 
##

# The Man in the Box

# Book One of The Box series

Copyright © 2012 by Christina G Gaudet

Written by Christina G Gaudet

Edited by Patti Larsen (www.PattiLarsen.com)

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

**License Notes**

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

www.ChristinaGGaudet.com

##  Acknowledgements

A special thank you must go to my wonderful writers group. Richard, Adelee, Jennifer, Billy, and Lori, you helped make this book what it is. Also to Patti, Deirdre, Bunty, and Mom for all of your editing suggestions.

I also want to thank my beautiful cover model, Brianna, and the whole Panache Models team, as well as Mary for her amazing photography skills.

Thank you to all of my friends and family for your continued support as I struggle with the idea of officially being an "author."

# Chapter One

I check one last time to make sure Mom is still working on supper downstairs before closing the door to my bedroom and crouching next to the cardboard box in the middle of the floor. The thing looks completely at odds with the super clean white carpet, light pink walls, and matching white dresser, bed and night stand. Other than a couple of paintings, the dance trophies displayed around the room, and the few Taekwondo medals I've managed to put up without Mom noticing, every other object is tucked neatly away in dark pink containers, making the cardboard seem much grimier and much more interesting than it might otherwise.

I stare at the folded flaps covering the top for a long time without doing anything.

I should put it back and leave it alone. It's what Mom would prefer. When she set the box in my closet a week ago, she made a point of telling me she wanted to be the one to go through the contents, but she needed time. I doubt it will stay in my room much longer. As upset as Mom is about Gran's death, she's already starting to come to terms with it, which means the box of stuff Gran had at the hospital will be organized and most likely tossed out soon.

Although I know from the weight of the thing there isn't much inside, I can't help being curious about what Gran chose to keep with her up until the end.

I pull the flaps apart and peer within. The space is almost entirely empty except for a few folded articles of clothing. Set carefully on top is Gran's watch and a small wooden box I'd never seen before. Just to make sure there's nothing else, I take everything out and carefully spread it over the floor. A pair of cotton pants, two blouses, underwear, a comb, and then the watch and the box.

As I put everything away exactly as I'd found it, I can't help feeling disappointed, though I'm not sure why. What did I expect? Her collection of toenails? And if she kept it with her, would I want to find it?

I smile and shake my head. I should be relieved there's nothing else in here. I'm sure her house is going to have enough odd objects to sort through to make up for the lack here.

I'm about to set the box back on top of the clothes when I stop. Why a box? At the size of my fist it can't hold too much. Maybe some jewelry, but that doesn't seem likely since this is Gran we're talking about.

After glancing back at the door and considering my options, I make a decision. Instead of putting the wooden box away with the other items, I set it on my bed and then return the rest to the back of my closet. After quickly examining everything to make sure the room looked exactly the same as before, I flop down on my bed and reach for the box.

I twist it around in my hand, lifting it above me as I lie back on my pile of pillows. It's actually kind of pretty. How have I never seen it before? I visited Gran every weekend with Mom after she got sick. My sister Cindy, on the other hand, went once and then refused to go back. She said it made her uncomfortable or something equally selfish.

My hand tightens in anger at the memory and my thumb jerks across the front of the box. Seriously, who does Cindy think she is? Couldn't she take one day out of her busy schedule of getting drunk and making out with boys to visit our dying grandmother?

And in the end, Gran still decided it would be a great idea to give her car to Cindy. She doesn't know anything about responsibility, and completely ignored Gran and yet she's the one who gets rewarded.

Without meaning to, I flick the latch and the lid flies open. I scramble to keep it from dropping out of my hands. Something about the size of my thumb falls out onto my stomach and gets lost in the folds of my salmon-colored top.

Damn it. What would Gran leave in there that would be so small? It wasn't shiny like a ring. In fact, it kind of looked like a...

Movement. I saw movement. Don't tell me a spider was living in that bloody box. I hate spiders. Especially the kind that climb into your ear and lay eggs on your brain. I've heard stories.

Every muscle in my body is tense and ready to spring, but I hold myself in place. No need to freak out. It's only a spider, after all. More afraid of you and all that. And if I start flopping around like an idiot, it might get mad and bite.

Slowly, I reach down to the hem of my shirt. Even more slowly, so as not to frighten the thing into doing something rash like bite me or run for the excellent hiding spot of my ear, I pull the material down, flattening out the folds.

My heart flutters as I finally catch sight of the thing. I'm about to flick it off me and throw myself in the opposite direction when I notice the bug is staring straight at me with a look more horrified than my own. Not only that, it seems to have only two legs and two arms, not the eight I've been expecting.

When my ears start to ring I realize I've been staring at the thing on my stomach for a very long time without breathing. I gasp and it takes in a similar breath.

A human. An impossibly tiny human crouches on my stomach.

No, it must be some sort of figurine. It was a trick of the light, my imagination that made it move. It's well made, very lifelike, but it's just a figurine.

It straightens a little and runs a shaky hand through its shaggy blond hair. It scans the room, taking in as much detail as it can before quickly returning its attention back to me.

Finally it speaks, and despite the fact its voice is a little shaky with nerves, I can tell the thing is male. He's much louder and has a deeper tone than I would have thought possible from something so small. Though, to be fair, I'd never imagined something as tiny as him being able to speak in the first place. Even so, he sounds like a full-sized man.

"Hello." He bows his head a little, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Hi?"

This cannot be happening. He did not just bow at me and say 'hello' as though landing on a giant person's shirt is an everyday occurrence for him. I want to say something else to let him know that none of this is right, but I can't squeeze any more words from my tightened throat.

"Might I say, right away, before there's any confusion, I'm sorry." This time his bow is deeper, and his eyes break from mine as though he realizes it's rude for him to stare. "Very sorry. Words don't express how sorry I am."

His longer speech reveals an accent. It's not strong, but his punctuation is crisp.

"Okay," I squeak. "Why are you sorry?"

"For anything. Everything. Whatever I did to annoy you."

"Okay," I repeat.

It would help if I could breathe properly, maybe then I could form full sentences, but there's no way I'll be able to with him on my stomach.

Out of the corner of my eye, on my bedside table, I see my clipboard where I keep all of my notes for dance. It's the same pink as my walls, the cover decorated with a pair of ballet slippers. Much like the rest of the room, Mom chose it. Without twitching my stomach muscles, I reach over, grab the clipboard, and place it a few inches away from him.

He gives it a nervous look, but makes no move to get on.

I want to say, "Please step onto the board so I can safely set you on the nightstand beside my bed before I flip out for a couple of minutes," but only a strangled choking sound comes out. He must understand, though, because he quickly makes his way onto the board, and I gently set it and him onto the table. The second I let go, I fling myself off the bed, body shaking in violent shudders. My hand repeatedly brushes off the area of my shirt where he'd been standing as if there's something sticky on the fabric.

No matter how much I tremble or wipe, I can't get the uneasy feeling to go away. After I don't know how long, I find myself on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees.

He watches the whole outburst with wide eyes. When I've calmed down enough to stop shaking, he speaks again.

"Better?" he asks.

"Nope."

He smiles for half a second, catches himself, and forces his face back into a concerned frown.

So there's a tiny person on my nightstand, and he's laughing at me. Great. I'm completely insane. I had no idea it could happen so fast. I thought insanity happened over time. I mean, I know I've been under a lot of stress lately, what with rehearsals and practices and school and Mom and Cindy, but I didn't realize I was so close to cracking.

Miniature person.

Really never saw that coming.

"Have I told you I'm sorry yet?" he asks.

"Yeah. Um, why are you sorry again?" He opens his mouth to answer, but I interrupt. "I know, for anything and everything. But what exactly did you do?"

"I...uh." He swallows and stares at me. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I did. But it must have been something bad for you to put this spell on me."

"Me? I did this?" I let out a nervous laugh. "No. Wrong. You did this. I opened the box and you..." My eyes flick to the box lying half open on my bed. "The box!"

In one fluid motion, I'm off the floor and on my stomach on the bed. My hand wraps around the box and I lift it up in triumph and smile like a maniac at the miniature guy. He's not as happy. In fact he looks more terrified than before. His hand reaches for something on his thick leather belt while he positions himself into what I know well to be a fighter's stance—legs spread apart with his balance distributed evenly between them, his weight is on the balls of his feet, ready to move in any direction.

Without thinking, my muscles respond and I'm up, ready for the attack. Great, now I'm preparing to fight someone I could squish with one finger. Things can't get any weirder.

"The box," I say again. "You came out of it, right? You can go back in and everything can go back to normal."

I flash him another wild-looking smile and then rest the box next to the clipboard so he can climb inside.

His stance relaxes a little when he realizes I don't plan to attack, but otherwise, he doesn't move.

"Let's go." I resist the urge to shove him forward, but only barely. "I'm so over this mental breakdown."

"The thing is—"

"There's a thing? Why does there have to be a thing? Why can't you go into the box and I'll go back to my life. Why can't we do that?"

He holds himself away from the box, almost as though he's more afraid of it than of me.

"It's not that I don't trust you."

His hesitation is slowing everything down. Why won't he get inside so this moment of insanity can end?

"Then what? Why won't you get in?"

He examines me for a moment as though deciding how truthful to be.

"I don't trust you."

I open my mouth, but he stops me from arguing by adding, "I'm sorry. I really am. I simply don't want to die of starvation while locked in a box."

Starvation? Can hallucinations become malnourished? Possible or not, my conscience won't let me take the risk.

"Fine. Get in and I'll leave it shut for ten seconds before opening it back up. Like resetting a computer. Everything will go back to normal."

"Rewhating a what?"

"You know. A computer. One of those big boxes with the internet and...you have no idea what I'm talking about."

Sigh. You'd think my imagination could have created someone with a bit more knowledge of the world. Though, I have to give myself points for creativity. Plus, he's adorable.

No. Wrong. I need to get rid of the guy, not admire him.

"Get in the box."

"Honestly, I think I'd rather be squished. Less drawn-out death."

I feel a little sorry for him. It can't be easy being so tiny. Still, I'm definitely at an advantage for size and I need him to do what I say. Now.

"That can be arranged," I say.

I raise my thumb menacingly, or that's what I am going for at least.

"In the box?" He's already moved to it's side.

He rubs his face while eyeing the thing with apprehension. His expression is pleading when he returns his gaze my way. In an instant, the emotion is gone and his face reveals nothing of what he's thinking. Still, the one moment of vulnerability makes it impossible for me to continue threatening him.

"Please?"

He looks puzzled, as though he wants to say something, but changes his mind at the last moment. After another bow, he climbs in and I close the lid as soon as I'm sure his tiny hands won't get caught. What I should have done is set it aside and never thought about it again. Instead, I count to ten, slower than I've ever counted to ten before and open the lid.

The miniature guy stares up at me.

"Shit."

"Bugger."

## Chapter Two

"He's not real. He's not real. He's not real."

I glance back over at the table where the tiny man paces back and forth, his eyes always on me. No matter how I say it, I can't make the words true.

I can't stay here. Not with my adrenalin racing through me, telling me to move.

"I've got to go," I say.

His eyes widen in alarm and he stops in his tracks.

"Go? Go where? Why do you have to go?"

"I'll be back," I promise. "I'm going to get Mom. She'll figure this out."

"Great," I hear him grumble as I leave the room. "She needs her mother's help."

I run down the stairs with no thought in my head other than the need to get away from my bedroom. Reality hits me when I get to the main floor and I'm forced to stop. What am I going to say? How can I possibly explain this to Mom without sounding crazy? Maybe I want to tell her and have her say I'm insane. Then this will all be over. It might take some therapy, but I can live with that.

"Hello, Lou."

I jump and spin in the same motion, my arms automatically moving up to block an incoming punch. My eyes focus on a tall slim man who would almost be attractive if it weren't for the dead look in his eyes and a more cruel than pleasant smile. I play off my crazy reaction to his greeting by moving my hands up and through my long black hair. He makes no sign of noticing my strange behavior.

"How are you doing? Still breaking hearts?"

The anxiety I thought would disappear once I found someone to help only increases as he stares. I have to force my hand to stop shaking. For whatever reason, I feel like I can't let him see how worked up I am.

"I'm fine," I say.

Mr. Anderson, or Stewart as he prefers to be called, is Mom's 'special friend.' He's been coming over a lot lately, ever since Mom and I had a talk where I cheerfully told her I was fine with the whole thing. Never mind what I actually wanted to tell her was, "He's creepy and we should move so he can't find us." But he makes Mom happy, which is what matters. It's weird though, Mom never mentioned he was coming tonight. Usually she gives me a bit of warning.

"Ah, Lou, there you are."

I don't jump when Mom comes up behind me, but I'm only barely able to stop myself. She puts a hand on my shoulder which feels cool through my shirt.

She must notice the difference in temperature too because she asks, "Are you well? You're not getting sick are you?"

"What? No. I was doing some stretches. Just worked up a bit of a sweat I guess. Hey, is supper done? I'm starving."

"Supper is almost done, yes. Would you mind helping me?"

The expression she makes as we walk back to the kitchen tells me she's as surprised as I am to find him here. Though, her reaction to his visit is much happier than mine. She keeps fluffing her short, curly hair and adjusting the wide belt around her small waist in nervous excitement.

I set the "good" dishes Mom hands me, and take my seat. My foot taps nervously on the dark tile floor until the others finally come in. Stewart sits down in his spot at the round table while Mom hurries to serve the food.

"Where's Cindy today?" Stewart asks in a tone I can only assume he believes is friendly. "Off on some wild escapade, I suppose."

I ignore the crawling feeling running down my spine while he talks and force a smile of my own.

"I don't know."

I never know unless she's home, then the shouting between her and Mom is a pretty good indication she's here.

Mom sites and gestures for us to start. Part of me wants to be excited about the honey glazed chicken on my plate since it's my favorite, but all I can think about is the guy on the nightstand upstairs. I need to ask Mom about it. She has to know how to fix this.

"Mom." I interrupt the conversation she's having with Stewart. They both turn and look at me expectantly. "About the box of Gran's stuff..."

No. I can't do it. I can't reveal how crazy I am, not in front of her boyfriend. I look first at Mom who's startled by the subject and then at Stewart who stares at me in undisguised interest. Why is he looking at me like that? I thought there was something off about him before, but this is unnerving.

"I'm going to move it to the other side of the closet so I have some room for my costume when I get it at rehearsal tomorrow."

Her expression relaxes as she says, "Of course, sweetie. Whatever you need."

My forced smile drops the moment I hear a noise upstairs. At first I think I'm imagining things until Mom grits her teeth and glances up at the ceiling.

"Cindy must be sneaking in," Mom says. "That girl has never figured out how to use the front door."

"Excuse me."

I leap to my feet and rush back up the stairs.

Cindy sneaking into the house isn't anything new. Usually I don't care, even though it's my window she crawls in through. There's no simple way up into her room and there's a huge tree next to mine, so I can understand why she does it. And it's easier to ignore her than fight every time, especially since she would never stop.

This time's different. What will she do if she sees the mini man? Worse, what if she doesn't see him and throws her purse onto the table, squishing him instantly? I have to move faster.

My eyes are instantly drawn to my sister's short, bright red, spiky hair as I burst through the door. Last time I saw her, it was green, so I'm thrown for a couple of seconds. Then I realize her tongue is down some guy's throat while his hands are all over her.

I should have known. Cindy would never make so much noise sneaking in on her own.

Cindy's guy breaks away from her mouth and gives me an accusing stare. "Ya mind?"

What does she see in him? It's not like he's hot, especially not with the tattoos covering his arms and the big wonking bar through his nose. Mom would hate him instantly, of course. Was there any other type of guy Cindy would bring home?

"My little sister, Lou," Cindy says. "Don't worry about her, she likes to watch."

My face goes bright red. I'm only a year younger, and I do not like to watch. I have no interest in watching. In fact, if they weren't in my room where I'm hiding a miniature man...

Table. Miniature man. Without thinking, I throw myself forward, placing myself between the couple and the table. The move brings me uncomfortably close to them.

"I think she wants to do more than watch," tattoo guy says. He looks me over from head to toe with an appraising smirk. "I'm game if you are, Sin. I've never done a cheerleader type before."

"Ew."

Usually Cindy would react with some rude joke and lead the guy off to her own room, but she doesn't say a word. She stares at me while reading my face, which I keep down.

"Hey, Jazz," she says after a minute. "I'm going to have to cut tonight short."

She pats his chest more like she's shoving him back toward the window than being affectionate.

He laughs. "Come on Sin, I've heard you're many things, but never a tease."

She doesn't seem bothered by what he's insinuating, even though she probably should be. I know I would.

"I've got to deal with family stuff. Sorry, man. Next time, all right?" Not waiting until he leaves, she turns back to me and glares. "What are you hiding?"

I glance over at Jazz who stares at Cindy for a minute while he tries to work out what happened. For a second I'm sure he's going to be pissed enough to refuse to leave, but finally he snorts, calls her a few names and climbs out the window.

"Seriously, Lou. What the hell is wrong with you? You look like your head's about to explode."

"It's nothing. Just go."

I grab her shoulder and start to guide her toward the door, but she knocks my hand away.

"Screw that. What are you hiding? Did you steal something from me? Is that what this is about?"

She tries to peek around my left side, but the second I lean with her to keep myself in front of the table she dodges to my right and tries to push past me. I manage to stop her from getting by, but I can't stop her seeing. Since I don't keep anything on the table the guy can hide behind, there's no way she doesn't spot him.

"Holy hell," she whispers in awe as her thickly lined eyes widen to almost perfect circles. "It's a miniature person."

I try to shove her towards the door, but she doesn't budge. If I push hard enough, I can probably move her, but I'm afraid of hurting her. I don't think she's ever been to a gym, so I have no doubt I can out muscle her if I tried.

"It's not what it looks like. He's a figurine I found. It's plastic or something."

"You're a real, miniature person," she says while completely ignoring me. "How are you here?" Before he has a chance to say anything, she turns on me and jabs a finger into my shoulder. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. Why does everyone keep blaming me?"

I'm not used to people assuming I'm the one at fault. Cindy gets in trouble, not me. She has no right to be accusing me of anything.

Cindy pushes past when I stop fighting her. There's no point anymore. Besides, she doesn't seem to be taking it at all like I expected. She seems completely calm, almost excited. It's as though she anticipated something like this would happen.

She leans down so her face is even with the table and looks closely at the guy. He follows her every move with one hand resting cautiously on what I now realize is a sword strapped to his hip.

"This is so crazy. You're a real live person?"

"Usually," he replies much to her delight.

I haven't seen her so excited about anything since she got the car.

"You can talk? So awesome. Where did you come from? What's your name? How did you get here? Are you always this small? Seriously, Lou, how did you do this? I've never seen anything like this. Gran showed me some cool tricks, but never magic. Not like this."

It takes me a few seconds to realize that the person who sounds like they're hyperventilating is actually me. I force myself to take a couple of even breaths before attempting to speak.

"Gran showed..."

Too much. Way too much to handle. I don't know if my legs give out or if I make a move to sit down. Either way, without any conscious thought, I'm suddenly on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees. Again.

"Pathetic," Cindy says with a roll of her eyes. She kneels back down next to the table and leaves me to my frantic rocking. "Do you have a name, or should we give you one?"

I look up in time to see him turn away from me. A name. Why didn't I think of asking that? Oh wait, because I want him gone, not to become best friends with him.

"Aldric," he says.

"Riiight," she laughs. "We're going to call you Al, kay?" She winks and makes a gun with her fingers.

"Whatever you prefer."

"Ahh." Cindy groans and falls back dramatically. "Best three words out of a man's mouth. And with the accent, it's extra hot. Tell me Al, what brings you here?"

"I honestly don't know." He hurries to add, "But I'm sure it was my fault. And I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Cindy scoffs. "For what?"

"Anything and everything," I answer for him. "Yeah, it's all he says to me too."

"Explain exactly what happened." Cindy moves to sit on my bed so she can see both of us without having to twist.

"It was the box." I point at it on my bed. "I accidently opened it and he fell out."

She reaches over and grabs the hunk of wood, twisting it around in her hands until it's upside down. "Gran gave you this? When?"

"She didn't. It was with her stuff."

"You have some of her things? Why didn't anyone tell me? I should have been the one to find this."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. She has the nerve to think she has any right to Gran's possessions after the way she acted? Besides which, why would anyone want something like this to happen to them? Even Cindy can't be so crazy.

"The box is magic," she says. "You see the writing on the bottom? That's a spell engraved into the wood. I can't read what it says, but Gran showed me something similar before. She wanted me to be prepared. Just in case, you know."

"Just in case of what?" I ask.

Cindy groans at my idiocy and pointedly looks at Al.

"All right, let's say I accept Gran told you about this stuff. So explain. How does it work? How is he here? Does every box have magic and this one happened to do something while I was watching? Should I be worried about an army of mini-men running around on my night stand?"

I stop rhyming off every question in my head when I notice Cindy's expression has changed to a familiar look of boredom. I bet she's not even listening anymore.

I decide to keep it simple. "How does magic exist? Magic isn't real."

"No, of course not." She gestures toward the mini-man and shakes her head at me. "There's no magic here. You really are slow aren't you? And you don't have to worry about how it works. Accept it does and let me deal with the rest."

"Fine," I say while waving my hand in a 'go ahead' motion. "Fix it, if you know so much."

"Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both. Seriously, Lou. Why are you freaking out so much? You can't tell me this isn't the most interesting thing to ever happen in your entire life. Look at how cute he is. With his little leather tunic and knee high boots like they wear in pirate movies."

"I'm flattered, really," he says. "And I don't mean to offend you, but as fun as this is, I would like to go home."

"See," I say while I point at him. "He wants to go home. You should give him what he wants." She doesn't say anything. "Cindy, please. I need things to be normal again."

She jumps to her feet and takes several steps away from me before spinning around and throwing her arms up in defeat. "And what's so great about normal, huh?"

Normal is good. Normal is what everyone strives for. Everyone but Cindy of course. Normal means not sticking out in a crowd for being weird or having a bad reputation or having acted in some stupid way. And most of all, normal means no strange men falling into my lap out of a box.

I must look pretty desperate, because for the first time in my life, Cindy actually takes pity on me.

"Fine. Have you tried putting him back in the box?"

"Of course." I rub my hands against my head as I pace around the room. If all she can suggest is the obvious, then I'm going to be stuck with this guy forever.

"Yes! No need to try again. No need to shove me in a box." Al watches us with a hand permanently attached to his sword. He shifts his weight back and forth between legs while keeping his stance loose and ready to fight.

The moment he notices I'm watching, he stops and grows rigid. I can't help but stare back, and as I do, I notice his stance shift until he no longer looks terrified, but curious instead. He's so tiny, and though I hate to admit Cindy could ever be right, he really is cute.

"Did you keep him in for long enough?"

His attention falls from me and he begins his nervous shifting again. His anxiety reminds me of my own and I can't help feeling frustrated at how useless Cindy's being.

"Come on, Cindy. You said Gran..." it feels too weird saying the words, especially when a huge part of me doesn't believe what I'm saying. "...taught you magic. Do whatever only you can apparently do and fix this."

"No, I said she prepared me for stuff like this. She couldn't teach me magic, because I don't have magic to use."

Something about her casual attitude makes me even more anxious. How can she be so calm at a time like this?

"Logically," I say, though her words are anything but. "There has to be something you can do."

She seems to ignore me while continuing to study the mini man. I'm about to say more when she steps back.

"Fine. But you're going to have to do everything I say, no matter what Mom would think." Cindy pokes me hard in the shoulder to make her point.

I swallow, forcing a lump down my throat and look over at the table. The mini man, Al, glances up at me with a pleading look in his tiny eyes. I swallow again and nod to Cindy.

Cindy's grin makes me instantly regret my decision as she says, "Great," she says. "Let's go to Gran's house."

## Chapter Three

"What?" My brain is moving too slowly, especially for Cindy who's already hurrying around the room grabbing stuff, examining it, and tossing it onto the bed. "What? No! Cindy, Gran's house? Are you serious? It's a six-hour drive. Six hours. I thought you could fix this. Why do we need to go to Gran's?"

"You agreed. Do as I say or else you're stuck with Al forever."

My mouth hangs open as I watch her dig through each of my drawers only to slam them shut and move on to the next. If she's trying to pack my stuff for the trip, she's doing a terrible job. Not like it matters because I'm not going. There's no way.

Yet, if I don't trust her, I'll have to deal with the guy on my own.

Gran's house. Mom is not going to be happy. I highly doubt she'll let us go. Besides which, I have a rehearsal tomorrow at 7 a.m. and I cannot miss it. Not if I want to keep the lead in the show in two weeks.

Except of course Cindy won't care if Mom lets us leave. I can already tell, she's not even going to ask. If I want her help, I can't even protest.

Cindy tries to shut the top drawer on my desk and it gets stuck as it always does. Instead of shifting it carefully until it slides in, she shoves it with all her strength, forcing it in at a bit of an angle. I cringe at the resulting cracking sound and jump into her path before she destroys anything else.

"Maybe if you tell me what you're looking for, I can find it for you."

She shoves past me. "I don't know."

"How can you not know what you're looking for?"

I follow her as she makes a full circle around of my room.

"I don't know specifically."

I place myself in front of her again and this time I don't let her push past. She makes a sound more like a growl than a sigh and steps back.

"I'm looking for something we can fit Al in. It's not like we can shove him in a pocket after all."

"Why not?" I ask while considering his size. He's certainly small enough.

"He'd get crushed," she says with another roll of her eyes. She has a knack for making me feel like an idiot.

Her gaze must have landed on something useful, because instantly her sneer turns into smile. She reaches around me and grabs one of my lipsticks. She tosses the actual lipstick back onto the dresser after pulling off the top.

"You don't expect me to get inside, do you?" Al asks.

"Think you can?" She moves closer to him so he can better see inside the cover. I still don't completely understand how she thinks she's helping. What I do know she's removed the top from my favorite lipstick and it's going to get all dried out and filthy if she doesn't put it back soon.

"It'd be tight. Uncomfortable for sure." He looks the container over and his frown deepens. "I doubt I can sit in there."

I can hear the refusal in his voice, but obviously Cindy can't. Or else she doesn't care. She's already headed across the room focused on one of the paintings on my wall.

"We'll let you out as often as we can, promise," she says with only half her attention on what she's saying.

Cindy pulls the painting down and sets it on the floor. Before I can tell her to stop, she yanks the hanger nail out of the wall, dusting it off on her pant leg.

Too late I realize what she's doing. She twists the nail into the plastic lipstick lid and manages to create a hole, rendering it completely useless as an actual cover. I clench my teeth together, but stay quiet. There's no point shouting at her now, the damage is already done. Not that shouting ever works with Cindy anyway. She always manages to be louder, which means 'instant win' in her mind.

Cindy blows away the dust, checking her handiwork before rifling through my jewelry box and pulling out one of my necklaces. She opens the clasp and lets the tiny pink heart slip off the chain and clatter onto the dresser. The chain easily goes through the hole in the lid, leaving it to hang upside-down so the open end points up.

She holds the container against the table and gives the mini-man a look clearly indicating he should get inside. Now.

He leans further away and says, "I'd...rather not."

"Well, I'd rather not squish you."

"You two truly are sisters, aren't you?" he says.

He makes a face, but after a single drawn out exhale, he walks over to the lid Cindy's holding. When he's lifting his foot to step inside, her hand slips a barely noticeable amount on the table, and I suck in a gasp. I take a step forward to help the little guy before he falls to his death, but his balance is admirable as he steadies himself. In an instant is safely within the container.

I don't know what I expected Cindy to do next, but it is definitely not wrap the chain around my neck and lock it into place.

"I'm not wearing this." I touch a finger to the lid softly enough so I'm sure I don't jar him too much. "You're the one who wants to carry him around, so you can be the one who wears him."

"You probably want to be careful climbing out the window," Cindy says, ignoring my protests. "If you fall, you'll probably break a leg. If he falls, he'll probably die. Just saying."

My hand instinctively wraps around the lipstick tube and I stare at Cindy with huge, frightened eyes. Of course she put him on my neck. She doesn't want the responsibility of his life. Not surprisingly, Cindy doesn't check to see what kind of reaction her warning gets from me. Instead, she grabs her purse from the floor where she dropped it and stretches out the window, reaching for the closest branch.

As she grabs hold of the tree, she calls back, "Don't forget the box. We'll need that."

I stare at the window for a few seconds, then at my bedroom door. A large part of me wants Mom to suddenly burst through and stop us before this goes any further.

There's a soft thud outside as Cindy drops the last couple of feet to the ground. She doesn't call back to me, but her impatience is there in the silence. One more glance at the door. This is really happening. I'm going to sneak out of the house. With Cindy. And a miniature man.

I can still go to Mom. Get her alone and beg her to help. But Cindy is already outside waiting for me. Despite everything I know and loathe about her, she didn't freak out when she saw the mini man. That has to mean something.

There's no choice, not really. I grab my purse and stuff the box inside. It fits easily since the bag is huge, though there's enough junk in there already, I don't know how easily I'll be able to find it again. Then I lean out the window to find the same branch Cindy used.

Climbing down the tree is harder than I expect. The bark is rough and rips at my hands and clothes. Tiny branches keep poking me, especially around my eyes. Plus, I'm climbing one-handed since my other is wrapped securely around the necklace with my thumb covering most of the top to keep the little guy safely inside while leaving enough room for air.

I dangle from the lowest branch for a couple of seconds and then drop, landing easily on the balls of my feet and bending my knees to absorb the impact. I hope I made the landing light so he doesn't get too banged up.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"I—um..." He seems surprised I asked. "Yes. Still miniature, and a little bruised, but it could be worse I suppose."

"Good." I attempt to think of something else to add, something reassuring like a promise everything will be okay, but I can't find the words. Instead all I say is another, "Good."

I follow Cindy's shadow as she expertly dodges around the lights from windows of ours and the neighbors' houses. We make it to the car and close the doors as silently as we can. Cindy does a quick check of the mirrors, then in the same moment starts the car and guns it out of the driveway. I lurch in my seat and desperately fumble with my seatbelt.

"Are you trying to kill us?"

"Can't give Mom time to come out and stop us by being slow. She always comes running out the door the second she hears the car start. See, there she is."

I glance first at the mirror, and then twist around in my seat. She's right. Mom has run out the door and is staring at the car with a look she's never given me before. Disappointment. We turn a corner with a screech and lose I sight of the house and Mom. Before we do, I see Stewart step out of the house, and could swear he smirked at us. It must be my imagination.

I turn back around and we drive in silence for a while. Well, as silent as a car can be with Cindy's music blasting away. I can practically feel myself going deaf. And the car smells like cheap cologne.

Suddenly there's a weird sensation from my lap and I would have jumped if I weren't strapped in. I look down in fear. It's the box. It has to be. And it moved.

My purse gently vibrates again and I relax. Of course it isn't the box. It's only my cellphone. I always keep it on vibrate so it doesn't go off during a recital to embarrass me and annoy everyone else.

I turn down the music and answer my phone without checking to see who it is. Before I can say more than "hello" Cindy grabs it and smashes her thumb against the 'end' button. Does she not know how much the phone cost?

"Hey!"

"Are you an idiot?" Cindy says. "We're running away from home, and obviously Mom is calling to tell you to come back. What were you planning on saying? 'Oh, yes, of course. I'll be home in a minute. So sorry I left without asking. Please ground me for three months for my disobedience.'"

"First, I do not sound like that. And second, you don't know it was Mom."

"Yeah I do." Cindy says as though it's so obvious even a child would know.

"How can you possibly? I didn't have time to look at the caller display, so how could you have seen it while driving." I stroke my phone and attempt to rub away the thumb smudge on its otherwise shiny case.

"Oh please. Who else would it be? It's not like you have any actual friends."

She nods toward my hands as though cleaning my phone is proof she's right.

I sit there with my mouth gaping open for a few seconds before turning away to stare out the window. I have friends. I have lots of friends. I mean, they might not call all of the time, but only because we see each other almost every day at recital. I might not have a reputation like Cindy, but I've even had a couple of boyfriends.

Grade seven there was Casey. We held hands every day at break for a week. And last year Pete—or Pirouette Pete as the girls in my advanced ballet class call him—and I went on at least half a dozen dates. Kissed a bunch of times and everything. Of course now he's going out with Sean, but not because of me. He was always gay; he just didn't realize it until after we went out.

But because I don't need to spend every waking moment with my friends, Cindy has the nerve to say I don't have any. Yeah, we're always competing with each other for the lead in the next show or for the first place trophy in the latest competition, but we get friends.

Friends who don't talk much. Or hang out. Or like each other.

"Hey Al, how old are you?" Cindy asks over the music, which thankfully she left down.

"Nineteen."

"Hot. College student?"

"Cindy!"

I pull a face. Really? She's going to hit on a guy the size of her thumb. That's messed up.

"College." He repeats the word carefully, as though there's some hidden meaning behind it. "I don't think it's the same thing here as in my world."

"Your... world." Cindy mulls over the idea for a minute while I very carefully try not to. Miniature men are hard enough to deal with. Add in magic and now other worlds, I'm surprised my brain hasn't exploded. "Of course!" She slams her palm against her forehead. "It explains the clothes. And the accent."

I turn back to my window and pretend the conversation between my sister and the man in my necklace isn't happening.

"Gran would sometimes tell stories about another world, remember Lou?"

I do, but I don't acknowledge the fact. I tried to block those stories from my mind a long time ago.

"Another world," Cindy says more to herself than either of us. "Where all the things from myths and legends are real and life is dangerous and exciting and amazing. Gran told us she was from another world, remember? I wonder if it's the same one."

"Gran wasn't exactly in her full mind," I say. "Mom said Gran has always been a little strange. She should have been on medication."

"Of course you'd believe Mom over Gran," Cindy says. "But I remember when you were a kid you used to love her stories. You'd act like an idiot, running around her house with a cardboard sword saying you were a knight on a quest to save the princess. Until Mom convinced you to be the princess instead."

I watch the buildings flow past, and don't argue. It wasn't only Mom who wanted me to be the princess. I did too. Mostly.

"Please tell me you're a knight," Cindy says. "Or a pirate. I love pirates. Especially the Johnny Depp kind."

"I'm not sure what you mean, but I'm not a pirate."

"So you're a knight?"

He hesitates. "No."

