by Davis Ashura
As a result, Serena took time to organize her thoughts. “Jake Ridley is of no consequence,” she began, “but I don’t want him failing on Sinskrill. I want him to succeed. Our reputations depend on it. And, yes, I pity him. Our home is harsh, and as weak as he is, it’ll be hard on him. He’ll be like a wounded animal we won’t put down.”
Isha grunted in satisfaction. “An apt description.”
“Will you tell me now what’s happened?” Serena asked.
“Your father required an update, and I gave it to him,” Isha said.
“What did you tell him?” Serena asked, careful that no worry marred her features or her voice. She remembered Isha’s earlier, veiled warning, but even before this moment—whatever threat it held—she’d already begun the process of rebuilding her core of hardness, the armor around her heart. Very little could cause her hurt or fear now . . . or so she wanted to believe.
“Everything,” Isha answered. “Several days ago, I dreamed to him all I knew about William. Even our suspicions about Jake.”
The fortress around Serena’s heart shuddered. Pieces flaked off, and she struggled to contain the panic in her heart. “What did he say?” she asked, although she suspected the answer.
“He dispatched a war-band,” Isha answered. “They should arrive at any moment.”
“What if William leaves for Arylyn before they arrive?”
Isha’s gaze sharpened. “Then things will not go well for us,” he said. “To lose the quarry at this late stage . . . Your father would not forgive such incompetence. We would pay a high price for our failure.”
Serena nodded, and mentally scribed another line of grief and guilt to her ledger of sorrow. “William won’t be going anywhere,” she said. “We have movie-night this weekend.”
“When?”
“Saturday. Tomorrow.”
Isha nodded. “Good. This weekend is when we take him,” he said. A second later he pierced Serena with his focused intensity. “Understand this: I will stop at nothing to prevent William from leaving for Arylyn. Am I clear?”
Serena nodded. Unspoken in Isha’s threat was the promise that if William couldn’t be brought to Sinskrill, he would be killed. Isha would see to it personally, and he would fight her if she tried to protect William.
“Your father wants William and Jake quite badly,” Isha said. “He sent Dalton.”
Serena cursed. “Dalton the hunter.”
Isha nodded. “No one escapes his clutches once he’s caught sight of his prey.” He chuckled. “In a way, we’ve been extremely fortunate in this entire endeavor.”
“In what way?” Serena asked. Her voice remained calm despite the storm of her emotions.
“The magi of Arylyn discovered William first. They groomed him for years, earning his friendship and trust. All along, they must have been fairly certain he would turn out to be a raha’asra, but before they can claim their certain prize, we’ll steal both him and Jake from beneath their noses.” Isha laughed. “They should have taken them both straightaway to Arylyn instead of bothering with this delusional notion of choice.”
“They thought they had time,” Serena said. “And they had no reason to suspect their prize was in danger, especially with six magi protecting him.”
“It won’t be enough,” Isha promised.
“No, I suppose not,” Serena agreed. Regret surfaced again, but she quickly suppressed it. She imagined her heart hardening into a stone. “What happens when the war-band arrives?”
Dalton the hunter, a tall, lanky man with narrow features, beady eyes, and the nose of a rat, stepped out of the shadows of the nearby darkened hallway and into the room.
Serena started.
“Then we capture William Wilde and take him to Sinskrill. Or we kill him.” Dalton grinned, a toothy smile full of malice.
After his talk with Jake, William sat stone-faced and angry through the rest of detention, and he remained angry all the way home.
How could Jake remember what had happened? His memories of that night should have been erased, and until today, William had no reason to doubt they hadn’t been. In fact, Jake had actually confirmed that his friends couldn’t recall the events of that fateful evening but, somehow, he could.
How?
The question kept resonating in William’s mind as he slammed shut the front door and stomped up the stairs.
Jason and Mr. Zeus sat in the family room, watching TV, Jeopardy from the sound of it.
