Read Online Magic at the Gate by Devon Monk - Free Book Online Page B

weight of his seal on my palm somehow giving me the awareness of his approval.
    I was up to the “elephant jump over a fence,” part of the “Miss Mary Mack” jingle for a second time when my fingers brushed something soft and smooth and warm inside me.
    Later, I was going to throw up. Right now, I gently got my fingers around that warmth.
    My magic. My small magic. The one secret, sacred thing that made me me. The little bit of magic I knew was always there for me. The one thing no one could take away from me. The one thing magic had never harmed.
    I felt like I was giving away the most precious part of me.
    I drew it out of my chest—still no blood, no feeling of flesh and bones. Just the brush of warm sand falling away from my hand as I drew the magic out of me.
    I couldn’t help it. I looked down at the small magic.
    It looked like a rose. A translucent pink rose that pulsed with a blush of magic. It glowed in my hand and sent a wave of light up the ribbons of magic that wrapped from my fingertips to the corner of my eye. Ebony thorns rode the stalk of the rose, each like a blade, curved and tipped with red. Beautiful. Strong. Fragile.
    Me.
    I didn’t want to let it go. I didn’t know what would be left of me once this was gone. I didn’t know what I would become.
    A single tear hit my palm. I had been wrong. You can grieve in death.
    “It must be soon, Allison,” Mikhail said. “There is no time left for you.”
    I nodded, or at least I thought I did. I was feeling strangely numb and drifty. It was hard to remember what I was supposed to be doing. I wasn’t even sure how long I stood there, staring at the magic of my soul.
    “Give the magic to Mikhail,” Dad—one of him—said. “I’ll help you get Zayvion safely home.”
    I looked up at Zay. Silent. And me with no strength to touch him and find out what he thought about all this. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping, or dead. There was nothing he could do to help me make this decision. Or to change what I had done.
    Pay the price. Was Zayvion worth giving up my small magic? Hells, I’d have given up more if Mikhail had asked. I loved him. And love could make a person do crazy things.
    I held my hand, my magic, the single pink rose, out for Mikhail.
    “I give it to you willingly in exchange for Zayvion Jones’ soul returning with me to life, and into his living body there.”
    Something sparked in Mikhail’s eyes. “You have taught her well, Daniel.” Then, to me, “I accept this magic. In return I will open the gate into life, and do all within my power to help you return Zayvion Jones’ soul to his living body and make all right again between our worlds.”
    I swallowed. Honey. I tasted honey. There had been a spell in those words. Something I could not focus on, because I was having a hard time deciding how many more breaths I got before I blacked out.
    Mikhail’s fingers brushed my palm over the seal beneath my skin. His hands were warm, which surprised me, and gentle. He lifted the rose from my hand.
    I whimpered at the sudden loss, the absence, the raw hole that prickled and hurt deep inside me.
    “Open the gate,” I said.
    Mikhail could not seem to take his gaze off the rose. He nodded, absently, which worried me, and he held the rose with reverence, which I tried to ignore.
    “You will need a vessel to carry his soul,” he said. “Time rides against you. Choose a vessel for him. Now.”
    I didn’t even know what would work. The dagger? My pocket? No one had told me I’d need to bring a bottle to this genie party.
    “He can enter your mind and soul,” Old Dad told me.
    My heart thrilled at that. A perfect solution. Exactly what I wanted. Zayvion would be close to me, really in my mind, not just talking to me there. We would be one.
    And that was one of the most dangerous things that could happen. Just like Leander and Isabelle, we could lose ourselves, lose our individuality and go insane.
    It wasn’t something that