Page 86 of Treachery in the Highlands
"Three minutes?I was hoping for a bit more time."
"Well then, ye should have found a witch with more experience," I retort, but I buffer it with a halfhearted smile."Three minutes is all I can guarantee without risking something truly catastrophic."
"Define 'catastrophic', please."
I pat his head."Best not to dwell on the details.Wait until you hear the screams, then move swiftly.Remember, at that point you will have only three minutes."
"Screams, huh?"He sighs."Okay, then.Let's do this."
Joey sneaks out of the alcove, sauntering away as if he's doing nothing more hazardous than admiring ancient trinkets.No one seems to notice him, or if they do, they dinnae think anything of it.
I shut my eyes, feeling the energy surge within me, uncertain whether to embrace or resist it.The pendant, warm against my skin, serves as a reminder of the power of my great-aunts, the witches who taught me ancient Gaelic incantations.The magics course through my veins, and I'm torn between the thrill and the fear of what it might unleash.
As the magics crescendo, the words tumble from my lips, "Sgàileadh na sùla, cleas an t-seallaidh, dìon ar slighe," a phrase that means "obscure the eyes, deceive the gaze, protect our way."With the biggest part of the spell complete, I hesitate, knowing I must step out of the alcove to create just enough chaos to protect Joey but unsure of the consequences.
A shimmer ripples through the air, originating from my fingertips and spreading outward in barely visible waves of magical energy.For a moment, I hold my breath, half-hoping nothing will happen.Then---chaos erupts.
Every light in the east wing of the museum flickers and dims, while the security cameras spin erratically, their red lights blinking like frantic eyes.In the distance, an alarm wails---not the main security system, fortunately, but something smaller, perhaps a fire alarm.People glance 'round in bewilderment, their faces lit by the eerie glow of emergency lights.The guards leap into action, their radios hissing with static and garbled words.I hadn't meant to disrupt their communications, but magic here has a will of its own, clinging to electronics like a moth to flame.Despite the turmoil I've unleashed, a small smile creeps onto my lips, echoing my mother's words about my magic's penchant for the dramatic, leaving me caught between pride and unease.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice announces over the intercom, which crackles intermittently, "we're experiencing a minor technical difficulty.Please remain calm and proceed to the nearest exit."
Perfect.I weave through the crowd, my cloak billowing around my ankles as I hurry away, narrowly avoiding a jostling elbow here and a trampling foot there.The chaos is escalating exactly as I'd hoped---not harmful, but disorienting enough to create the distraction Joey needs.I catch a glimpse of him from across the room, moving with surprising grace for a man his size, slipping behind the security guard who's frantically speaking into his radio, oblivious to Joey vanishing into the twilight within the museum.
I resume chanting my spell, letting the effervescent magics flow within me as I crisscross the throng of confused tourists, who are starting to panic.
A child points at me, tugging his mother's sleeve."Mommy, that lady's glowing!"
His voice rises above the din, attracting unwanted attention.
The mother glances my way, her eyes narrowing suspiciously before she shakes her head."Don't be ridiculous, Benji.It's only the emergency lights reflecting off her necklace."
Her dismissive tone does little to quell the growing unease around us.
I must be more careful.The magics are manifesting physically in ways I hadn't anticipated, drawing curious and wary eyes alike.I summon a cloaking spell, becoming instantly invisible, but the effect waivers under the stress of the situation.I'd waited to employ this final spell because it requires an enormous amount of energy.Joey will need all the help I can provide since he must be about to steal the book.
Now, all I can do is wait and pray that Joey succeeds before my magics fade completely.The pendant burns against my skin, a warning that I'm pushing the limits of what I can control in this strange modern world.I sidestep through the crowd toward the exhibit hall where the book sits in its glass prison.My cloaking spell flickers like a candle in a draft---now visible, now unseen---as the magics toil to maintain their hold.The museum visitors brush past me, bumping into my invisible form.Some startle and gasp when they glimpse me, since I seemingly appear from nowhere before vanishing again, causing a ripple of alarm through the crowd.
"Did you see that?"a woman gasps to her companion."That woman just disappeared!"
"It's the power outage playing tricks on your eyes," her friend replies, though she sounds unconvinced.
Hurry, Joey, please hurry.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Joey
How hard is it to sprint through a museum while people are screaming, the lights flicker on and off repeatedly, and the patrons are frantically trying to flee the building?Well, picture the movieJurassic Park---after the dinosaurs escaped---and you'll have a pretty good idea of what I'm going through right now.
I can't stop, not for anything.That book is the only weapon to prevent another vile monster likeAn Bodachfrom obliterating the past.Rachel has fulfilled her role.Now it's my turn to snatch that damn book.
"Joey!On your left!"Rachel's voice slices through the chaos, her Gaelic-tinged warning barely piercing the pandemonium engulfing us.
I whip around with a sharp pivot, narrowly evading a security guard whose eyes are wide with terror, more petrified by the supernatural chaos than intent on capturing me.The museum's grand hall unfolds before me like a twisted obstacle course from hell---display cases casting sinister glows in the stuttering lights, shadows writhing as if possessed by demons.
The MacTaggart book of magic lies tantalizingly close, just a few steps away.I smash my elbow through the glass case, shards flying bits of stars.But then I freeze, panting, transfixed by the ancient leather tome nestled among the wreckage.Its binding, worn by centuries, is exposed beneath the jagged glass.Whatever spell Rachel cast outside is working beautifully---if you can call this pandemonium "beautiful."The electricity surges erratically like a wild beast unleashed, as centuries-old artifacts quiver violently on their pedestals.Somewhere in the distance, the haunting wail of bagpipes echoes eerily, as if played by spectral hands.
A woman, her designer handbag clutched tightly like a lifeline, crashes into me.Her face is a mask of abject terror.
