by Jill Archer
I shook myself and concentrated on dissolving my power. That’s where the feeling was coming from and it terrified me. Thankfully, my magic disappeared in a shower of sparks. No firecrackers this time; it was more like falling glitter.
Brunus’ eyes glowed hatred at me as he, Sasha, and Tosca retreated. But they knew better than to turn their backs before they rounded the corner. I slumped against the wall for a moment as Night eyed me worriedly. I mumbled something about needing to use the bathroom and walked into the ladies’ lounge. I found an empty corner stall and locked the door. I stood there shaking for five full minutes.
I wasn’t scared of Brunus and the others. I was scared of me. Of what I was becoming.
Eventually, I came out of the bathroom stall and tidied myself up. The ripping sound I’d heard when Brunus stomped on my dress turned out to be only a few threads. When I came out of the ladies’ lounge, Night was still waiting for me. I smiled at the concerned look on his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? I’m sorry you have to put up with people like those three. I guess I always thought training to be a Maegester would be fun.”
I barked out a laugh. “Is training to be a Mederi fun?”
Night paused, thinking. “No, but it is fulfilling.”
“Fulfilling enough to keep doing it if you had a choice?”
“What are you talking about, Noon? Is this about Peter and his spell again? I told you, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But after tonight, I was more determined than ever to try.
I told Night that Peter and I had found the spell.
“You found the spell?” It was like a repeat of the discussion I’d had with Ari.
“Yes.”
“And you’re going to let Peter cast it over you?” Night said, frowning.
This time I gave the unequivocal answer I should have given Ari.
“Yes.”
Night walked me back to the ballroom. On the way, we ran into Peter, who held a tumbler full of something from the bar that smelled like it might spontaneously combust. I knew that Empyr only ensorcelled its apple wines, so it was only alcohol, but Peter looked as if he was on his third or fourth of the night. Night deposited us both at a table along the wall and went looking for Ivy.
Fitz and Babette spotted us and came over bringing loaded plates of food. Apparently hunger had driven them to seek out sustenance for the night ahead. They were both grinning like idiots and I envied them. Beside me, Peter stared morosely into his glass. I spied Ari across the room talking to Karanos. Likely discussing whatever it was that Opiter and Septimus were handling in Rockthorn Gorge. I didn’t feel left out.
I wanted out.
Peter turned to me, his eyes bloodshot but fully focused. “Do you still love flowers like you used to?”
His question annoyed me. Of course I still loved flowers. I just didn’t like what happened when I touched them. I pointed to the silk flower in my hair to illustrate how silly Peter’s question was and sighed miserably. Peter reached out to touch my cheek. I turned my head away and he let his hand drop.
“Noon,” he said, “I only have one more spell to interpret. The spell. It has to be it. It’s the longest, most complicated spell I’ve ever seen.”
The excitement in his voice was contagious. A spot of tingly anticipation formed in my belly.
“I spoke to your father tonight,” Peter said, straightening and looking more sober by the minute. “I told him everything. He gave his permission on one condition. He wants a Show of Faith.”
“Permission for what exactly?” I said warily, remembering Peter’s words from the night we located the spell. Just promise me, if I find the spell and cast it, that you’ll be mine…
“Permission to cast the spell, although what happens after that is up to you,” Peter said, scooting closer so that his knee now touched mine. “Your father’s aware of my feelings for you.”
I clutched my stomach and bit my lip, scanning the crowd for Ari. He was still talking with my father. Peter followed my gaze.
“I despise Carmine,” he said vehemently. “I have no idea what you see in him. He’s everything you don’t want to be.”
“Just because he has waning magic?” I said, suddenly defensive.
“Yes— No!” Peter fumed. I’d never seen him stumble over his words before. “I did some checking, Noon, asked around. Did you know he’s your dad’s number one hit man?”
“You did what?” I sputtered, barely able to form words myself now. “You’ve been investigating my boyfriend behind my back?”
The words slipped out. In my anger, I hadn’t really thought about what I was saying, or what effect it would have on Peter. He clenched his jaw so tightly; I thought he might crack a molar.
“Your boyfriend, huh?” he said in a quiet voice that pierced my ear like a skewer. “How well do you really know Ari, Noon? Do you know that in the year before he came to St. Luck’s he killed three times as many rogares as your dad’s former favorite? Rumor has it Karanos can’t wait to get him back in the field.” My heart dropped to my stomach. “Did you think Ari was going to graduate from here and start representing regulares with their divorce cases?” Peter laughed derisively. “He’s going to go back to what he does best. What he loves. Tracking down rogares. Do you really want to be with someone like that? You claim you want to be a healer? Well, you’re dating a professional killer.”
“How many?” I croaked, my voice nearly breaking.
Peter looked at me in confusion. “How many what?”
“How many demons?”
Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. Hundreds. Does the number really matter?”
No. It didn’t.
“What Show of Faith does my father want?” I asked Peter in a rush. I didn’t want to think too hard about what I was doing and change my mind.
“He wants to know that you’re in agreement and he wants proof that I can capably cast the spell. Oh, and the spell book. To secure the Council’s consent, your father wants me to give them the spell book as compensation for the loss of one of their future Maegesters. The Divinity’s not going to be happy about it, but it’s mine to give.
