Born of Magic

by H. D. Gordon

  She loosened her shoulders, adding a slight slump to her back, breaking her perfect posture. Maintaining the magic that held her false appearance in place was not the hard part—though it wasn’t easy by anyone’s standards. The hard part would be not conducting herself like a princess.

  A voice issued from the darkness inside the cottage, where the only light was from the two dusty square windows that shed dirty streams of sunlight into the room. The voice was soft and low, a woman’s, that of deep trolling bells. The sound of it made an unexplained chill crawl up Surah’s spine, but she didn’t allow herself to shiver.

  “Charlie?” the voice said. “That you, Charlie Redmine?”

  The room filled with light then, the four torches on the walls coming to life and illuminating the contents of the place.

  Surah’s eyes flicked around the room, settling on the stacks of old books, the jars and vials set on the shelves that held various substances, the old leather couch and armchair, and finally on the carved table in the corner, where the owner of that deep bell voice sat.

  Surah’s first thought upon seeing Carolyn was that she was an extreme juxtaposition to her home. Her hair was a long, yellow blond, hanging in soft waves over shoulders that sported a rich black cloak. Her face was fine lines and delicate curves, with plush pink lips and big crystal blue eyes. Her makeup was applied perfectly, her hands ungloved but clean with blood-red fingernails. The woman stood in one smooth movement, her back held straight and her cloak flowing around her gracefully. A smile lit up her face as her eyes settled on Charlie.

  She held her arms out to him the way a mother might do a long lost child. Or the way a lover might a long lost flame, Surah thought, then shoved the whole matter out of her mind. Focus was key here. Eyes on the prize.

  “Charlie Redmine,” the woman said, coming forward, arms still outstretched. “I’ll be damned by the Gods. It is you.”

  Surah resisted raising an eyebrow. This woman was a whole bucket of juxtaposition, it seemed. Her foul, common way of speaking matched her house but not her appearance.

  Charlie stepped into the cottage, his face giving away no indication that he could even smell the foul mixture of scents that invaded the room. He went over to Carolyn and pulled her into a hug that Surah thought lasted too long, knowing she had no business feeling that way at all, averting her eyes from the two of them and standing outside the open door in awkward silence.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Carolyn,” Charlie said, stepping back from her and offering her that charming smile. “You look good.”

  The way Carolyn smiled and fluttered her eyelashes in return answered one of Surah’s earlier questions. So Charlie Redmine did have an effect on other women. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who found him attractive. She wasn’t sure if she was happy about this or not.

  Carolyn slapped playfully at his shoulder. “Still a charmer, I see,” she said, and then her crystal blue eyes flipped to Surah, and the smile fell from her face like melted snow, the smooth lines of her jaw that Surah thought were pretty upon first sight sharpening and becoming harsh.

  “And who is this you’ve brought with you?” Carolyn asked, her gaze traveling up from Surah’s feet and to her face and back again.

  Surah found herself clenching her teeth, but she smiled, and it looked real. She was very good at that. Then she realized that she and Charlie hadn’t discussed the false identity that went with her false appearance, and she floundered in her mind, searching for a common name to spit out.

  She needn’t have worried. Charlie answered for her, his slow draw as sure and true as ever. Surah realized that he was an even better liar than she gave him credit for, and had she listened to her gut right then, and transported out of there, she might have been able to save herself a lot of trouble.

  “This is Sarah Whittle. She’s an acquaintance of mine,” Charlie said, and looked back at Carolyn. “She needs to make some purchases.”

  Surah stepped into the house, careful to keep her smile in place and her nose from wrinkling.

  “Good to meet you,” she said, hoping that her fake common accent didn’t sound fake.

  Carolyn inclined her head, making Surah’s hackles raise, if they weren’t raised already. “Sarah Whittle, huh? Never heard of you.”

  “She’s from the Westlands,” Charlie answered, stepping to the side a little and drawing Carolyn’s attention back to him. That suggestive smile found her face again as her blue eyes travelled up Charlie’s body.

