Magic Rising Read online

  “For all of us,” I agreed.

  Marc nodded. “I’m going to get some air. I’ll see you at the opening of the Summit.” He gave me another quick hug then melted into the crowd. Part of me was sad to see him ago. Another, smaller part felt somewhat relieved. Would I ever stop feeling guilty in his presence? Perhaps that was my penance?

  Daniel took Marc’s space, quickly manoeuvring into the spot before someone else did. “When did you get here?” I asked, quickly hugging him too in case he decided our new familiarity was too awkward for us to embrace. As far as I knew, Daniel was my only living relative, and I aimed to have a familial bond with him. A family was something I’d always wanted my whole life. The jury was still out on whether his father, my uncle, Auberon Morgan, aka head of the The Brotherhood, was still alive or not. Privately, of course, I hoped not. As much as I longed for a family, there were limits on what kind of family I would accept.

  “Two days ago, before you got indicted,” he said. “You know, I was hoping to see the sights or go to dinner, maybe see a show, not watch you on trial for murder!”

  “I feel like I should apologise,” I said and he gave a mirthful laugh.

  “Anders and I were going to bust you out if anything bad went down,” he said in a low whisper and a grin. “We’d have you back to England before they knew what happened.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Good to know.”

  “Yeah. Look, I got something for you, but I’ll get it to you later. Anders says we have to do some Summit schmoozing.”

  “Is it what I think it is?” I asked, anticipation sparking inside me as I recalled the promise he’d made during our last phone call.

  Daniel winked. “Tell you later. Love you, cuz. Call me when things have calmed down.” He gave me another hug and left me rooted to the spot. I knew my parents loved me, but it was the first time I could actually recall hearing a family member tell me he loved me. It was gratifying and my heart surged with pleasure and pride at his words.

  “This was outrageous!” Laura Winterstorm enveloped me in a thick, suffocating, hug so unlike her oldest daughter’s more reserved nature. “How they ever thought this case held any merit is beyond me.”

  “Not now, Mom,” said Seren, tapping her arm. Laura looked around her. The room had thinned out to half its population of a few minutes ago, but there were still plenty of straining ears. Judging by the looks and the snippets of conversation, not everyone was as elated as I at my dismissal and proven innocence.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Laura agreed. “We’ll talk soon, darling Stella. What are your plans?”

  “We’re going to my apartment,” interjected Etoile. “Anyone is welcome to join us. We’re leaving now,” she said decisively as she hooked her arm through mine and gave me a little tug, separating us from our small gathering. I didn’t protest. Getting out of here seemed like a good plan to me.

  “I’ll see you there,” said Steven, waving us away as someone stepped forward to congratulate him.

  We began to walk to the exit, but in all the excitement, I realised I’d left my purse under the desk. Ordinarily, I would have just summoned it to me, but the room still hung heavy with the magic restriction spell. I parted from our crowd to retrieve it, stooping low to grab the straps.

  “Ms. Mayweather? Stella?” The voice behind me was timid and faltering. I wheeled around ready to tell whomever wanted a piece of me to get lost. Screw politics. I’d had it now. My friends had been interrogated, my mind probed and displayed for all to see, and all I wanted now was a hug from my absentee boyfriend. Whoever it was could not have picked a worse time to congratulate or accuse me; or whatever it was they wanted.

  My sharp retort dried on my mouth. In front of me stood Alison Dorling, her red-rimmed eyes beseeching me to listen.

  “May I talk with you? Please? It will only take a moment,” she said.

  I glanced over where Etoile waited, her back turned away as she spoke to her parents. Then I looked at Alison. Despite everything, I still felt a lot of sympathy for her. A few minutes of my time was nothing to me, I reasoned, but it might mean a lot to her. Plus, I wanted to know if she had any answers for me. I still hadn’t gotten an adequate explanation of why she accused me… and why now?

  I gave her a sharp nod and she indicated the long table where the judiciary was sitting. I followed her there, my fingers clenched around the straps.

