Ashes and Flame

by Aiden Bates

  “I get that it must be a compelling read,” I said slowly, “but Daniel… don’t you think there are more important issues to deal with just this very moment? Like that killer djinn on your tail?”

  “It won’t come after me in the daytime,” he said. “It’s only risky at night. I mean, it can move around in the day, but you can see it coming a long way off. I think it probably rests when the sun’s up.”

  There was traffic ahead of us. Late afternoon; everyone was getting off work, probably, and headed home. “That’s not really the point,” I said as I slowed. I looked at him, worried about the way he began to rub his temples. His attention was elsewhere, too, like he didn’t really hear me. “You okay?”

  “No,” he murmured. “I’m not okay. I’ve got a fucking migraine that… look, I have to keep working on the book, okay? I don’t want to explain it, I’m done telling stories, just find a place where we can sit down so I can work.”

  There was gratitude for you. But there was clearly something going on. I wanted to know, but I also wanted Daniel not to run off on me and maybe get caught by someone else who would use the book to do whatever it was it did. If I indulged him, maybe he’d open up.

  “Okay,” I said when I’d decided. “Next rest stop. There’ll probably be some place to sit down. Traffic’s getting bad, it might be a bit. Are you… is it like an addiction or something?”

  He turned his head to look out the window, pointedly ignoring me.

  Great. It was gonna be a fun drive.

  It took almost an hour to get to the next exit that offered bathrooms and somewhere to sit. As soon as the car was parked, Daniel practically threw himself out of the car and rushed to a table with the kind of urgency I’d have expected if he were running to the bathroom instead. I saw his lips move as he sat down, and shifted my ears almost by reflex to hear what he was saying, and to whom.

  “I fucking told you I needed time,” he was murmuring, just a bit louder than a whisper. “For something that has a lot of opinions, I’d think you’d be smart enough to know when I can’t just open you up. An hour, got it? That’s all I’ve got to give, and you already got over an hour before.”

  Okay. So, that was unsettling.

  I kept one eye on him, and the other on our surroundings as I dialed home.

  “Rez,” Nix answered almost right away. “What’s up? Anything wrong?”

  “That’s a really good question,” I answered. “Uh… is Mikhail around? I think this is a him question.”

  “He’s out back,” he said. “Hang on.”

  There was some shuffling, and a door opening, and the faint whisper of the outside. “It’s Rez. He’s got magic questions.”

  A moment later, Mikhail’s voice came over the speaker. “Rezzek,” he greeted me, “what is the problem?”

  “This, um, book,” I said. “Do you know anything about it being… I don’t know, like cursed or possessed or something?”

  Mikhail was quiet a second. “I would very much like to know why you are asking.”

  I caught him up, described Daniel’s story and his insistence—as well as his talking to the thing. For all I knew, magic books that talked to their readers, or compelled them, or whatever, were a regular occurrence among mages. Mikhail regularly dropped by the afterlife, after all. Anything was possible, right?

  “I have never heard of any such thing,” he said, dashing my hopes that he had some easy answer. “Does the book have a title? Perhaps I can look into it.”

  “If it does, I don’t know what it is,” I answered. “Daniel just calls it ‘The Book’.”

  “What do the symbols inside it look like?” he pressed.

  I shrugged. “I haven’t seen it. But I don’t think he’s reading it because he wants to. He looked like he was getting a headache, and by the time we stopped, he was a little paler and starting to sweat. Like he’d gone too long without a hit. I mean, we got here and he bolted, fast enough that I thought maybe he was going to make a run for it, but he went straight to a bench and table to sit and get to work. And, you know, talk to it. I’m a little worried about him.”

  I hadn’t quite realized that’s what I was really feeling until I said it.

  “Rezzek,” Mikhail said carefully, “I think it is in the best interests of everyone if you not get overly attached to this man. You do not know all of his story.”

