The Magic Collector

by Clayton Wood

  “I need to save my grandfather,” Bella told him. “But I can’t fight the Collector alone.” She paused. “I need your help. The help of the Dragonkind.”

  King Draco stood, slamming the butt of his staff against the floor. The sound reverberated through the royal chamber.

  “We are ever loyal servants of our Creator, our very existence owed to his great kindness,” he declared. “I shall command my armies forthwith to lay siege to this villain and reclaim Thaddeus Birch from his evil clutches.” His tone turned grave. “Any enemy of the Creator is a sworn enemy of the Dragonkind.”

  Bella bowed.

  “Thank you, your majesty,” she replied. She hesitated then. “I have a…friend who says the Collector uses a series of tunnels called the Underground. They have doorways that lead to places all over the world. Lake Fenestra is a portal to my world now. If your army crosses over, they can take the Underground to reach the Collector quickly.”

  The king considered this.

  “If the Underground exists in your realm, then its sister exists in ours,” he reasoned. “We shall navigate this Underground in our world, and cross through the giant mirror Chiral to lay siege to the Collector’s defenses.”

  “Thank you your Highness.”

  “I shall require intimate details of the Collector’s defenses, and the layout of his castle,” King Draco stated.

  “I have a friend that might be able to help.”

  “Then summon him to me at once,” Draco ordered. “We shall spend this day planning our assault, and readying my army. Tomorrow, we shall mobilize…and if the Creator wills it, we shall rescue Him from the clutches of this ‘Collector.’”

  Bella bowed again, more deeply this time.

  “Do not bow to me, granddaughter of the Creator,” the king requested. “We owe our existence to the Creator. It is my pleasure to serve Him…and you.”

  And with that, King Draco stood from his throne, lowering himself to one knee and bowing before her. Bella accepted this, feeling rather awkward. He stood then.

  “Go,” he stated. “Bring your friend to me. Return tomorrow morning, and we shall commence with our mission to save the Creator.”

  * * *

  Bella did as the king requested, returning to the original world and bringing Piper this time. Piper told Draco everything he knew about the Underground and the Collector’s defenses, then returned to the original world with Bella. By that time, it was well after sundown, the night sky alight with countless shimmering stars. They made their way back to Mom’s estate, passing through the broken portcullis into the foyer. Animus greeted them by swirling around Bella’s feet, and she smiled at the Familiar.

  “Hi girl,” she greeted.

  “Better head off to bed,” Piper recommended. “Gonna need all the sleep we can get for tomorrow.”

  “I will,” she promised. “Just going to stop by the studio for a sec.”

  They split up, Piper following his own recommendation. Bella went to her studio, closing the door behind her and standing before the painting of her dragon.

  It was then that she realized she hadn’t named it yet.

  “Well duh,” she scolded herself. Assigning a name was a simple matter; all she had to do was print it on something the dragon owned. Or perhaps put it in the title of the painting.

  But what to name it?

  She thought back to her mother’s story. Of the Collector killing her mother in Blackthorne, and of the Collector being attacked by Lucia’s curse afterward.

  She was like a dragon, Grandpa had said. Powerful and fierce. And always there to protect you, even in…

  Even in death.

  In killing her mother, the Collector had activated Bella’s ruby necklace…protecting her from him, and sealing his doom if he drew too close.

  Vengeance, she thought.

  “No, already taken,” she muttered. She couldn’t steal Piper’s character’s name. “Revenge…Curse. Cursa?” She made a face. “Enemy…Nemy…Nemesis…”

  She stopped.

  “Nemesis,” she murmured, breaking out into a smile. “Now that’s a name!”

  She walked up to a little stand beside the painting, getting some ivory paint and dabbing it on her palette. Then she grabbed a fine paintbrush, dipping it in the paint and walking up to the canvas.

  “Nemesis,” she wrote in neat, cursive letters on one of the dragon’s ribs.

  She stood back then, feeling rather pleased with herself.

