My slow-beating heart made a sideways, painful jerk. She was exhausted, ill, vulnerable--and still she had fought my brother for me. Oh, why must such courage be contained in such a fragile vessel?
I walked back to the bee station and chanted in time with my footsteps, "Befriend many, serve some, trust few, love none."
It did no good. The feeling remained, and I feared it was stronger than a crush. This admiration and devotion ran deep into my being, as deep as the hole where my soul had been--the emptiness that made me a lich. My severed soul adored her--but so did my cold, logical mind. This should not be possible.
I sat among the beehives. My friends swirled around me, and alighted on my clothes. "Hello Mal," they sang. "You are better. Why are you sad?"
"Tell me what happened when Robert met Libby, before I arrived."
While she had faced death, I had limped through the orchards, one grim step at a time, afraid I was already too late.
The bees told me all that had transpired. Libby's magical capacity amazed me. Even as ill and depleted as she was, she still managed a magic blast to rival any Marcher.
I clenched my fists and looked at the cloudy sky. "Weather or no weather, she shall be healed tomorrow."
***
Morning dawned hazy with clouds, but blue sky showed through. Perhaps it would become clear later.
I filled my pockets with chalk and rowan powder, and roamed the canal banks. It was a lovely place--lonely and quiet. A blue heron hunted among the reeds on the far bank, his long, snake-like neck poised to strike at fish or frogs.
My bees darted from the nearby trees to me and back again, offering advice.
"The life is strong in many places! What about here? Or there?"
I studied the water's flow and the plentiful weeds along the steep embankment. The canal was man-made, and yet teemed with life. And where there was life, there was magic.
But there were plenty of dead plants, too, and decaying leaves and insects. Death motes had their place. They performed a useful function and sucked the life energy out of dying creatures, hastening death and decay, always subtracting.
Life magic returned afterward--new plants growing from the compost of dead things, or providing food for living animals. It was a constant cycle, push and pull, life and death. Balance.
Magic was the same.
Supernatural creatures like Robert or myself were created by tampering with our souls. The soul is the breath of life--the part that keeps our bodies awash in life. The spirit is the source of the personality and the sentient mind. But if a skillful death mage--a Necromancer--twisted the soul, they stopped the natural flow of life. Like a stapled stomach, the unfortunate being could no longer properly ingest the amount of life motes necessary to keep the being alive. Instead, they had to feed directly on life sources--other people. Thus, a vampire is born.
A lich, on the other hand, has his soul stripped away entirely, leaving a spiritually bleeding, empty hole. This void fills with death motes, as the body attempts to die. But the soul remains tied to the body with a magic I do not understand, preventing death. The death magic builds, and attracts huge amounts of life magic, giving liches incredible strength and power, while simultaneously multiplying their misery. It is depressing to watch everything you touch wither and die.
Most liches mitigate their draw by using it to raise thralls to gather life magic for them. There is a reason most liches become necromancers.
But instead of thralls, I opted for bees. I did not have to use death magic to raise them, and their companionship kept me human. Eating life-imbued honey so balanced my death magic that I could touch living things without killing them.
Still, I was a lich, and if I disliked the trouble my emotions gave me, I could remove them.
I hid my puzzle box behind the air conditioning unit at Libby's house. Robert would not think to look for it there.
With my soul at a distance, my warm feelings faded. Libby was a wonderful girl, but involvement with her was too dangerous to continue. I would heal her and depart.
Befriend many, serve some, trust few, love none.
My cold, logical mind chewed through the reasoning behind my ill-fated attraction--for even without the puzzle box, I thought about her constantly. Libby was nothing more than a friend. Healing her was serving her--but I must not trust or love her, for trust and love had been what led to my lich conversion in the first place.
***
Libby arrived in her golf cart at noon, when the sun was bright and warm. She had made an effort to dress today--jeans and a sweater rather than a baggy sweat suit. She was so thin, she had almost no figure. Her pale skin against her dark hair and eyes made her look ghostly, as if she'd already succumbed to the infection.
