Remnants of Magic (37 page)

Malcolm knew good and well that Dawn was in there. Her magic glowed through the walls like shimmering prisms. Donovan and Tiernan were in there, too. And the faint outline of the girl, as transparent as a breath of fog. Almost completely Faded.

Malcolm hammered his fists on the door, rattling it against its frame. “Let me in!”

And he didn’t stop pounding and screaming until she opened it and snapped, “What do you want?”

“I wanna see her!”

“She’s too weak for visitors.” Dawn tried to close the door in his face, but Malcolm braced it open.

“The music is going to stop!”

“Malcolm!” Dawn pushed against his chest. “Stop being weird and go away!”

He poked his finger at her face. “You never listen to me! Are you messing with her, like you messed with me?” And he’d have bet anything that she was. Dawn did that to people. She’d done it to Malcolm, made him sleep for days even when he fought to wake up. Only he’d managed to trick her and escape, elsewise she’d probably still have him trapped in his own head like he’d been trapped in the goblin’s cave forever. Even just knowing that… even just feeling that feeling again… of being trapped like the music was trapped… Of crying out for help when nobody could hear him… set him off in a screaming rage. “Don’t you be making her sleep! Don’t you be messing with her!”

Donovan shouldered past Dawn, caught Malcolm by the back of the neck, and steered him away. “Enough with the bickering. Come on, Malcolm. You did your part in finding her. Let’s get the others and hit the workout room.”

“But…” Malcolm twisted around even as Donovan propelled him down the hall. “But the music…”

“Calm down. You found the music, lad. Just give Dawn some time to work her magic.”

Malcolm snarled back at Dawn’s stupid, smug, superior smirk, but didn’t squirm away from Donovan as he marched him away.

Chapter Five

“The one who captures the rugby ball doesn’t have to run laps.” As the four earthborns jostled each other for positions, Donovan hurled the ball high above their swinging hands.

In a pushing and pulling rush, the lads battled each other for the lead. Trip teleported ahead of them and then cast a wall of shadow behind her.

“Magic is cheating!” Bryce shouted.

“Magic is never cheating,” Donovan chided. “Get creative!”

Bryce rose to the challenge with a scattering of flares that burned through the shadows.

As Trip scrambled to catch the erratically bouncing ball, the ground beneath it punched upward, sending it spiraling away despite her squawk of protest.

Just as Donovan’s magic had coiled to strike, Malcolm cut to the left, running not to where the ball was, but to where it was going to be. Kieran spotted his change in direction and leapt onto Malcolm’s back, stumbling him and sending them both to the ground in a heap. An inelegant and ineffective maneuver that entangled both of them.

Bryce and Trip jostled each other as they raced to the corner where the ball rolled and wobbled, waiting to be claimed. They tackled it together, then struggled to wrench it free from the other, gouging and kicking, wrestling like wolf cubs and with as much success. Too often the earthborns’ instincts reverted to physical prowess instead of magic. They’d have to do better than that if they were to have any hope of besting a wizard.

“Match your enthusiasm with finesse. You’re warriors, not children.” Donovan used a tentacle of earth to jam the end of the ball and squirt it free from them.

Malcolm slipped away from Kieran. In his scramble after the ball, he stomped all over Trip and Bryce, who shouted at him. Someone caught his ankle, bringing the bloodhound down hard.

Kieran cut to the right and reached out his hands. With a hollow whooshing sound, the ball suddenly skittered and bounced toward him. But before Kieran could snatch it up, Bryce flicked a fireball at it and sent the ball bouncing off to the end of the room.

To cross the roomful of obstacles before the others could cut around them, Malcolm vaulted over the weight bench and rolled under the balance beam. His wily, quick maneuvers put him in the lead. Under pressure, the boy demonstrated some considerable fey agility. It wouldn’t win him the challenge this time, though. Diving, Malcolm shouted “No!” even before Donovan made the ground beneath turn into quicksand just long enough to swallow up the ball.

The others hadn’t seen the ball vanish and group-tackled Malcolm. No one heeded his screaming protests as they pried beneath him for the prize that wasn’t there. And they didn’t even notice when the ball popped up again across the room. Malcolm saw it, though, having tracked the path of the magic through the ground. He reached for it, even though it was a good fifty feet away.

And then Malcolm wasn’t there.

The pile flopped down as he vanished from beneath it.

