The Magic Collector

by Clayton Wood

  Gideon stepped into that light, and Bella joined him.

  Her eyes widened.

  The tunnel opened up into a large cavern, the ceiling a good sixty feet above their heads. Pitch-black stalactites hung from the ceiling, water dripping from their tips. Small mushrooms grew in dense clusters at the edges of the cave, each glowing a pale white. Among these were larger green and blue mushrooms that also glowed, though not as brightly as their paler brethren.

  And there, in the center of the cave, was a very large building.

  It was not so much a building as it was an estate. Wrought of wood and stone in various shades of black and gray, it was one of the most impressive buildings Bella had ever seen. It was broad, perhaps two hundred feet wide, its two-story entrance flanked by twin towers three stories tall. Their roofs were sharply sloped, coming to a vicious-looking point a few feet below the ceiling of the cave. Tall, stately windows stared outward at Bella at regular intervals, the mushrooms growing nearby casting the dark glass in a pale white light.

  A black, wrought-iron fence surrounded the estate, each of its tall posts terminating in a vicious-looking spike. It was guarded by an ornate iron gate directly ahead, with twin doors that were closed. Beyond this, a bloodstone path led to the front door of the estate. Or rather, a closed portcullis made of crisscrossing black metal slats.

  Goosebumps rose on Bella’s flesh, another feeling of déjà vu coming over her. She stopped before the gate, staring at the house beyond, and Gideon stopped beside her. He gazed at the building ahead, putting his hand on the gate.

  “Here we are,” he announced, turning to Bella with a wistful expression. “Welcome home, Bella.”

  Bella frowned at him.

  “This…?”

  “Was where you were born,” Gideon confirmed. “Where you spent the first few years of your life, before going to Blackthorne.” He pulled on one door of the gate, and it swung open, creaking creepily as it did so. He gestured at the entrance ahead. “Go on.”

  Bella started down the bloodstone path, then realized that Gideon wasn’t following her. She glanced back at him questioningly.

  “You go on alone,” he urged, handing her his lantern. “I’ll stay here.”

  “But…”

  “Here, take Myko with you,” he interrupted. He retrieved Myko’s painting, drawing the big wolf out. Myko looked around, taking in his surroundings. It had to be quite disorienting to vanish into a painting, then a split-second later find oneself in a totally different place. Myko took it in stride, stepping up to Bella’s side and licking her cheek. “Go on now,” Gideon prompted.

  Bella took a deep breath in, then nodded, continuing down the path until she reached the entrance. Five stone steps led up to the portcullis, which was closed. She looked around, searching for a doorbell, or a knocker, or…something. But there was nothing. She glanced back at Gideon again, but he just stood there by the gate.

  Then a white mist spilled through the holes between the metal slats of the portcullis, flowing over her feet. It collected around her, so thick that she couldn’t see her boots. A chill ran down her spine, the hair on her neck standing on end.

  And then the mist withdrew back through the portcullis, and there was a loud thunk.

  The portcullis lifted.

  Bella paused, glancing one more time at Gideon. Then she stepped through the portcullis, Myko following behind her. Beyond was a short, narrow hallway, which ended in a set of wooden double-doors. The same white mist covered the floor entirely, making the floor impossible to see. It came all the way up to her knees, swirling around her.

  She stepped through the mist to the double-doors, reaching for a doorknob. But the mist rose upward as a giant hand, shoving the doors open before she could, then falling back to the floor and flowing into the room beyond.

  Bella saw a large foyer with a wide staircase at the far end, one that split into stairs going left and right up to the second floor. A red carpet ran down the middle of the stairs like a bloody waterfall. Lanterns were bolted to the walls at regular intervals, but no emitted no light. There was a large fountain in the center of the room, with a broad stone bowl at its base and a tall, dark bronze statue of a woman standing upon it. She was quite beautiful, with long legs and arms, and long hair in tight curls pulled back into a ponytail that sprang outward from the back of her head. Her full lips were slightly parted, her eyes glaring forward sternly…seemingly right at Bella. In her right hand was a golden sword, its tip pointed downward.

