Spirit Box

by E M Lacey

  Montague grunted his agreement. He and Thurgood were considering a new client. He’d read the contract between an unfortunate mortal and a warlock. It was nasty business. They would decline because there was nothing they could do for the man.

  “There is so much to proxy spells.” Sunni held out her hand. Her staff shot across the space, smacking loudly with her palm. She held it aloft.

  “Like what?” Abigail chimed in, instantly regretting her display of interest.

  Sunni waved off the question. “Magic lessons and conversations are for later. Right now, does anyone have any idea what he’s thanking the firm for?”

  “If it’s not Alba, who does he mean?”

  “He’s only ever met us.” Thurgood moved his finger between the staff. “He’s never met Aurora.”

  Everyone turned in Aurora’s direction. She had done her best to become one with the corridor wall.

  “Yeah, it did seem like his eyes skipped across her.” Julius cocked his head as he stared.

  “Whatever spell the caster used, only targeted the staff from that night built into it. It’s only going to address those he felt did him wrong.”

  Abigail had thousands of questions she wanted Sunni to answer, but her cell phone buzzed. She checked the message, only to look up when both her uncle’s and Mr. Myer’s cell phones buzzed as well.

  “It’s Alex.”

  Thurgood motioned for Abigail to call her.

  Abigail did as she was told. Her uncle mouthed the word speaker. She did that too.

  “Ayuda me!” Alex shrieked. “Ayuda mi hija!”

  Montague jumped in, employing his Spanish skills, instructing Alex to calm down, which only made her cry and accelerate her Spanish. Montague hardened his tone. “Tell me what happened?”

  “They’re attacking her!”

  “What’s attacking her?” Thurgood interjected.

  “Los espíritus!”

  McKellen headed toward the elevator.

  “Poltergeists?” Julius fell in step with his partner.

  “Si, ghosts!”

  “Are you alright?” Montague pressed.

  “No!” Alex screamed. “They’re hurting Alba and they hurt me when I try to help her.”

  “Don’t worry, Alex, help is on the way.” Abigail spun on her heel and followed the two men.

  “Get here—” The line went dead. No dial tone. Nothing.

  Thurgood grabbed Abigail by the shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To help Alex and Alba.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.”

  Sunni cleared her throat. “Mr. Biggs, Abigail knows the way and Alex likes her.” She jerked her head in the direction of the hunters. “They’re male, and strangers. Abigail is the best person for the situation.” She looked pointedly at the black summons. “You’ve got work to do here.”

  “But...”

  “No buts. We’re blind and whatever Negruscu’s team has going on, if you and your firm hope to survive this with your reputations and your lives, I’d advise you to get to lawyering.”

  Thurgood’s grip loosened. Abigail untangled herself and quickly joined McKellen and Julius at the elevator. Thurgood stared after them long after the elevator doors closed. He startled when Montague slapped him lightly on the back.

  “Sorry.” He shrugged. “But our liaison is right. We have to prepare for this trial and figure out what Negruscu is really after.”

  Chapter Nine

  A crimson-red Bentley with dark tinted windows was nearly invisible in the shadows of the garage. Once the Suburban exited the garage, Valera Thorne rolled down her window.

  “Run, run, little pigs, straight to the slaughter.” She chuckled then reached into her cleavage to free a silver chain; at the end of it was Negruscu’s ring. She slid it onto her finger. Valera was no longer surprised to see Adiran’s sneering face when it materialized on its dull surface.

  “Did they take the bait?”

  Valera gave a throaty laugh, her fingers dancing along her cleavage.

  “Valera, dear. I love being nestled in the warmth of your very expensive tits but I need you to focus.”

  She pouted, knowing it added sex appeal.

  “Whenever you’re ready.” The vampire rolled his eyes then folded his arms across his chest.

  Valera’s expression sobered. “The boxes were planted and the items inside did what they were tasked to do, except…”

  Adiran’s face pressed against the dull surface of the ring. “Except what?”

