Illusion (14 page)

Brow creased, Resh stirred in potash and cinnabar.

Canary-yellow vapor billowed from the crucible. He turned up the heat and the scent of gum oil filled the room.

The dish vibrated with magic. The air shimmered, and red lines snaked from the dish.

Maya leaned back. “This is all about politics, isn’t it?”

Something savage and ancient streaked across his pupils. “Several thousand years ago the Khereb appeared, followers of Molokh, the demon lord. The Guardian Spirit, Besmelo, evoked Enim warriors. The Enim fought them back and sealed the entrance to the crypt. That’s why summoning spirits is forbidden and communication across the Abyss is banned. Your employer, Jhara, stank of chaos magic. Jusef and his sister are working with high magic as well. I don’t imagine they’re the only ones. If so, they’re thinning the Veil, allowing your magic to puncture a hole in the fabric between realities.”

He waved his hand in a conjure and purple-gray droplets suspended in midair before falling back into the crucible with a light
plink
.

“One of the Houses sent the Khereb after me.”

“Agreed.” He poured white arsenic into the crucible, and a thick, violet-black liquid rose, swirled, and then sank back to rest.

Maya shuddered. “Is the Abyss the same place as hell?”

“Nothing quite so straightforward. Spirits reside there. Dark and light and all the grays in-between. There are four major realms that exist in the Cosmos—greater worlds, the Abyss, Morphes, and the outer worlds or your universe. The four are called the Tesseract, or four-squared cube. Each realm is divided again into a paired tree of itself. We call this Eodolon—the branches of reality and time. Very dangerous…” His eyes turned black. “Only crazy entities would attempt Eodolon.”

He added volatile essential oils and glowworm tails. Steam rose to the ceiling in puffs of gray cloud.

“To cross, we mix four paired elements to connect the realms: rapid motion, intense lightness, slight obscurity, and great warmth.”

The steam formed a hazy hourglass figure above their heads. It solidified, hanging in midair.

So they were going to embark on a dangerous crossing. What other choice did they have? It wouldn’t be long before the magi, the cops, or the Khereb caught up with her. Her art, once her only solace, now seemed more of a burden than a gift.

“What am I?”

Resh invoked four alchemical elements. Some type of phosphorescent compound snapped in the air and pooled down his body. The floor beat like a pulse under her feet.

“Your illustrations animate and appeared in our ancient grimoire. If you’re not a mage or witch, then you’re something we haven’t seen before. A reality shifter.”

He tossed a feather and the crushed leaves of various plants into the mix. Particles of sand appeared—citron, russet, olive, and black. They poured from midair into the smoky hourglass.

She contemplated the knife. Lately her pictures had brought her nothing but trouble. If she knew what she was dealing with, perhaps she could hone the skill and use it to her advantage. Thoughts of her family crossed her mind, but she pushed them aside. Only her grandmother had cared and she was dead now. And Jane would understand.

Could she just leave this world? It was all she knew. Maybe she would never return. Trembling inside, she moved to the window and watched lightning split the sky. Thunder boomed overhead, echoing down the river and bouncing off the cliffs. It was time to make a decision. Maya wavered for a moment. She understood what Resh wanted. What did she want?

Hearing a hiss, she turned to see Resh dump a handful of St. John’s wort and apple seeds into the crucible. Magic vibrated in the room, pooling low in her stomach. A crack appeared in the crucible, but he didn’t appear concerned. If possible, his hands moved faster.

Resh drew three concentric circles and corresponding lines on the floor in black charcoal. It looked like a wheel with broken spokes. He marked twisting serpent creatures in the second circle, and astrological symbols in the outer ring.

“Can I do it?” she asked.

He glanced up. “Given your skills? No, I think I’ll rely on my meager slashing.”

His hands trembled slightly as he placed the cinnabar on dolomite in the middle of the formula. Chanting in a low, deep tone, he used tongs to pick up the crucible and placed it on the crystal. As soon as the two surfaces met, splashes of olive and scarlet liquid pooled over the crystal and onto the floor.

