Veiled Magic (18 page)

If this keeps up,
Donata thought to herself as she looked around her living room,
I'm going to need to get a bigger place. And maybe a Taser, the way everyone is glaring at each other.

Celestina and her two elder daughters were sneering at Donata's apartment (which admittedly hadn't been improved by the trashing it got at the hands of the Cabal). Ricky the Kobold was perched on a bookshelf, a sour look on his wrinkled face as they criticized “his” Witch. The two men sat on opposite ends of the couch, metaphorical hackles raised in instinctive competition. Donata felt like she was the ringmaster of a dysfunctional Paranormal three-ring circus.

She cleared her throat and placed a tray of drinks down on the coffee table with a little more force than necessary. Everyone shut up and looked at her, which was the intended outcome.

“Let's make sure we're all on the same page here,” she said. “The goal is to get Peter's mother back unharmed. And we don't have much time before the Cabal calls back, or someone decides to check back here just in case I've decided to return. For the moment, Ricky assures me the place is clear. So, suggestions, anyone?” She looked around the motley circle.

“What about handing over the painting in exchange for Peter's mother, then using a tracking spell to follow it so we can steal it back?” suggested Magnus.

Donata shook her head. “Too dangerous,” she said with regret. “We can't risk losing the painting, even for Peter's mother, and there are too many things that could go wrong with that plan.” She looked at the forger across the table. “Sorry.”

He shrugged. “No, I agree. We can't risk the painting falling into their hands.” One corner of his mouth lifted in an imitation of a smile. “I never got along all that well with my mother anyway.”

Donata and
her
mother exchanged glances, neither of them fooled for a minute. They had their issues, but Donata would walk through fire for her mother and the woman knew it.

The Santori matriarch pursed her lips. “What about substituting another painting for the real Pentacle Pentimento? After all, they've never seen the original.”

Peter frowned. “Too chancy. Donata said she thought they had a source at the precinct, so they probably have a reasonable description of the thing. And I'm good, but not even I could paint a substitute fast enough for that plan to work.” His eyes gleamed with the temptation to try it anyway. Donata suppressed a grin. You had to admire the man's style.

The Kobold piped up from his seat atop the bookshelf. “What about a finding spell?”

“The idea occurred to me,” Donata said, “but wouldn't the Cabal have done something to prevent a finding spell from working? I mean, they know I'm a Witch. They'd have to figure I'd try something like that.”

Her mother looked thoughtful. “They might have prepared for such a contingency, but I doubt they would have anticipated you working with three other powerful Witches.” She looked at her eldest daughters with justifiable pride, then surprised her youngest with a wink. “There is something to be said for being publicly at odds with your family; no one could
have anticipated our coming to your aid.”

“I suppose you're right,” Donata admitted, slightly stunned by her mother's unexpected glimmer of humor. “It's worth a try, anyway.”

Magnus smirked. “That's what I thought. Peter, did you bring something of your mother's for them to use?”

“Wait—that's what you had in mind all along?” Donata glared at him. “Why didn't you say so?”

He lifted one shoulder carelessly. “Honestly—I don't know enough about Witchcraft to be sure you could pull it off. I was willing to wait and see if anyone had any better ideas before suggesting it.”

“Hmph,” Celestina Santori said, clearly unimpressed. “I can see your manners haven't improved since you and Donata dated. A pity.” She reached down at her feet and picked up the large old-fashioned carpetbag she used to transport her spellworking tools. Donata always thought it made her look a bit like an upscale Mary Poppins, but she'd never been foolish enough to say so out loud.

“We need to clear a space for the Working,” her mother said, taking charge. “And anyone not taking part”—she aimed a chilly glance at Magnus and Peter—“needs to get out of the way and stay out of the way.”

Donata had the guys move her battered furniture against the walls (which, in her tiny apartment, only bought them a little more space) and rolled up the rug in the middle of the room to reveal a pentagram painted onto the wooden floor underneath. Even her unusual job occasionally required working from home, so she was always prepared for a serious ritual.

