by Bill Hiatt
Mr. Weaver looked more and more frustrated, a reasonable reaction from a logical man faced with a situation that defied ordinary logic.
“I get it,” he said finally. “How can we help you find someone who can get you into this other world to find Tal?”
“San Francisco has a lot of stores that sell occult supplies or provide occult studies, but from what we know, it’s rare for anyone with any real power to be public about it.”
“I don’t feel any power nearby,” added Mrs. Weaver. “I can’t always, but most of the time I do.”
Sadly, the fact that her ability to sense magic was not foolproof was proved by her missing the last shadow-assassin attack, but I wasn’t about to point that out.
“Saint Brendan appeared to Tal at Brendan’s well,” said Shar. “I know God is everywhere, but maybe a holy place could help. Worth a try, anyway?”
The bleak truth was that we had no better ideas. I did a quick Internet search to make a list of sites, and then we piled into Mr. Weaver’s rental car, a Lincoln Town Car that was fortunately big enough to accommodate all five of us. Then we drove to our first destination, Grace Cathedral, a historic Episcopalian house of worship the Weavers and Dan took responsibility for exploring. The outside was definitely impressive, like real stone—even though I knew it was concrete—and I wanted to get a look inside, but David was getting nervous, and time was limited, so Shar and I walked the few blocks to a nearby synagogue.
Unfortunately, Shabbat services were already underway by the time we got there. We didn’t want to come in late, and we weren’t even remotely dressed appropriately. I’d have to talk to Tal about making the dragon-armor illusion something we could control ourselves.
Thinking of Tal made me sad. It already felt like years since I’d seen him.
Shar and I sat on a bench near the synagogue and prayed. The experience made me feel better, but I didn’t get any dramatic revelation.
Halfway back to Grace Cathedral, though, I did remember one person who could help: Gabriela Golfinho, Lucas’s great-grandmother and a full encantado.
“That’s right!” said Shar when I told him. “Some of her encantado buddies showed up on Alcina’s island while we were there. That must mean the encantados can open gateways to other worlds.”
We were excited enough to run halfway back. The Weavers and Dan were already coming out to the car. During a meditative walk through the labyrinth behind the cathedral, Mrs. Weaver had also remembered Gabriela.
“Not exactly a voice from a burning bush, but I’ll take it,” said Shar happily.
“I don’t know how to get in touch with her, though,” I said.
“I have her number,” said Mrs. Weaver. “I got it when Lucas’s family first came to town, and she was with them.”
“That won’t help if she’s in the Encante,” Shar pointed out. He didn’t need to remind me that there was no cell reception in supernatural realms, or maybe he was thinking about the fact that in her dolphin form she couldn’t answer a cell phone anyway.
“May as well give it a shot,” I said. “She’s very protective of Lucas. If she realized something was wrong, she’s probably in our world looking for him.”
Mrs. Weaver punched in the number, and luckily the call went right through. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, she handed the phone to me.
“Mrs. Golfinho, it’s Stan. We think Lucas and some of the others are in trouble.”
“I know—from first-hand experience. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the ocean off the coast of Santa Brígida, so I felt it when the defenses around the town changed.”
“Changed how?”
“Started blocking my kind. Taliesin agreed never to do that, so I was furious. I came ashore as close as I could get and tried calling Lucas, but there was no answer. Then I called his parents, who were…not themselves. They did tell me about the evacuation, though, so I went to talk to them in person, and they were no more help. They didn’t seem able to talk about Lucas at all, really. I made the mistake of asking one of Vanora’s security people, and he tried to shoot me.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I am, shall we say, more agile than I look, and I managed to weave an illusion that kept him from firing a second time or calling for reinforcements. I’ve been hanging around ever since, trying to get in touch with someone. Even my emergency number for Coventina doesn’t seem to work.”
“We’ve had a similar experience,” I said. We have one lead. I can’t promise it will get us to Lucas, but it could at least get us to Tal.”
