It was a cottage.
In fact, it wasn’t just any cottage. “I recognize this place,” Isaac said, “from my childhood.”
His Guardian gave no reply.
“Doctor?” Isaac asked, and when he craned his neck around he saw the Good Doctor’s tall form hunched over and using the trees for support. Isaac rushed to help his Guardian, taking it under the arm and hoisting it up with his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“The Void saps my energy. You must hurry.”
“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do in here.”
“Then you must learn, and in order to learn, you must become.”
The wind blew the cottage’s front door open. It banged hard against the interior of the house and the sound snapped Isaac’s mind back into clarity, and then into action. He helped the Good Doctor walk across the narrow dirt path toward the cabin’s front door and then escorted the Guardian inside. He shut the door and drew the big iron lock across it. This drowned out most of the noise save for the muted howling of the wind outside and the flapping of a shutter somewhere upstairs.
Isaac looked around and took the place in. This was the same cottage, alright. His grandparents had owned it a long time ago. When they passed, they had given the cottage to his father who would then use it during the cold months as a retreat from real life. He saw the fireplace on which many a stocking had hung during Christmas, noticed the cuckoo clock on the wooden support beam closest to the kitchen, and found the slippers his father used to wear next to his favorite arm chair.
It was all so real; a waking, lucid dream he didn’t want to snap out of.
“I remember this place well,” Isaac said. “I haven’t seen it in decades.”
“This place is a compilation of your most comforting memories. Your mind summoned them; I simply made them real to you.”
A door closed upstairs with a bang.
“Is someone here?” Isaac asked.
“I do not know. I have little control here.”
Isaac looked up at the ceiling, then at the stairs, and approached them. His Guardian followed, though slowly, one step at a time. The cottage was small and the stairs were tight and narrow—narrower still, now that Isaac was an adult and not a child. But this was of no consequence. Isaac climbed until he reached the next floor. Here there were three doors—one to the right, one to the left, and one directly ahead. The doors to either side of him were ajar, but the one ahead was closed.
That’s the one I heard, he thought, and he approached.
As he went, he caught glimpses of each of the other rooms in his periphery. The room on the left was a bathroom, while the one on the right was his old cottage bedroom. Through the gap in the door he spotted a small red fire engine on the floor, blue sheets and drapes, and a ‘nick nick’—picnic—basket sitting on a table. This brought a smile to his face, but the pain in his chest seemed to get worse as if trying to compensate for the happiness he was feeling.
Finally, he got to the closed door. He placed one hand on the wooden surface and another one on the knob. Isaac pushed the door open, but what he saw sent him reeling. He sucked in a breath of air and grabbed the doorframe, frozen for a moment, before stepping into the room like a man who had drunk too many pints of beer.
His mother’s body lay on the floor at the foot of the bed, her wrists open and covered in crimson fluid which was pooling on the hardwood floor. She was slumped against the bed itself, her neck lolling, her hair covering her face. He approached, not because he thought she was alive—this woman had been dead more than twenty-five years—but because he couldn’t stop himself. Tears were welling up in his eyes as the memory of her smiling face collided with the horrifying sight he had seen as a child.
A sight he had locked away in the back of his mind since the day he found her like this, in this very spot.
“Why are you showing me this?” he asked, his voice wavering. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I am not,” the Good Doctor said. “This is not my doing.”
“Then whose is it?” Isaac asked, spinning around on the spot.
“Mine,” said a voice from behind.
Of all the people he had thought he might see in this memory space—his father, his mother—a doppelganger wasn’t one of them. His arms were folded above his chest and he was leaning against the wooden frame. He was dressed the same as Isaac, wore the same brass bangle on his right wrist, and had long hair slicked back over his head, but his eyes were dark, and black veins were expanding from the corners of his mouth.
“What figment of my subconscious are you meant to be?” Isaac asked.
“Oh, I’m not a figment of your subconscious—I’m the thing that’s killing you. It’s nice to meet in person, so to speak, even if you are about to die.”
“This isn’t the way I die.”
“You’ve said that before and it was true then, yes, but I’m not so sure it’s true now.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you are in my house, Isaac Moreau, and by coming here you have made me more powerful than I could have been out there, in your world.”
“I had to come. I had no choice.”
“That’s right, you didn’t. It was either stay in that cave and die like your friend, or come here and have a fighting chance. Only the fighting chance you thought you had was as much an illusion as this poor excuse for a shield that Guardian of yours has conjured. The only way you’re getting out of here is if you kill me, and since I’m a part of you, killing me will ultimately kill you, so I offer you a choice.”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed like a sniper staring down his scope, ready to take down his target. He couldn’t stop his hands from becoming fists, couldn’t stop them from pressing so tightly his knuckles turned white, but he kept his composure. Being angry, being afraid—neither of these things would help him here, he knew. In fact, they would not only contribute to his downfall, but almost guarantee it.
“What’s the choice?” Isaac asked.
“I let you live out the rest of your time here, in this comfortable house, with that girl of yours. When the time is up, you hand me your body and I take it away.”