  “I’m so sorry,” was the first thing she said. She hurried on, “She said you were responsible for Jared’s death. I was so angry and I wanted someone to pay for what happened to him. I wanted to see you punished for what happened and she swore you would be. I was wrong and I really am very, very sorry.”

  “I understand why you are upset. Who put you up to this?” I asked, my caution ensuring I kept my voice soft.

  “Georgia Thomas,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “She approached me about a month ago. She said she had evidence that would confirm your guilt, but it had to come out in court.”

  I frowned. “What kind of evidence?”

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. The only thing she said was it would come out in testimony. She said the Council wouldn’t care unless I brought the murder charge for Eleanor too and that was the only way to find out the truth about Jared’s…” She looked defeated. “All your friends, however, well, they all said the same thing.”

  “They were all telling the truth,” I maintained. “You and the judiciary both saw what happened from my own head!”

  “I know that now. I was so upset and determined then that I couldn’t see straight. Jared was my only son. To lose him…” She inhaled sharply and gulped. “I should have known Georgia was just manipulating me. My friend, Beth, warned me about her.”

  “Your friend was right. Georgia is out for Georgia. Whatever reason she fabricated to drag you into this was aimed at serving her own interests somehow.” I crossed my arms and waited for Alison to confirm that too.

  “I wouldn’t know,” she answered, instead. “I just wanted justice for Jared, but I see now he already has it, thanks to you. I won’t ever pursue you again, I promise. And truly, I am sorry for this. All of this.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I told her, softening my stance. “I wish I could have helped Jared. I liked him.”

  “It’s not your fault. It wasn’t your fault at all. Will you forgive me?”

  “Yes,” I said without a trace of hesitation.

  “Thank you.” She touched my arm briefly, gave me a weak smile and hurried away, her chin hunched into her chest. Steven looked over and his face clouded.

  From the doorway, Etoile waved again and I joined her, giving Steven a small smile just to show him I was okay. “What did she say?” she asked, looking after Alison.

  “She wanted to apologise. She had a couple of other things to say too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t want to be overheard.”

  “Sure. I need coffee anyway. There’s a place on the corner where we can get a cup,” Etoile told me. “My parents and sisters will meet us at the apartment later. I figured you might want some alone time.”

  Did I ever! “Lead the way.”

  We shared a crowded elevator downstairs, but it wasn’t until we hit the street that we could talk privately again. “Georgia put her up to it,” I told her as we stepped into the cool air. My instincts told me no witches were in earshot so I assumed it was safe to speak.

  “Figures.”

  “She also said it had to be now.” I thought about Alison’s certainty of Georgia’s insistence about the timing. “Like you said, it has to be connected to the Summit.”

  “Agreed.”

  I stopped. “You’re taking this very calmly. What do you know that I don’t?”

  “I don’t think you were the target.”

  I hurried to catch up with Etoile as she strode ahead. “No? Then who was?”

  “Me.”

  “You? Why?
Because of what Georgia said about you running for Council?”

  “Because Georgia wants to discredit me by using you and making us both look bad. Getting you excommunicated would simply be payback for her if she won. Look, the most important thing right now is that the trial is over. It was dismissed with prejudice so no one can ever try a case like that against you again. They all saw what you were capable of and that your magic is evolving. Even better, Georgia’s plan backfired and everyone knows the truth about that day. Didn’t I tell you everything would be okay?” Etoile broke into a broad smile, but it was tinged with relief. “Georgia should be fined for wasting our time. I’m surprised the judiciary were so lenient on her, but I guess I shouldn’t be because she does have friends in high places.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me inside the chain coffee shop, joining the end of the short queue. We were quiet as the queue edged along, until finally, we reached the front.

  “Double pump, triple shot, extra vanilla, hold the whip,” reeled Etoile.

  The barista looked at me. “Black,” I said.

  The barista frowned, her forehead wrinkling under the cap. “I’m sorry?”

