The Magic Collector

by Clayton Wood

  Simon buried his face in the Collector’s chest again, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard the man’s heart, felt each beat against his ear. There was an awful rattling sound from deep within the Collector’s throat, and his chest rose and fell one last time.

  As Simon listened, his heartbeat gradually slowed…then stopped.

  And then, surrounded by the only people who had ever truly loved him, the Collector became the very thing that had willed him into existence.

  A memory.

  Chapter 54

  The journey back to Havenwood was refreshingly uneventful. Bella and Gideon went through the Plane of Reflection to the inverted Underground, then enjoyed a short flight back to Dragon’s Peak. The Dragonkind dropped them off at the base of the mountain, by the shore of Lake Fenestra. The Everstream flowed into the inverted lake just as it did in the real world – or rather, the original one – sunlight causing the waterfall to sparkle merrily. King Draco bid them goodbye, and promised to send his soldiers through the lake to the original world to help rebuild Havenwood.

  After leaping into the lake and returning to the original world, Bella and Gideon got to work, taking all the paintings of the Painters the Collector had collected and drawing them out one-by-one. Most had violated the laws of the Pentad in joining the Collector, and having been betrayed by him, were now wanted criminals without a home.

  But Havenwood was a home for those without a home. So it became theirs…and Gideon and Bella became instant heroes.

  Having finished the task of freeing hundreds of artists, Bella found herself walking hand-in-hand with Grandpa and Gideon. They strolled up Main Street as it wound up Dragon’s Peak, Myko trotting faithfully at Gideon’s side. Nemesis, on the other hand, had already flown all the way up to the mouth of the Water Dragon cave, having little patience for walking. Bella found her Familiar’s temperament to be quite different than her own, and marveled that she so poorly understood a thing she’d single-handedly created.

  That’s art, Nemesis told her. You made me to be like your mother.

  “Funny, I don’t remember my mother being such a…” Bella began, then realized Gideon was arching an eyebrow at her. “Uh, sorry,” she mumbled.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Gideon reassured.

  “I hope not,” Grandpa countered, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m dying to know what brought that on.”

  “Was Mom…difficult?” Bella asked. Gideon and Grandpa glanced at each other, then burst out laughing. Which earned them both glares.

  “Remember when I told you she was…complicated?” Grandpa asked. Bella nodded.

  “She was like a riddle,” Gideon piped in. Grandpa nodded.

  “One without an answer,” he added.

  Bella stopped, pulling her hands from theirs, and placing them squarely on her hips.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Your mother was…” Grandpa began, choosing his words carefully. “A woman at odds with herself.” Gideon nodded in agreement.

  “That’s a good way to put it.”

  “She was the most heroic villain I ever met,” Grandpa continued. “Always drawn so powerfully to darkness, yet desperately yearning for light.”

  “You’re talking in riddles,” Bella accused. Grandpa waggled his eyebrows.

  “That’s what she was.”

  “Am I ever going to get straight answers from you two?” she pressed, feeling rather fed up with them. They glanced at each other, then at her.

  “Nope,” they said in unison.

  Bella threw up her hands in disgust, then stomped up the spiraling path, not bothering to see if they’d follow. Of course, they did follow, but only after sharing another laugh at her expense.

  Well ha ha, she thought. Yuck it up.

  They’re not wrong, Nemesis notified her.

  “Oh yeah?” Bella shot back. “What would you know about my mom?”

  Well, considering I’m literally some of your repressed memories of her, more than you, her Familiar retorted.

  Bella ignored the dragon, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Myko trotted up to her side, nudging her with his great big head. His tongue was out, his eyes smiling at her.

  “Hey Myko,” she murmured, scratching behind his ear. He gave her a big old kiss on the cheek, and she couldn’t help but smile. “You always make me feel better, you know that?”

  Myko wuffed.

  “Why can’t you be like him?” Bella muttered. She felt Nemesis roll her eyes, at least mentally. The dragon didn’t have actual eyes to roll, after all. Bella had an evil thought involving a repeat performance of Nemesis losing her head, and Nemesis made it quite clear just how much she cared about Bella’s feelings.

  “And to think I missed you,” she grumbled.

  A while later, she made it to the mouth of the Water Dragon cave, making her way with Gideon and Grandpa to her mother’s mansion. Animus was quite delighted to see them, swirling about excitedly when they entered the lobby. Gideon gave Grandpa a sly grin.

