Magic Rising

by Jennifer Cloud

  My dear, I don’t work for Tamara Haas. I thought you did.

  “What?” She wasn’t prepared for that. “Get out of my head.”

  You honestly aren’t hunting the girl for Tamara?

  “I told you that I wasn’t.”

  I wished I’d learned this earlier. Many things have changed then. Meet me at midnight, back at Stone House. Come to the basement.

  “No.”

  She didn’t know how he could do this. The ceremonies weren’t real, only disguised murders. People didn’t have supernatural powers. None of this was real. That’s it. Deirdre decided that she’d finally lost her mind. The burning touch, the mind connection, none of it could happen. This was the real world with taxes, high gas prices, breakfast cereal, and cell phones. Magic had no place here, no hold. Niam and his kind never had any abilities.

  “I’ve gone insane.”

  Deirdre looked down at the surrounding dirt and found darkness, deeper than the night touching half of her body, and there the feeling of ice settled into her flesh in a half circle, as if darkness from a sphere enclosed part of the air. Above, the stars appeared hazy, barely visible through the dark fog that had crept over her. If this wasn’t real, it was damn close. That meant Niam wanted to fight her on his holy ground.

  “I can’t go there again.”

  Do it or I’ll send my men for Lora now. Meet me in the basement.

  The basement was where the ceremonies took place, the awful blood-spilling sacrifices. She didn’t want to go there, see the marks carved into the stone where so many had lost their lives.

  “I never thought the gazing ball was real. Never believed in any of it.”

  Meet me at midnight. Hurry. You don’t have much time. I promise no interference. My men will stand their ground and not open fire. You have my word.

  Deirdre sat there while the feeling of ice vanished, leaving her skin tingling. Niam had broken the connection. The sky regained its earlier brightness and fresh wind blew through her hair. Sounds also returned and she heard rushed approaching footsteps. Coming toward her were Tech and Sabrine, leaving Gladys and Lora alone inside.

  “What the hell are you two doing?” Deirdre stood up, hoping they hadn’t seen her out here talking to herself. “Both of you can’t be away from our clients at the same time.”

  “It’s okay,” Sabrine said. “See?”

  Sabrine pointed to the lanai where Deirdre could make out the outline of Gladys. Deirdre couldn’t see Lora clearly, but Gladys watched someone by the pool. It had to be Lora.

  “Deirdre, are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Sabrine looked at her then touched her arm as if making sure she was real. “I looked outside but for a minute, you looked strange. Like a bad projection. Not real.”

  There wasn’t an easy place to begin. Her childhood would be too much information but telling them to protect Lora without any background wouldn’t prepare them for what could come.

  She took a deep breath, starting at the only place that she could, her training. It had become the overshadowing force in her life, although there wasn’t a way to make two people understand the severity of watching your mother stand next to a lever that would send down boiling oil.

  “I grew up in a place called Stone House.” They took a seat in the grass across from her. “It was a cult and training camp disguised as a school. I was supposed to grow up to be one of their assassins. They even had my first kill set up.” Deirdre couldn’t look them in the eyes for this part. “One I didn’t perform. That mistake caused punishment and what I thought was my mother’s death.”

  Deirdre skimmed the details as the first bits she shared caused shock and surprise to come over Tech and Sabrine. She didn’t blame them. Those were different times and the isolation Stone House maintained created a different environment. No one could understand unless they’d lived it and survived to find the rest of the world filled with sympathy, caring, and children who only dreaded a time out or spanking.

  It took thirty minutes to explain Stone House and the survivor she’d never wanted to see again, Niam. She had to wonder how many others had lived through the inferno. Other people might hunt her down.

  “This is the part I’m not sure about. It looks like Niam is trying to start his personal version of Stone House, while the original organizers are using their prodigal daughter, Tamara, to recreate the same institution I grew up in. I don’t know what this has to do with Lora, unless Tamara is ashamed of her. If that’s the case, I don’t know what Niam wants with her. He always preferred training younger children.” She looked up at the stars, happy to see them shining brightly. “The leaders at Stone House used to perform ceremonies. Maybe they want Lora for something like that. I don’t know.”

