Illusion (5 page)

The globule of air sank into a brick building, but the sensation remained, telling him it was still close. He followed, bile rising in his throat as he slipped by a mound of refuse and dead vermin. She couldn’t have called maleficium. That would make her an abomination … the kind no magical creature would tolerate.

* * * *

Maya rested on her quilted coverlet, warmed from a hot bath and glass of Bookers on ice. Images of the magi, the mirror, and Resheph circled her mind until she thought she’d go nuts. She tossed back a sedative and fidgeted her way into a deep sleep.

She opened her eyes and found herself in a round cave lit by candles glowing in small alcoves.

Melting wax dripped down rough dirt walls. The only door looked familiar—it belonged in her bedroom. She looked down in surprise. A greasy mist swirled below her hips. For a moment she had the crazy thought that her lower body no longer existed. The cloud brushed her hands and she clasped them beneath her breasts, not wanting them obscured.

A faint, almost imperceptible thump raised goose bumps on her skin. Something else had entered the room; she could feel eyes on her body and a betraying little shuffle on the far side of the room. Her heart pounded so loud in her ears it was deafening.

Whatever it was, it crouched in the mist on the other side of the room, a barely discernible black curvature that seemed to absorb the darkness around it. If she went near it, she knew something bad would happen and she’d never escape.

She waded through heavy fog and grasped for the doorknob but it had disappeared, leaving a flat, unrelieved surface.

She clawed at the edges, trying to pry the door open with her nails, but the old gap no longer existed.

She had to be dreaming. Soon she’d be back in her bed and the nightmare would be gone.

A small bloodred particle sparked several feet to her right. She yanked her hair several times to wake up but the room remained the same.

Her skin prickled in warning.

Claws scraped on concrete, dragging right next to her on the wall. She swiveled and quickly backed away.

Her eyes watered and she blinked several times in shock. A sea of particles with trailing tails now floated above the dense cloud, accentuating the darkness beneath. One drifted past, touching her hair, and she lurched back, slamming into the wall. The room notched down in temperature and her breath puffed out in clouds of white vapor.

There was a sibilant whisper, then a dark chuckle, followed by a coarse, deep-throated laugh holding an edge of madness. Something wailed, a high-pitched cry of pain coming from the shadow across the room. Footsteps pattered across the floor, heading straight for her. Claws tugged hard at her nightgown until the thin strap snapped. She opened her mouth to scream, twisting and flailing in the fog until it released her.

Fingers raced up her left leg and pinched her upper thigh, bringing tears to her eyes. She stumbled, trying to push it away. The wall broke her fall. Sweat broke out on her skin.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” she chanted.

It giggled, a high-pitched nasty snicker. The entity pounced on her calf, holding fast, and she shook her leg viciously, trying to kick it free. But it reached up and stabbed her in the calf.

Needle-like pain ran down to her ankle. “Bastard,” she gasped. “Go away. It’s a dream,” she yelled, more forcefully. She patted her leg, touching wetness.

Her gown fluttered in the wind. A hand brushed over her buttocks, ran quickly between the cheeks. She slapped, hitting nothing but air. A brutal kick smacked into her hip and shoved her against the wall. Steel-hard hands clamped over her torso, dragging her along the surface of the wall. Her back scraped on rocks and her feet flailed at empty space. She was flipped to her front, stones biting into her chest.

She pushed away with her hands, but a heavy force pinned her to the wall. Her nightgown billowed and fingers tapped up her legs, probing the sensitive hollows behind her knees, fondling her lower spine. Worse than Jhara’s interest, this thing wasn’t playing. The room trembled and the smell of rot hit just as an intimate whisper breathed into her ear.

“Maya, remember me.” It was a low rattle, buzzing like flies on a pile of corpses.

“Wake up … wake up … wake up!” she howled.

The fingers cupped her buttocks, squeezing hard and piercing her skin. She screamed in terror and a putrid smell flooded her mouth. The voice chuckled, and for the briefest second blue eyes danced on the edges of her memory. Whatever held her let her go with a suddenness that she stumbled and grasped at the wall, felt the sharp sting of her nails peeling back.