I’ll take “Stuff Jake Knows But Shouldn’t” for five hundred, Alex, William thought sourly.
“How was jug?” Jason asked with an annoying grin.
“Fantastic,” William muttered. He paced about the room, unable to sit still.
“What’s got your goat?” Jason asked.
“You’re not going to believe it,” William said.
“Well, whatever has you bothered can wait,” Mr. Zeus declared. “We have more important issues to discuss.” He clicked off the TV.
“Yeah, we do,” William agreed. “Jake Ridley for one.”
“Yes. I imagine you consider him an annoyance,” Mr. Zeus said. “Jason tells me the two of you got into a bit of a scuffle.”
“More of an argument that got out of control,” William said. “He picked a fight with me so we’d end up in jug together.”
“I don’t get why the two of you were arguing anyway,” Jason said. “I thought you were becoming . . . I don’t know, not friends, but at least not enemies.”
“You’re not listening,” William said, his frustration bubbling. “Jake picked a fight with me so we’d have to have jug together.”
Dawning understanding broke across Jason’s face. “Why?”
“Because he knows.”
“Knows what?” Mr. Zeus asked, his irritation obvious. “Stop being so mysterious.”
William told them, gratified when both their jaws dropped open in shock. A weird German word perfectly captured how he felt: schadenfreude.
“How could this happen?” Jason demanded of Mr. Zeus.
Mr. Zeus frowned in thought while he stroked his beard and puffed his pipe. “Jake’s an unprimed potential,” he eventually said, sounding contemplative.
“No, he’s not. He can’t be,” Jason said. “We’d have noticed if he was.”
“Only an asrasin or a potential asrasin wouldn’t have been affected by the braid I placed on him,” Mr. Zeus countered.
“Braids are spells, right?” William asked.
Mr. Zeus nodded. “Or any type of action using asra. In this case I used one geared for normal people, non-asrasins.”
“Which is why you think Jake is a potential?” William said.
“Exactly. If I had used a different braid, one designed for asrasins, it would have left normal folk nothing more than simpletons.”
“But Jake isn’t a potential,” Jason persisted. “None of us—me, Lien, Daniel—ever sensed that about him. It was never there.”
“Yet it’s there now,” Mr. Zeus replied. “It has to be.” Jason still looked like he wanted to contend the point, but Mr. Zeus waved aside whatever argument he wanted to make. “A discussion for another time. What does Jake want?” he asked William.
“The truth. He wants to know everything about what happened. About Kohl. About how Jason cast fire. All of it.”
“What did you tell him?” Jason asked.
“Nothing,” William replied. “I told him I had to ask you first before I told him anything.”
“Good. Then invite him over for dinner tomorrow. Tell him I’ll explain everything then. Leave it to me.” Mr. Zeus steepled his fingers. “Now. We have other issues to discuss. Matters are coming to a head.”
A prickle of unease worked its way down William’s spine. “What else is there?”
“Sit down,” Mr. Zeus ordered.
The prickle heightened, and William took a seat on the couch next to Jason. “This isn’t like those other times when I found out you’ve been lying to me abou
t something, is it?”
“No, but we have concerns,” Mr. Zeus answered.
“What kind of concerns?”
“We need to test you. Find out if you have the blood of Kohl Obsidian in your veins.”
William rocked back in his seat. How had they known? The world swam before snapping into focus.
“I’m guessing by your reaction that the answer is ‘yes’,” Mr. Zeus said, his tone droll.
William stared at his shoes, fear replacing his earlier anger at Jake’s revelation. “Is this when you kill me?” William asked, somehow remaining calm. He lifted his gaze to stare Jason and Mr. Zeus in the eyes even as he judged the distance to the front door. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Kill you?” Jason’s face scrunched up in horror. “What kind of crappy people do you think we are?”
“It’s what the book said,” William said.
“Well, the book’s wrong,” Jason replied.
“All we know is that you’re a raha’asra,” Mr. Zeus said. “Or you will be if you don’t first turn into a necrosed.”
