Elves and Escapades (Scholars and Sorcery Book 2) (18 page)

And yet, not quite alien. There is something in that detached, assessing gaze that is all too dreadfully familiar. Rosalind, in the corner of the study, quietly observing and revealing nothing of her thoughts or inner self. Impossible as it seems, this creature is clearly kin to the girl I trust more than anyone else.

At that thought, the spell holding me seems to break. I take a deep breath, and look around. Rosalind, my own beloved, breathing hard yet returning the elf’s gaze with the same almost placid interest that it turns on us. Esther, shaking with terror, or. . . fury? Yes, fury. There is anger, not fear, in the set of her jaw, the clenched fists by her sides.
 

I love them both so much, in that moment. My dear, courageous girls. The love spills into my heart, warming the frozen touch the elf has left there, and I am myself. I breathe freely, and now, the elf’s beauty seems repellent, sheer cold sensuality with none of the warmth and humanity of my friends.

 
I had thought the tales of elves romantic! I understand now why the elves could not remain in our tame world. My heart seizes with terror at the thought that these unnatural things might have impregnated humans.

A strangled gasp at my side catches my attention. Kitty presses her hands to her eyes, and I feel as much as see her crumple like a leaf.

I catch her around the shoulders, trying to bear her weight. “Kitty? What’s wrong?” I demand. It no longer seems important if the party goers, weak humans that they are, hear us. The elf knows we are here.

“Draining. . .” She struggles to find the words.

“I don’t understand!”

“It’s taking our magic.” Esther’s face is twisted horribly, as she clutches at the wall for support, Rosalind’s arm around her waist. “So stupid. . . They provided that thing. . . her. . . with one maiden. . . And we brought it four more. Stupid. . .” She slides out of Rosalind’s grip and to the floor.

Rosalind meets my gaze over the two fainting girls. I suppress my hysterical and utterly inappropriate urge to laugh.
 

“That’s right, little girl. Untouched by men is, unfortunately, not quite enough for me,” a voice speaks in my mind, smooth and amused and with something so luscious in its tones that I want to claw my brains out to stop the elf coating them with poisoned honey. “You and your friend are of no more use to me than the other creatures in this place. The other three, I can use.” Her shape suddenly shimmers with fire and glow and reforms, until it is terrifyingly, perfectly male.

Diana’s sobs, which have punctuated all of this, abruptly die away. I see her raise her head.

I have to stop this. I wildly wonder if I can rush out into the church, slap some sense into the girl, and get her away before her new friends realise what I’m doing. But what of Esther and Kitty? I can’t leave them to this monster.
 

A warm hand falls over mine, where it supporting Kitty. “Let her down,” Rosalind says, perfectly calm. “I need your help. You need to concentrate on calling.”

“Calling what?” I ask, blinking back tears stupidly. I let Kitty slide gently to the ground, and cling to the reassuring warmth of Rosalind’s hands.
 

“Anything you can.” She smiles, despite the utter dreadfulness of the situation. Diana is slowly, haltingly making her way to her knees. “Fairies, night spirits, imps. . . Any small thing you can reach. Anything at all.”

“You will help?”

She shakes her head. “I need Esther,” she says, and leaves, without even a reassuring kiss, to kneel at Esther’s side.

I force myself to shut them out, to shut out Kitty at my feet, Diana and her friends and the thing at the altar, and send my thoughts out seeking. Out, out past the overwhelming feel of the elf, out into the darkness. They are there, I can feel them, the multitude of tiny minds, open and responsive to my touch. Glittering minds of fairies, churning blackness of boggarts, the sharp corners of the minds of imps and goblins, the clinging damp of a will-o’-wisp. I call them, my friends, the fabled beasts, my kin in a way I can’t quite define, call them not to to amuse a handful of juniors, but with fear and longing and trust.

