by Luke Metcalf
“I never said anything about killing anyone.”
“Of course you didn’t. Tee-hee-hee.” The imp gave her a wink. “But once you are powerful enough, you will be able to destroy them without risking any harm to yourself. You could incinerate them with a firestorm spell, or blast them with a lightning bolt.”
He grew increasingly excited at the thought of so much death and destruction, rubbing his belly and licking his lips, his beady eyes gleaming with fiendish delight.
“Ew, stop that. You’re weirding me out.”
“Or you could fill their bodies with some hideous abomination, some agonizing, disfiguring disease, yes indeed! Or drive them stark raving mad and make them kill each other!”
He was working himself into a delirious frenzy of excitement, capering about, cackling with glee. These terrible thoughts put him in a state of pure joy, and he began to sing a demented song while marching back and forth on Emily’s dresser.
“Yes! Smite them! Smash them! Burn them! Blast them! Kill them! Crush them! Their blood will gush then! Incinerate them! Eviscerate them! Transform them! Violate them! Humiliate them! Mutilate them! Skin them! Turn their eyes to boiling jelly! Fry their brains, explode their bellies! Rearrange their organs! KILL KILL KILL!” he shrieked in ecstasy, jumping up and down.
“Oh my god, will you stop doing that? My mom is going to hear you!”
The imp regained his self-control, stopped capering about, and stared at her, panting happily.
“Ah, such fun, such fun, yes indeed! But first you must learn.”
“You are deranged! I’m not going to kill anyone, first of all, and let’s get something straight right now, privacy is not negotiable. There is no way I’m going to live my life knowing that every moment, day and night, I’m being watched by some demented, invisible, demonic thing!”
“Oh, you hurt my feelings, Emily,” the imp said, his eyes drooping sadly.
“So… why is the desk so special? Why do those people want it so badly?”
“Emily, I don’t know what ‘Vadas Asger’ is. Perhaps those words lead to the Well’s location. We must find the Well and return to Magella.”
“Uh, I’m not going anywhere.”
Emily paced back and forth for a moment deep in thought. “The Sanctuary,” she whispered to herself, staring at the calendar on her wall. “What is the Sanctuary? Halloween is only a couple days away. Is it some kind of gangsters’ meeting place? The man at Cady’s house said that ‘they’ wanted to meet in a public place…”
Emily touched the date on the calendar with a finger and found herself recalling a time in her life when Halloween had been a joyful, magical evening for her and her family. If she closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could still picture her father’s smile the year he took her by the hand, out to the front yard to show her the freshly carved jack-o’-lantern glowing in the window. They would always have a birthday cake for her in the shape of a pumpkin or ghost or black cat. That year, her parents had dressed her in a cute little bumblebee costume. She remembered twirling around and around, showing it off to everyone, and then opening her presents while everyone watched. Gritting her teeth, she made up her mind.
“The meeting at the Sanctuary could be the only chance I have to find out for sure who killed my dad,” she muttered, grabbing a red marker and circling October 31st on the calendar. “Now, all I have to do is find out what this ‘Sanctuary’ place is and…” She turned to Mercurios. “Is there a spell in the book that will turn me invisible? I need to be able to spy on their meeting without risking getting caught.”
“Yes, there is,” said Mercurios. “But it is difficult. Have patience. I promise I will teach you the beginner spells and potions.”
“Before Halloween?”
“These things take time, Emily. Have patience, all in good time.”
She stared at the black, leather-bound book. A chill ran down her spine as she sensed a palpable aura of dark, unsettling power emanating from it. She slowly, carefully reached into the chest and picked it up. At her touch the book almost seemed to hum with power and the pages began to glow. Emily’s eyes grew wide. Was she going to be able control the mysterious force that lurked inside these pages? Part of her wanted to put it back, lock the chest and never look at it again, but a stronger part of her was completely mesmerized and she gingerly opened the covers. Inside were hundreds of pages of shimmering white parchment. It was like staring into a pool of glowing liquid. Many lines of graceful silver writing floated upon the surface of the liquid energy. It was written in a language from another world with unfamiliar symbols and diagrams in black and sometimes blood red. Emily stared at it in awe.
