Waiting for Magic (36 page)

“So,” Pendragon was saying, “I think you can see we’d make a good partnership.”

“What, your little force field makes you a worthy partner?” Morgan snorted.

Pendragon narrowed his eyes. “Arcane knowledge of the dark arts is useful in many ways. Don’t forget astral projection, scrying, alchemy…. Just because I wasn’t born to it, doesn’t mean I don’t have power.”

Morgan shrugged. “I give you that. If you want to serve my effort, you’d be useful.”

Pendragon drew himself up. “You insult me with less than a partnership?” His voice had a dangerous edge to it. Did he know what he was doing? Devin didn’t think he was a match for Morgan and her crew.

“If you were a worthy partner, you’d be doing something more with your powers than slinking around a haunted house contemplating your collection,” Morgan sneered. “You sought me out because you recognize that you need a Master, and you long to serve.”

Pendragon got red in the face, and started to shake. Maybe he recognized that what Morgan said was true. His fingers tightened on the Wand. Morgan nodded to Hardwick, who let his black, fathomless eyes rest on Pendragon.

But Pendragon was ready. He muttered some syllables Devin couldn’t understand and jerked up the Wand. The pain meant for Pendragon caromed off it and sent Green screaming to the floor. Pendragon kept muttering. The Wand began to glow. Without further warning, a sharp channel of light darted from the Wand to Hardwick, who glowed in its light and then collapsed.

The channel of light blinked off. Jason knelt beside him, fingers feeling for the pulse in his throat. “Dead,” he pronounced, shrugging. Morgan didn’t deign to look.

“Dismiss me at your peril,” Pendragon hissed.

“Very well,” Morgan said, her old voice hoarse and low. She smiled. That smile almost made Devin sick to his stomach. He clutched at Kee’s leg. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Morgan looked down at Hardwick. It was just a flick of a glance, nothing really.

Hardwick’s eyes snapped open. He took a huge breath and sat up. After a couple more deep breaths, he got up, seemingly none the worse for wear—not disoriented, not even pale. Devin could feel Kee’s sharp intake of breath. Maggie made a little sound of protest. Devin was stunned. She could bring dead people back to life?

“Thank you, my queen.” Hardwick nodded to Morgan.

Pendragon had turned white.

“You think the Wand makes you special? You could never be a partner. Acolyte, maybe. But you’d never accept that role, would you? So I’ll have to give up the alchemy, and trust to Jason to provide my needs. Now give the Wand to someone who can put it to real use.”

“What are you but a one-trick pony?” Pendragon hissed. “My lore is comprehensive and far ranging.”

“You don’t have real power, little man. You engage in enough mumbo jumbo to impress the hoi polloi,” Morgan said, advancing on Pendragon. “But power isn’t learned from book. It lives in your blood, in your DNA. I have the ultimate magic, the power of life and death. I don’t need your little intellectual flourishes.”

That made Pendragon raise the Wand again, flushed and angry.

“Rhiannon?” Morgan didn’t look back at the pink-haired woman, but she didn’t need to. The girl raised her hands. An honest-to-God lightning bolt struck inside Pendragon’s library. It hit the big desk. Maggie shrieked. Devin hugged Kee’s thigh and she leaned over and put her arms around his neck in a convulsive gesture of protection.

“Shit!” Devin muttered. This was bad. Another bolt hit the draperies, which caught fire as though they were made of old newspapers. A third bolt hit one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The books started to smoke. Green crawled into a corner. The levitation kid was laughing like he was on a rollercoaster. Boris Karloff stood with his arms folded, impassive. They both stared at the bubble around Pendragon, apparently trying to break it. Jason was instead looking daggers at the lightning chick, hatred or jealousy roiling in his eyes.

Pendragon held out the Wand, which glowed in protection. He’d be immune. But Devin, Maggie, and Kee were going to get killed in the crossfire before Morgan and her Clan could have their way. He didn’t care so much for himself, but he’d fail Kee, who needed him. He’d deprive Tris of the love of his life. He’d betray the family who had given him everything, maybe more than he could accept. It was his fault they were all here.

Devin went still and felt for water. He’d rip out his guts to call the water if he had to.

*****

Lightning bolts in the library! Kee huddled with Devin at her knee and Maggie next to her as they crisscrossed the room. The drapes were in flames. Open books on the desk had begun to burn. They had to get out of here.

“Devin,” she shouted, trying to make him hear her above the crash of thunder inside the room. It boomed on top of booms. Morgan and Pendragon were staring at each other as though nothing was happening around them. Pendragon had that bubble thing up around him. They were locked in a death match now. And whoever won, it looked to be death to Tremaines.

Devin didn’t answer her. One of her hands was tangled in his hair, and she used it to pull his head up and look into his face. He wasn’t there. His brown eyes glowed blue with ripples of light across them. Devin himself was absent entirely. Kee gasped. It was like the time at the river. He was trying to draw his power. Nothing seemed to be happening, and what could the ability to push water back do now anyway? She had to get him out of here.

Kee turned to Maggie, who was clutching her arm for support. Maggie shook her head, her lips rueful, her eyes frightened. She was out of Calm
.

It does
n’t matter
, Kee thought. Clarity seemed to shower over her in the midst of the chaos. No one could calm these loons while all hell raged. She looked around wildly. What could she do? She was the only one in the room without magic, except maybe Green.

Pendragon took a step forward, muttering again, the Wand glowing to beat the band. The white channel snapped open. But before it could deal its death ray, a bolt of lightning struck the ray, exploding into a thousand sparks like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Each coal landed with a smoldering promise of fire, several around their feet, a couple on the couch. Maggie shrieked.

