Endless Magic (Stella Mayweather Series Book 6) (10 page)

"Here's the candle," she said, plucking a small glass votive from the desk. She placed the horologican on the desk in its place, levering it open to the unbinding spell. "I read in a magazine that if you brought a candle, a photo and some other things you liked from home, any hotel room would feel more... homey."

"Does it?" I asked, looking around.

"Nope. It feels like a hotel, but at least, it’s got a nicer smell."

I laughed. "It's fortuitous that you picked a jasmine candle."

"It was my mother's scent."

I paused, thinking of my own mother again. I had no idea what her scent was, since I knew so little about her at all. I wondered if it were better to lose someone before you knew them; or to have shared some time with them, and lose them after you knew how much they would be missed.

"Let's light the candle," I said, pushing those thoughts from my head as Chyler produced a lighter.

"I don't smoke," she told me as she lit the flame before placing it next to the horologican. "It's purely for candles."

"I wasn't asking or judging. Do you have a pin for the blood drops?"

"I saw a sewing kit in the desk drawer." Chyler opened it and extracted a small card kit with several needles and tiny spools of thread. "They really think of everything here, huh? Except, you know, how to stop the bad guys from putting corpses in the elevator with creepy messages. I saw your name on it, Stella. They wouldn't hand you over, would they? Or that other guy? I guess you pissed off Georgia when you helped me; but what did he do?" she asked, her words rushing out.

"He's my cousin and he didn't do anything. No, they won't hand us over," I assured her. "They already had a meeting about it."

"Good."

I took the sewing kit, extracting two needles, and handed one to Chyler. "Let's sterilise these in the open flame, then we'll each prick our fingers and let a drop of our blood fall into the flame."

"Hygienic and awesome," said Chyler.

"Ready? You're sure about this?"

"One hundred percent."

I passed my needle through the flame, waving it in the air until it cooled. While it was still warm, I pressed the sharp tip into my thumb, watching a bead of blood well up onto my skin. Chyler repeated my motion, wincing as she squeezed her thumb. Together, we let the droplets fall onto the flame, then wrapped tissue around our thumbs as I began the spell. We joined hands at the first word, and I sent my magic into her, seeking hers, which was hiding deep and dormant, but waiting. At every word, her magic pulsed from deep inside her. Chyler gasped, and her breathing grew laboured as my magic drew hers out. She allowed the magic to travel through her, and it recognised her before rushing in its eagerness to be free again.

White noise deafened me and a wind swept up the room, swirling around us. No, not wind.
Magic.
Magic surrounded us! "Chyler Anderson, I hereby unbind you," I called above the magic. "With my magic, I call yours. With my magic, I set you free. You are unbound. You are unbound. You are unbound!"

Chapter Eleven

The horologican and I were having a good time as I curled up with it on the loveseat in my room. I sipped a hot chocolate from the restaurant's hot drinks machine and the book seemed proud at having someone to show off its many pages. After it stopped flipping them, it began showing me various spells and ink drawings. Now it was content to lie still and just let me read.

I could see why the demons were so desperate to obtain a book like this. It was an invaluable source of information, far more than what it appeared to be to the unknowing eye. Given its anthropomorphic qualities, I suspected this particular tome was rare among horologicans, thus making it all the more priceless. Its value to me was simple: I needed it to find the superwitch, and thereafter, the mystery witch would use it to defeat our enemy.
It wasn't so much to ask
, I reasoned, a small smile playing on my lips as I tried not to laugh at the way my "much to ask" scale had changed over the years. No, I hardly wanted anything at all!

"What I really need to know is who the superwitch is. Can you tell me that, hmm, book?" I asked out loud, wondering if it actually listened, or merely read my intentions. Regardless, the book did nothing. "Okay," I began again, "how about this...?" I stopped when the pages began to ruffle before a section turned, opening to a page squarely in the middle of the book. I watched the page writing itself. Only it didn’t write, it was drawing. As the drawing progressed, I saw it had nothing to do with my next question, namely, to ask which vampire possessed their talisman, and what it was. Instead, it appeared to be sketching my house in Wilding.

"I don't understand," I said, as the inked house took shape. "Why are you showing me my house?"

The picture began to fade. As soon as the lines were barely visible, a new drawing began. This time, my living room first became apparent, then, as if it were animated, the drawings morphed into the hallway that connected the rooms then the kitchen and the bedrooms appeared. From each room came a small glow of flickering light.

