by Shah, Karin
The assistants had cleared away the weights and now a pitcher of water and a drinking glass were set on the altar. Heath straightened his robes. He took a deep breath and raised his hands. “Ascendere.”
The pitcher floated above the glass and tipped. A measure of water poured into the glass. Then the pitcher returned safely to the altar. Not a drop had been spilled. The audience, who until this point had watched in silence, whispered to each other, clearly impressed by this example of control.
When his turn was over, Heath pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his head, the first sign he felt any strain.
The glass and pitcher were removed, and a blank piece of paper and an uncapped, felt-tipped pen were brought out and set in their place. A murmur rippled through the circle.
Thalia licked her lips. This trick was risky, but she needed to pull out all the stops if she wanted to win. “Ascendere.” Her forehead creased, and she bit her lip in concentration.
Surrounded by ribbons of blue light, the pen lifted from the table and zeroed in on the paper. Every ounce of Thalia focused on control of the pen. The murmurs had died, and the scratch of the point moving purposefully across the paper was the only sound. Finally, Thalia laid the pen to rest on the table, praying her efforts had been good enough. Mina stepped forward and picked up the paper. She held it above her head. “It says, ‘I am the Champion.’”
During the exercise, Thalia had been too centered on forming each letter to take in the whole. Now her chest filled with pride as she acknowledged the precision of each letter. The sentence had the sure flow of something written by a careful hand. Mina showed it to each member of the council. They nodded in recognition of her feat.
The council left their seats and conferred in the corner for a moment. Thalia mentally crossed her fingers. She’d done all she could. The outcome was in the council’s hands now.
While they discussed the score, Thalia took stock of her condition. She’d expended a lot of energy, more than she usually did over the course of two days, but she didn’t feel fatigued.
She glanced over at Gideon. He inclined his head, eyes dark and glinting with approval. In fact, somehow, she felt energized, though not in the same way she’d felt when he’d fed her power during their earlier skirmish with the rogue.
The council retook their seats, and Mina walked back to the altar. “The council has declared Thalia the winner of the levitation portion of the competition. We will take a short break and resume in fifteen minutes.”
Heath’s heavy brows lowered over his eyes, and his expression was dour, but he said nothing.
Thalia repressed a smile. One challenge down. Two more to go.
But who knew how long this odd surge of energy would last. The feeling might simply be a side-effect of the adrenaline coursing through her due to what was at stake.
The first part of the challenge had taken almost an hour. She hoped the illusion portion would go faster.
The break seemed interminable, but at last Mina called the gathering back to order.
Once again, they started small.
Heath conjured a simple glamour, taking on the aspect of one of the other councilmen. Thalia followed by impersonating Mina. Heath created an illusion of a raging fire, complete with heavy smoke and searing heat.
Thalia thought for moment. She needed an illusion just as sensory. The memory of her and Gideon running though the pouring rain flashed into her mind and she almost smiled.
She raised her hands and fabricated a torrent of rain that felt cool and wet. It shushed down from the ceiling with a roar, soaked their clothes, and pooled on the floor, before evaporating as if it had never been, which of course it hadn’t.
Finally, Heath created a swarm of bees. They zoomed around the room, blanketing each council member in turn, en masse. The witches and mages of the council exchanged delighted glances at the intricacy of the illusion. The sensation of fragile wings beating, tiny legs crawling on their skin, the vibration of their buzzing.
Thalia conjured a flock of hummingbirds. They darted back and forth, their iridescent bodies shining jewel bright in the candlelight, their wings a blur. They were beautiful, and the witches and mages craned their heads to enjoy their quicksilver movements, but were they enough to impress the council?
They conferred once more.
At last, Mina declared, “Heath has won the illusion portion of the competition.”
Thalia closed her eyes as she heard the results, her chest heavy. She needed to win the next challenge or everything she’d worked for her whole life would be taken away.
For the transmutation section of the challenge, Mina placed several small objects on the altar, two buttons, two plastic combs, two common river pebbles.
Heath marched up to the altar and laid his workmanlike hands over one of the buttons. He lowered his eyelids, his brow furrowed, and he whispered under his breath, “Metamorphose.” There was a flash of canary yellow light. When he removed his hands, a ruby sparkled crimson on the snowy white cloth. He inclined his head mockingly at Thalia, a ‘beat that’ glint in his eyes.
Thalia stepped up, resolute. She could do this. She had to do this. Covering the remaining button with her hands, she took a deep breath, letting her eyes half-close. “Metamorphose.”
Blue light seeped through her closed fingers, and she withdrew her hands with a flourish, revealing an amethyst even larger than the original button. Thalia checked the councils’ reactions. There were some raised eyebrows and shared glances, but she knew from the earlier tests that this contest would not be decided until the final object.
Heath practically shoved her aside as he returned to the altar and obscured one of the black combs with his sturdy hands. “Metamorphose.” He whipped his hands away, uncovering a large painted Fabergé egg with extensive gold leaf and a scene inside.
