Magic Rising (14 page)

“I wouldn’t know,” she answered, instead. “I just wanted justice for Jared, but I see now he already has it, thanks to you. I won’t ever pursue you again, I promise. And truly, I am sorry for this. All of this.”

“I’m sorry too,” I told her, softening my stance. “I wish I could have helped Jared. I liked him.”

“It’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault at all. Will you forgive me?”

“Yes,” I said without a trace of hesitation.

“Thank you.” She touched my arm briefly, gave me a weak smile and hurried away, her chin hunched into her chest. Steven looked over and his face clouded.

From the doorway, Etoile waved again and I joined her, giving Steven a small smile just to show him I was okay. “What did she say?” she asked, looking after Alison.

“She wanted to apologise. She had a couple of other things to say too.”

“Like what?”

“Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t want to be overheard.”

“Sure. I need coffee anyway. There’s a place on the corner where we can get a cup,” Etoile told me. “My parents and sisters will meet us at the apartment later. I figured you might want some alone time.”

Did I ever! “Lead the way.”

We shared a crowded elevator downstairs, but it wasn’t until we hit the street that we could talk privately again. “Georgia put her up to it,” I told her as we stepped into the cool air. My instincts told me no witches were in earshot so I assumed it was safe to speak.

“Figures.”

“She also said it had to be now.” I thought about Alison’s certainty of Georgia’s insistence about the timing. “Like you said, it has to be connected to the Summit.”

“Agreed.”

I stopped. “You’re taking this very calmly. What do you know that I don’t?”

“I don’t think you were the target.”

I hurried to catch up with Etoile as she strode ahead. “No? Then who was?”

“Me.”

“You? Why? Because of what Georgia said about you running for Council?”

“Because Georgia wants to discredit me by using you and making us both look bad. Getting you excommunicated would simply be payback for her if she won. Look, the most important thing right now is that the trial is over. It was dismissed with prejudice so no one can ever try a case like that against you again. They all saw what you were capable of and that your magic is evolving. Even better, Georgia’s plan backfired and everyone knows the truth about that day. Didn’t I tell you everything would be okay?” Etoile broke into a broad smile, but it was tinged with relief. “Georgia should be fined for wasting our time. I’m surprised the judiciary were so lenient on her, but I guess I shouldn’t be because she does have friends in high places.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside the chain coffee shop, joining the end of the short queue. We were quiet as the queue edged along, until finally, we reached the front.

“Double pump, triple shot, extra vanilla, hold the whip,” reeled Etoile.

The barista looked at me. “Black,” I said.

The barista frowned, her forehead wrinkling under the cap. “I’m sorry?”

“Black coffee,” I told her.

“With?” She held up one hand and pointed at the many options on the menu above the machines.

“With nothing. That’s it.”

She raised her eyebrows, clearly not used to an order so simple, as she rang us up and Etoile paid. Following her to the end of the counter, we waited until our cardboard cups arrived. I added sugar to mine and we stepped outside into the cool afternoon light. I followed her, both of us lost in our thoughts.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” I said. “It was horrible.”

“Me too,” said Etoile.

“You know, we forgot about Micah. Should we go back to the hotel for him? Do you think Georgia would really have insisted on my excommunication if she’d prevailed?” I piled on my questions, then stopped, realising Etoile was no longer at my side. I looked around. A pace behind me, Etoile was on her knees. “Are you okay? Did you trip?” I hurried back to her.

Etoile stayed very still, then almost imperceptibly, her shoulders began to shake. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her eyes were wide and shocked.

“Etoile?” I stepped closer, reaching for her. A stain spread across her jacket. “Hey, you spilled your coffee.”

“No… not coffee,” Etoile stuttered. Her coffee cup dropped to the ground, hot liquid splashing my shoes before it washed over the sidewalk. I sank next to her as her hand went to her chest and that’s when I saw it. It wasn’t coffee staining her coat. The dark area was rapidly expanding as I looked at it — blood. Bright, crimson-red was soaking into the grey wool. A visible hole, with torn threads surrounding it, marred the cloth. “I’ve been shot,” she whispered. “Why does someone always get shot?” she moaned, her voice breaking with the pain as she wavered.