“That is a powerful magic item, Emily,” the imp whispered over her shoulder. “The spell book of a powerful wizard is a rare and valuable thing indeed!”
“These are real spells?” whispered Emily.
“Oh yes. Yes, indeed.”
“And you think I can learn them? I mean, would you really be able to help me learn them?”
“Of course. The simplest ones should be relatively easy. The more powerful spells will take a great deal of diligent work. Mastering spell-casting and becoming a wizard is no different from mastering any skill, like becoming a brain surgeon; it takes years of work and dedication. But if you can learn basic spell-casting you might be able to locate the Well. Then we can get you back to Magella, where you will study under the finest professors at the Fengusberry Academy.”
“Incredible.” Emily kept flipping through the pages, utterly mesmerized. The more she looked at the spell book, however, the more she felt a creeping dread growing inside her, a fear that she was meddling with incredibly dark and dangerous powers that were ultimately beyond her control. She noticed something lying at the bottom of the chest. It was a beautifully detailed tarot card. It had an image of a man dressed in robes with a long white beard, in front of him was a cup, a sword and a spell book and he was surrounded by various runes and magic symbols. With one hand he pointed down and with the other he pointed up. Across the bottom was written “The Alchemist.”
“What’s this?” she asked, picking up the card and inspecting it. “A tarot card?”
“A message from your parents.”
“What does it mean? Is it magical?”
“No it’s not magical, I suppose it means that you are meant to be a wizard.”
Emily caught a glimpse of her reflection in the vanity mirror on her dresser.
“My God, who am I?” she muttered, then put the card and spell book back in the chest, shook her head as if to clear it and turned to Mercurios. “Listen, I’ve been having this recurring dream about a boy.”
“I thought you said it was a demon.”
“Yes… That too. But listen, I want to know about this boy. Do you have a magic spell that can tell me who he is or what these dreams mean?”
“Tell me about these dreams.”
Emily described her dream, careful to give no hint of her feelings and desires for the mysterious young man with the glittering emerald eyes.
“It is your power awakening, Emily,” Mercurios said when she was finished. “Your great destiny. Do not worry and do not fight it. You will be a great wizard and wield enormous power indeed.”
“You have to help me find out who he is. Now, what should I do about the desk?”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I should find another hiding spot for it until I can figure out what’s going on. I don’t like it being at our house, especially since the police haven’t arrested anyone, and those men are looking for it.”
“I agree. Where will we hide it?”
“I don’t know. It’s really heavy. Hey, can you make things, like, levitate, or use some sort of spell to move it?”
“No, unfortunately, that is not one of my abilities. I will help you learn such a spell from your mother’s spell book, but that will take time. We will begin with the items, the wand and ring and the sphere an
d the skull, and the most basic spells.”
She had stopped listening to him as she took out her cell phone and dialed a number.
“Hey, Tom? Hey, it’s Emily… Not much, just doing some homework, wondering what you were up to… Yeah… Listen, Tom, can you keep a secret?”
Mercurios slapped his forehead and shook his head in despair.
Emily proceeded to tell Tom everything about the package, her father’s murder, the conversation with Detective Scannel, the break-in and Cady Sunner. She refrained from mentioning anything about Mercurios or her dreams. Tom agreed to come over and help her. As she waited for him, Emily searched online for a place called The Sanctuary in Portland but she couldn’t find anything. Half an hour later she heard Tom driving up to her house in his Jeep.
They stood together in her garage looking down at the box containing the desk.
“It sounds like you’re mixed up in something pretty dangerous,” Tom said.
“I need more time to try and figure out what’s going on. I have no evidence. I need to get proof that Cady Sunner is connected, but, yeah, I suppose it’s dangerous, which is why I need your help. I don’t want this near my mom and me anymore. It needs to go someplace else, or be hidden or buried. I don’t care. Just until I get answers.”
