The Potioneer (Shadeborn Book 3) (26 page)

It was the most certain Lily had ever seen her friend, and there could be no arguing with her. Lily took back her book of fairy-tales, with the promise that she’d tell Novel they’d be needing a wheelchair seat on the long flight over the Atlantic, and she made a silent wish that any deal Jazzy could strike with Gifter wouldn’t see her any worse off than the small, broken girl she was now.

May

Finality

Lily wrote like a woman possessed, and she was fairly certain most of it was nonsense, but she reasoned that if she just kept writing, the exam time would suddenly come to an end, and she’d be free of the lecture hall at last. It wasn’t usual to host an exam in such a place, but Bradley Binns’s history contingent was so large that no other single hall could house all the students who had shown up to take their final paper for Modern History. That meant that Lily found herself sitting directly beneath a certain pane of glass in the lecture hall ceiling, and hoping desperately that her coroner’s report wouldn’t end up listing ‘History Exam’ as her cause of death.

She had been good for the last three weeks. She had avoided mirrors at all costs, just like she’d promised Novel she would, and she hadn’t even dared to read the Tales of the Glassman, in case that somehow influenced her to tempt fate again. Lily had been so well-behaved at the theatre, in fact, that if she hadn’t been preoccupied with arranging flights and accommodation in America for seven people, she might even have been able to study enough to pass the wretched exam she was currently struggling with. Still, the five minute warning had been given, and that meant her academic torment was almost over.

When she found herself amid the throng of shattered and worried students leaving the hall, Lily felt a wave of relief overcome her. She spotted Lawrence a little farther ahead of her in the crowd, just as he seemed to stop to converse with someone much shorter than he was. When Lily reached the place where the voodoo boy was standing, she veered off out of the crowd to find herself face to face with Bradley Binns. The warm weather of early summer had finally persuaded him to ditch his hideous collection of knitwear, and his plain white shirt was as pale as his face.

“Lawrence says you’re leaving?” Bradley urged no sooner than his eyes met Lily’s.

“Tomorrow,” she confirmed with a nod. “Not for good, but I don’t know for how long. Judging by my performance in there, I’ll be repeating this year anyway to stand any chance of a decent degree.”

Bradley shook his head ruefully, adding: “But what about Novel’s promise to me? You said you’d help me find the man who killed my parents.”

The young professor spoke entirely too loudly in Lily’s opinion, but the students rushing by to escape their exams didn’t seem interested in his words.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Lily began, uncertain of how much to tell the orphaned shade. “We think we know who he is, but exacting judgement would be… difficult at the moment.”

Bradley’s mousy brows knitted together, that half-dopey look of anger forming in his lips.

“You know, and you won’t tell me,” he griped.

“Trust me,” Lily said soothingly, “he’s not a guy you want to go after on your own. When we get back from the States, we’ll help you find a way to get justice. I’d like to see this guy get his comeuppance too, I promise you.”

The young professor still seemed unconvinced, but it was Lawrence who rested a large hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

“You should listen to this girl,” he said gently, “she’s got some seriously good instincts.”

“Perhaps we can even help you find out what house you belong to,” Lily offered with her best smile. “Novel found a way to do it for me.”

Bradley’s resolve softened visibly, and his young face sank back to a complacent smile.

“I guess I’ve waited this long,” he mused, “a few more months won’t hurt.”

“That’s the spirit,” Lawrence said, clapping him so firmly that the professor wobbled a little on the spot.

Lily and Lawrence were about to bid him goodbye when Bradley called to them again on the now empty corridor.

“There’s one thing I meant to ask you, that night in the theatre,” he began.

“What’s that?” Lily pressed.

“Why didn’t your boyfriend know I was a shade?” Bradley asked. “I mean, experienced shades are supposed to be able to sense others, right? But he mistook me for a hunter.”

Lily paused, and she could think of no reply. It was true that Novel had spotted her at once, the autumn before last, when she’d been sitting in the audience for the first time at the Imaginique. He came looking for her, and lured her to the stage to confront her about her magic, because even with all those people around her in the audience, Novel had sensed her dormant powers. Even Lily was beginning to feel the presence of the other shades around her, as she had when she’d been watching for Pascal before he even arrived on the street corner. It was strange that Novel had never been able to tell what Bradley was, and Lily could offer no explanation for it at all.

“I’ll have to ask him about that,” Lily answered. “Take care of yourself for now, all right? And go to the Imaginique if anything bad happens whilst we’re gone. They’ll look out for you there.”

Bradley smiled warmly at that last remark.

“Well, wherever you’re going, good luck,” he said simply.

She took the professor’s good wishes with a grateful nod, but Lily wasn’t sure that she believed in luck anymore.

