Lost Hope (Wildcat Wizard Book 6)

by Al K. Line

  "Yeah, tell me about it. But nobody I need to worry about knows my number, and it redirects anyway." I didn't believe him. I was careful about such things after the previous year.

  "Haha, fine, you got me. My guys have been watching Vicky's. I called, they came to get me. Simple."

  "So who came to my house?"

  "No idea. Told you, I was out of it. That death spell was some serious business. Didn't know it would work like that. I thought it was a simple cloaking spell kind of thing."

  "No, it isn't. You look dead, you almost are. You can't move, see, or think or anything. You're just gone until it wears off." I also knew it was very hard to perform for a wizard, let alone to make a spell and design it so it could be used by another. That was some top level wizardry and Juice would have had to offer something very good to get it.

  "Yeah, and it gives you the mother of all headaches."

  I lunged forward and slapped Juice across the head. "I'll give you a goddamn headache. Stop moaning. You're alive, which is more than you deserve. You left them to be taken while you slept."

  "You were asleep too. How come they didn't take you then?"

  He had a point. Why hadn't I been taken as well?

  "Shut up." I went and got my coffee and returned to the kitchen to drink while I glared and thought. I didn't offer Juice one. That'd teach him.

  Interrupted Musings

  So, Juice wasn't dead, more's the pity, George and Vicky had been taken by person or persons unknown. They'd opened a Path directly into my kitchen, which wasn't possible but they'd obviously missed the memo. Sasha had been taken by different, or the same, person's unknown, and the dead guy upstairs had been so freaked out that he caved in his own skull after ripping out his innards.

  Anything else?

  Hangman. Had they taken Steve too? And Juice would be scheming, and he had his goons.

  Was that it?

  Why hadn't I been taken?

  "Obvious, isn't it?" asked Wand.

  "Is it? Enlighten me, please."

  "What did you say?" asked Juice.

  I kept forgetting that it looked odd talking to Wand. Juice was looking at me funny.

  "Nothing, just thinking out loud. Shut up and stay still," I ordered.

  "Did I mention you're a real grump?"

  I switched to thinking my words, and continued. "Why didn't I get taken?"

  "Arthur, you're a wizard, a powerful one. They didn't take you because they dared not."

  "They took George."

  "She's a trainee, nowhere near your level."

  "Okay, what about Sasha?"

  "That's different."

  "How?" I couldn't see it, and was keen to get such valuable information from Wand.

  "No idea. But somehow they got her. You have to think this through logically, put your detective hat on."

  "I already tried, it didn't fit. All I got was a headache and a stain on the ceiling."

  "You found the guy upstairs, that's a start."

  "Yeah, of a migraine."

  "Or it's a clue. I showed you what happened, what does that tell us?"

  "That he got sent loopy, and killed himself."

  "Someone made him do it. Why? And how? What does this have to do with everyone disappearing?"

  "You're supposed to be telling me that!"

  "You're nuts, you know that, right?" said Juice, looking worried and backing away into the corner.

  "Was I speaking out loud?" I asked, unsure.

  "Yeah, course. What's wrong with you?"

  "Just sit down. And shut up." I ordered.

  Juice fidgeted with his hands, but did as I told him. I resumed my conversation, mindful to really keep it private this time.

  "That doesn't help."

  "Sure it does," said Wand, sounding chipper. "They couldn't get you, maybe because it took too much to capture the others, or because of you and me combined. That would take some potent magic. But they opened a Path, so they're powerful."

  "But I still don't know who. Or why?"

  "Then get searching for clues."

  I said a sullen thanks to Wand, although I wasn't sure what for. He hadn't been much help.

  Back to the beginning I went, trying to figure this thing out.

  Maybe I should kill Juice first? That would cheer me up a little.

  "Why are you looking at me like that?" asked a nervous Juice.

  "Nothing, just had a thought."

  "Then don't, you look scary."

  "That's because I am."

  "Where do we start then? This is so exciting."

  "We start right now, and here," I said, as my hair stood on end and I got a tingling under my hat. Grace spun on my head, powering up for whatever nastiness was coming.

  I gulped my coffee. I was gonna need the caffeine. Then I smiled as I read the words on the mug. Damn right I was the best, and whoever had my favorite ladies had better watch out.

  "The Hat's coming for you."

  Let's Get it On

  I placed my kick-ass mug down carefully on the floor, giving myself a moment of peace before the insanity commenced. With steady hands, I ran the hard tips of my fingers over my face, feeling the crevices and the rough skin, the stubble turning to beard, flecked with gray and getting lighter by the day. Was I too old for this nonsense?

  Nah. I was, and remain, The Hat. A wizard. Wizards don't get too old, they usually get killed long before that happens.

  So I smiled at Juice as he wrapped his long fingers around each other and his eyes widened at the sight behind me.

  Then I whispered, "Game on, bitches," just because you gotta say something cool before you get into it.

  I turned to meet my future, however long it would last.

  That Wobbly Feeling

  The temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant, and as I drew my hand from my chin there was ice on my fingertips. Juice was shaking, from fright or cold I wasn't sure, probably both, but it didn't stop him launching to his feet and making a dash for the door.

