Chapter Twenty-Six

Aloud whirring sound filled Kierse's head. It drowned out everything except how awful she felt. She was going to throw up. Puke her entire guts up. She groaned as she shifted and suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She tried to block it but found she hardly had the strength. Instead, she leaned over the side of wherever she was lying and vomited onto the floor.

Cursing followed, but she couldn't find the will to care. Not as she puked until she had nothing left in her stomach and then dry heaved for a solid minute after that.

"Ugh," she groaned as she rolled back over.

"I am regretting my decision not to bring on staff," Graves said distantly.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to be sick again. "What... happened?"

Graves said nothing for a few minutes as he cleaned. A fact in which she would surely find mortification later. Once he was done, she felt his weight rest on the cushion next to her. "You must have ingested a lot of wish powder."

"Right," she said, her memories coming back to her in a rush. Or at least some of them. Vague outlines of memories. It all felt very disjointed, as if she was looking at something that happened a few years ago rather than a few hours. "Where are we?"

"In the airplane."

"Good."

"Drink this," Graves said.

She slowly opened her eyes to find him holding a glass of cloudy water over her face. Just the thought made her want to vomit again.

"What is it?"

"An antidote. It will help," he told her.

Kierse rose to an elbow, fighting nausea, and took the drink in her shaking left hand. She forced herself to drink the whole thing. She didn't even ask why it tasted disgustingly like sulfur. Then she collapsed back onto the plane cushion.

She felt less like she might die from vomiting, but still she ached everywhere. Her eyes burned. Sweat clung to her skin. Fire coursed through her veins, though its heat was thankfully fading.

For another moment, Graves was silent. His eyes focused solely on her face. If she didn't feel so addled, she might say there was concern there.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"That helped." She closed her eyes. "Thank you."

"When you were incapacitated..." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "That should never have occurred."

She swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"Can you tell me how this happened?" Graves asked.

"It wasn't in the study. The study led to a secret passage into a basement. They were crating wish powder. I broke into their bank vault and retrieved the envelope. It's in my clutch."

"Good," Graves said but frowned. "They had a bank vault?"

She nodded. "It was warded, but that wasn't a problem. Once I broke in, a cloud of white smoke erupted out of the opening. It coated my skin, and I inhaled it."

"White powder," he said, his face going pale. "I didn't think she made that anymore."

"I thought I was immune to magic."

"I thought so as well." He shook his head, a shadow crossing his face. "Imani is the living embodiment of ‘be careful what you wish for.' She's a powerful warlock, but the powder enhances her reach. Before Imani perfected her powder down enough to be sold, she experimented with some dangerous varieties. The red powder that she uses at her parties—what was in the crates you saw in the study—that is her desire wish powder. It's her most useful and the best business she's invented. But to get to a safe powder, she'd overwhelmed enough of her participants with dangerous wishes. White powder usually kills people. Sometimes instantly. I thought she had given up making it."

"But how does this work on me? I didn't think it was possible."

"When you wanted to be warmer, it set you on fire. I knew she was capable of such things, but I was certain your own abilities would counteract that. They seemed to be working fine before the vault."

Kierse was slipping again already. Felt like she was being pulled under. "So, am I or am I not immune to magic?"

"You must be," he said with a frown. "Or you'd be dead."

"Then how did it affect me like this?"

"My working theory is either you ingested an amount so great that it penetrated your immunity or you aren't immune to ingested magic."

"Okay," she said, dragging the word out. "So you have no idea."

"This is why it was a test."

Kierse shook her head, the weight of the last twenty-four hours heavy on her. "Do you have powers like that?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Well, small mercies," she muttered. She dropped back onto the cushion and closed her eyes. It was all too much to take in right now. Not like this, when she couldn't concentrate or move or breathe without aching.

"You should get some more sleep," Graves said.

He stroked her hair gently out of her face. Her eyes fluttered closed at his suggestion, her body responding to his soothing touch.

"We'll be back in the city soon. You can recover at home."

"That's not my home," she murmured as she slipped toward oblivion.

His next words were faint, so she wasn't even sure she heard him say, "It could be."