Nemesis (12 page)

“You’re kidding me. Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“Very funny.” He took a step towards me, like he was trying to intimidate me. Okay, so he was three times my size and basically a wall of muscle, but size and strength didn’t mean anything when you knew what you were doing. And I’d learned from the best–a five-foot-two woman with a killer right hook.

His fist flew, and I caught his arm before it reached my throat, twisting. Hard. As his other hand curled into a fist, I brought my knee up, and slammed it into his groin. He let out a yell, doubling over. Even through the protective uniform, that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Fuck you,” he spat through clenched teeth. “You really are a psycho. Just like Walker.”

Despite myself, my grip faltered, and he wrenched his arm free.

“You’re off your head,” I said. “You’re the one who threatened
me.
And Kay isn’t a psycho.”

“You think you know him, do you?” said Aric, breathing heavily. “You know what happened at the Academy? That bastard tried to kill me.” He straightened up, face still twisted in pain.

“I–what?”
Don’t listen to him.
I glanced at Carl, but he wasn’t looking in our direction.

“It’s true. He used magic, and almost killed me. All because I found out he’s a criminal and a raging psychopath. And he got away with it because of the Walker family’s reputation.”

I took a step back, then another.
No way.
Kay might have killed people, but he wasn’t a psychopath. There had to be more to this story.

“A criminal?” I repeated, clenching my fists so he couldn’t see my hands shaking.

“Hell, yeah. He’s like a serial arsonist or something. He’d have been in jail if the Academy hadn’t found out and wiped his record clean because he’s a Walker. Moment he stepped in the door I knew there was something off about him. He was
too
perfect. Top of the class in everything, and everyone worshiped the ground he walked on. It made me sick.”

Some of the tension eased out of me. “Jealousy is an ugly thing,” I said. “I reckon you’re lying.”

“Believe whatever you want. He’s a criminal and he tried to kill me. He’ll tell you himself, if you ask. Everyone in our class knew. Only reason they still talked to him was ’cause the asshole ran into a wyvern right after.”

I took another step back from him, wobbling like I stood on the edge of a bottomless pit.

He
must
be lying. Or mistaken. But Kay
had
almost been killed by a wyvern. I knew that already…

The clamour of voices rose, like someone had turned off the mute button on the world. And Carl beckoned us over, urgency etched on his face.

“There’s been an incident in the Passages,” he said. “We had to intercept several dreyverns trying to get through a door–some trouble on Valeria again. We
think
it’s taken care of, but some of the guards are still back there making sure there aren’t any more of them.”

“I can deal with goblins.” Aric straightened upright, glaring daggers at me. “Why the hell aren’t we going, then?”

“There’s a complication,” said Carl. “Seems some got hold of a dangerous magical substance and turned themselves invisible.”

Hell. Bloodrock. It had to be. A shiver went through my whole body.

“We should head for the Passages anyway. The more of us, the better. We need to make sure they don’t get through any of the other doors.”

“Sure,” said Aric. “Let me at ‘em.”

“Do I need to warn you about arrogance?” Carl shook his head. “Come on.”

So the four–now seven–of us headed out of the car park, via the same back gate I’d broken in through, a lifetime ago. To the street where Kay and I had battled a wyvern, past houses now abandoned, past a massive crater in the road where I’d almost died. Where I’d taken four lives. And to a metal door set in a blank factory wall, barely distinguishable from its surroundings unless you knew what you were looking for. The static tingle of magic filled the air even before it slid open.

A door to the Passages.

Wide, high-ceilinged corridors. A maze. Ice-cold with a constant breeze, lit only by a faint blue from the walls and ceiling, like nothing on Earth. I shivered, the chill wind cutting through my new faux-leather coat. Magicproof.
It’s waterproof and hides bloodstains, too,
Carl had added when he’d given it to me. Reassuring.

Magic waited for me. A static tingle ran up my arms. A constant presence like a buzzing in the ears, a breath on the back of my neck. Tempting and terrifying because now I knew just how much damage it could do.

That thought made me shiver harder, but I held my head high. Nobody spoke. It was too quiet. Even our footsteps made no sound, though my new Alliance guard boots were made for stealth. Memories crowded the edges of my mind. So many times I’d been here, listened for a whisper of another world behind a door, used magic to boost myself to strike at a monster. Guided terrified, broken war survivors through these corridors, hushed crying children. Wished that just once, I could step through one of those doors.

Now I felt like I was playing a part. Alliance guard on patrol to face monsters.
Invisible
monsters. I pushed away the memory of two identical faces appearing from nowhere in a warehouse–
for God’s sake, Ada!–
and concentrated instead on the unmistakable sounds of fighting coming from ahead. Adrenaline surged through my veins, and I wished it could wash away the doubt.

“Let’s go,” said Carl, and we picked up the pace. We rounded a corner to find several other guards running amongst blurred shapes of small figures. Several somethings, by the look of things, and four, maybe five feet high. Sparks flew from stunners, fists hit out at nothing, and curses echoed around the corridor.

“Fast little buggers,” said Carl. “Go easy, guys, and for God’s sake watch your backs!”

I kept on the defensive, my dagger already in hand. As we drew closer, Carl shouted out, “Use your stunners. It’ll make them visible for a short time!”

Crap. So much for not using magic. I transferred my dagger to my left hand and pulled out the stunner with my right, doing my best to ignore the tiny sparks jump from the end though I hadn’t activated it yet. The device was intended to subdue, but I didn’t trust magic not to explode out of me again, hitting everyone nearby.

My chest tightened with every step. The stunner trembled in my hand.

