by Mia Strange
“The magic seeped from the Dark Continent of Africa. It crawled out of the catacombs of Europe, blew in from the deserts of Saudi Arabia. People found magic in their attics, tucked inside a grandmother’s jewelry box, hiding in a ring.”
He stopped alongside Eli and looked hard at the glass of swirling liquid that was the most recent effort. The beaker once again, turned black. The liquid inside churned and slowed, until it looked like molten mud.
Traveler shook his head. He looked up at me. His eyes glowed amber. This time I was sure of it. He continued, never breaking my gaze. Fascinated, I could not look away. “They’d find magic in the pocket of a forgotten tuxedo, belonging to a deceased uncle who had last worn the garment at his wedding, fifty years earlier. They found magic in a child’s buried treasure chest, hidden in an abandoned sandbox. They found magic in every—
“Corner and crack. In every cave and crevasse,” I recited, unable to stop myself. “Magic it seemed, was everywhere.”
“Magic,” Traveler flicked his wrist and a live Dog Rose bloom appeared in his hand, “is here to stay.”
He bowed and presented the flower to me. I had seen the trick before. It did not disappoint. I held the flower to my nose and studied his eyes. They were once again so dark they looked black. Void. Dead. What was going on with this guy? Spooky. That’s what.
I heard the creak of metal against metal, a soft whirl of gears, and a raspy “caw” as Traveler and Eli’s raven flew in through the open door from the lab. Damn it. Didn’t anyone shut doors anymore?
The bird perched upon Traveler’s shoulder and cocked his large head at me. The skinny lens attached to his eye clicked out at me, lengthening like a copper snake. I rolled and grabbed for a pair of goggles on the table next to me. I was not losing an eye to this creature.
Eli rested his hand on my mine. “It’s okay,” he said. “Poe. Knock it off.” The lens retracted. But not before I could see the bright red, red like fresh blood from an open wound, in the bird’s beady little eyes. Well, at least there was no eyeball anywhere in sight.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings boys,” I said. “But I don’t much like, Poe.” The raven cawed loudly in response. I think the feeling was mutual.
Eli walked over to the last glass beaker. Traveler followed. Standing with his hands in his pocket, Eli shook his head.
“No luck?” Traveler said.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” Eli replied bitterly. “It is unlike any magic I’ve seen. The knife may have been carrying a curse, but without Dru’s expertise, I’m at a loss to figure out that angle. Witchcraft is not my specialty. Science is. But it’s more in—line with black magic. I can tell by the way the skin is,” he looked at me and lowered his voice, reacting.
Reacting? Well that didn’t sound good. This I had to see.
“May I see the wound?” Traveler asked.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Eli said.
“Really?” I instinctively pulled a blanket up to my chin as I watched the two of them approach me. I did not want Traveler Hale looking at my belly. Hell. I didn’t want him looking at me at all.
Eli sat while Traveler pulled up a chair, flipped it backwards, and straddled it like he was about to begin a poker game with Darius.
Eli started to pull the blanket down. I hung onto it. Traveler raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t figure you for school girl modesty, Skye.”
“Only around you. Pervert.”
“Stop it, Hale,” said Eli. “You too, Skye. This is serious.”
“And seeing me naked isn’t?”
“That doesn’t sound serious. That sounds like fun,” said Traveler. He winked.
“See? Pervert.”
“You are not naked,” Eli said, the impatience growing in his voice. “Not even close. Now let go of the blanket.”
“Okay, okay. But creepy bird goes.” I pointed an accusing finger at Poe.
“Poe. Take off,” ordered Eli.
The wings creaked, spread and the bird took flight, clanking all the way out the door. He left a loud string of ear—piercing caws in his wake.
“Ya know,” I complained, “a little old school WD 40 would do that bird a world of good. That and a personality adjustment.”
“You might know a thing or two on that subject,” Traveler added just to goad me.
“Stop. Both of you,” Eli thundered.
We stopped and I let go. Eli was using his Dr. Dark voice now. And no one screwed with Dr. Dark.