And they come. When I open my eyes the annexe is shining with fairies, with soft swirls of darkness where the night spirits lurk. I look towards the altar, terrified, but the half circle of elf summoners would not have noticed if a dragon had appeared behind them. All their attention is fixed on the elf, holding one beautiful hand to Diana, who is stumbling on uncertain feet towards him.

I don’t want Diana to take the elf’s hand.
 

“All serene.” Esther’s voice is unsteady, but she is on her feet, arm in arm with Rosalind, who has wilted with the strength she has poured into my friend. “We’ll handle it now, Charley dear.”

Rosalind’s smile is illuminated by a hundred dancing fairy lights. “You’ve done well, dearest. One more thing. . . Send your friends towards those people.”

“Right-oh.” I send out my mind again, this time directing all the magical creatures towards the semicircle around the altar. For a moment, I am afraid that the intense magic of the elf will repel them, but that is drowned in a surge of emanated glee, the wicked small minds of the night beings and the pinpricks of sudden malice that are the fairies, incandescent with joy at the thought of causing mischief under the eyes of one of their ancient masters.

For a few seconds, there is merely the sparkle of fairies and a few shadows. Then in a mere moment, their harmless forms twist and change into fabulous monsters: gryphons, but like no gryphons I’ve ever seen, gryphons with rotting black wings and a cloying scent of death; howling and screaming wraiths; a pair of cait sith five times the size of Meggs, with blood dripping from fangs and claws; and a snake suspended on bat wings, hissing and spitting acid.

The screams rise in the night. Young women press hands over their faces; men are cowering, hands over their heads. I risk a glance at my friends, who have their eyes closed, faces screwed up in concentration.

“The elf!” shrieks a boy not much older than us, his thin face contorted with terror. “It’s rebelling against us. We’re all going to die!”

 
Only Diana’s young friend seems unaffected. “Hold the circle!” he cries. “It’s an illusion, you fools. Hold the circle!”

He’s too late. Blind and deaf with terror, one of the girls darts across the circle and into the arms of one of the men. As she leaves her place, there is a soft explosion of fizzling light, like sal volatile dropped into a glass of water, and the elf rears up, doubling and tripling in size.

It laughs. There are no words to describe its laugh, except that if my pet Meggs had been a demon from hell, his laugh might sound a hundredth of this.

There is frozen moment of horror, followed by a stampede. Some young man shoves me roughly against a door, not seeing me in his rush to escape, and my head strikes sharply against the wall.
 

When I wake, my head is cradled on a lap, my hair being stroked with a soothing hand. I think for a moment that it is Rosalind, the memories confusing themselves with my last head injury, but the feeling is different. I open my eyes to see Esther holding and patting me, although she is not watching me, and… Fire and darkness, flickering light and scorching heat.

Rosalind, besides us, has her arms around Diana, her glasses missing, her eyes screwed up in concentration in a face white and shining in the darkness. I try to sit up a little, and fall back.

“Good morning, Charles,” Esther says, her voice light despite the tremor in it. “Stay still, my dearest girl, you’re not fit to be moved yet, or so says your little Rosalind. She held you for a bit and then she went to look after our Diana.” She leans in closer and whispers, “She’s a Healer.” I nod, and wince. “Did you know?”

“Yes.”
 

“Any idea why the elf didn’t drain her powers? She’s already attended to you.”

“No,” I lie. I struggle to sit up, and this time Esther helps me. “What happened to…?”

“Our summoned friend? Still here. Doesn’t seem interested in us at the moment.” The quiver in her voice is more definite.

I manage, painfully, to turn my head. Esther is right. The elf is there right behind me, burning, growing, apparently focused on its own magnificence, its lines growing clearer, its glow brighter. The flames at its feet are spreading. I shudder and press my face against Esther’s shoulder.

“There, Charley. It will all work out.” She kisses the top of my head, and I don’t mind.

“The magical creatures made it out?”