Mina cradled the delicate object in her hands and passed it around the murmuring circle. Each council member studied it with approval. Heath directed a smile of triumph at her. Thalia clenched her fists. God, she’d like to punch him in his big fat nose.
Throwing every shred of intention into the universe, she took her place, hiding the plastic comb from view beneath her fingers. “Metamorphose,” she bit out through gritted teeth, stepping back before the blue light of her power faded away, unveiling a tiny carousel with the last remnants of her magic twinkling around it.
She reached down and pressed a tiny hidden lever with her fingernail. The miniature carousel began to turn, sending the elaborately decorated horses and fantastic animals plunging and rearing in a choreographed dance around the carousel while a sprightly tune played.
Thalia smiled sweetly at Heath as Mina showed the petite merry-go-round to each person in the audience.
“Charming,” a young blond woman whispered to her look-alike neighbor who sniffed haughtily in response.
Without waiting for Mina to finish, Heath strode up to the sideboard and thrust his hands over one of the gray pebbles. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, leaving wet streaks in its wake. “Metamorphose,” he said.
He ripped his hands away, holding them high in the air like a prizefighter after winning a fight. What had been a smooth round stone was now a tiny gray mouse, perfect in every detail from its miniature whiskers and toenails to its translucent, shell pink ears. It squeaked. Its diminutive nose wiggled as it smelled the air and scampered behind one of the carved wooden candlesticks for cover. Mina picked it up and showed it to the council. They nodded and smiled.
“Thalia,” she said as she set the mouse in a small acrylic cage held by one of her assistants. “The ball is in your court.”
Thalia folded her hands under her chin and closed her eyes, thinking of what to do and summoning her strength. Her muscles tensed. If she won this, she would win the ritual.
She placed her cupped hands over the stone, shoulders rigid with concentration, and whispered, “Metamorphose.” Blue light reflected on her hands, and when she removed the
m, a small, gray kitten with huge blue eyes gazed up at them. The kitten was passed around, ending up in the arms of the young blond councilwoman who’d admired the carousel.
For a third time the council members stood to deliberate. Their discussion was heated. Heath was showing hints of wear. He sat on one of the mats for a moment. Thalia took stock once more. In the past, if she’d expended this much magic she would have needed a couple days to recover, but somehow she only felt a little tired. She locked her hands behind her back and waited impassively for the verdict.
Finally Mina turned. “It’s a tie. The personal power spell will decide the competition.”
Heath grinned. The bastard thought he’d already won.
Thalia nodded coolly, maybe he had—or maybe not. She’d done far more than she’d thought she could.
She peeked over at Gideon and Spirit. They were speaking quietly, about her odds she supposed. She filled her lungs and released a calming sigh. She had to admit they weren’t good, but she wasn’t out yet.
When intermission was over, they began the final test.
Thalia took a seat on one of the fiber mats. Heath would go first as before.
Heath went to the altar. He took a small piece of paper from Mina and began to read from it. As he spoke each line, he burned a pinch of herbs in the candle’s flame. Strands of yellow light hung in the air around him, weaving about each other like a web.
On the last line, he opened the first birdcage. The finches flew around the room for a moment, then out the partially opened window. Thalia felt a force push her backward off her mat. At the same time, the other council members slid back off their mats.
Thalia tried to swallow the hard lump in her throat, but her mouth was too dry. Could she muster enough personal power to blow the council that far?
They stood, and reseated themselves, exchanging meaningful glances yet again.
“Thank you, Heath.” Mina’s words were clearly a dismissal.
He bowed and went to his seat, the line of his back straight and proud, obviously pleased with his performance.
It was her turn. Her final chance to prove she belonged as Champion.
As she took the small piece of paper from Mina, Thalia became hyper conscious of everything around her. Her light robe seemed to bite her skin, the breathing of the witnesses seemed too loud, and she couldn’t seem to get enough air.
Licking her lips, she began to read, sprinkling herbs over the flame. “Reveal the secret hidden from my heart, the magic energy that flows into my art.” With each word something grew inside her, it tingled from the soles of her feet, consuming her in a field of pure electricity. The light of her magic slowly filled the air, tinting everything in the room blue. The ribbons of energy plaited together into a tangled skein. The herbs crackled as she crumbled them into the candle’s fiery heart. “Like this charm of finches from their cage, release the storm of power to be gauged.”
At her last word, she threw open the second cage.
The finches flew in a circle around the room, their tiny wings fluttering overhead, then out the half-open window.
As they disappeared, the charge of power that had built inside her became a rush of wind that seemed to emanate from every inch of her body. It blew out the candles and catapulted the observers back against the walls like debris carried on a storm surge.
Thalia shook with the force of the release, and sank to the rug, drained. Clearly stunned, the witches and mages of the council got slowly to their feet, rubbing heads, shoulders, and backs.
An older mage helped Mina to her feet. Heath bore a shocked look on his broad face. The room was silent for a moment and then the young witch with the kitten on her shoulder began to clap. One by one the others joined in.
Regaining her feet, Thalia smiled politely at the council, but inside she shouted and pumped her fist. She‘d done it! She’d defeated Heath. She was still the Champion.
