Make Jack Fae? Cenrick wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. Experimentally, he attempted to move. Now he was able to raise his head a little. Not enough. But something.
She must have noticed the hope that flared in his eyes or the tiny movement of his chin. A moment later, shaking her head, she readjusted the dial, immediately zapping at his recently returning strength.
In the space of a heartbeat, he was reduced to jello again, a quivering, mindless lump.
He couldn’t help it – he groaned. When he did, she chuckled.
“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. “Now where was I? Ah, yes. Mick wanted to make Jack Fae, believing this would cure him. Meanwhile, Jack’s slowly dying, and Mick’s getting more and more frustrated with his lack of success.”
A sound escaped him. Could he still talk? He took a deep breath, deciding he could at least try. “You. Made.” Deep breath. Again. “Machine. To. Take. Fae. Souls.”
Delighted, she nodded. “Is that what your people are calling it? Stealing their souls? I love it!”
Peering at her, he wished he had all his facilities. The odd thing about Natasha was she didn’t seem to realize her own evilness, or to consider the impact her machine had on an entire race.
Clearing his throat, he attempted to gesture with one hand and couldn’t. But, he could still speak. “Where. Are. We?”
With a frown, she looked around her sterile laboratory/workroom. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. I mean, what are you going to do? Once I’ve taken your magic, I’ll send you back to Rune just like the others. Only this time,” she came closer, stroking his arm. “I’ll go with you.”
“Why?”
She laughed, an awful sound. “With your soul, and one other I mentioned, I’ll have enough magic inside me. None in earth or Rune will be able to best me.”
Rune? What was she planning?
She gave one more twist of the dial and energy coursed through him. Everything went gray, then black.
When next he woke, head throbbing, he was alone. Still strapped into the machine, still feeling his soul being dragged from him slowly, grudgingly. Worse, he was helpless. Powerless to stop Natasha from using him as the vehicle to gain access to his entire people and his home.
Only one thing stood between this evil woman and her plan.
Dee. Was she all right? Had she escaped the trap unscathed? He had no way of knowing.
Unless… Concentrating, he managed to move his hand up to feel his left front pocket. The lump of hard plastic told him he still had his cell phone, the one Dee had given him in case of emergency.
Gritting his teeth, he got his fingers into his pocket, slowly pulling the phone out by the stubby antenna.
Now, to focus. Concentrating was difficult with everything so blurry. The phone face was small, the metal under the plastic cover seemed menacing. Speed dial, Dee had said. Remembering to punch the on button, he went through the sequence she’d shown him.
* * *
Dee called a taxi and headed home. Once there, she paced and paced, trying to think. They had Cenrick and were no doubt beginning the process of making him Soulless. She had to find him. But how.
A sound stopped her frantic pacing.
Cell phone.
Groping in her coat pocket, Dee located the thing and pressed talk. “Hello?”
Breathing. Heavy breathing.
Good Lord. A prank caller, in the middle of the night, on her cell?
About to end the call, Dee caught sight of the caller-id. The number belonged to the prepaid cell phone she’d given Cenrick.
“Cenrick?”
In response, the caller made a sound.
“Cenrick, is that you?”
“Yes.” This time, the single word came across loud and clear, though his voice was so strained she knew speaking had been a major effort.
“Where are you?”
“House,” he mumbled. “Her house. Garage.”
Her house. “Whose?”
Silence.
“Cenrick? Are you there? Speak to me.”
Nothing. He’d either passed out or given up.
Her house. Natasha. Dee couldn’t remember her last name.
Moving quickly, she grabbed the folder she’d made earlier. Here was the print out from her first search. Natasha Klein. Great.
Quickly, she turned on her computer and signed on to her internet provider. Bringing up TAD, short for Torrent County Appraisal District, she clicked on search properties by name. A second later, she had an address.
Natasha had purchased a home in Teller. She jotted down the street name and house number. Getting there would take twenty minutes, maybe less.
