You Only Spell Twic

by Paige Howland

  I watched helplessly from outside the ward as she crossed the room and poured the potion in a semi-circle ring around the cocaine bricks, nudging the dragon back with her foot when he tried to lick it.

  Then she began to recite the spell.

  Nearly out of time, I shoved my magic into the ward, desperate to break it and knowing it wouldn’t be that easy.

  The ward didn’t like that at all. Just something I learned when magic exploded outward and I bounced off the hallway wall and wound up on my hands and knees, relearning how to breathe.

  A flash of green light inside the room caught my attention, and my stomach dropped away as the spell settled over the bricks.

  That was it. She’d done it. Just like that, the spell was complete.

  Isadora flashed me an “I told you so” smile. Then she traded the empty bowl for a knife from the countertop and turned to Alec.

  Oh, broomsticks.

  Panic swept through me. Think, Ainsley.

  The ward was sophisticated. I doubted I could break it. Maybe if I had more time, but the gleam in Isadora’s eye said Alec was nearly out of that.

  But I’d felt her magic. Not through the door where the ward blocked my magic, but through the floor. Which meant maybe the ward was linked to the door. A breaking rune on the wall might work, but the walls were concrete, and even if I could break them, I couldn’t control where the concrete ended up. It would be just my luck to break through the wall only to kill Alec in the process.

  That left only one option.

  “Be right back,” I called to Alec as Isadora and her knife advanced on him.

  I hit the stairs at a dead run, racing back down to the first floor. I burst outside and skidded to a stop on the gravel below Isadora’s window. At least, I was pretty sure it was hers. There was no time to reach out with my magic to find out for sure, or to test the window for wards. I drew a rune, spoke the incantation, and threw it at the ground between my boots. A pulse of magic later, the ground bowed, sucking me into the earth and then bucking me high into the air.

  I usually reserved the trampoline rune for my nephews, which meant I knew exactly how much magic to give it to launch two three-year-old boys a foot or two in the air. I’d never tried to scale it, which maybe explained why on the first bounce I flew well past the window, startling the hex out of a poor woman hanging laundry on the roof. I tempered the spell on the way down, and the next bounce brought me even with Isadora’s window. I grabbed hold of the window ledge and dangled there for a moment, until my boot found a narrow ridge in the concrete and I was able to leverage myself inside, straight through a cold spot where the ghost had been floating. Ice slid down my spine and I tumbled to the floor with an “oof,” just relieved not to be chopped in half or swept up in a makeshift web by an overenthusiastic ward.

  My excitement drained away when I saw Alec. He was still breathing, but he bled from a dozen small wounds and Isadora’s athame dripped with blood. She was toying with him. Anger swept through me, hot and sharp, thawing the cold fist that gripped my spine.

  “Come to save the big bad wolf?” she said, and then plunged her knife into his side.

  “No!”

  The word was barely out of my mouth before she spun and launched a spell at me. I dove out of the way and barely had time to throw up a protection rune before she launched another volley of spells. The protection rune basically wrapped me in a giant bubble, and her spells ricocheted harmlessly off my magic and into her ward, which hissed angrily.

  “You can’t stay in there forever,” Isadora said, her voice slightly warped outside my bubble.

  True. My magic was already waning, and this rune took a heap ton of energy to maintain. I needed to do something, fast.

  My gaze strayed to the dragon, who was licking himself.

  Isadora’s eyes narrowed. “What are you—”

  I drew a new rune, dropped my bubble shield, and sent the rune sailing toward the dragon.

  I wasn’t completely sure the rune would work on another magical creature, and for a long moment, we both stared at the dragon. Waiting.

  And then it happened.

  The dragon hiccupped.

  Isadora’s brow wrinkled. The dragon hiccupped again, and this time a cute puff of fire escaped with it. It turned in a circle, hiccupping all the way, expelling tiny bursts of fire.

