Death Magic (The Veil Chronicles Book 2) Page 2

  Claire shook her head. Alena was obviously delusional. As crazy as this was, there was comfort in the way Alena spoke. The certainty with which she told the story gave Claire a tiny amount of hope that Alena might not be entirely wrong. At least, about the reason for her blackouts. The model stuff was clearly insane.

  She leaned back and pulled her feet up, so she could wrap her arms around her legs. “I’m having a hard time believing any of this.”

  Alena shrugged.

  “You sound so sure, and I want to believe you, but we’re talking about possession here amongst other things. The science doesn’t add up.”

  “Science, right.” Alena rolled her eyes. “I get that a lot. It’s okay. I would think I was crazy too, if I showed up at my door. You'll believe when we get to London, I promise. We are, however, on that schedule I told you about, so I really don't have time to convince you beforehand.”

  “Um, Alena? Please, don’t get mad, but I’m…I’m not going to London. I’m just...” She winced at her own awkwardness. “I’m not really sure that you’re not making things up to get me away from my house and kill me where it’s convenient for you.” She waited for a reaction with bated breath.

  Alena observed her, then took another sip of her tea. Seeing as she didn’t wince, it must have cooled enough for her to at last attempt moderate intakes. “Okay, fine, I'll prove it to you, but first I need to take a blood sample.”

  “Why?”

  Alena's eyes narrowed. “Do you ever just do what you're told? So I know for future reference?”

  Claire tried to push down the blush that crawled upon her features. She usually did do what people told her to do, but this situation was well out of the norm. Maybe it was better to let Alena think she was a bit of a rebel.

  “Great.” The sarcasm all but dripped off the word. Alena put her mug away again and pulled a small tube from the pocket of her jacket as well as a one-time-use needle to prick your finger with. “Anyway, I just need a drop. Hand?”

  “No, thank you.” She squeezed her fingers between her calves and thighs.

  Alena took a deep breath, as if to soothe her annoyance. “Fine, I'll make you a deal—two deals, even. If you give me your hand and let me draw a drop of blood for testing, I'll tell you exactly what I need it for, and I will also prove to you that this whole possession thing is real. What do you say? All of that for a single drop of blood? You can even keep the test tube after I'm done with it. If it helps, I am a registered nurse.” Alena smiled with excessive sweetness, showing too many teeth for it to be genuine. She held up the tube and wiggled it, sloshing the liquid inside.

  Claire thought about the deal, despite Alena’s insincerity. She searched her eyes, desperate for reassurance, but found only a businesslike detachment.

  Her curiosity won out. Whatever the test was for, it promised her answers—and Claire was desperate for some of those. She wiggled one of her hands free and extended her arm “Okay, you can take a sample.”

  Alena grinned and stood. She crossed to Claire's side of the table and sat down on it. The leather of her pants squeaked.

  From up close, the muscle definition in Alena’s arms was even more impressive, and Claire forced herself to look away when a flutter upset her gut. Now was not the time to develop a crush.

  Alena held out her hand.

  Claire placed hers into it, surprised by the warmth she found there and the softness of her skin even though Alena’s hands were callused.

  Alena smiled at her and carefully turned Claire’s hand over. She placed it on her lap and opened the tube. “Twist?” She held up the lancet needle.

  It was a familiar sight. She’d watched Grandma Mitchell test her blood sugar multiple times a day whenever they visited. Claire twisted the top off it with her free hand.

  “Possession—” Alena waited for her to discard the cap on the side table. “…Isn't exactly good for the human body. The mind resists being overtaken and fights the possessor like a virus. The immune system produces antitoxins that it somehow thinks are helpful. They're not. Imagine standing in an airtight box and breathing deeply for a while: eventually, the balance between the oxygen and the carbon monoxide tips in favor of the carbon monoxide and you have to get out of the box. That's what your body is doing: it’s slowly poisoning you. We can test how far along in the process you are so Madame Stravinsky can find another host before the possessions kill you. The antitoxins fade over time, so you'll be okay once you’re released from service. It’s hard to predict how your body will react. Some people react violently to being possessed, others not so much. Hosts last anywhere from a month to a year and I need to check how far along you are.” While Alena talked, she massaged Claire’s index finger and palm.

