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Hexbound (The Dark Elite 2)

Page 21

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It hit the concrete floor and rolled a little, finally settling against the double doors.

“Four, three, two, and—”

Before she could say “one,” the pill emitted a puff of blue smoke. As it rose through the far end of the corridor, we could see pale green lines crisscrossing the air, like dust highlighting a laser beam.

“What is that?” I wondered.

“Trip wires,” Scout said. “Magical trip wires. And I have got to get one of those spells.”

“I’ve got a box at the Enclave,” Detroit whispered. “I’ll bring you a couple.”

“We are now besties,” she whispered.

“What do they do?” Michael asked.

Scout pointed toward the smoke. “They set wards,” she said. “They’re like trip wires. If we breach one as we try to cross the door, whoever set the spells them gets a signal. Like an alarm bell.”

“And I bet Reapers would be on us in nothing flat,” Jason predicted. “This has got to be their handiwork. I mean, it’s got to be someone with magic, and if this was an Adept hidey-hole, we’d know about it.”

“Well, we’re definitely not going in there looking for slime,” Michael said. “What’s plan B?”

“I am,” Naya said. “I will call someone.”

“One of the recently deceased,” Detroit clarified, gesturing toward Naya. She took a step out of the crowded doorway into the corridor, blew out a slow breath and moved her hands, palms down, in front of her as she exhaled like she was physically pushing the air from her body.

Jason bumped my arm. “Let’s set up a protective area while she’s getting ready,” he said, then pointed to each of us in turn. Michael and Scout made a line between Naya and the wooden door into the tunnels, and Jason and I stepped around them all to create a barrier between Naya and the trip wires. Two lines of Adept defense in case something nasty popped through either way.

Once in position, we waited silently, gazes skimming nervously around the corridor, waiting for something to happen.

As if the air conditioner had suddenly kicked on, the temperature in the room dropped by ten or fifteen degrees. I stuffed my hands into my pockets. “It’s super-chilly down here today.”

All eyes turned to me. Understanding struck, and the hair at the back of my neck lifted. The corridor felt like a field of power lines, abuzz with potential energy.

“That wasn’t just a breeze, was it?” Michael whispered.

The sidewalk grates began to vibrate, then clank up and down in their moorings as something moved into the corridor. The air got hazy, and a cold, thick fog sank down among us.

“She’s here,” Naya whispered.

Jason muttered a startled curse, then reached out for my hand. I laced my fingers with his and squeezed. Michael and Scout were also holding hands. About time.

The mist swirled, but didn’t take shape.

“She is having trouble heeding the call,” Naya said. “The energy . . . is scattered.”

“Is that why we can’t see her?” I whispered to Detroit. The question seemed rude—like this poor girl could help that she didn’t have a body—but important nonetheless.

“It takes a lot of power for the spirit to make contact, to penetrate the veil between the gray land and ours. Making herself visible would take more power than she’s got. But that won’t stop him or her from reaching out, or helping us.”

Naya finally opened her eyes. “Her name is Temperance Bay. She was one of us, an Adept. Her skill was illusion. She could change the physical appearance of an object. She died—was taken—by a Reaper at nineteen. Ten years ago.” Naya shook her head. “That’s all she can tell me—and she had trouble getting that much across. The energy down here is bad. Noisy.”

“That explains why I couldn’t get a good read,” Michael said.

“What would cause that?” I asked.

Jason pointed up. “Could be the trip wires. Could be because we’re down here in a hole. Could be because of whatever went on in this place before we got here.”

That didn’t exactly bode well.

“Hey,” Detroit said, looking at me curiously. “You’ve got firespell, right?”

“Um, yeah. Why?”

“Well, firespell is power magic. So maybe you could send her some firespell power, like an amplifier?”

Was she kidding? I barely knew how to turn the lights on and off. “I wouldn’t know how to do that.”

Undeterred, Detroit shook her head, then began tapping at the screen of her big black watch. “No, I think we can do this. It’s just a matter of energy. Of plugging you in, I guess.”

I looked at Scout, who shrugged, then Jason.

“This one’s all you, kiddo. You’re the only one who knows what it feels like. Do you think you could do it?”

I frowned, then looked at Naya. “Can you ask Temperance if she has any idea how to do it? How that might work? I don’t want to hurt her. I mean, could I hurt her?”

“Of course you could,” Naya said. “She’s deceased, not nonexistent. Her energy remains. If you unbalance her energy, she’s gonna feel it.”

“So no pressure,” Scout added from across the room.

No kidding, but I was an Adept, and I knew what needed to be done. “Okay,” I said. “Ask her what I need to do.”

Naya nodded, then rubbed the saint’s medal around her neck. Her expression went a little vacant again. “Temperance, we await your direction. You have heard our plea for assistance. How can we help you make manifest?” Her eyelids fluttered. “Nourish her with the energy,” she said, “to help her cross the veil. She says that I can bridge the gap to help you focus it. To help you direct it.”

I nodded again. I didn’t fully understand what Temperance was, but I had an idea of how it could work. Temperance was basically a spirit without a body. Naya was the link between us, the wire for the current I could provide. If I pretended Temperance was like a lightbulb in the tunnels, I might be able to give her some energy.

The only question was—could I do it without killing both of us?

“Give me your hand,” I told Naya. She reached out and took my palm, and I squeezed our fingers together. “With your other hand, can you—not touch—but somehow reach Temperance? Like, have her center herself near you?”

Naya nodded, and Temperance must have moved, because I felt the spark of energy along the length of our arms.



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