William shook his head. “I’m not going to turn, and I’m not going to die, either,” he said. “Both of those scenarios would have already played out by now. I’m blessed or whatever it’s called when a necrosed’s blood doesn’t turn or kill you.”
“Take off the nomasra,” Mr. Zeus said. “The locket with the picture of your parents. It could be slowing the process.”
William pulled out the locket and stared at it. He’d never thought it might the reason he hadn’t either turned into a necrosed or been killed. With trembling fingers, he slowly slipped off the necklace and unconsciously held his breath. He closed his eyes and waited.
The room remained quiet. After what felt like minutes with nothing said or happening, he cracked open his eyes. Mr. Zeus and Jason stared at him, unblinking.
“Well?” William asked. He unclenched fisted hands grown sweaty with his nervousness.
“I don’t feel anything but his lorethasra,” Jason said to Mr. Zeus. “There’s nothing else there.”
“I agree,” Mr. Zeus said. “Not that I expected there to be,” he told William, “You contain no corruption.” Mr. Zeus doffed an imaginary hat. “Congratulations. You aren’t going to become a demonic killing-machine.”
“Then I’m okay?” William asked. His voice cracked, and for some reason he recalled a silly scene of wood thrushes singing to a bright, sunny dawn. Corny as hell, but a perfect description of how he felt.
“Then you are blessed,” Jason mused.
“It’s kinda gross, though, isn’t it?” William asked. “The blood of a necrosed in my veins.”
“Well, in this case it hasn’t harmed you one bit,” Mr. Zeus noted. “According to Jason, you’re now stronger, faster, and tougher than he is. In addition, you’re also a potential raha’asra. You have it in you to become a very powerful asrasin.”
William puffed up and grinned.
Mr. Zeus shook his head in disgust. “Don’t be so proud of your abilities,” he warned. “You didn’t earn them. They came to you with your birth or by accident. Nothing more than blind luck. It’s like being proud of being tall.”
William’s grin faded. Leave it to Mr. Zeus to make something grand sound stupid. “Is that it, then?” he asked. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Not entirely,” Jason said. “We also need to talk about Serena.”
“What about her?” William eyed the other two through narrowed eyes. Based on their expressions, it felt like the other shoe was about to drop.
“We believe Elaina . . . You remember the fortune teller we met when we joined Mr. Bill’s circus?” Jason asked.
William nodded. “She’s hard to forget.”
“Well, we think she was a true witch,” Jason said. “Witches and warlocks are a race of magical beings descended from asrasins.”
“I’ve had people research what Elaina said,” Mr. Zeus said. “She said she’s a witch from a place called Sand. It happens to be an actual village of witches and warlocks, but we have no idea where.”
William’s mind reeled. “You’re saying the fortune-teller was an actual, honest-to-goodness witch?” William shook his head in disbelief. “How much magical crap is there?”
“A lot,” Mr. Zeus said. “Elves. Dwarves. Unformed. Necrosed. Holders. All of them are woven, the creations of asrasins. All magical beings descended from our kind.”
William’s attention caught on something Mr. Zeus had said. “Holders. You mean like Landon?”
“Yes,” Mr. Zeus affirmed. “Holders are also a type of woven. Same as fairies, gnomes, dragons, and a thousand other species. Almost every creature from almost every myth had its origin in truth. We created them. All of them, either directly or through unexpected breeding. But at the heart of it, asrasins were their makers. Our creations once walked and stalked the earth, swam and hunted the sea, or flew and ruled the air.”
“All right. Elaina’s a true witch,” William said, hoping repetition would make the word sound less ridiculous. Would there never be an end to these unbelievable conversations? “But what’s this have to do with Serena?”
“We think Serena might also be a witch.”
“What?”
“Remember what Elaina told you when she read your fortune?” Jason asked. “She said Landon was alive and that me, you, and Serena have magic. True witches know things.”
