Bright Blaze of Magic Page 4

  The Sinclair mansion wasn’t quite as richly furnished as the Draconi castle, but plenty of fine things still adorned the rooms, including antique furniture, silver bookends, and crystal chandeliers that had been turned down low for the night. It was after ten now and the mansion was quiet, except for a few pixies fluttering through the hallways, doing their last chores before going to bed. I nodded to the pixies that I passed and headed up to my bedroom.

  When I opened the door, the twangy sounds of country music assaulted my ears. I sighed. I’d hoped that Oscar, the pixie who took care of me, would have already gone to bed by now, but it looked like he’d waited up for me. So I shut the door behind me, walked past the black leather couch and matching recliners in front of the TV mounted to the wall, and went over to a long table that was near the French patio doors. A rundown, ramshackle ebony trailer sat on the table, along with a carpet of real grass that led over to a corral and a rickety barn, also made out of ebony.

  A six-inch-tall man with translucent wings attached to his back was perched on top of one of the corral fence posts, chewing on a long blade of grass. He wore black cowboy boots with shiny silver tips, along with faded black jeans with holes in the knees and a pale blue T-shirt that had seen better, cleaner days. A black cowboy hat was tipped back on his head, and he was clutching a tiny can of honeybeer in his right hand. Out in the grassy corral, a small green tortoise was slowly lumbering over to a pile of shredded lettuce.

  “I thought you’d be back sooner,” Oscar said, his voice even twangier than his country playlist.

  “It took us a little longer than usual to get out of the Draconi mansion, but we made it back with the weapons, so it’s all good.”

  Out in the grass, Tiny, the tortoise, turned his head and studied me with his black eyes. When he realized that I didn’t have any strawberries to add to his pile of lettuce, he let out a reproachful snort, stuck his beak into the long, green strips, and started chowing down on them like a cow eating hay in a field. The whole scene made me feel like I was staring down at a doll-size, Western dude ranch, instead of a table in my bedroom.

  Oscar stood up on the fence post, twitched his wings, and rose into the air in front of me, hovering there like an oversize bee. He tipped back his cowboy hat a little more, revealing his sandy hair, and gave me a critical once-over with his violet eyes. Some of the tension leaked out of his face when he realized that I really was okay.

  Technically, pixies were monsters, just like the tree trolls and copper crushers that lurked in the forests, but I always thought of them as miniature humans. They were the housekeepers of the world, offering their cooking, cleaning, and other skills in exchange for a safe place to stay and protection from larger mortals, magicks, and monsters. I hadn’t been here all that long, but I already considered Oscar and Tiny to be two of my best friends, and I was going to protect them just like I was going to look out for the rest of the Sinclairs.

  That sobering thought reminded me that I needed to get on with my second thieving mission of the night. So I scratched Tiny’s head and gently tipped Oscar’s cowboy hat back down low on his forehead.

  “You two boys have fun,” I drawled. “I’m going to go hang out with Devon for a while. Don’t wait up for me.”

  Oscar snorted and pushed his hat back up to where it was supposed to be. “Ah, young love. Enjoy it, cupcake.”

  He saluted me with his can of honeybeer, then flew over and landed on the front porch of his trailer. Oscar finished off his honeybeer, burped, and tossed the can down onto the grass, where it clink-clink-clinked against several others that were already there. Then he disappeared inside his trailer, shutting the screen and front doors behind him.

  I waited a few seconds until Oscar had cranked up his country music even louder and I was sure that he wasn’t going to come back out and check on me again. Tiny was completely focused on his lettuce, and he ignored me too. So I went over, opened one of the glass doors, and slipped out onto the stone balcony.

