Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller

by Nicolette Jinks

  Chapter Seventeen

  Oddly enough, I was the only one amongst us eagerly anticipating the coming day. My priorities, as it was stressed on all too many occasions, were to keep a low profile and to find out what Griff was hiding in his box. A confrontation with the gryphon himself was to be avoided. Me being me, I rather wished I could pin him down by his lion tail and get him talking. The next morning, I suspected I'd have to settle for answers from Mordon, however.

  Mordon was waiting for me, reading a paper and drinking some brew. He had a second cup for me. With a glance at the clock, I asked, “Aren't we opening today?”

  “Today's the day for the street vendors to have a fair. I have a prior commitment, so Lilly has offered to take you around the market today.”

  “What are you hiding?”

  Mordon scowled. “What makes you think I'm hiding anything?”

  I looked at the shadows beneath his eyes, the way he held his jaw, and the dull exhaustion in his eyes. He'd go quiet if I pressed the matter. It was his choice if he wanted to trust me, and if he didn't make the decision to do so soon, I would pretend to not be interested until I had the opportunity to scout out the shop. So I smiled and said, “You just look tired, that's all.”

  “Haven't had the brew yet.”

  I handed it to him and said, “Bottoms up, then. You need a bit of perk.”

  When he finished it, he did look healthier, but still as though something were bothering him. I crossed my arms. “Is there something you would like to talk about?”

  He gave me a sour expression over the top of a cardboard box filled with books. “No.”

  I didn't move out of his way, and he had to brush my legs to get by me in the narrow aisle. “You aren't going to be one of those men who expects me to read your mind, are you?”

  He shot me a peevish glare, the way children did when their parents nagged at them.

  At another time I might have backed down, but I only settled in more. I started to trail him. “Because that isn't going to work. See, you and I were raised different. If you do something to offend me, I'm going to tell you about it as plainly as I can. I expect the same from you.”

  He set the box down. The jewels on his fingers caught light as he ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Sometimes, I just need my shop to myself.”

  “That's all?”

  “That's all.”

  I studied him, an unexplained doubt nudging at me. After a minute of observing, I saw a leather bound book hidden beneath a stack of newer potion recipe books, then I saw candles lying in a box with a knife and chalk.

  I lifted up my hand and backed off. “Alright. If you want some quiet time, then I will give it to you. You just have to say so. I'll find Lilly or Barnes.”

  “I just sent for Lilly,” Mordon said. “She'll be here any minute. She's been dying to take you shopping.”

  I arched a brow and took his cup of brew, sipping at it and thinking that Mordon's habits were rubbing off on me, for better or for worse. I asked, “And what about the whole 'quarantine' thing?”

  “It's a holiday. There will be so many people everywhere today. You won't be noticed unless you go out of your way to draw attention. Which you won't.”

  “Of course not.”

  I hoped I wasn't lying again.

  From the way Mordon stared at me, he hoped so, too.

  What was he planning, and why did he want me gone?

  The wainscoting door opened and Lilly appeared, dressed up and positively glowing. She took my hand and said, “Come on. Let's get you out of here for a bit.”

  As we left, I waved at Mordon, but he was already going back to work, going in the direction of the spell book. I tried to hang back, but Lilly's fine fingers dug into my arm in her excitement.

  Lilly flung the arched door open and swept her arm out to encompass the area.

  “I love the market,” she said, smiling at me so broadly that I had to grin back at her or feel rude. Nevertheless, I resisted the urge to open the door again after she closed it, then I realized I was faced with a transformed Merlyn's Market. Gone was the lazy boardwalks, and in its place was an active beehive.

  Voices reached me first: singsong calls of goods for sale, conversational chatter, musicians playing in the distance, rising and falling as naturally as a busy day. I smelled cooked meats on the breeze, roasted and fried strips of tender meat and shellfish, as well as spicy and woodsy ingredients.