“Oh shit.” I reached for her.

“Get me out of here,” Etoile whispered, falling against me.

“We need to go to a hospital.”

“No hospital,” she groaned. “Too many records. Take us to the hotel. Get us out of here now!”

I crouched next to her and flung my arms around her, simultaneously casting a protective field around us to divert human eyes. Keeping her in my arms, I shimmered us from the street straight to the hotel, focusing on the only space I knew well, the lobby outside the judiciary’s courtroom. For a brief moment as we landed, there was an eerie silence, our arrival probably surprising everyone. I understood why Etoile had been against a flashy entrance like this at the trial. The assembled witches gaped at us. “Help! Etoile‘s been shot,” I yelled, hoping the urgency in my voice would make them move, to do something, anything to help her.

Hands appeared from everywhere as people pressed around me, helping me lay Etoile on the carpet. Someone unbuttoned her coat, pushing the sides apart. Her top was a scarlet mess and her jaw started to tremble, as the blood drained from her face. She blinked rapidly, and her eyes seemed to be losing focus.

“Going into shock,” she whispered, her hand reaching up to grab my lapel. “Blood loss. Heal me now. Get it out.”

“I…”

“Don’t think,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just do it.”

I placed both of my palms on her: one on her forehead where I willed my magic to numb her pain. And with my second hand, which I placed over her collarbone, I covered the still bleeding wound. I sent my magic inside her to seek the bullet, where it lodged in her muscle. Upon its extraction, I could feel her muscles knitting and repairing the damage. The bullet edged towards me until I could pluck it from her wound. I dropped it on the carpet.

“Etoile?” I whispered, glancing towards her face. Her eyes were closed, and her skin seemed waxy and pale. My breath caught as anguish seared through me. Was I too late?

“She’s out,” said a man’s voice.

“Is she…?” My voice broke.

“Alive,” said the same voice. Continuing in an even tone, he said, “Finish your work. You need to close the wound.”

I concentrated my last bit of energy on the opening, quickly fusing the skin together until only a pinkish line was all that was left of her wound. Her sharp breaths softened. I had the horrible feeling I was too late, or that I’d messed up somehow, that the blood loss was too great. Then someone took her pulse, as another patted me on the back, instigating a general air of relief.

“Let’s get her to a room,” said another person. Hands helped move me backwards as Etoile was lifted.

“I need to go with her. And she needs her family. Her family are here.” I looked around for them, hoping they hadn’t witnessed this. I couldn’t see any Winterstorm in the small crowd that had formed, or anyone I recognised. They must have already left, as eager as we were to get away.

“We’ll find them,” said someone else in a friendly voice. “Stella, isn’t it? Let’s go.”

Another stranger wrapped an arm around me and held me up as a tall man gathered Etoile in his arms. I followed the silent progression as a room was called for, along with a healer, and other people that I was too shocked to remember or notice. After a while, they stopped outside a room. The door opened and we were ushered inside. Etoile was lying on the bed and people fussed around us. Someone took me into the bathroom and washed my hands, the blood staining the sink pink. Like a child, I allowed my hands to be patted dry with a towel. If I were suddenly asked to pick the helpful person out of a lineup, I am sure I wouldn’t be able to. Everything passed by in a blur as I was pressed into an armchair. From the doorway, I heard Laura insisting she be let in, since she was her mother, and demanding to see her daughter. Then Seren was next to me, her hand against my head and I was out cold.

~

“Evan? It’s me again. I know you’re busy, but I really need to talk to you.” I paused, the phone pressed against my face as his voicemail recorded my silence. “The trial is over. Not guilty,
obviously
. Glad they came to their senses, but I feel bad for Alison Dorling. She’s… She was Jared’s mother and Georgia spun her some story about getting revenge… Anyway, I’m not really calling about that. Something happened. Something bad. Etoile was shot. I’m okay. I healed her, but she’s still unconscious. So… I know you’re busy, but I need you. Evan, I
really
need you.” I hung up, only just resisting the urge to hurl my phone against the wall. With more effort, I tempered my anger. The events of the past few days were bad enough, and now Etoile getting shot and recovering in the adjoining bedroom where I’d awoken just ten minutes ago after Seren knocked me out. Not being able to get in touch with him… gave me a really bad feeling about his situation. A strange feeling told me he
couldn’t
contact me. Where was he?

