Fury's Magic (Fury Unbound Book 2) Page 4

  I set my bag on the table and opened it. During spring and summer, either the ghosts were more friendly or they got lazy, but as autumn swung toward winter, haunting season would ramp up again. Over the past few years I had noticed that while ghosts were always around us, they tended to come out more during the melancholy weather. Maybe it had something to do with the introspection that came during the darker months, or perhaps there was just less interference in the astral currents. One way or another, my business always picked up come September. I’d have to ask Hecate about it. If anybody knew why, she would.

  I spread out a black velvet cloth, embroidered with a pattern of a triskelion of serpents, before I set the crystal skull in the center. Readying the powders and waters, I rested the dagger parallel in front of the skull, with the bell to one side.

  Looking around, I called for Queet.

  Nothing. Damn it, he was supposed to meet us here. Where the hell was he?

  “What’s wrong?” Tam asked, again keeping his voice low.

  “Queet’s not here. Usually, he can hear me when I summon him.”

  “We’ll have to start without him, then.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I could do this without Queet, but I preferred having him around for backup. I swallowed my grumpiness, trying not to let my mood affect me, and gave Tam a nod. He took up watch, standing next to me as I leaned my elbows on the table and stared at the skull.

  The crystal flared to life from the center, right behind the eyes. The sockets began to glow with a faint blue fire. Out of the corner of my eye, I kept watch on the ghosts. The moment I tapped into the skull’s power, they straightened and looked my way. Time to get the show on the road before they realized what I was about to do.

  I picked up the dagger and began to cast a circle around the room, intoning the Casting Chant in a loud, clear voice.

  “By Hecate’s Might, By Hecate’s Will,

  With her magic, this room I fill.

  By broom and cauldron, chalice and blade,

  A circle of protection shall be made.

  From the magic of the Crossroads I call,

  A darksome force both strong and fell.

  Psychofágos, come from the source,

  And surround these shades with your force.”

  The ghosts immediately left off draining the sailors and rushed toward me as a dark, shadowy figure rose in the center of the circle. The sailors let out a collective gasp. They could all see the Psychofágos as he formed in front of me.

  The demon rose up seven feet tall, gleaming black with golden eyes and short bat-like wings. He could fly, but the wings were purely for show. Bowing abruptly, the Psychofágos rumbled, “Command me.”

  I swallowed hard, corralling in my fear. Hecate ruled over the realm of the Psychofágos. Demons, they corralled spirits and, when necessary, fed on them. Since I worked with the dead, Hecate had given me the power to summon them when in need, but I used it rarely and judiciously. Demons were extremely touchy and they remembered any slights, intended or not. But the Psychofágos could help me contain the spirits. I could send the men to safety while we figured out how to de-ghostify the boat.

  Grateful the demon was the same one who always came when I summoned the Psychofágos, I returned the bow with one of my own, a sign of respect and gratitude. Demons weren’t much for small talk, which was actually a blessing. Somehow a conversation about the weather didn’t seem like proper chitchat for the demon-brigade.

  “Please contain the spirits and prevent them from attacking the men. Prevent them from leaving the ship until we banish them. I need to examine this chest and figure out how to exorcise them.” I wasn’t sure how much power the Psychofágos wielded, but with luck, it would be enough to keep the spirits in check.

  “As you will.” He turned and with a loud rumble, drew the spirits to him as though he were a magnet. They struggled, anger oozing off them like mist off dry ice, but they couldn’t break free. Their wrath was so palpable it made my skin itch. Yeah, they would hold a grudge, all right.

  When I was satisfied they were firmly bound by the demon’s stasis field, I turned to see the lid of the chest fly open on its own. Oh hell, I had wanted to get the men off the boat first, but apparently whatever was in the chest had other ideas.

  Breathing deeply, I slowly edged forward to peek inside. There, in the center, affixed to the bottom, was a bottle. In that bottle were the skeletal bones of a hand, clutching a talisman. Even through the glass, I could recognize the symbols etched on the disk. They were the runes of Ares, and around the hand scuttled several eternity beetles.

