Portia (3 page)

“Portia, look at me.”

I slowly lift my gaze. Mystery Man fixes me with a stare that’s so intense it could cut diamonds. “Please keep me company.”

I’ve never done drugs, but they might feel something like the rush of happy that those words bring to my soul. “Sure. I can stay.”

“Good.” His grin returns. My knees go wobbly.

The quiet that follows is somehow comforting. More like a warm blanket than the awkward silence that usually happens when I talk to guys. My gaze lands on his tail. Mom has one like his, as does every decent Arena fighter in Purgatory. “Are you from around here?”

He lets out a low chuckle. “Not in the slightest.”

I look at him expectantly.

“You really don’t know who I am, do you?” he asks.

My skin turns so red, even my scalp burns with embarrassment. “No. Should I?”

“Come to think of it, no, you shouldn’t.”

I inspect the man more closely. “Something about you does seem familiar, though.” My body feels light as a feather. I’m having a conversation with an actual guy that doesn’t involve terror and running away. And hey, I’m even having fun.

Another face pops into my mind. “Do you know my brother, maybe?”

“Everyone knows Maxon.” A playful light dances in his eyes. “Guess again.”

“Are we making this a game, then?”

“Only if you wish it.”

I tap my cheek, pretending to consider this turn of events. “Fine. A guessing game it is.”

“Brilliant.”

“Let’s see. Are you maybe a quasi-demon… But one who’s not living in Purgatory?”

He winks. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m one of the Furor.”

I scrub my hand over my forehead. That makes him a full-blooded dragon shifter. Now, I’m really stumped. I may be part Furor, but I know hardly anything about them. All of a sudden, that seems like a huge miss. “Are you from the Hexenwing tribe of Furor? I know their Level One spells.”

The arrowhead end of his tail moves in a ‘no’ motion. “Wrong color dragon scales.”

I snap my fingers, trying to make memories appear. Maxon talked about color schemes for Furor scales. I didn’t pay attention. “Don’t tell me. Black scales mean you’re from the Thornclaw tribe. Or is it Shrillroar?”

Another chuckle. “Neither.”

“Okay, I need a hint.”

“Why not ask your Mum? Her scales are the same color.”

“True.” I can’t help but laugh. “Wow, I need to take an interest in the after-realms outside of magic.”

“Maybe I can help on that score. How about I come round for tea sometime? We can have a chat.”

“Tea.” My mental gears try to process this. Doesn’t happen. He’s not scared or running away and now, he’s talking about beverages. That doesn’t mean what I think it means, does it? “I’m not sure.”

“Perhaps you fancy a pint, then?”

“Of ice cream?” Finally, my mental gears start clicking again. “Oh, as in you and me? On a date somewhere?” My eyes almost bug out of my head. “That’s not a good idea.”

His brows lift ever so slightly, like this conversation is our little secret. “And why’s that?”

I know nothing about people in general, let alone men?

“I have a very busy life.”

“Doing what?”

“You know. Books. Stuff. Things. It’s cooler than it sounds.”

Do I seem like a loser or what?

“Quite busy, indeed. Though perhaps you could squeeze in a cuppa.” He leans in closer. “In between Stuff and Things.”

His attention makes me woozy. The feeling’s so lovely that it takes me a while to process what’s happening. I gasp when I realize it. “You’re looking at my marks.”

“I know. I like them.” And the way he says the words, there’s no question this time. He means it.

The moment freezes for me. This is a man. A very attractive man. He really likes my marks. I’m not sure whether to cheer or cry. In the end, I shake my head in disbelief. “You like them?”

“Ah, you’ve no idea how much.”

With those words, I go from confusion to all-out panic. This has turned too real, too fast. “I have to go now,” I say quickly. “I have, you know, stuff to do.”
And I’m terrified out of my skull.

He nods slowly, and the look in his eyes says ‘this isn’t over.’

As I rush through Grandpa Xav’s office, I hear the Mystery Man call after me. “See you soon, Princess.”

Every word sends a happy jolt of anticipation through me.

Oh, I hope so.

Chapter Three

I pace through my penthouse in downtown Purgatory. It’s a swanky place with a retro flapper vibe. I’ve been holed up here for the day or so after my lecture. At least, I think it’s been a day. Hard to tell since I’ve skipped meals, sleep, and personal hygiene. It’s all for a good cause, though. I’m about to pinpoint when the Firmament might collapse. Who needs food?