Reappearing across the room, the lad snatched up the ball and pumped it over his head in triumph. “Ha! Got it!”

“Malcolm! You teleported!” The earthborns cheered him as they disentangled themselves. Bryce shouted, “Way to go!”

Malcolm laughed as he swayed.

Then he changed…

Donovan saw it first.

The sudden paleness. The loss of expression. The whites of Malcolm’s eyes as they rolled back. The boneless slump as he dropped.

Donovan teleported just as the lad began to collapse. He reappeared in a crouch, catching Malcolm’s head before it could bash on the ground. As soon as he had a grip on Malcolm’s limp body, Donovan transported them immediately to the healer’s flat. “Dawn!”

She rushed from the bedroom and knelt on the carpet next to them. Her thin fingers pressed to Malcolm’s wrist just above the leather band that hid his ligature scars. “Thready pulse. Tachycardia, too.”

Donovan lightly slapped at the boy’s face, causing his head to lull about. “Malcolm!”

The boy’s eyelids slit opened, but the dilated pupils didn’t focus.

The three other earthborns teleported into the flat. They stayed back, huddling and watchful. Looking like the uncertain teenagers they were, at a loss over the fall of one of their own.

Dawn’s hands slid over Malcolm’s chest and then down to his stomach. The unique qualities of her magic were able to evaluate as well as heal the body. “He’s nothing but bones. Starving. Anorexic?”

Donovan smacked Malcolm’s face harder, getting those dark eyes to focus on him. “Malcolm, when’s the last time you ate?”

“Um…” His eyes closed and then fluttered open again. “Like… food?”

“When, Malcolm?”

“Um… Um…” He blinked a couple times, struggling to recall. “Pizza?”

Kieran whispered, “That was three days ago.”

“Bring something for him to eat.” Donovan scooped up the bloodhound, supporting him behind the back and beneath the knees. The boy weighed almost nothing. He’d been thin when he came to the Glamour Club, but not emaciated to this degree. The loose clothing disguised his weight loss.

Donovan situated him on the sofa and drew the throw blanket over his chilled body. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Malcolm shrugged. “Don’t get hungry.”

That made sense. The goblins had fed him scraps for that year they’d enslaved him. Ignoring hunger would have been the only way to deal with it, until his mind just stopped recognizing it altogether.

“Give me your phone.”

Malcolm dug it out and handed it over.

As Donovan set the alarms, Kieran returned to the flat, carrying a tray with a fish sandwich, a heap of chips, and a can of Coke. Bryce and Trip scooted closer, but Donovan waved them off. “He’s fine. Just needs rest and food. Malcolm fainting doesn’t get you lot out of running laps.”

“I thought he’d forget,” Bryce mumbled. He laughed when Trip elbowed him.

Kieran set the tray down for Malcolm and then chucked him playfully on the chin. “Congrats on the teleportation, mate. I knew you could do it.”

Malcolm shoved Kieran away with the rough playfulness of a brother. “Go run your laps, Kie.”

After the earthborns left, Donovan returned Malcolm’s phone. “When this alarm goes off, you eat. No excuses unless you’re on a mission. Magic requires a lot of energy, especially teleportation. Don’t eat right and you’re stunting your abilities.”

From the concerned flash in Malcolm’s dark eyes, Donovan knew that jab struck home. For the earthborn who felt he possessed the ‘suckiest’ power, magic meant a lot to the bloodhound. Moreso than to any of the others. He’d only just begun to get a handle on what he could do. And he’d no idea of the danger he could become.

Malcolm ate the sandwich with one hand, glancing at the phone with the other. “Three times a day? Seriously?”

“Seriously. And you aren’t limited to that. Lad your age should be a bottomless pit. From now on, you weigh in before each workout. If I don’t see improvement, you’re going to get grounded from missions. Am I clear? I can’t have my team passing out in the middle of combat.”

“Yeah.” Malcolm pushed himself up a little and then grabbed his head. “Whoa. Spinning.”

“Lie back and eat. Then stay put until that food’s had a chance to get into your system. You hear me?”

Chapter Six

After Malcolm began to eat with purpose, Donovan and Dawn returned to the bedroom where the girl rested.

Malcolm kept his head down while he ate, aware of the few times one or the other of them glanced back out at him. The food felt heavy in his stomach, but he didn’t complain. Just ate what had been given to him. It didn’t particularly interest him, though.