“Do you really think I’m going to just surrender to you like this?”
“No, I suspected you would want to fight, but let none say I’m not a good sport.”
Outside, the howling wind made a long, drawn out wail of a sound like a dying cat. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the sky darkened.
“Now,” Isaac’s doppelganger said, “Shall we begin?”
CHAPTER 15
Cornered Cats
Alice awoke with a start, her heart hammering in her throat, her pillow wet and cold. She breathed deep, then exhaled long, and repeated the process two more times until finally some semblance of calm settled over her.
“Cameron?” she asked as she stepped out of the bed. One after the other, she slipped her boots back on before standing and stretching. “Are you in here?”
Must not be, she thought, and she headed outside and into the sunny morning.
Sunny mornings in Ashwood were like Bigfoot; a myth. The entire city seemed to be perpetually covered in a never-ending blanket of clouds. Sometimes they were thinner and lighter than other days. Sometimes there were breaks in the clouds where full sunlight could pierce and touch the land for a couple of hours. But the nights in Ashwood were cold, and the mornings were gray. That was just the law of the land.
Today, somehow, was an exception, and Alice was treated not only to the sun, but to an entire garden of large, docile, content cats. Nuala, the Bengal, was there, lounging near a swimming pool and letting the sun caress her fur. Nearby were two tussling tiger cubs, a lion, a fully grown leopard, and more domestic cats than she had seen in one place in her whole life. But the queen of the garden was the Siberian white tiger strolling along the path.
This cat was the most beautiful thing Alice had ever seen, and Alice had laid eyes on the supposed goddess of the nig
ht. Its fur shone brilliant and white in the sun, its nose was pink and wide, and its eyes were the clear blue of the crystal clear water in some exotic place. Alice approached, careful not to touch any of the other cats and feeling much like a minesweeper as she navigated around animals she feared could at any moment switch on and decide they didn’t like her.
The white tiger settled down on a spot of grass clear of any other cat and began grooming itself, licking its big paw with its big pink tongue and running it across its own face. Alice, her hands trembling slightly, knelt beside the cat and slowly stretched out her hand. The cat paused, gave her its clear blue eyes, and wiggled its nose at her fingers, then went back to grooming.
“You’re a natural.”
Cameron’s voice almost made her jump right out of her skin. “Jesus,” she said, “You scared me half to death.”
“You don’t have anything to be scared of in here.”
Alice drew herself up and helped him with the big box he was carrying. “What’s in the box?”
“Boomer balls,” he said, and he opened the box and pulled a series of big rubber balls out of it. He handed one to Alice and asked her to throw it at an empty space. As soon as she did, the tiger cubs went running for it and began to paw and bite it. Some of the larger cats moved around and sniffed the larger balls where they fell, but mostly they seemed happy to sit in the sun for a while.
“This place is incredible,” Alice said.
“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. The white tiger is gorgeous.”
Cameron smiled at the tiger, but his expression darkened. Alice noticed. “That’s Hope,” Cameron said. “She’s… sick.”
“Sick? She doesn’t look sick.”
“White tigers are heavily inbred, more so than any other kind. That kind of thing causes mental problems, as well as physiological deformities. Her immune system isn’t as strong as Nuala’s, and her eyesight isn’t great.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Don’t feel too bad. She was on the brink of death when we found her. I’d say she was lucky to come to me; with magic I’ve been able to slowly bring her back to health, and I think I can fix her immune system even if I can’t fix her eyesight. But the truth is I was lucky to find her.”
“What do you mean?”
Cameron smiled again. “Never mind, I’d rather not go into it.”
“Hey, last night I shared something with you that only one other person in this world knows. I think I’m owed a story, if you have one to tell.”
She had told him about her… peculiar condition. It was the only way she could explain how much she knew about Nyx, and how she knew exactly what had happened to the people who used to live in Raegan’s building. Telling him had been difficult. Her nerves had caused her to shake almost violently as she spoke, but Cameron was a good listener. He made it easy. And when it was done she had felt as light as a cloud.
“It’s not that great a story,” Cameron said, “Hope just came at a time when I needed it. That’s why we called her Hope.”
“Is it about a girl?” Alice asked.
“How about I just invite you over here one day to volunteer?”
Alice looked over at Hope and considered this. She imagined a future where she could stroke that big cat’s cheeks in the same way Cameron had done to Nuala last night. “I can come over? Just like that?”
“Yeah, we’re always looking for an extra hand. Besides, they like you.”
“I’ll consider it… after you tell me this story you’re withholding.”
“I’m not going to talk about it, okay?”
Alice frowned. Had she upset him? How? Maybe she had pushed too far. She hadn’t considered the topic may be difficult and not awkward. Had he lost someone? If he had, then she was being inconsiderate and that wasn’t cool. She was about to put her hand on his shoulder to try and apologize when, almost instantly, the wind changed.