Take Off

Baptiste led the way through Charles De Gaulle airport, Paris. He and Novel were the only ones in the party of seven who appeared to be fully awake, after hanging around Manchester International for several hours before flying out to the continent to connect to their main flight of the evening. It was five in the morning and the airport was still dark, filled with quiet business types who were regretfully stuffing a too-early breakfast into their mouths as the strange collection of people passed them by.

The Indian girl in the wheelchair was perhaps the least strange of the group, though the boy who pushed her, covered head to toe in tattoos, was a sight for sore eyes. Baptiste and Novel had done nothing to alter their usual vintage style of dress, looking like two Victorian street performers who had fled the city of Paris in a hurry, and Salem’s lurid violet suit was drawing (and blinding) the eye of every tired traveller he passed. Strangest of all, Lily thought, was Jeronomie Parnell, who travelled in the very same outfit she’d worn when she first burst into the Imaginique in a fit of golden sparks. The potioneer donned her wide-brimmed hat and massive brown travelling cloak, which billowed as she carried various cases and parcels beneath her arms.

“Your European Customs people are a joke,” the American woman barked, disturbing several sleepy patrons who were passed out at a nearby flight gate. “Can you believe they wouldn’t let me take powdered Marula Root through the baggage check?”

“I will compensate you for every loss of property, Miss Parnell, I assure you,” Novel said over his shoulder.

Trying to get even half of Jeronomie’s potion-making supplies through the barriers of both airports had been one of the many difficult tasks of the evening already, and it had taken a few bars of Salem’s singing to resolve the issue after many heated arguments. The night had been a long one already, and Lily’s patience was wearing ever-more thin as the minutes ticked by before the direct flight for Logan International, Boston was due to commence boarding.

“I’m so tired,” Lily griped as she caught up to Novel’s quick paces. “Stupid night flights all the way.”

“We didn’t have another option,” Novel replied quietly.

His eyes were trained on the MC still leading their little party, and Lily gave the back of Baptiste’s head a good glare.

“If you say so,” she answered bitterly.

“I have no idea how long it’s going to take us to find this portal Salem knows about,” Novel reminded her. “It could be weeks, months even. If Baptiste hadn’t come with us, he might have died. Between travelling by night
and
finding wheelchair seats, this was the best option.”

Novel squeezed Lily’s hand tightly, and ahead she saw the boarding gate they’d been looking for. She supposed it wasn’t just the stress of flying overseas that was bothering her, but the whole journey, and the frightening prospect that perhaps these awful night flights were only the very beginning of a greater ordeal. Even when she was shown to her seat by a smiling American steward, Lily still felt the crippling pressure of the quest ahead pounding at her temples. Her nerves were taught like barbed wire, and her blood was pumping with a strange excess of magic that she didn’t understand.

It was some minor comfort to Lily that Novel looked as riled as she felt inside. He was squirming in his seat when the air hostesses shut the doors and braced them for take-off, and all through the flight safety video, the illusionist kept checking his seatbelt and testing its tension. Salem was in a seat on the opposite aisle, his bright blue eyes watching his son with interest. When the plane began to taxi down the runway and get into position, the showman reached one long arm across the way to pat Novel on his slim shoulder.

“Humans do this all the time, and they don’t die,” Salem said plainly.

A few humans in the surrounding seats gave him some very strange looks when he spoke those words, but Salem was his usual unabashed self about that. Novel, at least, seemed pleased with the brash comfort his father had offered him and, though he flicked Salem’s hand off his shoulder at once, he did turn and thank him for the reminder. Lily realised then that, travelling by window for so many years, Novel had probably never suffered the enclosure of a human aeroplane. She leaned in her seat to rest her head on his shoulder, careful not to let their skin touch and ignite a flame that the stewards might see.

“A little over seven hours,” she told him softly, “and then it’s American soil all the way, until we stop the curse.”

Novel pulled his silver pocketwatch from the folds of his waistcoat, and nodded.

“Seven hours,” he repeated slowly. “I ought to have brought a book.”

Lily gave him a sheepish little grin, and leaned forward to pull a small white tome from her bag. When Novel saw the book of fairy-tales, he looked about ready to give one of his lectures, but either exhaustion or fear of flying sucked the energy out of him. He gave a regretful sigh, and took the book from Lily, opening it at once. His eyes began to skim down the list of contents, and Lily watched as his pale lips descended into a frown of confusion.

“I don’t recall some of these stories,” Novel mused.

“Wasn’t it at least a hundred years ago that you read them?” Lily asked him quietly.

“I’d remember,” he insisted.

The roar of the aeroplane’s engines interrupted their talk, and Novel dropped the book in his lap when the rumble reverberated under his seat. Lily picked up the volume again and put it back in his hands, soothing them for just a moment to get his attention back.

