by Antara Mann
We left the club. On the street, I noted, “So, the Rune Keeper might not have been in this club.”
“I dunno. Seems to me this case is pretty much a dead end,” Brendan complained grumpily. “Whenever we learn something new and think we’re making progress, this sorcerer is mentioned and we’re back at square one. You can’t deny it: We’re stuck. It feels like the culprit had cast a spell on our investigation or something.”
“Hmm. That’s not an entirely impossible idea…” Kagan said thoughtfully, then exclaimed, “You’ve given me an excellent idea! But I have to go, I’ve got an appointment. You three will go and look into that Wiccan coven Alex is so anxious about and report your findings to me; see you tomorrow outside my apartment, nine o’clock.” With those words he transported himself and disappeared from our sight.
When we teleported to Desmond’s occult shop his gathering had just started: A long and ratter tedious lecture followed with lots of theory and little to no practice. Desmond beamed when he saw me and the shifters. He asked about Naomi and I gave him an invasive reply — I didn’t like the thought that our potential murderer had a thing for my best friend.
During the lecture I took a chance and searched for the symbol I found on the scrolls in the run-down factory — the inverted triquetra — but in vain. After the lecture was over, I went to Desmond and asked him about the guys who were members in his coven.
“We have a diverse group of people in the Temple of Isis,” he said, “is there anyone of interest to you?”
“Umm, I wonder if there’s a guy in your coven who I used to date not so long ago.” I smiled and hoped he wouldn’t get suspicious.
“What’s his name?”
I showed him the suspect’s photograph which I had saved on my phone. Desmond shook his head and said, “Sorry, can’t remember seeing this particular guy, but hundreds of guys have come to our coven, so it’s not entirely impossible he’d never dropped by here. By the way, your friends had already shown me this picture and asked me the same: Is that a mutual friend of yours?”
I flashed a silly smile and I went to Brendan.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had already asked Desmond about Paul?” I snapped at him.
“What point? You’ve gotten yourself a bee in your bonnet about this guy and no matter what I say, you’re firmly convinced, he is our man,” he shrugged and went to talk to an attractive witch. In about half an hour the gathering was and we left. I gave the shifters from my best friend’s fairy dust to teleport to their hotel in Tribeca, and I went back home on foot.
After the long, tedious day full of tension, suspicion, and uncertainty, it felt so good to be at home and see my best friend. I told her of today’s events, about the Egyptian book and the sinister ritual that had to be performed. She was speechless for a few seconds, gaping at me.
“Wow, and I thought it was tough dealing with arrogant teenagers and spoiled middle-age ladies!” Naomi exclaimed. I shrugged and went straight to bed.
As soon as I woke up the next morning, the realization hit me: We passed the last two days before the moon’s zenith following up on our leads, poring over witness statements, and staking out the Hellfire Club.
Just as the previous days, we were mostly rereading the witnesses’ statements, and the shifters went to watch the Hellfire Club for that Paul guy. This way had passed the last three days before the moon’s zenith.
On the fourth day — Sunday — I met Kagan and the shifters at the arranged time and place, in front of his apartment on the Lower East Side. Everyone was ready and silent, and there was no bickering between us. The awareness of the grim ritual which would be performed tonight kept us all sober and focused.
The fae teleported us to the Veil using his own magic. After the run-down factory, I was struck by the beauty of the Veil’s grand modern glass building; there was a world of difference between the two. The ogre at the entrance again asked for our badges. When we showed them, he gave the fae an ingratiating smile, his eyes full of respect, but he awarded us only with a condescending look. It obviously paid to belong to one of the magic dynasties. Shame I’d been born to one of the lower classes.
