Tegan's Magic (The Ultimate Power Series #3) (11 page)

“I don't know how to...
be
like this anymore,” comes a strange, accented voice out of nowhere. It startles me and I realise that I'd closed my eyes. I open them and look at Ira.

“Please tell me that wasn't my imagination,” I say. “You did just speak, didn't you?”

He inclines his head, nodding. “I did.”

I give him a completely genuine smile and sit up to face him. “I've never heard your accent before. Where is it from?”

“It's Polynesian. I was born on the island of Samoa.”

“That's far away,” I reply.

“Very far away,” says Ira, a little mournful.

“What do you mean when you say you don't know how to be like this anymore?”

He doesn't speak for a long moment. When he does, he explains, “I don't know how to be like a human. I spent twenty-five years confined in my animal form, voiceless, always on the outside looking in. Now that my true body has been restored I don't know how to be in it. I feel like a stranger in my own skin.”

I stare at him, finding it odd to hear him speak so many words when he's been silent all this time. “You'll adapt. Twenty-five years is a long stretch. It's going to take more than a few weeks for you to become the person you were.”

He soaks in my words, thinking them over. “I don't speak because it's my one last comfort to be without a voice, to be like I was as a dog.”

“Oh.” I reply, pausing. “Well, that makes a lot of sense. I'm sorry for being pushy. It's just that I heard you praying and I really wanted you to talk to me. It's strange living with a person who never speaks.”

That gets a small smile out of him. It transforms his tanned face into something warm and attractive, rather than the usual calm and detached expression he wears.

“You
were
praying, weren't you?” I ask.

“Yes. I follow the Buddhist religion. It's been so long since I could pray.”

“Are all the people on your island Buddhist?” I don't think I know a single thing about Samoa, other than the fact it's an island in Polynesia.

“No actually, most are Christian. My family was one of the few who were Buddhist.”

“How did you end up in Tribane?”

I'm asking a lot of questions, but I can't help it. There's so much I want to know about him.

Ira frowns. “My father lived here when he was a young man. He developed a gambling addiction and found himself in serious debt. Being a shapeshifter like me, he also moved in supernatural circles. One day a very rich warlock offered to loan him the money to pay off his debts in return for him spending the rest of his days as a bodyguard for the warlock's family. My father agreed to the loan, but instead of staying and paying off his debt through labour, he left the city and returned home to Samoa.

“There he met my mother, who introduced him to Buddhism. They got married and started a family. Years later the warlock showed up at our home, demanding the money to be repaid. I was a young man of eighteen at this time and we were not a family of means. The warlock said that he would write off my father's debt if he gave him his only son. I felt I needed to go with the warlock so that my parents and sisters could live out their lives in peace. So, that's how I found myself in your city.”

“So you came here to work as a bodyguard for the warlock, what happened then?”

“I worked. The home of the warlock was where I first met Noel, the man who originally owned this house.”

I nod, remembering the picture I've seen of him on Finn's mantelpiece time and time again.

“We became fast friends. Noel was a slayer for the DOH, but he moonlighted as a bodyguard. The warlock's family were practically royalty among the magical people of this city. They had many vampire enemies and that's why they needed round the clock security. I was quite happy in my job for about two years. That was before the lady of the house, Emilia, began to take an interest in me.

“Her husband was unaware of the fact that she was having numerous affairs behind his back. They had only one child, a daughter, and the warlock spent most of his time obsessing over keeping her protected from their vampire enemies. I had no intention of becoming involved in Emilia's adultery and I told her so. For months she made various attempts to lure me into her bed. I continued to decline her advances until finally she'd had enough of my rejection.

“Being a witch, she could weave many spells, and she decided that I needed to be punished for my rejection of her. She cursed me to live out my life in my animal form, never again knowing the pleasures of the human body. And that is how I remained, up until the recent magic released me from my imprisonment.”

