designed to show specific things, but they
were much more effective when allowed to feed off of the thoughts and emotions
of the subjects. Two, despite their potency, they were fragile and became
useless once the target became aware of them. Three, unfortunately, a talented
and experienced magician could weave many illusion spells into one larger spell
that would constantly self-correct, creating new illusions as soon as one was
uncovered.
And Connery had been both talented and experienced. Nia
would have to remain vigilant as she searched for the others. She was reaching
for the door handle when she heard a sound behind her. An actual sound, not
just the murmuring of Connery’s magic.
“Nia?”
Arthur! He must have been sleeping when the magic took
hold. Nia turned back and saw him standing the doorway between their rooms,
half-dressed and wearing dazed, frightened expression.
“I was just getting ready when the lights went out,” he
said, buttoning one of his open cuffs. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing serious,” Nia lied, not wanting to alarm him and
give Connery’s magic an advantage. “I simply –” Her eyes caught on the piece of
slate still lying on the floor. The spell was still there, though much of it
had been smudged to incomprehensibility.
But Connery’s head was gone.
“Oh no,” she breathed, dropping to her knees beside the
slate. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before placing her hands
carefully where the head should have been.
Her fingers met nothing but cool slate and smeared chalk.
Damn it, it wasn’t just hidden; it was truly gone. How had Connery managed
that?
“Nia, what the hell is going on?” Arthur said, this time
with a touch of hysteria in his normally calm voice.
“One second, Arthur, I need to think.” There was no way
Connery’s head simply gotten up and walked away, illusion spell or no illusion
spell. That meant someone must have taken it, but who? Holding the light close to
the slate, she studied the ruined spell.
“Why did the lights go out? Where’s Detective Lin? Damn
it, Nia, what did you do?”
“Shh, Arthur!” There, just at the edge of the slate. It
was hard to make out between the lines of the spell and her own handprints, but
she was certain she wasn’t mistaken. There, in the spoiled half of the spell,
was a shoeprint. Someone had walked on the edge of the slate and whoever it was
had probably taken Connery with them. She bent closer to the slate. Yes, it was
definitely a shoeprint, from a man’s shoe if she didn’t miss her guess, of good
quality and average to small size. The sort of shoe Arthur would –
“Nia, will you please tell me what is going on?”
Carefully keeping her eyes down, so Arthur couldn’t see
her face, Nia slowly slid her free hand into the pocket of her dressing gown,
her fingers closing tight around the slender silver case that held her
emergency supply of chalk. She didn’t dare shake it to ascertain if there was
any inside.
There must be. There was before I fainted. I’m almost
certain.
“I’m just going to do a quick locating spell,” she said
lightly, flipping open the case and sighing silently when a fresh piece of
chalk fell into her hand. As she pressed it to the slate, she thought as hard
as she could about Connery’s head: the cool skin, the empty eyes, the drooping
mouth. Meanwhile, her hand sketched a very different kind of spell. The
darkness around her began to flicker and bend.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you, it’s just a locating spell.”
“It doesn’t feel like a locating spell.”
Nia drew faster. “Well, it is. Unfortunately, I’m not
sure the hotel is safe at the moment, so why don’t you go back to your room and
keep the door closed? Once I’m done with this spell, I’ll go find the detective
and bring her here. When we’re together, we can come up with a plan. It
shouldn’t take…” The stream of words tripping from her lips ran dry as Arthur
knelt
were much more effective when allowed to feed off of the thoughts and emotions
of the subjects. Two, despite their potency, they were fragile and became
useless once the target became aware of them. Three, unfortunately, a talented
and experienced magician could weave many illusion spells into one larger spell
that would constantly self-correct, creating new illusions as soon as one was
uncovered.
And Connery had been both talented and experienced. Nia
would have to remain vigilant as she searched for the others. She was reaching
for the door handle when she heard a sound behind her. An actual sound, not
just the murmuring of Connery’s magic.
“Nia?”
Arthur! He must have been sleeping when the magic took
hold. Nia turned back and saw him standing the doorway between their rooms,
half-dressed and wearing dazed, frightened expression.
“I was just getting ready when the lights went out,” he
said, buttoning one of his open cuffs. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing serious,” Nia lied, not wanting to alarm him and
give Connery’s magic an advantage. “I simply –” Her eyes caught on the piece of
slate still lying on the floor. The spell was still there, though much of it
had been smudged to incomprehensibility.
But Connery’s head was gone.
“Oh no,” she breathed, dropping to her knees beside the
slate. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before placing her hands
carefully where the head should have been.
Her fingers met nothing but cool slate and smeared chalk.
Damn it, it wasn’t just hidden; it was truly gone. How had Connery managed
that?
“Nia, what the hell is going on?” Arthur said, this time
with a touch of hysteria in his normally calm voice.
“One second, Arthur, I need to think.” There was no way
Connery’s head simply gotten up and walked away, illusion spell or no illusion
spell. That meant someone must have taken it, but who? Holding the light close to
the slate, she studied the ruined spell.
“Why did the lights go out? Where’s Detective Lin? Damn
it, Nia, what did you do?”
“Shh, Arthur!” There, just at the edge of the slate. It
was hard to make out between the lines of the spell and her own handprints, but
she was certain she wasn’t mistaken. There, in the spoiled half of the spell,
was a shoeprint. Someone had walked on the edge of the slate and whoever it was
had probably taken Connery with them. She bent closer to the slate. Yes, it was
definitely a shoeprint, from a man’s shoe if she didn’t miss her guess, of good
quality and average to small size. The sort of shoe Arthur would –
“Nia, will you please tell me what is going on?”
Carefully keeping her eyes down, so Arthur couldn’t see
her face, Nia slowly slid her free hand into the pocket of her dressing gown,
her fingers closing tight around the slender silver case that held her
emergency supply of chalk. She didn’t dare shake it to ascertain if there was
any inside.
There must be. There was before I fainted. I’m almost
certain.
“I’m just going to do a quick locating spell,” she said
lightly, flipping open the case and sighing silently when a fresh piece of
chalk fell into her hand. As she pressed it to the slate, she thought as hard
as she could about Connery’s head: the cool skin, the empty eyes, the drooping
mouth. Meanwhile, her hand sketched a very different kind of spell. The
darkness around her began to flicker and bend.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you, it’s just a locating spell.”
“It doesn’t feel like a locating spell.”
Nia drew faster. “Well, it is. Unfortunately, I’m not
sure the hotel is safe at the moment, so why don’t you go back to your room and
keep the door closed? Once I’m done with this spell, I’ll go find the detective
and bring her here. When we’re together, we can come up with a plan. It
shouldn’t take…” The stream of words tripping from her lips ran dry as Arthur
knelt
Similar Books