  Bang!

  Bella whirled around to face the closed door of her studio. The sound had come from the hallway beyond it. She reached into her chest-painting for Sleep Terror, drawing the magical bone-whip out. Rapid footsteps approached from the hallway beyond, getting closer and closer.

  Then the door burst open in a flash of silver light!

  Bella took a step back, raising her whip to strike…and saw a big, glowing silver wolf burst into the room.

  “Myko!” Bella cried, rushing up to the wolf and giving him a big bear hug. Myko wuffed, then showered Bella with wet kisses. She laughed, kissing his nose, then hugging him again. “Oh Myko, I missed you so much!”

  Another set of footsteps approached, and Bella looked past Myko. There, standing in the doorway, was none other than Gideon Myles.

  “Bella!” he cried, rushing up to Bella and embracing her. He lifted her clear off the floor, twirling her around, then setting her down. He held her at arms’ length then, looking terribly relieved. “Oh thank the gods you’re okay!” His expression darkened. “When I saw the White Dragon, I knew something was terribly wrong. I came up here as quickly as I could. What happened?”

  “The Collector,” Bella answered. “He attacked the White Dragon with this…thing. An army of soldiers that combined to form this huge monster. It destroyed downtown, and hurt the White Dragon. Bad.”

  “So I saw,” Gideon replied. “I take it the White Dragon prevailed.”

  “It did,” she confirmed. “But…the Collector, he…”

  She stopped then, feeling a lump form in her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she lowered her gaze, shaking her head.

  “He got Grandpa,” she forced herself to say.

  Gideon stood there, the color draining from his face. Then he dropped to one knee before her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  “We’ll get him back,” he promised. “I’m going to make things right, Bella.” His jawline rippled. “I should have done it a long time ago.”

  “I’ll help,” she promised, meeting his gaze. “Grandpa’s plan worked. His second book made the lake a portal into the Plane of Reflection. I went there today and got the king to help us.”

  Gideon’s eyebrows went up.

  “Really?”

  “King Draco wants us to join him tomorrow in the Plane of Reflection,” she informed him. “We’re taking the Underground – in the Plane of Reflection – to the Collector’s inverted castle. The Dragonkin army will attack, and we’ll grab Grandpa and Kendra.”

  “I see,” Gideon replied. He stood then, regarding her with newfound appreciation. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I’ve had a reason to be.”

  He nodded, then turned to regard Bella’s painting. The painting of her Familiar…of Nemesis. His eyebrows and his jaw went in opposite directions…so much so that Bella had to smile.

  “You like it?” she asked.

  He stood there for a moment longer, then strode right up to the painting, his chin in his hand. He studied it intently, drinking in every detail. After several long, silent minutes, he turned to Bella.

  “Bella, this…” he began, then stopped. He shook his head. “This is just…”

  “What?”

  “Do you see this?” he asked, gesturing at the undead dragon. “See how it looks like it’s ready to leap from the canvas?”

  “Piper said that means it has powerful magic.”

  “He’s right,” Gideon confirmed. He gestured at Myko with his stump. “I
t was the same with him.”

  “It was?” Bella asked.

  “Yes,” Gideon confirmed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Bella. You told your story…your story. The one in your heart. The one you were most afraid of.” He smiled. “That took a lot of courage. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile of her own. “Um, Dad.”

  “Still awkward, eh?”

  “Yup.”

  “We’ll get used to it,” he promised. “In any case, this means that your Familiar is going to be incredibly powerful.”

  “In what way?” she asked.

  “We won’t know until you draw it out,” he answered. “But there’s something missing.”

  “My signature?” she guessed.

  “Right.”

  Gideon grabbed the paintbrush she’d used to entitle the painting then, handing it to Bella. She paused, then took it, dipping it in the ivory paint on her palette, then gazing one last time at her painting.

  “How do I know if it’s finished?” she asked.

