“Crap.” Cham scraped his forearms against a high growing vine of needle weed. Rolling her eyes, Annie tossed him the antidote. “Seriously I think this stuff is encroaching on the path,” he noted, sprinkling his arm with the potion.
“You’re such a baby.” Annie’s fingers grazed the turbulent spot where magic and nonmagic fought for control. She shuttered and summoned a cursed athame; only an object of black magic could penetrate and open the portal.
After plunging the knife into the portal, Annie stepped back as an opening appeared beside them. A powerful mass of air swirled around the opening, small bolts of lightning struck in rapid succession, and the opening grew and shrunk and grew again until it was large enough for a creature to pass through. Unfazed by the turbulence, Annie stepped inside the whirling air that seemed to swallow her whole. Her clothing and hair blew around her. Cham placed a hand inside, holding open the portal, and followed after her. As his second foot broke the plane, the wind stopped, and the whirlpool collapsed on itself.
“Where to?” Cham asked.
The overcrowded market bustled with wizards, witches, vampires, and humanoid demons that packed themselves into the aisles and booths. Entrepreneurs who bought and sold in the market housed items found in all parts of the world, most often in the form of black magical objects, ingredients, and creatures.
This reflected in the mixed scents of body odor, musty damp fur matted with feces, and burnt flesh. The combined smells hung in the air, on clothes, and on hair. Because of the crowd of pedestrians and other creatures, the loose ground dirt was constantly churned up; particles hung in the air and coated booths and the items inside. Annie felt some specks settle in her hair.
Cham’s question lingered; the market, magical and large, could expand if needed, leaving hundreds of booths to investigate.
So where would the vampire go?
“Sturtagaard didn’t have time. He’d buy something quickly,” Annie suggested.
“Off to the market center then.”
Two main passageways dissected the market into four quarters and met at the center square. Smaller aisles crisscrossed the market at angles that created the shape of a wagon wheel. Annie and Cham headed along one of the main gangways where premade items were sold for quick sale.
The pair headed past several booths, one of which contained a seven-week-old dragon, already five feet high. The creature was tethered to the wall of the booth with large shackles and lay on its side, nearly asleep. Annie and Cham exchanged glances. Dragons of this size were illegal to sell.
“Zoology needs to make another raid,” Cham commented as they moved on. Other stalls along this aisle sold other creatures like billdads—half-rabbit, half-otter creatures that were only good for stomping down gardens and eating your backyard foliage. Why are they being sold here? Annie thought. She glanced around quickly, looking for the elves and trolls who scurried through the crowd cleaning up after them. For now, they were nowhere to be seen.
The foot traffic near the market center was practically a standstill. To get to the booths they wanted to see, Annie and Cham pushed their way through the crowd until they finally arrived at their destination: booths overflowing with novelty products, candies that made you puke, cursed athames and itching powders.
Beyond the junk wares stood a stall that sold only potions: love potions, potions that made you stronger, that changed your hair color, that re-grew broken bones, or that offered protection. The shelves were packed with potion bottles of all shapes and sizes—round, square, tall, cylindrical —all containing colorful liquids. Baskets filled with vials lined the table, and money exchanged hands at a rapid pace.
Stepping up in line, Annie raised her arm, shaking the large bag of coins in her hand, which would ensure help quickly. The booth owner, seeing the money, left his customer and sauntered over.
“Protection potions,” Annie said curtly. “You have any?”
“Whatcha running from?” the booth owner asked.
You don’t really care.
The man stroked a long, thin beard, which matched his long, mostly white hair. His light blue eyes sized her up. The very fact that there was nothing exceptional about his face, Annie noted, made him the perfect wizard to sell wares at the market.
“Just want to stay hidden,” Annie replied.
“Good thing, with a zombie army coming,” he said and tossed her the potion bottle. Annie and Cham exchanged looks. “This is good stuff. It’ll keep you hidden. Even the zombies won’t be able to find you.”
“So that’s a real thing?” Cham asked. “The zombie army?”
