by Dodge, Lola
Pushing and pressing, we threw everything we had into the flames, and then kept pushing harder, offering everything.
Anything to stop the god from waking.
The CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK echoed like Everest splitting down the middle. Wynn’s grip turned into a yank. He tore me away from a falling rock wing.
The other wing fell after it.
A landslide of rock followed. The statue’s face crumbled. Its shoulders rained down boulders.
Wynn dragged me away from the spraying stone, but both of us were stumbling. I was about to ask where he thought we were going to escape to when stones started falling from the ceiling.
Light beamed through the cracks.
I glimpsed blue sky before the world exploded.
Twenty-Four
Wynn and Carrot both wrenched away from me, and for a split-second there was nothing but primordial-soup blackness. My body and soul stretched and warped.
Like everything I was had been scrunched into a gumdrop and squeezed through a pasta press.
Only faster.
Rolling, pressing, pressing, rolling.
And then I was flying.
I landed in dirt, skidding and scraping through shrubs and sage bushes. I didn’t stop until my back connected with a bush, knocking the last breath of air from my lungs.
I couldn’t feel the sting.
I could only lay and gasp, flinching against the cloud of dirt I’d kicked up.
Searing sunlight burned my eyes. And the hum of the vortex hit me like a full-on roar.
Bat screeches condensed into a screaming chorus and the sun disappeared. Hundreds and thousands and millions of bats blotted out the sky. Brown and black and white bats, most of which belonged nowhere near this climate.
The little bat I’d sheltered in my arms gave itself a shake and then jumped into flight, following its family.
I hoped they’d all find their way home.
Coins rained down in a golden hail.
Tugging myself free from the sage bush that had wanted to trade its trunk for my spine, the sting finally hit. I was battered, bleeding, my arms and clothes torn.
But I was free.
I crawled from the bush and made it to my knees. “Wynn?” My voice was weak. I cleared my throat and tried to call louder. “Wynn? Carrot?”
The sunlight was too bright after so long underground. I couldn’t see where they’d landed.
“A vacation?” I couldn’t stand without wobbling and my familiar was taking a vacation? But I started walking.
I scowled, finally pointed in the right direction. “You could just lead me.”
“Sure.” I managed not to grumble. I was alive. I was out of the cave and the guano nightmare.
Now I just had to find my bodyguard.
And a shower. The longest shower of my life.
Wynn lay on his back, lucky to have landed on a patch of long grass instead of a bush. His eyes were closed.
Sucking in a breath, I dropped to my knees.
“Wynn?” I shook his shoulder. I’d thought if I was okay, he must be fine too, but I hadn’t gotten a clear look at him earlier. His arms were ragged with cuts, shallow and deep. More cuts ripped through his shirt. More blood. I couldn’t tell how much was his and how much belonged to the bats. “Wynn.” I shook him again, more urgently.
If he didn’t wake up… I glanced around. Spotted Fiona’s house.
My phone. I needed my phone. I started to rise, about to run for 911.
Wynn’s eyes creaked open. He blinked, dazed.
I fell back down and patted his shoulder. “You okay?”
“I’ll live.” Slowly, he eased up onto his elbows.
I helped as much as I could when I was halfway tipping over myself, and he didn’t fight against me. Both shaky, we found our way to our feet.
Wynn eyed the stream of bats pouring out of whatever portal still lingered over Girrar’s trailer. The actual trailer was just a few fingers of mangled metal.
Drifts of gold spilled out and spread like sand dunes.
Too much to carry. Too much to keep.
But plenty to pay off debts.
Together, we stumbled closer. I nudged a pile of coins with a toe. “I need a bigger cooler.”
“We’ll get a wheelbarrow.” Wynn crouched to scoop a handful of gold and his face lit like I’d never seen. His smile was weapons-grade, bright enough to melt the air to plasma and burn the image of his lips deep into my retinas.