  Isadora’s eyes widened, but it was too late. The dragon hiccupped again and this time, the corner brick of the spelled drug tower caught fire. He hiccupped again and another one caught.

  “No!” Isadora cried. She raised her hands toward the dragon, magic snapping from them.

  She was so focused on the dragon destroying her spelled drugs that she didn’t notice me toss Aunt Belinda’s Wicked Witch rune her way. A moment later the rune kicked in, making her believe her legs were melting, and she shrieked and batted at her thighs, the dragon and drugs all but forgotten.

  Dizzy from expending so much magical energy so quickly, I stumbled over to the stove, grabbed the first pan I saw, and whacked her over the head with it. She crumpled to the ground in a heap, out cold. The moment she lost consciousness, her ward broke. Which meant that while powerful, the ward had been hastily erected. They’re usually more durable than that.

  The magic pinning Alec to the wall dissolved, and he pitched forward. I rushed forward and caught him, but werewolves are heavy, and we both toppled to the floor in a heap.

  “Alec?” I gathered his head in my lap, covering the wound in his side with one hand and brushing the hair back from his face with the other. My throat felt tight, and tears stung the backs of my eyes.

  He was pale, his breathing shallow. “For the record,” he said roughly, “that was why I brought you.”

  My eyebrows pinched together. “What can I do?”

  “Wait outside.”

  I blinked down at him, insulted.

  “I need to shift,” he explained. “But when the wolf is hurt, I’m not always in control.”

  I didn’t want to leave him, but I also didn’t want to waste time arguing about it. So I eased him off my lap and leaned his back against the wall. Then I turned to Isadora. It would serve her right if I left her in there with a pissed-off werewolf. But in the end, I grabbed her under the arms and dragged her into the hall with me. I poked my head back into the room to look for the dragon, but the rope lay forgotten on the floor, the ends singed, and the dragon was perched on the window ledge. It roared one more tiny roar, and then stretched its iridescent wings and flew away. The fire had died out, the mountain of spelled drugs reduced to a smoldering pile of ash and twisted plastic.

  I grabbed the pieces of rope and headed out.

  “Dove?”

  I paused at the door.

  “Can you stay right outside the door? If I try to hurt someone, I need you to stop me, okay?”

  I swallowed the thick lump in my throat and nodded. He looked so pale. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  With that, I closed the door and leaned my forehead against the rough wood.

  “Please don’t die,” I whispered, rubbing the leather at my wrist for comfort.

  Oh, enough with the melodrama. He’s a werewolf. He’ll be fine.

  I spun around, looking for the source of that voice, and a wave—no, a tsunami—of dizziness swept through me. Steadying myself against the wall, I glanced at Isadora, but she remained slumped against the wall. I nudged her with my boot for good measure. Yep, totally out of it. A quick glance up and down the hall only confirmed what I already knew. There was no one else here.

  “Who’s there?” I called.

  Because someone had said those words.

  No one answered.

  That’s it, I thought with a head shake. I’m officially going crazy.

  I had used a lot of magic today. The toll was usually physical: headaches, nausea, the occasional numb tongue. Hallucinations would be new, but then again, so was the amount of magic I’d expended the last few days.

&
nbsp; Fortunately or not, there were other things to occupy my thoughts. Like the fact that waiting in the hall, not knowing if Alec was alive or dead, was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I distracted myself by trussing Isadora up like a Thanksgiving turkey. If—no, when—Alec made it out, I’d place an anonymous call to the police. Maybe it would be better to call the CIA, but ironically, I didn’t know their phone number.

  Ten minutes later, a soft scratch sounded at the door. It was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. Without pausing to remember Alec’s warning, I threw open the door. Wolf Alec trotted out. He looked tired and moved slowly, the fur near his left ribs dark and matted with blood, but he was alive.

  As if to prove that point, he whined once and shoved his head into my hand. I dropped to my knees and buried my head in his neck, running my fingers through his thick fur, careful to avoid his injured side.

  “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?” I whispered.

