A Dragon of a Different Color

  “If you wanted me to stop, you shouldn’t have put my back against the wall,” Marci growled, tucking her burned right arm to her side only to raise her left instead, pointing her uninjured fist at his face like a cannon. “I’ll burn myself to a crisp before I let a cowardly, shortsighted, selfish man like you become Merlin!”

  Myron rolled his eyes. “Is that what this is about?” he asked in a patronizing voice. “I never expected you to accept defeat gracefully, Novalli, but I didn’t think you’d stoop to denying reality. Your part in this is over. The dead don’t get to have a say in the affairs of the living. But I’m not a cruel man. Stand down, call off your spirit, and I’ll give you another chance.”

  “A chance at what?” she demanded, holding her arm steady. “As you just so kindly reminded me, I’m already dead. This is my last chance.”

  “Mine, too,” he said quietly, holding up his fist, which was still gripping the spirit’s silver leash. “You’re not the only one with your back to a wall. This is a mission I cannot fail. I don’t want to kill what’s left of you, but I will if I have to, and we both know I can, so be a good girl and stand down.”

  Marci bared her teeth and clenched her fist, ignoring the pain as she yanked the burning magic into the bracelet containing her force choke this time. Unlike her microwave spell, which was capped specifically to prevent lethal damage, this one had no limit. With enough power, she could crush an armored truck, and power was no problem in this place.

  “Marci, think about this,” Amelia whispered as smoke began to rise from her curled fingers. “If he’s talking to you, he’s not breaking the door. Don’t be hasty.”

  That would have been a good point if there’d been a reason to stall, but Marci saw none. No matter how much time she bought, nothing would change. Ghost just wasn’t big enough to beat the DFZ, and even with the entire Sea of Magic at her fingertips, she’d burn out before she could give him what he needed to close the gap. She couldn’t help him, couldn’t beat the DFZ on her own, couldn’t stop Myron’s magic from blowing open the door.

  The only win she had a chance at was beating Myron himself, but even that was slim, and stalling wouldn’t make it better. Attacking was her only chance. If she didn’t take it, what was the point of coming here at all? She’d left the safety of her death to become Merlin. Given up something precious, even if she couldn’t remember what it was. If Myron won, all that was wasted. He’d already admitted he believed Algonquin’s propaganda. She was the only thing stopping him from going in there and capping the flow of magic back down to what it had been right after the meteor hit.

  If she backed down, if she let this happen, then all the Mortal Spirits would fall back asleep, taking humanity’s magical future with them. Ghost, the Champion of the Forgotten Dead, would himself be forgotten. The whole world would be diminished, and it would be her fault. If she didn’t fight, there would be no more Merlins. She would never be a Merlin, never know the truth of magic, never keep her promise to Ghost.

  Never see Julius again.

  That was the last straw. With a scream of pain and fury, Marci clenched her smoking hand tight. But just as she finished folding the roaring magic into a hammer that would bash the superior look off Myron’s stupid face, his own hand flicked, and light blossomed from the ground.

  Her eyes flicked down in surprise to see a maze of glowing lines rising from the stone under her feet. They rose faster than she could believe, working their way up, and then into her body. She could actually feel them forking like circuitry through her organs, and as they filled her, the nearly done spell in her hand began to unravel. She clutched it tighter, fighting to finish, but the glowing lines got there first, racing down her arm and into her clenched hand. Once there, they began to split, dividing and subdividing into thousands of tiny fractals that wiggled into the magic of the spell itself like tiny wedges, each one prying and twisting and pulling the magic apart until she couldn’t hold on.

  The spell exploded with a blinding flash. The backlash hit immediately after, slamming into her like the shockwave from a bomb blast. The only reason she wasn’t blown to pieces was because Myron’s labyrinth held her in place, the glowing, forking lines grounding her to the stone like roots. Dimly, she supposed she should be grateful he’d kept her alive—assuming a sentient ghost counted as alive—but it was hard to feel anything but fury as she blinked the glare out of her eyes to see Myron looking down on her in pity.

  “I warned you,” he said, curling his fingers. The glowing maze that ran from the ground into Marci’s body obeyed the gesture, popping her up like a puppet before dropping her to her knees. Another flick of his hand shattered what was left of her bracelets and yanked her arms behind her, leaving Marci bound and kneeling on the ground in front of him.

  “I can’t claim this gives me no pleasure,” he said as she struggled. “A lesson in the distance between your skill and mine has been long overdue. But whatever you might think of me right now, if you really have read my books, you know I’m not a murderer. That’s why I’m giving you one more chance to stand down.”

  “Before you what?” she snarled. “Murder me?”

  “Why can’t you see that this isn’t about you?” he snapped, pointing at the glowing labyrinth that had stitched her to the ground. “I just saved you from blowing yourself to pieces because you’d rather die killing me than lose your shot at being Merlin, but you have the nerve to call me selfish? Did it ever occur to you that I’m not doing this for me? That I might, given my decades as a public servant, be acting in the public good?”

