Magic Rising

by Camilla Chafer

  The footsteps stopped where we were standing. Then the second pair joined them. A flash of illumination lit the alley between the shelving, but try as I might to see through, the books were crammed too tightly together. I saw nothing more than a long, black dress and there were an awful lot of those at the party.

  “Like I said, it’s nothing,” said the man.

  “Let’s go. The librarian might come back. We’ll find another place to talk.” The light disappeared. The footsteps receded and they spoke no more. Moments later, the door clicked shut.

  “We should leave too,” whispered Micah, his voice heavy with concern.

  “I need to get the book.”

  “Forget the book.”

  “Please?” I turned my imploring eyes on him. “I’m going to look for it.”

  “Two minutes,” he said. “You’ve got two minutes, then I’m finding a way out. I do not want to be discovered here.”

  I skimmed the books quickly. I could have used a simple finding spell, but like before, I didn’t want to leave any trace of my presence, even if it were a metaphysical one. On the second shelf down, I found what I needed. Symbolism and Artefacts of the Werewolf. I opened it, letting the leaves fall as images flashed before me, until I spied the one I needed.

  “Bedtime reading?” asked Micah.

  “I wish. Let’s get out of here.”

  He jabbed a finger at the door. “I sense no one on this floor. We are safe to leave. We will take the stairwell. You will return to the party for thirty minutes then meet me in the lobby downstairs,” he instructed. He held his hand out for the book. “It won’t fit in your little bag.”

  “This is stealing.”

  “Stealing is the least of your problems,” he said, reminding me of what we just heard.

  “I guess I can bring it back.” I handed it to him. “Did you see who they were?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I. I thought it was Georgia, but I’m not certain.”

  “This is worrying. But it’s not as worrying as the trouble I’ll be in if you get into anymore trouble. Let’s go.” He held his free hand out to me. “This job is more interesting than I thought guarding you would be. Don’t give me the slip again. You’re fun when you put your mind to breaking and entering, and stealing.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at his odd praise. “Thanks. I can’t think of a better partner in crime.”

  Micah beamed at me.

  TEN

  “Stella! Ten minutes!”

  I looked up from the big book Micah and I had “borrowed” from the library the previous evening and towards the door at Etoile‘s call. Lost in reading, I never noticed the time slipping past. I looked down at my jeans and sweater, and I knew my appearance wouldn’t cut it at the official Council forum where the candidates were going to be announced. I most certainly wouldn’t look the part to go to the ball afterwards, where all the other races would be gathering in honour of the big event.

  Kitty stuck her head inside the room, eyed my outfit and glanced backwards. “She’s almost dressed,” she lied before slipping inside. “What are you doing?” she squeaked as she pressed the door closed and waved a hand at my appearance. “Etoile has been ready for an hour.”

  “I got lost in reading.”

  “No excuses,” she snipped as she opened my suitcase, rifling through it. “I’ll help. What did you plan to wear?”

  “The same skirt as yesterday, but with a different top,” I told her and Kitty gave me a disgusted look. “What?”

  “Are you serious? You can’t wear the same thing twice.”

  “Why not?”

  “Etoile will pitch a fit, for one. And this is a fancy pants thing. Didn’t Etoile tell you?”

  “She said dress up. I brought dress-up clothes!”

  “Clearly, not enough,” said Kitty, as she finished her search through my clothing. “Wait here. I’ll see what Etoile has.”

  “Nothing of hers will fit me. She’s taller than I am. And skinnier,” I added with a pout.

  “Barely. Maybe she has something short.” Kitty wrinkled her nose in thought and seemed to be mentally dressing me. “I knew I should have insisted you go shopping before this gala event.”

  “I thought I’d have a chance to shop here if I needed to; then I got indicted!”

