Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  Am I to go to the past?

  “Good morning, Annie. Find something interesting?” said Mrs. Cuttlebrink from behind her.

  Annie started. “Hi, Mrs. Cuttlebrink. I think I’m just staring at myself.”

  “It is remarkable how much that depiction looks like you.” Mrs. Cuttlebrink pulled out the heavy iron key, placed it inside the thick lock, and opened the library doors.

  “Actually, I think it really is me,” Annie said.

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink stopped and stared at the carving.

  “Look at the demon. That’s my demon locked in Tartarus Prison. The ugly face, simple clothes, stringy hair,” Annie said.

  “I’m assuming you’re here because of this prophecy I’ve heard about,” Mrs. Cuttlebrink said as she motioned Annie to join her inside.

  Soft candlelight from antique sconces lined the oak-covered walls and cast an ethereal glow around the edges of the library. While Mrs. Cuttlebrink switched on the overhead lights, casting harsh white light across the library, Annie found a worktable to the left and sat in the first chair.

  Annie summoned her field pack and expanded it to its original size, pulling out several items.

  “Now, dear, how can I help you?” Mrs. Cuttlebrink asked.

  Annie sighed. “I have several things today actually. It’s quite a weird puzzle.” She lay out the letter from her father, the talisman, a photo of the demon held in the basement of Tartarus Prison, and the Fraternitatem grimoire.

  “Well, dear, you know I love puzzles.” Mrs. Cuttlebrink smiled. Looking at the objects, she noted first the picture of the demon in prison and held it close, examining the creature from its clothes to its face. “Now I see what you’re referring to. It is remarkably similar.”

  “It started when I found the demon searching for this talisman,” Annie explained.

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink put down the picture and held the small statue. While it buzzed against her palm, she studied the underside, the face, the body, and even held it to her ear, listening to the light sound. Finishing a precursory examination, she turned back to the picture. “The two look very similar,” Mrs. Cuttlebrink said. “Having noted that, I would begin by suggesting they are related. Though why would a demon be searching for an object that conjures demons?” she asked.

  “That is the first question,” Annie said.

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink made notes on a pad of paper, circling the word AGE.

  “The demon’s clothing was dated to the ninth century. Most likely, the demon is from that period, as well as that talisman,” Annie said. She explained how they dated the demon clothing in the lab.

  Again, the librarian made notes on her pad. “Okay. The next item. What about the letter?” she asked.

  “First…” Annie explained what Sturtagaard told her at the house.

  “And why are you taking stock in what he says?”

  “Because of the letter.” Annie handed the librarian the note from her father.

  When Mrs. Cuttlebrink recognized his familiar handwriting, she glanced at Annie with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. She began reading. Mrs. Cuttlebrink had known Jason, worked with him on a fair share of cases, and assisted with research, much like she did with Annie. As she read each sentence, the lines in her forehead deepened and her jaw clenched tighter. The letter slipped from her fingers when she finished reading. She sighed deeply. “This could support Sturtagaard’s message.” She placed her hand across her chin, seemingly working through something important. “Where was this found?” the librarian asked.

  “In Dad’s missing folder from his last case. I found it three months ago.” Annie pointed to the folder and left her hand on it as if protecting the contents.

  “Now tell me why you think this is related to your demon and the man who’s been running around,” Mrs. Cuttlebrink said.

  Annie summoned her own case file that was quickly growing with test results, notes, and samples. She passed it to Mrs. Cuttlebrink.

  “Well, we have what we think is a rough date for the demon. Cham, Gibbs, and Spencer swear the man is dressed like the demon. And then there’s this.” Annie pulled out the DNA test results, sliding the sheet to the librarian. Mrs. Cuttlebrink read the test results and frowned.

  “Really? A hybrid? That might not be in the records at all.”

  “Funny you say that. I would check with Sturtagaard, but he’s removed the atomie bean from his shoulder. I have no way of finding him.”