  “Guess you could say she really ‘mist’ us, eh?”

  Grandpa and Bella groaned, and they all went to the living room, flopping onto the couch there. Gideon sighed, staring at the dead fireplace.

  “Well then,” he stated. “Now what?”

  “Pardon?” Grandpa replied.

  “We’ve all spent the last decade being hunted down by a madman,” Gideon explained. “Now that he’s gone, what do you suggest we do?”

  “I suggest,” Grandpa replied, “…that we learn how to live.”

  “I’m on board with that,” Bella piped in. “Hey, why don’t we go visit the Pentad?”

  Grandpa and Gideon exchanged looks.

  “That…might not be the best idea,” Grandpa replied. “Your father’s facing prosecution, and I’m now a wanted criminal.”

  “What?”

  “I published a book on the black market,” he reminded her.

  “Oh. Right.” She frowned. “So my family is full of criminals.”

  “Including yourself,” Gideon piped in. “You painted a Familiar without a license.”

  “Oh. Well, I guess we’re staying here then,” Bella decided. The two chuckled, and Bella went to hold Gideon’s hand. But it was his right arm, and there was of course no hand to be found. “Hey,” she stated. “Want me to give you your right hand back?”

  Gideon frowned, staring at his stump.

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled. Grandpa patted him on the shoulder.

  “I’d say you’ve punished yourself quite enough, old boy,” he prompted. “You have to forgive yourself if you want to be whole again.”

  Gideon sighed, lifting his gaze to Bella’s. He nodded once.

  “All right,” he decided. “You’ve already made me whole again here, and here,” he added, pointing to his head, then his heart. “You can give me my hand back.”

  * * *

  Bella did paint Gideon a new hand, and although it took hours to get it right, the results were nothing short of spectacular. His new hand worked as well as the old one had, and upon exiting Bella’s canvas, Gideon even got a bit emotional. He hugged Bella – a full hug, for the first time since she could remember, and they shared a laugh…and a cry. Then he got a funny look on his face, staring at her for a long time.

  “What?” she asked.

  He didn’t reply, instead going to the far end of the studio. There was a large painting set against the wall there.

  “Help me move this, will you?” he asked. She did so, each grabbing the frame and pulling it to the side…and revealing a door that had been hidden behind it. Gideon twisted the knob, opening it.

  A narrow hallway lay beyond, with stairs leading downward.

  Bella gave Gideon a questioning look, but he simply stepped out into the hallway, gesturing for her to follow. They went down the stairs, and she found herself in a small foyer adjacent to a living room, the front door to the home directly before them. Gideon opened the door, s
tepping through, and Bella followed behind him.

  And found herself outside.

  A grassy field extended outward for a hundred feet ahead, the rotting stump of what must have been a huge tree visible nearby. And beyond the field, a large lake.

  Gideon led her past the tree stump, all the way up to the shore of the lake, and stood there gazing at it. The setting sun splashed its red and purple rays over the gently rippling water, a scene so striking that Bella had the sudden urge to paint it.

  It was beautiful.

  They stood there for a long while, and Bella glanced at Gideon. He stood tall, his shoulders set back proudly. But his eyes were moist.

  “This is the lake,” Bella realized, turning to look over the placid waters. “This is where it happened…in your Conclave.”

  Gideon swallowed visibly, then nodded.

  “A painting killed my son, and my son’s painting killed my wife.”

  They both stood there for a long while, and Bella wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him a little closer. He put an arm around her waist, and they held each other, neither of them saying a thing for a long time. At last, Gideon stirred.

  “I really screwed up,” he muttered.

  “Yup.”

  “If I hadn’t…” he began, but Bella cut him off.

  “But you did,” she interrupted. “And it’s not okay. It never will be. Mom’s dead, you weren’t there for me for ten years. And nothing can change that.”

  Gideon lowered his gaze, looking absolutely miserable.

  “It doesn’t have to be okay,” Bella continued. “You made a mistake. A big one. But you can still come back from it.” She smiled. “Sometimes the villain deserves to be a hero.”

  Gideon broke out into a rueful smile.

  “Now you sound like your grandfather,” he grumbled.

  “I learned from the best.”

  Gideon took a deep, steadying breath in.

  “I’m sorry Bella,” he apologized. “For being a terrible father.”

  Bella rested her head on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.

