It was a sensible security precaution. No matter how badly hurt Larry was, Rest would be moving him fast. The temple ruins in the Kazakhstan desert weren’t suitable even for emergency healing. The brief time it would take the team to grab Larry and return through the Path to the billionaire’s San Francisco home wouldn’t give a potential enemy opportunity to set up an ambush—unless, of course, they anticipated Rest returning Larry to his San Francisco mansion.
Donna’s head and heart hurt. “How long?”
“Two minutes,” Darius said, and his response was also an order to the team.
They lined up in front of the porch with seconds to spare. Gabe had a mundane first aid kit, Austin carried spell supplies, Rest held a gun, and Darius just waited.
“Be safe,” Donna said.
Rest opened a portal, and they vanished into it.
Donna spun around and ran inside even as she dialed Viola’s number. When they returned, one way or another, she would convince Rest to take her to San Francisco. Viola needed her.
“We got here last night.” Mark, the taller of Larry’s two assistants spoke rapidly, filling in the background as Austin and Gabe assessed Larry’s condition.
The billionaire was falling in and out of consciousness. More worrying was the gray tinge to his skin and the blood leaking from his eyes. His breathing rattled. Whatever had happened to him, it justified an emergency response.
Darius and Rest remained on watch, along with the second assistant who had ceded responsibility for Larry’s health to Gabe, and now, twirled a knife nervously in his left hand. The young guy’s attention was fixed on the hole in the ground through which the team had entered the cavern and found the rune.
“The hole wasn’t there the last time we were here,” Mark continued. If he suspected that Rest had some role in its creation, he didn’t show it. Like his colleague, his attention was divided between the hole and his dying employer. “Larry wanted to descend immediately, but we’d been driving for hours and it was dark. He was tired enough that he let Nate and me overrule him. We set up camp.” A couple of tents beside a four-wheel drive truck was the extent of the camp. Larry lay in the shade of a tarp stretched from the roof rack of the truck.
The team had emerged hot from the portal, ready to encounter anything, and had found themselves welcomed with enthusiastic relief by the two assistants who were highly efficient bodyguards in normal circumstances—but these weren’t normal circumstances.
“I’m not sure moving him is a good idea,” Gabe said. “But he’ll die if he stays here. He’s hemorrhaging.”
“What did he find in the hole?” Darius cut through the assistant’s story.
Both of Larry’s men immediately took a step further back from it.
Rest observed their behavior interestedly. The assistant’s story rambled from fear. He was trying to avoid whatever they’d encountered beneath the ruins. In fact, he didn’t even want to mention it.
However, Darius’s tone of command worked.
“He found the fruit, the paradise fruit. Or at least, he thought that’s what it was.” Nate, the shorter assistant, put his knife away in an ankle sheath. “Do you want Mark and I to carry Larry?”
Now that the fruit had been mentioned, Mark provided the crucial information. “Larry ate a bite of it.”
Austin swore, expressing everyone’s shock at the billionaire’s reckless stupidity.
The only element of good news in the whole disaster was that this was too excessive to be a trap for the team.
“The fruit was disintegrating,” Mark said. “When Larry started convulsing, we dropped the gold bag and got him out of the cave.”
“We need the fruit—or the bag that held it.” Darius looked at Austin. Darius had more magic, but Austin had the physical nimbleness to scramble in and out of the cavern.
“Spot me from the top,” Austin said. He and Darius approached the hole.
Gabe looked at Rest from his position kneeling by Larry. “He doesn’t have long.”
Rest nodded. “Mark, Nate, you can come back later for the truck. Grab either end of the sleeping mat he’s lying on and be ready to carry Larry into the portal. I’ll have a hand on Nate’s shoulder. We won’t lose you.”
The assistants positioned themselves at Larry’s head and feet, but didn’t grab the mat. Not yet. Instead, they watched Darius with the intense focus of men who’d been terrified. They feared the possible paradise fruit.
Rest feared for Austin.
Twenty seconds later, Darius relayed Austin’s shout. “He’s found it.”
