“I said don’t,” Mary bellowed, her voice echoing through this small room.
It had such power, even I shook back.
For the first time, McCain cut his gaze down to the book. He paled. It was obvious as all the blood drained from his cheeks, forehead, and neck. It looked like someone had taken a knife to his throat.
“Aye, my Max, I’ve got your precious diary.”
… Wait. Diary?
It was a contract, right?
“How, how did you get that?” His voice was raspy, broken.
Mary kept a hand flat on the book. She stood several steps before McCain and didn’t seem bothered by the dying flames and smoke.
“Come now, McCain, haven’t you seen her?”
McCain’s eyes suddenly drew wide, practically exploding from his face as he stared around the room.
His gaze cut right over me. Though I was small and the smoke was still thick, I wasn’t invisible.
No, McCain just couldn’t see me.
“That’s your problem, McCain. You’ve used too much power, my dear. You may not think it affects you, but it does. Oh, Max, it does.”
“Where is she?” McCain roared as he continued to search through the room with his roving, desperate gaze.
Mary chuckled. It wasn’t a nasty move. Just a tight breath of air. “You can’t see her, because you’ve used too much magic. It’s narrowed your world, my love. Just like I said it would. Soon, if you keep going the way you are, your world will become so small, it’ll blow away in the wind.”
McCain roared, but there was a scared edge to it. He shook forward and reached a hand toward Mary, his large fingers splaying wide, but he didn’t dare spring to his feet.
Mary, it seemed, had him right where she wanted him.
I, of course, had no friggin’ clue what was going on.
Mary, her hand pressing so hard against the cover I thought she was trying to crush it into dust, half turned her attention to me. “It’s the cost of his magic, my child. The cost of too much power.”
Though I didn’t think it was a great idea to chat while McCain the evil sorcerer king was right there, unrestrained, I figured Mary knew what she was doing. “What are you talking about?”
“You must know magic costs, child.”
I nodded.
“And you must realize that strong magic costs you more.”
“But he’s no ordinary practitioner. He’s a sorcerer king.”
“Aye, that’s the point. All sorcerer kings give up the same thing – their world.”
I stared at McCain. He was staring around wildly, his thick neck muscles like rope as he searched for me. “Who are you talking to, witch? There’s no one here. She can’t be here. You’re lying,” he concluded, that familiar wild rage crumpling his brow like crushed paper.
Mary stood straighter at that claim. “No, my Max. This time I’m not. You can’t see her, because you’ve completely lost sight of your future. Your quest for power at any costs has cost you everything but power.”
“You lie.”
“No. You just can’t see anything anymore. She’s right before you, my Max. But you can no longer see your future.”
My stomach twisted, spun like a tire that had broken off a speeding car. I jerked back and slammed a hand on my belly. “What are you talking about? I’m not his future.”
Mary returned her attention to me again, but only part of it. She obviously couldn’t afford to pull her focus completely off Max. Though he looked controlled for now, that could all change in a heartbeat.
“My child, you’re the seer we’ve all been waiting for.”
“What… what do you mean? How do you even know about the future?” As soon as I said it, I winced as I realized it was a stupid question.
She smiled, her plump cheeks pushing high into her blue eyes. “Because I’m a seer.”
“… You’ve seen all the way into modern times? More than 400 years from now?”
“Aye. I saw you, felt you in my head. But more than that, you were the last true vision I had.”
I shook my head, complete confusion swelling through my mind like water breaking from a dam. “But I saw you before – saw the sparks in your eyes. That was you using your powers.”
“Not like this. That was just a wee dose of power. No. The last time I really looked into the future – when I decided never to truly use my powers again – I saw you. Saw this. Saw when you’d finally come back and save us McLanes. And,” she turned her attention back to McCain, a soft, loving smile crumpling her parched red lips, “save my Max.”
“You can’t save me, witch. I’m not broken. You – you’re the wench who needs saving. And mark my words, there won’t be no one to save you now.” McCain’s words were ugly, spitting hisses like a snake who’d had its tail stepped on.
I don’t know how Mary did it, but rather than shift back in horror, she kept that loving smile spread wide and firm over her lips. “Aye, my Max. You will be saved. And this, this will do the saving.” She brought the book up a little higher.
She’d called it McCain’s diary. I doubted it was his day-to-day musings or a list of his regrets and inadequacies.
It had to be something truly important to his power. And somehow, the mere fact it was now in Mary’s hands was enough to keep Max on his knees.
It was also having a slow but measurable effect on him. With each second, he looked as if he was falling asleep.
“How can you see me?” I asked Mary. “The last time I was here, I was in your head. The time before that, I was somehow myself as I witnessed McCain casting the curse.”
“It’s your
