Smoke wafted into the parlour at an alarming pace, inducing a coughing fit in Ezra’s lungs.
“Through the newsroom, then!” Oliver insisted and beckoned them to follow his lead.
By the looks of it, every journalist in the Belfast Evening Telegraph had escaped, not even bothering to come back for their guests.
Every man for himself, Ezra assumed, annoyance festering within. So much for being Mr. Tavin’s Deadline Hail Mary.
They had not made it much further than a few paces before another explosion wracked the building, sending chunks of plaster crashing around them. Dodging the debris, the trio was halfway to the front door when three grey shadows emerged from the smoke.
“Well, who do we have here? Three—no, two young Magi and their Quotidian friend?”
Ezra, Aja, and Oliver halted in their tracks. When the cloaked men stepped through the haze, Ezra noticed they wore pyramid-shaped badges at their belts. Each badge triangulated around an Evil Eye. The strangers’ ominous footfalls shook the weak floorboards, heavy and foreboding, and within seconds, Ezra found himself with his back against a wall.
“Get back, you filthy Legerdemain!” Aja demanded through her fear. “We’re armed!”
“Armed with what, dear girl?” chided one, cruelty dripping like venom as he ran a gloved hand through Aja’s hair. She squirmed away, attempting to reach her pendant, but the man effortlessly wrangled her arm behind her. “Celestial Lifeforce magic? You know that hardly works against us.”
The other men guffawed at their comrade’s remark.
“Oh yeah? Well, this might,” Oliver retorted, spitting in the nearest man’s eyes.
Hissing in anger, he slammed the boy up against the wall and extracted a dagger out of his cloak. Fire blazing in his expressions, the Legerdemain pressed the blade against Oliver’s throat. “Damn kid. You’re lucky I cannot kill you right now.”
“Conjure a shield, Oliver!” Aja screeched. She fought against her captor’s grasp. “A shield!”
The boy struggled to produce anything but tiny sparks from his wand as he writhed against the man’s weight.
With all attention on Oliver, Aja kicked her captor between the legs. Temporarily disabled, the man stumbled backward into a desk, giving Aja a chance to aim another attack on the Legerdemain holding Oliver. His hand was too fast for her, catching the heel of her boot and flipping her into a twisted heap on the floor. She cried out, grasping at her ankle.
“Aja!” Oliver yelped.
Anger rising—much like the flames herding them back toward the parlour —Ezra stomped on the toes of the man holding him against the wall. Unfortunately, the action prompted disaster.
In a dizzying scene of black fabric and smoke, the Legerdemain Brotherhood members unleashed hell upon the students. Ezra erratically swung his fists, hoping to land a punch. Some found success. Before he could do much else, he was wrestled into a chokehold.
Aja recovered her composure and aimed an energy field toward Ezra’s attacker, narrowly missing his shoulder. It crackled and fizzed as it rushed past his ear, debilitating the man long enough for Ezra to slip out of his possession.
"Thanks," Ezra wheezed.
“Don’t mention it,” Aja said, breathless as she whirled around to throw another blast of magic at the Legerdemain nearest Oliver.
Raising a gloved hand, the man blocked it and returned the force in her direction. The energy launched Aja backward, slamming her head against the wall.
Ezra watched in horror as she crumpled to the ground, seemingly unconscious. “No!” he screamed, just as he heard Oliver cry out. Glancing over his shoulder, Ezra witnessed one of the Brotherhood pinning the boy against the wall. Twisted glee disfigured the man’s expressions. But as he stepped away, even in the dim grey light, Ezra detected a glint of crimson clothing the knife in his hand.
"Oliver!"
Trembling, the fourteen-year-old Magus grasped at the bloody stain on his shirt and collapsed to his knees.
Another tremor rattled the building.
“We need to go,” said one of the men, retreating toward the entrance. “It won’t be long before the RIC arrives.”
“And it won’t be much longer before the entire building collapses,” replied another.
“Have fun digging out, kids,” laughed the last. “Give that bastard Jonas van der Campe our kind regards.”
And just as fast as they had materialised, they were gone.