“Let’s read something,” she urged, “to help you take your mind off everything. And soon we’ll be across the sea, and everything will be fine.”

If Lily had been a lucky girl, then her promises might have come true.

Unscheduled Arrival

Lily’s eyes travelled over the page wearily, but she was determined to see the story through to the end. Novel was fast asleep, after worrying himself into exhaustion for most of the flight, and Lily was nestled in the crook of his arm as she held the collection of fables close to her chest. The words were starting to blur as she blinked away her sleep, but the tale she’d found was important, and she wanted to finish it. It was a story where the wicked djinn, the Glassman, was striking a bargain with a group of travellers.

The Glassman dealt in contracts, and the djinnkind that followed him into the ways of trickery were no different. Travellers who came in search of riches and of freedom were often rewarded with pain and strife for their greed, and humans the world over called the wretched creatures ‘genies’, whose wishes ever ended in their tears. But the Glassman cared not for the sufferings of humble humans. His enemies were the shadeborn, and those shadesons and shadedaughters foolish enough to seek his power for their own were sorely punished.

Eyes the colour of blood did not deter the travellers who sought the Glassman’s favours. His midnight grin and glowing skin were no source of fear to the bravest of shades, those loving parents who delivered their small, weak son to the monster beyond the mirror. The Glassman laughed at the Weak Boy, raising his arms to either side to give a shrug.

“What am I expected to do with this thing?” he asked mockingly.

The Weak Boy’s mother fell to her knees before the mirror, and the Glassman knew by her tears that she would give anything to barter for the welfare of her child.

“Please, mighty djinn,” the mother crooned, “my boy is not strong. I fear he won’t survive this world if his magic does not grow in soon. Give him my powers, if you would, that he may prosper in the days to come.”

The Weak Boy was too young to understand his fate, or what his mother had asked of the strange figure in the glass. The youngster was too fascinated by the bright blue hue of the djinn’s ice-like skin to bother listening to the words that followed.

“And what say you,” the Glassman continued, “father to this child?”

The Weak Boy’s father only shook his head. The mother looked at him despairingly, and the Glassman laughed again.

“Your husband would rather let the weakling fend for himself,” the djinn cackled cruelly. “It is the shadeborn way, you know, that propensity to go it alone. I prefer strength in numbers, you know. Two can be stronger than three, if they are united.”

If the mother of the Weak Boy had understood the djinn’s warning, she might not have wrung her hands together with another sobbing plea.

“Please,” she asked, despite her husband’s betrayal. “Please help my boy.”

“You would give anything?” The Glassman asked.

And when the mother nodded, the Glassman reached with one ethereal hand, and stole the Weak Boy’s father from this world. He passed through the glass with a screeching call, and both mother and son were too late to pull him back.

The ping of the fasten seatbelt sign shook Lily from the story, and it was followed swiftly by a cabin announcement that woke Novel beside her.

“This is your captain speaking, just to let you know we’re now making our descent into Logan International. Please fasten your seatbelts until the plane has landed and the seatbelt lights are turned off again. The local time here is six-thirty in the morning, and what an unusually dark morning it is, folks. Let’s hope brighter times lie ahead.”

Lily glanced out of the window at the pilot’s words, and it was true that the clouds were thick and heavy around the plane. It seemed like the jet was coated in thick, swirling shadows, and Lily felt her heart begin to hammer as she gazed out of the window into that bleak view. A second later, the whole plane rattled with a fit of shakes, and Lily reached out at once to take Novel’s hand. He gripped her harder than he ever had, his eyes wide and watchful as though he’d never been asleep at all.

“It’s okay,” Lily said, “it’s just turbulence. It’s normal when it’s cloudy.”

She felt as though she was trying to convince herself of that as much as Novel, but when the second wave of shudders hit the plane even harder, Lily was among those passengers who winced and let involuntary noises of panic escape their lips.

“Stewards take your seats,” the captain said suddenly over the speakers, “stewards take your seats for turbulence.”

“That’s not normal,” Novel said.

Lily wanted to be able to persuade him that it was, but Novel continued speaking, and he shook her hand so that she looked him straight in the eye when he did.

“Lily, something’s happening,” the illusionist pressed. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it.”

Another rumble, and this time the plane seemed to be veering far too much to the right. Lily felt her stomach flip at the sideways motion, and even as her weary body began to shake, she knew there was something behind her, at the window. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a voice like deep, molten metal flowed with whispered laughter into the air around her. Lily didn’t want to turn and see what she knew would be within the glass of the window right beside her, yet there was nothing else to do whilst panic spread among the surrounding humans.

