The Potioneer (Shadeborn Book 3) (17 page)

Night Talk

Lily was doing her level best to stay awake at night. With January tests over at Pike U, classes had fallen back into their usual, dreary regularity, which meant she was able to catch up on her sleep in the hall, so long as she sat at the back. It was for this reason that she found herself climbing up the stairs to the Imaginique’s roof at around three in the morning, where Novel was already mid-way through his usual starbathe. At the doorway that connected the attic floor to the rooftop, Lily paused and watched for a moment with a small smile. Novel’s lithe body floated a few inches off the roof and, when he inhaled, a great rush of bright blue light surrounded him in a brilliant aura.

It was a marked difference to the last time she’d seen him lying on the ground, with that heady grin of violence on his lips in the fray with Pascal. In the starlight, Novel looked serene, and Lily took the trouble to float gently towards him so as not to disturb his deep thoughts. As she reached his side Novel took in another breath, and this time the gentle waves of power lapping around him began to lift him into the air. Lily held out a hand, hovering over his stomach, and when the illusionist rose and made contact with it, he opened his eyes, and looked around.

“Don’t you go floating up to the stars,” Lily warned teasingly, “I need you here.”

Novel began to sink, his pale brow creasing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked sharply.

Lily shook her head, clambering down to lie beside him on the rooftop.

“Nothing at all, for a change,” she replied. “I mean, aside from Jazzy and this illness. I wish the curse hadn’t chosen her to pick on, it’s playing on my mind when the next attack will be.”

The pair of shades gazed up at the sky thoughtfully, and Lily shuffled closer to Novel by their twinkling glow. It was her turn to breathe deeply of the night air, and feel the strange watery sensation of the stars’ power as it invigorated her own. Amid the tingle of the starlight, Lily felt the warmth of a flame where her shoulder brushed against Novel’s. He turned his head, his lips resting just shy of her neck, and allowed a small grumble to escape his lips.

“It is most unfortunate that Jazmine’s become the djinn’s new target,” he agreed. “I suppose she’s the weakest amongst us, and the one whose suffering would hurt you the most.”

“There’s you, too,” Lily answered at once. “What about that guillotine that nearly took your head off in front of a hundred paying guests?”

“Oh, that,” Novel said dryly, “We don’t know what that was-”

“Yes we do,” Lily cut in. “This djinn creature knows us far too well. It went for you at just the moment when it might have caught you off guard, and I was too far from the stage to help in time.”

The illusionist turned on his side, sliding one arm across Lily’s waist. His head was half-buried in her shoulder, and his voice sounded heavier when he next spoke.

“That’s over now,” he soothed, “and I won’t be using the guillotine ever again. The damage from the white light was irreparable.”

Lily dared not add that she was glad to hear it, but the memory of the great structure being slashed by the brilliant glow came rushing to her head.

“Have you thought any more about that light?” she asked.

“Constantly,” Novel replied with clear irritation, “and I keep reaching the same conclusion. Someone was looking out for me.”

If there was any speculation as to who, then Novel didn’t volunteer the information. Lily let him hold her close, her hand rising to stroke the tiny white hairs at the nape of his neck as they lay together in their moment of twilight solace. Tiredness was threatening to close Lily’s eyes, but she forced them open to carry on watching the stars high above the Imaginique, and the quiet little town where her whole life had changed forever. Beneath the great, dark blanket of the night, her troubles didn’t seem so big, and she felt that her world was quite secure, for tonight at least.

That was when the firework came flying onto the rooftop, and exploded inches from Lily’s head.

“Look out!” Novel cried, already dragging her away as the cinders erupted from the rocket.

The bang was deafening, and red sparks flew everywhere as a brilliant, blinding light consumed the whole rooftop for several seconds. Lily was on her feet without really knowing it, Novel’s harsh protective grip digging into her shoulders as he pulled her one way, then suddenly in the other direction. Somewhere in the flash of the red rocket, a screamer had sounded, and now a blast of yellow and white flames was exploding right in the spot where Lily would have been standing a moment before.

