In Plain Sight

Sorsha raised her arms and spoke a long, complicated sentence in her Sorceress’ voice. The second the echoes of her words faded away, Alex heard a sound like a thousand nails being scraped across plate glass, and he felt his body being twisted like taffy in a puller. It didn’t hurt, but he wanted to vomit. Clinging to the Sorceress, he pressed his face down into her hair. She smelled like strawberries and cream, which he would have found intoxicating at any other moment.

Alex had the distinct impression that he’d been rolled flat in a clothes wringer and slipped under a door. Then, a tremendous light flashed before his eyes and he dropped to his knees on a hard stone surface, still holding on to the Sorceress.

He assumed that she traveled this way all the time, but when he finally looked up, panting and trying not to shake, he found Sorsha leaning against his chest with her eyes shut tight. After a long moment she opened them and gently pushed herself away.

“It will wear off after a moment,” she said, slumping down to sit on the stone in her slinky black dress.

Alex put his free hand on his knee to push himself upright, but a wave of nausea gripped him, and he stopped. When his stomach finally stopped vibrating, and his vision cleared, he tried again, levering himself up to a standing position. Once he was stable, he reached down and helped Sorsha to her feet.

They had landed on a stone balcony with a marble railing running around it. A comfortable-looking chaise longue sat under an elegant lamp next to a side table with a book sitting on it. Beyond the chaise stood a set of stained glass doors depicting a woodland scene with trees, shrubs, and wildlife.

“This is my private entrance, Lockerby,” Sorsha said, reaching out to open the doors.

If Alex hadn’t been looking at her slender hand on the door handle, he would have missed the brief spark of magic that leapt between the two when she turned it.

She pushed the doors open and stepped into a vaulted room with an enormous crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. A large, four-poster bed stood on a raised dais along the right side of the room. Its posts were carved in keeping with the theme of the stained glass, with vines, leaves, and forest creatures spiraling around them, up to the canopy. Around the room stood intricately carved dressing tables, chests of drawers, wardrobes, and even a small breakfast table in a round nook with gigantic windows to let in the light.

As grand as the room was, it appeared to be in a state of disarray. Toiletries on the dressing table were left out, drawers were open in the chests, and a trail of the Sorceress’ unmentionables led from the bed to a door Alex could only assume was a bathroom. Alex noted that the pair of lace-trimmed underwear matched the brassiere and the garter belt — all were a light sky blue, like the Sorceress’ eyes. He assumed there were matching stockings, but thinking about that was extremely distracting with Sorsha a few feet in front of him. He reached into his coat pocket and took hold of his pistol, focusing his mind on the task at hand.

“This way,” Sorsha said, leading the way across her bedroom without comment.

She continued out onto a balcony above a foyer that could have fit Alex’s entire office inside it twice. The upper balcony ran around the room in a U shape with carved balusters supporting polished cherry-wood handrails. Thick Persian carpets covered the balcony’s hardwood floor, ending in a runner that descended the wide stair, flaring out at the bottom as the staircase did. The main floor was white marble and decorated with furniture from couch chairs to hall trees to elegant tables supporting Asian-looking vases. Only two things looked out of place in this ocean of elegance, the shattered and broken front door, and the figure of a man lying on the cold floor, a large red pool spreading out beneath him.

“Hitchens!” Sorsha screamed, then before Alex could stop her, she hurled herself over the banister. She spread out her arms and uttered a word and her fall arrested just as she reached the floor. She landed on the marble with a sharp clack from her high heels.

Alex tore off along the balcony and around to the stairs. By the time he reached the bottom, Sorsha had the man’s head in her lap. He looked to be in his late fifties with gray hair, a salt and pepper mustache, and a weathered face. A large purple bruise had spread across the side of his face and his white waistcoat was dark with blood.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying. “He had a spell breaker. When the enchantment on the door broke, it exploded. I tried to stop him but—” The man coughed and blood stained his mustache.

“Don’t talk,” Sorsha said. “I’m going to get you to the hospital. Where are the cook and the maids?”

“Sent them away in the floater,” he gasped.

“You should have gone with them,” Sorsha said, stroking his face.