Fairy Magic (14 page)

He shot her a self-satisfied smirk. “Of course, my lady. As you say.” His hand lifted to her face. Just as she thought he was going to touch her—and maybe kiss her again—he quickly tucked a loose hair behind her ear, then stepped away.

“More of Valin’s soldiers are coming.” He stared across the courtyard of bodies. “They are regrouping.”

Naomi followed his gaze upward. The sky above the castle was thick with the shimmering white forms of ghosts.

“Trouble,” he muttered.

“Ghosts can’t hurt us,” she said. “They can’t take corporeal form without someone to control their magic, like a necromancer.”

“Down here things are different.”

The ghosts fluttered down to the courtyard. As they touched down, their ethereal white bodies turned solid. Eerie, otherworldly magic hummed on them as they began to weave a spell around her and Makani. He moved quickly, cutting around to the other side of them, splitting their attention. Naomi blasted the ghosts with Fairy Dust, but the pink magic just slid right off of them.

“You need to make it white,” Makani told her, slashing at the ghosts.

They swerved away from his shimmering blade.

“What?” she asked.

“The Fairy Dust,” he said. “You need to use different Dust against the otherworldly.”

“What is white Dust?” She ducked, and the ghost shooting toward her flew over her head. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Maybe you’ve seen pale yellow or pale pink Dust?”

“Yes, it’s for healing. But of all the fairies, only angels can do it.”

“White Dust is like that Dust but even more pure,” he told her. “It’s undiluted, holy magic. It is one of the Spirit Warrior’s greatest weapons. It works against the dead and undead, killing them.”

“Does it heal the living?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Don’t use it on the living. Not ever. The results are too unpredictable. You never know how it will react to the magic of the person you want to heal. You might heal them, or you might kill them. Or worse yet, you might create a horrible, unstoppable monster. White Dust is not for the living, but it’s a powerful weapon against the dead. Try it.”

She shook out her hands, but only pink Dust came out. She tried again. And again. And again. But she couldn’t make the Dust go paler than carnation pink. She sighed. Makani shook his head slowly, looking disappointed. That was even worse than her own failure.

A ghost dove for Naomi, knocking her to the ground. She swung out her hands as it passed by, but her fingers passed right through it.

“They keep turning non-corporeal again,” she told Makani.

He darted around the ghosts, chasing them off with his glowing sword.

“Does that actually hurt them?” she asked as he stepped up beside her.

“Yes, but not enough. As soon as they turn non-corporeal, they heal again. Our strength has its limits, but the ghosts can keep going forever. And without white Dust to fight them, we cannot win this.”

“Isn’t there something we can do to ward them off?” she asked.

His eyes lit up. “Ward. A spirit ward. That’s it.” He pointed to the stone ground. “Use your magic to draw some glyphs on the ground. I need you to make a protection ward against otherworldly beings.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“What kind of Spirit Warrior are you?” he demanded.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “The kind who just found out what she is.”

He sighed. “Draw a twenty-sided star with a circle inside. Make sure that all the points of the star are identical. Without perfect symmetry to bind it together, the ward will not hold.”

As she set out weaving her magic into the ward, he cast a ring of fire around them. Flames erupted from the ground, blasting the ghosts away. The wall of fire rose almost as high as the towers. Holy shit. He wasn’t just a prince. He was a god of fire.

But even his magic had its limits. The flames began to fall. Makani clenched his fists, trying to lift the flames back up. They refused to obey. Another half a minute, and they’d be nothing but smoke.

“Got it,” Naomi said, binding the final point of the star.

She pulled him inside of the central circle, then punched her magic into the glyph. It sprang to life, glowing with pale silver magic. Ghosts shot toward the barrier, but its magic repelled them.

“Yes!” Naomi said, pumping her fist as a shockwave of silver magic pushed out from the ward, dissolving the ghosts as it hit them.

“They’ve been thrown deeper into the spirit realm,” Makani said. “Pretty impressive, especially considering the quality of your glyph.”

She looked down. “What’s wrong with them?”

“I’ve never seen such a sloppy glyph from a fairy before.”

