Magic's Design Read online

  But there was no time. Even as he marveled at things he’d known all his life, he felt the power fading. It would be enough to save them, but just. He raced first to Alexy’s side, ignoring the flash of pain in his chest that the abrupt movement cost him. The runes surrounding him were weaker, but still formidable. Even without speaking directly, the spirit seemed intrigued by the symbols … as though it recognized the runes, but in an esoteric way, not for what they actually did. “Here … and here.” He guided the magic to dismantle the runes around Alexy and felt an instinctive sort of understanding follow, as though the spirit was relearning a skill that had been forgotten. The energy stream was decidedly weaker when he finished, but he couldn’t help but smile when Alexy’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “What in the king’s bloody balls happened to me?” Alexy’s voice was hoarse, as though he’d been screaming, even in his sleep. “I feel like I’ve been run through a clothing wringer backward.”

  Tal shook his head. “I’ll have to explain later. I don’t know how much time I have left to save Sela.”

  Sela. That name seemed to ring in his head like a bell, but the confusing images that followed in his mind made no sense to him. Richly waxed furniture, a fluffy gray cat, and the thick, cloying scent of flowers—none of them were things he could attribute to the stark, no-nonsense police agent he’d worked with for the past two years.

  He ran toward the waterfall to the last place he’d seen her crumpled form. But she was gone. Only a small dark stain of blood remained on the damp stone. “Sela?” He looked up and around, turning in a full circle, in case she’d woken up and crawled or flown to a safe place. He called again, louder. “Sela! Where are you?” Only the rumbling hiss of the waterfall replied.

  “Are you certain she was here?” Alexy was still woozy and was slurring his words more than a little. But as soon as Tal released Sela from the spell, she could use the small amount of healing magic she knew to fix that.

  “She was here when I went to help you. She can’t have gone far. Sela!” Alexy began calling for Sela as well, picking up on Tal’s increasing concern. She had been unconscious, just like Alexy, while he was working with the Sacred Tree. How could she just disappear?

  He realized he was worried about her—far more than he should be. She’d been missing before … had been captured before. Yet, concern filled him to the point that he raced into the darkness, searching.

  “Tal! What are you doing?” Alexy’s voice grew fainter as he ran through the cave, looking in every cranny, high and low, for some sign of her. A bit of cloth, a few strands of golden hair. But there was no evidence she had been this way.

  Another spasm ripped through him, and this time he couldn’t fight back the scream of pain. He found himself on the ground, with Alexy standing over him, but he couldn’t remember falling. There was only pressure—strangling his heart, pressing against his eyes, making his limbs feel leaden and sluggish. As the pressure increased, so did the stabbing, stinging, burning that made him want to tear off his own skin.

  “C’mon, guv. Stay with me.” He could hear the words, but he couldn’t seem to make his mouth move. The realization that he couldn’t tell Alexy what the spell afflicting him was, nor that Vegre had been the caster, terrified him. He began to thrash on the ground, clutching at his throat, trying to make his lips form the words. But every movement intensified the pressure until he couldn’t even think.

  Make it stop! The plea, scream, demand came from inside his head, but it wasn’t his voice. It was the powerful female cry of the Tree spirit, who was trapped inside the spell with him.

  I can’t make it stop. It’s a spell. I’m going to die soon. The simple statement was met with abject panic from the spirit.

  No! You can’t. I’ll die with you.

  Tal went still. He couldn’t imagine that the Sacred Tree could die. That wasn’t possible. It was all-powerful, never-ending. It had existed from before he was alive, hundreds of years. It was the Tree that had drawn the ragged survivors of the Blackshear massacre from the overworld to their underground sanctuary.

  But if the spirit could die, then it was too late. He couldn’t think through the pain to form a counterspell … even if he had the magic. He couldn’t move his lips enough to speak. His heartbeat was slowing and he knew somewhere in the darkness, Vegre was laughing at him.

