The Magic Collector

by Clayton Wood

  Minutes passed.

  The Collector stood suddenly, grabbing the painting and walking around his desk. He dragged his chair across the floor, setting it beside Simon’s, then sitting down. Their knees almost touched, and Simon resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. The Collector set the painting between them.

  “Tell me about this,” he requested.

  Simon looked down at the painting. It was of a person…of sorts. One that bore a striking resemblance to Simon, with the same short, dirty-blond hair and blue eyes. The same tall, lanky, awkward body. But the figure’s face had jagged cracks in it, and was deathly pale, as if its skin was made of shattered porcelain that had been glued back together. It held a broken glass bottle in one hand, the jagged end spattered with blood, and stood in a dark bedroom. Moonlight streamed through a single, shattered window, lighting upon a narrow cot. A stuffed teddy bear sat on the pillow, its head sewn crudely to its body with a length of shoelace. Broken glass littered the floor beside the bed, swimming in a large pool of blood.

  And on the painted figure’s forehead, a fragment of its porcelain skin was missing…in the exact shape of the one Simon held in his hand…revealing its hollow interior.

  “I…” Simon stammered. He swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat. The Collector stared at him, waiting patiently. Simon took a deep, shuddering breath in. “I haven’t had a good life.”

  The Collector frowned, considering this. He glanced down at the painting, then back up at Simon.

  “Your father?” he guessed.

  Simon lowered his gaze to his lap.

  The Collector sighed, setting the painting on his desk. He eyed Simon silently for a long moment.

  “It’s a lie when they tell us they love us, isn’t it,” he murmured.

  Simon looked up at the Collector, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. He said nothing. Dared not say anything, for fear of shattering in front of this man.

  The Collector gestured at the painting.

  “Is that your Familiar?” he inquired.

  “Yes.”

  “Have you drawn it out yet?” the Collector pressed. Simon hesitated.

  “Once,” he confessed.

  “Once?”

  Simon nodded. A vision of the porcelain figure came to him, of it standing in front of him, its bottle clutched in one hand. Of the blood spattered on that bottle…and a body lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

  The Collector frowned at this, then stood, lifting the painting off the desk and handing it to Simon.

  “I want you to draw him out, Simon,” he stated. Simon’s eyes widened, the blood draining from his face.

  Do it, the shard told him. Set me free.

  “It…I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he countered.

  “It’ll be alright,” the Collector reassured. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

  “You don’t understand,” Simon insisted, instantly regretting the statement. But the Collector didn’t seem offended. “I don’t know what’ll happen. It could be really, really bad.”

  “Simon, you’re safe with me,” the Collector reassured. His voice was soothing, and utterly confident. “I won’t let it hurt you.”

  Simon stared at the Collector, swallowing in a dry throat.

  “I’m not worried about…me,” he clarified. The Collector smirked.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about me,” he replied. “I’m very hard to kill, Simon. Believe me. So many people have tried.”

  Simon hesitated. He’d heard the stories, of course. Everyone in the Pentad had. Of the Collector facing the armies protecting the great college of Blackthorne. And the Sentinels of the Forest of Giants. And so many other towns and cities.

  Of what he’d done to them.

  Do it, the shard insisted. It was practically quivering in his hand now. Simon took a deep breath in, squaring his shoulders.

  “Okay,” he decided at last.

  And he reached into the painting with his left hand, his fingers passing through the canvas. He drew in a sharp breath, feeling a warm, pulsing sensation in his hand, as if it had its own heartbeat. He focused, grabbing the figure’s arm, feeling his fingers wrap around the rough cloth of its shirt.

  Then he closed his eyes, and gave it life.

  Chapter 15

  It was a good ten minutes before Gideon allowed Myko to slow his mad dash down the mountain, and Gideon and Bella dismounted, walking at a quick pace on either side of the wolf. To Bella’s surprise, the arrows embedded in Myko’s flank and chest were gone…and in fact, there was no evidence that he’d suffered any wounds at all. Bella gazed at the wolf in wonderment.