Austin scrambled up through the hole, and he and Darius hurried back to the camp.
Whatever their doubts about bringing the paradise fruit with them, Mark and Nate concentrated on lifting Larry.
Rest gripped Nate’s shoulder. Gabe gripped his. Darius and Austin moved into place in the chain. Neither the paradise fruit nor its gold bag were visible, but they wouldn’t be. Austin carried his magical supplies kit, and Darius had spelled it to contain the power of everything stored within it. The idea had been to prevent an enemy knowing of their weapons. Odd how fate twisted intentions. Now it contained the threat of a death magic tainted legendary object.
Rest led his team and clients into the Path. The thread to bring them out near Larry’s San Francisco house was a lemon yellow. Rest glanced at his team. They were effectively blind in the Path, senses overwhelmed by its chaos. But he could see and judge their readiness. If they were walking into a trap, whoever waited for them would regret it.
The portal opened to a narrow side street in Nob Hill. The team moved out in a defensive formation.
“No active magic,” Darius reported.
And if there was a ward, it didn’t hamper any of them entering the yard.
At the base of the mansion’s front steps, Mark paused. “Can someone take the stretcher?” The sleeping mat was a makeshift stretcher. Gabe knew what he meant and swiveled to do so. “Thanks. The home security is programmed to recognize me.” Mark leapt up the stairs and used a code and a retina scan.
Austin stood beside him, gesturing that he wait. Then Austin opened the door. “Clear.”
They entered fast, glad to get out of sight of the street. The night was still young and the street well-lit. Anyone could see them.
Unless Darius was using a concealment spell?
Rest and Austin moved through the mansion. It was a grand old home that ought to have been welcoming, and instead, felt cold from a preponderance of white and the rare, pale gleam of green and blue. It was magazine-perfect, sterile and lifeless. Voices from the foyer carried easily through the house.
“Put him down here,” Gabe directed Nate.
“If he dies, how do we explain—” Mark began.
Darius spoke over him. “Austin! The gold bag.”
Rest glanced back from the corridor to the kitchen in time to see Austin lean casually over the internal balcony railing on the second floor and drop the gold bag.
Darius caught it neatly. While he studied the contents, Rest and Austin finished checking the house. It felt empty, but assumptions were dangerous.
The rattle of Larry’s breathing greeted their return. He was worse, his breathing weaker, his face sunken into a gray so deep that he resembled a zombie.
“Incoming.” Austin gave the warning from his position by a front window.
The slam of a car door was echoed by a quieter, second slam. Two people. Fast footsteps.
“Is it Viola?” Rest waved Nate urgently to the window.
The assistant glanced out and nodded. “Still with the purple hair.”
The security system recognized Viola, too. She opened the door as Rest reached for it.
For a second she stared at him. Then her gaze went past him to Larry, lying on the floor, and a sob escaped her.
The woman with her pushed Viola firmly out of the way. “I’m a healer. What are we dealing with?”
“Death magic,” Darius said. And the foyer went s
ilent—except for Larry’s wheezing breaths. “It tainted something that Larry believed to be a paradise fruit.”
Viola’s gaze which had been fixed on Larry even as she stayed out of the healer’s way, snapped to Darius.
Darius was observing the healer’s actions as the woman held her right hand about three inches above Larry’s solar plexus.
Gabe had risen to his feet, giving her room to act. Some healer mages used circles of power to concentrate their healing patterns.
Darius addressed the healer. “My hypothesis is that the death magic in the purported paradise fruit’s environment contaminated it and initiated its disintegration. So when Larry ate a bite of the fruit—”
“He what?” Viola shrieked.
“He’s an idiot,” the healer said. She was an active-looking woman in her forties, her face tired and her shirt and black trousers rumpled in a way that suggested she’d already had an exhausting day. Then she’d been swept into this emergency. “Okay. So, death magic. I assume it’s in that gold bag you’re holding? Lock it away till someone can deactivate it.”
“I intend to,” Darius said. “If you don’t need it to trace back a spell.” He accepted the supplies kit from Austin.