  In answer, he licked my cheek. I drew in a deep, shaky breath, collected myself, and then pulled back to look at the wolf.

  “Are you okay to walk downstairs?”

  He yipped once, and I nodded.

  “Come on then,” I said. “Let’s go find Ryerson.”

  10

  Alec had been true to his word, and before we went after Isadora, we’d dropped Ryerson and Golem at one of the empty houses in a perfectly adorable neighborhood that we’d passed. The house was even staged for showings with furniture and the odd plant and knickknacks to give it a clean but lived-in feel.

  We walked inside the house to find a golem who was immensely pleased with himself and a very unamused CIA agent.

  Well, I walked inside. Alec was suddenly missing. I glanced behind me and spotted him outside, relieving himself on a tree. When he was finished, he circled the tree once and flopped down in a sunspot. Coward.

  Golem tapped my shoulder to get my attention, which was sort of like being tapped by a grizzly bear and nearly sent me to my knees.

  “I po’tect,” he announced proudly.

  I patted a clay arm wider than my waist and smiled up at him. “You did a great job. We’ll get you a cookie later.”

  Come to think of it, I was hungry, and cookies sounded tasty. And I did stop an evil witch today. Yes, that settled it. Cookies for everyone.

  Golem, at least, seemed very on board with this plan. He jumped up, and when he came down, the tile floor cracked under his giant toes.

  “Oopsie,” he said.

  By this point, Ryerson was nearly vibrating with anger. I’d been doing an excellent job of avoiding him so far, but it was a small living room and if he glared any harder, he might strain something.

  Sighing, I said to Golem, “There’s a puppy outside.”

  His black button eyes widened and he looked longingly at the door, then glanced uncertainly back at Ryerson.

  Ryerson’s glare adopted an exasperated edge.

  “Oh, right. You don’t need to protect him anymore,” I said. “Go check on the puppy.”

  Golem didn’t need to be told twice. He bounded outside, nearly taking the doorframe with him and startling a very surprised werewolf out of his nap.

  Fresh out of distractions, I steeled myself and turned to face Ryerson.

  He stood against the wall, arms crossed, narrowed eyes simmering with anger. Somewhere, he’d found pants. His dark hair was messy, as if he’d spent his downtime running his hands through it. But what worried me the most was the light dusting of red clay that coated his arms and shirt.

  “You didn’t hurt him, did you?” I said.

  “Of course not.” Then, “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking we had a witch to stop,” I said carefully.

  “And the mission?”

  “Alec says—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what Alec says! He’s a liar, Ainsley. A manipulator. It’s what he was trained to do, and he’s very good at what he does.”

  I opened my mouth. Closed it. Arguing with him about Alec would only make him dig his heels in further, and I didn’t want to argue. I wanted to know if he was okay.

  “I didn’t know he was going to tase you.” It felt important that he know that. I thought about it then added, “Or drug you.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Er, never mind.”

  He closed his eyes. When he opened them, the anger had faded, replaced by something deeper. Something I couldn’t quite identify. He ran a hand through his hair again, frustrated fingers coaxing the ends to stick out.

  “I had no idea where to look for you,” he said. “I was worried.”

  “I …” I hadn’t thought about that. “I’m sorry.” And I meant it.

  He stepped closer, and my heart rate tripped over itself trying to keep up with the sudden turn this conversation had taken.

  “Don’t do that to me again, okay?”

  I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded.

  He shifted, suddenly so close I had to crane my neck to look up at him. Bright green eyes stared down into mine.

  “Ainsley, I—”

  A wolf whipped between our legs, forcing Ryerson back a step and toppling me onto the couch. He zigzagged through the room, upending a lamp and an end table before he darted into the kitchen, followed closely by Golem’s thundering footsteps in the weirdest game of tag ever.

  I guessed Alec was feeling better then.

  “Golem!” I admonished.

  Golem skidded to a stop, looking sheepish. His breath came in heavy pants, blowing the hair back from my face despite the six feet of empty space between us.

