Chapter 42
forty-two
The Mages Guild, AKA the Interdimensional Bureau of Magical Affairs
My head hurts and my mouth is so dry. Did I stay up drinking? What…happened last night?
I crack my eye open to a dark room but immediately I can tell it’s not mine. The air feels weird. The ambient noise isn’t the same.
I open my eyes and the lights come on in the space, blinding me. I shield my face with my arm and sit up, pushing the blanket off me.
There’s a warbling sound and a flash of red light.
“You’re awake,” a woman says. “Good. We need your help.”
I throw my legs over the side of the—bed? Gurney? Whatever it is—and my bare feet land on warm glassy floor. The panes beneath my feet glow with orange and zip toward the wall. I get the sense I’m in some kind of hospital but now that the room is lit, it’s impossible to tell.
There’s nothing in here. Not even a bed when I look back at where I once was.
I reach out with both hands in this confusing space, looking for a countertop, or a table, anything. Anything with anything. But there’s nothing.
“Caitlin, there are no weapons in here,” the woman says.
I whirl toward her with my hands up like I might fistfight her. I would definitely lose a fistfight against her.
It’s the wizard with the red circle on her breast pocket. She has a round face that remains mildly annoyed as she assesses me. Her dark hair is slicked back with gel, and her eyes are a bright hazel. She’s muscular under her robes, but only about my height.
Her hands are clasped in front of her, and she looks at me with impatience. “Creature Nine E Five Seven C is not cooperating, and it’s dying.”
My mind chews on her words for a moment, sluggish like I’m hungover. “Bastian, dying?”
“His injury is severe, but he’s refusing treatment—violently,” she says, then beckons to me. “Come and save him, and me, from further headache, will you?”
My eyes dart around the room. It’s just a box with glass walls and a glass floor. Her red magic swirls around her boots, contained and controlled, while my orange lashes out like a solar flare.
“Where are we?”
“The IBMA headquarters, quadrant six eight one point three.”
“What does that mean,” I snarl.
She beckons to me again, unperturbed by my tone beyond annoyance. “Come with me and I will explain on the way. He’s several cubes down.”
This is all very cordial and official. The hunters were chaotic and rude. This is something else…but what?
I take a step forward and she doesn’t wait, turning away from me toward the wall. Just before she makes contact, red light flares from her feet and pierces vertically to the ceiling, then pops open in a portal. She disappears through the doorway, and then the door disappears, too.
“What the fuck…”
I walk toward the wall, hand outstretched, but before I can touch it, my orange magic slips up and opens a similar portal. I poke a finger through and feel someone grasp it on the other side, then tug. I step through the light, feeling electricity course over my body in a wash.
The red wizard is on the other side, holding my finger. She releases it and turns down a nondescript glass hallway. The ceiling is maybe twelve feet up, and the walls ten feet apart. There are no doors, but there are intersections.
A woman turns into the hall from one of them, walking with haste. She’s wearing a white robe with a green cross on the back, her hair up in a tight, black bun.
“The Interdimensional Bureau for Magical Affairs, the IBMA, is a collective of beings from across the realms, universes, whatever you want to call them, with magical abilities.”
I suck down a breath but before I can get a question out, she keeps going.
“What is magic might be your next question, but unfortunately, that is also still up for debate. Magic is a broad term that covers things beyond normal conception or things without explanation you can comprehend. There are some beings out there who claim to know exactly what it is, but we mostly consider them to be hooey shamans.”
“Who—”
“Hooey, excuse me, I’ve become too complacent with my Earth terminology. I mean to say that we have no evidence to believe what they claim.”
She turns down a hall that looks identical to the one we were just in. How does she even navigate?
I jog to catch up with her. “Who are you?”
“Legate Amyrah, designation Firebrand of the TTC, Tactical Terrestrial Corps.”
Legate…Firebrand?
“It’s all just words to you, I’m sure, but what it means is I’m a mage who protects Earth.”
She turns toward the wall and red magic illuminates it, opening a doorway. I follow in quickly behind her and it stays open for me as the color shifts to orange.
There’s a roar and a loud crash before my eyes adjust to the new room.
Unlike mine was, this one is bright. Bastian’s glittering black blood is everywhere.
His back is to the far wall and he’s surrounded.
My stomach clenches in the desperate need to go to him, so I don’t resist it.
I rush past Amyrah and push a man aside, breaking through the ring surrounding Bastian.
His panting snarl morphs into something gentle, and fearful. My feet slip on the wet glass and I gasp as I careen forward. Bastian lunges off the wall and snatches me from the air. His body is cold, muscles trembling from strain of holding me and staying upright.
I look up at his reptilian face and caress his scaled maw.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “We’re safe.”
His gaze darts around the room and his lip curls back as he issues a low growl.
“As promised. We haven’t hurt her,” Amyrah says.
Bastian’s thighs are shaking, his whole body on the verge of collapse.
“Please, sit down. Rest,” I urge.
“Everyone out,” Amyrah says.
