Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel (9 page)

“In time.” Gillian strode to the center of the room, the center of the circles, her robe winging around her. “For now, we need to focus on harnessing your powers, so as to produce visible, purposeful results.” And with that, she threw her arms in the air - and the room was full of rushing air, rough and dry against my skin.

Luckily, I was wearing something more substantial than my usual tank top and jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt protected me from the worst of the windstorm. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I raised my voice to carry over the sound of the wind, my hair whipping around me. “Do you think you could tone down the sandpaper factor a little? I’ve got sensitive skin.”

Nailing me with a withering look, Gillian dropped her arms, the wind dying away. Pulling one hand out to brush the hair out of my face, I said, “Thanks, it’s a little easier to talk this way, too. So, is it just that simple, or is there more to it, like an incantation?”

“The arms are something my mentor got me into the habit of doing.” Gillian gestured me forward to join her in the circle, turning me so my back was to her as she stood slightly behind me and to my left. Taking my hands, she turned them palm up, careful to stay away from the fading burn mark on my left hand. “One summons air in the same way as the other elements, with a few brief words, imagery, and will.”

“Any words in particular or just throw them together?” I was paying close attention, probably the closest since the bomb had been dropped about my parents. I’m not going to say I wanted to make Gillian, or even my long-dead parents, proud. I didn’t feel like getting the look from Gillian that usually meant utter disappointment. Those looks were really starting to wear on me.

She murmured the phrase into my ear and I repeated the words. Closing my eyes, I tried to see the wind moving around me like Gillian had done. No luck. Not even a single wisp. I tried again, and again.

Somewhere around hour three, sheer temper produced short bursts of windy fury. Gillian crossed her arms, unruffled in spirit or in person. “Again.”

Now, it was close to four in the morning, and I’d been trying to move air for five hours. As pissed off and disgruntled as I was, Gillian took it all in stride.

“Your mother wasn’t able to stir air of any sort for a good week after she was shown how. Members of the Covenant who can call air, even our more powerful ones, take two, three, sometimes four times as long.” She looked around the room, a single page floated to the floor. “You are actually doing remarkably well. If you could control your temper, you would progress even further.”

As much as I didn’t want to, hearing her say how good I was doing was enough to get me out of the chair. I still glared at her as I marched past, but went back to the center of the circle. I took a few deep breaths to center myself. I opened my mouth to whisper the words, then shut it again.

When I’d been on the streets for a while, I noticed there were various code-words. Not code, because none of us had the time to sit down and work on something quite that complex. Just an easier way to get word out when time was short. If the word cowboy started making its way up and down the street, the drug slingers would close up shop. The lead detective on the drug patrol had a habit of wearing cowboy boots, more often than not. And so it went, different words summed up a sentence or two in less than a second.

Why can’t the same thing work now
? Ignoring Gillian, I closed my eyes, and took another deep breath.
What word?
The thought bounced around for a few seconds before coming back with hurricane. Swallowing hard, I thought of the outer edges of a storm, the word ringing in my ears.

For a moment I thought it wasn’t going to work, but then I felt it, light puffs of constant air, flowing around me. When it lasted longer than a minute, I heard Gillian clap her approval. I wanted to see how far I could push the hurricane thought and let the storm in my head move closer to land. To my surprise, and Gillian’s, the wind blew faster, the fallen papers caught up and spun around. After a moment, I pushed it a little more, thrilled when the wind took on a bite, buffeting me.

I couldn’t reasonably throw all my power, however much it was, into the air in such a confined space. I might be crazy sometimes, but never suicidal. Inhaling, I sent the storm back the direction it’d come from. Once I had the image of a massive storm in my head, it was much easier to control how hard and fast the wind blew.

When the air was still again and the last rustle of falling paper stilled I opened my eyes. Gillian stood with her hands clasped at her waist, a smile playing across her lips. I tried for the same serene look, but ruined it with a fit of laughter. When I regained control, Gillian crooked an eyebrow and said something that normally would have pissed me off but I let it go in the joy of the moment.

