“Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Her voice sounded better.
“You appear as if you’d seen a ghost. Given your history, I can only wonder.”
She looked away to probe her memory. “Yeah, I did.”
“Well, Dianne the esteemed empath and visitor of ghosts, did it tell you anything useful?”
She gathered her thoughts… Try not to fall in love with your son. Use the dagger as a weapon beyond the way I used it like a champion in combat once already. Treat every dagger like a temperamental feline. And, oh by the way, the wraith we’re hunting kills for fun.
He kills for fun… Her throat hurt when she awoke… Put the clues together… I’m an empath. I know. “Yeah. I think she told me he just killed someone for fun.”
“Really? How? Wouldn’t we see some evidence on our dagger?”
There was much to explain. “I don’t think he used his dagger. Help me to the observatory, and I’ll tell you both what I know.”
CHAPTER 9
Liam sprang from the chair as his father escorted Dianne into the cylindrical stone room. He couldn’t restrain his thrill in seeing her. “Dianne!”
“She’s quite alright, I assure you.”
In her right hand, her dagger reflected the room’s lighting off its natural bronze surface. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What happened? You were out for hours.”
“Apparently, I was too demanding with both daggers.”
Liam found the answer incomplete. “And?”
“And, that led to a battle of wills, and I was outnumbered two to one against enchanted items.”
Hesitant to accept the concept of cast bronze items with wills, he was dubious, but he’d delay any protest about it to an appropriate time. “Well, I guess those are tough odds.”
Connor moved against the wall, giving Dianne space to explore the fruits of her labor. She stepped to the central table and looked down at the dagger. “Its color’s fading.”
Any degradation in the knife’s luminous flux had escaped Liam. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“It’s obvious to me, maybe because I haven’t seen it in a while.”
Liam silently chastised himself. “If I’d been more vigilant, I would’ve noticed by playing the video with time compression.”
His father rescued him from his defeatism. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. There’s no hurry. There’s nothing we can do today to stop the wraith.”
Liam agreed and stepped to the computer where he manipulated the footage of the blade. “Let me check the video anyway.”
Dianne stepped from the table. “What color should it be?”
“Father, can you answer while I’m working here?”
“Of course. I believe you know already that all unnatural phenomenon with our dagger occurs only when Liam or I are watching it.”
“Yes.”
“Well, the first but least frequent phenomenon is when a wraith moves at the beginning of his killing cycle. History has proven that they live the majority of their lives somewhere different than the location of their sacrifices.”
“Like Traverse City in my case?”
“Precisely. When your wraith moved from Europe to Michigan before his killing cycle, our dagger glowed its natural color. This doesn’t give us much tactical information, but it serves as a warning to the beginning of a wraith’s killing season.”
From the corner of his eye, Liam watched Dianne sit in a chair while the accelerated video on his computer showed his beacon’s reddish hue waning. “Dianne was right. The color’s fading.”
The elder hunter shifted into his story-telling mode. “Good. That means its slowly tending towards its healthier state. It should only glow red while there’s blood on the wraith’s twin blade. Unless this one’s a complete dolt, he cleaned his dagger nearly three weeks ago.”
“How does your dagger know to respond to a given wraith’s dagger and not some other dagger?”
“The legends say our order has had every cursed dagger in our possession at one point in time. When we caught a dagger, we had a twin dagger cast with the same engravings, and our forefathers blessed ours to bind it to its cursed antithesis.”
“Why didn’t you guys just keep the cursed ones hidden from the bad guys?”
Leaning against the wall, Liam enjoyed hearing the exchange. It was a refresher course in his history, and given his father’s habit of sharing secrets in random snippets, he hoped to learn something useful.
“If only it were that easy. We tried that early on, a thousand years ago. Unfortunately, the cursed daggers are drawn to the wraiths, and the wraiths are drawn to the daggers. Our security measures were sound, but the slightest mistakes were exploited.”
“Daggers were stolen?”
“Stolen or mysteriously disappeared. The paired dagger is a sort of insurance policy.”
Dianne’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s the dagger I took from my wraith?”
“I don’t know. The priest took it with him back to the order, and from there, we’ll have to trust people who dedicate their lives to protecting cursed objects from those who would steal them.”
“What about the pointing?”
Liam considered interjecting his answers into the conversation, but with Dianne seated near him, he instead stole glances at her beauty.
Connor sank into a chair and continued his lesson. “The pointing is the most useful aspect. Our dagger will point towards the wraith’s latest ritualistic killing, be it a tribute to his demon lord or a sacrifice that gives him new life.”
“But not a killing for sport?”
The comment caught Liam off guard, and he glanced at his father for guidance.
The elder hunter furrowed his brow. “You mentioned something like that in your dream. Can you expound upon that?”
“I’m not sure what I believe anymore. I’m having trouble telling reality from dreams.”
“You’ve been through a lot.” Liam felt like a dolt for saying it.
“Tell us whatever you can. We’ll try to make sense of it. Remember, we’ve seen happenings that most people would consider impossible.”
“You remember how the sacrifice from France kept visiting me? Well, I think she’s free and has moved on, along with all the others my wraith killed.”