  “No running in other people’s houses while you’re big.”

  His answer was a small pop of magic, and then he was six inches tall and scampering toward the kitchen.

  I glanced at Ryerson. His face was unreadable, that blank mask he’d spent his whole career perfecting firmly in place. I wanted to ask him what he’d been about to say, but Alec padded back into the room, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, Golem clinging happily to the fur on his back like short, thick reins. He nudged my hand with his nose. I petted his head absently, which earned us an irritated look from Ryerson. Without a word, Ryerson turned, walked outside to the car, and came back in a few minutes later.

  “I radioed the office,” he said. “Dahlia is pulling satellite footage of the mansion to try to identify the thief, so we have some idea where he might be taking the Grimoire … what?”

  “Alec says he can track the thief. He can pick up the trail from the mansion.”

  Ryerson’s eyes widened. “You can communicate with him when he’s …” He waved a hand to encompass the wolf.

  “What? No. He told me earlier.”

  I glanced at Alec to back me up, but the wolf just put his head on my knee and looked back at me. I had a feeling he was staying in wolf form on purpose now. It was harder to argue with an animal who couldn’t argue back.

  Ryerson looked torn. It was a good plan, but I knew he was wrestling with the part where it depended entirely on Alec. And maybe that it was his idea in the first place.

  In the end, Ryerson checked in again with Dahlia who’d had no luck identifying the thief, so we all piled into the car and headed to the mansion. Ryerson drove while Alec curled up in the back seat and slept. Golem crawled into my backpack, after the bag of Cheetos I’d tossed in there. We parked a good half mile away and walked the rest of the way. Most of the emergency crews had left, but a few cruisers and a crime scene tech van remained. Ryerson led the way to a thick patch of woods in view of the house but dense enough that we’d be hard to see.

  “When we first arrived, I thought I saw something in the woods over here,” he said, pushing through the underbrush, searching for something. “At the time I thought it was an animal, or maybe one of Isadora’s men, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “But the thief escaped through a window on the other side of the house,” I pointed out.

  “Tru
e. But if he’s good enough to steal the Grimoire from under Isadora’s nose, then he’s good enough to have an escape route planned out, and the highway is just on the other side of these woods. There.”

  He pointed to a single tire tread, the track almost invisible among the leaves and brush. It disappeared down a narrow path carved through the woods. “Motorbike. Less noisy than a motorcycle and easier to hide than a car.”

  Alec brushed by us and sniffed the ground thoroughly. Then he trotted down the path. Ryerson and I followed. The tread faded as the ground became firmer until eventually, it disappeared altogether. This didn’t seem to bother Alec. We followed the path for another half mile or so, until it spilled onto a dirt baseball field sandwiched on one side by the woods and on the other by a two-lane highway. Alec led us toward the highway then along its hilly shoulder for another three miles. By the time he turned off the road and into the parking lot of a rundown motel, my thighs were threatening a mutiny. It was official: as soon as this mission was over, I was going to the gym. At least once.

  Ryerson looked almost as relieved as I was, but he had kept a sharp eye on the road, clearly unhappy to be traipsing about in broad daylight with a giant wolf that had ripped a few people to shreds only a few miles from here. I’m not sure who he was more concerned might spot us: one of the two gangs we’d pissed off or the local police.

  Nose to the ground, Alec rounded the building and stopped in front of a door. He looked up at us and whined. Ryerson nodded down the row of cars, to a motorbike hidden from the main road behind a truck.

  The thief was still here.

  I pulled the bag of clothes I’d brought for Alec out of the backpack and checked on Golem, who was curled up at the bottom of the bag, his clay hands and mouth coated in orange cheese residue, snoring softly. Which was weird, since he didn’t have a nose. While Alec took the bag of clothes in his teeth and trotted off to shift behind the cars, Ryerson guided me to the ice machine three doors down. “Stay here,” he said and went back to the door.