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink broke into a hearty laugh. “Leave it to that bastard.” When she regained her composure, she said, “I’m sorry, Annie dear. I shouldn’t laugh, but he’s always in on your cases. He’s always around. It occurs to me that some believe he was turned to a vampire at the end of the ninth century. You think he knows something?”

  “I think he was there. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter right now since he’s gone.” Reluctantly, Annie placed her father’s note in the folder, still guarding it as if it would save her life.

  She stared at Mrs. Cuttlebrink. “So. What do you make of this puzzle?”

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink made some more notes on her pad and studied it carefully. “Firstly, how did your father find out about the prophecy?”

  Annie held her breath and slid Jason’s case file to Mrs. Cuttlebrink. The librarian opened the front cover. “Oh my,” she exclaimed, and quickly turned the photo over searching for a date.

  “He took these eight years ago. During the Chintamani stones case,” Annie said. Nervously, she paced between two tables. Mrs. Cuttlebrink found his notes, and perused them twice for clarity. Her hands shook as she shuffled the papers and the pictures into a neat and tidy pile.

  “Annie. Come sit.”

  Annie did as requested and picked up the notes and photos.

  “He doesn’t say in his notes that he stopped pursuing your mom for the information about you. My guess is that the Fraternitatem found his presence distracting for her, that it would undo whatever they did to her. They didn’t have him murdered over the stones. Rather, it was likely because he found her. If I were the Fraternitatem, that’s what I would do. It also occurs to me that this leaves you especially vulnerable.”

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink had been with the Wizard Council for over twenty years. She had seen just about everything as a Wizard Hall librarian and understood how the game would be played.

  “You should’ve been a wizard guard,” Annie joked.

  “No. You all work too hard,” Mrs. Cuttlebrink said. “So, you’re here for my take on all these pieces so we know what you’re up against.”

  “In a nutshell,” Annie said.

  “Have you spoken to Emerson’s family? They are original coven members.” Mrs. Cuttlebrink advised.

  “Gila Donaldson wasn’t exactly forthcoming. I get the feeling she knows more than she admitted. We’ll double back at some point because what I really want to know is why she bought the house where I found the demon and who conjured it,” Annie said.

  “And why.” Mrs. Cuttlebrink pulled her notepad to her and took additional notes. “I’ll search for any books on this demon as well as anything that might be related to you and a prophecy. Folktales are often stories based on real events, so I’ll see if there are any tales that resemble this.”

  “Prophecies aren’t real or destined to happen, are they?”

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink put her pen down and looked at Annie. “Seers, runes, fire reading, crystal balls, have all been used with magic to learn about the future. Spells, trances… even the oracles of Ancient Greece relied on gases to prophesize about the future. Are they real? Some believe they are. I guess it’s up to you to determine if it’s real or not.”

  “So, if there’s a prophecy with my name on it, do I have to follow through with it?” Annie asked.

  “Only if you want it to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. Listen, Annie. You have free will and can decide what course of action to take with any prophecy. You can change predicted outcomes. Until we discover exactly what this prophecy say
s, remain alert and stay safe.”

  “Any other thoughts I’m missing?” Annie asked as she picked up her things.

  “Just one. The Fraternitatem told your father of the prophecy. Who told them?”

  *

  Annie’s brain buzzed with Mrs. Cuttlebrink’s question. Who told the Fraternitatem? She knew of only two creatures who were alive at the same time as the demon and the Viking. Sturtagaard was gone and Zola was evasive.

  Or was it passed from the original coven to the Fraternitatem?

  The question haunted her. She couldn’t focus on any other piece of the puzzle and doodled on a pad of paper, not hearing the knocking on her cubicle.

  “Annie?” The small voice of Emerson pulled Annie from her musings. She glanced up and waved Emerson inside.

  “What’s up?” Annie asked cautiously as she turned over her notes, hiding her thoughts. She no longer trusted Emerson fully because of her family connection to Gila.

