Hi,
Can something that is wrong be right and/or justifiable under certain circumstances? And if yes, are there any solid guidelines? These were questions I had in mind while editing this part. It really got me thinking. The ethical territory Anna's moving in is getting rocky. So, is she doing the right thing?
I hope you like this part! :-)
Lara
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Chapter 21
I blinked, stared at the stream of people in the street â none of them cowering, none of them screaming. No one even seemed to have noticed.
I stilled. What I was looking at was more than a boundary. It was a magical one-way glass, a specialty of the cloaking department in whose halls the most intricate of all spells had been crafted.
Spell. They must have used a spell. No way they could wield that much magic without a spell.
I turned, peered into the badly lit throat of the side-street. Shadows in a landscape of steel, dustbins overflowing with magical waste products, and brick walls covered with graffiti that might in truth have been magical runes.
The street was empty. At least to the human eye.
I knew better.
I reached for folded sub-realities blindly, lifted the veil to second sight and peered into the layers of reality lying underneath what human mind perceived as reality. Second sight snapped into place like a 3D film coming into existence in the deepest recesses of my mind.
A forest of disturbed particles. Lingering residues of power the black market kept leaking like a waste product. Nothing else.
My nerves were on edge. Where? Where were they?
Nothing. Empty, apart from... I jerked. Something in the periphery of my vision, a patch of red flashing up instants before-
The bolt came out of nowhere, parted air like a sword-sized razor blade. Air magic. I fed my shields with all I had, called magic from the deadened, jumbled plane of power around me. The magic came, volatile and in uncontrolled surges.
My wall of air was thick, bursting with power. The shaft of power buried itself in my shields, biting through with the viciousness of a lion's teeth. The shield trembled. It was the only warning I got.
The unthinkable happened: it shattered.
I dived to the side. The whoosh of sharp air cut past me, parting air like a set of steely razor blades. I hit the asphalt hard, rolled to my knees, peering through the veil of hair that had come undone. Seconds of indecision as another wall of air sprang up in front of me.
There was a side-street to my right, a rusty set of fire exist stairs to my left, and the seemingly impenetrable one-way glass behind. Three potential exit routes. None of them would do me any good if I didn't know where my enemies were. And I knew they were there.
I squeezed metaphorical eyes, pushing deeper in to sub-terrains that would show me the auras of my attackers. The world around me fell into a haze of gray, pixelated and fuzzy. Seemingly void of auras.
Come on!
I pushed pushed pushed, feeling the vertical fall as my mind plummeted into deeper recesses. The street looked like a new interdimensional lowland. We were so close to the black market, there were magical residues drifting all over the place. But there was more. Pulsing red to my left; to my right; in the front. All approaching with human-swift feet.
Move!
I tore my eyes open. The air in my lungs had turned to ice, heavy like the invisible chains someone must have wound around my ankles.
No use. You can't run anymore.
If they trapped me in a circle I was dead. I needed enough time and a calm mind to open a portal.
My hand slipped into the pocket of Medici's jacket â which had inadvertently become my jacket, which to me had become the major buck someone passed me.
What tools did I have at my disposal that were not deadly? Did I dare use a null bomb? What was justifiable and would rank as a case of self-defense? Was there any action pattern that wouldn't make them condemn me even more?
Don't try to sugarcoat it Anna. People died because of what you did.
I closed my eyes against the memory.
No way back.
I raised my hands, palms up, fed my shields with power. My cuff was dangerously low on magic, but whatever power I could find, I grabbed it. Magic burned through my veins like a life wire, skin crawling with the overuse of power. My walls solidified into something else, bullet-proof in terms of magic. At least that was what I hoped. I stared, inhaled magic-drunk air in anticipation of their next move.
The atmosphere changed. Air rippled in front of me, and for the first time I saw them up close. They moved in sync, a formation that glided in as one. It was familiar. Too familiar.
I saw the motions, the patterns. Military training combined with schooling in the highest arts of magical combat the Circle had to offer. Their magical prowess was off the charts. And there were five of them. Who the hell were they?
Three men, two women. Dressed in dark clothes. Nothing that would show blood. Good for camouflage. Blatantly normal, nothing that would attract attention or draw unwanted eyes.
I saw their faces. Particularly his â the man at the top of the perfectly shaped v they approached in, presumably their leader.
Masculine lines framed by short dark hair in a buzz cut, narrow lips and a set jaw, eyes that seemed dark brown in the night-lit shadowland. It was the look in his eyes that got to me. It was the clinically cold stare of someone who would see things through, no matter what. Kill without remorse, if necessary.
