“Have you tried?” Mara asked.
“No, it never occurred to me.”
“Well, it’s time to put it to the test.”
“Mara, I’m not sure how comfortable I am—”
“Don’t talk to me about being uncomfortable with having abilities you don’t want. I promise that I’ve got a lot more to say on the subject than you do. That man is dying. What harm will it do to try? The worse thing that could happen is it might not work.”
Sam had leaned in to eavesdrop. “She’s right. You have to try,” he said.
* * *
“Very well,” Ping said. He walked over to Ned Pastor’s prone form and knelt next to Diana. “I have never done this before. There is every possibility this won’t work.”
Diana nodded. “I understand.”
“I don’t want you to be disappointed,” he said.
“Just do what you can,” she said and stood, giving Ping room to get closer.
He took a deep breath, placed his hands onto Ned Pastor’s shoulders and concentrated on the healing he hoped would pass through his hands. For several moments, nothing happened, so he closed his eyes, cleared his mind and focused more intently.
“He’s stopped breathing,” Diana said, her voice quivering.
Ping felt a tingling in his palms that seeped from him into the body beneath them.
Behind him someone gasped.
Ping’s hands melted into a dusty gray suspension, a gelatinous goo that spread across Ned’s chest. Seconds later, Ping’s arms melted away, and more of the gray mass flowed over Ned’s neck and head, and down over his torso.
Diana asked, “Is this supposed to happen? It looks like Mr. Ping is melting away.”
Mara shook her head and raised a finger to her lips. She whispered, “It sure looks different from when Bohannon or Denton had healed someone, but I hope that is because of Ping’s unique physiology.”
By the time the flowing grayness had encased Ned’s body, Ping was gone, his own body liquefied and poured into the effort of curing the man on the ground, like a living salve.
Sam leaned to his sister’s ear. “It’s not supposed to work like this.”
“Just give him a minute,” she said.
* * *
The goo oozed off Ned’s face, which was no longer swollen. His skin was pristine, uncharred. Next to him, Ping’s body reassembled, and his substance poured off of Ned’s frame. As more of Ned became visible, Mara noted that, while his skin was no longer blistered and burned, his clothing was blackened with holes burned through in several places.
A moment after Ping had pulled himself together, Ned gasped, then inhaled a deep breath. His eyes fluttered, and he struggled to prop himself up onto an elbow. “The book,” he said. “Where is the book? We have to save it.”
Ping picked up an old volume sitting on the ground next to Ned’s hip. It had been the object Ned had hugged when he appeared on the lawn. “This book?” Ping asked.
Ned relaxed when he saw it. “I had to save it for Mara. She’s the only person who can defeat Curate Tran, but she will need this.”
Ping looked at the spine of the volume. Its title was Elements of Magic.
CHAPTER 8
Two hours later, after the fire department had put out what was left of Ned’s study, Mara, Sam, Diana and Ping found themselves sitting in what could have passed for another study, this one in the main house, though Ned called it the den. It featured two facing futons with southwestern-styled covers and two matching chairs. Now fully recovered from his burns, he went to get them drinks, giving them their first chance to speak among themselves about the events since arriving.
“What was that strange oozing you did during the healing?” Sam asked.
Ping flipped through Elements of Magic, which he had carried since picking it up, oblivious to the question.
“Earth to Ping. Can you hear me?” Sam asked.
Mara nudged Ping’s knee with her foot, and he looked up, startled. “Yes?”
“Sam wants to know about your healing methodology. It is quite distinct from what we have witnessed in the past,” Mara said.
“Oh. I’m not sure why the process worked differently for me. I suppose, to pass along whatever the healing mechanism is—some enzyme or whatever—I needed to be in a semisolid state,” Ping said.
“I didn’t know you had a semisolid state. I thought there was solid and there was dust,” Sam said.
“Dust?” Diana asked.
“People from my realm have the ability to disperse their bodies into a cloud of particles when they are under physical threat,” Ping said. “That’s what Sam means by dust.”
“I see. I think,” Diana said. “You’re not from the same realm as her.” She nodded at Mara.
“No. My counterpart from her realm died in an airplane accident at the time I crossed over,” Ping said.
“Mine was already dead when I crossed over,” Sam said.
“So you’re from a different realm too?” she asked.
“Yeah. I crossed over on the same accident as Ping, but I’m from a different realm than him.”
“I gathered, from what you said earlier, that you acquired this healing ability after arriving in Mara’s realm. Something about dragons again,” Diana said.
Ned walked in with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. “Dragons? What dragons?”
“It’s a very long story,” Mara said. “It would take hours to explain everything that has happened over the past few months. We should concentrate on doing what we can to get Mara back.”
Ned set down the drinks and poured a glass for everyone. While doing so, he had a confused look on his face. After filling his own glass, he took a seat next to Diana and asked, “Why is your daughter talking about herself in the third person?” Then his eyes widened, and he stared at Sam. “And why is your dead son sitting in my den, talking like he doesn’t have a care in the world? Diana, what’s going on?”
