Now or Never: Wizards of Nevermore (17 page)

“I’m not a magical,” said Taylor.

Emmett slanted him a look of disbelief. Taylor ignored the mage and met Norie’s panicked gaze. He felt badly for her, but along with that empathy was a sliver of suspicion that curled up in his stomach. How could she not know she was a magical? Was she really a victim, or was she playing him?

Norie stroked her throat as though doing so might remove the clinging magic.

He took her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “Do you remember casting a spell?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her eyes glistened with tears. Her lower lip quivered, but she caught it between her teeth. He believed her. He also realized that Emmett was the second young magical to see what the older, more experienced magicals had not. Trent had also mentioned Norie’s necro powers. And Taylor couldn’t help but wonder why no one in Nevermore had detected she’d been a victim of her own magic.

Taylor put his arm around Norie, and she accepted his comfort. She fit just right against him, as if she belonged there. He wished he didn’t feel this way. She made it difficult to think straight. But she needed him, and he’d already committed himself to her safety.
I won’t let anything happen to her.

“Can you remove it?” asked Taylor.

“Me?” squeaked Emmett. “No way. It’s Magic 101. Only the wizard who cast the spell can undo it, or you know, a convocation from his House, which is like, huge, and hardly ever done anyway. And magic globs aren’t a big enough reason to get her House to work a removal spell.”

“She doesn’t have a House,” said Taylor. “Because she says she’s not magical.”

“I thought she couldn’t talk.”

“She wrote it down.”

“Oh.” Emmett stared at Norie. “She’s…That is,
you’re
the only one who can remove it. I can tell you how, if that’ll help.”

Norie’s gaze slid up to Taylor’s. Fear flickered in her eyes, and he gave her a one-armed squeeze. “It wouldn’t hurt to try, sweetheart.”

She looked at him a moment longer. Then her gaze cleared, and she gave a firm, decisive nod. She moved away from Taylor and then stood before Emmett. She lifted a hand and made a “c’mon” gesture.

“Yeah. Um, okay. You’re necro, so your power originates from…well, spirits and residual death type stuff. The older the place, the better the necro vibes. Like here’s good ’cause this place has been around awhile, and people have died here an’ stuff. But, you know, cemeteries are like the ultimate mojo for you.” Emmett cleared his throat. “Like everyone else, you borrow from the elements, from nature, but it’s…not quite the same. And thanaturges are like…way, way out there. Like überness, you know?”

“I’ve heard of thaurmaturges,” said Taylor. “But not thanaturges. How do you know that’s what she is?”

“ ’Cause that’s her vibe,” said Emmett. “Every magical has a vibe. It’s kinda how we know who’s who. Anyway, she’s a necro, for sure. But she’s like
pulsing
with the death energy. I mean, honestly? I didn’t know any existed. The last recorded thanaturge was…jeez. A hundred years ago, at least.”

Taylor was reassessing his idea of Emmett helping Norie. The kid was a damned mess and appeared so scatterbrained that it seemed unlikely he could teach
Norie anything useful. And if Emmett was wrong, and his own magic somehow harmed her, then Taylor would have to kill him.

“Is there a master wizard around?” he asked. “Or maybe a Raven who could help us?”

“Ravens aren’t altruistic,” said Emmett. “And I’m good. Really good. If she can call up the magic, I can show her how to use it.”

Taylor opened his mouth to protest again, but Norie punched him in the arm. He looked down at her. She made a slashing motion over her throat that he took to mean, “Shut up.”

He took a few steps back, readjusting the lockbox in his left hand. He wasn’t sure what to expect, and tension ribboned through him.

“Okay,” said Emmett. “You know the first stance, right? The one you use to call the magic for the elements? In your case, that’s the ghosts. Or decay. Something’s always dead or dying somewhere. That’s your conjure point. And you know it’s one of the five points you use to call for the magic from the elements and commove into your spell.”

Taylor bit back a grin at the look of astonishment on Norie’s face. Emmett kept describing the process without taking notice that his student wasn’t exactly keeping up. The fact that the kid was so excited about describing what to do without any regard for Norie’s
obvious cluelessness didn’t exactly inspire confidence in the sheriff.

