Enemy of Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Protector Book 4) Page 2

  I sniffed delicately, trying to get a feel for the magical signature of the evil black smoke without taking it into myself. I’d had enough dark magic lately. I got a vague whiff of sulfur and burning rubber.

  Ares stepped forward, his hand outstretched. His fingertips collided with the black smoke and he grimaced, then pushed harder.

  “Don’t!” I reached for him.

  “Wait.” He shuddered, the magic clearly affecting him, then pushed his hand through farther. It only went an inch into the smoke. His brow creased.

  “What is it?”

  He pulled his hand back from the smoke, his muscles straining and his face reddening slightly. It took ages for him to withdraw his hand. A small bead of sweat formed at his temple, testament to the pull of the smoke. Finally, his hand popped free.

  “It’s essentially impenetrable,” he said.

  I picked up his hand and inspected it. It looked all right, at least. Strong and broad, sculpted with tiny muscles that created a topography on his flesh. “That was dangerous.”

  “I’m in the company of a dangerous woman,” he said. “Some of that must have rubbed off.”

  I glanced up at him. “You were plenty dangerous before you met me.”

  A seductive smile tugged at his lips, just briefly, before he turned to the barrier. “This is very wrong, whatever it is.”

  I swallowed hard, cursing myself for the moment of flirtation. My mother and father were trapped in there. “We have to save them.”

  “Then we need to determine what this barrier is made of. It’s a spell of some kind—a dark one. But for what purpose?”

  “We need a sample of the barrier. Maybe someone can help us determine what the spell is.” I called upon my conjuring power, letting the magic flow through me, and envisioned a glass vial with a cork. The bottle appeared in my hand a moment later, and I uncorked it. “Cross your fingers that this works.”

  I was operating on guesswork as I pushed the bottle through the smoke. Pain sliced up my fingertips as they collided with the black mist. I shoved hard, finally getting the mouth of the bottle into the smoke so that the black mist could flow into the glass. Ares was one serious badass—or masochist—for sticking his whole hand in there.

  “I think that should do it.” I pushed my other hand into the smoke and corked the bottle without withdrawing it from the gray barrier. When I pulled the whole thing out, the vial was full of smoke and the magic heated the glass.

  Ares took my hand and kissed the back. Then he took the other and kissed it.

  My heart warmed. “Are you fixing my boo-boos?”

  “Boo-boos?” He frowned, confused.

  It was adorable.

  “You know, when children scrape their knees and their parents kiss it away?”

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Ah, yes. Yes I am…fixing your boo-boos.” A wry laugh escaped him. “If only it were that easy.”

  “If only.” I looked back at the gray smoky barrier and the people within. What were they doing in there? Were they okay? “Then maybe we could fix them.”

  Chapter Two

  We arrived back in Magic’s Bend moments later. Cass and Del weren’t visible through the windows of P & P, so they must have headed off to Dr. Garriso’s office at the museum.

  I turned to Ares. “We need to take the sample to Darklane. I have some friends there who can help us.”

  “An upstanding citizen like you, with friends in Darklane?” he said.

  “Hey, I only break one rule.” Being a FireSoul. “And I can’t help that.”

  He nodded. “To Darklane we go.”

  I gazed longingly at Fabio, parked right on the side of the street, then turned to Ares. If he were willing to transport us, which he clearly was, we’d save valuable time. I reached for his hand, and he took mine, drawing me close.

  The ether sucked me in as Ares transported us to Darklane. Despite it being a reasonable hour—eight thirty in the morning—the streets were dead quiet. The old Victorian buildings, which were coated in centuries of black grime, looked like they were sleeping off the bender of a lifetime.

  The streets stank vaguely of dark magic, and the sun filtered weakly through gray clouds. Though it’d been sunnier back on Factory Row—and no doubt in other parts of town as well—Darklane didn’t tolerate things like sunlight and fresh winter breezes. This place was trapped in the mire of dark magic.

  “This way.” I led the way down the narrow, cobblestoned street. Darklane was one of the oldest parts of town, and unlike the Historic District, the upkeep had been lacking.

