The Darkest Magic Page 16

  The shadow crossed his periphery again, and the answer to their problem landed squarely in Maddox’s mind.

  “How many spirits haunt this inn?” he asked the woman as he gently placed Al’s sack down on the seat beside him.

  She gasped. “What did you say, boy?”

  Barnabas looked at him with alarm in his eyes. “Maddox . . .”

  Maddox glanced again toward the corner where the inky darkness now perched. He was surprised he hadn’t sensed it the moment they stepped foot in the inn, but he set that aside for now. “There are spirits in this inn. There’s one in this tavern with us right now, but that’s not the only one that resides here.”

  His statement had reached the ears of other patrons, who had stopped eating and drinking and were now silent, their wide-eyed gazes fixed on him.

  “Did he say spirits?” one patron said to a friend.

  The woman clasped her hand to her mouth, clearly in shock. The innkeeper put his arm around her and drew her closer as he studied Maddox intensely.

  “How could you know this?” he demanded.

  “I can see them,” he said simply.

  The woman shook her head as she put her hand to her throat and twisted around her charm, meant as a totem to protect against evil spirits. It was really nothing more than a useless scrap of tin made by profit-hungry witches, which Maddox knew because Livius used to sell these charms to anyone superstitious enough to believe his claims.

  No mere charm could repel or vanquish a dark spirit.

  “I was right!” the woman practically hollered. “All this time, I was right. The creaking sounds, the cold drafts, the horrible sense of despair that follows us around. What are we going to do?” She looked around at the shocked faces. “Don’t tell anyone what you’ve heard here tonight! If word gets out, we’re ruined! No one will dare enter these cursed doors!”

  Barnabas watched Maddox curiously, not daring to interrupt.

  “I can help you,” Maddox told them.

  “Help us?” the woman said. The pair exchanged a frenzied look. “How?”

  “The same gift that allows me to see the spirits also allows me trap them.” He stood up and held his hand out to the woman. “Give me your charm, please.”

  She yanked the charm—chain and all—right off her neck and offered it to him with a shaking hand. “If it will help, take it!”

  “Thank you.” He squeezed the charm once before placing it in his open, upturned palm. He’d done this many, many times before, and the muscle memory came back to him as if he were with Livius just yesterday.

  He picked up Al’s sack and handed it to Barnabas. “Best keep you-know-who away from this vanquishing, just in case.”

  Barnabas nodded. “Good idea.”

  He got up and moved, with Al, toward the archway, as far away from Maddox as he could get.

  Then Maddox walked in a circle around the tavern, knowing that each and every patron watched him intently. He tried not to be distracted by this—or by the half-eaten pheasant on their plates and the ache of his empty stomach.

  It didn’t matter where the spirits were located, Maddox always started a vanquishing the same way: by looking up. In this case, at the wooden rafters of the tavern’s ceiling.

  “Dark spirits who reside in this inn: I command you to obey me!” he said. “You are troublesome to these good people, whose greatest want is to help the tired and hungry citizens who come to them in need of food and rest. I command you to obey me. Come to me, dark spirits. Now.”

  This was a part of the act he was used to with Livius. Really, he didn’t have to say anything externally, just in his mind, to summon the spirits.

  Maddox concentrated hard, until his magic became a magnetic force, forcing obedience. He now directed his gaze to the floor and held very still as three shadows slithered toward him, winding themselves up his legs, around his arms, their sheer proximity cloaking him in an icy chill. They kept writhing all around him, rising up as if heading for his neck, until they reached the level of Maddox’s palm and then dove, disappearing into the silver amulet.

  All went quiet for a moment, and Maddox sensed nothing except the sound of rain outside and the scent of delicious food.

  “It is done,” Maddox said. “The spirits are trapped and will never bother you again.” He returned the amulet to the woman, who accepted it from him gingerly. “Bury this deep in the earth as soon as you can and know with certainty that you are now safe from harm.”

