Magic on the Storm

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Listen to me, Allison, Dad said in my head. This battle is not the war. Those who fall will be remembered. But there will be more, many deaths, hundreds. I saw a flash of Davy’s face, of Bea, of Violet, of Stotts, of Zayvion, then a blur of people whom my father knew, some of his ex-wives and business partners, and for one brief, sweet moment an image of my own mother’s laughing face; then the images were gone. Thousands could die if you do not listen to me.

  I’m listening.

  Leave Maeve. She is alive. Leave the others. You must release the Hand, Cody, back into this world. He was never meant to hold the gates between life and death closed.

  The Authority will kill him. Destroy his soul if they find out, maybe even kill the living Cody too, I said.

  No. There is one who will keep him hidden.

  Who?

  My dad pointed in my head—a strange feeling that made me want to scratch the roof of my mouth. I looked up to the right.

  Mama stood on the other side of the wall of magic, all five-foot-nothing of her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she wore a secondhand raincoat that was two sizes too big, the green hood tightened around her face like a corn husk.

  “Mama?”

  She couldn’t hear me. She was outside the Illusion. Wait. What was she doing there? From her perspective, she was standing in the middle of the field at night in a downpour. Why would she do that?

  She owes me a favor, my dad said.

  Okay, that was fucking creepy. I didn’t know how my dad had gotten her to show up. Didn’t know if he’d left something about it in his will, or if he was somehow talking to people when I didn’t know it. Like at night when I was sleeping or something. I tried to think if I had done any sleepwalking and came up with nothing.

  You are not the only vessel I fill, he said. You are not the only one who can hear me.

  Holy shit. Could he get any more creepy?

  Who? I asked. Greyson? Oh, I hoped I was wrong.

  It has not been easy, he said. The beast fights me, but I found a way. He sounded proud about that.

  It made me want to barf.

  Dad, or Greyson, or some combination, had somehow talked to Mama. Which meant she knew my undead dad was undead. And she’d agreed to do him a favor.

  I didn’t know if I should break through the shield and tell her to go away somewhere safe fast, or if getting my body, and my possessed brain, closer to her would let Dad jump the ship. He was stronger here, with the wild magic and the disks. Stronger ever since Greyson had attacked Zayvion.

  Was he a part of Chase and Greyson’s betrayal?

  What do you want? I asked him. Cold sweat washed over me, and I shivered in the rain, even though it was tropical hot inside the shield. Fear, of him manipulating me all this time, of the frighteningly real possibility that he was the one behind the attack on Zayvion, made me want to run far and fast.

  But how could I escape that which was inside me?

  I want magic in the right hands. And I want immortality.

  Two things he’d told me before. If they were lies, they were lies he was sticking to.

  Why should I trust you?

  Do you want your friends to live?

  I looked at Shame again. He was still on one knee, the other foot braced, his hand sunk deep to clutch the grass, the soil, the other raised toward Jingo Jingo, so much magic pouring through him that Jingo was having to take hard steps backward, even though he leaned with all his strength, with all his bulk, into Shame’s spell.

  Shame shook with fury. He wasn’t chanting. He was cursing. And every word drew blood from Jingo’s thick skin, sending Jingo’s blood to pour down with the rain, and into the soil, where Shame drew the energy and strength out of Jingo’s blood, draining Jingo’s life energy and throwing it back at him to cut him again.

  Holy fuck, that boy was ruthless.

  I didn’t need my dad. I didn’t need to do what he wanted. Shame was taking care of Jingo Jingo. Dane still held the cage from crushing Sedra, though he hadn’t broken it yet. Victor was hot in battle with both Liddy and Chase, and Terric had knocked Mike out—with fists, not magic. I couldn’t see Greyson or Hayden.

  I needed to deal with Cody and close the gate so the Hungers couldn’t get through.

  Jingo Jingo yelled.

  Shame was on his feet now, magic still hammering Jingo’s Shield. But Jingo wasn’t yelling in defeat. He swung his huge arm to one side and directed the disk and magic at the gate.

