Another kind of pressure settled over me, and I realized that I had been blindly following Emery’s lead. I was acting like a passenger and not a participant.
And that might get us killed.
Everything changed with that shift in perception. The spell in front of us mixed together and simmered like soup. The strange pressing sensation from above.
I dug out a power stone, then another, allowing my temperamental third eye to lead. Immediately my stomach curdled, and I realized danger was coming. Not right away, but my third eye was saying, Go, and my gut was saying, Run away right now, you stupid idiot. That always meant trouble.
One day I would take heed.
“Speed is key,” I said, the words drifting from my mouth unbidden. “Things are going to get a little hairy later on.”
I crouched, and he bent down beside me, watching my hands as I pressed them to the ground. Closing my eyes, I let my other senses soak in the world around us. Something was pressed deeply into the ground. Natural, but not alive. Not in the traditional sense. It pulsed with power, connecting with the sky in an elaborate construct I didn’t understand.
“Watching, yes,” I said, opening my eyes and looking at Emery. “It’s watching. It’s intelligent but has no brain.” I crinkled my nose, frustrated with myself. “This isn’t making sense. But it’s not an immediate danger.”
“I’m not getting a premonition.”
He stared at me, inquiring. I stared back, debating.
A surge of excitement licked my middle and brought a grin to my face.
His lips twisted up at the corners. “Here comes the girl that runs over dead people.”
“Yup. Let’s go. In and out before that spying thing makes its decision about whether we’re friends or foes.”
Chapter Thirty
My phone vibrated in one of my belt compartments. I fished it out as we jogged past the perimeter magic and into the compound, prepared to ignore anyone in the world except for my mother, and only then if it was a text.
The spongy grass, wet from morning sprinklers, left moisture on the sides of my boots. The first building loomed large in front of us, and we crouched near the corner of a hedge. Emery’s fingers waved, and a spell emerged. I got a who’s there? vibe from it. He was going to let magic be our eyes. Clever.
I flipped the phone open and read the text.
Plant seeds for future harvest.
I touched Emery’s back as he pushed the spell into existence, then stuck the phone in front of him. He looked back, his gaze inquiring. I shrugged. I didn’t know what it meant, either.
How? I texted back. And don’t call. Need silenct. I didn’t correct my typo. That would drive her nuts. Talk about planting seeds.
Emery sat at the corner, watching ahead, intent. Silence descended around us, no birdsong drifting through the still and stagnant air. I tuned in as I waited for my mother’s response, and Emery waited for his results.
As we crouched in silence, it struck me that this place felt…dead. A world devoid. No electricity surged outside of our sphere, and the usual sweet, sour, or heavy sensations were absent from the air. The life in this place was pushed off to the sides, contained and stifled.
They’d largely cut nature out of their compound. They’d cut themselves off from the source of all life, and they’d done it on purpose.
“They are rotting,” I murmured, pulling at Emery. “They are rotting from within. They are skeletons propped up, waiting for the tide to wash them away.”
He studied my face. “How do we wash them away?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m new at this.”
His hand came up so quickly that I flinched. When I stilled, he rested it on my chin and stroked the bottom of my lip, back and forth. “Steadfast,” he said.
It felt like an odd sentiment right then, because I was just relaying what I knew, not giving up. “Okay.”
He nodded, like he’d imparted wisdom, and turned back.
Another text came in. Long game.
“What in hell’s lemonade are you talking about, Mother?” I muttered at the phone, shoving it in front of Emery’s face. “That doesn’t tell me about the seeds, you blasted woman.”
He studied it for a second, turned that imploring gaze at me, and startled when I stood and shoved the phone into its compartment. Urgency had overcome me. The third eye said, Move, and the logical part of me said, Run away quickly. Yes, they were pointing me in different directions, but the idea was the same. No good would come of sitting here.
Emery’s head jerked around and he burst up from his crouch. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back behind the suffering hedges, green with brown patches, and around another corner. He released me and then started jogging in front of me. I kept up easily, right at his side but a little behind. He seemed to know where he was going.
A moment later, he sped up, and so did I. Faster still. He’d been intentionally taking a slower speed because I ran like a girl.
If only he would, too, we could speed up and finally get somewhere.
He rounded another corner and then paused. Something moved out of the corner of my eye. I reached for him, but he was already flattening against the wall, snatching at my leather. I crashed against the stucco, my own momentum and his anxious intervention making my speed too fast to stop. My face bounced off and my body followed.
His hand curled around my mouth, muffling the oomph. He ducked down as I fell, not helping me stay on my feet, but quieting me until I hit the ground. He held a finger to his lips.
He’d finally had a premonition. How lucky for me, who hadn’t needed it, and would now have a bruise where the wall had sucker-punched me.
I climbed to my feet, and he rose with me, his hand hovering near my mouth. I slapped it away.
Footsteps stilled me. Emery gracefully plastered himself against the wall, between me and whoever was coming our way. His fingers worked quickly, creating the shadow spell. He stilled for long enough that the spell disintegrated. His head came around and he stared at me, his mouth closed but his eyes trying to impart a message.
I shook my head. Not computing.
He glanced down at his fingers. Then back to me. His eyes flicked down and to his left. Footsteps pressed against the concrete. The sole of a boot scuffed against a rock. They were close.
I couldn’t help closing my eyes, feeling the deadened life around us crying for help. Feeling the fresh and vibrant items in my compartments. The opal stone that begged to be held.
Acting without thinking, I dug it out quickly and pulled on the other ingredients, willing them to cover us and hide us from view. But we needed more than shadows. We needed a walking cloak, a soundless bubble that would merge seamlessly with the walls and cling to whatever natural things were willing to help us.
The opal warmed in my hand. The magic flew around Emery and me, outlining our sphere of energy, protecting it. It felt like the stone was holding my hand as I worked with it, not doing my bidding so much as rushing to my aid. A tear leaked out of my eye, the emotion part of the recipe, and the spell drifted into the world.
I blinked my eyes open, my lashes wet, and looked around wildly.
Wrinkles lined Emery’s forehead as he glanced at the bubble I’d made, a slight shimmer the only visible indication it was there. He didn’t have time to spare me a what kind of a weird magical worker cries when making spells glance, because at that moment, two forms wearing purple robes sauntered along the cracked concrete, their backs straight, their shoulders squared, and their chins held a fraction too high. They thought the world of themselves, walking around in this stripped and deadened compound.
Fire rose within me and my power stones pulsed. What little nature I could feel whispered to me, and I closed my eyes to listen to its calls. Emery’s fingers curled around my wrist, amping my power with his electric touch. The energy swirled around and between us, frenzied.
Listening to impulse, I slapped my hands against the wall, cupping the opal, and sank down until my fingertips could feel the dirt at its base. This was what my mother had meant. Plant seeds. Seeds of destruction, to be harvested later, once I knew how to sow them.
Emery wasn’t the only one who had yet to claim vengeance. I wanted to punish them for what they’d done to my father. And for what they’d done to everything and everyone inside of this compound. I wasn’t a hero, but I was done hiding in closets, pretending it wasn’t my business. They’d made it my business.