Taylor had never really paid attention to the ins and outs of magical instruction. When he went to the academy to get his police training, he had to take the required courses in uses of the law enforcement–approved magical objects, and, of course, the courses that taught him how to survive magical attack and take down magicals. Neither of those situations had occurred in his nearly six years as sheriff. Still, the information was useful to have. It wouldn’t help him in a full-on magical onslaught, but mundanes rarely came out from those altercations smelling like roses—or alive, for that matter. So, he knew how to use the tools given to him, though he tried not to implement those things too often. He preferred the direct, mundane route, though he certainly didn’t mind having magicals for friends. They sure did come in handy from time to time.

He stifled the urge to interfere. Norie had asked him, sorta, to stay out of it. The lockbox with Banton’s gun felt heavier by the moment, and he was startled to feel itchy. Still, he knew it was important for Norie to get her voice back, and even though he had a bad feeling about what was going to unfold in the next few minutes, he decided there wasn’t much he could do about it. Sometimes, you just had to go with the flow and assess the damage afterward. Yep, sometimes it was all about the cleanup.

Norie was trying to keep up with Emmett’s instruction, even following some of the kid’s moves. He didn’t think for a minute that Norie would be able to conjure up anything viable, much less fix the whole “globby” issue. It made sense that the girl was a magical, maybe even this so-called
thanaturge
, and that would draw the attention of the Ravens. But Kahl? How did he come into things? And demons? Or ghosts, as Trent had insisted on. What was the end game? And why taint the portal to the Goddess fountain, which was, at this point, still just a working theory about Nevermore?

“Okay,” said Emmett. He had a self-satisfied expression on his face. “I think she understands.”

Taylor gave them both a thumbs-up and prepared to watch the show. Or rather, he prepared to watch nothing. Still, his mama didn’t raise no fool, so he stepped back—
way
back.

“So, you start with feeling around for the dead stuff,” said Emmett. “Start the first point of the five you need to create the energy.”

Norie nodded, though she didn’t seem too sure about “feeling around for dead stuff.” Still, she made an effort, going so far as to close her eyes and scrunch up her face.

Goddess, she was cute.

“Got the first point?” asked Emmett. “Think of it like strings that you’re gonna tie together. You draw out the first one, then the next, and the next…until you’ve
kinda braided all five together. Then you have the convergence and the magic. Then you direct it what to do.” He pointed to her neck and made wiggling motions.

Yeah,
thought Taylor,
easy as pie.
If the pie were made of disconcertion and calculus.

Norie cracked open one eye and offered a half-moon glare. The boy offered a somewhat pompous smile, as though his quick and twisty instruction hadn’t just confused the living hell out of his student.

“Ready?” asked Emmet.

Norie nodded, squeezed her eyes closed, and lifted her arms. She pointed her fingers, took a deep breath, and then went very still.

Seconds ticked by, and nothing happened. Emmett didn’t seem entirely concerned that Norie wasn’t calling forth any magic. Taylor wasn’t too surprised, though. He wondered how long he should let this craziness continue.

The air went suddenly electric.

All the hair on Taylor’s body rose, and then an ungodly wail shot through the room. The lamentation was filled with pain and terror and echoed off the walls, bouncing around until it split into several terror-filled exclamations. As the noise faded, the temperature dropped—one minute, Taylor was breathing normal, if not stale, air, and then the next, he was drawing in air so cold, it scraped his lungs.

“Uh-oh,” said Emmett.

Taylor glanced at him sharply. “What?”

Emmett’s teeth were chattering, and everyone’s breath issued little puffs. It was as if the room had been turned into a walk-in freezer.

“Emmett,” said Taylor, his voice low with warning.

“She’s way powerful,” offered the mage. “But she’s blocked. It’s like her power is bleeding around…oh.” His eyes went wide. “Do you think her powers were bound, or something? I mean, that would make sense. Probably cursed as a kid, before she really knew what she could do, or whatever. The thing is, curses can’t last forever. There’s always a time limit, so maybe hers is almost over. That’s why she can sorta access the magic, but it’s all weird and stuff, ’cause she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” He tapped his temple. “She’s winging it. Instinctual, you know?”

“Maybe,” managed Taylor through clenched teeth, “you should’ve figured that out before your damned magic lesson.”

Emmett looked wounded. “It’s not like curses are always obvious.”