She could only hope she wasn’t too late.
Grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she snatched her car keys off the dresser and headed for her car.
* * *
The machine slowly ripped away his soul. Fighting silently, Cenrick resisted, with every nerve ending and cell that made up his body. But still, the machine droned on, the lights flickered and dimmed, and Natasha paid him periodic, gleeful visits to check on the progress.
Each time she came by, she turned down her creation and gloated. Though he didn’t understand why, she seemed to think a Prince’s soul would be more powerful than any others.
He was so mind-fuzzled, he wasn’t sure if that would prove to be true or not.
Thirsty, he burned and he shivered. The room felt freezing, subzero temperatures, as though soul-stealing didn’t need to be done in the midst of the fiery flames of hell.
The light came on, flooding the darkness with over-bright wattage. Through blurry eyes he tried to watch as Natasha crossed the room once more, her high heels tapping sharply on the concrete floor. Glancing at him, she checked the machinery, twisted a knob, entered some numbers into a laptop computer, then sat back and smiled with satisfaction.
Ready to gloat again.
He wondered if he had enough of himself left for his hatred of her to blaze in his eyes.
From the over-bright smile she gave him, he rather doubted it.
“Almost done.” Her cheery voice grated on his nerves. “Soon, very soon, you’ll belike all the others. I promise you won’t feel a thing.”
Glaring at her with all the rage he could summon, he licked his cracked lips and tried to form words. “What… will… you… do… with… me?”
Coming close enough for his nostrils to flare at the acrid scent of her perfume, she leaned in and brushed hair away from his forehead. “Why, I’ll be taking you home, beautiful Cenrick. To Rune. You and I will travel there together. I can’t wait to pay that Oracle a visit.”
Rune. A shudder went through him. She wanted to go to Rune to destroy his people, his home.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Couldn’t. Let. Tired. So exhausted. His eyes drifted closed. No. He couldn’t let her win.
But then, he was so weak, so feeble. How could he stop her? No hope left.
Dee.
Again, he closed his eyes, for only a moment, just for a second to gather his strength. But time passed oddly when he was in this state and when he opened them again, the room was dark and Natasha was gone.
* * *
Dee drove like a madwoman, for once disobeying the speed limit signs, glad of the super-duper radar detector Peter had given her. Highway 377 was deserted this time of night, and she made it to Teller in fifteen minutes.
It took five more to locate the street.
Even if she hadn’t jotted down the house number, she would have had no difficulty finding Natasha’s house. The eerie glow, exactly like the way Mick’s had, would have clued her in.
As she had when the machine had been at Mick’s, she parked several houses away, on the opposite side of the street. There were only two streetlights here, placed at each end of the curved street. The middle remained dark, except for the glowing house.
Glad of the relative darkness, she checked her revolver, click
ed off the safety and reholstered it, grabbed her flashlight, and headed down the sidewalk.
Reaching the side of the house, Dee slipped around the side, locating the fence gate. Either Natasha had been careless or supremely over-confident, but the gate wasn’t locked. Dee could only hope her luck would continue to hold.
Once in the backyard, she drew her gun and proceeded towards the back door. Halfway there, she realized the low humming sound she heard came from the garage. The only way in was through the house or front garage door.
She opted for the house.
Jimmying the back door lock with a credit card was simple – Natasha hadn’t bothered to upgrade her security.
Dee slipped into the silent house.
The glow emanated from the garage. Moving silently, Dee went through the laundry room, knowing there would be a door there. She turned the knob, stepping into the garage.
And came face to face with Natasha. Beyond her, she saw the machine, and Cenrick, unconscious.
Both women froze.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Dee smiled grimly. “And I promise you, I’m an excellent shot.”
“The final piece,” Natasha said, staring at the gun with shocked frozen in her colorless eyes. “How is this possible? You’re Fae. You shouldn’t be able to hold a metal gun.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” The other woman’s voice rang with certainty. “You are Fae. I can tell.”