Liam nodded. “That makes sense.”
“While I was dreaming, the last sacrifice our new wraith killed showed up. We’re calling him ‘our wraith’, right?”
Again, Liam nodded. “I like it. Father?”
“So be it. In fact, to avoid confusion, let’s refer to the one Dianne killed as something else.”
Wanting to impress the beautiful empath, Liam sought a clever phrase. “Let’s call him the ‘Michigan wraith’ or ‘Dianne’s victim’. She’s never killed anyone else. So, it’s a concise term.”
Dianne shrugged. “If you both believe I haven’t killed anyone else.”
Connor raised an eyebrow.
“Just kidding. Of course, I haven’t killed anyone else. I’m fine with it.”
Liam wanted to probe deeper into her latest dream. Had he been in it? “What about the new ghost?”
“She called herself the Maiden of Beit She’an.”
The younger hunter noticed a gap from Dianne’s past accounts of her prior ghost guide. “Was the last one the Maiden of Anduze?”
“I don’t know because I never asked her. But I asked this maiden her name. I guess I’m getting more confident in dealing with them. It seems like they need me more than I need them.”
“Careful, young lady. Fate has a way to humble us all. We all need someone in the end.”
Liam took the advice aimed for Dianne as his own. For a moment, he realized his unparalleled success in killing Dianne’s wraith placed him at risk of conceit.
Dianne frowned. “You have a point. The maiden warned me that this guy, our wraith, is an expert at killing. He’s killed thousands.”
Disbelief burst fro
m Liam’s lips. “Thousands? He’s only been alive for at most a hundred and fifty years.”
“She said by his hands or by orders he uttered.”
Connor stood. “This could be a clue. It sounds like he’s had a military background. Given that his first sacrifice was in Urmia, Iran–Persia at the time–I’d venture a guess that he was in the Ottoman Empire’s military. There was rampant genocide in that area a hundred years ago.”
Liam shrugged. “Agreed, but that doesn’t help much.”
“Not yet, lad, but it may.”
For losing Dianne for three hours, Liam expected better insights than an introduction to new ghost and a warning about their wraith’s ancient military career. “Did the maiden say anything else?”
“I need to be careful with my dagger and yours. I’ve been pushing too hard, even when I thought I wasn’t. I think the best analogy is dealing with cats. I can make them do what I want, but only if they’re willing. I need to coax them without ordering them.”
Liam scratched the back of his head. “Bloody hell. Better you than me. I guess it’s pretty cool that you’re an empath.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
Feeling like a dolt for the failed compliment’s compounded failure to rescue his offhand remark, Liam shifted to tactical mode. “Our dagger’s still in need of healing, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I think so. She said it was traumatized. I need to try to feed more energy into it from my dagger.” She looked at the knife in her hand. “When it’s ready to give.”
The answer frustrated Liam. “We can’t circle in on the wraith until we know our dagger works. This leaves us stuck here.”
“It’s okay, lad. Our dagger will support us when we need. Dianne’s will do its part as well.”
Liam wanted to press further into the inquiry, but the empath seemed content to hold her weapon in silence. After a moment, a new topic came to his mind. “Did the ghost give you any insight into your new weapon? You haven’t had much time with it yet, but you’re quite attached to it.”
She seemed enraptured by the bronze in her hand as she stroked it with her fingers. “What?”
Becoming jealous of a dagger, Liam reiterated his question. “Your dagger? Did she reveal anything about it?”
“She said that a dagger can be used in combat in multiple ways. I suppose that means I’m not using it right.”
Liam had watched her outmaneuver a wraith with five hundred years of combat training in a knife fight. He conceded she could benefit by strengthening her muscles and boosting her cardiovascular conditioning to prepare for future combat, but nobody in the world could improve the technique she’d displayed with the weapon’s enchantment guiding her. The concept of her using the weapon incorrectly muted him.
But his father posed a good leading question. “Did she say you were doing anything wrong?”
“No. It was more like there was something I was missing. Multiple ways to use a knife.”
Liam considered the motions. Slash, stab, sweep, parry… like an expert, she’d demonstrated each move in her fledging fight.
Connor looked at him. “This is perplexing. You’re sure she showed all the skills in her fight?”
He’d mentally replayed her amazing display. “Yes.”
“That leaves us with a riddle, doesn’t it?”
Liam looked at the curved stone wall and pondered the mystery. The overlooked answer had to be obvious.
Dianne stood, walked to Connor, and lowered her dagger into its wooden box. Then she returned to her chair. “That’s all I got from my dream.”
Relieved the charmed dagger had relinquished its hold over her, Liam focused on the problem. Within moments, a solution jumped into his mind. “I’ve got it.”
“What I’m missing with my dagger?”
“Yes. It can be used as a ranging weapon if you can learn how to throw it.”
“I don’t want to throw my dagger. What if I never get it back?”
“Somehow, I have a feeling that it will always find you.” He stepped to the door.
She looked up at him. “Where are you going?”
“Come on, and bring your dagger. We have enough daylight left to begin your knife-throwing training.”