Celestina looked pleasantly surprised as the five-pointed star within a circle was exposed, complete with arcane symbols drawn around the edges at each of the four cardinal points.

She raised one elegant eyebrow at her youngest daughter. “Very nice. I'm happy to see you've been keeping up with your practice.” Under her breath, she added, “We might actually pull this off after all.” Having a frequently used sacred space to work in made spellcasting both easier and more powerful.

Donata hid her smile, knowing it would only aggravate the rest of the family. Her middle sister, Gabriella, came over to stand by her shoulder, her own small grin fighting to stay veiled from their mother's observant eye. Gabriella nodded in Peter's direction as he crossed the room to hand a scarf of his mother's to Celestina, who placed it on the altar table.

“He might be inappropriate, being half Dragon and all,” she whispered to Donata, “but he sure is cute.” She gave her sister a brief one-armed hug.

Magnus, standing next to them, overheard and gave a low growl. Donata's grin grew a little wider. The situation was undoubtedly serious; Peter's mother was in enemy hands and they were all facing a very real danger. And she still had to figure out what the hell she was going to do with that damned painting.

But she had to confess, if only to herself, that it was nice to be practicing Witchcraft with her family again, as she had been brought up to do. And having two good-looking guys contending for her attention—even if neither of them was an acceptable mate and they were both acting more out of instinct than any real attraction to her—well, a girl could get used to that. Yes, indeed she could.

“We're ready,” her mother said, breaking into her pleasant daydream and snapping her brutally back to reality. “Girls?”

Donata and her sisters went to stand before candles placed at each of the four quarter points. They had practiced so much magic together while growing up, they easily fell back into their old patterns: Lucia at east, Gabriella at south, Donata at west, and their mother at north, in front of the altar. As the last Witch stepped into position, a subtle humming began—more felt than heard at this juncture. Magnus and Peter looked at each other and hurriedly went to stand by the kitchen door, temporarily united by their shared exclusion and discomfort.

Ricky, on the other hand, seemed to almost glow with excitement and went to stand next to Celestina, ready to hand her any tools she might need. As the senior and most powerful Witch present, she would act as high priestess, despite the fact that it was Donata's ritual space. This was just fine with Donata, who was content to play her lesser role with Grimalkin sitting at her feet. She had no illusions about her magical ability compared to that of her mother or sisters. She'd be happy just not to screw the whole thing up. This sort of Working was a lot different from the smaller magics she normally practiced, and the power raised by four Witches working in concert could be tricky to contain and control.

Celestina lit a stick of pungent jasmine incense and placed it in a holder on the altar table. Then she walked slowly around the outside of the circle, sprinkling salt from a small bowl.

“Earth to sky, sky to ground, I cast this circle, round and round. I conjure now this sacred space, outside of time, outside of place.” She stopped at the spot where she'd started, and sifted the last few grains down to complete the faint white outline. “The circle is cast. We are between the worlds.”

The incense swirled around the four women, eddying in an invisible wind. None of it drifted outside the confines of the circle.

Lucia lit the yellow candle in front of her and pointed her athame toward the east. The other three swiveled in the same direction and pointed their own tools.

“I call the powers of the east, the element of Air, to blow in clarity and guard us in our circle. So mote it be!” Lucia's green eyes glowed like emeralds for a moment, then subsided as she turned to face the south.

Gabriella pointed the wand she used instead of the traditional Witch's knife and spoke her part. “I call the powers of the south, the element of Fire. Light our way and guard our circle. So mote it be!” Her red candle flared into life without her having to touch it. The others echoed the last sentence and turned to face the west.

Donata could feel the power of the ritual flowing up through the soles of her feet and out through her head. The rush of energy filled her with elation and a rare heady awareness of her own ability. Damn, but she loved being a Witch.

