The Undead Pool

Wild magic beat at us, crawling over the surface of my circle for the way in. My heart thudded when it found a resonance in my chi, and the first feelings of tendrils sought me out. Please no, I thought, feeling that same something that was digging through my circle quiver awake—already inside me. A thousand eyes spun, rising up in anger as they recognized me.

Stay out, I begged, knowing it was my aura they were following, tricked into believing I was the way back to her. To take them in would draw Bancroft’s spell into my circle, and they lingered, intensifying his charm as they refused to move on. Fire danced over us as the world burned and the air grew warm. Sparkles skated over the layer of ever-after protecting us. Please, please, please, see us not, I thought as the floor burned, and from inside me—the way made open from the resonances between me and my line—I heard a mocking laugh.

For now, the Goddess taunted, her voice clear as water in the chaos of my thoughts.

Trent yanked from me, mouth open and shock in his eyes. Then he jerked his head up as the insane wild magic darted away, drawn by the sensation of something brighter than my aura.

Panting, I let the bubble drop. For a heartbeat there was silence, and then came the hissing shush of the sprinkler system flicking on. I looked up, glad now that the ceiling was a twisted wreck and we were still dry. The scent of wet carpet rose, thickened, and began to purge the reek of burning skin.

“What the devil was that?” someone said, and I fell back, hiding my face as I sat on my butt and held my knees to my chin, rocking almost. The scent of burning plastic was slowly fading, and I could hear the men moving about in the superhot, increasingly moist air. Whether she was divine or simply a force of nature, it was obvious that the Goddess was real. Her mystics had opened a channel. I’d heard her again—in my head as her mystics sought me out. Trent had heard her too.

Trent’s touch shocked through me, and he pulled back as I started. He looked haunted, and ash covered his hands where he had touched something. It was on me now, and I thought the black smear was fitting as it marked me. “Rachel? Did you just . . .”

He couldn’t say it. I didn’t blame him. “I think so,” I said dully.

Dropping down to me, he peered at me in concern. “Are you okay?”

He was tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, and closing my eyes, I tilted my head so I could feel his hand on my cheek. It sang through me, tingling with the last of the wild magic, and I had no right to it. “I don’t know.”

“You are a demon!” Landon shouted, expression vehement and stumbling when his cuffed hand brought him up short. “How dare you speak to the divine!”

Numb, I could do nothing as he struggled to reach me, finally working his cuff around a bend in the piping and running at me. The two officers, finding something they could cope with, tackled him.

“Get off!” he shouted from under them. “Get off me!”

Edden lowered a hand to help me rise. “Great. I think he’s got it now.”

My hand was trembling as I put it in Edden’s and stood. Bancroft was a pile of twisted, blackened bones in the middle of the charred top floor. His rings were still on his cooked fingers, and I wondered about the shackle on his ankle, up to now hidden behind his robe.

“Get him out of here,” Edden said, and I flinched when Jenks’s dust hit me and burned with wild magic. Bancroft had said mystics lived in pixies. Why had I never felt it before now?

“That could have gone better,” Trent said, and Jenks landed on his shoulder instead of mine. Landon’s tirade cut off as the elevator door closed. The sudden silence broken by the hiss of sprinklers was somehow worse.

“At least he didn’t jump.” Fingers fumbling for his phone, Edden looked at Bancroft’s remains and sighed. “Mr. Kalamack, I’d appreciate it if you could give us an hour of your time at your earliest convenience. Rachel, you too. There’s going to be an inquiry. I can feel it already.”

“Sure.” I hate reports. I turned away, shuffling to the edge of the dry spot to watch the cloud of insane mystics sparkling in the sun as they continued on toward the Hollows. Sirens heralded their progress. The arena was right in the way, and my gut clenched at the thought of all those people huddled in fear as it passed over.

I’d like to think that the mystics had moved on because of the Goddess, that she’d driven them off, but the truth of it was they’d left because they’d felt a magnet stronger than my aura, a brighter light. Somewhere down there in the streets, someone had called the mystics away, called them to be collected, and with that, the wave would end. Slowly my numb stupor evolved into a tight anger. We had to stop these people.

The sound of Jenks’s wings was loud, but I felt his dust first, like the soft prickling of wild magic. “That was some freaky shit, Rache. You okay?”