Dreamwalker (Stormwalker #5)(72)

I hadn’t known that, though I had seen that spells Mick and I did together, such as warding the hotel, had a power we each lacked on our own. I hadn’t realized it was a common thread in all magekind.

“Emmett must have exploited that when he was a beginning mage,” I mused. “Except he didn’t stop at sharing collective magic to make good spells. He drained those who came to help him and stole their magic.”

“Exactly.” Cassandra’s word was crisp. “That’s what an Ununculous does. Which is why we will end him.”

Pamela, next to her, gave a decided nod.

Fremont let down his corner of the mirror with a thump, flakes of gold leaf floating from it. Fremont’s admiring look at Flora left no doubt about his feelings toward her.

I could not help a sense of foreboding. Fremont’s choices in women, since I’d met him, had been nothing short of disastrous. A couple of those choices had almost gotten all my friends, including him, killed.

For now, Flora seemed harmless, but give it time. At the moment she was running her fingers over the glass of my magic mirror.

Ooh, the mirror said. I like that. And it’s soooo nice to see the sky again. I’ve missed the outdoors.

“You see it every day,” I told it as I came to stand next to Fremont. “A part of you is in the mirror on my bike.”

Details. I mean like this—all of me looking up at the sunshine. Ah … bliss.

“Hush now,” Flora said. She kept one hand on the mirror, but stretched the other out toward Fremont. “Now, if you will all join hands, we can begin.”





Chapter Twenty-Three

I took Fremont’s hand and extended the other to Mick, who’d not let me stray far from his side. His hand was taken by Elena, who connected to my grandmother.

Flora spread her fingers on the broken mirror, moving to cover the large bullet hole in its center. Fortunately, the mirror quieted down. I felt its awe come to me through Flora and Fremont, and I tried to send back comfort.

I did not know what to expect. I didn’t know much about witch magic, except what I’d seen Cassandra and Mick use, and the spells Mick had taught me. All involved accoutrements of some kind—a candle, incense, sage or other herbs, or crystals, though Mick had told me the accoutrements were only there to give focus to the spell.

Flora used nothing. She didn’t chant to the Goddess or speak in Celtic or Latin, she simply began to sing. The song was in English and uncomplicated, a celebration of life and magic.

Come together

Fill our hearts

Join with magic

Let magic flow

The song could have been taken from a Wicca 101 type book, but for all its simplicity, I felt its power. Flora had a pleasant voice that kept in tune, pretty to listen to.

She continued singing, smoothing her fingers over the mirror. Fremont squeezed my hand and leaned to whisper in my ear. “Isn’t she awesome?”

I reserved judgment. What I saw was a nice young woman with a good voice bringing us all together and touching the mirror.

When my storm magic jumped inside me—on this cloudless day—and began to flow toward Fremont, my heartbeat sped in alarm. I instinctively tried to tamp my magic down, but Mick leaned in on my other side.

“Let it.”

I felt his fire magic seeping to me, warm and comforting. I relaxed, let Fremont take the trickle of my magic, and in turn soaked in Mick’s.

Soon I started feeling other magics coming down the line. The wild bite of wolf and mountain lion—Pamela and Jamison. The white hot spark of Cassandra—fire and air. The solid grounding of Grandmother’s earth magic, and the sharp cut of Elena’s ancient shaman power.

I sensed the other two dragons, hesitant at first, then joining in. I felt a weird tingle that reminded me, oddly, of tree roots, which I concluded came from the goblins. I couldn’t place another shamanistic tingle until I realized it came from Don, the assistant cook. Of course—Elena would want to bring someone magical to work with her.

Non-magical humans had also joined in the ring. From them I sensed the grounding Flora would need, a path to the real world. Naomi, Julie … and Maya.

Maya was at the end of the line. Nash stood near her, but he had his arms folded, not touching her or anyone else. I wondered if someone had explained that his null magic would wipe out the spell, or if he just didn’t like taking part in group circles. Maya was paler than usual, with a white bandage on her forehead peeking out from under her dark hair.

Nash’s face was drawn, lined with worry, and he kept his eyes behind his sunglasses trained on Maya. I remembered his horrified shock in the dream, when he’d shot Maya. I wondered if Maya remembered the dream, and if she’d told him about it.