Student Bodies (25 page)

And what I saw next was the single most incredible feat of magic I'd ever seen in my life.

The old woman waded deeper and deeper into the swift-flowing current until the water reached her hips. She turned around slowly until she faced the weir and threw her cane at the raging torrent of water. She bellowed out a spell in the ancient Theban language, her voice splitting the air like an artillery shell. Magical energy poured off her body, forming a powerful, rolling column the entire width of the river. A cascade of freezing, ice-filled water splashed out onto both banks and the thunderous sheet of water spilling over the weir actually began to freeze. The Blessed Maven's face was twisted in pain as she reached out with both hands; every ounce of her spirit was going into this spell and I could have sworn that I saw her body begin to smolder as she harnessed the living spirit that dwelled within. The air was loud with the sound of crackling as the ice jam she created slowed the river's current to a mere trickle. The water at her feet receded to a point where I could see tens of thousands of smooth pebbles that covered the bed of the river; each one polished clean of any blemishes or rough edges – the product of thousands of years of natural erosion.

The entire flow of the Bow River was being kept at bay by one tiny withered old witch who was drawing on her spirit to such an extent that I knew there'd be no way she could possibly survive the spell she'd cast. She was sacrificing her entire mind, body and soul to stop the flow of the river and it was at this point the white witches sprang into action. They raced onto the riverbed after the students. The entire time the Blessed Maven was somehow performing a miracle that defied my understanding of the true nature of magic.

“
I'm going in to help them,
”
Twyla said firmly. I glanced at the portal and then back to the Blessed Maven.

“Alright, go,” I shouted. “I'm going to buy us some time.”

Twyla didn't even look back. She ran into the riverbed, slipping and sliding as she helped to drag students out of harm's way. Betty the Dog was barking furiously at the shadow creatures attacking her in groups of three. She leaped into the air and snatched one in her teeth, pulling it onto the snow-covered ground and mauling it with all her might.

I spun around and stared at the portal as I gathered my magic into a massive ball of energy. I stretched out my hands in front of me and roared, “
Incendia
!”

Flames shot out of my fingertips forming a single pillar of flame in front of me. I willed it straight into the portal and that's when I heard the sound of blood-curdling screams from within the darkness. Out of the blackness stumbled five figures, their bodies ablaze. They shrieked in agony and rolled on the snow, trying to put out the flames. So, I pushed myself harder; forcing my spirit to the very brink of burning away as my pillar of flame expanded to fill the opening of the portal with a wall of fire.

“I can't hold this much longer,” the Blessed Maven shrieked from behind me. “I can't… I'm getting too weak.”

“Just four more kids,” my mother called out. “Hang on!”

I broke my concentration and the fire abruptly ceased. I turned around to see my mother and Twyla helping a dazed and shivering Mr Eggleston, the Principal of Crescent Ridge High School out of harm's way.

“Get out of the river now, Wilma!
”
bellowed George Standingready, but the old woman stood firm. She craned her neck to see the last of the students being led out of the river and a warm smile formed on her wrinkled face. She beamed at George Standingready who was about to hobble into the river after her and she shouted,
“
Remember me, George! Remember me as I was so long ago and carry my spirit with you. We'll be together again… I promise!
”
 

“No!” he screamed. She fell onto the riverbed, her magic utterly spent. The barrier she'd created to hold back the water exploded and a wall of water and ice at least one story high crashed down onto the riverbed, sweeping the Blessed Maven away.

George Standingready fell to his knees and sobbed. Twyla rushed up to him. She helped the old man to his feet just as another flash of brilliant white light cut through the darkness. I glanced up at the streetlights along nearby Deerfoot Trail. They went black. The sound of screeching tires and battered metal filled the air as I turned around to see more than forty black-clad figures emerge from the portal, their hands glowing with supernatural power. They were led by a figure whose magical signature was off the Richter scale. It was Adriel, she was shrouded in a robe comprised of magical energy that spilled off her body, so strong it melted the snow at her feet. She stood in place for a few moments, surveying the damage she'd caused. There was still that extended line of more than a hundred enthralled students and staff standing on the river's edge. Marcus was still standing at the edge of the weir. The Maven was dead. I, along with every white witch, was near exhaustion and completely at her mercy.

