Avia found herself inching to the edge of her seat, leaning in. The sulfur smell was stronger now, and the air had a warm pulse to it. Whatever was happening was definitely breaking the typical clown-car routine.
The one on the far left popped off his own arm and walked casually over to the one on the right. Before the other could react, the first clown slapped him in the face with his detached arm. The middle clown pointed and laughed, leaving the slapped one to offendedly gasp. The audience roared in laughter. As if on cue, the slapped clown removed his leg, hopped over, and bopped the slapper on the head with his detached foot.
Of course. The building tension, suspense, and bubbling magic in the air—wasted on buffoonery and base jokes. She couldn’t even complain that it was gory. Zombies, from what she could see, at least, didn’t appear to have any blood. Plus, the lights, costumes, and makeup made everything look too childish to be repulsive. It was just so… stupid. Settling back in her seat, Avia massaged her temples and waited for it to end.
The act went on for a while, the three attaching and detaching parts (often in the wrong spot) to either juggle or hit each other. By the end, two of the clowns had switched hands and feet, and the third held his own grinning head. They each took a ridiculously overcomplicated bow, which led to more stumbling and falling onto the ground. After a final wave from their entangled position, one of them squeezed his flower. They all melted back into the same green goop as before. The puddle then moved across the circle, entered the yellow car, then somehow drove off.
Now that the act was over, maybe she would be able to get Gemini’s attention.
“What the hell?” Avia hissed to Paris over the applause.
“I’ve never seen anything like that!” Paris scream-whispered back.
The aether swirled around them like muggy air after a storm. Even stranger, its main force wasn’t coming from the stage alone. Instead, the entire space was charged with energy. Avia shook her head with an exasperated sigh. “That act took a lot of magic,” she whispered. “Very old, very strong magic.”
“You’re right,” Castor said. Paris’ green eyes were now set with determination. “It appears we made a good call coming here.”
Paris nodded. “Let’s just see what else is in store.” Gemini then leaned back in their seat and waved over a boy selling popcorn.
Chapter 21
The door was exactly where Dove had said it would be. Though the room had only been a few paces off the stairwell, Val was still mildly surprised that the hall hadn’t taken her somewhere else. She’d expected a towering frame with heavy bolts, chains, and angelic guards with fiery swords. How else were enchanted, forbidden rooms to be guarded?
Apparently not at all. A small wooden door lay within the stone, so ordinary that she nearly missed it. It had a brilliant coat of silver that made it “pop” against the dark walls, but that was about the extent of magical properties.
On first try, the handle stayed firm. No repulsion. No stoic, disembodied voice. Just a locked door. Val was about to try again but was stopped by a mild pulse coming from the wood. The silver paint began to swirl, and thousands of tiny white runes swam to the surface.
Tipa
Esro
Dölj
Hëdv
Lock. Guard. Conceal. Force. The markings continued one after another, looping along the wood in incomprehensible patterns until she was forced to look away. It was then that Val remembered the feather in her hand. She held it up. Nothing happened and Val waited or a flash of light or an audible spell. Instead, the runes simply stopped. As quickly as they’d appeared, each rune vanished into the silver and the door became just a normal door. Tentatively trying the handle again, it twisted freely and the door opened inward.
Bookshelves, scrolls, and science equipment greeted her as she stepped inside. The room was remarkably clean and showed no signs of abandonment. Her steps padded softly against the sapphire flooring as she neared the closest desk. A bottle of ink, a quill, and pages of scribbled text were sprawled out as if the owner had merely excused himself for a glass of water.
Val squinted at the topmost paper but couldn’t read it. Unlike the city signs that transmorphed from Ynsri to English, these writings stayed the same. She wasn’t familiar enough with the language to be sure, but the blend of strange characters and jagged runes seemed to be something else entirely. Something... older.