  Cody screamed. The incorporeal shrill felt like someone had shoved hot peppers in my eyes. His voice, his pain, filled the dome.

  For a breath—just that long—everyone stopped.

  Except me.

  I stood. Ran. Straight at the gate. And caught Cody’s spirit as he fell free into this world again. Caught him, not in my arms, but rather, confusingly, horrifyingly, in my mind.

  For a moment, I was three people, three lives, three memories. I remembered painting with magic, carving with magic, creating beautiful, beautiful things that broke barriers between life and death, ways for magic to be all disciplines at once.

  I remembered inventing technology, formulating glyphs, standardizing spells with a mix of metal and glass that broke barriers between life and death, and made magic follow all disciplines at once.

  I remembered my eighth birthday party and the purple sweater my dad bought me. I loved that sweater.

  Too many memories, too much. Too crowded. I whined and stumbled backward, trying to get away from the people inside me, trying to escape my own skin, flee my crowded, crowded brain.

  People can’t possess people. People can’t possess people. Zayvion had said it was rare. Said my dad was in my head only because we were the same blood. Cody and I were not related. And yet his spirit—or at least this part of it who could make magic do beautiful, beautiful things—was curled around my brain stem.

  There wasn’t any room for me to breathe, to think.

  Out, out, out!

  My back brushed the spongy wall of the Illusion, and I finally heard my father’s voice.

  Allison. Let him go!

  I exhaled, blinked. Magic swirled around me, a curtain of ribbons and fire, a maelstrom all my own.

  Good. You are doing fine. Calm your mind.

  I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t listen to him. Shouldn’t trust him. But I had loved that purple sweater. He had canceled a business trip to Europe and stayed home for my birthday. He had brought me a birthday cake. And the purple sweater I had secretly loved and mentioned to him only once when we walked by the store.

  I did as he said.

  Dad used me to cast a spell. It felt like a gentle stroke over my hair, except it was inside my head. And then the awareness of Cody, his life, his memories, his soul, was gone. Instead, Cody’s spirit, pale as watercolor, stood beside me.

  “Tired,” he said in a voice little more than a child’s. He was transparent, rain falling through him. He looked like the watercolor people who usually showed up when I cast magic. Or usually showed up if my dad didn’t block them when I cast magic.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought I could fix this.” He frowned, his voice drifting away on the wind. Destroyed by thunder.

  “You’re okay now.” I was surprised at how calm I was. Apparently some part of my brain still functioned. Now that Cody was out of my head, I could think again, breathe again, and not panic again.

  Mama stepped forward, just enough that she was through the Illusion. She squinted. It must be brighter in here. It was certainly a bloody mess.

  “Come with me now, boy,” she said to Cody’s spirit.

  Which meant she could see Cody’s spirit. Which meant she was using some kind of magic to see him. Which meant she could use magic. A fleeting memory of her hand on my chest, glowing, snapped bright in my mind, then was gone. But the sense that she had more to do with magic than I knew lingered.

  “Wait,” I said. “Mama, what are yo
u going to do with him?”

  “He’s safe with me, Allie girl. I’ll keep him hidden. Have my own ways, and you won’t ask me nothing about it. Tell your father I don’t owe him no more.” She held out her hand for Cody.

  Cody looked at me. “I like her.” He smiled.

  I had no idea what to say to him. Had no idea what was the right thing to do. Maybe I should try to keep him somehow and return him to his living self.

  Cody took Mama’s hand, and for a second, I thought I saw her hand glow white, just as lightning struck. I blinked away the flash and Cody was stuck to her by a stream of white light, like the ghost children had been stuck to Jingo Jingo, only Cody didn’t look sad about it. He looked relieved, walking to the end of the length of light, then back close to her again. I couldn’t help but think of a balloon being caught safely before it floated away.

  Mama stepped toward the wall of Illusion, out to the outside world.

  Just before he followed her, Cody turned back toward me. “Zayvion,” he said. Thunder drowned out his words.

  “What?” I asked.

  Allison, my father warned.

  “Zayvion . . . ,” Cody started, the stream of light between him and Mama tugging on him.