  Lilly took me by the elbow again and pressed our way through the throngs of people. I would have been either lost or completely stuck without her guidance, so I clung as close to her as I dared. When we stopped at a coffee shop, I felt relieved to be able to get my bearings. The potions deck was just above us.

  Lilly led the way to an ice cream cart. I automatically asked for cone with bubblegum ice cream, stopping short before I picked out a flavor for myself and watching mutely as the vendor scooped extra on top with a wink at Lilly. Lilly got hazelnut chocolate banana.

  We sat on the deck, Lilly's legs dangling off the edge. I ate the ice cream at the speed of melting. Lilly poked me in the shoulder. “What's with the long face? Feeling guilty for ice cream first thing in the morning? It's got a waffle cone. That's sort of breakfast.”

  My teeth hit a bit of gum, and I shuffled it around before it could thaw and become chewy. I lifted the blue and pink heap in the air. “Not that. It's…after a case, particularly a freaky one, we'd go get ice cream together. I always put Railey's order in first because she always wanted the same thing: bubblegum.”

  Lilly's face drained and she said, “Oh, Fera. I'm sorry. If you want something else…”

  “No.”

  As I ate, Lilly kept giving me sympathetic glances, and I felt guilty. Who knew what had happened to Railey?

  Before I could fall into brooding, I heard a flute coming from a deck below, the sound fluttering around me, piercing through the chatter and clamor of market life, bringing children out from their places next to their adults and begging to “go see it”. Intrigued, I peered over the edge.

  There was a stage assembled about ten feet long and about as high, the props were on a small scale, and I saw an assortment of puppets hanging up by their strings. I could have sworn I saw one puppet bop a gryphon puppet on the nose, but it happened so quickly I couldn't be certain.

  Music from a flute of kinds still wound its way through the market, rounding up children and parents and a good chunk of adults who had no reason to be there other than to see the puppet show.

  “What's this?” I asked Lilly.

  “It's a new project we've been working on to help the races to understand each other, promote commerce, discourage squabbling and warfare. There's a different spokesperson for each race, and they present an aspect of their history and culture. Yesterday we had a traditional mermaid harvest feast. It was…very seafoody.”

  Lilly hated everything seafood. I snorted when I tried to contain a burst of laughter imagining her reaction to a feast of fish. “As a Market Judge, I'll bet you had to partake.”

  Her beautiful, wide eyes narrowed to slits at my tone. “I had a seaweed salad.”

  “I take it, you are obligated to attend this show, too?”

  She lost her sour expression. “Technically. But these shows are quite good and a large attraction.”

  The immediate area about the stage was already packed, so Lilly hailed a carpet for us. I stared at it. Lilly smiled. “I thought you'd be over your heights thing by now.”

  “I am,” I snarled and gingerly collapsed onto the carpet next to her. Lilly gave me a smug, disagreeing smirk and guided the carpet into a position close to the front, but behind children. Once I saw we were only eight or so feet off the deck below, I released my death grip on the carpet and gazed around at nothing in particular.

  “You must be mortified when you have to fly,” mused Lilly when the flute had died down to let the crowd settle.

  “Not at all.”

  “Y
et you can hardly climb a ladder. Go figure.”

  “Look,” I said. “Things that were supposed to fly have wings. Birds have wings; dragons have wings; planes have wings. Carpets do not have wings. End of story.”

  Lilly looked like she was going to object, possibly cite incidents of levitation or whatnot, but she pointed to a pebble stopping in front of the set. Too late, I realized that helicopters had blades and not wings, but I had never been fond of them so my point still stood.

  “It's starting!” Lilly said.

  Fog drifted up from it, expanding and soon filling the set.

  A voice boomed from the mists, echoing off the listening walls and walkways, engulfing me in deep, rhythmic words that had all the charm of a circus announcer introducing the audience to the three rings.

  “'Let who you are reflect in all you do, and you will have not one regret of your life.' Such is a drake's proverb, and today is a tale about two individuals of opposite walks of life who possibly were the foundation for this proverb. While what they were held them apart, who they were founded a new civilization, a new culture, and a new hope. Without further ado, I present The Farmer and The Widow.”

