Chapter 8

Maximus blinkedand turned to face the wisp. A fierce scowl creased his features. He pulled his hand out from under mine, and I mourned the loss. With a quick shove back from the table, he stood and reached out for the wisp.

He was so quick that his hand closed around the thing in a flash. He carried it to the window, where more wisps were trying to get in through the tiny gap their fellow had found.

He spoke directly through the glass, his voice hard. "I've tried to humor your rules and let these damned wisps follow. I even let them spy through the window. But entering my home is too much. Begone until the beginning of the next challenge."

His voice was so hard, so serious, that it sent a shiver down my spine. I should have focused on the fact that he said begone like the old-school gladiator dude that he was, but it was his tone that got me.

It got the wisps, too. They zipped away.

He opened the window and flung the other out, then slammed it shut and pulled the curtains. When he turned back to me, he frowned. "Miserable things."

I nodded, just staring at him. I was a total ninny, but his toughness just made me want him more.

What a moron.

"Let's keep practicing," he said.

"We never started."

"We'll start now."

"I'm not practicing on you."

He sighed, frustration evident in the tenseness of his muscles and the crease of his brow. "Fine. Then you need to practice on something. Just so you can see that this magic isn't evil."

"It is."

"Accept that death isn't evil, Rowan. It can be used by evil and for evil, but in itself, death is not evil. It's not the same as the dark magic that poisoned you before. I can feel it."

He was right, though. I could feel it, too. The power terrified me—it was just so dangerous to have—but maybe it wasn't evil. It didn't feel as dark as the other magic had, at least.

Anxiety shivered over my skin, making it feel too tight, but I nodded. "Fine. I'll practice on a plant, then."

The tiniest smile quirked at the corner of his mouth, so little that I wasn't even sure I'd seen it. He went to the corner of the kitchen and picked up a little plant from the windowsill.

I frowned at it. "I really don't want to kill your basil."

"Is that what this is?" He looked at it appraisingly. "I just thought it smelled nice. And the idea of bringing plants inside… Well, it was foreign to me."

"The modern age is wild," I said wryly.

He set the plant down on the table and returned to his seat. He was a couple of feet away now, not nearly as close as when I'd been whispering to him about my magic, but I could still smell him. Still feel him.

It took everything I had to drag my attention away. I focused on the plant, touching a fingertip to it. Maximus was right. If I had this in me, I really needed to learn to use it. Maybe I could one day get rid of it, but until I had the time to figure that out, I needed to learn to control it.

The plant felt fresh and green under my fingertip. I had no idea how I could feel the greenness of it, but somehow I could. It meant life to me, and it flowed up my fingertip and into my arm.

I yanked my finger back, panting.

Had I controlled that? Had I pulled the life out of it?

I shook my head to clear it, then pressed my fingertip to the plant again, trying to repel the life force that I felt within.

It worked. No tingles flowed up my arm, no greater sense of strength. A wobbly smile stretched across my face.

"Take power from it," Maximus said.

I wasn't sure if that was his nice way of saying "kill it," but I decided not to focus on that. I would take just a tiny bit.

I imagined the death magic within me as a bottle locked tight with a cork. I loosened the cork, accessing just a tiny bit of the death magic. Letting myself feel the life in the plant.

The magic burst to the surface, sucking the power out of the plant. It flowed up my arm like raw energy, and the plant withered.

I yanked my arm back. "Damn it!"

"You did well."

"I did it too fast. I was trying to only take a little. I need more control."

"You'll get it."

"I want to give this power back. I thought I'd escaped having dark magic that randomly killed."

"You did. This isn't random, and it's not dark. It's just part of life."

"The shitty part."

A wry smile tugged at his lips, making him look impossibly handsome. "I won't argue with that."

"I just miss the days when I had my original magic. When it was just me and my sisters in the desert, kicking ass and taking names."

"What was your original power?"

"Telekinesis." I shrugged, bittersweet just thinking of it. "Nothing iffy about tossing things around in the air."

