Phoenix Freed Page 11

  Tyler leaned back against the pillow, all traces of good humor vanishing from his expression, and nodded. “Elisabeth questioned me about it. She’d found an old journal from a Rengalla who’d been experimenting with mixing elemental and dark magic.” His bright blue eyes locked with hers. “It didn’t end well.”

  “The Orb?” Cody asked.

  “Was his creation.”

  “But what does it do?” Daughtry asked

  Tyler was already shaking his head. “I don’t know.” A sigh. “Or I don’t remember. When I concentrate, I can almost recall something. Then it just fucking slips away.” He levered himself up onto his elbows with a low oath. “It can’t be good, I feel that much.” His frustration and regret were palpable, a wire brush against Daughtry’s skin.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Tyler’s involvement in this was her fault. The fact that he was hurting because he’d gotten caught in the crossfire—

  “Cowgirl,” Cody murmured, his arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders. “You know it’s not—“

  “I know.” She nodded. It didn’t absolve all of the guilt, though.

  Tyler reached up and touched her cheek. He didn’t say anything, just stared into her eyes, the bright blue irises warm, filled with compassion and hope. It was so similar to how she felt about him that the truth finally struck a chord deep within her.

  One corner of her mouth quirked up and relief coursed across the bond as Cody sensed her emotions turning for the better. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

  Tyler tilted his head to the side and nodded. “Both so determined to take the blame.”

  “What can I say? We’re good at it.”

  “True.” He touched her cheek again. “Let’s be done with that. Deal?”

  It felt as though the final iron band had been released from around her heart. The organ could finally pump freely, feel fully for the first time in weeks.

  “Deal,” she murmured as a knock sounded on the door.

  Morgan entered. “Time to blow this joint,” he told Tyler.

  Tyler nodded then whispered at Daughtry. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

  “No,” she said, stepping back so Morgan could collect Tyler. “I’ll see you on this side.”

  Nineteen

  Francis took in the object that Daughtry had set in his hands. His palms were open, and appeared empty.

  A gleam came into his eyes—one of scholarly interest, of a person who loved to solve puzzles even with the enemy was pressing down on them—as she explained what she’d found in the storage room. He sat down on a log in the clearing he used to teach his students. The gardens were quiet around them, the childish voices that typically filled them silenced by the periodic vibrations of the Dalshie’s attacks.

  Morgan and Mason had returned a few hours before, having rounded up all the civilians and teleporting them out, along with some of the lower-ranked military personnel.

  It was a risk to leave their vulnerable without the LexTals and the higher leveled military staff but if the Dalshie weren’t taken out, if they didn’t manage to destroy the threat to the Rengalla, no one would be safe.

  Daughtry didn’t know where the civilians had gone and thought it was safer that way. Bearing the responsibility for putting more innocents at risk wasn’t something that she could stand.

  Though, if she hadn’t agreed to the Bond Magic she would have been shipped right off with them. In fact, she and Francis were the only two non-military left.

  “Not the only two,” Cody said quietly.

  She jumped, having been so distracted by Francis that she hadn’t felt Cody approach.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, just as quiet. Francis’s eyes were closed, the tickle of his magic present on her skin, even though she couldn’t physically see it. Because Francis wasn’t just a teacher and a scholar—he had the ability to turn invisible.

  Which hopefully meant he could do the reverse with the object in his hand.

  “Yes,” Cody said. He tugged her a few feet away from Francis then spoke normally, “Everyone is evacuated . . . except for about a dozen of the Forgotten. They refuse to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re warriors.” He said the word with just a touch of derision. She knew that it stemmed from worry, not mockery. “They want to fight.”

  Daughtry laid a hand on his arm, didn’t resist when he shook off her grip, wrapped her in his own arms, and pulled her close against his chest. Since he could sense her emotions, read every worry in her mind, Cody knew that although she was projecting outward calm, inside she was a freaking mess.

  She soaked up the comfort, allowed herself to be wrapped in the pine and sea salt scent that was her bondmate, and pretended that there wasn’t an enemy outside their gates.

  A rumble through the ground stole that moment of contentment.

  Black strands flowed over the skies above them, ebony tendrils that crawled over the dome-shaped shield. The gardens were on the top floor, an almost acre-sized space filled to the brim with trees, birds, even the occasional raccoon.

  Earlier the animals had been shooed out, the shield that was normally calibrated to let them pass as they may, altered so that they couldn’t reenter. Because if the Rengalla were going down, no one else would go with them.

  The sun was preparing to set, transforming the sky from blue and white to broad strokes of orange and red and yellow. Which made the black magic snaking over the shield even more freaky. They formed creepy silhouettes against the brightness of the sun, shoved an ever-deepening sense of despair down her throat.

  Cody stroked a hand through her hair, reassurance despite his own uncertainty. Not that he’d ever admit it, or even actually think it, but she sensed it.

  “The bond is strong,” he murmured.

  “Yes.” It was. Emerald and violet braided together, a thick steel rope that connected them, that wouldn’t be severed.

  Not by them. Not by the Dalshie.