I stare at him, gob-smacked both by his story and also by the amount he's just spoken after not breathing a word for so long. I can't believe he spent all this time cursed, and for doing the right thing! “I hope that she got her comeuppance in the end,” I say, because I just can't accept her having gotten away scot free after what she did to poor Ira.

“I don't know. Perhaps her husband discovered her deceit. He was a powerful warlock, and not a forgiving one. She might very well be suffering under her own curse right now.”

“She better be,” I say fervently. “There's definitely something wrong with the world if she isn't.” I stop and look at him. “If this all happened twenty-five years ago, that means you're now forty-five. You barely look thirty.”

“Shapeshifters age slowly. Our life expectancy is about 150 years.”

“That's a nice length of time. It's not too long like a vampire's life, or too short like a human's.”

“It is. Especially so since I have already lost a substantial portion of mine.”

“So,” I go on, “are you going to speak to the others now? I'm sure Finn would be delighted to hear you talk.”

“Finn is a good man. He is very enamoured of you.”

Okay, that was a little random. I tense up. “What do you mean?”

“He loves you as only a man can love a woman. I can see it in his eyes. He will take good care of you.”

Letting out a nervous snort, I say, “He doesn't love me.”

“Maybe not yet, but I can it growing. Do you believe the vampire loves you?”

“Ethan? Why do you ask that?”

“When you are silent, you see more than those who speak.”

I cross my arms. “Hmm, that's a very vague answer. But no, I don't think
the vampire
loves me.”

“You are wise to think that. Creatures of his age are not insusceptible to love, but they do not love in the way a human needs to be loved. Only a human can love a human like that.”

I send him a wry look. “Okay, I get it, you're on team Finn. But what about you, what way do shapeshifters love?”

“We love as humans love, because we are human at our core. Vampires are not human at all. They are their own species.”

A few moments of thoughtful silence pass. I break it when I ask, “You never answered my question. Are you going to talk to the others?”

“I'll consider it. However, I'd prefer not to speak with the witches, especially the younger one.”

“Rita? Why not?”

“Because I can see a malevolence in her, one not too different from Emilia's. When it comes down to it, she will do what works best to her own advantage.”

I'm about to defend Rita, because in the time I've known her she's done so many selfless things for me. But I don't think my protests will work to change Ira's mind, and I can't blame him. If I just spent a quarter of a century trapped by a curse, I'd hate every witch that crossed my path, too.

“Don't you consider me to be a witch? I have magic.”

“You're only half a witch, and you were not raised in the way of magic. You're very human in your ways. You don't understand your magic, but that's not a bad thing. Those who understand their power are susceptible to being corrupted by it.”

I let that sink in. Perhaps my ignorance isn't such a bad thing after all.

“You're very insightful, you know.”

“I see the world and I interpret it as best I can. If that is insight, then I suppose you are right.”

“Come on, let's go inside. It's getting cold out here. Do you want to help me build a fire?”

“Yes, I'd like that,” Ira replies, following me into the house.

Finn keeps a spare bucket of coal in the closet under the stairs, so I take it out and with Ira's help I load up the fireplace before topping it off with a few fire lighters. I put one of Finn's DVDs on and we sit and watch it. About half way through Finn comes downstairs, exclaiming loudly about how nice it is to walk into a toasty living room with the fire going. He scoops me up into his arms and we lie cuddling for the rest of the film, him running his hands under my top. He keeps fiddling with the elastic waist of my leggings.

By the time the film has ended I still haven't told Finn about Ira's new-found voice. I've almost fallen asleep lying with him on the couch, but I get a little jolt of excitement when I remember. We're all really tired though, so I decide to leave my little revelation until the morning.

Ira retreats quietly to his room and Finn walks up the stairs behind me.

“You've got a great arse,” he says, giving me a pinch on the bottom.

I turn around, bracing my hands on the banisters. “Yours isn't so bad either,” I reply cheekily. I'm trying not to think about what Ira said about Finn being “enamoured” with me. It makes me feel uncomfortable. I'm sort of emotionally stunted in that sense. Even though I know it had nothing to do with our relationship, some part of me died when Matthew took his own life. It hardened my insides. Made me fear being truly in love with anyone again.