He stared at her, eyes intent. His lips were slightly open and full and she wondered what they would taste like. Heat coiled and spread through her body, and she resisted the impulse to squirm. He had a beautiful body. He definitely wanted her; she could tell by his eyes and the way he avoided touching her. But he also wanted something else, and she couldn’t quite work out if he protected her, or just used her for his own benefit.

“When do we leave?” she asked. His lips were gorgeous. The veins in his arms bulged in a darkening web, the magical roadmap of life.

“Within the hour.”

“An hour. I had no idea it would be so soon.”

He stared at her with incomprehension, and then his face cleared. “We need a three-quarter moon to receive full benefit from the planets. The tincture is near completion, and when Jupiter reaches mid-sky, we leave. The Khereb are on our heels.”

Sweat dripped from his face and his hands shook with strain. The tincture preparations wore on him, but any sympathy she might have felt had disappeared with his abrupt words. He sounded exactly like the mage from the House of Horrors.

He wiped the perspiration off with a piece of linen, tossing it and a bloody eyeball into the circle.

“
Numen Divinitas, dissimulo ad infinitum, egressus adsum a priori
.” Resh cut his arm and blood flowed onto the crystal, pooling beneath.

At the center of the formula an obsidian cloud coalesced and reached out, as if attracted to him. It whirled and revolved upon itself, and in the middle of the dark mass, an eye appeared. The eyelid opened and the pupil focused on Resh and then swiveled to Maya.

Her hands crackled. The room steamed, and a vaguely human shape formed above the crucible. It grew higher, hissing and sizzling, as if in delight.

Her dagger, sitting on the table, rattled against the wood. It flew across the room, landing in her open palm. Resh stared at her in surprise.

Maya forced herself to breathe deep as she shoved the dagger into her boot, out of sight.
Keep it together, girl.

“What is it?” She couldn’t stop staring at the eye. The faintest glimmer of iridescent blue was visible around the iris.

“An arch-warlock. He’ll observe and support the ritual from here on.”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she said in a strangled voice. After pulling her bag from the bed she paced into the marble bathroom.

She washed her hands and tossed water on her hot cheeks, wondering if this was the last time she’d feel Earth water on her skin. How would it taste in Balkaith?

“The Khereb have broken through the wards. We have to leave. Now!” Resh’s voice boomed through the opaque glass.

Maya jumped, and the mirror captured her look of terror. Something black and foreign writhed in her dilated pupils, like smoke—no, fire. She flung away, bolting out the door.

And jerked to a stop, shocked.

An ultraviolet mist filled the room. Huge sparks of static and miniature lightning bolts zapped across the ceiling. Resh had removed his shirt. He stood with his sword on his back in the middle of the circle. It had become a swirling vortex beneath his feet. Sweat beaded his forehead. He had one hand raised as if controlling the fury. His body was slick with sweat and layered with slabs of muscle.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Wind funneled from the maelstrom, clutching Maya’s hair and slicing across her face. The skin between her shoulder blades tingled.

The eye had disappeared. But the room now leaned at an odd angle to the right, making her want to tilt her head in response.

“Get your bag.” He’d regressed to his native cadence, thick and foreign sounding.

“My God, it’s beautiful.” She shuddered, prickles of heat running up her spine.

“Don’t be afraid.” He held his other hand out to her.

With a deep breath, she threw on her backpack, stepped across the threshold of the circle, and placed her hand in his hot clasp. She was leaving home. Tears blurred her sight and she tightened her grip, feeling his rough calluses beneath her fingers.

Immediately the smell of blood and ozone filled her senses. Her stomach hollowed, like she’d been punched and she gasped.

“Don’t let go of my hand. If the ritual stops before reconstruction, one or both of us will be destroyed. If we arrive in different places, head for the fort. Ask for Alexandr. I’ll find you.” He leaned over her shoulder, stuffing something into the pocket of her leather backpack.

She opened her mouth to ask how she’d find this fort and why they might get separated, but thunder boomed at the walls and floor, shaking the room. Her heart rate accelerated.

“We need to go,” he shouted above the raging mass of sound, his eyes weirdly opaque and glassy.

The floor burned through the soles of her boots. She shifted her feet.