Annie tossed several gold coins on the counter. The avrum, an ancient wizard coin of solid gold, was once used exclusively at the Black Market and was now highly prized and rare. The shopkeeper smiled with delight, revealing a toothless grin. Reaching for the gold, he offered, “It’s real. Big dude over there,” pointing to the booth across from him. “He heard a vampire braggin’ about it. Comes in and tells everyone.”
“Might be a hoax,” Annie said.
The booth owner thoughtfully worked that out in his head, scratching his scalp. But Annie knew more about the vampire, and Sturtagaard didn’t brag or bring attention to himself unless there was something to gain.
“Nah. It’s real. Vampire bought the same potion, too. Doesn’t want to get bitten,” the shopkeeper laughed. “Doesn’t want to get bitten.”
“You sure he’s got bodies and stuff?” Cham asked. The man stopped laughing and eyed him suspiciously. The question crossed an imaginary line of acceptable questioning without exposing their true intention. Realizing his mistake, Cham clarified, “I’d just like to see it. Ya know.”
Unexpectedly, the unassuming man smiled again. “I bet you would, young guy. If the vampire doesn’t kill ya, the zombies sure will. I believe ’im, though. I guess they’re hiding in someplace big for sure.”
“Uh, thanks for the potion.” Annie held up the bottle and nodded as Cham pulling her by the arm down the aisle toward the entrance.
With a flick of hand, the portal opened, and they stepped through back into the cool air of late afternoon.
“Was that too easy?” Annie asked once they were well inside the protective trees. The sun slipped under a thick layer of clouds, leaving the forest gray and dusty. She wrapped her arms around herself rubbing them for warmth. The summer had been cold and damp.
“Did that guy really think I couldn’t handle a vampire or a zombie?” Cham snorted.
“I wouldn’t worry about him. But I’m kinda worried about that zombie army.”
*
“I’m tired of tracking him.” Cham left the dormant crystal on the map and headed for the refrigerator. The healthy contents didn’t inspire. “Don’t you have anything junky?”
“Pantry.”
As he rummaged, Annie picked up the crystal, which was now plastered with potion and a lock of Sturtagaard’s hair. They were bound to find either him or the protection spell—hopefully both. Beginning from his last suspected location, Annie worked outward in circles. She didn’t believe the vampire had gone far, especially with a zombie army in the works.
Cham tossed a sleeve of cookies on the map.
“How can you eat that?” Annie groaned. “It’s two in the morning.”
“Hungry.” He patted his belly where the T-shirt had become tight around the middle.
The love handles visible through his shirt reminded Annie of an eleven-year-old Cham when they first met. Chuckling, she popped a cookie in her mouth and continued with the map. The circles grew wider until the crystal glowed with a bright white light.
“Got him.”
*
Sturtagaard’s choice of hideouts fit his needs well; never a place the average person would enter at 2:15 a.m. Annie and Cham expected nothing less from this particular vampire, who had, over the course of his existence, raided England as a Viking, battled gladiators, and called the tsar’s youngest child dinner.
One of their first
lessons in Wizard Guard training consisted of stories all about Sturtagaard the vampire. They learned early on to understand the intelligent, deadly vampire’s motivations and to fear him—to realize that the vampire would kill them if he wanted to. And in turn, neither Annie nor Cham took him lightly.
After chanting their spells to remove all sight and scent of themselves, they headed toward a single-story commercial building, surrounded by a sea of cracked concrete and a row of dying bushes. Annie pressed up against a large window and gazed between the slats of old, crooked blinds, examining the shadows created by the street lamps. Though vampires cast no reflection on shiny surfaces, they still formed shadows.
Light escaped from under the door at the back of the reception area. A shadow of a creature or a man slid across the floor and disappeared. As planned, they met against the door where Cham twisted his wrist, unlocked the lock with a spell and opened the door just enough for the two of them to teleport inside.
Able to see by the little light from the streetlamp, they skirted across the room with ease, heading to the door where Sturtagaard paced. Annie dropped to her belly and lay on the cold cement floor, attempting to peer through the crack. She was barely able to view the vampire’s expensive leather shoes as they walked past.
