Dark Heart of Magic (20 page)

It was the most horrible sound I'd ever heard.

I gasped, trying to look away from Vance's sightless eyes, desperate to wrench my gaze from his, but I couldn't—I just
couldn't
.

A choked sob escaped my lips, and more and more pain spread through my entire body, tearing through my skin and muscles one at a time as though that dagger were slicing through me instead of Vance—

Suddenly, Devon was there, pulling my face into his chest and away from Vance's awful, awful gaze.

“It's okay,” Devon said, rocking me back and forth the way he might a child. “It's okay. It happened to him, not you. You're safe, Lila. You're safe. I've got you.”

I buried my face against his chest, not even trying to hold back my sobs anymore. Devon's hand slid through my hair, trying to soothe me. I shuddered and let him hold me.

But all the while, that terrible, terrible laughter echoed in my head.

The same cruel, evil laughter I'd heard when we'd found that murdered tree troll behind the dumpster on the Midway.

F
elix called his dad and told Angelo what was going on. We stayed with Vance until the rest of the Sinclairs showed up. Claudia, Angelo, Reginald, Mo, Oscar. They all came, along with several guards, and they all stared at Vance's body, as shocked and horrified as the three of us.

I told Claudia and the others what I'd seen when I'd used my soulsight on Vance, and she and Mo put their heads together, wondering who might have done this. But I hadn't seen the killer, only heard that sick, sick laughter. I hadn't liked Vance, and he hadn't liked me either, but Devon was right. Vance hadn't deserved
this
—this level of heartless cruelty. And now, I couldn't even tell Claudia who had murdered him.

I felt like a complete and utter failure.

I didn't dare look at Vance again, not even for a second, so Devon put his arm around my shoulder and led me out of the woods, with Felix on my other side and Oscar fluttering around us. We got into one of the Sinclair SUVs, and Reginald drove us home.

Devon made sure that I got to my room okay, then handed me off to Oscar, who ordered me to take a hot shower, put on some pajamas, and get into bed. I did as the pixie asked, even though I felt disconnected from my own body as though someone else were going through the motions for me.

Oscar fussed over me, pulling the sheets and comforter all the way up to my chin. Then he flew over to his trailer, rustled around inside, and came back out with a pixie sword. It was no bigger than a needle, but a dull stain on the end told me that it had been dipped in poison, probably copper crusher venom. Poison was often the only way pixies could survive against larger mortals, magicks, and monsters.

Oscar fluttered back over and landed on my nightstand. “Don't you worry about a thing, cupcake. I'm going to keep watch tonight. Ain't nobody getting to you the way they did to Vance. Tiny will stand watch too, won't you, Tiny?”

Over in his corral, the tortoise let out a low, huffing noise that sounded like a
yes
, his black eyes strangely bright in his green face.

Oscar saluted me with his sword, then started marching back and forth on my nightstand, moving from one side to the other with quick, precise movements, like a soldier standing guard.

The idea of him watching over me was comforting, and I fell asleep with the steady
clack-clack-clack
of his cowboy boots ringing in my ears.

 

I didn't think that I would rest at all, much less sleep, but I didn't wake up until Oscar nudged my shoulder the next morning.

“What's going on?” I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep. “What's wrong?”

The pixie looked at me, his violet eyes dark and serious. “Claudia wants everyone down in the dining hall ASAP.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the black duffel bag sitting on the coffee table. “I've already got your stuff packed up for the tournament.”

That cleared the last dregs of sleep from my mind. I sat up in bed. “The tournament? Don't tell me they're still having it? What about Vance?”

Oscar shrugged. “Claudia told the other Families, but they think it's an accident—that Vance went too far into the woods and got clawed up by a monster.”

“A monster that can use duct tape and zip ties? Yeah, sure.” I snorted. “A monster killed him all right—but it was a human one.”

“I know,” Oscar said in a somber voice. “I've never seen anybody cut up like that before. It was . . . vicious. Even though there wasn't all that much blood.”

Seleste Draconi's singsong voice echoed in my mind. I shivered the way I always did whenever I thought about her creepy warning, but this time I forced myself to really think about her words.

That's what all the horrible things that had happened over the past few days had in common—no blood. The murdered tree troll behind the dumpster off the Midway. The slaughtered troll that Devon, Felix, and I had found on the Draconi property. All the other troll bodies in the ravine. And now Vance.