  Nervously, Emerson pulled at her hands as she sat on the edge of the club chair. Annie guessed Emerson had been advised on what she could and could not say. She didn’t figure this conversation would end with anything useful.

  “Grandma would only admit to purchasing the house and thanks you for discovering it was used for something illegal,” Emerson squeaked.

  Annie almost felt sorry for Emerson, who started with the Wizard Guard a little over fourteen months ago. While she earned good grades in her training courses and could research with more competency than most wizard guards, Emerson was never able to master the physical aspects of the job. She had yet to pass the final Wizard Guard test.

  Emerson looked small and frail in the large chair; the stress of her family’s involvement in this situation seemed to be getting to her. Dark purple circled her eyes, which were red and tired. It was this exact reaction that caused Emerson to fail her wizard guard test miserably. Even with Annie as her mentor, Emerson was unable to finish her solo mission to retrieve an ancient magical object.

  While Annie tried to keep the girl alive and safe, bending several rules to do so, Emerson couldn’t hack it and dropped out due to the stress.

  It was that weakness Annie had difficulty understanding. She herself had scored the second highest score of any wizard guard ever – a 638, second only to Cham’s 640. In this environment dripping in the stench of testosterone, sometimes you just had to be the best. In Annie’s opinion, Emerson was only going through motions. As she watched her now, she could see the conflict in Emerson’s face. Emerson needed to choose between her family or the Wizard Guard. Either would be acceptable if you stood by your decision. Emerson seemed incapable of doing that much.

  “You do realize she’s lying,” Annie said incredulously.

  “She’s my grandma. I can’t force a confession from her. She watched me carefully when I was there.”

  “Listen, Emerson. I could be in danger; the world could be in danger. You have to choose one. Either be loyal to your family or be loyal to the Wizard Guard, just choose and stand by that choice,” Annie said harshly, and she knew, unfairly.

  Emerson wrung her hands raw, turning them red.

  “There’s an altar room in the attic. I just need to time it right and I can get in… get what you need,” Emerson said, finally making eye contact with Annie.

  “If you go against them, it could be trouble for you,” Annie reminded her.

  “My grandmother bought a house and summoned a demon. I know she’s lying. I want to know why,” Emerson admitted.

  In that moment, Annie regretted putting Emerson in the position in which she had to choose job or family. But Annie was growing anxious with the lack of help from those who could help her. “Any other family who might know?” she asked hopefully.

  Emerson looked away, her hands still entwined together. “If I know my grandma, she’s already told everyone not to say anything.”

  “I’m sorry I put you in this position. But I’m supposed to receive powers for doing something, and it has to do with that demon and that Viking. I want to know what I’m supposed to do,” Annie said.

  “I’m really sorry, Annie,” Emerson murmured and ran from the cubicle.

  Annie sighed and flipped over her notepad as Spencer entered her cubicle.

  “I saw Emerson leave. She didn’t look happy. Grandma wasn’t helpful?” Spencer asked.

  “A big, fat goose egg. And now I’ve got a horrible thought in my head I can’t get out.” Frustrated, she summoned a rubber ball and twirled it in her palm.

  “What thought?” Spencer asked.

  “Mrs. Cuttlebrink is looking for the prophecy, but after I caught her up, she asked me: If the Fraternitatem told my dad, who told them?”

  Annie couldn’t stop thinking of the work Mrs. Cuttlebrink did for her. Annie always trusted the books, the librarian, the information housed in the miles-long library. It had been her favorite location at Windmere School of Wizardry, and it was her favorite place in Wizard Hall. She could spend hours in study because she simply wanted to know more. After her dad died, she had spent so much time hiding in the stacks reading and trying to understand. Jason had always told her that in order to fight the black magic, you had to understand it. She tried to learn it all.

  “Annie, did I lose you somewhere?” Spencer asked.

  “Sorry. Just trying to piece it all together at the expense of all of these.” She pointed to the stack of case files on her desk.

  Spencer chuckled. “You work through those; I have my own paperwork to take care of. Keep me posted.” He glanced down to Annie’s phone when it buzzed.