The guard at the front struck out without warning, the stunner colliding with a solid target. The tingle of magic resounded as the charge hit the target, and a short figure momentarily appeared in front of us. And vanished again.

Hell. They could be anywhere.

Invisible hands closed around my throat. I hit out, my elbow striking with a
crack.
I spun around, dagger at the ready, and almost dropped it as it connected with something rock-hard.

Their weapons were invisible, too.
Crap.
I had no choice but to activate the stunner. My finger hovered over the switch. Sparks flew out, flickering around me like tiny bolts of white lightning.

I let my grip slide on the stunner, and it fell from my hand.

The goblin appeared in front of me, wide mouth stretched in a smile, and slashed with its dagger.

KAY

You’re completely batshit insane,
said a voice in the back of my head. As per usual, I ignored it.

After two tedious hours of more arguments, it was an unbelievable relief to finally get outside. Even if ‘outside’ was a deserted cliff-top, in the company of a mage who could kill me in a heartbeat.

Yeah. Batshit insane.

Waves lashed against the cliff, a hundred feet below. No surviving that drop. The only way down was the steep path we’d climbed, which led back to the island where the council meeting had been held. No barrier between me and the ocean.

But then, I was a magic-wielder, too.

The mage, Ikor, wore a ceremonial coat, which for higher mages was dark blue. Aglaian fashion wasn’t made for practicality or combat–with magic, it didn’t need to be. I was glad the Alliance’s policy was to wear magicproof gear at all times. No way was I standing near a magic-wielder, alone, without some kind of protection.

Dangerous games.

Ikor’s pale eyes stared into mine. Classic intimidation tactic.

“So, what is it about magic that means we had to come up here?”

“Less chance of disturbing anyone.”

“That so?”

I was pushing him. But I suspected he wanted me to.

“Very well. On Earth, you will only know magic in its crudest sense. Three levels, am I right?”

I gave a tight nod. If he wanted to pry me for Earth’s secrets, he’d have to try harder.

“I was only confirming what is commonly known. Magic, in pure raw form, is energy, like in the between-world. Magic here is not like that. As a magic-wielder, I am sure you can tell.”

“It feels restrained, almost.” I was certain I could draw on it if need be, but none of the persistent electric buzz that followed me around the Passages existed here. In the Passages, magic was like an out-of-control forest fire. Here, it was contained. A heightened sense. Still potentially deadly–and all the more dangerous for being unobtrusive.

“That’s a good way of putting it,” said the mage. “It’s part of the atmosphere here. That is how we can influence certain things–the weather, for instance. My role as Ambassador has made me aware that another kind of magic exists in different worlds, however. Valeria is one you’re familiar with, are you not?”

“Of course.” I watched him carefully. Though Aglaia and Valeria were both high-magic worlds, they had virtually no interaction, even on their councils. Aglaian mages simply weren’t interested in other high-magic worlds. Perhaps they saw them as a threat.

“Magic is an energy source there, is it not?”

I weighed my chances. “Yes.” He was a council member, after all, and any other Ambassador would have answered the same. But if he pushed any further for other worlds’ secrets, he’d be disappointed. No matter how curious I might be to see where he was going with this.

“In other words, it’s Aglaia’s opposite. Magic in distilled form is used to fuel high technology. Here, it can be used to affect the world, but cannot be
captured,
like on Valeria. It cannot, for example, exist inside a person.”

Shit. He knows.

I met his gaze with careful blankness. “Your point being?”

“I hear things, magic-wielder. The business at Central didn’t go unnoticed amongst the mages. Other worlds, too. There were rumours of a girl who could absorb the backlash of uncontrolled magic.”

Damn. How much did he know? If it had reached a distant world like Aglaia, how far had word spread? I’d been the only witness, of course, but anyone who knew the three principles of magic could have come to that conclusion if they really thought about how things had gone down. The way Ada and I had both survived the fight with the Campbells suggested something was screwy, but the Alliance had been too preoccupied with the carnage left after the fight in the Passages. Until now, apparently.

“How odd,” I said, with an indifferent shrug.

The mage’s brow furrowed, like he was trying to figure out if I was lying.
Too bad magic can’t give you the power to read minds, isn’t it?

“Of course,” the mage said, “that would be largely irrelevant on a world where the use of such magic is illegal–it is, to use your word, restrained. I was merely interested in how such a thing worked. There are substances that can capture magic inside them, are they not?”

“I am not authorised to say anything of what may or may not have happened at Central,” I said in my coldest tone.

“I would never ask you to. I only wondered at the possibilities.”

Yeah, and I just wanted to learn magic for kicks.

“Right. If that’s all, then I’m wasting my time here.”

“Oh, I never said I have no knowledge that would be useful to a magic-wielder from a low-magic world. It’s not illegal to do this, for example.” He raised a hand, and the air shimmered. It wasn’t as vibrant or dramatic as gathering magic energy in the Passages, but it was definitely magic.

The energy swirled around his hand, which he held in a relaxed position. How the hell did he do that, if internal magic didn’t exist on Aglaia? Magic demanded to be released. If not, it would burn you from the inside out. At least, that’s what I’d always believed. And it went double for people like me. Human lightning rods.

“It’s a matter of control,” said the mage. “The truth is, this world barely reaches the second level. Every human on Aglaia can use magic, but that doesn’t mean it is
strong
magic. This world is weak in comparison to those who live on genuine high-level magic worlds.”

No way.
Why the hell had he just told me that? It had to be a trick. Council members wouldn’t disclose information to an offworlder unless they had an ulterior motive.