  “The ones in the law office could not penetrate the safe room.”

  “What!”

  Valera was grateful that the ring holding Adiran’s essence dulled the volume of his outbursts. She’d seen what they could do when he was in physical form. She had to replace six windows in their office.

  “Damn it!” Adiran kicked something then his features smoothed. “It’s okay. My plan will work.”

  “Of course it will.”

  “Don’t coddle me, Valera. I don’t like it.”

  “Okay.”

  Adiran paced, completing four full rotations before he stopped. “I need someone to contact Dietrich. I left an envelope at your office. Have someone, who is not you, read it to him. He’ll carry out the rest of my plan.”

  “What do you want me to do, darling?”

  Adiran bristled at the endearment. “Go to the place I told you and wait for the show.”

  “Do you want me to collect the witch?”

  Adiran looked as if he had tasted something foul. “Gods, no! I don’t need any more players in this game. Just make sure my retrieval team is ready and on-site.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Adiran blew a kiss then the face of the stone returned to its dull state. Valera returned it to its resting place, a little pissed that Adiran wasn’t in a playful mood. She whipped out her phone and shot off a few texts. Once her driver dropped her off at her condo, he would pick up Adiran’s retrieval team. They would take the Bentley since it was bullet and spell proof, and had stealth sigils etched along the exterior. Once her texting was finished, she knocked three times on the barrier between herself and the driver.

  The engine roared to life. She loved how it purred. She leaned back in the seat, rolled the windows up as the driver pulled off. It would take them at least two hours to reach their destination.

  She pulled up the Saks Fifth Avenue mobile site. What does one wear to inaugurate a new world?

  Chapter Ten

  The drone of the Suburban’s engine had a sedating effect on Abigail, whose head pressed against the window as she blinked with purpose trying to fight off the fatigue demanding her submission.

  Disturbed’s Are You Ready blared through the SUV’s cabin, jolting her awake. She looked up in time to see McKellen’s incriminating grin. She scowled.

  “Hey, I saw you struggling back there.”

  Abigail faced the window, ignoring him. Why had he fixated on her? He wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type. His standoffishness branded him a loner. Loners were not people to be trusted. They tended to have things to hide.

  An exasperated sigh replaced the blaring metal music. “Just trying to be helpful, Firecracker.”

  She twisted her body toward the window, wishing she was intimidating, if not by stature, maybe by stare. She could tell from McKellen’s struggle to keep a straight face that it wasn’t working, so she ignored him.

  “McKellen, could you please at least pretend to be an adult?” Julius cut his eyes at his colleague. “Leave her alone and focus on the task at hand.”

  “Sorry, she reminds me of my little sister Myra, only less prickly.”

  Julius shook his head and leaned back in his seat.

  McKellen cut his eyes at Julius. “Come on, don’t tell me you never gave your siblings annoying names just for the fun of it.”

  “I thank God on the daily that I’m an only child.”

  McKellen grunted, lowered the music, and
focused on the road ahead.

  Who was Myra? Abigail didn’t have time to worry about the question when she recognized the Chick-fil-A. It had only been open a month. She, Alex, and Alba had gone there for lunch a week before the vampire darkened their lives.

  “There!” Julius pointed enthusiastically to the right. The strip mall Alex owned came into view. Abigail undid her seatbelt. She didn’t like the building crowd in the small parking lot.

  “What are they doing here?” She ran her finger across the lock. Her other hand settled on the handle.

  McKellen pulled into the lot. He had to lay on the horn a few times to force people to get out of the way.

  “What’s wrong with these people?” he groused.

  Abigail scanned the store front. There were two spaces that were rented out: an upscale, trendy resale shop and the other was a custom furniture store. Alex’s gallery, Aztec Sun, was the largest. The crowd was building in front of it.

  McKellen brought the truck to a stop. As soon as the engine died, Abigail was out. She hurried toward the gallery, craning her neck as she pushed through the sea of backs.

