Runaway Magic, page 17
He peeked around Fourteen and saw with dread that the soldiers’ faces were becoming less impassive. The men standing closest to Cym were frowning and shifting restlessly. As he watched, the effect of his wild magic began to spread, and all the men began acting antsy. At any moment the situation was going to spiral out of control, and someone was going to get shot. What had his aunt been thinking?
“That was an accident, sweetheart,” Stella said airily. Cym’s hands balled into fists at the endearment and her casual attitude. “The whole thing is just a big misunderstanding. If you and your champion will come with us, I’m sure we can all sort it out.” The words may have been sweet, but Stella’s tone was laced with venom.
Now they wanted Fourteen too? Well, they couldn’t fucking have him.
Once they figured out about Fourteen’s armor, the Blaike family would no longer need to tiptoe around the magical community. They would roll over it like a bulldozer. And after they pried Fourteen out of it, they could do anything they wanted to him.
Over Cym’s dead body.
He began to shake with anger.
Fourteen still had him pressed against the wall with his body, so he felt his reaction. “Don’t worry, I can get us out of this.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Cym hissed. Had Fourteen’s sense of self-preservation been completely snuffed out by his conditioning? “They have guns. They have all the guns.”
“I have guns.” Was there a trace of wounded pride in Fourteen’s response?
“They. Have. More.” Should Cym try magic again? After what he had done earlier, he had pretty much decided to never try magic again, but the thought of letting a bunch of monsters get their hands on Fourteen after everything he’d suffered made Cym’s tortured throat sting with bile.
His eyes fell on the gigantic gas tank dominating the space behind their assailants and his half-formed plans collapsed. He had no aim or control. If he tried anything, he’d probably take out the whole marina.
Two of the soldiers in front of them began to shove at each other, jockeying for the front position. It hadn’t turned into outright fighting, but it was moments away. Cym saw his aunt’s eyes narrow as Stella realized her hired guns were falling under Cym’s unintentional spell.
“Everyone back up right now!” Stella tugged at the soldier closest to her.
Fourteen tensed, and Cym knew he was about to take the opportunity presented to them to do something incredibly stupid and self-sacrificing. Cym decided to beat him to the punch.
“Agent Fourteen, retreat!” Cym shouted in as much of a commanding voice as he could muster.
He heard a guttural sound come from Fourteen, and he whipped his head around to look at Cym, betrayal in his eyes.
“That’s an order, Agent. Get yourself somewhere safe, now!”
Cym was almost grateful when the emptiness of compliance reached Fourteen’s eyes so Cym didn’t have to see what his order had cost him. Fortunately Cym wouldn’t have to live with the memory of what he’d just done for much longer.
Trying to give Fourteen as much of a chance to escape as he could, he took the empty gun he’d tucked in his waistband and lobbed it directly at his aunt. He didn’t want to watch Fourteen go, but the sounds of his escape were punctuated with grunts and choked off screams. Cym couldn’t stop his traitorous eyes—he needed to make sure none of those sounds were coming from Fourteen.
They weren’t. As Cym turned to watch his soldier’s progress, someone grabbed him roughly, bound his arms, and shoved him into the back of a van with a dog crate bolted down inside.
Through the back window, Cym saw a surprisingly large number of incapacitated soldiers lying scattered about the parking lot while a much smaller group of soldiers chased after Fourteen as he sped away on his motorcycle.
Satisfied that he had done his best to protect Fourteen, Cym turned to the occupants of the van—huddling as far from him as they could get—and he saw his brother Sterling. Before his brother looked away, Cym could have sworn he saw sorrow in Sterling’s eyes. The peaceful blue of a sleep spell tinted his vision, and he knew no more.
Chapter 13
Marshall
It was dark by the time they got back to the Boston chapter house, and the air had a bite to it. Marshall could practically taste the imminent snow.
The moment the team made it through the door, Clayton was on Marshall like a nervous puppy. “I made the calls you asked for while you were on your way back. Guardian Callum told me everyone else was busy with their own cases right now, but he was sure you could manage on your own.”
