Dead Witch in the Library, page 32
The attack of exhaustion continued, whipping at my face like gusts in a storm. The attack was hitting me harder than it might otherwise because my hiding spells were consuming a significant portion of my energy. Hiding required me to enchant every set of eyes in the room—and those eyes were some of the most magically powerful on the planet.
Forced to shift some of my power away from hiding spells to searching spells, I resumed weaving my way through the room while I probed beneath the tables. Finding Hal was more important than going unnoticed. There were a few curious gazes that flickered my direction, but I kept going until another witch at a different table suddenly collapsed against the person next to her. To a casual viewer it would look as if she was drunk, but I could tell that Hal, that crafty monster, was putting everyone to sleep. Even I had begun to yawn compulsively.
I couldn’t risk falling into another coma with everyone else. I hooked my staff in the crook of my arm and used my free hand—enhanced with magic from my necklace—to slap myself in the face. For a moment, I felt refreshed, but only a moment. I had to do something more.
Just as another witch slumped forward into their dessert, I lifted my staff and banged it into the carpet. Digging through the pile, I probed the hardwood floors below for botanical backup. If Raynor had checked his Shadowed phone just once, maybe I wouldn’t have to do this…
The hardwood floorboards were connected to the wall paneling that was connected to the ceiling woodwork…
My redwood staff said hello to the old trees, and the old trees said hello back. Their greeting rose up through the staff into my palm and fingers, through my skin and flesh and bones, and finally into my well of power.
Brightness, I thought, shivering with relief as my strength returned. The first thing I did was fling aside the waves of fatigue. That was easy to do for myself, but everyone around me was still dropping like flies. Until I found Hal’s location, his hex would continue.
Where was he? Which table was he hiding under? There were too many chairs, too many tables, too many witches’ legs blocking my view of the floor, and with the spotlight on the front of the room, the remainder was in shadow.
I’d change the lighting first. With my redwood staff feeding me the power of the building’s woodwork, I focused my magical eye on the nonmagical wiring and turned every single light bulb in the ballroom to full blast—the spotlights, the chandeliers, the hidden fixtures, the wall sconces, the decorative globes on the artistic floor displays. The effect was good, but to honor the old ways, I also altered the wicks of all the candles on the tables so that their tiny flames became blazing torches.
Every witch jerked back, flinching and exclaiming, even the ones who’d fallen asleep. Good. This assured me I was on the right path. I banged my staff into the floor again, refreshing the power I’d expended. At the tables around me, the newly awakened witches were agitated, raising their defenses, looking around, demanding answers.
“What’s going on?”
“Who’s doing that?”
“Relax, it’s got to be part of the show.”
I only let myself smile for a second. Their shock would quickly wear off, they’d go right back to sleep, and Hal would escape. But where was he headed? If he was risking a crowd-sleeping spell now, he had to have a specific exit point in mind.
I spun around, studying the options. Many windows lined one wall. There were doors to the kitchen and other rooms.
My heart lurched in my chest. Of course! The fireplace. We were on the fifteenth floor, close to the roof. He was going to Saint Nick it up the chimney. That’s why the drummer had collapsed, why I’d felt the exhaustion, why Raynor too had been affected: Hal was hiding under one of the tables near the fireplace. Like me, he must have hearth magic in his skill set. The Protectorate lockdown magic wouldn’t be as effective over an old stone chimney like that one.
Adrenaline rushed through me. I’d really run out of time. Now I had no choice but become the most unforgettable entertainer of the night. The drum circle had made an impression, but I was really going to turn the place upside down.
First I needed a lot more power. Already a few witches had glimpsed me out of the corner of their eye, but in a moment everyone would be able to look directly at the infamous Alma Bellrose and wonder what in Shadow she was doing. With a sigh, I dropped my hiding spells. A moment later, I felt strength flow back into my body.
There was more power than I’d expected, suggesting my invisibility had been draining me significantly. It was good I’d dropped it, though it would come at a cost as people began to notice me. They didn’t bother to hide their opinions.