  That part, of course, was a lie. The spirits he’d encountered in his life couldn’t harm the living—they could only scare them. But telling that truth to the innkeeper and his wife wouldn’t elicit the response he was aiming for.

  Silence hung in the air for several tense moments. No one in the tavern spoke a single word, but then the woman’s face lit up with a wide smile, causing Maddox to exhale a big sigh of relief. “You are a miracle, young man,” she cooed. “A true miracle!” She grasped his face and kissed both of his cheeks.

  “Incredible,” a man at a nearby table agreed, nodding. “I’ve never witnessed anything so brave!”

  The other patrons also voiced their enthusiasm and awe.

  “Alas,” Barnabas drew closer to Maddox, holding the sack, muting the cheer surrounding them with his grave tone of voice, “now we must begin our search for a place to lay our weary heads tonight. Come, Maddox. Let’s be on our way.” Barnabas put his hand on Maddox’s shoulder and turned him toward the door.

  As they walked, Maddox slowly counted: one . . . two . . . three . . .

  “Wait!” the innkeeper called out just before Barnabas grasped the door handle. Maddox grinned—he knew they’d never make it past three. “We can’t let you go back into that storm. You have more than paid for lodging here tonight, as well as a fine meal.”

  Barnabas frowned. “That’s very kind of you, but I thought you said you had no more rooms.”

  The innkeeper’s cheeks reddened. “We have but one left, and it’s yours. You’ll have to share it with your son, but it’s a very fine space. Please, take a seat again, and my wife will bring you something to eat while I prepare your room.”

  Barnabas turned to him, now smiling. “You are too kind.”

  Maddox tried to lose his big grin as he and Barnabas sat back down at their table, people murmuring with awe at what they’d seen tonight.

  “I’ve heard rumors of the witch-boy before,” Maddox heard one man whisper. “Figured they were nothing but legend.”

  Maddox caught Barnabas stealing a glance at the whispering man. “Exactly why I wanted to avoid taverns and inns,” he said. “Best to leave here very early in the morning, lest news of this real-life legend starts to spread.”

  “A legend indeed!” Maddox started at the sound of Al’s muffled voice from inside his sack, which Barnabas had placed on the tabletop. “Well done, young man.”

  “Are you all right?” Maddox asked, nudging the edge of the canvas aside to glance at Al. “My magic . . . did it affect you in any way?”

  Al blinked. “No, I don’t think so. I didn’t even feel a tingle!”

  “Good.” This was a relief. As gently as possible, he gestured to Al to keep quiet again. He then looked up to regard a surprisingly sour expression on Barnabas’s face. “What’s wrong? You don’t look nearly as thrilled as everyone else does about my performance tonight.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Is it because I used my magic in public? Or that you fear this has brought my soul one step closer to being corrupted by darkness?”

  “A bit of both, to be honest.”

  “I feel fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Next time, however, I’d prefer that we discuss our options before you jump right into spirit-capturing.”

  Maddox frowned. He couldn’t tell whether he was grateful for Barnabas’s instinct to protect him or annoyed that he couldn’t just do as he pleased without being chastised for it afterward. After all, he knew his limitations, and ea
sy magic like the kind he performed tonight was nothing new for him.

  Finally, the innkeeper’s wife arrived with two trays, each bearing a veritable feast of the roasted pheasant he’d been craving since smelling it, warm and crusty bread, boiled potatoes, and a bowl each of barley soup. Once all that was placed down, she hurried away and returned again with enough ale for them to drown in. Maddox ate until his stomach hurt, and then he ate a little more. The woman kept returning to refill their mugs, and Maddox had never been more grateful to have a roof over his head.

  Maddox was just leaning back in his chair out of fullness when suddenly the tavern door opened. A frigid gust blew in, bringing the wet storm with it. Maddox looked up to see a woman enter through the archway. She was every bit as sodden as he and Barnabas had been when they’d first arrived. Her dark blond hair was slick against her face, her gray cloak dripping onto the wooden slats of the floor as, shivering, she took a seat at a neighboring table.

  For a moment Maddox expected someone to follow in after her, but she seemed to be without a companion.