  “I’ll check around and see what I come up with.”

  “Niam wants me back. I don’t know why. I was never his best student but when Farmer went digging into my past, I showed up at Stone House. Niam followed me back. The thing is that he already knew about Tamara Haas and Lora.” Blissful numbness had finally settled inside her. She could do this. “Tech, you need to dig deep in this. They can’t take Lora. She can’t grow up like I did.”

  Deirdre looked at Tech and Sabrine, knowing her secrets would be safe and also wishing that damned look of horror would leave their faces. It reminded her of a funeral where no one knew the right words to say. In effect, she guessed they were mourning her childhood.

  She glanced down at her watch. It was nearly ten. She’d have to hurry or risk being late for her meeting with Niam. It wasn’t exactly a meeting, but maybe while they exchanged blows, he’d share a little information about Lora Shope.

  “You two get back to work. Story time is over.”

  “What about you?” Sabrine asked. The woman reached out as if she wanted to touch Deirdre, some small offering of friendship, then pulled her hand back before making contact.

  “Niam…” She paused, not sure how to explain how Niam had contacted her. “He challenged me to a duel of sorts.” Deirdre leaned against the wall. “Listen, some of the guys from Stone House could do things. Unexplainable things.”

  “Do things?” Tech asked.

  “I don’t want to get into it, just be careful. Keep the doors locked and cell phones on. One of you should be awake at all times. Don’t trust anything, not even the shadows. Stay away from the windows. Try not to let anyone touch you.”

  She stood, and started back toward the house to her car. Lora sat in the lanai, staring out at her. The lights from the house lit her small face and Deirdre wished she could hug her one more time.

  No matter what, Lora would know movies, and dates, and proms. No one would control her life or show her murders as a way to teach her how to be strong or how to kill. Lora wouldn’t have a father either, but she would have a life. Gladys would make sure of that. There would be malls and friends. Lora wouldn’t have Deirdre’s hang ups.

  “Stay safe, Lora. Please stay safe.”

  Lora nodded and Deirdre felt emotions rising in her, horrible weak ones that should shame her, although all she wanted was to embrace them, experience them instead of the plastic bubble that she felt enclosed her.

  Sabrine said something but Deirdre pretended not to hear. Things were better left like this. If Deirdre died tonight, then at least they had enough information to know why and who had done it. She’d said enough of a goodbye to Lora.

  Deirdre walked around the house, to the driveway. Her cell phone rang. She didn’t need to look at the display to know it was Noah. He was pushing stalker qualities now. She was busy and he would wait.

  At the car, she pulled out her case. She’d grabbed every weapon she owned during the stop at the office to drop off the car. A change of clothes were in order. She needed to wear black, needed to blend.

  Her leather fighting gear was in the case. It was black, smooth, and broken in, to make moving easy. Leather was good for fights because it added a layer of protection to the skin. A minor cut or sc
rape could be deflected. The only drawback was in newer leathers that hadn’t been stretched properly. Those were like fighting wrapped in a cocoon.

  Her pants were specially tailored, with spandex at the hips and in a seam down each leg. While most men were stronger than her, she had them at agility. The male center of gravity is higher, residing in the chest where as a woman’s is lower, in the hips. One good shot to the chest or head and a man will fall.

  The top was leather, like the pants. It had long Spandex sleeves, with leather covering her breasts in a large X and a thin metal links lining the area near the wrists. The shirt didn’t completely cover her stomach, but any more clothing and she’d burn up. The metal links added a fighting edge. Her wrists couldn’t be cut, giving her a larger striking zone, and deflecting short swords at close ranges.

