Ignatius charged again. He sliced once, and the flesh of one of Malakai’s arms opened. Malakai yelled at the top of his lungs, causing Maria to shrink back.
Then Duke, already dying, let go.
As Ignatius raised his blade to put an end to the traitorous Malakai, the Arachnid rolled out of the way and grabbed Duke by the throat.
Duke cried out.
Maria was covering her eyes now.
“Why?” Duke wheezed. “Why?”
“NO!” Ignatius said.
The rage, the fury overtook him. He aimed the blade and swung again. This time he did not miss. He struck Malakai in the shoulder, and a burst of blood escaped the wound. Malakai shrank back and fell to the floor screaming.
He didn’t scream for long.
Ignatius made sure of that. He killed the turncoat Arachnid.
He then turned to Duke, and saw the extent of the damage to his body. “No, Duke, no,” Ignatius whimpered.
“T-Thank you. Thank you for all you have done for me.”
“Don’t thank me. I haven’t done anything.”
“No, no, don’t say that,” Duke soothed him. Ignatius held him in his arms. Blood soaked their clothes. “You will save our village. You will survive the onslaught and protect the Queen Witch so she can bring the others home.”
Ignatius cried. Tears dripped down his smooth cheeks.
“No, I can’t lose you, Duke. You’re like a…like a son to me,” Ignatius said.
Duke smiled but said nothing.
“No, we can save you. We can! For the love of Oriceran, we can!”
“Do you hear that?” Duke said. His smile vanished. He lolled his head toward the door.
Screeching came from beyond it.
“There’s more. The Arachnids will not give up,” Duke said.
“No, no, NO!” Ignatius said.
“Go, Ig! You must protect the village; you must save them all. If they get the music box then it’s all over. We would’ve died for nothing.”
Ignatius stood up, cradling Duke in his arms. Duke was nothing but a sack of red-stained clothes. He looked like he weighed next to nothing.
“You’re coming with me then,” Ignatius said.
He went to the piles of ash and picked up the music box. He opened it, hearing the sweet melody within. From his hand came a burst of purple light, and the world seemed to shatter.
“What is that?” Maria found herself asking.
“It’s a portal.”
The screeching amplified. The sounds of thunderous footsteps followed.
“We must go, Duke. Are you ready?”
Duke was too hurt to answer.
Maria watched Gramps step forward into the tear in the world holding the music box.
The screen fuzzed out.
“That’s all?” Maria said. “Seriously, I was just getting into that.”
“It isn’t like one of your motion pictures,” Duke said.
No, it was better than most of the crap at the movies, Sherlock said, causing Maria to chuckle.
“That’s because all you get to watch is Days of Our Lives with Gramps,” Maria said.
Duke didn’t look at her like she was crazy; he looked at her like he understood.
“So what happened next? How are you here in front of me as a ghost if you escaped the battle?” Maria asked.
“Because,” Duke said, looking down at his transparent feet, “Something went wrong, as much did that day. I died on the way through the portal, and I was lost. Lost in the world in between.”
“Then how the heck are you talking to me?”
“You are special.”
“Oh, I’ve heard that from a guy before, but I think you’re a little too young—and definitely a little too dead—for me,” Maria said.
Duke didn’t smile. Apparently, senses of humor didn’t exist in the world in between.
“I’m here because you have the music box.”
“My grandfather had it before me.”
“But he does not have your gifts, Maria Apple.”
“Ha! Gifts? Yeah, right. Well…I guess I’m pretty good at popping popcorn, and warding off cute guys who may or may not have an interest in me.” She started counting with her fingers. “Then there’s the melting ice cream and the clown head…can’t forget about being the target of bullies—”
Duke shook his head. “I’m talking about your gift of communicating with the dead and those stuck in the world in between.”
“Okay, this is completely new. I’ve never communicated with anyone from the world between—”
“The world in between,” Duke corrected.