The entities attacked. Several pounced on her legs, weighing her down and trying to pull her beneath the darkness. Others pinched and shoved until she opened her mouth and let loose a full-throated scream. She turned, hitting back, her fists bouncing off rough walls and meeting empty space.

The foul smell drenched the room, seeping into her nostrils. The entities dragged her toward the blackened space on the opposite side of the cave and she struggled to resist, her heels dragging on the ground. The door rattled and a horrendous banging thundered against the wood, shaking the entire room. Plaster fell from the ceiling, white powder raining down on her head.

Burdened by their weight, she dropped beneath the sticky fog. Her back hit the floor hard and her breath escaped in a rush. Her nightgown ripped over her head and she flew, feet first, toward the black form, raw nail beds scraping on the hard rock. Bleak hopelessness filled her. Her life was useless anyway. She’d achieved none of her dreams and never would. Inchoate sound babbled in her ears, coming from her own throat, while icy fingers grasped her ankles.

“You’re mine.”

Her mind put face and voice together as the wall split open, dragging her in.

* * * *

Tap. Tap.
There was a harsh croak and Maya woke with a shuddering breath. She opened her eyes as a flash of lightning exposed the silhouette of two birds on her windowpane. Her head slumped back on the pillow and she saw the painted animals on her lampshade careening around the rim, spinning in endless circles like her search for escape from the dream. She squinted, disoriented; the distinction between the dream and waking reality blurred.

She tugged a cord and a dull yellow glow filled the room. The ravens sat on her windowsill, their cold dark pupils reflecting back at her. Wind crept through the cracks in the putty, rattling the sash in its frame. Shivering, Maya picked up the spellbox on her side table, flicking open the lid and selecting one of her few remaining relaxation charms. She swallowed the tab before pulling the covers up around her ears. Just before waking she’d recognized someone, but now the memory was receding like a tide pulled inexorably out to sea.

The muscles in her legs twitched horribly, still working hard to avoid the black hole concealed in that lightless dream-room. For some reason the deep voice scared her more than anything else.

Her vocal cords felt dry from screaming and she tasted blood in the back of her throat. The familiarity of the bedroom seemed so safe after the nightmare she’d escaped from.

The birds stood like statues on her windowsill, heads cocked to the side as if tuning in to her thoughts. Their blue-black plumage gleamed like polished silk in the light, reminding her of the spinning void of blackness she first fell into when dreaming.

They were usually not in pairs like that. Or awake at night.

Had the ravens been in her bedroom? Moments before falling into the hole in her dream, she’d felt something soft brushing her arms. Ugh, not possible. The window was locked.

Maybe she should get up and shoo them away? No, that wasn’t a good idea. They looked large and intimidating and confident enough to take a bite. Perhaps the pair lived in the silver birch outside her bedroom window. Good luck to them. It might be nice to have wings. If she did, she wouldn’t stick around this cold city but fly somewhere warm and sweet smelling; near the ocean would be nice. She imagined gliding with outspread wings, banking high in a soft breeze.

Bang!

A sharp pain pierced her stomach. She plummeted in a long swan dive to the spinning earth and watched the patches of brown and green grow closer and closer before she smacked into the ground with a little puff of dirt.

A guy in khaki shorts sat before a campfire sucking on her succulent bones.

Idiot
. She huffed, smiling at her thoughts.

Shrugging off the horrible nightmare, she wriggled out of the cotton sheet that had wrapped around her torso like mummification linen.

She stared in horror at the blood-splattered nightgown and her stomach muscles clenched. What in the hell was happening? Stumbling into the bathroom, she stared into the flecked mirror, hoping it would reveal the plain white nightgown she’d fallen asleep in. She recoiled in shock as something flashed across the glass. She swiveled to the darkened doorway, but nothing waited to pounce.

Her nightgown hung off one shoulder, ripped and dirty, falling in tatters below her knees. Deep scratches marked thighs slippery with blood, and several imprints, the size of polymer coins, left purple bruises on her white ankles. She shivered, freezing cold under the sweat slicking her skin. In a daze, she pulled antiseptic swabs out of a first-aid kit, and washed her legs clean before shoving the gown into the bottom of a bin.

