Authors: Ann Macela
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Suspense
Wild Magic (7 page)
As Alton’s torture went on, Bruce felt a familiar stirring in his magic center—his now warm center. Gone was the frozen lump of ice. His own portion of the Stone was responding, reaching out to help its severed third. Magical energy coursed through his body until he felt like he could take on the world. There was clearly no way he could help his cousin—he couldn’t see whoever was killing the other Stone, and Alton had gone beyond speech to incoherent cries.
Maybe what was happening to Alton didn’t matter. The influx of magic infusing Bruce’s brain and muscles was conferring new powers. He could actually feel his knowledge, abilities, and spells growing. When the Stone granted them the power to read the red book, the process had been pleasurable. This gift surpassed the previous ones by a magnitude of hundreds or thousands—ecstasy.
As he watched his cousin writhing on the floor, Bruce smiled. When he found out who was behind the attack, he now possessed the ability to destroy them. He intended to take every iota of pleasure out of doing so.
Suddenly, Alton went stiff, arched his body so only his shoulders and feet touched the floor, and screamed, a long, drawn-out wail of anger and pain and despair. Bruce thought he heard another deeper cry, this one coming from under his feet where the secret room lay. An immense sorrow engulfed him for a moment. Then Alton collapsed—out cold or dead.
Bruce knelt beside him and put his hand on Alton’s neck, searching for a pulse. Just as he found a faint beating, the door flew open, and Sedgwick, the butler who had been with the Finsters since before Bruce was born, burst in, his robe askew, his thinning hair flying.
“What’s the matter, Mister Bruce? What’s wrong with Mister Alton? Was he screaming? It woke me up. It sounded horrible.”
“Call 9-1-1, Sedgwick. Alton’s had some kind of a fit. Don’t worry about anything except him. I’ll take care of everything else.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Fireballs and lightning bolts came at Jim from every direction, singeing his body as they passed. A black hole was opening at his feet, and he fought against its pull, scrabbling backward on a slick, uneven surface and losing ground with each breath.
He couldn’t get his shield up, couldn’t fight back.
The hole grew bigger, the surface became slicker, and the darkness got blacker. A flame burned at the bottom of the well.
He was sliding into the horrible pitch-dark maw, when a brilliant white light speared past him and blew the hole to smithereens.
He yelled and woke up, gasping for air and sweating like he’d just run out of hell.
“Holy shit! What was that?” he mumbled while he hauled himself out of bed and into the bathroom. After splashing cold water on his head and chest and drinking some out of his cupped hands, he felt a little better.
He staggered back into the bedroom and flopped on the bed. His breathing and his heartbeat still weren’t back to normal, and he rubbed his aching, itching breastbone.
He peered at the clock. Three in the friggin’ morning. He’d only been asleep for an hour and a half.
Where had his crazy dream come from? Black holes? This damn case was a black hole. Finster’s activities all by themselves were enough to give him nightmares—already had, as a matter of fact.
If he’d found the right information last night, however, he would look forward with great relish to seeing the bastard brought to justice. If they couldn’t catch him outright in drugs or weapons smuggling, they would catch him the same way they caught Al Capone—tax fraud and evasion.
Jim had delivered the flash drive copy to the office after he left Finster’s, and the techies went to work on it immediately. As ordered, he’d phoned the task force head to report his success, and Ken Erlanger had praised his work.
But ... Jim had left out part of what had happened in Finster’s study. He couldn’t bring himself to mention the redheaded woman—who glowed. He had to learn who she was and how she fit into the mess before he told anyone about her. He had to see her again.
Because? Because another hunch was driving this decision. One of the most powerful he’d ever had.
At first, the guys in his police squad and then the Drug Enforcement Administration and now a combined task force had ridiculed him for his intuition, his premonitions, his out-of-left-field notions like he was a weirdo or a charlatan. When his hunches started to pay off, everybody shut up. Next, they were asking his help.
Sometimes he wondered where his ideas came from. They didn’t really come all that often, and the big, solve-the-case ones didn’t show up until he and the others had gathered reams of information. It was like the data had to sit in his brain and percolate, drip down from his subconscious. He’d be doing something totally unrelated when, all of a sudden,
wham
, and everything was laid out in his mind like rolling out a carpet.
wham
, and everything was laid out in his mind like rolling out a carpet.
Having a quick strong hunch, like with this woman, was rare. Something would be behind it. What, he didn’t know—yet. Could she be the real key to nailing Finster?
He almost let himself follow the road of wishing he’d had a quick hunch about his sister—hell, any hunch about his sister. Almost. He shut off the thoughts, stuck them behind the wall in his mind, and remortared the stone. Finster would pay for what he did to Charity. Patience and good police work were the keys.
He turned over, punched the pillow, rubbed his itching sternum, and willed himself to sleep.
In a private dining room at four in the morning, Irenee took a break from stuffing herself and looked up. Everybody in the room was eating like they hadn’t seen food in a month. One of the wait staff brought her favorite dessert, warm fudge cake and raspberry sauce. Could she truly eat more? When the warm chocolate smell hit her nose, she realized of course she could.
Because energy in the human body was caloric and spells required use of that energy, she’d known she needed to eat to maintain her Sword powers. She never expected, however, to be eating like a teenaged boy or a farmhand. On the other hand, she could indulge her sweet tooth. She’d probably lost five or ten pounds in tonight’s endeavors. Maybe a hot-fudge sundae would top off her appetite—after the cake, of course.