  She slipped into the bathroom near the front, changed and put the double sword sheaths across her back. They would be a pain during the ride to Stone House but she wanted them close. She didn’t trust Niam. He could have assassins waiting to take her the moment she exited her car. Deirdre also refilled her leg harness with throwing knives and checked her pistols.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Sabrine asked the moment Deirdre opened the bathroom door.

  “No. I need you here. Niam might send people, knowing I’m preoccupied. I have no way of knowing if this isn’t some elaborate ruse to get the girl.”

  Sabrine nodded. Deirdre expected her to turn around and go back to her guard duties. Instead she surprised Deirdre by stepping forward and hugging her. Deirdre stood there for a moment in shock before lifting her arms to return the hug. She wasn’t fond of touching; not even shaking hands, but Sabrine’s sign of affection was sweet. Sabrine was one of the few people who could see beyond Deirdre’s shell. Most people simply considered Deirdre a bitch, but Sabrine knew that not experiencing emotions wasn’t the same as only feeling hate.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this one,” Sabrine remarked as she pulled away.

  “Me too.” Deirdre swallowed hard. “Sabrine, if I don’t come back, I’m probably not dead. I don’t think Niam wants to kill me.” She forced the next words from her mouth. “He wants to keep me.”

  “If I don’t hear from you by this time tomorrow, we’ll come after you. I’ll bring in everyone and we’ll do a run on the place.”

  Deirdre wanted to tell her no, not to risk it, but the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth. She wanted to be saved. As a child she dreamed of someone, her father maybe, coming in to take her and Scorpion away. It had never happened and now she doubted Sabrine or anyone could rescue her.

  “Sure,” she managed, turning away. Behind her she heard Sabrine’s footsteps, heading back to the lanai.

  Another glance at the clock got Deirdre moving. She would have no time to get there early and check things out. The way it looked, she’d have to break every speed limit just to get there on time.

  Checking her weapons as she went, she ran to her car and gunned the engine, clearing the gate before it fully opened. She wished she had her sports car instead of this sedan. It didn’t go as fast, but the car handled well once she reached the interstate.

  I don’t want to get trapped there. That one thought circled her brain. She’d rather die than be trapped with Niam.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She expected the worst when she reached Stone House. The archway frightened her. The woods could hold sharp shooters willing to injure her before the altercation with Niam. What she found after pulling beyond the dorms to the main building an hour and forty five minutes later looked like a party, not a duel at all.

  Paper lanterns sat around the building, lining the parking area and part of the drive. A generator hummed somewhere nearby and Deirdre noticed white lights strung around the rubble. There were other cars, so she parked at the side, near the shadows. However, her hopes of entering unnoticed were squelched when a man in a deep navy suit approached her car.

  “Ms. Flye,” he said in a proper British accent. “We’ve been expecting you. Please follow me.”

  He held open Deirdre’s door, then reached down to help her from the car, although the look she shot him made him withdraw. He stood at the side, straightening his suit as she stepped from her sedan.

  “What’s the party about?”

  The building had a pleasant glow despite the debris. A well-dressed couple went inside, the lady stepping carefully around the fallen rocks. There was no indication that a homeless man had died nearby or that anything could be wrong in the cheerful ambiance.

  “Oh, Ms. Flye, you will be pleased but I’m afraid your host would be very put out if I spoiled his surprise. Please follow me.” He reminded her of a hotel concierge, and a little too cheerful for her taste.

  “Who is the host?”

  This seemed to take the man off guard. He looked at her for a moment as if she must be confused. “Niam Brogens, of course. Isn’t he the gentleman you’re here to see?”

  “Yes, he is. I just didn’t expect a party.”

  Deirdre didn’t know what new game Niam decided to play, but she didn’t like any of it. She expected a fight, a quiet in the dark event, not some party and this was quite a party too. They passed a few people meandering near the large stones on the outer area of the building. Everyone was dressed immaculately in elegant long dresses or tailored suits. She looked at her clothing, ready for blood not social gatherings.

