by Paul Duffau
But Mitch liked it, and that was reason enough to hang on to it, despite the danger.
The gemstone draped itself into the notch at the base of her throat, still pleasingly warm. She made another attempt to activate it, but either the controlling magic required a particular spell, or her power simply wasn’t enough to force it to function. Which didn’t explain why it had blocked her. She had been around this circle too many times without getting any sort of reasonable answer.
Frickin’ frustrating.
Momentarily, she gave thought to asking Harold. If anybody would be able to guide her to using the amulet, he could. Plus, she trusted the old mage. His tears at a memory had startled and embarrassed her. As had his suggestion to go back to the martial arts studio and resume her Tang Soo Do training.
How could she explain to Jules, the black belt who ran the studio, why she’d stayed away? That when she tried to use the “third eye,” as Jules called it, everything went weird. The training called for aligning herself with the proper vibrations in the universe, according to the black belt. In reality—she snorted as the irony of the word struck her—it led her to lose control and mix the everyday world with the magical realm to the point where she didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.
Control. Everyone kept trying to teach her, in their own way, and it just made everything worse.
Kenzie turned to the open space between her bed and the closet and dropped into a back stance, most of her weight on her right leg. In the darkness, she slow-motioned an inside block, then shifted her center of gravity forward into a front stance with a high block, followed by a front kick, punch, back fist combination that wrapped itself back into a defensive back stance. She stood poised and dissatisfied.
Even at a deliberate pace, Kenzie could tell her technique had gotten sloppy. She missed the discipline of the forms and the thrill of sparring, testing herself. She missed Jules most. The statuesque black woman radiated a serenity that was a warm sun on an abused flower, a gentle rain of advice to nourish the bloom.
In that instant, Kenzie agreed with Harold. She should go back. Just as soon as she figured out what lie to tell Jules.
Chapter 5
Mercury lay slumped against the bookcase. Leather-bound volumes were scattered around him, knocked from the oak shelves by the impact, and a thousand dust particles floated in the lamplight.
After a stunned moment of disbelief, Mitch leapt the gap to the wizard in two strides. His first panicked thought was that he had killed the old man, but a flutter of eyelids disabused him of that worry. The eyes opened fully, the heat of the glare enough to ignite a lump of coal. His second worry, that he had just totally pissed off a powerful wizard, was money. Dude was pissed, for sure.
“STOP!”
Mitch skidded to a halt so quickly his feet nearly slipped out from under him.
Mercury continued to glare as he struggled upward, using the shelves for support. Once he was standing, he pointed to Mitch and said grimly, “You got some explaining to do. Right now.” He rubbed the center of his chest in a clockwise direction. “Talk.”
Breathing hard, Mitch stared. “I don’t know what happened, but it’s just like what happened with Hunter, except that time he wasn’t using magic on me, we were just playing around with the stun gun that Lassiter’s goons left behind and then there was this big-ass spark that knocked him sideways—”
“Slowly, Mitch, one sentence at a time.”
“I don’t know what happened and—”
Mitch snapped his mouth shut at Mercury’s upraised hand.
“Okay, next sentence.”
“When I was goofing around with Hunter, testing the stun gun, he wussed out, so I pretended to stun him.”
“But didn’t,” offered Mercury.
“Right, but there was a big flash and he went flying.”
Mercury twirled a finger.
“Hunter said he was drinking from a fire hose”—Mercury’s left eyebrow rose as his face set into stern lines, and Mitch gulped—“and that he told his dad.”
“It never happened before?” Mercury didn’t seem surprised at the revelation about Hunter. Mitch filed it away as a data point.
Mitch hesitated, shook his head. “Not that.”
The eyebrow did its thing again.
“There’s like this dog-thing following me around.” He paused, Mercury’s finger twirled, Mitch talked. “It’s like a huge wolf, but it’s got these big glowing eyes. Whatever it was, it blocked me from going after Kenzie the night that I got shot.”