  Tal looked up and saw Alexy mouthing words. The veins in his neck were standing out so far that he must be screaming, but Tal couldn’t hear whatever he was saying. A cotton-fluff haze seemed to muffle everything, from sound to sensation and even the room was growing dim.

  I’m not willing to die with you. This isn’t my fight. The voice in his head was panicked, but there was a thread of cold iron in the declaration. Sadness filled him with the knowledge that the Tree spirit was going to allow him to die in solitude. Yet, didn’t he vow to sacrifice himself, separate himself from the Agency, when it came time to die? Wasn’t that part of … part of … what, exactly? He remembered a vow, and how important it had been at the time, but he couldn’t seem to remember the words.

  His eyes flicked open again. When had he shut them? Alexy’s eyes seemed to be leaking, dripping moisture onto his face. That seemed odd, but he couldn’t remember why.

  Enough of this! The shout in his head was sure and strong, and was accompanied by a sound. No, more than a sound, it was a hundred sounds, a thousand. Tumbling, flowing, grating against one another … one moment an angels’ chorus, the next an out-of-tune orchestra. The cacophony of noises made his chest vibrate and his lungs struggle for air.

  And then everything went black.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Sela!” Mila’s eyes shot open and she sat up in a rush. The darkness that had claimed her mind made her disoriented and sick to her stomach. Bile rose in her throat from a panic that she couldn’t seem to shake, forcing her to swallow repeatedly to keep it down. If only the room would stop spinning as easily.

  The door opened and Candy rushed in. She sat down on the bed and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Hey, girl. Sela’s not here, remember? She’s at her folks’s for the holidays.” Mila blinked repeatedly as she tried to focus on the here and now. The dark cavern and the blond man who had been crying and mouthing words she couldn’t hear were fading into the recesses of her mind. At least the pain was gone, as was the tingling in her toes. But she could still remember the face of the man who had tortured her in the dream. “Vegre. His name was Vegre.” It seemed terribly important that she remember that and say it out loud.

  “Who’s name is Vegre? You still with me, Mila? You’re home now. It’s Candy. Remember?”

  Mila finally looked at her friend. The darkness dimmed enough that she could recognize her own bedroom. The century-old burled oak bed posters flickered like a tigereye stone under the thin shaft of sunlight that managed to get through closed curtains. She sighed and snuggled deeper into the thick down mattress and sighed in relief. “I’m home. How in the world did you get me home?” That thought was followed by another moment of panic. “Oh crap, I have to call work.”

  Candy rolled her eyes and let out a snort of air. “Please, do you think I’m an idiot? I called your work, told them you got waylaid by that cold going around and wouldn’t be back this afternoon.” She lifted one foot to display it to her friend. “And I should take back half of the money I paid you. Just look at these boots.”

  The suede boots, normally the color of a pureblood palomino horse, were soaking wet and stained with both mud and salt. Mila knew they were her pride and joy … handcrafted for her on a rare trip to Italy. The fact that she allowed them to get in that condition was incredibly touching. “Ohmygod, Candy! I can’t believe you aren’t in tears. Did you carry me all the way home?” She couldn’t help but glance down at her size-fourteen body, and then at Candy’s delicate size six.

  Her friend laughed and patted her comforter-covered leg. “God, no! I’m lucky if I can lift my purse most days. You were actual
ly able to walk with some help. I told them in the restaurant that you had a bad cold, too, and the medicine had made you a little loopy, so one of the waiters helped us to my Jeep.” She let out a small chuckle as she stood and walked to the window, where she opened the drapes to let in more light through the sheers. “It was pretty easy to keep up that white lie, since you kept sneezing and calling him Alexy.” She turned and wiggled her eyebrows. “Found out his name is Robert … while he was asking me for a date.” One hand went to her hip flirtatiously. “That’s the only reason you’re off the hook for the boots, by the way.”