  Her progress stopped when she reached a particularly large man. She tapped him lightly. He didn’t seem to notice, so she tapped harder. He spun on her; arm raised.

  “What the hell!” he snarled.

  “Listen, man, I’d put that hand down if you hope to keep it.” McKellen stalked through the crowd, which parted for him.

  The man sized up McKellen then glanced at Abigail before muttering, “You ain’t worth the hassle,” then moved aside.

  A substantial number of cellphones were raised above the heads of the looky-loos. She startled when McKellen placed his hands on her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry, Firecracker. I’ll take the lead.” He moved her behind him. “Put your fingers into the belt loops.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t look so disgusted.” McKellen feigned shock. “I need my hands free for crowd control.” He raised his hands and curled them into fists and took a few swings at the air. “Also, I’ll feel your weight. The moment that changes, I’ll know there’s a problem and I’ll handle that.”

  “Not to mention, this method will allow us to reach our destination faster.”

  Julius moved behind her, then nodded for McKellen to go.

  Abigail caught a sound as they neared the gallery. Snarls that were too big and too murderous to belong to a dog. Someone screamed and McKellen picked up the pace. Abigail followed.

  The ground was hot, but it didn’t bother her. She’d left her shoes in the truck. Bare feet allowed her a deftness and speed that did not belong to fashion. Alex’s scream cut through the rumbling conversation. McKellen broke into a run. Abigail stayed in step with him. While they made their way through the crowd, several phones swung their way.

  “Maybe they’re ghost hunters or something,” someone said, sparking a new round of mumbling.

  McKellen broke through the crowd, ending at the sidewalk in front of the gallery. The front was all glass. They should have been able to see inside, but they couldn’t. It was black. Something thumped against the glass. Abigail squeaked, instantly releasing her grip on McKellen’s belt loops. She back peddled.

  Someone laughed. Abigail faced the crowd. A bunch of bored faces stared back. A few had blood lust in their eyes, with their cellphones aimed at the shop.

  “Hey lady, get out of the way!”

  The cement under her feet cooled. Her sight washed crimson as she scanned the sea of onlookers for the speaker. A teenager. His mop of rainbow-colored hair was in a Mohawk, and the only color he had to his skin was because of tattoos. He was skinny in an unhealthy way. He gave a smug smile, then blew her a kiss.

  Her hands formed claws as her fury burned. “You should be ashamed of yourselves! Did any one of you try to help them!” She jerked her thumb at the gallery, then aimed an accusing finger at the gapers. Her ire settled in her chest.

  Rainbow Mohawk opened his mouth to say something smart when his cellphone sparked in his hands. He squawked like a wounded bird, as he bounced his phone between his hands. It finally fell to the ground. Several nearby phones also sparked and fell to the ground.

  Abigail grinned as she felt heat culminating in her chest, slip into her mouth, and roll across her tongue. Do dragons feel like this? A small knot formed in her throat. It didn’t hurt. It felt right. Could she breathe fire?

  A large hand clamped on her shoulder. A spark of magic drew her attention. How did she sense it? The rising heat evaporated as the crowd backed away. Why did McKellen activate a protective rune?

  “Firecracker?”

  Abigail looked up to see a troubled McKellen. She looked past him. Julius knelt before the gallery’s front door. He looked like he was working on something.

  “You okay?”

  Abigail nodded.

  McKellen wrapped his arms around her shoulders and led her toward the gallery. The crowd hid away their phones and put some distance between them. Abigail let herself be led, not noticing the pale white spot she left behind.

  Julius stood upright. “Everything’s set.” He finally faced them, instantly curious at McKellen’s magicked arms. A loud thump stopped any questions he intended to ask. They needed to get inside.

  McKellen moved back, drawing Abigail with him.

  Julius had painted a sigil on the front door. He began chanting, drawing a sheer replica of it in the space in front of him. It lit up, then he pushed it forward. It floated toward the door. He didn’t move to open the door until the sigil settled. He lay his hand over it, whispered something then pulled back, holding an copy of the sigil, which he brandished like a shield. The door swung open smoothly, though it looked like it was ready to fall off its hinges. Not a sound of distress was heard.

