Transmutation
Part Four of "North of Midnight," a Spell Weaver novella
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Where we left off: Elatha, a former king of the Formorians and an ally of the vampires, tricks his way into the infirmary, from which he kidnaps the bodies of Viviane Florence and Carrie Winn, whose souls have already been trapped. To slow down his opponents, Elatha puts Antonio under a faerie death curse, leaving him less than an hour to live. Worse, the Formorian king infects him with vampire blood, ensuring he’ll become a vampire if he dies. Jimmie starts to make a risky suggestion.
Khalid glared at Jimmie. “You’d better not be proposing what I think you’re proposing.”
“I’m not exactly proposing it,” said Jimmie, sounding defensive. “I think it’s an option to explore. Maybe there is a way to make it safe. We’ve tried crazier things in the past.”
I looked at Antonio, his skin white as marble, his lips still stained by vampire blood. “I want to hear what Jimmie has to say.”
“Alexandra, I know what he’s talking about, and it’s not worth the risk,” said Lucas.
“We can’t just let Antonio die,” I replied. “And become a vampire.”
My heart was pounding. I hardly knew Antonio. But there was something about him—no, those thoughts would have to wait until later. I’d seem too many unwilling victims become vampires. That was not happening on my watch.
“We have enough time to hear Jimmie out,” said Umbra, already back to her emotionless tone. She was hard to read, but assassin-trained or not, I didn’t think she wanted Antonio to die any more than I did.
“Tal’s been working on an experiment—” began Jimmie.
“A failed experiment,” said Khalid. He puffed out his chest, perhaps trying to compensate for looking younger than Jimmie. He didn’t entirely succeed, though his determined look was certainly older than his years.
“An experiment in progress,” corrected Jimmie. His stance became more rigid, as if he were bracing for Khalid’s next objection. “We know that this plane of existence, though magic can function here, is not as congenial to it as other planes, like the faerie ones. Among other things, that means that some people born with magic ability never develop magic.”
“You think one of us might have magic that could be helpful,” I said.
I was pretty sure I was the one. He looked mostly at me as he talked. But I wanted to give him the chance to make the pitch in his own way.
Jimmie nodded. “You’re a quick study. As it happens, the local area has more ambient magic than most. Over time, people who live here tend to develop whatever latent abilities they possess. Tal thought he might be able to accelerate the process—supercharge it so that a person’s innate ability would manifest itself right away.”
“He didn’t succeed,” said Khalid.
Jimmie frowned. “His work is ongoing. One of our other friends, Stan, who is very good with technology and who is determined to figure out the rules by which magic functions, helped Tal develop a simulation to test the theory. The human constructs in the simulation developed magic a couple times.”
“Most didn’t,” said Khalid. “And some suffered side effects. They went mad. They died. I think one exploded. The process is not exactly ready for prime time.
“And in case, you’re wondering, Alexandra, Jimmie has you in mind for the guinea pig in his little scenario. We’ve all been in the magical ambience of this town long enough to be fully developed magically. But you just got here, so you could have considerable space to grow. And apparently, you have a little magic already. That’s why Winn was eager to meet with you. There’s a detection spell around the town that pinged when you came through.”
That explained a lot—but it didn’t solve our current dilemma.
“I figured I was the one Jimmie had in mind,” I said. “That means I should be the one who has the final say.” I looked pointedly at Khalid. “What alternative to Jimmie’s idea is there?”
Khalid looked down at the floor, and I knew the answer even before he spoke.
“There really isn’t one. One of our friends may have noticed the communication blackout, but none of them can portal in to check on us. They could arrive nearby and try to travel here.”
“And likely get killed on the way in by some combination of vampires and faeries,” said Lucas. “The more powerful ones might be able to get here in one piece, but in the next hour? That’s wildly improbable.”
“I suppose we can at least keep him from becoming a vampire,” said Umbra, looking at me. “Stake through the heart and decapitation ought to do it, right?”
My breath caught in my throat. Of course, I knew how to do that. I would do that if I had to. But I wasn’t ready to give up on Antonio. I had the oddest feeling he wouldn’t give up on me.
“I think Khalid is right,” said Jimmie, much to my surprise. He didn’t make eye contact with me. “I should have thought the idea through before suggesting it. The risk is high—and even if you develop stronger magic, there’s no guarantee it will be of a type that can help Antonio. Even if—”
“Enough!” I cut him off much more harshly than I intended. But instead of lowering my volume, I raised it, shifting into an outright rant. “I’ve already seen all of you risk your lives for others. You will not deny me the right to do the same—if that is what I choose. Besides, I’ve been fighting vampires since I was about your age, Khalid. I’m no stranger to risk. Hell, I came here in the first place because of, uh, I guess you’d say a premonition. I knew this place was dangerous and came anyway. That’s the way my life is—and even if I get out of this mess alive, I’m not going to stop. Realistically, how much longer can I possibly survive?”
