Stillbringer (Dreamwalker Chronicles Book 1)

by Zile Elliven

  “Sure, it can, but with my way you’ll be having a better chance of catching the criminals before they get away.” Callum’s thin mouth was tight with disapproval, and his bushy red eyebrows had nearly eclipsed his eyes. It was going to one of those encounters.

  “Did you come here to be a backseat driver, Cal?” Marshall decided to just get it over with. Dodging the man wasn’t working, so they might as well have it out now.

  “You know why I came here, sonny. You’ve been moping about long enough, it’s time for you to get back to your real life and your real job.”

  “This is my life, and I happen to like my job. I’m quite good at it, or so I’m told.”

  “This?” Callum peered around the magic-soaked hallway. “This is a simple matter anyone could clean up. If you like, I can take it off your hands and leave you free to return to—”

  “I don’t quit in the middle of a case.” Marshall cut him off harshly.

  “Don’t suppose you do, do you? You should, though. It’s time to stop living in the past.” Marshall’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but Callum forged ahead, obviously meaning to speak his peace. “Praetor Nala’s been dead more than a year now, and it’s time for a new one to take her place. It’s time for you to step up and be the man we all know ya to be.”

  “The man you used to know is gone, Cal. I haven’t been him for a long time now.”

  “You only say that because you can’t let go, won’t let go . . .”

  “Callum . . .” Jack growled out a warning to the man.

  Heedless of the warning, he forged ahead. “She’s gone, man! You have to let her go and move on. Stop wasting your talents—” Callum swayed where he stood, his mind no longer under his control.

  Marshall’s eyes burned as he fought to control himself. “She. Is. Not. Gone.” Each word was punctuated by Callum staggering back a step as Marshall’s will pushed at him.

  “Mars.” Jack’s hand was on the back of Marshall’s neck, grounding him. “It’s okay, you can stop now. No one is going to keep us from finding Nova.”

  Marshall snapped his gaze away from Callum, releasing the man from his control, and took a deep breath to calm himself. “I told you I’m not the man you knew. If you need someone right now, you’ll have to find another praetor. My time is not my own to give.” Not trusting his control, he kept his eyes on the wall next to Callum.

  Not easily daunted, Callum stood his ground but showed sense and calmed his tone. “Your father, gods rest his soul, wouldn’t have left you to stew for as long as I have. But he isn’t here, so I’ll do right by you the only way I know how.”

  “My father would have found her by now,” Marshall said bitterly.

  “Self-pity doesn’t become you, sonny. Nor does it accomplish anything.”

  Jack tightened his grip, as if expecting Marshall to get angry again, but he needn’t have worried. Marshall sighed and laughed softly. “You’re more like him than you know, Cal.”

  “I don’t know, I think he would have kicked your arse for what you just did.”

  “And brought me in on charges, I imagine. You can, you know.” Marshall could feel Jack tense behind his back. What would his friend do if Callum decided to take him in? Probably something rash. For all his jokes and relaxed attitude, Jack could be unpredictable when someone he cared about was threatened.

  Callum shrugged. “Now why would I want to be doing that over so little a thing? Too much paperwork involved for my liking. Besides, if the Guard prosecuted people over every tiny infraction, they’d never get anything done.” He slowly relaxed his fists, showing that—kind words aside—he had been rattled at how quickly and easily Marshall had called up the power to control him.

  Marshall closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your call.” Now that his temper had faded, all he could feel was a sweeping exhaustion gripping his body and mind.

  Jack backed away, the way he always did once a crisis had passed. Since that fateful day five years ago, Jack had been glued to Marshall’s side, ready to give him the support he needed. Ever watchful, ever faithful in helping him hold together.

  Though what Marshall really needed was for Cal to go away and leave him to his investigation in peace. It had been a long time since he had needed the older man to hold his hand in the field. As long as he was around, Marshall would have to fight to stay in charge.

  It had ever been that way between the two. Even before the death of Marshall’s father, Cal had taken it upon himself to watch over him. Losing his mother moments after his birth, Marshall had attracted more than his fair share of parental figures, most of them benign.

  Not Cal, though. Instead of letting him learn and grow, Cal tried to force Marshall along a path allegedly for his own good. His older sister Adelle had done the same, but when he had proven, time and again, that his judgment in the field was as unparalleled as his mastery over the Dreamscape, she had stood down from her self-appointed role as his life coach. If she hadn’t, he never would have been able to work with her.

  Pulling together all the authority the mantle of guardian had bestowed on him, Marshall looked at Cal. “When this investigation is over, I will come to you, and we will discuss this further, though I don’t promise you will like the results.” He held up a hand to forestall the argument he saw brewing on Cal’s face. “Later. Right now, I have a case to solve.”

  Only slightly mollified, Callum looked thoughtful for a time, his massive eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and then nodded. Finally, he reached out and clapped Marshall on the shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Marshall. You’ll do the right thing when the time comes.” He turned to look at Jack with skepticism. “You look out for him, you hear?”

  “I don’t need you to tell me that, old man.” Disdain dripped from Jack’s words.