  Allison, Dad said again.

  Shut up, I thought at him.

  “. . . says he loves you too,” Cody said.

  “When did he say that?”

  “In there.” Cody pointed at the gate. “Today.”

  I looked over at the gate.

  And saw a wave of monsters, Hungers, and horrors I had no name for pouring through the gate and onto the field.

  Chapter Twenty

  There was no time to see how anyone else was reacting to this. There was no time to think anything through. Hungers would tear the magic users apart in seconds. There was so much wild magic in the air, in the sky, in the city, that it would take the shadowy Hungers only a few minutes to become fully solid. And then they would hunt. They would eat magic users and civilians. They would kill.

  I pulled Zayvion’s sword, and wondered why that hadn’t been in my hands all along. A calm washed through me, as if this sword that Zayvion had spent so much time with had been infused with his calm, his strength, his clear, concise ability to deal with a horrifying situation and make competent, lifesaving decisions.

  The Hungers, a dozen, two dozen, went from transparent beasts into solid muscled creatures with wide heads, red eyes, and fanged jaws. Magic pulsed down their hides, like black veins, wild magic feeding them, making them strong.

  Other things with too many eyes and too many limbs clattered out of the gates behind the Hungers.

  Magic users turned weapons and magic on the beasts that howled and charged across the field. But just as quickly as the magic users struck the beasts down, magic, wild magic, poured through the beasts. The black veins along their bodies pulsed with it, and then the beasts stood again, attacked again.

  They were not going down and staying down.

  A beast leaped for me. I swung the sword, caught the thing midleap, straight through the neck. It fell to the ground, quivered, and lay still.

  The blade in my hand went black, then grew bright and silver tip to hilt. Holy shit. Zay’s sword had some kind of spell worked into it so that it could drink the magic out of its foe. Maybe it was honed to drink down dark magic.

  It is, Dad said. But you are not trained to use it. You will grow weaker with each strike.

  So tell me how to use it right, I thought.

  I can’t. He didn’t sound happy about that. I am not the guardian of the gate.

  Here’s the thing. I was getting pretty tired of having to pay the price of magic. But I’d do it with grim satisfaction if it meant I could save my friends.

  Another Hunger leaped at me. I swung again. Left it headless. It did not rise. The ground beneath my feet swayed and I stumbled as my knees gave out. Okay, he wasn’t kidding. It took a hell of a lot of stamina to wield dark magic.

  I pushed back up to my feet, into a fighting stance, sword at the ready.

  The four beasts nearest me backed away. Like scenting the wind, they all lifted their wide heads. And ran. Past fallen or injured magic users—easy kills—which made no sense. Ran toward Sedra.

  A dozen beasts ran for Sedra. Two dozen. More.

  Dane could not hold them off and keep the cage whole. He threw a wall of magic at the beasts, but only half of them fell. The rest rushed him, fast. Too fast. Dane disappeared beneath slathering jaws and wicked claws.

  The cage around Sedra constricted, crushing her. Sedra screamed—a strangely inhuman yell.

  I started off toward her. But the battlefield was filled with beasts. And with each one I killed, I had to pause, catch my breath, and balance before I could raise the sword and stride forward again.

  Jingo Jingo answered Sedra’s cry. Caught in battle with a beast, he cast magic, the disk clenched in his thick palm, and chanted something that sent the beast to its belly. No. Something that made the beast crouch, then spin to launch at Shame’s throat.

  Shame opened his arms and laughed, magic caught between his two hands drinking the dark magic out of the creature. But the monster was huge, bigger than a car. It kept coming, no matter how quickly Shame drained it. Shame yelled, anger, terror, maybe even desire, as it broke through his spell and leaped upon him, jaws tearing into his chest.

  Terric, on the other side of the battlefield, yelled. “No, no, no!” He swung his axes, cleaving through the beasts between him and Shame, blood and a black ichor covering his face, so much that not even the rain could wash it away as he hacked and sliced. Hungers and the other, stranger creatures with too many hands, too many eyes, and too many teeth fell in pieces at his feet as he cut a bloody swath through them.