I held my breath as the blanket came down and the white shirt went up, but thankfully, not far. I think Eli was protecting my modesty at that moment more than I was. I was too busy trying to see my, ‘skin reaction.’
Struggling to sit up, Eli firmly, but with a gentle hand pushed me back down. I tried again. He pushed me down. I tried again. He pushed me down. I tried—
“Will you stop please?”
I stopped.
There might have been a please in there, but in Dr. Dark language, it didn’t count. But damn it, I had not stopped soon enough. I was able to see the spidery web—like, black marks of infection that snaked along my skin. Stretching out from the wound I caught a glimpse of the black magic as it moved and crawled toward my heart. It was a living, moving mass of lines and veins. It was gross. It was terrifying.
With my heart pounding in my chest, I laid back and tried hard not to let the fear overtake me.
Traveler was now leaning over the wound so close I could feel his breath crawling over my skin. I shivered. His breath was so cold, I swear, it felt as though ice crystals were forming on my flesh. His expression grew dark and serious and then? Deadly with rage.
“I have seen this before. Once, in my home country. When my Uncle, the head of our night tribe was hunted.”
Hunted? Wait. Night tribe? What?
“And?” Eli asked using that dry disconnected tone of a scientist.
“And without a cure, two things will happen.”
“Two things?” I squeaked. No really. I squeaked. I couldn’t handle one thing, let alone two.
“Go on,” Eli said.
“One, whoever put the finding magic in her, will find her. Eventually.”
“Just like that?” said Eli.
“Exactly like that.”
My heart skipped a beat, then two. I thought of a drawing written in blood by a dead man’s hand. I thought of the tombstone. My breathing came short and sharp, like panting from a dog. Fear will do that to you. Steal the breath from your body. Stop your heart.
Eli knelt beside me and stroked my forehead. “We won’t let that happen, Skye. I promise. And two?” He did not break his gaze from mine.
“She will die. Soon.”
My breath caught and Eli reached for my hand still not breaking his eye contact with me. “And that won’t happen. I won’t let it. I promise.”
“You cannot stop it, Elijah. Not even you.” His spooky voice dropped to a whisper. “This I know.”
Eli jumped up, and the stool behind him flipped over, slamming to the floor. The wood broke and splintered. He kicked at the pieces in anger.
I held my breath and tried not to cry. If this was it, if this truly was the night I died, I didn’t want to go out crying.
My mind went once more to Emma, and the last image I had of her. She had been yanked from my mother’s arms and pulled into the shadows by the rotting hands of the newly risen dead.
She had not cried.
She had fought.
She? Had been a warrior.
In anger, I wiped at an escaping tear. I would not cry. I would be a warrior too.
“I won’t allow it,” Eli yelled. “What happened to your Uncle? Was he saved?” He grabbed Traveler’s duster in his hands and yanked him close. They stood face to face. “Your Uncle. Tell me.”
“He lives.” Traveler raised his hand and folded it over Eli’s, trying to remove it.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Eli had a death grip on Tr
aveler’s coat. I heard the fabric tear. “You saved him. With your blood. With that damnable black magic blood that runs through your cursed veins.”
“Yes. It was nothing short of a miracle. The transfer had never been tried before. And Elijah?” His voice had changed. It was low, threatening. “You need to let go of me. Now.”
Eli didn’t release him. On the contrary, he clutched him tighter. “You will do this for her. Right?”
“Of course. I will try. But it’s complicated. There are ramifications. There are things—”
Eli let go of Traveler with a shove. Traveler stumbled backwards. “To hell with things,’” Eli shouted. “I don’t care about ‘things.’ I care about her.”
Damn. Eli just used Jen’s air quotes. This night had truly slipped into madness.
“As I do,” said Traveler in a quiet, lethal voice that could have refrozen parts of the melting icecaps.
“You will do more than try, Hale. You will simply do it.” Eli’s breathing became ragged. Harsh. “You fucking owe me that much.”
