by Paul Duffau
“Hunter is a pig and so is his father.”
Sasha kicked her in the ribs, but her effort was artless and, while it was painful, it did no real damage. Kenzie had taken worse punishment at the dojang with Jules.
Sasha ranted incoherently.
Efficiently, Kenzie snipped away. Each broken filament released her a little bit more. The oldest were hardest to sever, like deep roots on an oak tree that had years to establish a relentless grip on the earth. With difficulty, she cut the last one. That left the green and white, but she had no time. . . .
The magic world blossomed around her in effervescent light. Instantly, she reversed the temperature in the Glade with a desert wind of heat. Her bindings went next and she fell to her hands and knees, her head almost touching the ground in prayerful thanks at her release. A new kind of sweet agony flowed into her hands along with blood.
She sensed more than saw Sasha react with a spell. Hurriedly, she threw a hand up to insert a shield spell between them, forsaking the formal motions. Flechettes of ice driven on an artic wind went through her shield as though it were vapor and two of them struck her. The slivers lanced into the muscle of her back and hot blood flowed.
Sasha was on the move, circling to Kenzie’s right. “You know so little.”
Kenzie rolled away from another kick. Before she could ensnare Sasha’s foot and turn the fight into a ground battle, the wizard had retreated. Anticipating the next move, Kenzie combined the shield spell with a Fire spell. Meanwhile, she continued her roll. The sizzle like cold water hitting a hot cast-iron pan told her she’d guessed right.
She checked Sasha’s position as she recovered her feet. Her stepmother renewed the assault. Kenzie could see the magic form into a long whip of energy but couldn’t react in time to prevent it from striking. She screamed as it bit into her flesh. Without knowing how she did it, she grasped control of the whip.
“Not again,” she said, and the savagery in her voice shocked her. “You’ll never do that to me or anyone else again.” She redoubled the power behind it, putting every bit of her anger and hatred into it. It grew in size and intensity until it seemed to writhe in her glowing hands like a bloodred viper. She was in dangerous territory, mainlining the magic again, but she didn’t care.
Kenzie sought Sasha’s eyes. Her enemy wore a complex cloak of protection woven from parts of a dozen different systems. Sasha’s eyes held a look of triumph. “Just like your mother,” she said. “Too weak to learn proper magic, you let it consume you.”
The breeze that Kenzie had unleashed to warm her grew to blast-furnace winds. The magic she held curled back as though to inject its poison into the handler, refuting her attempts at control. She had to act quickly.
The recesses of her mind assessed the scope of Sasha’s defensive systems and calculated how to overwhelm them. At the same time, it took note of a green fog sifting into the space between Kenzie and Sasha. Kenzie loosed the magical bolt, intent on ripping the other wizard in half in a measure of sheer brute force.
Kenzie felt herself elongate along the line of that magic, stretched thinner and thinner as though she had hurled her body into the substance of the magic. Time slowed and the universe expanded as though she were touching all the points of it simultaneously. The remaining threads connected to her burned through and fell, all except for the green and the sparkling white.
Too late, she saw the trap Sasha had set in goading her. Kenzie had drawn so much of herself into her weapon that she was now the whip. There was no separation from the magic, no This is Kenzie left. Her dissolution to raw energy was complete and the only thing left was the final strike at Sasha.
The emerald thread glowed brightly and reached to the fog. Like a living organism, the miasma entwined with it and flowed up to her. The murky magic submerged her and cut her off from magic like water closing over the head of a drowning woman. Unable to breathe, Kenzie fought against it. The more desperately she struggled, the angrier she got, the brighter the suffocating cloud around her grew.
Time ceased to exist. She floated adrift, severed from the connectedness of the universe that had overtaken her. All her reference points disappeared.
How do you know if you’re dead?
As though in answer, the amorphous cloud swirled at the dazzling white filament. Sparks leapt from it where they touched each other. Fearful, Kenzie extended the essence of herself to the mystery of it, unsure why this one remained after all the other bindings had been cut or burned. She made contact with it. The tightest bind on her was not placed by a wizard, but by a mundane who had no power over her. The essence of her that still existed jerked away, disturbed and frightened.