Adriel's blood coven gave her a wide berth as she held out her hands and shouted, “
Incendia
!”

A jet of fire blasted through the darkness aimed squarely at me. I crouched down into a tight ball and tried desperately to raise a dome of magical energy, knowing full well that if I failed, I'd wind up burned to a cinder.

I conjured my shield just as it crashed into me. I leaned into the dome of energy, my Shadowcull's band burning against my skin as I tried to protect myself from the black mage's wrath.

Her minion had said that we'd all burn. There were only four days until Christmas. One hundred or more students' lives hung in the balance of what was going to happen next. The Blessed Maven was dead and the white witches of the Wheatland Coven were leaderless, their magic almost certainly spent.

They say Christmas is a time for miracles.

We needed one. Badly.

 

CHAPTER 25

 

It came with the sound of beating drums.

Hundreds and hundreds of drums, each one thumping furiously in unison, each sound as old as the ground beneath my feet. Fire poured over my protective shield, melting a perfect ring around my body as I struggled to maintain my focus.

The sound of drums grew louder and more intense with every breath from my lungs; a constant beat that shook the air. I didn't know where it was coming from, but I did notice Adriel's magic begin to weaken, so I reached out with my right hand and whispered a word of power. A bolt of energy shot out of my hand, nearly ripping my arm from its socket and landing right in the middle of a line of her witches. It struck the earth with such force that Adriel was caught off guard. She looked on in horror as five of her coven members flew in the air, landing in the river with a series of loud splashes.

I stood up and pulled back the sleeve of my winter coat to reveal my Shadowcull's band. The black mage threw me a mad look and I knew she recognized it.

And I recognized her; it was Dr Caroline Dennis, the school board shrink who'd overseen Travis Butler's memorial service in the gym.

She stood no more than thirty feet away; her body thrumming with magic. She pulled back her hood to reveal a twisted grin on an almost flawless face. Her yellow-gold hair was cut neatly just above her shoulders and her eyes flickered with power as she sized me up. She looked to be no more than thirty or thirty-five years of age, but she was much older than that. Centuries older. She had a pointed chin and a perfect nose set above a pair of lips that were now pulled back in a snarl. One hand was at her side and in the other she held a parcel-shaped satchel that looked like it was made of burlap.

“I don't know how I couldn't detect your magic at my school,” I shouted at her. “You recognize this copper band from a battle you fought a long time ago. You might have beaten my father, Adriel, but you won't live through tonight.”

The black mage cackled wildly as she waved her left hand in front of her face with a flourish. A beam of fury rushed across the snow-covered ground and hit me square in the chest, sending me through the air. I landed in a heap in scrub brush. As I struggled back to my feet, I readied another volley. Around me a furious battle was underway. I looked out around me to see the line of students staring at the splashing current of the Bow River. Magic lit up the night sky as the blood coven attacked the white witches.

“I had no idea this coven was so desperate that it would throw a mere child into the fray,” Adriel spat. “But killing the young is the nature of my business and there are oh so many young people to feast on this night. There's more than enough living energy to keep me going for a thousand years, and I'm so hungry, and I'll devour your spirit first, Shadowcull.”

Adriel hurled a series of hexes my way and I raised my magic into a protective shield. Her attacks struck with sledgehammer force, battering against me in a flurry of bright orange sparks. All around me the shrill voices of the white witches called out as they peppered Adriel's blood coven with everything they had. And right in the middle of them was my mother and Twyla Standingready, her
dlézi
at her side. It reared up on its hind legs, its massive, club-like forepaws smashing into a pair of black witches and knocking them senseless. Mom gripped her amulet tightly and made hurling motions with her free arm as she fired shot after shot at the enemy.