  Surah decided rather instantly that she didn’t like this Carolyn.

  “The Westlands you say?” Carolyn leaned her head around Charlie, looking at Surah again, and Surah finally came to the realization of what this woman was. The word sounded in her head in a distinct tone of disgust.

  Witch.

  “What part of the Westlands?”

  Surah’s smile remained in place, her shoulders relaxed, her composure held carefully intact. A geography test was nothing to her. She knew the lands and cities of her father’s kingdom as well as anyone, and Charlie Redmine wasn’t the only one who was a good liar.

  “Mountain Home,” she said, “It’s a small town about an hour outside of Raven City.”

  Carolyn gave no indication of whether or not she knew the place, and really, Surah couldn’t care less if she did or didn’t. She could check a map if she wanted. Mountain Home would be there. Surah just wanted to get what they needed and get out of here, preferably to some place where she could breathe through her nose again.

  Carolyn turned back to Charlie. “What’re you lookin' for?” she asked.

  Charlie rubbed a hand over his strong jaw. “A vial and a shading spell.”

  One of Carolyn’s sharp eyebrows arched, and her eyes flicked back to Surah, who got the feeling that the Witch could see her through the glamour as surely as Surah could see what she was through hers. Not a common Sorceress, but a Witch who dealt in the black trade. Had circumstances not been what they were, Surah would have had Carolyn arrested. In fact, she made a mental note to do just that after this was all settled. It would be her final act as Keeper. She hoped.

  “That’s gonna run you a pretty penny,” Carolyn said, flashing teeth that were too white and too straight. “You got that kinda money? This ain’t a charity house I’m runnin'.”

  Surah nodded once. “I can pay.”

  “Of course you can,” Carolyn said, and Surah didn’t know what to think of that.

  Charlie didn’t shift his feet or adopt an uneasy look, but Surah got the impression that this made him tense nonetheless, or maybe it was because it made her tense.

  “How much?” Charlie asked.

  The Witch waved her hand, long fingers with the tips painted that blood-red stirring the unpleasant air, and glided over to the wall, where a shelf holding empty glass vials hung. She scanned the items and selected one. Then she moved to the shelf beside it and selected another vial containing a dark purple mixture.

  Her back still to them, she said, “Not too high a price for a princess, I suspect.”

  Surah’s heart stopped in her chest. Carolyn turned her head and looked at her over her shoulder, a smirk pulling up one corner of her pink-painted lips, crystal blue eyes glittering with mischief. Surah dropped her Glamour, her hair going lavender and her cloak reverting back to the black that shimmered when it caught the light. She raised her chin a fraction, almost relieved to shed the pretense.

  “You know me, then, Witch,” she said, it was not a question, nor a compliment.

  Carolyn laughed, the sound crawling up Surah’s spine rather than ringing in her ears. “Everyone knows you, princess,” she replied, making the address sound as dirty as Surah’s had.

  Surah looked at Charlie, hoping her undeniable disappointment didn’t show on her face. But he looked as surprised at this revelation as she felt, and that one moment of her furrowing her eyebrows in confusion was the last moment that she could have possibly made her escape. And maybe escaped he
r fate as well.

  The voice came from the open doorway, which Surah had left ajar to vent some of the putrid smell in the dark cottage. She heard it at the same moment that the dark power washed over her, at the same moment as she felt the necklace holding her royal stone snap and fly free of her neck. Her hand reached up to catch it, her breath catching in her throat as well, but she missed, the chain just narrowly evading her fingers, and it was too late.

  She spun on her heels, cloak fluttering around her in a quiet swish, and there stood Black Heart.

  Her royal stone rested in the palm of his gloved hand. Surah considered trying to make a grab for it, but Black Heart closed his fingers around the stone and smiled the way one might at a naughty child. Surah’s gut clenched as she looked into his face and saw that his eyes were the exact same emerald color as Charlie’s.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Black Heart said. He offered Surah a small bow. She was struck speechless.

