Missing Magic (25 page)

As she had when the machine had been at
Mick’s, she parked several houses away, on the opposite side of the
street. There were only two streetlights here, placed at each end
of the curved street. The middle remained dark, except for the
glowing house.

Glad of the relative darkness, she checked
her revolver, clicked off the safety and reholstered it, grabbed
her flashlight, and headed down the sidewalk.

Reaching the side of the house, Dee slipped
around the side, locating the fence gate. Either Natasha had been
careless or supremely over-confident, but the gate wasn’t locked.
Dee could only hope her luck would continue to hold.

Once in the backyard, she drew her gun and
proceeded towards the back door. Halfway there, she realized the
low humming sound she heard came from the garage. The only way in
was through the house or front garage door.

She opted for the house.

Jimmying the back door lock with a credit
card was simple – Natasha hadn’t bothered to upgrade her
security.

Dee slipped into the silent house.

The glow emanated from the garage. Moving
silently, Dee went through the laundry room, knowing there would be
a door there. She turned the knob, stepping into the garage.

And came face to face with Natasha. Beyond
her, she saw the machine, and Cenrick, unconscious.

Both women froze.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Dee smiled
grimly. “And I promise you, I’m an excellent shot.”

“The final piece,” Natasha said, staring at
the gun with shocked frozen in her colorless eyes. “How is this
possible? You’re Fae. You shouldn’t be able to hold a metal
gun.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” The other woman’s voice rang with
certainty. “You are Fae. I can tell.”

“How? You’re human. How do you know I’m
Fae?”

“Thanks to your friend Mick and his
brilliant, though misguided, plans, I have my machine.” Natasha
spread her thin arms. “I’ve taken on Fae powers. I can see your
aura. You can’t hide what you are, not from me.” Her gaze
sharpened, full of icy rage. “Now tell me how you are able to hold
that gun.”

Ignoring her request, Dee forced a laugh as
she edged closer to Cenrick. He’d been aware long enough to see her
enter the room, but now he’d dropped his chin back on his
chest.

“Turn off the machine.”

Flexing her bony fingers like claws, Natasha
stared. “No.”

Dee raised her weapon. “Do it, or I’ll
shoot.”

Though pale, Natasha stood her ground.

“I mean what I say,” Dee told her. “Turn it
off right now or I’ll shoot you and do it myself.”

“Even as I’m filled with power, the machine
should weaken you, destroy you. Just like all the others.” Fury
rang in Natasha’s voice. “How can you be powerful enough to
withstand it?”

Ignoring the question, Dee started counting
out loud. “If I get to five, kiss those Jimmy Choo shoes you’re
wearing good-bye.”

The blonde woman didn’t move. “Any moment,
you should succumb to my creation. Then I’ll have you, and you’ll
be the final Fae to give me their magic, at least here in the human
world.”

“You don’t listen.” Dee shot her in the
foot.

“Yoooooowl,” Natasha shrieked as blood spread
across the floor. “Metal bullets. I’m Fae now… I…”

“I can kill you with one final shot, human or
Fae,” Dee said coldly. “Now, turn off the machine.”

With a snarl of rage, Natasha lurched forward
and punched a command in the keyboard of her laptop. Immediately,
the sickly yellow glow vanished. The machine’s whirring hum
subsided to a low drone, before becoming quiet.

“It is off.”

“Good.” Keeping her weapon on the other
woman, Dee went for Cenrick. “Don’t move or I’ll shoot to
kill.”

Nodding, the other woman fumbled for a towel,
wrapping it around her foot and trying to keep the blood from
spreading.

One eye on Natasha, Dee fumbled with the
restraints, trying to free Cenrick one-handed. He didn’t stir,
though the rise and fall of his chest told her he still lived. She
could only hope she wasn’t too late.

As her hand brushed his chest, tugging at the
buckle, he opened his eyes. “Touch. Me.” His raspy voice tore at
her heart. But at least he could speak. The machine hadn’t yet
robbed him of his mind.

“Touch me.”

Then she remembered. Her touch gave him
strength, dispelling the awful effects of the evil machine.

“Cenrick.” She laid her hand alongside his
beloved face. He felt so cold, bloodless. “Come back to me.”

