Cast Into Darkness (22 page)

“Did anything else happen when you touched it or looked at it?”

“Yeah. Twice, when I played with it, I just…lost track of time, I guess. A half hour the first time and hours the second. I had no idea where the time went.”

“That’s very…interesting.” Dylan wrote something in his notebook.

“What?” Kate said. “What’s interesting?”

He flipped back a few pages. “Tell me about bringing it into the circle stones. What exactly did it—”

“Hold on.” She reached across the table and tapped on his notebook. “This isn’t fair. I’m the one giving all the information here. You’ve obviously figured something out. So tell me what that damn stone was doing to me.”

Dylan fiddled with his pen. “I can’t be sure yet, but I think it was running through a few spells it had programmed in it. Spells it was casting on you.”

The coffee in her hands wasn’t enough to keep her warm anymore. “Besides the ones it cast in the Sanctum? Why?”

He hesitated. “I really can’t say until I’ve had a chance to examine it. And that’s not bloody likely. But given what happened, I have a few theories. They…aren’t quite the same theories your uncle has, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?”

“Well, let’s start with what we agree upon. The stone was programming you for certain behaviors. It wanted you to bring it into the Sanctum.”

“Why would it want that?”

“It may have needed the Sanctum’s power to transform you. Before it brought you into the Sanctum, when you stared into it and blanked out, it was, well, pre-programming you. To become a caster.”

She felt as if invisible fingers had wormed their way into her spine and were writhing on the delicate fibers inside. “Maybe I don’t want to know any more of what you find ‘interesting.’”

“Sorry.” His eyes softened in sympathy. “I’m afraid I can’t agree with my superior on a few other points, however.”

“Which ones?”

“Your uncle believes that it was your brother’s counterspell itself, interfering with the stone’s power, that caused his death. I think there may be another explanation.” He paused. “What do you know about primal magic?”

“We used to be able to do it ourselves, and now we can’t. We have to use artifacts to cast primal magic spells. Things that were made in the First Era and are illegal to use. Like the stone.”

“That’s basically correct. But you left out something important.”

“What?”

“Every act of primal magic, every one, requires a sacrifice. A life for a spell.” Dylan took a long drink from his cup. “I’m not completely certain what your brother was trying to do. He could have been trying to stop the stone from possessing you, as your uncle says.”

Kate nodded.

“Or…” Dylan set his cup down. “He could have been trying to stop something else.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I did my own investigation in the Sanctum, after you asked for my help. Your brother’s counterspell wasn’t as simple as your uncle claims. It’s a very specific spell, only used to stop primal magic. If he knew enough about primal magic to know a counterspell of that level, then he also knew the basic principles. A life for a spell.”

“So Brian was trying to save himself.”

Dylan shrugged. “It’s very possible.”

“Did he know that the stone was transforming me?” Kate’s head slid down into her trembling hands.

“I don’t know. From his actions, he looked like he had a plan. Wouldn’t you say so?” His eyes darted away from Kate, as if he saw her pain but wanted to allow her what little privacy he could. “The point is this: The spell didn’t killed him. It was the stone. It looked for the sacrifice most appropriate for the spell it was casting and found your brother right at hand.”

The pain in her chest swelled until it threatened to spill out of her. She’d brought the stone back home, into the Sanctum with Brian. Without her there, it wouldn’t have needed to kill him to power the spell that changed her.

But if Dylan was right, Brian knew far more about the stone than he’d told her. And Grayson had flat-out lied to her. But why should she trust Dylan over the uncle who’d been the only person who’d dried her tears when she’d failed her magic test, back on her twelfth birthday?

“Where else don’t you agree with Grayson?”

“I have to ask you a question first. Have you had any further…communication from the stone?”

Kate took a breath. She didn’t want to talk about this. Not with Dylan, not with anyone. “Why do you want to know?”

“I think the stone could have done something else to you. Changed you even more than is apparent.”

Kate looked down at her coffee. “Grayson never suggested that. What makes you so sure?”

“My own experience.”

“Tell me. Convince me you know more about this than Grayson does, and I’ll answer your question.”