“How? You’re human. How do you know I’m Fae?”
“Thanks to your friend Mick and his brilliant, though misguided, plans, I have my machine.” Natasha spread her thin arms. “I’ve taken on Fae powers. I can see your aura. You can’t hide what you are, not from me.” Her gaze sharpened, full of icy rage. “Now tell me how you are able to hold that gun.”
Ignoring her request, Dee forced a laugh as she edged closer to Cenrick. He’d been aware long enough to see her enter the room, but now he’d dropped his chin back on his chest.
“Turn off the machine.”
Flexing her bony fingers like claws, Natasha stared. “No.”
Dee raised her weapon. “Do it, or I’ll shoot.”
Though pale, Natasha stood her ground.
“I mean what I say,” Dee told her. “Turn it off right now or I’ll shoot you and do it myself.”
“Even as I’m filled with power, the machine should weaken you, destroy you. Just like all the others.” Fury rang in Natasha’s voice. “How can you be powerful enough to withstand it?”
Ignoring the question, Dee started counting out loud. “If I get to five, kiss those Jimmy Choo shoes you’re wearing good-bye.”
The blonde woman didn’t move. “Any moment, you should succumb to my creation. Then I’ll have you, and you’ll be the final Fae to give me their magic, at least here in the human world.”
“You don’t listen.” Dee shot her in the foot.
“Yoooooowl,” Natasha shrieked as blood spread across the floor. “Metal bullets. I’m Fae now… I…”
“I can kill you with one final shot, human or Fae,” Dee said coldly. “Now, turn off the machine.”
With a snarl of rage, Natasha lurched forward and punched a command in the keyboard of her laptop. Immediately, the sickly yellow glow vanished. The machine’s whirring hum subsided to a low drone, before becoming quiet.
“It is off.”
“Good.” Keeping her weapon on the other woman, Dee went for Cenrick. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot to kill.”
Nodding, the other woman fumbled for a towel, wrapping it around her foot and trying to keep the blood from spreading.
One eye on Natasha, Dee fumbled with the restraints, trying to free Cenrick one-handed. He didn’t stir, though the rise and fall of his chest told her he still lived. She could only hope she wasn’t too late.
As her hand brushed his chest, tugging at the buckle, he opened his eyes. “Touch. Me.” His raspy voice tore at her heart. But at least he could speak. The machine hadn’t yet robbed him of his mind.
“Touch me.”
Then she remembered. Her touch gave him strength, dispelling the awful effects of the evil machine.
“Cenrick.” She laid her hand alongside his beloved face. He felt so cold, bloodless. “Come back to me.”
Her foot successfully wrapped, Natasha laughed. “He’s too far gone for you to help him now. Even if you free him, I’ve already taken most of his soul. I can feel his magic and power filling me, more powerful by far than all the others I’ve taken. I have him now. He cannot regain what I own.”
“I don’t believe you.” Weapon still trained on the other woman, Dee kept her hand on Cenrick’s icy skin, praying warmth would return to him. His heart beat steady and sure. As she touched him, the skin warmed, became a healthy pink, then his normal tan. Dee swore she could feel his blood heating under her hand.
“He will come back to me.” The look she gave Natasha carried a promise. “Then we will deal with you.”
“You know,” the other woman sounded thoughtful, “I was wrong about you. They said you were important; that I should take you out first.” Natasha’s ice blue eyes were hard. “But I didn’t believe them. He’s a prince, much more powerful. You,” she looked Dee up and down contemptuously. “Are nothing.”
“Do you want me to take out your other foot?”
The blonde laughed. “I have Fae powers in my human blood. I heal fast.”
Then, with a snarl, Natasha rushed her.
No choice. Trained as a police officer to act instinctively, Dee squeezed off a shot, aiming at her shoulder. She didn’t want to kill her, only wound her.
