by SA Magnusson
“How are you feeling today?”
“No different than when you asked the last time, Dr. Michaels.”
Dr. Michaels, and not Kate. When we’d first met, he had called me Dr. Michaels, but over the months that we’d gotten to know each other, and when we had both begun to think there could be something more between us, he had begun to call me by my first name. It pained me the same way it did each time, especially the emptiness that was in his voice that had never been there before. Even when he had called me Dr. Michaels before, he had done so in a way that had carried a sense of warmth.
“Do you mind if I try reaching you with magic again?”
“Like you did just a moment ago?”
I nodded. “I was looking for any signs of injury.”
“Is that what doctors do?”
I couldn’t tell whether he was genuinely asking or whether he was challenging me. “Doctors who have a connection to magic do it. It gives me a chance to know if there is anything more taking place, and if there is—”
“You would use magic to heal?”
“I don’t have that sort of connection to my magic. I can heal somewhat, but most mages like yourself don’t need for someone like me to offer any healing.”
I waited, half hoping that he would remember the times that I had helped him. He was an archer—the archer—and incredibly skilled, but that didn’t make him immune to attacks. With the sort of things we’d faced over the last year or so, I gathered that he was in danger far more than he was accustomed to.
When he said nothing, I took a deep breath. Noise from the kitchen nearby caught my attention and I glanced over. One of the things that I’d read about when it came to treating amnesia patients involved familiarity. That was part of the reason that I had been coming, hoping that he would find me familiar, even if we hadn’t spent that much time together before the injury.
There was something else I could try.
Standing, I reached for him and took his hands. He didn’t resist.
I pulled him into the kitchen. Whoever had been here was now gone, leaving us alone. The kitchen was enormous, the kind of chef’s kitchen people who enjoyed cooking—something I most definitely did not—would be thrilled by. An enormous Wolf oven was nearly twice as wide as the oven in my condo. A gleaming marble counter was completely clean. A section of butcher block waited for someone who knew what they were doing to hop in and start cooking.
“Have you cooked anything recently?” I asked.
Aron frowned. “And why would I? The councilor has an excellent cook.”
It was one more thing that he didn’t remember. Before he’d gotten into magic, Aron had been a chef. From what he’d made for me, I knew him to be a good chef. Would getting him back into the kitchen bring that out?
“There are some who think that cooking and baking are calming.” Not me, but Aron didn’t need to know that now. If he ever regained his memories, he’d remember that about me. “I just thought that we could work on something together.”
“What would you like us to work on?”
“Is there anything you would like to try?”
There was a pause, long enough that I thought that maybe he might come out of this. “No.”
I pushed back the frustration. “You once told me how you’d been a chef. Do you remember that?”
Aron faced me. “I serve the council.”
It was the common refrain, and it had been ever since he had nearly died. With everything that he had forgotten, it was the one thing he had not. That and how to perform most magic. Not all, strange as that seemed. There were spells that Sharon had tested him on that he had forgotten, spells that I knew Aron knew how to use.
“You can serve the council and still know how to cook,” I said.
He frowned at me again. “If this is part of your healing, then let’s get on with it.”
I wanted to sigh, but there wasn’t anything for me to say.
There wasn’t much I knew how to cook well, though I could make chocolate chip cookies. It was the recipe on the bag of chips. I’d long since memorized it, but they turned out great and maybe the two of us could find some way to work together by making them.
As Aron watched me, the hollowness evident in the way that he looked at me, I wondered if that were even possible. Would I ever have that connection to him again, or had it been lost forever, dead in a way that he wasn’t quite though it almost felt as if he were?
4
I stepped on the gas, steering the car around the block. I drove quickly, though not as quickly as I once would have traveled when riding with Aron. I didn’t have the same reckless abandon he willingly demonstrated when taking me around the city. I also didn’t have as fancy a car as he always managed to drive. Not that the car I had bought was terrible. As a physician nearing the end of her residency, I didn’t struggle with getting enough credit to buy a nice used car, and I had picked up a gently used BMW 3 series.
It seemed Aron had rubbed off on me far more than I had realized. The seats were comfortable, the leather soft. The engine hummed and responded with just the lightest tap on the gas. And it was mine, the first time I had ever owned a car. Each time I got in, tapping the ignition button, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the times I had traveled with Aron. Maybe that was part of the reason I’d chosen this particular car. Maybe there was a part of me that had wanted to have something that might remind him of who he was when I pulled up at the council home that now housed him. So far, it hadn’t worked.
There was some advantage in having my own car. I didn’t have to ask every time I needed to travel somewhere, not the way I once had. Jen had always been willing to allow me to borrow her car, but I’m sure she got tired of the frequent requests.
And without the car, I wouldn’t have been able to pursue the strange sense of magic that I had been following throughout the city since the attack on the vampires, the sense that I’d chased ever since beginning my search for Odian, determined to find out more about him—and what he had to do with my mother.