  “Yeah, bad luck. Just wait here, okay?” She swept out of my room with the air of a stage manager whose star was sabotaging the show. I heard her tell Etoile that I ripped my dress, along with Etoile‘s subsequent sigh. Shutting the book, I stuffed it into my suitcase and waited for Kitty to return. A couple of minutes later, she banged back into the room, a swathe of gold silk thrown over her arm. She held it up and the material pooled in a long column. “This is perfect! And look, it still has tags!”

  “It’s kind of revealing,” I said, scrutinising the draping cowl neck and crossed silk straps of the otherwise exposed back. Where it lacked material up top, it compensated for in a sweeping skirt.

  “I think that’s the point. If you put on yesterday’s heels, you’ll be tall enough to wear it.”

  “My feet hate those heels.”

  “Wear. The. Dress.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I took the dress, and with a pout, carried it into the bathroom to try on. At least, I had already showered and my hair would be fine hanging unadorned. I stepped out of my clothes and pulled on the dress, looking at myself in the mirror. The cowl neck draped lower than it appeared, but in an elegant fashion. As I twirled to check the back, I noticed it also revealed a lot of skin. However, the cut was deeply flattering, and it accentuated my waist into an hourglass. It also showed my toned arms, which I credited to my frequent runs. I had never worn anything sexier. I gave another little twirl and tried a smile. I imagined wearing it with a flak jacket over the top, then reminded myself that Etoile knew about the conversation Micah and I overheard. Consequently, she conferred with the Council and requested extra precautions for tonight. Looking at the price tag, I winced. I doubted very much that she would want me to get this dress dirty.

  “So?” I asked when I stepped into the bedroom.

  “Va-va-voom, baby!” Kitty whistled as she held up a jacket. “I found this to go with it. You can make it a little more formal for the meeting. Etoile says you can borrow them both.”

  A rap sounded on the door again. “Please tell me you’re ready,” called Etoile. “I have a car in ten minutes.”

  “Almost,” I replied. “Just putting my heels on.”

  Etoile muttered something that I didn’t hear, and probably didn’t want to, but Kitty laughed. “I’ve never seen her so frantic.”

  “Are you sure you want to come?” I asked her. She wore a little back dress with a beaded neckline and swept her hair into a messy bun.

  “Yes! I wouldn’t miss this. My first Summit! It’s exciting, only…” I waited. Kitty flopped onto my bed and played with her bracelet. “I just hope no one gets hurt,” she finished.

  “Etoile said she made precautions. Plus, the Council promised to post extra guards.”

  “All the same. You, me and Etoile, let’s come home safe, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I leaned over to fasten my heels, glad for the extra height that would spare me from tripping on the hem.

  “I have an interview tomorrow,” Kitty said softly. “I was going to turn it down, then I got the summons and it seemed to make sense to stay and take it.”

  I glanced upwards and flashed her a smile that alleviated the worried look on her face. “I’m so pleased for you. I didn’t know you applied for anything here.”

  “It was one of those ‘I’ll never get it so why the hell not’ things,” Kitty explained.

  “Someone has to get it, why not you?”

  “Because that would mean leaving Wilding.”

  “And Ryan?” I asked, taking the jacket from her and slipping my arms into the sleeves. It was a little snug, but it would do. I stood and buttoned it, smoothing the fab
ric as I looked in the mirror. The matching gold stripes on the faux pockets ensured the ensemble looked smart and elegant. Not for the first time, I admired Etoile‘s excellent taste. I snapped off the tags and laid them on the bed.

  “I like him a lot, but it’s not that far. We could always visit each other.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter until I have to make a decision.”

  “Good luck. You won’t need it. You know you’re good at what you do.”

  “Bringing the sun out and making people shine?” Kitty withdrew a tube of lip gloss and swiped on another layer.

  “Exactly.”

  “Two minutes,” called Etoile.

  “Makeup,” I yelled back.

  “I’ll miss this,” said Kitty. “I’ll miss this most of all if I go.”