It wasn’t the first time she’d been attacked in a dream, or woken in a different room in the apartment, cowering and desperately trying to scrub blood off her limbs. She’d love to scour the puckered silvery scars off her back, but the past wasn’t so readily dismissed.

Hands shaking, she returned to the bedroom and flipped open the
netcomm
device by her bedside table. She wanted to ring Jane. Her friend was the only person in the world she really trusted.

Someone hammered on the apartment door and she jumped, dropping the handset to the floor. She shifted restlessly on bare feet.

“Hey.” Jane’s voice chirped through the panels. “Maya, it’s me.”

Her friend’s familiar tone almost brought tears to Maya’s eyes.

Maya tossed on a robe and trotted over to the door. She unlocked the bolts and Jane pushed through the gap, walking past Maya with the briefest smile and a nonchalant wave.

“What a week. I’m looking forward to Absinthe tonight.” Jane’s lazy drawl sounded more laid-back than usual, indicating she’d started the party early.

She strode over to the moth-eaten lounge they’d lugged up the stairs months ago and launched into the cushions, springs squeaking. Her black bob swung around elfin features, accentuating the purple lipstick, white makeup, and dark eyeliner.

“Jesus. What happened to you?” Jane finally looked up from her handbag, a bottle of bourbon in her hand. She eyed the bruises circling Maya’s ankles and raised a finger. “Don’t tell me. You finally broke the drought and went for rough sex. Trust you to pick a hard-core ass whipper. I hope it was a three-way and not erotic strangulation. Did I tell you about the time I tried that?”

Maya stared at her. “I lost my job and woke up from a nightmare like this.” She hadn’t done the sex thing for years. Not since the last time, when the guy had told her she was a cold waste of time.

“Busting your boiler for a feral pig like Jhara would give anyone nightmares. How did you get them?” Jane pointed to the faded bruises on Maya’s jaw.

“I had a run-in with Jhara and Horus and I think one of them cursed me or something.” Maya relayed the evening’s events, leaving out the picture on the mirror and the warrior guy. If her pictures were moving, then a recessive mage gene was showing up. She wouldn’t be the first lower mage to develop latent talents even if her mother had never told her about any crossbreeding in the family. Not a pureblood like the higher magi, but nevertheless she’d have to be screened for bloods, tattooed, and registered, or the
Conjurare
cops would toss her in the can. She hadn’t heard of anyone animating pictures before, but that didn’t mean much because she didn’t keep track of the mage chronicles. Oxyhiayal’s interest was worrying.

And the warrior, well hell, she didn’t think she’d see him again, and she couldn’t feel bad about that, even if the idea of having him spread out next to her in the sun—

“Christ. I’ve never heard of the Houses doing that,” Jane said.

“Well, now you have.” She wouldn’t think of him, not because he was big and frightening, but because there were the tattoos, the sword, and damn, even the birds. It all screamed
time’s up, sweetie.

“Hanging with you might become a health hazard.” Jane shook her head and moved into the kitchenette. She lifted two tumblers off the open shelf. “Get dressed. I ran into Don earlier. He’s sold your paintings so he’ll drop the proceeds off at Absinthe.”

The lower mage was a friend of sorts and ran the stall across the road from Maya’s apartment. The idea of money lifted her spirits and she felt lighter. Maybe she’d have enough coin to resettle in another town?

She walked toward her closet, already planning where she might move. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”

“Still. The magi’s behavior seems excessive. Do you owe them money?”

“Umm.”

“What have you done this time?” Jane sounded resigned.

“Last week I gave a colleague one of Jhara’s
adiuvo
spells for morning sickness. She said she had no money, and kept throwing up at work. Jhara sacked her anyway.” Maya shimmied into a pair of black jeans.

“Jeez, Maya. That’s dangerous. Why would you risk it? If he’s that angry, you might need to skip outta town for a while.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Jhara doesn’t know where I live, but lying low isn’t a bad idea.”

“Do you need help? I can lend you some coin.”

Maya shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“The newscasters have been raving about an invasion in the Horus compound.” Jane lowered her voice. “Someone smashed through their security and killed several lieutenants. Something’s up between the Houses and right now isn’t a good time to get their attention.”