It was a subtle sense, and I focused mostly on looking for its origin. My connection to magic was strong enough that I should be able to find whoever was using the magic around me, but often I neared and came up with nothing. It was part of the reason I searched most nights, circling throughout the city, trying to find some way of coming up with the origin of the magic. It had to be out there, but where?
I didn’t have to do this search on my own. I had already been told by both my grandparents and by members of the Dark Council that I could have their help. But then, the Dark Council and the mage council had begun to merge. It was happening slowly, but then, years of distrust made anything more rapid than that unsustainable. Most members of the Dark Council still weren’t sure what to make of the mage council and their sudden willingness to incorporate them.
A tingling sense trailed along my spine as I headed north.
I followed the sense, waiting for the moment that it might grow weaker. When it did, that was when I needed to turn, trying to find where it would strengthen.
It continued to grow stronger.
The cold sensation along my spine suggested magic, and it was different enough than the sense of death that I didn’t think that was what I picked up on, though it was possible that it was. For all I knew, the sense that I encountered now was that of death, though it shouldn’t be.
Sirens blared in the distance.
I wished that I had some other way of knowing just what I was feeling. There was no one who could teach me. The mages I had spoken to all attempted to show me different spells, but my magic was not tied into spells. It was more about intent and power and using it in that way. If I had enough control over it, maybe it wouldn’t matter that I had a tendency toward destructive magic. If I were able to use it in such a way that I could control my intent and focus it, maybe I would have been able to help the mother and baby without risking both of them by operating on them.
I
continued north, past a Target teeming with people. It was one of the big Targets, the kind with the grocery store, and as I continued past it, I realized that the pull of magic came from the store.
Was Target now selling magical items?
Target was a Minneapolis-based retailer, and considering how much magic was situated within the city, all tied into the ley lines, I guess I shouldn’t be terribly surprised that there would be something magical within the stores, though I’d been to Target often enough over the years that I would have thought I would have picked up on any sense of magic from the store before.
I pulled into the parking lot and started to circle it slowly.
Maybe it wasn’t in the store itself but within the parking lot.
One of the workers was pushing carts back into the store, using that motorized thing they had, and he shot me an irritated look as I tried to move past. He ignored my attempt at getting around him and took his time.
Rather than getting frustrated and annoyed, I sat, focusing on the sense of magic.
Was it getting weaker?
I couldn’t tell.
If only I could figure out a way of mastering directionality. If I could do that, then I wouldn’t need to rely upon circling blocks—or parking lots—like I still had to do.
As I stopped at the crosswalk leading toward the store entrance, a surge of magic caught my attention.
It wasn’t within the store. That much I could tell, but where was it?
When the crosswalk was clear, I continued on, finishing my circuit of the lot.
The sense of magic had faded, becoming less distinct than it was before.
Which meant that whatever I had been following had begun to disappear.
Someone had been using magic in the parking lot. I was certain of it. And if I could no longer pick up on it, it suggested they weren’t here anymore.
More than that, it was the type of magic I had picked up on that had been unique enough, reminding me of the rune magic—the sort of magic I was trying to better understand. I might not be able to find Odian—from all reports I’d been able to uncover, he was long gone—but I could find others who had worked with him. If I did, then maybe I would begin to understand just what had been taking place throughout the city and why that magic had been responsible for instigating the various failures to the Veil. I was certain it was related, though others on the council—including my grandparents—weren’t quite as convinced.
I pulled back out, and decided to travel north again. That had been the direction I had been following, and maybe whoever had been in the parking lot had continued to go in that direction. If not, then I would be driving aimlessly.
It didn’t have to be like that. I could go to the council, continue to work with Aron, and see if there was any way that I could help him. I hated failing, and I hated even more failing when someone I cared about needed my help.
What I needed was to figure out what else I might be able to do to help Aron.
There was a way, but I had so far avoided it. It involved going to the one person who I thought might have the knowledge I needed, but also remained angry at me for what I had done to her the last time we had interacted. I doubted Solera would offer me any help, and even if she did, there were likely to be strings attached to it, the kind of strings that I had been advised to be careful with.
I drove for a while, but the sense of magic didn’t return, not the way that I needed to. But another sense replaced it.
This was magic, but it was more of a typical magic. Mage magic. I focused on it, straining to see if I could pick up on the sense, and found myself weaving along side streets in a northern suburb. There were times like now that I wished I had the mage ability to track spells, but this wasn’t an ability of tracking any spell that I had placed. This was the ability to track magic, and a general form of magic, at that.
I continued to weave through the streets, and as I did, another burst of magic caught my attention. It bloomed not far from me.
For some reason, I was aware of that, along with how powerful the magic user that I suddenly detected had to be.