Disturbed, because there was so much hurt, the same that she’d felt the first time she had healed Mitch. She hadn’t healed it then, and couldn’t now, either.
Frightened, because there was anger. That one scared her. His rage that made hers look like a two-year-old’s temper tantrum. Her desire to strike at Sasha paled in comparison to his anger at himself. It was like an illness, a cancer that ate joy and poisoned life. As it grew, it weakened the spirit until all that was left was mindless rage that attacked everything. She had touched it when she’d healed him, but not plumbed its depth. Instinctively, she knew that for now he controlled it in a battle against himself he was destined to lose like a junkie looking for one more hit of ecstasy. He used the anger to motivate and drive himself forward while the self-recriminations grew larger.
A thin as a spider’s finest silk, love glistened as though dew-covered, preventing his addiction to anger from totally defining him.
Not armor . . . an addiction.
Mitch knew it and Jules had recognized it in him. They were like travelers in a land that Kenzie could never visit. They walked separate, lonely paths without signposts to lead them out into sunlight, to joy and to love . . .
Signposts. Sunlight.
Kenzie saw her own path out.
The emerald warmed the base of her throat, its scintillating kaleidoscope of light fading. Sasha, Agnes, and Bethany stood in front of her, dumbstruck, caught by surprise by her reappearance in the Glade.
Kenzie could now see the magic that made the Glade of Silver Night the sanctuary that it was. It flowed from each of the wizards, tenuous lines of force that built up a new reality. Each of the wizards contributed to it, probably as unknowingly as she had. There was a beauty in the patterns that came out in the nature of the Glade itself, and the patterns told the story of the past as well as the present. It was a place safe for wizards, one they created for themselves. Hopelessly outnumbered by the mundane and fearful of their vulnerability to the masses of people, they had retreated. Here they could hone their Art without reprisal. Except . . .
She could also read the corruption of the Glade and the Families, the perversion of the Art. For every spell to heal, there were a hundred to hurt, for each that would uplift, dozens to restrain and hold down. The Family had a cancer. For all the power of their magic, they were still human, still flawed. They considered themselves the rightful owners of the future and, in their zeal to secure their position, they gave into the petty, venal side of the mundane fighting in factions for a step forward in the battle of supremacy and inconsiderate of whom they hurt along the path.
Kenzie saw her complicity in the illusion, how her magic contributed. In the same penetrating moment of enlightenment, she observed pillars around which a thousand possibilities coalesced into a single reality. The brilliant white of the thick strand of magic led to one of these pillars. The why of it confounded her, so she accepted it as it was and accepted that someday she might know the answer. Or not. She accepted that, too.
Kenzie viewed all this in an instant of time, so minuscule that the other wizards had not had time to close their gaping mouths. In the next moment, she cut their access to magic in the same way that they had done to her. It was a temporary measure. Kenzie was tiring quickly. To see so clearly required so much of her energy and concen
tration that it threatened to drain the last of Kenzie’s reserves. Reluctantly, she let the perception of true realities slip away and rested, holding only the single spell.
Bethany broke the silence. “N-no one comes back . . . ,” she stuttered.
Sasha’s hands flew into motion, and then fell away. Her face registered her shock.
Kenzie regarded them before replying. “Tell the Families,” she said, “they have a new leader.” She looked at each in turn. She tested herself and found enough in reserve for one more manipulation. “This leader chooses life.”
From her hand, a monarch butterfly fluttered up on the breezes of the Glade of Silver Night.
With the wizards distracted, Kenzie opened a passageway to Mitch and stepped through.
Chapter 42
Mitch jumped to his feet. One second, there was a blank wall, and in the next, Kenzie, dressed in a robe the color of a leafy forest canopy and streaked with silver seams of living water, stepped through a tunnel from a different realm. A golden light radiated around her and in her eyes, but weariness was etched into her movements. She hesitated at the threshold before joining him and the two wizards.
“It’s time to heal the Families, to heal all of us,” she said, brows knitted in concern, her gaze landing on him. Then, she swayed and toppled into his arms.