  The mists receded to show a puppet man hoeing a small garden, a straw-thatched roof painted behind him with a couple of small fields with livestock painted on them; the background moved with bobbing sheep heads, two frolicking calves, and even a cat that walked along the rock fence. The narrator's voice ebbed over the scene.

  “At a time when the dragons and the humans had nearly killed each other completely, there was a farmer who had lost all his family to the war against the dragons. He did not hate them, though he was afraid. His family had a bargain with a local dragon, promising to deliver every lame or old or ill creature to the bottom of the mountain. In return, the dragon would not take any healthy livestock from the farm.”

  The farmer puppet approached one of the cows painted on the background, and then guided it out of the painting and onto the road. The cow puppet walked with a heavy limp and appeared very skinny and frail. They walked up a trail winding past trees and over a creek, then they stopped at a pasture where the mountain started climbing.

  The cow remained in the pasture, and the farmer walked back to his house. Lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone on the cow like a moonlit night. Then it brightened again, and the farmer made his way back up to the cow.

  “But the next day, the cow was still there, and same with the day after, and the day after that. The farmer's reasons are not explained, but he decided to walk the cow up the mountain to the dragon's lair. Perhaps he was lonely. Perhaps he was concerned something had happened to his dragon, and he would have to make a deal with a new one. Perhaps he was going to see if the dragon had moved on.”

  The puppets walked into the backdrop, and the it became a mountain that emerged from the painting and spilled out, the foothills ending at the toes of the first row of children, who played with the miniature boulders and trees carefully.

  The cow and farmer stumbled and rested their way up the mountain, coming at last to the mouth of a cave. The side of the mountain became invisible, and the crowd could see the caverns and the curled up form of a dragon deep in the cave. A nervous farmer walked into the darkness, and his lame cow limped after him.

  “Dragon? Dragon? I have a cow for you,” the farmer called, his voice echoing as though he were in a cold, hollow cave. “You haven't come to get her in days, and she's very close to dying.”

  The dragon puppet lifted her head, but listlessly, as though she did not care. “I am here,” she said, her voice weak and cloudy.

  The farmer came the rest of the way, he and his cow kicking rocks and pebbles around, dull echoes coming from them. When he saw the dragon, he held still, and his cow fell over.

  “Thank you, farmer,” she said, but did not get up.

  “What is wrong, dragon?”

  “My mate was murdered by those who seek to kill all dragons,” she said. “It has been quite some time since I've eaten.”

  “Then, let us eat, for my cow has just died.”

  The narrator's voice cut in as the two puppets appeared enraptured in lively conversation. “And for his bravery and kindness, the dragon gave him a ring from her hoard, which he used to buy a fatted calf for a meal the next month, and so their relationship grew, each one caring for the other, talking and dining. It is not said how many months this occurred, but it was all too soon when others took notice of their peculiar behavior.”

  The lights dimmed and there were two spotlights, one on the cottage with the farmer, one on the lip of the cave with the dragon. There was a mob of red-faced human puppets wielding swords made from wood and painted silver. One had chain mail armor that looked like it was made from a jewellery making kit, but the children were very enchanted by it.

  “We are here to end the war!” the one in chain mail roared, a very loud voice for such a small puppet, “Do you know of any dragon lairs nearby?”

  “No,” said the farmer.

  “Have you had any stock go missing?”

  “None but the hens the foxes take.”

  The conversation switched over to the dragon's lair, where two strange dragons were talking to the widow.

  “We are here to ask permission to slay humans in your territory, Madame,” said one.

  “No,” she said.

  The two looked at each other, then said, “Asking you is a formality. Will you help us locate humans, or return to your lair?”

  “I will not allow you to harm them,” she said.

  One of the dragons lurched to attack her, and she fought back. A fierce puppet fight ensued, one in which there seemed to be no strings, no artificial material. They flew, they dove, their necks entwined and their mouths bit. The widow, being smaller and quicker, damaged her opponent's wing and his friend snarled, calling off the fight with the widow. He went over to his friend and growled back at her,

  “I will be back very soon.”