  I knew exactly what she meant and it hit me that if Etoile stayed behind for the Council and Kitty got the job, I would be without them for the first time in a very, very long time. But I couldn’t think about myself. I had to think of my friends and supporting them in what I hoped would be best for them. Like Kitty said, visiting wouldn’t be hard. Maybe they would vacation with me?

  “It’ll be okay,” I assured her. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Kitty, her voice as flat as mine as she pulled out brushes, powders and tools. She gave me a bright smile. “Everything is going to be just fine,” she echoed, as she began to make up my face.

  ~

  The last time I was at a formal meeting of the Council — having discounted the previous night’s party and the trial — I’d been paraded around as the “last English witch” by the former leader. That was right before his wife attempted to decapitate me with a magical missile. Fun times, but no nostalgia there.

  This event was very different, not just because there were more people from my home country, but because there was no pretense of being anything except what it was: the official kickoff for the Summit and the formal revelation of the candidates. As we stepped off the elevator, Micah, looking elegant in a tuxedo, chose to join us this time rather than staying in the bar off the lobby downstairs as he did the night before. I was pleased at his decision.

  The room where the party had been held the previous night was all in order. The tables had been cleared away and the chairs were set in neat rows behind a narrow stage. The bar was concealed behind panelling. I looked around cautiously, trying not to look overly interested; even though I burned with curiosity about the evening ahead. A few rows away, I could see Georgia Thomas deep in conversation with a thin, weedy-looking man. She had a small cohort of other people around her, but I didn’t recognise them. Like me, though, a lot of the guests covered their evening wear with light jackets or wraps, clearly preferring to stay for the whole event, rather than return to wherever they were staying to change.

  Our seats were reserved, separating us. Micah and I were seated together. Kitty ended up in the back row, where she was pleased to find a witch she recognised. Three rows in front of me sat Etoile, next to her was Seren, with David on her right. Every so often they leaned in and talked to each other. I couldn’t see their parents or sister.

  Seren. I threw my thought out to her telepathically. Seren.

  Seren glanced over her shoulder, searching, then saw me and gave me a friendly smile. I hoped we’d catch up later, assuming the whole shebang wasn’t shot to shit. My nerves were anxiously waiting for the moment when the proceedings would come to a screeching halt. I doubted I was the only one who thought that way. The air felt tense and unsteady. A moment later, Etoile turned and popped her lips at me, blowing a kiss. I gave them a little wave, before scanning the room to see anybody else I recognised.

  A section of the room was taken up with beings that I could only describe as magical, but definitely not witches. They were emitting so many diverse notes that it was hard to tell who was what. I thought I detected werewolves, demons and vampires, amongst others. They seemed to prefer their own separate sections. I looked for Gage unsuccessfully, and just as I thought my first vampire, my eyes settled on a pale man. The dead man looked up and caught my eye, holding it for a moment. I could feel someone’s mental feelers reaching out for me — his, I thought — but I bounced it back, and the dead man smiled. I smiled back. It only seemed polite to appear friendly. If anything, it wasn’t completely idiotic, given our positions on the food chain.

  There was something familiar about him that I couldn’t place. When I glanced over again, he looked away, talking to a friend. But he caught my eye before I could avert them, and gave me a smile that I interpreted as friendly. As someone dropped into the chair next to mine, I broke eye contact, wondering who the latecomer was. Actually, I was relieved for the excuse to look away. I had the strangest feeling as I viewed the man, that I knew him from somewhere. It couldn’t be possible. I’d only ever met one vampire, and she was gone.

  Marc nodded to me as he undid the buttons of his jacket, relaxing.

  “Hey.” I said, then backtracked. “I mean, it’s good to see you again. How are you?”

  “Good. I saw Kitty. I didn’t know she was staying.” He looked pleased.

  “Last minute decision,” I told him. We couldn’t speak anymore because Steven took the stage that was erected for the event and loudly banged a gavel against the podium, calling the room to order. He looked horribly uncomfortable up there as all eyes fell on him. To his left, I saw another row of seats. Anders and Daniel were sitting there, along with witches and warlocks that I’d been introduced to from the other foreign regions. Anders looked relaxed. Daniel adjusted his bowtie, frowning.

