Cold Burn of Magic
Page 12
He shrugged. “I might not like it, but it doesn’t bother me, either. Especially not when I’m getting paid this much for it. You’re not going to be so lucky today.”
I twirled the sword in my hand. “We’ll see.”
He let out a loud bellow, raised his sword, and charged at me.
We fought through the pawnshop aisles, knocking over books, dashing bottles off counters, overturning bins of movie posters, and making a mess. The guy didn’t have all that much skill with a sword, and I was easily able to defend against his attacks. But he had a moderate Talent for strength, and each one of his blows was so sharp and hard that it threatened to jar my weapon out of my hand. I was going to have to change tactics before my own strength gave out and he managed to slap the sword away from me.
Meanwhile, Ashley had killed the second guy and was battling the mystery man, who had drawn his own sword to counter her quick, relentless attacks. Devon managed to stagger back to his feet, although he was still trying to suck down air through his severely bruised throat. Felix remained sprawled on the floor in the front of the shop, still unconscious.
Everything was going more or less okay—until the mystery man broke through Ashley’s defenses and stabbed her in the stomach.
She screamed, and blood arced out from the wound—dark, red, arterial blood. Ashley collapsed to the floor, although she managed to hold on to her sword. The mystery man approached her and she lashed out with the weapon, trying to catch him across the legs. However, he sidestepped her clumsy blow and headed toward Devon, who raised his fists, even as he wobbled on his feet.
I couldn’t peer directly into the mystery man’s eyes, but his cruel, satisfied smile told me all I needed to know about his intentions. But the fourth and final guy was still in front of me, so I wasn’t going to be able to protect Devon. Not unless I did something drastic.
Not unless I used my other Talent.
I cursed myself for getting involved in the fight, even though there was nothing I could do now but see things through to the end. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t let Devon die. Maybe because I knew that the world needed more people like him, more strong, silent types who felt things far more deeply than they ever let on. Maybe because he was the kind of thoughtful, loyal person that my mom had always been proud to protect. Maybe because he was someone who actually seemed to care about others, especially his friends.
So I sighed, lowered my sword, and turned my head to the side, wincing at what was coming next—
The guy’s fist plowed into my face.
He saw the opening I’d given him, and he took it. The hard blow threw me back five feet, making me crash into a counter, the one with all the perfume bottles that Ashley and Devon had been considering. The counter rocked back and forth, but it didn’t tip over and the glass didn’t shatter. But the violent motion caused several bottles to slip off the top, slam onto the floor, and splinter into shards, sending the soft scents of lilacs and roses spiraling into the air.
For a moment, the pain of the punch overwhelmed me, as if a firecracker had exploded in my jaw, and it was all I could do to stay conscious.
But then, my other Talent kicked in, and the pain crystallized into something else—a brutal, bitter cold so intense it burned.
My entire body felt like it had just been submerged in the chilliest water imaginable and then left outside in a raging blizzard to air-dry. One second, I was sweating from the effort of swinging my sword in the shop’s stuffy air. The next, I had to grind my teeth together to keep them from chattering from the frigid sensation filling my body, as though my blood had been replaced with ice. But it wasn’t ice running through my veins—it was magic.
So I focused on that cold burn of magic and let it flow through my entire being, reenergizing me. Because this—this was my true Talent.
Some people called it transference, the ability to absorb magic used against you and turn it into something else. A major, major Talent because it was so extremely rare and could make someone so very powerful. But I knew it for what it really was—my most trusted weapon, and my most dangerous secret. One that I kept hidden for all sorts of reasons.
Oh, magic hurt me the same way it did everyone else.
But magic also made me stronger.
I staggered away from the counter and back onto my feet, holding my sword down by my side. That cold burn of magic filled every single part of me, thrumming through my veins like a bittersweet song.
The guy who’d hit me frowned, wondering why I wasn’t an addle-brained puddle on the floor. Then he snapped his fist forward again, aiming for my head as though he wanted to punch right through it.
This time, I caught his hand in mine, keeping it from slamming into my face again. We seesawed back and forth, with the guy trying to use his larger size and weight to overpower me. He didn’t realize that by punching me, by using his own strength against me, he’d given me the very thing I needed to beat him.
Even while he was wondering what was going on, I snapped my sword up and buried it in his heart, driving it almost all the way through his body in a sudden surge of strength. His eyes bulged in surprise, and I quickly averted my gaze from his before my soulsight kicked in and showed me his agony. The guy dropped to the floor, my sword still embedded in his chest.
The cold sensation racing through my body lessened, since I’d used up some of the stolen magic in my veins, but I still had enough power left to finish the fight. So I plucked the dead guy’s sword out of his hand and headed toward the mystery man, who was still creeping up on Devon. In the front of the shop, Felix let out a low moan, as if he were finally coming to.