I want the rest of the world to believe what the Circle already knows. That you're one of us now. Raphael Medici's words wound themselves through my mind, quicksand grating on my nerves.
Even if I tried to explain. No one would believe me. No one would care anyway â Pentagram or not, my magical heritage and my connection to Alexander were enough to raise the Circle's hackles, assuming they knew. Not to mention the fact that in the Circle's eyes I conspired with the Raven.
Who were they and why were they after me? Just one of the above, or a combination of all three? No matter if these witches were from the Circle or somewhere else, there was no way of stopping them.
I stared at them, licked my lips, calculating. They'd covered all the exits, circled in on me before I sensed their exact location. Salvation was so close. The only exit I had was behind me, the closed off glass wall. Impenetrable.
What if-
The witches stirred, fanning out and away from me. The soft hiss of words in the silent street, Latin words that barely made it to the threshold of my ears. The power raised itself, reared up like a giant awakening from a slumber.
Walls of air sprung up around me, mushroomed out of the ground in a flash. I stilled. Stared. The walls of air were not mine.
Power raced from one wall to the other, connecting. The construct changed into a cube, air particles intertwining to form one. More words laced with power, morphing into something else.
The air around my walls changed, thinned. I didn't know the spell, but I knew the particular set up of particles, like a bouquet, a certain flavor I could taste on the tip of my tongue. It was the amalgam-taste of nothingness. A perfect vacuum.
No. It can't be.
If my shields broke, I was unprotected. They were going to choke me.
I had more magic at my disposal, unknown, possibly dark magic I was afraid of touching, less using on others, but enough people died because of me. There was only one way to stop them without hurting or killing them.
I shoved my hand into the pocket of Medici's leather jacket, fished out the one thing that might be my salvation or my downfall. The disc felt warm in my hand and oddly alive. The only object among Medici's artifacts that would stop the witches without harming them.
A null bomb.
I licked my lips, remembering the last time I used it. If I passed out again, I was dead.
Only one way to find out.
The disk felt heavy and alive in my hand, a soft stirring in its surface like a low vibration underneath the earth. Setting off a null bomb is like throwing a burning matchstick into a gas tank, only that the explosion is equal to a miniature atomic attack. If I wasn't careful it would leave nothing in its wake.
I let my senses widen, reached out to the object with metaphorical fingers. The disc heated to the touch, barely contained magic as potent and hot as a fire bomb.
"I take the magical backlash." The words left my throat in a strained whisper.
I broke the disk in two. Power sizzling hot to the touch, welling up up up! Magic tipping to the surface with invisible claws that were scratching against membranes of my mind, then tearing right into me.
With a gasp I let go of the disc, throwing it into the space between me and my attackers. This time I didn't hold my breath, forced myself to breathe in and out evenly.
Pain mounted. Magic bursting inside the shell of my body. Time spun into a boomerang tide of stasis, suspended in mid-air. The disc slid forward, a flash of silver in the alley's shadow-landscape.
I blinked. Tidal waves broke and the magical world around us burst at the seams. Elemental magic withered and died, planes tearing and crashing into one another. I braced myself, waiting for its force to hit, anticipating that moment when the mushroom cloud dispersed and extended its toxic fingerprint.
The backlash happened on two levels. First the air shot back, brushing past me in a shockwave that was real and touchable. The second backlash was worse, much worse. Magic, flaying me, scraping with angry needles, diving right into bone. I crashed to my knees, cradling my head. I was losing my grip on reality.
Breathe through it. Breathe.
"I take it. I take it," I gasped and the world exploded in burning pain.
Seconds, moments, lost.
I picked myself up, stumbling forward on rubber legs. The mushroom cloud of dust and disturbed particles, a twin disturbance on magical and real planes, left the air hazy, equal to the deadness of a vacuum. Noise was muffled, like water sinking into a sponge. My ears were dull and numb, just like the rest of my senses.
I tumbled to the left and into another tunnel of darkness. Feet heavy on asphalt. Rough wall flush against my forehead. I needed to stop. Just a moment.
No! Move!
I couldn't think straight. There was just that one thought.
Move your feet. Keep moving.
I had to get there, walk towards that light and away from that darkness behind. The light was coming closer, or maybe I was the one in motion, approaching. Dull sound from behind. My vision went gray, flickering gray pixels diving in from the edges.
Move, you've got to-
The last thing I sawwas a shadow in front of me. Then my vision went black.