If I ever talked to a shrink, they'd probably tell me that was one of the reasons I didn't like Lavender. She had the power I'd lost.

"What happened to it?" he asked.

"The Rebel Gods took it when I was their captive. They used the raw magical energy for some really bad shit and put some of their own dark magic into me. It's a mess, really."

"You never got it back?"

"It's locked in a rock. My sisters saved it for me. But the power inside is polluted. I can never take it back." I stood, suddenly frustrated. "And it doesn't matter. Now that I'm getting my Dragon God magic, I would have lost my original magic anyway. It's just how it works. Dragon God magic is so powerful that it shoves out your other magic."

"But you still miss it." He stood to join me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him.

"I probably always will." I shook my head slightly, trying to drive off the sadness. "But there's no point in moping. I'm really damned lucky. I know that."

He stepped closer, his hands flexing as if he wanted to touch me.

I wanted him to touch me.

"You have power inside of you, Rowan," he said. "Massive amounts of it. I can feel it. You're strong. Amazingly so. Your original magic might be gone, but it doesn't make you any lesser. Your experiences, dark as they've been, only make you stronger."

I swallowed hard at the tone of his voice. It was as if he was trying to force his own belief into me. To make me believe in myself.

I looked up at him, swaying slightly toward him, unable to stop myself. He seemed to sway toward me as well. There was a live wire connecting us. Though we touched nowhere, it felt like we touched everywhere.

Time slowed. His dark gaze, hot and intense, met mine. My lips parted.

The wisps were gone. They couldn't interrupt.

And he smelled so good. His scent twined around me, making my head swirl. I leaned even closer.

Someone pounded on the front door.

I jumped, flying back from him. "Holy crap."

He frowned, annoyed, and looked up at the door. "I never have visitors."

"Order of the Magica and Representative of the Intermagic Games. Open up!"

Horror opened a gaping hole in my chest. I could actually feel the blood rush from my cheeks. No way, no way, no way. My gaze flashed to Maximus's.

His was calm and steady. Anchoring me.

He reached out and squeezed my arm, then leaned close to whisper at my ear. Just in case any of them had super senses, probably, but I liked the feel of his breath. "Don't worry. We don't know why they're here. And there are only two."

"You're sure?"

He tapped his ear. "Killer senses."

"Do you know the Order of the Magica guy?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Totally different department. He's in Magical Enforcement. I doubt he even knows about the witches infiltrating the competition."

Magical Enforcement. I swallowed hard.

"We haven't informed the Intermagic Games about the infiltrators," Maximus said. "But I may do it now. We have confirmation that they are in the game, so it's time. It might also distract them from you."

I nodded, my head buzzing. "Do we have to let them in?"

"I think it's wisest."

"What if they're here because they saw my death magic on the competition?" It had to be that.

"They don't know you caused that. You were buried beneath the vines. It's best to let them in and play dumb. We'll throw them off the scent. And if we don't, then we'll take them out. But no need to go straight to running."

Straight to running.

I hated running. After a childhood spent doing that, I didn't want to return to it. The idea hardened my spine. Maximus's plan was solid. I wouldn't run.

Stiffly, I nodded.

He strode to the door. As he reached for the handle, my heart began to pound.

He swung open the door to reveal two men. Each was slight and pale, and I'd have sworn they were brothers if not for the vastly different features. One looked a bit like a cocker spaniel, and the other like a rat. The rat man was the same as the one we'd met at the beginning of the Intermagic Games, I realized. He'd never introduced himself, though.

They both had strong magic, and it rolled over me in waves, smelling like a pile of fresh laundry and a cup of strong tea, respectively.

"Rowan Blackwood and Maximus Valerius?" said the cocker spaniel.

"You're at the right place," Maximus said.

The cocker spaniel stuck out his hand. "I'm Harry Ward, representative of the Order of the Magica."

The rat held out his hand next. "And I'm Oliver Keates, Intermagic Games."

"What are you doing here?" Maximus didn't waste any time, it seemed. "We need to rest up before the next competition."