  The instinct to snap her fingers and portal out of here came, but she cursed in her head when she realized she would need her stone to do this. The next realization that came was even worse. Black Heart was blocking the door. The Black Stone, much larger than she expected, hung around his neck, pulsing that sickening dark power that seemed to fill the room even more fully than the awful smell of the Witch’s home. She was trapped.

  Charlie Redmine had set her up. Somehow, though she knew this was completely insane, this realization was the worst of all.

  When a familiar voice spoke in her head, Surah’s knees nearly went lax with relief. In all the shock she had forgotten about Samson, who was slinking around the house just outside the door.

  “Can I kill him, love?”

  Surah couldn’t stop her eyes from flicking to Charlie, who had a very peculiar look on his face, as if he was as taken off guard by all this as she was. She wasn’t fooled. Charlie Redmine was an extraordinary actor.

  “Yes,” she told Samson silently.

  “You ought to tell that beast of yours to back up,” Black Heart said, his voice deep and gleeful. He wrapped his hand around the Black Stone, thick fingers barely covering the surface. “Unless you fancy yourself a dead tiger and a severed throat.”

  Hot, red anger welled up in Surah now, and her fists clenched at her sides, but she said nothing. She could tell by Black Heart’s hard expression that he would do exactly as he promised if she made a false move, and it would be all too easy with the Black Stone in his hand. Even if she still had her small piece of the White Stone, she would be no match to the power that he had stolen.

  The fact that she wasn’t dead already gave her a dash of hope, but it was just a dash. She told Samson silently to stand back, and the tiger retreated into the grasses a bit with barely contained rage.

  Surah’s heart was tripping, but she inclined her head, holding Black Heart’s gaze with concealed effort. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have already done so,” she said her soft voice clear and strong. “So what is it you want?”

  Black Heart smiled. He had an ugly smile, nothing like his brother’s, who hadn’t said a word at this new arrival. Carolyn stood over by Charlie, just as silent, but with a very pleased look on her face. Surah didn’t see what either of their expressions were, though, because she thought that taking her gaze away from Black Heart for even a moment would be a very stupid idea.

  This was the first time she’d encountered the man other than when he’d busted his brother out of the holding cell, but she could see why he’d gained the reputation he had. Darkness seemed as much a part of him as shadows are part of the night.

  “I do want to kill you, princess,” Black Heart said, and his pleasant tone did not at all match the words. “Just not quite yet. I want to kill both you and your father…How is he by the way?”

  Now the anger Surah felt turned into fury, something that she could feel in her bones and taste in her mouth. Her next words came out of her mouth quickly, and she made no effort to stop them.

  “Not concerning himself with the piddling of common cowards,” she said.

  Black Heart struck out so fast that even if Surah had known what was coming, she probably wouldn’t have been able to avoid it. The knuckles on the back of his hand connected with the side of her cheek so hard that a few stars burst behind her eyes, and the cracking sound it made resounded like thunder in the tiny room, drowning out the sounds of breathing and racing hearts.

  Pain exploded on the left side of her face; immediate and harsh and terrible, making her eyes water and her back hot. Her head was whipped to the side, wrenching her neck.

  Surah did not cry out. She didn’t make a sound.

  She reached up and touched her lip, seeing a spot of blood on her gloved finger, and met Black Heart’s emerald eyes with a death promise clear on the surface of her violet ones. Her face still hurt, was rippling with pain and heat, but her lips pulled up in a small smile.

  She refused to look over at Charlie, so she didn’t see the barely concealed fury on his own face. She just stared at Black Heart, thinking that if he had any brains at all, he would kill her now, because if she were going to live through this, she would see to it that he wouldn’t.

  Samson was coming now, she could practically feel the heat of his anger across the distance between them, and she told him very sternly to stand down. Black Heart could do any number of things with that Stone around his neck, and Surah would not be able to contain herself if something happened to Sam.