  And then, he took hold of his fellow's bad side and the two flew away very awkwardly into the backdrop.

  “I shall go to the high mountain where the eagle resides,” she said to herself, “and have him change me into a woman so the farmer and I can escape all of this.”

  Back at the cottage, the farmer had a similar idea. “I have heard of a creature on the tall mountain who can perform miracles. Maybe he can change me into a dragon so I can help her when the hunters come—for they will come in time.”

  The narrator once again spoke as the two puppets ascended the mountain in the distance from opposite ends. “And so, they had no knowledge as to the other's predicament and plan, and they encountered the eagle at different times with their request. To each one, the eagle said, 'Yes, there are others who wish to transform as well, and you may join them. However, you must keep your eyes closed until the ceremony is over.' And they both agreed, neither knowing the other was present. It is said that the others who wanted transformation were caterpillars.”

  The backdrop expanded on the mountaintop, where it now became the sole mountain. A giant eagle the half the size of the dragon widow stood at the back, preening and gleaming in the moonlight as the others assembled.

  A storm boiled in the clouds as the eagle started to glow, causing all the tiny caterpillars, the dragon, and the farmer to glow as well. There was a dragon body forming next to the farmer, and a woman's body next to the dragon. White, fluttering clusters formed on the ground about them.

  “And the caterpillars gained a second body, a body with white wings. They cast off their worm-like bodies without a second thought, but it was at that moment a flash of lightning illuminated the room, our heroes opened their eyes and each recognized the other. Each tried to anticipate which way the other would go; dragon or human? But when the eagle's spell finished, neither had decided, and so they embraced both bodies.

  “Ever since, each of us drakes begin as one body and when the time is right, our second form appears to us, a
nd we have the choice to accept one or the other—or both, though it is not an easy task to accomplish.”

  “Huh,” whispered Lilly, almost talking over the narrator's final comments. “I always wondered how that works.”

  Before I could ask to stick around—I had a sudden urge to discuss something with the puppeteer, though I wasn't sure what my question was—Lilly yanked the carpet up to the next decks. “It'll be a madhouse for a good half hour if we don't beat it now.”

  Nodding, I agreed past a lump in my throat. When she was navigating a tricky intersection of carpets, I leaned over the edge and watched longingly as the set faded and the puppets answered questions from a young and eager audience. Settling back into the middle of the carpet, I tried and failed to suppress a sigh.

  “Something wrong?” Lilly asked when we came to a stop.

  Bailing off the carpet and onto whatever walkway we were on, I shook my head and said, “No, nothing.”

  Lilly was not convinced, and neither was I.

  My mood was soon shaken off as Lilly led me through more sights of the market, I was distracted by the cobbler, the glassblower, the wildflowers, the raw foods deck, and the umbrella merchant. We had moved on to see the man who sold warding stones by the time Mordon decided to join us.

  We saw a musical instrument vendor and Mordon all too cheerfully volunteered me to play a cello that played itself. Lilly laughed, then grew interested in something else and wandered off. Mordon teased me about becoming flustered at the attention the crowd gave me, then grabbed my arm and pulled me somewhere.

  After a bit of weaving between crowds, I demanded, “Where are we going?”

  We slipped a ways from the prying eyes, then I stepped in front of him and jabbed him in the chest. Mordon chuckled, and I worked hard to keep his smile from being contagious.

  “Can we find some place to talk?” I said sternly at first, then my voice deteriorated into of a laugh. I coughed and straightened up. I wanted to ask him about what he was doing that was so secretive. Though I could and would find out on my own, I wanted him to tell me.

  Mordon said, “We can go back home to talk. It's getting late.”

  I had to agree with this. “Why doesn't it appear to have any time change here? The light is the same as when we entered.”

  Mordon led the way and was at the start of explaining all the doors and different time zones and the wizards who generated the original spells when a voice cut us off.

  “Mordon!”