Khalid stared at me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Jimmie looked pale, and he avoided looking at me at all. I guessed he probably wished he could rewind time. Lucas looked calmer but had an eyebrow raised clear up to his forehead.
I wanted them to see me as a badass, but I couldn’t help wondering. Did they see me as more suicidal than brave? Telling about how I couldn’t get the image of my parents blood spattered on the floor out of my mind probably wouldn’t set me up as the picture of stability, either.
“You would have made an excellent assassin,” said Umbra. Coming from her, I thought it was intended as a compliment. I smiled a little despite myself.
The guys were still apparently too shocked to say anything. Stuck between an arguably insane determination to save Antonio and embarrassment over the way I’d expressed myself, I had no choice but to say something else. If I managed to say something a little more nuanced, maybe they wouldn’t notice my reddening cheeks as much.
“Is there a safe way to try Tal’s method? Uh, could you rig the simulation to simulate what would happen to me specifically?”
Khalid and Jimmie both looked at me blankly. My suggestion had caught them off-guard. Lucas, perhaps less involved in the project, shrugged.
“Jimmie, it was your idea originally,” I said, hoping gently prompting would work. “What do you think?”
“Tal created a self-sustaining supply of magical power for the device he’s using,” said Jimmie. “He wanted others to be able to help with the testing. But I think only Stan knows how to program the device.”
“What would it hurt to look?” I asked.
“The room is just down the hall,” said Umbra. “Come.” She turned and walked away without waiting to see if anyone was following.
“We better bring Antonio,” said Jimmie. “Just in case, uh—”
“You and I can carry him,” said Lucas, rescuing Jimmie from having to talk about Antonio’s possible death.
We raced to catch up with Umbra, whose movement, if not her manner, was consistent with the urgency of the situation. This corridor was a lot less medieval and more businesslike than the main hall. Come to think of it, so was the infirmary. I supposed this was not an area that visitors ever saw.
The far end of the corridor was sealed off by a plain door. However, there was what looked like a long pin to the right of the door. Umbra pricked her right thumb on the pin.
“Tal’s worked out magic to check DNA,” said Lucas. “Only those of us in his inner circle can get in.”
“Safety precaution,” said Khalid, placing a lot of emphasis on the safety part.
When the door swung open, we crowded into a room that seemed disappointingly ordinary at first glance—bare wood floor, institutional off-white walls, a desk with something that looked like a computer.
It took me a moment to realize that the room was partitioned, with half of it behind a clear plastic barrier. An equally clear door broke the wall almost exactly in the middle. Otherwise, the barrier and the room on the other side of it offered no clue what might happen within.
“Look!” said Jimmie, sounding like a little kid seeing his presents on Christmas morning. “Stan seems to have left some kind of document here. I think it’s a manual.”
“Check to see if there’s anything about programming the simulation,” said Khalid. It was the first even vaguely supportive thing he’d said.
Jimmie and Lucas huddled over the manual for a few minutes. While they worked, I imagined the sound of a clock ticking in the background. How long did Antonio have to live? Forty-five minutes? The original hour figure was probably just an estimate.
As if reading my mind, Khalid checked Antonio’s pulse. “He’s still with us.”
“But for how long?” I asked, knowing the question was unreasonable.
Lucas looked up from the manual. “I think if he were going to die in the next couple of minutes, I’d know it.”
It was a measure of how desperate I was that I actually took the statement as good news.
“There is a way,” said Jimmie, sitting down at the computer, which seemed to come on automatically, and tapping on the keyboard. The door leading to the back half of the room swung open slowly. “Just step in there for a minute, Alexandra. The system will scan you. Once that’s done, we can replicate you for the simulation.”
I stepped in and turned back to watch what Jimmie was doing. But my eyes were drawn instead to Lucas, whose head snapped in the direction of the door leading to the hallway.
It was slightly ajar. In our haste to get to work, no one had closed it.
Lucas moved in that direction, but he was too late. The door opened wider, and Janice, still obviously possessed, ran in. From the feeling of disorientation that hit me immediately, the one possessing her was ripping at us with the same soul-separating energy as before, but this time, at a much higher power level. The possessor had learned from the previous encounter.