“There’s no way Serena could be a witch. We’ve never seen her use magic or even touch it. Plus, if she has magic it means she’s been lying to us all this time. She’d never do something like that.”
“She may be a witch and not know it,” Jason said.
William’s simmering disbelief faded a bit.
“Since we know she isn’t an asrasin,” Jason added, “that’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“How do you know?”
“First of all, she’s not a potential,” Jason said, holding up a finger as though reciting a list, “or her lorethasra would have flowered in the saha’asras we encountered.” He held up two fingers. “Second, she’s not a magi. We’d know.” A third finger went up. “And she can’t be a mahavan. During all the battles against Kohl she never once formed a braid. She should have, to save her life if nothing else, since mahavans are known cowards.”
“I don’t know,” William said, remaining skeptical.
“The other possibility,” Mr. Zeus said, “is she’s an unformed, a creature who can transform other magical beings into something other than their true form. But if that were the case, I’d know.”
William groaned. More new words and creatures. He clutched his temples. “I think I’ve got a headache.”
“The reason we’re telling you all this is because we need to go to Arylyn much sooner than we thought,” Mr. Zeus said.
William’s head jerked up. He searched Mr. Zeus’ and Jason’s features, hoping to see some bend, but their expressions remained unyielding. “When?” he asked.
“Soon. This weekend won’t be early enough,” Mr. Zeus said. “Arylyn is the only place where we’ll all be safe.”
“But why now?” William demanded. “I’m not ready to leave. I have to wait for Landon. What if he returns and we’re all gone?”
“We told you. Serena may be a witch,” Mr. Zeus explained, “and whether she knows it or not is immaterial. Thus far, you’ve already come in contact with a holder, a necrosed, and a witch.”
“And don’t forget Aia, the kitten who spoke in our minds,” Jason reminded him.
“Creatures of magic seem drawn to you,” Mr. Zeus continued. “It happens, and when it does, it’s dangerous. You can’t remain here, lit up like a lamp while you wait for some new monster to try to kill you. You barely survived your last such encounter. Do you really want another such meeting?”
William reluctantly shook his head.
Jason ruffled William’s hair. “It’s not all bad,” he said. “At lea
st you get to live in paradise.”
Serena quickly regained her equilibrium after Dalton’s unexpected appearance. She and Isha moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and faced the mahavan known as the Hunter. In this, they were allies. Their family room contained a tension, the kind when two powerful dogs encountered one another for the first time. The three of them silently assessed one another, and Serena sought to break the impasse.
She sneered at Dalton, seeking to set the man back on his heels. “A bit much, don’t you think?” she asked, referring to his melodramatic entrance. Her words and demeanor were a calculated insult, a wrist-slap to remind Dalton that while he had power on Sinskrill, she too might one day have similar influence.
Dalton’s smile vanished from his rat-like visage. “What do we know of Wilde’s habits?” he asked in a curt tone.
Serena hid a smile. The hunter had noticed the insult and didn’t appreciate it. “I go to school with three of Arylyn’s magi,” she said. “After school William goes home, where he lives and trains with one of those magi, Jason Jacobs. He’s quite powerful, and his grandfather, Mr. Zeus, is even more so. There are four more magi living across the street.”
“Six magi, then,” Dalton mused. “I suppose the three of us and the two mahavans I brought with me can handle them.”
Serena silently scoffed.
“And Wilde’s never alone?” Dalton asked.
“Rarely. Only when he and I go out to see a movie or have dinner together.”
“Do you have such a plan coming up?”
“No.”
“Then you need one.”
“There is another matter,” Isha said, wearing a smile Serena recognized as one of relish. “One of equal importance as William Wilde.”
Dalton’s jaw briefly clenched. “What is it?”
Isha gave the hunter a hard stare. “Reconsider your attitude.” His tone remained mellow but the warning was evident. “I bring home a powerful raha’asra. You know what this means.”
They stared unblinking at one another. Dalton was the first to look away.
Isha gave a grunt of satisfaction.