“Whatever happened here, happened in a hurry.” Heimdall leaned on his baseball bat and nodded toward an open door leading from the loading dock into the building.
“Wait.” Sally grabbed Thor by the elbow and by some otherworldly intervention held him back before he could go storming into unknown danger. He and Heimdall had been here about six hours earlier when they found the star goddess. Sally had a hard time believing all that had happened just this morning.
Sally and Opal spread out across the loading dock floor. The witches closed their eyes and tried to sniff out any magick in the area. “Sniffing” wasn’t exactly the right word; Sally liked to think that she was using all of her senses to detect any traces of spellwork or supernatural power nearby, but there was something deeper at work, too. It wasn’t intuition, precisely, that alerted her to the tingling sensations rising up through her feet, or the prickling feeling at the back of her neck. It was the same spark she’d felt from Maksim and Vesha, and similar to what she’d felt from the warehouse worker when she was inside the antiques showroom, but running beneath was something fiery and dark that made her stomach clench. Whatever sixth or seventh senses she might have been using, she knew for a fact that magick was being worked close by. And it was getting stronger.
Sally opened her eyes, and Opal nodded at her. She felt it, too.
“They’re here, all right,” Sally said. “I can’t tell you who’s doing what, exactly, but I think we’d better hurry.”
“Good enough for me.” Thor barreled through the open door with Heimdall close on his heels.
By the time Sally and Opal followed them inside, Thor and Heimdall had already made a quick inspection of the back office area. Just like on the loading dock outside, there were signs of recent use—more coffee cups, a radio playing folk music, and a losing game of Tetris running on one of the computer screens. A security panel on one wall blinked a steady red, and Sally sighed in frustration. Whoever had run out of here in a hurry had managed to arm the security system first. More cops was the last thing they needed, and she could feel the steady thrum of circuitry and data from the active security network blunting her magical senses.
Thor pulled back with his hammer, ready to swing at the control panel.
“Wait!” Opal screeched. Pushing past Thor, she pried open the control panel and then hummed quietly to herself while she traced the paths of various wires with her fingers.
“We don’t have time for this,” Heimdall said, but Sally shushed him. She didn’t know where Opal had picked up this particular skill or if her friend was just playing it by ear, but Sally wanted to give Opal the space she needed.
“It hasn’t yet been triggered,” Opal said. “Which is weird, because we’re already inside the building. I think this protects something else inside the building?”
“Can you disarm it?” Sally asked.
Opal blew out a sigh. “I guess.” She reached into her hair and pulled out a metal barrette in the shape of a triangle. “This always works in movies, right?”
Opal squinted briefly at the guts of the security box, then made a face and jammed her barrette between a half-dozen connection points at once. She jumped back as the box sparked and hissed. The red light went out.
“Good enough for me,” Heimdall said.
Sally instantly felt like she’d been smacked across the face. She didn’t know what kind of security system Opal had just shorted out, but it had been working to shield some powerful magick.
The office area emptied into a dark corridor that led to the front showroom. The magick pulled Sally forward and then smacked her with a wave of intense nausea as they passed through the short hallway. She braced herself against the wood-paneled wall and waited for the sickness to pass, but it stayed with her and dug in with its dizzying claws.
“Sally?” Opal was crouched down, her face pale in the shadows. She felt along the linoleum floor in the dark. “It’s here, isn’t it?”
While Heimdall gripped Sally’s shoulders and kept her from sliding to the floor as another onslaught of stomach-turning wooziness hit her, Thor nudged Opal aside and found the trap door leading underground.
“Dowsing with witches,” Thor muttered as he pulled open the hatchway, revealing a metal staircase, flickering lights, and distant voices below. “Don’t leave home without them.”
He didn’t consult with his brother or wait for Sally’s permission before he descended. They didn’t have any real weapons—Thor’s arsenal was back in his basement and being picked through by the Portland police—and there was a good chance that Thor’s hammer and crowbar and Heimdall’s baseball bat would be useless against the magick being worked below. Any warning Sally might have offered died in her throat. This battle would be won or lost in her and Opal’s hands.