  The mist crawled over the floor, wrapping around the base of the statue. It lifted up into the bowl, filling it, then sent pale tendrils up the body of the statue. The mist poured into its mouth and eyes, until there was no mist left.

  Then the lanterns on the walls lit up, casting the room in a pale white light.

  Bella paused, looking around. She spotted two broad doorways, one diagonally to her left, the other to the right. The golden statue moved suddenly, twisting its torso and lifting its golden sword to point to the leftmost doorway.

  Bella took a step back from the statue, swallowing in a dry throat. Mist poured from its eyes and mouth, spilling down to the bowl of the fountain, then flowing to the floor. It spread across the floor, flowing through the leftmost doorway into the room beyond.

  Bella stared at it, feeling entirely ill-at-ease. She glanced at Myko.

  “Protect me, Myko,” she pleaded. Myko wuffed in what she could only assume was the affirmative. She took a deep breath in, then followed the mist into the hallway beyond.

  And froze in the doorway.

  For there, at the other end of a long, narrow corridor, was a huge black boar, easily four times Myko’s size. But there was something terribly wrong with it. Its flesh was torn off on the left side of its face and neck, its skull and spine visible beneath. More flesh was missing from its chest and flanks, its muscle and ribs glistening in the dull lamp-light. And it had no flesh on its tail whatsoever.

  The boar’s massive head turned toward her, its ears swiveling forward. It stared at her with empty eye sockets, dark fluid dripping from them. Then it lowered its head, its long, sharp tusks pointed right at her.

  The boar charged!

  “Myko!” Bella cried.

  Myko pushed through the doorway past her, lunging between her and the charging boar. He shot forward, moon-phasing to the boar’s right, then phasing a second time, slamming into the boar’s side. It stumbled into the side-wall, losing its balance and tumbling to the floor a few yards from Bella.

  Bella backpedaled rapidly, her heart pounding.

  The boar snorted, scrambling to its feet. But Myko stood over it, baring his fangs and growling menacingly.

  The boar sniffed at Myko, then lowered its head to the floor meekly.

  Bella hesitated, then walked up to Myko, patting his furry back.

  “Thanks Myko.”

  The boar’s ears perked up, and it glanced at Bella, then at Myko…and began wagging its skeletal tail. The boar got to its feet, nudging Myko with its huge nose, then stepping up to Bella and doing the same. Bella hesitated, then put a hand on its nose.

  Huh, she thought.

  She pet the boar’s head, scratching behind its one intact ear, to its obvious delight. The mist flowed across the floor around it, continuing to the other end of the long hallway. Bella hesitated, then stepped around the boar, following the mist to the end of the hallway…and a stairway leading upward. The mist led her up it, and Myko climbed up the steps behind her as she made her way to the second floor.

  Bella found herself in a small room, a closed black coffin in the center of it. There were no doors, nor was there any other furniture. Only a painting on each wall, and a lighting fixture on the ceiling, casting a pale light on the coffin below.

  The mist swirled around the base of the coffin, staying there.

  Bella walked up to the coffin, running her fingers over it. It had a pleasant, velvety texture, and a single golden circle surrounding a golde
n triangle embossed into center of the lid. She paused, looking about the room.

  What now?

  She turned to the paintings on the walls, studying them. Each was quite large, taking up most of the wall. One was of a blood-red moon overlooking a massive city, one with tall, dark buildings hidden in shadow. Another was of a very different city, one lit by the afternoon sun, with two huge towers in the very center of the city rising into the sky like upside-down vampire fangs.

  The mist had guided her thus far, bringing her to this room. And now it was staying around the coffin. Which meant that the coffin was what it wanted her to see. Or maybe…

  She found some metal latches on the sides of the coffin, and unlatched them one-by-one. Then she glanced at Myko, feeling suddenly uneasy.

  “Get ready, Myko,” she warned.