“What the hell’s going on?” Lily cried.

“Djinn!” Novel snarled, just as another explosion crackled overhead, showering him in tiny blue embers. “Just our misfortune to be on the roof when-”

Lily grabbed him by the shirt-front, shaking her head. Amid the deafening bangs of the fireworks, a new sound was emerging to echo in her ears. It was the sound of laughter.

“Djinnkind don’t throw fireworks,” she said, “idiots do. Come on.”

They raced to the edge of the roof, ducking just in time to avoid another screamer, and the white sphere of chemical energy exploded in a halo behind Lily as she looked down at the dark pavement of Old Mill Lane. A series of figures were stumbling and giggling far below, with handfuls of rockets and paper-lighters. One in particular stood out as far less steady on his feet than the others, a loud belch confirming Lily’s suspicions as she cupped her hands to her mouth to shout down.

“Oi! Sampson! What are you and the Illustrious Morons playing at now?”

“Them,” Novel growled, his discerning sneer firmly in place. “Look at them. Tiny drunk humans with highly explosive armaments. It’s a wonder this world wasn’t destroyed centuries ago.”

Michael was too far below to hear Novel’s chiding words, but he seemed to have caught most of what Lily shouted to him. It took him a moment to crane his neck to see her, for the first time he tried, he fell flat on his back. The fireworks scattered everywhere on the street, and the other equally-drunk members of the IMLS clambered to collect them around Michael. He threw his arms open wide and guffawed like a child.

“Chinese New Year!” he beamed.

“Which is two weeks away,” Lily shouted back, “and you’re not even Chinese!”

“Ooh, sorry,” Michael replied mockingly. He pointed with a wavering arm at Novel. “Did I singe your hairdo, Mister Monsieur?”

“Right,” was all Novel said, then he leapt from the roof.

Lily followed as quickly as she could, floating down the three storeys carefully with her gravity powers. Novel was not elegant in his flight, and he only cushioned his fall mere moments before his feet connected with the pavement, sending a shockwave through the ground that sent two of the IMLS kids to their knees. Michael wobbled again, for he was nearest to the impact, and Lily flew to land in front of him before Novel could march straight up to his face.

“Blimey, they can fly,” slurred a girl’s voice from the darkness.

“Um,” another voice added wearily, “Mikey, maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea? We ought to go, mate.”

Face to face, Michael looked a lot less brave than he had when he’d been teasing them from three floors down, but Lily recognised that blind resolution that so often overcame him. The confidence that had first impressed her, what seemed like a million years ago now, was Michael’s greatest downfall. And, if Lily didn’t keep control of things, it would soon earn him a sound beating from the furious illusionist to her right.

“You’re not welcome on my property, Sampson,” he sneered, “I’d ask you to leave, but that would deny me the pleasure of removing you myself.”

“Think you can, magic man?” Michael slurred back. “I’d like to see you try it without those powers of yours.” The boy looked the shademan over with a drunken laugh. “So skinny. Lils, I thought you liked fellas with a bit of meat on their bones.”

“Having more muscles than sense is hardly an asset,” Novel griped. He stepped closer, his iron visage fuming with disgust and irritation as he looked down on the boy before him. “Tell me, have you always been so short? It strikes me that I’ve never really cared enough to notice before.”

The illusionist made to move closer still, and Lily had to wedge her body completely between the two males to stop him. She was facing Michael, and she gave his muscled chest a shove with both palms, sending him tottering back with an offended look on his face.

“Go home, you fool,” she snapped, “even I could batter you with my bare hands right now. You’re a state. You can’t even stand.”

True to Lily’s words, Michael paused to wipe a line of escaping drool from his gaping mouth. He cast a bitter glance at Novel over her shoulder, then turn on his heel with a force too great for his inebriated brain to handle. He stumbled again, one leg crossing over the other in a way that might have been comical, if Lily didn’t pity him so much. When Michael had his bearings again, he began to walk away, following the trail of his long-departed friends.