"Okay, so you don't go to school, you're not a knight, and you're not a pirate. What do you do?"

He doesn't say anything for a long time, until Cindy makes an irritated sound and honks her horn at some poor pedestrian who has the right-of-away.

"Sorry," he says, though he sounds more worried than sorry. "I work in the field with my father. It's kind of embarrassing."

"Ooh," Cindy smiles and gives him a sidelong glance. Or actually, she gives my necklace a sidelong glance since she can't actually see him inside the container. "A farmer. Sexy. Bet you have awesome abs."

So wrong.

"You sure you know where you're going?" I'm pretty positive she's headed in the right direction, but I want her to stop flirting, so a subject change is necessary. "I could set the GPS guide on my phone, you know. If you didn't break it."

"I remember the way to Gran's house. It's only been a week since she died after all."

She adds something else under her breath and turns up the music. Ten minutes in and I already have a headache. This is going to be fun.

## Chapter Four

My eyes flutter open as my brain tries to remember where I am. I'm in a car. The car is stopping. Okay, I can deal with that. Wait, why am I in a car again? And then I remember. Every. Tiny. Detail. I glance down at my chest and instantly have to look away to keep myself from squirming. He still kind of reminds me of a spider.

It's then I notice we're in the middle of nowhere. It's also completely dark. There's hardly any other traffic on the road and the only thing in sight are trees.

"Why are we stopping?" I ask, unable to completely hold back the panic in my voice. It's not like I'm afraid of the dark, but I do usually leave my ballerina nightlight on, just in case.

"Pit stop."

"Why here?" I look out the window, trying to see through the shadows to find the bears and coyotes and whatever else is out there waiting to eat us. "Can't you wait for a proper rest stop? There's got to be a gas station coming up."

"You want to go inside a public place carrying him?" She pulls off her seatbelt before I have a chance to answer, and climbs out the door. "You'd better squat now. I'm not stopping again, and there's still a couple more hours left at least."

It's not only the darkness keeping me in the car as Cindy clambers down into the ditch. We're on a main road. Anyone could drive by and see. However, now she's mentioned it, I can't help but cross my legs. I groan and climb out of the car to follow Cindy.

The grass down to the ditch is wet and the slope is steeper than I originally thought. I end up sliding part of the way down on my butt, completely ruining my good jeans. I dust off my backside as much as I can while picking my way past Cindy and into the tree line.

"What are you doing?" she says. "Just go here."

"No way. If I have to go in the woods, at least let me be in the woods and away from perverts driving by."

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when an axe murderer comes out of the shadows and kills you while I easily run away."

I stare at her with wide eyes as she completely ignores me and climbs back up to the car. "I hate you," I shout.

Nothing to it. I can do this. A little bit farther and no one will be able to see a thing. If someone or something tries to attack me, I can fight them off. I've been taking Taekwondo for over a year after all. No problem.

There's a problem. I can't go here. Not with someone attached to me.

"You can set me down, if you like," Al says as though reading my mind. "I could use some relief myself."

I gently unlatch the chain and while using my cell for light, I set the whole thing on a mossy bit of ground. I hope he's safe in this spot.

"You're going to have to talk to me," I say. "So I won't lose you."

"Of course." He's silent for a minute. "I don't know what to say."

"Anything," I tell him as I step behind a tree. "Tell me about your family. Have any sisters? Are they as awful as mine?"

"One sister," he admits, but doesn't say any more.

"Oh."

I can't think of anything else to ask and he doesn't volunteer any information, so I finish up in silence.

"You done?" I ask.

"Yes."

I sweep the light of my cell over the moss a couple of times before I find him. After a few seconds of struggling with the latch of my necklace while holding my phone in my mouth, I start toward the car.

"Is magic common where you come from?" I ask both out of curiosity and also to fill the awkward silence.

"Yes," he answers simply. "Did you hear something?"

I start to tell him I hadn't, when a grinding sound startles me. No, it's not grinding exactly. It's more like a whine or growl with a bit of a clucking undertone. And it's coming from the direction of the car. When I look up, I notice two things at once. There's an old, beat up red truck parked behind Cindy's car, and there's something like a cross between a lion, a snake and a goat pacing and sniffing around the passenger side.

I think I make a squeaking sound, though it might be a full out scream. Either way, the thing hears me and turns its heads—because one head isn't bad enough—and looks directly at me. All of those lessons kick in and I react without thinking, pirouetting on my right foot and bolting as fast as I can into the darkness of the trees.

"Bad bad bad," I say as I run.

"What?" Al's voice is tight with fright. "What is it? What's happening?"

"Creature." I gasp. "Bad."

It's gaining on me. I can practically feel the heat of its breath. A glance over my shoulder and I see it's not breath I feel. The bloody thing is shooting fire. From one of its mouths. I am so dead.

As I'm turning to face forward again so I can pick up speed, I notice at the last second the creature's muscles are tensing. It's preparing to leap. I stop and spin around to the side, my arms guiding the huge beast past me as I've done a hundred times during normal human attacks in practice. The difference is, most people don't have teeth and claws to rip at your skin as they pass. With the creature facing the wrong way, I run back in the direction of the car. The size of the thing, I should have a decent head start before it can turn all the way around. Plus, I should be helping Cindy. I guess.

I'm wrong. It's fast. Faster than anything its size has the right to be. This time when I turn to meet the attack, I do a spinning kick my master would be proud of. My foot lands hard on one of the heads, knocking it back for a second. The problem is the kick only seems to surprise the creature rather than hurt it. When I kick again, it easily dodges out of the way and sweeps its snake tail around to whip the back of my legs.

I fall to the ground and attempt to scramble away, but it's no good. Holding the lipstick container hard against my chest, I wait for the inevitable pain and death.

"Sorry Al," is the last thing I say.

It doesn't bite.

No scratching either. It freezes. With my eyes closed, I wouldn't have known it was still there if it weren't for its hot, stinking breath and deep growls.

I force myself to inhale. And out. Then another. Why isn't it killing me?

"Why isn't it killing me?" I ask Al. Good thing he's inside the container or else he'd be long since crushed in my sweaty palm.

"It was sent to find you, not kill you," he tells me. "Not many can control a chimera. Those who can aren't people you want to meet alone in the woods."

"Great. Thanks."

Ok, maybe I should have been more grateful for the information, but what I really wish he would tell me is a way out.

"You should run," he says as though once again reading my thoughts.

Not as helpful as I was hoping.

"Tried. Didn't work."

"You have to understand," Al persists. "This thing can only kill you. The people who sent it will do far worse."

"Far worse how?"

I feel my heart rise in my throat. Al sounds scared. He didn't sound nearly as afraid when he first fell onto my shirt. Somehow this creature has him shaking like a leaf. His fear makes me terrified.

"Trust me. Run."

Before I can move, crunching footsteps warn me of the arrival of someone else.

"Good girl, Farah," a man says to the monster like a normal person would say to their pet dog. "And she's still alive. Very good work."

I swear, if he starts scratching it behind the ear...

"Lou?" Cindy asks.

She sounds fine, though maybe a bit grumpy. I manage to peek around the two-headed creature—Had Al called it a chimera?—and find Cindy with her arm gripped tight by a man wearing a long dark leather trench coat and brown cowboy hat. His face is scruffy like he hasn't shaved in a few days, and there doesn't look to be a piece of him not covered in filth.

I answer her question with a whimpering sound. I think she gets the message.

"Try running again and Farah here'll rip you apart," the man warns. "I don't get paid if you're dead, so I'd prefer if you don't run."

"Yeah, she gets it," Cindy says in her most unimpressed voice. "Who's this boss of yours anyway? What does he want with us?"

"Shut it."

He pushes the creature off me and lifts me to my feet with his empty hand. His grip digs into my skin, leaving bruises. Still, the pain he inflicts is nothing compared to the feeling of revulsion left where he touches my skin. He drags us back to the car. With a warning look, he lets go of my arm in order to open the passenger door and flick the seat switch causing it to flip forward, allowing people into the back. He moves aside and whistles. The chimera bounds into the car, happy as can be to go for a drive.

"Oh, no. Dude. So not cool." Cindy gives the car a despairing look. "There goes the upholstery."

"Farah'll ride with you. Decide not to follow or lose sight of me, and she'll kill you. Got it?" He sounds bored as he threatens our lives.

"But does the thing have to destroy my car?" Cindy asks.

"Move."

He grips her arm so hard it turns her skin white and forces her to take a step forward.

I want to help her, or do anything but get into a car with a killer beast, but the guy doesn't give me much of a choice when he tosses me inside. Cindy wrenches her arm away and climbs into the driver's seat with a little more dignity. She waits for the truck to pull out and follows him. We drive in complete silence. Other than her music, of course.

After only a couple of minutes of driving, I notice a noise coming from the back seat that isn't part of the song. I glance over my shoulder while doing my best not to move fast enough to spook the creature. Its teeth on both heads are bared, and I can tell the sound it makes is a warning.

"I think it wants you to turn down your music," I say.

"Well, it can bite me." She sounds more annoyed than worried, which makes me even more afraid. She's not taking any of this seriously.

"Pretty sure that's the plan," Al replies.

Instantly Cindy perks up. "Oh hey, little guy. How you doing' in there? Still in one piece?"

"So far."

"Don't worry, this is a minor setback. We'll be back on track to getting you all normalified in no time."

Her smile shows all of her teeth, as though she hasn't got a care in the world.

"Minor setback?" I force myself not to start hitting her. As made as she makes me, the creature breathing down my neck scares me more. "Do you know what's going on? Who is this guy? What is the thing behind us? Why is someone looking for us?"

"Chill," Cindy says. "You'll give yourself an aneurism. I'm guessing it has something to do with the box. Gran warned me there are people always on the search for magic and if we use any, they'll come after us."

"Oh, well then. I guess everything's okay." I attempt to mock her relaxed attitude, but I fail pitifully as my voice cracks.

"Wow, your sarcasm needs some work, Lou."

I glower at her, though the effect is probably lost because I keep glancing back at the creature in case it decides to eat us.

"Did Gran at least tell you who these people might be?"

Cindy shrugs. "Just 'bad people.' You know Gran."

"No, apparently I don't."

An unexpected surge of guilt builds in me. It's not like it's my fault Gran kept secrets. Still, I can't help feeling as though there was something more I should have done. Why hadn't she trusted and confided in me the same way she had Cindy?

"Wizards," Al says. "They're the only ones who can control a chimera this way."

"As in old men with white beards and funny hats?" A nervous giggle escapes my lips. "This is all a weird dream, isn't it? I'm going to wake up in my room and have a good laugh about my crazy nightmare."

"Wizards are men who suck the magic out of sorceresses, leaving them in a state worse than death."

I look down at my necklace and I can see Cindy is doing the same out of the corner of my eye.

"Do I detect some firsthand resentment there?" she asks.

He doesn't say anything, which I take to be a yes.

"When you say suck..." I start, but am unable to finish, shuddering instead.

"The trap you're cheerfully walking into isn't one either of you will come out of."

"What do you suggest we do?" Cindy asks. "Not like we can escape Farah here."

"Better if you die now then have wizards capture you."

Cindy makes the sound of a buzzer from a game show. "Wrong answer. Sorry. I don't do dying. Besides, once these guys realize we have no magic, they'll let us go."

"Unlikely."

"Well then, we'll escape. I've dealt with guys like this before, it's no biggy."

I stare at her for a few seconds in horror. "Oh yeah. We're going to die."

## Chapter Five

"He's turning," I say while pointing out the window at the truck. The turn signal flashes and he's clearly slowing down. "Don't lose sight of him, remember? Go go go."

"Yeah, I see. Shut up."

"Well, maybe if you got a little closer..."

"When you get your license, then you can criticize my driving. Wait, no. You can never criticize my driving, now shut up."

I clamp my mouth closed as she takes the turn a little too fast and squeals the tires on the driveway. Despite how dark it is out, I can see there's a house at the end of the dirt road, along with a few old barns that should have fallen down years ago. Weeds and grass have overtaken the field off to the right and trees block in our left. As we get closer to the house, the chipped and faded paint job and electrical wiring not attached to the side of the building tell me no one's lived here for a long time.

The man in the trench coat climbs out of the truck as Cindy puts the car in park. He pulls our door open and tells us to get out and follow him with a single jerk of his head.

"Relax," Cindy says. "Guys like this are all show."

I think she's actually trying to be calming, but it's not helping. All I want to do is run and scream and hide under the covers of my bed. I clutch my necklace as I get out of the car, both to keep Al from being jostled around too much, and for comfort.

"He said he's working for someone," Al says quietly enough I don't think Cindy hears. "He shouldn't do anything to you until the other person says so. You should be safe for now."

Instantly I feel a little better. It's stupid since he's not telling me everything will be okay, only we might have time. Still, it's better than anything Cindy has said so far.

We're led toward one of the barns rather than to the slightly less frightening house as I expected. The wood walls stink of mold, mildew and other smells I don't recognize and don't want to think about. Is this where the creature has been living? It seems comfortable as it goes directly to a corner of straw, circles three times and curls up into a ball. I would say it went to sleep right then and there, except the eyes on one of the heads stay open to stare directly at me.

I shudder and pretend the thing doesn't exist.

As I look around the old barn—at least what I can see in the light of the three lanterns strategically placed around the open space—our captor walks over to a workstation where a bunch of rusted tools and a few waterlogged cardboard boxes rest. He reaches into one of them without seeming to worry at all about it being full of rats or spiders and digs out some rope.

Something hard and a little bit sharp presses into my hand and I have to force myself not to scream. Cindy makes a face to tell me if I utter a sound, she'll beat me to a pulp. Although I doubt she can. Then again, she does fight dirty.

"Why'd you—"

A punch to my arm later and I shut up, clenching the object in my hand hard to keep myself from punching her back in reflex. Once it's pressed into my skin, I recognize the shape to be her keys. She barely moves her head toward the door, but I get what she means.

"Going to tell us who this client of yours is, or leave us in suspense?" As Cindy speaks, she walks around to casually examine an old stall. Trench coat guy doesn't seem to pay any attention to her, though the chimera follows her every movement. "I'm all for foreplay, but I'm starting to think you're leading us on. Is there anyone else, or are you some sort of perv getting his kicks from kidnapping teen girls?"

"Sit against the post," he says. "Both of you. Back to back."

"Nah, I'd rather stand." She makes a show of stretching out her arms and cracking her neck. "Long trip, you know? Still working out some of the kinks in my legs."

She gives me another look and indicates the door again as if to say, 'What the hell are you doing? Move your ass!'

That can't be right. No way she expects me to leave without her. But from her expression it's clear it's exactly what she wants. I have to trust she has a plan. Even she wouldn't be so calm if she didn't have a plan, and one she's sure will work.

I start to edge toward the door, my eyes constantly flicking back and forth between the chimera and trench coat guy to make sure they don't notice anything.

"Nice jacket, by the way," Cindy says when she's satisfied I'm leaving. "I've been looking everywhere for one. Where'd you get it?"

She's positioned herself so they can't watch both of us at the same time. Since she's the one talking and moving around so much, the chimera is keeping an eye on her. Our captor still has his back to both of us as he wraps the rope around his hand and elbow to make a loose circle, untangling knots as he goes.

"Most leather out there is too shiny. The worn look is the only way to go."

"Wait!" Al warns in a harsh whisper. I stop and nervously look around to make sure no one else heard, my hand frozen as I reach for the latch.

Without looking back, our captor says, "You can't get out the door." He tugs at the rope. "Well, you can try, but you might not like what it does to you. Like I said, the guy who hired me would rather I deliver you alive."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cindy asks.

"Your sister is about to put her hand on some powerful magic that will burn her to a crisp in about thirty seconds," he says as he finally turns around to face her. "And I got the coat off the last guy who tried to outrun Farah. You've no idea how much magic it took to get the blood out. Now sit against the pole."

Cindy makes a sound as if she's getting ready to spit and then sighs. "Fine. Let's do this your way."

She reaches into her pocket, and pulls her hand out again. It's clenched around something, but I have no idea what. She raises her hand to her mouth and then kisses the space between her thumb and forefinger, all while trench coat guy watches with no readable expression.

For a second I don't think anything is going to happen. I have no idea how she thinks kissing her own hand will change anything.

Then it does.

The air shifts and grows heavy, pressing against me until my head pounds. Everything looks different too. Wispier. Scarier. Cindy's the worst. I can't look at her without being overwhelmed with a need to scream. She seems to fill the room as she towers over our captor, never mind he's nearly a foot taller than she is.

When she speaks, her voice blasts both in my ears and mind. "Who are you working for, and what do they want from us?"

He says nothing.

"Tell me!" Her voice booms and forces me to cover my ears with my arms while I clutch the back of my head to keep it from exploding from the pressure. "Who are you working for?"

"A child's trick," he says.

I don't see his hand move, since I've got my eyes squeezed shut, but I hear the impact as he slaps her across the face. Instantly, the pressure is gone and my head stops pounding.

When I open my eyes, Cindy stands off balance with her hand clutching her face. She moves her hand away and looks down at it, eyes widening at the blood on her shaking fingers.

"Son of a bitch," she says, but there's no force behind her voice. "Real manly, hitting a girl."

"Enough."

He grabs her arm and easily tosses her toward the post he's been telling us to sit against. Since she was already off balance, she stumbles and falls hard on the wooden floor. She tries to pull herself up, but his foot strikes her stomach with a thud. Her face twists in anger and pain as she doubles over, clutching the spot he kicked.

I want to kill him for hurting my sister, but I can't move. I can only stare with tear-blurred eyes as he forces her back against the pole and starts tying her hands behind her.

"You too," he says with a glance at me.

I want to refuse and fight him. I can't remember how. The only thing I can think of is a balançoire. Real useful, if this was a stage fight in a ballet. I must have hesitated for too long because he stomps over to me and grabs my wrist the same way he grabbed Cindy's and tosses me to the ground next to her. Cindy's keys are forced out of my hand and thrown onto the worktable beside the chimera.

While he starts to tie us together, I touch my wrist where he held me. His grip had been tight, sure, but again there's something else about his touch. It makes my entire arm feel numb and itchy and achy all at the same time. It's like my skin is allergic to his.

"It didn't work," Cindy says so quietly at first I'm not sure I hear her right. "How could it not work? It always works."

I want to say something to calm her down, or make her feel better, or simply ask her if she's okay, but I can't find the words. I feel like crying. Every part of my body wants the release of full out gasping sobs, but for some reason, the tears don't come.

"Hey Al," I say while barely moving my lips. It's a miracle he wasn't noticed before. I'm not about to give him away now. "You still alive?"

Nothing.

"Al?"

Still nothing.

Despite the fact I don't want to draw attention to him, I have to look down to see if he's still in his container. He's not. His warning at the door was the last time I'd heard from him. Did he fall out when I was forced to the floor? Was he stepped on?

My heart beats faster and faster as I picture his tiny flattened body on the bottom of my shoe. I couldn't have. I would have noticed. I would have seen him fall or heard him crunch.

Imagining the sound of him under the weight of my heel makes my stomach turn. I need to move. I need to check my sole even though if I see him there, or what's left of him, I don't know what I'll do. I need to not be sitting here anymore.

My muscles all tense and instantly begin to cramp and shoot pain. I need out! I need out now! I pull at my bindings, yanking harder than I mean to.

The ropes give way and I expect and I have to scramble to pretend nothing's wrong. The chimera lifts it's sleeping head to stare at me, but it doesn't attack. Even our captor turns to look curiously at what grabbed the creature's attention. I drop my head and shoulders to appear defeated and more importantly, still tied up.

It doesn't work.

Trench coat guy starts toward me and I desperately go through the attacks I can remember in search of one that will work at this angle.

Before he reaches me, the door to the barn slams open causing bits of hay and who-knows-what-else to fall from the loft onto my head. I shrink in on myself and wait for the whole building to collapse. Doesn't whoever entered realize how old the barn is? Slamming doors will get us all killed.

But the roof doesn't collapse and gradually I'm able to open my eyes to the most delightful sight in the world. I never thought I'd be so happy to see someone in my life.

We're saved! Who would have ever guessed Mom's boyfriend would be the one to rescue us?

## Chapter Six

"You got here faster than I expected," trench coat guy says with an uninterested glance at Stewart. "Thought you were conserving your magic."

Stewart gives me a look unlike any I've seen before. I feel uncomfortable around him at home, but this is something completely different. One look and I'm terrified. Wasn't I relieved to see him only seconds ago? When he turns away to talk to our captor I notice Cindy hasn't stopped swearing since he walked through the door.

"...lying prick-face bastard," she says.

"Cindy? What's going on?" I start to twist around to look at her, but remember at the last second not to pull the ropes too much.

"You never were the sharpest, Lou," Stewart says in a dry tone. "Like your idiot mother."

Did he really say that? I stare at him with my mouth hanging open and looking exactly like the idiot he called me.

This can't be happening. After all, it's Stewart. Mom's boyfriend. I must have misheard him.

"Stewart, please," I say.

"Do not speak."

Suddenly he's too close, though I have no idea how he could have moved so fast. His face is only inches from mine, his fingers wrapping around my neck, with his too long nails digging into my skin.

"I should have known it was you since day one, the way you're able to convince everyone around you how innocent and perfect you are." He squeezes my face with one hand, forcing my lips to pucker. "Disgusting."

He releases me and I attempt to wipe the parts of my face he'd touched on my shirt, but I can't get rid of the crawling feeling in my skin.

"But...Mom loves you."

I know I sound pathetic and I'm sure I'm not helping anything since his reaction to my pleading is to look even more disgusted.

"Tell me where it is, sorceress, and I may let your family live." His voice crackles with an energy that reminds me of lightning.

"I don't know." My eyes fill with water while my lips refuse to stop quivering. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"The portal. Your grandmother was the guardian and she passed the title to you. Now, where is it?"

His voice is too calm and his cruel smile never wavers. His fingers tighten on my throat as I shake my head and tell him I have no idea what he's talking about.

"Want me to break her legs?" trench coat guy offers.

Stewart's smile widens. "Is that what you want? To never walk or dance again?"

"Please." It's all I can manage.

"Let go of her right now," Cindy says, clearly regaining a bit of courage.

"I have a better idea."

Stewart releases me and steps away to pull something seemingly out of thin air. At first I have no idea what I'm looking at, especially since my eyes are blurred with unshed tears. Slowly the colors and shapes start to fit together until I recognize he holds a blue silk bag, smaller than his fist. It takes a couple more seconds for me to realize it's not the first time I've seen the bag.

"Where did you get that?" My voice cracks as I ask the question.

"It's amazing what your grandmother kept in her house." He casually tosses the bag up and down a few times. "It wasn't hard to find this or figure out exactly what it is."

With Cindy at my back, she's unable to see what he's holding "What is it?" she asks. "What's he got?"

"It's nothing," I say to both of them. "It's a bag Gran used to keep some toenail clippings in. Weird, yeah, but I don't see—"

"I'm going to give you an option," Stewart interrupts. "A very good deal, which I suggest you take. I'm going to give you this bag and allow you to open it. In exchange, you will tell me where the portal is."

"No," Cindy says firmly before I can say anything. "Do not open the bag, Lou."

"I don't plan to. I don't know why I'd want to."

"You don't know?" Stewart says, fake charming smile replacing the cruel one from earlier. Somehow, seeing him more like how I used to every day around Mom makes the whole situation so much worse. "Has no one ever explained to you what's inside this bag?"

"Leave her alone," Cindy says.

"It's gross old toenails," I say again, though this time I feel a lot less sure. Why is he dangling it in front of me like a prize to be won, and why is Cindy so afraid I'll take it?

"Those might be the physical contents," Stewart says, "But not all it holds. You, much like your sweet old grandmother before you, were born a sorceress."

"Don't," Cindy warns, though this time she's speaking to Stewart rather than me.

"What?" I laugh since the very idea is ridiculous. "I don't have magic. I didn't know magic existed until tonight."

His smile widens and he moves half way around the post to get a better look at Cindy, and so both of us have a perfect view of him.

"Of course you don't," he says. "Your family has done a particularly good job keeping it from you. They went so far as to strip the power from you before you were able to wield it. Ooh, not what loving family members are supposed to do, is it?"

Nothing he's saying makes sense. Born with magic? Me? "I don't understand."

"They took your magic, child," he says slowly, face revealing his frustration. "They took a part of you and they bound it inside this bag."

I stare at the object he dangles in front of me.

Cindy starts in on another string of swear words and warnings I ignore, while focusing on the object in his hand. There is something about it I can't quite figure out. It's almost like being a kid again and seeing someone else with my favorite toy. The bag is mine, and I need it back, right now.

"Why doesn't he take the magic?"

I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of Al's hushed voice. He's alive! I haven't killed him. But I'm also not sure where he is. His words seem to be coming from inside my own head, not from my necklace. I can't look for him without drawing attention, and worse, I can't ask him any questions.

I want to know where he's been or if he has any ideas about how we can free ourselves. And while it's the least of my concerns, I want to know what he means by taking the magic. Is it possible?

While it might not be on the top of the list of things I want to know, it is the only one I can ask aloud.

"I don't understand," I say again to Stewart while my voice quivers with nerves. "If it's full of magic, why don't you take it for yourself?"

"Unfortunately, it's not so easy," he says with his usual false smile. "This magic is connected directly to you. You're the only one who can use it in its current state."

"And you're offering it to me?" I'm starting to realize what's made Cindy so mad. He's too determined for me to open the bag. There must be some benefit to him. He's just using me to get what he wants. "Why? What's the catch?"

Stewart looks all too pleased with the way our conversation is going, and I feel like he's playing me with every word flowing from his lips. "No catch. You tell me the location of the portal you're protecting and the bag is yours."

Even though I know better, part of me still believes he'll actually help once I give him what he wants. It's that part of me which blurts out, "I don't know about any portal."

His amusement fades. "This is your one chance to regain your magic. Without it, you will have no way of stopping Borin here from killing your sister. Painfully. In front of your eyes. Do you understand?"

"Don't listen to him," Cindy says. "He's messing with you. Don't let him."

"If I had any idea what you're talking about, I'd tell you," I say. "Please believe me."

Stewart takes a step back and rubs his eyes with two fingers. "We'll do it your way. Borin, if you would."

"She's telling the truth," Cindy says. "You think Gran would have taken away her magic, but then leave her with the responsibility of looking after something as important as a portal?"

"I think that's exactly what happened," Stewart says and walks to the other side of the post to direct all of his attention to Cindy. "She probably thought she had more time. Thought she could find another sorceress to become the guardian so she wouldn't have to place her poor, precious granddaughter in danger. But her time was up the moment I found your mother."

No. No he couldn't have...

But when had Gran started to get sick? Only weeks after Mom met Stewart. It came on so suddenly, and no doctor was able to figure out what was wrong.

Knowing what Stewart did causes something in me to switch. My fear is shoved aside by an anger I've never felt before. My mind becomes unusually clear and calculating and I start to scan the room a little more closely. It's still dark, but I can see through the cracks in the door the sun is starting to rise. Between it, the lanterns, and the constant low glow coming from the chimera's noses and mouths, I can see pretty much everything in the room.

My eyes pass over my purse sitting on the table for the third time. I'd thought nothing of it at first. And then I remember what's in there. The whole reason why we're here. The box. It brought Al here like a portal would, hadn't it? Could it be what Stewart's looking for?

I don't notice Borin watching me until it's too late. He follows my gaze and strides over to grab the bag. After rummaging around for a moment, he pulls out the box and shows it to Stewart.

"Look at the symbols."

He tosses it to Stewart who carefully examines it, running his grimy fingers over every inch of the wood.

"Amazing," he says. "The magic is so well disguised. It's no wonder I didn't sense it before. It's almost as invisible as your sister's silly little spells."

"Silly?" Cindy chokes out the word. "My spells are not 'silly.'"

"Tell me what you know of it," he says. "How does it work?"

"My silly spells are a lot more powerful than you're giving them credit."

I can feel her tug at the ropes and I know she's struggling to get her hand into her pocket full of magic dust. Stewart doesn't appear to notice as he focuses on me, his face twisted into a snarl.

"Tell me about the box and I'll consider killing your sister quickly."

I should be frightened by his words. Be terrified by the way he stares at me as though my life is in the palm of his hand, but all I can think about is the loose ropes and Cindy's movement, as if she's ready to act.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of!" Cindy shouts. Her anger is emphasized by whatever power she possesses.

This time, since her back is to everyone in the room, the magic isn't focused on anyone in particular. Instead it affects the very walls of the barn. Everything seems to be brought to life. Warped faces and limbs appear and pull themselves away from the walls and stall doors, creating shadow monsters that twist and bend forward and back at the same time. Every piece of wood, every strand of hay melds together in strange, horrifying ways to become creatures bent on attacking every living thing in the room.

Stewart and Borin barely acknowledge the spell; their attention focuses entirely on the chimera. With rolling eyes and skittering feet, it tries to attack every vision Cindy's created at once. Both heads snap and hiss while its snake tail whips out, knocking everything nearby to the floor.

"Calm it down," Stewart says.

The creature snaps at Borin as he tries to walk toward it with his arms open. At first I'm too concerned about using the opportunity to squirm out of the slackened ropes to think about why they are so worried about the chimera.

Then it starts to spit fire.

Once the old dry hay catches, there's no chance of getting the fire under control. Flames rise and lick at the old wood of the barn walls and smoke fills the air. I can't pry my eyes away. It's beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

"Let's go," Cindy growls at me while pulling at my arm.

She's already gotten herself free, leaving the ropes to dangle off me. I push them aside and let her pull me to my feet.

"Al?" I ask while desperately looking around. If he was on my shoulder, the movement of me standing up could have easily knocked him off.

"Don't stand around," he warns while sliding down the chain to my necklace. "Go."

Out of the corner of my eye I notice the chimera has gone completely mad, charging at Cindy. Even Stewart and Borin seem desperate to get out of the thing's way. I call out, but my voice is lost in the roar of the fire and the shouts and growls of the others. Somehow, Cindy sees Farah in time and spins to face it. I don't notice her put her hand in her pocket, but I do see the dust as she blows it into one of the creature's faces. The offended head hisses and yelps as the powder flutters around. Both heads now in agreement, it runs.

Not just runs, but bolts out of there, tail between its legs. It doesn't hesitate at the door as it smashes through the wood, splintering beams as though they are nothing more than cellophane.

With her back turned to the rest of us, proudly watching the chimera flee, Cindy doesn't see Borin and Stewart turn their attention back to us.

## Chapter Seven

Borin is the first to move. He tries to step around me either in an attempt to block our escape or attack Cindy directly. Neither is going to happen, not if I can help it.

The guy is bigger and heavier than I am and it makes me wish I'd been pitted against some of the bigger guys in Taekwondo occasionally, but there's nothing to be done about it now. I move two steps to bring me face to face with him, knowing a direct bit of confrontation like this is going to set him on edge. I can only hope he swings at me rather than use some sort of crazy mind-melting magic.

He swings. With his weight and strength fully behind the punch, I know if it lands, I'm out cold. But it also means all of his balance shifts forward, making it easy to duck under his arm and grab hold of his elbow. As I straighten from my dip, I push him forward to throw his balance completely off.

Before he has a chance to right himself, I use our combined momentum to spin all of the way around and land a hard kick to the back of his knee. Not hard enough. He doesn't go down as I hope and so my next kick lands lower than I expect. Worse, when I realize it won't hit where I want, I end up pulling the kick and it strikes with less strength than I'm capable.

Even though I know I should attack again while he's still somewhat disoriented, my focus is pulled to Stewart. There's no reason why I need to pay attention to him right now. He's not an immediate threat, but my gut screams to watch out.

The weird thing is he's not paying attention to us, not really. His eyes are on the box in his hands while the fire reaches ever closer to engulf us all.

Borin's arm wraps around my chest and throw me at the barn wall. It's far enough away the impact isn't particularly painful; still, I feel the wall shift as I hit. The building weakens every second, and if we don't get out, there's no doubt the whole place is going to collapse on us.

As Borin comes after me to finish what he started, she manages to laso the rope he used on us around him. It catches his neck, and when he rushes forward, he chokes himself.

His eyes bulge both from the lack of air and from anger as he turns to Cindy. The second he does, my attention is back on Stewart. It's as if my disgust from him touching the box earlier has increased to a point where if I don't stop him, I'll never forgive myself. I have no idea why, but he can't hold it for one more second.

When I see he's already flicked the latch and lifting the lid, I snap forward. He notices me only as my foot flies up to knock the box out of his hands. It lands hard on the ground and I cringe as it teeters upside down with its lid wide open. If there's another mini-man in there, there's no way he would have survived the fall.

Stewart's and my eyes lock for half a second before he raises a hand as though to throw something at me. In the same moment, I fling myself to the ground and somersault, grabbing the box as I roll. I don't know how quick Stewart will be with his magic, and I'm sure he's going to use it against me since brute force seems to be more Borin's specialty, so I keep moving and give him no chance for an easy target.

The air is chokingly hot as I move several feet closer to the door. I glance back at him. He's not looking at me. He's staring at something on the ground, more or less where the box landed. I turn to the door and escape, but something about him draws my attention again. Another peek and he hasn't moved. At all. It doesn't even look like he's blinked.

I drag my eyes away from him and turn to Cindy for answers. She's the same. And Borin. It's like they've been frozen, mid-step, as they stare at the same spot. My instinct is to follow their gaze, but I manage to stop myself.

The fire is getting worse. My lungs feel as though they're about to collapse. I crouch in order to keep out of the worst of the heat. Why aren't the others doing the same? I want to run, but there's no way I'm going anywhere without Cindy. So, why isn't she coming?

"What's happening?" Al asks. "Why've you stopped?"

"No one's moving." Speaking comes with uncontrollable coughing.

Al on the other hand doesn't seem to have any trouble with the smoke. "Why?"

"They're staring at something," I croak. The heat's too much. "I don't know what."

"Don't look!"

"Guessed that," I say while forcing myself to gaze everywhere except where my eyes are drawn. "What do I do?"

Everyone is still completely motionless. The fire is so close to Stewart, it's starting to char the bottom of his pant legs. Bits of flaming pieces of old hay and boards crumble from the loft and fall around all of us, causing sparks to spread and the fire to grow. I duck instinctively as a piece comes within inches of hitting Stewart in the head.

"Get out."

"Not without Cindy."

He sighs. "She's not moving either I take it."