  I breathed in, enjoying the cool, mist-filled air, and took a moment to admire the scenery. The Sinclair mansion was near the top of the mountain, offering a spectacular view of the rocky ridges and lush forests that ran all the way down to the valley far, far below. The sharp, sticky tang of the pines and other evergreen trees mixed with the clouds of mist from the waterfalls, creating a pleasant, woodsy perfume. The moon and stars were as full and bright as before, giving everything a soft, silvery tint, and the fireflies had come out for the night, flashing their yellow lights and signaling back and forth to each other.

  But the fireflies’ quick glows were nothing compared to the dazzling neon lights of the Midway. Nestled in the center of the valley, the Midway—the commercial heart of Cloudburst Falls—looked like a giant Ferris wheel that had been laid flat on its side in the middle of the mountains. Every part of the Midway pulsed, sparked, and shimmered with blue, red, green, white, and other dazzling lights, as did the various shopping squares that branched off the main circular area, as though they were the Ferris wheel’s carts.

  I could have put my elbows down, leaned against the stone ledge, and kept right on watching the flashing lights and the fireflies, but I still had work to do tonight, so I turned away from the view and peered up at the part of the mansion looming above me.

  I tilted my head to the side, listening. Sure enough, several steady thwack-thwack-thwacks sounded, telling me that Devon had finished putting away the weapons in the training room and was on one of the roofs, working out with the boxing bags attached to the scaffolding up there. Normally, I would have taken hold of the closest drainpipe, climbed up to the roof, and joined him, but I had a different destination in mind right now.

  So I reached into one of my coat pockets and pulled out a pair of gloves made out of ironmesh, a thin, but protective metal. I tugged the gloves onto my hands, still listening all the while, but Devon kept up his steady assault on the boxing bags, and I felt safe enough to get on with the rest of my mission for the night.

  Instead of climbing up, I took hold of the drainpipe and stepped out into the night air, plummeting down, down, down like a shooting star streaking out of the sky. I always enjoyed the sensation of free-falling, of the air rushing over my face and tangling my hair, the wind whistling in my ears, my long coat flapping against my legs. Although tonight I resisted the urge to laugh for fear that Devon might hear me and come investigate.

  Just before my gray sneakers hit the ground, I gripped the drainpipe much tighter, slowing my descent and making a bit of silvery smoke waft up from my gloves. The black stone drainpipe was as smooth and slick as glass from years of being exposed to the elements, and it would have bruised and bloodied my hands if I hadn’t been wearing my ironmesh gloves to protect my palms.

  The second my sneakers touched the grass, I crouched down in the shadows, looking left and right, but none of the guards had spotted me and they continued with their normal patrols.

  I waited until the guards were all turned away from me, then left the shadows behind and sidled along the perimeter of the mansion, stopping when I came to a wide window that was set just above ground level. I tried the window, which pushed inward, since it, too, was unlocked. I sighed. I was getting tired of people making this so easy for me, but I slid through the window, dropping down into a room inside the mansion. Sure, I could have just used the stairs and snuck down here from my bedroom, but where was the fun in that?

  I straightened up, staring out over the thick mats that covered most of the floor and a glass partition that separated the sparring area from several rows of seats. This was the training room where the guards came to hone their skills, although the doors were locked and the lights were off, given how late it was. But the moon and starlight streaming in through the window was more than enough to let me see the sturdy metal grates that covered one of the walls—and the weapons hanging behind them.

  The training room also doubled as the Sinclair armory, and this was where Devon and Felix
had brought all the black blades that we’d stolen from Victor tonight, putting them behind the grates for safekeeping.

  But the weapons weren’t going to be locked up for long, since I was going to steal them again right now.

  I moved past the glass partition, crossed the mats, and stopped in front of the last row of weapons, the ones that pulsed with magic, the ones that Devon and Felix had just brought in here less than an hour ago. A heavy padlock secured the grate and it was actually locked. Of course it was. Devon would never be so careless as to leave the weapons unprotected.