Lily let the corner of her eye find the window first, and the face of the djinn who had haunted her for so long was clearer than it had ever been. His cheeks were chiselled like cut glass, shining so clear that they sparkled blue, even through the swirling stormclouds behind his head. He had no hair to speak of, for where it should have been, his locks seemed to turn into tendrils of smoke, and his teeth were sharp and pointed like icicles hanging from a great grinning cave mouth. The djinn’s eyes were the worst they had ever been, glowing like two spheres of fire, their flames pressing hard against the window of the failing plane, as though at any moment he would break through into the space.

“Right into my hands, daughter of shades,” the djinn crooned darkly. “Did you really think climbing into a great metal box, twenty-thousand feet above the ground was a bright idea?”

Lily faced her demon, swallowing deeply, and she found the fire of shademagic was burning in her every vein.

“You’re not the only one with the power to fly this thing,” she retorted with a shout.

“Who are you talking to?” Novel demanded, but Lily was busy getting to her feet amid the chaos.

Humans were crying and screaming all around her, but there was only one panic-stricken face she was interested in finding. He was easy to spot in that bright violet suit, where the showman had moved across three aisles to brace himself against a larger seat with more room for his broad frame.

“Salem!” Lily called, her voice ringing like a bell over the din of terror. “Get to the microphone the pilot’s using. Put the humans to sleep.”

The songspinner stood up in a panic, his dark brows drooping as he hollered back.

“All of them?”

“Now!” Lily urged.

When she glanced back at the window, the djinn was still there, watching her movements with interest. Lily ignored the garish, horrible face as best she could, sitting down again and locking her arm tight against Novel’s. Their fingers exploded with a blast of white flames and, as Salem’s melodious voice began to travel through the speakers overhead, she was the one to shake Novel into action.

“‘Being of one mind and one body,’” she recited, breathing deeply, “we can land this thing safely.”

Salem’s spell was specific and his commands were well-worded, which soon left the entire human crew of the aircraft unconscious. Only the seven travellers – and the demon at the window – remained to witness what happened next. Lily and Novel levelled out the descending plane and stopped a great deal of its shaking, despite the wild storm that raged out of control beyond its fortified walls. They had come to stand in the central aisle of the craft, with Salem guiding them via the microphone in the cockpit, and Lawrence cradling Jazzy protectively beside one of the emergency exit doors.

“I can see where the storm ends!” Baptiste shouted from his place beside one of the windows. “If you can lower us through it, it’s a straight slide down to the ground.”

“As simple as that?” Novel griped through gritted teeth.

Lily had no power to speak. There was only the feeling of her body rooted to the floor of that plane, surrounded by innocent people who would die if she let the djinn’s curse get the better of her. She and her kindred soul were both red-faced with the strain that the magic put on their blood, holding the massive weight of the jet in their gravity grip. Lily felt the weight of the plane like she was carrying a safe on her shoulders, and she tried to imagine the protective bubble that she had once seen Novel cast over Eno Rolin, the escaped werewolf. Casting a bubble as big as a plane was no mean feat, but protection to get out of the storm was of the essence.

Her fingers dug hard into Novel’s palm, and she had a horrible feeling he’d broken a bone in her hand with the strength of his grip. But pain only made the blood flow wilder in her veins, and Lily’s heart thumped like the gallop of a stallion as she felt a new wave of great and terrible magic wash over her body. She was rising from herself, almost in the way she had when she had left her body behind on the pavement at Old Mill Lane, but this time she was taking her power with her. She felt, perhaps for the first time, truly un-human.

“I don’t believe it!” Baptiste called again. “You’re pushing the storm off!”

“Am I?” Novel answered, but even as he spoke the plane rattled again.

Concentrate,
Lily willed him.
Bring it down to the ground, slow it down as we go.

A surge of electricity passed between the illusionist and his apprentice, and Lily felt like she’d absorbed it all. Several minutes passed in which the plane descended rapidly, but with control, and Lily wasn’t sure exactly when she’d closed her eyes in concentration. As the situation became more and more steady, she let her eyes flicker open to see the scene play out. Lawrence was still braced against the door, but now Jeronomie had joined him to keep Jazzy and her chair secure, and Baptiste and Salem were in their places, guiding with their voices as before.

And the djinn was still at the window. Lily was slow to turn her head, most of her body still wrapt with power, devoted to landing the plane, and the monster in the window looked terribly relaxed about it all. Relaxed, but clearly disappointed. He sucked at his sharp, hollow cheeks, turning his face to eye Lily carefully with those red orbs that bore no white or pupil, and he let his bony shoulders shake with a shrug.

“Better luck next time, I suppose,” the djinn crooned.

And the plane hit the ground with a deafening crash.