Cameron noticed this too and perked up. The breeze had been a soft, easterly one, but it was now blowing westward and had picked up speed. Alice felt a thousand tiny ants crawl up her back and spread over her arms. It wasn’t just the wind that had changed, but the sun was fading too. When Alice looked up she saw thick clouds churning and converging above the sanctuary like a terrible time-lapse video.
“This isn’t natural,” she said.
“No… it’s not,” Cameron said, also watching the clouds change.
Alice’s instincts kicked in and she bolted for the front gate with Cameron at her side, leaping fearlessly over the big cats which had now started to move back into their sheltered habitats. Her boots slammed hard on the grass and the mud, kicking up large globs of it, but she kept running until she could see the Harley parked inside the perimeter of the sanctuary, and then she ran harder until she struck the chain-link fence.
There, beyond the outer gate, she spotted two vehicles which hadn’t been there the night before. Lined up in front of the vehicles were six people, all wearing long, dark dusters which billowed and flapped with the wind. One of them, a woman with purple hair, had her hands up and was making circular motions with them; and wherever her hands went, they left a glowing trail.
“Do you know them?” Alice asked.
“The magistrate’s legionnaires,” Cameron said, “How the fuck did they think to come here?”
“I don’t know, but they’re here.”
“Dammit.”
Cameron pulled the chain-link fence open, stepped into the space between the fence and the front gate, and put his hands up. Alice fell in beside him, drew her gun, and cocked it. The man standing at the center of the group—a bear of a man with a stern, no-bullshit face—stepped forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Let me guess,” he said, his scratchy voice rising effortlessly above the sound of the churning wind, “You’re Alice.”
Alice shifted her weight from one foot to the other, keeping the gun behind her back. Did she recognize him? “You’ve got me mistaken. I think you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“I don’t think I have.”
“This is my sanctuary,” Cameron said, “My domain. Leave now, and no one has to get hurt.”
“Who said anything about anyone getting hurt?” the man asked, still approaching.
“You’re here with five other people and you’re causing all of this,” she said, pointing to the sky with her free hand. “You’ve clearly got plans to hurt someone.”
“You have it all figured out, huh?” he asked.
Alice now brought her gun up and aimed it at the man with the raspy voice. She did know him, but from where? “I’m warning you,” she said. “Don’t take another step.”
She never saw the magic coming. One of the men standing in the line made a gesture with his hand—barely a flick of the wrist—and the gun slipped out of Alice’s grasp. It hit the external gate with a clang and sailed across the open space and into the hand of the man with the raspy voice. He inspected the Glock, and slid it into the waistband of his pants. Alice could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Small beads of sweat were opening on her forehead, and her skin was tightening around her muscles and bones.
No Trapper, and now no gun either.
The man smiled. “Now that you’ve seen what we can do,” he said, “I don’t think you ought to be making any threats. Am I understood?”
“What the hell do you want?” Cameron asked.
“I’m disappointed in you, West. You could have been one of us.”
“That was back when the legionnaires were more than just thugs, Logan. You know you can’t get into my sanctuary, so just leave and no one has to get hurt.”
“There we go with the getting hurt business. No one’s going to hurt anyone, especially now that I’ve disarmed your friend. All we want to do is talk, so open the gate and let us in, and this’ll be over soon.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Good, because I don’t want to talk to you e
ither; all I want is her,” he said, “I just want Alice Werner.”
“I don’t know if you heard me,” Cameron said, approaching the gate, “But you’re not getting anything from us, and you’re not getting in. You’re wasting your time here.”
Logan smiled—a sharp, threatening smile—and said, “I don’t want to have to do this the hard way, but let me explain to you what’ll happen if I don’t get your cooperation. Are you listening? We don’t need to get in to your sanctuary, but you need the sanctuary to stay in one piece for the sake of the animals you’re keeping under your care. If you don’t surrender her to us, we’re going to tear up every square inch of land here until all that’s left is a scorched, broken, ruin. Do you understand now?”
Cameron was about to speak, but Alice stopped him. “No,” she said in a low voice. “It isn’t worth it.”
“I won’t let you go out there,” Cameron said.
“Why not? You heard what he’s going to do.”
“He’s going to do it anyway. They aren’t here representing the magistrate. I know them, and I know my people. The magistrate would never condone the destruction of another mage’s space. It’s against the law. The fact they’ve threatened me with it tells me they’re acting on their own. I don’t have help here. The only thing I can do is fight for this place.”
Alice threw her gaze across to the legionnaires again.
“Tell you what,” Logan said, “I can see you’re having trouble there. I’ll give you… ten minutes to decide whether we do this the easy way, or the hard way. This can all be over before breakfast. I don’t know about you, but I’d kill for a plate of pancakes and some bacon.”
“How do we know you’re going to honor your word?” Alice asked.
“You don’t. Your ten minutes starts now.”
CHAPTER 16
Infection
“Begin?” Isaac asked. “Begin what?”
The mirror version of Isaac with the black mouth smirked and leaned out of the bedroom. The door shut hard in front of him leaving, Isaac in the bedroom with his Guardian and his mother. He turned to look at her, and immediately upon laying eyes on her cold, dead body felt his muscles contract and release all at once.
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