I pulled this excerpt while putting together Baxia’s bio for the Adept Universe bible, love the tension between Pulou and Baxia. With Jade and Warner caught in the middle, of course.
The door to Southern Africa blew open with a blast of heat and rain that hit us like a hurricane.
I stumbled to keep my footing. Warner just leaned into the onslaught. Had I been questioned about it two seconds before, I would have sworn that weather couldn’t travel through the portals or enter into the nexus.
Baxia stepped through the open portal onto the white marble floor. Her otherwise bare feet were adorned with exceedingly cute golden toe rings and ankle bracelets inlaid with various gems. The storm that had pummeled Warner and me whipped back and around the guardian of Southern Africa. This left us exceeding damp and windblown, whereas Baxia’s bright African-inspired print maxi dress appeared to be bone-dry. Her ebony skin reminded me of the finest dark chocolate from Madagascar. I tamped down on the pure envy that rose as I stood before the powerful and beautiful guardian.
The rain bringer had come to the nexus.
Pulou stepped through the portal after Baxia, his fur coat showing no evidence of him having just walked through a hurricane. The remaining vortex of water and heat snapped back with the magic of the portal as the door closed behind the guardians.
Warner dropped to one knee and I curtsied deeply. I’d never actually spoken directly to the rain bringer. I understood her guardian gifts had something to do with water, or the control of water. Either way, a guardian who was preceded by a hurricane was definitely someone to bow before.
“Alchemist,” Baxia said. Though her accented English was lyrical, my title was spoken with a sharp edge, as if the guardian was unhappy to find me standing before her. “You do not have permission to enter my territory. If something lies between my borders that is deadly to guardians, you will let it sleep.”
Pulou shifted his feet uncomfortably. I peeked up through my curls to see Baxia glaring at the treasure keeper.
“Is that understood?” she asked him. Her guardian magic — an intoxicating blend of too-dark-to-ever-be-sweet chocolate, well-ripened papaya, and a hint of tobacco that lingered long on my palate — momentarily rose to cloak her in a golden aura.
Wind stirred, lifting the unruly curls off my face. The storm threatened to return as the question — or, rather, the declaration of war — hung between the two guardians.
Pulou turned his stoic gaze on my still partially bowed head. Then I figured out the question had actually been directed to me … or at least through Pulou to me, but for me to answer.
“I understand, guardian,” I said. “I would never walk where I wasn’t welcomed.”
“The map doesn’t lead you to Africa?” Pulou asked, sounding as if maybe he was hoping it did. He was cruising for a bruising, as Gran would say.
Yeah, and guardians were supposed to be peacekeepers. “Not that I know of, treasure keeper,” I answered. “We’re here to request passage to San Francisco.”
“The map leads you to North America?” Pulou asked. “A second time? That is surprising.”
“Not the map —”
“No one enters my territory,” Baxia repeated. Then she padded away. Magic glinted off her toe rings in a way that made me itch to add them to my necklace. Yeah, my magical magpie tendency was verging on obsessive-hoarder-disorder territory these days. I deliberately looked away from the guardian’s flashy feet. I really wasn’t interested in turning into Blackwell. The sorcerer was so obsessed with collecting powerful objects and powerful people that he’d allied himself with my blood-frenzied sister and risked the wrath of the West Coast North American Pack — twice. I knew which lines were not to be crossed. At least, I hoped I knew.
Pulou grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Stroppy biddy.”
– Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser 5)