Ezra’s breath came in rigid gasps. Fire continued to ravage the scene around him. Smoke choked the life from his body. Looking between Aja and Oliver, Ezra felt panic rising in his throat. He wanted to help. He wanted to scream. He wanted more than anything he could chase down those pigs and hurt them, just as they had hurt his friends.
But it did not matter what he wanted. He needed to actually do something.
Fast.
Ezra skidded to his knees beside Aja, furiously shaking her shoulders.
“Aja? Come on, Aja! Wake up!”
When she did not respond, he crawled through the ash to Oliver, who had curled into the tiniest form on the floor.
“Oliver? Ezra coughed, waving his hand in front of the young Magus’ glassy eyes. “Hey! Oliver, look at me.”
Oliver let out a sob. “Ezra—”
“How bad is it?” Ezra asked, craning his neck to see if he could get a good glimpse of his wound. He stifled a gasp when he lifted the boy enough to see that the red stain encompassed his entire right side.
“It’s bad,” Oliver cried. “Ezra, I want—I want Jonas.”
“As do I,” he sighed, eyes burning.
This could not be happening. Not again. Not so soon after his mother left him. He couldn’t lose them, too. Not now. Not ever.
Ezra wiped his face on his sleeve, not certain if the tears were from emotion or the thick fumes enveloping them. “I’m going to try to get you out first, okay?”
Before he could convince his body to move, the ceiling gave in, raining plaster and steel beams from above.
"NO!" Ezra screamed, instinctively reaching out to ward off imminent danger. Just as he did so, a tremendous shockwave of energy engulfed the expanse. Sparking as if electrified, a glimmering shield arched over the three of them, forming an invisible barrier over their heads. The massive debris ceased its descent, effectively held up by the protective enclosure.
Trembling in a mix of shock and bewilderment, Ezra stared at his hands, which gave off an ethereal glow. His mouth gaped, searching for oxygen, answers, anything. Anything at all to describe how it was that he had just conjured something incredibly like the Celestial Lifeforce.
This isn't real. It's just a dream, Ezra surmised. I must have been knocked unconscious. I'll wake up soon enough and realise none of this ever happened. It is not possible!
Without warning, the barrier began to fizzle away, melting into the atmosphere around him. But as the shield disintegrated, the rubble teetered on the edge of disaster.
All Ezra could do was cringe and accept the inevitable.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Terror Befalls Belfast
Diego sucked air between his teeth and allowed his head to thump back against the wall. Pleasure tingled in his abdomen and raced in circles around his navel before plunging into his toes. To be quite honest, the warmth circulating throughout his body felt remarkably like the Celestial Lifeforce. Maybe that was why he loved being a Magus so much.
But most importantly, he was enamoured by the unspoken talents of Miss Stella Birch.
And her lips. Santa Maria, her lips...
“Mmm. Mi querida,” Diego groaned, running his hands through her long hair. “I cannot believe I’m saying this, but can we resume this lovely—oh, what do the French say? Tête-à-tête?—at your flat? I’m having terrible visions of Chief Constable Norman bursting into this storage closet to fulfill his random urges to clean. And you know how much he loves a spotless off—ay!”
Her eyes lifted to meet his, b
rightening as she grinned. “You are incredibly handsome when you’re flustered.”
“I am not flustered!” Diego insisted in a much higher voice than anticipated. He gasped when she went back to work. “Okay, maybe I am a little—Dios! ¡Ay Dios!”
“You swear too much, darling,” Stella laughed. Her fingers traced his trouser inseams up and down his legs. “Though, I quite enjoy your filthy mouth.”
“And I quite enjoy yours,” Diego exhaled.
It was not a lie. But it wasn’t the full truth, either. He would not dare tell Stella—or Jonas, for that matter—but during times like these, he fantasised only one pair of lips. And they did not belong to Stella. Lips that could simultaneously frustrate and enchant him with nothing more than a simple smile. Conquer him, love him, and leave him wanting more.