I explained what we knew, and she was eager to get us to Alcina’s island. After conferring with the Weavers, I told Mrs. Golfinho to meet us at one of the piers just off the Embarcadero, which Mr. Weaver assured me was not far away.
It only took us a few minutes to get to the Embarcadero and park in the Pier 39 garage. We’d picked Pier 39 because it was the one Shar remembered, not that it really mattered. Once we arrived, Mrs. Golfinho could find us as a result of the energy from our swords, particularly Shar’s, which would show up as a blank space, so she could easily swim to us from whatever spot she entered our world.
“I’m still uncomfortable about you guys being out there on your own,” said Mr. Weaver, getting out of the car with us. “I want to come with you.”
“You aren’t going to win that argument, either,” muttered Mrs. Weaver.
“We appreciate the offer, but we have Lucas’s great-grandmother now, and she has considerable magic,” I said. “Anyway, you aren’t combat trained.”
Mr. Weaver chuckled. “Sorry, Stan. I know what you’re saying is true, but a year ago Tal was still protecting you from bullies.”
“A lot can change in a year,” I said.
“Yeah, a year ago I didn’t have Alexander the Great inside of me,” said Shar.
“And a day ago you didn’t have a new audience that you could mention that to every five minutes,” said Dan. All of us, even Shar, got a good laugh at that.
Mrs. Weaver hugged all of us, and the Weavers walked us over to Pier 39.
“Uh, Alexander the Great, you weren’t thinking strategically on this one,” I said.
Never having been in San Francisco, I thought of a pier as, well, a pier. I anticipated having to dodge dockworkers. I didn’t realize that the Pier 39 concourse was a tourist spot, complete with restaurants, shops, attractions, and even street performers—and absolutely loaded with tourists. Making a discreet exit was going to be difficult.
“Look, Mommy, a dolphin!” said a delighted little girl, pointing over the railing toward the nearby ocean. Mrs. Golfinho had been spotted. Now all the cell phones came out, and people started snapping pictures as if their lives depended on it. She quickly submerged, but now people were going to linger in the area, waiting for her to reappear. Real dolphins were mammals that needed to come up for air, after all, so the tourists figured they might get another chance to snap or even film. They didn’t know they were seeing an encantado who didn’t need air.
“Mrs. Weaver, I hate to ask,” I said, “but we need one more thing from you.”
A minute or two later Mrs. Weaver did an excellent impression of a woman in severe distress, and Mr. Weaver started hollering for help. That was just enough of a distraction for Dan, Shar, and me to dive off the side of the pier while people’s attention was focused elsewhere. Some doubtless heard the splash, but we moved as fast as we could away from the pier and down. If we were lucky, no one had noticed. If we were unlucky, we’d be seeing ourselves jumping off the pier or swimming nearby on YouTube or Vine.
However, nobody was going to see Mrs. Golfinho find us far below the surface and nearly out of breath and splash us from this world into the Encante.
Seascapes even on our world are pretty amazing. Add the golden glow of the Encante and throw in some sea creatures no marine biologist had ever seen before, and now I was the one who wanted to start taking pictures. I doubted any image could really do
justice to what I was seeing.
Mrs. Golfinho had magicked us into being able to breathe underwater, so we were now perfectly comfortable. Unfortunately, we had no time for sightseeing. In just a few minutes, the water around us became darker, and we knew we had switched worlds again.
We swam up to the surface, with Mrs. Golfinho at our side, just a little way from the shore of Alcina’s island.
It was about nine at night on the island, but by moonlight we could make out dim forms moving on the beach.
Vanora had sent men to search the island, and they were still there.
Chapter 11: The Wolves Aren’t the Worst of It (Eva)
One thing I wasn’t was a damsel in distress. At least I didn’t think I was, but circumstances kept putting me in a position where a guy—usually Tal—had to swoop in and save me.
At the moment, with what looked like several packs of white wolves pouring into the courtyard, I had limited options. I had gotten to be pretty good with a bow, but archery isn’t the best way to go when wild animals are right on top of you. Running was out, though, because I could never have outrun a wolf.