Once that happened, next came thralldom. It would not happen to Libby.
She gave me a weary smile as she stepped out of the cart. "Hi, Mal. You're looking Malevolent today."
Weak but still retaining a sense of humor. My distant soul sang. "Hello Libby. Are you able to climb the canal bank? I've decided on the most powerful spot."
I helped her up the steep slope to a circle marked with twigs. "Sit down. This will take a few minutes."
She sat with a groan of relief.
My chalk would not draw on dirt, so I had crushed it into powder. I sprinkled it in a circle around her, and marked the compass points with rowan.
Then I had to play the part of a Marcher, and walk a border to seal the magic in with her. I carefully walked a ring around her, clockwise, and had to cross the canal in two directions. I used the bridge one way. Returning, I ran with supernatural speed and jumped the water. It was only fifteen feet, but Libby applauded as if I'd crossed the Grand Canyon.
My heart swelled with emotion I shouldn't have been able to feel.
Once I completed my circle, I returned to Libby and knelt beside her chalk ring. I concentrated my death magic on the four compass points--tiny amounts--and gave it a nudge. It began to pull magic into the circle, and Libby's own death motes drew the life into her.
She inhaled and lifted her head. Pink flooded her cheeks. "This feels amazing!"
I held up a hand. "You're not well yet. Shh."
I had not eaten any honey in so long that my own death magic pulled at the life like a suction pump. It took all my concentration to control it. My sluggish heart began to pound, and sweat prickled on my back. If I became distracted, and my own power fed on the surrounding life, I would kill everything for acres.
But I would have so much power, I could raise the dead.
Therefore I focused on Libby and tried not to dwell on what might happen. She beamed at me. Life motes sparkled all over her face and hands, golden, like living fairy dust. The sun glanced through the white cumulus clouds that sailed overhead. The ambient life magic strengthened as plants drew life from the soil, and nature exulted in the shift to spring.
Unexpectedly the magic flow slowed and swirled, as if tugged in another direction. What was this? I was not drawing it off--it was as if a person were dying nearby and life motes were being consumed.
Libby glared over my shoulder. "Robert, get lost."
Fear and hatred combined within me like sodium and water. I spun around.
Robert stood at the foot of the canal embankment, the sun shining on his perfectly-groomed blond hair, wearing a white grin like a mask. But his death aura rippled about him like a cloud of black gnats, reaching toward the trees, the grass, and especially Libby. What had happened to make him so strong?
I slid down the embankment. "Robert, you must leave at once. I am in the middle of a rite."
His grin widened. "I know. That's why I came."
My hands doubled into fists. "Are you trying to destroy Libby?"
"Yes, because it'll destroy you."
Shock sliced through my hatred like a spear through boiling water. "She was your girlfriend!"
Robert's smile warped into a sneer. "She's not anymore." He swept one arm t
oward me.
Invisible force struck me in the chest and hurled me into the tops of the almond trees. I crashed through white blossoms and branches that clawed my flesh and broke beneath me. I finally struck the ground and lay still for a moment, stunned.
"Mal!" Libby shrieked.
I whipped to my feet as if her voice was an electric shock. Robert leaned against the outer circle that I had walked. Both hands flattened against it, as if a wall of glass stood there--then it gave way, and he stepped toward Libby and the chalk circle.
The outer circle should have repelled him. How was he so powerful? Had he killed someone and drank all their life?
Robert kicked at the chalk circle with the toe of one sneaker. Libby stood inside, teeth bared and fists clenched, unable to stop him.
I leaped up the embankment. "Not during a rite! No!"
He broke the circle.
The incoming life magic and the death magic pulling it lost their alignment. The circle exploded in sheets of dust, and a shockwave that threw Robert and me backward like leaves in a tornado.
Libby's scream tore my heart in two.
Chapter 10
Libby
When the magic exploded, it was like sitting on TNT. The world jolted, shattered, spun briefly through empty space--then crashed back together.
