Chapter 10

10

EVANGELINE

M arcus's safe house was on the edge of town. Even though Marcus had mentored me for years, I'd never set foot in his place. Generally, he just showed up at my apartment, like a stray cat I'd fed too many times.

He hadn't offered any description beyond ‘not a mansion', and while that was accurate, it had not prepared me for the old mill building—four tall stories of brick pressed tightly onto the banks of the river. The walls were studded with windows, massive ten-foot things that peered down at us curiously. It probably had an amazing view of the river, but I was guessing that whoever had built the place cared less about that and more about saving money on lighting.

"It was a textile mill," Marcus told us as he undid lock after lock on the front door.

Green paint flaked off the huge, thick, wooden double doors, settling on the grooves on the normal-sized door set into it. The big doors could be thrown open for a flood of factory workers, and the smaller door could be used when there weren't so many people going in and out. The hinges of the bigger doors were speckled with rust, but the set on the small door were perfectly maintained.

"They made broadcloth here, wool and silk. There used to be massive looms, big hulking things. No safety features. Absolutely horrible, maiming people left and right."

Iskra, Theo, Vic, Tessa, Isabella, Xarek, and I waited for him to undo the locks, which took a while. There were hidden magical ones that had to be undone carefully. We had brought supplies for our relocation: clothes, toiletries. Some of us had packed lighter than others. Xarek had a small backpack, and Tessa and Vic had brought a full luggage set. None of us were in the mood for a guided tour, but it was impossible to rush Marcus. Finally, he undid the last of the locks and swung the door open.

The inside couldn't have been more different from the stodgy brick and glass of the outside. It looked like a children's museum and a high-end workshop jumbled together with the sort of bean-bags-and-potted-plants twee design of tech companies trying too hard to seem like fun, fast-paced places to work.

The first floor was one huge room. In one corner, a tangle of rope stretched all the way up to the ceiling. The ropes were strung with huge beads and charms, making it look like someone had woven a climbing structure out of the contents of a giant kindergartener's jewelry box. A fireman's pole went down the center of the thing, and when I looked closer, I could see it went up to the floor above.

The space between every window was packed with bookshelves, which in turn were packed with all sorts of things. There were books, yes, but also colorful bottles, a vase of feathers, a jar which held what looked like a small, preserved shark. Some of the books were on magical topics, but I also spotted a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and a volume of Proust bristling with neon orange sticky notes. An old-fashioned phone booth stood against one wall, but the window panels had been replaced with coppery mesh. Everywhere my eye fell, I found at least three weird things I wanted to ask about, but everything blended together with so much chaos, it became oddly uniform. It was like walking through a rejected set for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory .

"Welcome, welcome," Marcus said, spreading his arms wide. "Please, make yourselves at home. The kitchen, living room, etcetera are on the second floor, along with the master bedroom and one of the guest rooms. The other bedrooms are on the third. You may go up to the fourth floor, but don't leave the old foreman's office, please. There's a rather extensive colony of endangered birds that got into the main room and started nesting, and I'm loath to disturb them. I've taken the liberty of selecting a room for each of you, so follow the light, and you'll be taken right to it." He waved a hand, and a little globe of light appeared a few inches above and in front of each of our right shoulders. They bobbed gently, then floated toward the stairs, which were set against one wall and supported on wooden pillars.

We picked our way through the clutter and went up the stairs. The second floor was a little more organized, and I got the sense that the first floor was one giant junk drawer, where Marcus could drop the cool stuff he brought home on the nearest available flat surface and then never, ever put it somewhere that made sense. The second floor was broken up into smaller rooms, with half the space walled off, and the other half set up as a surprisingly tidy kitchen and a much less tidy living room. I'd been right about the view—it was magnificent. The river crashed and raced along the rocks, the pine woods a bright green against the blue sky. I had to stop myself from pressing my nose against the glass like a little kid. Here and there I could see the remains of old stone walls between the trunks.

Beside me, my guide light bobbed impatiently.

I pulled away from the window and climbed the next set of stairs. The third floor had a landing area with a bean bag chair, a scattering of floor pillows, and half a dozen plants thriving in the light spilling in from the huge windows. The rest of the floor was split into two rows of rooms, with a narrow hallway down the middle. I followed the light, which led me toward one of the doors, then disappeared.