I answer with another coughing bout.

"There must be some sort of spell capturing them. Probably something requiring the target to maintain eye contact with an object. Whatever you do, don't get between the wizards and the object."

"An object?" I ask, with another glance around the room.

This time when my eyes pass over the others I notice the keys on the table. Fire is already eating away at the table's legs, and I'm betting the shiny metal is going to be extremely hot. Unfortunately, it's also our only way of escape.

"It probably came out of the box."

"What did?" I ask while distracted by the keys.

"The object." Another chunk of wood falls, the largest yet. The smash and spray of flames causes Al to pause for a second. When he speaks again, it's in a rush. "You knocked the box to the ground, did you not? When it fell, it must have dropped out."

Through the portal. It makes sense.

Another coughing fit. The heat makes my skin feel as though it's going to shrivel and rip. There's no more time.

"You said to stop the spell I need to break their eye contact, right?"

"Correct."

"Perfect."

I dash forward, grab the keys and instantly shove them and the box into my purse, which I also grab off the table. The heat's done its number on it, turning the off white leather a dirty brown and making the metal clasp next to impossible to touch, but it's better than holding the keys directly. Plus my cell's in there. When I turn to face Borin and Cindy, I know there's no way I can block the view of one but not the other. I'm going to have to make this quick.

Something else catches my eye and at first I look away, thinking I've somehow gazed at the very item I've been trying to avoid. Little by little my brain processes what I've seen, and I realize it is the blue bag Stewart taunted me with, not whatever froze everyone. He must have dropped it along with the box.

Above me something snaps and the entire roof on Stewart's side of the barn succumbs to the fire and collapses. I have seconds before the rest falls, if I'm lucky. I dash forward, dip down to grab the bag and without any hesitation slam myself against Cindy, full force.

All I can hope is whatever magic is on her doesn't leave her prone to broken bones.

The hit knocks her back and breaks the spell. Without waiting for her to regain her balance, I pull her toward the exit. A coughing fit slows her down enough I know we won't be able to outrun Borin, who is also now free.

I spin around, using the motion to force Cindy forward through the door and giving Borin no time to react to my next move. As he reaches to grab my shoulder, I kick. Low and hard. He doubles over in pain and I know it's going to take him more than a second to recover.

Without another glance at the two wizards, I follow Cindy outside to the amazingly cool fresh air.

"Keys," Cindy says between coughs with her hand stretched toward me.

"I've got them," I tell her while racing to the driver's side of the car.

"Great," she says. "Give them to me."

There's no time to argue, and there's also no way I'm giving her the keys. After standing still in the heat and smoke I know she's not going to have the reaction time and clear head needed to keep the vehicle going. Plus, with my adrenaline as high as it is, I need to be actively doing something to get us out of here.

Without another word, I jump into the car and dig for the keys. If only I'd taken a smaller purse.

"You said you had them," she says once she's in the car and realizes what I'm doing. "Where are they?"

I ignore her and keep searching. I hear her slap down the lock on her side before she reaches across to do the same to mine.

"Now would be good."

She cringes away from the window and a loud thump follows. I force myself not to look up and instead focus on the keys. There. I shove the right one into the ignition, missing a couple of times because of my shaking hands.

Whoever attacks the car gets one last hit in as the engine turns over and I throw the vehicle into gear. As I squeal out of the driveway, the tires digging up dirt and grass as I go a little onto the lawn, I look back to see Borin holding a large piece of wood he must have been using against the window. Stewart walks calmly from the burning building and watches us with a smile on his lips.

## Chapter Eight

"Breathe, Lou," Cindy says once we're well away from the barn.

There's no sign of anyone following us, but I've changed lanes and taken so many turns, I don't know where we are. It's no wonder they haven't found us yet. I look out the mirrors and then glance over my shoulder just in case.

"Jesus Christ!" Cindy shouts while grabbing the wheel to put us back onto our half of the road. "Stop before you kill us."

"They're coming." I tighten my hands around the steering wheel to stop from shaking. It doesn't help. "I know they're coming and they're going to find us and then the animal is going to eat us and..." gasp "I can't..." gasp "do this."

"In and out. If you need to puke, do it out the window." She even goes so far as to reach over and wind my window down. "I am not cleaning that shit up."

I put my hand over my mouth and hold it there. I hadn't thought about throwing up, but now my stomach feels like the entire contents of the past week want out.

"Think about something else," she says.

But I can't. All I can think about is the fire and the creature and being tied up and was there a red truck behind us?

Cindy catches the wheel again. "I know! You could put all of your concentration into DRIVING. Seriously, Lou. I thought you got your permit. Can't you at least stay on the pavement?"

"No, this is good," Al says. "Don't do anything predictable. It'll make it harder for them to figure out what your next move is."

Cindy shifts the wheel a bit more. "Not helping, Mini-Al."

"Do we have a next move?" I ask.

"It would help if we live long enough to get to a next move. Lou!" She slams her foot down as though she's trying to stomp on the brake. "There was a car in that lane."

I'm shaking so badly and my hands are so sweaty I can hardly keep them on the wheel. I don't know how Cindy expects me to drive any better under these circumstances. Plus this car sucks. I don't know why I ever wanted it for myself. Mom's car is way easier to drive. Or at least it was the two times she let me take it the six blocks to the grocery store with her in the passenger seat.

"Good work with the ropes," Cindy says after I'm able to steady the vehicle, more or less. "I still have no idea how you got us out of them, but it was a pretty sweet move."

"I didn't do it," I say. "I thought you must have."

"I was talking to Al. You keep your eyes on the road."

There's a little hesitation before Al replies with a shy, "Nice work with the dust. I've never seen it used before in such a way."

"You're the one who told me what to do," Cindy reminds him. "And do you see how good I'm being at not asking how you know so much about magic?"

Al remains quiet for a second, which is way longer than I can take right now.

"We nearly died, and there's all this crazy stuff happening and you guys are treating it all like it is some game." I use my hand as a puppet while imitating them. "'Oh, good work.' 'Yeah, you too. High five.' 'Hey, why don't we go out for pizza now to celebrate?' 'Sounds great, because whatever happened is so five minutes ago.'"

"I could go for some pizza right now," Cindy says. "I don't like pizza, but I'm so starved I'd happily eat at the greasiest diner."

"CINDY!" I slam my hand on the wheel and without meaning to, my foot smashes down too, pushing the old car up to an alarming speed before I hit the brake a little too hard and jerk us back to something more manageable. "What is going on?" I demand.

Neither of the other two says anything for a few seconds.

"Jeez, relax, Lou." She rolls her neck to work out the kinks from my erratic driving. "And you know I go by Sin now."

"Cindy!"

"Fine, fine. But I don't know much more than you."

"Don't give me that." I reach over and smack her shoulder. Not hard enough to actually hurt her, but hopefully it's enough to convince her to stop stalling. "What was with the dust?"

"It isn't anything special." The pride in her voice says something else entirely. "It's a combination of a few different things. Ground together they can cause hallucinations and enhance fears."

"Yeah, except stuff like magic dust doesn't exist in real life."

As I say the words my eyes drift down to Al. I don't need Cindy's next comment to know I'm being ridiculous. If he can exist, why can't magic dust?

"Obviously it does, since you saw me use it."

"Most people can't make it work," Al adds. "Only someone who can manipulate the magic the powder holds can force people to see and hear things like you did. A sorceress, for example. Or a talented witch."

"I'm not a sorceress," Cindy says as though she wishes she were.

"I know," Al says.

"About that," Cindy tone turns suspicious. "Are you going to explain how you know so much about all of this? Or am I going to have to beg?"

She's right. He knew about the chimera and wizards and the magic on the door and he even mentioned something about the box. I didn't have time to ask then, but since we're relatively safe I want to know what he was trying to say. Except now he seems intent on staying silent.

"Please," I say. "I need to know what's going on."

"I don't know much either," he says which makes Cindy growl with annoyance.

"Anything will help." I sound as kind as possible to counter Cindy's anger. Hard to do when my voice is shaking from nerves. "You said something about the box before. What were you talking about?"

"It was something the wizard, Stewart, said," Al says. "He was looking for a portal and said your grandmother was the guardian of one."

"So what?" Cindy snaps.

"This isn't my world," he says. "Combined with the fact I don't remember being inside the box for more than a second, and it's the only conclusion I can come up with."

From Cindy's snort, I can tell she gets what he's talking about right away. My brain, on the other hand, is too busy driving the car and watching out for anyone tailing us to be able to figure out what he means.

"I don't understand," I admit after a moment's silence.

"I'm not sure," Al says. "But I think the box is what Stewart was looking for. The box is the portal."

"Portal in a box." I check the rear-view mirror in order to avoid processing the information for a little longer. "Why not?"

"It makes sense," Cindy grudgingly admits. "I'm betting the rock with the holding spell on it came from your world too."

"A rock," Al says. "Thank you for telling me what held you. Not knowing was frustrating."

Cindy grins. "Good call about the chimera, Mini-Al."

"What call?" I ask.

Were they ever going to start explaining rather than talking around me as though I don't exist?

"When he cut our ropes, he told me to concentrate the dust on the creature. It doesn't have the magical immunity the wizards have."

"Al cut the ropes?" I imagine him climbing around us, hacking at the rope like a lumberjack. It doesn't seem feasible. "They were as thick as he is tall. How is that possible?"

"My blade can cut through anything," Al says simply as though it should be obvious. "It was a gift from my sister. She was always good at choosing gifts."

"Yes, of course," I say. "A blade that can cut anything. Fear and hallucinations caused by powder. A portal to another world inside a box and a bag full of toenails and magic." I laugh at the absurdity of my words. "Yup, I've gone completely insane."

"You can't ever open the bag," Cindy says. "Never. You hear me?"

"But, I mean, it doesn't really hold my magic." I laugh at the absurdity of the idea, but quickly realize no one else is laughing. "Can it?"

"All you need to know is not to open it. Ever. It's what Gran wanted."

"Stewart said..." I can't believe I'm going to say the words aloud, they're so ludicrous. "He said I'm a sorceress. Like Gran."

Cindy stares out of the passenger window without saying anything.

"He can't be right. Gran wasn't... and I'm certainly not..." Silence. "Cindy, why won't you look at me?

"Gran was a sorceress," Cindy says in a matter-of-fact sort of way. "She was born with magic and could use it to do pretty much anything she wanted."

"Like you?"

After what I'd seen in the barn, I wouldn't doubt her if she said she could fly.

"No, don't be an idiot. Do you think I'd spend so much money fixing this damn car if I could do the same with magic?" She brushes my words away with a wave of her hand.

"But, the dust..."

"A manipulation of pre-existing magic." She sounds disappointed in her own abilities, though her tone turns wistful as she talks about Gran. "Gran, and others like her, can create magic on their own."

I'm terrified of the answer, but I have to ask. "Others, like me?"

"Just, don't open the bag, hear me?" Cindy says by way of an answer.

After a minute I finally have the nerve to speak again. "Are you a wizard?"

"Who me?" Cindy laughs. "No way. Wizards steal magic from people and twist it into something sick. I'm all about using what's available naturally. Anything I want to do with magic requires time and planning."

"She's a witch," Al says when it's obvious Cindy would rather tell me everything except a straight answer.

"A witch!" I laugh. "Of course. Actually explains a lot. Wait, can you really fly? On a broomstick?"

She rubs her forehead and refuses to answer the question.

"Al," she says. "You still haven't explained how you know so much about all of this."

As interested as I am in his answer, I'm more curious about Cindy right now. "I want to know more about you being a witch. What does that mean exactly? Where's your hat and green skin and..."

Cindy interrupts. "Shut up, Lou."

"I'm serious." I move my hand in a 'calm down' gesture. "What is a witch and what else can you do?"

She considers her answer for a minute. Her hesitation makes me think she's going to refuse to answer.

"We work with spells, generally. It takes us a lot longer to prepare even a little bit of magic compared to sorceresses, and everything has to be organized in advance. I can't instantly cast magic if I haven't readied the spell in advance."

I'm about to ask more questions when she continues.

"It's all a matter of balancing different aspects of the elements. It's easier to show you than tell, but right now I'm more interested in Al."

I would interrupt again, but something about the look Cindy's giving Al keeps me silent. It seems to have the same effect on him.

"Tell me how you know so much about magic or I'll remind you how much bigger than you we are."

I doubt he actually feels threatened, but he makes the decision to start talking.

"My sister," he says. "She's a sorceress."

"Your sister..." I never thought I'd see Cindy be too shocked to finish a sentence.

"Is a sorceress," Al finishes for her. "Was. I guess."

Always the one to be blunt, Cindy asks, "She's dead?"

"I'm so sorry," I say quickly to cover up her insensitivity.

"She isn't... not entirely." His voice is cold, as though he's separating himself from the event and ultimately the emotions he doesn't want to express. "A wizard found her. He took her magic and left her...empty."

I expect Cindy to say something rude, or disrespectful, or stupid, or something along the lines of 'shit. That sucks, dude.' But she doesn't say anything at all for a long time. Or at least a long time for her. When she does speak, it's a quiet, "Sorry."

"Yeah." He clears his throat. "Well, one thing I'm sure of is wizards never give up when they find something they want."

"You mean, you think they're following us?" I look at each of the mirrors and turn my head to look out the back window, but there's nothing there as far as I can see. The screech of the tires brings my focus back to what's in front of us.

"I swear, if you get so much as a scratch on this car, I will kill you." Cindy lets go of the wheel when she's sure I'm paying more attention. I focus on where I am on the road. Even so, I can't stop my eyes from flicking to the mirror more often than necessary.

"I don't see them," I say when Cindy's a little less angry.

"They might not be right behind you," Al says. "But they will come after you. You have something they want."

"The box," I say.

"It's not the only thing," Al says.

"What else is there?" My eyes are drawn to my purse and the bag inside.

I already know the answer when he says, "You."

## Chapter Nine

"He wants you to open the bag," Al continues. "He can't take the magic directly, so he needs you to regain your power so he can strip it from you."

"Lesson is, don't open the bag," Cindy adds.

Her irritation at Al for telling me about the bag is obvious, so neither Al nor I say anything more in hopes of her cooling down. It makes for a long drive, especially once my adrenaline starts to wear off and exhaustion takes over.

"The turn's coming up," Cindy says after a long silence. I'd almost fallen into a stupor while staring at the pavement ahead of us. "A few more minutes and I'll be safe from your driving forever."

I take in everything around me for the first time in a while and realize we are only minutes from Gran's house. It seems unreal we're so close to our destination. Soon we'll be able to figure out a way to get Al back home and everything can go back to the way it was.

Exactly what I want.

Isn't it?

"Thank you," Al says, interrupting my thoughts

"For what?" The heat of a blush warms first my face and then creeps down to my chest. "I haven't done anything yet."

"You're trying."

I shake my head at the misplaced gratitude. "Anyone would try to get you home. But most people wouldn't nearly get you killed in the process."

"Most people would have put me back in the box and left me to die."

I shift uncomfortably as I remember the idea had crossed my mind. The only reason I'm doing anything at all is because of Cindy. If not for her, I'd still be sitting in a corner of my room, rocking back and forth while staring at him on my night table. I glance at the clock on the dashboard and notice it's after six in the morning. Well, I suppose right now I'd actually be at rehearsal.

"Rehearsal," I groan.

"What?" Al asks.

"Nothing, it's stupid." I sigh. "There goes the lead, that's all."

Before Al can ask what I'm talking about, Cindy cuts in. For once I'm actually grateful. I'd have felt like an idiot explaining to Al about dance. He'd probably lose respect for me, like all guys do.

"There," she says while pointing out the window to a carved wood community sign. "Don't forget to slow down for the turn this time. And maybe signal. Or not. Whatever."

"Shut up," I say while turning my signal on a little too late. "I'm not so bad."

I switch lanes and pull into the suburban area extra carefully to show how awesome a driver I am. As soon as we're inside the development, however, I get lost. There are too many side roads and similar-looking houses to remember the right directions.

Cindy takes over navigation without a single snide comment, a miracle in itself, until I finally spot Gran's house. It's well back from the road, completely at odds with every other home in the neighborhood. Row after row of residences, all with perfectly manicured lawns and meticulously maintained exteriors, make up the subdivision. All of the buildings are new and there are only half a dozen designs repeated in an irregular pattern.

Gran's house on the other hand is old, and not afraid to show its age. Mismatching grey paint covers the outside of the house in patches, and the pavement of the driveway is broken and starting to grow overrun by weeds and grass. It looks like one of the neighbors must have become frustrated with the hay length front yard and cut it back. Otherwise the place looks completely untouched since the last time I visited several months ago.

I shift the car into park and stare up at the house for a minute. We're actually here. I should be ecstatic. So, why don't I want to get out?

As soon as the car stops, Cindy leaps out and runs around to my side. Before I have a chance to unbuckle myself, she throws the door open, reaches around me and takes the keys from the ignition. Without a word, she shoves them into her pocket and heads toward the front door.

"I'm really not so bad a driver," I grumble while getting out of the car. "We're still alive, aren't we?"

There's a tiny chuckle from Al, but when I look at him, he carefully keeps his face, and smile, hidden.

When I reach the door, Cindy's still there, though I have no idea why she hasn't gone in already.

"You remember there are potentially people following us, right?" I tap my toe nervously on the overgrown stone walkway. "If they happen to drive by they can see us standing here."

"They'd be able to see our car either way," she says as though it's not a big deal.

I contemplate moving the car into the back yard and hiding it behind the house before I'm distracted when Cindy kneels down and pulls a bobby pin out of her hair.

"Really? You know how to pick a lock?" I'm impressed. Until I remember we're not in a movie. "Who has those kinds of hobbies?"

"Shut up, I'm concentrating." She straightens the hairpin and shoves it into the lock. "Besides, I'm not the criminal you and Mom seem to think I am. I've never actually done this before. Usually I leave lock picking to my date."

"Of course you do." It wouldn't surprise me if she wasn't joking. "Don't you have a copy of the key to this place? Couldn't you have thought things through for five seconds and have grabbed Mom's key? But no, you never think anything through. You do whatever you feel like."

She ignores my rant and absently says, "Don't see you with a key either, princess," while continuing to fiddle with the lock.

I look back at the road to make sure the bad guys haven't caught up. No sign of Stewart, but there are a lot of cars around in the driveways along the street. Kids are out playing in the morning sun while parents fuss over their lawns and gardens and take their dogs for walks. All we need is one of those people to grow a little too suspicious of a couple of teenagers hanging out at an empty house and the cops will be here in minutes.

"Didn't Gran keep a spare?" I ask a bit louder than necessary. I'm half hoping people will overhear and realize we aren't actually thieves or hooligans or whatever they're thinking.

"Shh. Concentrating."

"Wait! No, there is a spare." I glance around the front yard, trying to picture the time Gran showed me the extra key. "I can't...remember..."

"Under the roof of the well."

I look down at Al who pulls himself half out of the lipstick lid to stare at the house.

"The well?" Right, the old wooden structure in the back yard. It was filled in years ago when the whole area made the switch to the city water line, but Gran left the wooden structure surrounding the old hole. She said it was as much a part of the house as the roof, so it stayed. It's completely useless except as one thing; a perfect hiding spot for spare keys.

I take another look back toward the road before jogging around to the back of the house. There it is, half hidden among the long, scratchy grass. I reach my hand underneath the rotting roof and pull the set of keys off the rusted nail hidden in the shadows.

Cindy steps aside as I open the lock on the front door and enter Gran's house.

"Yes, I'm sure you could have gotten it eventually," I say to her when I notice the look she's giving me. No, not me, Al. "What is it?"

"How did he know where the key was?"

I hadn't thought of that. How had I not thought of that?

I lift the necklace so I'm eye level with him. For the first time since he fell onto my shirt, I can see his face and every expression he makes clearly. He glances at Cindy first, as though he's afraid to meet my eye. Which I can kind of understand. I must be humungous to him.

Finally, he turns back to me. "I know this house. I've been here before."

"What?" I say.

"What?" Cindy says a little louder. "I thought you weren't from this world. How could you have been here before?"

"It doesn't make sense to me either." He rubs his chin and stares off in the distance while he thinks. "I've been to this house, but not to this place. Those other houses, those roads, the machine you travel in, none of it exists where I'm from. None of it except for this house."

He sounds too freaked out to be lying. I glance at Cindy to see what she thinks but she's stopped paying attention and is headed toward Gran's study at the back. I hurry to follow her since I don't know what to say to Al and there's nowhere else I can think of to look for answers.

"Why were you here?" Cindy rifles through some papers in the sturdy wooden desk. "At this house."

"Exploring," he answers after a second. "Kid stuff."

I expect Cindy to growl at him and demand he tell us more, but instead she moves to one of the many bookshelves lining the walls of the room. She checks a few old book covers before shoving them back into place. They're all so old if there were ever titles on the spines, the words are long gone.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"This."

She pulls out a book and opens it to reveal its handwritten contents, though the cover looks like every other old book in the room.

"A journal?"

Cindy nods. "Gran never let me read it before. She said it was stuff I didn't need to worry about."

"What's in it?"

"I don't know," she says while giving me a look like I'm a moron. "She never let me read it."

I roll my eyes and walk over to the shelves. Maybe I can find something useful on my own. Although I have no idea what I'm looking for.

"Here," Cindy announces with a smack of her hand on the table. "Bring him over here to look."

I go over to the desk and carefully unlatch the necklace, setting it down so Al can climb out. When I'm sure he's safely on the desk, I turn my attention to the page Cindy's so excited about. It looks like an old map. There's not much on it, a few blobs with scratches beside each labeling them as things such as mill, blacksmith, and tailor. At the top, there's a bunch of symbols a lot like the ones Cindy pointed out at the bottom of the box.

"What is that?" I ask, pointing out the symbols. "Some sort of magic spell?"

"I'll show you," Cindy says before turning to Al. "Step onto the book."

"Are you sure it's safe?"

I bite my lip while examining Al. It would be bad I managed to not hurt him this far, only for a spell to get him at Gran's house.

Cindy gives me a puzzled look, which quickly shifts to something more like disgust.

"Of all guys for you to get your first crush on," she says.

"What?" I half laugh. "I don't have a..." I laugh again to cover up the fact I can't say the word. "He's the size of my thumb. I don't know him."

I don't know why my heart started racing when she said that, or why I'm so flustered. It's true he's tiny and I don't know him. But when my eyes flick over to him and I catch him turning away from me, I feel the heat rise in my cheeks.

"Fine, whatever," Cindy says. "It's a harmless illusion spell. He'll be fine."

He glances up at me at the same moment I sneak a peek at him to see how he's reacting to Cindy's accusation. As soon as our eyes meet, he turns and climbs onto the book, giving me no chance to read what he's thinking.

"Off the blotches," Cindy tells him. "There. Don't move."

She pulls enough dust from her pocket to cover the tip of her finger, and blows it so it spreads out over both Al and the book. Slowly the ink splotches on the page shift and grow and take shape until they're no longer pen marks but ghostly tiny versions of buildings. Between the buildings are roads and grass and trees and everything else you might find in life-like perfect detail. It's as though a real village was shrunk to match the size of Al.

He turns in a circle and takes in everything around him. The grass shifts as though blown by wind and something like a cross between a butterfly and a bird unfolds from a flower and flies upwards until it vanishes. His face turns ashen as though he's staring at a ghost.

Cindy points to a familiar building. "That's Gran's house. But what's with the rest? I don't recognize anything else."

"I do," he says. "It's my village."

## Chapter Ten

"This is your home?" I study the map a little more closely.

Al nods. "At least part of it. There are a few more buildings than this, including my parents' house, but this is more or less home."

"How new is your parent's house?" Al and I both turn to give Cindy a confused look and she continues. "Was it built within, say, the last thirty or so years?"

He considers her question before saying, "They built it before I was born, twenty years ago I guess."

Cindy nods. "The date on this journal is well over thirty years ago. Things change. They definitely have here."

"So what are you saying?" I try to touch one of the buildings, but when my finger goes through, I pull back. "Gran was in this other world thirty some years ago and happened to draw this map?"

"Probably. Maybe she was there a few times since." Cindy seems a little too pleased by the idea. "You know how she used to get out of touch for weeks at a time. She probably says in her journals, but it'll take some time to read them."

"Great. So your amazing plan is to read Gran's journals until you find a spot where she happens to mention her magical secret to jumping between worlds?" I pull a face to show just what I think of such a plan, or lack thereof.

Cindy smiles at me. "Pretty much, yeah."

"Can't you do some sort of spell to move things along faster?" I pick up one of the books and wave it in her face to force her to pay more attention to me. "If Al's right, it's only a matter of time before Stewart and Borin come for us."

She swats the thing away and glares. "I'm not a sorceress, Lou. I don't have magic coming out of my ass. I happen to know a few spells, and they're simple perception tricks."

"So, no to using magic."

She yanks the book from my hand and stuffs it under her arm before heading toward the door. "I think I remember Gran keeping her more recent journals upstairs. I'll be there, being useful. Why don't you try doing the same?"

I glare at the door for several seconds after she's gone. Once I can no longer hear her footsteps, I turn away.

"I can't wait until this is over," I grumble. "I'll never have to talk to her again."

I realize what I've said and turn to Al with an apologetic smile. He'd probably give anything to argue with his sister. He runs his fingers through his hair as though he's attempting to brush away some feeling of remorse, and then half-smiles up at me.

"You two normally don't talk much?" He's careful to sound as though what I said doesn't bother him, but I can tell it does.

"I'm sorry, about your sister." I want to touch him, or pat his shoulder. But when I start to move my finger toward him, I realized what a dangerous idea that is and drop my hand. "I don't know if I said as much already."

He shrugs my words away and turns as though to study the map a bit more closely.

"We weren't close either," he says unexpectedly. "I hardly knew her; I spent most of my life...elsewhere."

Since he's obviously uncomfortable talking directly to me, I start rummaging through Gran's stuff, and pretend I'm not interested in what he's saying. "What do you mean? You didn't grow up at home?"

"I went to this place, where they sort of trained boys like me."

"Like a boarding school? Really?" I get a little too excited as an image of Al dressed in a tiny school uniform pops into my head. Adorable. I clear my throat and force myself to calm down. "Was it all boys there, like in books and stuff?"

He looks at me for a moment and appears to be about to say something before he stops himself. When he does speak, it sounds like a half-truth, though I have no idea what he's hiding. "It was only boys, yes."

"Mom used to threaten to send Cindy off to one." Maybe if I talk a bit more about my family he'll feel more comfortable saying more. "I always wished I could go."

He seems genuinely interested when he asks, "You wanted to leave home?"

Now it's my turn to pretend to be busy in order to avoid looking at him directly. I don't usually talk about my family. Not even my friends know about Mom's threat and my wish to get away. "I don't know. I guess. With Cindy and Mom always fighting, it was up to me to be the good little daughter." Reliving the fights and bickering again is not something I'm interested in doing. Instead, I remember the early morning practices and all day shopping trips to find the perfect, preppy outfits. "I would help with all the cleaning and I would join the ballet lessons and do everything a normal girl would do, because Mom wanted it so. She was so afraid of becoming like Gran."

He gives me a curious look I see out of the corner of my eye. "What was wrong with your grandmother?"

My mom and sister fighting is one thing. There's no way I can talk about Gran to a total stranger. Who knows how he'll react, and I can't help but care what he thinks about me. Still, there's something comforting about him, as though he actually wants to know, and not just so he has something to laugh at and judge me for later.

"Not exactly all there," I say against my better judgment. "Never mind the magic, I never knew about that, but there was all this other stuff. Such as why would anyone fold old chocolate bar wrappers and place them into a drawer underneath a pile of papers?" I pull out a wrapper and hold it up for him to see while touching it with as little of the skin on my fingers as possible.

He grins. "Fair enough. But I'm sure there are worse things people have kept in their drawers."

Something about his reaction sends warmth through me and spurs me on.

"Oh, but it's not only things like the wrappers. Gran would have rituals for everything. If we wanted canned peas for supper, we'd have to spin around three times and spit in a bucket set aside in the kitchen specifically for the occasion. Every time we used the toilet? Click your heels once and pull your ear." I demonstrate the ear tug with a mocking smile before giving him a desperate look. "Have you ever heard of any of those rituals before? Please tell me it's some sort of spell to ward off demons, because I would feel so much better about everything if it is."

His laugh isn't cruel like when some of the kids in my class found out about Gran's rituals. In fact it was infectious. For the first time ever, I actually find myself laughing about the whole thing. Mom always worried about what people might think, and after my so-called friends' reactions, I did too. I never thought about laughing.

"I can't say I've ever heard of those spells," he admits.

"And I'm not going to get into the whole toenails in a bag."

I continue laughing until I notice Al's become silent. He stares at my purse as though it contains the answer to a puzzling question. I follow his gaze to the bag thrown onto the chair when we first came into the room, though I know it's the blue bag inside he's actually thinking about. "A container used to trap a sorceresses power," Al thinks aloud. "I've never heard of it being done before."

It's obvious he wants a closer look, though he's too polite to ask. I'd usually be too embarrassed to even think about showing someone a pouch of my old disgusting toenails, but I can't help being curious too. Besides, the same urge to touch it I'd felt in the barn is back, and this time it's too strong to resist.

My arm reaches out and, before I know what I'm doing, I have the blue bag in my hand.

"You said they'll never stop chasing us," I say with my attention on the bag. "We'll never be safe. Not really."

He doesn't answer at first. "I suppose."

"There's been a lot of magic thrown around me in the past few hours. Powerful stuff. While Cindy's completely outmatched, at least she's able to fight. She got rid of the creature after all."

From his hesitation, it's obvious he knows where my line of thinking is headed and he doesn't approve. "Maybe, but it's not like you're helpless. I've never seen anyone fight a chimera like you did."

"And I still lost." My fingers find the ends of the string binding the bag shut. I tug so gently I'm not at all surprised nothing happens.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Al says. "Remember what your sister said."

I can't take my eyes off the bag and the urge to open it is so strong I can't think of anything else. Cindy's warning is in my mind somewhere, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is the pouch.

"All of these books, this house, will any of it help? Even if we find a way to get you back, Gran was a sorceress. She could do things none of us can."

"Magic might not be the solution."

"Maybe not this time," I admit. "But without it, I'll never have a chance of defending my family from Stewart or wizards like him. It was luck we got out of the barn. With magic, we'd be on equal fighting ground."

I test the binding again, this time yanking at the knot much harder. Nothing. It doesn't budge. I need to cut it open. A search of the table uncovers old silver scissors stuffed into a container full of pens and pencils. Even though the scissors seem sharp and open easily, no matter what I do, they won't cut the string. I try cutting the bag itself. Again, nothing.

"But it can't be. What if I..." I use the scissors to cut a small hole into the bottom of my shirt, no problem. "So why won't the bag cut?"

"Maybe it's for the best," Al says.

"Your sword." I'm almost ashamed at how obvious the solution is. "You said it would cut through anything."

I hold out my hand to him, but he makes no move to pass me the tiny blade.

"Please?"

When I realize he's still not going to give it to me, I lean over the desk and bring myself face to face with him. From this close, I can see how worried he looks. It doesn't make sense. Shouldn't he be happy? He must not understand.

"If it works, then I'll have the power to send you back home," I say.

"Lou." He shakes his head in refusal. "Don't do this."

Hearing him say my name with so much sympathy and worry, it makes me need to help him that much more.

"Please," I say again.

His hand slips around the hilt as though he's about to draw the sword, but he stops before actually pulling it free. The need to open the bag is so strong his hesitation has me almost in tears.

"Please."

A single nod. No words. He draws out the sword and carefully sets it onto my index finger. It's almost impossible to hold without touching the blade and I end up cutting myself on its edge. Once I have it held between my fingernails, I slice it against the side of the bag. The blade cuts through the fabric easier than I expect and I end up making a hole much bigger than I intend. The contents of the bag spill out around me. While I scramble to keep everything inside, I drop the whole lot.

I groan. "I'm not cleaning that up."

"Any change?" Al asks.

I think about it for a minute and shake my head.

"I don't feel any different."

But as soon as I say the words I look at Al and I realize how wrong I am. He's there, same as before, but there's a strange net surrounding him he doesn't seem to notice. Every move he makes, the net moves with him, pressing against his skin. But it isn't made of string or rope or anything I've ever seen before. I lean in until my nose is almost touching him to get a better view of him.

"What is that?" I ask.

He looks down at himself and nervously brushes nonexistent dust from himself before returning his focus to me. "Um... my clothes?"

He shifts nervously, but he doesn't step back, though I can only imagine how intimidating I must be right now. I'm glad he doesn't move, and not just so I can see him better. There's also something about being so close to him that causes my skin to tingle in the best way.

I ignore the feeling and concentrate on the stuff surrounding him.

"No, it's all around you. Can't you feel it? Some sort of pattern of light and dust and shadow and I don't know what, and it's pressing down on your skin, like it's trying to..." I take in a frightened breath when I realize exactly what it's doing. "Like it's going to crush you.

"What?" There's a panic to his voice I'd only heard once before; when Cindy forced him inside the lipstick container.

His fear justifies my own alarm. "I have to stop it."

"Please do."

I point his sword at him and say, "Don't move."

He doesn't, not even to agree with me. Probably he's too afraid to speak. I know I can't say anything encouraging like 'I promise not to kill you,' because any distraction and the sword I have pressed against the magic web might slip. If the blade can cut anything, it could easily kill Al. I drag it down, careful to slice only the web and not his skin. I hope.

Once enough of it is cut, the net gives away and falls from him. I laugh in triumph as the stuff curls away from his body, shrinks into itself and disappears.

But then something odd happens.

No longer is my nose almost touching a tiny person, but smashed against something solid and warm and smelling a whole lot like dirt and leather.

I take a small step away from the table with my hand rubbing my face and peek to see what hit me. Some new spell, perhaps? Or let me guess, with my luck, it's probably another chimera.

Or a full grown man.

I take another step back as he climbs down off the desk to stand in the space between it and me. Since I'd moved back such a small amount, he hardly has any room, leaving him pressed up against me. The tingling I'd felt before has intensified until my skin seems to be pulsing in reaction to him.

My breath catches as his fingers briefly brush against the hair on my shoulder until he seems to think better and lets his hand drop.

"Lou?" a familiar voice says when after several moments I still haven't moved.