There were only a few supernaturals in the magically-charged grand hall of the Veil this time. I immediately noticed the Morrigan. She greeted Kagan amiably and gave the rest of us a cool but polite welcome. On either side of her sat two other women, definitely goddesses as well, judging by the feel of their magic. The lady on the left had flaxen hair and ocean-blue eyes, and very pale skin. The Morrigan’s other companion had hazelnut hair and purple eyes — a strange combination. That wasn’t her natural eye color, I figured, but an enchantment. The magic of both goddesses tasted like ripe delicious fruit in the hot summer days: potent, pleasant, full of surprises, but also dangerous. Even though their magic felt good, it could still turn nasty if it needed to. Gods were sometimes cruel, too, if they had to protect something or someone they cared for.
“I am very pleased that you all came here today,” the Morrigan began. “Kagan relayed some information to us about a sacrificial ritual that is to be performed in one day, I believe?”
The fae nodded.
“Well, that is very, very worrisome. Do you have any clue who the mastermind behind this madness is?”
I exchanged quick looks with the fae and the shifters. The fae cleared his throat and said, “We are still working on that. However, we think the culprit has someone powerful in the Court of Hell — ”
“Ha! I knew it!” The Morrigan cut him off and hit the table with her fist. “My good old eternal enemy is involved in this. He had to be.”
I cleared my throat before saying, “Actually, we are not certain about Kai. In fact, we suspect the culprit’s agent is betraying Kai and the Court of Hell as well, in a sense.”
The Morrigan frowned. “But why? What’s the purpose behind this? This could lead to a…” Realization dawned on her face and she added hurriedly, “a magical revolution!? Is that what they’re after? They want a magic apocalypse? That’s monstrous!”
“We are not sure. This is only a guess. But usually people like this want to break the established world order and create their own order out of chaos. Or something like that,” I said. I had never been good with criminal and pathological psychology, and I hoped I’d explained it properly.
The Morrigan exchanged glances with her companions, then turned to us. “We need to stop this, this mastermind or whoever it is. Kagan, do you need any additional help? I can send the White Phantom Queen your way.”
I tried my best not to gape. The White Phantom Queen was a mythical goddess who had the power to numb people and magical creatures by simply singing to them some ancient lullaby songs. Then she slayed them. She appeared to her victims clad in a white dress; hence the name.
“No, it’s okay. We don’t want to scare the culprit. We don’t want him to suspect anything, otherwise he may retreat,” the fae replied.
“Sounds about right,” the Morrigan agreed.
“That’s why we didn’t inform the Court of Hell, and why we’re asking you not to say a word to Kai. He would go mad and probably scare his secret double agent if he knew. We need them to think that we haven’t caught wind of their plans. In the meantime, we have informed the Council and your Court — your goddesses are prepared, and when the culprit strikes again, we will catch him.”
The Morrigan studied the fae’s face for several long seconds, which seemed like an eternity to me. I have heard the cliché that what seems like ages for humans is only seconds for gods. It was probably true.
“Your plan seems reasonable, but has one major flaw.”
“And that is?” Brendan asked.
“What if the targeted goddess doesn’t belong to my ranks? What if she is just a girl who doesn’t even know she is a supernatural or a goddess? Then what will you do?”
Kagan looked bewildered, and a triumphant smile spread on the Morrigan’s lips. She was about to break the silence when h
e forestalled her.
“The chances for such a turn of events are quite slim, and you know it, dear. I guarantee and give you my word as a fae that such a thing won’t ever happen — I simply won’t let it happen.” The fae was trying hard to sound nonchalant and please her, I sensed, but the Morrigan wasn’t a fool.
“But what if it does happen after all, my dear?” she asked, emphasizing the last word. She was enjoying this, slightly mocking his way of flattering her.
The fae turned to the shifters and me and said, “Would you excuse us for a bit?” Without asking any questions we obeyed. We left the grand hall and sat in the corridor near the gates to wait for him. Curiously, the two goddess friends of the Morrigan left too, though they exited through another inner door. The fae and the leader of Court of Heaven spent some fifteen minutes or so in the grand hall, then Kagan finally left the hall and rejoined us. He looked both anxious and pleased at the same time.
“So, how did it go? Did you succeed in convincing her?” Brendan asked.
“For now, yes. But she is so stubborn, I fear she may inform Kai and his court at any moment now, because she wants to save some silly little goddess.”
