Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(42)

“Well, whatever the hell you did, it was big.” Her gaze darted down to Luka. “Considering that he’s good as new. How has he not woken up with all this noise?”

Alfie whisked a hand over his tearing eyes. “He sleeps like a rock after a night of drinking.” He prodded Luka, who rolled onto his side with a grumble, still fast asleep.

Luka was safe. But he could not stay swaddled in the warmth of that fact. He needed to find whatever he’d released before it hurt someone. There was no doubt in his mind that it could hurt someone. Would, if left unchecked.

The thief advanced on him, her steps quick and purposeful. For a moment Alfie thought she might prove her skills with that dagger. Instead, she walked around him and pulled her dagger out of the wall.

“Wait, you were awake when I . . .” He quieted, unsure of how to verbalize what he’d done. “When I did it. What happened?” He watched her move down the wall to pull out a second dagger. “Did you throw that at it?” He had to know everything if he was going to go after it.

She slipped the daggers into the sheaths at her belt. “That information will cost you.”

Alfie squinted at her. “Really?”

She pointed at her face. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

A short time ago, she’d held Luka in her lap while Alfie had wept trying to save him. He’d thought that now she’d see him as more than someone to rob. He felt stupid for being so naive. He pulled his coin purse from his pocket and threw it at her with more force than necessary.

She pocketed the purse, shaking out the hand she’d caught it with. “Nice throw. Didn’t expect someone like you to throw anything besides temper tantrums.”

“Finn,” he said, his voice clipped. “Just tell me. Please.”

“Fine,” she said. “You put your hands on the boy’s chest. You went really still, too still. Your shadow too. Then the air started changing. I could see my breath. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move it was so freezing cold. I shouted at you, but you didn’t hear me, you just stayed still. Then it got so cold I couldn’t shout anymore. And your hands.” She fell quiet, her eyes darting to his palms. “They started bleeding, like they’d been torn open.”

Alfie’s breath caught in his chest. He thought of how every ring of magic he broke sent terrible pain through his hands.

“Then all the blood that came out of the guy rolled back into him, like he was a maldito sponge. It wasn’t like healing magic. It was like you’d turned back time, like he’d never gotten sick in the first place. It didn’t make any sense.” Now she was holding her arms instead of crossing them, almost hugging herself. Her shadow curled protectively around her feet. “And then . . . It’s hard to explain.”

“You’re doing fine,” Alfie said, nodding for her to go on though he wished she wouldn’t.

“There was a sort of—” Her hands waved through the air as if she were trying to draw him a picture. “A sort of dark tangle floating over you.”

“Like thick, black smoke?” Alfie asked.

She nodded fervently, as if she was finally sure that she hadn’t gone mad. Magic was visible only to him outside the realm of magic, thanks to his propio. How could she see it too? This was all wrong.

“Yeah, like if oil could fly. It got close to me, surrounded me like it was sizing me up.” She shivered at that. “Then it flew through the wall. Disappeared.”

Alfie swallowed, his throat feeling thick. “I spoke to it,” he said, his words hushed. “I spoke to that dark magic. It was trapped. It said it would save Luka if I let it free.”

Finn stared at him, brows raised. “You talked to that . . . thing?”

Alfie pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I told it I’d release it if it promised to heal Luka and never hurt him.” His hands dropped from his face into his lap, limp and shaking. “It agreed. So I set it free.”

Alfie looked away from her stunned face, his mind racing. He had to tell someone who could help. Paloma? His parents? The thought alone made his stomach turn. He’d already disappointed them; he wouldn’t shame them again by having them clean up his mess. He’d fix it himself. Somehow.

“Thank you for telling me everything.” His body stood in the Blue Room, but his mind was miles ahead. He needed to find what he’d released and stop it before it harmed anyone. But what magic would he use to stop it? Magic was free. To trap it was impossible, unless the magic was your own. Bruxos sealed their own magic into talismans to draw upon later for strength. It was a tactic often used in war should a bruxo run low on energy in battle. But those were wisps of their own magic sealed away. What he’d released was hardly a wisp, and it certainly wasn’t Alfie’s to control. And he could not replicate the rings of magic that had caged it. He knew nothing of how to subdue it. He’d never seen anything like it. He’d never read about it either.

His swirling thoughts came to a screeching halt. There was one book that came close—the Englassen book Paloma had taken from him. If there was a book that could help him, it was that one.

The thief moved to the chair where he’d draped the vanishing cloak.

“Not so fast,” Alfie said, her movement jarring him from his whirlwind of thoughts.

“I’m not a fan of doing things slowly.” She reached for the cloak.