Oliver nodded, looking like a nice rodent, at least. His demeanor had changed since earlier. He was no longer bossy and rude. Maybe he was playing good cop. "Of course, of course."

Harry Ward, the cocker spaniel, cleared his throat, and it was suddenly clear that he was the mean cop. "We're here about the withering of the pumpkin vines at the haunted house on Dartmoor."

Oliver stepped forward. "It wasn't part of the competition. It had to have been something you did to them."

A low shriek sounded in my head—pure fear—and I stiffened, trying not to reveal a single bit of my emotions. The last thing they needed was to see how freaked out I was. There was no way I was going to survive all the other miserable shit in my past and let a mean cocker spaniel get me in the end.

A quick glance at Maximus showed him opening his lips to speak. With horror, I realized that he might be about to take the blame.

Oh, hell no.

"A potion," I said quickly. "I'm a potions master."

Harry the cocker spaniel frowned. "A potion that wilts vines until they die? That was widespread death you caused there, young lady."

"Young lady?" My anger echoed in my voice, so strong that even I wouldn't want to get on my bad side.

The cocker spaniel winced. "I'm sorry. That wasn't politically correct."

I barked a harsh laugh. "Politically correct? That's just a way of saying not being an asshole. And you, sir, are an asshole."

He bristled, and I winced internally. Okay, it was one thing to get pissed; it was entirely another to make enemies of the man who had the keys to the Prison for Magical Miscreants. If he didn't believe me, I'd be in damned big trouble.

"We're going to need a sample of your potion, Ms. Blackwood. If it is indeed just a potion, we'll apologize for your wasted time."

I nodded sharply, even though I didn't have a potion like that and had never made anything like it. Sucking the life out of plants on such a large scale was rare. "I used the last of it up, but when the competition is over, I can get you a sample."

"We're not keen on waiting that long."

I looked at Oliver, the Intermagic Games guy. "What do you say, boss? Shall we take a break from the competition so I can whip up a sample of my potion?"

Oliver shifted uncomfortably, his nose twitching. "Well, we really don't have the time. And you two are favorites of the viewers." He looked at Harry. "Can it wait until after?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, and I regretted my earlier outburst even more. But it was better than groveling, I reminded myself. That I would never do.

"Fine," Harry snapped. "But my office will be expecting a sample of this potion."

I nodded, trying to look bored. "I'll have it to you ASAP." And since being insolent seemed to be my calling card with old Harry, I drew an X over my chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

He frowned at that, then turned.

"Wait." Maximus's voice halted him mid stride. "There's another issue."

Harry turned back to face us, while Oliver just widened his eyes.

"We believe there were two unauthorized competitors in the race at the haunted house. They reached the map before we did. They're dangerous."

Oliver nodded, turning slightly green. "We're aware. They are indeed unauthorized interlopers, but we've guaranteed they cannot get to the final prize."

Maximus nodded, clearly not convinced. "They could do great damage if they got their hands on that prize."

"They cannot." Oliver twisted his hands. "There's nothing we can do about them at this stage—they have the clue about the next phase, just like you do. But we'll ensure they can't touch the final prize."

"You can't cancel that phase?" asked the cocker spaniel.

I wanted to kick him. Of course we didn't want the games cancelled. We needed to track these witches and figure out what their deal was. But Maximus was right. He was from a totally different department and had no idea what was going on with the witches.

Oliver shook his head. "Too much money, too much planning. And you agreed to participate even though it was deadly. So just be careful."

I almost scoffed, but managed to keep my mouth shut at the last minute.

They left a few moments later, and Maximus shut the door. I sagged against the chair behind me and scrubbed my hand over my face.

"Do you have a potion that can replicate what you did to those plants?" he asked.

"Nope. Hopefully someone can hook me up though. Or I can create one." I went through my mental catalogue. "I have a bunch of deadly potions, but none that sucks out the life of many living things at once." I shuddered, not even wanting to own such a potion. I didn't blame the Order for being wary.