  We passed no one as we walked toward Apothecary’s Jungle. The sign above the door swung creakily in a nonexistent wind.

  “You’re friends with Aerdeca and Mordaca?” Ares asked.

  “I am.”

  “Brave woman.”

  “All of us.” I began to climb the stairs. “And if they can’t help us, I have another friend who possibly can. Aethelred the Seer. He lives a few doors down.”

  I was about to knock on the purple door when a creaky voice sounded from behind me. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s too early to appear without an offering.”

  I turned. An old man with a white beard hurried down the street toward us, a greasy paper bag clutched in his hands.

  “Aethelred. Speak of the devil.” I stepped down to greet the old seer. As usual, he was dressed in a blue velour tracksuit with his beard tucked into his trousers. Cass had once said he looked like Gandalf on his way to senior aerobics, and I couldn’t agree more. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waking the beast.” He cackled and held up his bag. “Mordaca and I have a weekly date for a walk along the ocean, but she’ll only get up early if I bring her bacon sandwiches.”

  “Mordaca?” As far as I knew, the grumpy blood sorceress didn’t wake before noon. And the idea that she had a standing exercise date with the old seer? Kinda blew my mind.

  “We like to gossip.” Aethelred winked.

  “I guess you know the best stuff, given your profession.”

  “And so does she, given her contacts.” He turned sharp blue eyes on Ares. “Who is this?”

  “This is my friend Ares, Enforcer for the Vampire Court.”

  “Ah, I see.” Aethelred held out his hand.

  Ares took it and shook. “Good to meet you.”

  At the contact, Aethelred gasped softly, his gaze riveted to Ares.

  “What is it?” Ares demanded.

  “Nothing. Nothing.” Aethelred shook his head and stepped back, concern creasing his already well-creased face.

  “You had a vision,” I guessed. “About Ares.”

  But it hadn’t been good, if his expression was any indication.

  “Tell me,” Ares said. “I’m happy to pay you, as I understand it is your work.”

  “Ah.” Aethelred looked toward Mordaca’s door, clearly desperate to get away from us.

  “We’re going there, too,” I said. “So there’s no escape. What did you see, Aethelred?”

  The old man grimaced. “Fine. But no payment. I didn’t want to see this, and I didn’t go looking.”

  Dread chilled my fingers and toes, stretching everywhere in between. “What is it?”

  Aethelred sighed and looked Ares straight in the eye. “You will lose what you love most in this world.”

  I gasped, my heart plummeting to my feet.

  Ares’s expression did not change, though his eyes may have grown slightly colder. Or maybe I was imagining that.

  “What do I love most?” Ares asked the question almost like he didn’t know.

  Suddenly, I wanted to know the answer to that. Was desperate to know.

  “I don’t know,” Aethelred said. “That’s up to you. But beware. It will be gone. So you’d best appreciate it.”

  Holy fates. I swallowed hard, searching Ares for any sign of distress. I found none. Boy, would this dude be good at poker.

  “What’s taking you so lon
g?” A smoky voice demanded from the doorway.

  I turned to see Mordaca standing on the stoop, leaning one impressively curvy hip against the door. She was wearing her usual apparel—a plunging black gown that looked like she’d stolen it off Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. With her black bouffant and sweep of black eye makeup, I wasn’t entirely certain she didn’t take all her style cues from Elvira, straight down to the black painted claws adorning her fingertips. She looked fabulous, in a terrifying way. The fact that she was going to walk the beach in that getup made it all the more impressive. I wouldn’t put it past her to wear heels.

  Mordaca’s sharp eyes met mine. “Why are you here?”

  “We need help,” I said.

  She frowned, eyeing the bag of bacon sandwiches. “This is going to make me delay my bacon, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry.” And I really was. If something kept me from chowing down a cheese sandwich, I’d be pretty annoyed, too. “But it’s important.”

  “That’s the real problem, isn’t it?” Her dark gaze was too knowing, and I remembered how frightened she’d been of the magic contained in the beaker. She’d sensed Drakon’s evil then. No doubt she’d sense something dark here as well.