I twirled the sword in my hand. “We’ll see.”
He let out a loud bellow, raised his sword, and charged at me.
We fought through the pawnshop aisles, knocking over books, dashing bottles off counters, overturning bins of movie posters, and making a mess. The guy didn’t have all that much skill with a sword, and I was easily able to defend against his attacks. But he had a moderate Talent for strength, and each one of his blows was so sharp and hard that it threatened to jar my weapon out of my hand. I was going to have to change tactics before my own strength gave out and he managed to slap the sword away from me.
Meanwhile, Ashley had killed the second guy and was battling the mystery man, who had drawn his own sword to counter her quick, relentless attacks. Devon managed to stagger back to his feet, although he was still trying to suck down air through his severely bruised throat. Felix remained sprawled on the floor in the front of the shop, still unconscious.
Everything was going more or less okay—until the mystery man broke through Ashley’s defenses and stabbed her in the stomach.
She screamed, and blood arced out from the wound—dark, red, arterial blood. Ashley collapsed to the floor, although she managed to hold on to her sword. The mystery man approached her and she lashed out with the weapon, trying to catch him across the legs. However, he sidestepped her clumsy blow and headed toward Devon, who raised his fists, even as he wobbled on his feet.
I couldn’t peer directly into the mystery man’s eyes, but his cruel, satisfied smile told me all I needed to know about his intentions. But the fourth and final guy was still in front of me, so I wasn’t going to be able to protect Devon. Not unless I did something drastic.
Not unless I used my other Talent.
I cursed myself for getting involved in the fight, even though there was nothing I could do now but see things through to the end. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t let Devon die. Maybe because I knew that the world needed more people like him, more strong, silent types who felt things far more deeply than they ever let on. Maybe because he was the kind of thoughtful, loyal person that my mom had always been proud to protect. Maybe because he was someone who actually seemed to care about others, especially his friends.
So I sighed, lowered my sword, and turned my head to the side, wincing at what was coming next—
The guy’s fist plowed into my face.
He saw the opening I’d given him, and he took it. The hard blow threw me back five feet, making me crash into a counter, the one with all the perfume bottles that Ashley and Devon had been considering. The counter rocked back and forth, but it didn’t tip over and the glass didn’t shatter. But the violent motion caused several bottles to slip off the top, slam onto the floor, and splinter into shards, sending the soft scents of lilacs and roses spiraling into the air.
For a moment, the pain of the punch overwhelmed me, as if a firecracker had exploded in my jaw, and it was all I could do to stay conscious.
But then, my other Talent kicked in, and the pain crystallized into something else—a brutal, bitter cold so intense it burned.
My entire body felt like it had just been submerged in the chilliest water imaginable and then left outside in a raging blizzard to air-dry. One second, I was sweating from the effort of swinging my sword in the shop’s stuffy air. The next, I had to grind my teeth together to keep them from chattering from the frigid sensation filling my body, as though my blood had been replaced with ice. But it wasn’t ice running through my veins—it was magic.
So I focused on that cold burn of magic and let it flow through my entire being, reenergizing me. Because this—this was my true Talent.
Some people called it transference, the ability to absorb magic used against you and turn it into something else. A major, major Talent because it was so extremely rare and could make someone so very powerful. But I knew it for what it really was—my most trusted weapon, and my most dangerous secret. One that I kept hidden for all sorts of reasons.
Oh, magic hurt me the same way it did everyone else.
But magic also made me stronger.
I staggered away from the counter and back onto my feet, holding my sword down by my side. That cold burn of magic filled every single part of me, thrumming through my veins like a bittersweet song.
The guy who’d hit me frowned, wondering why I wasn’t an addle-brained puddle on the floor. Then he snapped his fist forward again, aiming for my head as though he wanted to punch right through it.
This time, I caught his hand in mine, keeping it from slamming into my face again. We seesawed back and forth, with the guy trying to use his larger size and weight to overpower me. He didn’t realize that by punching me, by using his own strength against me, he’d given me the very thing I needed to beat him.
Even while he was wondering what was going on, I snapped my sword up and buried it in his heart, driving it almost all the way through his body in a sudden surge of strength. His eyes bulged in surprise, and I quickly averted my gaze from his before my soulsight kicked in and showed me his agony. The guy dropped to the floor, my sword still embedded in his chest.
The cold sensation racing through my body lessened, since I’d used up some of the stolen magic in my veins, but I still had enough power left to finish the fight. So I plucked the dead guy’s sword out of his hand and headed toward the mystery man, who was still creeping up on Devon. In the front of the shop, Felix let out a low moan, as if he were finally coming to.
