Missing Magic (24 page)

But the back alley was deserted, the back
door to the building locked. She pounded on the door anyway. No one
answered.

From the front, she heard a screech of
tires.

Her car! Damn it!

They were stealing her car and leaving her no
way to pursue them. They were getting away.

Sprinting back around front, she wasn’t at
all surprised to the parking spot empty. But Cenrick – where was
he? Where could he have gone? He’d agreed to sneak around to the
back, where she’d come out.

Fishing her cell phone from her pocket, she
punched speed dial for the phone she’d given him.

All she heard was ringing. Then the automated
recording, saying the party was not available.

No answer. This meant Cenrick hadn’t even
turned on the phone she’d given him.

* * *

Cenrick stirred, trying to stand, but fell to
his knees instead. The creeping weakness took over his limbs
gradually, so gradually he didn’t notice it at first. Just like at
Mick’s house, Cenrick thought, right before losing his futile
struggle to stay upright.

Face plant, right on the ground. Only by
turning his head did he keep his nose from hitting hard. Once
prone, he couldn’t move, could barely summon up enough energy to
inhale and exhale.

Dee! He groaned, knowing Dee couldn’t hear
him. How where they doing this to him? The machine he’d seen in the
photos was way too large to transport around.

Unless they’d moved it to this club, Flight
Risk. Or developed a mobile version. If that was the case, every
Fae, everywhere – including those blithely unaware in Rune – was in
serious trouble.

Even their prince, the one who’d been charged
with saving them, had been bested.

He’d lost, and so would his people, unless
Dee was able to help him.

Dee
!That was his last coherent thought
before everything went black.

Day, night, time had no meaning. When
awareness returned to him, he was in a darkened room. Weak, like a
newborn dragon. Whoever had captured him hadn’t bothered to tie him
up. No doubt his captors knew what they’d done to him was more
effective than any chains.

Too feeble to do more than breathe, he tried
to summon up even enough strength to raise his head, and
failed.

Where was he? In the deserted club? Or had
they moved hi to some other place, somewhere unreachable?

He groaned. Dee. He had to get a message to
Dee. But how?

He must have passed out again. The next thing
he knew, he’d been placed upright, strapped into some kind of
chair. A bright, blue-tinged light shone in his face, blinding
him.

His stomach dipped and clenched. For a moment
he thought he might be sick.

“How are you?” A woman asked in a cultured,
faintly-accented voice. “Feeling a bit weak?”

He didn’t deign to answer. This must be the
infamous Natasha, scientist and Mick’s alleged girlfriend.

The creator of the machine that stole
souls.

“So you’re a Fae prince?” She came closer,
leaning into his field of vision. She wore her long, blonde hair
pulled back in a pony tail. In her mid-thirties, her dusky skin and
almond shaped eyes gave her an exotic beauty. This was ruined only
by the cruel twist of her full mouth.

CONFUSED, HE tried to summon up enough energy
to question her. He couldn’t seem to string words together anymore
to form a coherent sentence. So he attempted to frame his question
in one word. “How?”

She smiled, flashing her perfect white teeth.
“How’d I do it? Is that what you want to know?”

He tried to nod and failed. Watching him
closely, she saw the tiny tremor of movement. Her smile widened.
“I’ve been wanting to bask in my triumph, but Mick pooped out on
my. Since you asked and you’re a captive audience, I’ll tell
you.”

Maybe he could stall for time. “Start…” He
licked his cracked lips and tried again. “Start at the
beginning.”

Eying him, she touched his face. “You’re the
most beautiful one yet, you know. You want the entire story? Fine.
I knew Mick’s friend Jack from our work – we’d met at one of those
boring, scientific seminars. I was bored, he needed someone to talk
to. When he got drunk, he started babbling about Faeries and magic
and the man he loved. Despite my disbelief, I let him ramble. He
spilled the entire sordid story. How he had contracted AIDs, how
his disease was progressing faster than either he or his partner
Mick wanted.”