The air felt thick. Not like the stuffiness common in closed-off spaces, but something marked with the hum of magic. Val restlessly flexed her hands as she turned away from the desk. The room wasn’t huge, but it was large enough for shadows to web across the darkened corners. The contents of the various shelves were obscure shapes and Val had the uneasy sensation that she was being watched.
A spark of light flared on her left, and the door closed behind her. Turning to the glow, Val narrowed on two sconces of twisting metal. Each held a silver candle. She stared in wonder as black fire danced on the wicks. The metal pulsed and the flames reflected the darkness. The light cut through the shadows like a talon. In its wake, Val found herself in stasis.
The wall held more of the strange writing. But this time, it was paired with images. Between the onyx flames was a simple, almost child-like sketch. A solid black line stretched the length of the wall. Monsters, presumably demons, were crawling out of the line. Beneath it were white, winged figures—the angels. She couldn’t make sense of it, but now that she was this close, face merely inches from wall, the heaviness gripped tighter. The restlessness was now a twisting and straining in her chest. Her teeth reflexively sharpened, and her hand rose to trace the image with a clawed finger.
The dark line started to grow, shadow spreading along the wall, consuming angel and demon alike. Something like ash began to fall onto Val’s skin, soon joined by a single black feather. Her mind was still held by the darkness as the wall now stood entirely enveloped in black.
A second later, she stumbled back, bruising her tailbone against hard ground. Glancing up, the study had been replaced by an all-encompassing grey. No color, no shape—only an endless expanse as far as the eye could see.
“Well, this is a surprise.”
That voice. Val whipped around, then leaned back, finding her face inches from that of a towering man in a top hat. His skin was blue. The long curls that veiled his eyes were a radiant violet.
The phantoms of memory wafted through the floorboards of her mind. This had happened before. Right here. With him. The only difference was that he’d only been a white silhouette.
“What are you?” Val asked evenly. The man tilted his head in confusion.
“Not quite sure myself, deary.” He burst into a round of maniacal laughter, causing Val to leap back. He stopped a second later, face sober and alert.
The man stepped closer and Val could smell, could see, could feel the magic in him. The air around his suit rippled as he moved. The same sweet smell that wrapped the city blanketed him as well—only this scent had the tinge of burning; something that had been left too close to the source.
“It was an accident this time, believe me!” He quickly held his hands up defensively. Val flinched, but didn’t jump. She was getting used to his sporadic movement.
She crossed her arms. “Bringing me here?”
The man sat back on some invisible seat, crossed his legs, and took a sip from a cup she couldn’t see—pinky out. “I was visiting…” He scratched his chin as if searching for the word. “A friend! Or acquaintance… maybe enemy?” He looked at Val as if for confirmation, but she only stared back. He shrugged.
“Can you take me home?!” Val blurted. It was a long shot, she knew that well, but she didn’t know how long she’d have until he disappeared. Anyone with the power to enter Le Ciel on a whim had to be able to leave just as easily. Her plea got an eyebrow raise out of the visitor, but that was all.
“No.” He spoke with poignant defiance, like a child refusing a parent.
“Why not?” Val
stepped closer. She scanned his face for some crack of sarcasm or even wicked satisfaction. There was none.
“Well, if you were an angel, or human, or something with magic then it’d be possible, but right now…” He took another sip, then waved over her with his free hand like motioning to a messy room.
Val opened her mouth to object then stopped. He was too scatter brained and time was limited. She shifted her approach.
“Can you get this off of me?” She pulled down her shirt to reveal the black V and etched runes below her collar bone. Again, the magician was unphased.
“No,” he said in the same disinterested tone. “But…” He tossed the ghost-cup over his shoulder and quickly leaned forward. “Talk to the elves.”
“Elves?” Val shouldn’t have been surprised, given she’d already encountered angels, ghouls, stars, and a vampire. Still, the thought of little people with pointy ears and cone hats stomped out any alternative imagery.
“Yes, eleves. Go to Álfheimr. Well actually, no.” He drew something in the air with his finger. “Not Álfheimr anymore, forgot about the dragons.”
