Anya Bast: Witch Heart

"Strange magick?" asked Thomas. "What did it feel like?"

"Odd. Foreign." Mira shook her head of long dark hair and screwed up her face. "Like nothing I've ever felt before. I can't even describe it."

"Almost like earth magick, but… twisted?"

Mira nodded. "Yeah, yeah … exactly. Waaaay twisted. Really, only a breath of earth. The rest was just off." She paused, thinking. "I could taste a little water and fire, and air, of course… but that's not possible."

Thomas surged to his feet. "It's Claire. It's got to be. However impossible that she should be lost on this side of the doorway without Rue around. I became very acquainted with her flavor of magick last spring when I was trapped on Eudae."

Adam stepped forward. "So let me go get her."

"Yes," said Thomas, "and we'll take Theo. He's got some experience with trauma and Claire's got to be traumatized if she'd been thrown to Earth the way it sounds she has."

"Theo's not exactly the best with personal relationships," Adam replied.

"Yeah, I know, but he's strong as hell. He comes."

The lights flickered and dimmed. Claire sat straight up in the chair of her hospital room, panic shooting through her. Beyond the walls of her quarters, the normal sounds of the ward intensified. The lights dimmed once more and shouting reached her ears.

Claire rose from her chair. She was alone in her room. Where they'd taken her roommate the Patrons of the Four Houses only knew.

A fine tremble had begun in her limbs. Were the Atrika already making their move? Or had her magick-laced plea for the attention of the witches fallen upon the ears of the air-inclined as she'd meant? It seemed too soon for the latter. She'd only sent her message the night before. Certainly, they couldn't be so close or mount a rescue so soon. Not if they were small in number and as weak as she was beginning to suspect.

By all the Houses, she hoped she was wrong.

Hope flickered and she quashed it. She couldn't afford to hope. She had to be ready for the worst to come through that door if she wanted to survive.

She glanced around, finding nothing she could use as a weapon. Her captors were careful to leave her room clear of such items. The only thing available to her was her tray from this morning's disgusting breakfast of runny oatmeal, dry toast, and thin orange juice served from a chemically flavored plastic cup.

Food here — with the exception of the golden cakes — was even worse than the military daaeman breed fare she'd grown up on. Marzaan was a standard gruel containing all the nutrients she needed to be healthy… except actual flavor.

She flipped everything off the tray and ran to the door.

The lights flickered again. The lock on her door buzzed and her fingers tightened around the tray. The knob turned and the door cracked ajar. Her skin prickled at the presence of other. Not completely human, whoever it was coming through. Not a nurse. Not a guard or a doctor.

The door opened enough to admit a human-sized individual and Claire stepped forward, swinging. It hit something solid with a clang. The lights flickered again.

"Ow!"

Gripping the tray, Claire backed away. Daaeman rarely said ow, especially not Atrika.

The door pushed all the way open and tall, broad man staggered forward holding a hand to his head. "I'm on your side, damn it." He pulled his hand away from his face. A red mark had bloomed in the center of his forehead. "Claire, right?"

She nodded. Aeamon. That's what he was. She could feel it now. A fire witch.

His hair was blond and stood up in spikey tufts around his head. His nose had been broken many times. Or maybe it had been broken once, badly, and had never mended right. It sat crooked in an otherwise attractive face along with dark blue eyes and a pair of expressively full lips. He wore a long black leather coat and had a black bag slung over one broad shoulder.

This man was the complete opposite of Thomas's dark, brooding handsomeness. Thomas was the first aeamon male she'd seen in… well, ever and was the measuring stick by which she judged all others.

Response stuck in her throat, she dropped the tray to her side. Smoke curled from beyond the doorframe. Apparently, he'd simply melted the lock on the door.

He held out a hand like she was a wild animal. "Thomas, you remember him, right? He and another earth witch are busy unleashing an arsenal of earth witchy things to create diversions all over this floor. They sent me to get you. Fire magick in a hospital is never a good thing. You coming, or have you grown to like this place?"

She glanced around and shivered. Dropping the tray to the bed, she took his hand. His grip was strong and warmed her cold skin. It was the kind of touch she immediately wanted to trust, to allow to comfort her. It proved how badly she needed someone to rely on right now. However, in her position, such inclinations were dangerous.

They exited the room and stepped into the deserted hallway. The soft-soled shoes they'd given her made no sound on the slick, patterned floor. Voices, raised in alarm, carried over the sound of malfunctioning equipment filtered dully from behind thick closed doors.

He led her toward the reception desk and the bank of elevators at the end of the corridor. "So, do you speak or have they stolen your voice?"

She shot him a look of annoyance. "I can speak. Where is everyone?"

"Distracted. Thomas and Theo are creating problems with the electrical wiring. Just the lighting on this floor, the computers, and some of the non-essential equipment." He glanced at her. "They're not doing anything to machines that keep people alive. It's just enough to have everyone worried about what the hell is going on. Keeps them out of the corridors so we can get you out of here unseen."

She shrugged. "As far as I can tell, there's no one on life-support on this floor. Only us crazy people."

"Yeah, that's why we're here. We know you're not crazy, Claire."

"I don't know about that. This world would make anyone insane," she mumbled.

He laughed. It was a rich, rolling sound that made her warm. She hadn't been truly warm since before Rue had pushed her through the doorway.

They approached the elevators and Claire caught sight of Thomas. He looked healthy and strong, so different from the last time she'd seen him when he'd been standing in front of the doorway, holding off three Ytrayi daaeman, and begging her to jump with him. Back then, his hair had been shorn close to his head, his eyes had been hollow, and his powerful body grim and gaunt. His hair was still short, but his body was once again powerful.

Beside him stood a darker-skinned man, broad and tall as Thomas. His hair fell past his shoulders and pulsed with a power she could feel even from twenty feet away. Tattoos peeked from beneath the long sleeves of his shirt and Claire could feel that they, too, had been imbued with power. That marked him right away as a fellow earth witch.

Just as she pulled from Adam to run to Thomas — the only familiar face she'd seen since being pushed into this world — the elevator doors opened and Tevan stepped out.

She stopped short, shock coursing sharp and bitter through her body.

She shouldn't have been surprised. Tevan had been drawn by the pulse of magick on this floor, no doubt. Thomas, Adam, and Theo had to be expelling a lot of power to keep these humans behind doors for so long. In the melee, that possibility had escaped her.

Thomas and the others hadn't known what they were walking into, of course. They hadn't known their magick would draw the daaeman. They'd simply been focused on getting her out.

Thomas stared at Claire for a half a second, then yelled, "Go! Go, Adam! Get her out of here!"