Lucas attempted a kick designed to sweep her legs out from under her, but he was already moving clumsily, and she dodged easily. Jimmie pulled out his sword only to let it slip through his fingers and fall on the floor with an unnerving thud. Umbra held onto her dagger but seemed unable to move in Janice’s direction. Khalid couldn’t quite manage to nock an arrow.
“My allies have suggested that you may prove some use to us alive,” said the possessed desk clerk in the same inhuman voice she had used before. “That’s a real shame. But I can still have a little fun. We don’t need that one,” she said, pointing to me. “She can serve as an example of the how dangerous it is to oppose me.”
Aside from the fact that I was barely able to move, I had nowhere to run or hide. And I wasn’t close enough to have a good shot at running at her even if could move well.
Much to my surprise, I didn’t feel my soul being sucked out of my body, though I felt weak and disoriented. Janice turned instead toward Khalid, whom she easily pushed out of the way, and Jimmie, whom she threw out of the chair. Both were physically stronger than she was, but neither was in any shape to resist her.
She glanced quickly at the manual, hit a single key, and the door to the back part of the room closed. Based on the clicking noise, it also locked. I was trapped—not that it mattered much in my current condition.
“Why waste time on a simulation when you can just start the process?” asked Janice to no one in particular.
“No!” said Jimmie, but Janice kicked him in the face, knocking him to the ground. She typed furiously for a moment, and I felt a sudden burst of energy pass through me. Unlike my psychic tingle, the magic poked like me hundreds of needles. At first, the effect was like literal pin pricks, but it quickly escalated into needles sinking deep into my flesh.
I thought I screamed. I knew I passed out.
But I must not have been entirely unconscious because I dreamed. Umbra’s dagger glittered in front of me, slick with poison.
But this was no manually applied poison. Her dagger somehow generated it by magic.
“Alexandra!”
My eyes flew open. Khalid was bending over me, with Jimmie hovering nervously behind him, wringing his hands. He didn’t seem to notice that his nose was bleeding.
“What…what happened?’ I said.
“You passed out,” said Lucas, who wasn’t quite in my field of vision.
“Only you can tell us the rest of it,” said Jimmie. “You aren’t dead. You don’t seem to be insane. But do you have more magic?”
I sat up quick enough to make myself dizzy. “Antonio?”
“Hanging on,” said Umbra, who was taking his pulse again. “But you’ve been out for a while. He has maybe ten minutes left.”
I felt different now. Not necessarily magical, but more perceptive. I blinked a couple of times. Was I seeing right through Khalid’s skin, watching blood that also seemed like fire coursing through his veins?
When I told him what I saw, he nodded and smile. “You’re seeing things more magically now. Allah created the djinn from smokeless fire, so there is, in a sense, fire in my blood—not in a physical way, but in a magical one. I’ve never been able to cast fire spells, but fire can’t burn me.”
I glanced over at Umbra and could see something like shadow mingled with the blood in her veins—the modifications the shadow assassins made. I looked at Lucas and saw something like sea water with little sparkles in it in his veins. In his body, I saw something else, shifting shadows I couldn’t quite make out.
He also nodded when I told him. “The Encantado part of my faerie heritage. The Encantados are, among other things, were dolphins who dwell in the sea. The other part is probably my connection to Chango, the orisha, which is dormant most of the time.”
“It takes strong magical perceptions to pick up on a dormant state like that,” said Khalid, sounding excited.
“I’ve always had a tingling sensation that warns me of danger, especially vampires,” I said. “I knew I was psychic, but it was always just the tingling, well, and throbbing when I came here.”
“Greater magical stimulation,” said Jimmie. I looked at him and saw a gray smudge over his heart.
“The mark of death,” he explained when I told him. “I died once. Long story, but that’s how I can communicate with ghosts so well.”
I looked over at poor Antonio and saw pulsing blackness flecked with red inside of him, getting stronger by the second.
I jumped up so abruptly that I nearly knocked Khalid over.
“How does what I can see help Antonio?” I asked. “I see the curse—and maybe the vampire blood inside him. How can we use that to cure him?”
“We already know what’s wrong with him,” said Umbra. “I’m sorry, but the diagnosis adds nothing new.”
My heart skipped a few beats. I’d survived the experimental procedure—and even become more psychic as a result—and it did me no good at all.
Unless…unless the dream I had was really a vision!
“Umbra, your dagger! I saw it when I was unconscious. Is there any way it could help Antonio?”
“It’s an assassin’s tool,” she replied as if explaining to a child. “By design, it kills. It doesn’t heal.”