  “Welcome, friends. We’re here today to elect a new Council Leader. Let’s get down to business. Do we have any nominees?”

  The weedy-looking man I’d seen earlier stood up immediately. “Georgia Thomas,” he piped out as Georgia rose from sitting next to him. I could only see the back of her head and the stiff posture of her shoulders. She had no wrap of any kind, instead choosing to show off her lithe figure in a black, strapless ball gown.

  “Your nominator?” Steven asked.

  “Walt Matheson.”

  “Anyone to second the nomination?”

  “Me.” The woman who was sitting beside Georgia stood up and nodded at Steven. “Teresa Wright.”

  “Step forward, Witch Thomas. Any other nominees?” Steven looked around, his eyebrows rising. I thought he looked hopeful, but no one stood up. “Anyone?” he squeaked.

  “Matthew Donovan.”

  A ripple of surprise waved through the audience as we all abandoned our cool and looked around to see which nutcase had decided to go up against Georgia Thomas. Matthew Donovan was somewhere in his late forties, and he looked more like a banker than a witch. He was dressed in a black, three-piece suit, which complemented his salt-and-pepper hair. There was something rather likeable about him, although it might have been just a rosy afterglow that anyone daring to run against Georgia might get. A ripple vibrated through the crowd, but he looked straight ahead, ignoring everything. His wife sat next to him — I thought her name was Paige — and she looked proud.

  “He was a friend of my dad’s,” said Marc.

  Steven went through the motions of nominating and seconding the nomination before calling Matthew to the stage. He nodded at Georgia, who sneered back at him. I thought I glimpsed a little smile on Matthew’s face. He was confident, and I hoped it wasn’t entirely misplaced. Georgia was probably unable to rally any loyal supporters who adored her and hoped she would make a great leader. No, she was only able to scare them into backing her.

  “Anymore nominees?” Steven looked around the crowd.

  “Esme Sanchez.” Another woman stood up. Small and compact looking, she had long, black hair that gleamed under the artificial lighting. Again, they went through the robotic motions of nominating and seconding the nomination before she was invited to join the other candidates on the stage.

  Next on the slate was Mary Richards
on, the woman I’d recognised on the Council. She, too, joined the other three on the stage and there was a smattering of applause. I joined in politely as I stared at the back of Etoile‘s head. Why didn’t she stand? Had she changed her mind? Had Georgia got to her?

  “Do we have anymore nominees before I declare this application for candidacy closed?” Steven asked.

  Etoile let a full minute tick by before she stood up. “Etoile Winterstorm,” she said.

  The ripple of chatter was louder this time, albeit surprised, but not shocked. She definitely used the timing of her announcement to her best advantage. All eyes were riveted on her. I sat a little straighter in my seat and tried to catch Etoile‘s eye, but she would not be distracted, her eyes focused firmly forward.

  “Nominator?”

  “House of Winterstorm.” Seren stood. If anyone was surprised at her invoking their house name, rather than simply using her own, no one said so; but I was sure it didn’t escape anyone’s notice that an entire house had offered her their support.

  “And who will second the nomination?”

  “I will.” All heads swivelled to look towards the far corner where the male vampire who caught my eye was standing. Behind him, the other vampires in his group stood up, one-by-one, until the dangerous little clique were all on their feet. This was not the plan Etoile had outlined to me.

  “Fascinating,” breathed Micah. Behind us, someone gasped.

  “Witches only,” Georgia snapped before Steven could open his mouth. She wheeled around to face him. “Only witches count, Steven, you know the rules. She doesn’t have a seconder.”

  Regardless of the rules, Etoile had put on quite a formidable show of power and it was hardly surprising that Georgia felt challenged. The sound level rose to a din. Next to me, Micah tensed, probably waiting for pandemonium to break out.