Devon Monk - Magic in the Shadows

Even my spell.

Magic poured through me, feeding the spell, growing it larger and larger. I think Maeve and I realized at the same time that while the spell was going to stay in the room, if it continued to grow, to feed on itself, there wouldn’t be room for the rest of us in here.

There wouldn’t be any room to breathe.

I was trapped, suffocating. My heart pounded. There was no room to breathe.

Hello, claustrophobia. I wondered when you’d get here.

I met Maeve’s gaze. The walls shook, assailed by a thousand fists. The floorboards creaked, trembled.

We were in trouble.

“Close it,” Maeve said, her voice strong, pitched loud enough to carry over the din of the spell.

“I don’t know how.” And that was true. I had never cast with so much magic behind a spell, had never really cast this spell, as there isn’t that much use for Lightning in Hounding.

And yet I had cast it perfectly. As if I’d done it a thousand times before.

Child’s play.

It was only a whisper, but my dad’s voice was the loudest thing in the room. Although I was pretty sure I was the only one who heard him.

It is easy, Allison

, he breathed.

So easy. Inhale, exhale. Relax.

Sweet hells. Of all the time for my dad to kick up and try to Influence me, he had to do it now. I fought to hold my focus, to not fall beneath his words.

I never had a chance.

He had full control of my mind, of my hands. I was pressed, not unconscious, but simply away from myself, my body. I felt daydreamy and drifty and didn’t even see it as my father used my hand to trace a new spell.

End

, he said. And my daydreams were filled with his memories of using that spell in hand-to-hand combat, canceling spells other magic users threw, canceling his own spells and changing them into new, wicked blades to throw at his enemies.

The air flashed hot, cold. The spell in the room extinguished. Lights crackled to life; the lingering scents of roses and apricot and ash filled the air.

My ears popped from the pressure, and I inhaled greedily as I came back to myself, like someone had been holding my head underwater.

Shamus fell to his knees next to the plant. His fingers spread and sunk in the soil, his head bent, hair hiding his pale face, back heaving with each heavy breath. I was amazed he was still breathing.

He grunted and rocked back the rest of the way onto his heels, one hand still in the plant that now looked shriveled, dried, dead. Drops of sweat, blood, or tears made small

plick

sounds against his jeans.

“Are you okay?” I thought I could get it all out, but my voice was hoarse and I had to take a breath between each word.

“Allie,” Maeve said softly. Or at least I think she was talking quietly. It could also be that my eardrums were blown.

Come to think of it, I wasn’t feeling so great myself.

“Fuck it all,” Shamus muttered, his words nasal and stuffy. He lifted his free hand to his face. I noted his hand was shaking as he wiped at his eyes and nose.

Maeve had not moved. “Allie, I need your attention right now. It is very important.”

I didn’t know why she wasn’t worried about Shamus. He was her kid, after all, and that spell, my spell, had just kicked the holy hell out of him.

I looked up at her.

Maeve was a tower of authority, twice as tall as I’d last seen her, red hair flowing like a river of flame in a wind I could not feel. Her skin glowed so bright it was like she had swallowed the moon. Only her eyes, deep, earth-holding green, showed a speck of her humanity.

I had had this kind of vision before, had seen Zayvion covered in silver whorls and glyphs, his skin burning with blue-tipped black fire.

But if Zayvion had been night and the edge of magic and ebony heat, Maeve was the pale, cruel light of dawn.

“Come to me,” she commanded.

“Hey.” I exhaled, inhaled. “You told me you”-pause for breath again-“wouldn’t do that.” It probably wasn’t Influence she was using right now anyway.

Still, I started toward her. Okay, four feet had never felt so much like four miles. I didn’t so much hurt as feel very, very drained. I was empty and beyond tired.

Maeve reached out one impossibly long arm. Her cool white fingers tucked under the right side of my jaw-the side marked by magic. She tipped my face so she could look into my eyes.

And I mean

look

Just like before. And just like before, my father skittered away somewhere in the back of my head, quiet as a rat.

She drew the index finger of her other hand across my forehead, and I sighed at the cool relief that brought me.

“How did you know End?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Think Dad knew it, maybe, used it, maybe?”

Okay, I wasn’t thinking too well right now. Right now, all I wanted to do was sit on the floor and take a nap.

“Yes,” she said. “He did. It is a dangerous spell, very old, rarely taught. I’d rather you not use it again without training.”

She let go of my chin and took a step back. She looked normal again, her red and gray hair piled in a messy bun, her skin creamy and freckled, her eyes green. Just green.

“Sure,” I said. “Sorry. It’s my first day.”

A sound halfway between a snort and a choked laugh rose from where Shamus sat.

“She’s right, Mum.” He tipped his face up. Black hair fell back, revealing the livid bruises across both eyes that were nearly swollen shut, and the bloody smear of red from under his nose and across his cheek.

“This is only her first day. Give the poor slacker a break.” He laughed again, then rubbed his forehead. “I’m going to need a lot more to drink if I’m going to make it through her second day. So. You, Beckstrom, give a man a hand, eh?” He held his hand up toward me.

I walked over to him, my energy slowly coming back-whatever Maeve had done with my forehead had helped-and took his hand. I hefted back as he rolled up onto his feet. He rocked a little too far forward, putting his mouth close to my ear. “Holy fuck,” he whispered. “No one throws that much power untrained. Impressed the shit outta Mum. Good for you.”

He straightened, though he rocked a little precariously on his feet. “Call it a night?” he asked.

Maeve exhaled and seemed to let go of whatever it was that was bothering her.

She’s afraid

, my dad said. Smug.

Hells. Me too. I so needed a drink.

Maeve reached over and touched Shamus’s face, studying the blood and bruises. She drew her finger across his forehead, and he sighed happily. The bruises around his eyes faded just a little. Maeve made a

tsk

sound. “Next time we’ll have a Grounder here for you.”

Shamus stiffened like she’d just told him she was going to dip him in fire.

“Not Terric,” he said, a tinge of panic in his voice.

“No, no. Of course not Terric,” she soothed. “Maybe Sunny. She works well with you.”

Shamus relaxed.

“All right, then,” Maeve said. “I think we can all call it a night. This wasn’t exactly what I had planned for your first day, but we’ve done well enough. How are you feeling? Any headaches? Pains?”

I shook my head. I mean, I was still tired, but I felt more awake by the moment. “Shamus took the brunt of the spell.” I hated watching someone else pay the price for a spell I used. And seeing Shamus take an ass-kicking just to prove to his mother that I didn’t know what I was doing irritated me. “He did a good job.”

Maeve’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course he did. He’s a Flynn. He knows his way around magic, not that you could tell by his manners. Or choice in clothing.” She gave him a wholly disapproving motherly look. “Out now.” She flicked her hand toward the door, and made it obvious she had released the Lock and Ward set there. “Allie, I want to see you tomorrow at ten. You too, Shamus.” She marched out the door ahead of us.