“How does it make poison?”
Umbra raised an eyebrow. I was right about that, then. That meant there was still hope.
“I can will it to make a particular poison based on who I need to kill—I mean, needed to kill. I’m not an assassin anymore. But if I know my adversary, I can ask the blade to generate something appropriate to my enemy’s species. I only do that now when there’s no other way—and usually against high-powered creatures who can use their own magic to resist the poison. It makes them easier to beat but doesn’t necessarily kill them.
“You don’t kill now when you can avoid it. Got it. What happens if you don’t know what species an opponent is?”
“The dagger can attempt to deduce which poison would be most effective. That may take longer.”
“What would you use to kill vampires?”
“Have you given up on Antonio?” asked Jimmie. His tone was sad, not critical. Unless we thought up something soon, Antonio would be gone.
“I’m not trying to kill him. My stake would do just fine for that. What I want to know is what the effect would be if you used a poison designed for vampires on him? Might it neutralize the blood inside him?”
“Maybe,” said Umbra. “I’ve never had occasion to try such a thing. But it could hardly make the situation worse at this point.”
“That would save him from becoming a vampire,” said Lucas. “But the faerie curse would still kill him.”
“Curse, curse,” I muttered out loud as if saying the word would break the spell. “What breaks a faerie curse?”
“That’s not really a specialty for any of us,” said Khalid. “I think some herbs can help, but we really need someone who can cast an appropriate spell if we want to break the curse completely.”
“No, no,” I said, trying not to sound desperate. “He can’t die…not like this. Short of casting a reversal spell, what might end a curse?”
“It ends when the victim dies,” said Jimmie. “But that hardly—”
“Is there a way to mimic death?”
“Not without a spell,” said Khalid.
“How about bringing Antonio close enough to death to fool the curse?” I asked, looking from person to person. None of them except Umbra would meet my eyes.
“Anything we could do to bring him close to death we couldn’t cure fast enough to save him,” said Lucas.
Another vision hit me so hard I almost fell—an image of the ghosts of the slain security guards wandering in front of the hotel.
“Jimmie, would the mark of death convince a death curse that its job was done?”
“Maybe,” he said, getting an expression someone might have while trying to do complicated math without a calculator. “But we don’t have the magic to mimic the mark of death, either.”
“Ghosts,” I said. “Ghosts would have the mark, yes?”
Jimmie’s face brightened immediately. “I see where you’re going. Yeah, they do, and after such recent and violent deaths, there’d have to be at least some ghosts present at the hotel. With luck, at least one will be coherent enough to come with me, enter Antonio, and maybe confuse the curse. Umbra, get me to the hotel now!”
Umbra and Jimmie were out the door and headed for the nearest shadow.
“So, now you’re a prophet,” said Khalid, eying me appreciatively.
“I’m not sure I can see the future,” I said. “But I seem to have helpful visions that might offer alternatives in the present.”
Lucas chuckled. “Seeing the future is overrated. I tend to see only a short time ahead—sometimes too short. Anything much further out than that is only seeing a possible future.”
Much sooner than I would have expected, Umbra came charging in followed by Jimmie, with a gray fog of ghosts clustered around him, almost obscuring him from view.
He caught my look and shrugged. “They got over the trauma of death surprisingly fast, and given who killed them, they want to help Antonio in any way they can.”
“His pulse is fading,” said Khalid.
Without Jimmie having to say anything, one of the ghosts detached itself from the mass and flew into Antonio’s body.
Khalid shook his head. “His pulse is barely perceptible. The curse wasn’t fooled.”
With a nod from Jimmie, the other ghosts surrounded Antonio, creating a constantly shifting veil. I held my breath for a moment. My new sight revealed some change in the energy of the curse—but it was still there.
“We may have bought a few minutes,” I said. “But the curse is still not broken. Umbra, anything you can inject with your dagger that might do the trick?”
Umbra hesitated a moment. “It would have to be something that could conceivably be used as a poison. A lot of evil creatures might be sensitive to herbs that have beneficial cleansing effects. The two I can think of are nettle and vervain, both used in magic to cleanse negative energy, protect from evil spells, purify sacred spaces, that kind of thing. Maybe I could get the dagger to produce a combination of the two.
“Sooner rather than later,” said Khalid. His voice sounded brave, but I could have sworn I saw a tear slide down his cheek. That was about the last thing a fourteen-year-old guy would want pointed out, so I couldn’t say anything that might comfort him.
Umbra held out her dagger in front of her and stared at Antonia. No obvious coating appeared.