Warmth and relief and a few other things I couldn’t name moved inside my chest. “We’ll get a truck.” But smiling back at him tipped me over the edge and it finally hit me how much magic I’d burned. I dropped to my knees. “Maybe first we’ll get an ambulance.”
We spent two days in the hospital, getting medical care from the doctors and under-the-table healing from Jane, but there was no magical cure for rabies so we’d be in and out for shots the next few weeks. We probably should’ve stayed in-patient a couple more days, but Wynn finally swung full Lifetime movie and impatiently yanked out his IV.
I waited for a nurse to remove mine like a normal human being, but I was almost as antsy as he was for our date with Zedock.
I might’ve called Fiona to oversee the negotiation, but she was at a spa retreat on the mountain and couldn’t be reached by the Syndicate. No time had passed outside while we were stuck in the bat god’s hell cave, so they hadn’t even known we’d been trapped.
The Syndicate had called in a hazmat team to power-wash Fiona’s house and drag the remains of Girrar’s trailer off her land. They’d also taken a hefty cut of his treasure stockpile. Mostly to pay off the vamp coven. Agatha said we were lucky the vamp queen wasn’t calling for our blood after killing one of her minions.
Even so. We’d walked away with plenty of treasure cover Wynn’s debt.
I hope.
Zed’s office sat next to a real estate agency in the middle of town. It felt beyond weird to unload our coolers of treasure in the parking lot while minivans passed by.
Wynn vibrated like a tuning fork, so tense he made my palms sweat.
It would be stupid to tell him to relax when his whole life was on the line. Instead, I shook my lunchbox full of treasure like a maraca, drawing his attention. “This much gold has to be enough.”
“Yes and no.” Wynn’s glare slipped toward the office windows.
“Why?”
“Zed doesn’t play fair.”
I’d worried the same. But if this guy was greedy enough that he’d consider chopping Wynn up for money, he couldn’t say no to a dragon’s horde.
My pulse picked up when we headed for the door, Wynn rolling two treasure-packed coolers. The others, we left in the car.
Inside, the office looked so normal it was wrong. Zed’s receptionist sat at a desk in the front room. She had a row of plants and picture frames lined next to her computer and offered us a warm, welcoming smile that totally masked the we-trade-in-little-boys aspect of her business.
“Wynn. And you must be Anise?” The woman stood, smoothing her perfect, business-casual shirtdress. “Zedock is waiting for you.” She led us to the connecting door and waved us inside.
Zed’s desk was three times the size of hers, plunked right in the middle of the room. He sat behind it in a massive chair topped with a set of gold wings so elaborate I was almost positive it was a salvaged throne.
I’d only met him the once, but his energy had creeped me out then and even now, it felt like wet garbage dragging over my skin. Zed was handsome in a silver fox kind of way, with a neat beard and his gray-streaked hair slicked back, but it was the same creepy pleasantness as the secretary. A s
hiny appearance that tried to mask a rotten heart.
A tiny shudder slipped out of me and Zed’s smug smile said he’d noticed.
“Wynnstynn.” He thwacked a file onto the desk. “And our Wise heiress. What brings you to my court?”
Like he didn’t already know? “We—”
Wynn squeezed my shoulder. Shook his head. “We’re here to negotiate my release.”
“Why would I release my best Shield?” He leaned his chin against his hand, giving the distinct impression he was screwing with us. I started to step forward, but Wynn moved in front of me.
Two rickety wooden stools sat in front of the desk. Wynn took one and I followed to the other. It tipped under my weight.
I’d bet all the gold in my lunchbox Zed had purposely shaved down one of the legs. Wynn must’ve sat in the hot seat before because he had no problem balancing.
I was the only one rocking back and forth.
“Are you going to let me buy out my debt or not?” Wynn’s gaze could’ve chipped diamonds.
Zed smirked. “Just your debt?”
“My family’s debt.” Wynn gritted out the words.
I bunched my hands into fists, resisting the urge to set this asshole’s desk on fire. He was getting the money he was owed. Why be a jerk about it?
Zed tapped the paper on top of his file. “You owe me a lot of zeroes, kid.”
