by Krista Walsh
Gabe is certainly not going to want to talk to you now, she thought, then pushed out a breath. What did it matter? He had been nothing more than a recurring thought for nine months. Now even the memory of him would be tainted by her overreaction, so eventually he would pass out of her mind altogether. Like she’d thought in his office: if he’d wanted to come and see her, he would have.
But if she was no longer planning to hire him, she would need to come up with another solution. If she didn’t, Ara would, and Vera didn’t want to put that responsibility on her friend’s shoulders.
Vera laid her planner across her knees and tapped the end of her pen against the paper. The movement of her fingers helped keep her thoughts focused on something other than the mishmash in her head.
There was always the option of Ezel’s bodyguards. If Vera had them watch the store after hours, the Ghurgzic demons would likely go unnoticed.
Too bad they were also expensive and had a bad habit of eating on the job. She didn’t want her customers wondering why her shop reeked of raw goat.
What if she handled the situation herself? The thief had been quick, but not very creative. As long as she made sure to be home in the evenings — and, really, where else would she be, other than running her dogs? She hadn’t had an evening out since her father died — she could set up a system to catch the man before he reached the staff room. He had the skill and knowledge to disable the alarm system, but if Ezel installed a motion sensor at the front of the store that sent a silent alarm to her apartment, she would know when to go downstairs. It would even serve to alert her if he made his attempt after she fell asleep or during a summons trance. If the thief didn’t know the alarm had sounded, he might not rush to get out of the store before she arrived.
By the flash of red in the man’s eyes, she guessed he had used magic to increase his strength to shove her away, which could be a problem. At least now, though, she was prepared for such a maneuver. She could take precautions the next time they met.
Such a solution would still mean taking the responsibility on herself, thus going against Ara’s wishes, but at least it would also include asking for Ezel’s help. That was a sort of compromise.
A tendril of guilt wrapped around the back of her mind, and she squeezed her hand into a fist where it rested on the armrest. Ara had already left for the day by the time Vera had returned from Gabe’s office, so she still didn’t know that Vera had come home empty-handed. Vera wasn’t in a rush to tell her. She didn’t want to see the soft disapproval and concern that had become so familiar over the years. Ara would want to talk about what had happened, and might try to reassure Vera that the meeting hadn’t gone as poorly as she thought it had. While Vera loved Ara dearly, she didn’t want false hope. And she especially did not want to return to Gabe’s office to make a fool of herself a second time.
At least she’d taken her advice as far as going to see Gabe. She just wished he’d been able to offer better guidance than to spend money on more bells and whistles. An upgraded system might get the thief to run, but it wouldn’t help her find out who he was. The longer she sat with the question of how he’d learned about the book, the more she wanted to know why he wanted it.
At her feet, Vidar yawned and snorted before settling again on the rug. Baxter was curled up on his blue blanket on the sofa, his brown eyes staring at her, fighting sleep.
Vera reached for her tea, but the drink had gone cold. She looked out the window at the starry sky and realized hours must have passed since she’d sat down in her chair. No wonder Baxter was staring at her; he was probably starving.
She groaned and stretched her legs in front of her, feeling unmotivated to press through the routine of her evening. Setting her planner on the end table, she pushed herself out of her chair and grabbed the poker from the stand. She prodded the logs until they popped and resettled. Vidar jolted at the noise, and a low growl emanated from deep in his throat. Vera rested her hand on his head to soothe him, and he pressed his nose into her palm.
“How do you think he learned about the book?” she asked her boys, but although both of them raised their heads to look at her, neither provided an opinion.
With the fresh wave of warmth filling the room, she went into the kitchen and grabbed the tub of dog food from under the counter.
Despite Gabe’s questions, Vera knew Ara had nothing to do with it. Vera’s father had continually lectured both of them about The Fettered Wolf and the importance of keeping it a secret. While Vera certainly understood her responsibility, Ara’s experience in the world — both in tree spirit form and in her previous human incarnations — offered the dryad a unique insight into the danger such a collection of information presented. Her knowledge of other powerful relics made her understand better than anyone the necessity of keeping it hidden. There was no way she would risk someone else finding out about it.
The only other people who knew of the book were Vera’s parents, and they were gone. Both Susan and Greg were only children, and their parents were long dead, too, so the chances of the information coming from someone in her family were next to nonexistent.
Vera herself had never mentioned the book to anyone, not having anyone in her life she deemed trustworthy enough to speak of it.
And it would have taken a bright researcher to find even a mention of The Fettered Wolf in the history books. In her years as keeper, she’d done a great deal of her own research, hoping to get a better appreciation for the precious artifact she guarded, but the only references she had found described a powerful book that had gone missing centuries ago and was believed to have been destroyed. She couldn’t even be sure the references were for her book.
So that left what answer? That someone had been guided to it by magic?
Vera set the filled dog bowls on the floor beside the water dishes, then tossed the tub back in the cupboard. She brushed her hair out of her face and tugged on her sweater to smooth out the creases that had bunched around her waist.
To her amazement, the dogs didn’t respond to their dinner.