“Think you’re so clever,” he rambled as he walked, “I’ll show you. I’ll find a way.”

When he was gone, Lily felt Novel’s hands come to rest on her shoulders. He pushed at her muscles with soothing thumbs, and she realised she was hunching with the tension in them.

“He still loves you,” Novel surmised. “You realise that’s what all this is?”

“That’s no excuse for you two to go all Mortal Kombat on each other,” Lily shot back. “You’re far more powerful than him. You should know better.”

Novel kissed her cheek quickly, as though he thought she might not have let him linger.

“Well, I don’t,” he admitted. “I lose my judgement around you. And, if you ask me, foolish children who taunt an enemy far greater than them deserve to get their comeuppance.”

Lily shivered, the memory of her own teasing words to the mirrored glass in the lecture hall returning to her mind. She spun to face Novel, looking up into his pale blue eyes with sudden fright.

“Tell me you don’t really believe that,” she urged.

Novel held her shoulders, rubbing up and down her biceps.

“You’re no child, Lily,” he soothed, “you’re growing into a more powerful woman every day. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the control and precision in your gravity work of late.”

Though she smiled at that, Lily still let a sigh escape her.

“Flying away from trouble seems to be all I do,” she said flatly.

“Some people would be grateful not to have to fight,” the illusionist surmised.

Lily didn’t have an answer for that, and it was in the silence that followed that another new sound emerged in the night. Through all the fracas of the fireworks and Michael’s drunken tirade, she hadn’t noticed the tiny voice behind her. Now, those high-pitched whispers carried on the barest breeze in the midnight air, making Lily’s neck-hairs stand on end before she’d even begun to realise she was hearing words spoken. Novel noticed them too, and he still held her protectively, turning his head to and fro like a bird keen to listen for the rustle of its prey.

“You keep letting them in, you fools,” the faint voice said.

“Where’s that coming from?” Novel whispered.

They were standing on the street, on the theatre side of Old Mill Lane, and Lily had a feeling that the high whisper was indeed behind her. When she turned in Novel’s arms, she saw an open window on the ground floor of the Imaginique, and padded towards it at once. The closer she got, the more words she could make out from within the room.

“Your enemy is hidden in plain sight,” the voice warned.

“This is Jazzy’s room,” Lily said, gulping hard.

Novel had joined her at the window to the converted prop store, and the pair peered in to see what they could make out by the vague light of the stars. Jazzy was sitting bolt upright in her bed, which faced the small window, and the starlight lit her face to show that she was sound asleep. Lily jumped, a shiver running up her spine, as the sleeping girl’s cocoa-coloured lips began to move, and the shrill, whispering voice escaped them again.

“You have welcomed the enemy to your bosom,” the voice proclaimed, “it has walked within these walls, yet you refuse to see it. The greatest danger is the one you cannot see.”

Jazzy flopped back into her bed suddenly, and her expression grew to form the slackness of genuine sleep. Lily finally felt the chill of the February night hit her full-force, and she shivered violently as Novel wrapped his arms around her again. When she looked to his face, waiting for words of reassurance, he was a picture of the very same shock. In fact, if it were possible, he looked even more terrified than Lily was.

“That wasn’t Jazzy’s voice,” Lily told him, her lips trembling.

“No,” Novel breathed, “it certainly wasn’t.”

Lily knew that the whispering voice could be nothing to do with the djinn, for his warning had been deep and sharp, the very opposite of this one. She felt Novel’s chest shudder against her back as they both peered into the room, where the petite Indian girl was now back to her usual fidgety slumber.

“If she’s possessed by something, or someone,” Lily began unsurely, “could that be what keeps bringing that sudden illness on?”

“She’s not possessed,” Novel insisted. “Her abilities with Second Sight connect her to a plane of existence other than our own. The spirit used her to speak to us, but it’s gone now, that’s clear to see.”