  “You’re not the only one,” Marci said desperately. “You’re clearly drinking Algonquin’s Kool-Aid, but did it ever occur to you that maybe she’s not telling the truth? That maybe Mortal Spirits aren’t the implacable world-destroying machines she’s made them out to be? For pity’s sake, Myron, you’re chained to one. Did you even try to talk to her before you did that?”

  His eyes narrowed. “That is none of your concern.”

  “But it is,” she said desperately. “All of this is our concern, because this isn’t human versus spirit, it’s mortal working with mortal. I’m not a Merlin yet, but there’s got to be a reason the bond between mage and Mortal Spirit is a job requirement. I won’t know the truth until I step through that gate, but I’d bet my life we weren’t stuck together so we could kill each other. Mortal Spirits aren’t some alien force. They’re us. Our spirits. We’re meant to work together. That’s why we’re here. Not to fight. That’s what Algonquin wants. She wants us to be afraid so that we’ll cut the magic back down to the levels where she was the big fish, and she’s keeping us terrified so we won’t notice we’re cutting off our magical inheritance in the process. That’s her game, and you’re playing right into it, which is why I’m trying to stop you.”

  He turned away in disgust. “You don’t know anything about what I mean to do.”

  “Then tell me!” Marci cried desperately. “If I’m wrong, let me know! We were on the same team once. If we still are, say something, and we can work this out.”

  “Bold words from the mage who attacked me first,” he said, leaning over so that he could look her in the eyes. “But I have no intention of wasting more of my very limited time arguing with someone who’s already made up her mind. You can think whatever you like, but the only thing I care about, that I have ever cared about, is doing what is best for all. Next to that, everything else is meaningless, including you. I spared your life once because I am a civil man, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that your mind is set. I know now that you will not stop, and I have no more time for civilities.”

  He sighed bitterly, lifting his arm so his free hand was balanced in the air directly above her head. “Farewell, Miss Novalli.”

  His hand came down like an ax, and the magic binding Marci went with it. Each glowing line ripped through her like a metal wire, shredding the fragile magic of her naked soul. She was dimly aware of Amelia yelling and a flash of fire,
but what she yelled and whom she burned were lost in the all-consuming horror of being torn apart. Even the pain from her burns couldn’t break through the knowledge that she was dissolving, collapsing into a pile of little shreds that were themselves unraveling. But then, just when the consciousness that was Marci Novalli was beginning to disintegrate, a blast of the coldest wind she’d ever felt rose up from the ground. It cut through the swirling magic like a knife, snatching what was left of Marci out of Myron’s glowing lines and into the dark.

  ***

  After the recent turns in her life, Marci was getting pretty used to finding herself suddenly in the void.

  Like so many times before, she was floating in the dark. Only this wasn’t the quiet, still blackness she’d seen after her death, or even the churning dark of the Sea of Magic. This void was blowing, the freeing wind sweeping and tossing her like a leaf through an infinitely deep abyss. The uncontrollable movement terrified Marci more than anything else that happened since her death, so much that she began to worry that maybe she hadn’t been snatched away after all. Maybe Myron really had gotten her, and this was what happened to souls who were torn apart. But just as she began to panic that this endless tumbling was her final destination, an icy wind blindsided her from below, stopping her cold.

  “Don’t be afraid,” it whispered in Ghost’s voice. “I’ve got you.”

  Thank goodness, Marci said, closing her eyes in relief. I thought I was gone there for a— She stopped, confused. Why am I a disembodied voice?

  “Because I ate you,” her spirit said, uncharacteristically sheepish.

  You ate me? she cried, or thought she cried. It was hard to tell volume when your words were more impressions than sounds. So that means I’m inside you?

  “Yes,” Ghost said. “But not for the first time. This is where I brought you the time I saved you from Gregory.”

  Marci remembered. He’d snatched her out of the way of Gregory’s fireball by yanking her into a black-and-white world. Her voice had been weird then, too, and again when he’d brought her into what he’d called “his world” of the dead during their attack on Reclamation Land. But weird as both of those times had been, they were definitely not like this.

  Why did it change? The other times you brought me in, everything just went black and white. This is nothing but black. Way too much black.

  “That’s actually your change,” the wind explained. “When you were alive, I brought you, body and soul, into my magic. That’s why you could still see the physical world, because we were both inside my magic looking out. Now—”

  No body, Marci finished for him, looking down at the empty darkness where her chest should have been. Right.

  “I’m sorry.”

  You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Myron had me dead to rights back there. You’re the only reason I’m not gone gone right now, so I’m not going to complain about a bit more dark. She wiggled what would have been her hands. At least my arms don’t burn anymore. That’s a bonus.

  “That was stupid,” he said angrily. “I was protecting you.”

  But we were losing.

  “Better that than losing you.”

  Marci shook what should have been her head. There was no point in explaining the stakes again. He already knew. As always, though, the one who seemed most afraid of her death was death himself. She’d always thought that was sweet. Now, though, looking around, Marci realized that his desperation to keep her with him might run deeper than she’d originally realized.

  Not much here, is there?

  The wind tilted, and she got the impression he was shrugging. “There’s a reason I’m named ‘Empty.’”

  She looked down at the howling void. I can see why you didn’t want me to leave you alone. But what about the forgotten dead? Aren’t they here, too?