  The gentle rubs caused the blush on Claire’s cheeks to worsen. She kept her head down in the hope her hair would cover her cheeks.

  “This’ll sting a little.” Alena seemed to wait for Claire to nod, then pricked her finger.

  Claire winced but fought the urge to pull her hand back.

  Alena gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, then disposed of the needle. She took a hold of Claire’s finger and waited for a drop to gather before she scooped it up with the tube.

  “I’ve been to the doctor. They did lots of blood tests...” Claire watched the drop slide down, then brought her finger to her mouth to suck on it as Alena screwed the top back on the tube. She missed the contact of a soft and warm hand around hers.

  “Not this one, I promise.” Alena shook the tube.

  The clear liquid thinned the drop of blood to the point where the whole tube turned colorless again.

  Alena frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” A stab of worry shot through her.

  Alena's gaze met hers. She licked her lips. “Not sure.” She returned to her examination of the tube. After a few seconds, she sighed. “Okay, we'll deal with that later. Second part of my promise: proof. I want you to check the clock.”

  Claire did: five minutes past five-thirty.

  “Madame Stravinsky?” Alena looked deep into her eyes.

  Trepidation pooled inside her gut. Claire tried not to get distracted by Alena’s eyes. Up close, they were lighter than she had first thought, a dark brown with golden flecks around the edges. Her features betrayed Greek or Italian ancestry. For a moment, nothing happened, then her skin started to tingle, and a far too familiar shiver traversed her spine. She had just enough to time to panic before dizziness overtook her.

  A second passed and she swallowed with difficulty. Her body felt heavy and lethargic.

  “Welcome back.” Alena sat on the couch.

  The clock showed five forty-eight.

  Claire swallowed. She had lost another thirteen minutes of her life, and while hypnosis was still an option, this whole possession thing was starting to sound frighteningly plausible. Once again, she felt a blush settle on her cheeks. “W-What did she say about the test results?”

  Alena grinned. “Caught that, did you? Good on you.” She sat up and took a big gulp of her tea. It must have gone cold by now. She seemed to gather her thoughts. “The test is supposed to turn blue. The stronger the color, the more screwed you are. For someone who has been taken over regularly over the course of a month, that sample should be a nice sky blue, at least. I've seen it get as dark as the sky at midnight. Yours...well, yours didn't even color. I have never seen that happen, and Madame Stravinsky told me none of the other attendants ever have either. So, for now, we conclude you not only have a special brain but also a special body. There will be more medical tests once we get to London, but for now, you have made Madame Stravinsky very happy, which makes my life much simpler.”

  Again, Claire was at a loss for a reply. She couldn’t even fathom what any of that meant.

  “It seems we're going to be stuck together for a long time to come, special brain.” Alena lifted her mug in salute. She sounded pretty happy about it.

  Claire’s stomach lunged a little. Her mind gav
e up on trying to wrap around all of it. Instead, she tried to find handholds around the bits she had understood. “So, you are an... attendant? What does that mean, exactly?”

  Alena settled comfortably on the couch. “Mostly it means that I teach you the ropes, get you situated in our special corner of the world, and relay any message from Madame Stravinsky to you. It’s also my job to keep you safe. There are a few more aspects—including the medical side—but those are the main ones.”

  “How long have you been—?”

  “About fifteen years, actively, but I've been around the Society for about twenty-five.” Alena regarded her, then the clock. “We should go.”

  Claire shook her head. “I-I’m not ready. I have a life here. Well…” She thought of the job she didn’t have anymore, of her one friend in the world who wasn’t an online friend, of her parents two states over, and her studies. “I go to university.”

  “We’ll pay your tuition so you can retake your classes.”