“Dammit, Callum,” Marshall snarled. He may have said he wouldn’t bring Marshall up on charges, but Callum was certainly capable of hanging him out to dry in retribution.
Marshall wasn’t anticipating an all-out war with the Blaikes, but knowing he had backup to call on would have been nice. Formidable though his team may be, if a family as powerful as the Blaikes went bad, they were going to be hard to contain.
“Callum is just covering his ass. The Blaikes were allowed to grow so big because of their loyalty to the Guard. No one is going to want to go against them without substantial evidence,” Adelle said, reminding him that not everything in the world was about him.
Instead of annoying Marshall, it helped settle his irritable mood. It was nice to not have everything in the world be about him for a change.
Marshall gave his sister a wry smile before saying, “Let’s go into the ’Scape and see if we can find some evidence then.” He turned to Clayton. “I haven’t been here since before I became a guardian. Do you have a place for dreaming?”
Clayton’s face lit up. “We just had it redone! You’re going to love it. Follow me.” He bounced with excitement as he led the team through the dark, wood-paneled hallway. “We did our best to keep it as traditional as possible, but we added all the modern amenities that wouldn’t be rendered inert by strong magic.”
The building was smaller than Marshall remembered, but he had been little more than a child when he was last here, so that was to be expected. When he passed an old oil painting of a pastoral scene, he paused, causing Jack to bump into him.
“What are you…?” Jack took Marshall by the shoulders so he didn’t bowl him over when his chest collided with his back.
Jack’s hands were warm and soothing, and the effect was amplified by the magic Marshall could feel humming just under his friend’s skin. Something deep inside Marshall missed the sensation when Jack released him, and it uncoiled, ready to reach out to get it back.
Marshall tamped it down immediately. Dreamwalkers kept control of their magic at all times, or else. It was how things had always been in the Guard, and how they would always be.
Marshall focused his attention on his reason for slamming to a halt instead of thinking about why his magic liked Jack so much. He examined the wall beside him, quirked his lips, and knocked on the wall where the wainscoting began. After a few beats, the knock was returned. “She’s still here!” he exclaimed.
Jack put a hand on the wall and concentrated. “A brownie?” He was referring to the earth spirits known for taking up residence in old homes.
“She kept me company when Da was busy with work. Most of the time she put me to work in the garden.” Marshall grinned at the memory.
“She let you see her?”
“Sometimes. Her fur looked insanely soft, but she bit me the one time I tried to pet her,” Marshall said wryly. Rooting through his pockets, he found a mini bag of M&Ms. Knocking again, he placed it on the floor next to the wall and patted it gently before standing.
“Are you two coming?” Adelle’s head peeked around the corner, looking put out. “This was your idea, after all.”
“Keep your bloomers on; we’re coming,” Jack said affectionately. “Our boy here was being nostalgic.”
Marshall looked down at the floor where he’d placed his offering and was pleased to see it had vanished.
“I think she remembers you.” Jack ruffled Marshall’s hair, earning a swat.
With a look of annoyance, Marshall did his best to smooth his hair down. Once he was satisfied no real damage had been done, he shoved Jack ahead of him. “You go first.” He knew Jack wasn’t above messing his hair up a second time.
Normally Marshall hated it when people messed up his hair. Even if he didn’t have much control over his life, at the very least he should have control over his body. But it didn’t bother him half as much when Jack did it. Marshall didn’t let him know that, because if he did, Jack would probably do it constantly. Then other people might get the idea that they could do it too…
“Sure thing, boss.” Jack gave Marshall a cheeky salute and skipped ahead, a movement that looked bizarre on a man of his size, but as Marshall watched, it became less so, as though the universe itself changed to accommodate him. Dreamwalkers sometimes had a strange effect on their surroundings, but the effect was always more extreme for Jack.