Dylan played with his now-empty coffee cup, saying nothing. The only sound was the espresso machine gurgling in the far corner of the café. A couple walked in from the hallway, then thought better of it and walked back out.
Whatever spell Dylan cast must be mighty powerful.

“When I was younger,” he said, “I got into some…trouble.”

“How old were you?”

He stared out the windows at the capital. “Fifteen. I didn’t know any better back then. I did whatever my mother wanted. And what she wanted me to do was use my talents. Creating new spells, figuring out what the old ones did. I was a bleeding whiz kid at that. So my mother put me to work digging up old relics, hoping that one of them would give her the power she craved. Finally, I found one.”

He swallowed, hard, then blinked furiously behind his glasses.

“I didn’t realize this would be personal. You don’t have to tell me—”

“Yes, I do. You need to understand how dangerous these artifacts can be.” He leaned toward her. “I’ve seen this kind of thing before. Not the stone, nothing quite so powerful, but artifacts like it. Put them in the hands of people who crave power, and someone else always suffers. At the time, I was too young to know that power always comes with its own price.”

“Who was it?”

“My father. The artifact took him in exchange for the power my mother wanted. And eventually, the whole clan suffered in retribution for her illegal actions. There is no more Pearce family. London is a battleground fought over by the Hamiltons and the Makrises.”

“Dylan, I’m so sorry.” She reached for his hand.

He pulled away, his hands going to his lap. “So what I believe about your artifact comes from firsthand experience. I can tell you this: I think the stone and everything like it should be destroyed. That’s my advice to you. Destroy the bloody thing. Before it kills someone else.”

Kate thought over
what Dylan had said. She couldn’t argue with his logic or his experience. If the stone was as dangerous as he’d implied, then they should destroy it before it did any more damage.

She sighed. “I can hear it. Every time Grayson has taken it out of its box, it talks to me. Wants me to touch it.”

Dylan started. “Don’t. Whatever you do, don’t touch the stone. Not until we understand what that will do. Did you tell your uncle?”

“Yes. But he…he hasn’t explained what it’s doing.”

Dylan stared down at his notebook. He tapped his pen on the paper.

“Do you know what it wants?” she asked.

He hesitated. “That depends. I’ve been researching an artifact for the past few months, as part of my duties as your dad’s primal magic specialist. If the stone is the artifact I think it is, that it appears to be…”

“What?”

“Your uncle believes the stone creates casters from Nulls. I’ve never heard of an artifact that can do that. But I’ve heard of another one. So have you.”

She leaned forward.

“The Pandora Stone.”

“You’re kidding.” The Pandora Stone was nothing but a legend. She’d heard stories of it ever since childhood, along with tales of Lyndal the Untamed, the Battle of Kolasa Ridge, the Hundred Furies, and all the other First Era legends. But even though the stories all disagreed about what the stone did, they all agreed about one thing: it was lost, never to be found.

“I’m deadly serious. I believe the mage Lyndal created the Pandora Stone in the last days of the First Era to bring magic back if it ever completely disappeared. Real magic. Primal magic.”

“But that’s not what it did to me—”

“I don’t think we know enough to say what it did to you yet.”

She focused on his words and tried to recover from her shock. “Why are your theories different from Grayson’s?”

He looked down at the table. “I don’t know.” His gaze flicked to Kate. “Your uncle certainly has the knowledge to have put together the pieces the way I did.”

Yes. He does.
So why had Grayson told her that Brian had used a different counterspell? Why didn’t he tell anyone about the Pandora Stone? Grayson had never led her astray. Sure, he might be playing his own game, but that’s what casters did. The pills seemed to be working—the paranoia wasn’t affecting him in any major way. So why should she believe this guy she just met, over Grayson?

She got up and slung her purse over her shoulder. “Time to get back. I’ve ditched my training long enough.” She’d have to figure the stone out later. The sun was going down, its rays shining through the big picture window. She hoped she hadn’t been missed.