  “Bring them in!” Aerdeca’s sweeter, lilting tones echoed from inside the house. “You’re taking all day.”

  Mordaca beckoned us with her black-tipped fingernails. “Might as well.”

  We followed her into the house and through the hallway to the workshop. Aethelred trailed behind, harrumphing about the delay to his walk.

  Unlike the last time I’d been there, it was silent and empty, the party having long since disbanded.

  Aerdeca waited for us in the workshop, wearing her usual fabulous white pantsuit. Her blonde hair was slicked back from her head in a modern style that I didn’t have the skill for but admired all the same.

  Aerdeca looked at me. “You’re not here for a good reason, are you?”

  “No.”

  She frowned, drumming her white-painted fingernails on the counter. She, too, had filed them into claws, the only external indicator of how dangerous she was. People often made the mistake of thinking she was the nice sister.

  Ha.

  There was no nice sister. But they were good people, despite being scary bitches. And I meant scary bitches as the highest compliment.

  I held up the vial of black smoke. “We need to know what kind of magic this is. It forms a barrier over a town, and the magic feels dark.”

  “That’ll cost you,” Mordaca said.

  “I know.” I held out my wrist. “I’m willing.”

  Ares pressed my arm aside. “Let me.”

  I shook my head. “Really. I’ve got it.”

  “No.” Mordaca pointed to Ares. “Him. Vampire blood will be stronger.”

  “Excellent.” Aerdeca smiled, though it was more a revealing of fangs. Her teeth might’ve been blunt, but they had the attitude of fangs. Though her sleek, white pantsuit looked out of place in the old-school witchy workshop, the feral grin looked right at home.

  “It’ll also cost cash,” Mordaca said. “I assume you’ve defeated whatever evil was in the beaker and we’re back to normal? The paying kind of normal, I mean.”

  “I doubt it.” Aerdeca’s brow wrinkled.

  “Unfortunately, Aerdeca’s right.” I shot her a wry look. “Though your lack of faith stings, quite frankly.”

  She laughed, but it wasn’t a joyous sound. “It’s not a judgment of your ability, but rather the evil’s strength.”

  “Well, you’re right. He’s still out there. All I managed to do was kill his mortal body. Apparently his true form is that of a big black cloud dragon.”

  “So basically, you’re screwed,” Mordaca said.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “That’s probably not too far off the reality.”

  “This’ll be bad,” Aerdeca muttered.

  “Understatement.” Mordaca gestured for the vessel.

  I handed it over.

  She inspected it, holding it up to the light and peering at it. “Tell me about this.”

  I explained the situation with Elesius and the smoky black dome. They listened intently until I was done speaking, then Mordaca turned to Aerdeca. “We’ll use fire, I think.”

  “Agreed.” Aerdeca bustled around the room, first opening the windows and then gathering silver scissors and a wooden bowl. She stood on her toes to reach the bundled herbs hanging from the ceiling and snipped some off, collecting an assortment that I recognized from my own gardening. What their magical uses were, however, I had no idea.

  Mordaca gestured to Ares with a black dagger. “I’ll need your blood.”

  He stepped forward, arm outstretched. Mordaca held an onyx bowl beneath his wrist and made a careful incision in his flesh. Ares didn’t flinch. No doubt he was used to far worse. The blood dripped into the bowl.

  “That’ll do.” Mordaca handed Ares a cloth and withdrew the bowl.

  Ares pressed the white fabric to his wrist and came to stand near me. Aerdeca crunched up the herbs and poured the dust into Mordaca’s bowl, then mixed it with Ares’s blood. I wrinkled my nose. Blood sorcery was so not my thing.

  Mordaca turned to us. “Okay, this is going to be a group activity. The nature of spells like this—incorporeal ones—is that we have to use fire to get a sense for the magic. Otherwise, just uncorking the bottle means that we’ll lose the black mist.”

  “What do we have to do?” I asked.

  “We’ll all gather around the hearth. I’ll throw the vial of magical smoke in, along with the herbs and the blood, and then the spell will be revealed to us. Pay attention and let me know what you feel or hear or see. We all might have a different interpretation.” She looked at Aethelred. “It’s a good thing you’re here. You can help with this.”

