Pirate's Alley

“Yes, I stand by my testimony completely. I apologize for not revealing Christof’s presence but didn’t feel it had any bearing on the matter.”

 

 

Zrakovi speared me with a hard look. “You’re a talented wizard, DJ, and your elven magic makes you an extremely valuable asset to our people in these troubled times.” He leaned forward and smacked his hand on the table, his flat palm cracking against the wood like a gunshot and making me jump. “But don’t ever think you’re untouchable. Don’t ever make me think you’d turn your skills against me or the wizarding council. Don’t disobey me again. I’d hate to see you follow the path of your father.”

 

I looked down at my hands. Hands that mixed potions, wielded a staff of fire, and held on to things too tightly out of a deep-seated fear that I’d lose yet another person I cared about.

 

It always came back to Gerry, didn’t it? Gerry had followed his beliefs, betrayed his kind, and paid with his life.

 

Yet the path Gerry followed had been a selfish one, carved out of a desire for power. I’d sworn when he died that I’d never go down the road he’d trodden.

 

I’d been na?ve.

 

In the end, I had to do what I believed was right, even if it meant letting go of old promises. Maybe even letting go of people I loved. But it would not be out of selfishness, and it would not be for power.

 

I looked back up at Zrakovi and said the only thing I could.

 

“Do what you think is best, sir. But I am not my father.”

 

I was, however, my father’s daughter.

 

“Go home, Drusilla Jaco. But watch your step.”

 

I pushed my chair back and stood. God, I was so tired. The floor even felt shaky, and I staggered a little as I edged my way around the table toward the exit.

 

“What was that?” Zrakovi stood up, looking around the room.

 

A muffled boom sounded from the hallway, and I ran toward the door.

 

I’d just grasped the knob when the ceiling came down and blackness descended.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 24

 

I came to consciousness in a pitch-black world of choking, chalky dust. The taste and smell of old, dislodged plaster was one I’d come to associate with those horrible months after Hurricane Katrina, when New Orleans had become one massive, sweltering site of both destruction and construction.

 

Coughing, I rolled to my knees and cracked my head against something solid. Damn it, where was Charlie? I’d pulled the cross-body strap of my messenger bag over my head before the ceiling came down, so it had to be nearby. I felt along my chest for the strap and followed it to the bag, but no elven staff stuck out the top.

 

I focused on the staff, calling it to me using an elven phrase Rand had taught me: Dewch i mi, Mahout. Instantly, a spark of red fire shot out near my left foot. I reached back and felt along the debris where the light had been, and when my fingers brushed against the polished wood, it heated to a soft glow.

 

Now I could see that I was in a cave with walls formed of plaster and broken lathing and wire.

 

“Elder Zrakovi? Can you hear me?”

 

It took a few seconds, but finally he answered with a muffled “I’m a few feet to your left, I think. I’m all right. Are you hurt?”

 

I did a mental body check. “I don’t think so.” At least not beyond the throbbing shoulder and ribs that seemed a constant these days. And maybe a new lump on my head.

 

“I’ll try to make my way to you,” I said, holding Charlie up to see how to best dig my way out. I needed another source of light, preferably one that wouldn’t set the room on fire.

 

Wedging Charlie between two boards with the glowing end closest to me, I felt inside my bag for the smooth wooden surface of my portable magic kit. Pulling it out, I held it closer to Charlie’s glow and picked out a small packet of crushed bioluminescent mushrooms. I tapped a small amount into a plastic container, added an ounce or two of holy water, and used my finger to stir it and also shoot a bit of my native magic into it. The phosphorescent green glow sprang up instantly, so bright that I had to blink a few times so my pupils would adjust.

 

“What the hell is that?” Zrakovi sounded closer than before, and debris fell and shifted somewhere to my left.

 

“I made a light so we could find our way out.” I stuffed Charlie back in my bag and held the container of light above my head. There was a beam just above me—that’s what I’d cracked my head on—but open space on either side of it.

 

I began pushing debris out of the way in front of the beam, careful to stay clear so it wouldn’t hit me if it shifted again. By the time I’d cleared out a space big enough to crawl through, Zrakovi had made his way to me and peered in the opening. “How did you make the light—is it elven?”

 

“No, just good old potion magic.” If not for his voice, I might not have recognized him. He was covered head to toe in white dust that glowed a little in my phosphorescent light. He held out a milky hand to help me crawl clear of my rubble cave. “I keep a portable magic kit with me most of the time.”

 

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