Tom thought for a second. “There’s this place out of the city where I go hiking sometimes. It’s pretty remote. We could bury it there.”
“Perfect!” Emily grabbed two shovels leaning against the wall of her garage.
“Let’s go.”
“Right now?”
“Is there a better time than the present?”
Tom laughed and picked up the box with the desk in, carrying it out to the Jeep. Emily was taken aback by how strong he was. They drove out of town and after a few miles Tom turned off the highway down a dirt road into a heavily wooded area, where he pulled over and parked.
“There’s a hiking trail that cuts across this road and leads to a big clearing not far into these trees,” he said. “That’s where we should bury it.”
“Sounds good.”
Emily carried the shovels while Tom carried the desk. An evening breeze floated over them, rustling the leaves on the trees and the moon soared high above, casting shadows through the trees as they headed deep into the forest. The only other sound was the creaking of branches. Emily’s heart was pounding. Having Tom pay her so much attention was exhilarating. After a few minutes, the forest opened into a meadow.
“Here we are,” said Tom, putting down the box. “You know, it’s funny, I was planning on asking you to come hiking with me out here some time. I never imagined we’d be out here in the middle of the night burying a desk.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda weird.” Her throat felt tight. She’d never imagined being in the middle of nowhere with Tom either. If only the school gossip squad could see them now.
Tom took one of the shovels. “Well, I guess we’d better start digging.”
Emily grasped the long, hard shaft of the second shovel and pushed the blade into the damp earth. Soon she could feel her shirt growing wet with sweat, even though Tom was doing most of the work. He dug quickly and methodically, plunging the shovel into the damp earth again and again and it wasn’t long before a sizeable hole had appeared. He stripped off his jacket and shirt and Emily felt her face turn hot and red at the sight of his glistening torso and chiseled abs. Tom was extremely fit and muscular.
“Work up a sweat pretty fast digging like this,” he grinned.
“Uh, yeah.” Emily realized she was staring at his chest and six-pack. “Yeah, thanks again for doing this.”
“No problem,” he said, resuming his labors.
“So, you were going to invite me out hiking?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you can teach me some wilderness survival stuff, in case I ever find myself lost, alone and naked in the mountains.”
“Of course.” He laughed and stopped digging. “Although it would be much better if I were there with you in the flesh, so to speak.” He smirked.
Emily stared at his strong arms and chest, at his chiseled abs and his hair streaked with sweat. Before she knew it, her animal instincts were taking over and she was moving toward him. Thrills of excitement rushed through her at the thought of what was about to happen.
“You’re all hot and sweaty now. I would invite you in for a glass of lemonade if we were at home.”
The old Emily would never have dared to say or do anything like this. But this wasn’t the old Emily. Tom let his shovel fall to the ground, scooped her in his arms, and kissed her in a way she had never been kissed before.
Ten
France 1789
“Are you mad?” Mitchell shouted. “If you doubt me then I will let you read through my thoughts and try to find any memory of me dealing with Baelaar or his fools. I despise him!”
Fionn nodded his acceptance of this. “There is no time for that now. I can see that I have no option other than to trust you and hope that my suspicions are wrong.”
Mitchell was going to protest further but thought better of it. The winds had now reached them, making it hard for them to get their breath or make themselves heard to one another.
“They are getting closer,” he shouted over the roar. “What do you suggest?”
“We could try to reach some of the other knights for reinforcement. I know Abrielle and Cornelieu are on the Isle of Wight. But from the size of the storm our enemies have conjured, I’d say there are many more of them than us. They would overtake us before we could reach them.” He swiped his sword through the air, sending a shower of sparks up in the wind. “Our only option is to stand and fight.”
Mitchell smiled, his eyes filling with the lust for blood. He was unable to conceal his excitement at the prospect of a battle. His fangs glinted in the moonlight as a low snarl rumbled softly in his throat, mingling with the approaching thunder.