But Kee was just mad. Damn these two self-involved nut cases! Let them kill each other. She didn’t even care which of them won out. She needed to get out of here with Devin and Maggie, now, while everybody else was focused on the duel at the center of the room. She crouched and pulled Devin up with her as she stood. He pushed up, but his eyes still glowed and swirled. He might not even be Devin any more. “Come on, Dev. We’re outta here. Maggie?” Maggie scrambled to her feet, coughing. The smoke had started to billow.

But Hardwick turned his impassive attention their way. Devin groaned and bent over. He would have collapsed if Kee hadn’t been holding him up.

“Damn you! Leave him alone,” Kee yelled. She couldn’t let Hardwick hurt the man she loved. The bastards had hurt him too much already. She felt Hardwick’s gaze turn her way.

All the anger and frustration inside her exploded just like the black and yellow snarls on a blood red background in that Jackson Pollock painting that hung in the modern art wing, looking like a nasty bird’s nest of evil. And then the painting was there, all around her. Black and yellow and white and gray obscured her vision in intricate, swirling chaos, malevolent and angry. She couldn’t see anyone but Devin and Maggie, who were both touching her. She looked around, careful to keep holding on to them. The tangles were everywhere, moving, the ends stabbing. It was like they were all inside Jackson Pollock #2.

“What the…?” she heard the one called Jason yell from someplace close.

“Hey,” the nerdy kid called, fear in his voice. Was that a shape? Kee couldn’t be certain. The flames flickered inside the moving chaos of black and yellow and dark red paint. The only thing she could make out was the glow of the Talisman.

Devin slumped as Hardwick apparently let him go. The lightning bolts stopped. The pink-haired girl screamed as the final crash of thunder faded. Kee turned to Maggie and saw her panic. But Kee was strangely calm.

“It’s just Jackson Pollock,” she said, giving Maggie a tiny smile. “Helluva painter.”

Maggie hiccupped a nervous laugh.

“Keep touching me. Ole Jackson’s gonna help us get out of here.” Kee hauled on Devin, who was coughing with the smoke, and Maggie took his other arm. He seemed to be coming to himself. At least his eyes weren’t glowing. She put a hand on his cheek as he focused on her. She had no words. But they’d never needed words. She loved him. She’d always loved him. Her love had just grown a new, deeper layer.

“Where are we?” One of the other men yelled. “What the fuck is this?”

Devin gave a tiny smile. “I’m okay,” he said. “It’s coming.”

She had no idea what he meant. He looked around. “Cool power.”

“Well, then.” Kee turned and crouched down, trying to keep below the smoke that swirled among the colors that writhed like something living. She made her way toward what she thought was the door to the library, bypassing the glowing Wand that hung in midair where Pendragon must be lifting it. The others were all shouting to each other, coughing, questioning, fearful.

Kee wasn’t afraid anymore. Or at least her fear had dulled to a roar. It might be a stupid power, but it was going to get them out of here.

Suddenly, the glow of the Wand shot across the room. The horrible chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh. Kee looked behind her and saw a hole in the fabric of the painting illusion opening up around the glow of the Talisman.

She pulled Devin, stumbling, forward until she sloshed into about a foot of water. She couldn’t see it but she could feel it. The shock of it made her stop. Devin almost fell into her. He was trembling.

“Side effect,” he explained. “We gotta go fast.” He pushed past her, grabbing her hand with one of his and Maggie’s with the other. They sloshed across the foyer.

Kee felt a tug of power behind her. She turned and saw the Wand, clearly visible in a hole in the illusion of the Pollock painting, held in a scrawny fist. Not Pendragon’s. The fist changed, plumped, smoothed. The veins that stood out on the back of the hand disappeared. The hole got bigger. She glimpsed Morgan. At least she thought it was Morgan. The iron-gray hair was black, with several single streaks of silver. The features smoothed themselves even as she watched. The eyes hadn’t changed though. The yellow gleamed in satisfaction, in triumph.

“Get them,” she yelled, pointing with the Wand. The figure of Jason was revealed by the expanding hole.

It was up to her, even with a stupid power. Kee’s last stand. “Go on,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’ll hold them.” What was important was that Devin live. And Maggie.

“It won’t matter in another minute,” Devin said, tugging on her.

But his voice faded in her ears. Kee needed the anger that had created the Pollock painting. She saw Morgan mouthing words, but she didn’t hear her. Then her vision faded too. She looked inside, sorting through the box of emotions.

There it was: boiling, toxic-waste anger. Surprisingly, she wasn’t just angry at Morgan for threatening their lives. And while she was incredibly angry at Pendragon for what he’d done to Devin, it was more than that too. She was angry at Devin for falling in love with someone else, and angry at herself for falling in love with her brother. She was angry that she’d thought being a good girl would give her the life she wanted because she would deserve that life. She was angry that she’d waited until she was twenty-three to wake up and realize how the world really worked, that she’d spent her life imitating others in her art. Hell, even the vision Morgan was attacking now was Jackson Pollock’s, not hers.

She tried to hang on to the anger, use it, like she’d used emotion to create the paintings of Devin that were the first original things she’d ever done. But she felt the anger seeping away. Behind it was a cool stillness.

She breathed. This was where the power lay. Not in anger, but in this still center of her. What was anger but fear, when it came down to it? This fear of being unoriginal was hurting her. All images were composed of influences and experiences. That was her victory with the pictures of Devin. She’d filtered the objective through her own experience. Her fear of loving Devin was hurting her too. She opened her eyes.

Devin still tugged on her. Morgan still laughed and pointed the Wand. Pendragon was shouting spells or something. Smoke stung her eyes. Flames roared and glowed. Water flowed around her feet. Jason was lunging toward her.