Natural Mage (Page 27)

Mince looked over his shoulder at Smokey, his face a mask of anger. “Ain’t no…ass-ass-ins ’round…here.” A tremor shook him.

“How do you know? Do you know everyone?” Smokey asked.

Head shaking, Mince painfully got to his feet. He gave me a glance from beneath lowered brows.

“Sorry,” I said.

His body convulsed before he stiffly strode away, muttering to himself.

“I really was going to warn you,” I called after him.

“Don’t worry about him,” Smokey said, still non-plussed. “He forgot himself for a moment. That was his fault, not yours. He knows better.”

“Maybe this wa— Um. This…security device is a little too strong.”

“Forgive me for saying, but you don’t seem like the type to hang around here. And Reagan doesn’t seem like the type to have roommates. So if you’re here, there’s a reason for it. And that probably means you need strong protection. Don’t go second-guessing yourself.”

“Yeah, well…” I couldn’t really argue with that.

I blew out a breath, still feeling that tug of magic calling to me from the cemetery. Promising me something I’d been missing.

“How bad of an idea would it be just to run over there really quick, do you think?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t do that, Miss Penny. Not if you’re in need of protection.” Smokey moved to the edge of the steps. “You have no idea what has been seen in that cemetery. Human and magical both. There are bad people that roam through there.”

“But you said the Ladies of the Light—”

“They aren’t bad, no, but they might be set upon at any moment by a swarm of birds that turn into hideous monsters. Or a black magic coven that kills small animals. Or a thug wanting a cheap fix or some dough. You never know.”

I paused at the end of the steps, debating. He was certainly right. It was a cemetery, for criminy sakes. Anyone who was up to no good would head to a cemetery. That was true of any city in any town across the world. This one, smack in the middle of Reagan’s weird neighborhood, in particular. Smokey was right: there could be any number of really nasty things hanging around.

And then there was the most obvious threat, the Mages’ Guild, lying in wait for me to cross the threshold keeping me safe.

I turned back and looked at the house, a sanctuary if ever there was one. All the while, my temperamental third eye buzzed, begging me to walk across that street and see what was there.

My temperamental third eye had gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past.

But it hadn’t always been wrong…

I was walking before I could talk myself out of it.

21

“Wait. Penny. Miss Penny.” Smokey caught up with me. “Can I just call you Penny? What do your people call you?”

“Naive, mostly.” I made it to the other side of the street and stalled at the entrance to the cemetery. Strange feelings washed over me. Dense and thick, they seeped into my middle and took up residence. Not magic, or at least not any kind of magic I’d encountered.

“Are ghosts real?” I asked softly, starting forward again, albeit much slower.

“I’m inclined to think so, based on all the other things that are real.”

“Good point.” I blew out a breath, a creepy-crawly sensation taking over my body.

“They won’t hurt you, though. Of the things that might be in this—”

“I got it, I got it. That doesn’t change my terrible decision-making process. Where are these witches?”

He hesitated a moment, clearly not sure if he should help me.

“It’ll make things faster if I know where I’m going,” I whispered, moving down the concrete path, large gravestones to either side.

“Take a left when you’re able.”

I could’ve taken a left after each gravestone, but I figured he was talking about an actual path. When I came upon one, the same size as the one we were on, I did as he said and kept going. Soon he had me take a right, and my final instruction was to go straight back until I hit the wall.

“Will we walk right into them?” I asked, stooped now and half crouched, like a burglar.

“No. We’ll skirt beside them, go beyond them, cut in, and then sneak back toward them in the shadows.”

“My mother would batter me senseless if she knew I was getting tips from a person who lurks around in the shadows.”

“I like to know what’s going on without being seen.”

“Yes. I caught that.”

“Keep your voice down. They’ll be right up here off to the right. Drift this way.” He moved toward the left, and I followed, thankful he hadn’t put his hand on my shoulder in silent communication. The magic felt lovely and calming, but I was still traipsing around a weird-feeling cemetery in the dark after being blitzed with warnings about bad things. I wasn’t positive I’d be able to refrain from zapping him, or worse.

A few steps later, I could see candlelight flickering through a row of gravestones. A slim form moved in a languid sort of way, hands raised toward the sky. Another form, this one clearly a woman, had her hands raised in exactly the same way. I saw a couple more, all of them in the same pose, most wearing rings of flowers around their heads, some swaying in place to silent music. The one whose face I could see had a serene smile.

The most inclusive magic I’d ever experienced swirled around me, bringing joy to my middle and a grin to my lips. I contemplated joining them, partaking in the joy I was feeling. But it wasn’t my circle, and I didn’t want to disturb them. I said as much to Smokey, ready to retreat.

“You sure you don’t want a closer look? We won’t disturb them at all. We’ll just spy from the shadows.”

He really did the creepy thing well.

“Maybe just a look,” I said softly, curiosity getting the better of me. “Not spying, just looking.”

He was nice enough not to mention that it was essentially the same thing.

Smokey took the lead, drifting to the other side of the aisle and then around the corner. The view was much better from here. The group—they looked to be all women—sat in a circle surrounded by glowing candles. A plethora of items littered the ground in the middle. They chanted softly, either looking toward the sky or the ground.

Magic rose from the items between them, called to life by the words they were saying in harmony. The source of the beautiful magical light I’d seen. They were using their emotions for this chant, and using one another for more power.

“You see?” I said softly, hunching down next to Smokey in the shadow of a gravestone. “They’re coming together as a unit and speaking the spell. They are using one another for power boosts. Why can’t mages do that?”

“Mages…is that like…guy witches?”

“No. They’re witches with more power.”

“Ahh.” He nodded.

“Mages are usually super solo when it comes to magic,” I whispered. “They kind of shut everyone else away.”

“Many hands make light work,” he said.

“Yeah, right? I’m not crazy for thinking this way is better, am I?”

“No you are not. Working together usually gets the job done faster. Even salesmen do better in a unit.”

I squinted in confusion, not knowing what salesmen had to do with anything.

A scent wafted our way, earthy and dense. Incense, if I had to guess, though I couldn’t place the fragrance. A few words sporadically reached my ears, but the intentions of the magic were coming through loud and clear.

Comforting. Love. Healing.

“What do you think—”

“Shhh!” I waved away his words.

“May she be peaceful and joyous,” the group murmured softly.

I closed my eyes as paper crinkled. A new smell hit me, like something burning.

“Now, I don’t approve of that at all,” Smokey said, stiffening. “Starting fires is a no-no. Fire can get dangerous. Occasionally these witch—or mage—people accidentally create fireballs. Big fireballs that puff up into the air. That kind of practice is going a bit far.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the fireballs were probably Reagan’s way of messing with him. She had an odd view of jokes.

“May we bask in the light, blessed is this night.”

Protect. Heal. Safety.

They were doing an utterly simple protective spell intended to keep one of the members safe. Narrowing in on their magic, on their connection, I got a more complicated read on what was happening.

It seemed one of the lovely ladies was having issues with abuse.

As the magical currents ran through me, fire kindled deep inside my gut, forcing out ideas of what I would do to someone who was physically or emotionally abusing me. Amazingly, they weren’t all magic spells. Not at all. The first, out of the blue, was a head butt.

No one would expect a random head butt.

Well, except for me. I’d learned the hard way.

I’d dug into their efforts before I could stop myself, weaving a rich, complex spell within and around theirs, mindful of the necessary elements for healing and recovery.

“They seem confused,” Smokey whispered, looking over my shoulder. “Are you participating with them or something?”