Familiar, but completely different. Like talking to someone in person for the first time after only speaking to them over the phone. It's the same, but somehow this feels so much more real.

And having his full sized body practically pressed up against me makes it that much more intense. My hand moves to touch him to see if he's as solid as he looks.

Cindy's voice calls while thumping down the stairs, "Hey, I thought I heard..."

She stops at the door and I shove myself away from the man in front of me. I stare at Cindy as her face shifts from anger to confusion to surprise and then all the way back to anger again. She, on the other hand, isn't looking at me at all. Instead she's staring at the man who now has his back to me.

She opens her mouth a couple of times to speak, and when she finally does say something, it's only one word.

"Al?"

## Chapter Eleven

"What? How? What?" Cindy very cleverly asks.

I can't blame her, especially since my vocabulary is reduced to a single nervous laugh when Al spins to look at me for a moment before turning to Cindy. With him actually human-sized, I can see so many more details such as the fact his nose and mouth are little too wide for such a slim face. And he's in need of a shave. Not in a 'is he growing out a beard?' kind of way, but in a 'he probably hasn't shaved for days and that's all he can grow' way.

He has a fighter's body. Lean and entirely made of muscle which his light shirt and tunic show off very nicely. I catch myself staring at the part of his shoulder connected to the back of his neck while nibbling on my bottom lip and I take another step back.

"Lou! What did you do?" Cindy's demanding question gushes out when she's able to gather her thoughts.

"It's not her fault." Al positions himself as though he's protecting me from Cindy. "She was trying to help."

"Don't you even start," she says. "I'm not...I can't...I'll deal with you later."

Al turns and gives me an apologetic look that offers a perfect view of his chest, since it's more or less at eye level for me. His shirt and tunic are both ripped, all the way down to his belt, and the skin under is red and spotted with blood.

"Oh," I manage to force out. I touch his skin for a fraction of a second before pulling my hand back. Although the contact was brief, I'm hit with an embarrassing rush of heat leaving me flustered. "How did..."

He makes a face and guilt smashes into me, knocking away all other emotions.

"Me? I did this?" My voice is at least an octave higher than normal.

"The blade's sharper than it seems," he says to excuse the fact I nearly killed him.

My eyes lock onto the cut and follow it down his chest, where the material of his clothes has shifted enough to show a good portion of skin, down to his belt line. I don't realize I've been staring until one of Al's hands grips my shoulder as the other forces me to look up at his face. I can feel the blush spread all the way down my neck, while the tingling where we touch has me trembling.

"I'm fine." His voice is as smooth and warm as his touch, and I can't help leaning toward the sound. "It's just a scratch."

"Oh this is awesome," Cindy groans. She grips the arm he's using to lift my face and digs her nails into his flesh. "Hey, you. Not-so-little Al. If you're not dying, then how about you make yourself useful by checking the doors? I thought I heard something when I was upstairs. I'd rather not get a surprise visit from a couple of wizards."

He doesn't move for a minute and instead checks on me. "Thank you," he says.

"Move!" Cindy forces him around her out of the room.

When he's gone, Cindy cautiously approaches me. The way she moves is almost as though I'm a stranger, not her annoying little sister.

"What have you done?" she asks again, but this time a lot of the bitterness is gone, replaced with sadness. "Are you this stupid or did he trick you into it?"

The idea of her blaming Al hits harder than her insult to me. "He didn't do anything. I opened the bag on my own. He told me not to. And why are your pockets glowing."

Her hand goes to her head and she rubs her palm into her eye.

"Are you kidding me?" She shakes her head until she notices the bag on the floor. She picks it up and shoves it into my face. "Do you have any concept of what you've done?"

"I've taken back the magic you said I was born with." I take a step away from her and turn so she can't see the worry on my face. Have I done the right thing? "And now we have a chance against those wizards when they do catch up to us."

She doesn't back down as she follows me wherever I try to hide. "You don't have all of your magic. It wasn't all kept in one bag, you stupid moron."

"Unlike those smart morons, huh?" Not the best retort, but it will have to do.

"What do you expect to do when they come? Do you know anything about magic?" Her hand goes to her hip while the other waves the now empty bag in the air. "Have you ever done a spell?"

I try to sound confidence when I say, "I made Al big again."

"By using his own knife and almost killing him, something you could have done without opening the bag."

"What's the big deal?" I throw my hands up in defeat. I hate getting yelled at, especially when I haven't done anything wrong. "Maybe you're worried now I'll be better than you at magic?"

Her expression is somewhere between pity and a glare. "All you've done is given them an easy target."

"They're here!" Al shouts from the hallway.

Neither Cindy nor I move. We're too busy scowling at each other. When Al bursts into the room, he takes one look at us and slams the book closed on the table, surprising us out of our stare-down.

"We have to go." His tone leaves no room for argument. "Now."

"Go where?" Cindy asks. "I didn't find anything helpful in the books, and if we run, they'll simply track little-miss-perfect here's new power."

Yeah, alright, maybe it was a mistake. "Well, maybe if you explained any of this before leaving me in a room with mystical powers in the first place then I wouldn't have opened the damn bag."

"None of it matters right now," Al says. "We know this building is connected to my world somehow. If we can figure out how to get there, they might not be able to follow."

"But we have no idea how," Cindy says. "The best we have is a box, and even Al won't be able to fit inside now." She crosses her arms while staring directly at me. "Thanks to someone."

I get it, Cindy. I was wrong. Time to move on.

"There has to be another way." I rush over to the shelves and pulling out book after book without actually opening any. It's like I hope to simply know if I've found what I'm looking for. "If Gran was travelling back and forth regularly, there has to be something bigger. Maybe an object?"

I switch from the shelves to her desk and pull items out by the handful.

"It's too late," Al says.

From his tone I know exactly what I'm going to find when I raise my head from the desk. Stewart's smile is bigger than ever, though the rest of him is disheveled and singed. Borin stands behind him, watching us and carefully cracking each of his knuckles. Around both of them is an eerie glow, similar to the net and Cindy's pockets. Except where the net had been neatly constructed of beautiful, terrifying bits of energy, the light around the two wizards is blotchy and fraying around the edges. I can't keep my eyes directly on them for more than a few seconds without feeling nauseated.

"Hello, Lou," Stewart says in his fake sweet voice. "My, how you've changed."

Al's hand slowly reaches for the weapon no longer strapped to his belt. I follow his lead and go for my own weapon, fingers slipping around the keys in my pocket so when I make a fist, the sharp metal edges point out between each finger.

"And look at the stray you've picked up," Stewart's amusement increases as he notices Al for the first time. "You're a long way from home, boy. I suppose we have you to thank for releasing her magic. But I'm afraid you aren't going to get to enjoy your first taste today. Her magic is mine."

"Son of a bitch," Cindy says. "I knew it. I knew there was something off about you."

"It's not..." Al starts to say, but stops. Instead he keeps his focus on Stewart. "You're not going to touch her."

"Oh, I think I will." His amusement grows as he examines Al a little closer. "Do you truly believe you and the witch have a chance against two full wizards?"

While Stewart and Al talk, my focus goes to Borin. At first I thought the sun must have been hitting him at an odd angle to cause him to shine. But as I watch, the glow intensifies as layer after layer of light gathers around his body until he glows as bright as Cindy's pockets. Whatever he's doing, I know I need to stop him before he finishes.

I lunge forward, determined to stop him however I can. With my attention completely on Borin, I don't notice Stewart's the only one not surprised by my attack until it's too late. My body stops mid-stride as the air leaves my lungs. He doesn't touch me, but the magic slammed into my stomach is worse than any kick I've ever received.

Worse, I can't double up in pain or clutch the hurt area. I can't move at all. Stewart's light engulfs my entire body in an instant, paralyzing me. And then the pain begins.

It starts at my toes and is so excruciating I don't know how I'm able to continue standing, but his magic won't let me fall any more than it will let me attack him.

I notice movement out of the corner of my eye, hear Borin call out a warning. It's too late. Al's fist lands hard on Stewart's jaw, followed by his other fist against his temple. An impressive hit. It looks practiced. And it sends Stewart to the ground.

As soon as the first strike lands, the pain stops and my muscles loosen enough I'm able to move once again. I want to drop to the ground in relief, but Al's hand on my arm forces me forward.

"Come on!"

He starts toward the front door, but Borin is ready for us. At the last second I'm able to drag Al out of the way of a blast of a patchwork of magic I'm sure was meant to knock us out, if not do something worse. I pull him toward the stairs and am relieved to see Cindy's right behind us.

At the top we separate. Cindy rushes to Gran's room and Al searches one of the two spare rooms. I spin and face the stairs, my keys ready in my fist.

Stewart leisurely climbs to his feet and wipes the corner of his grinning mouth with his thumb, his eyes never leaving me. Borin doesn't move from his spot between the front door and us, though I can see he's building up another spell much like the last.

As important as the danger is, and as much as I know I need to keep my eyes on Stewart as he calmly walks up the stairs, I can't keep my attention from drifting down to my own hand. Since Gran's keys were left outside under the rotten well roof, they are dull and dirty. But one is so dark it blends with the shadows of my hand. It's unlike anything else I've seen today, and yet, I'm positive it's shrouded in magic.

Cindy bursts from Gran's room shouting, "The window's stuck. We need another way."

My attention finally torn from the keys, I look over at Cindy, but it's not her I see. Right behind her is a shadow completely at odds with the rest of the hallway. The edges blur and shift, making the shape hard to figure out at first, but as my eyes adjust to the strange cloak of magic, I'm sure she's standing in front of a door.

But we're on the second floor. And that's an outer wall. A door there would lead to...nowhere.

I start walking toward the dark area, determined to figure out what I'm seeing.

"What are you doing?" Cindy demands.

Her voice snaps me out of the trance I've fallen into and back to reality.

I stare down at my hand in confusion and realize I'm reaching toward the space in the wall with the strange shadow key between my fingers, as though I'm going to use it to unlock the door.

"Lou, my dear, I don't believe we were done talking." Stewart is calm as he walks up the stairs, as though he knows exactly how all of this is going to end.

I shake out the creepy feeling Stewart's fake kindness leaves me with, but otherwise ignore him.

"Behind you," I whisper to Cindy. "A door. I think..." and I hope I'm right or else we're in even more trouble. "It's the portal."

"On it," Cindy says without a glance at the wall or any other motion to tip Stewart off to what I've found. She steps forward to put herself between Stewart and me. "It's the box you want? Well, you can have it. Just leave my sister alone."

When she offers Stewart the box, my hand goes straight into my purse where I dig around for a second. My fingers tap the smooth wood, and I have to force myself not to give anything away.

I pull my hand out and stare at the object Cindy holds. It looks identical. I almost want to check my purse again to be sure.

"No!" Al shouts from next to the stairs. "You can't give it to him."

She ignores him and continues to offer the fake box to Stewart. "This is my only offer. Take it and go."

Stewart considers her for a moment before his gaze shifts to me. I recognize the challenge as he smiles, baring all of his teeth, but I have no way of responding. Although I can see magic, using it is still impossible. Opening the bag changed nothing.

He raises his hand and magic flows from it to wrap around Cindy's throat. I watch helplessly as it lifts her off her feet. She gasps and coughs, struggling to breathe while Stewart's attention never leaves me as though he barely registers she exists. He's killing her, and he's acting like she might as well be a fly.

I barely notice when Borin blocks Al as he lunges at Stewart, other than for it to register he's not going to be able to help. My blood pumps too hard to properly think about anything other than attacking the grinning bastard.

I rush over and swing at Stewart. He blocks, but it breaks his concentration on his magic. Cindy drops to the floor where she stays, coughing and gulping air. Not exactly ready to help fight, but at least she's still alive.

As fast as I can, I swing again, but again he blocks me, this time with enough force to make me take a step back. It isn't simply flesh and bone I'm up against; he's coated himself with a layer of magic like a brick wall. A kick lands on his shin and as though in slow motion, a sharp pain spreads from my foot up my leg. When I step back to regain my balance, the entire left side of my body goes numb and I sink to the floor in pain and shock.

Stewart smashes my hand against the wall behind me and I instantly drop my makeshift weapons, the keys jangling to the floor.

Cindy struggles with her pockets, managing to pull out some powder and blow it at Stewart, but her breath comes out as a wheeze and he easily bats away the dust.

With a flick of his hand, he lifts Cindy again and throws her against the wall. Her head hits hard and she crumples to the ground.

Seeing her body go limp knocks the adrenaline out of me and leaves me with a spinning head and weak muscles. She can't be... There's no way he... She's still alive. She has to be still alive.

"Lou!" Al shouts from too far away.

The one brief second where his eyes meet mine is all the distraction Borin needs. A punch to Al's ribs and a kick to the back of his knees and I hear the sickening thud as Al tumbles down the stairs.

Stewart forces me up with a hand to my throat. I suppose I should feel privileged he's willing to touch me directly rather than through his magic. I have no strength to stand as he pulls me to my feet, the pain too much, only growing worse at Stewart's touch. This time the pain moves up my body from my feet more rapidly, as though he learned his lesson last time about working too slowly.

My entire body is being crushed, like every nerve is pinched starting at my toes and working its way up to my throat where he holds me at eye level. I feel like I'm a tube of toothpaste, my contents squeezed up from the bottom to come spilling out the lid, or in my case, my mouth.

It hurts. It hurts so much I want to scream. Or maybe I'm already screaming.

All I can feel is pain and all I can see is the bright shine of magic as Stewart's face fills my vision. I can't think, can't fight, can't do anything but watch as he lowers his head and presses his lips over my mouth.

And then...nothing.

## Aldric
# Chapter Twelve

"She didn't have her full power." The words filter through my fuzzy brain, though at first they don't make any sense and I don't know who's saying them. "You should have waited to take her."

"Waited for what? For her to learn how to use her magic and become strong enough to defend against us?"

The voices grow louder and gradually, too gradually, I realize they're actually getting closer.

And then I remember. Cindy. Lou. I need to get up and help them before they take Lou's magic. I need to move. I need to do something. Yet when I try, I can't find my legs and the floor seems to be not at all where it should be.

Even if I could fight, it's too late. I know this as well as if I was the one who took her magic. Her body is empty. There's nothing there, not even the glimmer of magic her grandmother left her with. She's an empty shell.

"Is he alive?" One of the wizards asks as the other bends over me to get a better look.

"Yes. I'll deal with it."

"Leave him," Stewart says. I can sense Lou's magic on him now. "He's one of us after all."

"He tried to stop us," Borin says.

Stewart's laugh is a single sharp, dangerous bark. "Of course he did. What's the first thing potential wizards are trained to do? Make the sorceress believe you're on their side." Stewart leans over me, the stench of his breath and sour magic causing my stomach to turn. "Better luck next time, boy."

I'd like nothing better than to break every one of the fingers he uses to pat my cheek, but I still haven't quite remembered how to use my arms.

It takes a minute after he walks away for Borin to do the same. But he doesn't leave before kicking my side. The pain is good. It means I'm alive. Better yet, it helps me find my limbs again. Though I'm not too steady on my feet, at least I'm able to stand. My sight's still blurred and my head's pounding, but nothing's broken. I shake the stars out of my eyes and force myself back up the stairs Borin shoved me down.

Cindy lies limp against the wall at the top. When I put my hand over her mouth and nose she swats it away.

"What are you doing?" she says.

"Calm down, I'm checking to see if you're breathing."

She tries to get up, but isn't quite able to make it to her feet. "Where's Lou?"

Neither of us wants to look, but we've got no choice. She's a heap on the floor, as I knew she would be. Her eyes are still open and staring at the ceiling, but there's nothing behind them. Her chest rises and falls, the only sign she's alive.

Cindy crawls over to her sister, pulls her against her chest and starts rocking back and forth. Tears roll down her cheeks though she's obviously fighting them. "You stupid moron. What the hell did you have to open the bag for?"

There's nothing I can say to make this better, so I head back down the stairs. Before anything else, I check the front door to make sure Stewart and Borin are gone. No sign of them. It's almost like they were never here. Almost.

The study is next. When she broke the spell keeping me small, she must have broken the same spell on my sword. My mouth curls into a weak smile when I first sense the magic and then see the blade on the floor behind the desk. I scoop it up and sigh my relief at the extra bit of weight in my hand. I might as well have been naked without it.

"This is your fault, you know."

Cindy stands at the top of the stairs, her arms wrapped around her chest and her shoulders slouched, all confidence gone. Darkness lines her eyes, the result of crying mixed with the layer of makeup she has slathered over her face. She looks about how I felt after I lost my sister. No, she's handling it much better.

I take the stairs two at a time, now my head and legs are starting to feel a little stronger. She doesn't bother moving out of the way when I reach the top, forcing me to angle myself to slide past her.

"You gave them the box," I say. "They got everything because of you."

I make my way over to Lou and kneel down next to her. It's hard not to picture Loraine in the same position, though she was smaller at the time, and of course her hair's straight and blonde as straw compared to Lou's black waves. I catch myself about to run my fingers through it and instead reach for the keys next to her.

"You think I'm stupid?" Cindy says. "The real box is in Lou's purse. All they got was an empty jewelry box and a heap of illusion dust. Now give me those keys."

"Sorry," I whisper to Lou, as though there's some chance she can hear me. And then I boost her up and over my shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Cindy dips her hand into her pocket to pull out some dust, but her face pales the second her hand is inside. Although she tries to play off the reaction, it's too late. I already know the truth. She's out of magic. "Put her down and give me the keys."

I do neither. "If what you say is true, then they'll be back. Soon. An illusion won't trick them for long. We have to get out of here."

After a frightened look at the stairs as though they might already be on their way up, she frowns at me. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"Are you going to carry her?" I can tell she's already thought about this and is frustrated by her need to trust me, at least a little.

She crosses her arms and scowls. "Fine. Where are you going to take her? You don't know how to get home."

There's something about the way she says the words. It's as though she knows something I don't and she won't give up the information unless I beg. I finger the keys in my hand and think back to the minutes before Lou was taken. She'd been ready to fight, but then something changed. She started to walk away as though her life wasn't threatened.

"Why don't you give me the keys and then we'll get her to a hospital or something," Cindy says.

The keys. Lou had been holding one out toward the wall. And now Cindy's determined to get them back. She might as well have told me outright they are important. What magic had Lou seen?

"It's the portal, isn't it?" Lou figured it out after all. Good girl.

Her silence answers any doubt lingering in my mind.

I reach for the section of the wall Lou focused on.

"You can't take her with you," she says.

My hand touches something hard and invisible. When I trace it with a finger, I realize I've found a door handle, which would mean underneath should be the lock.

"She needs to go to a hospital," she continues. "She needs help."

"I'll give it to her." I manage to sound more confident than I feel.

"Like you helped your sister?"

I close my eyes to shut out her words, but it's too late. My guilt takes a hold and starts piling on the thoughts haunting me since that day. It's my fault and there's nothing I can do to make it better.

I turn the key and push the door open.

Sun suddenly hits my face and warms my skin. I open my eyes to see the best sight in my entire life. Home. I breathe in the grass, animals and magic. So unlike the smoke, metal and staleness of Lou's world.

I'm about to take a step forward when my instincts kick in. I stop mid-step and look down. Nothing. There's nowhere to put my foot. I'm so focused on getting back I didn't think about where I am; the second floor of a house, stepping out of a door to nowhere. There's no landing in front of the door, and nothing I can easily use to climb down, especially with Lou draped over my shoulder.

I shift her weight a bit and to get a better look at the side of the building. There has to be some way to get down not involving falling and breaking something, specifically Lou.

"What? What is it?" Cindy tries to get around me.

Luckily I'm able to keep her from toppling out the door while allowing her a good look over my shoulder. She goes completely still and I assume she's noticed the lack of a way out of the house, but when I glance at her, I see she isn't looking down at all but up and out.

"Ho...ly...shit."

I follow her gaze and notice nothing unusual so I return my attention to the problem at hand.

"That's..." she swallows. "That's not a bird is it?"

I glance up again and see the gold feathered creature she's staring at. It's too far away to see his large horse-like body or silver curved beak, but I've seen enough of the animals to recognize one in the distance. "Nope. Griffin."

There has to be a way down. If I had some rope, I might be able to lower Lou and then maybe Cindy as well. It wouldn't be too hard to climb without my burden.

Wait.

My head snaps back up toward the griffin and I squint into the bright sky.

"See," Cindy says as though she's won some sort of argument. "Not normal."

"You're right," I say. "Griffin's don't usually wear armor. Not unless someone's put it on them. We need to find a way down, now."

In an instant, her amazement over the creature shifts to fear. "Why? What's going on?"

I reach around the side of the house in hopes of finding a drain or something else I might be able use to shimmy to the ground. "The only people who can put armor on a griffin are sorceresses and wizards."

She immediately reacts as she should, eyes widening as she sucks in some air.

"Right." Her voice remains completely calm. Impressive. "Then we need to get out of here."

"There's nothing to stand on," I tell her. "Nothing to use to climb down."

She leans around me and scans the ground, walls and then up toward the roof. "No prob. Be easier with Lou's tree, sure, but still, doable. Move."

I step back into the house so she has the full doorway to herself. I half watch what she's doing and half watch the griffin. It's still quite a ways away, and it doesn't seem to be headed directly toward us, yet. It's also far enough I can't quite tell if it has a rider.

Cindy's legs dangle in view for a second before disappearing along with the rest of her, but in the wrong direction. I lean out the door and look up to find her.

"We need to get down, not up."

She appears all too pleased to have figured out a way down before me. "There's a lower roofline over the front door. It shouldn't be hard to drop to it and from there to the ground."

It's a good plan, and it might work, but... "You seem to be forgetting my climbing and dropping abilities are limited right now."

I shift Lou's weight a little on my already exhausted shoulder in order to draw her to Cindy's attention. She notices and her eyes narrow as she tries to think of how to make her plan work.

"Maybe you could lift her up."

"She's dead weight, there's no way..."

I realize what I said and stop before I make it worse. Immediately the calculating look in Cindy's eyes turns to darkness at the foolish choice of words.

"Would a ladder help?"

Both of us look down and a smile lifts the corners of my mouth before I remember everything from the past day. But still, the sight of long curly red hair and big green eyes are enough to make me feel a little glad. Of all the people living in the village, there are only three I had any hope of helping me in a situation like this; my parents and the girl standing below us.

Rose flashes me a shy smile before lifting an old wooden ladder almost entirely buried by the long grass surrounding the house. She positions it under the doorway so it touches the side of the building under the threshold. The perfect length. It must have been made for situations like this.

"Who's she?" Cindy asks.

"A friend," I say.

Rose makes a gesture for us to hurry up. "They've been doing sweeps all day. If they see you climbing all over the house, they'll be here in seconds."

I don't have to ask who 'they' are; it's in her voice. The griffin has a rider. A wizard. Without any more hesitation, I climb onto the ladder, shut and lock the door, and shuffle my way to the ground. The extra weight of Lou makes me awkward and forces me to take an embarrassing amount of time getting down. When I'm at the bottom, I look expectantly at Cindy. She glares at me, clearly not impressed by the fact we aren't following her plan. But another glance at the griffin and she's down the ladder in a fraction of the time I'd taken. She doesn't bother with the last few steps, choosing to drop the rest of the way.

"We should get undercover," Rose suggests while eyeing Lou. "They'll be circling this area soon."

As usual, she doesn't ask any questions or demand I explain what's going on. She simply does what needs to be done to keep us all safe. Her trust in me is appreciated and completely undeserved.

She's trying not to show it, but I know exactly what she's thinking. It's too similar to last time. But she's not looking at me with the fear I know she'd have if she thought the worst. Of course she doesn't. She was the only one who never blamed me for what happened to Loraine. Why would she start blaming me now?

"Come on," Rose says with another quick look at the griffin. "They aren't checking the trees very closely. We can wait there until they pass over."

I nod my agreement and then think to check with Cindy. She still seems annoyed, and I can tell she doesn't want to follow, but she also doesn't have a better plan, so she nods too.

The trees around the house have been left to thrive, creating perfect shelter for us. We find an area where the branches are thick above, leaving little light to reach the ground. I settle Lou as carefully as I can against a tree and hope I haven't bumped her any more than necessary.

At some point between lifting her off my shoulder and setting her down, a lock of her hair falls out of place and across her face, over her eye. I reach to brush it away, but Cindy's faster. She gives my hand, half outstretched toward her sister, a scathing look before focusing entirely on Lou. I drop it to my side and turn my attention to Rose so as to hide some of my embarrassment and anger. Carrying her is one thing, showing affection with other types of touching is another altogether. I can't make a mistake like that again.

Rose pretends not to have noticed anything and focuses on peering through the branches to watch for the wizard. Her fingers nervously brush the velvet pieces wrapping her wrists.

I settle beside her and ask, "What's this about? What are they looking for?"

It's not normal for them to come to our village. It's too small and with my sister gone, there's nothing of interest for them here.

So I'm all the more surprised when Rose raises her eyebrows as though she's shocked I have to ask.

"You. They're looking for you."

## Chapter Thirteen

There's a screech from above and we all look up. It's impossible to see much through the tree branches, but the griffin and wizard are definitely there. After a few breathless minutes the animal screeches again, this time further away. It's passing by. For now.

My eyes slide down from the branches and over to Rose. She nods and without a word we both stand. I hesitate before picking Lou up, not because I don't want to carry her. In fact I can't help feeling a little thrill from the thought of holding her. What bothers me is I have to toss her over my shoulder rather than cradle her in my arms as she deserves.

When I'm sure the griffin has flown far enough away we won't be heard, I ask, "What do they want from me?"

"I was hoping you'd know," Rose says.

"Did you talk to them? Has anyone?" Rose makes a face clearly showing what she thinks of the idea. I nod. "No, of course not. But then why do you think it's me they're after?"

"Because," she says, "they arrived only hours after you disappeared."

"And everyone assumes I brought them here." I exhale deeply and glance back where we'd last seen the wizard. It isn't surprising everyone suspected me, not after what happened with my sister. Still, it would be nice if Rose didn't agree with them. "So why are you helping? Why were you at the house when they're out searching? Shouldn't you be home?"

"I figured it was the best place to start looking for you." She turns back, eyes alight. It's the same look she always gives me, like being with me is some sort of adventure.

She wasn't wrong about the house either. When we were kids we used to spend a lot of time exploring the area. It wasn't very different than the rest of the houses in the village, other than no one ever lived there, but I was drawn to it day after day, and I'd dragged Rose along on more than her share of visits.

It must have been the magic attracting me. I never understood the draw when I was a child, and I'd never gone back once I was trained to sense power.

"Don't suppose you're going to explain where you've been." Rose glances back at me, first at whatever dark expression I must be wearing, and then at Lou as I draped her back over my shoulder. "Course not. You never do."

At least she doesn't push for an answer. I know my parents aren't going to be so easy on me. I'm sure as soon as I walk through the front door, another girl over my shoulder, things are going to become very difficult.

"Where are we going?" Cindy demands. "Where are you taking us?"

I snap out of my thoughts and pay more attention to our surroundings. Rose has taken the lead and I let her without asking her where she going. As I glance around, I know I was right to trust her.

"My parents' house," I say. "It's that one over—"

My hand drops before I finish pointing at the house. The griffin has circled round the village, much faster than any of us expected. Or maybe the rider caught sight of us earlier and is swinging around to head us off. Either way, beast and master are coming straight for us, and it's too late to hide.

I only have enough time for two words before they're on us. "Don't speak."

It's more a warning for Cindy since Rose doesn't need any reminders. I can only hope she'll listen, though I have my doubts she can keep her mouth shut long enough.

"You there," the wizard calls while hovering a few feet above us. "What are you doing?"

He's in full battle gear, wearing the familiar reds and blacks of the Sword. The griffin is covered entirely with similar colors, leaving nearly none of its features visible. However, its front talons and back claws are highlighted by the armor in order to make them appear more frightening.

I step forward and hold myself as tall and relaxed as I can while still holding Lou. I know I should drop her and make a show about not caring what happens to her, but I can't bring myself to let go. At least with her in my arms I have some ability to protect her.

I add a bit of disdain to my manner in hopes it will cover my odd actions.

"I'm doing my job," I say. "And you?"

His eyebrows raise and he takes a better look at all of us, his gaze resting on Lou longer than the others. I stop myself shifting her out of his line of sight, especially when the corners of his lips curl up into a cruel smile.

"You don't seem to be doing it very well," he says. "Your sorceress has been drained and not by you."

"Stolen from me." I practically spit the words. "Put a lot of time into this one, convincing her we were friends, all to have my reward taken by someone else."

I force myself not to look at Cindy, though I wish I could send her some sort of message to let her know I'm only saying what he needs to hear.

"You should be quicker next time." He brushes a bit of dirt off his uniform as though his own cleanliness is more interesting to him than Lou's life. "Trust me; it doesn't take as much effort to trick one of them as the others would have you believe. Especially not the young ones."

Cindy grunts, less than I expect from her, but it also brings more attention to her than I was hoping. His focus shifts to her as the griffin makes a strange snarling noise, unlike the ones it made during the search. From the flash in the wizard's eye I'm betting the sound means they've discovered something.

"You keep strange company," he says. "A wizard with his pet witch?"

I don't answer. Instead I scowl at him and let him come to his own conclusions.

"What power are you hiding, little girl?"

Cindy takes a step forward and balls her hand into a fist. "I'll 'little girl' you right up the—"

"I hoped to have taken my power by now," I say over her. "I'd have used it long ago to shut her up."

This time I do face Cindy and we exchange a few angry looks before she turns away.

"I could do it for you," he offers.

Not what I'm expecting. Magic is precious, and no wizard is willing to use theirs for someone else's benefit, not without gaining something in return. He must want me to owe him. I have to think fast.

I don't bother hiding my surprise, any wizard would have the same reaction, but I try to look pleased as well. "Generous offer." I pretend to think it over and then shake my head regretfully. "No, better not. I'll need her to talk during the experiments."

"Experiments?" His full attention is finally on me.

"Like I said, I spent a lot of time on this girl, and damned if I'll let it go to waste." I shrug her higher on my shoulder in a way that's supposed to seem uncaring and aloof. "I'll use it to figure out what I can about her kind. Who knows, maybe I'll be the one to find an untapped power source within the shells."

I hope I give the appearance of greed combined with a bit of youthful whimsy while not looking as ridiculous as I feel.

"Waste of time." He dismisses the idea instantly of course. Everyone knows there's nothing left in a sorceress once her powers have been drained, but he doesn't bother trying to convince me to stop. Instead, his attention goes back to Cindy. "I suppose the witch's been helping with some 'magic.'"

I laugh with him at the word. "As much as her kind can manage. Like I said, I thought I'd have my own power by this point."

He studies us for a while longer, his eyes never bothering to glance over at Rose after his initial inspection determined her unimportant.

"There was magic done in this area yesterday. Know anything about it?"

From the way his attention has already shifted from us, I realize he's guessed what I'm going to say.

"This one did something," I say, bouncing Lou for emphasis. "Never did figure out what it was. It's what brought the other wizard. I should have seen him coming. But sorry to say, you're too late. He's gone. Along with my power."

He nods and I have to force myself not to exhale in relief. Not yet. Not until he's gone. He had been close enough to not only feel the magic which sent me to Lou's world, but also reach to the village to check it out within a few hours. I doubt it's coincidence he was nearby before. He probably won't go far now.

"We're done here," he announces. "Waste little time with your experiments. Your full strength is needed amongst your people."

"And when my experiments are successful," I say with all of the arrogance of a newly graduated wizard, "every one of you will understand not a second of the time I spent here was a waste."

He laughs at my arrogance and makes the motions of a mock bow as best he can while mounted. Still laughing, he kicks the griffin forward, but before he's too far away, he calls over his shoulder, "Better luck next time."

When he's gone I let out a deep sigh more like a growl. I never felt comfortable talking to fully realized wizards before, but since I'd grown up surrounded by so many, I hardly gave it a second thought. It was a part of life. Only when I watched Loraine's magic be ripped from her was I able to see the truth about why I'd felt so uncomfortable. They are unnatural, like sewing a piece of bark to cloth. Forcing another person's magic to work as your own is possible, but it's an unstable combination.

I take the lead for the rest of the short walk to my house, since Rose isn't moving quite fast enough. I'm pretty sure I've convinced the wizard to go back to whatever he was doing before he came to our village, but I still want to get inside as soon as we can. It's too exposed out here and I need to get Lou somewhere safe. She deserves at least some protection and comfort.

"Why'd he think I'd help you?" Cindy asks. "He was so easy to convince. But it can't be common, witches helping wizards I mean."

"You'd be surprised."

I sneer at the memory of the women at the University who would happily answer every demand from the instructors, no matter how disgusting or life threatening. The wizards had thought of them on the same level as the animals used throughout the University. The idea that anyone would choose to give up their freedom for the hope of more power makes me ill.

Cindy is even more disturbed than I. "What the hell do you mean?"

"Witches, wizards we're all the same." I pick up my pace in a vain attempt to run from the topic.

"I'm nothing like you," she says.

Despite my need to get indoors, I stop and turn to meet her gaze directly. "Did you never think, not once while you were binding your sister's magic, you never thought 'I could have this? I could keep this magic for myself. It's being wasted on her anyway.'" I see it there, in her eye, a little spark and then a wave of guilt telling me I have it right.

"Because you see, witches, wizards, it doesn't matter, we're all the same. The only difference is your Gran whispered in your ear your whole life, 'No, it's not yours to take.'"

"And you?" Her voice is quiet and I can tell she's suspicious of what my answer might be. "What was whispered in your ear?"

"'Do it.'" Her eyes widen, though I'm not sure if the words bother her or my lack of hesitation. "'Take it all.'"

I turn away, moving toward the house again, and so I don't have to look into Cindy's frightened face anymore. I know I'm capable of frightening people. There's a reason the villagers avoid me, but to see Cindy give me the same look is disturbing.

"Fine," she practically chokes on the word. Clearly she doesn't want to believe what she's about to say. "Let's pretend I accept witches and wizards are..." She doesn't finish. I don't blame her. "It doesn't explain why he'd think I'd work with you."

"Witches have the capability of taking magic, but they don't know how. Wizards keep the secret to themselves. Sometimes witches work for wizards in hopes of learning."

"But it can't be too difficult. He just sucked it out."