Taylor resisted the urge to unsnap the gun from his holster so he could shoot Emmett. The mage took one look at Taylor’s face and scuttled away a few steps, his nervous gaze switching to Norie.

Norie hadn’t moved at all. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing shallow, and she remained eerily still.

“What’s going on?” demanded Taylor.

“Um.” Emmett swallowed nervously. “I don’t know.”

“Terrific.” Taylor tossed the lockbox to Emmett, who caught it out of reflex. At least the fool boy didn’t drop it. Three strides toward Norie, he rammed into something flat, cold, and immovable. The shock of hitting something
not there
sent him reeling backward, cursing the whole way. “What the hell!”

“Weird,” said Emmett.

Taylor retraced his steps more carefully, putting out his hands to feel for the obstruction. His palms slid across an icy surface, solid and real but invisible. He felt his way around, and ended up making a complete circuit. The blockade had Norie fenced in, and she wasn’t moving at all. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice that she’d been cut off from them.

“Norie!” he yelled. “Can you hear me?”

She didn’t even twitch. Maybe she couldn’t hear him, or maybe she’d gone comatose.
Damn it.
He should’ve listened to his gut. His instincts had never done him wrong, but no, he had to go and trust some idiot kid. The air around Norie seemed to be going gray. He peered closer and saw swirls of silvery mist. Shock rendered him immobile. He saw faces, lots of faces, most of them with expressions of horror. They swirled around Norie like hateful children, their mouths wide as though they were screeching.

“Norie!” Taylor banged his fists against the barricade.

Frustration curled through him. How could he get to her?

Pain seared the middle of his forehead.
Claim what’s yours. You are the key, Taylor Mooreland.

The voice echoing inside his skull, the one he’d heard before but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, was feminine—as soft and comforting as a fleece blanket.
What do you want from me?
He thought.
I’m not the key to anything.

You’re the key to everything.

The pain ratcheted up. The excruciation drove him to his knees. He pressed his palms against the magical wall, his skull throbbing in agony.

Claim what’s yours,
urged the voice.

“No,” he whispered. “I don’t want this.” Taylor gritted his teeth. Sweat beaded his brow as he tried to fight the pulsing torment.

“What’s happening to her?” asked Emmett.

Taylor directed his gaze toward Norie. She, too, had been driven to her knees. Her body quaked, her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. No! He wouldn’t let her be harmed.

“I claim it,” he uttered hoarsely. “Whatever the hell it is, I claim it as mine.”

The pain flared, hot, acute, and damned near unbearable. Then he let go. He stopped struggling. And the agony receded. Silvery light filled him. Energy flowed. He felt the skin on his hands blaze with lines of
heat, and, to his amazement, he saw swirls and lines appear—tattoos, and he could feel their ancient power.

His hands sank through the wall, and then the rest of him melted through it. The mist was as thick as cold soup. Voices murmured and sobbed. He realized the spirits were trying to tell their stories to Norie, and she couldn’t handle the strain of so much emotion, so many voices pouring out despair. He stumbled toward the overwhelmed woman and grabbed her, lifting her into his arms. “Leave her alone!” he shouted.

A great, sorrowful howl issued from the entities. The temperature dropped, and it seemed as though all the air had been sucked out of the space.

Taylor’s hands went blazing hot, and he found himself shouting, “Be gone!”

Silver, sparkling light emitted from the markings on his hands and seemed to somehow ignite Norie. He felt the power within her, the dark coldness of it, the heavy burden of communing with the dead, and then his luminosity joined with hers. Magic flared from them both, joining, twisting, and then exploded in a rush of brightness. The spirits yowled as they were dispersed.

Taylor slipped to his knees, still clutching Norie. She slumped in his embrace, her head lolling on his shoulder. He held her tightly, trying to shake off the power buzzing inside him. His skin prickled painfully.

“Are you guys okay?” asked Emmett. He hovered a couple feet away, hugging the lockbox.

“Help me get her to that sofa.” The oversized red couch faced the massive fireplace, and it was the only place in the room where Norie could stretch out while she recovered. For a moment, Taylor wasn’t sure he could get to his own damned feet, but he sucked in a huge breath, and, keeping hold of Norie, he stood up.