Not when he could hear the music again.

The music made him ache inside. Much more than not eating ever did. It needed… the music did. It needed so much that it pulled at him.

Malcolm set aside the tray real quietly, so no one noticed. And then he crept toward the open doorway in a wide arc so they wouldn’t see him coming.

Just outside the doorway, Malcolm closed his eyes. His soft humming didn’t come from his throat so much as from that place inside that got all excited about magic. Right in the middle of his chest. It felt bigger inside him now, this aching feeling. This need to touch the music.

Not just to touch it with his hands, but to Touch it with his magic.

Malcolm peeked into the bedroom.

Donovan, who missed nothing, looked right at Malcolm as he poked his head in.

“I just…” Malcolm tapped on his breastbone and then reached toward the bed with his fingers spreading. Sometimes, when stuff was too big or too complicated for words and it washed all over Malcolm, all he could do was grunt and make the shape of things with his hands. But Donovan always understood. He was cool like that.

Dawn twisted around and sighed with the exasperation of someone sick to death of arguing. “Malcolm…”

“Let him in.” Donovan didn’t even need to raise his voice.

She frowned. Not so much like she was just hating on Malcolm, which he thought she did sometimes, but because things were already bad and she thought he’d make them worse. So Malcolm crept past her into the bedroom, silent so he wouldn’t disturb the uneasy quiet. The room had a muffled, depressed vibe, like a deathwatch or an old crumbling and dusty tomb.

He glanced up at Donovan who loomed over the far side of the bed with his arms crossed. Now and then, he gave Malcolm a look that he never gave anyone else. Like he was expecting something, or ready for anything. Something like that.

The girl in the bed didn’t budge. Barely even breathed. The sheets hadn’t gotten crumpled at all, probably because she was so still. Malcolm could see the sheet through the girl’s arms, like a ghost. Her magic was failing, almost not even there anymore. When it vanished completely, so would she. Then her music would be silent, leaving a void too bitter to think about.

Hands trembling, he reached for her. For a second, he thought he might fall through her, like she really was a ghost, but he didn’t. She felt weird though. Soft, kinda. Like if he gripped her too hard she might crumble.

Her music danced like fine pixie hair over his skin. Holding her hand, Malcolm knelt beside the bed. When he lowered his head to her skin, the magic feathering against his face. He longed for the music. To feel it inside him. For her to Touch him with it. She couldn’t Touch him though, not sick like she was. So he Touched her instead. His magic flowed from his skin into hers, carrying with it his thoughts.
I don’t know you, but I would miss you… if you leave.

He closed his eyes. Just felt her magic with his special way of feeling. She was different, and not just in the way everyone was different from everyone else. Truly different. Disconnected from the world. Floating above it and anchored to nothing. That was why she was falling apart, like vapor in the wind. As he Touched her, Malcolm reached for her with the feeling that had been building inside, trying to ‘catch’ her before she floated away into nothingness.

But he couldn’t.

She slipped through the fingers of his magic like mist.

Opening his eyes and hurting so much on the inside that things blurred until he blinked, then gazed down at her hand.

Then his eyes popped opened wide.

There, in his hand, he watched her body solidifying. He couldn’t see through her at all anymore. The Touch he’d given to her gently, he now poured into her as thick and heavy as he could.

But even giving everything he could, the magic was so slight to what she’d lost.

Malcolm lifted his gaze to Donovan. “Touch her.” And then to Dawn, “You, too. Help me.”

Dawn crossed her arms, but Donovan didn’t hesitate. He brushed his fingertips to the girl’s cheek, and Malcolm felt Donovan’s Touch spreading into the girl, filling in a few more gaps.

Malcolm snapped at Dawn. “Do it!”

She grumbled, but still reached under the sheet at the foot of the bed and Touched the girl’s ankle. The healer’s Touch flowed. Helping, but still not enough.

“Get the others! All of them! All of the Sidhe!”

When Dawn hesitated, Donovan said, “Do it.”

Leaning his forehead against the girl’s hand, Malcolm closed his eyes again.
Don’t leave.
Don’t go away.
He reached for her magic, tried to make it more. It wouldn’t grow, though. Even with the Touch moving through her and weaving together the fraying threads of magic. Her core wasn’t getting stronger. Her heart, her soul, was as far away as ever. The music still a faint tune, threatening to Fade.