"We're trained from the age of eight, and released at eighteen." An image flashes through my mind of the group of us lined up, eager to don our new red and gold robes. The excitement had been catching, though even then I was uninterested in the prestige of being a wizard of the powerful group known only as The Sword. "Ten years. Think there might be a chance I'd know a bit more about magic than someone who dabbles in her room when her mother's not looking?"

I expect her to growl something at me, curse me up and down for being so blunt, but instead she turns thoughtful.

"Ten years?" she says. "What the hell do they teach for ten years?"

Blurry images of endless drills and repetition of phrases, combined with painful and humiliating punishments if we were ever wrong, pass though my mind before I can push them aside. I'd gone to a lot of trouble to forget as much of the events at the University as possible and I wasn't about to allow detailed memories of the events now. Not for Cindy.

"A state of mind."

Rose opens the door to the house and I walk through, mentally preparing myself for the inevitable meeting with my parents. If I give them half a chance they'll spend the rest of the day lecturing me or asking questions I have no answer to. Worse will be if they refuse to keep Lou safe. I can't let them have a chance to keep her out.

When Ma hears us come into the house, she steps around the corner from the kitchen, obviously not expecting to find all of us walking through the door. Her long blond hair is in a loose braid down her back and her dark green dress dirtier than usual from her day's work.

"Aldric?" She looks from one of us to the other. "What is this?" I can tell she's ready to say more, but I don't give her the chance.

I nod toward each of the sisters in turn. "Cindy. Lou."

"Who?" she asks.

Cindy groans. "Oh, don't start. Yes, my mother named us after a children's book character. No, I don't think it's cute. And my name is Sin, got it? Sin."

Cindy's—Sin's—little outburst is enough to distract my mother as I make my way to the bedroom at the back of the house. It's the smallest room, with barely enough space for a single bed and a desk.

"Get the covers." I don't have to look to know Rose is still right beside me and ready to help however she can.

She hurries to the bedside and pulls the blankets down before moving out of the way for me. Carefully, so I don't bump her head against the wall, I slip Lou off my shoulder and onto the bed. When I'm sure she's as comfortable as I can make her, I pull the sheets up to her chin and stare into her open, blank eyes.

I want to apologize. I want to tell her how I'm going to make everything all better. I want to say something to her, but I suddenly become acutely aware Rose is watching me.

Before standing up, I brush my hand over Lou's eyelids, closing them, although such gestures don't really matter. A quirk of those who have their magic stolen from them is that their eyes will open again eventually, even blink all on their own. It's like the body keeps on going, but there's nothing inside.

I take a few minutes to stretch my shoulders and neck. A year ago I would have no problem carrying her so far. They trained the potential wizards for worse situations. The fact I'm so stiff and sore is one more reminder of how soft I let myself become. I've been enjoying the comforts of home and forgot I'm supposed to be part of the war. But here, in my parents' house, it has been so easy to forget.

"You put her in your bed," Rose says, surprising me out of my darker thoughts.

I look down at Lou tucked under the covers and allow myself to enjoy the thrill of her being in my bed for only a second before plastering a look of innocence on my face for Rose's benefit. "And?"

"I never thought—" she stops herself and gives Lou another long look. "Why?"

My shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug. "Where else was I going to put her? Loraine's bed is in use and I'm sure my parents wouldn't be happy if I put her in theirs."

A twinge of guilt hits me as she accepts the half-truth. But even her trust in me doesn't stop her from asking, "Is that the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" I widen my eyes a little more as though I actually have no idea. I can't let her know how pleased I really am. Even Rose wouldn't be able to understand my fixation.

She doesn't get a chance to answer as Cindy-Sin and Ma come into the room, suddenly making the already tight space feel like a cage.

Ma stares at Lou for a minute, all of her feelings hidden behind her stony face, as usual. When she turns to me, it's quite clear what she's thinking, and she is not pleased.

"What have you done?"

## Chapter Fourteen

A dark anger I'm usually able to keep deep within myself threatens to rise inside me. I'm forced to shove it down before I attempt to speak.

"You think I did this to her? Do I look like I've taken her magic?"

Ma studies me for a minute before her fear disappears and her normal stern look returns.

"I suppose not, but it doesn't mean you weren't somehow involved."

"Oh, trust me, he was involved," Cindy-Sin mutters.

"I didn't do this." The darkness keeps pushing in an attempt to overwhelm me as I'm forced to defend myself.

"You didn't stop it," she snaps back.

"Neither did you."

"You could have stopped her from opening the bag." She shoves a finger into my shoulder and I have to fight myself not to grab her hand and force it into a painful position.

"Right, I was in a great position to reach out and take it from her, wasn't I?" The anger I'd developed during my time at the University is becoming nearly impossible to control. "What did you expect me to do? Throw my sword at her?"

Rose gives a little gasp at the idea. She's well aware of the abilities of my weapon, though not aware of the situation we're shouting about.

"You could have done something," Sin says.

I'm done taking all of the blame "This isn't my fault."

"Oh, so what? It's mine?" She's shocked by the suggestion.

I don't say anything, but she must know what I think from my expression.

"Oh please," she laughs without humor. "How is this possibly my fault?"

It's too easy to allow some of my normally locked cruelness out. "Her magic shouldn't have been hidden from her. If she had known how to use it properly..."

"Then she'd still be like this. Though, it probably would have happened a whole lot sooner." She's no more willing to take the blame than I am. This argument isn't going to come to a pleasant end.

"Enough," Ma says in a low dangerous voice. "You two are bickering loudly enough I wouldn't be surprised if the entire village can hear you, not to mention the wizard searching the area."

"Sorry," I mutter, though I continue to eye Sin, ready to pick up the argument if she persists.

She doesn't, though she doesn't apologize either. Her mouth clamps shut and her lips curl into a scowl.

"Your father will be home for lunch soon," Ma announces when she's sure we're done, at least for now. "You'll explain exactly what happened when he gets here. Until then, get yourselves cleaned up. You both look like you've been in a battle." She dusts herself off as though she's ridding herself of argument and turns her smile on. "Rose, dear, would you like to stay for lunch as well? Or will your Ma be worried about you?"

I don't wait to hear what her answer is. Instead I shove my way out of the tiny room and into the much larger common area. It's only when I'm in the middle of the space I feel like I can breathe. Compared to the container Lou kept me in, the bedroom is large, even with so many people in it. Without the constant fear of my life being on the line out-weighing the fear of being trapped, my room feels a hundred times worse.

When I notice I'm being watched, I straighten and act normally.

"What's wrong with you?" Sin says.

"Nothing." I can't quite meet her eye, but I can tell she's studying me, as though trying to figure out my actions.

"Whatever." She nods back in the direction of my room. "So, I guess we're supposed to clean up or something. Is there a river where I'm supposed to go?"

I give her a puzzled look and point to a door at the far end of the house. "Washroom. You can use it like a normal person."

"Oh." She stares in the direction of the door. "Right. But, really? You have washrooms in this reality? With working toilets and running water and stuff?"

I'm surprised she has to ask. "Don't you?"

"But, you guys all dress funny, almost medievalish." She waves her hand up and down at my clothes "And you carry around a sword. You're saying you have indoor plumbing. Don't tell me you have electricity too."

"Have what?" I ask.

"You don't know what electricity is but you have running water." Her amazement continues to grow. "How?"

I'm surprised she has to ask. "Magic, obviously."

For the first time since I've met her, Sin is completely speechless.

For about three seconds.

"What? Magic? How?" She looks around as though expecting to see a wizard stashed in a corner somewhere. "You don't have the power to make water run, and if your sister's like mine, then who's casting the spell? Does everyone have magical running water in their houses? Magic? Really?"

I brace myself, knowing she's not going to be pleased with what I have to say. "Yes everyone has it, well at least those who can afford it. And I suppose there are people who refuse to pay wizards for the services for moral reasons." These people were often hunted down and caused to disappear within a short time, but I don't mention as much. Most people aren't aware of that particular atrocity, and I have no interest in being the one to tell people, especially my family. They don't need to know any more of what I was associated with. "But I'd say the majority of people have at least basic magic in their house."

"But... wizards?" She looks desperate for me to tell her it's all a big joke. I wish I could. "Why would they use their magic to give normal people running water?"

"So they can control us," Rose says. "We all rely on their 'generosity' and are willing to pay whatever they ask for it, even if the price is someone's life."

"And you all use their magic? After everything they've done?" Sin's talking to me, but I can't answer. She's brought back the guilt I had been dealing with since what happened to Loraine.

"We do what we must to carry on," Ma says. "And we don't waste time worrying about things we can't control." Her smile returns as she pats Sin on the shoulder as though that will make everything alright. "Now go get cleaned up. I've left one of Loraine's dresses in the washroom for you. Leave the clothes you're wearing in Aldric's room. I'll wash them for you."

Sin stares at me in disbelief. "You expect me to use the water, after everything we've dealt with?"

Again, I can't quite meet her eyes. I understand exactly how she feels; after all I felt the same way after Loraine. But Ma's right, we do what we must.

"I'm sorry," I say. "It's the way things are here."

She stares at each of us in turn, her mouth slightly open in shock. Finally she says, "Well, that just sucks," and storms off to the washroom.

My eyes shift from the door she slammed, to the one for my bedroom. "It truly does," I whisper to myself.

"Look at what you've done to your tunic." Ma examines me a little closer. "I won't be able to patch it properly, you know. You'll see the stitches. We'd have to pay for magic to hide it, and with the prices being what they are, we might as well buy a cow and make our own leather."

I mimic her as she leaves for the kitchen, causing Rose to giggle. I grin back at her and, for a moment, life is exactly how it used to be. I half expect Loraine to come around the corner and tell on me.

Loraine. I turn to her bedroom door and my shoulders sag. I need to see her. I promised myself I would check on her every day after what happened to make sure her situation never grew worse and with some naive hope things might get better.

Without bothering to explain myself, I head toward the door. Part of me expects Rose to follow since she hasn't left my side since our world's version of Lou's grandmother's house. Maybe she can sense I need to be alone, though she's never held back before. For whatever reason, she stays put.

Loraine's room is slightly larger than mine, with space for a closet along with her desk and bed. I open the closet first, not quite able to bring myself to look at her yet, and find a few of my clothes tucked in the corner behind her much larger selection.

From the tiny collection, I choose a black shirt with long arms I push up past my elbows. I pull on a heavy leather tunic over top, thicker than the one Lou cut through, and meant to protect against minor knife attacks. I haven't worn it in over a year.

While I'm buckling my sword back onto my hip, I turn to Loraine.

"I know, I know. You hate when I change in your room. Sorry, but mine is kind of in use at the moment."

It takes a lot of effort, but I'm finally able to bring myself to look at her. Her skin has turned pale in the past year; at least compared to her usual tan from being outside every second Ma allowed. Her hair is perfectly brushed and fanned around her head on the pillow, a sure sign Ma's recently been here. Her light blue eyes are open and stare blankly at the ceiling. I wish they'd stay closed.

"You'd like her, I think," I say. "She's a sorceress too. Like you. You might like her sister. Actually, no, you'd probably love her sister. You two would become best friends so you could both better torture me."

She would have laughed. She should have laughed.

"I have to go. But I promise I will fix this. I'll fix you both."

I turn to leave and nearly walk into Sin who's leaning against the doorframe.

"What?" I demand before I notice her expression is much softer than I'd ever seen it, though maybe only because she'd washed off her dark makeup.

"Your sister?"

"Yes."

She nods slowly. "How long?"

I know exactly what she's talking about. "A bit over a year."

There's a touch of sympathy in her eyes as she asks, "Who did it to her?"

I don't answer at first. It's not something I like to remember, but if we're going to work together to help them, then she should know the truth. Besides, if she stays in the village for any length of time, she'll find out on her own.

"My best friend."

Her eyebrows raise, but she doesn't say anything. She simply waits for the rest of the story.

"We grew up together, were trained together. For most of our time at the University, we were roommates." I remember Fitzroy's mysterious grin everything he came up with a new idea to get us in trouble. Even with the overly organized and suffocating routine of the University, every day was an adventure with Fitzroy. "He was the only other one there who questioned all of the things the wizards told us. So, when we turned eighteen and graduated, rather than ask for an assignment, we left and came here.

"Loraine liked him immediately. He followed his training perfectly."

I stop, not able to say anything more as I once again think of the warning signs I should have noticed before his betrayal. I should have seen it coming, and Sin's sure to agree with everyone else who believes I should have been able to stop it. She'd blame me, like everyone else. She'd say I shouldn't have brought him, and it's only because I didn't care about my sister the whole situation occurred.

"Were you doing the same?" Her stare is unforgiving as she says the words. "Following your training with Lou?"

The muscles in my shoulders grow tense at the accusation. Not what I expected her to think.

"I could have taken her magic," I tell her. Her surprise makes me smile. "After she made me normal sized again. There was more than enough time before you came into the room."

She considers me for a moment, but her anger doesn't fade. Instead, it seems to grow worse.

"Fine." Sin crosses her arms and leans against the door frame "Your sister had her magic sucked out of her, and you're pissed off about it. But you want the magic. You still have the voice in your head telling you to 'take it all.' Even if we are somehow able to fix Lou, what's to say you won't take her magic all over again?"

I step closer to better loom over her. I've had people run from me when I was less angry, but she stands her ground and never once flinches as I lean over her.

"I will never take a sorceress's magic." I have been so sure of anything in my life. "And I will never hurt Lou."

"And if you ever do," she says equally firmly. "Know I will hunt you down and destroy you."

We stand there for a minute, neither of us willing to back down, and neither of us willing to look away.

"Well then," Father says from behind Sin. "Now you've gotten your threats out of the way, anyone care to explain what's going on?"

## Chapter Fifteen

I explain as best as I can with Sin interrupting every other word. The whole time, my parents remain completely stone-faced, Father stuffing his mouth with food and occasionally wiping off his thick beard and mustache as easily as if we were talking about farming.

At least Rose is properly absorbed in the story, gasping and laughing at appropriate intervals. Every time she makes some sort of noise, Sin eyes her as though she's doing something wrong.

The only time Ma speaks is when I explain about convincing the wizard to leave the village.

"You spoke to him?"

She stands from the table and starts to pace, occasionally shifting the position of the flowers in the center of the table or stacking the used dishes.

"I didn't have much choice." I make an effort to sound reassuring, though I know I'm not telling her what she wants to hear.

"You didn't say anything about Loraine, did you?" Her face is suddenly lined with worry. "Or tell him which house you were going to?"

"Of course not," I say. "I waited until he was gone before coming here, and I never mentioned Loraine."

"Perhaps I should lock the doors and close up the windows to be sure." She starts to hurry around the house.

Father stops her with gruff, "Don't be daft, woman. If a wizard decides to come here, a few windows and locks aren't going to stop him."

"He won't come," I say, though no one seems particularly convinced. I look at Sin, expecting her to agree, but she continues to frown while staring past me. "He won't."

"He's not the only wizard I'm worried about," Sin says.

She reaches her hand into Lou's purse and pulls out the box. I grimace.

"They'll have noticed by now, and if they aren't already at Gran's house, then they will be soon." She traces the features of the box with her index finger. "Are we sure they won't follow us through the portal?"

Ma gasps at the idea. "What have you gotten yourself in to?"

"What have you gotten this family involved with?" Father sounds about ready to run off a purchase a crossbow so he can spend the rest of his days sitting by the door to 'keep everyone safe.'

I ignore them and focus on Sin. "Between the door in her house and this box, your grandmother was an interesting person."

"You don't know the half of it," she says with a smile.

For a sorceress to become guardian of not one, but two portals, she'd have to be extremely powerful. It's no wonder her family was being watched by wizards even after her death. Though it's obvious she kept the portals well hidden or else the entire Sword would have been sent to find them, rather than just two members.

"There's magic cloaking both the door and the box," I say. "If it's powerful enough to have gone unnoticed for this long, it should be powerful enough to remain hidden from Stewart."

Sin isn't convinced. "But what if it isn't?"

"It's your grandmother's magic," I remind her. "Do you trust her?"

While Sin sits back in her chair and looks thoughtful, Rose stands up and leans over me to get a better look at the box.

"It doesn't look like anything special to me," she says. "Simply a boring old box."

When she reaches out to touch it, both Sin and I move to stop her. I grab her hand while Sin pulls the box back close to her chest.

"I didn't mean anything." I guide Rose back to her chair. "I was only going to touch it."

"Well, don't," Sin says.

"It's okay," I say. "It's just better if it doesn't get opened."

Rose sits and crosses her arms over her chest, her bottom lip slightly out, though she seems more frustrated than sulking. "Why? What's in there?"

"That's the problem," I say. "We don't know."

"But, it's so small," she says. "What could possibly fit in there?"

I'm hit with several different emotions at once, from the fear of falling into a strange world where everything's so large, to the amusement of Lou's strange dance to deal with the surprise of my arrival, and finally the despair of realizing I've failed her. It leaves me drained.

"I did."

"How could you have fit in there?" Ma's round chin quivers and she wipes her hands on her apron over and over, though they are already clean. "Were you hurt? You could have died. Do you understand? It's not a sensible size to be. Everything could have killed you. Never do it again, do you hear me?"

I can't help smiling as her words turn from frightened to scolding, though I make sure to keep my mouth well hidden behind a strategically placed hand.

"How can a box do magic?" Rose speaks up when Ma shifts from scolding to cleaning and muttering to herself. "I understand it being used as a tool, but you said the box itself decided to take you, and managed to keep you small, even after you passed through the portal."

She has a point. If a sorceress simply attached her magic to the wood, it wouldn't be able to do what the box is capable of.

"A spell can't renew itself," I say aloud. "Magic doesn't grow back, except when it's within a sorceress, or else wizards wouldn't have to constantly steal magic. As it is, once they use what they have, then it's gone. They must find more to replace what they've lost. The same should apply to the box."

"Well, apparently it's different," Sin says a little too casually.

She has no idea what it means if she's right. If the box actually can renew the magic within it, then there is no wizard in the world who won't kill to make its secrets their own.

I'm not sure if Ma sees the potential danger, or if she's still upset about the fact I fit inside the box. Whichever prompts her, she suddenly announces, "We have to get rid of it."

"No," Sin says. "Not happening."

"We can give it to the wizards willingly." Ma tries to convince each of us in turn with beseeching eye contact. "If we do, they may be grateful enough to leave us alone."

Sin leaps out of her chair, the box tucked carefully within her arms. "Didn't you hear me? I said it's not going to happen. You are not touching this box."

"The girl is right," Father says. "We can't simply hand it over."

"Thank you," Sin says, happy to have an ally.

"The wizards are too powerful as it is," Father finishes. "Something like this will only make life for the rest of us more difficult."

"So then we get rid of it," Ma says. "As I said originally. Throw it in the river, let the water take it."

Sin backs from the table until her back is against the wall. "You are not throwing my Gran's box anywhere."

"What do you want us to do then?" Ma turns on Sin. "Wait around until wizards come and pry it from our cold dead fingers? I say we toss it away."

Father strokes his beard and says, "We should destroy it. If we use Aldric's sword it shouldn't be difficult."

My hand automatically goes to my hilt. It's a viable option. Lou proved the blade could not only cut through anything physical, but any magical one as well.

"I won't let you." Sin's voice becomes more frantic when she sees my hand and realizes she's outnumbered. She turns to me with a desperate look. "It's the only link I have to my gran. And to Lou. You can't do this."

"It's not up to you, girl," Father says. "I'm sorry for your loss, but I need to keep this family safe. Destroying the box is the only way."

"I'll deal with the wizards," I announce. Everyone turns to look at me, surprised by my sudden and odd contribution to the conversation. "The magic of the box is already hidden. The only ones looking for it are in another world entirely, and the rest are ignorant to its power. The box and this house are safe for now."

"For how long?" Ma says.

I don't have an answer for her, so instead I say, "The only other option is for Sin and I to leave with the box."

Sin is about to argue, but I catch her eye and she stops.

Ma stops fussing and places her hands on her hips. "You most certainly will not. You are my son, and I won't have you running off to get yourself killed. You will stay right here and we will deal with this as a family."

"Fine," I say while trying not to sound too pleased.

There's a moment when the others realize I've managed to both calm them down and get my own way. My parents attempt to act as though nothing is wrong while Rose keeps turning to me with her lips parted as though she wants to say something. Sin watches me, her expression blank.

It was too easy. I'd been trained at the University to be able to control others. The most important ability was to make others feel like it was their decision in the first place. I used my training against my own family, and they aren't pleased.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Father shovels the last bit of food into his mouth and stands up from the table.

"Guess I should be heading back to work." He leans over and kisses Ma's cheek before heading out the door.

"I need to go home," Rose says.

"Not a word," I remind her, though I know it's not necessary.

"Course not."

"I'll go with you," Ma announces. "We'll see if there's any chance of salvaging Aldric's tunic and shirt. If anyone can, it will be your mother."

Sin waits until everyone leaves before saying, "I suppose you expect me to thank you."

I'm too tired to continue our argument from earlier, though I can tell that's where her mind is headed. "I expect you to keep out of trouble."

When I walk toward my room, she attempts to stop me, but I ignore her. I probably should feel more hesitant about being alone with Lou, but I can't stop myself. Even without her magic, there's something about her that draws me.

I unlatch my sword and set it on the floor so it's easier to sit with my back against the door. I feel Sin follow me, but with my weight against the door, it won't budge for her. She grunts her frustration and stomps away. A few seconds later, the whole building shakes as she slams the front door.

It's probably not wise letting her loose in this world, but I'd feel worse leaving Lou by herself. I have no idea if she's aware of anything going on around her, but I like to think she is. It's why I spent every day with Loraine.

Both of my hands push through my hair before covering my face. How did I let this happen? Again.

Fitzroy had been the same as ever when we arrived at my house after our initiation into the Sword. Or I'd thought so. He was so polite, and as charming as ever. Even in the first meal my family shared with him, I knew he was winning my entire family over. I'd actually been pleased.

And then Loraine and Fitzroy would disappear for short periods. I hadn't thought too much about it at the time. Or maybe I ignored the warnings my gut sent me. Either way, I should have noticed the change in Fitzroy. He started to become distant, and quiet. The only person who seemed to matter at all to him was Loraine.

Rose was the one who noticed them on the ridge and realized something was wrong. She raced to get me, but I was too late. Loraine's power was gone, and so was Fitzroy.

By peeking through my fingers at Lou, I feel less guilty about staring. Though nothing will make me feel better about my desire to touch her. It's wrong. I know it is. She's barely alive.

A shimmer of something reflective on her neck has me on my feet and walking over to her. Without meaning to, my hand reaches to brush the part of her neck where the chain touches and I pull the blanket a little further down to see the rest of her necklace.

The container I'd travelled within rests against her skin, causing a cluster of emotions to rise. I push down all but the pleasant and think about the way she'd been so reluctant to carry me, and yet so cautious once I was in her care.

Ignoring the sensible part of my mind telling me to walk away, I rest my palm against her cheek and lean forward until my nose brushes her ear.

"It's time for me to look after you," I say.

The part of me telling me to go wins the internal battle and I step away from her. After grabbing my sword, I force myself to leave the room. I could sit with her all day, but it won't help anything. I need to come up with a plan.

I find Sin outside, sitting on the front step with the box in her hand. I watch as she twists it around, examining it from every angle.

When I'm about to speak, she says, "You know what I don't get? Why'd Gran let this fall into Lou's hands? Gran was so careful to keep her magic a secret from both Mom and Lou, and then she leaves something like this behind? If she had of ever said anything to me about it, I could have kept it hidden from everyone. No problem."

"Why'd she tell you about magic?" Sin twitches at the sound of my voice as though I'd hit her rather than asked a question.

"After I discovered what I could do, she had no choice." She starts to smile but stops as though she changes her mind. "Though, I suppose she could have tried to block the memories from me, like she did with Lou."

"She took her magic and blocked her memories?" I fight the anger building in me and attempt to speak without growling. "Pleasant woman."

Her shoulders stiffen like an animal being challenged. "It was for Lou's safety."

"She's very safe now, isn't she?" I have no more patience for the trouble those two put Lou through.

"You don't understand."

I have to walk away for a few seconds in order to control myself. Even so, my tone is harsh when I say, "No. I don't. If she supposedly cared about Lou, then why wouldn't she teach her how to use her magic so she could protect herself? She should have known how to fight back. Stewart should have never been anywhere near her in the first place."

"It's not like Mom knew any better." She raises her hands as though to block my words. "And this is my family you're talking about. It has nothing to do with you."

I know I shouldn't persist, but I can't stop myself. "Oh? Then why is Lou lying in my bed?

Her face contorts into something between rage and hatred. It would have been a good time to back down, but instead I continue to challenge her.

She breaks eye contact first. "It wasn't ever supposed to come to this. Gran was going to pass everything off to someone else. She should have had time to..." Her voice cracks, but she quickly recovers. "None of this should have happened."

It's obvious the situation is still fresh in her mind, and my own conscience won't let me push the subject any further. I take a deep breath and attempt to calm myself enough to speak a little more reasonably.

"Have you tried opening it?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Think I should?"

I shrug. "There's no telling what will come out. It could kill us all or be the one item we need to save our sisters."

"Gran never told me any of this existed. If she had of explained more, then maybe we wouldn't be working blind."

I don't respond since I know anything to come out of my mouth will snap my strained composure.

"If it's something like a griffin or chimera, at least it will be small enough to squish, right?" She laughs nervously.

I watch her every move, my thumb running over the hilt of my sword, ready to deal with whatever happens next. Her finger lifts the latch and I draw my sword from its sheath.

"A book?" Sin says once the lid has been lifted enough. "Pretty useless at this size though. The print is tiny."

I peer into the box and see she's right. I can't imagine anyone with the skills or patience to write something so small. It must be wrapped in the same shrinking magic as I'd been. Possibly my blade could cut the spell, but I can't see magic like Lou could, and I'd be more likely to destroy the book than make it larger.

She's about to snap the box shut in frustration when she stops and peers closely at the cover. She pulls the book out and twists and turns it in the early morning light to get a better view. Finally she finds the best position and freezes, her face only inches from the tiny pages.

"Holy shit," she breathes. She turns to look at me with her mouth open in shock. "This is one of Gran's journals."

## Chapter Sixteen

I don't understand her excitement, so I attempt to get a closer look at the pages to see why she's practically bouncing.

"And there was the rock in the barn," Sin says. "Of all objects to fall out, it happens to be the one thing we needed at the time. Hell of a coincidence."

No matter how much I look at the book, I don't understand her excitement. "How is the book what you need?"

She holds the page closer to me and I squint at the writing.

"That's my name. It's written for me, from Gran."

It's convenient she would speak about needing information from her Grandmother only to have such information come through the box. And one idea was drilled into our heads at the University; there are no coincidences when it comes to magic. But still...

I shake my head. "It doesn't explain me. How would Lou ever need me?"

She looks me over carefully, studying me more closely than when I'd first come through the box and was still tiny. You'd think with her being so much smaller now in comparison, her stare would be less intimidating. It isn't. Her eyebrows raise a fraction, but it's enough to show she's figured something out.

"What?"

She doesn't say anything while she scrutinizes me again. When she's done she shrugs and focuses back on the book.

"Stewart was probably getting too close. She needed to find out about magic in order to protect herself and what better way than through a person she could trust?"

I can sense a half-truth almost as well as I can sense magic. I've told enough of them in my life.

As I open my mouth to demand she tell me whatever she's hiding, she slams the lid of the box shut.

"That has to be it," she says. "There's no other reason why these things would've fallen out when they did. And I bet if I could actually read this book, I'd be able to prove it. The magic must sense what its owner needs. Since Lou is... the box became mine which means it started sensing what I need."

I ignore Sin's stumble and say, "Still doesn't make sense, why would it have pulled me through as opposed to anyone or anything else? She could have discovered her magic a hundred different ways."

"Course it doesn't make sense to you. You're a guy and by definition, dense. I mean look at poor Rose. Never mind, at least now we have an idea of how it works. But how can we use it to our advantage?"

Rose? What did she have to do with anything? I don't get a chance to ask. Sin's expression turns determined and she concentrates intently on the box for a short time before she once again flicks the latch and opens the lid.

Nothing.

Disappointment causes her shoulders to sag and she looks about ready to toss the box across the field.

"I don't understand. It's worked every other time."

"It's not like anything I've ever heard of before," I say. "But even sorceresses need time for their magic to rebuild. The box is probably no different."

She perks up a little. "You think?"

It's odd that her exhilaration is so catching. "I can't be sure, but it would make some sense."

"Yeah." She smiles at the box and jumps to her feet. "That has to be it. It just needs to recharge. It'll work in a few hours."

There's something more to her excitement than simply understanding the box.

"Why? What are you thinking?" I ask.

"It might not work," she warns. "It probably won't."

"Sin," I say. "Explain."

She doesn't. All she says is, "Think you can get Rose here? We'll need her help."

"Why?" I demand while crossing my arms.

"We need someone with no connection to magic," she says. "But who's also not afraid of it."

I glance at the house, remembering the conversation from earlier and I understand exactly what she means. I still don't feel like she's given me enough information, but it's obvious she's not going to say more until I find Rose.

"I can get her," I say. "But I expect an explanation when we get back."

She answers with a wiggle of her eyebrows, and then she bounds into the house toward my room. I suppose there's nothing for me to do but follow her lead for now. As I turn to leave she runs back out of the house.

"Think you can cut the magic on this?" She holds the book toward me and I cringe.

"There's a good chance I'll destroy it."

She considers her options for a moment. "Tiny or destroyed, I'll never be able to read it. You'll just have to be careful."

After a moment's hesitation, I take the book and set it on the ground. With my nerves as steady as I can make them, I draw one tiny swipe over top of the object as close as possible without cutting the paper. When I'm done, the wind catches the full sized book and flips a few pages over.

She picks it up, and without any sign of being impressed by my skills or even a thank you, she rushes back into the house. A large part of me wants to follow her and spend some more time sitting with Lou, but I shake off the feeling. Whatever Sin has in mind is more important than whatever odd need I have to be near her sister.

Sin's secrecy is maddening, but I make my way toward the village and Rose's house. The main street is fairly busy, but it's easy to ignore the basic pleasantries expected of anyone else. While I storm past, my mind examining all of the different options Sin might have thought of, none of them particularly hopeful, my neighbors stand back and watch me with suspicion.

Once I pass each group of people, their chatter starts again, a whole new bit of gossip to share with the friends during their day's work.

As my annoyance fades and turns to the usual unease I feel when I'm in the middle of the village, trapped on all sides by the larger buildings and accusing faces, I walk a bit faster, avoiding eye contact as much as possible, focused on the clumps of dirt and grass patching the cobblestone main road. Most of the other roads, including the one from our house into town, are still a combination of earth and wood where the mud is too deep to walk through. The cobblestone is relatively new, laid after I was sent to the University.

In fact, the road was the village's reward for sending one of their own to become a wizard. Since I was the only wizard born in the area for generations, the cobblestone is one of the village's only modern features. The houses remain small and made of a mix of wood and mud, covered with whatever bits of magical protection from rain and fire the owners can afford.

The University was so big in comparison. Each building could fit the entire village comfortably inside. And there was hardly any wood in sight unless it was decorative or infused with magic. Everything was polished stone and meticulously cleaned by servants and the occasional student being punished.

I was never supposed to return from there, at least not to the village. And I was certainly not supposed to bring another wizard back with me.

A turn off the stone road brings me to a little house, smaller than mine, though there are a lot more people living there. Creaking in the wind above the entrance is a wooden sign showing the symbol of a weaver.

I step up to knock on the front door and it swings open before I touch the wood. One of Rose's older sisters peers out at me, wearing the same look of suspicion as the rest of the villagers.

"Your Mother left already."

I'd forgotten this was where she'd said she was going.

"Actually, I need to talk to Rose."

Lilly shakes her head ones. "No."

I'd be shocked by her bluntness if it wasn't the same every time I came to the house. There'd been a time when I was friends with the entire family. I wouldn't have bothered to knock before barging inside and being welcomed as if it were my home.

I hold back a sigh and say, "It's important."

"Go away, Aldric." She takes a small step back inside to allow room for the door to swing. "We don't want anything to do with you. And Rose doesn't want to see you."

Lilly tries to shut the door, but I use my weight to keep it open.

"Rose?" I shout into the house, not caring who I disturb. "Rose? I need your help."

Rose's wide eyes peek out from behind a doorway and instantly disappear again. Her sister sees the reaction and looks pleased.

"See," she says. "Rose doesn't want anything to do with you."

And then she slams the door in my face.

I turn and begin the walk back through the village and to my house, though this time at a slightly slower pace. When the sound of hurried footsteps catches up to me, I smile.

"You're getting slower," I say.

"My parents are getting smarter." Her thin face lights up with a grin. "They actually tried to lock me in my room. I'm going to have so many extra chores when I get back."

My smile fades as guilt sets in. I know her punishments don't always end with chores, though I've never heard her complain. "Sorry."

She lightly jabs my arm with her fist. "Don't be stupid. What's so important you had to break into my house to get me?"

"I'm not sure," I admit. "Sin's come up with some sort of plan. She says we need your help."

"That's what I'm here for," she says, though her smile slips a little at the mention of Sin. I can't blame her. "Lead the way, and I'll do what I can."

Walking back through the village with Rose at my side makes the stares slightly more bearable. Unfortunately I know the gossip will affect Rose more than me. Her family still has a reputation to uphold, after all. Her walking alone with me isn't helping her situation.

Anger flares, but I manage to control it, at least for now. Besides, on whom could I take it out? The entire village? I'm sure they are all waiting for me to crack so they'll have an excuse to turn on me.

Rose studies me carefully as we walk the rest of the way home. I'm sure she can read every tiny change in emotion on my face, so I struggle to calm down. I pick up the pace, hoping the briskness of the walk will help hide my annoyance. Rose matches my speed without a word, though I notice a hint of concern in her eyes, though she quickly covers it with another smile.

"Finally," Sin says from the front step. "Could you have been any slower?"

I'm about to say something rude when Rose interrupts.

"What would you like me to do?"

"For now, nothing." There's excitement in Sin's eyes that piques my curiosity. What is she up to? "I don't know if this is going to work. I've been trying to concentrate this entire time, but it's hard." She frowns at the box in her hand. "I hope that's been enough time."