Her foot successfully wrapped, Natasha
laughed. “He’s too far gone for you to help him now. Even if you
free him, I’ve already taken most of his soul. I can feel his magic
and power filling me, more powerful by far than all the others I’ve
taken. I have him now. He cannot regain what I own.”

“I don’t believe you.” Weapon still trained
on the other woman, Dee kept her hand on Cenrick’s icy skin,
praying warmth would return to him. His heart beat steady and sure.
As she touched him, the skin warmed, became a healthy pink, then
his normal tan. Dee swore she could feel his blood heating under
her hand.

“He will come back to me.” The look she gave
Natasha carried a promise. “Then we will deal with you.”

“You know,” the other woman sounded
thoughtful, “I was wrong about you. They said you were important;
that I should take you out first.” Natasha’s ice blue eyes were
hard. “But I didn’t believe them. He’s a prince, much more
powerful. You,” she looked Dee up and down contemptuously. “Are
nothing.”

“Do you want me to take out your other
foot?”

The blonde laughed. “I have Fae powers in my
human blood. I heal fast.”

Then, with a snarl, Natasha rushed her.

No choice. Trained as a police officer to act
instinctively, Dee squeezed off a shot, aiming at her shoulder. She
didn’t want to kill her, only wound her.

She planned to make certain the other woman
stood trial in Rune, assuming the Fae bothered with such
things.

The bullet dropped Natasha in her tracks. She
staggered back with a bloodcurdling scream. Clapping her hand to
her shoulder, she stared in stunned disbelief at the blood
spreading on her shirt. She lurched to her feet, weaving
unsteadily.

Her narrow gaze found Dee. “You’ll pay for
this.” She lifted her hand. “I can summon magic to destroy
you.”

“Can you?” Cenrick’s voice rang out, much
stronger. “Even magic has rules. Be careful what you do, Natasha.
The wrong use of such power can destroy the untrained.”

Bony finger wobbling, the blonde woman looked
from one to the other. “Like I should believe you?”

She sang out two words.

A bolt of energy lashed from her, knocking
the gun from Dee’s hand.

Dee screamed, shaking her fingers. Though she
saw no flames, her hand burned.

Natasha lurched after the weapon, grabbing it
up with her bare hand. “Metal still does not yet harm me.” Keeping
the gun on Dee and Cenrick, she moved in the other direction.
Towards the laptop.

The controls of her machine. She meant to
turn it up full blast, to take Cenrick’s soul once and for all.

Dee started to pull away from Cenrick, to go
after her. Cenrick moved then, his hand coming up and gripping her
wrist. “Don’t.”

“I’ve got to stop her.”

“No. She’s got a gun. Stay with me.” His
fingers tightened and the burning sensation faded. “I need your
strength, your protection. She doesn’t know the machine can’t harm
me now that you’re here.”

At the keyboard, Natasha typed in a command.
“Don’t move or I’ll shoot. Though it would be a shame to waste

The lights dimmed. The machine hummed. The
glow flashed on, a low thrum, growing louder and more insistent as
it intensified.

“We’ve got to stop her.”

“How?”

“Can you use magic? Cast a spell, bring her
down, or knock the gun from her hand like she did mine?”

He cast a dubious glance at the machine. “I
can try.” Still gripping Dee’s wrist, he shouted out words in his
native language. A spell.

Dee waited for the lightning bolt, the glow,
something.

Instead, Natasha, the room, the machine, all
vanished.

They stood in the Fae field of flowers. As
she took this in, Cenrick crumpled to the ground.

Something had gone monumentally wrong.
Instead of taking Natasha out or getting the weapon from her, his
magic had somehow sent them to Rune.

Weakened, casting that spell had used up the
last of his strength, the last of his magic.

She could only pray that selfless act hadn’t
finished him. That her touch could, as he believed, save him.

DROPPING TO her knees, she felt his neck,
frantically searching for a pulse. Nothing.

Oh God, no.

He couldn’t be dead. Not Cenrick.

“Cenrick?” No answer. “Breathe, damn you. If
you want to live, then breathe.”

With an awful shudder, he did as she asked.
Inhaled, dragging air into his lungs. Then he blew the breath back
out, ending in a gut-wrenching raspy cough.

Alive. At least he was alive.

