The Magic Catcher

C CATCHER

  Cassie Clarke

  Copyright © 2016 by Cassie Clarke

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without express written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ONE

  They were coming.

  Weren’t they always? Ever since she could remember, they had chased her kind. They’d stayed away when she was in her prime – she could have obliterated them with a wave of her hand, after all – but word had got out that her magic was weakening. It made her an easy target.

  It also made her an urgent target. Because soon she wouldn’t have any magic left for them to take.

  Aprestine slipped back into the shadows, pulling her cloak further above her head and trying not to shiver. It was beginning to rain, the first few drops spitting against her face like little needles of ice. Part of her was glad for the fortuitous change in weather; if the cold ocean wind wasn’t enough to send the magic catcher indoors for the night, perhaps the rain would.

  The wheels of the catcher’s cart clacked as it manoeuvred down the cobbled streets. From her position in the alley, she could only see its shadow, the only real giveaway it was there at all was the light swinging from side to side as the lantern that hung from the roof of the cart rocked back and forth in the winter breeze.

  Deniz was empty at this time of night. The curfew had been in place for the past few months, the citizens of the coastal town forced to empty out of the inns three hours earlier than they were accustomed to. Aprestine had expected a riot when the Mayor announced the new law, but most people were happy with the decision.

  Fear could do that to you.

  The strange disappearances had started a year earlier. Children snatched from their beds. Women taken on their wedding night. Men plucked from the pavements as they stumbled home in the dark.

  Aprestine shouldn’t be out this late. She was deteriorating rapidly, her magic failing her, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to defend herself from whatever was taking the citizens of Deniz.

  She certainly wouldn’t be able to defend herself against the magic catchers. They had no magic of their own - they always sold on the power they stole for a hefty price - but they were skilled with a blade. A blade she might not be able to outrun. Not anymore.

  Some of the Denizians blamed the catchers for the disappearances. Almost all of those who’d been taken were witches, warlocks, or were born with the potential to be one. But that wasn’t how the catchers operated. All they were after was the power. If they had to kill you for it, so be it, but they weren’t in the business of murdering anyone if they could help it. Not on a regular basis. Not like this.

  This was something else.

  Aprestine shook her head, and waited for the magic catcher to pass. She couldn’t let herself worry about what was plaguing Deniz. She had enough problems of her own. She shouldn’t even be in the coastal town, not really, but she felt fatigued at the very thought of crossing the fifty mile distance to the city of Ezeth, which was where she really needed to be. Besides, there were opportunities here.

  The catchers were hunting her. But she was hunting them as well.

  They had what she needed, as loathe as she was to admit it, and the magic they possessed was just what she needed to make the journey. She only needed to find the opportune moment, a chance to catch one off-guard, and then she could-

  A shadow crossed her path and she inhaled sharply. The catcher couldn’t have found her, surely? She’d been so careful, hiding out of sight from everyone and everything. No, the catcher’s cart was still moving at a steady pace, it can’t have been him - but there, just to the left of her, there was something. She span around, about to slide her dagger out of its sheath, but her attacker was too quick for her. They forced the inch of knife she’d managed to bare back into its case, and her heart stilled as a set of fingers clamped around her arm, dragging her backwards, further down the alley. A hand pressed itself against her mouth.

  “My, my, what do we have here?” A voice whispered in her ear. “A lady out past curfew, all alone?”

  Aprestine jabbed her elbow into the stomach of her captor, and he grunted in surprise. She whirled around, punched him in the nose and made to flee, but he recovered faster than she had expected and he pushed her against the wall on the other side of the alley before she could throw him off a second time. The moonlight, finally free of a passing cloud, bathed his face and Aprestine gasped in recognition.

  “You!” She pushed him square in the chest. “What are you doing here?”

  The man was not a magic catcher, but he did work for them. His name was Marcus, and she’d considered him a friend, once upon a time. Until he’d betrayed her, revealed her whereabouts to the catchers, and she’d had to flee before he’d given her what he promised.

  He’d promised her the jewel. Or at least the magic she needed to get to it.

  Rage tore through her veins, and she couldn’t help but shoot a spark of magic at him, a tiny blue missile of power that, if she was honest, would barely make him flinch. He dodged it anyway – she tried not to feel flattered that he still thought she could harm him - twisting his body so that the projectile flew past him and into the wall. It melted into the brick without even causing the slightest rumble, which only enraged her more. In her prime, she’d have brought the whole building down.

  “Now,” Marcus said. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

  “You are not my friend.” Aprestine said, practically spitting the words in his direction. Her hands trembled, and she folded her arms, tucking them under her armpits so he couldn’t see.

  “If I wasn’t your friend, I wouldn’t have come looking for you.”

  “Why, so you can sell me out again?”

  Before he could retort, Marcus’s head snapped in the direction of the entrance to the passage. “Did you hear that?”

  “No.” Aprestine said. “If you’re trying to change the subject-”

  “I’m not.” Marcus said. “I thought I heard…come with me.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her as far as he could down the alley. They hit a dead end and he span them round so she was against the wall, facing him, shielding her from the view of anyone who happened to pass by.

  “What-”

  Marcus held a finger to her lips. “For once in your life, Aprestine, could you just try and be quiet?”

  Aprestine pouted but said no more.

  “Marcus?” A voice sounded from the entrance to the ginnel.

  Marcus grimaced. Flashing her a look that suggested she would continue being silent if she knew what was good for her, he turned to face whoever it was who had recognised him.

  “Tony, my old friend.” Marcus’s voice was cool, level, but standing this close to him, Aprestine could feel the tension in his upper arm. She knew, with absolute certainty, that this Tony was not his friend. She peered around Marcus’s shoulder to get a better look at the man, and instantly wished she hadn’t.

  Tony’s hair was jet-black, just like Marcus’s, but that was where the similarities ended. Tony was missing an eye, several teeth, and had the misfortune to possess a crooked, pointed nose that made him resemble a hawk.

  His unfortunate appearance was not what sent chills up Aprestine’s spine. No, the thing that made her nearly whimper with trepidation was the lantern that he held in his hand. A catcher’s lantern. If he were to open it, mutter an incantation, it would start to suck away the remaining magic that she held inside her.

  “Who’s this?” Tony said, nodding his head towards her. “A present for me?” He shook his lantern vigorously, causing a flurry of blue sparkles to fly around inside
before settling back at the bottom again. Aprestine was torn between pity for the poor witch who had lost her magic, and desire to have it for her own.

  “No.” Marcus said. “Just something I got for myself.” He pulled Aprestine closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing his face against her hair. To Tony, it would look like he was simply nuzzling her neck as he whispered in her ear, “Play along.”

  In her element, Aprestine tittered, tossing a mane of auburn hair over her shoulder and fluttering her lashes in Marcus’s direction.

  “I can smell magic.” Tony said. His engorged nose sniffed the air. Marcus’s gaze slid towards Aprestine for a fraction of a second.

  “’Course you can.” Marcus said. “Got a collection of my own, right here.” He lifted his coat to reveal a lantern hitched to his waist. Aprestine fought back a gasp.  It was filled to the brim with magic, more than she’d ever seen in one lantern before, the whole thing glowing so brightly it illuminated every inch of the alley, from the drains blocked up with leaves to the cracks that snaked up the walls of the two buildings they stood between. It must be worth thousands. How had he got it? What had he done to get it? There was only room for a fraction more magic inside it, and she became dizzyingly cold with fear at the thought that he might be expecting her to be the final donor. She tried to pull away from him but his grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging through the fabric of her