  Her escort pushed open a door and music carried out to her. Everything had been cleaned although a little of the smoky scent remained. He led her to the area that used to be the food service and part of the library. All the rubble had been cleared away with white lights strung near the tops of the walls. There was no ceiling and the walls that survived had been badly damaged but the area had been decorated for a party. A long table complete with burgundy linen cloth held food while a few servers circulated with trays of champagne. Music filled the open room. Musicians stood on a makeshift stone stage, seemingly assembled from flat sections of broken stone. One played violin, another bass, and a standup piano finished the soft sounds colliding in her head with the shock of finding this.

  In the room, bodies moved with the music, dancing in the middle of an area used for study ten years ago. Gowns flowed with the music. Some men wore tuxedos, leading their dates through the colored lighting put off by more paper lanterns hanging from poles. Everything looked bright, but Deirdre could still see the stars, reminding her that this was no illusion. In fact, it resembled the Tamara Haas affair.

  “You made it. Wonderful.” Niam stepped before her, coming out of a shadowy corner and waving the first man away. He wore a modern tux with no real tie but a black band completed by a large black and silver medallion in the middle. Part of his hair covered the burned areas of his face, while the rest swept back showing off one dark eye. “And you’re dressed for war. How very Dragonfly.”

  “I wasn’t expecting a party.”

  “May I get you something to drink?”

  A waiter stopped next to them, pausing on his rounds while Niam put his empty glass on the tray and retrieved a full one. He also took one for her, handing it toward her then replacing it when Deirdre shook her head no.

  “What? Don’t you like parties?”

  Niam had never been nice to her and she’d never seen him in a social climate. None of it would sway her from her chore. She would either kill him tonight or convince him to leave her alone. The thought of committing murder bothered her. For a violent bitch, she valued life above all else, that’s why she fought to preserve it. Even Niam might have a redeeming quality or two. Anything was possible.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Dance with me.”

  Niam set his glass on another passing waiter’s tray and grabbed her hand. Deirdre wouldn’t budge, steadying herself as Niam felt her resistance. Instead of looking angry, he smiled, stepped close to her and put his other hand on her hip while still holding her hand. His body sway
ed and Deirdre remained motionless. Niam came closer, his body touching hers, forcing her to move or have the equivalent of full body dry hump.

  “Why are we dancing?”

  “I like to dance.” He turned her on the floor. “Besides, technically, you’re not dancing, only swaying.”

  “I don’t dance.” She didn’t like his hands on her, even when he wasn’t causing pain. “I never learned how.”

  “I knew something was missing in your education. I’m afraid we were so focused on the darker arts, that we let a few things slip through. I’m partially to blame for that. As leaders, we tended to forget that life is about more than combat. It’s about living.” He smiled and actually looked pleasant. “Allow me to instruct you on something more pleasant than fighting.”

  Niam leaned closer, his mouth near her ear as he counted the steps, whispering them and leading her in the first dance lesson of her life. At first she tried to pull back, but the hand at her hip wrapped around her waist and she couldn’t gain a decent inch. She expected him to lean over and bite her, or steal her weapons. His movements never changed, he only whispered one-two-three-four along with small instructions as he guided her along the dance floor.

  It was too awkward to enjoy and she didn’t purposely step on his feet, although a few toe squishes happened anyway. Appeasing him in the middle of his house with his soldiers, well-dressed as they were, seemed like a good idea. Even when he spun her gently, bringing her back into his arms, she didn’t fight.

  “You would dance better if you relaxed.”

  Relax? He wanted her to relax after trying to beat the crap out of her, doing that burning touch thing, and then trailing her from Gladys’s house. Never mind their history, never mind the cruel tactics he’d used to teach her. The recent stuff was enough reason to put up a fight.

  “I’d relax if I knew what you were up to. You weren’t this sociable at our last encounter.”

  He led her around again, this time making a complete circle in the room and Deirdre had to wonder how long this song lasted. Then she remembered the live band. The music could go on until the pianist’s fingers fell off.