  One word stuck in Mila’s mind from the story. Alexy. Why did that name sound so familiar? It tickled in her mind, struggling to find a link, but whatever the name meant was gone. She shrugged and then ran fingers through her crunchy, tangled hair. “Just another one of those rambling moments, I guess. You know how the episodes are. Congrats on the date, I suppose. That wouldn’t have seemed to be a dating opportunity to me. So, how’d you get me up the front steps into the house?”

  Her friend snorted expressively. “Hell, girl. Your problem is that nothing ever seems like a dating opportunity. Probably why I get more dates. But I got lucky when we got here, too. Your neighbors, Bryan and Jeff, were home taking down their Christmas decorations. They helped me get you upstairs.” She paused and looked at Mila sternly before tapping one manicured nail on her hip. “I’m really ticked off that they knew nothing about your condition, by the way. You promised me that you were going to tell them, so they could look in on you if something like … today happened.” She raised eyebrows in only slightly mock frustration. “Hmm?”

  Mila had no excuse and she knew it. All she could do was let out a frustrated breath. “I know I promised you … and Mom. It’s just that … they think I’m normal around here. You remember how they talked about me behind my back when I lived in Aurora. I felt like some sort of circus freak. Everybody watched me with greedy eyes, like they were waiting for the next show.” She threw back the comforter and sheet and shivered from the sudden rush of chilled air in the drafty bedroom. “You don’t know what it’s like, Candy. People have actually told me that they were afraid to invite me to parties, because they don’t know when I’ll go off.”

  Her friend looked suddenly uncomfortable, shifting weight from foot to foot and staring at the floor. “I never really thought about it from your side. It’s just that we worry—”

  On impulse, Mila dashed across the room and threw her arms around Candy’s shoulders, not caring when a splinter from the old unvarnished floor embedded in her heel. Slender arms gave her a hug tight enough that her words were muffled. “I know. And I love you guys for it. I really do know how hard my condition is for you and the family. But please … give me a little space, and try to have faith in me.” She pushed backward and held Candy at arm’s length. “Please?”

  There was a knock on the front door just as Candy opened her mouth to reply and they both turned to the sound. Mila stepped back and looked at her mess of clothing, grimacing at the deep wrinkles in the woolen skirt. “Any chance you can get that for me while I change? I can’t even imagine who it would be in the middle of the day.”

  Candy twisted her arm and lifted the edge of the fluffy red sweater covering her watch. She shook her head and uttered a small nervous laugh. “Um, I’m betting it’s your grandmother.”

  Mila’s jaw dropped and heat rose to burn her cheeks. “You called Baba Nadia? What were you thinking?”

  Her friend was unapologetic as a crescendo ringing echoed up the stairs from the ancient bellpull. “Would you rather I’d called your mother? You were unconscious for the better part of an hour, Mila. I didn’t dare call for an ambulance. You’d lose your driver’s license. And your baba used to do that … thing to bring you out of an episode when we were kids. Remember?”

  “Thing?” Mila asked as the knocking started again. She vaguely remembered how Baba would roll eggs on her stomach when she was sick—ancient Ukrainian folk medicine that was amazingly effective when done by the right person. And Baba was one of those people.

  “You remember how she used to wander the neighborhood when we were kids, knocking on doors to treat sick people?” Candy shivered as another ring persistently sounded downstairs. “I always hated sitting in strange people’s living rooms, when half the time I didn’t understand what they were saying. And God! Those foulsmelling plasters on our chests and hot-wax readings.”

  Mila furrowed her brow. Really, she didn’t recall spending all that much time with Baba as a girl, but she must have if Candy remembered it. She sighed. “Well, we might as well get it over with. Stall her if you can, while I change into something suitable, huh?”

  Her friend looked slightly panicked. “Don’t take too long. That woman terrifies me, and there aren’t many people who can still do that.”

  They were in agreement about that. The Penkin matriarch was a force of nature who could casually walk by a junkyard and have the guard dogs whimper and crawl away with tails between their legs. Dog Whisperer had nothing on her grandmother. As Candy left and closed the bedroom door, Mila went to the closet and flipped through hangers before finding a pressed pair of black slacks and a white shirt. The embroidery on the collar was in similar jewel tones and design as the eggs she’d sold to Candy. Baba loved bright colors and the fact that Mila had done the stitching would win points on a crucial day like this.

