by SA Magnusson
Jen was saying something, but I couldn’t make it out and I didn’t dare take my mind off what was taking place. I couldn’t think of anything other than trying to survive, but even that was becoming more than what I could manage.
“Please,” I said.
Moments passed. And then more moments. Finally, pain jolted me.
As it did, my eyes fluttered and pain surged through me, but it was different than the waves of pain.
It took a deep breath, the swelling in my throat going down. Slowly—far too slowly—the pain in my throat began to abate.
“Thanks,” I said.
“What happened?”
“The spell. I don’t know what it was, but somehow…”
Somehow it had nearly dragged me away with it. But then, I didn’t think that was the intention of the spell. Whatever had happened wasn’t its intention.
Worse, I hadn’t been strong enough to separate the spell from whatever intention it had. Even as weak as I was, I could feel how it still worked against the ley lines.
8
“I don’t detect anything wrong with you,” Sharon said, looking down at me.
I still didn’t know why my grandparents had brought me here, but this was the first place they had decided on after getting me dragged out of the water. I rested on a couch in the living room and tried to keep my eyes open. It was more difficult than it should have been, given how tired I now was. Everything within me hurt and didn’t seem as if that was tied to the spell that had nearly claimed me. This was probably related to the Taser.
“Something’s not quite right,” I said.
“I understand that you believe that to be the case,” Sharon said, looking over at my grandmother, “but I can detect nothing.”
Gran frowned. “Are you sure, Sharon? The nature of the spell was quite malicious.”
“The spell wasn’t intending to do this. It’s something tied to the way that it is drawing upon the ley lines,” I said.
“There is no spell that can consistently draw upon the ley lines,” Sharon said.
“This one does,” I said. I let my eyes drift closed. I stared at the back of my lids and couldn’t shake the visions of what had happened. It still terrified me. The overwhelming sense of that magic had been like a torrent of power that I couldn’t control. It was much like facing the mage had been. There had been nothing that I could do against her. This was the same.
“We think we have it secured,” Gran said.
“Only secured?” Sharon asked.
“Even working with Barden and his mages, we weren’t able to do anything more than just secure it. We’ve tried, but…”
Sharon took a deep breath. “There shouldn’t be a spell like that,” she said.
“Which is why I suspect the council needs to get much more involved than we have so far,” Gramps started. “If this is made by a mage as powerful as the one Katie describes, then—”
Sharon looked over at Gramps, cutting him off with a glare. “You’re not on the council, Veran, so I would prefer it if you keep your opinions to yourself.”
Gramps clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything more. It surprised me that he would bite his tongue so much. Gramps was a proud man, and though he often took a backseat to Gran, I knew that he was a powerful mage in his own right and he deserved to have his opinion heard.
“I will go and investigate,” Sharon said.
“You would leave Kate here?” Gran asked.
“She’s welcome to stay here until she is well enough to return home.”
I let out a heavy sigh. I didn’t know how to describe what had happened. I felt weaker than I should, though it didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t anything that had physically happened to me; it was just that something about my magic was off.
And all of me suffered because of it.
“I think I’m well enough to return home,” I said. I sat up, looking at Sharon and at Gran and Gramps. Neither of them met my gaze. I had the sense that they were both still upset with me and the fact that I had been willing to go and confront this mage on my own. In their minds, along with Sharon, I was an untrained mage. But then, I think they still overlooked the fact that I wasn’t a mage at all. If the person I’d confronted was anything like me and might have the answers that I sought, I needed to figure out what it was and who she was.
“You can’t go by yourself,” Gran said.
“It’ll be fine. Jen is there”—she had returned to my home, not wanting to come with me to the council home, knowing that she didn’t really belong here—“and all I need to do is get home and get some rest. Nothing more than that.”
“I’m still not comfortable with it,” Gran said.
“I will accompany her.”
I twisted to see Aron standing in the doorway. Maybe standing was the wrong description. Looming fit better. “I’ll be fine,” I said. Even though the idea of having Aron in my home once again was tempting, I didn’t like the way that I would feel. There was so much different about him—and about our relationship—than there once had been.
“Let the archer accompany you,” Sharon said. “Perhaps it will be good for the both of you.”
I breathed in deeply. I had a hard time thinking that having Aron accompany me would be good for anything, but I had a sense that I wasn’t going to win this one. Injured as I was, whatever that meant, the other mages weren’t about to let me leave on my own. I would be stuck here until they decided to allow me to leave, and I didn’t really want to remain here, especially when I would be much more comfortable in my own home.
“Fine. He can accompany me. One of you needs to come and reclaim him when you’re done with whatever you end up doing.”
