Divided against Yourselves (Spell Weaver) (14 page)

CHAPTER 6: DANCING WITH THE DEVIL

I was more than a little on edge as I drove to Shar’s house. His parents seemed like nice enough people, but we were about to drop a pretty big bombshell on them. It was hard to feel great about that in the first place, and in the background Stan’s problem preyed on my mind.

I wonder what it’s like to have only one problem at a time to worry about.

I pulled up in front of the Sassani house. Like most of the houses in Santa
Brígida, the facade was impressively, almost overwhelmingly, Spanish colonial. When the Sassanis had first moved from Beverly Hills, they had wanted to remodel, but Shar had told me at some point since we’d become friends, that Carrie Winn herself (the original, not Vanora in disguise) had come by one day to talk them out of the idea. The Sassanis took the hint (or Carrie Winn did a little magical manipulation—there was no way to tell which so long after the fact).

Nonetheless, though the exterior still had its pristine, plastic, made-in-Santa Brígida look of which I was thoroughly tired, the interior was another matter entirely. In fact, it looked more as if someone had transported a little piece of Iran to Santa Brígida. Everywhere you looked, you could see vibrantly colored Persian rugs, several different kinds of marble somehow superimposed over the house’s original interior, a wide variety of Middle Eastern and European furniture, some statues that would have looked very much at home in a museum, and a spectacular collection of wall murals portraying the major events of the
Shahnameh
, the great Persian epic. The painter had cleverly made the murals resemble the style of illustration in some of the better illuminated manuscripts, so that the effect, at least for a viewer familiar with those manuscripts, was to make one feel as if he had been magically transported into the manuscript.

Khalid’s eyes grew big with wonder. Most people would have been at least somewhat amazed by the Sassani’s interior decor, but to someone who had been living on the street for three years, the place must have seemed like paradise. The elaborate—and clearly very expensive—decor always made me wonder why Shar’s family had settled for
Santa Brígida instead of the more elite Montecito, but I had never had the nerve to ask.

“Shar, you’re home early,” said Mrs. Sassani as she walked into the entry hall. She must have heard Shar unlocking the front door. She was a tall, dark-haired woman, not precisely beautiful, but always immaculately dressed, looking as if she had just stepped out of a formal portrait. Someone meeting her for the first time might find her to be as formal as the portrait, but she had warmed to me quickly once Shar and I became friends, and I hoped she would do the same for Khalid.

“Tal,” she continued as soon as she saw me, “how wonderful to see you! Are you joining us for dinner?”

“Thanks, Mrs. Sassani, but I’m afraid I can’t tonight.”

She hugged me as she always did, then turned to Khalid. “And who is this young man?” She sounded a little worried. Shar and I had gotten his hair combed and cleaned off his face, but it one took one glance for her to see how worn and ill-fitting Khalid’s clothes were. I guess we should have made a stop at the mall first.

“Mother, I need to speak to you for a moment.” Shar deftly led her out of the room. I couldn’t hear their conversation in the next room, but I knew what they were talking about. My mind reached out in their direction, just enough to make sure Mrs. Sassani wasn’t having a melt-down. The rest of my attention focused on Khalid; I wanted to keep him busy while the family conference was going on. Just in case there was a problem, I didn’t want him overhearing any of the conversation.

I was also painfully conscious that Khalid was used to stealing things and was now surrounded by small, expensive objects. I believed him when he promised us he would be good, but I didn’t see any reason to give temptation more opportunity than necessary. What is that old expression? Oh, yeah, it’s, “Idle hands do the devil’s work.”

“Well, what do you think, Khalid? Can you stay here for a while?”

“It’s…it’s almost the best place I have ever seen,” he replied, looking around, taking in every detail.