  She’d just pulled the splinter from her foot and was buttoning her shirt when Candy’s unusually tentative voice came through the closed door. “Um, Mila? It wasn’t your grandmother at the door. It’s two guys for Sela. I told them she wasn’t here, but they insisted on talking to you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “They’re all stern and distant. I think they’re cops, but they wouldn’t show me a badge. Doesn’t Sela work for the Feds?”

  Someone for Sela? Nobody ever came to see her roommate, and she couldn’t imagine her being in any trouble. Fresh to Denver from an Amish farm in Pennsylvania where her family eschewed all technology, Sela had gone whole hog into materialism. Working for the U.S. Geological Survey in Boulder gave her plenty of money for all the high-tech toys that she’d never had as a child. Mila could barely walk through her room without tripping on video cables from game systems, computers, and music players. “Sela’s not the type for federal trouble. They’re probably family. I’ve heard they’re really disapproving of technology and the living room is loaded with it.”

  Candy sounded unconvinced. “Yeah, maybe. But you haven’t met them. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.”

  Mila looked again at the clothing in the full-length oval mirror in the corner, suddenly relieved the shirt had a homemade feel. If the visitors were Sela’s relatives here to check her out, she just might pass the test. “I’ll be right down. Could you ask if they want something to drink? I’ve got some juice and bottled water in the fridge.”

  “Will do.” As soon as she heard the familiar thumping of Candy’s heels down the stairs, she dashed to the bathroom at the end of the hall. One look in the mirror over the sink made her grimace and drag fingers through stubborn tangles gluey with hair spray. Maybe if she flipped her hair over her head and brushed vigorously for a minute, it would help. As she counted out stroke twenty under her breath while simultaneously scrubbing her teeth with cinnamon paste, she heard something crash to the floor down the hall.

  Mila paused to listen. The rustling was definitely louder than Candy’s muted alto and two males—one tenor and one baritone—down in the living room. She stood carefully and smoothed her thick waves into place, then spit toothpaste into the sink as quietly as she could.

  Could Baba already be here? But no, Candy would have mentioned it, and Baba never did anything quietly. She grabbed the big metal flashlight from the floor near the door. It was both a necessity in a neighborhood that was usually the first in the city to lose power, and a powerful club for protection. After taking a deep breath, she carefully slipped out int
o the hallway.

  She was right. The noise was definitely coming from Sela’s room. The door had been closed since she left nearly a week ago, but now it was slightly ajar.

  Through the crack, she could see Sela, racing between her dresser and an open suitcase, stuffing clothing inside haphazardly and muttering to herself. Her face was covered with bruises and there was a dark spot on the back of her head that looked very much like dried blood. “Sela?” She whispered the word, not wanting the people downstairs to hear—especially since Candy had already told them that Sela wasn’t here.

  Her roommate turned so quickly she nearly fell, her face a mask of terror. She raised a hand straight-armed from her shoulder, causing Mila to take a step backward. It took a few moments for recognition to come to Sela’s eyes, but when it did, the arm dropped.

  Mila rushed forward, keeping her voice down, despite her excitement. “Sela, when did you get home? There are some people downstairs looking for you. Have you talked to them yet?”

  Her roommate looked at the open door to the room in abject horror before tiptoeing over to close it. “I haven’t been downstairs yet, because nobody knows I’m here. There are men following me, Mila. You have to tell them that I don’t live here anymore.”

  The disapproval must have been clear in her expression, because Sela’s face fell. She continued whispering, more because she wanted to find out what was going on before there were interruptions. “You know I won’t do that, Sela. How many times have I refused to lie for my boss, even when annoying clients come to the office? What’s going on? How did you get up here without coming through the door downstairs? Are you in some sort of trouble? Should I call the police? I can certainly stall whoever’s downstairs until they get here if you’re in danger.”