  I didn't even bother, as to be honest I wanted this over with, and knew the best way to accomplish that was to let this happen.

  Yes, I knew what it was. No, I didn't like it. But yes, I would allow it.

  Juice almost made it, and then the air was spinning like a cyclone, sucking him back into the room. I was dragged backward toward the center and Juice lost his footing. Screaming, he was lifted into the air, heading right for me. I ducked as he sailed overhead, smashed into the wall, bounced off, and was spun higher and higher until he was up at ceiling height.

  Then I lost my own balance and was lifted up too, unresisting, just wanting this bit to be over.

  Wind howled, magic flashed violently, and faery dust fell.

  A Path opened beneath us, a wide black tear in reality itself, and we spun a final time before the air suddenly stilled and we dropped right through.

  Juice whimpered before all sound and sight was cut off as we were consumed by the impossible. Then all was quiet, all was emptiness, and I found peace, if only for a moment.

  Strange Plaything

  I landed on something hard but the smell of flowers filled my nostrils so it wasn't all bad. I opened my eyes to find the hard stuff was Juice, which I got off as fast as I could.

  Juice groaned and clambered to his feet then stood beside me as we stared out at an infinite field of astonishing beauty. Flowers of all colors wafted gently in a breeze that promised an eternity of happiness. Tall, short, familiar, and utterly alien, the variety was endless, the scent heady, making it hard to concentrate. This was fae land, not for us, and we shouldn't be here.

  "Is this Faery? Wow, it is." Juice's eyes were wide, and no wonder.

  I waited, and then it happened. Juice's smile turned to a frown, then he was doubled over, screaming, clutching his head, throwing up amid the beauty.

  "We aren't meant to be here. Don't worry, the sickness will pass. Just go with it and don't complain," I warned. "You're somewhere no
human is meant to be, so it messes with your head at first. Make the most of it."

  "It hurts like hell," he moaned.

  "What did I just say? No moaning."

  The Problem With Faeries

  The land of the fae is beautiful in a way humans cannot truly comprehend. You see it, feel it, smell it, every sense close to overload. It can make you sick, it can make you cry, it can certainly drive you insane. I was used to it but my head still throbbed like the engine of Juice's sports car. It passed quickly though, probably because I was so full of magic. Juice wasn't faring so well. His vomit desecrated the flowers as he sank to hands and knees and threw up his guts, moaning incessantly when he wasn't projectile puking. It took him several minutes to recover.

  I took the time to wander away and take things in, try to get my bearings and have a moment to think about what was happening. Consider why we were here, what to do next. I couldn't just open a Path, had no way to return home on my own. This was Faery and it played by a very different, very strange set of rules.

  As my mind became my own and I started to think clearly, I studied the scenery, trying to place our location. It was a fool's errand, as Faery isn't like the human world, countries and towns and cities always where you expect them to be.

  In Faery, the various realms the fae occupy, and there are many, are fluid. Areas shift, cities move, roads take different directions, leading you to different destinations, and the continents, although nothing like how we think of them, often rearrange, making a normal map meaningless.

  Sure, they had maps, complex things that tracked the patterns and shifts this world made, but it was all nonsense from a human perspective. The fae understood their world and to them it was entirely normal, but for outsiders it made little to no sense and you would become hopelessly lost even if you knew where you were. I didn't. And it didn't matter.

  Time was also different here, running fast then slow, past and future colliding to make a mockery of our simple linear model where you always knew where you stood, heading toward your future and your death. It was why Sasha was always appearing at inopportune moments, either too late or early. Or when she did appear she either had gaps in her knowledge or knew far more than she should have.

  Basically, it messed with your head so I didn't think about it as all I'd do was drive myself crazy trying to unravel such mysteries.

  What concerned me more, was why we were here. And what worried me even more than that was where the hell everyone was. Worst of all, I had Juice with me. He was a liability, of that I was certain. He was a tech junkie, a psychopath, a homicidal maniac, a collector of artifacts, an abuser of people, a user, a liar, and a cheat, and I did not like him. He was sneaky and would double-cross me in a heartbeat if he thought it was in his best interest. Yeah, happy days indeed.

  I put all these concerns aside, as I had more pressing matters to deal with.

  I didn't have long to wait for the weirdness to begin.

  A Trip Down Memory Lane

  Bees buzzed, butterflies danced from flower to flower, and Juice moaned. But there was another sound, something beautiful and it made me want to weep for all the bad things in the world, for everything nasty I'd done, for the fleeting nature of existence itself. Mostly for the purity of the sound.

  It was the voice of a young girl singing.

  I turned in a circle, searching for the source of such loveliness, but could see nothing but an infinite field of flowers. The sky above was crystal clear like a still lake, blue and perfect with not a single cloud. The song filled my head, pushing away everything else until I was utterly enthralled.

  This was faery song, the words meaningless to me, but touching my heart in a way that made it ache for understanding. The words may have been lost but the meaning was coming through loud and clear. She sang of innocence, of freedom, of beauty and the joy of existence as only the truly innocent can experience. Of endless summer days and snuggling under warm blankets without a thought in your head, just reveling in such simple pleasures.

