Fearless Magic (6 page)

I looked down at Jericho, his head on my lap and his hands still trembling. His magic was going to give us away. They would find us. They would search us out. And they would not let the fear of a scene stop them from dragging our kicking and screaming bodies away from this place.

I needed to do something. I needed to cover Jericho's magic. I slid to the floor and crawled to the middle aisle, before standing up and walking, slouched over, to the front of the bus. I had only pushed magic on a few other humans, on my way to Romania, months before and I never really got the hang of it. But this was another life or death situation and I needed to act.

I stood behind the bus driver, resting my hand on the top of his head rest, pretending to look back at the elderly crowd as if I had an announcement. I brought my magic back slowly and steadily and when the popping electricity was flowing through my blood again, I released what little increments of magic I could and helped the driver decide that it was time to go now.

The short, large-mustached, Peruvian man jerked forward in his seat, stepping on the gas and shifting abruptly into movement. The elderly passengers swayed roughly with the sudden movement and cried out in protest at the lack of warning.

I ignored the angry complaints being shouted at me and kept my eyes on the now alerted Titan Guard all aware of exactly which bus Jericho and I were on. All at once, the Immortal army moved against the bus working its hardest to gain an exiting speed, but not succeeding.

I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate through the protests and angry questioning. I was desperate to put distance between this bus and the closing Titan Guard and I needed to do it quickly.

I pushed my magic again, this time not at my bus driver, but at all of the bus drivers sitting idly behind their large steering wheels waiting for their passengers to finish their sight-seeing. I didn't know what I was doing, or even if my plan would work. But if I could create a gridlock, a parking lot of chaos, in which every driver felt it absolutely necessary to leave the parking lot that very moment, I could trap the Guard inside for the few minutes we urgently needed to put space between us and them.

My blood boiled with the anticipation of putting my thought to work, the magic electrifying my veins. I felt the magic move through the crowd of people, working its way into all of the different tour buses and against all of the bus drivers.

The seconds it took for my magic to finally find its targets and put my plan into action were the most excruciating moments. I waited with baited breath for one of the Guard to come crashing through the bus door and drag me away by the hair to meet my doom. I knew my plan was taking too long and that the seconds that felt like minutes only felt that way in my head, until I looked up at the angry elderly people and noticed they were all in slow motion.

I time-slowed Machu Picchu and didn't even notice. The Guard was moving at the slowest pace, their menacing figures moving like snails against my bus in a uniformed movement. I watched with amusement as everything around me came to a near stop, and move only in the slowest of increments.

My magic now had plenty of time to work out the details of my plan and find all the drivers. Finally, my bus reached the end of the parking lot and was ready to escape down the mountainside; at the same time I felt the power of the time-slow come to an end and the world begin to catch up to the normalcy of gravity and physics.

When the reality around me finally caught up to the rest of the world, the parking lot was full of buses jumping to go, running into each other and blocking the exits. Our bus, however, merged casually onto the highway that would take us down the mountain away from the temporarily trapped Titan Guard.

I walked to the back of the bus, through the still upset crowd and sat down gently next to Jericho, who had yet to lift his head off the seat.

I picked up his head and set it gently down on my lap, running my fingers through his greasy, matted hair and working my hardest not to wipe away the dirt, grim and filth that accumulated on him during his time in prison.

“Jericho, we need to keep moving, are you up for this?” I asked sweetly, wanting to get off the bus as soon as possible.

He grunted, sounding exhausted and frustrated, but he stood up and started walking towards the front of the bus. Jericho leaned heavily on each of the seats as he walked by and up the aisle towards the bus driver.

“We don't belong on this bus!” I exclaimed dramatically for no one's benefit except my own.

The Peruvian bus driver whipped his head around at the sound of shouting and just stared. I had no explanation for the man suddenly glaring down his nose at me with dark, irritated eyes.

“I'm sorry,” I tried to explain further, “we need to get off your bus.”

When the driver did not immediately pull to the side of the road, I realized that he might not speak English and was working the Spanish words together in my head when he abruptly pulled into a scenic overview type area and forcefully opened the door.

Jericho and I exited the bus with hateful glares and irritated threats behind us. We both searched frantically for the next step in our escape, but I could tell Jericho was waning. I needed to get him to a safe place as soon as possible, or I would be left dragging his unconscious body behind me.

“Are they close?” Jericho asked with a gravelly, strained voice.

“I can't feel them yet, can you?” I asked, wishing I developed stage two of this flight for our lives before we got off the bus.

“I can't ever feel them. That's a Titan trait,” Jericho mumbled nonchalantly.

“Oh,” I paused for a moment, taking in the new piece of information.

A couple on a motorcycle sped to a stop next to us, taking off their helmets and hanging them on the handlebars. They climbed off the bike and paused for a moment to enjoy the breath taking view of the Andes. They stood close to the bike, with their backs turned, the woman resting a casual hand on the black, leather seat.

“Can you drive a motorcycle?” I whispered to Jericho who nodded positively in return. “Are you up for it?” I tore my eyes from the vehicle I was planning on stealing and stared intently at Jericho. I was afraid for him, I was afraid he wouldn't make it any farther than the highway before slipping unconscious and driving us off the cliff. And I didn't know how to drive a motorcycle.

“Eden, I will keep us safe, I promise you that,” he affirmed seriously and then walked casually in the direction of the twenty-year-old bike.

“Would you like me to take your picture?” I approached the couple carefully.