Val was about to ask something else when a knowing smirk flashed across his mouth. The next thing she knew, she was back in the dark study. The flickering reverse-light of the candles burned in the corner of her eye. She turned away.
On the desk, atop papers and notes, was a large giftbox sealed with a silver bow. Everything said to leave it there, exit the room, and find someone to tell her about elves. Instead, her eyes found the Ace of Spades tucked into the top ribbon. Her fingers quickly undid the bow and pulled off the lid.
You might need something more equipped to raid castles, deary.
The words echoed in her mind like he had actually spoken them. In the box were neatly folded clothes. She touched the fabric and crinkled her brow. The charcoal black pants were as soft as silk, rough as stone, and textured like leather. She rapped a fist on the pocket and skinned her knuckles. Despite this, when she placed a hand down the waist, the material moved like any other pair of pants.
Checking over her shoulder to ensure that the door was still closed, Val quickly shed her hospital attire and donned the magician’s gift. The pants fit snuggly. In fact, she couldn’t tell if she was wearing armor or jeans. Pulling the top over her head, a frown creased her mouth. The half-sleeves and shoulders fit alright, but the torso hung airily, waiting to be filled by a larger bust.
The material must have realized she hadn’t grown since high school, because before she could try to adjust it, the top compressed. The three black panels across the chest slithered into their ends, constricting the shirt until it fit perfectly. Val stretched and flexed in the impossible material and found it glided with her body like a second skin.
Her fingers found the cowl and flicked it over her head. It was a bit silly, in a dark room with black candles, but it felt appropriate, nonetheless.
A loud creak snapped Val’s attention to door. Light from the hall sliced through the dark room. New shadows were splayed across the wall and floor. She could feel him before he even rose from the darkness and took human form.
“What are you doing here?!” he hissed. She had expected a haughty reprimand or sarcastic banter, but Vladimir genuinely seemed at his wits end. He motioned frantically to the desk, then the painting, then the bookshelves, seemingly unable to voice panic into words.
“Th- this room is sealed!” he finally managed. Val cocked her head and met his darting eyes with cool ease.
“So?”
“So?” He ran a hand through his dreads, stumbling back into a wall. He began to pace, in one book case, out the other, into floorboards, then continued on the ceiling.
“So?” he repeated again. He stepped out of the shadowed floorboards and sighed. “This was Daemon’s study. You don’t know what kind of spells, or curses, or dark magic could be laying around. Do you know how bloody danger—”
“The Seph Ọkan sent me here with one of his feathers.” At that, Vladimir paled and stepped back.
“You met Dove?”
Val was leaping for joy on the inside at seeing him this flustered. Instead, she replied with a short nod. “He said I may find something useful here.”
Vladimir closed his eyes, racing to come to terms with the new revelations. A moment later, his shoulders slumped and the familiar nonchalant demeanor returned. “Did he give you the clothes too?” He motioned towards her.
“Yes,” she lied. Ignoring him, she glanced about the room. Daemon’s study… It didn’t surprise her. It sure enough explained the strange runes and bubbling dark magic. Even still, knowing she was where the king of demons had worked cast a strange sensation over her. Turning back to the vampire, she lowered her hood and brazenly walked up to meet his eye.
“I’m going to see the elves. Teach me the spell to travel to Álfheimr.”
Val wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the uncontained, rioting laughter that erupted.
“What?!” Her cheeks flushed crimson as he wiped a tear and caught his breath.
“You really are new to this thing, Valentina.” His accent caressed the words, smoothing the air like he was speaking to a child.
“What’s so funny about elves?” she demanded.
He was about to answer, but instead turned his attention to loose papers scattered across the desk. The gift box had disappeared, thankfully. One less thing for her to explain.