Maria waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, world in between. Whatever it is, it’s new to me.”
“It shouldn’t be. Your grandfather can explain better.”
My grandfather, who is some interdimensional warrior from another planet that is inhabited by giant humanoid spiders.
“I’d explain, but we don’t have time.”
“Why not?” Maria asked. “You had time to show me almost an entire movie.”
“It was necessary. Many who’ve stumbled upon magic have had a hard time…coping.”
“I could see that, yeah. I guess I haven’t lost my imagination. Besides, if I tell anyone, I’ll end up in a psych ward. Mental institutes are full of those types of people.” She paused, then she brought her hand to her mouth. “Whoa, whoa! I wonder how many of those people aren’t lying!”
“Many,” Duke answered. He shook his head, and his semi-transparent brown hair flicked across his brow. “Now, back to the matter at hand.”
“Oh, God, here comes the crummy part,” Maria groaned. “The quest. The goal. The endgame. I’ve seen enough movies to know,” She was nervous—there was no denying that—and when she was nervous, and Sherlock was around, she scratched him behind the ears for comfort. She did so now, and Sherlock started kicking his leg, enjoying it.
Right there. Thank you, Maria, Sherlock said.
Maria didn’t notice; she was too invested in what Duke was about to say.
“There is more to the story than I was able to show you. But I saw it all, down the line, after I’d been suspended in the haziness of the world in between.”
“So you could only show me what you saw?”
Duke nodded.
“The lead Arachnid, Korion, was dead, but he wasn’t the leader. The Dark Forest is crawling with his kind. The leader hides in the shadows, spinning her web. She is a—”
“An even bigger spider,” Maria interrupted. She moved her fingers in a get-on-with-it gesture.
“More than that. She’s the leader of the beings from the Dark Forest who practice dark magic.”
“Oooh, dark magic. I’m petrified,” Maria said in a mock spooky voice.
“This is no joking matter. An entire village of people in the world in between is lost without you, Maria Apple.”
Maria gulped, the humor going out of her. “A whole village? You mean—?”
Duke nodded. “The village has been lost for a long, long time. But the concept of time doesn’t exist in the world in between. They are still as they were when the Queen Witch put them there.”
“Why would she do that? Put them in a place where the dead roam, and it’s all hazy?” Maria demanded to know. She curled her hands into fists.
“It was a form of protection. We were vastly outnumbered by the Arachnids. They wanted not only our blood, but our land, and the music box that now sits on your dresser, across from me.”
“Why? Why do they want the music box, if it is a way into the world in between?”
“Because they want to release the evil within that world.”
Maria shuddered. Her flesh broke out in goosebumps.
“They want to harness the power of the dead inside, and bring it to Oriceran. They want to rule the world.”
“So they want Oriceran, not Earth?” she clarified.
Duke nodded. He looked so much like a man it was u
nsettling. Amazing, the things war will do to someone, she thought.
“They do want Oriceran, but what would stop them from conquering Earth, too?” he asked.
The momentary relief that had come over Maria tightened into dread again.
“They’ll be no match for our military,” Maria said confidently. It was hard to believe her own voice, though. The truth was, she didn’t know anything.
Duke smiled. Now he looked like the boy he once had been.
Maria’s heart broke as she thought of the life he was supposed to have had ahead of him, all squandered by a treacherous Arachnid named Malakai.
“Magic is much stronger than bullets and bombs. Sure, your adopted people may manage to kill a few, but there are legions of them. Legions full of dark magic,” Duke continued.
He isn’t lying. If what your grandfather has been muttering in his sleep is true, then we are in for a world of hurt, Sherlock said.
Maria glanced at him. He nodded slightly.
Okay, this is too damn crazy.
“So what happened with the dark magic?” she asked.
“Malakai was raised from the dead. When someone dies and is brought back, all emotion goes out of them. They become very focused beings. Malakai has one singular goal, and he will stop at nothing until he gets it.”
“The music box?”
