Dark apprentice, p.36
Dark Apprentice, page 36
A loud thump, followed by several lighter thumps, sounded behind her. She tore her eyes away from her enemy. Nikolai convulsed on the floor in a pool of sick. The sight did nothing to allay her nausea. Stomach acid stung the back of her throat and she bolted from the room, fumbling through the large apartment until she found a trash can, and heaved into it. Jelly-legged, she wobbled to an armchair and collapsed, shoving the trash can between her knees. Damn teleportation sickness.
Breathe. Stabilize the boy. Interrogate the prisoner.
Thoughts in order, she cast Stasis on Nikolai and examined the damage. Dealing with poison once it permeated the body was never fun. Always best to prevent it from entering at all. The assassin had been thorough, using multiple poisons to attack a number of Nikolai’s systems, while amplifying the effect of each. She’d have to kill and regrow whole swaths of tissue. The blood vessels were so constricted that if she released the Stasis, he’d immediately go into cardiac arrest. She cast a few cleansing spells on Nikolai. A proper healing would take a more concentrated effort. Time enough for that later, after she’d dealt with the threat.
When she was certain the teleportation sickness had passed, Medea rose to confront her attacker. The big baby sobbed from his position on the wall, as though she’d crucified him or something rather than just held him in place. If he thought he had it bad now, he was woefully mistaken.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“He’s dead,” the boy wailed. “He’s dead and it’s all my fault!”
“He’s not dead, no thanks to you. Who are you?”
“He’s . . . he’s not dead?” The boy looked behind her, at Nikolai’s still form. “Then you have to help him!”
“I am. He’s in stasis. I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I start removing body parts. Who. Are. You?”
“H-H-Harper.” The boy took a shuddering breath. “Nikolai’s friend. Surely he’s mentioned me? We went to the Academy together.”
“Nikolai doesn’t discuss his personal life with me. And people don’t usually wear illusions to disguise their appearance around friends.”
“I always wear it. Ever since the war.” He laughed nervously. “Earned me the nickname Goldilocks. Heal Nikolai—he’ll tell you.”
He seemed sincere, but she’d been wrong before. Maybe he did know Nikolai but found out about the apprenticeship and decided to settle some age-old debt. No, he would have issued the Servitus aut Mors if that were the case—unless he found a way around it. Unlikely. Had someone approached him and asked him to lay the trap? She scanned the apartment and several nearby but could sense no magical presence.
“Who put you up to this?” she asked.
“Nikolai did. I told him it was a bad idea, but—”
“You expect me to believe he asked you to give him two vasoconstrictors back to back?”
“Vaso . . . what? It was just an experiment that went horribly wrong, that’s all.”
Experiment? Nikolai did this to himself? But why? What the hell had he gotten himself into now?
“The poison. Where is it?”
“There, in the sacks.” The boy glanced over her shoulder, toward the floor. “Though I think one got loose. I’m afraid I was a bit distracted.”
She floated a sack over. Careful not to touch it, she peered inside. Bufo marinus. The cane toad’s toxin was mildly hallucinogenic, and some idiots sought the temporary euphoria despite the risk. Nikolai could be stupid, but she hadn’t thought he was that stupid.
“Is this what you two do on his days off?” she asked, voice rising. “Take hallucinogens for fun? If that’s how he plays, he can damn well endure the consequences.”
She tossed the bag back in the box and released the boy. He slid to the floor and scrambled to his feet.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean I’m going to cancel my healing spells and remove Stasis.” Just like that, another apprentice gone. She hated to see all that potential go to waste, but she would not prop up someone who seemed so dead set on getting themselves killed. Immortality had to be earned.
“No, please don’t!” The boy ran in front of Nikolai’s body and threw out his arms.
“You really think that’s going to stop me?”
“He wasn’t doing it for fun. He had a good reason!”
“The same reason every young boy has, I’m sure. What is it this time, ‘expanding your mind’?”