“Uh, excuse me?” I cut in. “‘Some silly little goddess’? Hello, she is a supernatural and, on top of that, belongs to the Court of Heaven. She is in danger and you don’t give a damn?”
He turned to me, his eyes unusually calm and cold, resembling a winter sea.
“I simply want to catch the culprit, that’s all. If that includes sacrificing one goddess, so be it. There are larger things at stake than one goddess’ life. Like peace and the magic order on earth. Gods live for hundreds of thousands of years, anyway, so what’s the big deal if one of them lives a bit shorter? But rest assured, Alex, I’ll make sure that, whoever she might be, she doesn’t get hurt in the meantime.”
I couldn’t believe my ears: He was willing to let a goddess die? I studied his face for a few long seconds. For the first time I was seeing his true colors: Kagan was powerful and ruthless, and even though he believed he was a protector of the human and supernatural worlds, he wouldn’t give a second thought to leaving a goddess to die, for “the greater good.”
“You are heartless, Kagan,” I said simply.
The werewolf interjected, “Hey, you two stop it. No one is getting killed, nor would we allow such a thing to happen. We’d do better to investigate and prevent the coming murder than stay here and argue over bullshit.”
The fae looked at him sternly and nodded. “Even though I don’t like to admit it, you’re right, mate. Let’s …”
I couldn’t hear the end of his sentence because my vision blurred and I suddenly found myself in our occult shop, the Steaming Cauldron. There were vampires inside the shop, advancing menacingly on Naomi and ransacking the displays of potions, artifacts, and magic objects. Items were shattered and tossed on the floor, the mess giving me a headache. Naomi’s skin was as pale as chalk. I immediately felt the vampires’ magic — they were the same type we’d fought four nights ago. I saw Naomi reach for her transport charm, but a vampire swung at her and hit her hard in the ribs. This had to stop! I had to intervene. With horror I saw Naomi’s transport charm fall on the floor, spilling over.
Please, help me, I heard my best friend’s inner cry.
Chapter 18
I shouted and stomped my feet on the floor. Brendan took me by the elbow, shaking me lightly.
“Alex, what’s the matter? Have you lost your mind? Why are you screaming?”
“Oh shit — my friend’s being attacked by vampires in our shop! We have to help,” I said. I was just about to teleport myself, but hesitated: I needed backup and had to know whether my colleagues were coming with me or not. I looked at them expectantly, but no one moved or said anything. Oh, fucking great!
“What’s wrong, guys? Got weak legs or something?,” I said without even trying to hide the irritation in my voice.
“Alex, are you sure your vision was true?” Kagan asked. He looked genuinely concerned.
“Of course,” I snapped at him. I couldn’t believe the fae doubted my judgment. “For magic’s sake, are you coming or not?” I bellowed. “Naomi could be hurt or injured. She is not a fighter like me, she’s just a hedge-witch.” The thought of my friend’s life being in peril was unbearable and I was about to teleport myself when Kagan glanced at the shifters and reluctantly said, “Okay, if you say so. We’re coming with you.”
I nodded and reached for the invisible thread in my center and felt the magic intensify around us. The air started vibrating and a yellow cloud appeared before us. We stepped inside and the void took us, bringing us into our shop, and just in time: Two vampires had cornered Naomi near the cash register and were trying to overpower her. To her credit, she was kicking and screaming, grappling with them. She even kicked one of the vampires hard in his crotch. Oh, that had to hurt. Go, girl! She reached for a potion and flung it straight into the face of the nearest vampire. He screamed in pain and the bloodlust in his eyes intensified.
With a sinking heart I weaved my way through the scattered magical objects, potions, and artifacts on the floor to the vampires who held my best friend. No one could hurt my friends without taking the consequences for it. I hurled my silver crescent knife, the one that had belonged to my mother, into the vampire that was closest to Naomi. The silver blade hit him straight in the back, just behind his heart. He screamed in agony and the greenish color enveloped him. I called my knife back. In moments the vampire disappeared, the only traces of him some debris on the spot where he’d stood.
