by R D Martin
She reached gingerly for it, her hand steady though her nerves were so on edge she felt as if someone had hooked her up to a car battery. Popping open the baggie, she slid its contents out and onto the polished marble counter where leather and wood stood out in stark contrast. Pausing only a moment to take a breath, she picked it up, bracing herself for the images to come.
A flurry of pictures flooded her mind, washing through like a spill from a broken dam, each one horrifying with the bloody carnage they showed. Creatures of all kinds, some she could identify like werewolves and redcaps, fought and died in every manner imaginable. She drowned in blood and slaughter, besieged by screams of the dying and the triumphant yells of victors. Her heart pounded in her chest, thumping so hard it threatened to burst through her ribs. A distant cry rang in her ears.
Through the pain and blood she felt a yearning emanating from the final piece of the shard. Beyond the blood, beyond the slaughter and death that surrounded it, the shard wanted something else. It wanted to be whole again, to reunite with its missing pieces. And it whispered promises into her ear, promises of glory and riches, of adventure and adulation. It promised her the world and everything in it if she would make it whole again.
The images changed with each promise. She saw herself seated at the head of a large table, world leaders deferring to her wisdom. Behind them a large screen displayed news articles of peace being spread around the globe. Sure, some peace was enforced by her massive armies, but for the first time in history, armed conflict around the globe ended. The voice in the back of her mind promised it could be hers.
The scene blurred, and when it solidified, she saw herself heavy with child and cradled in William’s arms. His pleasant smile sent shivers coursing through her body, adding to the warmth of his arms around her. He kissed her neck and the feeling spread until every inch of her basked in his warm touch. The voices promised her a life of safety, a life of content.
Another blur as the scene shifted and this time she saw her city, though somehow it wasn’t her city. It took a moment before she realized what was different. Towering above the humans moving about their own business was a giant, carefully shuffling through the crowd. There were no panicked screams of men and women. It was as though this was a common thing. Looking closer, she could see other beings walking among the humans. A werewolf, half transformed and covered in fur, stood in front of a street vendor ordering coffee. A gargoyle, all gray with large wings, stepped aside for a woman entering a shop. A billboard overhead advertised the latest magical advancement for weight loss. And no one cared. No one screamed. The voice in her head promised it could make this real. She wouldn’t have to hide what she was. Instead she could practice in a world where the supernatural and mundane lived together openly.
Make me whole, the voice promised, and everything will be yours. The world will be yours.
She didn’t even feel her hand move as it brought the handle of the blade in contact with a shard. A blast of white light exploded from the contact, illuminating the entire lobby and sending creatures in the rafters, some of which had not seen light in centuries, screeching and skittering for new hiding places. A wave of heat rolled over her but didn’t leave so much as a scorch mark in its passing.
Yes, the voice in her head cried. Yes. Again. Make me whole. Do this. Join my missing piece and you’ll know every joy under the heavens. I will be yours to wield and bring the world to its knees. The blade vibrated in her hand, pulling at both her mind and her body. It was ready. Ready to kill, ready to swim in oceans of blood and gore.
“Stop.” The voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but reverberated through her with a strength she’d never felt. It fought against the images, ignoring the blade’s promises, and as she felt strength returning she realized the voice hadn’t come from the Finder, but from her. “No. Not this. I don’t want this.”
Struggling, she forced her hand to open, to drop the blade. It felt as though her fingers were glued to the leather handle as she peeled them away. Finally able to open her hand, she let the blade drop to the counter, where it cut away a chunk of the dark marble. Staggering back, winded from the effort and trying to ignore her stomach as it did flips, she stared at the joined pieces where they lay. Even from here she could feel its power, its excitement at nearly being complete, and it frightened her more than anything she’d ever known. Its promises had lured her in and she’d almost succumbed.
“Well done. Very well done. You know, I wasn’t sure you had it in you,” said a voice behind her.
Turning, she saw the Finder’s assistant standing behind her, leaning on a steel pole topped with a very sharp ax blade. The way he held it implied it wasn’t the first time either.
“What? How?” she started. She hadn’t even seen him move from the other side of the counter.
“Oh, well, you know. Precautions and all,” he said, leaning the pole against a nearby column. “I’m rather impressed. Few could have held firm against the blade’s promises, but you did. Yes, you did. He had faith in you the entire time, but, well, I’m more of a pessimist.”
From somewhere in his thick stringy fur, the assistant retrieved a pair of very thick, very large gloves and pulled them on. In one move he scooped up the blade and the last shard and, giving her a nod, turned to walk into the surrounding darkness.
It will be safe here, intruded a thought as she watched the assistant disappear. She’d almost forgotten about the Finder, but he’d not forgotten her. The caterpillar-like creature inched forward before rising again to its full height. “I will keep it safe, keep the pieces separated from each other.”
She could only nod as she agreed with him. There was no way she would have anything to do with that anymore. Her relief was soon mixed with fear. How was she going to rescue Samantha without the weapon?