“You wanna stay in my room tonight?” he asks, eyes on my chest.

“Is that a wise idea?”

He reaches out and runs a hand down my bare arm. “Probably not.”

“There's your answer then.”

“Oh you're a difficult one,” says Finn with a playful growl. He takes my hand and leads me to my bedroom door. Then he pulls me close to him and gives me a kiss goodnight that practically melts my bones.

Slowly but surely, Ethan's hatred is starting to matter less and less.

Hey Light Fixture, You Are Much Too Bright

Swooooooosh
goes the fire extinguisher I'm trying my hardest to keep a hold of as I stand in a back alley in the middle of the city, aiming the spray in the direction of the dark mist hovering in a corner. I almost tumble over, not expecting the force of it. The mist disintegrates on contact and I feel a sense of victory. This must be what it's like for all those people who go to shooting ranges to blow off some stress. Only more fun –
way
more fun.

“Okay Miss Trigger Happy, take it easy would you?” Finn shouts at me as he comes running into the alley after me.

He's dressed in his all-black DOH gear, which I'm finding incredibly sexy right now. I'd taken off at warp speed when I'd spotted the mist slithering down a side street. In an unlikely turn of events, I actually outran Finn when he started chasing after me. I suppose excitement will do that to a person.

Earlier today Finn asked me to join him and Ira with the DOH on their hunt. Pamphrock has divided his men into groups, assigning them different shifts at various times of the day so that the chance of the chaos infecting people is minimised.

I walk silently back out of the alley with Finn. Since it's daytime we're getting quite a few curious looks from passers-by. Nobody seems to question us though, perhaps because we've got about fifteen young slayers with us and their uniforms are sort of official looking. They're probably all wondering what the Goth chick is doing hanging out with the army dudes.

Over breakfast I told Finn about Ira breaking his vow of silence. The smile that split his face was priceless, as he stood and clapped Ira around the shoulders.

“Ya big secretive bastard,” he exclaimed.

Only Finn can call someone a bastard and make it sound genuinely friendly.

“It wasn't a secret, Finn. He just wasn't ready to speak yet,” I'd said, pointing my fork at him. “You try being a dog for two and a half decades. I'm surprised he doesn't need extreme therapy after that.”

He laughed and gave Ira a wink. “Petal's not a morning person. Isn't that right, cranky knickers?”

I gave him an expression that was half smirk, half scowl and continued eating my breakfast.

Ira has still been relatively quiet though, only making one or two brief comments here and there. Despite this, he's been great out here today with the mists. At one point we came across two men in the middle of a hardcore brawl. Ira held both of them apart, seemingly without effort, while I put my hands to their chests to expel the mists that had infected them.

I follow Finn to another back alley. Alleys and side streets seem to be the places the mists frequent most during daylight. It's like they know they'll be more likely to be seen out on the main thoroughfares. The idea that they have conscious thought is unsettling.

I stumble in fright when I see just how many of them there are back here. It looks as though there's hundreds of them, slithering along walls, creeping by window boxes. The slayers obliterate them with their extinguishers, and I get a sense that the mists are becoming angry at the attack. The ones that remain conglomerate into an almost solid mass and the combination makes a distorted humming noise.

“Oh God, that's so fucking creepy,” I say to Finn as we advance just behind the slayers.

“All at once, boys,” Finn shouts the order at them. “On the count of three.”

The slayers nod to one another as Finn counts, “One..two..three,” and then they let loose on the blackness. This time it doesn't die though. The edges fade but the centre holds strong. I guess it's true that there's strength in numbers.

“Shit,” Finn mutters, before ordering loudly. “And again, one, two, three!”

Again they unleash Rita's concoction on the combined mist and it rises up against the attack. Black and grey swirls within it, as though working to make a shape. I watch as it forms a clear picture. Then the swirling stops. The mists have created a horrific face with deep, dark holes for eyes. The mouth opens and tendrils seep out, lashing at the slayers.