My body vibrated like a bell, and a ringing noise echoed in my head, like speaker feedback. I opened my eyes. I lay face down, and dirt crunched between my teeth. I lifted my head and moved my arms and legs. Everything worked, but I'd be sore later. Cautiously I sat up.
The explosion had kicked up a massive cloud of dust, and I couldn't even see the orchard twenty feet away. But nearby were the sounds of scuffling feet, blows, grunts, and swearing. I was still so befuddled by the explosion that it was a while before I identified the noise--Mal and Robert were duking it out.
I coughed in the dust and wiped my eyes. The partial healing remained inside me, and I stood up with more strength than I'd had in days. But the marsh grass along the canal was brown and wilted. Was that supposed to happen?
A breeze cleared the dust. Robert had Mal pinned against the embankment with his hands around his neck. I drew a sharp breath, and hot rage flooded my chest.
Robert had tried to kill me by breaking the magic circle. He'd bullied me, sucked away my health, broken my dog's leg, and stabbed Mal. I clenched my teeth on sand and looked around for a sharp stick I could use as a stake. What a time to leave my knife at home. The only weapons available were rocks.
I did have the shell necklace in my pocket.
I pulled it out and put it on, then grabbed a rock. "Hey, jerkwad!"
I'm a pretty good shot. Robert looked up, and I bounced the rock off his forehead. He swore and reeled backward. Mal sprang to his feet and shot me a grateful look.
Robert charged toward me, but Mal tackled him and they hit the ground, kicking and punching. It made my stomach squirm. It's one thing to read about violence, or watch it on TV. But to see two people you know doing their level best to hurt each other--it's nauseating.
Robert was stronger than his brother. He threw Mal around like he weighed nothing, and Mal's blows glanced off him. Had Robert been sucking blood in preparation for this fight? Or was Mal still weakened from his stab wounds?
I gathered a pile of smooth, heavy river rocks and hurled them. Each one thudded into Robert's head or shoulders, and it was immensely satisfying. Not many girls can say they've thrown rocks at a vampire and lived to tell about it.
My assault only made him punch Mal harder. After he took a stone in the eye, he grabbed Mal and threw him into the orchard's treetops. Mal crashed through the branches, snapping them, then hit the ground and lay still.
A tree limb would make an effective stake through the heart. Maybe that's why they kept tossing each other in there. But Mal couldn't die unless his phylactery was destroyed ... which meant that he could be hurt an awful lot. When he didn't move, my heart began to thud painfully. "Mal!"
Robert stalked toward me with a toothy smile. "What, you think he can save you? You're smarter than that."
I held up the shell like a crucifix.
"Oh, come on," he laughed. "I'm beyond being hurt by a seashell. I'll just snap your neck and we'll call it even."
I didn't answer him. Part of me whispered that he wasn't serious, that this was the guy who bummed money off my mother, and spent hours on our couch in front of the TV. But there was a bright intensity in his eyes that I'd never seen before, like an animal with rabies.
I backed away from him, my breath coming faster as my body advised me to run. He followed me along the canal bank. Mal still lay in a heap, unmoving. I was alone.
Robert's hands flexed, as if anticipating the kill. "Nice rock throwing, by the way."
My heart crawled up my throat, but I managed to reply, "Too bad I forgot my wrist rocket. I'd have put holes in you."
His smile seemed painted on--a mask designed to fool pretty girls. His entire friendly facade had been an act. I had fallen for it and dated him, like who knows how many others. What a moron I had been.
His steps slowed, as if the shell's power still hurt him, despite his mocking denial.
I called, "Uh, Mal? A little help?"
Mal turned his head and slowly began to roll over. He was really hurt this time.
Robert followed my gaze, and laughed. "He can't help you. I've gotten power from the Necromancer." He raised his voice, so Mal could hear. "Try summoning your stupid bees again. I'll suck every particle of life from their miserable bodies." Then he gave me the strangest look--almost sorrowing. "That's why I'll kill you this way instead, Libby. I've let you suffer for too long, and now it's time to end it."