Diego allowed his eyelids to fall as he peered through the misty veil of his memories. Burying them six months ago proved ineffective. Prayers to God, Mary, and all the saints to help him move on went unanswered. The more time he spent with Stella, the more he realised their relationship—as shallow and physical as it was—meant nothing more to him than a superficial distraction. A spark to incite jealousy.
And while it was working, Diego was not entirely sure he wanted it to.
“Stella,” Diego sighed, his knees weak and worthless. Grunting at the effort of sweet release, he slid down the wall, now eye level with her. Stella leaned over and pressed her delightfully salty lips against his own.
Before he could dwell any longer in his musings, the ground quaked, rattling glass jars of disinfectant and sending mops and brooms crashing to the floor. Frozen, Diego’s wide eyes met Stella’s just as an alarm wailed throughout the building.
“What do you think—” she began, but Diego was already scrambling to readjust his belt and tuck his shirt underneath his waistband.
“I don’t know, but I am getting a really bad feeling about it,” Diego noted, offering his hand to help Stella to her feet.
The moment they threw open the storage room door, every constable on duty had suited up and dove headfirst into the carriages stationed outside. Looking considerably perturbed, Chief Constable Norman shuffled along the corridor, stopping briefly to shoot a questioning glare at Diego for why he and Stella had just exited a closet together.
“Sir, what’s going on?” Diego asked, catching up to his boss.
“We’ve reports of a bomb at the Belfast Evening Telegraph building,” Norman replied, his moustache twitching in anxiety. “All workers made it out alive, but one of the injured claim three kids are still trapped inside.”
“Kids, sir?”
“That’s what they said.”
“Santa mierda,” Diego groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now he really had a bad feeling.
“What, darling?” Stella whispered in concern, following the two of them to an empty carriage.
“You are coming with me,” Diego insisted. Grabbing her hand, he hoisted her up into the vehicle after he and Norman had piled in. “Intuition tells me I’ll need your assistance.”
WHEN THE CARRIAGE ROLLED into Cathedral Quarter, Diego leapt to the street before it had even stopped moving. He dashed through the journalists and onlookers congregating in the intersection of Royal and Library. Glass and wooden fragments were strewn across the scene, crunching beneath his shoes as he bolted for the building’s entry. But something made him skid to a stop so violently that he almost toppled over in his urgency.
Painted in fresh, red lettering over the curvature of the arched doorway: Quietus.
“No!” Diego gasped and whirled around to face the crowd. “I need everyone to back up! The further away you are from here, the better!”
“Listen to the kid!” barked Chief Constable Norman, motioning for Stella and his team to drive them back. Like sheep corralled by dogs, the crowd obeyed.
Without a second thought, Diego plunged inside the Telegraph Building. Ribbons of smoke threatened to strangle him as he fought his way through sparking wires, mountains of plaster, and twisted metal. Using the rush of adrenaline to his advantage, Diego proceeded into what looked to be the remnants of a former newsroom and stopped dead in his tracks.
There, as clear as the devastation around him, Ezra Newport struggled to maintain the largest Celestial Lifeforce shield Diego had ever seen. Trembling in dread, the boy attempted to keep the magic alive. Magic that was dangerously close to petering out and crushing him and the lifeless forms of Oliver and Aja beneath it.
He was a Magus after all. A damn strong one.
Diego fell to his knees beside the adolescent. Despondency threatened to take over Ezra’s amber eyes, possibly his entire soul. He was giving up. And if he did, all three kids would be killed right before his eyes.
“No! Ezra, keep at it,” Diego told him. “You can do it; stay focused!”
"I can't!" Ezra yelled, watching in despair as the barrier continued to fall and with it, the heavy steel beams. “I—I can’t!”
"Yes, you can!" Diego urged. "Close your eyes and take deep breaths. I will guide you through it.”
Hesitantly, Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a large dose of oxygen through his nose, and held it within his lungs. Diego watched as the boy tried to steady his shaking hands and drown out the commotion around him, but the aggressive shrieks of the shifting ceiling rubble kept breaking his focus.
"Listen to my voice," Diego spoke, wishing he could get through the barrier to brace Ezra’s shaking shoulders. "Pretend the debris above you does not exist."
Ezra nodded and continued to hold out his hands in front of him.
