Illusion (13 page)

The owner walked down the counter and sheathed the knife, passing it to Maya, pommel first. “The
kila
wants to journey with you. As her partner, you should get to know her—all ritual items carry a responsibility, and a price.” Then he leaned his elbow on the counter, his eyes solemn. “Don’t call it unless you mean to cause pain. Jusef’s my name.” He inclined his head to the red-haired woman. “This here’s my sister, Vivienne.”

Vivienne lifted a finger, beckoning Resh to step closer. “You’d best mix a repel charm for your friend. Seems like she needs to keep unpleasantness at bay.”

Resh offered Vivienne a smile and inclined his head, placing more coin on the counter. Vivienne measured herbs under the counter and poured them into a bag, handing them to Resh. Vivienne gave Resh a wink, and leaned over, spilling her breasts onto the counter. “I’ve added a Birdlime tonic for her suffering. Much better than Lyco or Mescal.”

The lines on either side of Resh’s mouth deepened.

“Come visit again, warlock. You’re always welcome,” Vivienne said, her voice soft.

He picked up the goods, and motioned Maya toward the door, indicating she should precede him out of the shop.

Maya stared at the knife, not sure what to do with it.

“Stick it in your boot,” advised Jusef.

She gingerly pushed it between her boot and sock, shuddering at its curious warmth.

Resh urged her down the street toward the portal. She jumped when he spoke.

“Vivienne and Jusef have off-world items. They’re clever and risk-takers. A dangerous combination.”

“But travel across dimensions isn’t possible,” she said.

For once he didn’t stiffen at her question. “Not impossible. Foolish and unsanctioned. Entities attracted to Light can attach to any who cross.”

“Well, those two have decided to chance it.”

His face tightened.

“So you won’t ask for their assistance?”

His hand flexed. “Khereb,” he said, as if that answered everything. “Even with an access point like the factory mirror, demons can’t enter the physical realms unless summoned. Someone’s invited them here in exchange for power. And Jusef and his sister … well, let’s say the House of Horus is no friend of Balkaith. Those two have an appetite for knowledge that any demon would embrace.”

She cast a glance over her shoulder and kept trotting.

Eye for an Eye

“The method of opening and closing the Tesseract should not be used in a ceremony where any spirits are invoked—especially not in a crossing.”

—Corpus Megistus, Volume V, Enim Empire

Up ahead, the portal took on a wavy, semitransparent cast, like the reflection of light off the surface of water. Wind brushed Maya’s hair and she hunched into her jacket. Newsprint rolled down the street and wrapped around her ankle. The spot between her shoulder blades itched and she whipped her head around. An older woman wearing a red scarf picked her way across rubble on the other side of the road, but her head was down, and Maya couldn’t see her face.

“Can anyone follow us into that?” she asked, nodding to the wedged column.

“It’s adjusted to our signature,” Resh said. His skin had taken on a gray tinge, making him look haggard.

“You look like you could do with some sleep.”

He glanced at her, but said nothing, just increased his speed, making her skip to keep up.

Something rustled above her head in the oak tree. Two ravens sat on the bare branches. They peered down before flying to the next tree, cawing.

“Those two look familiar,” she said.

“Spirit guides. I inherited them.” He shrugged, as if that said everything.

“They were on my windowsill the night we met,” she said. “One of them returned a sliver of my nightie after that god-awful nightmare.”

He frowned as the smaller bird danced from foot to foot on a low branch. “They fly between worlds.”

“They’re watching me.”

“Yes.” He gave the ravens an odd look.

“Their eyes are weird; they look straight through you.”

One corner of his scarred mouth twitched. “They’re cantankerous creatures with minds of their own.” One of the birds flew down onto his shoulder while the other took off, circling above their heads, then flying west. The raven was tall, reaching from Resh’s shoulder to the top of his head. It leaned forward and cawed, scrutinizing Maya with keen black eyes before leaning forward and snapping at Resh’s ear.

He flinched and reared.

The bird chattered.

She shuddered, putting a good two yards between them. “I’m not a fan of birds.”