  “When your changes stop mattering,” Gideon answered. He raised an eyebrow. “Have they?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Art is never really finished,” he admitted. “But eventually we have to abandon our works. There are other stories to tell, and sometimes good enough is good enough.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “And believe me, this painting is more than good enough.”

  “You’re my dad,” Bella countered. “You have to say that.”

  “The good fathers do,” Gideon conceded with a wry smirk. “I don’t think I qualify.”

  Bella gave him a look.

  “Go on,” he insisted, gesturing at the painting.

  She turned back to the painting, then took a deep breath in, squaring her shoulders. Then she leaned in, signing her name below the title: Bella M. Birch.

  A gentle breeze caressed her from behind, and a chill ran down her spine.

  “Good,” Gideon declared. “Now…ready to meet your dragon?”

  Bella took a deep breath in, then squared her shoulders, nodding at Gideon.

  “Ready.”

  She reached into the painting, feeling the warm pulsing of the magic there as her fingers dipped into the canvas. She felt her hand brush up against the hard shaft of the bone of her dragon’s upper arm, and she pulled, bringing her Familiar to life.

  Chapter 42

  Simon sat patiently on the bench in the Collector’s waiting room, staring down at the simple black cloak he was wearing, a very special uniform he’d been given to wear today. Mrs. Savage had seen to it that the cloak had been placed on top of his bureau that morning. A garment he’d spotted other Painters wearing when they’d earned their promotions.

  He smiled, hardly believing that he was wearing it now. That, after such a short period of time, he’d earned the right to ascend to Castle Over. For the first time since he could remember, he felt completely at peace. He hadn’t needed to cut himself for weeks now.

  It was liberating.

  “The Collector will see you now,” Miss Savage declared, standing up from her desk and walking toward the Collector’s door. Simon bolted up from the bench, following her to the door. She opened it, giving him a little smile and gesturing for him to walk through.

  “Congratulations,” she murmured. Simon smiled back, then stepped into the Collector’s office. The Collector looked up from the papers on his desk, gazing at Simon with those exquisite green eyes.

  “Ah, there you are Simon,” he stated. “Did you sleep well?”

  “No sir.”

  “Why not?” the Collector inquired.

  “I was too excited sir,” he confessed. “About today.”

  “Understandable,” the Collector replied. He hesitated, but only for a split-second. “I didn’t sleep well either, to be honest.”

  Simon gave him a questioning look.

  “I too have a lot on my mind,” the Collector admitted. Simon nodded at that. The Collector was a powerful man, with a great deal of responsibility. He could only imagine how difficult being in the man’s shoes would be.

  There was an uncharacteristically awkward pause, and the Collector cleared his throat.

  “Come, let’s not delay your promotion any further,” he stated.

  And with that, the man stood, gesturing for Simon to follow him to a door on the opposite end of the office. The Collector retrieved a key from his pocket, inserting it into the lock and turning it 90 degrees clockwise. It was clearly a magical key, created for this very door. Simon suspected the two had been painted on the same canvas.

  There was a click, and the Collector pulled the door open, gesturing for Simon to take the lead.

  Simon stepped through the doorway, emerging into a circular room. A tower, in fact; he knew that it was the tallest spire of the castle. The one that rose to meet the inverted castle far above. He gazed upward, seeing a seemingly endless spiraling staircase leading to the top…and beyond, to the bottom of the inverted tower.

  It was enough to give him goosebumps.

  He glanced at the Collector, who gestured for him to ascend the stairs. Simon did so, starting the long journey upward, the Collector following behind him. The man seemed uncharacteristically distracted, almost melancholy…and was trying to hide it from him. A noble effort, to not want to spoil Simon’s promotion. Simon decided not to ask what the Collector was thinking about, not wanting the man to realize his efforts had been in vain.

  We shouldn’t be apart, he felt his Familiar insist.

  Doppelganger – still in Simon’s studio, pacing before the huge canvas he’d painted Legion on – was clearly vexed, transmitting an irritated, nervous energy. Simon agreed silently. But the Collector had demanded it…at least until the ceremony was complete.