Grand looked at me strangely and I realized that I had been much harsher than I had intended. I needed to be careful. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to be around Aron, it was just…
It was just that I didn’t want to be around Aron like this, not in such a comfortable setting. When I came here, everything that I did with Aron, every moment that I spent with him, had a certain clinical aspect to it, even though it was a home.
I got to my feet, ignoring Aron’s offered arm, and we headed out. My car wasn’t here, which meant that we had to go with Aron. That was a little bit odd as I didn’t know if he even had any of his cars still here.
“What are you driving these days?” I asked.
“The councilor has a garage full of vehicles that we can take,” he said.
We made our way around the outside of the house, heading toward the freestanding garage. He punched in a code on the keypad and the door slid open.
A part of me expected to come across a garage filled with cars that would’ve been like what Aron have driven, but it was nothing of the sort. There were three cars, so the garage wasn’t necessarily filled with anything. One was a Volkswagen wagon, far too practical for Aron. Another was a large, boxy conversion van, again nothing like I would expect Aron to drive. And the last was a Ford F-150 truck.
Aron glanced the rack of keys before selecting one and tapping it. The wagon.
I sighed. This definitely wasn’t the Aron I once had known.
“Has anyone from your family come and visited you?” I asked.
“Sharon tells me I don’t have any family remaining.”
“None?”
“I don’t remember them,” he said.
“Do you remember anything?”
“I remember driving,” he said.
At least there was that. He might remember driving, but when would he remember the fact that he would never be caught dead in a vehicle like this? Even when he had been forced to take something more practical, he had done so with a Mercedes or a BMW, not a Volkswagen wagon.
“Do you remember where I live?”
“No. You will need to provide guidance.”
I could only nod.
He got in the driver’s seat and I climbed into the passenger side, taking a seat and buckling my seat
belt. Aron slid the seat back as he climbed in, adjusting the mirrors and taking a moment before he even started the car. There was a certain unfamiliarity with driving that he seemed to have, a hesitation that he never would have displayed before.
As he backed out of the driveway, Gran and Gramps watched us depart. Was this all part of some plan they had? Did they intend to have us do this for my benefit or for Aron’s?
Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they simply were going along with what Sharon had suggested.
We pulled out onto the road and Aron slowly accelerated, stopping completely at each stop sign before continuing onward.
I guided him back toward my home, giving him the directions he needed until we finally pulled up in front of my building.
“You can leave me here,” I said, pausing as I unlocked my seatbelt.
“I told the councilor that I would escort you into your room.”
“As I said, I’ll be fine. I’m only up one flight of stairs, and from there I can get in.”
“I will walk you up.”
Rather than arguing, I stepped out of the car, closing the door far too firmly. There was no point in arguing with him as I didn’t particularly care one way or the other.
That wasn’t entirely true. I did care, I just didn’t believe that there was anything that would make a difference, not in trying to understand what was wrong with him or how to bring him back. I had begun to give up on the idea that I would be able to help him in any way.
We climbed the stairs and I watched him, thinking that maybe he’d recognize where we were and where he was going, or maybe even recognize the fact that he had contributed to the spells placed around here, but his face showed no sign of recognition.
It was disappointing. But then, I wasn’t sure that it should be disappointing. Aron didn’t have a significant and long-term connection to me, not the way that he would have to many other things. Why should I be the reason that he suddenly managed to realize what had taken place?
We climbed up the stairs, reaching my hallway, and continued toward my door. As we went along it, I watched Aron. He had essentially rebuilt this hallway, hiding the fact that it had been destroyed. Nothing on his face suggested any sign of recognition.
When we reached my door, I rested my hand on it and tried to summon the necessary spell. As I did, power exploded back into me.
I frowned. “That was weird.”
“What happened?” Aron asked.
“The protections on my door seemed to be reacting with me.”
“Are you sure this is your home?”
I shot him a look of annoyance. He might not remember anything, but I certainly remembered where I lived. “Just because you don’t remember who you are doesn’t mean others have forgotten.”
Aron pressed his hand on the door and as magic built, a chill raced along my spine. At least I still had that sense.
His spell flowed into the door and it opened.
“There is something familiar about that.”
I laughed bitterly, looking at the door. Why had it opened for him but not for me?
“It should. You were the one who placed the protections that are on the door.”
“I placed these?”
I nodded. “You did. You worried about me. I’d been attacked more than once, and you thought that by placing your own protections around my home, you could help defend me in case somebody else came to attack.”
“These are complicated spells.”
“You are a skilled mage. Not surprisingly, these are powerful spells.”
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Jen was lying on the couch, deep in sleep. Magic built from Aron and I grabbed his arm, shaking my head.
“That’s my friend Jen.”
“Why is she sleeping on your couch?”
“It’s a long story, but the short version is that her apartment burned down recently and she thought she would stay with me until it gets restored.”
“Is it common for you to have friends like this?”
“Friends like Jen? It’s common enough that she would stay with me, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Whatever spell he was holding began to abate.