“It worked.”

“A miracle. The lines are completely crooked,” he pointed out.

She squinted down at the glyph. Maybe it was a little—ok, a lot crooked—but at least all the lines were crooked in the same way. At least it was symmetrical.

“Well,” she said. “This is my first time. It can only get better from here.”

“It certainly can’t get worse.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. So he was teasing her. She stuck her tongue out at him to let him know what she thought about that. Still, it was amazing that he’d managed to keep his sense of humor in hell, even more amazing than the magic he’d held onto.

“How do you still have magic?” she asked.

“For some reason, the draining effect works more slowly on me.”

“Because you’re Dragon Born?”

“Perhaps. We are more resistant to the draining magic. And I have been conserving magic. Some of my skills, like Sniffing out and breaking magic, don’t require magic at all.”

“And the volcanos?” she asked.

“That required a lot of magic, but it was necessary to hold off the ghosts.”

He punched against her glyph’s magic, breaking it. As it shattered, he sucked the magic into him. So that’s how he did it. He’d been able to keep his magic for so long because he could break things to steal their power. She hoped he didn’t decide to do that to her. His friends ran up to them.

“The towers are clear,” Emma reported.

“Good,” said Makani, moving into the middle of the courtyard. His hand closed around his pendant’s gemstone. As it shattered, he drew its magic into him. It swirled across his body like ribbons of mist. He slammed his hand against the ground. Tremors split across the courtyard, rocking the castle’s stone walls. Quaking, shaking, they pounded in time to the beat of Makani’s magic. His power ripped through the air, the sheer power of it pure insanity. The castle collapsed, pouring away from their group. He flicked his hand to direct the river of debris over the army parked outside of the back gate, burying them in the stones of their own fortress.

Naomi watched, almost not believing her eyes. Blowing things up was one thing. Controlling every piece of the explosion was something different altogether—something Naomi had never seen before. Makani’s willpower was almost as frightening as his magic.

The river of stones was slowing down. The dust was settling. Makani turned, a curse breaking his lips.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi asked.

He pointed up at the hill overlooking the castle, the precipice from which they’d launched Valin’s demise. An army stood atop the ridge, a man in a feathered hat at the forefront.

“Valin.” Makani swore again. “This was a trap. I can feel it now. His demon-gifted magic created a mirage, projecting his aura into this castle.”

“He wanted us to attack?” Naomi asked. “But why?”

“To trap me.”

“Why does he want you so badly? Why did he sacrifice so many of his men to get you?”

“Their lives mean nothing to him,” Makani said. “We have to move.”

They ran toward where the back gate had been, over the uneven ground of broken stones—all that remained of the castle. A war horn echoed on the wind.

“They’re moving in to surround us,” Makani said to Emma. “Take the others and escape through the forest. I will draw Valin’s army away from you, giving you a chance to escape.”

“We are not leaving you,” Emma protested fiercely.

“You will do as I command,” he said, his voice ringing with magic. “I am the one Valin wants. Now, go!”

Emma swallowed hard, then waved for Bruce and Troy to follow her toward the forest.

“You too,” Makani told Naomi as his friends melted into the shadows.

“I’m staying. I’m your best bet for surviving this. I and my spirit magic.”

He glared at her.

“That’s nice,” she said. “Now how about you put away your big bad alpha dragon stare. I am just as stubborn as you, Your Highness.”

He snorted. “Don’t I know it.”

He lifted his hand, throwing up a flare of magic to get Valin’s attention. Naomi looked toward the ridge. The army was no longer there. She could hear the thunderstorm of stampeding hooves. Makani sent up another magic flare, drawing the army’s attention to him. He was burning his reserves, trying to buy his friends time to get away. He didn’t look like he had enough power left in him to fight a whole army. And he’d run out of castles to roll over people anyway. Valin’s army was closing in fast.

“Why aren’t they shooting?” she asked.

“Valin wants me alive,” he said. “He wants to kill me himself. Slowly.”

“Well, we’re not going to let him get you.”

“Your optimism does not suit the decor of hell,” he told her.