His scarred lip curled up at the corner. “You’ve fought off the magi, had a serious tangle with the Khereb—and yet birds frighten you?”

“The other things frighten me as well. Birdbrain could do a lot of damage with its beak. I don’t think it likes me.”

“If they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t help you, no matter my command. This one here is Pia.” The bird preened, arching her neck. “The other is Gaai.”

With an abstracted look, Resh reached out as if to touch Maya’s hair, and stopped just before connecting. He drew away and the conversation stalled.

Pia gave a shrill shriek that sounded like laughter, and ran her beak along his shoulder.

“I think they stopped me from falling when the Khereb attacked.” Maya tried to breach the awkward moment.

With the raven on his shoulder and a huge sword on his back, he made an eye-catching sight. The snow exaggerated his broad shoulders, and his long legs ate up the earth, so she was forced to trot to keep up with him.

“You have to know I’m not a fighter. I can’t battle the Khereb.” She sounded breathless to her own ears.

Pia danced up and down, squawking a repetitive tune.

“The
kila
disagrees. It selected you.”

“I’ll need a permit to own this thing.” She pointed to the knife tucked into her boot.

“You won’t need permission in Balkaith,” he said, matter-of-fact.

His words twisted in her gut and she changed tack. “I know I should have kept a low profile back there.”

Pia cocked her head and stared at Maya.

“The magi treat the half-breeds like refuse. Is that the life you want to lead, belonging to neither race, but some lower caste instead?” Resh pulled his jacket close. “My people will help develop your talents. One of the guilds will accept you.”

Cold air competed with the heat burning behind her eyes. “I’ll be as much an outcast in Balkaith,” she said bitterly.

Resh brushed snow off his shoulder in an abrupt movement, causing Pia to caw and hop over his upraised hand. “My people honor power above lineage. You’re running out of options.” He gestured to her building. “I can’t stay here long.”

The conviction in his voice made her breath hitch in her throat. She glanced to the blackened buildings and balled her hands into fists at her sides. A white cloud of rage colored her vision. She wanted to lash out at someone. At the Khereb and evil individuals like Jhara and Trent, who liked power and didn’t care how they got it. At the mundane cops and
Conjurare
, who were no help and wanted her dead. And maybe at herself, because spells were so easy to take and she couldn’t remember the last day she’d been free of the numbing. The dagger had probably picked up on her rotten character and responded.

“How do you propose we shift across realms if the journal is missing and I can’t draw another exit?”

He hesitated, but she had to give him credit. There was not a glimmer of victory in his expression. “I’ll evoke a high ritual and open a trans-dimensional doorway across the Abyss. The Tribune’s arch-warlocks will open the crypt, allowing admission to Balkaith. It’s the sanctioned path.”

“When?” The words were simple but a world of meaning fell within them. They’d reached the portal and Maya pushed her hand through the filmy gate. It felt cold, almost spongy beneath her fingers and she pulled back.

“Soon. One of the Houses summoned the Khereb. You’re connected to our history and your pictures shift reality. The Houses won’t leave you alone now that they know.” He took a piece of dry meat from his pocket and tossed it in the air. Pia tweaked his ear and took off, wings flapping. With a casual snap of her beak she captured the meat. She landed on a signpost and dangled upside down, staring at them.

“Can I return to Earth?” Snow started to fall and the chill worked its way through Maya’s clothes.

His gaze lingered on her face before he nodded. “Perhaps.”

“You just lied to me!” she said.

“There’s another reason for you to leave.”

“What?” She was almost too afraid to ask.

“You have a
qarina
accompanying you. It’s why you’re having nightmares.”

She shivered. “What?”

“It’s the progeny of maleficium. Usually cast by a high-level sorcerer on a soul who has done great wrong. Some call it djinni. The spirit separates and unites to a body at will.”

She shrank into her coat, feeling coldness prickle her neck. “So I’m possessed.” She’d always known there was something wrong. It would explain the visions. His explanation created the oddest sensation of fear and relief at the same time.

“Balkaith’s dryads communicate with spirits from the Otherworld. The witches also communicate with the dead.” He said the last almost reluctantly. “They could help you discover what it wants.”