I guided him back into my kitchen, pulling him away from here, not wanting to wake Jen. She had enough trouble that she didn’t need to have me keeping her awake anymore.
“Have I been here before?” Aron asked, looking around my kitchen.
“Many times.”
“Why?”
I smiled sadly. “Because we are—or were—friends.”
I debated going for a glass of wine before deciding better of it. I started back to my room and Lucy sprung out, tapping my ankles. She rubbed up against me before backing away, the hair on her spine standing on end. Her tail puffed out.
“What’s wrong, Lucy?”
I glanced over at Aron, thinking that maybe she detected something wrong with him, but she went racing away, looking to get away from both of us.
“Listen. I know you want to stand around and chat, but I’m tired and I’d like to get a little sleep. I have to work in the morning.”
“What kind of work?”
“What kind of work?” I threw my hands up in the air. “What have we been doing every time I visit with you?”
Aron studied me for a moment. “This is your non-magical work?”
“Yes. This is my non-magical work. And I thought that I would try to get some sleep so I don’t kill anyone.”
“Is that a real consideration for you?”
“If I’m sleep deprived, it’s a possibility. Will you let yourself out? Replace that barrier on the door.”
Aron stared at me for another moment before just nodding. Rather than waiting to see what he might do or say, I made my way into my room, taking a moment to close the door and crash on my bed. Lucy was trapped outside, but I had a sense that she wanted that.
I lay where I was for a long time, staring at my ceiling. Thoughts raged within me, a mixture of emotions that I didn’t know how to parse. Having Aron back in my home had been strange, but it also been nice, especially as he seemed to recognize something. Maybe it was nothing more than the spell that he placed, or the way that the spell would have made him feel, but that was more than what we had before.
I would have to figure out the rest of it later. Why had my own magic bounced off the barrier in the way that it had? Why had it seemed as if it were rebounding in a dangerous way?
Maybe it was nothing more than my fatigue, but a part of me worried that whatever had happened to me in the river had changed something. And if it had, did it mean that my magic had changed? Not only had my magic failed on me tonight, overwhelmed by the mage, but would it now be altered in some way?
With those thoughts, it took me a while to fall into a slumber, and even that wasn’t very restive, filled with dreams of a strange mage attacking me, dismissing my magic as if it were nothing, and feeling impotent in a way that I so rarely had felt since beginning to master my magic.
My alarm went off far too early.
9
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I stared at the computer monitor, I tried to process the patient’s complaints, but it was difficult to do so. My head felt foggy, punch drunk from lack of sleep, a reminder of when I had been on other services.
“Dr. Michaels?”
I looked over at Joan. She stared at me, annoyance written on her wide features. “Yes?”
“You’ve been staring at the monitor for… quite a while.”
“Yes, I’m just trying to come up with my plan.”
I looked over at the patient, a thirteen-year-old boy with an earache. It was an ear infection, nothing more than that, but it felt as if I couldn’t come up with the right plan of treatment, almost as if I were struggling with an attack.
I blinked, focusing my attention once more. “Any allergies?”
“You already asked him that,” the patient’s mother said, staring at me. She tur
ned to Joan. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” I said, clicking a few buttons on a computer. I sent the prescription over to the pharmacy electronically and let out a restrained sigh. “Your prescription should be ready by the time you get there,” I said.
“Thank you,” the patient’s mother said.
I headed out of the room, trying once again to keep the tiredness out of my mind. There was no point in trying to convince Joan that I was not under some influence, especially as she probably wouldn’t believe me now.
Taking a seat at the nurses’ station, I looked at the patient track board. Jen joined me, popping out of Room 9, a hint of concern etched on her face as she watched me.
“How are you this morning?” she asked.
“I think I’m okay,” I said.
“Nurses are saying you’re a little tired.”
“I’m a lot tired, but I’m otherwise fine.”
“Are you sure? Whatever happened to you last night—”
“I know what happened to me,” I said. I snapped a little bit more than I needed, and I shook my head, flashing a smile at Jen. She didn’t deserve that sort of agitation from me. She hadn’t done anything that would deserve it.
“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m just not quite right. I don’t know how to describe what’s going on, only that it’s not me.”
“I don’t really know what happened, but I could tell that whatever it was was not quite right.”
“Thank you for tasing me,” I said.
“Right. You aren’t the first person I’ve tased.”
“I’m not?”
“I’d like to say that you are, but unfortunately some idiot thought to come up behind me in the parking garage a few weeks ago, and I gave him a jolt.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about?”
“What’s there to tell? I was fine, and he found out that he needed to avoid attacking women. I gave him an extra kick in his business to make sure he got the message.”
I took a deep breath. As I did, a streak of cold washed along my spine, different than that of magic being used. This came from death.