  “Black coffee,” I told her.

  “With?” She held up one hand and pointed at the many options on the menu above the machines.

  “With nothing. That’s it.”

  She raised her eyebrows, clearly not used to an order so simple, as she rang us up and Etoile paid. Following her to the end of the counter, we waited until our cardboard cups arrived. I added sugar to mine and we stepped outside into the cool afternoon light. I followed her, both of us lost in our thoughts.

  “I’m just glad it’s over,” I said. “It was horrible.”

  “Me too,” said Etoile.

  “You know, we forgot about Micah. Should we go back to the hotel for him? Do you think Georgia would really have insisted on my excommunication if she’d prevailed?” I piled on my questions, then stopped, realising Etoile was no longer at my side. I looked around. A pace behind me, Etoile was on her knees. “Are you okay? Did you trip?” I hurried back to her.

  Etoile stayed very still, then almost imperceptibly, her shoulders began to shake. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her eyes were wide and shocked.

  “Etoile?” I stepped closer, reaching for her. A stain spread across her jacket. “Hey, you spilled your coffee.”

  “No… not coffee,” Etoile stuttered. Her coffee cup dropped to the ground, hot liquid splashing my shoes before it washed over the sidewalk. I sank next to her as her hand went to her chest and that’s when I saw it. It wasn’t coffee staining her coat. The dark area was rapidly expanding as I looked at it — blood. Bright, crimson-red was soaking into the grey wool. A visible hole, with torn threads surrounding it, marred the cloth. “I’ve been shot,” she whispered. “Why does someone always get shot?” she moaned, her voice breaking with the pain as she wavered.

  “Oh shit.” I reached for her.

  “Get me out of here,” Etoile whispered, falling against me.

  “We need to go to a hospital.”

  “No hospital,” she groaned. “Too many records. Take us to the hotel. Get us out of here now!”

  I crouched next to her and flung my arms around her, simultaneously casting a protective field around us to divert human eyes. Keeping her in my arms, I shimmered us from the street straight to the hotel, focusing on the only space I knew well, the lobby outside the judiciary’s courtroom. For a brief moment as we landed, there was an eerie silence, our arrival probably surprising everyone. I understood why Etoile had been against a flashy entrance like this at the trial. The assembled witches gaped at us. “Help! Etoile‘s been shot,” I yelled, hoping the urgency in my voice would make them move, to do something, anything to help her.

  Hands appeared from everywhere as people pressed around me, helping me lay Etoile on the carpet. Someone unbuttoned her coat, pushing the sides apart. Her top was a scarlet mess and her jaw started to tremble, as the blood drained from her face. She blinked rapidly, and her eyes seemed to be losing focus.

  “Going into shock,” she whispered, her hand reaching up to grab my lapel. “Blood loss. Heal me now. Get it out.”

  “I…”

  “Don’t think,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just do it.”

  I placed both of my palms on her: one on her forehead where I willed my magic to numb her pain. And with my second hand, which I placed over her collarbone, I covered the still bleeding wound. I sent my magic inside her to seek the bullet, where it lodged in her muscle. Upon its extraction, I could feel her muscles knitting and repairing the damage. The bullet edged towards me until I could pluck it from her wound. I dropped it on the carpet.

  “Etoile?” I whispered, glancing towards her face. Her eyes were closed, and her skin seemed waxy and pale. My breath caught as anguish seared through me. Was I too late?

  “She’s out,” said a man’s voice.

  “Is she…?” My voice broke.

  “Alive,” said the same voice. Continuing in an even tone, he said, “Finish your work. You need to close the wound.”

  I concentrated my last bit of energy on the opening, quickly fusing the skin together until only a pinkish line was all that was left of her wound. Her sharp breaths softened. I had the horrible feeling I was too late, or that I’d messed up somehow, that the blood loss was too great. Then someone took her pulse, as another patted me on the back, instigating a general air of relief.