None of them had been as bloody as they should have been, despite all the deep, vicious cuts on their bodies. Of course, Vance's blood had probably soaked into the ground. But something about
no blood
kept nagging at me—

“—but surely, that's not the first time you've seen something as horrible as Vance's body,” Oscar said. Apparently, he'd been talking this whole time. “I mean, that library where you lived was in a bad part of town. There are plenty of monsters there, especially at night.”

I nodded. “Yeah. And every once in a while, I'd see the remains of some smaller creature that the bigger monsters had snacked on. But Vance . . . all those cuts on his body . . . it was something else. Worse than anything I've seen before, except for finding my mom's body—and watching Grant and those two guards getting eaten by the lochness a few weeks ago.”

“But you were just defending yourself and Devon,” Oscar said. “Grant betrayed the whole Family, and he tried to rip out Devon's magic. Yours too. At least the lochness got a meal out of him before the end. Monsters have to eat too, you know. But poor Vance. He died out there in the woods all alone. And for what? Nothing.”

I frowned. Something about Oscar's words tugged at a corner of my mind. Something about Grant and the horrible things he'd done to Devon and me. Something about ripping out a person's magic.

And just like that, part of the puzzle clicked together in my mind.

“No blood,” I whispered. “
No blood
.”

Oscar frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Vance,” I said. “He was cut to pieces, but there wasn't a lot of blood on him or even around his body.”

“So. . . . ”

I drew in a breath. “So there wasn't any blood because somebody
ripped his magic out of him
. That's why they cut him so much. They wanted his blood, his power, his magic.”

I thought back, picturing that dagger I'd seen cutting into Vance again and again. I hadn't been able to see any scrollwork on the hilt, but the blade itself had been dark—pulsing with a midnight-black glow. I could have smacked myself for not remembering it sooner.

“The person who killed Vance had a black blade,” I said. “And they used it to soak up all his blood, all his magic.”

“But why take Vance's magic?” Oscar asked, his wings twitching in thought. “I mean, yeah, he had Talents for speed and strength, but Vance wasn't the most powerful guy around. If you were going to take someone's magic, wouldn't you try to get the strongest person with the most power?”

“I don't know,” I said, throwing back the covers and getting out of bed. “But I'm going to find out.”

 

I took a shower, put on my ren-faire getup, and went to the dining hall. Practically everyone in the Family was crowded inside, but the room was quiet, and the mood was somber. Everyone knew what had happened to Vance, and it had shaken up all of us.

I wasn't particularly hungry, but I piled a plate full of food, heavy on the bacon strips, and headed over to the table where Devon, Felix, and Mo were sitting. All of them looked tired, and they'd barely touched their breakfasts.

“Hey, kid,” Mo said, his voice flat and lifeless as he picked at the pancakes on his plate. “I hope you got more sleep than the rest of us did.”

“I think I know why Vance was killed.”

That got their attention, and their heads snapped up. I leaned forward and told them what I thought had happened to Vance.

When I finished, Devon frowned. “But why Vance? Oscar's right. If you were going to rip out someone's magic, wouldn't you do it to someone more powerful? Or someone who had a more unique Talent?”

“Like soulsight, compulsion, or transference magic?” I asked in a wry tone.

Devon winced, but he still nodded. “Yeah. Like those.”

“I don't know. Maybe Vance was already out in the woods. Maybe he'd been making out with a girl, like you said. Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“But you thought Vance was a bad guy,” Felix said. “That he was the one who cut the rope ladder.”

I shrugged. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. I don't know anymore. And I don't know how Vance's murder fits in with what happened to all those tree trolls.”

“I asked around about your murdered monsters,” Mo said. “It's probably some idiot in town for the tournament, trying to prove what a tough guy he is by trapping and killing a bunch of monsters. Some folks like to show off like that. It happened last year.”

“What happened last year?”

“A couple of tree trolls were found all cut up,” Mo said. “I heard about it from one of the Volkov pixies when I was making my rounds at the tournament yesterday. Their guards found the trolls on the edge of the Volkov property around this time last year. It wasn't a pretty sight, and it sounds just like what you, Devon, and Felix saw the other night.”

I frowned. “Did the Volkovs ever figure out who had killed the trolls? Or why?”

Mo shrugged. “Not that the pixie had heard.”

I started to ask another question, but Claudia strode into the dining hall, a sword dangling from her hand. Everyone stopped eating and talking and turned to face her. She was wearing another black pantsuit and heels, with her silver cuff flashing on her right wrist. Her makeup was flawless, but tired lines grooved around her mouth and eyes. No doubt she'd been up all night, dealing with the Vance situation.