"Your friends will help you."

I smiled slightly. He was right about that. I might be worried to death, but I had backup. They'd always be there for me. "I'll call them."

"Then let's get some rest."

He was right. The sun was already high in the sky, and we were burning our rest hours. Not to mention, the mood was officially killed. Chilly fear still raced over my arms.

"You can take my room," he said.

"I don't need to."

"I don't want to argue."

"Fine. Thank you."

We split then, not acknowledging the near-kiss.

As I walked by, he gripped my shoulder gently. "We'll fix this, Rowan."

His words made me feel a bit better, but he couldn't entirely drive the fear away. Nothing could do that. Not until they officially cleared me, and maybe not even then.

As I climbed the stairs, I called my sisters again, explaining what had happened with the potions.

"We'll get Lachlan right on it," Ana said. "And Hedy and Connor. Between the three of them, they can find something that will do the trick."

"Quick thinking, Rowan," Bree said. "There's all kinds of terrible potions that they don't monitor."

"No, they're only concerned with what we can do." I didn't understand why it was any different if I killed someone with a touch or if I did it with a potion bomb, but it probably had something to do with them thinking death-wielders were evil.

Which, fair enough. I could see why we might be creepy.

"Don't worry, Rowan," Bree said. "Even if you did get sent to the prison, we would find you. We'll always find you."

I nodded, smiling gratefully. Once I'd gotten away from the Rebel Gods, my sisters had bought me a tracking charm. They each had one, too. Had had them for years, actually, ever since my abduction. After losing me, they hadn't wanted to lose each other. With the charms, we could find each other anywhere in the world. It'd once saved Ana's life, in fact.

"Thanks, guys. Love you lots."

"Love you lots," they echoed.

I cut the connection with my sisters and stepped into the darkened bedroom. For some reason, it seemed bigger and darker. Emptier than before.

Lonelier.

It only made the fear worse. The worry.

I knew that a lot of it was caused by exhaustion, but knowing that didn't drive the worry away.

I sat on the bed, weighted down by it. Made cold by it.

A scratching noise sounded at the window, and I looked up.

Romeo sat there, along with Poppy and Eloise. Poppy had replaced her flower with a pretty orange leaf. A smile tugged at my face as I went to the window and opened it. The three little weirdos tumbled in.

I returned to the bed, and they jumped up to sit on the end.

You look sad. Romeo twisted his little hands together.

"Worried."

He nodded. Yes. That's it. I'm not good with human feelings. Your faces are squashed and strange. Hard to read.

"You do all right."

He gave me a fangy grin, then clambered up the blankets until he sat on my lap. Then he patted my hand with his smaller one. A tingle of warmth flowed through me.

"What are you doing?"

Making you feel better.

Poppy and Eloise trundled up and settled in by each hip.

"When was the last time you guys were in a dumpster?"

Poppy hissed her annoyance.

We've bathed. We're very clean, you know.

I nodded, a laugh bubbling out of me. "Of course. I bet Eloise makes you take regular baths."

The badger grumbled as if it were a difficult task.

"In between all her fighting, of course."

She grinned as if liking the sound of that.

Well, is it working? I smell nice, right? Romeo looked up at me, little nose pointed up toward my face.

"Yeah, actually." I wrapped my arms around him and cuddled my trash panda. Maybe it was weird, but I didn't care. And I chose to believe that they actually had taken baths. They were just like cats. Almost. "I have to go to a ball tomorrow. Do you think you guys could make me a dress?"

Romeo brightened, his head popping up from where he'd laid it on my shoulder. Like Cinderella?

"Exactly like Cinderella."

Of course we can.

Eloise grumbled. Bad idea.

I smiled and looked down at her. "Did you speak, Eloise?"

She just ignored me. But she was probably right. My Menacing Menagerie was better at fighting and dumpster diving. But as I fell asleep, I couldn't help but smile at the idea of them making me a dress. Probably out of whatever crap they found in a dumpster, but it'd be made with love, at least.