“Use everything you've got!” I roared at the white witches. “All bets are off! Wipe them out!”

I dug my feet into the ground and braced my copper-banded arm with my other hand. I drew on my reserves of power and lashed out at Adriel with a barrage of deadly curses. A slithering, shining black shadow jumped in front of the evil mage just as one of my death curses was about to hit her. It struck the creature in the midsection and exploded in a bright ball of flame.

Adriel fired back at me just as I was about to raise the last of my magic for one final ferocious attack. She slapped a binding that wrapped tightly around my neck and twisted my arms behind my back.

And that's when things went from bad to worse.

She strutted through the snow, waving away volleys of hexes being thrown her way by the white witches like they were an annoyance. Her eyes burned with the flames of pure madness as she approached me, her hands blazing with supernatural energy. The magical noose tightened around my neck and I began to choke. Adriel now stood no more than ten feet away. She turned to look at her troops. She made a noise that sounded close to a dry chuckle and then with one hand she reached toward the river and made a snatching motion. Suddenly the river began to bubble and froth as Adriel formed a fist and tightened it so hard that her hands began to shake. An icy pillar of water soared up more than twenty feet in the air and she directed it at the white witches who were now fighting with their backs to each other. With a single, vile word of power, the column of swirling water crashed into the white witches sending them tumbling toward their enemy.

But Mom wasn't among them. She'd raced up to George Standingready with Twyla at her side to make a last stand against Adriel, but they weren't alone. The old man was standing in front of the wispy images of more than two dozen spirits, two dozen First Nations ghosts called back from the great beyond to fight one last time. Each was dressed in deer or buffalo hides and each wore a bone bead choker like Twyla.

And every last one of them was banging on a deerskin drum.

George Standingready took a step forward and cried out in his native tongue. A spinning wall of snow whipped up from the ground at his feet and flew straight into the black witches. It swirled around them, creating a massive snow squall and Adriel's minions disappeared from my sight.

But it didn't matter. Adriel had me in a death grip and then with the tiniest whisper of magic, she summoned her Demon Shade, her familiar that had attacked me at the school. It rose up to its full, massive height and it roared in an unholy voice that seemed to shake the sky itself.

“
Julie
!” my mother screamed as she summoned up a blast of energy that hit the creature in the chest and sent it tumbling into Adriel. I felt the binding begin to loosen just a little and that's when the Demon Shade lunged at me. I was about to shut my eyes and say goodbye to the world when Mom leaped into the creature's path and bore the full brunt of its assault. It enveloped her entirely; its shining black liquid-like body spread across her chest and up over her neck. It was just about to close over Mom's face when suddenly eight tendrils of pure magic flew into the creature. Behind me I could hear chanting in the old Theban language – the white witches were somehow counterattacking.

“What is this?” roared Adriel as her binding loosened further. I spun around to see my mother's eyes pleading for help as she gulped for air.

And still the drum beat echoed through the night.

Adriel had dropped her guard long enough for me to make my move. With one final dip into my spirit, I bellowed the most hated death curse in witchcraft and whipped both hands in the black mage's direction. Witchfire smashed into Adriel dead-on. She immediately lit ablaze, the spell latching onto her magical signature. The flames wouldn't stop burning until her heart stopped: her ass was grass.

Or so I thought.

“
Marcus!
”
Twyla shrieked. “Oh my God, Marcus jumped into the weir!”

I had an impossible choice. If I released Adriel from my binding of witchfire she could easily compel everyone still under the magic of her coven to jump into the river. If I didn't release her, she'd burn to a crisp and die. Her enthralment spell would die with her and so would Marcus.

But two things happened in that short moment that I will carry with me to my grave. As Adriel shrieked in unimaginable pain I watched in awe as every one of the First Nations spirits shape-shifted into bison. I also caught a glimpse of Betty the dog as she leaped into the weir after Marcus, disappearing from my sight entirely.