  Finally, a small challenge. Grinning, I slid my chopstick lock picks out of my hair, bent over, and went to work on the padlock. It snicked open less than a minute later, and I unhooked it from the grate and slid it into one of my coat pockets. I opened the grate, wincing at the faint creak it made, then reached inside to grab the first sword—

  “You’ve gotten awfully good at picking that lock,” a voice called out behind me.

  I tensed, then hissed out a breath and turned around. “Really? Because I think I’m losing my touch. I keep letting people sneak up on me tonight. First Deah and now you.”

  The overhead lights snapped on, revealing Claudia Sinclair standing by the double doors, the training room’s only other entrance, besides the window that I’d shimmied through.

  “Oh, Serena showed me a few of her tricks,” Claudia said, locking the doors behind her so that we wouldn’t be discovered. “Besides, I knew that you’d come down here as soon as possible to move the weapons. It’s the same thing your mother would have done.”

  She smiled, her green eyes soft and warm with memories. Claudia and my mom had been best friends back when they were about my age, and Claudia still missed her just as much as I did.

  “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me move the weapons?” I asked. “This was your idea, after all.”

  Claudia arched her eyebrows at my snarky tone, but she stepped forward and helped me strip the swords and daggers off the pegs on the wall. I placed the real black blades into the same two duffel bags that Devon and Felix had used to carry them down here, since the guys had left the bags behind after they’d finished hanging up the weapons. Then Claudia moved behind the rows of seats and dragged out two more bags of weapons that she’d hidden back there sometime earlier today. More fakes from Mo’s pawnshop spray-painted to look like black blades.

  We switched out all the magic-filled weapons for the fake ones; then I closed the grate, locked the padlock over it again, and stepped back, scanning everything with a critical eye.

  “How does it look to you?” Claudia asked, knowing that my sight magic let me examine every little detail.

  “Exactly the same as before. No one will know the difference. They haven’t noticed so far, have they? Not even Devon and Felix, and they’ve been bringing weapons down here for the last two weeks.”

  She shook her head. “No, they haven’t noticed. But it’s a necessary precaution.”

  It had been Claudia’s idea to switch out the weapons again and hide them somewhere else. A lot of people and pixies lived and worked in the Sinclair mansion, and folks were constantly roaming through the halls. With all the tension between the Families these days, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility to think that someone could be a spy for Victor or had seen Devon, Felix, and me carrying bags of weapons around the mansion. So Claudia had wanted a little extra insurance that the black blades would be safe.

  That’s why I snuck into the training room every time we came back from the Draconi compound and took the weapons we’d stolen to another hiding spot. I was actually storing the weapons in a couple of different places, along with some other supplies. Victor would strike out against the other Families soon, and I was going to be ready to protect my friends and myself when he did.

  “Are you ready for the next step?” Claudia asked.

  I nodded, braced myself, and held out my hand. “Hit me with your best shot.”

  She rolled her eyes at my flip response, but she took my hand in her own. Claudia stared at me, making sure that I was really ready.

  And then she blasted me with her magic.

  Most magic fell into three categories—strength, speed, and senses. People who could lift cars with their bare hands, or move faster than I could blink, or hear a quarter hit the floor from a hundred feet away. But there were also other people like Claudia who had more unique Talents. People in the other Families called Claudia the Ice Queen, since she was always so calm, cool, and in control. But in her case, the nickname was literally true as well, since she had the power to freeze people with a mere touch of her hand.

  Just like she was doing to me right now.

  Claudia kept her gaze steady on mine even as her magic washed over me, the chilly wave of her power zipping up my hand and arm.

  But it was nothing compared to the cold that exploded inside my own body.

  In addition to my soulsight, I had another very special, very rare Talent—transference magic, the ability to absorb any magic directed against me. Whenever someone tried to knock me out with their strength or trip me with their speed, my own transference power flared to life, and I felt the cold burn of the other person’s magic running through my body, as if I had ice in my veins instead of blood. Not only that, but I could actually use that magic in different ways, like making myself stronger or quicker or even healing a horrible stab wound that someone had inflicted on me.