  “Don’t open that bottle, or we’re all dead.” I stared at the spell, understanding now. The ghosts had been part of the crew of the sunken ship, and they were forever bound to wage a war long over.

  Chapter 4

  “What the hell is that? How are those beetles still alive?” Captain Varga’s gaze fluttered from the beetles to the talisman. “Ares…” he breathed, his eyes wide.

  “Yes, Ares. And the beetles are eternity beetles. When placed under the right magical geas, they will live for thousands of years without food or water.”

  Tam shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Fury, the bottle is a war talisman. It binds the ghosts to the chest. Whatever the case, I can tell you right now that these spirits are no longer sane. They’ve been under a curse so long that it’s all they know. Their forms are mere shells, conduits for the energy of the curse.”

  The bottle was flickering. I stared at it for a moment, then turned to the Psychofágos. “Are there any more spirits on board, or are these it?”

  He shook his head. “There are five ghosts aboard. These five. I sense there were more connected to the chest but they never made it to the surface.”

  “Can you eat them?” I hoped for a “yes” but didn’t expect one. Somehow, that would make everything too simple and with our luck lately, the Fates obviously weren’t handing out simple as an option.

  “No, I can neither break the curse nor devour the spirits. You must destroy the talisman, and you’d better hurry. They’re strong and I can’t hold all of them for much longer. Fury, they spread their infection. Destroy them now, and the men aboard this ship won’t progress further. Wait much longer and as the spirits drain the life force from the men, the men will fade and become a part of the band that connects these unfortunate souls.”

  A plague bottle. I had heard of such spells, but I had never come across them. They were considered extremely wicked magic, and usually showed up during times of war and rebellion.

  I snapped my fingers. “A magical plague that infects the soul, of course. It makes sense.”

  “What do we do?” Captain Varga asked. “I need to protect my men.”

  I glanced over at the Psychofágos. “If the men leave the ship now, will the ghosts follow them?”

  “No, I’ve broken their hold on the men for the moment, but I won’t be able to hold them much longer.”

  Turning back to Varga, I said, “Get your men off the ship, now. The spirits aren’t fully attached to them at this point. You and your men go and let us attend to this.”

  The captain smiled softly at me. “I cannot leave my ship, girl. But my men can.”

  “Why not? I’m not planning on sinking your ship, so you don’t have to worry about being here to go down with it.” I didn’t want to argue, but I’d drive him off the ship myself if I had to.

  The captain motioned to his men. “Go. Leave everything as it is for now. Don’t forget to take Trey. He’s still in his bunk.” When they hesitated, he barked out, “Go on, damn it. I don’t want to see you back aboard until we call for you. That’s an order. In fact, I suggest you boys take the night off. Have a drink. Go to a movie. Do something fun. Spend the night in a hotel and charge it to the boat.”

  The men shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable, then trudged out of the galley. The ghosts strained against the Psychofágos, trying to follo
w them, but the demon held them fast, though he was grimacing.

  As the men filed out, Reggie glanced over his shoulder.

  “Be careful, okay?” Even though the question was aimed at his captain, he was looked straight at me.

  I nodded at him, and he vanished around the corner. After a moment, Tam dashed up the stairs, then returned a moment later. “They’re off the boat, though they look confused.”

  I turned back to Varga. “What didn’t you want to say in front of them?”

  “As I told you before, they don’t know I’m a Theosian. But there’s more to it than that. I can’t go ashore. Or rather, I can, but I’m bound to the sea. If I step off that plank onto land, I’ll turn into one of Poseidon’s stallions. The men don’t know that either. They think I’m just a little queer in the head. They’re a good group and they know better than to pry. That’s one thing about the sea and fishermen. We keep to our business unless it might affect the boat.”

