Allie Beckstrom 09 - Magic for a Price (22 page)

Sliding among the shadow and light were the Veiled. Flashes of watercolors, pastel shades that had once been people and were now shabby opalescent reflections of their lives. Hungry, lost, and restless.

They stirred as we passed, looking our way with empty pits where their eyes should be, mouths open. They were silent. They were always silent. But they did not move toward us, did not follow us.

Almost, I felt as if I were the ghost in their world. Felt that as I walked that long ribbon of gray concrete toward the shadows, this might be a dream. I might wake up and find myself curled in bed next to Zayvion in a
world where dead magic users didn’t possess their daughter’s mind, where friends weren’t crippled and mutated by magic, where immortal monsters didn’t walk in flesh hunting down Soul Complements and killing them.

But I knew this was not a dream. It was a living nightmare. And it was up to us to make sure the good guys won.

Even if we weren’t standing by the end of the fight.

The crypt was off the path, tucked up against several old cedar trees. We’d been here before, well, Shame and Terric and I had been here before. Zay had been in a coma then. We’d closed the Death well, thinking it would stop the spread of Veiled.

Boy, had we been wrong.

“How do we get in?” I asked, eyeing the iron-worked fence that surrounded the crypt. There were so damn many Veiled, I was having a hard time seeing through them to the actual building.

“Let Shame and me handle that.” Terric paced back to the middle of the roads that met from east, west, north, and south.

He chanted the words to an old blues song and a flood of gold white light poured out around him.

Along with the light he’d gone super-beautiful. As the magic around him grew, he shifted from beautiful to cold, then alien, burning with power.

The Veiled were suddenly still, caught by his voice, caught by the light and magic. Then they rushed toward him and lapped up the magic that poured from his fingertips and the ground around him like droplets of fiery rain.

Shame threw his cigarette to the dirt, his words carried by smoke. “Get on with it,” he said, not looking at
me or Zay. “We’ll try not to destroy the world while you’re gone.”

He walked through the Veiled toward Terric. Where Shame passed, the Veiled bowed down on one knee, reaching out hands to catch at the blackness that lashed around him like fire, as if trying to touch the coattails of a god.

Eleanor was there too, but stayed as far away from the Veiled as she could, mouthing, “Careful, careful,” over and over.

Shame stopped in front of Terric. “And you say I have suicidal tendencies.”

He turned his back on Terric, and Terric turned his back on Shame. Magic rolled to them, leaping to their call, filling Shame’s hands with darkness, and Terric’s with light. That mesmerizing loop of inhale, and exhale, magic turning from one man’s hand to the other, changing from light to darkness, like a pulse of blood between them, caught me so I could not look away.

My eyes closed.
Allison. There is no time.

Dad. He had closed my eyes. And when I opened them, I was facing the crypt, Shame and Terric behind me.

Shame whistled once, a hard piercing blast. “Fire it!” he yelled.

Magic poured in a ribbon of muted red and black, snaking across the graves, between the trees, to answer Collins’ gate device.

We needed to get in that crypt to that well to lock it down.

Zay called on magic and casually blew open the locked fence.

“Allie,” he called, holding his hand out for me.

I was walking toward him. I really was. But it was like quicksand up to my ankles. Every step was slower and
slower, harder and harder. I was sweating, hurting. This much magic, this close to me, even though the Veiled were no longer covering the crypt quite so thickly, made me feel like I was trying to breathe through a sandstorm.

There wasn’t enough air in the air, and there was way too much magic everywhere else.

Zay grabbed my hands and pressed a disk into my palm.

“You got this,” he said. His words, his strength, cleared my head a little.

Just enough that I could feel how damn much pain I was in. My skin was on fire. A part of my mind was already screaming. I hurt. Yeah, well, I was going to hurt a lot more by the end of this.

But the well would be purified. The well would be closed. The spread of the poison magic would be stopped. Portland’s magic would be shut down. And without magic, Leander and Isabelle would be vulnerable. Killable.

I wanted them killable. More than I wanted to get away from the pain.