“I call upon the powers of the west, the element of Water,” she declared in a steady voice. “Wash away the confusion spread by our enemies, and guard our circle. So mote it be!” She lit a blue candle. With a match.

“So mote it be!” echoed the others, and the humming sensation grew stronger. Grimalkin began to purr.

“I call upon the powers of the north, the element of Earth,” Celestina said, lighting the green candle with a snap of her fingers. “Ground us and guide us, and guard our circle. So mote it be!”

She moved gracefully to stand before the two tall candles on the altar, as regal in her street clothes as if she were wearing the formal robes of a priestess, and raised her hands palms up to the sky.

“Great Hecate, Lady of the Night, I invoke you now. Great Herne, he who is Lord of the Beasts, I invoke you now. Come to us in this circle, cast in your name and with the power you have granted, and aid us in our task. So we ask, and so it will be.” She lit the gold and silver candles with a flick of each wrist, and a brief but potent hush fell over the room. She held out one slim hand and Ricky placed a pendulum in it. At the end of the thin silver chain, a crystal point dangled, glinting in the candlelight.

Celestina laid the pendulum for a moment in the bowl of salt. “By the power of the Earth and the depth of my intent, I consecrate this crystal.” She handed it to Ricky, who carried it to Lucia.

“By the power of the Air and the strength of my faith, I consecrate this crystal.” Her high, sweet voice rang out clearly as she waved the pendulum through the plume of incense.

Ricky brought the delicate silver chain and stone to Gabriella, who dipped it for a moment into the flame before her. “By the power of the Fire and the passion of my commitment, I consecrate this crystal.” The candles around the circle all flared higher and stayed that way.

Donata held out her hand in turn and smiled briefly at the Kobold. “By the power of the Water and the force of my will, I consecrate this crystal.” She dipped the stone into the bowl of water on the altar, and it hissed briefly as steam rose to mingle with the incense. Grimalkin let out a low meow, lashing his tail as the energy of the circle raised the fur on his neck.

Donata walked the activated pendulum over to her mother and placed it into the older woman's outstretched right hand. Ricky spread a map of the city out on the altar, carefully keeping its flammable edges away from the candles, and all the women gathered around it, chanting quietly to raise the energy even further.

“Hecate, Hecate, Hecate, Hecate.”

Across the room, Peter's hands tightened unconsciously on the doorframe, leaving ten finger-shaped indentations. Magnus held his breath.

“Hecate!” Celestina called, her voice filled with the shadow of eons of magical tradition. “You, who are the goddess of the crossroads, guide us now to the path we seek!” The sisters held their hands out over the map as their mother dangled the pendulum lightly from her outstretched fingers. Her other hand reached out to touch the scarf Peter had brought.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then the crystal swung slowly from right to left. Then left to right. Then it circled widely, despite the steadiness of Celestina's grasp.

“It's working,” Gabriella whispered. “Look!”

The pendulum moved in ever-tightening circles, pulling the priestess's hand lower and lower until the point came to rest on the map.

Gabriella craned her neck to see where it had landed. “Where is that? It doesn't look all that far from here.” She looked at her mother questioningly. “Are you sure it isn't just rebounding back to us? Maybe the Cabal had a way to counteract the
spell after all.”

Celestina shook her head in denial. “No, we would have felt the feedback. The spell worked, I would swear it.”

Crouching a little, Donata peered at the map. “That's not this street. It's in the warehouse area about four blocks from here, between my apartment and the station.” She gritted her teeth in disbelief. “The sons of bitches are hiding Peter's mother in my own damned precinct! The nerve!”

Her sisters snickered, and even her mother let out a low chuckle. Donata groaned to herself. They were never going to let her live this down. Never.

Ten minutes later, the circle dismissed and the tools put away, they all returned to their places in the middle of the rearranged furniture. But unlike their brainstorming session pre-ritual, this time there was a sense of shared purpose and excitement. Even Celestina looked frostily pleased.