As though reading her mind, the Finder cocked its head to the side.
“I don’t understand,” said the Finder. “You are a witch, and a strong one. Why do you need a weapon?”
“You haven’t seen him. You don’t know how strong he is,” she countered, trying to send him images of Chryso battering through the door in his dungeon.
“Yes, he is strong, but is he powerful?”
“What do you mean? Of course he’s powerful. He ripped through that door like it was nothing. And the creatures he’s sent…”
“True,” replied the Finder with the same light tone in its voice a teacher uses with a dull student. “He is strong and has allies, but is he powerful? Has he reached out from across the distance between you and swatted you like an insect? Has he borne down on you with the weight of a mountain to squash you beneath his heel? Has he yanked you from where you stand to appear before him on your knees?”
“I don’t…”
“He is strong, but you are powerful.” As though on a reel, images of her latest exploits flitted through her mind. Her fight with the Goblins, then later with the Lank. The Myias Flies, the black dogs, and even the ram-headed snake. “You survived and showed you are strong too, but you went beyond that. You fought the Fallen Blade and won. That is power.”
"Okay, say you’re right. But even if I’m more powerful,” she said, putting air quotes around the word, “I still don’t know where he’s keeping Samantha.”
“What does that matter?”
“What? Why does it matter?” She felt her blood boil and her hackles rise. Hadn’t he been paying attention? It was why she’d come to him.
“Yes. Why does it matter? It’s not important where they were. They will not always be there.” The upper part of the Finder’s body bounced as if it was being tugged by an invisible string. “But you know where they’re going to be.”
“Yeah, they’re going to be dead.”
“Possibly,” the Moab nodded, conceding her point. "But where is he going to kill them?”
“How should I know? It’s not like he’s sent me an invitation. All I know is it’s supposed to be tonight and at something called a Bloo
d Altar.”
“Yes, the Vomo Aimatos. Go there and you will find them.”
“But where is it?”
“You already know,” he said, sending her an image of her living room in which she and Cat sat on the couch while William told her a story, waving his hands dramatically in the air. She recognized it from right after they’d escaped from Chryso’s mansion.
“No, I still don’t understand. Wait, you mean he knows? He’s seen it?”
The Finder nodded again.
“I’ve, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to find him. Thanks, thank you for… helping. I’ve got to go.” Turning, she started sprinting across the polished floor.
“Bella,” called the Finder behind her, stopping her short.
Turning, she looked toward the counter. From this distance the Moab was almost invisible. “What? I’ve got to—”
“Your father.”
“What? What about my father?” Her heart pounded a staccato rhythm in her chest.
“Your father. He would be proud of you.”
This time when the image in front of her blurred, it was because of tears she was trying to fight back.
24
“So,” she said, staring into William’s brilliant blue eyes. “That’s it. That’s why I need your help and I can’t do this without you. I’m sorry, too. I’ve treated you horribly from the beginning when you didn't deserve any of it. I blamed you for Cat and Samantha and everything. And I’m sorry.”
Though she had a knot in her stomach from worry about how he’d take her apology, at least he’d shown up. She’d spent hours literally biting her nails, worrying he might not even after leaving him several messages. Every time she’d called, it went straight to voicemail. The last time, she didn’t even get that much as the robotic voice informed her the voicemail box was full. Upset, she’d taken a cab to his building to talk to him in person.
In her worry she’d forgotten the ward surrounding the building and her attempts to enter failed, leaving her with no choice but to wait for him to either arrive or leave. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long as he strode out the front door.
“Okay then. What do we do now?”
“What, just like that?” she asked, surprised at his reaction.
“Well, yeah. Unless you want to apologize again. I love the way you blush when you do. It’s like watching an old cartoon when the temperature just keeps going up.”
“I don’t do that,” she insisted, though she could feel a blush rising.
“Sure you don’t. Anyway, what’s next?”
“Well, we’ve got to stop whatever ceremony he’s planning tonight,” she said, ticking off the points on her fingers. “Rescue Samantha and the other kids and then get out before he kills us.”
“Oh, no problem then. Just a few questions. First, how do we get in? Second, just because the Blood Altar is there doesn’t mean the kids are. Third, when we try to stop him, he will probably have a lot of guards. What do we do about them? And once we have the kids, how do we get out?”
“Getting in won’t be a problem,” she said, plunking Browser’s heavy gold ring on the table. “And if we time it right, Samantha will be there. He’ll keep them nearby for the ceremony. For guards, I’m sure he won't have too many. He doesn’t want word getting out about what he’s doing, does he? Besides, we’ve handled everything he’s thrown at us so far. And as for getting out, you still have the Edoeki rod, right?”
William nodded, though his hesitation as he did so set a worrying tingle dancing across her arms.
“All right. So we go in, get Samantha and the others, and get out.”
“There’s still one major flaw in your plan,” William said, though he didn’t need to. She could see it as plainly as he could.
“Chryso,” she said, sliding down in her chair a bit.