  Then she gripped the lid of the coffin, swinging it open.

  To her profound relief, it was empty.

  The mist flowed into the coffin, vanishing into the blackness within. Bella waited, but that was it. Nothing happened.

  “Huh,” she muttered. “Wonder what…”

  Something rose from within the coffin. A huge, nightmarish skull covered in a thin layer of glistening black flesh. One supported by a broad, fleshy neck that extended from the depths of the coffin.

  The mouth opened wider – impossibly wide, larger than Bella herself – a long, moist tongue extending outward toward her. Bella backed away quickly.

  “Myko!” she cried.

  The foul creature wailed, an awful sound so deep and powerful that it made Bella’s bones vibrate. A blast of putrid air struck Bella, making her gag…and Myko backed away from the thing, lowering himself to the floor.

  The black tongue shot outward, striking Bella in the face, then wrapping around her neck.

  “Help!” she cried, grabbing the tongue and trying desperately to pry it free from her. But it was far too slick, her hands slipping off of it.

  The tongue pulled her forward, retracting into that terrible, gaping maw.

  Another wail burst from the creature, sending a fresh wave of terror through Bella. She braced her feet against the side of the coffin, pushing against it even as the tongue continued to retract, drawing her closer to the creature’s mouth. But it was no use; the tongue was too powerful, and it pulled her head right into its maw. Its breath was ice-cold, and reeked of death.

  “Myko!” she croaked, feeling the thing’s grip around her neck tighten. “Gideon!”

  Then, even as the creature lowered itself back into the coffin, it pulled her all the way into its mouth. That black flesh closed all around her, surrounding her in cold, wet darkness.

  And then Bella felt herself rotating to the left, just before the void claimed her.

  * * *

  At first there was only darkness.

  Bella felt something hard underneath her, and realized she was lying on her back. There was no light whatsoever; she couldn’t even see her own nose. She sat up…and promptly smacked her forehead into something hard directly above.

  That smarted.

  She rubbed her forehead, then reached upward with both hands, feeling a firm, flat, but velvety under her palms, only a few inches above.

  “Hello?” she called out.

  There was no answer.

  She felt panic rise within her, and stifled it, closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath.

  Stay calm, she commanded herself. Think.

  She focused on her breathing, concentrating on the air coming in through her nose, then letting it out through her mouth. After a few breaths, she had an idea.

  The lantern!

  She reached into her chest-painting, feeling a familiar warm, pulsing feeling. Her fingers wrapped around something metallic, and she drew it out.

  “Luminos,” she whispered.

  The lantern flared to life.

  Bella found herself inside a box lined with plush gold velvet. No, not a box, she realized; a coffin. She steeled herself against another wave of panic, setting the lantern between her legs, then pushing harder on the lid of the coffin. It swung open soundlessly, revealing a black stone ceiling above. Stone mortared together with what appeared to be bones.

  Human bones.

  She hesitated, then sat up slowly, grabbing the lantern and holding it before her. A small room greeted her, one shaped much like the coffin she was sitting in. The walls and floor were made of the same black stone – and bones – as the ceiling. A closed wooden door stood at the foot of the coffin-like room, and directly above this was a hideous carving on the wall. One identical to the skull-like monster that had swallowed her up only moments before, only ivory-colored instead of black.

  To her relief, it didn’t move.

  Bella got out of the golden coffin, walking to the door and putting her hand on the knob. She turned it, then pulled the door open.

  Beyond, she saw a small room. But in stark contrast to the black stone and bones of the previous room, this room had a warm, red-brown wooden floor and off-white walls. A long table surrounded by chairs dominated the center of the room, with quite a few framed pictures on each of the room’s four walls. There was a closed door on the other end of the room, with small windows on the leftmost wall.

  How did I get here?

  Bella stood up, making her way to the nearest drawing. It was a sketch, done in charcoal. Of a beautiful woman that looked just like the statue on the fountain, kissing a young girl on the forehead. A girl that was perhaps four years old, with slightly lighter skin, and more relaxed curls.