“Now we can come up with an actual plan of action,” Magnus said, rubbing his hands together. “We have a location and a target; we just need to figure out how to get in and out without getting caught.”

Peter scratched at his stubble pensively. “Now that we know where she is, maybe we should just call the cops. The Cabal kidnapped her; that's a crime, right? And the cops have the proper training and equipment for this kind of raid. We don't, and trying to go in without them could get my mother killed.”

Everyone else in the room stared at him like he'd lost his mind, and he flinched.

“What?” he asked, indignation written across his face. “It's a reasonable suggestion. Stop looking at me like I suddenly have two heads.”

Celestina cleared her throat. “Peter, dear, you don't send Human police in to deal with a Paranormal problem. They are simply not equipped at all.” She took a genteel sip of the herbal tea Ricky had brewed her to restore her after the ritual. “Besides—Paranormals clean up their own messes.”

Peter looked from her to Donata, his brow furrowed. “Even when you have a cop in the family?”

Donata rolled her eyes. “
Especially
when you have a cop in the family. The last thing I need is the guys at the station finding out my life is even stranger than they think it is,” she said with conviction.

“And they could get hurt,” Lucia added in her soft, even voice. “I've seen what happens when Human law enforcement goes up against what they
think
is a Human criminal, but is really a Paranormal.” She sighed. “The results can be pretty messy.”

“But the Cabal
are
Humans,” Peter protested. “Isn't that the whole point?”

Celestina gave a bitter laugh. “So they say, but they don't seem averse to using some pretty potent forces themselves, when it suits their needs. If you look closely at your history books, you will find that the Church has always had magic users of their own. They just claim that the powers come from their God, and therefore it is acceptable for them to be used for the cause.”

Donata took pity on Peter, who was looking completely confused.

“Look, just take our word for it that calling in the police would be a
really
bad idea,” she said. All the others, including Magnus, nodded in agreement.

“Fine,” Peter said, throwing up his hands. “Then what is the plan? There are only six of us.” He looked doubtfully down at the little Kobold, who was sitting on the floor by Donata's knee. “Well, seven, I guess.”

Celestina shook her head. “Four, dear, I'm afraid.” She stood up and picked up her bag of tools. “I agreed to help with the magical portion of this endeavor, since that is my area of expertise, as it were. But I'm not going to risk my life or those of my daughters by walking into what could very well be a Cabal trap.” She headed decisively toward the door, and Lucia and Gabriella followed her without a word.

“Be sure to call me about handing over the painting to the Council as soon as you are done rescuing Peter's mother, Donata. Do try to be careful.” She stopped to brush a brief kiss onto her youngest daughter's cheek, and then went out.

Gabriella looked back wistfully for a minute, but settled for giving Donata a thumbs-up as she walked out and closed the door behind her.

“And she says my manners are bad,” Magnus muttered. “Yeesh.” He turned to Donata. “And I notice she didn't include
you
in that ‘none of my daughters' edict.”

Donata laughed, as much to hide her disappointment as in real humor. For a minute there, she'd almost thought her mother was going to be supportive all the way to the end.

“My mother is nothing if not realistic. She lost that battle a long time ago and she knows it. Now she mostly just tries to make sure my nails look good if I'm going to get into trouble anyway.”

Magnus snorted. “I never liked that woman much.”

“Looked to me like the feeling was mutual,” Peter said. “So now what?”

“We're probably better off with a smaller number anyway,” Magnus replied. “With a snatch and grab, the fewer people going in the better.” He pondered logistics for a minute. “Donata needs to go because she's the most familiar with the area. Peter is in because his mother might not come with us if he's not there; she'd have no reason to trust us any more than she trusts the people who grabbed her. And I need to go because this is
my
area of expertise.” He held up three fingers. “So that's it; just the three of us.”