“This isn't good,” I say.

“Nope,” replies Finn, loping forward and spraying at a tendril that's reaching out for one of the slayers. But he's not fast enough. The mist gets into the slayer and he drops his extinguisher. His face contorts, and as I glance back up at the fake face the mist has somehow formed, it's making the exact same contortions. The mist face's mouth moves at the same time as the infected slayer's does.

“Retreat!” the slayer demands. His voice sounds like it's been computerised, but with the wires going to all the wrong places – if that makes sense. The noise he makes is jagged and robotic, sort of like it's got a blown fuse.

“The mist is communicating through him,” Finn mutters as he steps back over to me.

“Yeah. It just keeps getting creepier.”

The slayer's entire body puffs up and his mouth opens wide, his teeth all showing. I can hear his bones cracking as more and more mist fills him – too much for his body to hold. He looks horrific. “REEEEEE-TREEEEAT!!” Again, he gives sound to the demands of the chaos mist.

“I think we should go,” I say to Finn. “He's not walking away from that and the mist is fucking well pissed off right now.”

Finn's expression is agonised. I can tell how hard it is for him to accept that his slayer can't be saved. A moment later he gives a small nod of resolve and calls to his men, “Okay boys, let's call it a day.”

Only one slayer seems conflicted about the leaving. The others back away slowly from the raging chaos.

“Come on Owen, he's gone,” Finn urges, grabbing the slayer and pulling him back.

“He was my best friend!” he cries out as Finn gives his shoulders a squeeze and guides him away with the others. Something catches in my throat at seeing the slayer's grief over losing his friend.

When the mist sees that we're leaving the face fades away and it's just a huge black mass again. The magic inside of me can sense its triumph. I turn my head to make sure Finn and slayers are still leaving, then, feeling brave and incredibly angry, I march my way right into it.

Bad idea.

It parts for me, unable to infect me since I'm not completely human. Distorted screeching fills my ears and I have to clamp my hands over them to block it out. It stays at least two feet away from me, but it's also encircling me, trapping me in. The screeching is deafening – maddening. This was the worst idea I've had in a while (and I've certainly had some bad ones). I let my temper get the better of me far too often these days.

My ears are ringing now and the screeching begins to sound like laughter.
It's
laughing at me. My eyes become heavy and when they drift shut all I can see is fire and darkness. Then I see a body lying on a rock, curled in on itself crying. I recognise the person as my dad almost instantaneously, and know that the mist is showing him to me, showing me his pain because this is the only way it can get to me. It can't infect my body, but it can infect my mind.

“Shit! Get out! Get out of my head!”

I'm vaguely aware of my own voice shouting and swearing. Then I'm being grabbed and hauled away from the dark. When I open my eyes I'm sitting on the ground out on the main street, with Ira standing over me. After being so completely enshrouded in darkness, the light hits my eyes so hard and bright that it hurts. I blink, my vision patchy, and then finally my eyes go back to normal.

“You shouldn't do that. You have power, but you are not indestructible, Tegan. None of us are.”

This is the first time he's addressed me by name.

I keep blinking my eyes to try and block out the image of my dad. “I know that. I just let my anger get the better of me.”

“Anger is on a par with stupidity. The two go hand in hand. Remember that.”

I squint up at him. “I'm starting to think I liked you better when you didn't speak.”

Ira actually laughs at my response. “Well, nobody likes a mirror held up to their flaws.”

He takes my hand and pulls me up, before guiding me over to a small car park where Finn has assembled the slayers and looks like he's debriefing them.

“Isn't that the truth,” I say with a sigh, my heart finally recovering its normal rhythm after what just happened.

Finn drives me home, sending the slayers back to their compound for the evening. He tells me that Pamphrock has to go away for the night and has requested that he and Ira watch over Rebecca while he's gone.

“Where's he going?” I ask, nosy as ever.