  “People will worry where I am—my parents, my friends?”

  “We’ll tell them you’re going away for a little while.”

  “I never go away. I-I don’t like to.”

  Alena cocked a brow. “Okay…we’ll convince them that you wanted to go away and send them a few pictures from London. I’m afraid I’ll be taking your phone off you, at least in the beginning, so I’ll do your texting. You’re not a prisoner or anything, but, you know, safety first.”

  “Safety? From what?” Claire didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Right.” Alena chuckled. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I? There’s a lot going on that I’m not going to tell you in a place where lots of people could overhear, like your apartment. You’ll have to wait until London.”

  Claire bit her lip as she pondered that. “Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say, or how to convince Alena. She didn’t exactly have a way with words. “Where…where are we going? Where in London?”

  “Another thing I’m not comfortable sharing out in the open—”

  Claire glanced at the sturdy walls, but she got the feeling those didn’t mean much to Alena.

  “…but not everything is secret. We’re going to the headquarters of the London charter of the Society. It’s where I live, along with several others. It’ll be where you live. We call it the Den.”

  “The Den.” She tasted the words. “Have you always lived there?”

  Alena glanced at the clock, but then shook her head. “I lived with my mother until I was five. She wasn’t a mage, my father is. He didn’t tell her, and when she found out, well, she ended it with him and told him never to contact her or me again. She um, she passed away, so social services looked for a family member to take me in—to very little avail.”

  Alena's handsome features tightened with something akin to pain or anger—Claire didn’t know Alena well enough to tell—and Claire looked away until Alena resumed.

  “Then my father showed up. He'd been keeping tabs on me. My father, Gregorios Sanna, is a member of the Society for Psychical Defense as well, like Madam Stravinsky. I grew up under the guidance and guardianship of the Society and became the youngest attendant in its history.”

  “I'm sorry you lost your mom.” She felt the urge to get up and sit with Alena, to comfort her, but she’d die of mortification before she would be able to take two steps.

  Alena huffed and averted her gaze before she nodded, once. “Same, special brain.”

  Claire fell silent. Despite all this insanity, she realized Alena was probably not out to murder her. There was, however, one matter that she needed resolving. “You were tracking me, weren’t you? When you pushed me out of the way of the truck?”

  Alena tensed. She squeezed her hands together hard enough for her knuckles to turn white. “She should have left you somewhere safe.”

  “She?”

  “Madame Stravinsky.” Alena finally drew her gaze up again. Anger and conflict seemed to belay her set jaw and narrowed eyes. “I almost didn’t get to you in time. I told her to take better care of you, okay? And now we’ve been introduced, I’ll always be around when she takes control over your body. It won’t happen again, not on my watch.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it. And, you know, I didn’t die…so, that’s good.” She swallowed. “You, um…do you…like her? This Madame Stravinsky?”

  Alena hesitated. “She’s not easy to get along with, but I’ve known her for a long time.”

  Claire frowned. “Is…is that a yes or a no?”

  “You do know we are still under deadline, right?” But Alena didn’t get up. She seemed to ponder her reply. “Working with her is part of my mission. The Society does a lot of good for humanity—and it could do a lot more good. I’m helping the world be a little bit of a better place by working with Madame Stravinsky. That’s worth an argument here and there, and some teeth grinding.” She grinned. “Madame Stravinsky isn’t exactly a woman who gets along with people. She never did, but it seems to have gotten worse after she died. She and my father get on especially poorly, but we get along all right.”

  Claire shivered. “She’s really a ghost?” She drew her legs up again to act as a shield against invisible forces and looked around. “Is she here?”

  “Probably not. She’s usually wherever ghosts go beyond the Veil; she doesn’t talk about it much. Hanging out in our world, listening in, even if it’s in your brain, takes a lot of energy. She has to rest after every possession.”

  “Oh. Okay.” That made sense—as much as ghost physics could make sense. “Why do—”

  “For goodness sakes, special brain, you ask a lot of questions!” Alena grinned, though. “One more, then we have to go, so choose wisely. I’ll answer the others in London.”