  “How…?” she blurted out.

  “Every time Myko moon-dashes, he heals,” Gideon explained, patting the wolf’s back. “As long as he has stored-up moonlight, he’s safe.”

  “Thank goodness,” Bella replied. “I thought he was going to…you know.”

  Myko gave her the wolf-equivalent of a smile, giving her a big wet kiss on the side of her face. She scrunched up her face, accepting this as gracefully as she could. Then she frowned, suddenly remembering the arrow sticking out of Gideon’s shoulder. It’d penetrated all the way through, the wicked arrowhead protruding out the back. Blood stained his uniform there, and it was clearly causing him pain.

  “Your shoulder!” she gasped.

  “We’ll take care of it at camp,” he replied. “Which we should find a suitable place for soon. They’ll have trail-hounds hunting us. We need to mask our scent.”

  Myko snorted, sniffing the ground, then veering off the path down the mountain. Within a few minutes, he led them to a shallow stream. Myko plunged right into it, then started wading upstream. Gideon joined him, forcing Bella to do the same. The water was a few inches taller than her waterproof boots, and absolutely frigid.

  “Who was that woman?” Bella asked. “The Painter, I mean.”

  “That was Kendra,” Gideon answered. “An old friend of mine. We used to work together, actually.”

  “That was your friend?” Bella pressed, staring at him in disbelief. Gideon shrugged, and Bella shook her head “Hate to meet one of your enemies,” she grumbled.

  “She’s a bit lost, that’s all,” Gideon explained.

  “She tried to kill us!” Bella protested.

  “Even so.”

  It wasn’t long before they discovered a waterfall at the source of the stream. Myko went right through it, vanishing beyond. Gideon hesitated, taking off his cape and holding it above his head. It shaped itself into an umbrella of sorts, and he passed through the waterfall, keeping relatively dry. Bella did the same with her cloak, and to her surprise it behaved similarly of its own accord, and she too went through.

  Beyond, they found a cramped cave. Gideon retrieved the black disc he’d used before, placing it on the floor and activating it. They’d lowered themselves through the hole, finding themselves back in the familiar large room of the Conclave. The fireplace was still crackling away merrily, and Gideon took off his wet boots, setting them by the fire. Bella did the same.

  “All right,” Gideon stated, turning to her. “Pull it out.”

  Bella blinked.

  “The arrow,” he explained, gesturing at his wounded shoulder. “Break off the back end, then pull the front end out.”

  “I don’t think we should,” she warned. She knew enough to realize that doing so could cause serious – and even fatal – bleeding.

  “Nonsense,” he retorted. He went to the bookcase, pulling on a few books to unlock it. It rotated ninety degrees, and he stepped through into the closet. Bella and Myko joined him, reaching the door at the end of the large closet. Opening the door, she found a large studio beyond. Paintings were stacked against the walls, with a very large painting resting against the far wall. Gideon went to the easel, where a painting of an empty room stood. “Put this against the wall,” he requested.

  Bella lifted the canvas, setting it upright against the wall.
/>   “Now pull out the arrow,” he requested. “Then I’ll take off my top and step into the painting. I’ll need you to paint over the wound so it looks like my good shoulder.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “If you paint my shoulder so it looks healed, when I step out, it will be,” he explained.

  Bella gave him an entirely unconvinced look.

  “Go on,” he urged, gesturing at the floor near the easel. There were paint canisters of all colors set on the floor, along with countless paintbrushes of all sizes and shapes sitting on a table to one side.

  “You mean if I paint on you while you’re in the painting, you’ll…become what I paint?” she pressed.

  “Sort of,” he replied. “You can’t change who I am, but you can change some of my physical characteristics. Like when I gave you that tattoo.”

  “So what I do will be permanent?”

  “Relax,” he soothed. “Take your time. If you screw up, I can always get re-painted later.”