  “They are,” he said. “But I try not to bother them unless I absolutely must. It’s my job to bring them peace, and they can be hard to find if they’re not clamoring for my attention.” The wind blew in a wide circle. “This place is so large, even the dead can’t fill it.”

  Marci looked up in surprise, eyes going wide. Wait, she said. I’m not just inside your magic this time, am I? She looked around at the looming dark. This is your vessel. The hollow our fear of being forgotten dug into the floor of the Sea of Magic that filled and became you.

  “If you say so,” he said bitterly. “I’ve never had a name for this place. It’s just where I woke up when the cries of the forgotten reached me, before I met you.”

  She nodded slowly, staring into the howling emptiness with new appreciation. The other times he’d pulled her in, there’d been too much in the way to see. Now, though, with no physical reality to obscure her view, Marci began to grasp for the first time just how big her spirit actually was.

  Spirits were large by definition, but she’d always thought about them as being on the same scale as Algonquin: huge, but still understandable. The Great Lakes were enormous, but you could still look down on them from an airplane and think “that’s a lake.”

  Ghost was different. She’d known he had the potential to be bigger than Algonquin ever since Amelia had explained the concept of Mortal Spirits, but it wasn’t until this moment that Marci understood just how much bigger. If Algonquin’s vessel was big enough to hold the Great Lakes, Ghost’s would have encompassed the entire United States of America.

  The cavernous space was so enormous, so vast, there was no possible way to see all of it at once. The only reason Marci knew it even had an end was because she could feel the edges through Ghost’s magic. The longer she thought about that, the more she understood why Amelia, Raven, and even Algonquin sometimes called Mortal Spirits “gods.” There was simply no other word for something so large.

  Well, she said at last. At least I don’t feel so bad now about never being able to fill you up. Now that she knew the truth, Marci was surprised her magic had made a difference at all. Even Amelia’s fire wouldn’t be a drop in a bucket this big.

  “It’s because I was close to the edge already when you found me,” he said dismissively. “A little goes a long way when you’re talking about hitting a hard line.”

  Just don’t ask me to fill the rest, she said, awed. I don’t know if there’s enough magic in the world to fill a space like this. It’s incredible.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said quietly. “I don’t.”

  Why not?

  The wind grew colder. “It’s too big. Big and cold and…”

  Lonely?

  “The dead are always alone,” he said. “Alone in their deaths, and then alone here. The only company they have is when I rescue them from their collapsing graves, and then they are terrified of my face.” The wind holding her began to quiver. “Everyone is terrified of me. Of this place. Everyone, except you.”

  Never me, Marci promised. I’ll never be afraid of you, Ghost.

  “I know,” he said as his wind squeezed her tighter. “Why do you think I try so hard to save you? I know your work is important, but you’re all I have. If I hadn’t been so fast, Myron would have ripped you apart.”

  But he didn’t, she said firmly. Thanks to you. But you of anyone should know how hard I am to kill. The two of us together? Unstoppable.

  “Not that unstoppable. Myron and his rat stomped us.”

  Stomped us down, she said. Not out. But while the DFZ might have more magic than you right now, and Myron’s clearly got the casting edge on me, they don’t have what we have. They don’t have this. She ran a mental hand over the bond that connected them. That’s our strength, and it’s how we’re going to beat them.

  The wind sighed. “I know I chose you for your determination, but I think you’ve finally pushed too far. Myron did enormous damage to you. I barely caught your soul before he shredded it, and the only reason your magic is still together is because I’m keeping it that way by holding you in the one place I have total control. If you go out into the chaos of the Sea of Magic again, ev
en with my winds to protect you, you’ll be extremely vulnerable. A ghost.”

  Then we’ll match, Marci said. I’m not giving up on this. You know what could happen if Myron blasts his way into the Heart of the World, assuming he hasn’t done so already. She wasn’t sure how long she’d spent flipping through the dark, but Myron’s maze had to be nearly complete. I know it’s dangerous, but we have to do this, Ghost. If we don’t become a Merlin together, you’re toast and I’m dead. For real, this time. Even if I could go back to my death, you wouldn’t be there to pull me out when it finally collapsed, would you?

  “No,” he said gravely. “Without Mortal Spirits, no one would come to save you.”

  Exactly, she said. That’s why we can’t stop. This is more than just our lives. I don’t even know enough to describe the full breadth of what’s at stake here, but we’ve already run the ‘personal safety or Merlin’ scenario, and we both know what I chose.

  “We do,” he said, his voice resigned. “All right, what are we doing?”

  Trying another angle, Marci said, peering out toward where she could feel the edges of his dark. I need you to take me to the DFZ’s vessel.

  The wind went still.

  I know you can do it, she said before he could argue. The two of you were born right on top of each other. Right in Algonquin’s shadow. I’m betting that means you know where her vessel is. I want you to take me there.

  “I do know where she is,” the Empty Wind admitted. “And you’re right, she is close, but…”

  But?

  “She’s not like me,” he said at last. “Not like I am now, anyway. You remember how I was in the beginning? How lost and angry and eager to control you?”