“I know.” Wynn’s fingers dug into his knees.
Kid? I stood, knocking back the crooked stool and emptying my lunchbox onto Zed’s desk. Gold and loose gems spilled over his files. “This is a pound of treasure. We’ll give you two-hundred pounds to settle the debt.”
Zed brushed aside the coins like ants and ignored a raw emerald, plucking up a translucent blue crystal. It wasn’t a quartz and it wasn’t any other gem I recognized, but I’d left it and its friends in with the treasure because whatever they were, they sparkled like a jewelry showroom.
“What’s the balance of gold to gems?” Zed rolled the crystal between his fingers and then lifted it close enough to squint into.
“It’s all a mix like this.” And from his tone, I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. Did he want more gold? More crystals?
He set down the crystal, his expression giving nothing away. “Becky,” he lifted his voice, “bring in my seal chest.”
I snuck a peek at Wynn. He leaned forward, his gaze practically burning the papers that Zed pulled out of a desk drawer, but he didn’t look angry. If anything, hope glowed in his eyes.
“So you’re agreeing?” I practically bounced on my toes.
He ignored me, flicking his fingers at his secretary, who struggled to balance on her heels while she hoisted a heavy metal box onto Zed’s desk. At his touch, it unlocked with a series of clicks.
He pulled out a long knife and a fancy incense diffuser that looked like a fat goblet with a carved lid.
What was that for?
He took off the lid, but instead of pulling out incense, he rolled up his shirtsleeve. My stomach clenched at the sight of crisscrossed scars. Some were faint white lines, others barely healed red slashes.
How many Shield contracts had he made? How many Shields were still bound to him?
Zed sliced his arm and dripped blood into the bowl of the diffuser. Then he offered Wynn his knife without wiping the blade.
Wynn gave that the glare it deserved and pulled out his own knife, slashing between the half-healed scars of our vampire bat battle royale.
I hoped it was the last cut he’d have for a while.
When his blood dripped onto Zed’s I thought I heard a sizzle.
Zed grabbed the diffuser and covered it before I could be sure. When he flicked his fingers, a definite crackle sounded and smoke curled through the burner’s holes. It smelled like fresh-forged copper, sharp and metallic, and it hit my throat the same way as burning cooking oil, making my eyes burn.
While I coughed, Zed lifted a stack of papers into the twisting smoke and muttered an incantation. The papers smoked without flame, their edges curling black. Wynn gripped the edge of the desk.
I covered my mouth and held my breath.
When the papers were fully black, they crumbled to ash. The remains fell into a smoking pile on Zed’s desk, and Wynn fell forward, balancing his head between his knees.
I dropped to my knees at Wynn’s side and grabbed his wrist. His pulse pumped like he was running from wolves. “Wynn?”
He tilted his head to peek at me. His complexion looked like a half-set egg white, but his brilliant toothpaste-commercial smile knocked my breath away. “It’s gone.”
A tingling started in my fingers and spread up my arms. He looked so happy, I couldn’t help wanting to hug him. I let go of his wrist before I did something stupid.
“If my treasure haul’s off by an ounce, I’ll take the difference out of his flesh,” Zed said the words like he’d announced he was going to lunch.
I wobbled on my heels, but fire burned inside me. “He’s not yours to screw with anymore.”
“Oh? Is he yours?” Zed’s mocking smile made me want to ash his desk.
“He’s not anyone’s. Come on, Wynn. Let’s bring in the rest of the treasure.” I helped him to his feet and he swung an arm around my shoulder for balance, letting me guide him. It felt so oddly comfortable. After all the times he’d protected me, he was finally letting me pay him back.
Only after I’d helped him into the front seat did he start to push back. “I’ll grab the rest of the coolers.”
“Let me.” I nudged him, and the fact that he fell back into the seat said exactly how deep having the contract removed had drained him. “They’re on wheels and you look like you just donated plasma.”
I shut the door before Wynn could argue.