I knew without asking that the very best place was his home—with his father. I deliberately didn’t ask the question that would have started
that
conversation. Instead, I did the best I could to keep the small talk going. Too bad I didn’t have a little brother; I would have known better how to talk to him. As it was, I had the feeling that Khalid wasn’t really into the conversation, but I did kind of remember what being eleven was like. Then again, I hadn’t been living on the street for three years by the time I turned eleven. Maybe the problem was that our experiences were just too different.

If necessary, I had planned to show him the murals and start telling him their stories, but Shar’s conversation with his mom was surprisingly short. In less than five minutes she came racing back into the entry hall, and hugged Khalid very sincerely, just as if he really were related in some way.

“Khalid, Shar has told me you’ll be saying with us for awhile. I can’t tell you how happy I am. It’s been a few years since I have had a little one around the house, and I have missed it.”

“He’s eleven,” muttered Shar, knowing Khalid probably didn’t think of himself as a “little one,” but his mother was running on hospitality auto-pilot and probably didn’t even hear him.

“Shar, why don’t you take Khalid upstairs and see if any of your older things will fit him for right now? Tomorrow we’ll go get him some clothes of his own.”

“Mother, his build isn’t much like mine when I was that age. What I had isn’t going to fit him any better than what he’s already got.” Khalid was a relatively slender kid, and Shar had been much bulkier even at age eleven, so he was perhaps right. Mrs. Sassani ran an appraising eye up and down Khalid and then nodded in agreement.

“You’re right, Shar. Well, we need to make time before dinner to make a quick run to the mall. Khalid at least needs to have clothes that fit him. We can’t have people think our relatives are street urchins.”

Khalid looked down at the ground, embarrassed. Mrs. Sassani patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m not being critical. I know you have had a lot to deal with, Khalid. That’s over now—for good. But part of making sure you don’t get into trouble is making you look as if you could be related to us. That’s all I meant. We’ll pick up a few things for you this afternoon and then be more thorough tomorrow.”

Khalid, not used to adult attention any more, was clearly getting confused, and Mrs. Sassani was empathetic enough to pick up on his feelings. “Don’t worry, Khalid. I know boys your age aren’t always that comfortable picking out clothes. Shar will come along and help, won’t you, Shar?” Khalid’s face brightened immediately. Clearly, he had gotten over his initial fear of Shar.

Shar, like most guys, would have walked over broken glass to avoid going shopping with his mom, but he did want to help Khalid, so he manned up and agreed to go.

“Tal, would you like to join us?”

No, I have to go walk through broken glass.

“I’d love to, Mrs. Sassani, but I haven’t visited Carla yet.” I hated to use her as an excuse, but it was true that I needed to get out there before visiting hours were over.

“Oh, I understand,” she said immediately. Everybody, and I mean everybody, seemed to know about my situation with Carla. I suspected that Mrs. Rinaldi was a gossiper, but I couldn’t complain too much, since whatever stories were circulating helped boost my image as a mature, responsible, giving young man, and who knew? I might need to trade on that reputation at some future point.

I said my good-byes and hit the freeway as fast as I could. Despite all of the day’s surprises, Carla’s situation had never been far from my mind. Knowing that Morgan was lurking around somewhere, I couldn’t help worrying. I knew Vanora was supposed to have secured the hospital against any kind of incursion, but I wouldn’t really be happy until I examined her arrangements myself. Also, I knew Morgan would be contacting me soon, and frankly, I wished she would just get it over with! Trying to deceive her was going to be hard enough to begin with it. Waiting for the opportunity was even worse, but what could I do about that? Not much! That was pretty much the story of my life these days.

Ah, but there was the chance, a pretty good chance actually, that I could heal Carla, and that made all the petty irritations worth it. To talk to her, to hold in my arms—for real, not in some daydream—what would I not risk for a chance like that?

By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my hands were almost shaking with the combination of anxiety and anticipation. The anxiety eased almost at once, though. I was still not ready to forgive Vanora, but I had to admit that she had handled the task of securing the hospital with speed and thoroughness. There were two of her plain-clothes security men in the parking lot, another two at the front entrance, and I had no doubt there were two at every other reasonable entrance.