  In a way, I supposed that I was just like Victor Draconi. He used black blades to rip magic out of monsters, while I used my Talent to steal power from other people. The thought made me frown, but I focused on Claudia.

  Her frosty power blasted over me in intense waves, making me wince, but almost immediately it congealed into an even stronger cold, one that roared through my body like an icy fire. Oh, magic affected—and hurt—me just like it did everyone else, but thanks to my transference power, magic almost always made me stronger too. And I would need all the extra strength I could get to carry the heavy bags of weapons over to my hiding spot.

  Not even Claudia knew where I was keeping the weapons, and she said that she didn’t want to know. I supposed that it was better this way, although part of me hated lying to Devon, Felix, Oscar, and Mo. But I’d rather have them be safe and angry at me than dead, and that’s exactly what would happen if Victor ever got his hands on all the magic-filled blades.

  After about a minute of dousing me with her power, Claudia dropped her hand from mine and stepped back. “Is that enough?”

  She stared down at my hand, which had turned a dark blue—almost black, really—from frostbite. But even as she looked at my hand, the blue started to fade as my body quickly absorbed all her magic. In a few seconds, my skin was its normal color again. I flexed my fingers, then curled my hand into a fist, enjoying the sudden surge of strength.

  “I’m good,” I said. “You gave me enough strength to haul the weapons out of the mansion and then some. That’s all I need.”

  She nodded. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  Claudia went over and unlocked the training room doors. She started to open one of them to slip outside, but she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder at me.

  “Good luck,” she said.

  I arched my eyebrows. “You keep telling me that, but luck has nothing to do with it. It’s all part of our plan, remember?”

  “I know, but it still doesn’t hurt to say it. Besides, Serena always used to wish me luck whenever I was doing something important for the Family. I like upholding her tradition.” Claudia gave me a soft, sad smile. “And I think that we’ll need all the luck we can get before this battle with Victor is over.”

  She smiled at me again, but her expression was even more troubled than before, and she quickly dropped her gaze from mine, turned off the lights, and slipped out of the training room.

  I shivered, but not from the cold magic coursing through my body.

  N
o, this time, I shivered because her words were likely all too true.

  I grabbed the two duffel bags full of weapons, went back over to the window that I’d slid through before, and hefted the bags up and out of it, before crawling through the window myself and back out onto the mansion lawn. Then I closed the window behind me, shouldered the heavy bags, clutching them both against my chest to avoid any telltale clank-clanks, and crept through the shadows, avoiding the guards until I was able to slip into the woods that surrounded the mansion.

  While I’d been in the training room, thick, heavy rain clouds had slid in front of the moon and stars, obscuring their silvery light and making it even darker than before. But my sight magic let me easily navigate through the trees to my ultimate destination—the Sinclair Family cemetery.

  I stepped out of the trees and into a large clearing. No guards were stationed this deep in the woods, but I still glanced around, making sure that I was alone. And I was, except for a few tree trolls that peered at me from their nests in the treetops, their green eyes burning like electrified emeralds in the darkness. A few of them cheep-cheeped, chiding me for disturbing their sleep, but I’d make it up to them later.

  A black, wrought-iron fence ringed the cemetery itself, and I dropped the two duffel bags by the fence before pushing through the gate and walking to the very back of the cemetery.

  I stopped in front of a black tombstone with a five-pointed star carved into the top, along with the name SERENA STERLING. I stepped forward and laid my hand on the tombstone, which was cool and damp with mist. Claudia had shown me my mom’s grave several weeks ago, when I’d first joined the Sinclair Family, and I’d been coming here ever since. Even though my mom had been dead for four years now, just seeing her tombstone made me feel a little closer to her, like she was still with me in spirit, like she was watching over me from wherever she was. Coming out here and having these quiet moments didn’t keep me from missing her, but they made my heartache over her loss just a little easier to bear.