“So…” The glass crunched under my stiletto as I stepped forward, my voice echoing around the cavernous space. The late-afternoon sunlight shone through the large tunnel entrance behind me. “That was some sort of welcome, was it? Some sort of magical…howdy-do?”
“Maybe you should’ve taken some of that chocolate Ex-Lax,” Ulric said, and the pressure released. The people in red coats slowly pulled their arms away from their heads, peering over their shoulders. Limo drivers poked their heads out from around the ruined entrance, seeing if the coast was clear. Cyra’s fire swirled around her, and everyone else gave her a lot more room than she actually needed.
“Seems to me,” Mr. Tom said to Niamh, “that you failed to tell her that mages typically give a show of their power when their guests first arrive.”
“That might’ve slipped me mind, yes,” Niamh said, dusting the glass from her shoulder. “But now we know that our Jessie has more power.”
“Shh.” Mr. Tom batted at her, then looked upward and into the corners of the door. “They might have surveillance out here.”
“She’s not telling them anything they didn’t just realize.” Hollace stepped forward and looked away from us, down the long tunnel and out the small hole on the other side. “What should we do about the basajaun?”
“Did he run?” I asked in disbelief, slipping my hand through Austin’s held-out arm. I could feel the basajaun now, walking back toward us.
Mr. Tom sniffed. “Your limo driver took off running like a coward. The basajaun went after him. Apparently he didn’t like the idea of anyone getting away. Cyra, you are making black spots on the cobblestone. For a centuries-old soul, you are horribly bad at containing your magic.”
“It’s harder to control after rebirth,” Cyra said. “Doubly hard after many rebirths in a short period of time. It usually takes me a few months to level out.”
“I never thought I’d miss the dolls,” Hollace said. “Let’s hope there’s a lot of rock in this place, which won’t catch fire, or I’m going to be sprinting out of here like the basajaun. Only I won’t be trying to catch anyone.”
“Niamh didn’t tell you about the show Elliot Graves would put on either, huh?” I asked Austin quietly as everyone set to work wrestling the luggage out of the trunks with twisted metal. Thankfully, they all (loudly) blamed it on Niamh.
“She did—” Austin cut off as he walked me through the ruined glass doors and then stopped, surprise blistering through the link.
He’d clearly expected some dark series of tunnels, small spaces carved into the rock with low ceilings, rough rock walls, and uneven ground. And if not that, something other than the luxurious setup before us.
Cream walls rose to the curved ceiling, sporting a rectangular square of muted light surrounded by thick white paneling. A large gold chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, dripping with crystals. The metal frame curled up and supported a candle with a flickering magical flame. A design of large blue flowers with darkened violet middles was painted on the walls, their deep brown stems painted close to the ceiling so the blooms hung downward, with pops of yellow birds flying or sitting within them.
“That reminds me of the flowers you got me on our first date,” I mumbled, tracing their path along the walls. “Different flowers but similar color scheme.”
In contrast to the white paneling around the glowing patch of light, dark baseboards lined the floor and the large open doorways leading away from the front room. A couple of blue velvet chairs, the same shade as the flowers on the walls, waited in front of us, pushed up against a small table as though inviting us to sit until our accommodations were ready. There were more small seating areas beyond that, situated in front of large ornate mirrors to make the room look bigger.
“Niamh did tell me he’d put on a show,” Austin said, picking our conversation back up as he guided me to the chair setup. I sat down happily enough. There was plenty of luggage outside, but I wasn’t supposed to help my people get it. This week, I would act like some sort of duchess, expecting everyone to do everything for me. I wasn’t all that put out by that.
He sat down in the other chair. “Given your reaction, however,” he continued, “I assumed we were being magically attacked.”
“I mean…we were. With blindness. I feel like that’s an attack.”
“It can certainly be construed as such.” Austin crossed an ankle over a knee and extended his arm until it was resting across the back of my chair. “Not all mages give a show of their power. If the host knew the mages he’d invited were more powerful, for example, he wouldn’t take the risk. A more powerful mage would tear the spell down and send a message, not only for the hosting mage, but for everyone else at the…meetup. Or party. Elliot Graves put on a show to declare that he is the most powerful mage here. He holds all the cards.”
“And by tearing it down…”
“You’ve just sent your message.”
“Except I didn’t know I was doing it,” I whispered.
“You knew exactly what you were doing. You just didn’t know it was a statement. You also wrecked his transportation and blew a hole in the side of his—certainly warded—front door. If there was ever a question of who had more power, you just answered it. We just have to be more careful now, is all.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he’ll know that, head to head, your brawn will win. If he comes at you, it’ll be from behind. When you least expect it.”
Thirteen
Sebastian sat at his desk and watched the cameras in utter delight. The heir of Ivy House had made an entrance that would be gossiped about for years to come. Her team apparently hadn’t alerted her to the protocol at one of these things, and wow, he marveled at her sense of survival and her reactions in a tight situation. Blowing out the limo doors and the entrance? Scaring the staff?
That display would create fear-soaked rumors that would travel to the other mages, no problem. She was wild and unpredictable. Incredibly powerful. She’d broken Sebastian’s spell from the inside out. Cracked it open like an egg. No finesse, no meticulous approach, just brute strength.
No one else would be able to counteract that spell. Not in the time allotted. The drivers had been given precise instructions on how fast to drive from the start of the tunnel until they pulled up to the curb. Not even Sebastian could work a counter-spell—or counter-curse, if you wanted to be dramatic—in that amount of time. Not with the precision it required.
Still, every single mage he’d invited would try to do the impossible. They’d experience the power of the spell for themselves, which would make it even more difficult for them to believe she had torn it down. They’d probably tell themselves the staff had gotten it wrong. Or maybe they’d convince themselves the shifters—the animals—had wrecked the place.
But that would scare them, too. This was a no-lose situation. Ivy House would be proud of her heir’s debut in the magical world; Sebastian would make sure of it. He might die for his troubles, but magic was risky.
The huge and hairy basajaun entered the screen on the main camera, angled to pick up the loading zone. The basajaun held his prize, a scared-senseless driver who would almost assuredly quit and take whatever punishment he was given. Sebastian wasn’t sure he blamed the guy.