  “I’m not—look, I just think he’s maybe more of a victim than a criminal,” I said. “That’s all. I feel bad for him, and he clearly hates this thing. It sounds to me like Ivan took advantage of him, duped him into taking part in whatever this is. If you met him, you’d understand. He’s not like Ivan. Not even a little bit. He wanted me to leave him before in the barn. He was concerned for me, that doesn’t sound like crazed cult-member talk.”

  I heard Mikhail’s exasperated sigh loud and clear even though he apparently took the phone away from his face to let it out. “Of course we trust your judgment,” Mikhail said with strained patience, “but consider the company that he has kept in the past. Ivan knew, very well, that the best way to manipulate a person is to play on their sympathies. So does every competent con artist. I only suggest that you keep some distance, and do not allow yourself to be played, yes?”

  “I’m not going to get played,” I muttered. “Just see what you can find? I have a feeling this thing with the book is going to be an issue. It’s in my gut. I’m not sure we can easily separate him from it. Not without hurting him or something.”

  “I will do what I can,” Mikhail assured me. “But I do not yet wish to alert my master that we may have found it. Not until I can be more certain of the loyalties of those in power at Custodes Lunae. After all—Ivan learned about the book somewhere. Perhaps he is not the first to try to find a translator for it. Keep a close eye on Daniel. I have informed Amy that you are coming, she will be expecting you.”

  The elementalist he’d reached out to. That was good news, at least. If she was as experienced as Mikhail thought, then maybe it would be one less thing to have to worry about. “Okay,” I told him, and by extension Nix. “I’ll touch base when we get there and have a new plan.”

  “Do that,” he said. “Perhaps I will have some answers then.”

  We started to hang up, but not before I heard Mikhail’s voice distantly, speaking to Nix. “What is it with you dragons and mages? You would think—” “”

  The call ended from their side. I grimaced at the phone and tossed it into the passenger seat by reflex before I retrieved it and stuffed it into the cubby in front of the gear shift and resumed my attention on Daniel. He was rigid, one hand on a page in the book, the other scribbling furiously in an open notebook.

  He’d gone through a lot of the food that I’d picked up before, so I got out and went to the vending machines—which were even less inspiring than the last rest area—to get more. I got a little of everything, and dropped it back by the car before curiosity got the better of me and I strolled up toward the table and bench he was working on. There was a bit of a breeze in the air. It seemed to pluck at the corners of the notebook.

  When I noticed that it didn’t seem to ruffle the pages of The Book at all, a chill ran along my spine and made the hair on my neck and arms stand on end briefly. I got a bit closer, and the feeling got more intense—and worse than the sense of disquiet, I could almost swear I felt something like eyes on me that I couldn’t see. I even glanced up at the clear sky expecting to see a roiling cloud of black death about to descend. Nothing.

  It wasn’t The Book, though.

  Right?

  Daniel didn’t seem to notice as I got closer. I could only just make out some pale ink scribbled over the pages, all but faded after probably eons since it was inked. I leaned in a bit once I was close enough, and tried to get a look at a page as unobtrusively as possible.

  Just as I squinted to try and see the little scratch marks of ancient ink, Daniel looked up, frowning. “Don’t puke on the table.”

  I
didn’t quite parse what he’d said right away. The lines on the page seemed to darken slightly, suddenly clearer but only for the space of a heartbeat. I felt it almost as distinctly as a heartbeat, too—a pulse that rocked me back on my heels. Disorientation swept through me, the worst kind of vertigo I’d ever had, and I stumbled back, tried to brace myself on nothing, and nearly landed on my ass. The only reason that I didn’t was because of the sudden cramp in my stomach that doubled me over and took me to my knees instead. The contents of my stomach rushed up as muscles in my belly clenched.

  If I had ever thrown up in front of anyone, I didn’t remember it. Possibly I got black-out drunk on starshine a few times, but if I puked then, I had been too far gone to remember and so had Nix. This, I was entirely sober for.

  I stood on shaky legs, and wiped my lips with the back of my hand, red in the face from a mix of embarrassment and outrage. “What… the… fuck?”