The food was definitely helping her headache, and she didn’t feel at all wobbly anymore. She hadn’t been the only one to fall over when the Cataclysm Stone finally died, so she wasn’t embarrassed by her fainting. Two team members and two backups had also.
She did feel somewhat guilty and chagrined about relaxing her guard for the moment when the black flame almost burst out of the Stone and hit her. Her training had emphasized the need to maintain concentration. Better to face her lapse, learn from the mistake, and go on.
Turning to Fergus sitting at the head of the long table next to her, she waited until he put down his coffee cup before speaking softly. “Listen, I’m sorry I almost blew it.”
His bushy eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about? When?”
“I made a mistake, relaxed when I shouldn’t have. When the facets first started dying, I jumped to the conclusion the Stone was much weaker than it actually was. It almost got loose, and it was my fault.”
“Nonsense. I was assuming the same thing. The attack surprised me, too. No, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“But—”
“Hush, Sword. You did your job.” He smiled at her. “I, for one, am very proud of you. We’ll have to test your level again. From the way your sword changed colors, I think you went up during the battle.”
A little thrill of excitement zinged through her when she remembered the color changes. At the same time, praise from her mentor choked her up so much she couldn’t get a word out in return—not that he gave her the chance. He stood up and clinked his spoon against his water glass.
When he had everyone’s attention, Fergus said, “We have done some great work tonight. Thanks especially to those who answered our call for help. I’ve never had an item cause so much unexpected havoc. I particularly call to your attention the actions and abilities of Irenee Sabel, our newest team member. Her blade was pure lightning. I doubt very much I could have risen to the challenge the way she did at the same stage of my career.”
Someone started clapping, and the entire group rose to applaud her.
The praise totally discombobulated her, and it took all of her control to say simply, “Thank you,” and not burst into tears. Her father, standing next to her, gave her a hug.
Fergus waited until everyone was seated again before speaking. “We should be proud of all of us. However, I fear we are not finished with the power residing in that Stone.”
Unsure what he meant, Irenee stole a glance around the table. Several Defenders were nodding. All looked worried. She sat up straight as tension from her center tightened her muscles.
“I would venture a hypothesis,” Fergus went on. “First, the remainder of the Cataclysm Stone, the larger portion, has
not
been lost to history. And for the sake of argument, let’s propose only one other piece exists and the original has not broken into multiple parts—a nightmare we definitely don’t need. Second, this other piece is close by. Third, someone other than Alton Finster has it.”
not
been lost to history. And for the sake of argument, let’s propose only one other piece exists and the original has not broken into multiple parts—a nightmare we definitely don’t need. Second, this other piece is close by. Third, someone other than Alton Finster has it.”
Several Defenders nodded in agreement.
“Here is my reasoning: Usually, once facets or other physical attributes of an item start dying, that’s its death knell. It will continue to fight, but only with defensive, not offensive action. This Stone, however, attacked us, Irenee specifically, after its facet decline. Therefore, it had help, more power from a different source, which could only logically come from its mate, the other piece. The missing remnant, larger by Glynnis’s extrapolative measurements, probably more powerful as well, still lives. The proof is in the scream at the end that went on after the reduction to ashes. While I’ve had many an item cry at its end, I’ve never heard a sound so late or with an echo. Does anyone disagree with my theory so far?”
John Baldwin spoke up. “I concur with the defensive versus offensive action also. I’ve never seen one begin to lose mass and then come back. Let me point out also, the aid from the other remnant pierced all our shielding on the building, in the D chamber walls, and in our pentagon fortress to reach the smaller piece. I’ve never heard of such a possibility in modern times, although I can think of a couple of legends telling of similar powers. We may be very lucky the monster is in pieces.”
“That brings up my second point,” Fergus said. “It has to be close by. How close, we can only guess. The most powerful items, whether good or evil, can have effects from halfway around the world. In the hands of a very high-level caster, an intact Cataclysm Stone might have been one of those.”
“Remember, we’re dealing with a damaged Stone,” Glynnis interjected. “The broken items I’ve come in contact with in previous encounters have always been less powerful than the whole. The distance over which they could act was also greatly cut. Furthermore, the pieces of an item give off different vibrations from each other. Having felt the original vibrations when Finster was casting and then from the item we had, I can confirm they are one and the same—identical modulations, identical energy. Wherever the larger piece is, I have not directly felt it—yet.”
“Exactly,” Fergus acknowledged. “Before we get into actual distance, let me bring up the third point. Someone other than Finster possesses the remnant. If Finster did have the other piece, why wasn’t he casting with both for greater power? Why was only one piece in the bag Irenee brought back? I think someone else has the greater section, and Finster knows who.”
Mary Ann, the team’s healer, spoke up. “We’re all aware destruction of an item harms its possessor. For those of you who have only dealt with much weaker items, let me point out demolition can physically damage brain cells or the magic center. Destroying the stronger ones can trigger various psychoses and cause a total breakdown. Doing the same for the ancient monsters can kill. After what we all went through, Finster has to be in much worse shape. He may not be able to tell us anything, now or ever.”
“I’ll send someone over to Finster’s to see what they can find out. Would anyone like to estimate where the other remnant is?” Fergus asked.
“I think it’s somewhere close to Finster,” Irenee’s father said. “I’m willing to bet he’s had the thing for a number of years because of the magnitude of his criminal activities. You don’t build a sizeable organization in a day. Neither do you create it without a lot of power. Those actions imply, if not a whole Stone, certainly pieces of it working together and/or a partner. And another question, was this accomplice on the other end of the line, so to speak, casting at us during destruction?”
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