Dylan closed his notebook, got up and took her cup and his to the trashcan. The tiniest flicker of purple caught her eye. Inside her purse, Kris’ conch shell key fob glowed with power.

“Dylan—” she said.

The air behind Dylan rippled. An unseen force slammed into him. He flew across the cafe, smashing into the wall with a sickening thud. Sliding to the ground, his head hit the floor and he lay still.

A trickle of blood ran down Dylan’s face. His eyes were closed.
Shit, oh shit, is he…
But his chest rose and fell.

He’s okay, he’s… Damn, where’s whoever hit him?
She looked around, hair whipping around her. No one in sight. Victor, she needed Victor right now. Why had she been so stupid as to leave without telling him? Oh yeah, because they were in
the Hamilton DC offices
. Where they were
completely safe
.

She pulled out her cell phone. Frantic, she stabbed the emergency button. Nothing. She hit it again. Shit, why wouldn’t it work?

A strong hand grabbed her arm. She spun around, dropping her purse. A young man stood silhouetted against the dying sun, striped shirt half tucked into his tight jeans, an insolent grin on his unshaven face.

He slammed her hand against a nearby table. She sucked in her breath, the pain hitting her like a blossom of fire through her hand. The phone skittered a few feet away.

“You won’t need that where we’re going.” He twisted her arm behind her back into a painful hold, and yanked her close to his chest. She winced. If she moved, she would break something. She squirmed a little anyway.

“Please fight me.” He loomed over her. “I like it much better when they fight.” She flinched away. He kept up the pressure on her as he reached into his pocket with his free hand and tossed a small envelope toward Dylan.

She tried to think of a spell and cast it. The few she’d learned—fire, shield, stun, all went through her mind. But she couldn’t focus enough to bring up the symbol for any of them.

Dylan’s eyes remained closed. Then she noticed his fingers—one or two were twitching, in a methodical, familiar way. She needed to buy him some time.

Footsteps sounded from down the hall. Help arriving. All she needed was a minute.

“Who the hell are you?” She craned her head around to look the man straight in his arrogant eyes.

He grinned. “That would be telling you more than you need to know.” He ran his hand up her arm, hard enough to leave marks.

She winced. “I’m a Null. I’m not a part of the Game. It’s against the Rules for you to—”

“I don’t play by the Rules.” His head went back, his eyelashes flickered and his body went tight against hers. She felt the familiar jolt of dislocation, and they were gone.

Kate stumbled as
they materialized someplace hot, humid, crowded, and noisy, the smell of human waste competing with broiled vegetables and animal sweat for predominance. No sooner had her feet landed on the hard, clay ground than they were gone again, blinking out as quickly as they had blinked in. The sickeningly sweet odor of caramel hit her next, amid the sounds of machinery, as a blast of hot air blew strands of hair across her face. She barely had time to realize they’d landed in some sort of candy factory when she felt her captor cast another spell and they were gone.

She lost count of how many times they flickered in and out of existence. Four times? Six? Her head spun by the time they finally stopped, in a place so hot that the sweat was dripping off her face the moment they materialized in the center of a stark wooden shack.

Her captor threw her down to the bare plank floor. Throwing her hand up, she broke her fall, catching some splinters on her arm from the rough boards. He stalked over to the far side of the room, ripping the tattered curtains from the window to look outside. A thousand different shades of green spilled into view as an overwhelming variety of leaves crowded out the sky. The sound of birds whooping and crying cut through a low hum of insects.

“Not safe, not safe,” the young man muttered. “I should be running this op, not him. We should be doing this my way.” He paced from the window to a cast iron stove, caked solid with dirt, a frying pan standing solitary on one of its burners.

That many teleports would make anyone mega-twitchy. Wonderful.

Sunlight streamed through a hole in the ceiling, leading to a sink half filled with stagnant rainwater. The hole looked too small for her to climb out, although the large lizard climbing in seemed to like it fine. Then Kate’s eyes found the wooden door against the far wall, bolted closed.

Keeping a watch on the guy, she slowly got to her feet, the sweat pouring off her. Dizziness hit her as she stood, and she was barely able to put one leg before the other.