Magic Rising

by Jennifer Cloud

  “I didn’t think you’d willingly agree to anything with me. No matter how much I liked you, you never returned the sentiment. Now calm down and let’s talk. There’s to be no blood shed in my quarters.”

  “So talk.” She tried to hide the weakness in her voice but his touch had robbed her of any ability to pull off acting like the bad ass.

  “I already assumed that you would deny me. Even as a child you loved to drive me crazy.” His free hand stroked her hair, lovingly, as if he would never think of hurting her. The other hand stayed at her back ready to control her in this strange new way.

  “So you’re going to take rejection like a man and let me go?”

  “I’m proposing a fight, in the basement,” he added quickly. “A fair fight between the two of us. If you win, I will let you leave here and I will promise not to touch the girl. If I win, you will do as I say, just like Stone House but more fun. You will be my willing…everything. Night or day, you will do whatever I ask and as often as I ask it.” He laughed, a low, quiet sound. “From the looks of it, you will enjoy it.”

  “No. It’s not worth the risk.” Her senses started to come back. She needed to keep him talking, needed time to fight whatever he was doing to her. “What do you want with Lora anyway?”

  “I’m ashamed to say but I want to sacrifice her. The legend has it that the one who spills her blood will have control of the life force. It is the ultimate connection to the magic that pulses through the ground.”

  “Back to voodoo predictions and pitiful pretend magic.” She shook her head. “I’m not agreeing to anything but I will fight you.”

  “You have no choice, Deirdre. I’ve rigged the basement to abide by this deal. You’ll be mine.”

  Niam reached around her, pushing the bar up and out of the way. When he opened the door, she realized why Niam had been so confident. Twenty men stood outside with guns, all pointed at her. She might be able to take them in hand to hand fighting, but there was nothing she could do against that kind of fire power.

  “You promised a fair fight without their interference.” She saw their eager young faces. Apparently, their master had promised them quite a show.

  “We go to the basement and finish this with honor, or you die. If you win, true freedom for you and the girl. Lose, you’ll be bound to me. I will keep my promise of a fair fight. Not one shot will be fired whether you win or lose.”

  She shook her head, knowing there was no way out of here. His promise to her wouldn’t hold up among untrained blood thirsty followers. Killing him would bring his followers on her for vengeance, letting him live would be worse. Coming here had been a mistake, but she couldn’t stand the idea of being hunted by Niam, by her Midnight teacher.

  “So you had this big party to have your people handy and to try to throw me off guard.”

  “Oh no. This party is a celebration in honor of you joining us. It’s hard being the only teacher. Soon I’ll have you and together we will bring a new, strong breed, into this world. Once I’ve finished training you, you will have your own class.” He leaned close, whispering in her ear. “I was hoping to seduce you with all this atmosphere and avoid fighting you altogether. We could still spend our energies on other things and skip the fight.” He breathed loudly in her ear. “I can create exquisite pleasures. Even more than I’ve shown you.”

  Something deep within Deirdre wondered about sex with Niam. She quickly put that out of her mind. Her knees started regaining strength. She wouldn’t fall for any of his foolishness now.

  “I have so many wonderful things to show you.”

  Niam sounded like he’d gone to nutsville. There was nowhere for her to run, so she would have to fight him and in the basement where the magic was strongest and the scent of blood always tinged the air.

  “Well I can hardly walk to the basement with your goons in my way.”

  “Then we’ll do it your way. I don’t mind the taste of sweat on a woman after a fight. Tell me Deirdre, has anyone ever tasted you?”

  “Shut up and get moving. I have other things to do than beat you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The basement had survived the fire with little trace of damage. The scent of soot and smoke hung in the air, along with an earthy aroma and a touch of mold. Stone slabs made up the walls, floor, and much of the support until they met with massive wooden beams. Old metal and glass lanterns hung along the walls and a few of the original torches survived, now lit with their blue-orange flame. The base held some combustible liquid. Deirdre never knew what it was, maybe kerosene, but as a child she’d refilled them and checked the wicks that ran down from the tops where heavy coiled cotton slowly burned.