“Yes, Charley. All your little fairies and imps are fine.” Esther’s lips quirk a little. “As for the other humans, not that you care…”

“They ran and abandoned us, the cowardly weasels.” Kitty, sitting legs akimbo beside us, rubs streaks of tears across her face. “When Daddy finds out they left me here, they will wish they had never been born.”

“Right now, though, we have to focus on living ourselves.” Rosalind’s voice is weak and strained. If she’s drained herself too much over that Diana… And then there is a tiny stab of jealousy, knowing what Rosalind said healing me meant to our own connection. But then, I know she has no choice, really. “Kitty, will you take Di?”

Kitty gathers Diana up her her arms, helping her to a sitting position. Having something to do seems to calm her a little. Rosalind slips over to sit by Esther’s side, her hand taking mine, her silver head leaning wearily on Esther’s other shoulder. It’s odd to see the two of them sitting so naturally close together. Somehow, it renews my energy,

“Can the three of you carry Diana out?” I ask. “I think I can walk that far.”

 
“We can’t get to the door, Charley,” Esther says, levelly. “We’re… considering our options.” She lifts an arm, to show me a hand with skin that has bubbled into blisters.

I lift my head and crane over her shoulder. The scorching heat isn’t just from the elf. The magical fire that Diana’s pals made is higher and stronger, and it’s between us and the exit.

“Can we run past it?”

“I tried going closer. It’s an inferno there, nothing like ordinary fire. Kitty tried to project ice to cool it, it seems there’s more than one of us here with hidden talents, but—”

”I’m completely drained,” Kitty says, absently patting Diana’s back. “I can’t cool a cup of tea, let alone receive the heat enough for us to get past.”

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry,” sobs Diana, clinging to Kitty. “This is all my fault. We’re going to die because of me.”

It’s true enough. I find myself opening my mouth to say something useless and unforgivable.

Then I close it. There’s no use making this pathetic creature feel worse.

“Shut up, Di,” Kitty says, fiercely. “I refuse to die because you and my father’s stupid friends have a stupid ritual at a stupid party. In a church at night! It’s absolutely too ludicrously melodramatic, and none of us are dying for it.”

“Well spoken, daughter.”

Our heads turned as if pulled by strings, back to the elf. It is female in appearance again, fully solid and unbearably bright.
 

“Oh, don’t be afraid of me, little ones. You did not call me here or steal my powers, and I bear you and your kind no malice. It is… interesting to be back, and see what has become of our children.” I imagine through the unbearable light that it is smiling, a smile that horribly reminds me of Rosalind. “I find that my presence makes you uncomfortable, though, and I have much to see. Good luck, little daughters.”

There’s no flash of light or explosion. Just an overwhelming presence that is now an absence.

Kitty breathes in deeply. “That helps. It does indeed. Let me try again.” She pushes Di’s head off her lap, none too gently, as she climbs to her feet and raises her hands. “One, two…”

A stream of ice pours from her outstretched hands. Where it meets the flames there is a hiss and a great outpouring of steam, terrible to see. When the fire is entirely hidden, Kitty drops her hands.

The flames roar up again.

“So much for that.” Kitty bites her lip. “I never really was all that good at it.”

“We need to get higher,” Esther says.

“Aren’t we supposed to keep down in a fire?” I’m sure I remember that from somewhere.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not like the dorm is on fire and we’re crawling to the window to climb out on knotted bedsheets,” she snaps. “Look, there’s no smoke at all, so no need to worry about smoke inhalation. But I’m damned if I’m going to sit here until it reaches us and we’re cooked alive. There are windows up there.”
 

The five of us manage, somehow, to make it up the stairs to the clerestory. Kitty supports Diana, who is nearly a head taller than her, but it is Esther who has the worst of it, with her burned hand, still managing to keep a supportive arm around both Rosalind, who is weak and shaking with all her Healing, and myself, still hurting and dazed and nauseous.

“Right.” Esther lowers us to the floor, takes off a shoe then, with all the strength of the shining light of my hockey eleven, smashes the heel into the window.