Ancient Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Huntress #1)(8)
Most of my jobs were on spec—Del found record of enchanted artifacts that possessed valuable magic, and I went to find them. But some jobs were on commission, and the chalice was one of them. No matter the job, we stayed away from artifacts from human archaeological sites. They had laws to protect their history—eventually someone would have noticed if I screwed with them. We try not to use magic around the humans, despite the Great Peace.
Besides, their artifacts had no magic, so they were worthless to us. We weren’t in it for artifacts—we were in it for the magic. The problem was that magic could become unstable. After sitting around in an object for too long—anywhere from a few hundred years to a few thousand, depending on the spell—it could cause some serious damage. Like fruit ripening on a tree, eventually it rots. Or in this case, explodes. Our operation was legal because we stuck to magical artifacts that were nearing the end of their life. Otherwise, we’d just be stealing. The Order of the Magica would have a problem with that—and we definitely didn’t want to get on their bad side. And it felt crappy to steal something from an ancient culture that no longer existed.
I leaned on the counter and took a chocolate out of the candy bowl. Nix picked up the chalice and looked at it, squinting at the decorative etching that turned the golden goblet into a work of art.
“This one should be easy,” she said as she set it down.
“You’re going to do it now?” My stomach grumbled.
“Yeah. Only five minutes. It’s a simple one. And the magic has gotten really unstable. Better to do it now. Then we’re done for the night, and it’s off my plate.”
“Fine.” But she was right. We tried not to leave the unstable magic sitting around in the shop. Last thing we needed was a spell going wild in here.
My stomach growled again, and I grabbed another chocolate, unwrapping it as Nix touched the goblet with her right hand, then hovered her palm over the counter. She closed her eyes, and the hum of magic took shape around her, complex and delicate.
Unlike me, Nix could use her magic, as long as she did it in small amounts. She practiced her magic more because it didn’t result in explosions. She was so good at it that I could now barely sense her magic when she used it. The scent of flowers was so light you’d assume it was from a vase nearby.
Her hand glowed. Beneath it, a goblet slowly materialized. It glinted gold—an identical replica.
“Jeez, that was fast.”
“Eh, it’s gold.”
Nix had a knack for replicating gold, even though what she created wasn’t technically the same stuff. Just yellow metal. If we could have replicated gold, we probably wouldn’t have been in the treasure hunting business in the first place.
“Now for the last step,” she said as she hovered her left hand over the goblet.
Magic swirled up from the goblet and into her hand, like blue smoke. It shimmered, the smoke dancing beneath her palm. Once she’d gathered all the magic from the original chalice, she let it hover under her hand for a moment. She infused it with some of her own power, stabilizing it a bit. Once the shimmering faded, she transferred the now stabilized magic to her forged chalice by hovering her hand over it and forcing the blue smoke into the metal. Nix wasn’t able to give the magic its original lifespan, but it’d last long enough that the buyer could use the magic they’d purchased. And it likely wouldn’t blow up our shop.
“There. Ready for old Mr. Sampson. Hottest weather guy on TV for the last sixty years.”
I grinned.
When we’d set up our shop, Nix had learned how to magically forge the artifacts I found so that we could put the originals back in their tombs or temples. It was part of our deal with the Magica—take just the magic. Only the oldest magic, since it was ready to expire anyway. Initially, we’d put the enchantments in regular old pieces of polished glass, but then we’d figured out we’d get more if we sold the magic encased in a replica. Sure, our buyers would like to own an original piece of ancient magical history to put on their mantel, but I wasn’t willing to give them that. Not only was it illegal, I didn’t like the idea of selling off pieces of history.
The memory of the shattered column sent a shiver through me. I hated when I caused damage like that. But worse, I hated the memory of that demon.
“Hey, you okay?” Nix asked.
I glanced up at her.
“You look a little rough,” she said.
I glanced down at my dirty, black tank top and the honey-colored leather jacket that was now blackened with smoke. I got a whiff of my hair, which was even worse, and when I pulled a strand out of my ponytail, I saw that the red was almost completely gray from temple dust.
“Ugh.” I dropped my hair.
“Not your hair, though you could use a shower.” Nix brushed some dust off the shoulder of my jacket. “Looks ruined. Good thing you’ve got a hundred more of these. But I’m not talking about how you look. You just seem off.”
I sighed. “Yeah. There was a demon in the temple.”
“So? There’s always a demon.” She shrugged. “Almost always.”
“Yeah.” Demons were frequently called upon to guard tombs and temples because they made excellent henchmen if you were willing to spring them from their hell, but they really shouldn’t be on earth. Getting rid of them was a big part of my job.