  Claire pondered her options, but in the end, there was only one question that she really needed to know the answer to before she walked out of the door. “If I decide to come with you, what happens next?”

  “We fly to London, I’ll get you settled, and you’ll host Madame Stravinsky. You’ll sit at a table, look pretty, and smoke a lot. Sorry about that.”

  Claire winced. “Yeah, the cigars.” Her gaze slid to the armrest. “She likes them a lot.”

  Alena laughed. “That she does.” She leaned forward again. “So, what will it be, special brain? Are you coming with me?”

  “Do I have a choice?” As she spoke, she realized the question was rhetoric. She knew she didn’t.

  “No, not really. If you refuse, Madame Stravinsky will take over your body. She’ll lose the connection aboard the plane, but by then, well, you’ll be flying already.” Alena sent her a sympathetic smile. “I have a standing arrangement with her that I get to talk to new hosts, so they can at least feel like they have a say in the matter. I want you to feel welcome at the Den, you’ll be spending a lot of time there and people will be busy with their own stuff, myself included. Like I said, I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner—you’re not. Once you’re done, you’ll be paid for your time. Money isn’t much of an issue for mages.”

  “Because of alchemy?”

  Alena blinked, then laughed—hard. She sagged back into the couch and wiped at her eyes.

  Claire’s cheeks flared as her heart started to pound. “S-Sorry, was that stupid?” She winced. “That was stupid, never mind.”

  Alena hiccupped. “No, no, that was… That was brilliant.” She grinned and shook her head. “We don’t turn lead into gold or anything—transmogrification is real, but when you have people who can see the future on your side, you can go through the stock market for a quick pay-out.”

  Claire’s cheeks burned even hotter. “R-Right, that makes sense.”

  Alena sniffed and wiped her eyes again. “Come on.” She motioned for Claire to get up. “Pack a bag. Just some basics, we’ll go shopping in London. Pack a change of clothes, a pair of PJ’s, a book, some music…oh, and get a message out to whomever you want. Let me check it over before you do. Then, hand
me your phone.”

  Claire slid her feet off the chair and stood. “I still don’t know what to say to them.” She glanced around for her phone, then realized she’d left it on the couch when she’d gotten up. “Um, could you…?” She pointed.

  Alena frowned, but looked where Claire was pointing. She fished the device out of the crack between the armrest and the seat cushion. “Here. Tell them whatever. Tell them you’re visiting an internet friend? Or would that freak your parents out?”

  Claire took the phone and sighed. “Completely. Anything will freak them out. They know me, I don’t travel.” She shrugged, feeling lame. “Maybe I should …lie?”

  Alena looked up at her. “And say what?”

  “That I’m drowning in college work? That I have to study?” She looked at Alena in the hope she would make the decision for her.

  “Sounds good!” She got up. “Do that. I’ll do your dishes and take out your trash. Can’t let you come home to mold and a rat infestation, right?”

  “You’re going to…?” She swallowed. “You don’t have to. I can—”

  “You need to pack, because we are running really, really late. So, go. Go!” She ushered Claire into her bedroom. “Pack and text, pack and text.” She walked into the kitchen. “And hey, special brain?”

  “Hm?” Claire looked up from her phone screen.

  Alena smiled a Cheshire cat smile. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Magic, at its core, is science. All the great minds of our age discuss amongst themselves the boundaries of our world, but I look beyond what I call “the Veil.” It’s a realm of mystery, and I have not been able to navigate it. How do I find my way to Heaven? Or even Hell? Tell me, before my wrath burns this city to the ground. These peasants taunt and torment, but it won’t be long. Not long now at all.

  – Simon Magus, “The Fundamentals of Magic”

  CLAIRE HAD NOT, in fact, ridden a motorcycle before, and she was sure that inexperience showed now she that was faced with the actual machine. She’d seen them before, of course, but they made a lot more noise when you stood near them.