  Along the edge, still hooked into the front wall, hung heavy iron chains where the sacrifices would wait. Each appeared rusted, but she was certain they could hold her in place if this match went badly.

  She’d never been so afraid and this time nothing would charge her for the fight. As cowardly as it felt, she knew that if those men weren’t present, she would run to the exit and never look back.

  Niam kept his hand on her arm, already acting like she belonged to him. She considered knocking it away, but he guided her though the corridors and she needed a guiding hand to bring her to this room, this horrible basement chamber where so many had died.

  “I don’t want to do this.” His mouth crept so close that every word brushed his deformed lips against the ridge of her ear. “You’re forcing me to do something that isn’t necessary. I would rather take you back upstairs and make love to you.”

  “I would rather prove to you that I am your equal and walk out of here a free woman.” She didn’t turn her head to speak. If she had, they would be near enough to kiss. “I don’t want to be your prey or your lover. Let’s end this now and let me leave.”

  “Then I suppose our honeymoon will be a difficult one.”

  They entered the chamber, cold air surrounding her and Deirdre stopped walking. Niam pulled her forward and she found the will to enter the circle, the center of their power.

  Niam’s men took their place around the edge of a large circle cut into the floor. Inside that, at the center was a trio of circles where extra lines represented the moon in its cycle, waxing, full, and waning. On each side of it were the powers. One carving held the image of a hooded woman, representing death, the next a fat one, showing birth. Two runes touched the bottom points of power, depicting a woman with a sword, and hope, shown by a woman on her knees praying. The final carving was of a woman, breasts exposed, garments torn before coming back to the symbol of death. Deirdre had never understood the symbolism but knowing Lora’s fate, to die by one of the forsaken houses, it seemed to her that whichever direction one walked the pentagram, they always ended up on death.

  The men around the circle began chanting, the horrid Latin filled her ears. She always thought they’d chosen Latin to sound more frightening, without any other reason behind it. Now she wondered if there was magic invoked here and that terrified her. She stepped to one side of the full moon, Niam on the opposite. They both bowed and took their stance while the men’s voices rose to a roar. Deirdre pulled out both her swords, one in each hand. Niam took out his broad sword. This was it. She would finally have her chance at vengeance.

  Niam moved but she couldn’t see him. Metal flashed, Deirdre felt a slash on her arm, hot blood running down to her fingertips. She had to find a way to see Niam again, as she had on the street. The secret then had been not trying to. She found her center and looked beyond Niam, thinking of him as some weird poster she’d seen at the bookstore where the viewer had to focus beyond to see what was really there. It worked.

  Ignoring the pain in her arm, she raised her sword, metal clanged, as she blocked. He kept going and she struck out, finding his leg as he came back around. Making the most of both blades, she blocked his larger sword with one and used the second to attack. Niam had a powerful swing and the handle of one blade grew slick with blood, making it hard
to hold on to. On the second attempt to block him, he knocked one blade from her grasp causing it to land on the stone floor in an echoing clang that rose above the chanting men. She couldn’t pause, not even to lunge for the lost weapon. She kicked up, landing her heeled boot against his chest. He retaliated by backhanding her, she spun, falling onto the cool stone.

  There, lying on the floor she noticed something odd. Her blood ran into the grooves on the floor. She hadn’t lost much blood from the injury to her arm but it seemed to fill the entire moon engraving, reaching out to the outer area of women.

  “You’re doing a spell!” Deirdre jumped back, trying to stop the trickle of red from her arm. “What are you doing?”

  “I will have you Deirdre. We must be one. Either your will flows into that blood or you will kill me. One way or another, we will be joined. Your power, your body, will be mine. It’s the only way to stop the other house.”