  Aethelred grinned, his dentures a shiny white in the low light of the workshop. “Be delighted to.”

  Aerdeca walked to the hearth, which lay dormant. There were no logs or other fuel, just a blank stone fireplace. She reached above the mantle and withdrew a pinch of something from a bowl, then tossed the glittery silver dust into the hearth. Flame burst to life, blue and bright. It settled down to a more normal orange, flickering in midair. I could see the stone ground beneath. Magic made this fire burn.

  Aerdeca turned to us. “Gather round.”

  I moved toward the hearth, standing a few feet back. Ares and Aethelred joined me, standing at my side. Mordaca stepped up beside Aerdeca, the glass vial clutched in her hand.

  “On my count.” Aerdeca held the bowl out, clearly ready to toss. “Three, two, one.”

  Aerdeca tossed the herbs and blood into the flame at the same time Mordaca hurled the glass vial into the fire. The glass shattered against the ground under the flame. Immediately, the fire turned black.

  Smoke began to fill the room, billowing toward me. Within moments, it had filled the air, darkening the space. My breath caught in my lungs as I tried to breathe. I gasped, desperate for air, but I got nothing.

  I started to turn toward Ares to ask if he felt the same thing, but I couldn’t move an inch.

  Panic welled in my chest. I was frozen solid! My heart raced as I strained against the magical bonds. In front of me, Aerdeca and Mordaca stood still as ancient trees. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out no movement in Ares or Aethelred. We were all stuck.

  My heart thundered, the only part of me that could move.

  Desperate, I tried calling on my magic. I had to have something that would get us out of here. But it lay dormant inside me. Dead, almost. And weaker?

  Could I feel my magic at all?

  The panic nearly blinded me. I couldn’t move. My mind buzzed as I tried to scream, to put up any resistance at all. Nothing worked. I was fully stuck.

  Around me, the smoke began to dissipate as the fire died down. Slowly, I was able to move my arm an inch. Then my leg. It took a while, but I finally broke the bonds, stumbling to my knees a
nd gasping. Mordaca and Aerdeca fell as well, but managed to catch themselves against the hearth mantle.

  I clawed at the table and pulled myself upright, turning to see Aethelred doing the same. Ares stood still as a statue, his gaze stark and his skin pale.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked.

  “The spell.” Mordaca frowned, her brow creased.

  “That’s what the people in Elesius are feeling?” I asked.

  “Yes.” Aerdeca shuddered. “Hopefully not as strongly as we felt it, but they could be.”

  My heart ached for my family as desperation filled me. “We have to stop it. What is it?”

  “It felt like a freezing spell. Definitely,” Mordaca said.

  “An ancient one.” Aethelred leaned heavily against the table. “One that was developed hundreds of years ago.”

  “You can use your seer powers to read a spell?” I asked. Though Aethelred was a powerful seer, he couldn’t see all. No seer could. But what he did see always came true.

  “I can. And this spell, it has a long and dark history. One that will be utilized to horrible effect in the future.”

  “Like right now,” I said.

  “Exactly.” He grimaced. “That was dark, dark magic.”

  “How did this happen?” Ares asked. “The spell had to be intentionally cast, correct?”

  Aerdeca nodded. “Yes.”

  “By who?” Even as I asked it, a terrifying guess rose in my mind. Though there was no proof, no evidence, and no obvious motive, it was obvious. “It has to be Drakon.”

  “Drakon?” Mordaca frowned. “Is that the name of the great evil that enchanted the beaker?”

  “Yes. He did it, didn’t he?”

  “We can’t say for certain,” Aerdeca said. “But the magic was as dark and as evil as that which stained the beaker you brought us.”

  I looked at Ares. “It has to be him.”

  “We don’t know that. But yes, it could be.”

  “Why, though? They must be frozen for a reason.”

  Ares shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  The others shrugged, brows creased.

  “How do we stop this?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mordaca said.

  “This type of spell can be cast in many way,” Aerdeca said. “Determining how it was done will help you break it. Or even learning why it was cast. What was the purpose? These are clues that could help.”