“I—I can’t tell you.”
She crossed her arms and gave him her best scowl, which she’d been assured was quite severe.
Something hardened in the boy’s eyes. “I can’t.”
A true friend. It never ceased to amaze her that men like Nikolai could inspire such loyalty. Couldn’t they see through the facade?
“Look, Harold—”
“Harper.” The boy shifted and rubbed his arm. “He told me you were bad with names.”
“Harper. I believe in consequences. While I am perfectly willing to heal my students for any injuries they sustain during training, or as the result of an assassination attempt on me—which I thought this was—I am not willing to heal someone senseless enough to poison himself for no good reason. So tell me, what was Nikolai’s reason? And before you answer, consider this: if I remove Stasis now, his heart will stop.”
The boy shot several nervous glances at Nikolai. His mouth opened and then closed again. She took a step forward, hoping it would spur a decision.
“Wait! He had a clue—‘dapper frog’—that was supposed to help solve his, er, problem.”
“Dapper frog?” She frowned. What on earth did—Ohhhhhh.
She called a pillow from the bed and sat next to Nikolai. “Would you mind getting me a glass of water? This is going to take a while.”
Nikolai groaned and opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize the bedroom, though the decor was Harper’s taste. He sat up and immediately regretted it. The world spun. His fingers clutched the bedsheets as he tried his best not to vomit.
Harper bustled in with a tray and a smile. “You’re up!” He set the tray on the nightstand and felt Nikolai’s forehead. A mop of dark brown curls adorned his head.
“Why am I in your bedroom? And where’s your illusion?”
“I forgot to put it back on, and the other bedroom was, uh, dirty. I had Medea put you in here. Are you well enough for soup?” Harper uncovered a white bowl and steam billowed forth, carrying the scent of beef and vegetables.
Nikolai clutched his head. “Medea was here?”
“She burst in just before you collapsed. It was awful. You were twitching all over, then you went rigid and stopped. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t know what would have happened. Why didn’t you tell me she had wards on you?” Harper dipped a spoon into the broth, carefully blew on it, and raised it to Nikolai’s mouth.
Nikolai waved the spoon away. “Because I didn’t know. What kind of wards?” Medea had to be using them to track his movements. So that’s how she knew he’d been nosing around the cave.
“She didn’t tell you? They let her know if your health gets low. She thought I’d poisoned you. When she found out what we’d been doing—”
“You told her?!”
Harper absently rubbed his arm. “I didn’t have much choice. She was furious. Almost stopped healing you. Oh, before I forget.” He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “This is for you.”
Nikolai took the letter—a lecture of course. Medea railed against him for his lack of judgment, and in particular for conducting the experiment without a healer—“If you’d bothered to learn healing spells, it wouldn’t be an issue . . .” He skimmed the rest. It was more of the same. Learn healing, lack of foresight, blah blah. He crumpled the paper and threw it into the wastebasket.
Harper shook his head. “I have to say, from talking to Medea, I don’t think she’s the one who cursed you. She seemed rather concerned, at least until she found out you were licking toads.”
Poor Harper, always so trusting and gullible. “Of course she seemed concerned. She’s not done draining me, or whatever it is she’s doing. That’s why she’s got wards tracking my health. Probably to make sure she doesn’t finish the job too fast.”
“I don’t know, Nikolai . . .”
“You don’t know her like I do. Look, I didn’t want to tell you this before, because you’d only worry, but the woman has a dungeon full of people.”
“What?”
“I know she seems reasonable, but she’s got it in for me, like she’s had for every other apprentice.”
Harper looked at him imploringly and scooted closer. “Then leave. We can figure out the curse once you’re safe.”
“You really think that’s going to stop Medea? She tracked me here, didn’t she? The only way for me to best her is to get rid of this curse. Then I’ll have a fighting chance. I managed to make an invulnerability potion—that should give me an edge in a fight—and I’ve got someone looking into where she hides her magic.”