  “Don’t start, you two.” Marshall jumped in to forestall the inevitable argument that occurred when Jack and Callum were in the same room together. As far as Marshall could remember, those two had never gotten along.

  Callum leveled a narrowed eye at Jack but then shrugged and turned to leave.

  As Callum walked away, Jack said, “I don’t know why I bothered to stop you. If I had waited another minute, you could have Crafted him a better personality.”

  “You stopped me because you’re a good friend. He means well even if he is irritating.”

  “Where does he get off calling you boy? You’ve been a guardian for over a hundred years.”

  “I think at his age, everyone looks like a child. He was born in the sixteen-hundreds after all.”

  Jack snorted but said nothing.

  A tall woman with long, honey-colored curls entered the hallway. Her hazel eyes perfectly matched the large round pendant she had hanging from a chain around her neck. The rest of her attire was tight, black, and functional, as befitted a guardian in the field.

  “Adelle, where have you been?” Marshall snapped.

  “Dearest, I saw Callum on the stairs, and I’m sure he rattled you just now, but there’s no need to be snippy, it’s not like you.” She kissed her brother on the cheek and asked Jack, “How bad was it?”

  Jack shrugged. “He could have been more controlling and obnoxious. I mean, he left when Marshall told him too, so that’s something.” His words were light, but his eyes told a different story.

  Adelle nodded perceptively.

  Marshall hated when they did that. For the most part, they worked together seamlessly. Their skills and personalities complemented one another so well it was like the gods had created them to work with one another. Then there were other times where it felt like the two of them were only doing the job because Marshall was and that their real job was to support him and keep him from going insane or losing control.

  He was starting to suspect that they weren’t wrong to behave so. Under specific circumstances, his control over his temper wasn’t what it used to be.

  Aside from that less than minor detail, he was a master in his field.
Fire was always called in to handle the big cases. If a situation had gone completely pear-shaped, Marshall and his team were the ones to get called in to fix it. And it was beginning to look like this might turn out to be one of those cases.

  Their original investigation would have to be put on hold for the time being while Fire sorted out this new mess. Which was a shame, Marshall had done a lot of research into creating the persona he was planning on using. If he finished this case quickly enough, he might even remember it all when it came time to use it. Though he wasn’t holding out much hope for that.

  Marshall had a hunch Callum had been incorrect in his assessment of this assignment. It was true that, ninety-nine percent of the time, the discovery of demonic energy during an investigation ended up being an ignorant witch delving greedily into magic she or he didn’t understand. And it was simple enough for one guardian to take care of, let alone a team, but it would be foolish for him to assume so. On rare occasions, it turned out to be something much worse.

  Pain flared in Marshall’s hands as his fingernails bit into his palms. He unclenched them slowly, trying not to draw attention to how close to the edge he still was. Taking in a slow, deep breath, he centered himself. If there were nightmares, or—his breath hitched—demons about, he was going to need every bit of calm he possessed to deal with it.

  After another steadying breath, he turned his mind back to the present moment. He looked at the white spots on either end of the hallway. Even if they were made from ignorance, rather than intent, they could still be harmful to any unsuspecting person who got too close to them. When demon magic was used, it left a thin spot between dimensions. If those spots were thin enough, something nasty could reach out from the Demon Realm into the Real and treat itself to a free lunch.

  “Jack, I need you to go check on the officers I passed on the way up here. If any of them came in contact with these spots, they could have been possessed and will need to be purged.” He touched Jack to give him the essence of the officers he needed to find.

  Communicating though touch was the easiest form of telepathy, but most dreamwalkers preferred not to. It was such an intensely personal experience that, more often than not, the majority of dreamwalkers chose to spend the time and energy to set up a remote link even when a simple touch would give them instant access. Marshall had been through so much with his teammates that such intimacies were second nature to them. It conserved energy and was a more precise method.

  With a cocky grin and an ironic salute, Jack left to carry out Marshall’s order.

  Marshall loped over to the nearest stain of demon energy, gesturing for his sister to follow. “Addy, what do you make of this?”

  Cautiously, she followed but stopped before he did, sniffing at the air around them. “Ugh, it smells terrible. I hate demon cases—eating is nearly impossible until they are done.” Adelle was a rarity among dreamwalkers. While most of their race could sense magic in only one way, Adelle could see and smell, making her an excellent tracker. Once Adelle had a person’s essence, they couldn’t hide from her. There was one notable exception, but they all tried not to dwell on it.

  “Sorry, sis, but it’s got to be done. Can you tell which side did this? If it’s the Blaikes, this could get ugly.”

  A vacant expression settled on her face, as he expected. Marshall waited while she sorted through what her senses were telling her. When she came out of her trance, she looked vexed. “The taint is too strong to sort out a signature. All I can tell for sure is that a male used this spot to gate out of here, and . . .” She directed her attention toward the other spot down the hall but took only a moment to conclude, “A female used that spot to gate as well.”