They’d reached the corner. Resh pulled out a silver flask and muttered in Latin. He tilted the bottle against a crumbling building. Tendrils of black smoke filtered from the bricks into the vessel.

“Collecting samples?” she asked.

He gave her a wry look. “We’ll use the specimen to assess the health of the planet.”

“Of course, you’re not spying on your magi friends,” she said. “I’ve got a feeling you guys are in competition, somehow.”

“We keep track.” He turned aside, and although she couldn’t see his expression, the stiff set to his shoulders told her he didn’t like where the conversation was headed.

“And the magi watch you as well. Why don’t you just break open a crucible and sit down for a chat?”

“The time for that has passed.” He moved to the portal.

She followed him, wondering if she’d imagined the hint of defensiveness in his voice.

The portal closed, shutting out Pia’s screech.

* * * *

Shields snapped into place as they walked into the apartment. Shapes crawled up the walls, and red flames danced before Resh’s eyes.
It’s just the poison.
As long as they reached Balkaith by sunset, he’d survive. This realm didn’t have the ingredients for a full antidote.

He tried to find enough spit to swallow, his muscles protesting as if he’d tackled hours of heavy combat. Opening the portal had drained more of his powers. Along with the toxins in his system, he had less than half of his normal magic left. The rest of his energy would be taken up with the Ritual of Admission. Hopefully the healers would have a ready antidote in Balkaith.

He turned his back on Maya and swallowed swamp maple, feeling a cool wash of relief filter through his body. He stepped to the granite kitchen bench, drank several glasses of water from the tap in quick succession and leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to hide his shaking hands.

Cursing to himself, he pulled together arsenic, amalgam, salt, and eel’s blood for the ritual ahead. Maya sat behind him at the kitchen table, quiet for once.

Women usually liked him. He had no trouble attracting them. But after a quick interlude, he barely remembered their names.

This one—he watched her constantly, unable to look away. He’d reached out earlier without thinking, attracted by the snow on her hair, but she’d flinched, making him feel like a monster. She wasn’t the usual type of female he enjoyed. She was too soft, too changeable, and ruled by her emotions, an Achilles heel for a warlock. Never mind her repellent affinity for chaos magic.

She sat on the ladder-back chair. His gaze drew back to her even as he mixed the tincture.

If she decided to stay on Earth, he’d drag her unwilling soul across and bear the consequences. They had four hours to finish the ritual.

*

Maya sat at the scarred kitchen table, polishing the blade of the dagger, watching Resh work waxy red material in a pewter pot.

“Would you grind the mercury and sulfur together in the mortar? We need to do this fast,” he said.

She nodded and picked up the pestle.

Resh showed her how to isolate, purify, and recombine the occult ingredients for the high ritual. Using a triple beam balance, he weighed plant ash and volatile essential oils before filtering them into a large steel pot on the black stove. His hands were dexterous as he dissipated the rose quartz into powdery white sand.

They extracted alcohol from solids in an extractor while white smoke swirled above their heads.

He had to be a high order adept. Working for Jhara had taught her enough about magic to know that no one could prepare this level of magic without following a recipe.

Earlier he’d explained the social system and guilds of Balkaith. His stiff posture and rounded vowels reminded her of the dominant class. If his talents at swordsmanship and magic were anything to go by, he’d received a good education. His clothes didn’t shout poverty so he obviously liked to surround himself in luxury.

His voice rose and fell in a smooth, monotonous chant as he stripped leaves and stems from plants and tossed them into a flask. The rich odor of herbs, minerals, and animal products filled the apartment. He sifted Powder of Algaroth and gold chloride into a flat-bottom crucible sitting in the middle of the table.

Waves of energy danced over the marble floor, adding a quivering, blurry cast to the air. Incense and ozone settled over his head in a thick cloud.

Resh moved from the stove to the portable burner sitting under the crucible and back again, absorbed in the task. His hands moved fast and fluidly as he placed ground chalk and oak stems into the crucible.

Fire leaped halfway to the stark white ceiling before crawling back down to rest. He chanted in a low, steady voice and the smell of licorice and cloves filled the air.