“I told you I could make you continue practicing.”

Chapter Nine

“Brick dust, brick dust,
brick dust. If I were brick dust, where would I be?” Fisting my hands on my hips, I scanned the shelf where it should have been for the fifth time. Again, nothing. Unless I was blind, which was entirely possible given the lack of lighting in the storeroom. Rooms. Whatever.

They were a series of rooms, containing every possible ingredient for spells and a few random odds and ends. When I’d jokingly asked Gillian where the pickled bat’s wing was, she’d absently replied, “Second room, second row to the left, third section down, middle shelf.” I’d doubled checked to see if she was serious. I should have known better. Of course she was serious.

Again, I hoped for a map.

I didn’t get one, more like the Dewey decimal system for spell ingredients, which, I guess, was the next best thing. Thankfully, someone had been keeping the whole kit and caboodle in order, because the system had proven to be spot on. With the exception of the brick dust. I wanted to be absolutely sure it wasn’t there before I asked for help finding it. The less to look like an idiot when I called for assistance.

“You would appear to be out.”

My eeping was beginning to be a rather common sound around Williams. At least my hands were empty so there was nothing to drop. Turning to my left to face him, I asked, “Is it possible for you to make the slightest bit of noise when wandering around? Just so those of us who have a heartbeat aren’t given a heart attack?”

“I could endeavor to do so, although it would be an absolute trial.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, pretty sure there was sarcasm underneath his bored tone of voice. I guess when you’ve spent a couple hundred years dressed to kill, no pun intended, you assume people are too dazzled by how you look to pay attention to what you say and how you say it. Not that he looked any less fabulous than usual. He must own a hundred cream colored shirts and tailored dark chocolate slacks, because that’s all I ever saw him in.

I, on the other hand, was wearing my oldest and most wonderfully comfortable jeans; and for a change of pace, a red tank top instead of black. Yep, chock full of fashion sense. We looked like the Prince and the Fashion Disaster next to each other.

“Right. Shooting a crossbow barely makes you break a sweat, but making noise is just way out of your league.”

His casual step forward had me taking an equally casually one back. The last two times we’d been face to face things had heated up. Not that I’d be overly adverse to it, but Gillian had been in such a good mood, I’d hate for something to spoil it.

And I really, really wanted to find the brick dust.

“I was a hunter of humans for over a hundred years, Jude Magdalyn. What one couldn’t take by flattery was often taken by force.” There was a flash of grief in his eyes, gone almost as soon as it appeared. His left hand tremored for a moment, although I don’t think he realized it. “Stillness is much more of an asset than a detriment.”

“Still, it’s probably a lot easier for you to walk loudly than it is for me to not nearly jump out of my skin when you just pop up all of a sudden.” I was nearing the end of the aisle, maintaining a safe distance between the two of us despite his continued movement forward. I tucked my bangs behind my ear, my head canted to the right. “Unless, of course, you enjoy scaring the bejesus out of me.”

“What, exactly, is the bejesus? Some body part akin to the appendix, that a person doesn’t really need but if something adversely affects it the situation is bad?” My back hit the wall, and I had a split second to decide to slide left or right or stay put. Williams patiently waited for an answer to his question, and a clue as to which way I was going to go. When I didn’t move, he took another step forward. “Do you have an answer, Jude Magdalyn, because I confess it’s a question I’ve had for quite some time now.”

“At the moment, I seem to be out of answers for odd yet highly interesting questions.” I also seemed to be out of common sense. The idea of keeping Gillian happy for a little bit longer was rapidly inching toward the window of oblivion the closer Williams got. The man was like walking erotica - not too sleazy, just enough to push your buttons.

When he took the last step that brought him to me, fronts touching just enough to tease, I couldn’t help the shiver that ran through me. I was getting used to the shivers a lot faster than him showing up out of nowhere. His arms came up to brace against the wall, eyes boring into mine.

“You seem to be very up close and personal.”

“You draw me in like the light of salvation.”