Marshall caught up with everyone at the end of another long hallway, stopping at a set of double doors. Clayton stood in front of them with the air of a game show host ready to present a prize. Once Marshall joined them, Clayton opened the doors and led them inside a lavishly appointed room that could have easily accommodated twice their number.
Marshall was generally inclined to drop his body in any unoccupied spot regardless of its comfort level when he needed to access the ’Scape, so his reaction to the plush, red-velvet couches and chairs was a polite, if noncommittal nod.
Clayton’s face looked as though someone had thrown a rock through his car window in the face of Marshall’s lack of appreciation, but Adelle’s exclamation of pure joy when she threw herself on the closest couch distracted him from his dismay.
Adelle wriggled deep into the soft cushions with an expression of complete bliss, and she said, “Don’t mind him, Clayton. On our last job, he jammed himself in between two boulders and left his body in the forest for over a day. The man doesn’t appreciate the creature comforts of life.”
“Rice Krispies Treats!” On the far side of the room, Jack had taken a large, silver lid off a plate to discover a mountain of cakes and cookies. “Clayton, I could marry you,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.
Mollified, Clayton joined him, excitedly pulling lids off other trays to showcase his offerings. “These trays have various cheeses, meats, vegetables, and crackers. And the carafes have several different kinds of gourmet coffee, hot water for tea, and a variety of different kinds of juice.”
Suddenly starving, Marshall hurried over before Jack ate everything. Between him and Marshall, they could pack away an alarming amount of food. Being a dreamwalker took a lot of energy, and all three members of the team always had their pockets loaded with snacks just to keep them going between meals, but with Marshall and Jack both topping out well over six feet, they had it worse than Adelle.
“Save some for me!” Adelle shouted from her position on the couch and was about to get up until she saw Clayton rush toward her with a loaded plate in his hands. “Thank you. You’re a doll.” She gave him a wink.
Clayton turned as red as his hair, backed up, and stumbled over a chair, falling into it awkwardly. Once he managed to extricate himself, his hair was a riot of curls and his clothes were rumpled. Valiantly, he tried to pat and tug himself into a more respectable shape while the whole team did their best to not react.
“Ahem,” Clayton pulled at his collar as though it were choking him. “Is there anything else you require before I go back to my tasks?”
“This will be plenty, thank you, Clayton,” Marshall assured him.
Clayton was out the door as soon as Marshall had finished speaking, and the team heard a shaky sigh as soon as it closed behind him.
“I think he’s cute,” Adelle said.
“Leave him alone,” Jack said. “The poor man would explode if you gave him any more attention, and then what good would he be? Think of Samantha. Or if not her, think of my snacks!” He shook a piece of Vermont cheddar at Adelle.
When Marshall realized he wasn’t breathing, he stopped shoveling food into his mouth and focused on getting enough air into his lungs. After all his time as a guardian, it continued to amaze him how hungry he could get during an investigation. It would be easier to plan for if he used the same amount of energy all the time, but it always varied. Until today, he hadn’t had to use his magic outside of the ’Scape in weeks, and he was paying for it now.
Marshall stuffed a pig in a blanket into his mouth and headed to the couch next to Adelle’s. Once he was relatively certain he could speak without choking, he said, “Once you guys are done eating, join me in my Dreamscape, and we’ll go from there.”
Jack nodded as he made his way through a pile of chocolate-covered pretzels. “What are we in for today? Lake again?”
“It isn’t always the lake,” Marshall grumbled as he plopped down and dropped his head on the arm of the couch.
“Definitely the lake,” Adelle agreed, settling herself into a more comfortable position on her couch.
“It’s nearly always the lake, Marshall,” Jack said around a mouthful of food. He stood between a loveseat and a fainting couch, trying to decide which one was more likely to fit his bulk. Eventually, he settled on the fainting couch and somehow managed to not look completely ridiculous on it.