“Chryso,” he agreed. “Even if everything else goes right, we will still have him to deal with. He knows who we are, or at least who you are. Did you have to set the building on fire? Anyway, assume we get in, get the job done, and get out, we will still have to deal with a powerful, very pissed off man who has the resources to find us anywhere we can think of running.”
She’d been thinking something along the same lines. The Finder said she was stronger than him, something she believed about as much as winning the lottery twice, but she would have to face him sooner or later.
“I’ll… I’ll deal with that when the time comes. The important thing is getting Samantha out and safe.”
The phone in her pocket buzzed, causing her to flinch a bit. Pulling out the phone, the timer she’d set flashed on the screen. There was just about an hour left until sundown, the time she’d figured Chryso would have his ceremony. In the world of magic, sunrise and sunset, those in-between moments when the world was neither light nor dark, were special times.
“Look, you’re helping, right? So we’ve got to go now.”
“Are you sure? There’s still time. We could reach out to the Imperium, let them know what’s going on.”
“They won't do anything and you know it. As long as Chryso doesn’t expose our world, they’ll sit back and let him do anything he wants. Besides, with his money, we don’t know that he doesn’t have the Imperium in his pocket anyway, do we?”
Rising, she picked up the gold ring from the table and slipped it on. It was made for a fat man’s fingers, so she wasn’t surprised it was too large, but gave a squeak when the golden band rippled like a living creature. As though made of a soft clay rather than forged metal, the ring danced and pulsed with waves of energy and warmth flowing from it. Before she could snatch it off, the band contracted, shrinking down to fit her finger as though crafted for her by a fine jeweler.
A light tug and the ring slid off her finger easily. She examined the shiny metal for any other signs of life, but it lay unmoving in the palm of her hand.
“You sure you want to do this?” she heard William ask beside her. From the corner of her vision, she just saw him shoving something small and purple into his pocket.
“What are you?” she asked, looking at him as he patted his pockets.
“You’re not expecting me to go in there unarmed, are you? You’re the mighty witch, I’m just the dude with a lot of toys. So, we doing this?” His sly grin was infectious and his eyes twinkled with a mischievous light, making her think of kids about to do something they knew could get them in trouble but still couldn't resist doing. Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to the weight in her hand. Nodding, determined she was doing the right thing, she slipped the ring back on.
Standing in place, hand against the wall, she felt a ball of ice form in the pit of her stomach when nothing happened. She’d spoken the right words, copying Browser exactly, so why wasn’t it working? Dark thoughts began flitting through her mind. Maybe the ring only worked in his office. Maybe it was just a key to a door there and nowhere else. Maybe, maybe…
Before she could continue down that rabbit hole, the wall beneath her hand rippled like a pool of water. As she watched, the rippling surface of the wall slowed and the white plaster and paint shifted color, fading as though being erased from the memory of the universe.
It was very odd watching the wall disappear, revealing a darkened room on the other side, though she could still feel the surface beneath her hand. When the shifting stopped, even that disappeared, leaving her holding her hand in the open air of a doorway.
Dropping her arm, she stepped through and turned to make room for William. As she did, she forced herself to choke back a scream. Instead of seeing him standing in the doorway, all she saw was a gray stone wall with her companion’s hand and sleeve protruding from it. Before she could think, she reached out and jerked at the hand, praying she hadn’t done something wrong. Maybe he needed to go through the doorway before she did. Maybe her going through closed it. Was he back at his apartment, lying on the floor and bleeding to death because she'd cut his arm off?
“What was that ab
out?” William asked as he jerked through the wall without so much as a scratch on him.
Her relief was palpable, and the choking feeling in her throat melted a little, though her heart continued to pound much too loud and fast as she threw her arms around his neck. Holding him tight for a moment, she let go, stepped back, and turned, trying to hide her anxious blush.
“We’ve got to go,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the hitch in her voice that sounded so loud in her ears. “And thank you. For coming, I mean.”
Ignoring the empty cell, she strode to the repaired door and gave the handle a sharp tug. The heavy wooden door refused to budge for a moment, but, putting her shoulder to it, she felt it swing open slowly. Stepping through, heedless of what lay on the other side, she left William scratching his head for a moment before he too moved to catch up to her.
25
Though she felt sure nobody would be in this alcove, she checked anyway. The room with the torture devices didn’t look like they had touched it, and the room with the pig and straw pile—she still found the idea of her former manager being a transformed pig both horrifying and apropos—was empty. Holding her breath, she poked her head out of the alcove and into the hallway beyond, jerking it back as fast.
Lifting her hand, she held up two fingers before pointing to the hall.
William nodded and waved her out of his way. Pulling a purple object out of his pocket, he mumbled and started stroking its top. For the first time since his apartment, she could get a good look at it. About three inches long, it looked like a piece of dried putty with a purple moss coat. As he stroked the mass, small runes carved into the top flashed to life one by one. When the last one lit and burned out, he motioned her to back up even farther as he set the object on the floor of the hall just beyond the edge of the door.