I swallowed hard, the noise incredibly loud in the stillness surrounding us. “I’m nobody’s salvation. I’m just as much a sinner as everyone else. Maybe more.”

“Are you? Have you taken a life, Jude Magdalyn, for no reason other than you were bored and it was good sport?” His hot breath in my ear, made me arch my neck. I had to wet my lips before answering.

“I’ve worked the streets, selling whatever was handy to get by.”

I bit my lip when his tongue traced the edges of my ear lobe, my nails dug into my palm, my eyelids fluttered closed. “That’s survival, Jude Magdalyn. The Church would forgive it if you asked.”

“I’ve stolen, lied, all with premeditation.”

“None of which are mortal sins, Jude.” I let out a groan when his teeth scraped over the space right below my ear. It was like he had detailed instructions on exactly where to touch me to make me weak and mindless. He was doing a good job of following them. “The Church wouldn’t take me back even if I begged. I think in the game of who’s the larger sinner, I win.”

It took me a moment, because it was difficult to breathe with him moving his teeth over the one spot, and one hand trailing back and forth over my stomach. I managed to get enough breath to rasp out, “The Church may excommunicate. God doesn’t.”

He froze, suddenly so still I almost thought he’d be gone when I opened my eyes, and I’d realize the last fifteen minutes were a figment of my imagination. He wasn’t, but the look in his eyes when he drew back made me wish he was. Rage, regret, pain. If what was there could have manifested, it would have drowned New Orleans in a deluge to make Katrina look like a light summer rain. I shivered again, but not from want this time.

I was scared.

Williams realized it, and before I could blink he was a foot away. Some small thing caught his eye, and his voice was a smooth brush of silk when he spoke again. “The last person to use your supply of brick dust seems to have replaced it improperly. Next to the bottle of dried chamomile.” He spun on his heels and the steady thump of his feet on the stone floors echoed for a minute before dying away completely.

Once I was sure he was gone, my knees gave way, and I slid down the wall. Leaning my head back against the wall, I took a few deep breaths, and tried to get my lungs to work properly again. The canister of brick dust glinted in the dim light, mocking me.

“Screw you and the mason who dropped your ass.”

“Jude, you’ve been ignoring
me for the last ten minutes. I would be secure in saying you have no idea what I’ve just told you.”

Since I’d actually been ignoring Gillian for more like fifteen or twenty minutes, I didn’t bother to correct her. I was intent on finishing my experiment and if what she had to say was really all that important, then she could tell me again. Or do the zappy thing she was fond of.

My encounter with Williams had wiped me out, especially on the heels of my five plus hours of training with Gillian. While calling air had been a big entry on the plus side of things, being semi-seduced and scared silly in the span of fifteen minutes was an equal in the negative column. When you look at it that way, the day was even and I was exhausted.

The night, or rather the day, had apparently passed uneventfully. When I woke up around seven, after a good twelve hours of sleep, there weren’t any assassins or dead bodies in my room. Which for me meant the day, or night, was off to a really good start. Thirty minutes later, my masterpiece of a shower had cleared out all the cobwebs and I skipped breakfast to go hunt down the brick dust again. One of my guards, with the unique name of Tancrede, kindly pointed out the other way down to the storerooms. After finding the brick dust, I gathered up the rest of what I would need and headed toward the Ritual Room, or the R.R.

Gillian had informed me the kitchen in the R.R. was for spell-mixing. Everything in it had been cleansed and blessed, and ready for use once you got past the dust. If I could deal with vampire assassins, a little thing like allergies was so not going to get in my way.

I don’t know how long I was down there before Gillian found me, but I knew how long she’d been there. And since she was pacing and swirling and gesturing, I even had a pretty good idea what she was so pissy about. So for me, deciding between paying attention to her and paying attention to what I was doing was pretty much a no-brainer.

She stopped in my line of sight, and I blinked to bring her into focus. “What, precisely, is so important that you cannot pay even the slightest attention to the discussion we’re having?”