  Inside, Aztec Sun was in ruins. Whatever wasn’t broken was used to break other things, as metalwork flew wildly about, smashing into walls, glass, and floors. Julius pushed the shield forward as he entered the shop. The flying metalwork paused in midair, spun, then flew in Julius’s direction.

  McKellen released Abigail and rushed into the gallery, unsnapping one of the four pouches. Three of the four pouches bore elemental symbols: fire, water, and earth. The fourth pouch had a Caduceus on it. It was for all of his healing potions and herbs. He reached into the pouch with the fire symbol, drawing out what looked like orange marbles and tossed them in the air. They flared like miniature suns then expanded, floating through the receding darkness toward a corner full of destroyed ceramic sculptures.

  The metalwork fell to the floor. The spinning, crashing debris dropped to the ground as well, but the marbles stayed in place, levitating. The shield Julius held protected him from the falling debris. He cast his gaze to the floor. That’s when he saw it. A spirit box in the far-right corner of the room, under a shattered totem pole. It was dull. No bigger than a Rubik’s Cube.

  “Is it safe for me to enter?” Abigail called from the entrance.

  “Hold.” Julius sat in a meditative posture, legs crossed, head bowed, and hands held up, palm to palm.

  “All that is malevolent in this place, I banish you by the light of the sun stones. Be gone by the will of the Creator. Leave this place!”

  The sun stones shone brighter and the darkness peeled away. The stones started to dim to a methodic pulse. Everything in the gallery became clearer. Alex’s coveted Quetzalcoatl was in pieces in several sections of the gallery. Obsidian blades were embedded in the walls. One hung from the center of the clock just over the doorway leading into the kiln room/studio.

  “Alex! Alba!” Abigail, who was always cautious, leapt over toppled and broken sculptures. McKellen reached for her, but she dodged him and darted awkwardly toward Alex’s kiln room, shouting as she went.

  “Alex!”

  “Ms. Biggs, you need to be careful.” Julius hurried to follow her. “A cleansing can take several passes. The space is not safe.”

  Abigail looked him in
the eye, then called for Alex as loud as she could.

  “I thought McKellen was the only juvenile I had to deal with.”

  Thoroughly insulted, McKellen scowled at his colleague. “I didn’t do anything!”

  Julius huffed. “It won’t be long before you do.”

  Abigail hopped like a gazelle over the debris, disappearing into the workshop. Julius and McKellen gave chase.

  “Alex!”

  “Ms. Biggs, you need to be silent after you call to them.”

  “Why?”

  “If you want to hear them answer, as they might be buried under something.”

  Abigail seemed to sober at that. “Right. Right.”

  Julius motioned for her to call out again.

  “Alex!” She dialed down the volume.

  This time, she heard something. She turned in the direction of the sound. It was in the farthest left side of the studio, where there was a storage room. The voices were coming from there.

  Getting to the storage room proved difficult. Several racks had fallen, blocking the main door. The light in the back room was crap. An emergency light was all they had to work with. She turned to Julius.

  “Can you find a light switch?”

  Abigail squinted at the darkness. She wasn't sure of what she was looking for, but certain she would know what it was when she found it.

  Abigail listened intently, hoping to pick up the noise from before. She shut her eyes against a sudden burst of light. When she opened them, a metal door gleamed in the fresh lighting. Abigail crawled through the debris. McKellen and Julius offered a steadying hand when she teetered. Both men moved the fallen racks out of the way, making short work of the ones covering the door.

  Abigail placed her ear to the door. “Are you in there, Alex?”

  “Si! We are here!”

  “Can you open the door?”

  “Yes. Give me a minute.”

  Abigail didn’t move her ear from the door. She heard movement, the soft padding of Alex’s bare feet as she moved around in the room. Digital beeps sounded and were followed by an audible click.