The room had the same tall ceilings and the same brick walls as the rest of the mill, but a loft had been added against one wall. There was a hammock in it, and a lamp that was shaped like a crescent moon. The ceiling was painted a deep blue, with gold and silver stars scattered across the beams. The room was big. Even with the old mill divided into chunks, there was still a lot of space to go around. The view out the windows drew my attention first, and I was so taken with the crashing water and thick forest that it took me a second to look back the way I'd come.

A huge mural, which reached up at least fifteen feet, graced the wall behind me. It was the forest. An exact mirror of it, I realized, spotting a tree with a wonky branch that was a twin of one outside. The mural was loose, impressionistic, making it seem like some sort of funhouse mirror reflection of the outside world. It made me feel small, but not in a bad way. Like a little forest creature in a safe burrow. I could see why Marcus had picked this room for me.

The room was sparsely furnished in the way of spaces put together by someone who didn't actually use them. There was a large bed with a heap of blankets and pillows stacked at the foot of it, and a slant-top desk with a mismatched chair. A door tucked under the loft led to a bathroom that looked like it had been sized for a toilet and a sink, but somebody had decided to fit a shower into it. The shower was a tiny cubicle, and I was pretty sure the room was small enough that if you really wanted to, you could rinse your hair, use the toilet, and wash your hands all at the same time. A basket of mini toiletries stood on the sink: mismatched tiny shampoo, conditioner, lotion with the logos of different hotel chains on them. Marcus was a frugal traveler, and firmly believed it didn't count as stealing if the item was free. The people who handed samples out at the grocery hated him.

I dropped my duffel bag onto the bed and wandered listlessly around the room the way I did whenever I stayed in a hotel. Something about the weird liminality of a bedroom that wasn't actually anyone's always made me feel as though I needed to pace the perimeter, like a dog stomping a circle on their bed before lying down.

I sat on the bed, then stood up again. I fluffed the pillows, threw them at the head of the bed, then smoothed the blankets across the mattress. There. Now, if nothing else, I would have a made-up bed to collapse into at the end of the day. Good. Time to get to the stuff that really mattered.

I went back out into the hallway. I figured the others had gone to pick their own rooms, but when I headed back down the stairs to the second floor, I saw Xarek leaning against the dividing wall, his back to me. He was facing Marcus, who was somehow managing to look up at him, even though they were the same height.

"My room is right down the hall," Marcus was telling him. "Please don't hesitate to let me know if you need anything."

I made a scandalized face at him from the stairs, one hand on my chest like I was clutching my pearls. Marcus's lips twitched when he noticed. Theo came clomping down the stairs behind me, their boots loud on the creaky stairs, and Xarek and Marcus stepped away from each other. Theo shot me a questioning look, ducking their head toward the two men, and I waggled my eyebrows. They gave Xarek a once-over, then made a face that said, ‘damn, good for Marcus.'

I nodded.

"Marcus," I called. "We should start training, yeah?"

"Indeed," he said. "As soon as you and Iskra are settled in."

"I'm good to go," I told him.

"Yes, but you're not the sort of person who unpacks," he pointed out. I snorted. He wasn't wrong. "Her room is up on the fourth floor. Would you like a guide light to lead you there?"

"Nah, I got it," I said. "Keep doing what you're doing." I stifled a smirk, which I was pretty sure I deserved an award for.

The training area was a patch of half-dead grass near the river, far enough from the rushing water, so we could hear each other talk. Marcus had brought out a pair of lawn chairs, the type with metal frames and gaudily woven straps that made up the seats and backs. Iskra looked completely out of place perched delicately on hers, legs crossed primly at the ankles. She'd brought the ring box with her and handed it to me with a solemn set to her mouth.

The ring glinted in the light. Swallowing hard, I slid it onto my left pointer finger, and it adjusted itself to fit perfectly. The metal was warm, and the stone flickered with colors as I angled my hand back and forth.

"It's not a toy, child," Iskra said, and I jumped.

"Just, uh…" I cleared my throat. "Just getting a feel for it."

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but Marcus nodded.

"A good idea," he said. "Experimentation is the key to understanding, as I always say."

I was pretty sure I'd never heard him say that before.

It would be generous to call what happened after that a lesson. In lessons, the teachers usually had at least some understanding of what they were trying to teach. This was more like two people explaining how to drive while they were trying to invent a car.