  I had no clue what to say. On one level, I wanted to see the captain transform, because Poseidon’s horses were incredibly beautiful and it just seemed like such a cool thing. But that wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to say and it wasn’t my place to out him to his men.

  “If you stay, you run the risk of being attacked when we take the spirits on.”

  “I know, and I’m willing to take that risk. Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it. I can’t leave port with the ghosts still aboard.”

  Tam cleared his throat. “My magic generally doesn’t affect the dead, but I do know that talismans of this sort are best destroyed with fire. The spell was bound to the sea. Fire will be its natural enemy.”

  I leaned closer, attempting to get a good look at the talisman. The skeletal hand suddenly jerked, one bony finger pointing toward me. The beetles scurried around it, and I could hear the scuttling sound as their feet met the glass.

  I jumped back. “Cripes. The hand’s still alive.”

  Tam let out a long breath. “I think I can wager a guess who those bones belonged to.”

  I darted a sideways glance at the ghosts. They were still struggling against the Psychofágos. “The more info we have the better, but hurry. The spirits are getting agitated.”

  “During the Weather Wars, the magicians were beholden to the kings. I know, I lived through that time, although my kind removed themselves from the world at large. The magicians were bound to the will of whoever was in charge. My bet is that the hand belonged to one of them.”

  “One of the magicians? That seems wasteful.” Killing a magician to bind one spell seemed like overkill to me.

  “Yes. For the talisman to survive all this time, it would need a powerful source of energy. And I seem to recall that the magicians who helped bring about the Weather Wars often found themselves on the sacrificial end. First, the king would command a powerful spell to be cast, usually by his right-hand magus, the elite among magicians. Then, to feed the spell, another magician—someone considered expendable—would find his life forfeit. His life force would be drained into the talisman, and his bones kept with it as an anchor. This would power the spell for hundreds of years, or longer.”

  The Weather Wars had been a gruesome, tumultuous time. That my boyfriend had actually lived through it still boggled my mind, but I tried not to think about that.

  “Then the hand still contains some of the magician’s essence,” Captain Varga said. “What will happen if we break the bottle?”

  I contemplated the glass. “My guess is that if we break the bottle, the energy will pour out all at once and we’d all be targets. If the Psychofágos says it’s a plague bottle, then you know it’s a plague bottle. The demons may not have our best interests at heart, but the contract with them guarantees they won’t lie to those who work with them. No, he’s right. The men on the original ship were infected. Whatever sort of energy is bound into that talisman, it caused the sailors to die and then turned their spirits into a raging band of warriors who cannot rest.”

  “How did it end up on the bottom of the sea? Plague weapons were aimed to spread infection as far as possible. Why would the attackers sink the ship after they infected the crew?” Captain Varga suddenly snapped his fingers. “My best guess is that the crew fired their guns into the side of the hull themselves.”

  Tam rubbed his chin. “I’d say you’re spot-on about that. They must have recognized what was going on. Before the spell could drain all of the men, the ones still in their right minds sank the ship to keep from spreading the plague. Ten to one, they’re also the ones who locked the bottle in the chest and took it to the bottom of the ocean with them. Something, a rogue wave or a giant fish, must have disturbed the chest, allowing it to float to the surface. When you found it, a few of the spirits who had been infected were still attached to it.”

  The captain reached out to touch the sides of the chest. “Those men sacrificed themselves to save others. I only hope most drowned before the plague infected them. Better to journey into the afterlife than stay chained to a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean.”

  I tipped my head to one side, contemplating our options. “We can’t get rid of the ghosts without destroying the plague bottle, so we’d better focus on—”

  “Do something now,” the Psychofágos interrupted. “I can’t hold them much longer.”

  The ghosts were straining harder against his hold, and it was apparent that the demon was having trouble keeping hold of them. One spirit almost slipped away but the demon tightened his grip on the etheric cords and the spirit lashed around, his eye sockets burning. He gnashed at the Psychofágos but the demon was able to ward off the blow.