“I got this,” I said to Zay. “Go. Open it.” My words sounded like I was underwater.

Zay pushed the door to the crypt and stepped inside.

I pulled the disk up to my chest, holding it with both hands to make sure I wouldn’t drop it. I was having a hard time feeling my fingers.

By the time I walked into the crypt, Zay had already opened the well. I swallowed back a moan as the weight of that magic dug hooks into my flesh.

Dad?
I thought.
Ready?

Yes.

Dad stood beside me in my mind, a steady, powerful
presence that bolstered me. My vision cleared, and so did my mind.

We Beckstroms were determined people when we needed to be. Stubborn as hell too.

Dad said a word or two, and the pain slipped away. It was still there. In one corner of my mind, I was still screaming, but that part of me was so far away, I could no longer feel it.

What I felt was Zayvion on the other side of the crypt, which was ten times as large as it looked from the outside, drawing magic up from the well and throwing it out to the perimeter of the room. He’d set some kind of spell to circle the room and was filling it with so much magic, the Veiled who weren’t outside gorging on Shame and Terric were here, gorging on that spell like pigs at a trough.

Which meant that here, inside that circle of protection, the magic was at least a little less concentrated, though it radiated out of the well like a roaring fire.

Dad, or maybe I, walked to the edge of the well. Stone, who had been awfully quiet this whole time, was right there beside me.

I tried to convince myself I could handle this. Too bad most of me knew I was lying.

Stone and I stopped several feet away from the well. Magic was making me a little dizzy—well, a lot dizzy—and I didn’t want to accidentally fall in when Dad took over.

Be careful,
I told Dad.
I’m not…I’m not as steady as I’d like to be.

I’ll be done as quickly as I can.

Don’t do it quickly. Do it right.

Always,
he promised.

I set my mental feet and let Dad take over. He started
the spell, drawing it with my fingertips and whispering it with my mouth.

Pain rushed at me, crashing down and swallowing me whole. I tried to hold on, to see if Stone responded to Dad’s spell, to see if Dad could also trigger the magic out of the disk and get everything all blended up and tossed into the well together.

But I was having a hard time seeing anything, thinking anything. The pain grew stronger and bigger with every syllable Dad spoke, with every line of the glyphs he drew.

Until it was an agony, and there was no escape.

I remembered falling to my knees and wondering why that didn’t hurt. I remembered wondering how Dad kept his concentration when the world was tearing apart and magic was ripping holes in me.

He was nothing if not a very determined man.

Darkness folded in around me. Even the hard shush of blood in my ears and stuttering beat of my heart were replaced by a distant cool grayness.

And then I wasn’t wondering about anything anymore.

I was walking. There was no pain. There was no worry, no sorrow. Only peace. I was content. Complete.

Dad was walking next to me, silent.

Ahead of me the world seemed to be filled with light.

The softest, most beautiful light I had ever seen.

It welcomed me, beckoned me. I knew I belonged there. In that light. I knew I would never feel pain again. I knew I would be loved.

Was that wrong? To want that? To want peace? To want comfort and ease?

And then, even that faint worry was whisked away. There was no wrong here. Everything was as it should be.

I was almost to that soft light. Just a few steps more and I would be there. Could stay there forever.

Someone stood in the light. Waiting for me.

My father. The younger him, his hair dark instead of gray, his smile kind.

“Allison Angel,” he said. “What are you doing here, sweetheart? So soon?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s nice to be here.”

“Was there no other choice?” he asked older Dad, who stood next to me.

“I still have some hope,” older Dad said. “There are factors still working in our favor.”

Younger Dad shook his head, but he was smiling. “I had hoped there would be years for you yet, Allison. We both wished things could have been much different.”

“There is still some time,” older Dad said. “Still a chance—”

“No,” younger Dad said. “It was a grand gamble, Daniel. But it is over now. Our part has been played.”

“You are wrong,” older Dad said softly.

It was a little strange seeing the two of them, or the one of him, arguing with himself. You’d think the same person would hold the same opinion. Obviously not.