"Is my house on fire?" I asked, fearing the worst. The Brotherhood could have easily torched it as retribution for my daunting escape. They already killed one person and dumped her in our secure elevator. Torching my empty house would have been a piece of cake.

The flickering lights began to meld together as my house receded. Just as I was about to reach for my cell phone to call Annalise and ask her to send the fire department there, a new drawing began. It was a very old book with a tooled leather cover, just like the one I now held. My illustrated hands reached for it, and I recognised my demon ring with the one smashed stone immediately.

"Another horologican?" I asked as realisation dawned on me: There was another book somewhere in my house!

Underneath the drawing of the book, calligraphy slowly swept across the page in large point. It revealed one word: ANSWERS.

I stared down at the page, waiting for something else to happen, but nothing did. The book told me all the knowledge it intended to impart and was finished.

Gathering the book, I stuck a pamphlet in the page so I wouldn't lose it — not that it was any guarantee the book wouldn't erase the drawing anyway — and loaded it into my backpack. I need to talk to someone about it. If there were a horologican hidden in my house that contained the answers I sought, I had to get there and retrieve it,
fast.

My one small problem was: Étoile forbade me to leave the building. I had to wonder if she thought it was still safe here, after The Brotherhood's message. I would have to convince her that in order to solve the superwitch riddle, I needed to leave. I was pretty sure she wouldn't agree to that, unless I came up with a solid plan.

With the horologican securely tucked into my backpack, I searched for Étoile. First stop, her office. It was empty except for Clare, who was examining a stack of paperwork. She looked up at the sound of my knock and I entered.

"Hey," she said with a weary smile. "How're you doing?"

"You mean after finding..." I trailed off, failing to add "the body."

"Yeah." She nodded. "Rough morning."

"For everyone. I was just unlucky. Not as unlucky as... Were her family found?" I asked, realising how selfish I sounded. Sure, I was unlucky to be in the reception area at the moment the elevator dinged open, but not nearly as unlucky as the poor woman inside it. I still had my life.

"They're flying in tomorrow."

"That must be awful."

"I've never lost anyone I loved," said Clare, "I can't imagine how painful it must be. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

I put a hand up, stopping her. Yes, I'd lost people I loved, but I had the benefit — if you could call it that — of not remembering them, nor the pain my child-self must have endured. I still remembered the pain of uncertainty when I did not know if Evan were alive or dead, and I had no desire to inflict that horrible feeling on anyone. That thought was intensified by the sight and brutality of the woman's death. "Don't be sorry for me," I told her. "I know what you mean. I was looking for Étoile. Is she coming back?"

"She stepped out ten minutes ago. Something about desperately needing coffee, preferably intravenously. You're welcome to wait. I'm sure she won't be long." Clare gestured to one of the chairs as she arose. "If you like, I can call her cell phone and tell her you're here?"

"No, I'll wait until she's had her coffee," I decided and Clare laughed. She was just about to sit again when the desk phone trilled. With a sigh, she stood up, moving around the coffee table to answer it. I turned away, looking at the view beyond. It dawned on me that observing the city was like mediation for me. A visually open space allowed my thoughts to soar. Despite growing up in London, I never considered myself a city girl. Home was a variety of suburban houses; and work? Just one dull office block after another. It wasn't until Étoile brought me here, far away and across the sea, that I was privileged to behold such stunning urban views. The extreme height never failed to amaze me, or how far it allowed me to see. It also impressed me that none of the tiny figures scurrying beneath us knew or cared that we even existed; much less suspected a supernatural war was about to be waged amongst them.

Crossing over, I weaved between the chairs and around the coffee table. I was just about to step towards the window when I felt something brushing my legs as the sound of loose papers drifted off the table. Turning, I winced. "I'm so sorry!" I said, cringing as I stooped to collect the stack of papers I inadvertently knocked to the floor. "That was so clumsy of me."

"Leave them!" Clare held up a hand as she glanced at me from the phone.

"No, it's fine. I wasn't looking. I..." A name on the paper I picked up quickly caught my eye.
My name.
What the hell? I scanned the paper, hastily turning the page. "What the hell is this?" I asked, puzzled as I looked up from what appeared to be my medical report.

"Nothing," said Clare, dropping the receiver and hurrying over. "Just some old files."

"This is
my
medical file." I held it out of her reach as she strained for it.

"It's old..."

"This is dated from a few days ago! This dates from when Evan brought me back here."

"Yes, it's just from..."