  We turned. Lilly was heaving and waving her arms, diving down at us from a red carpet. I glanced at Mordon's face, wondering what was going on. His mouth was drawn thin and his pupils were wavering between human and dragon.

  “Mordon,” she called again. “Intruder breaking through our boundaries up high! Must go now!”

  My heart dropped. They wouldn't want me around. I tried to hide it with a smile and a shrug; after all, I wasn't supposed to draw attention. I said to Mordon, “Off with you, then.”

  Mordon pointed his emerald jewelled-finger and let it tap the tip of my nose. “Stay here with the vendors. I won't have harm come to you. I will return as soon as I can—and this time, I mean to answer your questions.”

  I mutely nodded. He stepped on the carpet. I watched as the two of them hunkered low and the carpet dodged other carpets, disappearing from sight around a deck.

  I held one elbow as I watched the carpet race around a deck above me. Periodically I saw flashes of red in the far distance. Word spread quick here, and vendors were packing their most valued wares, shoving them roughly into boxes that never seemed to fill. Lesser items tumbled on the ground and, unless the vendor had a child to help, they let those goods lie. A few people hoisting canes or staffs or wands got on carpets. They swept up above all the other decks, going to join in the fray.

  I walked towards the huddling vendors.

  I heard a crash echo and debris cascaded past me.

  I jittered in place, edging closer to the vendors. They kept retreating, carpets flying out of the decks like a buzzing swarm. I was soon abandoned, surrounded by barren boxes and scattered goods.

  A burst of wind shoved me to the ground, bruising my knee. Was my own magic pushing me around? Alarmed, I started to sit up. A carpet whizzed over my head. One of the tassels caught on my bun, yanking hair from scalp. I snatched my bun, relieved to find it loose but in place, having acquired a tassel for decoration. Laying low, I kept as still until carpets stopped brushing my head.

  Glancing around, I saw that the stream of carpets had at least paused. I crawled forward, not sure where to go but knowing I should move. A wailing noise drew my attention, something I had never heard before. I peered over the edge and saw a creature flying below.

  The creature was as graceful as she was unusual. Her face was fox-shaped, teal and purple markings about her head and eyes, white fur on her throat, peacock feathers making up a crown on her head. Her slender wings banked and she angled up to buzz me. Sweeping tail feathers brushed my skin as I ducked.

  Turning her head at the discarded merchandise and stray trinkets, she settled down not far from me. She walked towards a wall of lock boxes. I had seen merchants use them to store their personal affects in, sometimes a change of clothing. What did the creature want with that? In any case, it was stealing if she was after something.

  I fumbled with a black rock with a letter carved in it. While trying to puzzle out what it did and keep an eye on the creature, I dropped the rock. It bounced twice and came to a rest in the center of the walkway. It lay still for a few seconds, then light shot from the letter and fireworks crackled in the air. The creature shrieked and changed her path in a big circle around it.

  I looked at symbols marking the stones. There seemed to be six or so different spells, and they were helpfully color coordinated. Tossing one of each in a different direction, I singled out the fireworks and put them in my pocket, then cast all of the fogs and mists across the walkway. Within seconds, the entire area was filled with rolling clouds; I reached out to my magic just enough to keep the drafts at bay so they wouldn't take away my cover.

  I felt her dive through the air. The first two times she missed the walkway by inches, but the third time she careened into an overturned cart then rammed into a wall. She shook herself.

  The creature gave a final shriek of frustration, then forgot about me and started to peck at the wall, her mouth striking wooden storage boxes that were sunk into the stone.

  “What's it looking for?” I asked myself. Mists and green and purple smoke filled the walkways and floated over the open space, changing color from the gray and white clouds they used to be. I hoped this did not signify that the enchantment was ending. I frowned and snatched a pole, feeling the ground in front of me to make sure I did not step off the side.