Diego watched as the shield’s tattered boundaries began to stitch themselves together again.
"Excellent! You're doing great!" Diego encouraged. “Aja told me you want to be an architect, yes?”
“Yes,” Ezra choked. His voice quavered on the verge of tears.
“Good. Imagine the building we are in is simply one of your designs. Sketch the foundation, strong and dependable. You’re building on the solid, unshakable ground of the Celestial Lifeforce.”
Ezra nodded.
“Next, add in the supports, the components that hold everything together,” Diego continued. “The magic flowing through you right now is your reinforcement. Lean on it. Feel how stable it is. Remember to breathe!”
The boy sucked in as much air as he could without sputtering on the smoke.
“You are doing great, Ezra,” Diego said, throwing a desperate look back at the entryway. Zaire and the others had to be here soon. Surely, they would be here. They had to. Dios, they had to.
“Okay, now fill in all the gaps. Place the walls, the windows, the insulation, everything you need to strengthen the structure. Make it strong, Ezra. Build a fortress.”
A deep resonance ebbed and flowed throughout the room, growing more robust by the second. Diego could feel the intensity of the magic’s vibrations within his gut. Churning. Impenetrable. Disrupting the very atoms of the air.
“That’s it! You have got it!” Diego exclaimed. Despite his positive tone, he knew it was only a matter of minutes before the Celestial Lifeforce battered the inexperienced Magus to the ground. Where once was warmth, bitter cold would deteriorate his senses like an icy spectral knife. Ezra would push himself past the point of mental exhaustion and be killed in the process.
Diego gritted his teeth. Ezra would not fail. He couldn’t.
“Kid?! Where are you?”
¡Gracias a los Reyes Magos!
“Zaire! Over here!” Diego called out, beyond thankful for his impeccable timing.
His fellow Magus charged into the newsroom, followed by Kierra. All colour drained from their faces when they recognised what sort of situation they were up against.
“Ah shit!” Zaire swore, grabbing his bowler hat in alarm.
Diego stared at him in surprise. Zaire’s devout Christianity hardly ever allowed such language to escape his lips. There was a first time for everything
, and this time certainly warranted more than simple swearing.
In fact, Diego wondered just how much swearing Jonas would do once he returned to Belfast. Just the very thought sparked Diego’s mouth into a grin. The man was utterly irresistible when he was angry, especially when the Brotherhood was the source of his contempt.
“God be with us,” Kierra prayed, kneeling beside Diego. “Ezra, keep going, sweetheart! We are right here.”
“I can’t hold it any longer, Miss McLarney!” Ezra yelled, still squeezing his eyes shut lest he be distracted by the rubble above him.
“Yes, you can. You are doing a wonderful job,” she replied. While her voice sounded even and pleasant, Diego knew Kierra was downright terrified by the lack of colour in her cheeks. “Zaire is going to assist you, all right?”
Channelling the Celestial Lifeforce, Zaire worked to redirect the steel beams away from the children through his telekinetic abilities. But even with his Gifts, it was not an easy feat. Diego chewed on his lower lip while beads of sweat dripped from Zaire’s forehead. Painstakingly, the Magus lifted the rubble from Ezra’s protective shield and guided it far enough away that the collision with the floor would not maim them in the process.
Finally, the three kids were free.
“Okay, Ezra, let go of the magic,” Kierra instructed. “You are safe now.”
Dazed and physically drained, the boy lowered his arms and collapsed upon the floor. The twinkling blue magic faded into the smoke around them like it never existed at all.
“Aja and Oliver—hurt,” Ezra panted in fragments, looking like he might vomit.
“I’ll get Oliver,” Diego volunteered. “Zaire, can you assist Aja?”
“On it,” he agreed, running to lift the young lady into his arms.
With Kierra now helping Ezra to his feet, Diego scooped up Oliver and made haste toward the doorway.
The six of them emerged from the ravaged Telegraph Building, battling smoke and wicked fears lingering on the evening breeze. Sirens ricocheted across the city, intermingled with congratulatory shouts and dizzying chatter from bystanders.
The Magi Menagerie Page 15