Also, I wasn’t quite sure what they were talking about.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You, Angel,” younger Dad said. “We tried to give you as much as we could. So you could live a long life. But even our careful plans are subject to things beyond our control.”

“There is still a chance…” older Dad said.

“I disagree,” younger Dad said. “It is done. And you are welcome here now, my daughter. Welcome and loved.” He held his hand out for me.

Dad, beside me, did not move.

I reached for younger Dad in the light. Just a step or two, maybe three, and I would be with him. In that light. In that love. Where I belonged.

A dark figure appeared in front of the younger Dad. Wrapped in black from head to foot, darkness clung to him. He tipped his pale, pale face up, revealing eyes that burned green. Shadows slid away and I knew who he was.

Shamus Flynn.

“There,” Older Dad said smugly. “Our second chance.”

“Sorry, love,” Shame said. “But I can’t let you leave.”

He punched both hands out in front of him.

Even though his hands didn’t touch me, darkness slammed into my chest.

I screamed as pain broke over me. Too much pain.

I tried to get away from the pain, from anything that wasn’t the soft light. I took a swing at Shame, but my fist passed through him as if he were not solid.

Or as if I weren’t.

“Time to go home,” Shame said gently. He opened his arms and wrapped them around me, holding me tight.

It was cold in his arms, bitingly so. And then that cold sank in so deep, I was numb and didn’t feel anything at all.

“Allie?” he said. “I need you to open your eyes.”

I couldn’t seem to resist. I did as he said.

Something was glowing, but the glow wasn’t coming from Shame. We were standing in complete darkness. I glanced down, still in Shame’s arms, trying to find where the soft glowing light was coming from.

The beautiful, fragile light glowed where my heart should be.

Zayvion.

It was the promise he had planted inside of me, the
memory of us together that I could never lose. I didn’t want to walk into any other light. I just wanted that. Wanted Zayvion. Wanted to be anywhere he was.

Shame placed his cold, cold fingertips under my chin and tipped my face up so he could gaze directly into my eyes.

We were so close, we could kiss. Not that I’d ever thought of him that way before. But right here, in this…wherever I was…I wondered if a kiss would make this all go away. Make everything peaceful again. Let me rest. Forever.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, Shame’s concerned expression was broken by a smile. “We won’t tell Jones you were just thinking about that, will we?”

Instead of kissing me, he turned me around so that my back was against him. His hands gripped both my arms, and he whispered in my ear.

“Do you see where that light inside you is shining out to?”

I nodded. The light was reaching toward another light. This one was harder edged and held a different promise of peace. It held love. It held Zayvion. I wanted to go to that light. I wanted to run there.

“All you have to do is take one step,” Shame said. “He’s there to catch you.”

Shame let go of my arms. And shoved me.

I stumbled forward.

But I did not fall.

“Allie?” Terric stood in front of me, his hands gripping the exact same place on my arms that were still cold from Shame’s palms. Terric’s palms were warm. So very warm.

“Terric?” I had expected Zayvion. Why was Terric catching me?

“It’s time to wake up. He’s waiting for you.”

Terric leaned forward and planted a very brotherly kiss in the middle of my forehead.

And then there was life. And there was noise.

“…give a rat’s ass,” Zayvion said.

“…fucking trust me,” Shame said.

“Got her.” That was Terric, panting. “She’s back. She’s breathing, Zay. Come here and give me the knife.”

Wait. What? Knife? I tried to open my eyes. Didn’t do it on the first go. Or the second or third. But when fingers gently brushed my hair back from my face, warm fingers, Zayvion’s fingers, I gave it all I had.

Finally did it.

And then there was Zayvion.

His face took up my world and his smile gave it light and blue skies. “Allie? You’re okay. Everything’s fine. Just stay awake. Just stay with me, love.”

“Not…” Wow, my tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds. “Going.”

“It’s okay,” he said again. “I’ve got you. Try to rest.”

And then there was movement. A lot of it. The whole—I don’t know…room?—rushing away, and darkness and light making shadows and bright spots. I thought maybe closing my eyes would help with the vertigo, so I tried it.