Mitch caught her and lifted her slight form. Like an electric shock, excitement and trepidation tingled along his nerves. Her head snuggled into his chest. He looked down at her and tenderness engulfed him, taking him by surprise. The radiance faded from the gentle curves of her face. She looked so tiny and tired.
Quietly, he asked, “Are you okay?”
Her cheek rubbed against him as she nodded. “I’m really hungry.”
Mitch shifted around, careful not to bang her legs against the bookcases. Mercury stood with a cell phone to his ear. “Hold on,” he said into the phone. He asked Kenzie, “You like Hawaiian?”
It took a moment for both of them to process the incongruous question, Kenzie with a shake of her head, Mitch with incredulous words. “You’re ordering a pizza?”
Mercury held the phone against his chest. “Yep, tasty and high in calories, just what McKenzie needs. What about pepperoni?”
Kenzie nodded. “Extra cheese?”
Harold scurried to Mitch’s side and walked with him to a waiting armchair. Mercury completed the order and put the phone away. Mitch sat down with Kenzie on his lap. She showed no signs of wanting to get up and he had no plans on letting her go. Harold hovered.
Kenzie extended a hand. The wizard took it in both of his. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Harold withdrew a hand and pointed a shaky finger at the necklace at Kenzie’s throat. “That amulet, where did you get . . .?” His question trailed off into apprehensive silence.
Mitch came alert, stiffening so abruptly that Kenzie grabbed his bicep as though she thought he was about to dump her on the floor. He reassessed his mental cataloging of the choker as just jewelry. He liked it but didn’t realize that it came with special properties. The fact that Harold was upset suggested maybe he ought to be, too—not that he could do much about it.
“I found it in the Glade,” said Kenzie. She straightened herself and sat up. She fingered the gem. “I think it is a gift from my mother. She meant for it to protect me when I went too far over the line with magic. It’s missing a stone, a blue sapphire.”
Mitch reacted as though he’d been hit with a cattle prod. “How did you know?”
Kenzie slid off his lap and stood. There wasn’t room for Mitch to follow suit unless he knocked her down. Sitting, he felt vulnerable. She searched his face and a faint smile creased her lips. He held her gaze.
“We can’t hide a whole lot from each other, can we?” She teetered. “I need to sit back down.”
“That brings up another point,” said Harold.
Kenzie sat in the other chair. Mitch put his hand out and her fingers gently folded over his.
“What does?” asked Kenzie.
“How did Mitch know that you were in trouble in the first place and, just now, how did you know what he was thinking?”
“That thing first,” said Mitch, staring at Harold with a frown. “What kind of power does it have?”
“That would be a question better suited for McKenzie. I have not seen the gem before, though the broken setting resembles a ring created by Elowyn.” The fright was plain in the old man’s eyes. “We called the gem Elowyn’s Star. According to McKenzie’s mother, it acted to amplify her magical ability.”
“The wizard version of MAGE?” Mitch probed. “Only it had a major flaw, right?”
Harold’s face faded into a gray mask, confirming Mitch’s suspicions.
Kenzie searched both of their faces. “What flaw?”
“The one that led her to create that choker, though I’m darned if I can see how.” He took a deep breath and explained. “MAGE pulls power and boosts it. What it doesn’t have is a control mechanism. I think,” he pointed at her throat, “that your mother lost control of the energy generated by the catalytic effect of her amulet and the resulting overload . . . melted down . . . the system,” he finished lamely. It was a cold, impersonal way to describe someone dying. Kenzie’s jaw quivered and Mitch felt like a schmuck for being so blunt.
“So . . .” She touched the emerald. Light glittered in the path that her fingers traveled. Tears leaked from eyes squeezed shut. “She made this for me, too.”
“What else do you know?” Harold asked in a choked whisper. His hands coursed in an agonized weave.
Mitch looked back to Mercury for protection, but the wizard was gone. With a sickening feeling of abandonment, he reverted his gaze to Harold. For all the gesticulating, Mitch didn’t feel the same compulsion as when he’d been forced to speak by Mercury or Raymond Graham.