"Don't!" it was my turn to hold a hand up as I stepped back from Clare, the file clutched securely in my grasp. "Don't lie to me! I can read the dates. This file is a readout from every day I've been here! How are you monitoring me?"

"Stella?"

I spun around at Étoile's voice. She was standing in the doorway, looking paler than I'd ever seen her. In her hand, she held a coffee in a takeout cup.

"Am I being monitored?" I asked outright. I knew Étoile often omitted some things, but she rarely lied straight to my face.

"Yes." She turned, shutting the door before crossing to her desk where she sat in the chair, watching me, and waiting for my next question.
Probably so she doesn't incriminate herself,
I thought in a rare moment of spite.

"Why?"

"To ensure you don't pose a risk to this building, nor any of its occupants."

"What kind of risk?"

"We don't know. You're being monitored merely as a precautionary measure."

"How?" When Étoile hesitated, I asked again, "How?"

"There's a small chip in your arm. It was inserted when you were unconscious."

"What does it monitor?"

"Your vital signs."

"And you intended to tell me this… when?"

"When we felt assured that your health and faculties were fully recovered."

"I feel fine."

"That's great then," said Étoile, throwing her hands in the air. "Let's take it out right now. Silly me for worrying about what might have happened to you."

"You saw what happened to me! It played out directly from my head onto a wall!"

"We saw what we were
allowed
to see. We don't know what is still blocked inside your head."

"There are no..." I paused, wondering what I missed. Étoile didn't say “might be” or “could be,” she said, “blocked.”

"You found a block?"

"Yes, a small block that we can't get past. We don't know what you're suppressing or why."

"I'm not suppressing anything."

"Then the reasonable assumption is: something else is suppressing a memory inside your mind. But that's not why you're here. Why did you..."

"Don't change the subject! We're talking about a block in my head, and a secret medical file, and a chip in my arm that I didn't know about!" I flapped the file for extra measure. "Let's talk about this."

"What else do you want to know?" Étoile asked.

That had me floundering for an answer. I didn't know what I wanted to know, except... "Everything."

"I can't tell you everything. I can only tell you that we've detected no changes in your heart rhythm, your brain activity, nor any of your vital organs. Not even when The Brotherhood sent their message and your magic touched their spell."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in. "That's good."

"It is for now."

"Who else knows about this?" I asked, still mortified at the idea of being monitored. Try as I might, I couldn't be angry about it. I
had
to understand. My need for privacy wasn't as strong as everyone else's need for safety. So what if they saw a twenty-four-hour heart rhythm? I could rationalise Étoile's decision to secretly monitor me, but it didn't mean I liked being kept in the dark.

"Me. The medical staff here. Clare. My chief of security. Matthias. No one else."

"Why Matthias?"

"Because I have to sleep sometimes, and he doesn't require as much, given his non-living predicament. He can watch over you when I need him to."

"Thanks, I guess."

Étoile rolled her eyes. "I'll pass your gratitude along."

"You still think The Brotherhood did something to me?" I asked, returning to the most obvious question.

"Possibly, or they could simply be protecting their assets by ensuring some things aren't recalled by you. There is, however, another option."

"What's that?"

"Maybe some things are simply too awful for you to remember."

"Great. Just great." What’s worse than being kidnapped and held captive? What could they have put me through that was so terrible, I can’t bear to remember it? Even as I thought about it, I didn't dare know the answer. "So this block could actually be me?"

"Potentially. Lisette suggested your subconscious defences might have prevented us from discovering whatever you may have chosen to block."

"I need to think about this. I know I want the chip taken out of my arm. You should have told me."

"Maybe, but you weren't conscious at the time. Then, when you were, it was left as a..."

"Precautionary measure," I finished. "I get it."

"I'd like to leave it there for now," Étoile added. "If anything happens to you, I want to be sure we can get a medical team to you fast, especially when you could be anywhere in the building."

"About that," I said, seizing my opportunity to get what I came for. "I need to leave. I need to go to my house."

"Stella, we've talked about that. You can't leave, especially given the circumstances. Do I have to remind you of the fight I just had to ensure you and your cousin weren't handed over to The Brotherhood? Plus, you have a job to do here."

"This is related to the job. I got a horologican, but it's the wrong one. I thought the prophecy asked for any horologican, but it is more specific."

"What do you mean?"

"Here." I pulled the book from my bag, sweeping through the pages until I came to the one I marked. "I was reading and the book began to show me my home before it ended with this. A picture of another horologican in my home. I think one was hidden there, maybe by my parents. I have to find it for the answers I need."