  “Got it!” Francis said.

  Daughtry turned at the triumphant outburst. Pulling herself from Cody’s grip, she walked back over to Francis.

  She looked at Cody who shrugged.

  “A marble?” she asked.

  The translucent sphere sitting in Francis’s palm was only slightly larger than one. She picked up what they were assuming was the Orb and held it between two fingers.

  The ball wasn’t quite clear. It had a streak of luminescence that bisected the tiny globe and as she turned it this way and that, small rainbows of light reflected along her arms, Cody’s face.

  “Almost looks like it belongs with that set in Danny’s backpack.”

  Daughtry remembered the little boy who carried a knapsack full to the brim of toys and games during the drills and forced shelter-in-places she and the other Rengalla had endured over the last months. She’d always thought it odd he’d had a set of marbles—it seemed such an old-fashioned toy.

  “It’s pretty close,” she agreed and slid the Orb into her pocket. It was smaller, didn’t bulge out her pocket as much without whatever had been making it invisible gone.

  Francis touched her shoulder. “If this is the Orb, I’m not sure what it does, so be careful. Some of those artifacts—some of the experiments the Elders conducted—didn’t end up with the most successful results.”

  “Is that a euphemism for death by experiment?” she asked, feeling as though the small sphere in her pocket was a ticking time bomb.

  “Or turning,” Francis said with a grimace. “Sometimes our magic responds in odd ways. So be careful, my dear. Always remember that intent is the driving force. Intend to do good and it won’t steer you wrong.”

  “This wouldn’t be the time to say, ‘Good intentions paved the road to hell,’ would it?” She scuffed her sneaker against the dirt, did her best to keep her voice light. Above them the black threads disappeared off into space, allowing the waning sun to illuminate the space around them.

  Shadows d
appled the partially light clearing, though the leaves were unnaturally still. Everything and everyone was waiting.

  “Definitely not, my dear.”

  He handed her a key. “To my own private collection of books,” he told her, along with a series of instructions about how to access them. “I don’t remember reading anything about an Orb, but many of the journals are old.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “There might be something in them that can help.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  A nod, but when she went to turn away, she saw that his eyes had locked onto her throat, onto the necklace. “Where did you find that?” he asked.

  Her fingers found the golden chain, the heavy burnished charm. “In a box with my father’s things. It has the same falcon as the LexTal crest, do you think it’s okay if I wear it?”

  Francis’s pale blue eyes were soft. “I think your father would have liked that very much. But it’s not a falcon on that pendent, dear, it’s a phoenix. From the ashes we rise,” he murmured before glancing over her shoulder. “Oh, there’s my ride. And just in time since it appears the Dalshie have ceased for the moment.”

  Francis surprised her then by stepping close and hugging her tight. “Please be careful. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

  Swallowing against the bubble of emotion, she stepped back and nodded. “You too.” She liked Francis, wouldn’t want to see him hurt.

  Morgan crossed to them, his skin was pale and there were lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “Hey, Cody, Dee,” he said. It was the brief acknowledgement of a man who’d nearly reached his limit. “Ready, Prof?”

  “Yes.” Francis stepped close to Morgan. She’d never really considered how awkward the touching component of Morgan’s ability must be until she saw him with his arms around the much older Francis.

  Morgan wore the resigned expression of a person who’d dealt with inappropriate contact numerous times. Sort of what she’d seen on Suz’s face when healing her patients.

  'The unglamorous part of the job,' the doctor had said.

  Seeing Morgan wrapped around Francis was definitely that.

  "And something I won’t be able to un-see," Cody thought.

  Daughtry snorted and watched as the threads of Morgan’s magic—a hazel concoction of greens and browns and gold—weaved over him and Francis.

  Less than a second later, they lifted into the air and were gone.

  “How will they get through the shield?”

  “Dante’s been opening it briefly once they reach the very top. They’re using John as a telepathic go-between.”

  “A ready-set-go, then hope for the best?”

  “Pretty much,” Cody said then shrugged. “It’s worked.”

  There was a book in his hand that she was very much trying to ignore, a ratty old tome that they’d discovered amongst the piles of materials that Francis had sent her—the ones that hadn’t been destroyed the last time her powers had taken over and burned everything of hers and Cody’s to a crisp.

  Luckily—or maybe not, depending on how this turned out—the book had been amongst a stack in Suz’s office.

  One of its chapters was titled Bond Magic.

  Daughtry took it from Cody and opened it to the correct page, though she had every word memorized.

  Setting the book on one of the logs that Francis used for stools, she knelt on the dirt. Though she was resolved, though she had faith in her abilities, her legs were still shaking too much for her to stand.

  Cody sank down next to her.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said, no doubt sensing her raging emotions, taking in her trembling fingers.

  “I do,” she said. Fear would not dictate her actions. Not any longer.

  She might not know if it was the Orb in her pocket, and if it was, if it might be the weapon Elisabeth hoped for. What she did know is that the Rengalla had used Bond Magic in the past, that it was very powerful . . . and that it might be their only hope.

  If she could only control it without burning down the entire Colony.