“No. I need to drive the death magic out of Larry, then heal his body. Or at least, heal the worst of the damage. My name’s Patricia,” she added absently. Her hand still hovered over Larry’s solar plexus, but her gaze studied the men. Darius first. “You’ve had contact with death magic recently. I can’t risk re-exposing you to it.” Her gaze moved to Gabe. “And someone has wound protections around you. Even to clear death magic, you can’t contact it. But you.” She looked at Rest. “You have the strength.” She ignored Austin and Larry’s two assistants.
That was good. It meant that Austin and Darius were free to observe, and to act if something went wrong.
Patricia directed Rest to kneel on the opposite side of Larry.
The marble floor was cold beneath his knees.
“Hold your hand, fingers relaxed but outstretched, beneath mine. Think of yourself as a dialysis machine. I’ll send Larry’s contaminated energy through you to be cleansed.”
Darius, Gabe and Austin stepped forward.
Patricia’s mouth curved faintly. “Protective friends. You’ll be fine. I’d do this myself, but it’s been a long, bad day. I’m drained.”
“It’s okay,” Rest said.
She nodded. “It’ll feel like you have the flu, but you have the vitality to resist death magic. Now, keep your hand in position, close your eyes, and think of something good.”
He trusted the healer, and he trusted his team to watch her. So Rest closed his eyes. He intended to think of Donna, but a sensation as if spiders crawled into his palm, penetrated the skin and scuttled into his veins distracted him from thinking of anything but that feeling. This was the taint of death magic, not the magic itself, but it was bad enough. The “spiders” spread up his arm, down his chest, squeezed his heart, and spread throughout his body.
He kept his eyes closed and counted his breathing. If he appeared to be in distress, his team would pull him out of the situation, and they couldn’t risk that. The taint of death magic in Larry had to be eradicated.
The spiders scuttled in his veins, seeming to push against the inside of his skin. Then an ache began his muscles, like the worst kind of flu, and it was all he could do to keep his hand steady over Larry’s solar plexus.
“Almost done,” Patricia said.
His bones felt as if someone had frozen them, as if they’d shatter at a blow.
Flu-like was a mild way to describe the symptoms.
“Larry’s looking better. Not gray anymore,” Austin encouraged him.
Even if Rest had been tempted to open his eyes and look, the weight on his eyelids prevented it.
“Hold him up,” the healer said urgently. “Not you! You.”
Austin gripped his shoulders. “He’s hurting. We end this.”
“Thirty seconds longer.” Patricia’s voice was firm.
“Thirty seconds,” Rest said. He needed Austin’s hold to stay upright. He wasn’t sure if his hand remained over Larry’s solar plexus, but he assumed it did, or Patricia would have repositioned it.
His lungs burned.
But then the spiders were lessening. His veins no longer crawled with the taint of death magic.
“And done,” Patricia said. “Thank you.”
“Lay me down,” he said to Austin.
Within seconds he was flat on the cool marble floor. His heartbeat steadied and the flu-like symptoms eased. He opened his eyes.
His team watched him with worry and fury. “I’m okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Patricia said. “I’ve only dealt with the effects of recent death magic. I didn’t anticipate ancient death magic being more potent. It had dug into Larry’s heart. But it’s gone now.”
“Filtered through Rest,” Austin growled. It was rare that he played the bad guy. Usually he was the charmer and Darius the threat. But this was the real Austin: loyal above all else. He turned his back on the healer. “I brought smudge sticks.” He lit one and waved it over Rest’s prone body.
It helped. The pain receded. In its place, a trickle of Rest’s usual energy returned. He sat up.
“Smudge Larry and everyone.” Patricia leaned back on her heels. “Larry’s stable. The wonders of modern medicine can help him from here.”
“Hospital?” Viola asked.
“No need,” Patricia said. “I stopped the hemorrhaging. He simply requires time to rest and recover. I’ll feed him some healing energy tomorrow. After I’ve slept.” She held out her hand, and one of Larry’s assistants helped her up. She moved with painful slowness.