  I ran toward Shame. Slow. Too damn slow.

  Jingo was already striding over to Sedra. Past the slathering pile of beasts on top of Dane, ignoring them, and Dane’s screams, like they were of no more concern to him than a pack of puppies. He slammed the disk, full of magic, into the cage that held Sedra. His voice rose above the battle, above the storm, above the thunder. “This will end!”

  Copper lightning shot up out of the ground, enveloping them. Then Jingo Jingo and Sedra were gone, leaving nothing behind but a circle of black ash.

  Holy shit. I killed another beast. And another. Then pulled the blood blade to hold another off while I tried to catch my breath and strength. I wasn’t going fast enough. Shame lay dying beneath that creature. Might already be dead.

  A blur to my right caught my attention. Victor, wielding his sword, and I swear not even breaking a sweat, sliced his way toward Liddy, who held a protective spell around Chase. I didn’t know why she was protecting Chase, but Chase wasn’t looking too good. She looked dazed.

  Liddy wasn’t looking too good either. She didn’t even try to keep Victor from breaking the Shield spell. She stiffened and fell before Victor’s blade reached her.

  And then I saw why. Behind her hunkered a huge nightmare of a thing. Too many heads and mouths and hands, all bloodred. It pulled six bloody pincers out of Liddy’s back and reached for Chase. Chase crumpled as if she’d been hit by a Taser. Victor’s sword, which I thought had broken Liddy’s spell, instead finished its intended arc and sliced the creature in half.

  The creature shuddered, then fell into a pile of quivering flesh. Flesh that started smoking in the rain. Victor grabbed Chase and dragged her away. He ran back for Liddy, but he was late, too late.

  The creature went up in a screaming bonfire of flames, so dark, it hurt to look at it. And somewhere in that flame had been Liddy.

  This was a slaughter.

  Chase coughed and rocked, as if she’d hit the ground from a height and was trying to kick-start her lungs. Blood and rain splashed across her face. That nightmare creature had done some damage.

  From the edge of the clearing, I saw another beast moving fast, liquid on four legs.

  Greyson. No longer a ma
n. All pissed-off hell-spawn creature, somehow more familiar and less frightening than the Hungers and horrors, coming straight for Chase. He tore through the Hungers, sucking down their life, their magic, and then spewed that magic at the other creatures, boiling them until they burst into flame.

  I didn’t know where Hayden was. Didn’t know how Greyson had gotten away from him. But there was another killer on Greyson’s heels. Just as fast. Just as frightening. Coming down heavy enough I could feel the vibration of his stride under my feet.

  Stone.

  And he looked angry.

  Greyson pounded toward Chase, throwing Hungers to the ground, laying a path of destruction behind him.

  Allison, my dad said. Get close to Greyson.

  I intended to do just that. Then I intended to stick Zay’s sword in his chest.

  I understood the pain Chase must be going through. She still loved Greyson, even though he wasn’t human anymore. I could forgive her for siding with him, for wanting to defend him. But I would not let that keep me from killing the bastard.

  If you kill Greyson, Dad said, you will kill the part of me inside him.

  You’re not supposed to be alive anyway, I said. Get rid of him, get rid of you. How is that a bad thing?

  Because without me, you’ll never be able to bring Zayvion back.

  A chill washed over my skin, colder than the rain. Stone leaped and landed, hard, in the middle of Greyson’s back. I heard bones break. Chase screamed as if the pain was hers to share, and maybe it was. She pushed up to her knees, and feet, and stumbled toward Greyson.

  Victor did not stop her, too busy with the half dozen Hungers that surrounded him.

  Hayden was back, at the northernmost edge of the field, swinging his broadsword like a one-man army, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

  Zayvion is trapped, my father said. They did more than push him through the gate. They locked him there. They are using him there. He will never return.

  No, I thought. That’s a lie.

  My hand jerked, and I nicked the side of my thumb on the glass and steel blood blade I carried. Zayvion’s blood blade. I hadn’t moved my hand—my father had.