  Her magic jumped in her mind, anxious to be released from the stranglehold she’d kept it contained with.

  With a whispered plea, she let it fly.

  Twenty

  Her magic raced down her spine, jumping from nerve ending to nerve ending, under her skin and through her arms. Violet sparks burst from her palms.

  They gathered together, formed tiny spheres of purple flames that hovered in the air in front of her.

  Francis had explained to her during one of his lessons that the form her magic appeared in naturally was her specialty. Since Oracles tended to have an affinity for fire, it wasn’t a surprise that flames was her “default” setting when she summoned her powers.

  She held still for several long moments, keeping the flow of magic constant. Her muscles were tense, her jaw tightly clenched as she waited for it to get out of control—for the trickle to transform into the familiar uncontrolled torrent.

  It didn’t.

  “Ready?” Cody asked after a few minutes.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Already she could feel herself tiring. Her mental muscles were sorely out of shape, something she hoped wouldn’t come back to bite her.

  Green flames appeared in Cody’s hands. Across the bond, she felt him direct them toward her. They fanned out, a thin sheet of fire, that covered her violet magic.

  The bond flared bright in her mind.

  Rightness surged through her body, made her every nerve tingle, filled her with so much warmth that she thought her heart might burst.

  Though Cody’s magic had initially just coated hers, after a moment, the outer layer of emerald flames began to weave into hers. Their powers weren’t mixing per se, more like integrating, intertwining in a way that was almost identical to the connection in her mind.

  The flames in her hand grew brighter, flaring higher and getting almost uncomfortably hot.

  Her eyes flew to Cody’s—watching him watch her—his gaze concerned. His consciousness had latched onto hers as he tracked her every thought.

  “Waiting for me to go Dr. Jekyl-Mr. Hyde?” she asked on a whisper.

  His lips quirked. “Of course not.”

  She snorted then focused back on the magic, searching it for a sign of darkness. But just like during the time she’d altered Kaitlin’s vision, there was nothing. Nothing but pure violet threads in her mind, no black staining the edges of her purple fire.

  The book had described Bond Magic as the mixing of two magics on a fundamental level. Had in fact described the exact procedure they were conducting as an introduction to the process. But had they done it right? Were they mixed enough?

  Would it be strong enough to defeat the Dalshie?

  He reached up and removed a branch from a nearby tree. “See if you can you can light this on fire.”

  Daughtry nodded, concentrating carefully as she directed the magic in her palm toward the piece of wood. The flames moved, floating through the air toward the stick. One brush of them against branch’s surface and—

  Ash.

  Not a burst cloying particular like with the Dalshie, but going from fresh green limb to black, smoldering ash. Like a campfire on steroids.

  Whoa.

  “Did we just do it?” she asked.

  Cody’s lips curved. “Does anything else come to mind?”

  That got a chuckle out of her. “No,” she said, a wave of fatigue washing over her.

  Cody closed her hand as he guided her mind through halting the flow of magic, first from her palms then up her arms and spine, until the ball of magic in her brain was back to being completely contained.

  She sagged back. “Is it safe?”

  Bond Magic seemed to live up to its very powerful reputation, if that branch disintegrating was any indication.

  “Save your strength,” he murmured.

  She nodded, stomach tight, questioning all over again if this was the right course. What if—

&
nbsp; Cody tucked a finger under her chin, forced her eyes up to meet his. “I’m a LexTal, cowgirl. I’ve survived because of my instincts. So I’ll just ask you this: does the magic feel right?”

  She nodded.

  “It does to me as well.” Cody shrugged. “Which is why I’m going to call Dante. Okay?”

  A pause as she gathered her courage, shored her spine against the self-doubt that had so frequently handicapped her in the past.

  “Okay.” While she hadn’t wanted anyone around while they’d conducted the trial—in case it went bad—she trusted Cody. If he thought it was time to bring in Dante, she would go with it. He pulled out his cell and began talking into it. Daughtry gave him some privacy, needing some space to think.

  Bond Magic.

  Two simple words that had been a big source of dissension between her and Cody. Two words that had caused her a so much grief. She didn’t know if it would be the key to destroying the Dalshie, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hoping with all her soul that it was.

  A blip above her head caught her attention.

  The shield peeled back, that was the only way that Daughtry could think to describe it, and Morgan—surrounded by a web of brown, green, and gold — started to descend.

  The shield was clear, so she couldn’t quite see it. Instead, looking at the barrier that was preventing the Dalshie from getting into the Colony was more like when someone went to the optometrist. Similar to looking through those weird binoculars and having the eye doctor slide different lenses in front of her eyes. An odd blurring, not quite the right focus as she looked up into the clouds, was the only evidence the shield was in place.

  Daughtry wondered if she and Cody would be able to manage to support the shield with Bond Magic and if it would retain its colorless appearance. A mix of green and violet might be pretty as flames, but coating the entire Colony would be a little too Las Vegas.

  "It won’t matter so long as we’re safe."

  She glanced over at Cody, a pulse of amusement coursing through her. "Spoken like a true man."