Cleansing Larry of the taint of death magic had drained her as well as Rest.
Perhaps Austin’s decision to smudge her next was part acknowledgement of that, and part apology for being abrupt with her.
“I need a ride home,” she said.
Mark was still supporting her. “Larry keeps a car here. I’ll drive you.”
Austin smudged him next.
By the time Nate and Gabe carried Larry up to his room and put him to bed, Rest felt well enough to consider their situation. Not that he had to. Darius already had plans.
“Can you open a portal?” he asked Rest.
Rest opened one in the kitchen, where he, Darius and Austin had retreated.
“Good.” Darius found the coffee maker. “Collect Donna. We need her, here.”
A wave of relief and agreement rushed through Rest. He needed her. He’d nearly stepped into the portal before he thought to ask why Darius thought she was needed. And… “Will she be safe?”
“This wasn’t a trap,” Darius said. “And Viola needs support. Donna can get that from the Old School network they belong to. Don’t worry. You won’t deliver Donna into trouble.”
Chapter 11
Donna kicked at a porch post. Waiting sucked. She’d turned off the porch light so that suicidal moths didn’t batter themselves to death against it. So she waited in the dark, imagining horrors.
Was Rest safe? The team? Larry? What had happened to Larry?
If this was a trap, or something else went wrong, she had her instructions. If she hadn’t heard from the team in three hours, she was to activate her magical allies. She’d contact Vanessa, who was both her friend and a coordinator of the Old School network, and get help.
Alone, Donna’s minor witching skills could do little. But backed by the Old School and her rage… “Rest, you’d better be safe.” If he wasn’t, she’d blame herself for every bit of his suffering.
She’d come here to warn him of her seer vision. She’d thought he’d evaded it, surviving the fiery temple guardian trying to suck up his magic, but what if she’d been wrong? What if in going back to collect Larry, Rest encountered some backlash from the team removing the rune from the temple cavern? What if her intervention had only increased the danger he
faced?
What ifs, maybes and worries buzzed through her mind; whined and shrilled, worse than mosquitoes. She couldn’t even run or otherwise work off her nervous energy; not when she had to conserve it in case Rest needed her.
A portal opened on the ground in front of the porch.
Donna jumped down the steps and hugged Rest almost before he’d emerged. His arms closed around her so fervently that she knew something bad had happened. She leaned back just enough to study his face in the moonlight. “Rest?”
“Larry found the paradise fruit. It was disintegrating, contaminated by centuries of proximity with dark magic. Larry ate a bite.”
She gasped.
“He’s alive,” Rest added quickly. “He was…bad. We got him to San Francisco, to his house, and Viola brought a healer, a woman called Patricia.”
“She’s not one of the Old School,” Donna said. “But she’s a good doctor as well as a healer mage.”
“Patricia had to cleanse the death magic taint from Larry before she could heal him. He was hemorrhaging. She filtered his energy through me.”
“Rest!” She put her hand over his heart, feeling the steady throb of it as she reached for her magic. One thing witches had over wizards was their innate ability to combine their magic. It was why many witches formed covens. She sent her magic into Rest, too panicked to ask his permission. And also too panicked to put in place the usual shields that channeled magic, and only magic, from person to person.
As a result, Rest received her magic as she used it to restore him and search out any death magic damage, but he also received an avalanche of her raw emotion. He groaned, and his near-desperate hold on her altered as he adjusted her body and his, realigning them with explicit sexual need. “Your energy.” He angled her face up and captured her mouth, his kiss hard and urgent, carnal and devouring.
The flow of magic from her to him got confused, or rather, it fused. Suddenly, she was receiving his energy as much as she gave hers.
And now she understood his sudden arousal.
No wonder witches trained to channel their magic with careful shields and protections. She’d understood theoretically, but now, she experienced the power of it. Raw energy transfers were incredibly intimate, and with her and Rest already wanting each other, that energy exploded sexually.
Desert Devil (Old School Book 5) Page 16