She planned to make certain the other woman stood trial in Rune, assuming the Fae bothered with such things.
The bullet dropped Natasha in her tracks. She staggered back with a bloodcurdling scream. Clapping her hand to her shoulder, she stared in stunned disbelief at the blood spreading on her shirt. She lurched to her feet, weaving unsteadily.
Her narrow gaze found Dee. “You’ll pay for this.” She lifted her hand. “I can summon magic to destroy you.”
“Can you?” Cenrick’s voice rang out, much stronger. “Even magic has rules. Be careful what you do, Natasha. The wrong use of such power can destroy the untrained.”
Bony finger wobbling, the blonde woman looked from one to the other. “Like I should believe you?”
She sang out two words.
A bolt of energy lashed from her, knocking the gun from Dee’s hand.
Dee screamed, shaking her fingers. Though she saw no flames, her hand burned.
Natasha lurched after the weapon, grabbing it up with her bare hand. “Metal still does not yet harm me.” Keeping the gun on Dee and Cenrick, she moved in the other direction. Towards the laptop.
The controls of her machine. She meant to turn it up full blast, to take Cenrick’s soul once and for all.
Dee started to pull away from Cenrick, to go after her. Cenrick moved then, his hand coming up and gripping her wrist. “Don’t.”
“I’ve got to stop her.”
“No. She’s got a gun. Stay with me.” His fingers tightened and the burning sensation faded. “I need your strength, your protection. She doesn’t know the machine can’t harm me now that you’re here.”
At the keyboard, Natasha typed in a command. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot. Though it would be a shame to waste
The lights dimmed. The machine hummed. The glow flashed on, a low thrum, growing louder and more insistent as it intensified.
“We’ve got to stop her.”
“How?”
“Can you use magic? Cast a spell, bring her down, or knock the gun from her hand like she did mine?”
He cast a dubious glance at the machine. “I can try.” Still gripping Dee’s wrist, he shouted out words in his native language. A spell.
Dee waited for the lightning bolt, the glow, something.
Instead, Natasha, the room, the machine, all vanished.
They sto
od in the Fae field of flowers. As she took this in, Cenrick crumpled to the ground.
Something had gone monumentally wrong. Instead of taking Natasha out or getting the weapon from her, his magic had somehow sent them to Rune.
Weakened, casting that spell had used up the last of his strength, the last of his magic.
She could only pray that selfless act hadn’t finished him. That her touch could, as he believed, save him.
Chapter Sixteen
DROPPING TO her knees, she felt his neck, frantically searching for a pulse. Nothing.
Oh God, no.
He couldn’t be dead. Not Cenrick.
“Cenrick?” No answer. “Breathe, damn you. If you want to live, then breathe.”
With an awful shudder, he did as she asked. Inhaled, dragging air into his lungs. Then he blew the breath back out, ending in a gut-wrenching raspy cough.
Alive. At least he was alive.
This time, she located a heartbeat, weak and erratic. His chest continued to rise and fall, reassuring her he still breathed.
“Come back to me,” she urged. “Cenrick, please. Look at me.” She could only pray that when he opened his eyes, he would not be soulless. Natasha could not have won, not so easily. She refused to believe this.
A shadow fell across them, blocking out the faint sun.
“What has happened?”
Dee glanced up. The silver-haired Mage stood ten feet away, staring down at Cenrick. “Mort. Thank goodness. We need your help. Please, can you heal him?”
The mage shook his head. His image wavered – something was wrong. He looked different. Insubstantial. “I cannot. What has begun to take him has grabbed hold and his soul is damaged. Only the other half of him can restore him.”
Alrick, his brother? She wanted to weep. “Then bring him the other half.”
“Touch him.”
She laid her hand alongside his cheek. “I am.”
“Only you can help him. If you want him to return to himself, you must bring him back. Touch him. Touch him with all of you.”
Missing Magic Page 19