“There’s a mismatch between what I’m telling it to do and how it perceives Antonio,” she said. “I can’t easily override it in such a case.”
“How about garlic?” asked Jimmie. “It’s vampire-specific, but it also repels negative energy and protects from evil spells. Antonio has some vampire blood in him. What do you think? Could you convince the dagger that he’s vampiric enough to be injured by garlic?”
Umbra again meditated on her dagger, and I could see it glisten with a fluid that, judging by the smell, contained garlic. She lifted up Antonio’s left hand, and with surprising care, she poked the dagger into a spot that avoided critical muscles and nerves. I supposed someone trained to inflict maximum damage would be able to flip that knowledge to avoid such damage.
Even so, the sound of Antonio’s blood dripping on the floor was unnerving. I tried to concentrate instead on the fluctuating darkness within him. At first, I saw no difference, but as Umbra pressed more garlic into his system, The darkness stopped expanding. Then it rippled, or perhaps shuddered would be more accurate.
Antonio shuddered, too. “Pulse is a little stronger but erratic,” said Khalid. “I’m not sure—”
Antonio sat up like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by an amateur. He opened his eyes, which were red as a vampire’s at the highest level of blood lust. If he recognized any of us, he gave no sign.
He pulled his right hand away from Khalid and his left away from Umbra, cutting his palm in the process. He seemed altogether too strong for someone supposedly at death’s door. Within him, the darkness convulsed. He threw back his head and howled like an animal.
I’d expected that the garlic might provoke some kind of reaction when it encountered vampire blood, but it should have prevented such a transformation, not sped it up. He wasn’t even dead yet—or so I told myself. But he’d had a pulse right before he pulled his hand away from Khalid. that had to count for something.
Jimmie grabbed one arm and Khalid the other in an attempt to restrain Antonio. Umbra raised her blade to strike.
‘Umbra, no!” said Jimmie. “We don’t know what’s happening?”
Antonio tore his arms out of their grasp. He was fit but not muscular enough to have pulled free so easily.
“Jimmie, sword!” I yelled.
Jimmie unsheathed his blade, and its sunny glow shined on Antonio. He snarled and closed his eyes—but his skin didn’t burn. The ghosts, who I assumed couldn’t manifest easily in direct sunlight, disappeared or fled. Still, his skin remained unmarked.
“He’s not a vampire yet!” I yelled, my voice frantic. “Whatever his condition is, it’s probably curable.”
I had no clue whether he could be cured or not—but figuring that out seemed a far better option than staking him on the assumption he couldn’t be redeemed.
Antonio stumbled back, away from the light. “Antonio! We’re trying to help you!” I said, but if he heard, he didn’t respond. The darkness within him kept convulsing, but its frenzied movement was already slowing. That probably meant the magical potency of the garlic was dissipating. With Antonio in such an agitated state, there was no way Umbra was going to get any more into his system.
Umbra remained poised, as did Jimmie. Khalid nocked an arrow. Lucas braced for combat. The ambiguity of the situation prevented them from doing anything else.
Antonio opened his eyes, which remained red and unaware of us. He squinted against the light but seemed able to endure it better. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
“We can’t stay deadlocked like this,” said Khalid. ‘There could be another attack at any moment. I think the glitch near the window is sealed, but another could develop. We have to be free to act.”
The curse was still within Antonio. That meant he wasn’t dead yet—but why not? I noticed a little grayness along with the black. Whichever ghost had jumped inside him was still there. That and the vampire blood, agitated by the garlic, must be confusing the curse. But how long would that deadlock last?
Antonio looked right at me. Did I see recognition in his eyes? Or was that just bloodlust fixing on a juicy target? I couldn’t tell.
I lowered the stake I’d been reflexively holding up and took a step in his direction.
“Stay back,” said Umbra in a voice that sounded much more calm than I was. “We don’t know enough to predict what he’ll do next.”
“We have to try something,” I said, taking another step. “Even if there isn’t another attack while we’re focused on Antonio, he could die at any moment and become a vampire for real.”
“This isn’t smart,” said Khalid.
I took another step. Antonio remained focused on me. Unlike a real vampire, he didn’t seem to notice the cross one way or the other.
I wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. I took one more step and was now almost within arm’s reach of him.
I wasn’t sure whether the movement of his lips was a muscle spasm or an attempt to smile.
Either way, he rushed at me so fast that I had no time even to find a decent defensive position.
“North of Midnight” takes place in the Spell Weaver universe. Want to find out more about the series?
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