“It will be fine.” Something gentle brushed the top of her head. The room darkened and she spun her head in time to see the window shattering.

A massive white bolt of lightning sliced through the air, sending a shock wave of electricity through the apartment. The circle lit up with a wash of blue-green eddies. The colors unwrapped, expanded, and surged toward them. The electrical charge stung her skin and her hair frizzled, the acrid smell burning her nostrils.

Energy particles separated and lifted around her, and she heard a low, bell-like tone. She felt herself being pulled toward the sound. Her bones twisted and contorted in excruciating agony for long seconds. Then the room disappeared and she fell, tasting copper on her tongue.

* * * *

Stop!
Maya told herself. Her scream ended its assault on her ears. Oily blackness surrounded her body. With burning eyes she tried to pierce the darkness, but nothing moved within.
Maybe this is what embryonic fluid feels like.
She had to force herself to breathe.

Resh’s presence comforted her. Hints of bergamot incense assailed her senses. She could taste him on her tongue.

“We are one.”
His voice, in her mind, thundered in her head.

Panic hit at the intrusion. She struggled. Blood thrummed in her ears, almost drowning out his words. Why hadn’t he warned her they’d be joined?

“It’s the only way. I could only transmute us. One soul. Our bodies will arrive later.”

A flood of warmth hit her system. A profound sense of well-being washed over her, pulling her into him.

Shifting a little deeper she found him, residing inside. The smell of incense warmed her, made her feel beautiful. His admiration and craving caught in her throat. She imagined his lips, sensual and wet, closing over her own. The heat of his power slammed through her veins, pulsing in the back of her thighs and curling her toes. She tried to steel herself against it, but his energy clawed inside, rocking against her. She softened and threw back her head as a wave of ecstasy hit. So this was what it felt like to be close to another person. It felt so much better than sex.

“Quintessential life. Opposites bound together through the transformation process.” He groaned.

She breathed deeper, drawing their combined scent into her lungs. Licking her lips, she tasted them both on her tongue. She luxuriated in it, undulating slowly. She could feel his excitement inside her.

Her thoughts crisscrossed between them. Both thinking of the other. Images of them touching one another ran through her mind, unfiltered. Her pulse redoubled, and her scalp tingled in a prelude to an orgasm.

He tried to pull back, distracted, and she saw a hint of something hidden in his memory.

The more she ignored it, the harder it pulled at her. The more he tried to hide it, the deeper she searched, finding a thin mental wall. He shored up the barrier, told her it was private, but an intense pulse of phosphorescent light broke through a crack and washed over her, bringing such beautiful tranquility. It was like the highest quality spells and she prodded hard, wanting more.

Oh God, she was just like Jhara. A junkie craving a fix and not caring how she got it.

The barricade crumbled, revealing his thoughts.

He’d fought for her, been poisoned while looking for the painting. His strength of will, strong ambition, and overriding desire for power coursed through her like quicksilver.

Resh boarded up the gap, but memory signals streamed through even as she tried to ignore them.

Vivid pictures flashed through her mind. Resh trying to save her, but also manipulating her, holding back information. He thought she was a dark witch and had been sent to kill her—with the damned sword—slashing off her head. The bastard hated witches, and hated himself for desiring her. He wished he’d killed her before getting involved, because now everything…

Would she never learn? She’d expected more from him. Something different. Noble even.

He tried to distract her but she saw it. Jane’s clothes spread out in a bloody puddle.

Drip.

The pool rippled.

Bloodstained underwear dangled from a tree. A slaughterer’s trail—the flaunted kill of Khereb.

He’d lied to her.

Her mind rebelled. Her thoughts became twisted and dark as desire shifted to rage. It grew, feeding on itself. Something ruptured … her pride imploded in a torrent of pain.

What had she expected?

“Listen,” she heard him say. “Don’t do this. Let me explain.”

His words had been false before. Why listen now? She was a pawn to him. She should have expected betrayal. The bitter taste of his manipulation ached so much she felt sick inside. Her childhood flew through her memory like ice water. He was going to sell her out to his Tribune. Whimpering, she pushed him away, forced them apart.