MetaFic

For those not in my Yahoo Group, here is a sneak peak of Chapter 8 of Curse Breakers . . . enjoy.

Tonks returned with the Skele-Gro late that evening. While the ex-auror was gone, Ginny found herself in the unenviable position of reining in four angry wizards. She reasoned with them throughout the night, but even Bashir’s stoic resolve broke under the horror of Satterfield’s intentions. Ginny had hoped that Tonks’ return would give her an ally, but after delivering the potion to Harry and getting him settled and healing, she joined the course of arguments to go after Satterfield.

Despite her warnings, the morning after the attack on Wendal, the team convened at the only known entrance to the catacombs of Dzibilchaltun. Or they attempted to. The Temple of Six Sky Lord dominated the ceremonial courtyard northwest of their campsite. As they approached the ancient limestone and granite temple shimmered in the morning sunlight like a distant mirage, and Ginny halted nearly a hundred feet from the steps as the hair on her arms stood up in response to some unknown magic. A ward guarded the temple.

“Stop.” She held out her arms. Wendal, either too eager to be patient or perhaps too guilt-ridden, slipped around her and took several long steps forward.

“Wendal!”

Her cry came too late. The haze coalesced into a pearlescent wall, and with a crack of thunder, a bolt of energy leapt from the wall and exploded. The detonation flung Wendal backwards like a carelessly discarded rag doll. He landed heavily and groaned as he propped himself up, wincing with each movement.

“You idiot!” Ginny stormed over to him, the rest of the team crowding around him. Smoke rose from his clothes and blisters covered his hands. “Did you think he wouldn’t leave some wards here?” Ginny asked as she knelt down and grabbed his chin. She turned his face left and right and then checked his eyes. Although a bit dazed and charred, he appeared healthy.

“Sorry,” Wendal said, turning away from Ginny. “I just wanted . . .”

“You’ve a good heart, and a good head,” Bashir said, clapping the boy on his shoulder. “But you need both at all times.” Wendal nodded and then winced.

“I’ll get him patched up,” Tonks said.

Ginny thanked her and stood up next to Bashir. Behind Bashir, Simon was pacing along an invisible line making the occasional mark with his wand. “Thoughts?” Bashir asked.

“It’s powerful and sloppy,” Ginny said as she took a few steps forward. The energy of the ward pushed at her, but she was too far away to activate it. “A barrier ward of some kind.”

Bashir shook his head and pointed to Simon who had turned a corner. “I don’t see any rune stones, so I doubt it. Of course, it might be part of the defenses of the site.”

“No,” Ginny said, concentrating on the magic. It was raw and new and pulsed almost like a heart beat. “This is not Mayan magic.”

“Alright, that should do you,” Tonks said. Wendal mumbled his thanks, and Ginny turned to him as he stood up and joined her.

“You got hit with it,” Ginny said. “Any thoughts?”

Wendal shook his head. “I felt some pressure and then it was like my heart was pumping electricity.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “That effing bastard!”

“He must be desperate to keep us out,” Bashir said. Ginny turned toward Bashir. From the shock on his face, he had reached the same conclusion.

“Simon!”

The American stopped and glanced back at Ginny. “What? I’ve almost got this mapped out.”

“Come back here, you can’t do anything. That’s a blood ward.”

Simon swore and scampered away from the boundary he had inscribed. Ginny turned away from the temple and began walking back toward the camp. Satterfield had trumped her again. There was nothing she was willing to do that would break the ward.

“Where are you going?” Wendal asked. “We need to break this.”

Ginny stopped. “I can’t do anything, Wendal.”

“You haven’t even tried.” She heard the disappointment in his voice and the disbelief. Ginny turned back to the group. Wendal was a few feet behind her, his face a mask of torment and guilt and a pleading, desperate hope. “I know you can do it. You have to.”

A heavy stone formed in the pit of her stomach as Ginny realized that Wendal had created an idealistic view of her, unflappable in the face of the impossible, the paragon of curse-breaking. It was her fault. She had created the façade to protect herself and keep control of the curse-breaking teams. She should have seen that it meant more to Wendal, that she was his hero.

Bashir stepped up beside Wendal and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Wendal, she’s . . .”

“Giving up?” Wendal spat and brushed off Bashir’s hand.

He doesn’t understand. He never will. Ginny hated when Tom was right, but she would try.

“That’s uncalled . . .” Ginny held up her hand and Bashir fell silent.

“No, he needs to see this, and he needs to understand.” Ginny walked through the group and headed toward the ward. The energy of the ward gathered about her as she neared it. “Blood wards are simple.” She kept her tone casual and detached as if she were teaching a class. Bill’s voice echoed in her mind, explaining them to her after she had asked about Harry’s stays with his relatives. “They require a sacrifice to enact and as long as the conditions of that sacrifice remain in place, they remain vibrant. The greater the sacrifice, the greater the power. But even a weak sacrifice can be strengthened with time and forethought. Place the two together, lives and time, and you can create a ward that will outlast magic itself.”

Ginny pulled a small knife from her belt and sliced her palm. There were several cries from the team.