Cham tripped over her ankle. Air filled Annie’s lungs as she desperately withheld the yelp stuck in her throat. Hearing her, Cham knelt down and touched her leg for reassurance.
There wasn’t much to see in the space between the door and the floor. The view was limited until the vampire stopped at the door. Suddenly, the handle clicked and turned. Annie scrambled up and placed herself against the wall as the door swung out.
Sturtagaard, an imposing figure at six feet five, carried his size well. He dressed in all black, and his protective cloak loosely covered his tall, thin frame. It swished behind him as he entered the reception area.
Spying the open door, the demon rushed forward and peered outside. Seeing nothing, the vampire slammed the door; the windows and blinds shook. Sturtagaard strode across the room in few steps—and, just before entering the back room, he stopped.
Did I move? Did Cham? Annie held her breath.
The vampire flared his nostrils, sniffing the air. Annie knew that wouldn’t help; he was unable to distinguish human smells. His eyes darted around the room. Grabbing a pile of paper laying on an abandoned desk, he tossed them across the room. While most landed on the floor or the table one lone paper fell vertically against Annie’s stomach and slid to the floor.
“Caught you,” he sneered. Cornered, Annie whipped a spell that hit the vampire in the chest. The vampire jerked backward but remained on his feet. He lunged for her, growling, but she teleported—and Sturtagaard flew into the wall.
When the vampire regained his composure, he stood up closed his eyes and sniffed the air again. While Sturtagaard was thus distracted, Cham cast a spell hitting the vampire in the back and causing him to jump.
“I know you’re here,” Sturtagaard snarled, backing himself into the corner. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” His hands flew up defensively.
Just bind him! Annie thought.
Two spells hit Sturtagaard simultaneously. His body jerked left and then right. Knowing he was outnumbered, the vampire ran to escape and knocked into Annie in the process. The wizard guard flew across the desk, scattering papers around the room.
“Go!” Annie screamed. Cham followed Sturtagaard into the factory.
The dimly lit space was a jigsaw puzzle of large mounds of machinery and empty voids where the shadows fell. Annie’s view to the back was dark and empty. Sturtagaard, knowing this space, held the advantage.
Sturtagaard could be anywhere.
Before entering the room, Annie examined the light and shadows for movement but the stealthy vampire was nowhere to be seen, and Cham’s protection spell cloaked him. After moments of silence, she reached out and let her fingers graze the equipment. Sharp, cool metal of machinery that cut and smoothed metal parts, chairs with wheels squeaked when touched—the room held an endless stream of parts and equipment. Annie listened to the sound of the vampire as he walked across the cement floor. He headed toward the back, mostly likely the exit. Annie, determined, shuffled one foot out at a time, inching her way back. Alternating between her hands and her feet, Annie followed a path.
Ping…
Her knee collided with a metal base. To keep from calling out, Annie sucked in a sharp intake of air and dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand.
As if on cue, scurrying began and a large shadow moved. Annie hobbled toward the vampire on the move. Cham, from a short distance away, lunged on top of the creature and flattened the beast to the ground.
Cham was no match for Sturtagaard’s vampire strength. He was tossed like a rag doll and landed on a table. Agile and aware, the vampire jumped on him and pinned the wizard guard to the ground.
Cham squirmed beneath the demon, pulling on his cloak, on his shirt, on whatever he could grab. The shadow rocked violently, unable to retain his grip on the invisible man.
Annie shot a spell towards the overhead lights, turning them on. Momentarily blinded, she closed her eyes. Startled by the bright lights, Sturtagaard lost control and fell from the table. Cham slid off the work bench, crept to the vampire, and kneed the creature in the chin.
Sturtagaard sniffed the air, but the wizard guards had prepared for this; the vampire could not pinpoint their scents. It was as if they weren’t really there.