Claudia looked out over her Family, her gaze moving from one face to the next. “By now, you have all heard what happened to Vance,” she said. “That his body was found cut up in the woods along the lake. With the tournament and all the tourists in town right now, the other Families have declared it a tragic accident. They're saying that Vance wandered too far into the woods and was attacked and killed by a monster. As a result of their declaration, the Tournament of Blades will proceed as scheduled today.”

Mutters of shock and surprise rang out, with the loudest and angriest ones coming from the table where Vance's friends were sitting, including Henry, who'd made a full recovery from his broken leg.

“But we all know that it wasn't an accident,” Claudia continued in a hard voice. “That Vance was an experienced guard, too experienced to be taken down by some mysterious monster without fighting back for everything he was worth.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the dining hall.

Claudia waited until the noise died down before she spoke again. “There is nothing I can do about the other Families declaring Vance's death an accident. So we will go to the tournament today, and we will fight, and we will honor Vance the best way we can. Understood?”

This time, the murmurs were much louder, and every single person nodded his or her head in agreement, including me.

“But know this. Someone has killed one of our own, and I will do everything in my power to find this person and make sure that he or she is punished accordingly.” Claudia's voice rang with steely authority. “I promise it to every person in the Family, just as I promised it to Vance last night.”

Silence fell over the room. No one spoke, and no one moved.

“But until then, we will do our absolute best today, and we will show everyone—
everyone
—what the Sinclairs are really made of.” Claudia raised her sword high, mimicking the Family crest. “For Vance!”

We all shot to our feet, raised our own swords, and echoed her words. “For Vance!”

And we all meant it—every single Sinclair.

A
fter breakfast, we packed up our gear and went to the fairgrounds.

We got there early, but the stone bleachers were already full, and practically every seat was taken, since this was the last and most popular day of the tournament. I filed into the stadium with the rest of the Sinclairs. Everyone stared at us, with whispers springing up in our wake. Everyone had heard what had happened to Vance, and the other Families were waiting to see how we would react.

Claudia led the way, waving and talking to folks she knew, and acting like nothing was wrong. But she didn't so much as crack a smile, and anger still burned in her eyes. We all followed her example.

Claudia, Reginald, Mo, and Oscar headed up to the Sinclair box, while Angelo went over to the healers' tent. Devon, Felix, and I headed toward the chain-link fence to wait for the first match of the day to start. Claudia had arranged for Henry to take Vance's spot in the tournament, so there were still thirty-two competitors left, and the field would be narrowed to sixteen, then eight, then four. After a break, the action would pick up again this afternoon, and the final four would face off. Once the final match was finished and the winner determined, the tournament would wrap up, and a barbecue dinner and after-party would be held at the lake, just like it had been last night.

Devon, Felix, and I walked past Katia, who was standing with the Volkov guards who were still in the tournament. Katia smiled at me, then deliberately sniffed and turned her back to Felix. Couldn't blame her for that. I'd seen how much she cared about him, so I knew how much he had hurt her, even though he hadn't meant to.

Felix winced, but there was nothing he could do or say to make things better with Katia.

Poppy was waiting for us at the fence, and she rushed over the second she saw us. “You guys! I'm so sorry about Vance!”

Devon accepted her condolences on behalf of the Sinclairs. Poppy looked like she wanted to say more, but she realized that we didn't want to talk about it. So she hugged us all, then went back over to the Ito guards.

Several folks from the other Families also came up and offered their sympathies. Devon nodded and spoke graciously to all of them. So did Felix. But I didn't talk to anyone. I was too busy staring into their eyes and using my soulsight, trying to figure out which one of them might have killed Vance. But everyone radiated genuine shock and sorrow, instead of secret satisfaction. Nobody that I looked at had anything to do with Vance's murder.

Blake and Deah were the last ones to come over to us, with Blake swaggering out front and Deah behind him.

Blake stopped in front of Devon. “I'm supposed to come over here and say how sorry I am about Vance and blah, blah, blah. So there you go.”

Devon's hands curled into fists as though he wanted to punch Blake in the face. “Wow. Thanks for the sympathy.”

Blake snorted. “Whatever. If you ask me, Vance was an idiot for going that far back in the woods. He got what he deserved.”

I stared into his eyes. His brown gaze was cold as usual, but I didn't feel that certain smugness that would tell me Blake's words had some deadly, hidden meaning. He might be a grade A jerk, but Blake wasn't the person who had killed Vance.