  “Could it have been our mystery couple? Possession would be a good explanation for why a norm had such a shield protecting him. If they were newly possessed, their life force won’t have been drained enough for us to have seen it from the replay we got. Our vantage point was pretty crappy.”

  “It could also explain why the girl didn’t know how to use her magic. Sometimes it takes a demon a while to figure out how to operate the host.” She shook her head. “I can’t say for sure if it was them, I’ll need more to go on. This hallway is so crowded with magic that it’s impossible to sort it all out.” She pointed to the blood on the wall. “It’s possible the witch who got shot was the one that gated out here. If she was low enough on power for her shield to pop, she might have gotten desperate.”

  Marshall was quiet, allowing his mind to race over the facts—what few of them there were. Due to the presence of demon magic, it was more likely the man and the girl were the bad guys. For as long as he could remember, the Blaike family had been an unimpeachable presence in the Guard and the Other. They were powerful enough to be able to identify a demon on their own and would have called the Guard in to kill it right away.

  They weren’t known to be terribly sentimental, so harboring a possessed family member wasn’t their style. If something threatened the greater good, they would stamp it out ruthlessly. The building they had destroyed in the attempt to capture the two was a testament to that. Still, he was going to need to interview them. “It’s possible but not likely. You know what the Blaike family is like.”

  She shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve heard stories about them that don’t fit the image they project to the rest of the world.”

  He chewed on that for a minute before asking, “Were you able to get anything from the crater downstairs?”

  “It’s even worse down there. Maybe if I had been the first person on site I could have gotten something, but there are so many people freaking out down there that it’s one big psychic mess.”

  “I don’t think there is anything else here for us to see. Let’s clear out these spots, collect Jack, and get over to the Blaike mansion. You can tell us about those stories on the way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fourteen

  It took longer to drive back to the warehouse than it had taken for him to get from there to the cemetery on foot. He’d had to backtrack several times to make sure they weren’t followed, even switching to another car and then finally abandoning it and carrying Aeyli the rest of the way to the warehouse.

  They’d made the trip back in complete silence. Once the heat of the fight had faded, his mind began to cycle through the same thoughts over and over again. He’d had enough of her running off towards danger on her own to keep him safe and was ready to hash it out. The problem was, every time he was about to start in on her, the sight of her pale, defeated face took the fight out of him.

  Exhaustion beat at him as he carried her up the stairs and back inside his living space. He managed to lay her down on the bed and sat heavily beside her. “Let me check your head,” he told her gruffly.

  She nodded wearily but remained silent, allowing him to run his gloved hands over her scalp as she lay on the bed.

  He took his time examining her and was pleased to see her eyes were tracking properly once more. Once he ascertained that she had managed to escape a serious concussion, he grunted. “It’ll hurt for a while, but you’ll live. Does anything else hurt?”

  “No.” She kept her eyes on the ceiling.

  Spying a box of instant icepacks, he stood to get one for her and had to pause when the room did a slow, lazy roll. Once the world had righted itself, he pulled out a pack and squeezed it to activate the chemical reaction. “You planning on running way again?”

  Her reply came out in a sigh so quiet he had to strain to hear it. “No.”

  “Good.” He put the pack on her forehead, remembering to be gentle at the last minute. A nurse he was not, but he’d gotten good at keeping himself alive over the years, and that was all that had mattered up to now.

  “That’s it?” Her blue eyes finally met his, incredulity etched on her face. “I get caught after being gone for five minutes, nearly get you killed—again—and that’s all you have to say about it?”

  “You already know that wha
t you did was the stupidest thing anyone still living has ever done. What more do I need to add to it?” His fingers flexed and he fought off the urge to shake her. Apparently, he was still upset. Where was the cold when he needed it? He paced around the room to give him a safe way to vent some energy. “Why should I even bother to point out the interesting effect we keep witnessing when magic hits me. Surely, it must have occurred to you it might work on tracking spells as well.” His voice was arctic—a direct contrast to how he felt inside.

  She was openly gaping at him now.

  “No? How about the fact that I’m the only thing you have that’s keeping them from killing you, but you keep running off!” His tone had gone from frozen to volcanic between one heartbeat and the next.

  Looking unimpressed by his anger, but instead rather intrigued, Aeyli mused, “The mystery-shield-thingy that kept all the spells off us. My aunt said it was you.” She sat up quickly, and the ice pack fell to her lap. Her pale skin instantly turned chalk-white, and she let out a strangled squeak.

  Fourteen was back by her side in an instant, his fury gone. “You may only have a minor concussion, but you still need to take it easy.”

  “I’m getting that.” She cradled her head in her hands and moaned softly. After a moment, she said, “So you think whatever is protecting you might also be keeping them from finding us?”

  “Current data indicates it to be a possibility.”

  “What about when we were in the cemetery and you kept acting strangely? Something was affecting you then, I meant to ask you about it, but—”

  “You ran away.”

  “Yeah.” She dropped her hands, frowning slightly. “So what happened there? If you have a shield, how did they get you?”

  “Um.” He said intelligently. He didn’t have an excuse anymore; he was going to have to tell her. Just how he was supposed to do so currently eluded him.