This time, she located a heartbeat, weak and
erratic. His chest continued to rise and fall, reassuring her he
still breathed.

“Come back to me,” she urged. “Cenrick,
please. Look at me.” She could only pray that when he opened his
eyes, he would not be soulless. Natasha could not have won, not so
easily. She refused to believe this.

A shadow fell across them, blocking out the
faint sun.

“What has happened?”

Dee glanced up. The silver-haired Mage stood
ten feet away, staring down at Cenrick. “Mort. Thank goodness. We
need your help. Please, can you heal him?”

The mage shook his head. His image wavered –
something was wrong. He looked different. Insubstantial. “I cannot.
What has begun to take him has grabbed hold and his soul is
damaged. Only the other half of him can restore him.”

Alrick, his brother? She wanted to weep.
“Then bring him the other half.”

“Touch him.”

She laid her hand alongside his cheek. “I
am.”

“Only you can help him. If you want him to
return to himself, you must bring him back. Touch him. Touch him
with all of you.”

Crying openly now, Dee curled on the ground
next to Cenrick. His huge, comatose body didn’t react. She placed
her cheek across his chest, listening as his heart struggled to
beat.

The Mage shimmered, then solidified as he
came closer. “You must cover him with your essence. Quickly.”

Again Mort’s mage’s form faded to smoke, as
though he was barely there. Was he only a figment of her
imagination?

But Dee didn’t have time to concern herself
with that. She wanted Cenrick back, she wanted her partner, her
friend, she wanted…

“The other half of your soul.” Words echoing
in the silent meadow, the Mage disappeared in a puff of mist.

The other half of her soul
? Cenrick?
And she? Not possible, though part of her couldn’t help yearning
that it be the truth. She wasn’t even Fae. Even if she believed in
this soul-mate stuff, she would think the soul would only split
into two of the same species. She was human. Cenrick was not.

Still, if Mort thought she could help him… If
she was his only hope…

She crawled on top of Cenrick, covering him
with her own body, willing him to respond. Once she was prone, face
to his face, chest to his chest, exhaustion seized her.

Dizzy, she inhaled Cenrick’s beloved scent –
beloved? – and let her eyes drift closed. Holding him close to her,
Dee slept.

* * *

The early morning breeze tickled his nose. A
hint of sunlight danced along his eyelids.

Cenrick stretched, yawning.

He’d had the worst dream. A machine, and
Natasha and his soul—he opened his eyes, inhaling Dee’s light,
floral scent. Dee! She slept tucked into the curve of his arm, the
shadows under her eyes telling him of his exhaustion.

A bird screeched in the sky above him. He
started, glancing around. Though he could have sworn he and Dee had
fallen asleep on the couch, they weren’t in her living room.
Instead, they were lying on the cold, hard ground, in a meadow of
dead and dying flowers.

In Rune. Land of the Fae. His home.

He sat up, nudging Dee awake.

Memory came flooding back. It hadn’t been a
dream.

He’d been locked into the soul stealing
machine. Dee had rescued him. He’d used the last of his energy to
send them to Rune.

“Cenrick?” Dee came instantly awake. “Are you
all right?”

He nodded and she kissed him. When she did,
he tasted the salt of tears.

“Are you crying?”

“Yes.” She sniffed. “I thought you were gone,
lost forever. One of the soulless.”

He kissed her back, swift and hard. “Almost,
I think. But you, you brought me back.”

“Yes.”

“Where are we?”

“The last spell, the one you tried to use on
Natasha, somehow instead, the magic sent us to Rune.” “Home..”
Standing, he helped her to her feet and looked out over his home.
“Dee, something’s not right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look around. Rune is not the same.”

A second later, she saw what he meant.

A fine mist fell from a thick fog which hung
over the air like a shroud. The riotous carpet of flowers had
vanished. Even the grass had lost its emerald luster. Everything
seemed dull… and fading.

“What’s happened?” Dee turned a slow circle.
“Are we even in Rune? Remember what happened that one time? Maybe
be got sent somewhere else.”

“This is Rune.” His voice was firm. “I know
my home.” He tugged at her arm. “We’ve got to get to the palace in
a hurry. I’ve got to find out what’s going on.”

Together, they ran.