Fionn leaned in close to his ear in order to be heard over the wind. “I am beginning to fear that if Baelaar has been building his own little army he plans to instigate wars and mass slaughters all over the world, until every country on Earth is fighting. If he has heard about the discovery of the documents, he has probably shifted his focus to the Well of Many Worlds. Let’s see if he is with this mob, or if he has simply sent his minions to do his dirty work.”
He checked Mitchell’s eyes and smiled, baring his fangs defiantly. “Now you will have the opportunity to test all that I have taught you. Be strong, no matter what happens.”
“I can assure you, you do not need to remind me of that. I’ve been waiting for this moment for far too long. I intend to be staring into his eyes when I cut off his head.”
“Remember control. Silence your thoughts and emotions and be perfectly in the moment.”
Now they could see a warship at the head of the storm – a fearsome, black galleon riding a hundred-foot-tall wave, moving at the speed of an arrow. Fionn summoned every ounce of strength and created a hurricane of wind to push against the onslaught and turn their ship so that they were directly facing their enemy’s vessel.
“Quickly,” he cried. “Focus your will – we must counter them with a wave of our own!”
They stretched their hands before them, hauling the energy of the ocean depths beneath them up into a mighty swell. The black seas rose toward the sky as their enemies continued to bear relentlessly down upon them. The winds howled in anger as they whipped the spray high in the air. With every ounce of their will, Fionn and Mitchell called forth a wall of water that rose nearly seventy feet in the air. Faster and faster came the black galleon, the wave beneath it roaring like a leviathan, echoed by the thunder of the storm that raced across the sky above them.
“Now, roll it forward!” Fionn commanded.
With all their might, they pushed their own wave toward the approaching enemy. The sheer size and power of the approaching wall of water was awe-inspiring. Both of them shaking with the effort, Fionn an
d Mitchell forced their own wall of water even higher. The two great waves met with a great crash. Peals of thunder threatened to split open the sky as millions of tons of water collided with immeasurable force. The spray whipped hundreds of feet up into the atmosphere above; colossal swells rolled out in every direction. Fionn and Mitchell were deluged by the sea rushing and pounding over them, crushing them to the deck and sweeping them this way and that, banging them into unseen obstacles. Their ship pitched wildly as if trying to throw them off, rearing like a thoroughbred horse spooked by the rattle of a venomous snake.
When the water finally drew back and their vision returned they found that the black galleon had drawn up alongside them. At least fifty vampires were manning the attacking vessel, all wearing the same black armor and bestial steel faceplates. Another dozen or more, also in full armor, wore no helmets.
“You!” Mitchell hissed under his breath, eyes flashing with hate. “Look!” he shouted to Fionn, pointing at the bare-faced vampires. Standing amongst them was Baelaar. Fionn nodded grimly.
Above the ship, the black clouds heaved and rolled. Bolts of lightning crackled between them, lighting the horror scene below.
“The ones in the masks are the Initiates,” Fionn shouted. “They are the younger vampires. It is the others we should worry about.”
At that moment the Priests of Mezzor unleashed the full force of their cannons into the side of the ship. Explosion after explosion, flames leaping from the gun turrets and cannon ball after cannon ball crashing into their hull. Wooden beams burst and splintered, masts crumpled and fell. From the skies above bolts of lightning rained down around them, enormous pillars of plunging blue electricity.
Even with their superhuman speed, reflexes and agility, their abilities were pushed beyond their limits as they leaped, ducked, dove, spun, somersaulted, and slid, trying to avoid either being crushed by a cannonball or incinerated by a bolt of lightning.
Every minute seemed to last forever. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. The winds died down, the clouds rolled upwards and were swept away, and the ocean calmed down to barely a shiver. Mitchell stood on the wreckage of bobbing timber remains of what had so recently been their elegant ship and gazed about, immersed in a stunned, eerie calm.