  I waved a purple puff from my face and caught a glimpse of a peacock crown. The creature had located an individual box and began to tear into it. A staff fell from above, clattering near her. She raised her crown, leaned a long neck forward, and sniffed, taking several steps away from her target to investigate the mysterious staff. I saw past her to the mark on the box, a jagged “G” painted on the box's brass plaque. Griff's logo.

  What did Griff have in his storage box that the creature—or rather, that whoever controlled it—wanted so badly? I was more convinced by the second that she should not have whatever she was after. Pocketing several more stones I hoped to be fireworks or other startling images, I advanced to the wall slowly and quietly. I tapped the wall, felt around with my hands, and was rewarded with finding Griff's box. It was locked. The creature had not done much to damage it yet.

  A head the size of my body crashed into the stone wall me, casting away the green smoke I had been hiding behind. I stared for an instant into clouded eyes, then saw a collar disguised by her feathers. Pouncing on the tail end of the rope collar, I started untying the knots. Between grasping her feathers and hopping to stay with her thrashing body, I undid the f
irst knot. She swung her head and rammed me into the stone wall.

  Gasping for breath, I fumbled in my pocket. She pressed me harder. Finding a few round stones, I weakly cast them against her shoulders. She quivered her skin, and the stones tumbled to the ground. My ribs were giving beneath the weight of her crushing skull. I could no longer draw a breath, and my lunged burned.

  The stones shot up in screams, shooting little bees into the air. They buzzed around until they gave a pow and exploded. The creature swirled to meet this new threat, several feathers already flaming with foul-smelling smoke. I put my invisibility ring on and stayed still, trying to catch my breath. I rubbed my citrine illusion ring and pointed to a place down the walk. I wasn't sure what played back on it—my eyes were closed as I tried to not cough or allow tears to come, but the illusion seemed to work.

  I felt a rustle of wind against my skin as she pounced on the image; I covered my ring before she could reach it. The illusion died. She stood where it had been, snapping and darting her head through the mists in confusion.

  I slunk closer to her, remembering an entrapment circle Mother taught me years ago. Touching the ground, I unleashed my fey circle around her. It visibly cut through the mist. She simply cocked her head and looked at it, realizing she should run only after it had her entirely encircled. She bopped her nose against it. It held. She gave a little shriek, struck it harder.

  This was fey magic, and unlike other magic circles, it grew resilient when energy was used against it. Without magic to feed it, the circle would die soon. My hope had been that she would cast a spell or two, but she seemed to know to headbutt it. I tossed all my firework stones against its side to charge the circle with their magic—assuming it would work.

  The stones lay unmoving for a few seconds. She rammed her head against the entrapment circle. Cracks appeared. Then the first stone began sparking and the circle absorbed every spark that hit it. Life zipped through it in waves, getting stronger and stronger as more stones exploded in a variety of fireworks.

  The mists were dissipating now, so I touched my magic again to bring the air through to let me see. I tried to place her from the book my mother used to read to me as a child, a book filled with fanciful mythical beasts and stunning illustrations. On this occasion, the artist hadn't needed to embellish nature.

  She was a simurgh, a benevolent animal who preferred sunny meadows to stealing from busy marketplaces. They had about the same intelligence and social desires as elephants.

  “You were probably the smartest creature they could catch. We need to keep you here until Mordon or Barnes comes. I hope they'll know what to do with you,” I said to her, kneeling so I could scrounge for whatever trinkets were left. From the falling debris and yells coming from above, I could tell the fight upstairs wasn't an easy one.

  So much for laying low and avoiding attention, I mused, but a quick check at my surroundings showed that no one had witnessed me performing magic. As long as my coven was the first one to find me and the simurgh, I had nothing to worry about.

  I found a bag of charged stones—little ones, just enough energy for a very basic spell—when a fresh cascade of wood splinters, dust, and vegetables fell around me. I bumped into a booth, narrowly avoiding a falling watermelon.

  A man's drawn-out voice slid through the air. “What are you doing here all alone? Thieving?”

  My heart leaped into my throat. It was Gregor Cole.

  Goosebumps rose to my skin, but I refused to be goaded, instead I smiled to him. “Cleaning up. Would you care to help?”