“What is she doing here?” a woman asked. “What’s that in her hand?”
“Is this a heist? Hold on to your platinum.” A male voice.
“Relax, she’s not her father,” another man said. “She’s weak.”
An increasing vibration in my hands suggested otherwise. Where my fingers gripped the staff, the wood was getting warmer, warning me to control the magical force I was gathering before I got hurt.
My hiding spells had been blocking more of the surrounding magic than I’d realized. More power continued to flood into me. It came from the building but also the witches around me and all the amulets and innate magic they possessed. Like electricity, the current flowed out of their bodies to their feet on the floor, where the wood sucked it up and served it to me.
As I became more powerful, I felt myself losing hold of my temper. I was so tired of all this. So angry. The disrespect I’d endured was bad enough, but too many people’s deepest feelings had been manipulated, their desires twisted, their lives brutally cut short. Somebody needed to avenge them. Somebody with the power to do so.
Me.
Raynor—who probably thought to check when I’d suddenly appeared—was finally reading his messages. Phone in hand, his gaze darted back and forth between me and the screen. Well, it was good he knew why I was about to do what I was about to do. Otherwise he might freak out a little.
I gave the witches at the closest table a cold smile. Near the front of the room, it was loaded with VIPs, including the loathsome Sapphire from New York who’d interrogated me. I think he’d been the one to say I was weak. My ego was somewhat pleased to know he’d have a first-row seat to my show.
Raynor’s voice boomed over the speakers. “Alma.” Microphone in hand, he was staring at me across the crowd. “Wait.”
I shrugged. Too late. Hal was hiding under one of the tables like a beetle under a rock—just as I’d seen him on our first meeting. The only way to find him was to lift all the rocks at once.
Gripping my staff in both fists, I brought it down with all my strength onto the floor. There was a satisfying boom and a flash of white light as my staff actually pierced the thick carpet and struck the floorboards. The redwood seemed to shiver with joy when it connected directly with the tree magic that held the ballroom together. Magic raced down the ceiling through the paneling and across the floor into my staff, where it paused as if waiting for permission.
Go for it, I told it silently.
The redwood seemed to let out a sigh of relief as I finally released its shackles. In a single torrent, it pushed all its power into my fingers and palms, then the rest of my body. The well of magic I carried beneath my physical form reached out and greedily gulped down the new flood of energy.
Overflowing with power, I lifted everyone—and every object—into the air.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
I walked toward the fireplace, pleased to have the floor to myself.
The octagonal-pattern carpeting was finally clear. All those annoying tables with their long white tablecloths blocking my sight were floating above my head, flanked by the chairs holding the—my, they were noisy—upset, protesting witches.
I looked up, searching the air under the tables for the beetle-like figure but only seeing levitating purses and legs and a few loose high-heeled shoes.
Hal was still using his stealth magic—but was he floating like everyone else or was he strong enough to be still on the ground with me? Could he be scurrying for the fireplace right now? I flung a barrier spell at the opening, but it ricocheted back at me. I’d been afraid of that. Having the strength of old hearth magic was precisely why the fireplace hadn’t allowed itself to fall under the Protectorate lockdown spell.
The cries and shouting of the witches overhead were getting distracting. With a flick of my hand, I used a little power to shut everyone’s mouths. I needed to focus.
Something was burning my left thigh up near my bikini line as if I’d had an especially sadistic spa treatment. I reached into my pocket and discovered the velvet bag holding the gnome’s stick was painfully hot to touch. Pinching the edge of the fabric between my fingers, I yanked it out of my pocket before it did permanent damage to my private parts. The velvet was now a dark, bloody red color with smoke coming off it, but a cool green glow peeked out through the drawstring opening.
The stick wanted me to remove it from the bag. Or was it Doon himself who was directing me? It was dangerous to obey instructions when I didn’t know where they were coming from…
Crashing sounds drew my attention upward. Several witches were throwing plates—at my head, presumably—but they ended up colliding and breaking in midair. Furious faces grimaced at me.
