Kate Daniels 02 - Magic Burns

help?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œYou know who was the head witch in the coven?”
    â€œEsmeralda.”
    Esmeralda. Oh boy. “Where does she live?”
    â€œThe Honeycomb.”
    This just got better and better. “Climb down. We’re going to pay her a visit.”

CHAPTER 5
    WE CLIMBED UP THE SCRAP-METAL EVEREST, WITH me leading the way and Julie slightly behind. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. Too little food. Julie wasn’t much stronger than a mosquito. In fact, if a big one rammed her, she might fall over. She didn’t complain, though.
    About halfway up the slope she finally gave in. “How far?”
    â€œKeep climbing.”
    â€œI just want to know how far!”
    â€œDon’t make me turn this car around, missy.”
    â€œWhat does that even mean?” She mumbled something else under her breath but kept moving.
    The edge of the Gap crept closer. The rhythmic whoom , whoom , whoom grew louder. Had to be a beacon of some sort. I climbed onto the narrow ledge and reached for Julie. “Give me your hand.”
    She stretched a matchstick arm. I grabbed her wrist and raised her over the jagged remains of the refrigerator onto the ledge next to me. She weighed next to nothing. “We’ll take a little break.”
    â€œI can keep going.”
    â€œI’m sure you can. But Honeycomb isn’t a nice place. By now someone probably knows we’re here and they have a welcoming committee prepared.”
    â€œOh boy! They’ll throw us a party!” She sat in the dirt.
    Heh. I sat next to her. “You’re not from there, by any chance?”
    She shook her head. “No. I’m from White Street.”
    White Street got its name during the snowfall of ’14, which refused to melt for three and a half years. When a street can hold three inches of powder despite the hundred degree heat, you know it’s packing some serious magic. Anybody who could afford to move did.
    â€œHow old are you?”
    â€œThirteen. I’m only two years behind Red.”
    Looking at her, I would’ve guessed eleven tops. “How old is your mother? What does she look like?”
    â€œShe is thirty-five and she looks like me only grown up. I have a picture at home.”
    â€œSo what do you know about the coven? Who did they worship? What sort of rituals did they do?”
    Julie shrugged. In front of us the gorge stretched into the distance, bristling with spikes and rusty iron. Thin tendrils of mist clung to the steep slope. A deep threatening growl echoed from the walls, too far to be a threat. The Stymphalean birds answered it with their screeches.
    â€œDid you know the birds are metal?” Julie said.
    I nodded. “They’re Greek. You know who Hercules was?”
    â€œYeah. The strongest man.”
    â€œWhen he was young, he had to go through twelve challenges…”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œHis dad’s wife made him temporarily insane. He killed his family and had to atone by serving a king. The king very much wanted to kill him so he kept thinking up more and more difficult challenges for Hercules. Anyway, the Stymphalean birds were one of the challenges. He had to drive them away from a certain lake. Their feathers are like arrows and their beaks are supposed to pierce the strongest armor.”
    She looked at me. “How did he do it?”
    â€œThe gods made him some loud clapper things. He wrapped himself in the skin of an invulnerable lion and made noise until the birds flew away.”
    â€œWhy is it in those stories that the gods always pull your butt out of trouble?”
    I got up. “It helps if the king of the gods is your dad. Come on. We’ve got to climb and I’m pretty sure your dad isn’t a god, is he?”
    â€œHe died,” she said.
    â€œI’m sorry. My dad is dead, too. Now climb, young grasshopper, so your kung fu won’t be weak.”
    She braved a crumpled barrel. “You are so weird.”
    You have no idea.
    Â 
    TWENTY FEET BELOW THE LIP OF THE GAP, I FELT THE Honeycomb. Above us magic twisted and streamed, boiling in a chaotic frenzy, its intensity spiking hot enough to scald. The magic field felt me and spilled over the edge, sending thin currents toward me like invisible lassos. They licked me and fell short. That’s right. No touching.
    The magic waited, almost as if it were aware. Up top, where it boiled, I would create one hell of a