Sally pushed away from the wall and out of Heimdall’s grip. She took a deep breath and assured herself that she wasn’t going to throw up. The magick emanating from beneath the warehouse squeezed at her heart and her stomach, but she found her own center and that was enough to hold it at bay.
But Opal was still suffering the effects. Sally leaned down to touch Opal’s shoulder to share some of her steadiness, and Opal heaved a massive sigh of relief.
“Thanks.” Opal pulled herself up to her feet. “I needed that.”
Sally followed Heimdall down the stairs and into the darkness. Maksim’s spark called to her as they made their way along a brick and concrete tunnel, but the nefarious energy of whatever ritual was being worked here pushed on her chest with every heartbeat. Something was trying to cancel her out. Sally focused on her breath. There was a hitch on her inhale but she had a steady outbreath, and she walked toward the chanting voices and the buzzing percussion of darker magick.
Maksim shivered in his borrowed clothes. He was underground again. It wasn’t especially cold in this space, but the magick in the air bit at his skin and he was afraid. He held his arms close to his body, trying to make himself smaller so it wouldn’t hurt as much when the magick prickled over him. It didn’t work.
The goddess stood next to him. Her hair was pure white now and her eyes bright blue. This was Utra again, the Morning Star. The sister of the goddess his parents had beseeched for protection. She was laughing as the magick swirled in the air around them, like it tickled her instead of stinging like a swarm of angry wasps.
Men in hooded robes walked in a wide circle around them. It was just like the images on the floor in Thor’s basement, but with vivid colors and full sound. The men were chanting and walking too quickly for Maksim to count them, and they all looked the same. He’d count up to twenty and then lose his place and have to start over again. There were heavy, lit candles all around inside the circle, too, some perched high on metal stands and others sitting on the floor. There were strange markings across the concrete in lines of red and orange, not like the protective circles Sally and her friend had drawn in Thor’s basement. These sigils glowed and seemed to dance with the men’s chant.
More men in robes lurked in the shadows behind the living circle, and they ducked in and out of surrounding corridors. Maksim could feel their growing excitement and glee with each completed rotation. Utra laughed and sang out. Maksim wished he could disappear into the floor.
“Hurry!” Utra shouted. “They’re coming! Hurry! Ready or not, you must finish it now!”
Maksim thought she sounded more happy than worried, but he hoped she was right—that Thor and his family were coming for him. He kept watch on the doorways where the robed men passed through and he watched for any sign of the big god who had taken him in.
Utra stretched her arms out to her sides and almost knocked Maksim off his feet. “The divination has shown that the source will soon falter and fail!. Quicken your steps! Take fewer and deeper breaths. This is our chance. There is no turning back now!”
Maksim edged closer to the outside of the circle. If he timed it right, he thought he could dash out between the marching men and escape through
one of the dark doorways. But his movements were too conspicuous, and Utra grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to stand beside her.
“Can you feel it, little one?” Her agitated whisper slithered over his face. “The mounting power of the candle fire, and the symbols and the chanting? Surely your blood sings in sympathy with the magick we are working here!”
He did feel something, but it was sour and filled him with dread instead of delight. Then hope broke over him like rays of sunshine when he saw a familiar figure maneuver between the marching chanters and step into the circle.
“Uncle Emilian!” Maksim rushed forward and buried his face in the fabric of his uncle’s robes. He felt his uncle’s hand cup the back of his head and smooth down his hair. “Uncle Emilian, we have to get out of here! I don’t like it here. Something very bad is going to happen.”
But his uncle pushed him away, and Maksim saw that his uncle wore the same robe as the chanting men. “Don’t be silly, boy. You are on the verge of fulfilling your destiny.”
Emilian turned and barked out an order. Less than a minute later, Maksim’s heart leapt again when he saw his parents come through one of the doorways. But their hands were bound before them with thick rope, and they were being pushed forward from behind. They were captives, just like Maksim.