Duke nodded.
Suddenly, Sherlock’s head swiveled to the hall, in the direction of the steps. He stood up and growled, his hackles rising.
“What is it?” Maria asked, feeling fear quiver in her stomach.
A noise. Someone coming through the backyard. The gate is squealing, Sherlock said.
“Could be the wind,” Maria said uncertainly. Deep down, though, she knew.
“It’s him. He’s found you. I don’t know how, but he’s found you,” Duke confirmed. “You must go. You must find a safe place to hide. I shall visit you again. Go, Maria! Go!”
Maria didn’t wait around. She darted to her dresser and grabbed the music box.
Sherlock had started to bark.
“Gotta get Gramps,” she called and went down the flight of stairs two at a time.
She saw a dark shadow pass the curtains near the back porch. Her heart was beating frantically. The motion-detector light clicked on, and Maria didn’t linger. She turned down the hall and went into the living room. The soap operas were still on. Maria reached out and grabbed for her grandfather’s shoulder—
But there was nothing there.
She looked down at the empty chair in disbelief. It was just a pile of blankets and pillows. “That sneaky son of a bitch,” Maria said.
Sherlock sniffed the air and yelped.
Closer now, he said. We have to run.
Sherlock was right. She couldn’t let whatever this thing was get the music box, even if she didn’t know anything about a village called Dominion on a planet named Oriceran, or a dead boy trapped in a world in between. She saw Duke, and Duke was not a hallucination. No mind could bring up such vivid imagery. She believed now.
Maria went through the door that led to the garage.
“We need a ride,” she muttered in panic.
Gramps’s Firebird sat covered, and the keys were locked somewhere. No time to look for them. She didn’t have a car of her own yet, despite having had her license for three years. She was saving up, but pay at the Popcorn Palace was next to nothing.
Up against the far wall of the garage was a pink bicycle she used to ride around the neighborhood. It had fat white tires, a white wicker basket attached to the handlebars, and pink and white streamers coming off the grips.
“Not the most stylish option,” she admitted.
It’ll have to do, Sherlock yelped. He’s almost in—
An explosion rocked the back door. The ground thrummed, and Sherlock’s nails skidded on the concrete floor.
“Shit. Well, let’s hope I don’t run into Joe,” Maria said.
She hoisted Sherlock up and into the basket, where he did not fit at all, but it would have to do. Instead of opening the automatic garage door, she went out the garage’s side entrance. She felt an urge to look back over her shoulder, but she didn’t.
Once on the blacktop, she pedaled as if her life depended on it.
Which it did.
She would regroup, and then she would come for the son of a bitch who had threatened her and her family.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Lost.
Malakai was lost.
The trail was lost.
All of it, lost.
That was the best way to put it. The Widow would be disappointed. Malakai had failed his master. He’d combed the northeast part of Ohio for weeks. Memories of an old life came to him in waves, and when he tried to shake them from his head, he couldn’t. The only explanation could be that he was close to Ignatius—so close that some form of magic triggered these repressed and dead memories.
But where is he? Where is the music box?
He hadn’t heard from the Widow since that night in the woods, since the night he had first killed. It was worrying him more and more. An emotion like worry wasn’t supposed to affect the dead, yet here he was.
It was getting to him so much so that he’d been seen by more than a handful of people; he had gone against his orders, allowing them to live, and those people had undoubtedly talked. The legend of the giant spider creature was loose; it was a train off of the tracks, but maybe that was a good thing. A little fear could help him out.
Except it wouldn’t help him find Ignatius or the box.
There was one final way, one last resort.
The Order of the Silver Griffins.
That was why he was here, in Akron. Some kind of magical explosion had happened at a putt-putt course called Downview. Malakai watched from the woods opposite of the course, which was closed. There were no lights on near the holes. One hole had been roped off with yellow tape that was marked in an earthling language Malakai wasn’t sure of. Despite all of this, two figures huddled nearby. They had small lights in their hands. One bent down and looked at a ruined husk of plastic while Malakai watched patiently.