  A flash of boldness he’d never felt before took him over. “Miss?” he said. “You’re welcome to join us over here, if you’d like the company. That is, if you don’t mind, Barnabas.”

  “Certainly not.” Still, Barnabas looked at Maddox with an arched eyebrow. “Please, do join us. Plenty of room.”

  After a moment of hesitation, the young woman approached their table. Barnabas hopped up to his feet, helped her out of her wet cloak, and pulled out a chair for her.

  “There you go,” he said once she was settled in her seat. “Now tell me: What is a lovely young lady like yourself doing out on a fearsome night like this?”

  She eyed Barnabas’s damp clothes and generally disheveled appearance. “I suppose I could ask you the same question.”

  The innkeeper’s wife approached then, refilling their mugs once again. Maddox noticed the young woman watching her, a flash of hunger leaping to her gaze as she eyed their empty plates.

  “Can I get you something, miss?” the innkeeper’s wife asked.

  “Yes, please,” she said. “Whatever these fine gentlemen had to eat would be lovely.”

  “Certainly. It won’t be long.” The innkeeper’s wife scurried away.

  “I will warn you,” Barnabas said. “We ate quite a bit.”

  “Luckily, I’m very hungry.”

  Looking at her now, Maddox couldn’t be sure of her age. When he first saw her in the doorway she’d looked like a proper lady, but up close she looked quite young—more of a girl than a woman. Still, though her face was soft-skinned and young-looking, there was something about her grayish-blue eyes that looked world-weary to him.

  “I’m Liana,” she said.

  “I’m Maddox,” he said with a smile.

  Thankfully, Al remained silent. Maddox took his sack off the table and placed it next to him instead.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maddox.”

  “I’m Barnabas,” said Barnabas, holding out his hand for several moments until the girl finally turned from Maddox and took it. “The pleasure is entirely mine. Liana is a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  Maddox tried not to roll his eyes as Liana regarded both of them silently for a moment.

  “I think I know how I can repay you for your kindness in inviting me to sit with you this evening,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “How would you like to know your futures?”

  Barnabas let out a groan of disappointment. “A fortune-teller. That explains why you’re traveling alone. Maddox, beware of pretty fortune-tellers. They will take you for every coin you have if you give them half a chance.”

  “Quite the cynic, aren’t you?” Liana scowled at him. “May I remind you, it was Maddox who asked me to sit with you. I didn’t invite myself.”

  “She’s right,” Maddox said, then turned to his invited guest. “Ignore Barnabas. You’re welcome to tell my fortune if you’d like, Liana. I’m actually very interested in what lies ahead.”

  “You’re sure?” she said, her pinched expression quickly replaced by a wicked grin. “You might not like what I have to say.”

  Barnabas waved his hand dismissively. “Let the girl do her performance, Maddox, and pay little mind to what she says. That is, as long as she realizes we’re not paying her a single coin for her show.”

  Once again, Maddox found himself newly surprised by how rude Barnabas could be toward everything and everyone. “Calm yourself, Barnabas. Like she said, she’s offering us our fortunes in return for our hospitality.”

  Liana eyed Barnabas. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”

  “I trust no one.”

  “What about your son? You don’t trust him either?”

  “Maddox has proven the single exception to my rule.”

  “Very well,” Liana said, turning in her seat to face Maddox. “Let me look into your eyes, Maddox.”

  Al coughed.

  Liana frowned. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” Maddox said quickly, lightly poking the sack next to him. “Nothing at all.”

  He then held the pretty girl’s gaze, seeing new depth and a range of colors in her eyes. He found himself momentarily lost in their strange mixture of shades, from a soft silvery shade to bright sapphire.

  “You’re on a journey,” Liana said. “In search of something very important.”

  “Ha,” Barnabas scoffed. “That could be said of anyone.”

  “When it comes to your goals,” Liana went on, unfazed, “you and your father are of like minds. And, despite the questionable means you might use, or have already used, on your journey, your intentions are good, and your hearts are pure.” Liana paused, her eyes still locked on Maddox’s. “Am I close? Is your heart pure, Maddox?”