Marshall closed his eyes and concentrated on his breath. Immediately his nose itched, and rather than scratching it, he focused on accepting the sensation. Before he could fully accept it, five new spots on his body began to itch, and he expanded his consciousness to accept those as well. As soon as he fully embraced the sensations, they subsided, and it was then that he began to notice the sound of his companions as they settled into their couches. He heard Adelle sigh and heard Jack struggle to find a comfortable position on his tiny couch. When the sounds came to him, he let them drift through him as though he were made of light rather than solid matter.
Marshall’s senses ran together, bleeding into an ocean of colors and light. He let go of any tension left in his body and allowed himself to become swept up in the tranquil waves.
They swept over and through him, doing their best to strip away his sense of self—something even a seasoned dreamwalker had to work to avoid. Unless he wanted to become one among billions of other dreamers in the world, trapped in their own personal dreamscape, he had to hold on to himself.
It had been ages since he lost himself to the waves. Their promise of oblivion was sweet, but nothing could compare to being a dreamwalker in the Dreamscape. Once there, the only limitations he had were of his own making.
There were no unimaginative dreamwalker guardians; they would be useless to the cause.
Focusing on the feeling of being Marshall, he rode out the siren-like call of the waves and drifted with them. After an eternity—or possibly no time at all since time was meaningless in the ’Scape—the waves dissipated and gave way to billions of tiny stars.
Marshall sent out a soundless call, searching for the star that felt like home, and got an immediate answer. A massive, blue star that felt like Marshall grabbed his attention and pulled him in. Countless pinpoints of lights whizzed past him, faster and faster as the blue star grew larger.
Soon it had encompassed his entire being, painting him in a light so intense he was burning with it inside and out. Marshall fought to accept the entirety of his personal dreamscape. He took the pain and joy, fear and love—all the emotions that tore well-carved paths inside his soul—and simply allowed them to be.
When Marshall was younger, this part was effortless, but entering his personal dreamscape now was a battle. A familiar but vital one he didn’t dare lose. If he failed to accept all he was, he’d be leaving a chink in his soul that could be used against him.
Slowly the light lessened, and new colors popped up here and there, forming shapes. The world settled around him and up and down began to have meaning again. Overhead, he heard an eagle cry out a greeting.
Since Marshall was here on business rather than pleasure, he chose his true form—the one he walked around the Real in.
“Yay, the lake again,” Jack said unenthusiastically from several yards away.
Before them lay a placid lake, perfectly round with a single, large, black rock directly in the center.
Marshall squinted an eye, and the whole lake leaped sideways, appearing under Jack’s feet.
“That’s why I’m always nice to him inside his ’Scape,” Adelle said, walking up to join Marshall by the side of the lake.
“It’s not like I can control what it is upon entry,” Marshall said. Every person in the world had an inner Dreamscape that conformed to who she or he was the moment they arrived. Only dreamwalkers could reliably control their surroundings in the Dreamscape, and even they were only able to shape it after they entered it. “You’re lucky I even let you in here at all.”
“I know.” Jack’s eyes grew serious for a split second before lapsing back to their usual rainbow sparkle. “So, where to from here, boss?”
“I think we should go to the Blaike colony and see what it can tell us. Chances are good Stella ordered everyone to stay awake for the foreseeable future, so I doubt we’ll get access to any personal Dreamscapes tonight.”
“What are we looking for?” Adelle was touching each of her nails in turn, changing their color with each tap.
“Any hint of nightmare activity, for starters. I seriously doubt Cymbeline can open demon portals. With his lack of training, he was lucky he managed anything at all in the cemetery.” Marshall spared a quick thought to his hair, making sure it looked acceptable, and for good measure, he told it not to get messy regardless of what happened to it.
“He’s lucky he didn’t kill everyone there, including himself,” Adelle said with a frown.
Now that her nails were a rainbow of colors, Adelle turned her attention to her clothes. In the Real, they all dressed for the job, wearing dark clothes that were loose enough to move easily in, but form-fitting enough that they wouldn’t catch on anything. But in the ’Scape, all they had to do was tell their clothes to have the properties they wished. If Adelle wanted to, she could prance around in a string bikini while enjoying the protection of full body armor.