“I thought you two were hungry,” she said.
Vidar growled again and got to his feet, his nose pressed to the rug as he paced the living room toward the doorway. Baxter sat up, his ears alert.
Vera froze, responding to their behavior as though they’d spoken. Maybe Vidar hadn’t been growling at the fire after all.
She stepped to the apartment door and eased it open, blocking the gap with her leg to keep the dogs from pushing past her. Vidar’s growling grew into a low rumble, and the hair on the back of her neck rose at the sound of a voice coming from downstairs.
Another attempt? So soon?
It didn’t make sense. If the thief was just after the book, why take the risk of trying three times in two weeks? It suggested real desperation.
Vera’s stomach twisted and she slowly closed the door, keeping the doorknob turned to avoid the click of the latch. Baxter offered a soft bark as he climbed off the sofa, and she shushed him.
Grabbing Vidar by the collar, she guided him into her bedroom, then grabbed Baxter’s collar as he nudged her leg, leading him in afterward. With magic involved, she didn’t want to take the risk of sending them after whoever was downstairs.
Once they were safely enclosed, she returned to the apartment door, making sure no light from the fire made its way into the shop as she opened it. She stepped onto the stairs and closed the door behind her, shrouding herself in darkness.
“Rega? What’s taking so long?” a low voice hissed below, the speaker hidden by one of the bookcases.
Vera stilled, hoping no one else could hear her heartbeat as clearly as she did. It echoed in her ears, growing louder and faster until it pressed on her lungs. She exhaled slowly and clenched her hands at her sides.
No one replied to the man’s question, so she couldn’t guess how many people there were this time. It didn’t matter. Their magic would bounce off her without trouble, leaving them no more of a threat t
han a gang of mundane thugs. She could handle them.
In spite of her pep talk, her mouth went dry, and she darted her tongue over her lips to moisten them, without success.
Watching where she stepped so she didn’t set off any of the screaming floorboards, she made her way down to the shop, keeping to the shadows. The stairs were mostly shielded by the bookcases, preventing her from seeing the thieves — but also preventing them from seeing her.
Relying on that advantage and her knowledge of the shop’s layout, she crouched down at the bottom of the stairs and lurched across the open space to duck behind the front counter, keeping low. From the back of the store came the sound of the restricted room door grinding across the hardwood, and she cringed. How long would it take for these thieves to get into her safe, and what would they do when they discovered the item they sought wasn’t there?
Slowly, she peered over the edge of the counter and spotted the man who had broken in the night before last. Apparently, he’d been demoted to watchdog tonight. His nose twitched as he cast his gaze over the front of the store, switching his attention between the window and the stairs.
The man obviously wasn’t nearly as good at keeping watch as he was at breaking into safes.
A red glow touched his fingers and spread over his hands. He shook them out to clear the magic, but his eyes retained a red luster, and his fingers twitched.
Jumpy man with magic. Now there’s a security risk.
Vera glanced to the left, toward the back room, and saw nothing but shelves. Three bookcases stood between her and the other thief. It wouldn’t give her much time, but maybe enough.
Drawing in a deep breath, she turned and hurried in a crouch around the counter toward the front door. Then she waited until the man glanced toward the stairs again to dart across the room and duck behind an armchair. The man looked back and raised his hands, wary now, but uncertain. He took a few steps forward, his magic infusing his skin, surrounding him with a crimson aura.
Upstairs, Vidar barked, and the man whirled toward the sound. Vera took the opportunity to run at him. She grabbed him around the chest with one arm, clamped her other hand over his mouth, and dragged him back past the counter, far from the restricted room. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Tell me what you’re after.”
He swung his hand backward over his shoulder toward her face, his red-glowing fingers coming within an inch of her cheek. She darted her head out of the way and sidestepped his elbow as he jerked it back. She squeezed him tighter around the chest, and he twisted his head to see her. With his other hand, he tossed a ball of pure magic over his shoulder.
She cursed as the magic struck her in the chest.
Heat sizzled against the collar of her sweater, charring the material where the magic had hit and rippling across her skin. The thief’s eyes widened once he realized he’d done no damage, and his irises flashed red. The red hue around his fingers grew brighter as he summoned another spell, but she didn’t have the patience to let him take another strike at her.
Accepting that she’d get no answers from him, Vera closed her hand into a fist and dropped it over the back of his skull. He crumpled to the floor and decked his head on the wall, slumping against the door.
One down.
The floorboards creaked behind her, and Vera tensed. She balled her hands into fists and threw a punch as she whipped around.
In her mind, she pictured how the fight would go. Her blow would slam into the side of the second thief’s head, and he would collapse like the first. Then she could drag them both downstairs to the cellar and question them until she knew everything she needed to keep the book safe.
But mid-swing, the man caught her wrist and twisted her arm, sending her sprawling across the floor.
At the impact of the hardwood against her spine, the air burst from Vera’s lungs, and her heart jumped into her throat.