“And the trade is more than worth it,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. “I told you I had a surprise for you tonight. I do. Jonathan Aster’s spell book was full of arcane spells I’d never heard of before. There’s one in particular, you’ll love. It would be a perfect Show of Faith.” He gave me a winsome smile, his first of the night, and although it did nothing to make me feel better, I squeezed his hand, willing to cling to anything right now that might give me relief from what I was feeling.
Peter led me to the dance floor. On the way we passed closer to Ari than I would have liked. The emotions played on his face like lightning. Confusion, anger, and then, realization. He may not have known exactly what we were doing, but he was smart enough to figure out that if I was with Peter, it had something to do with the Reversal Spell. And, by the look on his face and the feel of his signature, he also correctly guessed that whatever I was about to do would lessen his hold on me.
Peter led me out onto the empty dance floor. Still holding my hand, he walked over to the band who had been playing light instrumental background music for dinner. They broke off midsong at Peter’s approach, which caused most of the guests to turn toward us. Peter stepped up to the standing microphone and turned toward the crowd. He gestured dramatically to me, riveting the crowd’s attention on me. I’d known our Show of Faith would be public, but I hated being a spectacle. I felt Ari’s penetrating gaze but kept my eyes on Peter.
“Behold Flora,” Peter said, lacing his voice with the soft sugary magic Angels used when putting on a show. “What if, instead of flowers, Flora’s first love had been an Angel?”
At those words, Ari started walking toward the dance floor. But Karanos held him back, leaning in close to say something in his ear. Ari’s only response w
as to switch his gaze to me. His stare was magnetic, as if he were daring me to look at him. But I was too scared. Scared of what I was becoming. Scared I’d change my mind about what I was about to do. Scared whatever it was Peter was planning wouldn’t work. Scared of Ari, the man I was falling in love with. The man I might have already fallen in love with. Because I didn’t want Aristos Carmine to have a claim on me. I didn’t want him to have a mark on my heart if it meant he could tell me what to do. This choice was about me. And the life I wanted to lead. And the man I might eventually choose to lead it with. Who wasn’t someone who’d killed hundreds of demons. No matter what the demons may have done to deserve it. Killing was killing.
Right?
I wanted no part of it.
Peter asked the band to play “First Blush.” The first high slow notes of the song sounded as the violinists drew their bows across their strings. Peter raised my hand with his and brought it down again, leading me into an opening bow for the crowd.
“A posse ad esse,” Peter bellowed in my direction, “corpus agito.” I drive to constant motion the body from being able to being. It was a balletic spell. Suddenly, I felt as if I’d drank an entire carafe of Summer Queen.
The traditional couple’s dance for “First Blush” was a love story. I don’t know if Peter had cast a spell over himself as well, but he was a beautiful dancer. I supposed, being an Angel, he would have to have been. After all, dance was a form of expression and we were, in fact, telling a story. So it made sense that his movements were as elegant and articulate as his speech. For my part, I felt like a marionette. The spell Peter had cast granted me balletic grace but its source was Peter, not me, and we could never share or swap magic the way Ari and I had. I knew, to the crowd, we likely looked dazzling, with me in my fiery orange swirling skirts and Peter dressed head to toe in blinding white. Both of us executed the technical, complicated dance moves of “First Blush” flawlessly, but to me, the dance felt cold.
I started having second thoughts about what I was doing. Damn Luck and his warlords too, why couldn’t I just stick to a decision and stop second-guessing myself? I looked over at Ari, still scared, but unable to just turn off my feelings. Apparently I had the same problem with my feelings as I did with my magic. At that moment, I would gladly have illuminated the entire room in a great big magical fireworks display if it would have burned off and cauterized the outpouring of feelings I still had for Ari Carmine.
He was a killer.
But then so was I, right? But I didn’t want to be. That was what this whole Show of Faith was about. Proving something to my father so that he would secure the Council’s consent and allow Peter to cast the Reversal Spell over me. Then I could become what I’d wanted to be my entire life: a warm, nurturing, life-affirming Mederi healer.
As if cued by my thoughts, the next dance move separated Peter and me so that we were each on opposite sides of the dance floor with our backs to one another. When I turned around, Peter had closed the distance between us. He stood before me holding a bouquet of white lilies, live ones. I froze as he offered them to me.
Peter had repeatedly warned me that no spell could protect plants from my direct touch. No waning magic user had ever held live greenery for more than a second. Casting a spell that would allow me to accept this bouquet without killing it would be just the thing to convince my father that Peter was powerful and erudite enough to pull off grand arcane spells. I reached for it with a shaking hand, my fingers closing briefly around Peter’s before pulling the ribbon wrapped stems toward me. I expected them to turn black before my eyes. I waited, clutching them in front of me with both hands. I realized from the lights and music that this was the closing act of our story. The audience was deadly quiet, believing my natural hesitation to be a well-rehearsed dramatic conclusion. When it became clear that my touch was not going to kill the flowers, I raised them to my nose and breathed deep.