Mercury sighed. “I suppose it is about so tall”—he used his hand to indicate the height—“very lean, and disappears whenever it wants to.”
Mitch narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
“A gytrash, a mythical beast.”
“Mythical beasts don’t follow me all over the place.”
“According to you, this one does, which is very odd behavior.” Secret calculations took place behind Mercury’s guarded eyes. “Gytrashes either lead fools to their death or guide the lost.”
“So which am I?”
“It’s a coin toss,” joked the wizard. His face turned serious. “I’ve never heard of an example where one acts as a glorified guard dog. That implies that something rather monumental that affects all of the magic realm is at hand. The real question becomes what is so special about you, no disrespect intended.”
Mitch turned and walked away, thinking furiously. He wasn’t so special before, and now he was. What changed? The beast hadn’t been around after he’d saved Kenzie. It came skulking around later, the day that they met Lassiter. The answer, when it dawned on him, just might be in his front right-hand pocket. He reached in, touched the cut edges, and clasped it in his fist.
“What if it’s not me?” His voice sounded distant, an echo. He turned, pulling his hand out. “What if it’s something else entirely?”
“Such as?”
“An artifact.” Mitch opened his palm, and the sapphire lit with an inner radiance that the windows reflected back with a blue coruscation. “This.”
Mercury blanched and turned into an old man before his eyes, shoulders slumping as he stared unblinking at the blue gem. “Elowyn’s Star,” the wizard whispered in a ragged voice. “You found Elowyn’s Star?”
The extreme reaction from the wizard caught Mitch off guard, especially the emphasis on the word “found.” His fingers slowly curled around and closed over the sapphire, dimming its light. He nodded to give himself a shot of confidence. It didn’t work, but he spoke anyway. “It was hidden by the brush at Seward Park. The men that Kenzie’s dad had cleaning up the bodies,” his voice trembled, “must have missed it.”
Even as he said it, the inanity struck him. Everything he knew of Raymond Graham—and he had spent hours on the research—pointed to a meticulous man who missed no detail. He didn’t like him, but he sure as hell respected him. The park had been scoured clean when he went back for his car, except for a sarcastic note from Hunter and the remains of his thermite charge, which produced aluminum oxide, pure and compressed. In crystal form, it was called corundum. Sapphires were made of the same stuff, but under enormous pressure. The residue from the thermite should have been a blob, not a faceted crystal. This bit of alchemy was totally impossible by the laws of physics. Mitch figured the laws might be overdue for a little reworking.
They stood in silence until Mercury recovered his voice. “Was there anything else? The stone was set into a piece of jewelry, a ring. The whole of it was an amulet.” Urgency rode his words.
Mitch squinted across at Mercury’s face. “No, this was all that was there that shouldn’t have been. What did this thing do?”
The wizard shook his head rapidly side to side. “Never you mind now.” His eyes shifted from the stone to Mitch’s face. “Elowyn’s Star reacted to my touch of magic to protect you.”
“By slamming you into a wall?”
“Indeed. I’m quite fortunate.”
Mitch glanced at the books strewn at the base of the bookcase. “If you say so.”
“Later I’m going to beat you for withholding this, but for now, tell me how you found it, every detail.”
Mitch ignored the threat. Mercury barked more than he bit. Quickly, he recounted his discovery, from seeing a flash under the bushes to the note on his car. What he’d first thought was a parking ticket bore a note from Hunter. A single sentence of mockery: Calling the cops was your brilliant plan, lol?
While Mitch talked, Mercury made himself a cup of tea and ruminated. He stirred a silver spoon heaped with a greenish herb into his mug, releasing a bitter, pungent scent that wrinkled Mitch’s nose all the way across the study.
When the man turned, Mitch saw indecision written on the weathered face. Mercury’s lips twitched into a sardonic twist before reverting to normal. “I suppose the best thing would be for you to give that to me for safekeeping until we know why it got delivered to you.”
Relief flooded through Mitch’s limbs. “Sounds good to me,” he said, walking toward the wizard.