After splashing water over my face and wrists, I took stock of myself in the bathroom mirror and pulled a face at my blood-spattered jacket. Pulling it off, I wadded it into a ball and put it in the tub to soak. My blouse also had dry droplets of Etoile‘s blood, but it wasn’t as bad, and it would have to do for now. I smoothed my hair, tucked it behind my ears, and walked out of the bathroom into the hotel bedroom.

Etoile hadn’t moved from where she lay in the middle of the bed, looking serene in her unconscious state. Laura and Byron sat hand-in-hand by the bedside, where they’d been ever since their arrival. At some point, David and Astra arrived, or maybe they came with Seren — I wasn’t sure — and the three of them took up the sofa on the far wall, all their faces ashen.

Steven had come and gone, offering to explain to the Summit officials about the grave nature of the act against Etoile. A guard was posted on the door, but it was shut and I had no urge to go outside and see whom it was. I could sense Micah nearby, and I guessed he had taken up a position in the hallway too. I doubted that made the Council guards too happy, but it made me feel better.

When Etoile groaned and stretched, her eyelids fluttering, we were all on our feet in an instant.

“Did I really just get shot?” was the first thing she asked.

“Yes,” said Laura, instantly bursting into tears.

“Oh, great,” said Etoile. She used her elbows to push herself up, wincing as she did so. “Some asshole is going to get it now.”

I didn’t doubt it.

“The bullet hit just under your collarbone and lodged into the muscle. I got it out.” I told her as Byron stuffed a pillow behind her back before reaching for his wife and pulling her against him. “Why would someone want to shoot you?”

Etoile leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She stayed that way for a while. Just as I began to wonder if she’d drifted off to sleep, she opened them again, and this time, her eyes seemed bright and clear. “Not that I’m being a narcissist or anything, but I think the whole facade of the past few days was really about me.”

“Didn’t see you on trial for murder,” I replied, folding my arms as I stared down at her from my position at the foot of the bed.

Etoile patted the covers. “Sit,” she instructed. I skirted around the edge of the bed, avoiding getting too close to Astra and sat facing her. I wasn’t too keen on having Astra at my back, given that she’d shown such a propensity for violence, but I had to assume she was safely wedged between Seren and David. I also had to stop thinking like that and give her a chance.

“You said to me that Georgia wanted to discredit you,” I reminded her. “You said she was using me to get to you. What’s going on?”

“Seren and David know what I’m talking about, but I might as well tell you all. Georgia said as much during the trial. It’s my intention to run for Council leader. I’ve already made my plans clear to the temporary Council, and they have accepted my proposed candidacy.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Byron asked. Next to him, Laura still patted her eyes with a folded tissue. Instead of shock, now they burned with determination and pride.

“Because now is a precarious time for our kind and I didn’t want it to be common knowledge.”

“But we’re your parents,” Laura insisted.

“This is why you’re gone so much,” I interrupted, suddenly realising the reason for all the sudden trips to New York, as well as the sketchy answers I received whenever I asked her about her visits. And to think I thought she had some secret boyfriend stashed away.

Etoile nodded. “I have some support already, but with Georgia actively canvassing, I didn’t feel it was wise to reveal myself as a competitor just yet. I planned to tell everyone the day Stella was indicted, and now getting shot has thrown my hand.”

“Do you think Georgia shot you?” I turned at the sound of Astra’s voice, then back to Etoile. It was a very good question.

“I don’t know. Maybe. She could have been behind it. You know, she doesn’t like any competition.” Etoile shrugged, her eyes closing briefly in pain. “And she’s made it plain that she’ll run. She’s campaigned for months. The end of the trial must have really vexed her.”

“Does it hurt?” I asked quietly.

She reached for my hand and squeezed. “Barely. You did a good job.”

“I can make some enquiries,” offered David. “I could find out where Georgia was when you were shot.”

“Discreetly,” agreed Etoile. “The last thing we need is another false trial delaying the Summit.”