It took a while to haul the coolers in one by one, but I dropped the blood money in Becky’s office and left without turning back. I was sweating when I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Wynn’s head had sagged against the window and his breath moved slow and deep. He didn’t even flinch when I started the car.
I smiled.
We’d both finally have some peace.
Twenty-Five
When we got back to Agatha’s, Wynn didn’t stir even when I poked his shoulder. I rolled down the car windows and left the garage open, leaving him to catch up on his rest.
I had something I needed to do.
Striding past the withered stretch of sage bushes, I headed for the house kitchen. Agatha sat propped on cushions in the breakfast nook, reading a Beverly Jenkins paperback next to a three-tiered afternoon tea spread. She set down her cake. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.” And I should’ve known better than expecting her to be concerned. “So is my magic.”
“Then whip me up some tea snacks.”
My gaze shifted to the jam-packed stand of scones, petit fours, and tiny sandwiches with their crusts cut off. She already had enough to host a full tea party, but I’d been planning on baking anyway.
I started the macarons first. They wouldn’t be textbook because I’d go crazy if I had to wait that long, but after making who knew how many of them, I’d gotten scary efficient. And I wouldn’t usually work two different spells at once, but this time, I wanted to give my magic as much a chance to tangle as possible. So, I whipped off a batch of sugar cookies during the wait parts of the macaron recipe.
But my magic didn’t tangle.
When I finally had two cool-enough-to-eat batches of goodies, I brought one of each over to Agatha. “One spell for death and one for happiness.”
Agatha let her fingertips hover over the matte-black macaron but didn’t need to be warned not to take a bite. “Let me see your hand.”
Her gentle fingers touched the rainbow-splotch from Carrot’s bonding. I hadn’t told her about my new familiar. She moved her palm parallel to mine, and when our magics sparked, I was pretty sure the cat-bat was out of the bag.
My power was still
mainly the red-orange of cozy hearth flames, but now my magic had a rainbow shimmer and the subtlest, softest hint of blue. “There’s no green. Why can I still cast the death spell?”
Agatha drew back her hand and the glow of magic cut off. She broke the sugar cookie and popped a piece into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully instead of answering.
“Why?” I jammed my hands into my pockets.
“You think you can experience what you experience and not be changed? You went through the fire again, cupcake. Never expect things to be the same on the other side.”
I let out a heavy breath. Agatha wasn’t wrong, but this wasn’t how I wanted my magic to grow. “But the sugar cookie’s okay?”
“Cupcake.” Her eyebrow arched. “You think I would’ve taken a bite if it was cursed?”
Obviously. “I mean is it good? Can I come back to work?”
“I’m curious…” Agatha lifted the macaron plate to eye level and squinted at it. “What other recipes should we test, you and I?” Her voice dripped mischief and her smirk meant worlds of trouble.
It was the kind of offer where my heart said YES and my brain said RUN. I’d already been burned playing with magics that were beyond me. If I kept sticking my hand in the fire, what did I think would happen?
But…
My heart grew so big it sucked the blood away from my thinking brain. “I’ll bake any recipe you’re willing to teach me.”
Agatha’s eyes lit. “I’ll see you on the morning shift. Dark and early.”
I practically melted with relief. Finally. I’d be back in the bakeshop. Back to my classes. Back to something like normal.
Agatha slipped away while I burned the murder macarons in ritual flame. I did the dishes and helped myself to her leftover tea cakes. I was sealing my sugar cookies into a baggie when the back door opened.
Wynn stepped inside, so groggy he rubbed his eyes.
“Feeling better?” At least now his complexion looked less like melted candle wax.
“Yeah.” Wynn’s arms dropped to his side. “I have to pack.”
“You’re moving out?” The words sounded too high in my ears. “So soon? To where?”
“A few of the ex-Shields have a house.”
“But the current Shields…” I’d saved a spare pound of treasure, which wasn’t enough to buy anyone else out of their contract. But the idea of leaving anyone else indebted to Zed turned my stomach into an acid pit.