He had taken two steps when a deep-pitched growl set the glass in the windows vibrating. Mitch halted, and stared.
Outside, shoulders hunched as though prepared to shatter the glass with a powerful leap, the gytrash watched the two of them. The jaws gaped open an inch and the lips were pulled back to expose monstrously sharp teeth. The red eyes focused on Mitch and burned at him with fiery intensity.
“On second thought,” murmured Mercury, nonplussed, “perhaps you should hang on to it and keep it safe.”
Chapter 6
“I’d like to go to the studio today and see Jules,” said Kenzie to her father. “I was thinking that I should go back and finish out my black belt.”
“Absolutely not. If you need more training, it is with us in the Glade, not in an environment that encouraged you to take foolish risks.” Her mother, Sasha, spoke without lifting her head from the screen of the laptop she was using. The keys clicked in rapid succession as her mother typed instructions to some underling or another. Saturdays were work-at-home days.
Kenzie maintained eye contact with her father. He gave her an appraising glance, pondered a moment, and delivered a short, sharp nod.
“Okay, provided we do it early.”
“Raymond!”
“Preparation in the martial arts is a security issue and falls into my domain. I’m actually pleased that she has decided to resume her training.” His next statement was a pointed barb aimed at Sasha. “Besides, it has already helped prevent one attack on her.”
The muscles in Kenzie’s neck relaxed. Her father would handle Sasha. Meanwhile, she kept her face neutral.
“Well, the instruction in the Arts is my domain. What would Hunter Rubiera think of McKenzie focusing on something so trivial while she neglects her studies in our Art?”
Kenzie snorted, earning a glare from Sasha and a reproving frown from her father. “Hunter who? Anyone seen him around?”
“Regardless of your childish opinion, quite a bit hinges on the reunification of the Families. I’ll not have you endangering us any further—”
Kenzie’s voice dripped sugar. “I’m not the one that put us in danger, am I? Wasn’t that you and Aric?”
Sasha’s hands turned to claws, trembling over the keyboard. “MAGE gives us a chance to finally move past the problems posed by the Meat.”
“Moving forward with MAGE is a mistake.” Raymond’s face soured. “It is a weapon that will eventually come back to haunt and hunt us.”
“So you have said. The Families overruled you, both ours and the Rubieras’.”
Deep in her gut, Kenzie agreed with her father. Lassiter had used the electronic device to prevent Kenzie from accessing her magic.
Aric had tried to explain MAGE and spouted some gobbledygook about quantum theory. No one had explained what “MAGE” stood for, but she had gathered that the rough idea was that it multiplied the power of magic like an amplifier boosted sound to fill a stadium.
The Families desired the power that the amplification presented. Her father dreaded the threat of exposure. A wizard, even one as inexperienced as she was, could handle a mundane person. But add in the huge numbers that the mass of humanity represented, mix in technology, and the field tilted decidedly against the Families. MAGE was intended to rectify that. With enough magical oomph, humanity could finally be brought under the yoke of the wizards.
Kenzie knew the answer to the unspoken question: What happens to the majority of people once they aren’t needed? Deep in her soul, she understood that the Families were wrong. Acting on that, though . . .
It looked like the acrimonious argument between Sasha and her father was ready to rekindle. Lately, their arguments lasted for days. That threatened her chance to head to meet Jules, so Kenzie interrupted them to derail the fight. “Can I drive?”
“You have about an hour,” said her father. “I’ll be next door, waiting.”
“Okay.” Kenzie slipped out the passenger side. Leaning back in, she smiled at him. “Thanks.”
Through the plate glass, Kenzie observed a small class of kids, ranging from about six years old to ten, performing a ragged rendition of the first form. A bell attached to the metal-and-glass door tinkled as she pulled it open and stepped into the studio, breathing in the odors of hard work and rubber mats and wooden floors.
Jules stood in front of the class, providing gentle corrections to the failing bodies of the children. A corner of her mouth curled up in a smile at the sight of Kenzie and she gave her a brief nod.