  I did not trust his convenient timing, not so soon after the simurgh had been trapped and prevented from doing her duty.

  “I don't believe you,” Gregor said, his voice cold as ice and as smooth as an eel's belly. “You will come with me.”

  I bolted up taller, put a hand on my hip. I said, “I will do no such thing, but I will put in a good word with the judges if you volunteer to help.”

  “In stealing?”

  A cold breeze rolled over my back; I advanced on the him. “I do not believe we have been formally introduced.”

  Even for a hardened dark sorcerer, it was hard for him to deny civility when he was faced with it. “No, and I do not wish it. I do not interact with creatures.”

  Creature? It seemed a bit harsh, but I played along. “Then you will not interfere with my duties further.”

  “I am going to take you to the proper authorities. Please come with me.”

  I recognized the smooth flow of words now, but I did a second look, then squinted my eyes. He sounded and acted very much like a vampire, but there was something strange about him, something very alive yet dead. I frowned and took an involuntary step backwards. “What are you?”

  His eyes narrowed at me. “Impatient.”

  Acting on instinct, I hurled the bag of charged stones at the circle. They shattered with pops of light. The circle absorbed their energy, growing smooth, elastic, and powerful.

  “Insolent creature.” He raised his wand and muttered words, a red glow emanating from the wand tip. Though I felt a wind curl protectively about my body, I knew that whatever I did, this could not end well. Father's advice came back to me, about how sometimes the best way out was a few choice words.

  “Mordon is my guardian,” I said. Each word hanging crisp, snapping through the air as though I'd yelled it.

  Gregor's eyes darkened and he snarled. “What?”

  “Did I mumble?”

  “He has no ward, you liar.”

  “I am his ward,” I said, my heart skipping a beat at my own unplanned announcement—I managed to not slap a hand over my mouth or otherwise give evidence to weaken my claim. Gregor stared at me, glaring in anger and not willing to risk his plans over a tiff with me.

  “Give me one piece of evidence to keep me from taking you straight to the dungeons.”

  I raised my left hand, splayed my fingers, and pointed to the dragon ring. “This.”

  Gregor blinked and raised a ball of light, illuminating the sapphire. He drew back. “It cannot be.”

  “It is,” I said, faking understanding of the significance of the ring, hoping I wouldn't say something to betray my utter lack of knowledge. “Will you leave me alone, or shall I call Mordon?”

  He snapped his teeth—they were normal teeth, not jagged like a vampire's, but I was still suspicious—then recovered his composure. “My congratulations are in order. Give my regards to your guardian.”

  “I insist you give them yourself,” I said, challenging him to stay, wondering what he meant by congratulations.

  Gregor gave me a smile that could have been a grimace. “It would be my pleasure, but I regret I must go through the remaining decks and search them.” He gave one long look at Griff's storage box before he left.

  I waited until I was certain he was gone.

  Giving one last glance to make sure I was alone, I marched to the box in the wall.

  Someone wanted this whatever it was in this box, and they sent a big critter upstairs to keep Mordon and the others busy while the simurgh stole and made a getaway. When the simurgh had not returned, they sent an agent to retrieve the item. Gregor must have hoped I would run upon seeing him, or that I would be an easy person to make disappear. My news about Mordon deterred him for now, but next time I might not be so fortunate.

  I used another trinket hanging from my necklace, a seemingly decorative skeleton key Mordon had given me with the promise it was better than my last. I slipped it in the hole and gave a couple twists, and the small door popped open. Inside there was a half sheet of notebook paper folded into a small triangle. I took it and tucked it into the heel of my sock. Someone was coming. I shut the door and locked it.

  Squinting up at the sky, I caught sight of movement. I sat on a crate, listening to the drum of wings coming closer and closer.

  A red dragon flashed his wings to a stop, lowering onto the walkway as though it were a plank. Three people climbed from his shoulder
s, sliding down a black streak. I walked up to meet the group, catching my breath as his golden eyes met mine and narrowed. Mordon snorted in disapproval. He started to shift, regaining his clothes as he lost his scales. Stupid modesty-enchanted clothing.