“Chill out, everybody, or I’ll keep you up there longer.” I stepped out from under the fragments with only half my attention on the angry people. The stick was burning through my fingernails. Would it cool down if I removed the velvet? So close to Zack, Isadora, and Emily, I might throw up.
There was a chance, though, the stick was trying to burn the velvet bag because it sensed the emerald nearby. It had been calm until I’d removed my own hiding spells, reminding me stealth magic could block a lot more than just visibility. Now that I’d removed the spells around myself, the stick might have the power to see Hal.
Throwing up was a small price to pay if it led me to him.
Hugging the staff to my side to free my hands, I began to slide the smoking velvet down the stick. Beneath the fabric, the wood was cool to the touch. As my stomach spasmed, I wondered if my vomit would float in the air or if it would stay down on the ground with me. Would my floating spell apply to bodily fluids as well? They never taught the really interesting stuff in school.
As soon as the velvet was completely removed, the green light around the stick came together in a distinct cone shape at its tip, flaring upward to the front of the room.
Upward. Suggesting he was floating up there.
The sound of breaking glass mixed with muffled moaning and thumping continued overhead. For some peace and quiet, I could just put everyone to sleep, but that might be a problem if I need backup, which I hopefully would soon. Some of these agents needed to take Hal away after I’d captured him. It wasn’t going to be me paying for the taxi back to Diamond Street.
Something tickled my cheek. I slapped at it in alarm, then realized it was a strand of my own hair. The power from the staff was making it fly around my head. Seth would appreciate that.
I heard a laugh nearby. Oh, it was me. I was laughing. Had Raynor heard it too? I sought him out and found his horrified face—attached to his hovering body—staring back at me.
The stick felt strong and smooth in my hand. I held it at arm’s length and followed the cone of light to the table closest to the fireplace. Through the strands of hair whipping me in the face, I saw a shadow huddled under a fold in the tablecloth.
The murderer.
To celebrate, I banged my staff down, pierced a fresh hole in the carpet, and summoned another ocean of power from the woodwork. Hearing blood roar in my ears, I pointed the cone of green light at the shadow.
I still couldn’t see his form under his supercharged stealth magic, but I knew he was there. Now it was time to bring him down to justice. The unwavering strength of his hiding magic meant he’d found a way to use the emerald, so I’d have to be careful. Just because he’d been caught up in my antigravity spell didn’t mean he was weak. He could be bluffing, floating with the others to fit in. He might still be able to break free and run to the nearby fireplace.
Time to really pin him down. My neck was getting tired of looking up, so I decided to reverse my enchantment and bring everyone back to earth. That required more finesse than levitation because I didn’t want to break everyone’s bones—I wasn’t a monster—and finesse took power. Bracing my legs for balance, I inhaled another serving of magic from the woodwork, savoring the delicious thrill as the energy coursed through me, then reversed gravity.
Boom. Every table and chair came down hard on the floor. The witches in those chairs came down too, their bodies rolling to absorb the impact. Hopefully that would prevent permanent injury. Although there were some tears and lots of open-mouthed, silent cries, nobody seemed to be seriously harmed.
Satisfied, I strode over to Hal’s table and used a magic hand to extract the semicloaked figure from beneath it. After dragging him out, I used a containment spell to hold him down.
He was flickering in and out of invisibility, still able to manage a partial stealth spell. At our previous encounters, I’d been able to break his stealth spells fairly easily, but now it was going to take more effort—proving how powerful the emerald must be.
I aimed the green light at the little human on the floor. “Show yourself.”
Power surged out of the stick and struck him in the chest. His arms and legs splayed out in each direction, then stayed there, stiff and unmoving. I placed figurative pins in his hands and feet to keep him down.
Now that he was fully visible, I took a moment to study him, thinking he looked good in his tuxedo even though he was gaping up at me in fury. I wondered where he’d stolen the suit.