Kenzie sat in the spectator section, keeping a couple seats away from a pair of mothers quietly comparing notes on the day, which apparently started with martial arts and finished with a softball tournament. Elbows on knees, she evaluated the youngsters going through the drills.
The newer kids, the ones she didn’t recognize, looked befuddled as they attempted control of their own bodies. It would take a little while to figure it out, just like it had for her. A cute little blonde in pigtails sporting an orange belt stood out, every move precise. The girl made eye contact in the long mirror and grinned. Kenzie matched it but pointed forward.
Pay attention.
Jules dismissed the class five minutes before the hour.
Sophie, the pigtailed girl, exited the floor first, barely slowing to give a proper bow before sprinting to Kenzie.
“Are you coming back?”
“Hi, Sophie, I think so. It’s up to Miss Jules.”
“Oh, good,” said Sophie, sounding very sincere.
“Sophie, we have to go,” said one of the women in an exasperated voice. “We don’t have time to chat.”
Sophie rolled her eyes, and Kenzie worked hard not to laugh.
“Go, I’ll see you in class soon, ’kay?”
“Okay.” Sophie flounced to her mother, the pigtails bouncing.
The studio emptied, leaving Kenzie alone with the black belt. Kenzie stood to greet Jules, looking up at the much taller adult as the woman approached.
“It’s good to see you, McKenzie.” An undercurrent of warmth to the words washed over Kenzie.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed it.”
Jules tilted her head down and studied Kenzie’s face.
Kenzie met Jules’s gaze. Seeing acceptance, she made a formal half bow, acknowledging her teacher’s rank. “Sabomnim Jules, may I rejoin your school to train?”
“You have no bodyguards with you today.”
Kenzie took a deep breath. The lies were about to start, probably with the very next question. “No, ma’am. Jackson is now working for other people.”
“And Mitch?”
She hesitated and looked down, away from the instructor. “He’s following his own path.” Not a total lie, right?
Kenzie forced herself to meet Jules’s questioning gaze. The older woman opened her mouth to ask another question, then closed it while she examined Kenzie’s face. An expr
ession of understanding briefly touched her features.
“I have one condition.”
Surprised, Kenzie searched Jules’s face for a clue. Finally, she asked, “What’s the condition?”
“Six months ago, you wouldn’t have asked. Life is its own education sometimes.”
Kenzie didn’t reply, though she agreed.
“The condition is this. If you undertake training again, you follow it all the way to the end.” She looked at Kenzie. The intensity in the black woman’s eyes made them glow. She stepped back one pace and held up her left hand.
“Punch my hand. Touch contact only, and do not transfer the force of the attack to me.”
Confused, and nervous because she was so out of practice, Kenzie moved into a fighting stance. Calming her mind, she stood poised and then lashed out with her right fist.
The “kai!” came without thinking.
Her knuckles snapped to a stop with the lightest of pressure against Jules’s lined palm.
Strong fingers closed over Kenzie’s fist.
“Very good.” Jules released the fist and reached a forefinger out and tapped Kenzie’s forehead. “Your physical control is outstanding, but we must train your mind. Do you remember the day you destroyed my heavy bag?”
Kenzie nodded. Magic had blurred the line of reality. In her imagination, she had pictured defeating an ogre and his minions. In the real world, she’d broken two speed bags and separated the heavy bag from its rope with a vicious back kick.
“I inspected that bag. I can’t afford substandard equipment or someone will get hurt. There was nothing wrong with that rope except what you did to it.” Jules shook her head in disbelief at the memory. “I’ve never heard of anyone able to pop a heavy manila rope like that, and you were sparring against those bags with your eyes closed. Until you learn true control, from the inside, you’re a danger to yourself and to others. So, you stay until I feel you have learned that. That’s the deal, take it or leave it.”
“I want to stay. Please.”
“Come here,” said Jules, and pulled Kenzie to her in a motherly embrace. “Welcome back, Kenzie.”