"Aren't you supposed to explain now?" She ignores my reminder, squeezing her eyes shut as though she's focusing. She flicks the latch without opening them and lifts the lid. Rose and I lean in to see what's inside while Sin slowly opens one eye.

At the same moment Sin exclaims, "Yes!" I catch sight of a bit of blue fabric. I pull the box out of her hand, much to her annoyance and stare, recognizing it instantly.

"But...how?" The material feels soft and smooth in my fingers as I examine it. "There's no hole in it, is there?"

Sin reaches over and pulls out the miniature blue bag, identical to the one Lou cut open to regain her magic, except without the cut.

"Five bags," she says. "I never understood why Gran wanted to split up the magic, but maybe, just maybe, it was in case this exact situation came up."

"You want to open it and hope it releases her magic?" I don't know whether to laugh or be impressed. "Will it work?"

"Don't know," Sin says with a grin. "But the fact it's here is a good sign. To be safe, Rose will have to make the cut. Because you're right, I'm too much like you. Either of us might absorb the magic before it has a chance to find its way to Lou."

I don't hesitate or ask questions or even think. I simply draw my sword and hand it to Rose. She doesn't take it right away.

"Please," I say. "I need you to do this."

She doesn't move. Her eyes go wide and she moves her head back and forth in small shakes. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. You find a bag in a box, get all excited and then hand me your sword. What's going on?"

Fair enough. "You need to cut the bag open with the tip of my sword. It shouldn't be hard, but you need to do it as close to Lou as you can get. And we can't be there."

My words only seem to make her more frightened as she asks, "What? Why?"

"It's how it has to be." I don't want to have to explain more since I know it will only make her more worried. I just hope her trust goes this far. "Sin and I shouldn't be anywhere near the bag when it's opened. And you have to make sure it's close to Lou."

Rose hesitates for a few more seconds and then quietly says, "Why her?"

At first I'm not sure what she means, but then I recognize the pain in her eyes. Loraine.

"It won't work," I tell her softly. "This magic is linked directly to Lou. No one else can use it but her. Trust me, if I thought..."

I stop when I remember Sin standing next to me. But she's not the only thing making me hesitate. I'd always been so determined to find a way to help Loraine. I'd have done anything to bring her back. But when Sin revealed the bag, my only thought had been on helping Lou. If I hadn't already known the bag wouldn't work with Loraine, would I have thought any differently?

Rose looks like she's about to argue or maybe cry. Either way, I am not capable of dealing with the burst of emotion. Instead, I press the sword into her hand and step away. Rose tries to hide her fear and confusion while taking the bag from Sin. I want to say something encouraging, but I'm too confused myself.

After an excruciating length of time, Rose finally nods her agreement and makes her way into the house. Sin and I watch her go until I can no longer stand still. I pace back and forth in the yard.

"Thanks," Sin says suddenly.

"Of course. Anything to help."

"No, I mean thanks for calling me Sin." She nudges me with her elbow. I guess that's the closest to a sign of affection she's capable of. "I figured you never would because Lou doesn't."

"Really?" I ask. "You may have figured out how to save your sister, and you're worried about what people call you?"

She shrugs. "I really hate 'Cindy.'"

I don't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes, so I don't do anything but stand there, waiting for something to happen.

"How do you think we'll know if it works?" she asks.

Whatever reply I'm about to give her is interrupted by a horrified scream from inside the house.

# Chapter Seventeen

Noise. Loud. A scream maybe? I don't know. Nothing feels right. I don't... I can't...

I struggle to move. Sit or stand. But maybe I already am sitting. I should try standing. My body twitches more violently than I expect and I smash what I think is my own hand against my face.

"Ow," I say. At least I think it's my voice. I try again. "That hurt."

Yup. Definitely my voice. But where am I? And why is it so dark? There must be something covering my eyes. The world never goes this dark naturally. There has to be something over my... nothing. My face feels so odd, though not because it's covered in a damp layer of sweat. I'm used to that. After all, it's not like dancing is easy.

Dance! My rehersal. I'd missed it, hadn't I? This is probably some sort of practical joke the others are playing on me, some way of getting back at me for slacking and missing something so important.

So then why does my skin feel so odd? Had they covered it in something? Sparkles? Those never come off.

But I know what sparkles feel like. And face paint and cloth. This seems to be something deeper. Something I've felt before, but can't quite remember...

"Rose! What's wrong, Rose?"

That voice. Who...

"Lou! Oh shit, Lou. Can you hear me? Please say something."

There's no mistaking her voice. "Cindy. What've you done?"

At first I have no idea what's happening as her arms wrap around me, so I pull away. But then when I realize she's hugging me, I struggle harder to get free.

"Are you stoned?" I ask. Not an unreasonable question, since it's happened before. "Get off me. Mom's going to be pissed when she finds out."

She laughs. "What? Lou. Are you all right? Tell me you're fine. What do you remember?"

My hands go back to my face and I rub my aching eyes. The pain feels wrong somehow, like it doesn't really exist, it's more a memory of a pain I once had. I switch to my hair instead. It's the only normal feeling part of me, though there's still some of the same oddness I feel from my skin. Plus it's greasier and messier than usual, which makes me think I must be at a rehearsal. Or maybe a Taekwondo class.

"Lou?" Cindy doesn't sound nearly as weirdly excited as she before. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you've made it way too dark in here. Where are we anyway?"

"Dark?"

A large callused hand lightly grips my chin and turns my head to the left, and then a bit to the right. Something about the touch feels familiar, but like the feeling of my own skin, it's not right either. It's...

"Lou?" the owner of the hand says in a gentle, calming voice. My memories ache as I try to remember where I've heard him before. "I need you to look at me."

I shake my head a little, not able to speak. Yet, why wasn't I freaking out? Why wasn't I pulling away or blushing or saying something idiotic to this stranger?

The realization hits me in slow waves as I start to remember. The box. The drive. People chasing us. Gran's house. And...

"Al?" My voice cracks. I swallow and start again. "Is it you?"

He sighs deeply and releases my chin, which is about the worst thing he could possibly do. Nothing's working properly, not my limbs, not my lungs, and definitely not my eyes. And now I'm completely alone.

I try again to scramble to my feet, this time with a little more success. But only a little. My legs get caught in some sort of rough fabric—a blanket?—and when I move, I end up tumbling gracelessly off whatever it is I'm sitting on.

It must not occur as fast in real life as it does in my head, or Al has quick reflexes. He grabs me before I hit the floor and holds me steady. My panic at the feeling of my trapped legs fades as he loosens the fabric binding me.

He shifts layers of material aside until his hand touches my skin. His fingers linger on my ankle for a moment, the strange energy pulsing from him racing up my leg. When he pulls away, my body once again moves on its own, this time drawn by the heat passing between us until I press my leg to his side.

It's not until I hear a cough I realize I'm so absorbed in the feeling of his skin I've practically wrapped my leg around him.

"Put her back on the bed," Cindy says.

There's no hesitation from Al as he lifts me up and sets me on the mattress. The moment I'm down, he steps away and the comfort of whatever I felt from him disappears.

I don't understand his need to get away from me, and I wish he'd come back. Without him near, everything is confusing again. I desperately attempt to rub the sight back into my eyes. I need to be able to see. Why can't I see?

"What's wrong with her?" Cindy says.

"Give her a minute. She's just woken up."

Something about the way he speaks makes me realize it's more than a normal sleep I've woken from. Though I'm pretty sure it's a bed I was struggling to rise from, it's also not one I recognize. It could be one in Gran's house, but I don't...

"Oh," I say aloud.

They caught up to us. I remember now. Stewart and Borin caught up. We tried to run, but then Stewart... so much pain.

"He stole my magic." My voice trembles with unshed tears. "He ripped it from me. I thought I was going to die."

"I'm sorry," Al says. "I couldn't stop it."

His words feel wrong. Like he's not talking to me, but to someone else entirely.

"This is insane," an unfamiliar girl says.

Stomping follows a few seconds later.

"Rose, wait!" Al calls to the girl.

More footsteps follow.

"Cindy?" I ask. She can't have left. Why is everyone leaving me? "Are you still here?"

As soon as I say the words, I realize she must be. There's an unusual sense of something making my skin itch, coming from a little further over on the bed. It makes me feel uneasy, similar to the dust she carries around.

"You really can't see, can you?" Cindy asks.

The tears I've been holding back come pouring out in sobs and gasps. I've never had my emotions rip through me as hard as the tears do. They seem to be never ending, causing complete exhaustion.

At first as I cry, Cindy tries patting or rubbing my shoulder, but it doesn't help. I want to stop, I do, but I can't remember how. All I can remember is the pain and Stewart lowering his lips to mine.

The image won't fade and I can't open my eyes to replace it with something else. Anything else.

I think Cindy tries to speak at first. Maybe explain what's happened since Stewart stole my magic. I don't hear her. I can't concentrate on her voice. The only thing I can think of is the never-ending darkness. I need to open my eyes. I need to be able to see.

I have no idea how long I cry, though I'd guess hours. There are bits of noise, whispered conversations, footsteps, and doors shutting. I drift in and out of consciousness until I slowly emerge from the fog surrounding my mind since waking.

"How is she doing?" an older woman's voice asks from what I can only assume is the doorway.

I don't make any sign of having heard her. She's not talking to me after all.

"She's..." Cindy starts and then stops. "I have no idea. She's not talking. She stopped sobbing, which is probably good."

"Think she can handle some food?"

As soon as she says it, my stomach makes a loud grumbling sound, clearly giving me away.

I slowly sit up, wiping my face with the back of my hands with little effect. My skin is still soaked, and worse, it still feels wrong.

"I could eat," I say shyly. "But I wouldn't mind cleaning up first."

"Of course, dear. The washroom is over there."

I know she's showing me which way to go rather than telling me, but I try not to get too upset. Every time I blink, I expect the darkness to fade away, so it's no surprise she hasn't gotten used to the situation yet either. At least the tears are minimal.

"I guess I'll help you," Cindy says, a little unsure of herself. "Come on."

After washing up with Cindy awkwardly lending a hand, she leads me to some other part of the house and sits me down at a table.

"This is her?" A deep man's voice booms. Instantly I picture an older man, maybe somewhere close to middle age. From his accent, I know he's from the same area as Al. "The girl you chose to save over your own sister?"

"Father," Al says. "Leave it."

"Your sister?" I feel immediately guilty, though I don't fully understand what's happening. "She's here?"

"Did Sin not tell you where you are?" Al asks. I shake my head in response. "You're in my world. In my parents' house."

Maybe I should be surprised, but I'm too drained to feel anything more than mild interest.

"Oh."

There's a clatter on the table in front of me as someone sets down an object. Timidly, I reach forward to find a bowl first and then a spoon set next to it.

"I hope you like chicken stew," the older woman says.

Al already identified his father, so I assume she must be his mother. For some weird reason, the realization causes my nerves to kick into high gear. It's almost as bad as when I am about to go on stage.

"Thank you," I say suddenly, almost shouting the words rather than speaking them. I clear my throat. "For the food, I mean. And I guess for having me here. I hope I haven't been too much trouble."

There seems to be a slight lessening of the tension I hadn't noticed when I first entered the room.

"Oh," Al's mother stammers. "No, not any trouble. Try to eat up."

I obediently scoop up some food and manage to not completely miss my mouth. The taste of chicken is so intense and delicious, I can't help but smile.

"What did you tell Mom?" I ask Cindy. Silence. Was she in the room? "Cindy?"

"I was busy."

I nearly choke on my second spoonful of food. "You didn't call Mom?"

"You were mostly dead. I was figuring out how to bring you back."

My voice rises along with my shock toward my sister. "You couldn't find five minutes to call Mom and let her know we're still alive? Never mind the fact her boyfriend's a psychopathic lunatic who sucked the life out of me and he could easily be going after her next. Don't bother warning her though."

"Relax," she groans. "Mom's not a sorceress. He's got no reason to ever go back there. Besides, what was I going to say? I couldn't tell her everything's fine with you lying in a coma in a different world."

"You never think about anyone but yourself," I say. I push my chair back and stand up, ready to start pacing until I realize what a bad idea it is. "She's called the cops by now. They've probably issued an amber alert and everyone will be looking for us. They'll find the car and we won't be there and she'll be so worried."

"You're so over dramatic. We've only been gone a couple of days."

"Do you have any way of contacting her?" Al's mother asks. "I'm sure she would appreciate hearing from you. I know what it's like to have a child disappear with no warning."

"I told you it wasn't my fault," Al says.

I hide my smile as I imagine the look she's giving Al.

"Whether that's the case or not, you should let her know you're okay, if you can." His mother timidly pats my shoulder, but pulls away when she realizes she's not able to offer any real comfort.

"Is my purse here?" I ask. "I'm going to call her."

Cindy snorts. "Good luck. We're in a different world, remember? No satellites. No bars. No phoning home."

My shoulders drop as I realize the truth of what she's saying. There's nothing I can do. Not as long as I stay here.

"Then, we'll have to go back. Right now."

"Are you kidding?" Cindy laughs again. "We're in another world. You hear me? There's no way I'm leaving here without exploring a bit. I saw a griffin. A griffin! Imagine all of the magic I could find here."

"You could try magic," Al says. "If you're able to use it, you should be able to communicate between worlds."

"No," his father says firmly. "No magic allowed in this house. It's brought nothing but pain and I won't have any more of it."

"Agreed," Cindy agrees way too easily. "No magic in this house. Guess I'm going out for a bit. Don't get yourself killed, 'kay sis?"

"You're leaving?" I don't mean to sound desperate, but I already feel so alone. If she leaves, how will I find my way back to the bedroom?

"I'll be back."

"You can't go out there alone," Al says. "You don't know anything about this place or what to avoid. I'll go with you."

Al's leaving too. I really am going to be alone in a house full of strangers.

"Whatever," Cindy says from a bit farther away than she was a few seconds earlier. "Come with me or not, but I'm leaving now."

"Lou?" My head snaps up when he says my name. I hope I don't look too pathetic. "Feeling up for a walk?"

"I'll slow you down," I remind him.

"Well, see ya then," Cindy says and then pauses. "Or, uh, you know what I mean."

There's the sound of a door opening and thudding shut and I know Cindy's already gone. My stomach sinks as I realize Al doesn't have a choice but to run out after her. He can't waste time leading around the blind girl.

A hand touches my shoulder. "Come on, I'll help with your shoes."

## Chapter Eighteen

He's careful not to touch me any more than absolutely necessary as we leave the house. Still, I can feel him near me. The strange energy radiates off him as a constant beacon. I want to reach out and touch him, but I clasp my arms around my chest instead.

Each step I take is hesitant and wobbly, and I know I'm slowing him down. He must be ready to give up and leave me to fend for myself, but the feeling of him near me never shifts. He always stays just out of arm's reach, never any further or closer.

I try to speak a few times, but words won't form.

After several more minutes of complete silence, I can't take it anymore. Before I can stop myself, I say, "You can go if you want."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but I feel him as though he's frozen in place. He wants to go. Of course he does. He's only been helping because he feels sorry for me and has been waiting for permission to be done with me.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," I say too quickly.

I cringe at my eagerness. What's wrong with me? He's going to think I'm desperate for his attention. So, maybe I am a little, but he doesn't need to know as much.

His hand causes heat to rush to the part of my face he touches as he pushes some of my hair back behind my ear, allowing his fingers to rest on my neck for only a moment. It's all it takes for my breathing to become ragged.

Too soon he backs away and I have to once again fight the urge to reach out to him.

"I'm here to help," he says. "But only if you want me to."

Not quite able to trust my voice, I bite my bottom lip and nod.

He doesn't touch me again. Instead, he clears his throat and says, "Your sister is in the village now. We should probably catch up to her to keep her out of trouble."

"You mean she hasn't burned the entire place down yet?" I put my hand to my mouth in exaggerated surprise. "I'm shocked."

His laugh causes my heart to race as much as his touch had. I need to hear it again.

"What is she doing, other than scaring the locals?"

"She's talking to a couple of the merchants who have a few items set up outside."

"What kind of stuff?" I ask.

"The usual. Some fruit and vegetables, wool, meat, nothing too spectacular."

"So it's like an outdoor market? Gran used to take Cindy and me to one near her house." I remember picking our way through crowds of people with my hand in Gran's while Cindy raced off to look at each stall on her own. I never left Gran's side, though there had been a ton of stuff I wanted a better look at. "They'd have some nice jewelry and handmade stuff. Are there those kinds of objects here?"

"If you face this way..." He closes the gap between us and places his hands on my shoulders to guide me until I'm positioned slightly further to the left. "There's the blacksmith table. He mostly focuses on bigger pieces like tools for working the fields, but he has a few bracelets and maybe a couple of daggers."

"Can you show me?"

"Uh..."

I realize what I've said and cringe. "I don't mean actually show me, but can you take me over there so I can touch some stuff?"

"Wouldn't you rather touch the clothes? I bet they'd feel nicer. And Rose is working today, so you could meet her."

The mention of another female catches my attention. "Rose?"

It's stupid for my stomach to clench in jealousy. Even if I had any right to be protective about Al, I have no idea if there's anything to be envious of. Still, even the name bothers me. Rose. Who names their child that?

"She's a friend," he says. "She's actually the one who woke you."

The way he says 'friend' bothers me almost as much as her name.

"Perhaps later." But probably not. "I'd like to examine those daggers."

Since he pointed me in the general direction of where I want to go, I start forward on my own, hoping he'll follow and stop me before I smash into anything. I want to meet Rose; I'm simply not interested in doing it at this moment. Plus, after everything I've been through in the last couple of days, checking out weapons doesn't seem like a bad idea.

I was right to assume he'd follow. His hand on my shoulder tells me when I've reached the table.

"Welcome stranger, how may I—oh." The man's voice fades and he growls. "Aldric. What do you want?"

"My friend wants to see your merchandise." Al's reply matches the frostiness of the seller. "Don't worry. I'll refrain from tainting anything."

"Another friend from the University I suppose." He hacks up a wad of spit after the word 'friend.'

"She's interested in your goods and you don't need to know anything more."

It starts to click why Al had been reluctant to come to this particular booth. Obviously there's some bad blood, and I'm not helping.

"Come on," I say. "You can show me something else."

"I don't sell to your kind," the man warns, obviously having not heard me.

Al steps between the man and me. "Funny, you were more than interested in having your son marry one of her kind."

The man laughs in disbelief. "She's a sorceress?" I can practically feel his eyes take in every inch of me so I stand a little taller and look a little bit more impressive. "Well then, my lady, if I might give you a piece of advice. Aldric is not to be trusted. Helped a wizard steal his own sister's magic. Whatever business you have with him, I'd be done with it and on your way."

"Al wouldn't help a wizard." I dismiss the man's words with a surprised laugh.

"Course he would. They always help their own kind. It's bred into them same as the need to steal and swindle us common folk."

"Own kind?" I repeat. "But he's not a wizard. He helped me escape from wizards."

The man gives a pitying laugh causing my heart to ache. "Looks like I destroyed your little scheme, Aldric. How will you get her to trust you now?"

"Al?" It can't be true. I don't believe it. He must be saying it because of some bad business between them. There was a history because of Al's sister. But it wasn't Al's fault.

And he certainly isn't a wizard.

So then why do I suddenly feel like I'm going to be sick?

"What's he talking about?" I manage to ask while as I want to do is curl into my bed and cover my ears so I can't hear any more.

"But you know," Al says as though willing his words to be true. "You know. After Stewart and the house and..." He stops and I can sense him pulling further away than the arm's reach he'd been keeping himself. "You have no idea. Of course not. Why would you be so at ease with me if you knew the truth?"

"You're a wizard?" The word leaves my mouth dry.

No no no. There has to be a mistake. Al can't possibly be a wizard. He's good and nice and fought to protect me at Gran's, and helped bring me back from half-death. He can't be what I'm supposed to run from.

"Answer the question," I shout.

Our little scene is starting to gather a crowd, I can hear them murmuring and the heat of their anticipation and curiosity leaves a bad taste in my mouth. They want a fight.

Fight Al. Impossible.

"Yes."

One word. One word and everything I thought I knew comes crashing down on top of me. I trusted him. I helped him. And all along he's been no different than Stewart, lying to me to get what he wants.

"Where's Cindy?" I want to stay calm, but there's an edge to my voice.

"Lou, I'd never—"

I don't let him finish. There's nothing he can say I'll believe. "Where's my sister?" I ask louder this time.

Cindy responds. "What's going on?"

I hoped having her near would put me at ease a bit, but if anything it makes things worse.

"You knew, didn't you?" It's not really a question since as soon as I say the words I realize they must be true. "You knew and didn't say anything."

"You should have told her about me," Al agrees which doesn't help.

"It wasn't my secret to tell." Her tone causes a perfect picture of her relaxed shrug to appear in my mind.

"Instead you left her alone with me and no warning," Al continues.

"This is not my fault, wizard boy."

"Shut up!" the words are out of my mouth before I think them. "Both of you shut up. Take me home."

There's silence for a minute and then Cindy says as though shocked by the idea, "Well I'm not doing it. Have you seen the plants around here? They're practically exploding with magic. You have no idea what I could do with these things."

"Cindy." I don't want to beg, but what choice is she leaving me? The only other way I'm going to get anywhere is if... no. I won't think his name. "Please."

"Sorry." She doesn't sound as though she is. "Why don't you hang out around here for a while? I'll be back soon enough."

"Hey," a soft voice says from a few feet away. "I can take you back. If you'd like."

I have no idea who's talking to me, but when my other option is to stand around being stared at by what must be an entire village, I choose the unknown. It can't be worse than trusting Al.

I nod and the girl places her hand on my arm to guide me.

After a few minutes of awkward silence I force myself to ask the question bugging me since we started walking. "Is he here?"

"Aldric?" The way she says his name bothers me. Like it's something precious and she's only too happy to speak it out loud. "No, he went after Sin."

"Her name's Cindy. She likes being called Sin because she thinks it sounds dangerous. It's idiotic."

The words come pouring out, and once they're spoken, I actually feel a little better. I've been keeping those thoughts in for three years now, ever since she started calling herself that ridiculous nickname in the first place.

I may feel a little less annoyed at Cindy, but I'm anything but okay. I'm on the verge of another breakdown. I can feel my chest tighten and the air tastes bitter and heavy.

"I'm Rose," my guide says.

"Of course you are," I grumble.

She doesn't know what to say, and I don't blame her. Though I'd feel a lot worse about my bitterness if I hadn't woken up after having my magic stolen to find I'm not only blind, but I've also been tricked into trusting the enemy.

The word shocks me out of the bitterness. Enemy. I'm a sorceress, he's a wizard. Are we automatically enemies? Despite everything we'd been through together and the fact he knows me better than my own sister after only days, am I supposed to hate him?

"He's not like the others," Rose says without any preamble. "He'd never hurt anyone. Not if he can help it."

"He's a wizard," I say, practically choking on the word. "Isn't hurting people kind of what they do?"

"Not Aldric." She sounds as though it's ridiculous for me to even think as much. "It's why he came home."

"You think I should trust him?" I make a sound meant to be a laugh but it comes out much crazier. "I mean it's only my life on the line."

"He'd never hurt you." She grabs my shoulder to emphasize her point, but slowly releases as her tone becomes a touch darker. "Not on purpose."

"So, what, he'd accidently suck my magic out? Not on purpose though."

I expect her to attempt to correct me; tell me what she really meant. But the longer she stays quiet, the longer I think she meant exactly what I thought.

"How could he 'accidently' take my magic?"

"It wouldn't be hard. Especially with the way he looks at you. One kiss and..." She stops herself as though she feels like she's said too much. And yet I can tell there's so much more she wants to say.

I can sense her tension in the silence and it makes me realize my fears were right.

"You love him."

She doesn't say anything for a long time. I get the feeling she's never admitted as much out loud before.

After long deliberation, she simply says, "Yes." Followed by, "He really is different. But there's darkness in him that didn't exist before his training. I don't want you to hurt him."

Although her affection is touching, it does nothing to help my bad mood. "I think I'm going to worry more about my own safety than his, thanks."

"I don't mean physically. I know what happens to a wizard after they taste magic. I've seen it. Please don't do it to Aldric."

I'm going to say something about blaming the victim, but she stops walking.

"We're here." She pulls away and several muted thuds of a fist against wood follow. "I know I have no right, but I'm going to ask for a favor. Will you please leave? Go back to wherever you came from. Let things go back to normal here. It's best for everyone."

The door squeaks open and Al's mother says some sort of greeting I don't quite hear.

"Remember what I said," she whispers to me. "See you later," she adds louder for the benefit of our onlooker.

And once again I'm alone.

## Chapter Nineteen

I have no idea how long I sit on the bed with my cell in my hand. I need to get a hold of Mom and the only way I know how is to call her. There must be some way of using magic to make it work, even though we're in a different world. Isn't magic meant to do things like this?

Problem. I have no idea what numbers I'm dialing. Too be honest, I'm not a hundred percent sure it's turned on.

No, it must be. I manage to accidently access my music, one of the songs blaring louder than I'd ever play it on purpose. Al's mother comes rushing in, completely freaking out and shouting about magic in the house, though I'm not sure if she was more worried about me being in trouble or me causing the trouble.

After a few apologies and awkward attempts explaining what the noise is, she leaves. She seems all too happy to go.

I bring the phone up to my face and press the cool plastic against my forehead. If only the pressure would make something inside my brain click. How am I supposed to figure out how to use magic if I can't dial a damn phone?

It's not only the phone stopping me. I have no idea how magic works. Before I could see the magic in Cindy's pockets and the net around Al...

I wish I hadn't thought his name. It's easier to avoid thinking about what he is if I don't think his name.

Al.

A wizard.

And Rose. She wants me gone, and she's right, I need to go. But I'm not sure I'm ready to leave, even if I could without Cindy. Too many things are unresolved.

Al.

I need to focus on my magic. Somehow. If I don't figure it out then I can't warn Mom. She needs to know about Stewart and at the very least, she needs to know we're safe. There's no way she's not going berserk.

But Al could have taken my magic. The entire time while we were together, he could have easily taken it and I wouldn't have realized until it was too late. The fact he didn't has to mean something.

Except, maybe he's the same as Stewart. Maybe he's biding his time, waiting for the best moment.

And yet, I don't think so. Rose's description about him being different feels true. He's definitely not like the other two wizards I've met.

But then again, maybe they were like him before they took their first bit of magic.

I should be worried. I should be finding weapons and running for my life. Instead I continue to sit here, pawing at my phone and feeling more comfortable than I do in my own room.

Which is odd. Being at ease in a wizard's room is strange enough, but I also feel physically cozier than I ever have. The bed isn't as soft, the room is kind of drafty, musty and damp, and there are creaks and groans no house should make. Never mind the strange sounds of mythical creatures coming from the other side of the window. With my nerves, I should be ready to pounce at the first thing to walk through the door.

Instead, my skin feels something between goose bumps and warmth. The only part of me not enjoying the energy of the room is my hand holding my phone. It registers only the cold metal and plastic. I bring my other hand to press against it to hold it flat between both palms. The warm goose bumps disappear against the normal feeling of technology. I bring a single hand to my cheek and the heat triples, though I'm not sure if it's my hand or face feeling the change. The more I think about it, the more I realize it might be both.

My skin's not the only thing causing the strange hot and cold sensation. I run my fingers over the quilt and enjoy the light tingling from the contact. There's more to the texture against my hand than the threads making up the blanket, though I can't quite place the feeling. The wood headboard tickles the inside of my wrist and a plant set in front of the window causes my entire arm to feel itchy and relaxed at the same time.

Two knocks on the door and I find myself yanking back my hand from a folded pile of clothes. I'm not sure what I was touching, but the sudden thought I might have been fondling Al's underwear causes my face to burn.

"Lou?" Al tentatively says through the door when I don't respond to his knock. "Can I come in?"

I think I'd rather be stuck in a room with my sister and that's saying something. But, I'll have to get this over with at some point. I can't hide in here forever. Besides, if he wanted to come in and take my magic, he could easily do so without my permission.

"Fine."

I sit back on the bed as he opens the door and clicks it shut behind him.

"I'm sorry," he says the moment he's inside.

I'm surprised. I expected things to be silent and uncomfortable for a lot longer.

"For what?" I bite back. "Lying to me or for being a wizard?"

"I didn't exactly lie."

He must have known from the look on my face his excuse wasn't going to hold up.

"Fine. I didn't exactly tell you the truth, but would you have helped me if you'd known?"

"Of course."

Though it's easy to say the words now, I'm not so sure how true they are. At least not now I understand what I am capable of. I wouldn't have released my magic if I'd known the threat sat there next to me, and I definitely wouldn't have made him big again as my first act with my power. Then again...

"What other choice would I have had? Kill you?"

"You might have." The idea seems to be much easier for him to process than it is for me. "You would have, if you were from my world. Why do you think I was so afraid when I first fell onto your lap?"

I throw my arms out in an exaggerated shrug. "Oh, I don't know, because I was a gajillion times bigger than you? Besides, you didn't seem very scared. You didn't freak out half as much as I did."

He chuckles at the memory, only for a second, but the sound is so soothing. Better than the magic of a hundred boxes.

"Yeah, I probably should have taken the hint you weren't a fully trained sorceress. Or a killer."

"You knew though." I remember the cautious way he always watched me, and only now realize he was waiting for me to use my magic. "Right away, before I ever opened the bag, you knew what I was. What I am. Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He sounds as though he's afraid of upsetting me as he says, "I wasn't entirely sure. I could sense some magic, but barely enough to make you anything more than a witch. Besides, I got the feeling Sin would have killed me if I had said anything."

He's probably right. Cindy isn't one to let other people give away more information than she thinks is necessary. Especially if she thought she was doing what Gran wanted.

I need to know more about what happened to me, and the only person who might give me some answers stands before me. I know I shouldn't trust him, but it's hard to feel betrayal when the energy passing between us is so intense.

"You've seen magic taken before. Your sister." I remember my anger while adding, "And who knows how many others like her. When their magic was taken, or when Stewart took mine, I wasn't me anymore. Right? So how was Gran locking my magic into bags any different?"

His voice is soft and unsure as he says, "I honestly don't know."

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I certainly hoped for more information than 'I don't know.' He should, shouldn't he? After all, he is a wizard.

I pick up my phone and concentrate. Mom's what matters. Not who I might or might not be.

"Can you get it to work?"

Part of me wishes he'd take my ignoring him as a hint and leave. Mostly I'm relieved when the section of the bed next to me sinks as he sits down.

I press random parts of the plastic in hopes of somehow finding the right series of spots to make the phone call my mother.

"Is that..." Al stops himself.

I really don't want to say anything more to him.

But I also can't stand not knowing what he was going to say.

"Is that what?"

"It's like a mirror into another part of the world. People are moving around and they don't seem to be at all aware of the fact you're watching them."

"You can see people?" I realize what he's talking about as soon as I ask the question. "Damn. I'm in the videos. You know, for the first time ever, I wish this phone didn't do so much. I actually miss my old phone. As ugly as it was. Bright pink of course. At least these ones only come in white and black."

"You keep pressing their faces, making them stop and start again. I'm guessing that's not your intention."

I growl my annoyance and move my thumb down a little bit. "Well, since I can't see anything, I don't know how you can expect me to do any better."

He considers his words carefully before saying, "I could help. Or at least, I could try."

"Are you going to give me your eyes?"

He chuckles, the sound as warming as ever. "I don't think that would actually be helpful. Pretty sure it would make neither of us able to see. And I can't imagine eyeballs would be pleasant to touch." Before I can fully say 'ew!' he continues. "However, I have heard of people being able to use magic to look through another person's eyes. You could attempt something along those lines."

"It sounds great, but I still don't have any idea how to use my magic." I jab at my cell again. "I can't even get my phone to dial home."

"Your magic is now associated with touch, right?" I have no idea how he figured it out faster than me. "So a connection with me might make things easier."

Timidly, he touches his fingertips against my hand closest to him. Although I flinch, I don't pull away which he takes as a sign to continue what he's doing. With so little pressure it tickles, he slides his fingers across my palm and then lightly grips my wrist. Just as slowly, he lifts my hand and presses it against his temple, right at the hairline.

My thoughts go back to my conversation with Rose and how dangerous it can be for me to get too close to Al. Even so, I can't convince myself to pull away.

"Do you feel anything?"

That seems like a loaded question, and one I'm definitely not ready to answer.

"Lou? Do you feel anything which might be magic?"

Of course that's what he meant. What else could it have been?

"Warm and cold at the same time," I describe to him. "I feel it coming from everything, including my own skin."

"Concentrate on what's coming from you."

Easier to say than do. The more I try to focus on the magic inside myself, the more I'm distracted by the amount of it surrounding us. And the box. Almost pulsing now.

He must think my silence means I've done what he told me and he continues his instructions. "Now, concentrate on what you want to accomplish."

He waits a few more seconds. "Have you got it?"

I sigh and pull my hand away, but his hand moves with mine, never letting go.

"I can't do it. There's way too much going on."

"Such as?"

"There's magic everywhere in this room. And all of it is stronger than what is inside me."

He's silent for a minute. "I doubt that."

Never before have I so badly wanted to look a guy in the eye before. I desperately want to see what his expression is giving away, if anything.

He raises my hand to his temple again.

"Try again. This time pretend nothing beyond the two of us exists. The other magic doesn't matter. All that matters is what's inside you."

At first I ignore the feeling of his rough-textured fingers against my much softer hand. But it brings me back to the wood and the plant and the box. I still can't focus on myself. The hot and cold feeling I get when I touch my own skin doesn't seem to exist when I'm in contact with something, or someone else.

Maybe that's the trick. Don't focus on me, focus on Al.

It's too easy to let myself concentrate on each bump and indent of his skin and on each strand of hair tickling my hand. I have to remind myself of the purpose of the exercise several times before I can remember to focus on his eyes, and more importantly what he's seeing.

For half a second, my hand seems to be on fire, and then in the blink of an eye it stops. And I'm staring at myself.

## Chapter Twenty

I pull completely away from Al. Everything is black again, but I barely notice. My hands go to my head where I start desperately attempt to fix the mop I'm trying to pass as hair and rub the circles out from under my eyes. I didn't know it was possible for me to look so bad. I never look so disheveled, even in the mornings.

Why had no one said anything?

"You're panicking," Al says. "That's good."

I pull a face and quickly return to attempting to make myself look presentable.