  The song ebbed and flowed like a tide, building on the previous lines, each layered one on top of the other. Notes combined, affecting the next and the previous, complex layers that told of so much, that filled your heart with joy and made you weep for your corrupted soul. There was no music but there was so much music. The beauty of the voice and the song itself made music in my mind because it all came from someone brimming with omnipotent vitality.

  This was what musicians and composers strove to achieve but never came close. To conjure up images so powerful they overwhelmed your soul and made you certain of a higher power. It entranced me, was intoxicating, and I yearned for the existence the song promised.

  The singer was getting closer, the song growing louder, and I dared not move a muscle as she approached. I hardly noticed as Juice came to stand beside me, just saw his tears and nodded, knowing what he felt and that it transcended all our boring crap.

  I watched as a path was made through the flowers. Stems parted without being touched by a child's hand, faery magic preceding her, ensuring the field we'd corrupted was unharmed.

  And then there she was, a child of maybe five or six, so beautiful and pure I had to look away for a moment. I gasped, heard Juice do the same, as she stepped forward into the small clearing we were standing in. She lifted her head to the sky, put a pink flower behind her ear, and smiled as she sang just for the pure joy of it.

  The child was lithe and brimming with vitality, and there was already the hint of the curvaceous, intoxicating woman she would become later in life. This was Sasha as a child, I was sure of it. Her features were blunter, the snub nose, the pouting lips, the angular cheekbones there but a little bit of puppy fat around her cheeks. She wore a simple cotton dress of purple, weaved with something that made it sparkle in the sunshine like spider's silk on a frosty morning. Her hair was golden and long, tumbling in majestic waves over her shoulders.

  Her eyes twinkled, the color peculiar as if they hadn't yet decided which one to pick. Her teeth were white, her ears perfect; even her knobbly knees had a pleasant bumpiness to them. Faery dust danced around her as if joyous at being in her company, and as she sang so the flowers lifted their heads, invigorated. I felt my blood rise, my heavy heart lighten as dark thoughts danced away on the gentle breeze that tousled her hair.

  The words came faster, the tempo rising, the intensity almost overwhelming, and I cried like I have never cried before. I felt so small, so meaningless, my worries and pettiness revealed for the foolishness of a jaded, old man.

  And then the song reached its peak, a crescendo that transcended words. Something pure and truly magical. And just like that it was cut off right in the middle as a tall, slender man came barging through the flowers, breaking stems. They wilted with his passing. He stormed into the clearing, shaking with anger, face red, and slapped the young Sasha across the cheek with such force that she stumbled and fell.

  She lay there before us, hand to her face, bottom lip quivering, tears coming but she was trying to be brave, to hide how much it hurt her. Not just the slap, but the sheer bloody-mindedness of it. The anger behind it, the meanness, the coldness. I sensed that this man felt it was his right to treat this beautiful child in such a way, that her opinion counted for nothing, that this was what she deserved.

  Juice stepped forward, reached out to help her up, but I pulled him back and said, "You can't do anything. This isn't real. Just a memory. Sasha projecting her past. Maybe it's a ghost memory, here for anyone to see that's connected to her. I'm not sure, but we can't get involved."

  "But we should try," he said, and he reached out and tried to grab Sasha. His hand went right through her, and nobody paid him the slightest mind because this wasn't happening now, it was ancient history playing out, maybe for all eternity.

  Juice stepped back and we watched the terrible tableaux unfold.

  A Clue, At a Price

  "This is messed up," whispered Juice.

  I knew how
he felt, I was just surprised he felt anything. "It is," I said, sickened by the sight. Juice was such a mass of contradictions. He clearly had a caring side, but was mostly weak and like a child, yet he thought nothing of killing people in the most inhumane of ways then feeding their brains to his cat. It was hard to reconcile his many personalities, and it was easy to forget that he was dangerous if given the chance. I reminded myself to be careful. He was not to be trusted, no matter that Sasha's degradation affected him deeply.

  Sound had gone from the scene, and I was grateful for it. It still made for terrible watching. The man, I presumed her father, towered over Sasha, ranting and raving, gesticulating wildly, pointing off into the distance. He grabbed her, lifted her easily from the ground, and shook her like she was a doll.

  Sasha cried and pleaded but didn't try to stop him or run away to escape her punishment. Her father shouted right into her face, holding her up high, and then he threw her to the ground where she curled up in a ball and whimpered.

  He shouted some more, pointed away again, and she got to her feet reluctantly. Her dress was ripped, her face swollen from the beating, but her eyes were no longer wet. They were dry, and they were hard, and dark, and when Sasha lifted her head to look at her father there was a coldness and an inner fortitude that made me gasp. Her father took a step backward and said something to her crossly.

  Sasha shook her head and he stepped forward, his hand raised.

  But something kept her from showing fear, and she didn't cower or try to cover herself. She smoothed her dress down then poked a finger through a hole, scowling at the tear. Sasha shouted back at him, seemingly angry more about the dress than anything else. They exchanged violent words and then something changed. Faery dust swirled around Sasha, whipping her hair violently as flowers tumbled away in the breeze, the heads ripped off, the stalks broken.