His mother cried when she saw him, and his father’s face filled with rage. “You can’t do this, Emilian!” Maksim’s father shouted over the chanting voices. “We’re family!”
Emilian laughed and grabbed Maksim by the back of the neck. Maksim tried to squirm away but Emilian held on harder and it hurt. “You and my sister have created this perfect key, Luca. The mark of the crescent moon on his shoulder proves it. Yes, we are family, and it pains me that you still don’t understand. When this is done, we will all have the same power—not just the select few in each generation who are chosen. And we can use it.”
“Emilian, my brother.” Maksim’s mother dropped to her knees and lifted her hands. Maksim cried to see her like this, begging and desperate. “If you won’t spare me, spare my son. Your nephew. Maksim is so young! He is so—”
“Powerful!” Emilian interjected. “Your own magick is weak, Kezia. Can’t you see? Soon we will all have the same magick as your husband, Luca. As Maksim! It is an honor for Maksim to unlock the gates that have kept the magick from us for so long.”
“Emilian, no!” Maksim’s mother cried, but her voice was drowned out by the men’s chanting as they kept circling around.
“Now!” Utra shrieked. “His apprentice approaches! Cast her out now!”
Emilian turned to Maksim and pulled a small jar from the folds of his robes. He snapped back the hinged lid and poured rocky salt crystals into his palm.
“From our homeland,” Emilian muttered as he sprinkled the salt over Maksim’s head. Maksim felt the chunks fall into his hair and onto his shoulders.
“Cast out my dark sister,” Utra demanded as she stood behind Maksim. She rested her hands on his shoulders and it sent a chill down his spine. “Let my light shine free! Give me control and I will grant you everything.”
Emilian looked up at the goddess, and Maksim was afraid of the shadowy fire he saw in his uncle’s eyes.
“You’re the weak one!” Maksim’s father shouted from beyond the circle. “Jealousy blinds you!”
“Don’t lose your focus,” Utra warned Emilian. But Maksim saw doubt flicker across his uncle’s face.
“If you had any power of your own, you wouldn’t have to use me or my son,” Maksim’s father shouted. “You wouldn’t drain innocents! You wouldn’t hurt children!”
Emilian shook his head, muttering. “I’m not. I am not.”
Maksim reached out and grabbed a fistful of Emilian’s robe and looked his uncle in the eyes. “It’s true. You’re jealous.”
“I’m not!” Emilian roared. Tossing aside the container of rock salt, he grabbed Maksim by the hair and shot his free hand out toward Maksim’s father. “Enough, Luca! It’s mine. It’s all mine!”
“No!” Utra shrieked as a pulse of light blasted out of Emilian’s hand and hit Maksim’s father in the chest. Maksim screamed as both of his parents crumpled to the floor. He choked on the smells of charred fabric and burnt flesh.
The red and orange symbols on the floor sizzled and sparked and the candles became torches that spat flame at the ceiling. Behind him, the goddess stumbled and whimpered, but Maksim couldn’t hear her complaints. He was on his hands and knees, crawling toward his parents. They weren’t moving.
10
Sally pushed herself up into a sitting position and leaned against the tunnel wall. Her head was pounding, and she waited for her eyes to adjust again to the darkness.
“Was that another flashbang?” she asked, but she knew it wasn’t. A massive flash of light had burst into the tunnel as they followed the chanting voices. And Sally’s ears were ringing from the percussive blast that had followed. But whatever had hit them this time left Sally’s entire body tingling with residual magick. She felt it sparking over her skin as it drained away into the floor.
Thor groaned as he lay on the broken concrete beside her. About a meter away, Heimdall coughed and struggled to sit up.
“Opal?” The tunnel came into focus around Sally and she saw her friend sitting a few meters away, her back to Sally. Opal had been at the front of the pack when the blast hit, and she would have taken the full brunt of it. But she didn’t look like she was injured.
“Opal?” Sally asked again. “Are you okay?”
Slowly, Opal rose from the floor and stretched her arms out to her sides. She examined her hands and then looked down at her legs and feet. She ran her fingers over her dark hair and her face.