  Daniel stared down at the page for a long moment, then gave a slight nod and closed the book. For a bit, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move—just stared at the aged leather cover with a pinch of concern in his brow before he finally picked it up and slid it back into his bag. Only when it was out of sight did he speak. “I guess I could have told you ‘never, ever look at the pages’ but I think that you probably couldn’t help yourself. Curiosity. That’s like… how it gets you, I guess. But, now you know. I strongly recommend you don’t do it again. Hell, I don’t even know what happens if two of us get hooked. Maybe one of us dies or something? I’m pretty sure it only lets one person read it at a time.”

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked again.

  He stuffed his notebook and a kitchen timer into the bag as well, then stood and looped the strap over his head and onto his shoulder. “I know it’s hard to believe,” he said, “but I really don’t know any more than you do. I got sick, too. At first. After a while, it went away. It took a few months. Maybe… maybe it really is like an addiction. At first it feels shitty, but you get used to it and then can’t feel normal without it. Except it’s more complicated than that. I should be good for about three days. You wanna like… brush your teeth or something?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, still confused and mystified, and not entirely sure that my stomach was done emptying. “Trust you not to run off?”

  Daniel gazed around the rest stop, then down at the bag. “Where would I go if I did?”

  “I’ll meet you back at the car,” I said, shaking my head. “I got more snacks.”

  He looked up at me, then patted me on the arm. “Sorry. Trust me when I say I know exactly how you feel. It wears off in a few hours.”

  With that, he trotted back to the car. I watched him go, and then walked on legs that I didn’t entirely trust to the bathroom to wash my hands and get the taste of bile out of my mouth, my head reeling still. What had I even seen? I couldn’t remember the image of the page at all, not even the color of the ink.

  I mean, seriously—what the fuck?

  6

  Daniel

  I managed to sleep again, now that The Book wasn’t bugging me for a while. Cars always do that to me; the noise and the vibration of the tires and engine all conspire to lull me to sleep. Or at least, they always used to, before being in a car generally meant having to keep an eye on whoever I was hitching a ride with. But Rez knew about the book, now had some idea how dangerous it was, and while I wouldn’t say that I trusted him, exactly, I at least didn’t think he would strangle me in my sleep.

  He seemed to want to help.

  Kind of stupid, but at least well-intentioned.

  I woke with a start when the car stopped, and wiped a cool spot on my lip. “Hm?”

  “Just stopping for gas,” Rez said. He gave me a lopsided grin. “You must have slept hard this time. You snored. A lot. Loudly.”

  I shot him the bird, but couldn’t help that the corner of my mouth tugged up just a little. I looked out the window. It was dark. But I had to pee. Real bad. “You smelled the djinn before, right?”

  Rez’s hand paused at the door handle. “Yeah,” he said, frowning. “Like a fresh storm, kind of. Why?”

  “Because it’s dark out,” I said, “and I have to go to the bathroom and you’ll probably know if it's coming before I do.”

  Concern on his brow, he opened the door and leaned out, looking up at the sky overhead. He sniffed a few times. “Wind’s blowing east,” he muttered. “So if it’s coming from that direction I wouldn’t catch a scent. But you think it’s already catching up?”

  I groaned, and knew that I didn’t have much choice. It was the bathroom or a bottle. “Trust me when I say, it’s probably been close by since we left the barn. It’s never far, unless I get the chance to confuse it a little.”

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “How do you do that?”

  “Magic,” I said.

  “I thought your magic was unstable,” he pointed out. “Is it some kind of elementalist thing?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Do you know many mages?”

  “Actually, I don’t,” he admitted.

  Fair enough. I tapped the bag. “This thing doesn’t come with many benefits,” I said. “But one of them is that… it’s taught me a few tricks. The glyphs on the pages are really difficult to decode, but once you do it’s like you’re learning a new language of creation. The language of magic itself. I pieced together a few sequences—just four of them, experimenting is very dangerous—and one of them kind of makes me… I don’t know, blurry, but like on a spiritual level.”