  Bella must still not have looked convinced.

  “You can do this,” he insisted. “Or I can die of internal bleeding. Or infection. Your choice.”

  Bella sighed, doing as he instructed. She snapped the feathered end of the arrow off – making Gideon bite back a scream – then yanked the other end out. Blood spurted out of the wound instantly…and spectacularly. Gideon stripped off his shirt as quickly as possible, then stepped into the painting.

  And became one.

  Bella stared at the painting, now of a room with Gideon standing in it, facing away from her. He was life-size, of course, and his wounded shoulder had a bloody hole in it. She glanced at Myko, who licked her hand.

  “You really think I can do it?” she asked.

  Myko wuffed, stepping forward and giving her a big wet kiss on the nose and lips.

  “Gah!” she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a step back. Myko continued his assault, and she burst out laughing. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it.”

  Myko gave a big smile, his tongue hanging from his mouth. Then he padded up to her side, circling around as dogs did, then laying down on the floor and nestling his chin between his outstretched front paws to watch her.

  Bella wiped the slobber from her face, then gathered her paints. Studying the colors of Gideon’s flesh, she did her best to match them on her palette. Then she dipped a fine-tipped paintbrush in the paint, facing the painting and taking a deep breath in.

  “Here goes,” she stated.

  She got to work, painting over the wound, trying to match Gideon’s good shoulder. At first the colors were a bit off, and she struggled to match them. After a few unsuccessful attempts, she finally got it. Not perfect, but darn close. An hour later, it was done.

  She stepped back, eyeing her handiwork, then glancing at Myko. The wolf got to his feet, giving an affirmative “wurf.”

  Bella reached into the painting, pulling Gideon out.

  “How’d it go?” he inquired. Bella studied the back of his shoulder. To her delight, it was healed…and the color was just a hint off, as if he had the faintest of birthmarks.

  “Not bad,” she admitted. Then she realized blood was pouring from the wound at the front of his shoulder. “Oh!”

  “I’ll back in this time,” Gideon stated…and promptly backed into the painting. This time, he appeared facing her. With the proper colors already mixed, she made quick work of repairing his wound, and finished in half the time. She pulled him out, and he went back into the walk-in closet, studying her work.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Not bad,” he answered, running a hand over the now-intact skin. “Not bad at all.” He turned to her with a smile. “Good job Bella.”

  Myko snorted in agreement.

  “So wait,” Bella said, eyeing the canvas he’d gone into. “How come my paintbrush didn’t just go into the painting like you did?”

  “Good question,” Gideon replied. “No one knows, actually. Suffice it to say, if a Painter has the intention to paint on a live canvas, the brush will not go in.”

  “Huh.”

  “Let’s warm up by the fire,” he stated. “Then we’ll get something to eat.”

  They went back to the fireplace, and she joined Myko in sitting before it. Myko curled up beside her, and she draped an arm across his warm fur, allowing herself to relax for the first time since…well, since Grandpa.

  The thought was instantly depressing.

  “Here’s dinner,” Gideon announced, unrolling a painting he’d retrieved from the studio. It was of a large dining room table filled to the brim with dishes of food, bowls of fruit and vegetables, and drinks of every kind. He drew out two plates of steaming chicken, sweet potatoes, and rice, along with glasses of water. Bella’s stomach growled, and for the moment she forgot about Grandpa, devouring the food. Myko nudged her in mid-feast, and she handed him a piece of chicken, which he swallowed whole.

  “He doesn’t need to eat,” Gideon revealed. “He lives on moonlight, after all. But he still likes to.”

  Myko wuffed his agreement, wolfing down another piece of chicken. Bella asked for seconds, and ended up giving half of it to the trusty wolf. Then she sighed, staring off into the fire.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “Now we sleep,” Gideon answered. “You take the bed.” Bella was about to protest when he held out one hand. “I insist. Tomorrow we’ll reach the bottom of the mountain and make our way to the Forest of Giants.”