Vladimir lifted his gaze to examine the painting between the candles then turned back to Val. “Álfheimr hasn’t existed since the Accords. The dragons rule the Northern Kingdom from the country of Iyenir, located across most of Earth Proper’s Europe. The dark elves are deep underground, so your best bet is the Light ones in the Enchanted Forest.” He gave her a coy smirk. “The actual name is too many syllables to try pronouncing.”
Val nodded. No images swam up from the Mark. But in its defense, she was exhausted. The magic in the room may have dulled those faculties as well.
“Tell me how to get there.”
He shook his head. “Ágvass.”
“Essence?” she repeated in English.
“Magic has rules, ma cherie.” He stepped from the desk and sat in the armchair across from her. “The aether builds reality. Magic is just manipulating the aether to affect reality. If you’re Ágvass—human, angel, spirit, what have you—your bloodline is closer to the essence that builds the world.” He seemed to note the strain in Val’s face as she fought to wrap her mind around the words. “They can do spells,” he added with a sigh.
Val evened her gaze, but if he was lying, she couldn’t tell. “Then what does that make us?” she asked flatly.
He flicked his wrist and the shadows from the room darted to his body. The room was left in an eerie light from the cracked door. The darkness they’d been in moments before now sat in his palm as a rippling sphere. The vampire made a tsk sound and shook his head. “We don’t channel magic; we are magic. The aether has already given itself. Albeit, as a vampire, I have more flexibility than say, you or a lycan. But you’re still not going to catch me hurling winds or summoning transmutation spells.”
He tossed up the ball and it exploded. The shadows ran to corners, walls, and cracks until the room was blanketed in darkness again. The door closed and the candles went out. She could still see, obviously, but the shadows sat uncomfortably on her chest. Perhaps because she knew they weren’t just contouring from the light, but rather extensions of the creature sitting across.
“But sure,” he said after a pause. The tips of his fangs flashed with a grin. “Let’s go see elves.”
Val’s pupils dilated wider. “But you just—”
“I said,” he began, rising from the chair. “That you’re not able to go spellcasting your way through realms. I can still take you.”
Val chewed over the words. “I’m not coming back.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I mean it!” She pushed him back, summoni
ng as fierce of a glare as she could. “Even if the elves can’t help me, I’ll stick things out on my own. I want a promise that you, or Zadkiel, or Michael, or whoever won’t come after me.”
Vladimir chuckled before tucking his hands in his pockets. “And what makes you think I have that kind of weight?”
“You’re the first of the Sins, incredibly powerful, and king over a fourth of the Annwn,” she listed. “I’m sure you could manage something.”
This sparked another laugh, but this one was lighter. “Deal.” He extended a hand. Val eyed it warily, watching as dark tattoos shifted and spun along his wrist against the dark.
“But I promise you.” He took her hand in his. “You’ll come back willingly.”
Val shook once then threw his hand back. “I doubt that.”
“We’ll see,” Vladimir sang, vanishing then reappearing beside her. “Let’s go, Ebenezer. I will be your ghost of Christmas past.”
Part IV:
Deal Brokers and Graveyards
“You can refuse, and God can allow it, but his Will will still be done— with or without you.”
Chapter 22
“What?”
Ignoring Val, Vladimir waved his hand across the ground. A whirlpool of black formed in front of them. Shadows crashed together, steadily stretching upward until a towering, elegant doorway stood before them.
Before Val knew what was happening, Vladimir pushed her through and she was free falling in darkness. When she opened her eyes, she was on her hands and knees with soft grass between her fingertips. A massive stone arch loomed above her. Centuries old, if not older, it was carved in a manner resembling an ancient temple.
Fenestram
Energy swirled within the doorway in purples, blues, and whites. Yet, each of the colors remained transparent. The blue sky was clearly visible behind the arch. Val stood to get a closer look, but quickly found herself at a sharp ledge. The ground beneath was only a narrow island of rooted earth. Hundreds of identical islands, housing similar archways, floated as far out as the eye could see. A spread of levitating stones around each island could probably be used to hop the chain, but Val was more than certain that an attempt would lead to an endless fall—or certain death.
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