On the tiled floor of my living room, I’ve drawn a pentagram in yellow chalk and placed enchanted canopic jars inside. I nod once to myself.

Here it comes. I am so nailing the incantation this time.

My mouth starts forming words for the spell, but another kind of magical energy wells up inside me. It’s a liquid power that slides along my tongue, contorting it into odd shapes. My words come out strangely.

“Abella sinotro.”

Wrong.

“Abella sinatra.”

Even more wrong.

“Abella synapse.”

What?

I ball my hands into my hair with irritation. That damned force always trips up my tongue. I’ve only had it checked it out a million times. No one knows what it is, only that it clogs my mouth.
Why can’t I chant like a normal witch?

“I hate you!”

Yes, I’m yelling at an invisible magical force.

Yes, that’s kind of crazy.

No, I don’t care anymore.

I kick the couch, completely miss the cushioned parts, and end up stubbing my toe, hard.
Okay, that hurt.

A small bolt of lightning hovers by the archway to the kitchen, grabbing my attention. The brightness is no larger than my palm and whips about like a fish. I smile. My visitor is one of the igni, a tiny supernatural bolt of power that helps move mortal souls to Heaven or Hell. There’s only one being in the after-realms who wields these. Most people call her the Great Scala.

I call her Mom.

More igni appear. Soon hundreds swirl in a column. As the tiny bodies float and dive around each other, a wave of sadness binds my heart. Although I should have inherited Mom’s power over igni, I didn’t.

The column disappears. In its place stands a woman with wavy auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and a long, black tail. She wears the fitted white robes of the Great Scala.

Mom fixes me with a big smile. “Good morning, baby.”

My chest warms with affection. “Morning to you, too.”

She scans the floor. “Cool new spell. Will it mess things up if I sit down? I don’t want to throw off your mojo.”

“It’s okay. My mojo needs a breather.” I scooch over and Mom slides in beside me. Her spine is ramrod straight as she fixes me with what I call her ‘goddess gaze.’ This isn’t a casual visit. My mother is here for a reason. A tingle of worry crawls up my neck.

“What’s up, Mom?”

“I heard about your speech yesterday.”

“Oh, that.” I slump deeper into the couch. “I didn’t see the tabs this morning.”

“Some of the photos were pretty good. That kid with the lizard tail was adorable.” Mom drums her fingers on the arm of the couch. She didn’t come here to talk about the lizard kid.

“But?”

Mom’s eyes narrow. “I heard you lost your temper.”

I wince with embarrassment. “Yeah, I suppose I did. That Roy guy was so nasty, I couldn’t help it. I just got all…” I wave my hands around and try to find the words. Nothing comes to mind.

“Did you get all angry inside?” asks Mom.

“Pretty much.”

“Was your blood boiling until you couldn’t stand it anymore?” Mom leans forward. “Well?”

Roy’s face comes back to me in a flash of memory. My neck tightens into cords of held-in rage. “Sure, I was angry.” My voice comes out low and deadly.

“Yes!” Mom’s features brighten. “And so you just went with the rage. You told Mister Creeper how you were Marked for the Void, and in that moment, you didn’t care about the crowd or the consequences. Am I right?”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Not sure I want to answer that. You know I never lose my temper.”

“Just tell me the truth, honey.”

“Okay, you’re totally right.” I picture the reporter’s greasy face again and my fists tighten with fury. “I may even have wanted to hurt him a little.”

“Oh, baby!” Mom wraps me in a huge embrace. Even her tail gets into the act.

“Wait, what?” I’m so stunned, I don’t return the hug.

“I’m so excited for you. Your first uncontrollable rage. I mean, we always knew you were part Furor. Lust and wrath are in your blood. But even as a child, you never got angry about anything. Remember when Maxon’s odd friend Uther dropped you on your head by mistake? You didn’t even cry, let alone kick him in the kneecaps.”

My eyes turn wistful at the memory. Poor Uther. “He was trying some human dance at Maxon’s wedding.” I raise my hand. “In his defense, I was young and bounced easily.”

“See?” Mom points straight at my nose. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re always so calm and persistent, no matter what happens.” She looks at the floor. “I bet you’ve been working on this spell for hours.”