Diana took a sip of tea and set down her glass. “These people are from another Reality. This is not my Mara and not my Sam but their counterparts from parallel worlds.”
Ned looked at Mara. “You’re the one who captured the Aphotis and placed his soul in the luminarium. From what happened when the Coven attempted to release him, I would assume you have developed your magical abilities much more than the Mara from this world.”
“I prefer to think of it as metaphysics as opposed to magic. I’m more comfortable with scientific principles than spiritual ones,” Mara said.
“Semantics,” Ned said. “Whatever your beliefs, it appears your friend Mr. Ping is engrossed in the study of magic.”
They turned to see Ping continuing to flip through Elements of Magic, ignoring the conversation.
“What’s so fascinating?” Mara asked.
Ping looked up. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just this book is very similar to one I have in my own collection, Elements of Metaphysics.”
Ned smiled. “I can understand your distraction. That volume is the seminal work on the subject of magic. It has been passed down in my family for generations and, I believe, is the only copy remaining—which is why the Coven attempted to destroy it today and why I ran into the fire to save it.”
Mara pressed against Ping’s shoulder to get a view of the open book. She saw dense text, several formulas and a couple footnotes. It looked like a textbook, definitely academic. “What’s so important in that book that you would risk your life or that the Coven would risk getting caught burning down your study?” Mara asked.
“It’s the key to defeating the Coven and its leader, Curate Tran. At least, it would be if Mara would embrace the concepts it contains.” He turned to Diana. “Speaking of Mara—meaning, your Mara—where is she?”
“The Coven has taken her, into the swamp I’m afraid. That is why we are here, to see if you can help. You’re the only person who has any understanding of these people, since you worked with them when you were a luminary.”
“I’m not sure how much help I can be against these people. The acolytes have developed powers well beyond anything I ever imagined. They are commanding the elements of Perception in ways that were never taught in the Seminary of Light. Only someone with the ability to manipulate the elements of Reality will be able to defeat them. That is why I had hoped Mara would embrace the principles in the book. But if she’s been taken …”
“You mentioned Curate Tran twice. Who is he?” Mara asked.
“Tran. That’s a common surname of Vietnamese descent,” Ping said.
Ned nodded. “She. NaRealm Tran. Her father is Vietnamese, her mother, African American. She is quite beautiful, exotic. However, her charisma and talent outshine her attractiveness. She came to Portland several months ago as a luminary initiate and quickly made a name for herself. When the return of the Aphotis became common knowledge, and the Coven was formed, she emerged as its leader. Surprising, considering her youth. She can’t be much over eighteen.”
“NaRealm? What kind of name is that?” Mara asked.
“I assumed it was a family name or had some cultural significance to her relatives on one side or the other,” Ned said. “Acolytes refer to her as Curate Tran.”
“Why would this Curate Tran want to kidnap Mara?” Ping asked. “I understand they erroneously blame her for what happened to the Aphotis, but what do they hope to accomplish by taking her?”
“It’s just a guess, but they may think Mara has the ability to unbind the Aphotis from its luminaire—or rather, the fractured pieces to which the spirit still clings. They keep the broken luminaire and the spirit in a transparent display case, like some relic.”
“Do you think they will harm her?” Diana asked.
“If they seek information, it is unlikely they will hurt her until they get what they want. Since she doesn’t have the information, that may buy her some time.”
“What do we need to do to get her back?” Diana asked.
“You remember the medium we discussed last week? Andrea Lansing? Have you contacted her yet?” Ned asked.
Diana’s eyes widened, and she glanced at her watch. “Oh, I totally forgot about Andrea. She’s coming to the house this evening. What about her?”
“By medium, do you mean a spiritualist who talks to the dead?” Ping asked. He had that antimagic disdain on his face again.
Ned nodded. “Andrea is a former luminary who has the ability to channel a dead spirit. The practice is frowned upon by the elders of the luminary societies, but it persists among a few with the talent. I recommended her to Diana last week.”
“Why do you need a medium?” Mara asked her mother.
“I wanted—I needed—to talk to Sam about what happened, to find out why he died,” she said.
“You are going to talk to the dead me?” Sam asked. Diana’s face reddened, and she was about to explain when Sam added, “Awesome. Can I be there when you do it?”
“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Ping said. “We have no idea what the repercussions of you interacting with your departed counterpart might be.”
“We can discuss it later,” Diana said. “Why are you asking about Andrea? What does she have to do with getting Mara back?”
“I didn’t mention it before because Andrea doesn’t like talking about it, but, for a short time, she was an acolyte of the Coven. She left shortly after they moved to Hood Swamp,” Ned said. “She might give you some information about where they are holding Mara.”
“We’ll ask her,” Diana said.
Ned’s lanky features turned grim. “Knowing Mara’s location won’t be enough. The Coven must be confronted by a power greater than their own. That is why I wanted Mara to study the book. I know she never accepted being a progenitor in possession of great magical powers, but I had hoped that, if she read that book, some of it would sink in—that she would embrace her abilities when the times demanded.”