  “Don't give me that. I stayed here, didn't I?” I defended, taking smug satisfaction in having subdued a simurgh using magical trinkets, a little of my magic, and not once did I worry about going feral. Nothing could bring me down from my feeling of pure accomplishment.

  Lilly gasped at the simurgh in the circle, then turned to stare at me with wide, green eyes. “Tell me you did not do this alone!”

  “Not to worry,” I said. “Mr. Cole came to check on me and left when he saw everything was under control.”

  “Humph!” Barnes inspected my circle as well as the simurgh inside.

  Mordon frowned at me, his brows wrinkled, though his disapproval was nothing compared to the glare Leif gave me. If ice daggers could shoot from his crystalline eyes, that would be happening right now.

  “And what did Gregor want?” Leif asked, keeping his tone cautiously neutral so he did not call attention on our conversation. Mordon was the only one not devoting admiration onto my fey circle.

  “He didn't say,” I said, but Leif held me in those eyes. Mordon put his hands on his hips, making a remarkable resemblance to a husband who was determined to get the bottom of something.

  I was temporarily saved by Barnes musing to Lilly, “Throw a spell at it.”

  Leif looked over to them. “Don't touch that circle.”

  “I'm ready for the simurgh,” said Barnes.

  “It's not that,” said Leif, frowning at me. “I do not want to charge that circle any further. Fera will need to take it down, and I'd rather she didn't get a big bolt of energy when she does.”

  In other words, he disliked how I used magic so soon and did not want a sudden rush of it to tip me back over into feral magic territory. I sympathized with him, but I also felt that I needed to practice with magic so I could use it when it became necessary. Today had been a sip of my power, nothing more, and I would not have stood up to Gregor alone without losing control. The circle had been a good, solid step, that was for certain, but I wanted to push myself.

  “Leif,” I said. “I should take it down before too many spells get cast around it.”

  He sighed, then nodded.

  “Ready?” I asked Barnes before I touched the circle.

  It was like nothing else. My fingertips tingled and quaked as raw power drained into me, filling my body with electric jolts and making my heart beat powerfully in my chest. I could feel blood coursing through my veins and air passing through my lungs, heating my muscles as though I had jumped into a hot spring from a snowbank. I could feel the air pass between my friends, swirl around rat-sized hobgoblins stealing anything that sparkled on the floor, even the pattern of currents cutting through the marketplace.

  At that moment, I felt I could do anything. If I wanted to, I could jump off the edge and call the air under me. I could fly without the need for wings. The raw energy passed. I let it ease out of my body on one long breath. My hands shook; I hid them behind my back so Leif and Mordon would not see.

  Had I ever felt that much power before? No, I did not think so. It could be addicting if I was not mindful of it. I felt weak, and hurried to sit before my knees collapsed.

  “Fera?” Lilly's hand was on my shoulders and I smelled her lilac perfume.

  “Just tired is all,” I said, carefully avoiding Mordon's gaze.

  Barnes's voice rolled over me, “I will burn a letter to that one group, whats-their-names? Care for Creatures in Distress or whatever, an' let 'em know t' come git this one.”

  “Very good,” said Leif. “Lilly and I will get the clean-up crews started.”

  “But, Fera—” objected Lilly, and Leif overrode her.

  “Needs rest and a solid meal, and she'll be good as ever. Mordon, I want you to take it easy as well. Don't worry, I can already see Grog coming out to help us.”

  I stood up on heavy legs, glad they did not fail me. Mordon motioned me in the right direction.

  “Who's this Grog they keep talking about?” I asked.

  “Lilly's guard from before she was a judge.”

  “And you think he's good?”

  “Trolls do tend to be.”

  “Ah,” I said, thinking of how I was going to squirrel away that stack of books in Mordon's shop and do some reading tonight—and open up that blasted paper that was irritating my heel with every slow step back home.