Adam flew down the stairs, lugging my suitcases with him. “Ronan, grab our bags.”
I hadn’t noticed the two black overnight bags dumped in the foyer beside a planter until Ronan reached for them. “Where are we going?”
“San Jose, then Seattle.”
My eyebrows hiked up to my hairline. “You had that planned? I’m sure glad I got the text message.”
Ronan pushed out a weary sigh. “Did you think we were going to sit on our asses and tell campfire stories?” With stiff, jerk
y movements, he snatched up the two bags.
“Bite me, Ronan.” At least campfire stories wouldn’t strain his brain. I stomped down the three steps to land hard in the gravel. A jarring pain shot up my leg to my hip. If boredom set in, we could play connect the dots on my bruised body. Ignoring the new throb, I climbed into the SUV’s front passenger seat.
“You wouldn’t learn shit if we weren’t stuck in this mess together.” Ronan pitched the two bags into the cargo space.
Adam threw my bags on top and the hatch thumped shut. He climbed into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. Ronan folded his hulk into the back seat behind me, Fin settling next to him.
“You’d be sitting in a magic-deadened cell in Seattle if Ronan hadn’t snatched you.” Adam maneuvered the black beast off the tree-shaded property.
“Whatever.” I held my palm up over the center console. “Give me my phone.”
“I’m already calling Ian,” Ronan snapped.
“Who’s this Ian ass-wipe? Why the hell are we going to Seattle?” I didn’t need to ask why my condo was ransacked after Ronan’s declaration about the book. The hunters were up shit’s murky creek without a paddle searching my condo.
“He’s not answering.”
I stewed, trying to wrap my mind around the idea of anyone wanting me so badly. “I’m waiting.” I barely got the calm words past my clenched jaw. No sense in pissing off my two new boyfriends, again. I’d laugh at the absurdity if my circumstances weren’t in the crapper. I twisted around and fixed Ronan with a laser stare.
Adam jetted onto the highway and sped up to change lanes around a snail-powered van. Adam and Ronan exchanged a conspiratorial look in the rearview mirror. Ronan dragged his hand over his face, swearing and muttering to his other self.
“We should be on our way to Seattle to snatch the Illuminaria and take down my father, instead of wasting time on his shitstorms here.” Rubbing his twitching cheek didn’t help his chronic condition. “Ian O’Rourke’s one of my father’s most trusted bounty hunters, same as Murph. He must’ve been looking for the Illuminaria too. Only a couple trackers were given that task.”
Myths & Magic: A Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection Page 154