Magic continued to bloom, a continuous sense of it.
It was a spell, I was certain of it, and it lingered. The power behind it was incredible for it to be able to linger in such a way and for so long.
I pulled my car off to the side. An enormous sports complex, all soccer fields, stretched in front of me. The sense of magic came from somewhere in there.
Jogging across the fields, feeling the crunch of frozen grass beneath my boots, I pulled my winter coat tighter around my shoulders. This was a mistake. If something happened out here, no one would know where I’d gone. It was deep enough into the winter that there was no way for me to get safely out of here.
And then, maybe that shouldn’t be my goal.
I pulled out my cell phone, punching in 911, just in case it came down to it. I wasn’t going to be reckless. I needed to be prepared for the possibility that whoever was here wouldn’t be glad to see me. I could feel their magic, so I knew someone definitely was here, and I didn’t want to get caught by some powerful mage just because I was chasing down information about what had happened to Aron.
I rounded a corner and a large expanse of empty grass greeted me. Smoke sizzled in the air.
Considering how cold it was, I thought it might be steam at first, but it was smoke.
I approached carefully, wrapping magic around me in a barrier, prepared for the possibility that I might need to lash out with it. There was no one, nothing other than the sense of smoke and the possibility that someone was here, though where had they gone?
I approached slowly.
A circle had been burned into the field. Mixed within the circle were other symbols—runes. I had seen similar runes before, but they had been placed on vampires and their familiars, stealing magic from mages. This was something else, though I didn’t really understand what purpose there might be in having runes placed out here.
I walked around it, tracing my own foot slowly through the grass, letting it crunch beneath my boots. Cold began to creep inside my coat, though it was a cold that came from the outside temperature and not from the spell, though the cold from the spell persisted.
It was powerful, even in this residual form, but why?
I finished circling the spell, and without meaning to, I pushed some power into the circle. Magic surged, though I don’t know if I did it consciously or not. I’d not made the circle intentionally, much like I’d not made a circle when I’d stolen Solera’s power. Circles were the most basic magical shapes and they augmented power, concentrating it.
My power concentrated here, and in doing so, I cut off the connection to the other spell. With a surge, it disappeared, and so did the cold I felt along my spine.
That wasn’t what I’d planned on doing, but now that I had, it gave me the opportunity to examine the spell and see what purpose there was for it. There had to be some reason for it, a reason for it to have been placed out here, of all places.
Glancing up at the night sky, I noticed that stars twinkled overhead. The moon was full and a few clouds drifted in front of it, making for an ominous feeling. We were far enough north that lights from the city didn’t obscure the rest of the night. And it was remote enough—though still close to the Cities—that there weren’t that many buildings around.
Why here?
Anything could be used to create power. I’d seen that in the short time that I’d been a part of the magical world. And in the Twin Cities, there were enough places with a greater connection to the deeper parts of magic, that which connected more solidly to the other side of the Veil, that I didn’t know why one place would be more prominent than another. There might be a very good reason someone would place a spell here, but I just didn’t know it. Magic flickered nearby and I glanced up.
Someone approached. Moonlight reflected off metal.
I shifted my connection, maintaining a hold on the circl
e but now adding a barrier that surrounded me. From what I’d heard from those who would know about such things, splitting my magic in such a way was difficult. There was a measure of difficulty for me, but I think because I hadn’t known that it was supposed to be difficult, I had simply done it.
The person came into view.
He had dark brown hair left a little long. A sharp jaw and nose. An otherwise athletic build. And a sword.
“What are you doing here?” the man asked.
He had a deep voice with a bit of a Southern twang. I kept my barrier in place, but I also didn’t want to lose the connection to the circle I held around the spell. Until I knew the purpose of it, I didn’t want to unleash a spell like that out here.
“I would ask you the same thing. Who are you?”
“You would dare question a knight of the council?”
Great. This was about to get interesting. That didn’t fully explain the sword, though. Archers generally carried swords that they used to fight demons, not the knights. The knights had always had a task of hunting dark magic users. I hadn’t learned what they did now that the council had begun to align itself with the Dark Council.
“I would dare. Put your sword away and I’ll lower my shielding.”
The man frowned, his brow knitting. “I think you have this wrong. It’s you who will be taking orders from me, not the other way around.”
“Listen. I don’t know who you are, but I’m the grand—”
Magic surged from him—but also from behind me.
I barely had a chance to fortify my barrier. An attack spell struck the barrier before fizzling out. My barrier surged into place, surprisingly stout, almost as if drawing power from…
I glanced down.
The shape of the rune caught my attention, almost as if I should recognize it. My circle held it in place, and it wasn’t until now that I realized that my circle seemed to take very little energy to hold.
There had been a few times where I’d felt similar connections, but why would I be able to reach the power on the other side of the Veil here, of all places?
