Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,4
casinos, private beachfronts in the Maldives, or maybe even magic-shielded apartelles along the Riviera.
“The Locksleys?” Her father snorted, whipped out an unexpected right jab that she only just blocked in time with her wooden staffs. Arnis was a Filipino martial art that relied heavily on stick fighting. Her father, a Scotsman, had no business being good at this. “Got cold feet about hiding him, seems like. Poor lad’s a target everywhere he goes, an’ they’re too much in the news nowadays tae keep him safe.”
“Will they catch him here?”
“Not if I’ve anything tae say about it. Hopin’ he stays long enough tae enjoy the rest o’ his childhood. We’ve got a better chance at protecting him than those rich sooks.”
“Because Mum and I can break spells?” Magic didn’t work in Invierno, but spelltech was already a way of life in the Royal States of America. Everyone liked the convenience of it, even if magic nearly caused Armageddon every now and then. Minor spells were harmless even by local government standards and worked only about a third of the time, but as far as many Invierno residents were concerned, a third of the time was still better than none of the time. Invierno’s natural magic dampeners still afforded her family some protection, even as they brought more spelltech back to phones and airports and cars.
“Aye, that’s one reason.”
“Does that make Lola Urduja and the others Alex’s bodyguards?”
“Don’t let your lola’s age fool you—she’s good enough tae fight wi’ the Lost Boys, an’ there’s no one I know stronger.”
“Are we the prince’s bodyguards too?”
“If you can arse yourself enough to beat me for once, sure.”
“I’m getting better!” Tala protested.
Laughter sounded behind them; her mother was now laying out a dozen cell phones in a circle on the ground. “Then let’s see if you’ve perfected control of your agimat, anak.”
Tala looked a lot like Lumina Warnock, down to their short statures, long black hair, and flashing brown eyes, with dark skin more nature than sun. People were wary of Kay, but it was her quiet mother most people were afraid of.
Tala groaned, but handed her arnis sticks over to her father. Magic didn’t work on her, but sometimes she could disrupt spells around her without meaning to. These exercises were to help her control it better. “Again?”
“If you’d like to help protect His Highness, you’ll be needing the practice. Shall we begin?”
The phones rose into the air, hovered five feet off the ground, and buzzed merrily as their antigravity hands-free selfie spells activated, then began blasting Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe.”
“Now,” Lumina instructed. Tala reached out toward the floating devices, felt the telltale crackle of energy in her hands. There were several category three spelltech apps installed in each phone, and she could taste each and every one of them. The sensation of mint-cool air on her tongue—that was the levitation spell. Another with a heady rosewood smell, coupled with just the hint of lilacs—a charisma add-on for texting. She ignored them, seeking out the spell that felt rich and buttery: the music app.
The song cut off abruptly.
It was one thing to stop magical devices from working within a given range. It was another to isolate and prevent only one spell within that device from working while keeping the rest active. Doing so to multiple phones at the same time upped the difficulty level exponentially. If Tala had to describe her agimat, she would have likened it to a sphere with herself at its center. Magic within it didn’t work, but she could expand or contract that sphere however she wanted, to allow spells to function. It required a lot of patience Tala wasn’t always ready to have.
“Six o’clock.”
Tala allowed the phone at the six o’clock position to slip free from her agimat, and it resumed playing where Carly Rae had left off.
Alex stepped out of the house next door, nearly colliding with one of the titas armed with a bowl of savory sinigang soup. He followed her until she’d set it down on the table, nose twitching.
“No eating until we’re all ready,” the tita warned.
“He’s the guest of honor, ate,” another of the women scolded. “He can eat whenever he likes.”
“I’ll wait,” the prince offered, staring at the ring of mobile phones. “Lola Urduja, what are they doing?”
“Nine o’clock,” Tala’s mother continued.
Sweat shone on Tala’s forehead as she relinquished her hold, cutting off six o’clock’s music. She changed direction, pulling back the curse surrounding the phone at nine o’clock, and the