"I mean, not good about your panicking, but I'm assuming it means it worked. You could see through my eyes. Why are you pulling at your hair?"

I stop tugging and cover my hair as best I can with my hands. "I look like a crazy homeless person."

"A very attractive homeless person."

From the way his voice catches as he says the last words, I think he must have only realized what he was saying after it was too late.

"I mean, most homeless people don't exactly look..." He coughs as he realizes he's not helping himself and I can't help but laugh, my hands falling to my sides. "Magic. I'm teaching you magic."

A sudden thought occurs to me and causes my throat to become dry and itchy. Even though I tell myself not to say anything, the words start spewing out.

"Rose said something today. During our walk."

"Oh?" he asks casually. Obviously he has no idea about how sweaty my palms are. I suddenly wonder how well my deodorant has lasted.

"It wasn't a big deal; it made me wonder, is all. She said something about how you can't kiss a sorceress without accidently stealing their power." I laugh nervously. "So I guess you and I won't ever—"

"No," he cuts me off harshly. The sudden shift in his tone sends my already vibrating nerves jumping into high gear, every muscle in my body tense. "Absolutely not. No. That will never happen."

"Right." My voice cracks, giving away my frazzled state if my body language hasn't already done so. "No, of course not."

The bed shifts as he stands up. "I've taught you enough for now," he says in the same dark tone. With no other warning, the door creaks before clicking shut.

"So glad I said something," I say to my phone.

I want to get up and run or stretch or do something active to settle my nerves, but I have the feeling the room isn't very big and I don't want to follow Al out. Instead all I can do is sit there with my foot tapping the floor.

After poking my cell a few times, I give up and toss it onto the bed. I can't do it blind. I should have concentrated on the magic rather than asking such a stupid question. If I could attempt the spell again, I'm sure it would last longer this time. It felt so strange and wonderful for the brief second it worked.

Each bump of his skin, the tickle of his hair, and then the moment of fire as the magic inside of me finally found the link between us in order to make the jump into his head race through my mind as though I'm experiencing it again.

At first I don't realize anything's happened. I'm remembering the feeling after all, not recreating the magic. Or so I think. And then he opens his eyes. I almost jump back when something comes at his face with no warning, but I realize at the last minute it's his hand. He rubs for a second before his hand drops away and out of sight.

I want to look around the room at everything to see the walls, the window, the ceiling, but he doesn't comply. Instead he focuses on the floor for a long time. It looks more or less like a normal hardwood floor, though there's more space between each strip of wood than in most modern homes. And it's stained a strange greenish color. At least, I assume it's not natural.

Finally he turns his focus on something else. A bed. There's someone under the brightly colored quilt, though he doesn't look at their face. Instead he focuses on the bumps I assume are the person's feet as they lie on their back.

It drives me insane not being able to change the point of view no matter how much I move my own head. I have the feeling once I'm concentrating on my body again I'm going to have a kink in my neck from forcing it into weird positions while trying to shift Al's vision.

By the time his eyes travel up to the face of the person in the bed, I've already guessed it's his sister and he's talking to her. Not being able to hear what he's saying makes me feel deaf, though part of my mind can clearly make out every sound of the room I'm actually in. Still, I have an urge to rub my ears, but I refrain in case the movement causes me to break the connection with Al.

For the first time since making the link, Al focuses on exactly what I want him to look at. His sister has a round, almost childish, face; though I get the feeling she's around the same age as me. Her skin has turned a chalky color from the lack of sun and exercise, but otherwise it looks like any other teen's face. Although she appears to be asleep, something about her feels wrong. She doesn't seem relaxed enough, or restless enough, or something.

And then her eyes open and everything snaps back to the darkness of my own vision. I expect to hear Al's cry of astonishment and for him to call to his parents. But nothing happens. I want to go out and check for myself, but the sudden lack of sight is more crippling than when I first woke up. The bed feels like the only safe place in the entire world.

She opened her eyes. It has to mean something. It can't be normal for her to open her eyes. I never did. Did I? But he's not shouting, and before I jumped out of the spell, Al showed no signs of being surprised. It must be...normal.

It's awful.

How can he stand it? How can he stand having her look like she's awake and fine when there's absolutely nothing left inside of what makes her who she was?

"All right," Cindy enters the room without any warning. "I know you think I've been a total bitch since you woke up and okay, yeah, maybe I sort of have, but...hey, what's wrong?"

I try to make my face do anything other than scowl, but it doesn't want to cooperate. I shake my head 'no' as answer to her question.

"It's the blindness thing, isn't it?" She sighs and flops onto the bed beside me. Instantly my arm closest to her starts to itch. I scratch it absently, though I know it won't help. The feeling will only go away if she leaves and takes whatever magic she's got with her. "Look, I know I've been pretty insensitive about the whole thing, and I understand I'm the last person you want to talk to right now. But Al? Really? You're going to talk to him and not me?"

I don't say a word though I'm sure my scowl deepens.

She waits a moment before for me to defend myself, but when I don't she sighs. "Not why I came in here. Listen, I've been doing some thinking, and maybe this whole blindness thing is temporary. That kind of thing happens sometimes, right? When someone looks at something too bright for too long and loses their sight, but then it comes back. It might take a while, but it comes back."

Maybe I should be more positive about her theory, but I don't know how looking at a bright light and getting your magic sucked out of you are at all similar.

"So yeah, it's not exactly the same thing, but it's worth a try, right?"

I don't know if I zoned out for a minute or if she missed a sentence or two there, but either way I'm completely lost. "What?"

"It might not do anything," she warns. "I can't say my magic has been having a huge success rate throughout this whole adventure, but—"

"Adventure?" I laugh with derision. "You think of this as an 'adventure?' We both nearly died and I ended up in a coma because someone ripped my magic out of me, leaving my body to rot without me inside. Great adventure."

She barely lets me finish before saying, "Poor choice of words, I hear you."

"I don't think you do, Cindy." I stop her from continuing. "You have never in your life heard anything I, or anyone else said unless it pertained to you. You couldn't be bothered to mention the fact Al is a wizard. He could have tried to take my magic at any point while you ran off on your idiotic 'adventure.' Do you give a crap what happens to me, or would it all have been a whole lot easier if I never woke up?"

"Don't you dare." Her voice cracks as she says the words. "You think I haven't been sick with worry about you? You think I haven't been awake every second since this happened thinking of ways to fix you? Ways to make you okay again. You think I don't give a shit about you? Obviously you know nothing about me. Not very surprising. After all, you're Princess Lou. You have your head so far up your ass you don't see what's going on around you. And yes, I know that's a bad analogy right now, but you know exactly what I mean."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. "You think I don't pay attention?"

"I think you spend so much time making Mom or your latest boyfriend or your terrible friends think you're so perfect you don't know what else you could be anymore. You used to be interesting. You used to actually care about other people. Now all you do is go through the motions and hope no one notices you were dead inside long before your magic was sucked out of you."

I want to shout something back. Scream at her. Tear off her face. Do something. But I can't. I feel limp. It's like she can see inside of me and knows exactly what to say to hurt me the most.

But it's not true. Not entirely. Maybe I was headed there before. I'd been doing everything I was told, become friends with the people I was expected to become friends with, but I started to change. I took up Taekwondo though I knew no one approved.

What had Al said? Something about how I thought of fighting as another dance?

"How should I act, more like you?" I ask. "Go out with guys I don't like. Get into dangerous situations for the thrill? Change my looks every other day?"

A sound of disgust rises from her throat. "You should act however you want. I don't care what you do. You should be you. And stop judging everyone else because they don't do everything exactly how you think they should."

"This hasn't been an adventure." I bring back the point I made before the whole shouting match started. Even to my ears I sound like I'm sulking.

"And if you'd have let me finish, you'd already know I've been out looking for magic to help you." She stops to let her words sink in and make me feel a whole lot worse about my explosion. "Ass."

The last bit describes exactly how I feel. But, I can't apologize and I definitely can't say what I'm thinking without her making some snide comment, so I half laugh and grumble, "I hate you."

"Hate you too, sis." She rubs the top of my head affectionately. "Now I'm going to put some stuff on your face. Let me know if any of it works."

"Wait! My face? What are you putting on my-Blargh!"

Something cold, wet and slimy spreads over my forehead, smears over my eyebrows and then gently presses onto my eyelids. I pull away, but Cindy only puts more of the gunk onto my face.

"Stop moving," she says, a little too pleased with herself. "I have to really get it on there. The more you fight me, the more gets in your hair."

As though I didn't already look bad enough. "It's in my hair? Ugh!"

I bat her hand away and run my fingers through my now goopy locks in horror. When I pull my hands away I realize my mistake. Now it's not only on my face and in my hair, but also on my hands. Great. I don't have anything to wipe them on.

She finally sighs. "I guess that's enough. Don't move while I do the spell."

I stop leaning back though I point one finger at her in warning. "If you do something to ruin my hair or burn off my eyebrows or something, I will kill you."

"Don't worry, Lou." Hers hand grip my shoulders as she forces me to lean toward her a little. "I work in illusions and visions, not with burning stuff."

I take a deep breath and prepare for the strange tingling feeling of magic.

"Plus, if I do destroy your face I can illusion it to look the same. No prob."

"What? Wait!"

But it's too late, the tingling and burning has already started as Cindy says a few words in a foreign language. I didn't know she knew anything other than English and maybe like four words of French.

I squeeze my eyelids shut tighter as the magic shifts to focus completely on my eyes. I've never needed to rub them more. And then the feeling stops.

## Chapter Twenty One

"Going to open your eyes or what?" I recognize the sound of Cindy tapping her fingers on her thigh.

My face twists in disgust. "I can't open them with this gook all over my face."

She sighs and the bed shifts as she jumps off and rushes away. I catch myself imitating her finger tap and force myself to stop. I can't get too excited yet. Not until I know one way or another. She returns after only a few seconds and presses some sort of material to my skin, holding it there until I take it and wipe off my face.

As soon as I open my eyes I close them again.

"Well?" she asks.

I can't speak. Hysterical sobs form at the back of my throat, but I manage to swallow them back. Finally I shake my head, but I'm sure she already understands from the look on my face.

"Shit," she growls.

For once she's understating how I feel.

"Shit, shit, shit. It should have worked. There was enough magic in the stuff to heal anything. Combined with my specialty with vision, it should have been more than enough."

I feel like I should be comforting her somehow. At least let her know it's not her fault and thank her for trying. Instead I focus on not letting more tears come.

Cindy touches my face a few times, as though that will make a difference. "There must be something else. There must be some other plant, or magical item, or maybe we could find another sorceress, or—"

"No." I speak firmly to stop her from saying any more.

"Lou, I can fix this. You have to trust me."

"How dangerous would a search be?" I ask, knowing she has no answer. "How long would it take? And what if it's all for nothing? What if nothing can make this better?"

She wavers for a minute. "I have to do something."

"And what about Mom? Are we going to leave her wondering if we're alive or dead?" I don't want to start another argument, but she has to know we can't stay forever. "We have to go back. We belong there."

"Yeah, but, what if we don't really?" she says.

Her question confuses me. "Of course we do."

"But think about it. Why don't we see witches and wizards and sorceresses in our world?" She waits a beat, but I don't say anything. "Maybe they don't belong there. Maybe they all come from this world and have gone through a portal like the one in Gran's house. What if the only reason we were born in our world was because Gran came from here? It would mean this is where we're supposed to be."

I shake my head. In some weird way she makes sense, but this still isn't our home.

"We can't do that to Mom."

She heaves the longest sigh I've ever heard and settles farther back on the bed until I hear a thud which I can only imagine is her head hitting the wall.

"She's going to kill me," Cindy says after a minute.

I groan. "You and me both."

She laughs. "You? No. You're her perfect princess, remember? I'm older than you and it isn't like this is my first offense. Plus, I not only allowed you to regain your magic, but also have the same magic sucked out of you, which put you in a coma, and then made you blind. Oh no, she's going to do worse than murder me."

"Maybe we should leave out the magic and coma stuff." I snort.

She's not as amused. "What about the blindness thing? Tell her you woke up one morning and, oops, you couldn't see?"

"Well," I say. "It's the truth."

She groans and I can sense her move her arms like she's messing up her hair with both hands.

"Fine," she says. "I'll call her. Think you can get my phone to work here?"

"Don't know," I admit. "I'll try."

When she hands me her phone, at first I have no idea where to begin. And then I remember the spell with Al. It seemed to work because of a combination of willing it to and being able to connect to him in a way I can't quite explain. It was like there was no difference between where I ended and he began. Everything is a different level of energy, and it's simply a matter of shaping my magic to connect rather than conflict with the energy.

Or, at least, that might be how it works.

I focus on the phone the same way I'd focused on Al. At first, all I can feel is the cold plastic. There isn't a trace of magic in the thing. It's kind of like the technology repels the energy everything else is packed with. As I concentrate, I notice a slight change in the feel of the phone. The cool temperature shifts as it absorbs the heat from my hand. If it can absorb warmth, then it can also take in my magic.

The tingling barely registers in my mind as I gently press my magic into the plastic and let it bleed into every inch of the thing. Once I can feel the phone as though it's a simple, though odd, extension of myself, I hand it back to Cindy.

"I think it will work," I tell her.

"Perfect." She stands up from the bed and starts pacing. "And so you know, you make faces when you're using your magic." I open my mouth to protest but she interrupts by announcing, "Amazing, it's actually ringing."

I sneer and roll my eyes. "Thanks for the confidence."

There's a click indicating someone on the other end of the line has picked up. "Listen, Mom, before you say anything, things aren't nearly as bad as they seem," Cindy says quickly, making me cringe as I can imagine Mom's reaction. There wasn't much worse she could have started with.

But when the sound of Cindy pacing suddenly stops, I notice the noise from the other side of the phone isn't Mom's screams as I expect. Instead it's deeper. A man's voice. But who...

"Stewart," Cindy says at the same moment I realize who's on the other line. Her voice cuts out as she says the word and she's forced to take a couple of sharp breaths before saying, "What do you want?"

I can't make out most of what he says, but there's no mistaking the word "box." The rest doesn't matter. I know what he wants and he's got a bargaining chip we can't ignore. Mom. The air seems to grow heavier as everything around me slows and blurs. It can't be real. This can't be happening. Not now. Things are starting to be okay again. I can deal with the blindness. I can go back home and maybe even get along with Cindy and everything will be almost normal again.

"Where do you want to do the exchange?" Cindy's voice no longer holds the fear it did before, instead sounding cold and emotionless. I don't know which frightens me more, her being afraid or her giving up.

"Fine," she finishes and the sound of Stewart's voice is gone.

Neither of us says a word. There's no need. I reach over to my purse, find the box and hand it over. But to my surprise, she doesn't take it.

"What are you waiting for?" I ask. "We have to go make the exchange. Who knows what he's going to do to her. What he'll get Borin to do."

"It's not going to be so easy," she says.

She leaves the room, still without taking the box from my hand. I stand and stumble my way after her. Luckily she hasn't gone far. I run into her as her fist slams against wood, possibly another door. It has to be the one to Al's sister's room.

"What's his game?" Cindy demands as soon as the door squeaks open.

"What are you talking about?" Al asks.

"You're a wizard. You've been trained as one and while you might not want to admit it, you think like one. So tell me, what's Stewart's end game?"

"What's happened?" he asks. "What has he done?"

"He's got our mother," Cindy tells him. At the word mother, her voice breaks, revealing how close she is to tears, though I know she won't show her fear for more than a second. She continues angrily. "He wants the box in exchange. But he's not going to let it end with that, is he?"

"No," Al agrees. "Not after you tricked him the way you did. How do you know he's got her?"

"I talked to him. She was in the background."

"Did she sound hurt?" I ask, desperate to know, but afraid of what Cindy might tell me. "Is she okay?"

"She sounded pissed," she half laughs, though there's a note of the same fear from earlier.

"And there's no way it was a trick?" Al asks. "Maybe he was using magic to make it sound like it was her."

"He answered her cellphone." She chokes on her words but is able to continue on without pausing. "She never lets go of the thing. Plus, I know illusions, and that wasn't one. Trust me, he's got her."

"And he says he wants the box," Al confirms.

"We need to give it to him," I say. I don't understand why we're discussing this right now; it all seems so simple to me. "We give it to him, he gives us Mom."

"You would be making a mistake," Al says.

"Why?" I ask. "I understand the box is magic and he'll use it for evil, but it's still only a box. We're talking about our mother's life."

"Because it doesn't matter if we give him the box, he's not going to let any of us go," Cindy says. "He will kill us all the second we hand the thing over."

None of this feels real. Who would actually kill someone over a box? Even a magic one. Accepting magic as being real was easier than believing people like Stewart exist. And he's got my mother right now.

"You do have one advantage, though," Al reminds us. "He doesn't know you brought Lou back. And he probably doesn't think I'd stick around to help you either. I'll bet he expects you to go alone."

"He also doesn't expect me to be coming from another world," Cindy agrees. "But there's something you're not saying. What is it?"

He doesn't speak for a long time.

"How bad is it?" Cindy asks, surprising me. I wish I could see Al's face to know why she's so worried, but then again, maybe I'm better off not seeing.

"It's just, if you're right and the voice wasn't an illusion..."

"It wasn't."

"Then now you've heard it, there's no reason for him to keep her alive."

"No!" I don't realize I'm repeating the word until I've said it at least half a dozen times. "He can't. She can't be..."

"There's always a chance he'll decide it's better to keep her alive until you arrive," he says, though I can hear the doubt in his voice.

Hands grip my shoulders and shake me several times, but I barely feel it. It's impossible not to picture Mom's body broken and bleeding on the floor with Stewart standing over her with a cruel smile spread across his face.

"Stop it," Cindy says as she shakes me. "Do not fall apart now. Not when we need you more than ever. When Mom needs you."

I push her hands off me and nod once.

"What do you want me to do?"

"There isn't a choice," Al says.

Before he finishes, I already know what he's going to say.

"You need to kill Stewart."

## Chapter Twenty Two

"Kill him?" My words come out meekly.

"It's the only way," Al says.

"Whoa, hold on now," Cindy says. "We have magic now. I mean, not a lot and she's still getting used to it, granted, but couldn't there be another way?"

"A spell can be broken." His warning sends a chill down my spine. "He would come after you stronger than ever."

"We're talking about murder." I almost think Cindy is going to be reasonable for a minute. I should have known better. "How would we manage it? It's not like he's going to hand us a gun and say, 'go to 'er.'"

"Are you seriously saying you could?" I ask, horrified at the thought. I'm not sure who I'm asking, though I suppose it doesn't matter since I can't picture either of them as murderers. "If you had the chance, could you really kill someone?"

"It's him or you," Al says.

"There has to be another way," Cindy says. "Something not involving jail time."

"Yes, or murder," I say. "If you tell me what to do, I'm sure I can manage it. I'm starting to get the hang of this magic thing."

Not exactly true, but I'm desperate to steer things away from killing. Every time they mention it, all I can see is blood and horror and I can't open my eyes to make the images go away.

Cindy snaps her fingers. "The rock in the barn. Everyone froze stiff as long as they were looking at it. There has to be something more permanent we can use."

"Maybe," Al says. "I know a place where you might find a way."

Cindy's interest is piqued. "Is it close?"

"It's your grandmother's house." Al doesn't sound pleased to say as much.

"Can't," Cindy says. "Stewart's waiting for us there. We need a plan before we go anywhere near the place."

"He's waiting in your world," Al reminds us. "I'm talking about the version of the house here."

I can practically feel Cindy's excitement as she realizes he's right, but I'm not convinced.

"How do we know he hasn't found the portal already?" I ask. "He could be in this world right now. And do we know for sure there's anything helpful there that's worth risking it?"

"Maybe not," Al says. "But I used to visit the house a lot as a child. There were items there, as if stored to keep them safe."

"Not so safe if kids were getting into them," Cindy says.

"That's the thing, we never touched them." He grows thoughtful. "It was as if there was something preventing us from getting too close. I didn't understand it then, but I'm sure it was some sort of magic barrier."

"And now we've got our very own sorceress to break the barrier." Cindy claps me on the shoulder.

I think the tension might be getting to me because as soon as her hand touches me, I grab it and twist her arm enough she whimpers a little. I'm sure I scared her more than hurt her. Well, pretty sure. But she should have known better.

"Sorry," I mumble and drop her hand.

"It's good," Al says when Cindy grumbles something about blind ninjas under her breath. "You need to be ready for anything. This isn't going to be easy."

"We don't have much time," Cindy says. "Let's go see what's being protected at Gran's house."

The walk is excruciating, with Cindy attempting to lead me at a pace I would have a hard time keeping up with even if I wasn't blind. I catch my toes on what seems like every single rock and branch and the uneven ground does a number on my ankles. I end up falling and scraping the skin on the palms of my hands. Three times. I'm glad I'm wearing jeans or else the damage to my legs would be worse. As it is, every time the rough material scrapes my knees the skin rubs a little rawer.

When Cindy starts to slow down, I can only assume it's because we're almost at the house. Since no one's spoken since we left Al's, I can't know for certain.

"It's been a long time since I've been here," Al breaks the silence. "There's a chance things aren't exactly as I remember. Or someone's come and already taken everything."

"Got it," Cindy says. "Expectations have been lowered. Now how about a way in?"

"Use the front door."

Something jangles from Al's direction.

"You have the keys from our world," Cindy says.

"I do." He shakes them again, and this time I recognize the sound.

"Are you going to give them to me?"

"No." As Cindy starts to protest, he stops her and continues. "There's another set around back. Same place as these were. If we're going to do this right, we're going to need both sets."

"Why?" I ask, as Cindy starts to complain some more.

"Because like I said before, even if we find something in here we can use, the best advantage we have is the fact he thinks Sin will go alone. This means we can't all go through the portal to your world as one clumsy group."

There's a hint of suspicion in Cindy's voice when she asks, "You're going to go in with Lou?"

"Is that a problem?" He reveals nothing of how he feels.

"I don't know," Cindy says, equally as emotionless. "Is it?"

"It's fine," I say. "It makes sense for us to go together. Will Cindy go in first and then we'll wait and follow?"

"Not exactly," Al says.

Instead of explaining what he means, he steps away while Cindy pulls me to a stop. A few minutes later, we're inside the house. The magic I've been sensing since waking intensifies until it feels like actual hands running over my arms and head, putting pressure on my chest and lungs. I double over, gasping for air as I push back the magic to a point where the pressure is tolerable.

"What is it?" Cindy asks. "Are you okay?"

I manage to straighten. "There's definitely magic here. It's not too friendly either."

"Do you think Gran left it here?" she asks.

"If she did, I'm glad I was never on her bad side."

Once I've managed to shove the pressure back a bit, the only thing still affected is my head. Every minute we stay in the room, the pounding grows a little worse. I'm not sure if it's from the magic or from my struggling attempt to control it with my own power.

"Any chance we can go a little faster?" I press my hand to my forehead. "I'm starting to understand what a migraine feels like."

"Over here." Al guides us through a door where my arm scrapes against the frame, and leads us into what I think must be Gran's study. The pressure increases and I know whatever the magic is supposed to keep us from is close.

"Is that it?" Cindy asks.

I wish more than anything my head wasn't pounding so much so I could do the magic to see through her eyes. Instead I'm forced to clamp my hand harder to my head and hope someone tells me what's happening soon.

"Yes," Al says.

"I can't look directly at it," Cindy says. "Think it's the same sort of magic as what hid the door?"

Al doesn't answer which drives me insane. Don't they know I'm relying on them to tell me what's happening?

"Lou?" he says. "Are you sure you're all right?"

I ignore the stupid question and point toward where the magic feels strongest. "Are the items in that area?"

He hesitates. "Yes, but..."

"Perfect."

I carefully step toward the source of the power and am instantly hit by a more localized soreness between my eyes. I push back at the magic even harder and continue to move forward. If there's something to help defeat Stewart and save Mom, there's no way a little bit of pain is going to stop me from finding it.

I take another step and nearly collapse as the pressure smashes against my stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of me.

"Is her nose bleeding?" Cindy's voice only half registers in my screaming mind.

But it doesn't matter. I can feel the source of the magic now, its image burned into my mind without ever needing to actually see it with my eyes. A wax seal pressed on a folded piece of paper. So simple, and yet pulsing with power. Layers of magic fold into the wax as though the sorceress who created the spell spent days building it up to make it so powerful.

I'm also sure I wasn't feeling nearly the full effect of the magic. It's meant to hide the objects from average people and warn sorceresses away. But for a full wizard, the magic would rip him apart.

My hand feels like it's moving through ever hardening concrete as I reach for the paper and seal. When it's in my hand, I do the only thing I can think of that might work. I turn it to ash.

The flames engulf my hand, but compared to the pain of the foreign magic, I don't notice the heat.

With the pressure of the spell gone along with the seal, I collapse onto my knees, exhausted and empty.

"You're not going to puke are you?" Cindy asks.

I ignore her since the alternative is to think about the word she used and...

Cool fingers run through my hair and rest on the back of my neck, doing wonders for both my stomach and headache.

"Thanks," I say to Al, standing with his help.

"Nice work with the fire," he says.

"Honestly, I have my doubts I could do it again." I bite my lip, wishing I was just being modest.

"I'm not surprised. Going up against a full sorceress's spell when you barely have control over your magic, well, let's say things could have gone a lot worse."

"We've got a winner!" Cindy says.

I hadn't realized Cindy moved on to look at the items the magic protected. After the feeling of the guarding spell, the items barely have any magical qualities at all. It seems unlikely she could find something useful so fast.

"What is it?" I ask.

"This stuff," she says. "All of it is described in the book I got from the box. Just a second while I try to figure out some of Gran's short hand."

I try to move a little closer to her, though I'm not sure why. It's not like I can read the book over her shoulder. "You got one of Gran's books."

"Shh," she says. "Reading. There's a bunch of stuff in here on protection and hiding." She flips through a few of the noisy pages. "I'm sure this object held the spell Lou took care of for us."

"What about the rest?" Al is clearly not as impressed by the book as Cindy. "Anything useful?"

Cindy doesn't answer, I'm assuming because she's too busy reading. Instead of waiting for her to explain what she's found, I focus on the objects Al is checking out. I don't have the strength yet to look through his eyes, but I can sense the magic held within each item. They each give a different feel depending on how big or small it is, or whether it's natural or manmade. So much information can be sensed through the magic, I can picture each item perfectly in my mind.

One in particular catches my attention.

"Is that a telephone?" I point in the general direction of a particularly odd bit of magic.

The strange part is, much like when I attempted to put magic into the cell phone, there's a strong feeling of technology acting as a barrier. Instead of keeping the magic out as it had with mine, it's wrapped around a big slab of magic as though holding it inside. What it looks like is also the most clear in my mind. A fairly big base with a circular disk on the front and a hand held piece attached by a curling wire. I'd seen one at Gran's house when I was younger, and I used to have fun putting my fingers into the holes of the disk and turning, then having it go back into place all on its own.

"Wait," Cindy calls out. "Don't touch anything."

"What's wrong?" Al asks, and I realize it's him reaching for the phone.

"There's a lot more to these items then protection and hiding. Dangerous stuff."

"Such as what?" A few footsteps follow and I'm pretty sure Al's gone to stand with Cindy.

"I don't know yet." She flaps the book, causing a slight breeze in the room. "Still reading. Just don't touch for now, alright?"

I let them talk as I continue to concentrate on the rotary phone. There's something else both familiar and completely foreign about how it feels. The magic inside is wrong but I can't quite figure how.

Suddenly Cindy gasps and starts to get excited.

"Do you know the story of the genie in the lamp?" she asks. "Find a lamp, rub it three times and a genie will pop out to give you three wishes."

It's almost as though the magic in the phone is fragmented. As if it's made up of a bunch of magic from a number of people. But even that isn't exactly right. There's something else.

There's amusement in Cindy's voice. "Well, either I know how the story was started, or Gran was inspired to try it out herself. Except instead of using a lamp, she'd use anything around her. And instead of a genie, she'd trap wizards."

I feel sick as I realize exactly what I sense inside the phone. It's not a spell by a bunch of people, but magic stolen and contaminated by a wizard.

"You're saying there are wizards inside each of these objects?" Al asks while taking a step away from the table and bumping into me.

"I don't know if they all have one," Cindy says. "But I'd rather not check either. How about you?"

"And the result is permanent?" Al asks. "The protection spell Lou broke isn't going to release them, is it?"

"I'm pretty sure it was only meant to keep people away. They should stay stuck so long as no one actively releases them, such as by opening a jar or wearing a necklace."

"Or cutting the bag of toenails," I say, though my attention is still focused on the phone.

"Exactly!" Cindy says, suddenly very excited. "That's exactly what this spell is like, except it traps the entire person, not just a part of them."

"But you need a part of the person to use for the spell," Al reminds us. "Such as the toenails in Lou's case."

"Or the wizard's voice for the phone," I say aloud before I completely understand what I'm saying. I can feel the others staring at me, though I'm not sure if they think I'm being ridiculous or if they've come to the same conclusion I have. I'm hoping for the second as I continue. "It doesn't need to be a physical part of someone. It can be something like a reflection or a photo or—"

"Photo," Cindy gasps. "Our cells. We could take a picture and no one would know what's happening."

"And the technology will help make the trap even stronger," I say. "Though, it will also make the magic necessary to set the trap more difficult."

"Capturing someone's image can be very powerful," Al says. "But are you sure you can do this?"

"We have to," Cindy says. "There's no way any of us are capable of killing. Right?"

There's something about the way Al agrees that makes me feel anxious, but I push it aside and focus on what needs to be done.

"How does the spell work?"

## Chapter Twenty Three

The spell turns out to be straight forward enough to create, which makes me a little nervous about how effective it's going to be. Cindy, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have any problem with its simplicity.

"Some of the most effective spells are a mixture of a couple of basic substances." Cindy makes a bit of a racket as she picks up and set down items. "It's a matter of knowing what items to put together. Like baking or chemistry."

Her assurances don't make me feel any better since I'm bad at both of those things, and as far as I know, she is too. Then again, I'd never seen her try either so who knows, maybe she's a natural. Hopefully.

The particular mixture needed for the trapping spell is simply a balance of the four elements.

"What do you mean?" I ask when Cindy reads the description. "I don't think tossing the cell phones into a bunch of fire and water and earth is going to help anything. We need a working phone when we're done after all. And how do you put air on something anyway? Isn't it already covered in the stuff?"

"The elements are in everything," Al says when Cindy growls her frustration at my lack of understanding. "And usually for things like this, it's less about working directly with the elements but instead using something representing them and holds a large amount of magic."

"Such as?" I can't imagine what he could mean.

"Fire could be ash for instance," Al explains.

"Such as the ash from a certain protection spell burnt very recently," Cindy adds. "Earth can be the dust of the some of the most magical plants I've ever seen. Water, the saliva of a sorceress."

It takes me a minute to register what she's saying, and when it does click, my face contorts in repulsion. "Are you serious?"

"Very."

"You expect me to spit on my phone?" There's no way I'm doing anything of the sort.

"Actually, I've already started with mine," she says. "So that one first. Then yours."

She shoves it in front of my face so close I can smell the burnt bits of paper and wax combined with the crushed flowers and the original plastic of the phone.

"Think of trapping and binding as you spit," she tells me as I resign myself to the task.

I build up the saliva in my mouth and hope I don't completely miss the phone and hit her hand, or worse, my own hand.

"And finally," she says as though I hadn't spat at her, "air. Or, the breath of a witch."

She whispers a single word in the same language she'd spoken for the spell to fix my sight. Since her other spell didn't work, she's not adding to my confidence for this one.

"I thought you didn't know the language of magic," Al says when she's done.

"Gran taught me a couple of things," she brushes off his suspicion. "Ending a spell is the first thing I learned."

"That's it?" I'm still alarmed at how easy the whole thing is. "I don't need to do anything more with my magic?"

"Just need to repeat with your phone."

I hand it to her and together we complete the spell more quickly than the first time. The mounting pressure for us to hurry urges us on. Mom is still in trouble and we've spent so much time in this world already. As Al said, there is no knowing for sure whether or not she's still alive.

I have to believe she is, and I know Cindy feels the same way.

"Are you sure this will work?" I ask as we make our way back outside.

"Yes," Cindy says more confidently than I'm betting she actually feels. "Remember to turn your phone off the second he's trapped." She shakes my shoulder for emphasis. "I want to know what you're thinking, Al."

"It will work," Al says.

"You don't sound so sure, but that's not what I meant. You said before you don't think we should go in together and you don't plan on waiting to go in a few minutes after me, but what other options are there?"

"Enter from either side," he says.

"From either side of what?" I ask.

"The doorway," he explains. "Sin will go through the door inside the house which will lead outside. Once she goes through the door and into your world, she'll climb up to the roof on the back of the house and bring herself around to the front. They shouldn't suspect anything unusual."

"And you'll come from the outside and end up upstairs inside the house." Cindy grunts her approval. "Couple of problems, though. Are you sure the door works both ways?"

"No," Al admits, "but if it doesn't, we can always make our way back to the house and go through the other direction. Not ideal, but we should be able to make it work."

"What's the other problem?" I ask.

"Why the hell do I have to come all the way out here and get the other set of keys?" Cindy demands. "There's no need for all of us to walk out to the back of the house like this."

"Didn't want you rushing in without us," Al says and I can hear the amusement in his voice. It makes me want to smile, especially since I know how annoyed Cindy must be.

But any hint of a smile is instantly gone from my lips in an instant when a strange male voice says, "Look who's woken up."

A screech rips through the air, my skin to turning to ice. The sound is too similar to the chimera, but different enough I know we're dealing with something new.

I'm sure the voice comes from a wizard. The wrongness of his magic itches at my skin, tries to crawl underneath and makes my entire body feel like it's been covered in slime.

"Odd you managed to bring her back, Aldric," the wizard says, "but you still haven't reached your potential."

One of Al's hands touches my arm as he positions himself between the wizard and me while the other draws his blade.

"I suggest you take this last chance," the wizard continues. "Before I take her instead."

"You want me to take her magic." The tone in Al's voice shifts as he realizes something beyond my understanding. "You're not here because you felt power the other day, are you?"

"Did you think the University wouldn't have someone watch over you?" The horrible creature makes another screeching sound to mimic the wizard's laughter. "It's the rare student who chooses not to ask for a task from the Sword. The only reason you've been left this long is because you seemed to have promise. After all, it's not every wizard who'd give up his own sister's life for the cause."