I refrained from pointing out it wasn’t a discussion so much as a lecture. “A little security system. Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Well, that was informative.” I hope one day I can sound as scornful and sarcastic as Gillian does. Her we’re so worried, whatever shall we do act had worn thin pretty fast. I liked the real Gillian better. “I’m not sure if it’ll work, but I figured I’d give it a shot. Although, I was doing much better when I wasn’t being distracted by irate figures who know I’m trying to ignore them.”

Rounding the island counter to stand next to me, Gillian peered down at the ingredients spread on the surface. “Brick dust. Rowan wood. Holy water.” She turned her head to look at me, eyes puzzled. “I confess, I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re attempting here, Jude.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” I muttered, raking my fingers through my hair. Unlike Gillian’s, which had fallen back into place once she stopped moving back and forth semi-frantically, my hair was tangling with me standing in one place. I tugged at the knots for a moment before giving up.

“Brick dust is laid across a doorway to prevent any living person who means you harm from entering.” Gillian nodded, and I continued my explanation. “The rowan tree was laid across the door to protect the inhabitants, traditionally, in Ireland.”

My fingers ran lightly over the bottle of holy water. There wasn’t a great deal, and I made a note to see what needed to be done about replenishing it. Given the current supernatural climate, it seemed to be one of those things you should have too much of rather than not enough. Better safe than sorry, or dead.

“And holy water is something vampires are highly non-compatible with.”

“Well, that’s one way of saying it.” Gillian waited a beat, and then tapped her fingers on the counter. “I’m still not sure what you’re getting at.”

“Maybe nothing. But if you could soak the rowan wood in the holy water, sort of making an essence of rowan, you could add it to the brick dust.” I realized I was tapping my fingers to the same internal beat Gillian was, and forced myself to stop. “If the brick dust recognizes the living, the holy water the undead, and the rowan anyone with ill-will…”

“Then you’ve covered all your bases.” Gillian shook her head, laughing softly. “Ingenious, Jude. Well thought out.” She pinched the brick dust, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. “You’re right, it should work. Laid across all doors, windows - all entrances, the house should be well protected.”

There it was again, a flush of pride and accomplishment. I hated to admit it, but the feeling was addictive. “Well, thanks. I don’t want to tell anybody what’s in the brick dust, because it’s easy for people to change their thoughts, and then they’d be able to get around the rowan wood.”

“Again, a good idea.” Gillian sighed, and I knew we’d shifted from the moment of togetherness back to business. “Unfortunately, the arrival of the Council is going to postpone your experimentation.”

I choked on air, something you think would be impossible to do. Gillian was helpful enough to give me a few thumps on the back, and for the first time in three days, it didn’t cause an avalanche of pain. “Sorry, I thought you were ranting about something else. Guess I should check in a little more often during your tirades.”

“Amusing. Come, the Council as a whole is not patient. Mostly because one half despises the other, two thirds are less powerful than the other third, and individually they’re more neurotic than even you.” Not realizing, or caring about the insult, Gillian rubbed her hands together briskly, shaking free the last of the brick dust. “Out of the eleven that comprise it, maybe three are worthy of their position.”

“Wow. I pretty much assumed the only thing that got you this worked up was me kissing Williams.” Rubbing my hands on my jeans, I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail in an attempt to look less like a rag-a-muffin.

“Most of the Council annoy me. You and Williams…frighten me.”

I stopped, funnily enough in the exact center of the three circles. “Forgive me if I sound naive, but I’m under the impression you don’t really scare easy. If at all.”

“Years of practice at hiding emotions.” Gillian grasped my elbow, turning me toward her. “Entanglements such as the kind you seem to be aiming toward almost never work out. The end result is often, at minimum, heartache.”

“For some people that might be the worst thing.”

“Generally speaking, death is considered worse than mere heartache. Not for your mother.” She sighed, folding her hands over her waist. “But you are not your mother.” Her eyes had the same intensity Williams’s had shown last night, serving the purpose of keeping me frozen in one place. “You are stronger than your mother. More centered, despite what you show. Your years at the orphanage and on the streets have given you a core of strength that all her years with the Covenant were unable to provide.”