The vampire, using the patience he had developed over the course of the millennium, remained on the floor, listening for the tiniest movement. Annie knew they still displaced the air when they moved—from behind Sturtagaard, air was forced from its place and rustled. But the demon wanted the boy and trained his senses forward; just the slightest air movement was his incentive to lunge forward and tackle Cham to the ground.
“Ooof,” cried Cham.
Annie heard a fist hit fresh meat, another punch make contact with a soft gut, and a low guttural growl coming from the vampire. Annie jumped on Sturtagaard, her thin yet muscular arms choking him around the neck as she held on.
“Damn it!” the vampire roared.
Annie squeezed as Sturtagaard shook violently, weakening her hold. Cham threw a spell to distract the vampire, but the demon flung Annie from his back.
“No!” Annie landed on a table. It shook; machine tools bounced, and one crashed to the floor. Sturtagaard reached out, grabbed her shirt and pulled. She slid off the table and tripped. The vampire wrapped his arms around her and pressed into her.
“So, little girl.” Blood raced through her veins. The protection spell weakened, and the iron smell wafted to the demon. He flared his nostrils, his fangs extended, and he bent over her neck. Annie pulled her head forward and swung upwards and back, butting her head into his chin.
Sturtagaard cried out. His arms flew upwards, releasing Annie. She ducked down as Cham threw several spells in succession, weakening the vampire and knocking him down. Sturtagaard rolled away, scampered up, and ran through the machine shop, somehow managing to avoid the machinery, boxes, tables and scattered chairs. Annie and Cham ran after him through the tangled mess, their spells missing him and hitting the walls and objects in their way. Sturtagaard slipped through the back door.
Their flashlights ravaged the back alley, searching for the vampire, but he disappeared through the darkness and was gone. Annie snapped her fingers, and her body reappeared in the alley.
“Damn it. How did we miss him?” Agitated, Cham paced beside the large dumpster along the building wall, his body also now visible.
Annie rubbed the side of her neck, which felt raw and tender, searching for bumps. Had Sturtagaard broken skin?
“What’s wrong? Did the bastard bite you?” Cham’s voice resounded with anger.
“No.” She pulled away.
“You sure?” Cham pulled her toward him, gently examining her neck. Only light brown bruises
remained. “It doesn’t look like it. Your neck’s been through a lot this week.” His fingers lingered on her skin.
“They’re healing,” Annie said. She pulled away.
Inside the factory, fifteen large machines lay in two long rows. Scattered amongst those were a few tables and about as many chairs as machines. Closing and locking the back door, Annie and Cham stopped at each table and picked up parts, metal shavings, paper, and other items lying on the floor or on the chairs. When the room was clear of all signs that a fight had taken place, Cham headed toward a kitchenette while Annie tidied up the papers in the reception room.
Why here? Here had no comforts. Annie chuckled softly. It wasn’t where you’d expect.
“Anything?” she called out.
“Nothing. No blood, no food, no clothes. Looks like just a temporary hideout.” Cham shut the lights off and closed the inner door behind them. “It’s late. We should get back.”
“Before the police get wind of us,” Annie said.
Chapter 5
“I like the new table by the way.” Annie jiggled it; the dark, wooden table leg supported the weight with her touch. The loss of their long-held joke made her sad, as though a piece of her childhood had bitten the dust.
It’s only a table.
Cham scried for the vampire, though not very effectively. Tired and displeased with the outcome, neither wanted anything more to do with chasing Sturtagaard, and yet Cham couldn’t let it go.
“Sturtagaard’s gone. You know that right?” Annie touched his hand, and their fingers intertwined. Sometimes they won, and the bad guys got their due. Sometimes they lost.
He’ll be back at some point. The vampire always comes back.
“Yeah, I know. It’s the collection of dead bodies I keep worrying about.” He was visibly irritated, so Annie left him alone and curled herself on the couch, where she absently stroked her sore neck.
No longer scrying, Cham played with the crystal in his hand. When the crystal shattered, so did the strands of magic, leaving jagged edges. One scratched his finger; he watched blood pool on the tip of his index finger. The crystal fell to his lap.
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 5