But if he hadn't, who had?

Devon's hands clenched together even tighter, his knuckles cracking from the pressure, and he took a step forward as though he was going to give in to his urge to punch Blake. But Deah sidled in between them.

“We really are sorry about Vance,” she said. “I didn't know him, but nobody deserves what he went through.”

Sincerity and sympathy filled her face, and her genuine words were enough to get Devon to loosen his fists.

“Thanks, Deah,” he said. “Good luck today.”

She nodded. “You too. Let's go, Blake. We need to get ready for our matches.”

Blake sneered at us again, but he let Deah lead him back over to the rest of the Draconis.

Devon waited until they were out of earshot before he turned to me. “Did you see anything when you looked at him?”

I sighed. “Unfortunately, no. I hate to say this, but I don't think Blake had anything to do with Vance's murder. Neither has anyone else who's come up to us today.”

“Then who did it?” Felix asked.

I stared out over the competitors with their cavalier hats and colorful cloaks, the tourist rubes in the bleachers with their cameras and cotton candy, the Family officials high up in the glass boxes.

“I have no idea,” I muttered.

 

The officials announced that the tournament would start in five minutes, so Felix wished us good luck, left Devon and me at the fence, and headed over to the healers' tent to join Angelo.

Katia was in the first match of the day. She smiled and waved to the crowd, then stepped up to face her opponent. The official lowered his arm, and the match began.

The Salazar guard raised his weapon and went on the offensive, but Katia slid out of his way too fast to follow. Seriously. One second, she was standing right in front of the guy, and the next, she was behind him, raising her sword. The guard barely managed to whip back around in time to bring up his weapon.

The match went on, with Katia moving faster and faster with every second that passed. It looked like she'd finally gotten her groove back. Or perhaps her anger at Felix and having her heart broken was what was fueling her magic, her quickness, today. Hey, you used what worked.

And it definitely worked for Katia, who was able to draw first blood barely a minute into the match. She grinned and saluted the crowd with her sword, and everyone cheered. Katia skipped over to the Volkov guards, basking in their congratulations as well. She saw me watching her and waved. I smiled and waved back, glad that she was happy.

The day and the matches wore on. Henry lost his match, but everyone gave him a long, loud standing ovation, and there was a moment of silence for Vance. It wasn't nearly enough, though, and I vowed again to figure out who had killed Vance.

Devon and I both won our first matches, putting us in the field of sixteen, along with Katia. Deah easily won her match as well. Blake also made it through to the round of sixteen, where he faced a familiar foe—Poppy.

A couple of weeks ago, Blake had humiliated and practically assaulted Poppy in front of his friends. He sneered at her the whole time the official was reviewing the rules, hefting the sword in his hands like he wanted to bring it down and split her skull wide open. He probably did. Blake was a sick jerk that way. But Poppy just twirled her two short swords around and around in her hands, ignoring him.

The fight began, and Blake raised his sword and charged at Poppy, trying to overwhelm her right away with his strength Talent. But she stepped up to meet him, used her speed magic to sidestep and trip him as he went by, and neatly sliced both of her swords across his left arm, drawing first blood and knocking him out of the tournament.

Poppy smiled and waved to the crowd, and I clapped, yelled, and whistled as loud as I could. I was glad that she'd finally gotten a little bit of revenge on Blake for the horrible way he'd treated her.

For a moment, Blake just stood there in the center of the ring, a stunned look on his face, as if he couldn't believe what had happened. That Poppy had beaten him. That he had lost so quickly. Then he slowly turned and looked up at the Draconi box, as if he was dreading what he was going to see.

Victor was on his feet, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes narrowed, his lips puckered in displeasure. He didn't like Blake losing.

I wondered if Victor would call Blake a loser like he had Deah, after she'd lost the obstacle-course round to Katia. Maybe it was mean of me, but I hoped that Victor was even harder on Blake than he had been on Deah.

And I couldn't help calling out to Blake when he stormed by.

“Aw, too bad you got knocked out of the tournament already, Blake. And by a
girl
. That must be particularly humiliating for
you
, seeing as how you're a high and mighty Draconi and all.”

Blake glared at me, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword as if he wanted to pull it out and skewer me with it. “Ito got lucky, that's all. The same way that you and Sinclair have gotten lucky so far. Deah will still win the tournament. Just wait and see.”