The man towered over her, his face obscured in shadow. He didn’t give her time to recover. He grabbed her by the front of her sweater and hauled her to her feet, reeling back his arm to throw a punch of his own. Vera ducked away from the blow and darted a kick into the space below his kneecap. The knee joint gave out and he dropped, but she went down with him, his fingers still curled into her sweater.
She wriggled to free herself, the material tearing under his grip. He backhanded her across the face, sending sparks through her vision, but she retaliated with a swift punch to his nose. The bone cracked and his head flew back, but he used the momentum to swing it forward, slamming his forehead against hers.
Stars exploded into bright bursts of light as pain shot through her skull. As Vera tried to refocus, the thief slid his hands around her throat and squeezed. Air strained in and out of Vera’s lungs, damming in her chest, and the bursts of light softened into a black haze. She struggled to breathe, still swinging her arms to attack, but the man remained just out of reach.
Headlights moving down the street cut through the darkness of the shop, and she got her first look at deep black eyes and a sly grin that only grew as she squeaked and squirmed for freedom. His skin, deathly white, was smooth and shiny like wax, and his black hair slid over the shoulders of his coat like oil.
Tears trickled out of the corners of her eyes. Her chest burned, and her face felt bloated, flushed. Her heart raced, slamming against her ribs, desperate for oxygen, and she kicked her feet against the floorboards to try to find purchase. Anything to gain leverage to wrench away.
It was no use. This man’s strength matched hers, and he had beaten her. In a few more seconds, she would drift into unconsciousness, and then he would tear the shop apart looking for the book. As soon as he found the other safe, nothing would stand in his way.
Despair and terror overwhelmed her thoughts, but behind them, part of her brain was still working. In a final effort, she drove her mental fingers into the thief’s mind and grabbed hold. His eyes widened, then narrowed in awareness, but she didn’t let go. With the energy she had left, she dropped the image of a great beast rising behind him, its sharp fangs primed and ready to tear into his flesh.
Sweat beaded on the thief’s brow, and Vera pushed the image harder. The beast burst into flames, its eyes nothing more than glowing embers full of malice and the promise of a slow, torturous death. It raised its front leg and stretched out its talons. Great wings burst out from between its shoulders, reaching across the entire width of the shop. It threw back its head and released a spew of flame that scurried across the ceiling, coming down toward the thief’s head.
The thief’s breath came faster, his eyes wide with horror. He swung around and hurled Vera into the beast’s projected grasp. She gasped for air, wheezing as the fresh wave of oxygen stung her lungs. Her throat closed and she retched as she stumbled and dropped to her knees, her legs unable to hold her weight.
She turned to the thief, hoping to see him running out the door, but he stood staring at the monster that existed only in the connection of their minds. Vera made it step toward him and he took a step backward. Then he looked at her and snarled. Still weak, she had no time to defend herself as the thief raised his fist against her and brought it down on the side of her head.
The fire in Vera’s mind extinguished, and the world went dark.
***
Vera floated. Her body was numb, as though she were wrapped in gauze. But the sensation of nothingness didn’t bother her. Part of her mind knew she should be in pain, that the numbness was a reprieve, so she glided along with it, enjoying the silence of wherever she was.
Vaguely, she recalled that something important had happened. Something potentially horrible. Or horrible if it happened again. She couldn’t pin down the thought long enough to make sense of it. She allowed the blurred memory to drift away with the rest of her body, knowing she would be dealing with it soon enough.
As she floated, she thought she heard someone call her name, and awareness seeped back to her. She thought of the darkness of last night, when that invisib
le wall had closed in on her in her dreams. Panic set fire to her nerves and she opened her eyes, expecting to find herself in bed.
Instead she found herself in the shop. Except it wasn’t the shop she knew and loved. Everything was the same, but slightly askew. As though someone had rearranged a few subtle details while she was unconscious, like raising all the bookcases one foot off the ground.
Carefully, she got to her feet, still feeling numb. She stretched her hands out in front of her, and they didn’t feel like her own.
Not awake, then. Dreaming. And someone was calling to her. Just like the other night, she sensed someone else’s presence, but this time she felt more in control of herself. If this was one of the thieves testing her, she was ready for him.
She looked around. There was no one else in the shop, and yet the voice of the caller persisted.
Vera stood still and strained her ears to make out what it was saying. The voice remained muffled, more the idea of words than someone actually speaking. She tried covering her ears to block it out, but it only got louder, as though it came from within her rather than without.
Irritated, she walked across the shop and peered out the window to the street. Into nothingness. A thick fog blocked her view, and although shadowy figures stood beyond it, they were too far away for her to make out who — or what — they were.
The book.
The thought jumped into her mind, and she hurried toward the staff room behind the counter where she kept the second safe. She had to make sure it was still here.
No, she told herself. That’s ridiculous. This is nothing more than a dream.
Vera slowed her steps and walked among the stacks instead. She tried to read the spines of the books, but the markings were too blurred to form words.
Before she realized it, her feet had taken her back toward the room behind the counter.
The voice was speaking again, and this time the sound was accompanied by a gentle nudge. Vera’s fingers brushed over the door handle.