“To visit Rebecca's mother, Felicity. He's going to take some of her blood for your spell.”

“He is? But I haven't even figured out what else I'll need yet,” I say, a little panicked.

“Well, that's what you can occupy yourself with doing for the rest of the day, since I won't be around for you to lust over.” He gives me a little smirk.

“Ugh, you've had such a big head ever since...” I pause mid-sentence, remembering that Ira's in the van with us.

“Ever since what?” Finn asks, raising a knowing eyebrow.

“You know what,” I say, giving him a little shove. “But fine, I'll hit the books as soon as I get home.”

And I do. I gather the books I need from Rita's RV and bring them into the house with me. I'm reading through a list of ingredients for blood spells when I come across one I've never heard of before. Alone in the house, I grab Finn's laptop from his bedroom and bring it down so that I can do a search. After I've looked it up and written down its uses, I remember the email I sent the other day to E.J. Edwards. I decide I'll check to see if he's replied yet, however unlikely that may be.

I scan down my new emails, most of which are junk, until I see what I hadn't expected. A brand new message from Evan James Edwards. It doesn't have a title so I have no clue what it's going to contain. However, it does have one of those little red exclamation marks on the side bar, which usually means that the contents are “urgent”. Perhaps it's an urgent tongue lashing about sending prank emails.

I hover the cursor over the message anxiously, praying that he's written saying he knows how to bring Dad back. When I finally build up the nerve to open it, it reads as follows:

Dear Miss Stolle,

You were wise to contact me. I have read your very detailed email and I understand that your situation is one of great urgency. I have unrivalled knowledge and experience pertaining to the methods of retrieving individuals such as your father and I feel it's my duty to put them to use. In truth, I have not encountered a predicament such as yours in a long time and I feel a sense of invigoration for the challenge that lies ahead. I am an old man and one last expedition into the realms I once journeyed through is something I have longed for for quite some time. I will be boarding a flight first thing in the morning and will arrive in Tribane at approximately nine-thirty tomorrow night. I would like to get straight to work, so if you could please arrange to meet me at the airport I would be much obliged.

At your service,

E.J. Edwards.

Holy hell. I scramble for a pen and paper to write down the flight details he's attached. That's when I see that the email was sent yesterday, which means he's arriving
today
. I glance at the clock to see it's already eight-thirty. He'll be here in one hour! Why did this have to happen when nobody else is around?

Rita, Gabriel, Alvie and Noreen have been gone all day to a top secret magic market outside the city and they won't be back until late. Finn and Ira are on babysitting duty. If I don't want to meet this stranger alone I'm going to have to do what I dread and call over to Ethan's. Perhaps Delilah will be around and I can ask her to come with me.

As frazzled as I can possibly get, I throw on a coat, grab my phone, keys and wallet and head out the front door. I walk over to the house that now belongs to Ethan. It's a little bit bigger than Finn's place. Unfortunately, it doesn't look like there's anyone inside. I knock lightly three times and get a surprise when I hear footsteps sounding down the staircase. A moment later the door swings open, revealing Ethan topless, messy haired and looking like he just pulled on a pair of jeans. The button above the fly is still undone. The V at his hips goes down, down, down. I swallow and pull my eyes up to his face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, curious. I'd forgotten that the vampires would normally only be waking up around now.

I let out a nervous cough. “Um, I'm looking for Delilah. Is she here?”

“No. She and Lucas got up early and went out to attend to some business.”

“Oh. What kind of business?”

“None of your business kind of
business
,” he replies, all snappy.

I stare at him suspiciously and cross my arms, which actually solicits an eye roll from him. Have I ever seen Ethan roll his eyes before? I don't think so, that's usually
my
territory. It makes him seem so young. What a joke.

“If you must know, they are seeing to a few tedious financial tasks I requested they take care of for me. When Whitfield exiled us we didn't have very much time to arrange things. Since he seized my business and my home it's been difficult for me to access my money, but we're working it out.”