“Hey!” Ricky said, arms akimbo and a stubborn look on his craggy face. “What about me? Just because I'm short doesn't mean I can't fight.” Indignation was written in every line of his pint-sized body.

Donata didn't know whether to laugh or cry. “That's not why you can't come,” she explained, only stretching the truth a little. “I have another important job for you.”

The Kobold perked up. “And what might that be?”

Donata nodded at Grimalkin. “I need you to take Grim here back to Peter's apartment. I'm afraid it isn't safe for him here.” She raised one hand as Ricky started to protest.

“Seriously. Think about it for a minute. We were safe meeting here for now because they weren't going to make a move while they thought we were just going to willingly hand over the painting.” She bit her lip. “But once we try and break Peter's mother out, they're going to know we don't plan to cooperate, and this will be one of the first places they'll check.”

She waved a hand around, indicating the damage from the Cabal's last “visit.” “I'd really feel better if Grimalkin was safe at Peter's penthouse.”

“And it is always good to know your bolt-hole is secure, in case of the need for a hasty retreat,” Magnus added, earning him a grateful smile from Donata. “If you're guarding the place, we can be sure it's safe to go back there when we're done.”

The Kobold's chest swelled with pride. “Oh, okay, I get it. If you need me to protect the place, I can do that. And I'll take the kitty here with me, no problem. I'll even pack you some clothes and your toothbrush and such.” He gave them all a serious look. “But if you ain't back in a few hours, I'm liable to come lookin' for ya.”

Donata, Magnus, and Peter exchanged glances.
Great,
she thought,
another freakin' deadline.

*  *  *

Shadows loomed dark against the bulk of the warehouse. There had only been two working streetlights when they'd gotten there, and Donata had easily shorted out the closest one with her magic. Magic and electricity didn't much like each other anyway; a quick burst of energy could take out almost anything with current running through it.

Now the three of them stood by the back door at the side of the loading dock as Peter aimed a penlight at the lock. The place looked abandoned; most of the visible equipment was flaked with rust, and broken windows had been boarded over with plywood. Donata heard rustling noises and hoped briefly that it was ghosts and not rats. She hated rats.

The only other sound was the faint scritch of metal against metal as Peter maneuvered delicately with a set of lockpicks, holding the penlight between his teeth. Donata restrained herself from asking why someone whose criminal activity was theoretically limited to copying paintings would have such a tool.
And be so good with it
, she added to herself as the door swung open on silent hinges.

Peter gave a half bow to Magnus and made an “after you” gesture. The Shapechanger slipped noiselessly through the dim opening with Donata right behind him. Once the three of them were inside, Peter closed the door, but left it unlocked. Hopefully, if anyone discovered it, he would figure it had been left unlocked accidentally—it was more important to have a quick exit, in case things went sour.

The door led into a back room, and from there they walked down a small hallway that let into a huge, cavernous area full of the hulking remains of a now-defunct factory. Large rolls of fabric lay like pick-up sticks along the walls, rotting and abandoned. Mysterious machines cast ominous shadows, and unseen creatures skittered and nattered in the corners of the room.

The whole place gave Donata the creeps, but a glance at the two men showed them seemingly unaffected. It figured.

“Are you sure she's here?” Peter asked softly. Magnus had warned them that whispers carried farther than words spoken in a low tone. “The place seems completely empty.”

Donata felt in her pocket for the pendulum, brought along in case she needed it. But her gut already told her they were in the right place. And as a psychic, she listened to her gut. She closed her eyes and
felt
for the presence of Peter's mother. A tug on her inner senses showed her the way.

“Up there,” she said, pointing at the second floor, visible in the murk as a looming open space of darkened rooms
surrounded by faint bars that marked the railings that were all that stood between the air and the ground below. “In one of those rooms, I think.” She closed her eyes again, briefly. “There are other people in the building, but I can't pinpoint exactly where. Sorry.”