  “I hate when that happens. It’s Mrs. Cuttlebrink. She’s got info. Want to come?”

  *

  Several wizards had taken seats at various tables in the library, lost in books, scribbling notes on pads of paper. One pair quietly yet animatedly discussed some topic important to each.

  Annie led Spencer to the right where Mrs. Cuttlebrink was busy at the counter, checking out several books. She glanced up quickly, saw Annie and Spencer, and waved them back to her office.

  The librarian’s office was a roomy space with shelves covering three of the walls. They were packed full of more books, fabric-covered boxes, and artifacts neatly displayed and organized. Annie and Spencer took seats in the open chairs.

  “Have you ever been in her office?” Spencer asked.

  “Never. But then the library is ‘packed’ today,” Annie said.

  Annie observed a pile of books at the center of a clean desk and expected they were related to her. She desperately wanted to reach for them.

  “Sorry about the delay,” Mrs. Cuttlebrink said and took seat. “I have information.”

  She handed Annie the first book, a thick tome covered in leather but without a title. Annie opened the book to the first page: Fifteenth Century Daemon Anthology.

  “It was written by an early English historian and has a wide range of demons inside.” Mrs. Cuttlebrink explained.

  “Good place to start,” Spencer said as Annie opened the book to the location marked by the librarian.

  Annie smiled when she read Regenerato Everto, the “regenerating demon.”

  Regenerato Everto (Regenerating Demon)

  Regenerating Demons lived predominantly in the area of Jorvik, Northumbria, for hundreds of years. Originally, the demons were half breeds, bred as foot soldiers and forced to work and fight. They were used as an army to defeat the conquering Norsemen.

  They have a lack of any negligible intelligence. Therefore, their speech is rather simple, and they lack any ability to create a plan. They are animalistic in their behavior and thought, have no manners, and cannot be reasoned with.

  Their diet is raw meat, and their eyesight is poor, especially in low light. They have a good sense of smell and hearing, and can grow to seven feet tall; the female of the species, six feet. They are very strong and incredibly agile and fast for creatures so large. Despite being well built and very muscular, they disli
ke water as it burns their skin.

  Traditional means cannot slay them. Swords, knives, and sharp objects only pierce their hides, making them weak. Beheading does not kill them. Magical jinxes, hexes, or curses will only hurt them. They can be ripped asunder, smashed, or blown apart by a spell, but their bodies will regenerate.

  The only way to permanently kill and rid the land of these demons is to destroy them with fire. Any pieces not burned will allow the demon to regenerate. Every piece of the demon must be burnt in order to eradicate it.

  Regenerato Everto were destroyed during the ninth century by Anaise the Brave.

  Annie quickly read the passage. “Killed by fire? Burning away all the flesh and bones would definitely kill them.” Annie showed Spencer the passage.

  “This is a good start. Any of those on your desk have additional info?” Annie asked.

  Mrs. Cuttlebrink shook her head. “I’m sorry, Annie dear. I have tried several different spells, scrying over a map of the library. I just cannot find any other information regarding these demons. I’ve looked up early coven history. Whatever happened when these demons were extinguished is gone. I trust that our inventory is substantial and accurate. We have books from all over the world and in many other languages. But you in particular, and this demon, are just not there.”

  “So the best option is force the descendants to give up what they know,” Annie said.

  “It looks like it. If anything, you have confirmation the demon is a hybrid, and you know fire kills them,” Mrs. Cuttlebrink said.

  “Actually, there’s something in this passage. The name Anaise. I swear Mrs. Donaldson mumbled it when we were there. I know this name from somewhere, and I can’t place it. Do you know, Spencer?” Annie turned to her partner. When Spencer smiled, the memory came back to Annie.

  “France. Sturtagaard,” Spencer said.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. All his stories about the revenge killings. He wanted to kill Anaise.”

  “He specifically mentioned her. So he knew Anaise and was there when the demons were killed,” Spencer surmised.