Harper didn’t look convinced. “How can she be hiding magic?”
“I don’t know, but she does things with magic that no one else can. There’s a cave on her island, and I can feel something back there, something powerful, but I can’t get to it. When I tried, the curse stopped me, and afterward, Medea blocked off the cave.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want you nosing around.”
“She’s hiding something.” Just like Petrov. Two years, and the bastard had a room full of black magic hidden in the shop the whole time. He would not be denied again.
Harper tugged one of his dark curls down his forehead. “Everyone’s hiding something.”
“Are you going to go back to blond?”
“I have to. It’s my stage look.” Harper shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal, but Nikolai knew the truth—he was terrified. “It’s really no different than makeup. But maybe, around friends, I could start taking it off.” He shot Nikolai a pleading glance.
“You can always be yourself around me.”
Harper sighed and stared at his lap. “I know. Even after all these years . . .” He shook his head and closed his eyes, then ran his hands over his hair. The brown curls disappeared, replaced with flaxen gold. When his eyes opened, they were blue again. “I feel safer like this. I know I shouldn’t have to hide, but . . .” He took a shuddering breath.
Nikolai leaned forward and placed a hand on Harper’s shoulder. “You’re safe now. And you know if anyone messes with you, you can come to me, right? Nazis or bad critics, I’ll kill anyone who threatens you.”
Harper chuckled, thinking it a jest.
“I do have a favor to ask.” Nikolai reached for the bowl of stew and took a bite. Heavenly. “Did you tell Medea about the dapper frog?”
Guilt was written all over Harper’s face. “I’m sorry, Nikolai, I had to.”
“It’s fine. Can you let me see it?”
Harper winced. “You’re not going to like how you look.”
“Just visualize it, please. I can go from there.”
As soon as Harper nodded, Nikolai plunged into his mind. Such an odd thing, that someone would allow him access so. Didn’t Harper realize how vulnerable it made him? The thought of what Nikolai could do made him giddy. But Harper was a friend, he would stick with what he needed to know.
Medea glared at Harper, and he could sense his friend’s residual fear at the encounter. Harper glanced behind him, treating Nikolai to a view of his own body splayed in a puddle of vomit.
“Dapper frog?” said Medea. Her expressions were fleeting, but plain as day—confusion, comprehension, then an almost imperceptible nod of the chin. Yoxtl’s vague clue made sense to her. He was on the right track.
“Thank you, Harper.”
“What did you find?”
“The clue is real. It’s just not a literal frog.”
Harper pursed his lips. “Maybe it’s a plant. Know any botanists?”
Nikolai smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
33
CONFRONTATIONS
Nikolai waited until he was deep in the woods beside Herr Bergmann’s cottage before taking his frustrations out on a nearby tree, splintering the bark with Lance until the trunk was scarred with gashes. He itched to burn the forest to the ground. The irony wasn’t lost on him.
How many trees had he torched in the jungle after Medea deserted him that day? All of them? Surely some must be left.
He had approached Bergmann about plants with names or properties similar to “dapper frog,” which he claimed he’d found in a badly translated scroll. Bergmann rose to the challenge, enthusiastically digging through his collection of books until he found a species that matched. Frog’s Fancy—a bromeliad, so-named for the frogs that laid their eggs in the water that collected between the leaves. An incredibly rare plant, slow growing and only known to occur in one small area of Mexico.
And Nikolai had torched them all.
Medea had brought him right to the plants, spent a full day priming his frustration, then intentionally deserted him, knowing full well how he’d react. Manipulating someone into destroying their own salvation—he had to hand it to her, it was the kind of poetic move he’d make against an enemy.
Nikolai stormed back to the gateway, and from there, to the temple. Finding the path they’d taken to the trees was difficult. The undead creature he’d summoned had destroyed much of the surrounding jungle. It took some time to locate the path Medea had cut through the overgrowth, and the wilderness was already attempting to reclaim the space. Using telekinesis, he hacked his way through the dense growth, scoring bark as he went to mark the way.