  He’s separating us for a reason.

  Simon ignored the sudden trickle of paranoia coming from his Familiar, focusing on his ascent. Doppelganger was always paranoid…about everyone.

  Trust no one, Doppelganger argued. You know what would happen if he knew what you really were.

  Simon swallowed, feeling the Collector behind him. The warmth radiating from the man’s body.

  It made his skin tingle.

  Simon realized he’d slowed down, and focused on the stairs ahead, maintaining an even pace. It was many minutes later that he reached the end of the spiraling staircase. It stopped halfway up the tower, with a landing that dropped off suddenly. There was another landing – and staircase – above, a perfect mirror-image. Which meant that this was the transition point…the entrance to Castle Over.

  A horizontal bar was set between the two landings, roughly six feet above the landing he was standing on.

  Simon felt the Collector standing behind him, and glanced back at the man questioningly.

  “I’ll pick you up,” the man stated. “Grab onto the bar and swing as high as you can. You’ll have to clear the midway point between the two castles…gravity will do the rest.”

  “Yes sir,” Simon murmured.

  The Collector stepped up behind Simon, putting his hands under Simon’s armpits. Simon felt the man’s chest and abdomen press against his back, and grit his teeth, willing himself to not react to the sudden and unexpected closeness. The Collector lifted him up, and Simon grabbed onto the horizontal bar, feeling the Collector’s hands slip away.

  Simon focused, swinging back and forth, going a little higher each time. Then he reached the invisible border between the two castles…and felt a force pull on his outstretched legs, forcing him to continue his forward swing. The tower rotated alarmingly around him…and he found himself hanging above the landing…opposite the Collector.

  He let go, landing with a thump, then glancing upward. The Collector was standing upside-down on the landing above. Simon went a few steps down, giving the man ample room to swing and land.

  Moments later, the Collector did just that, dropping gracefully to the landing.

  “Continue,” t
he man prompted, gesturing for Simon to start the journey downstairs. He did so, spiraling downward to the bottom of the inverted tower. There was a door here, identical to the one far above, but the doorknob was on the opposite side. The Collector unlocked it, and they stepped through into the room beyond. The Collector’s office…but with different furniture.

  “My study,” the Collector explained.

  “What do you study?” Simon inquired, gazing at the books on the large desk in the center of the room, and the countless other books on the shelves built into the walls.

  “History,” the Collector answered. “Art History, specifically.”

  “To know what paintings to…take?”

  The Collector gave a slight smile.

  “Among other things,” he answered. Simon spotted a whole shelf devoted to the history of literature.

  “What about those?” he asked.

  “Books created much of this world, Simon,” the Collector replied. “To know the history of books is to understand the history of the world…and to discover lands long forgotten.”

  He led Simon through the office into the room beyond, a mirror-image of the waiting room. Simon half-expected Miss Savage to be there, but neither she – nor her desk – were. In fact, the room was utterly empty, with no furniture or adornments of any kind.

  And, as the Collector led Simon through the hallways and stairwells of Castle Over, Simon realized that this was the norm. The entire castle seemed abandoned. Unadorned. Uncared for. As if Under had been a show of power and prestige, while Over was merely…functional.

  “What is this castle for?” he asked as they walked. The Collector slowed, looking down at Simon.

  “No one’s ever asked me that before,” he admitted. He paused. “It used to be a storehouse for an ancient Writer named Persnickity Gibbons,” he answered. “The man who created Castle Under, in fact.”

  “And Over?”

  “No, Castle Over exists in the Plane of Reflection,” the Collector explained. “Where we are now. When Castle Under was created, its mirror-image automatically appeared in the Plane of Reflection.”

  Simon nodded. Made sense.

  “The Writer merely arranged for a giant, magical mirror to exist in the sky above the original castle,” the Collector continued. “One that would serve as a portal between the two planes.”