Magnus breathed in slowly, gathering himself, or maybe just scenting the air. He held one hand up in a
halt
sign reminiscent of those Donata had learned in the police academy. She put one hand out to pull Peter closer to the wall.

“You two stay here,” Magnus said, taking charge with the ease of long practice. “I'll go scout up there. If I'm not back in ten minutes, abort the mission and go back to Peter's place.”

“But—” Donata started to say. He just shook his head at her and bounded off into the darkness.

She watched in amazement as he swung himself up with effortless grace onto a metal beam that must have been a good eight feet off the floor, then clambered from there to a series of pipes that climbed up toward the second floor. In seconds, he had disappeared from sight. He never made a sound.

Donata and Peter waited, backs pressed against the wall, breathing in dust and willing themselves not to move. For a moment, there came the clear resonance of voices from across the building, but they gradually moved away in the opposite direction. Donata's breath hissed out like a prayer.

A shape emerged from the Stygian gloom, and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Magnus grinned at her, streaks of grease and rust making his face into a grotesque mask.

“I found her,” he said so quietly, they had to strain to hear him. “The good news is that she seems to be fine.”

All the air left Peter's lungs at once and he slumped for a second in relief before straightening back up to lean toward the other man. “And the bad news?”

“Two guards, posted right outside the room she's in. Made it easy for me to find her, but it's going to be tougher than I'd hoped to get her out.”

Donata wiped a drop of blood off her lip with the back of one hand, and then winced at the taste of a decade's worth of neglect.
Bleh.

“Crap,” she said. “What are we going to do now?”

Magnus gave her another grin, his teeth gleaming white in the dark room. “Don't worry, 'Nata, I've got a plan.” He looked at her, demented glee oozing out of every pore. “You're going to love it.”

*  *  *

Donata shivered next to the pile of her discarded clothing. She most certainly did
not
love this damned plan. If they made it through the night, she was going to get Magnus for this.

Around the nearest curve of the walk, she could see the glimmer of light from the section of hallway where two guards stood, smoking cigarettes and gossiping about some girl named Felicity they apparently both knew intimately. At the moment, they were facing outward, looking out over the metal railings that overhung the edge of the second floor, and
occasionally glancing to their right and left. From where they stood, they had a clear view in all directions, since the top level was one big circle, broken up by rickety-looking stairs from below. Only the darkness of the echoing space limited their vision.

Magnus's plan was simple: he and Peter would sneak up behind the guards and knock them out. The only way to do that was to have them turn to face in the other direction. For that, they needed a serious distraction. Hence Donata's current state of undress.

The Shapeshifter had argued that few men could keep from being distracted—at least for a pivotal few moments—by the sight of a beautiful naked woman, especially in a place where one was least expected to be. Donata had tried to convince him that a naked man would be just as distracting (it was Peter's mother, after all—let
him
walk through an old factory in his altogether), but Magnus insisted that a naked woman seemed vulnerable to men in a way that a naked man would not. She couldn't really dispute that, so here she was, freezing her butt off, waiting for Magnus's signal that they were in place.

Donata didn't have a problem with being naked, per se. Witches didn't have the same attitude toward the human body that Christians often had; nudity was accepted, and many Witches performed major rituals “skyclad.” But she sure as hell didn't want to end up running through the building with her boobs flapping in the breeze if things went wrong. All she needed was to have the cops come bursting in while she was standing around in all her naked glory.

Besides, she hated to give up her gun. If they were vastly outnumbered, it probably wouldn't help much, but having it gave her a sense of security, albeit probably a false one. She cast a longing look over her shoulder to where her holster lay atop her neatly folded clothing. Glancing down the hallway, she saw no sign of Magnus and Peter, and after a second's hesitation, she grabbed the gun and put it out of sight behind her back. It wasn't in the plan, exactly, but it made her feel better. Hopefully Magnus was right about the naked-woman distraction and the guys on guard duty wouldn't notice that they couldn't see one hand.