“Eli,” the edge to Traveler’s voice was as sharp as one of Dagger’s magical blades. “Look at my eyes. Lower your voice. Now.”
I looked at Traveler’s eyes. Gone was the black, hollow emptiness. Bright amber raged in the pupils, like licks of flame and fire. He looked terrifying, formidable and deadly.
Take him, Hale. Right now. Then take your rightful place on this train. Ride with me, and together we will deliver these little sad souls straight into Hell.
The insidious voice of Darius permeated my brain. My chest felt the weight of evil bearing down as my heartbeat kicked into an unhealthy tattoo rhythm. My wound burned.
Fear for Eli replaced any fear that I might have had for myself. What was this monster that raged inside of Traveler Hale? And why did Darius seek a partnership with it?
“Eli,” I shouted. “Stop. Just stop.”
As if shaken from a trance, Eli blinked in surprise. He shook his head and grabbed the rim of a chair to steady his balance. He hung his head until his breath came soft and steady once more.
“Sorry.” He looked at Traveler and pushed his hair from his face with both hands. After a moment, Eli held out his hand to Traveler. “Sorry, man.”
Traveler grasped Eli’s hand, shook once, and then took a step back himself. He too, was breathing hard. “Damn, Darius,” he said between clenched teeth. “He would have us kill each other.”
“Yes,” said Eli. “The demon is dangerous. We must never forget it.”
The roar of Darius’s laughter filled the iron cab.
Traveler turned toward the engine outside. “Stop,” he said, in a voice that sounded like the promise of death. Darius stopped. Traveler adjusted his coat. “I hate that we travel with him.”
“Yeah,” said Eli. “Tell me.”
“Me too,” I added weakly.
Both guys looked at me. I read the same level of concern and worry written on their faces. They each took a step toward me. Eli shot Traveler a warning glare. Traveler did the smart thing. He hung back.
Why did I think that if the day ever came when the two of them found each other on opposing sides, that it would be a no prisoner sort of outcome? These two? Would fight to the death.
And whereas my money would always and forever be on Dr. Elijah Dark, on Eli, tonight, with Darius tipping the scales? Well, for the first time, I wasn’t so sure I had the winning bet.
23
As the many clocks in Eli’s railcar ticked and chimed further into the wee hours of the morning, I watched the blood of Traveler Hale drip, drip, drip, into a tiny plastic tube. The blood ran red, turning the clear tubing into a shade of dark scarlet. The tube led to a needle that was inserted into my vein at the crook of my arm.
Damn. I just couldn’t believe I was hooked up to an I V again. And not just any I V. This odd contraption was yet again, signature, Dr. Dark.
A cuff of sturdy canvas was wrapped tightly around Traveler’s upper arm. A small metal valve, embedded in the canvas, threaded into a narrow brass tube hidden there. As one of Eli’s creepy ‘helping’ hands squeezed a rubber bulb, air shot through the twisted tubing with a one—two—three rhythm. The canvas inflated, adding pressure, sending the blood coursing into the needle lodged deep into Traveler’s vein.
A metal sheath of solid silver was attached around the canvas, adding jaw—like pressure to each pump. A thick leather strap secured the cuff in place. I could see where the edges of the silver metal lay against Traveler’s skin. Angry red welts flared up on his arm where the metal met his exposed flesh.
“Overkill,” I said from my view as I lay prone on the bed.
“What’s that?” Eli asked without looking up from his work.
“The strap. The chainmail cuff. It’s a bit over the top, don’t you think? Plus, he’s having some sort of allergic reaction to the metal.”
Eli glanced at Traveler’s arm and shrugged. “Can’t be helped. It’s imperative the cuff stays exactly where it is. It’s all about location, and on Traveler, the location is tricky.”
“Still. The welts? Look like they hurt.”
“Thank you, Dr. St John.” Eli went about his work.
I scowled at Eli and continued to watch the process. “So why does he get the pump pressure thing and I don’t.”
“Because,” Eli sighed with impatience. “As I said before, the blood is going into your arm—”
“Without a fight,” I said frowning. Why was it that my blood mingled with Traveler’s so easily?