Thalia held her head high. She’d proven herself worthy. No one could question her ability to serve as the Champion now. She turned to Mina. “Are you satisfied?”
Mina smiled back. “More than satisfied, my dear.” Her brown eyes danced.
Thalia tilted her head. “You knew this would happen?”
Mina put her arm around Thalia’s shoulders and led her to a secluded corner. “I had a suspicion. Your mother always said she thought you had an enormous talent, but something was holding you back. Fear? Lack of confidence?” Mina shrugged. “She didn’t know. But whatever it was, you seem to have conquered it.”
“This whole thing—” Thalia waved a hand toward the altar, and the crowd of councilmen and women who spoke excitedly amongst themselves.
Mina’s expression grew serious. “Was a ploy to bring you to a place where you could discover your real talent, at least on my part.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t tell Heath. He had ambitions.” She grinned, patted Thalia on the shoulder and, with a stately whisper of nylon hose and linen pleats, moved to intercept the nearest clump of people.
Thalia went to Gideon.
“That was quite a show.” The harsh lines of his face made it difficult to guess his thoughts. “Is that how it’s supposed to work?”
“Typically the observer feels a small push.”
Gideon nodded and took her arm. “I think we should get going.”
Deflated by Gideon’s lack of reaction, Thalia followed him up the narrow stairs, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on her.
This night was far from over.
Chapter 21
The summer solstice. Akos hated the shortness of the night, but it signaled the turning point of the year. Now the hours of sunlight would diminish and the hours of darkness would flourish, a fitting night for Inanna’s prophecy to come true.
Inanna. She’d been the perfect pawn. She’d thought she was the one in control, the immortal vampiress, and she’d certainly been exciting, but his agenda had had nothing to do with love or even sex.
He’d sought her out because of what she was, and when he had arranged for her and Gideon to meet, his two goals had collided.
At first, she’d refused to turn him, said the dark gift was more a curse, a punishment, than a boon. But when he’d lain near death, she’d chosen to turn him rather than live without him.
It was too bad she’d turned the Butcher, as well. If she hadn’t done that... Ah well, it was no use speculating.
Tonight. It had to be tonight. He didn’t want to wait any longer. He was tired of waiting.
He’d spotted Gideon near the Tomb earlier, but his enemy hadn’t had the Champion with him. He’d managed to slip away before the Butcher could detect him. He needed both of them to fulfill the prophecy.
Akos burned with displeasure. Where were they?
“Gideon. About what happened earlier at Mina’s—” Unable to hold her tongue any longer, Thalia broke the heavy silence that hung between them in the car.
He believed something evil lived inside him, waiting for the chance to strike. But she hadn’t spent the past week with a monster, just a man, and, regardless of his feelings about her, a good man at that.
How could she convince him of that?
“There’s nothing left to talk about.” Ice coated his words.
“But—”
“I agreed to help you find the rogue. That’s all.” His words had the ring of iron.
Stabbed, the crushing pain in Thalia’s heart seemed to radiate through her chest. She fought back tears, raised her chin, and turned to look out the window at the passing scenery.
She studied the familiar streets and houses for several minutes. Everything looked so different in the dark, as if a strange transformation occurred when the sun went down. She sorted through her disjointed thoughts. Words leaped to her lips. She bit them back, but reconsidered. She might have promised herself she wouldn’t beg, but she couldn’t let it rest. He had to be forced to confront the truth. This wasn’t for her. It was for him.
>
“What I wanted to say isn’t about us.” Thalia’s voice was so soft only his vampire-aided senses allowed him to hear her over the road noise.
“Oh.” Chagrin colored the single exclamation. Gideon steadied himself with a short laugh. “What did you want to say?”
“I wonder,” she took a deep breath. “How long has it been since you’ve killed someone?”
“What?” Gideon threw a surprised glance at Thalia. How could she ask him that?
She looked straight ahead out the dark windshield, as if fascinated by the taillights and license plate of the car in front of them, her face reflected in the glass. Her gaze darted in his direction before skimming away. “You say you’re a monster,” she continued. “I’m curious. How many victims has the monster claimed, say in the past one-hundred years?”
Gideon didn’t have to think. “None.” Everett had been the last and the hardest. Since then, he’d left administering the penalty for breaking vampire law to others.
“Hmm. How many in the past millennium?” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Ten.” And he remembered every one.
“Cold blooded murder?
Gideon hesitated, considered a lie, then remembered her talent for detecting an untruth. “No.”
“You were enforcing the Code each time, weren’t you?” With that, she pinned him with her eyes, daring him to answer truthfully.
“Yes.” He could see their faces before him, men and women who had surrendered to the awesome power of the Claiming. They’d each had their own story. They hadn’t been strangers. He’d known them all well. Thankfully, except for Everett, he hadn’t turned any of them.
There was Angelina, an aristocratic French woman who had been run through on the cruel tines of a pitchfork by an angry mob during the French Revolution. She’d been a talented singer and had delighted in using her voice to draw men to her. Despite his need for isolation, he’d liked her. She’d had a witty charm that could make one forget inconvenient memories.