“Are you hurt?” Sally didn’t like that Opal wasn’t saying anything. Maybe her ears were still ringing. “Opal?”
“Is that the name of this creature?” She turned slowly to face Sally. She wore an expression of bewilderment. “This is not where I expected to find myself.”
Sally steadied herself against the wall as she got to her feet. Thor was sitting up now, which was an improvement, but he was holding his head in his hands and was groaning some unintelligible curse. Heimdall had his eyes closed and was still catching his breath. They both looked pale and sick.
With one hand on the wall for balance, Sally reached toward her friend. “Opal . . . ?”
“Stop calling me that!” Opal lunged forward and slapped Sally’s hand away. Sally felt the sting of raw magick race up her arm, and she stumbled backward.
“Opal, what’s happened?” Sally braced herself against the wall in case she had to take off at a run—but she didn’t know which way down the tunnel would be safest.
Opal looked strange, like she was wearing an uncomfortable costume. She stood up too straight and held herself in a rigid pose—legs locked and arms half-way lifted at her sides, like a ballerina on stage just before the music started. Her mouth widened into a freakish grin—too wide for her face. “Yes, you are the apprentice. I remember you.”
Sally’s insides started to tremble as she realized what was wrong with Opal’s face. It wasn’t just the crazy grin and the strange way she held her body. Her brown eyes had turned ice blue.
“Utra,” Sally said.
Utra laughed. Even her voice sounded wrong coming from Opal’s mouth. “Not the transformation I was after. But it will do, for now.”
Utra looked down at Thor and Heimdall. They were both coming back to their senses, but they were still vulnerable. She made a move toward Thor, and Sally lurched forward to stand in front of him.
“No!” Sally held up her hands, ready to defend Thor, but she couldn’t bring herself to cast magick against Opal—even though she saw no trace of her friend when she looked into Utra’s eyes. “Whatever you have planned, I won’t let you do it.”
Utra glanced briefly behind her, farther into the tunnel where the voices had been chanting before. But now all was silent. She laug
hed again and lifted her hands in delight as she turned back to Sally.
“Just a slight delay in the inevitable. You’d be wise to take your toys and go home.” Utra gestured toward Heimdall and Thor on the floor. “But I have a feeling you won’t do that.”
“Give me back my friend!” Sally balled her hands into fists and clenched her toes inside her shoes. She felt the magick sparking along her arms and into her hands as she called up every bit of power she could from the ground beneath her. Sally lifted her hands in front of her and prepared to strike.
“No, not now. Not here. But soon. Very soon.” Utra turned awkwardly in her borrowed body and sprinted up the tunnel toward the light.
Sally watched her go. She didn’t know what Utra was up to, nor what awaited up ahead. She ached to run after her and try to save her friend. But she couldn’t leave Heimdall and Thor vulnerable like this. She screamed and released her energy back into the ground.
Thor was gaining strength and speed with every step. His boots were no longer shuffling along the broken concrete but filled the tunnel with the heavy thuds of his stomping as he surged forward. His ears buzzed and his vision was blurred, but he had to get to the boy.
It was the Rune Witch’s piercing scream that had roused him from his stupor—him and Heimdall both. He’d only half-heard Sally’s cries about Opal before he was on the move and dragging her and his brother along with him. All he knew was that a bad unknown situation was now a worse unknown situation. He charged ahead anyway.
He spread his arms wide as he ran—ready to attack anyone who came at him while he still couldn’t see clearly, and to keep himself from running into the walls. He got hung up when he tried to plow through an open doorway and smacked his hands and wrists against the doorjamb, then he stumbled into the ritual space. He smelled the charring and the blood before his brain could make sense of the scene.
A few toppled candles still burned on the floor, and there was a mess of smudged sigils and rock salt. The bodies of a man and a woman lay in a heap together, their hands bound and their faces blackened with soot. Thor blinked, and the man’s face came into focus. It was the man from the construction site. Luca.
Twilight Magic (Rune Witch Book 6) Page 15