I turned my head to see my co-investigators all fighting the remaining vampires in our shop, five or six of them. I hurled my knife at the next vampire when a silvery cloud burst up before me and I spotted the guy we were chasing. “Hey you!” I yelled and called back the weapon. Even though I shouted, I could barely heard myself above the noise — everyone was fighting, blasting magic, or shattering and breaking items in our small shop. The young guy smirked at me; there was something eerie and wicked in his expression — as if he knew something I didn’t know, as if he were ahead of the game, his game. Not for long!
I was about to hurl my chakram at him — I didn’t want to kill him with my special knife — when he made a motion with his hand and dark purple sizzling flames erupted in the space around me.
I thought, What the hell? Then a lighting bolt struck me and darkness fell over me.
***
When I came to, I found myself in a dingy basement, my hands bound with shackles looped over an old pipe above my head. I smelled a strange smell floating in the stale air: Someone was making a potion — a concoction of herbs with other peculiar items. I could also hear a quiet, monotonous humming, almost like chanting. Suddenly, it dawned on me: The potion for the sacrificial ritual! I tried to get myself out of the manacles, twisting my wrists against the metal. I immediately regretted it: A searing pain pierced my body and my mind throbbed. Shit! The cuffs must have been forged in iron. It wasn’t that bad, though; I had my healing superpower, plus I could block my magic and prevent it from coming into contact with the iron. I wouldn’t feel any pain then, but I’d also lose my elemental magic. However, the pain was unusually strong and the sickening feeling mounted in the pit of my stomach. There had to be something else.
I took a closer look at the dark chamber I was in. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light and now I saw, in the back end of the basement, a few male figures bending over a cauldron. They were humming something in a foreign language. It wasn’t English or Latin, which I had learned at the Academy; could it be Egyptian?
Once the shock eased and I acclimated to the pain, my sense of magic told me that all the walls around me had iron in them. There were no windows, and even the ceiling and floor concealed iron. Fuck!
Someone chose this cellar especially for you and made it all in iron, to hijack your magic, the voice in my head said. I haven’t heard it for quite a while so I was surprised.
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Great — care to tell me how to cope with this? I asked it. Holy magic, I couldn’t believe I was having this crazy conversation with myself now, of all times, but it only proved I was desperate. Or insane.
Or probably both.
For now, block your elemental magic and the iron won’t hurt you, the voice said, then added, Shh, keep quiet, someone’s coming. I believe it’s your capturer.
There’s no need to worry since we’re having a mental conversation, not a verbal one like normal people do, I snapped back, annoyed at the voice’s stupidity, but there was no point — it was gone, my mind unusually silent.
Once the inner monologue had ceased, I could hear distant steps approaching me. I obeyed my inner voice’s command and blocked my magic.
“Ah, she is finally awake,” a sonorous male voice commented, loudly enough to wake the dead. Great! As if there wasn’t enough weirdness inside my own head, now I had another weirdo to deal with.
The steps grew nearer and I spotted a shadow looming over me. “Miss Shaw, welcome to my humble chamber,” the man said. His face was still in the dark and I couldn’t make it out, but the voice sounded awfully familiar. To my chagrin, it wasn’t Desmond’s. Then a flickering light illuminated the space as the figure pulled the switch on a light bulb hanging and I raised my gaze to the hulking figure over me.
I gasped: It was that guy — the man with the piercings who had given the lecture about the cult of Isis at Desmond’s occult shop. Suddenly, it all made sense.
“You!” The words escaped my mouth spontaneously. The discovery of this man’s involvement in the murders I had been working on took me completely by surprise. For the past few days I’d believed Desmond was the culprit. Well, that possibility wasn’t still ruled out.
“Yes, it is me,” he said proudly. “I’m glad I finally got you, Alex.” His eyes glinted menacingly in the dim light and I spotted their maniac glow: This guy was clearly nuts. But then again, only a total nutcase would stir up a magical revolution, a war between gods and demons, and wreak havoc between supernaturals and humans.