It isn't surprising the comment makes Al angry enough to attack the wizard, even though he's completely out matched. His growl of anger is followed by a clash of steel.

It takes only an instant for the wizard to prepare and throw a dangerous spell at Al. I don't think before throwing my hands up and pushing my own magic out as a barrier around both Al and myself. It's nothing compared to the protection spell Gran left in the house, but it does the trick. The fragmented and tainted magic hits the barrier hard, but doesn't pass through. The wrongness of his spell touching my barrier affects me more than the actual attack. My stomach revolts against me until I'm forced to lower one of my hands to clutch at my belly.

The act weakens the barrier, but Al's blade completely destroys it. I know he is going for the wizard, but the feeling of his blade slicing my magic is almost as bad as a direct blow and causes me to stagger back several steps. All made worse because of my shaky balance.

But I can't let it put me off too long. He's going to cast more magic, and I need to be ready.

The wizard's energy builds too quickly. I'm not going to be able to get my barrier up in time.

And then, nothing.

It's not like he drops the spell, or someone interrupts it. It's like his magic isn't there anymore.

"It—It worked." Cindy sounds confused. "I got him. I—Watch out!"

I'm shoved to the ground with someone landing on top of me, pinning me in place.

"Stay," Al says into my ear before leaping back to his feet. I start to sit up, wishing more than anything someone would tell me what's going on. This time Al's warning comes as a shout. "Stay down, out of the griffin's reach."

There's another screech from the creature, this time much closer and only feet from my head. And there's something else I hadn't noticed before; the sound of something slapping against the wind. Is it possible the creature is flying? But from the noise it makes, it has to be huge, around the size of a horse.

I flatten myself against the ground and hope it doesn't land, especially not on top of me.

"Use your dust," Al shouts. "Like you did in the barn with the chimera."

"All I did is scare it," Cindy calls back from a bit farther away. She isn't lying completely useless on the ground. "You said the only people who can control these are—DUCK!"

There's some shuffling, grunting and then what sounds like a body hitting the ground. From the sound of the creature, I know it hasn't fallen, which only leaves two other possibilities.

"Do it!" Al yells.

Cindy's magic is as powerful as I remember, even without being able to see anything. It causes my stomach to swirl and for the ground to feel like its falling out from under me. It's a relief when the feeling of terror fades, but lying down is no longer an option. I need to get up.

"I don't think it's going to stay away," Cindy says.

"I see it," Al says. There's a swooshing sound and what must be keys clanking together. "Take them and go."

"But I can try again. I might be able to..."

"It won't work. Just go." When she doesn't move, he adds, "What are you waiting for?"

"I need the box. It's the only way I can distract Stewart."

I paw the ground for where I might have dropped my purse. When I find it, I have to spend more precious seconds digging for the thing. I knew I should have gone with a smaller bag.

She kneels beside me to take the box. "At least we know the phone idea works," she says with a nervous laugh.

Cindy's nervousness makes me realize what has happened.

"You can't use your cell again," I say. "It's already trapped one wizard and you can't turn it on without releasing him."

"Don't worry about it, we'll figure something out."

"Take mine," I say while pulling my cell phone from my pocket and handing it to her.

"No way. I'm the distraction, remember. You need it to get the bastard."

I shake my head and flash a confident smile. "I have my magic and Al. You need it more."

She hesitates for way too long. I can already feel the magic of the creature getting closer. I find her hand and press the phone into her palm.

"Do not get yourself killed," she says firmly. "Understand?"

"Hey, Sin," I say as she starts to leave. "Kick his ass."

## Chapter Twenty Four

A second after she leaves, a hand grabs my arm and lifts me the rest of the way to my feet.

"Think you can climb a ladder on your own?" Al half carries me, half guides me through the long grass.

"My own?" My heart beats a little faster. "What about you? You aren't going to fight, are you?"

"I'll be right behind you, promise. I'm just wondering if I need to carry you."

"I can climb," I assure him.

He slows down and steps behind me to take each of my hands in his own. His chest presses against my back and forces me to continue forward, but only a few feet. If I couldn't feel the creature coming ever closer, I might have been tempted to enjoy the extra bit of contact. Even with the immediate danger, I can't help but feel a little safer while he's wrapped around me like this.

It's hard at first to judge the distance between each step, especially since they seem to be placed so unevenly. And then things get immensely worse when the ladder shifts and shakes as Al starts to climb with me.

"Is this thing made to carry two people?" I ask when there's a foreboding creak from somewhere beneath me.

"No choice," he says. "The griffin's already circling."

As though on cue, the creature cries out, the sound much closer than I'm expecting. I move a bit faster, but it only makes me clumsier as I misjudge my next step and my foot slips out from under me.

I hold tighter with my hands and quickly regain my footing, only to have the ladder jerk to one side as Al attempts to ward off the creature. When I reach for the next step, my hand meets the wood of the door instead. The magic shrouding it has a bit of the danger I felt inside of the house, but it doesn't hurt in nearly the same way.

After a few seconds of urgently patting the wood and reaching higher and higher, I finally find the handle and turn it.

"Al?" I say while fighting to stay balanced on the ladder as it shifts under me again, this time with my feet on the top rung and my hands holding on to nothing but the handle of the door. "I need the key."

No answer. And the griffin is starting to sound much too pleased with the whole situation. I desperately try the door handle again, this time pouring some of my magic into it to see if it will open it. The magic protecting the door simply absorbs what I put into it, making me feel more drained.

"Al!"

One hand grips my hip while one of his legs snakes in between mine on the same ladder rung as I'm standing. He pulls himself up so he's flat against me with my hair in his face and once again I feel the fleeting bit of excitement at his touch. Until the step we're both on cracks.

"Hold on," he says.

"To what?"

Before he can answer, the handle twists in my hand and the door swings out toward me. Without Al behind me, I would have instantly fallen backward off the ladder, but somehow he manages not only to shift his own weight to the side and out of the way of the door, but mine as well.

I fall forward and catch my balance the only way I can, by lunging forward. My shoulder slams against the doorframe, but I'm able to get the rest of me inside the house without any more incidents.

The creature's final screech of anger is cut off as Al closes the door quickly behind us.

"That was—"

His hand slaps over my mouth before I can finish while his other arm snakes around my waist and pulls me back. For a split second my instinct tells me to fight, but then I hear what Al must have already caught. There's someone nearby.

I can't tell at first if they are upstairs or down, but then two voices speak and I realize the sound is coming from the living room. It's like a twisted version of when I was young and would hold my breath and pretend to be asleep while Mom and Gran would argue.

Al lets his hand fall from my mouth, but leaves his other arm wrapped around me. Slowly, so as to make as little noise as possible, we move as one away from the stairs and into Gran's old bedroom.

"What now?" I whisper when I'm sure it's safe.

"We wait for your sister."

Standing around and waiting is not something I'm very good at. I have to force myself not to start pacing since I know how creaky the old hardwood floor can be. I wish I knew where Mom is and if she's safe. I want to bang down each of the doors until I find her, but that's not the plan. Cindy needs to distract them first, and then we can make our move.

What is taking her so long?

I know I'm stretching my magic thin already and I should conserve what little I have left for the attack, but when I hear Cindy outside shouting, "Stewart! I've got what you want," I can't help but slip into her eyes and see for myself what's happening.

As she waits in front of the house, Cindy's focus darts from place to place so she's able to take in everything and nothing at the same time. I have no idea how she can keep her eyes moving so fast. After only a few seconds of her nervous glancing I'm already starting to feel nauseated.

Her eyes shift most often to the door and the windows at the front of the house. Once she glances up and a shadow in the top floor window startles me. Someone's watching her from upstairs. And not from just anywhere upstairs, but from Gran's bedroom.

I'm about to jump out of her head before I realize it is Al and me she's seeing. She takes in our shadow for a second longer before moving her head in a nod.

Then the door opens and her focus goes to the entrance to the house. I brace myself, ready to see the man who not only has taken my mother, but also ripped the magic from my body and left me for dead.

Except, there's no one in the doorway.

They must have opened the door using magic. Instead of meeting her outside as I'd assumed they would, they're going to force Cindy to go inside, leaving her with nowhere to run.

She doesn't move.

"Where's my mother?" Her voice carries upstairs much better now the front door is open. "Let me see her or the deal's off."

"Of course, my dear," Stewart says in his ever-calm way.

The sound of his voice only feet from me, although he's downstairs while we're up, is enough to break my connection with Cindy. If he shows her Mom, I don't get to see it.

But I do hear her as Mom shouts, "Stay the hell away from my daughter, you sick son of a—" before her voice is muffled.

I start to run from the room, ready to tear downstairs and kill anyone who gets in my way, but Al's arm holds me still while his hand slides over my mouth again.

"Not yet," he murmurs while I weakly fight him. "At least you know she's alive. Let's keep it that way."

When I relax a little in his arms and nod my agreement to calm down, he leans away and to the window.

"Bring him outside, Sin," he growls. "Don't fall into his...Bugger."

"What?" I ask. "What's going on?"

"Stay here and stay low. I'm going to draw their attention. Don't worry. I'll keep them away from this room."

"Wait, Al!" I hiss the words as loud as I dare, but he's already gone.

I jump when there's a creak of the floorboards down the hall and my first reaction is to prepare to fight. But there's no one to battle with. It takes me several more tense moments to realize it was Al who made the noise, on purpose.

The voices downstairs stop the second they hear the creak, but nothing else happens. Al makes another, louder noise. This time I know they won't be able to ignore him. Someone will have to come upstairs to investigate, and the second they find Al, they'll kill him.

And then there's Mom and Cindy downstairs. I can hear two men's voices still, so why hasn't Cindy used her phone yet? If she's been hurt or been placed under some spell so she can't take the photo, then I can't leave them while I attempt to help Al.

When I hear the growling, grinding sound of the chimera followed by a muffled scream, I stop thinking and push forward. I know the house well enough to be able to get to the stairs with only a small scrape against the side of the bedroom door. With my hand on the railing I start down the steps.

I make it down two before I sense the fragmented feel of a wizard's magic. My heart pounds as I realize whoever was going to check on Al's noise hasn't actually made it all of the way to the top of the stairs yet. And I've run straight at him.

"You!" Borin's voice is almost as embedded in my brain as Stewart's, so I recognize it instantly. "You're awake?"

Surprise!

Using the railing for balance, I do a forward jump kick with both feet, judging the distance between us based on the feel of his magic. I'm a little off, so when my kick lands a bit sooner than I expect, I'm not quite ready to balance myself against the force and end up smacking my knee pretty hard against the stairs.

From the sounds of it, my knee doesn't hit nearly as hard as Borin does as he falls back downwards the stairs.

I don't have time to be pleased with the kick since even if I managed to knock him out, there's still the matter of his pet, not to mention Stewart.

"Lou," Stewart's voice echoes through the house, though he doesn't seem to speak above a normal talking voice. "How nice to see you up and about."

"Sweetie!" Mom shouts from downstairs, and I can tell she's both relieved and terrified to know I'm there. The bastard must have told her what he did to me. "Run! Get out of here."

She needn't have bothered saying anything, since I'm already half running and half crawling back up the stairs.

"Watch them," Stewart says all too pleasantly and my stomach sinks as I realize Borin must still be conscious. "I'm going to see if she tastes as good the second time."

"Don't you dare," Mom shouts. "You stay away from her or so help me..."

"And Borin," Stewart adds. "Take care of those two, will you?"

A set of hands grabs my arm as I make it to the top of the steps and pulls me to one side.

"I told you to stay," Al growls, though I can tell there's more fear in his voice than anger.

"I didn't listen," I say.

"Apparently not. Do you have the devise ready?"

"I gave it to Cindy."

"You..." He's silent for only a second, but it feels like it stretches for ages. "Fine. Stay back. I'll deal with this."

I grab at his arm to hold him back. "He'll kill you."

"Could you listen to me for once?" Although he's trying to sound annoyed, the hand on my cheek tells me he's actually worried.

"My dear Lou," Stewart's voice seems to be coming from everywhere. It echoes against each wall, making it impossible to know which direction I should face. "There is no point in running. You are a surprising little thing, aren't you?"

The voice comes closer while Al shoves me back so he has more room to draw his sword.

"And the wizardling." The sound of Stewart condenses until I can finally tell where he is in the room. "Are you still playing this game of protecting the sorceress? I'd expected you to have moved on by now."

"Don't," Al says in a voice as dark as Stewart's. "I won't let you touch her."

"My dear boy." The amusement in Stewart's tone instantly disappears. "Did you learn nothing from your last lesson?"

His magic builds impossibly fast and I'm barely able to throw up protection in time. It's not enough to completely stop the blast of energy from hitting Al, but it's enough to keep him alive.

A clash of metal against metal tells me when Al starts his attacks. I don't know where Stewart got his sword, but from the sounds of the attacks, he's as skilled as Al with the weapon. Maybe better. Clash after clash, and I know Al's doing all he can to keep Stewart too busy to build up magic for another blast like the first. But I can also tell the fight with the griffin and the first attack from Stewart have taken their toll. The sounds of steel start to slow and I realize if I don't do something now, I won't get another chance.

There's only one bit of magic I can think of that will do what needs to be done. But am I capable of murdering someone? Even if that person is Stewart. For all I know, Borin is downstairs killing my family right now. All because Stewart ordered him to. This is the same man who tricked my mother into loving him and is now fighting the one person I've ever felt any real connection with. He'll kill Al if he has the chance, and then he'll turn on me and once again take my magic. But this time, I will be left for dead since there'll be no one left to bring me back.

I have no choice. I remember the spell I'd destroyed in the other world's version of Gran's house, and focus on the part meant for wizards in particular. The magic created to kill.

"Enough!" Stewart's usual calm is broken as he yells the word.

I barely feel his magic until he's already used it, but by then it's too late to block the spell, though it doesn't stop me from dropping my own on him. The sensation of magic is followed by a sickening crack and thud where I'm sure Al now lies after having been thrown across the room.

Without thinking, I rush over to him to help.

Another bit of magic, faster than a heartbeat, and I'm lifted and slammed into the wall behind me, the air smashed from my lungs.

Stewart's amusement is back as he says, "I think I'm going to enjoy this more than usual."

## Chapter Twenty Five

It feels exactly how I remember. No, it's worse. Much worse. Not only is my own magic being squeezed and shoved, but I also sense every bit of his twisted magic ripping into mine as he tears it from my body.

I long for him to finish and for the nothingness to take me.

No.

Not this time.

It's all too easy to find every spec of magic left inside of me since Stewart's made it the only thing I can feel at the moment. His magic wraps around me like a net, reminding me of the spell holding Al, keeping him miniature. The difference is Al's spell was created by one source. Stewart's magic, on the other hand, is a patchwork of energy and each spot where one sorceress's magic knots with the next not only feels different, it's also weak.

My magic contracts a little more. So much pain. I don't have time to wonder if what I'm doing will work. If it doesn't, this is the end.

Much like how Stewart tries to drive all of my magic to my mouth, I push it all to one spot, focusing on one of those weak areas.

It's like pulling too hard at the seam of a shirt. There's an extraordinary amount of pressure fighting against my magic, and then nothing. And I can breathe.

I shove again, this time spreading my magic over my open palm as I hit him in the gut with both flesh and fire. He stumbles back, though I've no idea how far. I fall to the ground in a clump and try to scramble to my feet before his next attack comes, but I can't. I can't move my arms to prop myself up. All I can do is lie there in a heap and wait for him to come at me again. There's no chance of stopping him twice.

"Lou!"

Al's voice. He's alive. I wish I could embrace relief, but I'm too exhausted to feel much of anything. Stewart might not have taken my magic, but after all of the power I've used today, he might as well have. I feel as drained.

"You again," Stewart sighs. "Honestly, does no one around here stay dead?"

The darkness in Al is obvious as he says, "You shouldn't have done that."

They are the most frightening words I've ever heard. Bloodthirsty. It barely sounds like Al at all.

And then I realize why he sounds so angry. I'm on the floor, and I'm not moving. He thinks Stewart succeeded. He thinks I've been drained again.

I struggle to get up to let him know I'm still alive, more or less. But when I manage to force myself onto my hands and knees, and then finally to just my knees, I know the effort is pointless. My vocal cords won't work so I can't call out, and Al's too focused on Stewart to notice anything else.

Instead of trying to distract him, I focus on the tiny bit of magic I have left inside of me and slip into Al's head to see what's happening. Stewart's torso is the only thing in focus at first as Al steps aside to avoid a blade whizzing into sight with seemingly no warning.

But before I can get my weary mind to decide what action to take, Al finds his own opening. I see it too, though it only lasts a second. The time it takes Stewart to build up a final blast of magic to leave nothing of Al but ash.

Al's fury has made him fast, though. And strong.

His sword cuts cleanly through the magic Stewart's gathering and makes its way easily through skin and between bone to plough a hole straight through the man's chest. At first it looks like it has no effect on Stewart as he continues to stare at Al with fury. And then his body jerks, pulling the sword and Al with him. A tiny trickle of crimson pools at the corner of his mouth. Stewart opens his lips as though to speak, but instead of words, a gob of dark, sickening blood comes out.

When Al jerks his sword sideways, I'm thrown from his view. It's not because I can't watch any more, though I can't say I'm sorry to miss whatever horror happens next. It's because I'm hit with a feeling a lot like a rubber band snapping back into place.

The sensation smashes me with such force it's almost as though the air's been knocked out of me again. And then the pain stops and everything is way too bright.

My hands press against my eyes before my mind can catch up to what's happening. I blink several times and slowly lower my hands.

I can see.

Barely. Everything's blurry, like waking up after a bad night's sleep, but there are definitely shapes and lights. A lot of lights actually. Not only the blinding kind like when you turn on a lamp after your sight has adjusted to the dark, but the magical kind.

As Stewart's limp body slides to the floor, the light focuses first on the area where the sword plunged into his chest. When Al yanks his blade from Stewart, the light shifts and spreads. Some of it dissolves while the majority glides slowly toward Al.

In the same moment, Al finally notices me. His lips start to curl into a surprised smile just as the very edge of the cloud of light touches his skin. His mouth opens in a gasp of pain as his body becomes a vacuum, sucking up the rest of Stewart's magic in a second.

I watch in horror as Al's expression shifts from fear to something cruel. No longer does he look at me as though he's happy I'm alive, but instead as though I'm the most delicious looking meal he's ever seen. And he hasn't eaten for days.

This is what Rose warned me about. The person standing in front of me might look like Al, but there is nothing of him left behind those eyes.

The shock of having my sight returned combined with seeing what happened to Al makes me sluggish. He has no such problems.

Without seeming to move, he's suddenly only inches from me, the glow of his newfound magic burning my tender eyes.

He shoves his forearm against my neck and tries to shove me back against the wall, but with most of the magic Stewart stole now returned to me, I've also regained some of my energy. I grip his arm to keep it from pressing against my throat, while at the same time not allowing him to back away. I kick, aiming for the inside of his knee, but he's too fast. His leg blocks mine, and since I don't use the amount of force I should, or could have if I wasn't fighting Al, the contact does nothing but make him smile.

I side step for a little more space between the wall and myself, but he moves with me and forces me back. This time I throw a punch along with my kick. He's able to block the kick, but the punch lands dead in the center of his stomach.

Al balks for only a second, but it's all I need to bring my arm around and elbow him in the face. His arm slips from my throat to protect against the blow. I use the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and run for the door.

Not quickly enough. His arm snakes around my waist and with a strength enhanced by his magic, he slams me against the wall and pins me there with his own body. I'm out matched in strength and weight. Even magic. He might have only received his, but he's been trained how to use it all of his life, while I'm stumbling my way through, hoping for the best.

And he has one advantage I will never have. He doesn't care. It's there in his eyes as he calmly wipes a bit of blood from the side of his mouth where my elbow landed and then smiles at me, too much like Stewart's false smirk. Any affection he might have felt for me is gone.

"You pull your punches," he comments. "Silly girl."

"Don't do this." The words come out in sobs.

"And why not?" He drags his nose and mouth against the sensitive part of my skin between my jaw and ear. "When you smell so appetizing."

I can't ignore the heat radiating from his touch any more than the pressure where our hips and chests meet. When his thumb lifts the bottom of my shirt to stroke my stomach, I nearly cry. This should be what I want. Any other time since the moment he became full sized and I would be panting for more.

And now all I can do is conjure the one spell that will end it all.

Stewart may have seen my magic coming, but I know from the way Al looks into my eyes, taunting me by dragging his lips against my chin, he's not prepared for what I'm about to do.

He'll kill me if I don't. I know it. Any second now will be too late. I need to cast the spell and tear him apart.

"Please," I say one last time. "Don't."

"Give me one reason," he says, lips brushing mine.

"You promised you'd never hurt me."

He pulls away a fraction and I could swear there's the slightest shift in his eyes. But then again, maybe I simply want him to still be the Al who fell into my lap, and helped us escape from the barn. I want it so badly I'm seeing things that aren't there.

When he presses his body a little harder against mine and lowers his head toward me, I close my eyes. There's no more time to think and worry if what I'm doing is right. I bring the spell together to form in the palm of my hand and with no warning, shove it into his chest.

Or, that's the plan.

The second I move, the pressure against my body is gone. I open my eyes and quickly glance around the room to figure out where he's gone to before he can attack me again. When my initial scan comes up with nothing I look again, this time using my magic to feel for his.

Nothing.

It's like he's completely vanished. Timidly, I take a single step away from the wall while never letting go of the spell. It has to be a trick. He can't have simply disappeared. Even if he sensed the spell I was creating, he would have broken it, or fought back. There's no way Al would run. Not the Al I know, and definitely not the wizard who attacked me.

But no matter how far I reach with my magic, I can't feel him. There's no wizard within the entire neighborhood.

There is, however, an incredibly dangerous magical creature.

## Chapter Twenty Six

I grab the sword from Stewart's still warm and blood-soaked hand and manage to get it in front of me as the chimera bounds through the door.

"Farah! No!"

I blink repeatedly to get my strained and tired eyes to focus. The voice can't be...

"Farah," Cindy scolds. "No eating the sorceress. Lou is not for eating."

"Sweetie?" Mom's voice seems to come from nowhere until she carefully moves around the creature and Cindy who block most of the doorway, and stops a few feet away from me. Her eyes keep darting back to the creature, though to her credit, she's not as terrified as I expect. At least she isn't running away screaming. "Oh, Lou."

"Mom?" I lower the blade a little, but instinct kicks back in, forcing me to keep my arms strong. There's still danger the chimera might attack, and I'm not certain Al's gone for good.

"Sweetie, it's okay," Mom says in her soothing voice. "It's over. Everything's going to be all right."

Still watching the chimera, I lower the sword, but don't let it drop out of my hand. It's enough for Mom who rushes over to me and engulfs me in a hug.

"Everything's fine." She strokes my hair, plastering it against my face and neck. "You're safe now. I've got you."

"Borin?" I ask Cindy over Mom's shoulder, not quite able to hug her back the way I want. Not yet.

Cindy's face twists into a grin, though she looks about as wary as I feel. She lifts her hand and wiggles my phone.

"All locked up. How's that for 'silly magic?'" She says to the phone.

"What about the chimera?" I ask.

Cindy shrugs. "Seems my scaring it before made it respect me. Honestly, it's kind of cute once you get past the two heads thing."

"What is that thing?" Mom asks, but thinks better. "Never mind. I don't want to know. I'm just happy you're both safe."

When Mom shifts her attention to hug Cindy for a while, I'm finally released from her grip and able to move around the room a little. I don't go too far since I'm afraid of leaving my family unprotected in case anything should happen. But after another sweep with my magic, there's still no sign of Al.

"Way to go with stabbing Stewart," Cindy says, breaking my concentration from another magic sweep. "I hope it was slow and painful."

"It wasn't me," I admit with a shake of my head. "It was Al. He saved my life."

"Hey, yeah. Where is he?" Cindy asks.

"Who?" Mom asks. "Someone else did this?"

I can't bring myself to explain what happened. Not right now. Maybe someday, but it's all too fresh. The blade passing through Stewart's body, as though I'm the one stabbing him. The blood in his mouth as he dies. The shift in Al as he took in the magic. It's still too vivid to talk about.

I turn away from the corpse, unable to be near it for any longer.

"I think I hear the neighbors," Cindy says.

Mom, flustered for a moment, recovers and says, "I'll have to deal with them. No matter what happens, remember this wasn't your fault."

With the bloodied blade in my hand I know it would be hard to convince people as much. But I nod to her in agreement and she leaves, ready to smooth things over the best she can.

Cindy waits until she's out of earshot before asking, "Where is he?"

"Gone," I tell her.

"Gone how? Is he alive?"

It's times like this when I realize how observant Cindy is. She knows something's wrong, and she's not going to let it go until I tell her exactly what happened. And yet if I do, she won't stop until she finds him and makes him pay for attacking me. I can't let her. Not only because there's a good chance if she does manage to find him, he won't hesitate at killing her. And now he's a full wizard it will be all too easy for him. But there's also a voice in my head repeating over and over.

He stopped.

Maybe he felt my magic and decided to run, or maybe there is part of him still in there. Like the trap of the phone, but instead of being surrounded by technology, the Al I know is being trapped by the tainted magic.

And so I can never share the truth. It's a good thing I've spent my entire life telling people what they want to hear.

I plant a sad smile on my face and turn around.

"He left," I tell her while letting a couple of tears steam down my face. Those I definitely don't have to fake. "When he saw how killing Stewart was the key to me retrieving some of my stolen magic and regaining my sight, he told me he had to go. He thinks he can save his sister."

"Hey! You can see! Awesome," Cindy says before scowling. "Is he coming back?"

"I don't know," I say. At least this isn't a lie. "I don't think so."

Everything that has happened gets the better of me and I can no longer hold back the tears. I slump, giving in to the emotions and finally let the sword drop to the ground. When Cindy hesitantly wraps her arms around me, I don't flinch or pull away. I rest my head on her shoulder and let her hold me.

When I'm feeling strong enough, I pull away and look at her ridiculous red hair.

"You know," I say. "I think you'd look better with blue streaks."

"What?" she says indignantly while placing a hand on her head. "I look hot as a redhead."

"It's terrible."

"Your face is terrible."

I laugh, "Shut up."

We start toward the door.

"You didn't hear any neighbors, did you?" I ask.

"Not a soul," she says. "Think Mom will let me live here after high school? I'm getting a real good vibe from this place. Bet there are a lot of hot angsty guys in the area. And then I'd be able to keep Farah and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it."

"There is no possible scenario where you get to keep that monster," Mom calls from downstairs.

I laugh as Cindy whispers to Farah not to worry; she'll figure something out. And not for a second do I doubt she will.

## About the Author

Christina G Gaudet is a young adult author. When not writing, Christina can be found working on comics, illustrations and designs. She grew up and continues to live in Prince Edward Island, Canada where having red hair instantly makes you famous.

www.christinaggaudet.com

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Continue reading book two of The Box series now.

Buy The Note in the Journal

# Chapter One

I let my shoulders relax as I take the last long breath of my meditation and slump for a minute, feeling both energized and zonked at the same time. After a minute of finding my bearings, I open my eyes and take a look at the items in front of me. A feather pen sits in the center of a semi circle along with a bottle of ink, one of Gran's favorite ferns, and a vanilla candle.

After one last sniff, I blow the candle out, grab the pen and ink and stand up. It takes me a minute to stretch out my stiff back and legs and as I twist back and forth, I notice the obnoxiously loud clock.

Seriously? I sat there for almost an hour? No wonder I'm so sore. Though, that's awesome. A few months ago, I could barely manage five minutes without becoming restless. The longer the meditation, the more power I can channel through the trigger objects. I'm betting this pen has some major oomph to it now.

I perch myself on Gran's old wooden seat with one leg under me and place the ink next to the handmade leather journal I'd grabbed earlier. It's already open to a blank page I chose after some careful consideration.

This is Gran's last journal, after all. I have to be respectful. Lou would probably freak out if she were here to see me 'defile' it. She'd go on about how I'm disrespecting the dead or some bullshit. She wouldn't understand. If anything, I'm being more respectful than if I never touched the thing again. I'm trying to continue where Gran left off. If I know anything about my grandmother, and I do, then this is exactly what she'd want.

Even so, I can't dive in right after her last words as though nothing happened. I'm not her and I have no interest in being her. I have my own life to live. So, I've left two blank pages between her last note and my first.

I rub the soft tip of the feather against my bottom lip and think for a final moment before dipping the writing end into the ink and scratching out the first few words on the page.

_Dear Gran,_

_I'm sorry I didn't see Stewart's betrayal until it was too late. I will never let my guard down again, and I promise to always keep Lou safe. Even though sometimes what she really deserves is a kick in the head._

I reread the last line and sigh. Sometimes I wish I could censor myself. Whatever. It's true. No regrets.

_I'll never stop learning from you and will keep you with me always._

_Your faithful student,_

_Sin._

It's not the most elegant thing ever written, but it'll do. I've been meaning to write something to her for months now, ever since receiving the journal from the box. But I'd put it off, at first saying I had to worry about studying, and then I didn't want it in the house where Mom and Lou might find it. Since I graduated, now living on my own in Gran's old house, I have no more excuses.

It's great to have my own place, but there's way more shit to deal with than I ever thought possible. And there's a seriously funky smell in the entire house I can't figure out how to get rid of.

I don't know where it's coming from. I've checked everywhere, but I can't find the cause. No dead rodents or rotting, forgotten food anywhere I can find. Then again, maybe it has to do with Farah's nests. The chimera attached herself to me after turning on the wizard who used to own her. She saved our lives and she hasn't left my side since. Having her around is great, other than the occasional bit of fire breathing and the nests. There's not a pillow or blanket she hasn't ripped apart to force into the perfect shape for her. It's ridiculous. I've gone through three comforters already, and I'm telling you, those things are not cheap. Almost all of my money from my shitty cashier job has been used to replace the crap Farah destroys. And I won't even start about food, heat, electricity and everything else that's come up.

Which reminds me; the electric bill is overdue. Again. They'll probably cut it off in the next couple of days if I don't pay, and I barely have enough to buy gas for the car to be able to keep going to my crummy job.

There's a real chance I'll be going to Mom on my hands and knees, begging for some cash to take me through until my next check. She'll probably use it as another excuse to lecture me about managing my money and suggest once again how I should move home and go to the University of Shit within driving distance from her place. Not happening.

With my life being as crazy as it is, at least I managed to finish one thing from my to-do list. I take a final glance at what I've written to make sure it's dried, but instead of my letter, a blurred image takes over both pages of the spread.

I wait a second to give the magical image Gran must have left for me time to form. Nothing more happens. My eyes cross as I continue to stare at the image for too long while trying to force myself to see a proper image. Think, Sin. If this is a message from Gran, and it truly is meant for me, what would she expect me to do next?

I look around the room, hoping to find a clue, when I notice the objects I'd used in my meditation. Of course. Some representation of the elements needs to be used in every spell. The ink I used for my letter probably represented water and the feather pen must have been air. All I need are the other two elements.

I dig a handful of dirt out of the plant pot, but hesitate before dropping it on the paper. If I'm wrong this is going to make a mess and it will be impossible to completely clean it up. Well, as Gran always said, nothing's gained without some level of risk.

The dirt clings to the page in clumps for a moment and then absorbs into the paper. As the earth is sucked into the spell, the image becomes clearer and it begins to move as though alive.

The final step is the most difficult; putting paper over a flame so the two are close enough to touch, but not so close to turn the paper to ash. I've seen Gran ruin a spell or two at this stage, so I'm always a little worried I'm going to do the same. Yet as soon as I place the paper over the flame instinct takes over and I can feel exactly where the flame needs to be to keep the book safe.

When I'm sure the fire has done its thing, I place the book back on the desk for a better view of what I've revealed.

A map.

The ink has formed into the rivers while the dirt has created trees and mountains as real as the plant next to me. Clouds form and dissipate as I watch, covering parts of the land. I recognize the map easily, since it's a satellite image of North America. What I don't understand is why Gran gave it to me. It's pretty and all, but the internet has all the maps I need, thanks.

At the top of the page, a bit of script darkens from nothing until I'm able to read it.

_Make her whole again. – Love Gran._

As soon as I finish reading the words three tiny flames burst into existence on the page. I jerk back for a second, surprised by their sudden appearance, and then I lean forward. They don't seem to be causing any damage to the journal, though their light casts shadows on the rest of the map.

I reach out with one finger to see if they feel like real fire, ready to snatch my hand back if it hurts. Instead, the second my finger passes through the flame the image shifts as though I've hit the zoom button on Google maps.

The scene rushes closer and closer to the earth until it reveals a detailed view of a city full of people busy about their day. The buildings are all made of the same dark, glossy stone and are all similar in size and height. Tapestries, flags and other items hang outside the buildings to give the places some colour. It's not like anywhere I've ever seen or even heard of, at least not in this part of the world.

When the image shifts through the city to land on a black castle with a dark green dragon draped around one of its towers, I realise why the city isn't familiar. It's not from this world.

But that means both this world and the one of magic connected through the invisible door upstairs have the same geography. I should have found the new bit of information way more interesting. Instead, my full attention goes straight back to the dragon.

Its long tail flows down and around the stone tower with the pointed end flicking every once in a while as though batting away invisible flies. A single wing stretches out, shakes and returns to the creature's side without it seeming to wake from its sleep.

It's incredible. I only wish I could be there to see its true awesomeness.

My eyes drift up to the note from Gran and I frown. 'Make her whole again.' No need to ask who 'her' is. It's obviously Lou. It's always Lou.

The three lights on the map also make sense since we already opened two of the five bags I helped Gran create to lock Lou's magic. Gran would have left the three bags in places where she believed they'd be safe. In a castle guarded by a dragon seems safe to me.

"Make her whole again."

With Gran gone, it's up to Lou to start protecting the portal between worlds. Without the magic of a sorceress I can only do so much, and with only part of her magic Lou's not in any better shape than me. I know Gran never wanted this life for Lou, but now she's in it and there's no going back.

I examine the map one last time, the sight of the dragon causing my heart to race.

Helping Lou might not be on the top of things I want to do, but meet a dragon?

I'll help her become whole again, Gran. You leave it to me.

Continue reading The Note in the Journal, book two of The Box series now.

The Note in the Journal