“But Legate—” a man starts and she cuts him off with a wave of her hand.
He nods, then looks at the others. “Let’s give them space.”
They leave in an orderly, single-file line, their different magic colors lighting up the wall as they pass through the doorway. Bastian doesn’t sit, doesn’t take his eyes off Amyrah.
“I can’t leave you unattended, so you’ll have to accept my presence.”
“Bast, please,” I whisper. “You’re hurting yourself.”
He backs against the wall, hitting with a heavy thud that jostles me in his arms. Slowly, he slides down to the ground.
“Can I bring the medic back?” she asks.
“I will not be touched,” Bastian rumbles.
“They want to heal you,” I say, drawing his gaze to me.
His claws comb through my hair and down my back. “They want to take from me.”
“You’ve left more than enough all over the floor,” Amyrah says.
“I do not need their medicine.” He holds me closer. “Your presence heals me.”
“Where’s my bag?” I ask Amyrah.
She reaches into the breast fold of her robes and out comes my messenger bag. There must be some kind of space saving spell on them…
She takes a step forward and Bastian growls, propping himself up in a position to fight.
Amyrah rolls her eyes and slides the bag across the floor. Bastian loops the strap with his tail and pulls it back to me. Inside, safe and sound, is his soulbound book.
Bastian tucks me in close, circling us with his wings. The light spears through the scarred holes in his leathery flesh, and I begin to read.
Ten chapters in, I realize I don’t feel anything. Not thirsty, or hungry, or even like I need to pee. So, I keep reading. And reading.
Until the book is finished.
Bastian isn’t asleep, but in his trance-like state when he’s absorbing a story. I push his wing aside and check the wound on his shoulder. It’s entirely healed, lighter-colored skin zagging through the scales.
Amyrah is sitting in a chair near the wall where the door portal is. She’s waving her hand through red magic in the air that looks like a computer screen. Every once in a while she stops to jab at something, and then wiggles her fingers, making new lines of text appear.
“Is that it, then?” she asks when she notices me watching her. “He’s fine?”
“I think so,” I say.
She gives a mirthless chuckle. “Just needed a bedtime story.
“Right, well, I’m almost finished with his registration profile. His documentation will be assessed by the threat department, and then we’ll see.”
I scowl. “See what?”
She clears the magic away with a shooing motion and looks at me. “It’s time for your registration, now.”
“See what?” I demand more forcefully.
She stands and beckons to me. “Let’s go.”
I shake my head. “I’m not leaving him here alone with you people.”
“You people.” She snorts. “You mean people like you?”
“Bastian told me about the mages guild,” I spit with venom. “You burned his eyes and tortured him.”
Amyrah sucks down a deep breath as she looks up at the ceiling, as if praying for the patience to deal with me. “Earth didn’t join the IBMA until the mid-eighteenth century. It wasn’t us, or anyone alive today.”
It seems a bit silly now that I’ve said it. Of course, the people who hurt him are all dead. Just because they’re mages and warlocks doesn’t mean they’re immortal.
Or are they…
“Bastian told me that his body can be used to cure illness, maybe even stop aging. If they got enough of him, they could still be alive.”
“We have detailed records of Creature Nine E—”
“Bastian,” I correct and she sighs.
“We have detailed records of Bastian and those he interacted with since the time of Earth’s indoctrination into the IBMA, so if it would make you feel better, we can review those after your registration.”
“Fine, but what is it that we’ll see about after his threat assessment?”
She smirks, the first sign on her face of anything beyond boredom. “You’re not easily distracted.”
I shoot up and cross my arms impatiently.
She clicks her tongue. “We’ll see if he gets to go back to Earth.”
My mind races with a thousand things like “You can’t do that” and “Fuck you if you want to try me” but then I remember that I am in a magic box where the door only opens if they want it to. They very much can keep us detained.
They haven’t been hostile. They’ve been accommodating. Perhaps my best move is cooperation. Maybe it’s my only move.
I look down at Bastian’s resting form. His breathing is deep and steady. Peaceful.
“I need something to write with,” I say.
Amyrah looks at me like I’m crazy. “Why for?”
“I’ll need to tell him where I’ve gone, unless you want him hunting us down, uninjured and at full strength.”
She smirks again. “That sounds suspiciously like a threat.”
I shrug. “Just a fact.”
She tugs a bit of red light out of her waistband, and in a flash it becomes a solid pen. “You can draw with it on the wall. It’ll use your magic.”
I accept the tool and give it a once-over. It looks like a stylus for a tablet, but without any buttons. Just a smooth, simple thing, almost like a wand.
I press the tip to the wall beside him and scrawl out my note. I let him know that Jerry isn’t bothering me right now—sort of a code so he believes it’s me—and mention that we need to get out of here so we can check on Renee and Oscar so he needs to behave.
Amyrah makes a choked laugh behind me as I draw a little heart around the words “I love you.” I glare over my shoulder at her and she clears her throat, hiding her smile.
“All right,” I grumble as I hand her the pen. “Let’s get this over with.”