  A girl that was most definitely Bella.

  She stared at the drawing, her mouth falling open. For there, before her, was the very first picture she’d ever seen of her mother.

  Bella reached out, pressing her fingertips on the glass protecting the sketch, running her fingertips over her mother’s likeness. She looked to the bottom right corner, where the artist had signed their name in flowing, intricate cursive:

  Lucia M. Birch

  “Mom,” she whispered, her vision blurring with moisture. She blinked it away, smiling at the sketch. Then she turned to the next framed picture. This was a painting done in oil, of her and Mom. Of Bella sitting on a stool watching her mother paint. It was remarkably detailed, the colors vibrant and sure. The kind of painting Bella could only dream of creating, so far beyond her ability that it was humbling to behold.

  The next one was a painting of Bella plucking a glowing mushroom from the dirt, staring at it with utter fascination. Unsigned, of course. Bella could only imagine what would happen if it’d been signed, and a younger version of herself had been drawn out.

  Almost all of the sketches and paintings were of Bella, she realized. Of her and Mom, of her alone, or with…

  Bella frowned as she reached the far end of the room, staring at a sketch mounted at the head of the long table. It was of Bella, sitting between Mom and a man. A man with short black hair and a thick, wild black mustache and beard, wearing a Painter’s uniform.

  Bella swallowed, staring at the picture silently. Then she moved to the rightmost wall, studying the sketches there. More scenes of Bella and Mom, but each with this man. And one of Mom and the man alone, standing beneath an archway, kissing.

  “She liked to draw too,” a voice behind her stated. “Just like you.”

  Bella whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat. There, standing in the doorway to the room she’d just come from, was Gideon.

  “Holy crap,” she blurted out, her heart pounding in her chest. “You scared me!”

  “My apologies.”

  “Where are we?” she asked, looking around. Her eye went to one of the small windows, and she stepped up to it, peering out. Rolling black hills spread out as far as she could see, leafless, twisted trees dotting the landscape. A blood-red moon hung low in the sky, angry black clouds blotting out the stars. “Is this Mom’s Conclave?” she guessed.

  “Something like that,” Gideon answered. />
  “What was that…thing? The one that came out of the coffin?”

  “That was Death,” Gideon replied.

  “Death?”

  “The personification of death,” he clarified. “The gatekeeper to this…place,” he added. “Your mother was very fond of death. And dying, and decay. She thought they were underappreciated…a part of the natural order of things, a beautiful cycle of life and death and eventual rebirth.”

  Bella absorbed this, then turned back to the sketch of Mom and the man kissing.

  “Is that…my dad?” she asked. Gideon nodded.

  “A picture of him, yes.”

  “He was a Painter,” she noted.

  “Yes.”

  “What happened to him?” Bella pressed. Gideon sighed.

  “That’s a long story, Bella,” he replied. “You see, he was a great Painter. They both were, he and your mother. But he did something terrible long before he met her. Something unforgivable…a crime that, had anyone discovered it, would have gotten him hanged.”

  Bella just stared at him.

  “He kept this a secret, Bella. A secret he never told anyone…until he met your mother. She forgave him. She loved him despite what he’d done, and they came here, to Havenwood. And they had you here, on your mother’s thirty-third birthday.” Gideon smiled. “This is where you were born, Bella…here, in this place,” he added, gesturing with one hand.

  “But what happened to him?” Bella pressed.

  “He stayed in Havenwood when you and your mother went to visit Thaddeus in Blackthorne,” Gideon explained. “He had a painting he’d wanted to finish, and classes to teach. You and your mother left, and the rest…well, you know.”

  “I don’t,” she countered. “All I know is that my mother died in Blackthorne.”

  “Yes,” Gideon confirmed. “She did.”

  “How?”

  “The Collector attacked Blackthorne,” he answered. “Personally. He tried to capture Thaddeus, and your mother stopped him.”