They turned at the sound of my voice and smiled blankly at me. They were not Hispanic, but obviously did not speak English. I didn't have time to figure out how to cross the language barrier, so I pulled my hands to my face and mimicked taking a picture and then pointed at them, smiling the biggest, fakest, and most helpful smile I could muster.

The pull of other magic tugged softly at my blood, alerting my senses that the Titan Guard was on the move. I waited, impatiently for the couple to find understanding and then dug deeper for more as the man walked excruciatingly slowly to me and handed over his camera. He pointed at the button to push and then walked back to his girlfriend at the edge of the cliff.

I snapped a couple quick pictures of the happy couple while Jericho moved into place. I looked at Jericho who was ready to hop on the bike and then swallowed my guilt before tossing the camera high into the air and just over the couple's heads.

They both instinctively turned to grab their flying camera before it fell over the cliff-side and into the unreachable abyss below. Instantly, I sprinted the distance between the bike and me and jumped on the back, throwing my arms around the running motorcycle and a waiting Jericho.

The minute I was on board, he pushed down on the throttle and we were speeding down the winding roads of the mountainside, leaving a bewildered and wronged innocent couple behind us.

We were free for now, moving away from danger at the fastest speed we could. I had not factored helmets into my plan, so my hair, loosened from its ponytail holder, whipped violently around my face. I kept my arms tight around Jericho's waist, feeling his labored breath and wildly beating heart.

I buried my head in his back, protecting my face from the whipping wind, closing my eyes against the danger of the hair-pinned turns and steep drop-offs just a few feet from us, but mostly thankful to be near Jericho. I could smell him, I could touch him, he was really here with me. I wasn't alone anymore.

“Where are we going?” Jericho shouted over his shoulder, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment, but my breath caught in my throat and I clutched him tighter.

“Urubamba, there is someone I have to see,” I yelled back into his ear, the wind assaulting my face.

“Ok, I'll go passed it first, and then we'll head back towards it tomorrow,” Jericho decided and I agreed with his foresight.

I laid my head down against his back and closed my eyes, wondering at his deep knowledge of the Andes mountains.

We drove for hours like that, far from danger and far from Machu Picchu. I worried about Silas and his people with the Titan Guard so close to them. I led the Guard right to them, but I forced myself to trust that Silas could protect his own people. I couldn't go back for them and to check on them would be an insult to one of the only allies I had.

Towards dusk, Jericho drove the old motorcycle up the drive and to an old Monastery that was turned into a hotel. The building was a long white rectangle with a red Spanish roof and a large courtyard in the middle. The rooms lined the inner walls of the courtyard and all had bright blue doors that stood out vividly, even against the setting sun.

I checked us in at the front desk in a quaint lobby, and paid cash for one room with two twin beds. The concierge walked us to our room without saying anything and I wondered if it was because he did not speak English or because of the frantic way our eyes darted about the room and the hushed whispers and distrusting stares we used with him.

Either way, once our door was open and the key was in my hand, the young concierge left quickly, walking back to the lobby and leaving us alone.

Jericho stumbled through the door first, walking into the small room and breathing a heavy sigh of relief. I followed him in, closing and locking the blue door behind me. We were safe. For now, we were safe.

I turned around to take Jericho in, to allow myself to believe fully he was with me. He leaned against the opposite wall and I rested my back against the door and we stood there staring at each other, not a word whispered, not a sound uttered.

His hazel eyes smoldered with hope even while his shoulders slumped from exhaustion and his hands trembled at his sides. His lips turned upwards in the smallest of smiles and I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bear the separation.

I crossed the room in a moment, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my body against his. His arms were around my waist in an instantaneous gut reaction that would not let me go, even if that was what I wanted.

But it wasn't.

I would never let go of Jericho again.

Chapter Six

In our small, dimly lit motel room, I held on to Jericho as if he were the last grasp I had on sanity, as if he alone were keeping me afloat, saving me from drowning in a sea of desperation and fear. My magic clung to his in happy reunion, wrapping it in warmth and energy, reviving his fading spirit.

With his muscular arms around me and his face buried in my neck, I could not stop the storm of tears that had been imprisoned behind firm resolve. I was a sobbing, hysterical mess in his stronghold. I finally could not stop the crushing emotion; everything seeped out in a tormented tragedy of tears.

Jericho did not mimic my breakdown, but stood strong, holding me tightly to him, waiting out the tempest. He did not pull away or sigh in frustration, but stayed patient, the healing rock of comfort I needed most.

And in his hold, I mourned again the loss of my grandfather, the loss of my brother, the loss of my people, the loss of all hope and the loss of my great love. And when my tears dried, when there was nothing left to cry, nothing left to feel, he walked me to one of the single, narrow beds and sat down with me, pulling me close to him again and resting his tired head on top of mine.

“I can fix you,” I suggested through a hoarse, raspy voice, wiping my nose with the sleeve of the jacket I had yet to take off.

“What?” he asked, lifting his head and meeting my eyes.

“I can fix you, heal you or whatever,” I replied casually, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“I don't understand you.” His brow furrowed with confusion and the smile returned to his lips.

“Here, I'll show you.” I released the blue smoke that had healed Angelica before and made its appearance at unusual times.

The smoke swirled around our feet, testing Jericho with the smallest hint of trepidation before wrapping itself abundantly around his ankles. In moments Jericho was blanketed in the thick wind that doubled as young, Immortal ability-tester and healing-savior at my beck and call.

I tried not to find the look of utter fear on Jericho's face amusing, but his eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open in silent shock.