  Attacking Black Heart right now was a sure way to get them both killed. The man obviously had no boundaries, and Surah could be a very patient person.

  She pushed her chin out, ignoring the blood that trickled over her lip, her voice strong and steady, royal. “Feel better?” she asked.

  Black Heart laughed heartily, the stone around his neck bouncing a little on his wide chest. He ran a hand through his hair, which was slicked back into a tight ponytail. He came forward and gripped Surah’s shoulder, his touch rough and slightly painful.

  “Much better, princess,” he said, giving her that toothy smile. “Thank you for asking. Now if you’ve nothing left to add, let us be on our way. There is so much to be done.”

  He turned to the others. “Thank you for your help, Carolyn.”

  The Witch nodded, batting those black eyelashes and smiling that pink smile. Black Heart looked at Charlie and jerked his head. “Come, little brother,” he said, extending his free hand to him. “You’ve done well.”

  Charlie came over to them, his movements robotic, as if he was being controlled with magic by his brother. “I didn’t know,” he told her. “I didn’t have any part of this.”

  Surah finally looked at Charlie as he came to a stop in front of her. She didn’t believe a word he said. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “Surah,” Charlie said, “I swear it. I didn’t know he’d be here.”

  Surah pulled her eyes away a moment before Black Heart pushed them through a portal to wherever he had in mind, and her last thought was one that she would never—if she lived through this—ever forget.

  I gave you an inch, and you took way more than a mile.

  Chapter 19

  Surah

  Black Heart still had hold of Surah’s shoulder, and she yanked herself away from him and delicately smoothed out her cloak, returning his annoyed stare defiantly.

  He may have taken her captive, and he may be planning to kill her, but she did have her pride, and right now, it was getting the best of her.

  Surprisingly, it was anger that was fueling her, rather than the fear she certainly should be feeling. It took her a moment to realize she was angrier with Charlie Redmine than she was afraid of his brother.

  At least, for the moment. That would change very shortly.

  Surah jerked a little as her hands clasped in front of her without a signal from her brain to do so, and smoky black handcuffs enclosed her wrists, making an immovable figure eight there. Black Heart released hold of the
stone at his throat and smiled as Surah tested the strength of her dark magical bonds.

  “I assure you they are quite solid, princess,” he said.

  Surah returned his smirk, forcibly ignoring Charlie as if he weren’t even there.

  “Of course,” she said, her voice smooth and calm. Inside, her heart was threatening to rip through her ribcage.

  They were in the jungle. Likely the Southlands jungle; the most dangerous of the four. The trees were thick and green, crawling with vines and bursting with colorful plants. She could hear the sound of a waterfall in the distance, the call of birds and the rustling of smaller animals. The sunlight peeking through the lush canopy shifted down in glittering, golden streams, the thickness of the brush surely hiding much greater beasts.

  Black Heart leaned into her now, his neck craning down and his hot breath pushing into her face. He towered over her. Surah met his eyes and refused to flinch. Next to them, though the princess didn’t see it, Charlie tensed.

  “Don’t be scared, princess,” Black Heart said, his voice pitched low and falsely gentle. He patted the Stone around his neck with his right hand. “The beasts wouldn’t dare attack while I have this. Come now.” He gave her a rough push forward. “Let’s get moving.”

  Surah walked, her back straight and head high and heart low. She couldn’t believe she was in this situation, couldn’t believe she had been so stupid as to trust a man like Charlie Redmine, with his handsome face and calm manner and blunt, inappropriate way of talking. She should have killed him in her bedroom, as soon as she set eyes on him. Or let Theo kill him.

  Now, she was in the middle of the Southland jungle with a crazed Sorcerer and Samson wasn’t here and her stone was gone and her father was dying. All because she’d given an inch. If she lived through this, she was going to literally punch Sam in the nose for that terrible advice.