“Accident,” Felah Fyre said. She was a newer inductee of the Order, but Tone was letting her take the lead on this case. The nerves were getting to her, despite this one seeming like it would be easy.
“Too late for Never Was, Never Will Be,” Tone said. He squatted down next to her. The pants he wore stretched at the seams. As he got lower, a half-eaten Ho-Ho spilled out of his breast pocket. He picked it up and shoved it into his mouth, cream smearing all over his cheeks and bits of brown cake collecting in his collar.
“Can’t you wait?” Felah asked.
Tone shrugged. “I’m hungry, besides, I’m not technically on the job. This one is all yours, rookie.” He clapped her on the back.
She growled at the gesture. Tone really loved to shove it in Felah’s face that she was new to the Order of the Silver Griffins. It seemed like everyone loved to do that. She was determined to prove that being new didn’t mean being useless.
As soon as word had reached their division about the detection of magic, Felah did some digging on her own.
She’d already figured out the perpetrator before they’d gotten to the putt-putt course. Most of it was luck. She knew Ignatius from Salem’s Ice Cream Shop; her and Salem went way back. The place had bitchin’ ice cream, that much was true, and Ignatius was apt to share all kinds of things about his granddaughter. First her bloodline with Oriceran and the village of Dominion, then her upcoming nineteenth birthday, which was today, and how he’d hoped she’d finally grow into her powers. He had a final last resort to give those powers a boost, though Felah didn’t know what it was.
Turns out that whatever it was had worked.
It could be the only explanation. No one else around these parts would do something as illogical as showcasing magic in front of humans.
“I’ve got a hunch,” Felah said.
T
one cocked his head at her and said, “Lunch?” crumbs falling from his mouth.
“Hunch. I know who did it.”
“Already, rookie? I’m impressed. Well, might as well make an example out of them and show the folks around here who’s the boss.”
“You want to send the perp to Trevilsom?” Felah said, heart skittering in her chest. “No, Tone, that’s—”
“The proper punishment,” Tone finished. He stood up and dug into his pocket, producing a roll of Lifesavers candy. Felah had only been on the job with him for about a week, but in that time he seemed to have eaten at least two grocery stores’ worth of junk food.
“No, Tone. It’s a new witch. That’s all. We can’t go around giving newcomers a death sentence for one mishap.”
“I can and I will.”
Felah rolled her eyes. Typical of Tone. He was a short fellow with a big gut, who suffered from a certain syndrome known as ‘Little Man’s’. What he lacked in height, though, he made up for in width.
“But she’s an important figure’s kin,” Felah said. The shock of sending Ignatius Mangood’s granddaughter to Trevilsom had worn off. Tone talked bigger than he was.
“I don’t care if it’s the Grand Wizard’s own wife. Rules are rules!”
“It’s Ignatius’s granddaughter,” Felah said.
Tone’s face went pale. He dropped the Lifesavers on the ground. They bounced like lost coins and fell into the darkness, gone forever. Or so Felah thought. Tone fell to his knees and tried to find them.
No luck.
Across the street where Malakai slunk low beneath the trees, the word ‘Ignatius’ floated over to him along the wind. His grip against a tree trunk tightened. He wanted to spring forward and kill the witch and wizard where they stood. It was the animalistic instincts kicking in—that, and technically being dead.
No.
He couldn’t do that.
He couldn’t kill them.
Not yet.
He watched. He waited.
“Best we go pay them a visit,” Tone said.
“Eh, I don’t know. I like Ignatius. He’s a good wizard, but he’s…” Felah trailed off.
“What?”
Felah shook her head. “He’s a little scary.”
“That old kook? No way. I’ll stomp him if he gets out of hand,” Tone puffed up.
The Midwest Witch: The Revelations of Oriceran (Midwest Magic Chronicles Book 1) Page 7