“You—” Hal croaked, eyeing me wildly. “She wouldn’t approve of this.”
Interesting. He’d overcome my silence spell. And one of his hands was lifting up the magical pin I’d speared into it. When I moved to replace it, a surge of dizziness overtook me. The hexagonal pattern in the carpeting seemed to become one with the woodwork design in the coffered ceiling. Unsure of what was up or down, I lunged to the left, lost my footing, and fell to my knee. The redwood staff in my right hand wasn’t enough to keep my balance. To stop myself from rolling over completely, I dropped the gnome’s stick and placed my left hand on the floor so I could reach past the carpet to the wood planks beneath.
Something was pushing me. Something was sucking at me, confusing me, draining me. There were other witches in the room, too many of them, spinning in and out of my vision.
I was under attack—and not only from Hal. Multiple witches had joined him to break me. I felt their magic, but that wasn’t why I couldn’t find the strength to stand. Those witches were too weak, barely worth noticing.
The green rock, however, was something else. Hal had it. He was using it against me. Using the floor that connected us, he was sucking power out of my palm and knee into himself, and then using it against me to drain more.
My vision went black. Feeling a rising panic, I collapsed farther until my left elbow and forearm were pressing against the carpet. The room lurched around me like a ship in rough seas, pushing me to one side and then the other, threatening to fling me onto my back. In my peripheral vision I saw witches cheering on my fall and sensed more of them ganging together to knock me out.
As more fear overtook me, Hal used the emerald to suck out more of my power. My limbs shook with the strain of holding me upright. I blinked rapidly, struggling to focus on Hal’s figure on the floor beside me.
His eyes had turned green. They gleamed at me in the storm of dizziness and confusion, gloating at my suffering, greedily sucking up more of my power.
Those eyes. The emerald. In a flash, I remembered who I was, where I was, and what I could do. This enemy was just another witch with a gemstone carrying an unnatural amount of power.
But I was stronger.
Closing my eyes to block out the view of the dizzying images, I lifted my hand off the floor, picked up the gnome’s stick, and tightened my grip on my staff. Trembling at the renewed magical connection to me, the redwood reached out to the building woodwork for more energy and pushed it back into me.
Yes, this was mine, this power. I could feel the blood sizzling in my veins as if an electric current ran through me. The muscles that had been weak a moment ago were now infused with unlimited strength. No longer afraid of the spinning images in the hex, no longer afraid of anything, I opened my eyes and rose easily to my feet.
My enemy tried to take me down again with a magical surge, but I threw a hex at him that lifted him off the floor—well, one side of him, because he was still pinned on one side. I released my hex and watched him flop over to land on his face. It was like turning the page on a book.
I walked closer, my redwood staff extended with white sparks flying, and pushed him over onto his back again. Using bigger magical spikes than I had earlier, I pinned him to the floor a second time, piercing his hands and feet between the small bones and ignoring the noises he made.
His green eyes were afraid now.
Good.
I felt something on my nose again. Thinking it was hair, I reached up to brush it away, then felt something wet. I drew my hand back and saw blood.
I laughed. My nose was bleeding. How ridiculous. More power than I’d ever felt in my life was running through my body, but my little human nose was complaining.
Amused, I wiped the blood on my dress. The beautiful object in my hand was worth any suffering. I caressed the slender oak twig with my thumb, recognizing its help in uniting with my redwood staff and all the crafted woodwork to give me so much power. Silently I apologized to it for having dropped it earlier.
“Alma,” said a familiar voice. It was amplified over the speakers. “Get a grip. Look at me.”
Only in a dreamy sense did I know the speaker wasn’t my enemy. I looked up and saw a man standing at the front of the room. I’d known him before, though I couldn’t remember his name. The only names I could remember were the names of trees. A large man with a bald, flushed, sweaty head, he had a microphone in his hand. Like me, he was trembling. He’d overridden my demand for silence, but it looked as if it was hurting him.