“He’ll be back shortly,” said Harold, as though divining Mitch’s emotions and seeking to reassure him. “Elowyn’s Star was as you said. It is terribly dangerous to the wearer.”
“Was my mother wearing it when she battled the Family?” There was a threatening edge to Kenzie’s voice. “When they killed her?”
Harold staggered back. “How . . . how could you know about the battle?”
“She left me a note and told me. She wanted to tackle them before they got too strong for her. Sasha as much as admitted that she’d been one of the ones that was involved.” Kenzie’s next words were as bitter as day-old black coffee. “You lied to me.”
Mitch listened to Kenzie while he observed the changes in the gemstone at Kenzie’s throat. The emerald emitted a creeping glow that reached out to grab her and Harold both. It pulsed with the regularity of a heartbeat. She was in the danger zone. Did Harold see it? He glanced upward, past the despair on Kenzie’s face, to the guilt written on Harold’s.
Mitch answered for the wizard. “No, he didn’t, he couldn’t have. If she had lost a battle, I don’t think she could have made you that.” Kenzie swung her head around. Before she could reply, he spoke again. “Your mother lost control of energy, but somewhere along the way, she managed to make that new amulet. If she had it with her, she wouldn’t have overloaded. It had to have been made afterward,” he finished emphatically.
Growing awareness showed in her eyes and the protective penumbra crept back to the emerald. “She touched the universe,” she murmured distantly.
Harold, near weeping, shook his head. His voice was a bare whisper but wore a lifetime of guilt. “We stood with her, against the Family. She was in the right to leave with Eddie.”
Mitch ignored him and directed a question as sharp as a lance at Kenzie. “What do you mean she touched the universe?”
Kenzie’s chin came up defiantly. “That’s what it feels like. Stretched thin everywhere as though I’d become the whole universe, and it became me.”
Nervous energy forced Mitch to his feet. Kenzie searched his face as if doubting he’d believe her. He gave a sharp nod, but
didn’t speak. The weirdness in his head that built patterns was at work. He put up a hand and paced away, toward the wall from which Kenzie had appeared. Reaching it, he pulled a U-turn. Three faces were turned his way. Mercury stood with a pizza box in his hands and his silent query in a raised eyebrow. Harold blinked at the suddenness of Mitch’s actions.
“What is it?” asked Kenzie. A ravenous expression crossed her features and she twisted in her seat. “That smells incredible.”
Stomach grumbling in agreement, Mitch kept pacing side to side while Mercury put the food down and extracted a slice, placing it on a paper plate and handing it to Kenzie. He took out another and gestured to Mitch.
“No, thanks, not yet.” If he ate, he’d lose everything rattling in his head. He was close, so close he could almost touch it. Mitch halted his pacing. “You said you were touching the whole universe?”
Her mouth full of cheesy pizza, she nodded. She seemed so tiny in the green robe, a little girl playing dress-up. Mitch tore his eyes away from the distraction.
He lashed out his next question to Harold. “Did Eddie’s equations include a control mechanism for magic?”
Startled, Harold shook his head. “No, just the way that the energy could exist and influence the physical dimensions that we can observe. He died before he could go much further than that. For obvious reasons, we haven’t encouraged research into the subject, and none of us, the wizards, I mean, have the requisite genius to proceed in the investigation.” His eyes narrowed and an eager glint sparked from his face. “Why?”
“You’re going to think I’m nuts.”
Mercury chuckled grimly. “Join the club. Spill it, boyo.”
Mitch hesitated. “Radio sets.”
Mercury looked blank, but Harold lit up. “The crystals.”
Mitch’s hands flew as he resumed pacing. “Yeah, crystals, like they used to have for old-fashioned radio sets. They could pick up weak radio signals. The wizards are able to do the same on a different level. That’s how you can see the magic. You’re literally tuned to it. The crystals amplify the effect.” Mitch stopped in front of Kenzie and dropped to a knee, a knight before his princess. His voice shook. “If you were perfectly attuned to the signal, you would have become the signal. There wouldn’t be any more Kenzie. So how did you not . . . ?”