  “We could just dump the bottle back in the ocean,” Tam said.

  “We can’t do that. Especially not while we’re in port. Somebody would surely find it and then the plague would run rampant through all the boats on the dock. Damn it, I know how to deal with most spirits and Abominations, but this, I’m not so sure.” I stopped, thinking maybe we could shove the bottle through one of the portals on the World Tree, but that wasn’t an answer, either.

  “Fire. I keep thinking fire. The spell is bound to sailors and the sea. So it’s water based. Fire has to be able to break it. It’s the only thing I’ve got that has a hope in hell of working. Rest Ye Well powder won’t work until they’re freed from the curse. So I’m thinking, zap the hell out of that bottle with my magical fire and it might disrupt the spell.”

  There wasn’t much else we could try. We didn’t have time to go hunting down a historian who might be able to give us the lowdown on plague bottles created during the Weather Wars.

  “All right, I say go for it.” Captain Varga looked gung ho, though his voice quavered a little. But he set his jaw and gave me a steely nod.

  “All right,” Tam said. “I’m in. What do you want us to do, Fury?”

  I motioned overhead. “Carry the chest up top to the deck. If things get out of hand, we dump it over the side.” Turning to the demon, I asked, “Are you ready? You’ll need to come topside with us.”

  “I’m there.”

  At that moment, a familiar presence breezed in and I found myself feeling both relieved and pissed off. “Queet! Where the hell were you?”

  I was detained. He didn’t sound happy. But I’m here now. What are you up to? Oh, for Hecate’s sake, what the hell are you doing with that? He started to point toward the chest, then noticed the demon. And you had to call up a Psychofágos? What’s going on?

  Both the captain and Tam glanced over in his direction but said nothing. Very few could see Queet unless he wanted them to, but Tam was one of the Bonny Fae and Captain Varga a Theosian, which made a world of difference in how they viewed the spirit world.

  “Long story short: We have a plague bottle on our hands from the Weather Wars. I need to destroy it. I was thinking fire.”

  Queet nodded. This time he spoke loud enough for Tam and Varga to hear. “Those spirits are bo
und to that bottle, but you can’t just break the bottle. You’ll need to melt it and ash the bones inside. Which means using an exceptionally hot fire. I know you can do it. You caused a blast that hot when you propelled yourself out of the Carver’s lair.”

  If Queet noticed me cringe at the name of my mother’s killer, he didn’t let on. Instead, he continued. “The question is, can you consciously cause a fire to blaze that hot? You have to be sure. It must consume the bottle, the beetles, and the bones.”

  “The three Bs, huh?” Even I didn’t laugh at my attempted joke. I let out a long, slow breath. Could I create a fire hot enough to incinerate everything in the chest? In the past, I’d proved I had the ability, but I had never consciously attempted to create a blaze that hot. It had always been a subconscious force.

  The thought terrified me. To be able to work with flame was an incredible gift, but I realized that I was afraid. What if, once I unleashed my full ability, I wouldn’t be able to master control over it? The old saw about not being able to put the genie back in the bottle rang true in my heart. Mustering up my courage, I let out a long, slow breath to steady myself.

  “I have to do this. We can’t take a chance on hauling this thing over to the Peninsula of the Gods. There are too many ways for it to go wrong.” But a soft voice, deep in my heart, whispered, You’ve got this.

  “Take it topside. I can do this.” I followed Captain Varga and Tam, who took a handle each and cautiously carted the chest to the deck. Grateful it was dark, I asked them to wrangle one of the crab pots onto the lift, so we could set the chest on it and tip it over the side if necessary. Captain Varga motioned for us to get out of the way and then manned the crane, quickly and deftly bringing one of the giant cages onto the lift. The automatic locks set it into place and he jumped down, a remote control in his hand.

  “I can use this to ping it to flip the pot if necessary,” the captain said. He and Tam lifted the chest onto the pot and steadied it.