  “I’m not sure sometimes,” he said uncertainly. “I hope it is.”

  “He speaks the truth,” Liana said, smiling. “Honesty is a rare gift, and it’s one you definitely possess. And so is love. I see it for you, Maddox. I see that you have felt love before. There is a girl whom you’ve lost, and though it seems an insurmountable task, you hope to find her again.”

  Maddox swallowed hard and nodded weakly. “Yes. I do hope to find her again. But I don’t know how.”

  “It will happen,” Liana said evenly. “One day, perhaps sooner than you think. Perhaps even on this quest you’re on with your father.” The fortune-teller paused again, this time looking even more deeply into Maddox’s eyes. “You seek a hidden treasure, one that might change the course of many people’s destinies. Is this right?”

  Maddox found himself nodding, very conscious of his full stomach and those several mugs of ale working him into a warm, pleasant mood. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Who exactly are you, Liana?” Barnabas asked, his tone especially cool.

  Maddox looked up at the interruption and started to see that Barnabas had pulled out his dagger.

  “What do you think you’re doing with that?” Maddox demanded.

  “This?” He pressed the blade against Liana’s waist, beneath the table and hidden from the rest of the tavern. “There will only be trouble if she doesn’t answer my question. Who are you, girl?”

  Liana’s expression grew strained. “A fellow traveler, that’s all.”

  “Put that away, Barnabas,” Maddox hissed.

  Barnabas’s jaw stiffened. “Ah, there it is. The difference between you and me, my young friend. You haven’t lived long enough to see as much deception as I have. You meet a person who acts friendly, and you assume they’re a friendly person. But I’m wise enough to see beyond that facade. What I see behind that friendliness is nothing but devious intentions.”

  “Do you?” Liana said coolly. “Well, then, did you see this coming?”

  With a flash of metal, Liana pressed her own dagger against Barnabas’s trousers. At a very vulnerable spot.

  Maddox cringed.

  Barnabas clenched his jaw even tigh
ter. “Clever girl.”

  “Clever enough to handle a brute like you, at least.”

  “Between your little fortune-telling act and this weapon of yours at the ready, you must already know exactly who we are.”

  “What makes you say that? Perhaps I’m simply a girl who’s had to learn how to defend herself against violent criminals. Do you make a habit of threatening the lives of women you’ve only just met?”

  Barnabas let out a feeble, choked laugh. “Not usually, but I’ll make an exception for you, fellow traveler.” He paused to let a sly smile spread across his face. “I never said Maddox was my son.”

  Now it was Liana’s turn to laugh. “Pardon me for assuming that two men of vastly different ages who are also traveling together are related.”

  “There are many ways for two people to be related, my dear. Why not assume I’m his uncle or his cousin or . . . I don’t know, perhaps his older brother?”

  Liana cocked her head. “Have I struck a nerve, Barnabas? Are you worried you look old?”

  “Thirty-four is hardly old.”

  “No, you’re right. It’s very old.”

  Barnabas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I like you.”

  “That’s fine with me. Now lower your weapon, or say farewell to the thing that makes you a man.”

  “My sparkling personality?” he said, then grunted in pain as she pressed her blade down harder. “Fine.”

  He pulled his weapon back. A moment later, she did the same.

  “That’s better. Perhaps now we can speak a bit more freely,” Liana said. “First, perhaps you can share with me why one of your traveling companions is a reanimated severed head?”

  Barnabas eyed her with an increasingly wary gaze. “How long have you been following us?”

  “Long enough.”

  Maddox was barely breathing now. “H-how? Why?”

  Liana, her cheeks now flushed, flicked a glance at him. “Out of pure necessity. I swear I mean you no harm.”

  Barnabas shifted in his seat and grimaced. “Ugh. I think I’m bleeding.”

  “Erm, Barnabas?” Al piped up from his hiding place in the sack. “Perhaps you should be more careful when speaking to a lady.”