Hours later, he arrived at the burned cluster of trees. Rain had put out the fires he’d started, but not soon enough. Charred frog corpses littered the ashy ground. While most of the trees still stood, his salvation, the Frog’s Fancy, had been all but obliterated. In total, he found four plants on trees outside the burn area. With utmost care, he took one leaf from each plant before casting Protection on them, not knowing if a spell designed for humans would keep the plants safe. He’d have to research other spells and wards to ensure the area was protected.
Back in the laboratory, he searched the counter for the Frog’s Fancy leaves he’d collected on his trip with Medea. That had been his first trip to a garden, and the leaves were buried beneath endless clippings from subsequent excursions. Four leaves from today; thirty-two from his first trip. Spread out like this, it seemed a decent amount, but there was no telling how fast he’d go through them. They needed to be rationed with utmost care.
He carefully wrapped the leaves in cloth and stowed them in his pouch.
Medea stared at the pile of books—books she’d left out in the hope that Nikolai would have the sense to look through them. A pen spun in place on the table, rhythmically slowing down and speeding up with nudges of magic. Tino scampered across the table, dodged the pen, and climbed the stack of books.
“What am I going to do?” She asked the gecko, not really expecting an answer. He wasn’t the best conversationalist. His creators had been chatty enough without a familiar adding to the din. Still, it felt good to express her frustration to someone.
“I have to get through to him somehow. Healing is possibly the most important school of magic there is. Why can’t he see that? I thought the finger thing would force him to at least look in this section, but I don’t think he did, given what I saw in London. His friend said he’d made potions in case anything went wrong. Potions!” The pen pinwheeled off the table.
Tino stared at her blankly.
She leaned back and summoned the pen to her fingers, twirling it between them.
Nikolai was competitive. Could she use that? Tell him healing had been one of Thomas’ specialties? Would that make him take the school more seriously? She frowned. No, he’d probably argue that Thomas would’ve been more powerful if he’d studied something else.
Why were people so unreasonable? Present them with data and they dug in their heels and refused to budge. It made no damned sense. Nikolai operated under the faulty assumption that certain magical schools were more powerful than others, specifically in combat. If she proved that wasn’t the case, would he listen? Or would it only make him more resistant?
The pen in her hands twirled faster. Like so many young boys, Nikolai was obsessed with flashy, high-damage things. Even if she restricted herself to healing spells during sparring and he saw how hard it was to kill an opponent who could negate any injury, he’d probably take it as a challenge to learn “better” offensive magic. He’d said it himself that first day in the library—the best defense was a good offense.
The only way to get through to him would be to use healing magic offensively.
Medea sat up and rested her chin on her hands. Not just offensively. She’d have to be careful not to use any spells that could be interpreted as damage, not healing. And she’d have to hurt him—nothing that would prevent him from continuing training, but something that would serve as a permanent reminder of the lesson. Nikolai might not like it, but it was the only way. He’d thank her in the long run.
Nikolai watched the ocean churn below as a salty breeze toyed with his hair. Yoxtl stood beside him, fur eerily still despite the wind.
“Well?” he asked the spirit. “Did you find anything?”
“I approached the other spirits, but unfortunately, they know I’m helping you and refused to talk.”
“Why?”
“They’re loyal to Medea. Maybe they hope to obtain her soul one day, or she feeds them magic. I don’t know. We spirits, we usually don’t help humans unless there’s something in it for us.”
Good to know. If nothing else, he could count on Yoxtl to be pragmatic. What were the spirits hiding? They desired one thing, souls, and there was only one way to get them on the island. Yoxtl had shown surprise at the strength of Medea’s soul, even taking age into account. She must have made a bargain—her apprentices’ souls in exchange for power, possibly even immortality.