She laughed. “Maybe not, but hell be damned. I am not going to let you be taken by a demon’s warlord.”

She focused on her spirit magic, on the thrilling feeling of flight. Wings sprouted from her back. She wrapped her arms around him, then shot upward, high into a sky dark with storm clouds and ash. Makani was really heavy, but she held onto him, carrying him away from the army.

“Is that sufficient?” she asked, winking at him.

He met her eyes. “More than sufficient.”

“Stop it.” She looked away from his smoldering stare.

“What?”

“You’re distracting me. I can’t fly straight. Maybe I’ll crash into a mountain or a tree, and then you’d be sorry.”

He chuckled.

Ripples of pain split across her arms.

“No,” she said, descending.

“What is it?”

“I’m being pulled away,” Naomi told him.

She fought the force of the magic pulling at her. Her body quaked. She felt like she was being torn apart from the inside. She had to get back to the ground.

“Makani,” she said, clenching her teeth against the pain.

The magic ripped through her, carrying her away. She couldn’t hold on. She couldn’t fight anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

He slipped from her fading fingers, dropping toward the ground.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Into Hell

NAOMI GRABBED FOR the unraveling strands of magic, but they slipped away. Desperate, panicking, she tried to return to the spirit realm, but she couldn’t make the magic work. She pulled and twisted her magic to no avail. It was like trying to use muscles that were untrained, forcing them to do things they’d never done before.

She had to get back to the spirit realm, back to Makani. But she had to get there for real this time, not using this yoyo connection that could snap her away at any moment. Was he still alive?

He must be, she told herself. He was a dragon for crying out loud.

But he’d also been in hell for over seven hundred years. He was weaker now.

No, he wasn’t that weak. He’d brought down a whole castle.

But he’d used power from an amulet to do that.

She shook her head. Debating this with herself wouldn’t help Makani. She just had to believe he was alive. Even now, something was pulling her toward Nymphenburg Palace, to the tear between realms. She had to find that tear. Makani had fallen from the sky when she’d disappeared. He must be wounded. And Valin’s army was close to him. They would track him down and kill him.

Naomi felt a twinge of pain in her chest. No, they wouldn’t kill him. Because she was going to stop them.

She went back inside and collected Logan’s tech from the pantry. She grabbed a granola bar and a Magic Spike energy drink while she was at it. Since an evening gown wasn’t the optimal wardrobe choice for infiltrating a castle that was currently housing an army of escaped prisoners from hell, she decided to change. A few minutes later, she emerged from her room, dressed in a tank top and stretchy pants: the perfect outfit to survive the heat of hell.

She hopped into her car, and as she drove toward the gate, she saw Cyrus standing there, as though he’d been waiting for her. He looked like an entirely different person than the one she’d rescued last night. His clothes were clean and all blood and dirt on his body had been washed away. Only the harrowed look in his eyes hinted at his days of captivity.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping beside him.

“I had to see you.”

“How did you know where to go?”

“I followed your scent to your grandmother’s house,” he admitted.

“So, you’re stalking me now?”

“No,” he said quickly, throwing up his hands. “I…I just had to see you.”

Devotion shone in his eyes as he looked at her. She was used to the look. Sometimes, it was because of her fairy blood, though as a half-fairy, he should have been immune to her magic. Other times, she picked up fans because she had a tendency to save people from monsters. She had a feeling Cyrus fell into the latter category. That was unfortunate. It was easier to snap people out of a magical enchantment than out of a mundane one.

“I want to help,” he continued. “I have to help you. You saved me.”

Naomi smiled. “You should be resting. I don’t need your help to visit the shopping mall.”

“Shopping mall?”

“Yeah, I need a new pair of shoes. Dress shoes aren’t designed to survive a war with hell’s army.”

“I overheard you talking to that dark fairy,” he said.

Naomi sighed. So much for little white lies. “How much did you hear?”

“I heard something about going to hell to save a person trapped there.”

Cyrus didn’t mention the prisoner was Dragon Born. He must not have heard that part. Thank goodness. Most supernaturals weren’t like Gran. They believed the lie that the Dragon Born were abominations who needed to be put down.