  With that, he put his uniform back on, eyeing the hole in the shoulder area.

  “The Collector must have given his soldiers magic arrows,” he muttered. “Regular arrows couldn’t have penetrated my uniform. I’ll fix it tomorrow.”

  Bella nodded, the image of the soldiers burning in the streets coming unbidden to her mind’s eye. The sound of their screams. She felt a chill at the memory.

  “What is it?” Gideon asked, frowning at Bella. “I lost you for a second there.”

  “The soldiers you…burned,” she replied.

  “You mean the soldiers I killed,” he corrected. She nodded. “I didn’t have much of a choice,” he argued.

  “Really?” she retorted. He grimaced.

  “Bella…”

  “There’s always a choice,” she insisted.

  “They were coming after us, Bella. They wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you, you know.”

  Bella lowered her gaze.

  “I know, but…”

  “I had to make a decision in the moment. I chose to kill instead of being killed,” Gideon explained.

  “But couldn’t we have just had Myko fly us over them?” she countered.

  “And trigger more of the Overseer’s eyes?” he argued.

  “Okay…but couldn’t you have stopped them without killing them?” Bella insisted. “Like, blown them to the side or made them go to sleep?”

  “I could have,” Gideon admitted. “If I’d had a painting for it. But I didn’t.”

  “But you had plenty of paintings that could kill people,” she pointed out.

  Gideon stared at her for a long moment, then sighed, lowering his gaze.

  “You’re right,” he muttered. “If I’d prepared differently, I could have spared those men’s’ lives.” He lifted his gaze then, staring into her eyes. “And then they would’ve killed the Pentad’s men when the Pentad inevitably tries to recapture Blackthorne.”

  Bella blinked.

  “The world isn’t so simple, Bella,” Gideon continued. “You show mercy to an enemy, there’s no guarantee they’ll return the favor. There are bad people out there, Bella. And they’ll use your kindness against you.”

  He held her gaze for a moment longer, then turned away, putting on his cape and lying down on the floor beside the fire. With a word, the cape levitated him off the ground, forming a hammock of sorts.

  “You’re wrong,” she told him.

  “Goodnight Bella,” Gideon grumbled. A moment later, he was alre
ady snoring.

  Bella sighed, glancing at Myko, who was watching her quietly.

  “He is,” she insisted.

  Myko just stared at her quietly with those striking silver eyes.

  “I’m going to bed,” she muttered.

  She got into the bed, pulling the covers over her. The bed was quite comfortable, soft yet firm, and she had plenty of pillows to choose from. Myko stepped up to the side of the bed, giving Bella a rather hopeful look. She patted the bed beside her, and he jumped up, so large that he took up most of the king-sized bed. He gave her a wet kiss, then curled up beside her. His fur was soft, warm, and awfully comfortable, and she snuggled against him. The horrible images in her mind melted away, the screams of the dying soldiers fading. This is how it must have been when she was a little girl, sleeping with her loyal friend night after night. Snuggling up against him, surrounded by his luxurious silver fur. Myko made the badness go away.

  With Myko, she was safe.

  She heard the great silver wolf start to snore ever-so-softly, and ran her fingers through his fur, feeling her eyelids getting heavy. She closed them, a contented smile on her lips.

  And it wasn’t much longer before she too was asleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, Gideon repaired his uniform. It was remarkable watching him paint; he mixed his colors rapidly, then put brush to canvas with bold, sure strokes. In a fraction of the time it’d taken Bella to fix his shoulder, the uniform was whole again. He donned it, then led Bella and Myko through the black portal back into the cave behind the waterfall.

  And with that, they resumed their journey, wading through the stream, then exiting to the right. Myko led them clear of the Collector’s men, sniffing the air on occasion, then changing course slightly when needed. In this way, the wolf’s keen nose brought them safely to the foot of the mountain. A dense forest encircled the base of the mountain, with a large clearing visible less than a mile ahead. And another city of tents erected within that clearing.