I glare angrily at the canopic jars, like it’s their fault I can’t say a basic spell on command. “Try all night long.”

“And you never lost patience once, I bet.”

“Actually, I did get a little frustrated just now. I even kicked the couch. Stubbed my toe and everything.”

“That’s great!” Mom claps her hands together at her chin. “We need to encourage this, see where it goes. Boys, maybe?

“How about a change of subject?”

“Fine, I get it.” Mom leans forward and sets her elbows on her knees. “Now, what’s this spell all about?”

“I’m trying to calculate when the Firmament will collapse.”

She lets out a low whistle. “I didn’t realize you were still working on that spell. See what I mean? Persistent.” She tilts her head. “How will you do that? No magic caster has ever seen the Firmament.”

“That’s because they all cast the wrong spells.”

“Not following, baby.”

“It’s powerful magic that wants to stay hidden. You’ll never get to it through the front door. But the Void attack the Firmament all the time. If I cast a spell to see the Void, then I’ll see the Firmament, too. Simple.”

“Clever stuff, baby. Can I watch you cast?”

“Sure.” Nervous energy twists through my fingers. “I’ve been trying to get the incantation right for hours. It isn’t easy.”

“Take your time.”

Closing my eyes tight, I focus all my energy on the two words that make up this spell.

“Abelleta sinotree.”

My body feels like it could fly away on an internal cloud of joy. At last, I may have pronounced it correctly. I reopen my eyes. A puff of white smoke now covers the floor

It worked.

“Is that what you wanted to happen?” asks Mom.

My chest swells with a sense of pride. “Partly. Give it a second.” The air crackles with fresh energy. Another tiny burst of smoke appears as a golden stone materializes on the pentagram. “And that’s it.”

“What does that rock mean?”

“It’s where the Void will strike next.” I close my eyes as magical calculations fly through my mind.
41.730538, -93.324695, Colfax, Iowa.
“They’re going to hit Earth in about two hours.”

Mom stands and brushes off her robes. “In that case, I must return to Antrum. Your father and I can check it out. We’ll call it an emergency demon patrol.”

I clench my hands into nervous fists. Demon patrol scares me silly. And the thought of meeting the Void? Petrifying. Still, no one else knows how to make the magical calculations. I force the words out of my mouth. “I’ll go with you.”

Mom’s mouth falls open with amazement. “On demon patrol? Really?”

“Yeah, sure. No big deal.”
Total lie.
I haven’t gone on patrol since I was twelve.

“If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

Mom beams with joy. “In that case, let’s get suited up.”

Her words bring everything into clearer focus. Demons. Armor. Patrol. And I’ve never killed anything in my life. A ball of fear tightens in my throat. It’s not easy, but somehow, I’m able to speak past it. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Four

My family and I tramp through a rotting cornfield at night. Browned and dried-out stalks tower above us. We look battle ready in our body armor. So far, we’ve only confronted a few field mice.

I fidget in my leather fighting suit and duster coat. I had to borrow them from my honorary cousin, Hildy. It’s not my usual look.

Mom sighs. “I hate to say this, but when do we call ‘time of death’ on this patrol?”

“Let’s give it a few more minutes,” says Dad.

Maxon turns into vapor form. “I can float up and take one last look around.”

The small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Someone’s casting a spell. Let me see if I can figure out what it is.” Closing my eyes, I whisper a thrax incantation to detect nearby magic. My lips won’t move. The liquid power that ties up my tongue becomes worse than ever.

“What did you find, baby?” asks Mom.

“Nothing yet.”

Dad rubs his neck. “I’ve a meeting of the Earls first thing in the morning.” He lets out a disappointed sigh. “I still need to read all the scrolls with their requests.”

“One sec,” I say. “Let me try another kind of magic.” In honor of my Mystery Man, this time I do a Furor detection spell. I nail it after only three tries. A small burst of bright yellow flame erupts between my hands.

“What does that mean?” asks Mom.

“Someone’s definitely casting a cloaking spell. They’re hiding what’s really happening.” I stare into the flames, watching Furor dragon runes appear within the fire. Though it’s an older dialect, it’s one that I know. “They’re just North of this spot.” I whisper another Furor incantation and the fire disappears.

Dad takes charge. “Maxon, Myla, and I will go in first. Portia, you follow behind. Keep your protection spells handy. I want you to be sure—”