Of their own will, Cenrick’s eyes drifted
closed, the bright light repeating itself with dancing spots on his
retina. If she kept zapping him so strongly, he wouldn’t be awake
long enough to listen to her story.

Tapping her foot impatiently, she stopped
talking. “Look at me, Cenrick of Rune.”

Though he honestly attempted to force his
eyes open, he couldn’t. Mouth dry, he tried to speak instead.
“Turn. Down. Machine.”

She laughed. “Too much for you, eh big boy?”
Her heels tapped on the tile floor as she crossed the room.

A moment later, he felt a bit of his strength
returning. Now, he could at least look at her again.

“Better?”

He nodded.

“Good. Because I want you to learn about your
downfall, before I take your magic. Yours – and one other’s –
should be the final cap on my power.”

Now that the power level had gone done, he
could think again. He wanted to ask another question. He cleared
his throat. “Where are we?”

“My house.” With a grin, she fingered his
hair. “No one knows where I live, not even Mick.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

She patted his hand. “I’ll get to that in a
minute. Now, where was I? Ah yes, with Jack in that Indiana
conference center. When he started talking about Faeries and
alternate realities, I thought he’d lost his mind. But Jack was –
is – a well-respected scientist. NASA – where I worked – used him
frequently for a consultant. So when he told me about magic, and
how Mick was working on a machine to make Jack Fae, I knew I owed
it to myself to at least check this out.”

Make Jack Fae
? Cenrick wasn’t sure
he’d heard correctly. Experimentally, he attempted to move. Now he
was able to raise his head a little. Not enough. But something.

She must have noticed the hope that flared in
his eyes or the tiny movement of his chin. A moment later, shaking
her head, she readjusted the dial, immediately zapping at his
recently returning strength.

In the space of a heartbeat, he was reduced
to jello again, a quivering, mindless lump.

He couldn’t help it – he groaned. When he
did, she chuckled.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but.
“Now where was I? Ah, yes. Mick wanted to make Jack Fae, believing
this would cure him. Meanwhile, Jack’s slowly dying, and Mick’s
getting more and more frustrated with his lack of success.”

A sound escaped him. Could he still talk? He
took a deep breath, deciding he could at least try. “You. Made.”
Deep breath. Again. “Machine. To. Take. Fae. Souls.”

Delighted, she nodded. “Is that what your
people are calling it? Stealing their souls? I love it!”

Peering at her, he wished he had all his
facilities. The odd thing about Natasha was she didn’t seem to
realize her own evilness, or to consider the impact her machine had
on an entire race.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to gesture
with one hand and couldn’t. But, he could still speak. “Where. Are.
We?”

With a frown, she looked around her sterile
laboratory/workroom. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to tell you. I mean,
what are you going to do? Once I’ve taken your magic, I’ll send you
back to Rune just like the others. Only this time,” she came
closer, stroking his arm. “I’ll go with you.”

“Why?”

She laughed, an awful sound. “With your soul,
and one other I mentioned, I’ll have enough magic inside me. None
in earth or Rune will be able to best me.”

Rune
? What was she planning?

She gave one more twist of the dial and
energy coursed through him. Everything went gray, then black.

When next he woke, head throbbing, he was
alone. Still strapped into the machine, still feeling his soul
being dragged from him slowly, grudgingly. Worse, he was helpless.
Powerless to stop Natasha from using him as the vehicle to gain
access to his entire people and his home.

Only one thing stood between this evil woman
and her plan.

Dee. Was she all right? Had she escaped the
trap unscathed? He had no way of knowing.

Unless… Concentrating, he managed to move his
hand up to feel his left front pocket. The lump of hard plastic
told him he still had his cell phone, the one Dee had given him in
case of emergency.

Gritting his teeth, he got his fingers into
his pocket, slowly pulling the phone out by the stubby antenna.

Now, to focus. Concentrating was difficult
with everything so blurry. The phone face was small, the metal
under the plastic cover seemed menacing. Speed dial, Dee had said.
Remembering to punch the
on
button, he went through the
sequence she’d shown him.