Mara took the book from Ping, flipped through several pages and looked up. “Admittedly I don’t know my counterpart very well—we’ve only talked a few times—but I’d hazard a guess that she’s not too different from me in many regards. One of them being that she’d rather work on a car than spend her time deciphering the gobbledygook in this book.” She held it up, showing two pages of formulas and diagrams. “You expect her to get all excited about magic by reading this? Not likely.”
Ping took the book back. “It’s not that bad. Other than an occasional reference to questionable magical terms, it’s a scholarly work.”
“With Mara not being here, is there something you can do to help?” Diana asked Ned.
Ned shook his head. “I have read and studied magic for decades, but my practice of it has always been limited to my work as a luminary—wrangling spirits and officiating funeral services. I am no match for the acolytes of the Coven. Based on what I saw today, many of them have developed unbridled power over the elements of Perception. They control Earth, Wind, Fire and Water as if it were clay to be molded to their wills. They truly are the Coven of the Unbound, with no limitations on their use of these powers. Only a progenitor with a full understanding of the levels of sentience and the elements of Reality can hope to defeat them. A higher level of magic is needed to face them.”
“Good thing we already have a progenitor,” Sam said. He stared at his sister.
“Shush,” Mara said. “He said a progenitor with a full understanding of … all that stuff he said was in the book.” She grimaced at the volume in Ping’s hands. “There’s no way I could learn it in time to confront the Coven and to help Mara.”
“But you acknowledge you are a progenitor?” Ned asked.
Mara sighed. “Yes. I do.”
“Then you must embrace the magical principles of the book. It’s the only way.”
Diana looked hopeful for the first time that day. “Can you do this?”
Mara sank back into the futon.
“Yes, she can,” Ping said.
“Ping, I can’t digest the concepts in that book in a reasonable amount of time. Look at it. That stuff looks like trigonometry.”
“I’ve scanned most of the pages. With a little reading and preparation, I’m sure I can teach it to you.”
“You are going to teach me magic?”
He chuckled. “I suppose I am, in a manner of speaking.”
“Cool,” Sam said. “Can I watch?”
CHAPTER 9
Mara sat in the living room of the house in which she had grown up, feeling both strange and at home while staring at the twinkling green light atop an ornately carved pedestal centered on the mantel over the fireplace. It was hard to believe this was the soul of her brother captured inside a luminaire. As her Sam approached the fireplace, the light brightened, as if it recognized his presence, giving him pause.
“Can he see me?” Sam asked Mara.
“How would I know?” she replied.
Sam lowered his face to peer into the bulb, sparks of emerald reflected from his eyes.
Ping came in from the kitchen and said, “I would suggest you not touch that. We’re not sure if the luminaire is adequate protection to keep you from being thrown back into your realm.” He took a seat next to Mara. “Diana says dinner will be ready in five minutes.”
“We should be the ones getting dinner for her, after all that she’s been through. She’s still mourning the loss of her son, been attacked by the Coven and had her daughter kidnapped. How can she even think straight enough to cook?” Mara asked.
“I suspect being occupied helps her remain calm,” Ping said. “Especially being occupied doing things for the two of you. In a way, she’s taking care of her own children vicariously.”
“I can feel him. I think he knows we are here,” Sam said.
Mara turned to Ping. “Do you think that’s possible?”
“A metaphysical resonance between the two of them might be possible. Remember, Sam is a prompter with a unique ability with regard to the element of
Thought. If that is the soul of his counterpart stored in the luminaire, it is in part composed of Thought. So it would make sense that he might tap into its … frequency, you might say.”
Diana walked into the living room with a tray of sandwiches, cups of soup and glasses of lemonade. “That’s sounds fascinating.” She sat them on the coffee table and handed out napkins to everyone. “I thought we’d eat in here and warm up by the fireplace.”
While Sam and Ping helped themselves, Diana sat in one of the end chairs and sank into it, her eyes closing as she appeared to let tension pass from her to the upholstery. It reminded Mara of her mother getting ready to meditate.
“Are you all right?” Mara asked.
Diana slowly opened her eyes and smiled. “I just haven’t had time to unwind in a while, with all that has happened these past few weeks.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be staying here, adding to your stress,” Mara said. “You’ve got enough to worry about without us being in your hair.”
Diana smiled. “Not having you here would exacerbate my stress, not alleviate it. You may be a different version of my daughter from a different realm, but you are still my child. I gather from Mr. Ping that, metaphysically speaking, you believe that as well.”
Mara nodded. “I do think of you as my mother. That’s true.”
“Then it’s settled. You’ll stay here for the duration.” She turned to Sam who was aggressively shoving half a sandwich into his mouth. “Tell me what you sense from Sam’s luminaire.”
He chomped quickly and swallowed. “He’s got something he wants to tell you.”
“How can you know that?” Mara asked.
Diana raised a hand. “Let him speak.”
“That’s all I get from him. Nothing specific other than a strong feeling that he has something to say. I’m not even sure how I’m getting that impression, other than maybe it’s like Ping said, tapping into his frequency somehow.”
Broken Spells (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 6) Page 5