  She noticed the wound from his leg following the carving, finishing the areas she hadn’t touched yet. He was uniting their blood and she felt feverish. The sensation wasn’t caused by shock or even the fight. Niam also looked sweaty while the edge of the circle appeared cool and inviting. Power was building around them. The hairs on her arms rose and she feared that if she concentrated hard enough, she could see the very powers of hell engulfing them.

  There were stories about stealing souls, people losing their will to another, and worse things. It seemed Niam had taken up the practice again. That meant if she lost, she could turn into a breeder for Niam. He might turn her into a moaning, begging, personal whore and in the spell, she would enjoy it.

  “I won’t belong to you.” She swung her single blade and he blocked. “Never.” She swung again and the clang filled the stone room, echoing and charging her rebellion. “I am no child and you are no teacher.” This time when he swung she ducked, bringing her blade back against his thigh.

  “You have much to learn Dragonfly. My little Dragonfly.” He brought his heavier blade against hers and the force shook her down to her shoulder. “I was always planning to have you.” He swung again, missing. “When I’ve finished with you, I will have my men tie you to my bed.” His eyes looked darker in the torch light. “Don’t worry. After the first time, you’ll beg me for more. Who knows? You might beg to be tied up. Would you like that? Is force what you crave?”

  Anger bright and beautiful filled her. Niam came at her with the sword, obviously hoping to cause a deeper wound that only magic could repair thereby sealing the spell. That must’ve been his intention the entire time. He never wanted to kill her, only enslave her.

  “I will never be a slave to this house or you.”

  Deirdre stopped seeing. If anyone asked her what happened that night, she couldn’t tell them about the sparks flying from metal against metal. The men surrounding the circle could, but no one would believe how the tiny woman became a whirlwind of blades, jerking up her lost weapon without losing a breath before sending it against Niam’s body, landing the metal into his chest. Madness carried Deirdre. Years of anger, and regret turned into something too lethal, too violent for her own mind to register until she stood above Niam’s broken body and watched his blood complete the circle.

  “Good girl,” he whispered, gurgling on the blood in his throat that mixed with air. “You’ve finally made your sacrifice. May the power fill you. May I complete you.”

  The floor started to hum. Deirdre glanced at the men surrounding her, expecting them to attack but they didn’t. Each continued chanting, although the words altered slightly. Perhaps they had started using the female version of the chant, honoring her instead of him or maybe their sound was a prayer for their lost master.

  She didn’t have long to ponder it as the blood, the small amounts that had filled the simple engravings, rolled out, became gallons. Deirdre wanted to run, tried to, but the men stood like a living wall. She couldn’t stop the red mess from touching her shoes, getting near her skin. She didn’t want to kill; never had she wanted to kill before Niam. Still, she cried for the sin she’d committed. The red blood turned black as it flowed over the hull that had been Niam. Drops covered his eyes and touched his lips. Something growled from within the corpse and she started to wonder if he was really dead. Maybe there was magic, maybe he couldn’t die.

  She started to panic, wishing for a way out of the wall of men that had created a living prison. From the corner of her eye, she saw the corpse move with the blood in the circle, then a ghost eased from his mouth. Smoky and horrible, it rose holding some semblance of Niam’s face in misty lines.

  The scene was too horrible, too much. She had killed the monster and somehow made something worse. The smoky creature crept near her and she screamed. Her voice filled the stone work and the ghost kept coming. She closed her mouth as she realized too late the ghost’s intent. Even as she backed away, unable to leave the circle because of the men, the smoke entered her.

  “No!” She tried to blow it out of her mouth, her nose. Her sword couldn’t cut it and still it came until her senses were filled with cold smoky nothing. Then so was she, cold, nothing. Her legs buckled, darkness filled her vision to the point that not even the lighted torches were visible anymore.

  “No,” was the last thing she said.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sabrine woke with a start. Dread filled her belly and a thin layer of sweat coated her skin. The air felt strange. At first she didn’t move, only breathed deeply and tried to figure out if she was dreaming or awake.

  The room seemed caught in a pressure. She’d experienced it before when scuba diving. If she forgot to clear her ears regularly, the pressure hurt. The same thing happened now except she sat in a dry bed.