Iskra had academic knowledge, that much was clear. She used terms for advanced magic I'd only come across in a few books and hadn't bothered to research. She was also a hard ass. Marcus, on the other hand, had the hands-on experience, and was as stern and unforgiving as a marshmallow. Half of the frustration I wound up boiling in was from trying to get them to figure out what they were actually going to tell me to do.

Eventually, we sort of figured it out. Angling my hand did help. With my hand laid flat, I pivoted its direction around until the stone's color went bright, opaque white. According to Iskra, that meant the polarity of the stone was aligned with a ley line. She also told me that once I was aligned properly, it was just a question of throwing myself into the magic.

I had no goddamn clue how to do that.

I spent most of the afternoon trying to will myself into teleporting while the other two watched me and argued. At one point, Marcus raised a hand to stop me, and I gave up on trying to… think myself into magic? I hadn't even been sure while I was doing it.

"You're holding back," he said.

I glared at him. "Think about what happened last time I let loose," I snapped.

"This isn't like that," he promised. "It won't be. This time, you're the one in control, but if you spend half your focus on keeping your magic pushed down…"

"It's not?—"

"The longer you insist on limiting yourself," Iskra said in icy tones, "the longer my son gets tortured."

I stared at her, fists clenched. I might as well have tried to stare down a statue. She was a master of the imperious glare.

"I'm just…" Just what? Scared? Unsure? Not used to this? It was all true but not helpful. She was right, I had to push through. "I think it might help if I had something to focus on aside from, you know… focusing."

Her chin dipped in a minute nod, which I chose to interpret as approval. "Try moving."

"What?"

"That's not a bad idea," Marcus said. "Like running with a kite before launching it. If you're already moving in the direction of the ley line, you may be able to slip into it more easily."

Great. Sounds super dignified . I decided not to voice that one out loud, because Iskra had more dignity in her pinkie than I'd probably had in my whole life.

I aligned the ring again and started walking, trying to focus on the magic around me. I paced back and forth, parallel to the ley line, and then, for just a second, I felt it. The wild magic was right there, close enough to touch. It startled me so much that I didn't even think to reach for it, and then the moment passed. But Marcus and Iskra could clearly tell something had been different that time. Iskra was on her feet, and Marcus stared at me with a furrowed brow.

"You felt it, didn't you?" Marcus asked.

The magic had been so loud and free and… well, wild.

I nodded, speechless.

"Again," Iskra said.

I did it again.

And again.

And again.

After what must've been at least an hour, I finally managed it. When I felt the wild magic around me, I stepped into it and disappeared.

It was like nothing else I'd ever experienced. I thought I might flow along smoothly, but no, I felt like a leaf being blasted down a waterfall just like the one by the mill. I was thrown through the world below the world, buffeted around by swells of magic until I worried I might get lost forever.

Then there was a tug on the ring, and I popped back into the real world. I was in a desert, ankle-deep in an oasis pool. Dazed, I looked around me.

Okay. Not in Eldoria anymore, Toto.

I sloshed forward, trying to find the ley line, then dipped back into it and hurtled through the magic. Time seemed alien to that place, and I had no sense of how long I meandered in that torrent of energy. A blip, and I was on a clifftop. A blip, and I was in a jungle. A blip, and I was in the middle of a crowded city, people around me yelling in a language I didn't know. I grasped for anything familiar and slid back into the world at the feet of a giant statue. I knew this place. It was outside Eldoria, deep in the woods.

I more or less knew which way the city was from here. I slipped under again, focusing harder, and found myself in one of the parks. Closer. Again, and now I was getting used to this. I could feel the intersections of the ley lines as they sped past me. The crossflow of the other lines buffeted me, but I could hold my own against them now. I pulled myself back up into reality again, certain I was still in Eldoria.

I found myself in a room with tall ceilings and dark wood paneling on the walls. Dozens of huge oil paintings hung on them. They were almost all of the same three people, with bloodless olive skin, sharp bone structure, and dressed in formalwear from across the centuries. Iskra and Roland De Montclair glared down forebodingly from the walls all around me, often with Gabriel trapped between them. Between the family portraits were paintings of huge battles, ships at sea, and the occasional castle on fire.

Well.

I'd meant to get a better handle on this new power before I broke into the citadel, but the wild magic had had other plans.

I stared up at a painting of a stoic-looking Gabriel and slid down into the tangled web of ley lines again. Iskra said there were a lot of intersections in the citadel, and I would search them all until I found the one that brought me to Gabriel.