  “Let’s get her to a room,” said another person. Hands helped move me backwards as Etoile was lifted.

  “I need to go with her. And she needs her family. Her family are here.” I looked around for them, hoping they hadn’t witnessed this. I couldn’t see any Winterstorm in the small crowd that had formed, or anyone I recognised. They must have already left, as eager as we were to get away.

  “We’ll find them,” said someone else in a friendly voice. “Stella, isn’t it? Let’s go.”

  Another stranger wrapped an arm around me and held me up as a tall man gathered Etoile in his arms. I followed the silent progression as a room was called for, along with a healer, and other people that I was too shocked to remember or notice. After a while, they stopped outside a room. The door opened and we were ushered inside. Etoile was lying on the bed and people fussed around us. Someone took me into the bathroom and washed my hands, the blood staining the sink pink. Like a child, I allowed my hands to be patted dry with a towel. If I were suddenly asked to pick the helpful person out of a lineup, I am sure I wouldn’t be able to. Everything passed by in a blur as I was pressed into an armchair. From the doorway, I heard Laura insisting she be let in, since she was her mother, and demanding to see her daughter. Then Seren was next to me, her hand against my head and I was out cold.

  ~

  “Evan? It’s me again. I know you’re busy, but I really need to talk to you.” I paused, the phone pressed against my face as his voicemail recorded my silence. “The trial is over. Not guilty, obviously. Glad they came to their senses, but I feel bad for Alison Dorling. She’s… She was Jared’s mother and Georgia spun her some story about getting revenge… Anyway, I’m not really calling about that. Something happened. Something bad. Etoile was shot. I’m okay. I healed her, but she’s still unconscious. So… I know you’re busy, but I need you. Evan, I really need you.” I hung up, only just resisting the urge to hurl my phone against the wall. With more effort, I tempered my anger. The events of the past few days were bad enough, and now Etoile getting shot and recovering in the adjoining bedroom where I’d awoken just ten minutes ago after Seren knocked me out. Not being able to get in touch with him… gave me a really bad feeling about his situation. A strange feeling told me he couldn’t contact me. Where was he?

  After splashing water over my face and wrists, I took stock of myself in the bathroom mirror and pulled a face at my blood-spattered jacket. Pulling it off, I wadded it into a ball and put it in the tub to soak. My blouse also had dry drop
lets of Etoile‘s blood, but it wasn’t as bad, and it would have to do for now. I smoothed my hair, tucked it behind my ears, and walked out of the bathroom into the hotel bedroom.

  Etoile hadn’t moved from where she lay in the middle of the bed, looking serene in her unconscious state. Laura and Byron sat hand-in-hand by the bedside, where they’d been ever since their arrival. At some point, David and Astra arrived, or maybe they came with Seren — I wasn’t sure — and the three of them took up the sofa on the far wall, all their faces ashen.

  Steven had come and gone, offering to explain to the Summit officials about the grave nature of the act against Etoile. A guard was posted on the door, but it was shut and I had no urge to go outside and see whom it was. I could sense Micah nearby, and I guessed he had taken up a position in the hallway too. I doubted that made the Council guards too happy, but it made me feel better.

  When Etoile groaned and stretched, her eyelids fluttering, we were all on our feet in an instant.

  “Did I really just get shot?” was the first thing she asked.

  “Yes,” said Laura, instantly bursting into tears.

  “Oh, great,” said Etoile. She used her elbows to push herself up, wincing as she did so. “Some asshole is going to get it now.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  “The bullet hit just under your collarbone and lodged into the muscle. I got it out.” I told her as Byron stuffed a pillow behind her back before reaching for his wife and pulling her against him. “Why would someone want to shoot you?”

  Etoile leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She stayed that way for a while. Just as I began to wonder if she’d drifted off to sleep, she opened them again, and this time, her eyes seemed bright and clear. “Not that I’m being a narcissist or anything, but I think the whole facade of the past few days was really about me.”