One of the beasts could probably have ripped my throat out, but Khalid, already airborne, planted an arrow right between its eyes. I managed to get an arrow into the next one, but at least four more were rushing me. That’s another problem with archery: you can only take out one opponent at a time.
Magnus, also airborne, was already slowing them with the lyre, but the ones ready to spring at me might not be stopped in time.
I should have seen Tal coming. If I had, I might have prevented what happened next. As it was, I was thrown completely off-balance when Tal threw himself between me and the charging wolves.
Sixteen-year-old Tal could have pulled out White Hilt and fried the massive creatures, but the sword didn’t flame for the twelve-year-old version, and he wasn’t very good at using it as a weapon. He managed one swing and drew blood, but two of the wolves hit him, each one sinking teeth into a different arm. Almost as bad, their weight caused him to fall. On the ground and with arm movement impossible, Tal couldn’t use the sword at all. He let go of it anyway when a wolf bit into his hand, drawing a heart-wrenching scream from him and leaving me wondering if we were approaching the point at which he would be damaged too fast to recover. There was way too much blood on the ground.
I told myself not to lose control. If I went to pieces now, we were probably both dead. A third wolf raked his claws across Tal’s chest, tearing deeply into his flesh. I shot the wolf in the shoulder just before it could go for his throat.
Khalid, who could fire faster than I and who had more powerful arrows, managed to get several shots off, each with its usual satisfying explosion. Against demons, the blessing of Raphael had the strongest effect, but these creatures seemed more affected by the blessing of Helios; its sunburst frightened them and seemed to blind them, at least momentarily. They stumbled back, partially blocking the next wave of wolves and giving us a slight breather.
With Khalid covering me, I managed to get to Tal. He was unconscious but still alive, though his breathing seemed labored to me. His wounds were healing, though more slowly than I would have liked, and I assumed his blood supply was regenerating.
“Is he all right?” Magnus thought to me, sounding a little frantic.
“He took a lot of punishment, but he appears to be healing,” I replied. I heard Magnus breathe a mental sigh of relief, probably because he was the only one of us who had healing powers, but he needed to keep his focus on the wolves to keep us from being overrun.
The wolves were clawing their way over, unconscious of injured comrades, and another wave would hit any time. Khalid was firing less frequently, probably short on arrows by now. I picked up Tal and moved as fast as I could toward the opposite end of the courtyard, taking the opportunity as I did so to look around and see how the others were faring. Short answer: not well, but at least no one was dead yet.
Magnus, airborne like Khalid, was making some headway with the lyre, but apparently the creatures on this otherworldly moon did not react as fast as the hostiles we were used to. Not only that, but as he lulled some to sleep, there always seemed to be more to take their places. Wolf pack? More like wolf army!
Atlante should have been more help by now, but he had made the mistake of trying to mount the hippogriff when the wolves first appeared. Unfortunately, the hippogriff panicked, flying frantically upward and leaving Atlante, only halfway mounted at that point, slipping down and clinging to the edges of the saddle. Had Jimmie’s arms not been so strong, Atlante would already have fallen. Alex must have tried to help, because he now dangled from the other side, helpless. The sight of their precarious position almost caused me to give in to panic. They were now too high up to fall without suffering serious injury, perhaps even death. The worst part was that there was nothing I could do to help. I forced myself to look away, but I couldn’t keep from imagining Jimmie’s body splattered all over the courtyard.
Lucas had apparently discovered quickly that his capoeira maneuvers wouldn’t help much against wild animals. He would have fallen as badly as Tal, except that he could move faster. He had dodged his way over to Gordy and Carlos, who seemed to be the most successful of any of us so far. However different the environment, a sword was still a sword, and flesh was still flesh. They both looked miserable, but they cut through the waves of advancing wolves with surgical precision. A good thing, too, since the magical effects of their respective blades didn’t seem to work on lunar wolves.