“Yes.” Eli gave me a half smile. “Without a fight. We call it, compatible.”
“And Traveler’s blood needs coaxing to come out.” I watched as the cuff squeezed and contracted tightly. It looked painful. It looked, weird. And yet, with all the extra effort, his blood was slow to pool into the tube. “A lot of coaxing,” I added.
“Exactly.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t think he wants to hand it over.”
“On the contrary,” Traveler said from his cot. “I’m more than happy to share my blood.”
And here I thought he was sleeping. He’d been mostly silent through the entire process.
“Now you can think of me as a kind of a relative,” he continued. “You know, like a Blood Brother.”
“Um, let me think on that. No.”
“Like it or not, Skye,” Traveler said. “We are connected.”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t want a Blood Brother. And if I did, I’m damn sure it wouldn’t be—”
“You do want to live,” Eli interrupted.
“Well, yeah. But—”
“And we want you to live.”
“Well, yeah. And thanks for that. But—”
“No buts, Skye. This is working.”
I plopped my head back on the pillow. “So now I have to thank him for being a, Blood Brother I didn’t ask for?”
“Might be appropriate,” Eli said without looking up from his work.
I looked over at the tube running red with Traveler’s blood as it fed into my vein. “Well. At least his blood is the right color. I guess that’s something.”
Traveler laughed. “You were expecting green maybe?”
“Or maybe black.”
His smile faded, and he turned away.
Well, hell. Did I just hurt his feelings? Not likely. We were talking about Traveler Hale here. Still, why did I feel I just couldn’t win tonight?
I watched as every squeeze and pump sent Traveler’s blood first through a plastic tube, then on into a narrow copper tube. Attached to the copper tube, were two separate hose—like links made of green rubber. Each hose was in turn threaded into the grasp of two more mechanical hands.
I watched, mesmerized, as the hoses spun round and round, like ultra—fast jump ropes. At last, on the umpteenth loop, the separated blood was once again allowed to meet up in a small clear tube that led to my own needle inserted
into my arm.
When I asked why this was, it was lost in translation. Eli Dark was so not able to put this into terms that I could understand. The explanation was big and long and vast, and truthfully, boring. I finally unplugged at the cell splitting, plasma enriching and accepted the, “it just needs to be done so please Skye, stop asking,” part.
Fine by me. Phlebotomy was never my thing.
The process of the transfusion had been going on for almost an hour. All of us were exhausted, and I couldn’t help but notice that Traveler was looking pale.
Well, pale for him.
He was stretched out on a cot next to me as the tube snaked between us. I had to give it to him. We were indeed connected, for now. As if reading my mind, Traveler looked over and smiled at me. Humor danced in his expression.
“Don’t get used to it,” I said. I pointed to the tube that connected us. “Temporary connection.”
“Too late, Skye St John. Too late.” He looked once again at the ceiling and closed his eyes. The bastard was smiling. I looked once again at my end of the tube which ended with a needle embedded in my vein. And Traveler’s? The same. But for him, there seemed to be a problem. I could tell, because even though I was the patient, it was Traveler Hale who was getting all the attention.
For reasons unknown to me, his wound where the needle was inserted, kept closing, as if healing over in some rapid succession that I had yet to figure out. Eli was up and down, reinserting the needle time and time again. It had to hurt, but Traveler never flinched. Not once. He only stared at the ceiling, saying nothing.
As for me? Well, I hated to admit it, only because what I was feeling was apparently due to scary Traveler Hale, but I was beginning to feel better.
Oh, hell. Who was I kidding?
Better by far.
I felt like the old Skye. Almost…almost.
I was truly grateful and I knew I should let Traveler know. “It’s about time you paid me back for all the blood you stole from me. You owe me, Hale.” Well. That didn’t sound like much of a thank you.
Traveler opened his eyes and looked at me. For the first time I could see the pupils in his dark eyes. The pallor of his skin was chalky white. His lips were tinged blue. I found it startling. I’d never seen Traveler look anything but strong.