  He gave me a long, blank stare. “Right.”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t say it was simple. Anyway, it takes time to set it up and I need the right space.”

  “Like a bathroom stall?” he wondered.

  I glanced at the gas station. The idea of invoking the wrath of the djinn on a little wayside stop didn’t sit right with me. But it wasn’t a terrible idea. After all, the thing was intelligent. If it realized I wasn’t here, it would just move on. Probably wreck the bathroom. Insurance would pay for that kind of thing, though, right? “Maybe,” I murmured. I fished my chalk out of the bag. It was pretty much used, but in a small space? There was probably enough. “I guess it could work. Just, um… after you finish filling up, maybe come meet me and just kind of keep watch?”

  His lips twitched with amusement. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you need. I won’t hold it for you, though.”

  I rolled my eyes. “While I do the spellwork. Gross.”

  He chuckled, and got out of the car to start pumping. “I knew what you meant.”

  When I got out and had turned away from him, I allowed myself the ghost of a smile. Stupid and well-intentioned, maybe, but it was nice to joke with someone. I found myself glancing back at him as he leaned against the car and watched the gas pump run.

  It had been twelve years since I looked at anyone and thought, even for a second, that they were anything but a potential problem. Well… there had been Ivan, briefly. But I learned quickly enough that it was best not to let myself look at him as anything more than a leader, and then something more like a viper.

  Rez was certainly good-looking, at least. And he had an easy, confident kind of way about him. Like he wasn’t as freaked out by all of this as I had been for the last five years. I could almost imagine pretending I didn’t have a mile-high mountain of problems that were going to one day kill me, and just kind of hang out with him.

  Almost.

  The bathroom required a key which I got without comment from the clerk inside, and it was small and grimy and smelled like aged piss. Gas station bathrooms were always the worst, and that’s coming from someone who’d had to wipe with leaves more than a few times. But it had a stall and a working toilet and that was all I needed at the moment. When I finished up with the pressing call of nature, I sized up the stall and picked my spots, and then got to work scrawling the glyphs on the walls and—gods help me—the floor. The ceiling, though,
was out of reach.

  By the time Rez knocked on the door, I had gotten three walls and the floor done. “You need help?”

  I snorted at the tone in his voice. “I have been doing this for like twenty-five years,” I called back. “My aim is pretty good.”

  “I meant with the other thing, pervert,” he said, his voice clearer as he pushed the door open.

  “I’m almost done,” I told him, finishing the last precise line on the back wall and moving on to the stall’s partition wall. “I’ll need help with the ceiling, though.”

  Once I was done, I pulled the stall door open. “Come here.”

  He was leaning against the bathroom door, but pushed off it to come to the door. He carefully avoided looking at the glyphs, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling.

  I waved a hand. “You don’t have to worry about them. I mean, they might look a little squirmy and fuzzy, but they can’t hurt you like this. Not like in the book.”

  Armed with that reassurance, he looked around at the glyphs, squinted, blinked, and rubbed his eyes. “Well, that’s… disturbing.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered. “So, I need to put one up there. Can you give me a boost or something?”

  Rez looked around the stall, at the toilet and at the metal bar on the wall. “Uh… yeah, I guess.”

  I lifted a foot. “Just brace my foot. You’re strong, right?”

  He gave my ratty old shoe a critical examination, then looked down at the floor. “Definitely not touching the bottom of your shoe.”

  “You can wash your hands, Rez,” I grumbled. “It will only take a few seconds, I can draw these in my sleep at this point.”

  Still, he shook his head. “I’ve got a dragon nose. I’ll be able to smell whatever’s in here on my palm for hours at least. Maybe days. No way.”

  I gave him a flat, irritated stare. “That’s better than a surprise attack by a murder-djinn?”

  He waved the comment off and turned around to put his back to me. “Not by very much. Here, just—get on my shoulders, keep your shoes away from me, and you’ll be more stable anyway. And my hands won’t stink afterward.”