Because the guys had been closer to the gate, their exertions reduced the threat to me and Tal. That and Khalid’s intermittent arrow fire helped me to carry Tal, who had not yet regained consciousness, as far away from the courtyard entrance as I could get.
The wolves were learning from experience, however. In the beginning, they had just kept on throwing themselves at Gordy and Carlos. As soon as the guys sliced through one wave, another took its place. Now, though, I noticed more of them avoiding the guys and heading instead toward me. No, not toward me. They started jumping high in the air. One of them nearly grabbed Khalid’s leg in its teeth.
The wolves had assessed Khalid as being more dangerous than I, and they were making a systematic effort to eliminate him.
Much to my relief, Atlante had gotten control of the hippogriff and was now hovering over us, trying to divert the wolves with illusions. To judge by his cursing in between spells, however, he was not having the effect he expected—more confirmation that the lunar wolves must be more magic resistant than ordinary creatures.
Behind Atlante on the hippogriff sat Alex, clearly frustrated. The wolves were now leaping at the hippogriff as they had leaped at Khalid, so Atlante didn’t dare fly low enough for Alex to jump down and help in the fight.
“Sunlight! They fear sunlight!” I yelled up at Atlante. He must have tried that suggestion, because I started hearing more terrified yips from the wolves.
Unfortunately, new wolves kept streaming into the courtyard through the broken gateway. The illusion of sunlight slowed them but did not stop them. If nothing else, the press of wolf bodies behind them kept pushing them forward.
At some point Magnus switched tactics and started using the lyre to generate bursts of sunlight, which drove the wolves nearest him back, blind and howling. He might have raised the heat and burned them as well, but for some reason he didn’t.
During the brief lull in the fighting, I could hear Alex begging Atlante to fly close enough for Alex to dismount. I looked up and saw Atlante try, but the hippogriff became skittish every time it got too close to the wolves.
I needed Alex’s sword, and he needed my bow—well, except that neither of us was properly trained.
The wolves started running in with their eyes closed, avoiding both Atlante’s illusion of sunlight and Magnus’s actual sunlight. They must be far more intelligent than ordinary wolves—not exactly good news under the circumstances.
Magnus tr
ied solar heat, and then I realized why he had been reluctant to do it in the first place. The closest wolves caught fire and howled—and then jumped at him, becoming lupine firebombs, each one capable of burning him to death. He managed to switch to a kind of solar force field designed to incinerate the attackers just in time, but a few of the creatures got through anyway, crashing into him, knocking the lyre from his hands, and shoving him back to the ground with a painful-sounding thud. Because the wolves mostly hit areas covered by Tal’s dragon armor, which Magnus was now wearing, Magnus didn’t become a human torch, but he yelled in pain. His hands were burned, so even if he recovered the lyre, he wouldn’t be able to play well enough to accomplish anything. His force field faded as soon as he lost the lyre, and had not Carlos, Gordy, and Lucas managed to get close enough to cover him, he would have been dead. We might all be soon enough, though. Without Magnus’s contribution, the battle was bound to turn against us.
I knew Alex still felt guilty about all the harm he had done when Ares had recruited him as a way to kill Tal, and I was sure his recent regression had been an unpleasant reminder. Even so, I wasn’t expecting Alex to jump from the too-high hippogriff in a desperate effort to join the battle. When he did exactly that, I held my breath.
At first I thought he might be all right. He landed on his feet and managed to draw the sword of chaos, whose blade flickered in the eye-straining way it always did. Then he almost dropped it. I could see tears of pain rolling down his cheeks. He had landed on his feet, but the impact must have done terrible things to his foot and leg bones. I shuddered to think how many breaks and fractures he had.
Alex uninjured and with the sword of chaos might well have turned the tide. Alex immobile and about to pass out from the pain would quickly become dinner for the wolves.
Khalid could see what was happening and tried to cover Alex, but every time he did that, a new surge of wolves nearly overcame me, and he had to switch his arrow fire back to my direction. The wolves generally still had their eyes closed, but they seemed uncannily good at finding targets by smell.