He lunged at me faster than my eyes could follow, knocking the shell aside. His sweaty hands closed on my neck and shoulder with the strength of a backhoe. He wrenched my head sideways.
The bones in my neck made a hideous crunching sound.
Then I was lying on the ground, looking up at the clouds. My neck hurt like it had a knife stuck in it, but the rest of my body was gone. No feeling. Nothing. Had he torn my head off? I tried to scream, but my mouth didn't work. I lay there in horrible limbo, without breath, without movement. God, help me!
Robert's face came into view, with his lip thrust out in a pout, as if he'd broken his favorite toy. "Sorry about this. You'll die soon, don't worry."
Mal bellowed, "Libby!" His voice cracked, as if tears had choked him.
I wanted to yell that I was alive, and they might still fix me if I got to a hospital soon. But my throat had a terrible cramp in it.
Robert moved out of my line of vision. "It's over. I snapped her neck like a twig. Go back to Pennsylvania and play with your bees."
"No." Mal's voice was so soft I could barely hear it. "You will suffer as she did."
The ground shifted as if an earthquake had hit. The orchard rustled. The breeze rose to a wind that rushed past my face, and birds flew away, chattering alarms.
Robert began to scream.
I concentrated on moving my mouth. Whatever Mal was doing, it was terrible--and all because he thought I was dead. Again I tried to force air past my lips, but nothing happened.
Something black swirled past the sky. Dust? No, more like ash. Death motes. I was seeing them without Mal's viewing device, so I must be almost dead. But more and more motes rose until they blotted out the sky with blackness. Frigid cold touched my cheeks. Whatever was happening, it was bad. I tried to get up, to run, but I could only move my eyes.
Why did Robert keep screaming like that? He sounded like he was impaled on a spit, roasting slowly over hot coals. Although, come to think of it, that was too good for him. My feelings seemed so distant--all I felt was a sort of vague inconvenience. Why didn't Mal hurry up his revenge and help me? Holding my breath this long was making my vision turn red, and once I blacked out, I wouldn't wake up again.
The screaming stopped. There was a lot of ominous crunching
and ripping, and the ground shook as if someone was delivering heavy blows to someone else. I closed my eyes. Maybe it was a good thing I couldn't look.
Silence fell. Someone panted in the distance. Then footsteps climbed the embankment toward me. I opened my eyes.
Mal leaned over me. His outline blurred into smeary black, like the man in the fog, but the motes didn't reach for me. Maybe I was too far gone. I tried to cringe away, but all I could do was squint.
His eyes widened. "Libby, you're alive!" He smiled for the first time--a real smile of elation. It infused his thin, pointed face with human warmth--heck, he was cute, even. But the black motes ruined it--he was simply too menacing.
His cold hands slipped under my neck and his smile vanished. "He did break your neck." His voice faltered, and he blinked rapidly, as if holding back tears. "I'm sorry, Libby. I'm so, so sorry."
I thought he was sorry that Robert had hurt me. But he was actually apologizing for what he did next.
He placed one hand on my forehead and cupped the other around the back of my neck. Then he pushed. The blackness in the sky, and the blackness around him, both swirled downward into my face.
I went blind. Nothing but darkness, deeper and deeper darkness, like sinking in the ocean. I tried to scream or struggle, but my body was gone.
The black shaped itself into dead things. Dead leaves, curled and brown. Dead mice and birds and snakes and insects, all dry and skeletal. Dead trees, leafless, their bark peeling off. I was drowning in death.
"Hold on," Mal whispered nearby. "It's only for a moment."
I struggled to trust him.
Wintery cold. It worked through my arms and legs, as if my veins were filling with liquid nitrogen. My muscles shivered. Wait, I could feel my body! Had he fixed my neck? But my arms and legs still refused to move. The chill spread inward, freezing my organs, headed for my heart.
Oh no, not my heart. I'd read the books--that was how they made monsters. "Mal, stop!" I screamed inside my head.
Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) Page 11