The audience erupted. People were shouting, standing, and clapping. No one noticed my grimace before I lowered the flowers from my face. Up close, they smelled horrible. All my life I’d dreamed of burying my nose in a bouquet, but when the moment came, it had not been nearly as satisfying as I’d expected. I knew then with a certainty I’d never possessed before that I’d feel the same about any spell cast to change the way Luck had made me. The feeling was amazingly liberating and I beamed with joy. I looked up in time to catch the expression on Ari’s face.
He was stunned. Then his eyes met mine and I held his gaze. He’d always accepted me for what I was. Wasn’t I strong enough to do the same for him? Ari’s stare pierced my heart and then he turned abruptly and pushed his way through the crowd. Just before he left the room, I felt the radioactive blast of his magic. It was as if he’d held it together for as long as he could, but hadn’t had quite enough time to make his escape before he went supernova. That brief burst was so full of rage and despair that I swayed from its impact. Clearly, my Show of Faith in Peter had hurt Ari deeply.
I thrust the bouquet back at Peter. He frowned and looked confused.
“You can’t let go,” he hissed quietly, pushing the bouquet back at me.
“I don’t want it,” I said. I thumped the bouquet against his chest and when he didn’t take it, I let the bouquet fall to the floor.
Peter stared at me, aghast.
“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing the words were completely inadequate. Peter had spent a lifetime searching for a spell that would help me and now I was throwing it all away. I strode across the dance floor, looking back only once.
On the ground at Peter’s feet lay a blackened, charred, twisted mass tied with white ribbon. The spell had changed nothing, and yet, it had changed everything.
Pushing through the crowd took time. Everyone wanted to congratulate me on my performance. Those who might have been reluctant to approach me before had now clearly lost all reserve. Peter Aster’s name was on everyone’s lips. His spell had made my touch less deadly. They had no idea, of course. It had only been an unusually powerful stasis spell, affecting the flowers, rather than me. Remarkable simply because it had been forgotten for millennia. Eventually I made my way out of Empyr and into the hallway. There was no sign of Ari. I ran to the lift and frantically pressed the button. I was out on the sidewalk of Angel Street in no time.
I darted across Angel Street and turned toward Infernus. I wasn’t sure what I would say to Ari once I found him. He would just have to realize that I’d needed to be sure. That I hadn’t wanted to spend my whole life wondering what if.
What if… Ari never wanted to speak to me again?
I reached Infernus and raced up the stairs to Ari’s floor. When I stepped into the hall, it was deserted. I imagined anyone who wasn’t at Empyr for the ball had already left St. Luck’s for Beltane Break. Ari’s room was also empty. I paused in the doorway, unsure of where to go next.
Had he left for Rockthorn Gorge? Karanos had mentioned meeting at the train station. Had Ari left to catch the Midland Express? Would he leave just like that? No packing? No preparations? No good-byes? It couldn’t be good practice to hunt rogares in the state of mind he was in when he’d left the ball. That would be more than catastrophic, it would be suicidal. I gnawed the inside of my cheek. I couldn’t decide whether I was more fearful of Ari or for Ari. Was this what love did to a person?
Suddenly I thought of the Stirling, the hotel where Fitz had rented a room for the night. What if, indeed…
I rocketed down the hall and burst out of Infernus, desperate to find a cabriolet. I felt twisted up inside, turned inside out. I still had no idea what I would say to Ari if and when I found him. I wasn’t even sure I should be looking for him. I understood for the first time how love could destroy, why people like Nergal might want to put an end to their suffering. But I could no more stop my search than I could stop breathing.
I found a cab on Victory Street. The driver’s eyes went wide when he saw my demon mark, but my intended destination seemed to calm him.
Throughout the trip, I impatiently tapped my fingers on the door handle, which made the driver nervous again. When we finally arrived at the Stirling, I sat in the backseat, unmoving, while the driver held the door open for me.
“Miss?” he inquired timidly. I thought about what Ari had said, about me always being both eager and reluctant. Never had I felt either emotion as strongly as I did just then. I accepted the driver’s offered hand and lit from the cab like a dove flushed off the ground. I paid him, smoothed my skirts, and might have lost my nerve entirely had not one of the Stirling’s uniformed bellmen rushed to my side. He offered me an elbow and whisked me inside.
Inside, the Stirling was as tasteful and understatedly elegant as the outside, but I gave my surroundings little notice. The decor barely registered as I swished to the front desk, my throat tight, my hands shaking.
“Is Aristos Carmine staying here tonight?” I asked. The woman behind the reservations desk blinked at me. I saw her hesitate—I’m sure it wasn’t her practice to give out guest room numbers to strangers—but then she spotted my mark.
She nodded, her head bobbing up and down almost unwillingly. “Penthouse Suite.” I’d like to think some feeling of female solidarity convinced her to give me Ari’s location but it was probably fear if my face was showing even a quarter of the emotion I was feeling.
In less than a minute, I was standing outside the door, knocking. No one answered. I pounded louder, grateful to have something to do with my hands. If it weren’t for the pounding, they’d be shaking.
“Ari, it’s me. Open the door,” I called, feeling ridiculous. “Come on, I know the woman at the front desk called up. You can’t just ignore me.”