  All at once the pressure released. She felt her ears pop, a mild ache following. She rubbed her eyes while trying to figure out what had just happened. There were no strange sounds, nothing to indicate a problem.

  The house was quiet, the hum of the furnace the only sound in the cold mansion. She’d gone to bed at two in the morning. Tech relieved her then, convincing her that he couldn’t sleep. She had been tired and although Tech had gotten less sleep, he looked wired. Sometimes he got that way, thoughts forcing him to stay away for days at a time.

  Something was wrong though. Sabrine sensed it in her core and rolled out of bed. She’d slept in her clothes, a standard routine when on a job. She slid on her shoes, moving quietly in the darkness, then creaked open the door. There was no light in the hallway, odd. She’d left one on when she went to bed as well as one on the stairs. Despite her attempts at lighting the way, darkness bathed everything.

  She reached back into the room for her dagger and pistol. She’d left both on the dresser within easy reach in case this job turned messy. She put the short dagger, much like a letter opener, in her back pocket and started into the hallway while keeping her pistol in her hand.

  Turning on a light would help her see, but it would also give away her location to any intruders in the house. According to Deirdre, this place had the best security system money could buy, but Sabrine had never trusted those things. Money could also buy ways inside any mansion.

  She went to the front door, noting that it was still locked and the alarm set. The next stop was the library. She turned the knob, listening to the barely audible sound of the bottom of the door sweeping against the carpet.

  Usually anywhere Tech went, the sound of machines filled the air with fans whirling, cooling off hard drives, monitors going, and printers running off page after page of information. Instead the library was silent.

  If he fell asleep, I’ll kill him.

  A more disturbing notion filled her when she put on the lights to an empty room. There were his computers, no files though. No papers or personal effects littered the tables. Every sign Tech had ever entered that huge library had been removed beyond the mechanical items.

  Pain surged through her belly at his strange absence. If it were anyone else, she would assume something tr
aitorous had occurred. Her first thought couldn’t be true. Tech was her friend, her lover. He meant the world to her. They shared more than their bodies, they’d shared their hearts and she trusted him. Damn it all, she loved him.

  There was no time to indulge her emotions. She ran out of the library and up the stairs. When she opened the door where Lora should be sleeping, the same eerie silence filled her. No breathing came from the pile of covers, no soft snoring or movement in blankets. Sabrine flipped on the light and found the room empty. Lora’s things had also been taken. Her duffle bag no longer sat on the floor, there was no sign the little girl had ever entered the house.

  Sabrine pulled her cell phone off her belt clip. She dialed Deirdre’s number but there was no answer. The phone went to voice mail and Sabrine felt lost. She couldn’t report Lora missing or kidnapped to the authorities. The grandmother would have to do it.

  She went back to the doorway heading toward Gladys’s room when the first shot was fired, splitting the air with the reverberations mixed with the scent of gunpowder. Pain filled her hip and Sabrine tumbled backward, landing on her butt in the hall. She raised her gun, firing blindly into the darkness until a shadow ahead fell back against the wall.

  Gladys’s bedroom door swung open, more shots were fired but the older lady’s reflexes were good, shooting back and knocking someone down the stairs. Sabrine stayed low, not sure how well Gladys could see in the dark.

  “Gladys, they’ve taken Lora.” Sabrine spoke loudly, hoping Gladys could pinpoint her location through sound so Sabrine could start moving again.

  The light above came on, Gladys at the switch. Sabrine looked down, examining the injury. It wasn’t too bad. A low velocity round had struck her in the hip, not shattering the bone. It amounted to a painful graze.

  “Who’s taken Lora?”

  Tech was gone, Lora gone and she had to admit that Tech had been acting strange lately. She thought it was over their mutual friend Deirdre, but perhaps more troubled the man. Tech was the only one missing from the house where Lora was taken. If it wasn’t an inside job then someone else had the numbers to the alarm system and knew they had the time to take all the evidence with them.