He gave me another evil glare and stomped off, probably to go up to the Draconi box, now that he was out of the tournament. Good riddance.

Poppy got knocked out in the next round, but Devon, Katia, Deah, and I all won our matches, then the ones after that, making us the final four competitors in the tournament.

It was just after noon when the officials called for a break, saying that the final matches would start at two o'clock sharp. All the folks from the Family boxes came down from on high to mingle with their guards and offer their congratulations to the folks still in the tournament. Claudia, escorted by Reginald, made her way through the crowd, stopping to talk to the other competitors, but Mo made a beeline straight for me.

“Keep up the good work, kid,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “I've been placing a lot of bets on you. Everyone thinks that Deah is going to win, but we know better, don't we?”

He winked, and I had to laugh.

“Don't count your money just yet, Mo,” I said. “Deah's a good fighter. So are Devon and Katia. Any one of us could win.”

He waved his hand, causing the diamond signet ring on one finger to flash in the sunlight. “Bah. This tournament is yours to lose, kid. Just like it was your mom's before you.”

Startled, I looked at him. “What? Mom competed in the tournament too?”

Mo nodded. “When she was your age. She won it too. A couple of years in a row, including the summer she left town.”

Before all the bad stuff had gone down with my dad. Before Victor had sent Luke out to be killed by that nest of copper crushers. Before my mom and dad could leave the Families and Cloudburst Falls behind like they'd been planning. That's what Mo really meant.

My mom had never hidden her past from me. She'd told me about working for the Sinclairs, meeting and falling in love with my dad, even the problems she'd had with Victor and the other Families. But I'd never known that she'd won the Tournament of Blades—and not just once.

“I didn't know that,” I said in a soft voice. “She never told me about competing in the tournament.”

Mo stared out over the stadium, his eyes dark and distant with memories. “This is where Serena and Luke actually met. They had to fight each other in the last round. Serena had knocked Victor out of the tournament to get to the final round, and it was winner take all between her and your dad. It was one of the best matches I've ever seen, but your mom finally drew first blood. And Luke was a good sport about it too. He and your mom started talking, and, well, things happened from there between them.”

“Why didn't she ever tell me any of this?”

He shrugged. “She didn't like dwelling on the past, especially when it came to your dad. You know that.”

No, she hadn't. My mom hadn't hidden her past from me, but she hadn't been very chatty about it either. Even when we'd come back to Cloudburst Falls every summer, I'd had to beg and beg her to tell me stories of what the town had been like when she was a kid, of all the things she'd seen and done, of all the plans that she and my dad had had for the future.

Plans that had never happened, thanks to Victor.

Mo squeezed my shoulder, sensing how much this meant to me, but I couldn't help wondering what else my mom hadn't told me. Sure, her winning the Tournament of Blades wasn't exactly an important secret, but what other things might she have kept from me—

“There you are!” a voice called out. “Darling, you were
fabulous
!”

Mo and I looked over. Seleste Draconi had come down from the Family box and was racing toward Deah, her arms outstretched, ready to hug her the second Deah was in range. Seleste was wearing another one of her long, flowing dresses, this one in a sapphire blue that made her look more beautiful than ever. Her hair gleamed like polished gold in the sun, although her eyes were the same unnaturally bright blue that I remembered from the cemetery.

Almost like . . . monster eyes.

That's what Seleste's eyes reminded me of. All the bright, glowing, jewel-toned eyes of the monsters as they crept through the shadows at night.

Everyone stared at Seleste as she drew Deah close, kissed both her cheeks, and then hugged her tight. An embarrassed blush flamed in Deah's cheeks, but she was smiling wide, and she hugged Seleste right back.

Jealousy pinched my heart. My mom would have done the same thing, would have hugged me just like that, if she'd still been alive.

But she wasn't, and Victor and Blake were to blame for that.

Deah hugged her mom back for a few more seconds before stepping out of her arms. “Thanks, Mom.” She shot a nervous look at Victor, who had walked over and joined them. “But shouldn't you be up in the Family box resting? You know how the sun and the heat can get to you.”

Victor sighed. “Your mother insisted on coming down and congratulating you in person, even though I told her that she could have just texted you.”

“Well, that was nice of her.” Deah brightened for a moment, but the expression wilted under her father's stern glare. “Wasn't it?”

Victor didn't respond. Instead, he studied the other competitors, the same sort of sneer on his face that was always on Blake's. “Well,” he said. “If this is your competition, there's absolutely no excuse for you to lose the tournament.”