* * *

Dee called a taxi and headed home. Once
there, she paced and paced, trying to think. They had Cenrick and
were no doubt beginning the process of making him Soulless. She had
to find him. But how.

A sound stopped her frantic pacing.

Cell phone.

Groping in her coat pocket, Dee located the
thing and pressed
talk
. “Hello?”

Breathing. Heavy breathing.

Good Lord. A prank caller, in the middle of
the night, on her cell?

About to end the call, Dee caught sight of
the caller-id. The number belonged to the prepaid cell phone she’d
given Cenrick.

“Cenrick?”

In response, the caller made a sound.

“Cenrick, is that you?”

“Yes.” This time, the single word came across
loud and clear, though his voice was so strained she knew speaking
had been a major effort.

“Where are you?”

“House,” he mumbled. “Her house. Garage.”

Her house. “Whose?”

Silence.

“Cenrick? Are you there? Speak to me.”

Nothing. He’d either passed out or given
up.

Her house
. Natasha. Dee couldn’t
remember her last name.

Moving quickly, she grabbed the folder she’d
made earlier. Here was the print out from her first search. Natasha
Klein. Great.

Quickly, she turned on her computer and
signed on to her internet provider. Bringing up TAD, short for
Torrent County Appraisal District, she clicked on search properties
by name. A second later, she had an address.

Natasha had purchased a home in Teller. She
jotted down the street name and house number. Getting there would
take twenty minutes, maybe less.

She could only hope she wasn’t too late.

Grabbing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she
snatched her car keys off the dresser and headed for her car.

* * *

The machine slowly ripped away his soul.
Fighting silently, Cenrick resisted, with every nerve ending and
cell that made up his body. But still, the machine droned on, the
lights flickered and dimmed, and Natasha paid him periodic, gleeful
visits to check on the progress.

Each time she came by, she turned down her
creation and gloated. Though he didn’t understand why, she seemed
to think a Prince’s soul would be more powerful than any
others.

He was so mind-fuzzled, he wasn’t sure if
that would prove to be true or not.

Thirsty, he burned and he shivered. The room
felt freezing, subzero temperatures, as though soul-stealing didn’t
need to be done in the midst of the fiery flames of hell.

The light came on, flooding the darkness with
over-bright wattage. Through blurry eyes he tried to watch as
Natasha crossed the room once more, her high heels tapping sharply
on the concrete floor. Glancing at him, she checked the machinery,
twisted a knob, entered some numbers into a laptop computer, then
sat back and smiled with satisfaction.

Ready to gloat again.

He wondered if he had enough of himself left
for his hatred of her to blaze in his eyes.

From the over-bright smile she gave him, he
rather doubted it.

“Almost done.” Her cheery voice grated on his
nerves. “Soon, very soon, you’ll belike all the others. I promise
you won’t feel a thing.”

Glaring at her with all the rage he could
summon, he licked his cracked lips and tried to form words. “What…
will… you… do… with… me?”

Coming close enough for his nostrils to flare
at the acrid scent of her perfume, she leaned in and brushed hair
away from his forehead. “Why, I’ll be taking you home, beautiful
Cenrick. To Rune. You and I will travel there together. I can’t
wait to pay that Oracle a visit.”

Rune. A shudder went through him. She wanted
to go to Rune to destroy his people, his home.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Couldn’t. Let. Tired. So exhausted. His eyes
drifted closed. No. He couldn’t let her win.

But then, he was so weak, so feeble. How
could he stop her? No hope left.

Dee.

Again, he closed his eyes, for only a moment,
just for a second to gather his strength. But time passed oddly
when he was in this state and when he opened them again, the room
was dark and Natasha was gone.

* * *

Dee drove like a madwoman, for once
disobeying the speed limit signs, glad of the super-duper radar
detector Peter had given her. Highway 377 was deserted this time of
night, and she made it to Teller in fifteen minutes.

It took five more to locate the street.

Even if she hadn’t jotted down the house
number, she would have had no difficulty finding Natasha’s house.
The eerie glow, exactly like the way Mick’s had, would have clued
her in.