CHAPTER 10
Dianne smelled the sweet cut grass and the distant boggy scent of peat moss while trailing Liam to the gun range.
Although the young hunter carried the heavy bag of weapons over his shoulder, he outpaced her along the dirt path. “Come on. Can’t you keep up? The sun’s going to set in a couple hours.”
“If I go any faster, I’ll break something.” On cue, she tripped over her undersized foot, rolled her ankle, and planted her hip in the soft grass.
In an instant, he appeared beside her. “Are you okay?”
She enjoyed the attention and let him tend to her. “Damn it. I twisted my ankle.”
He cupped her shin, pinched the tip of her shoe, and rotated her foot in gentle circles. “How bad?”
“Not that bad. Help me up.”
He grabbed her shoulders, and his arms became steel rods lifting her to her feet.
“Thanks. I’m such a klutz.”
“I see that. What did you trip over?”
She looked away. “Myself.”
“This could be more challenging than I thought.” Hiding any pain in his fractured right arm, he hoisted the bag of weapons over his shoulder and headed down the path.
“Aren’t you going to wait and see if I’m okay?”
“No.”
“What?”
“No, you’re fine. Come on.”
“Ugh.” She trotted to catch up to him. “How’d you know I was okay? How’d you know my ankle didn’t hurt?”
“I had faith that you’d manage.”
“That’s mean!”
“It’s not mean. I checked you out. You’re fine.”
“Do you get a rush out of being a knuckle-dragging he-man?”
As he walked towards the low sun, a smirk spread across his face. “This knuckle-dragger saved your life.”
“And don’t forget that I saved yours, too, buddy.”
He looked over his shoulder and winked. “I’ll never forget. I promise.”
She disliked him belittling her knife fight victory, but she agreed making light of it helped in moving on from the past. “Great. At least we’ve got that straight.”
He led her through two hundred more meters of hiking and then stopped at a high wooden table. With a clank, he tossed the bag from his shoulder onto the platform. “Let’s start with something easy.”
Beyond the table, she saw a small field of grass with a matted path disappearing between distant berms she assumed were used to stop long-range rifle shots. She then looked to her left, over Liam’s shoulder, and saw a small wooden shed. “Is that where you keep the targets?”
“I’ll get you a target in a bit. First, let’s just practice the motion.” He pulled a small knife from the bag and pinched its tip. Twisting at his waist, he raised the blade beside his ear. “See how I’m holding it?”
“Yeah.”
“The power comes from your hips and from here.” He tapped the wide muscles under his arm.
“Got it.”
“Keep your wrist steady. Aiming comes from the arm, not the wrist like you might think.”
She was thinking about the rainbow-colored zigzag patterns she’d spent hours painting on her nails last weekend while trying to recover psychologically from imprisonment and mortal combat. “Okay.”
“Watch me do it, nice and easy. Just a simple arcing throw, not trying to overpower it. Just let it fly.” Unhindered by his cast, he released the blade into an end-over-end ballistic trajectory, and it landed with a silent stab into the soft dirt.
“That looked easy.”
He winced. “Actually, that hurt a bit.”
“Your broken arm?”
“Yeah, I should’ve thought that through better, but I was trying to make the
point of keeping it easy, as opposed to forcing it. Now you try and see how close you can get close to mine.” He handed her a small knife.
She pressed its tip between her thumb and index finger, and then she lifted it over her shoulder. Momentum carried the knife backwards, and it slipped from her hand. Squealing, she danced away from the falling blade, which settled on the dirt behind her.
Wide-eyed, Liam appeared stunned. “Wow. That was… spastic.”
“That doesn’t count. I was nervous.”
“Count as what? Nobody’s keeping score.”
“Well, I was. Let’s start over.”
He knelt, lifted the knife, and placed it on the table. “Take it back slower. You’re developing your form now. You can learn speed later.”
She pinched the knife again and held it by her ear.
“Hey, it’s still in your hand. You’re doing better already.”
“Shut up!”
“I’m trying to encourage you.”
“No, you’re mocking me. Should I throw it now?”
“Very slowly, yes. Now.”
Gravity pulled her arm downward in a tighter arc than she’d anticipated. Adjusting to her toss, she kicked her leg up, lost her balance, and slapped her weak hand into the table to break her fall. The knife bounced, cartwheeled, and fell to its side.
“That was… hideous.”
“You act like this is so easy, but you grew up doing this.”
“No, you’re just terrible.”
She flicked her wrist towards him. “This whole thing was your idea.”
“I’m pretty sure your ghost meant for you to throw your dagger.”
She sighed. “Fine. Let me try again.”
“After I put on a suit of armor.”
She shoved him, and his chest felt like stone. “That’s not funny.”
He chuckled. “Do you have any idea how hard it is not to laugh? You may be the most hopeless person to ever attempt this.”
She shoved him harder, and he didn’t budge. It was like pushing a bull. “Just give me another knife.”
Rolling his eyes, he obliged with another dull blade that appeared weathered. “God help us all.”
Prophecy of Blood: A Supernatural Psychic Thriller (WRAITH HUNTER CHRONICLES Book 2) Page 6