Just to be sure, I let my mind wander across the hospital and identified not only guards at all the entrances but two guards patrolling each floor, and two guards on the door to Carla’s room. To my satisfaction, the guards were also armed—Morgan was fast, but bullets were faster. True, I had gotten magic to work against guns and other modern technology, but as far as I knew, Morgan couldn’t do that.

How Vanora had managed to justify this massive security buildup to the hospital administration I had no idea, but then again, they knew Vanora as Carrie Winn, the hospital’s chief benefactor, so if she wanted something—well, really almost anything—she would get it.

As I walked across the parking lot, I checked the magical defenses and found them to be even more impressive. Vanora had set three separate protective spells around the hospital, as far as I could tell: one blocked hostile incoming spells, one prevented anyone of evil intent from entering, and one prevented Morgan specifically from entering. The last one seemed redundant, but I wasn’t about to complain.

Despite all of that security, I still found myself looking over my shoulder from time to time as I moved through the hospital. Each time I half expected to see Morgan watching me from some dark corner. Of course, each time I was wrong, but my nervousness did not diminish. I guess I was entitled to feel a little nervous, considering it had been only about a day ago that I had fought a losing battle with Morgan in this very place and then had to keep her from slitting Gianni’s throat to get what she wanted.

When I reached Carla’s room, both guards greeted me almost as if I was their boss.

“Good evening, Mr. Weaver,” said one of them, and then both stepped aside to let me enter.

Making it so easy for me to get into the room was doubtless Vanora’s doing. I should have been grateful, but part of me could not let go of the fact that it was to some extent Vanora’s fault Carla was in such bad shape in the first place.

The actual visit with Carla was as uneventful and painful as always—with one exception. Near the end of the visit, I actually tried the reversal spell. Yeah, I know, risky, maybe even stupid, since Morgan wasn’t supposed to know I could do that spell, but I raised a barrier against any unwanted scrutiny before I started, and anyway Morgan shouldn’t be able to be here in person or use a spell to spy on us, not with all Vanora’s magic security working against her.

The test reinforced my faith that the spell really was the answer, but it also reinforced Morgan’s point that no one spell caster could hope to do it alone. Just as in Morgan’s demonstration, the green energy surged from me, hooked a reddish strand of the awakening spell, and pulled…but the end result was like a mouse trying to pull an elephant. I sang to enhance the power of the magic, I willed it to work until sweat filmed my body, until I was shaking like a leaf in a tornado, until my head ached. I did feel a slight movement, but that was all I could manage before I had to abandon the effort, exhausted.

Morgan had said three powerful casters working together could reverse the effects of the second casting of the awakening spell. She was visualizing herself, me, and…someone else. I suddenly realized I had no idea whom Morgan intended to use as the third caster, but I did know whom I wanted to use: Nurse Florence, Vanora, and me. I also knew when I wanted to make the attempt: tomorrow. The longer we delayed, the greater the chance that Morgan would discover I knew the spell and could bypass her entirely. And if she realized that, she would move heaven and earth to stop us from succeeding—or, even worse, she might attempt to recruit enough casters to bypass us and make sure Carla became Alcina.

Yeah, I know I sound paranoid. How could Morgan possibly reach Carla at this point? I had just been optimistic about the security arrangements a few minutes ago. Unfortunately, my mind had kept picking at the issue until I remembered the potential loose thread that could unravel the whole defense. The problem lay in having to ward as large an area as the hospital. Magic protections of that kind worked best when they defended a relatively small area. Stretching such spells as far as these had been stretched invariably made them thinner. Don’t get me wrong; Vanora was clearly a powerful spell caster, but not powerful enough to completely redefine how magic functioned. Someone like Morgan might be able to find a weakness in such attenuated defenses, or, if she couldn’t, she might succeed in bringing some other caster or casters into the picture. Attacking from several directions was the easiest way to pierce a spell that was spread too thin.