  “You are a terrible father,” she told him, showing him her right forearm. “A good dad would never have let me get this tattoo so young.”

  He chuckled despite himself, shaking his head.

  “Love you Dad.”

  He smiled a sad smile, squeezing her back. And though he didn’t say it back, Bella wasn’t offended. He was a Painter, after all. A master storyteller. He didn’t need to say he loved her.

  He’d already shown it.

  * * *

  By the time they went back into Gideon’s old home, returning through the portal to Mom’s house, it was well after sundown. Grandpa, Gideon, and Bella found themselves utterly exhausted. Though the sun had risen and fallen with the usual number of hour in-between, it had easily been the longest day of their lives.

  So it was that Gideon bid Bella goodnight, retiring back to his Conclave. Nemesis went “out,” whatever that meant, and Bella made her way to her bedroom. Grandpa came soon after, and like old times he laid beside her in bed, on top of her blanket. He spun her a wild tale, one as amazing as any he’d ever told, crafting a masterful story seemingly from thin air.

  “How do you do it?” Bella asked when he was done. He rolled onto his side, peering at her through his gold-rimmed glasses.

  “Do what?” he inquired.

  “Make up such wonderful stories like that.”

  “Oh, well, I’ve lived a long life,” Grandpa answered, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “Nearly a thousand years, Bella. That’s a long story.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remember what I said about writing?” he asked. “That it’s like being an archaeologist excavating a subterranean tomb, searching for priceless treasures?”

  “Pieces of your heart and mind, lost to the ravages of time,” Bella recited. Grandpa smiled.

  “Well, I find that the more you live, the more stories you’ll be able to tell,” Grandpa explained. “And not just the years you exist,” he added. “You have to live to have stories in you. That’s where they come from, Bella. From pain and suffering and joy and hope and want and loss.”

  “Oof,” she muttered. “I don’t want half of those things.”

  “You already have them,” Grandpa pointed out. “And you’ll have more, I’m afraid. That’s life. That’s your story…and it’s being written right now, as we speak.”

  Bella nodded, staring up at the ceiling. She spotted a sudden, faint light shining through her blanket then, and she frowned, pulling it down. Her amulet was there, resting on her chest.

  And the heart-shaped ruby was glowing.

  She stared at it, watching as it pulsed ever-so-slightly with a crimson light. Almost in time with her heartbeat. She sat up, frowning at it.

  “What’s this?” she asked, glancing at Grandpa. He sat up as well, staring at the amulet.

  “Well I’ll be,” he murmured.

  “Why is it doing that?” she asked.

  “I think…I think the Collector must have died,” Grandpa guessed. Bella stared at him, then down at the amulet. The ruby wasn’t just glowing…it was whole. The crack that had run down its center was gone.

  “I don’t get it,” she admitted. “Why’s it glowing?”

  “Well, it stole the Collector’s life force, didn’t it?” Grandpa replied. “Maybe it used it to heal itself.”

  “Maybe,” Bella agreed. They both stared at it for a while longer, then laid back down. “You were right,” she murmured.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” Grandpa replied with a mischievous grin. “I’m right about an awful lot.”

  “That she was always there to protect me,” Bella clarified, ignoring his quip. “Even in…you know.”

  Grandpa nodded, his smile fading.

  “She was quite the woman, Bella,” he declared. “And I daresay you’re becoming more like her every day.”

  Bella smiled.

  “Thanks Grandpa.”

  He sat up then, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek, then getting off the bed and walking to the door. He opened it partway, then glanced back at her, his body silhouetted against the light from the hallway beyond.

  “I love you sweetheart,” he murmured.

  “I love you too Grandpa.”

  He opened the door all the way then, turning to leave the room.

  “Grandpa?” she asked. He turned to face her.

  “Yes?”

  “I feel guilty that Mom had to die to save me,” she confessed. He smiled.

  “Don’t,” he replied. “Your mother wasn’t afraid of death, Bella. She always said that she wanted to die the way she lived.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Beautifully,” he answered.

  And then he closed the door with a soft click, leaving Bella alone in the darkness. And yet, within that darkness, a warm, pulsing light shone atop her breastbone, beating in a slow, comforting rhythm.

  Beauty in the darkest dark.

  Bella gazed at it for a while, then glanced over at her nightstand. She reached out to pull open its small drawer, feeling for a small, folded up piece of paper within. Unfolding it, she read the words on the page, written in perfect penmanship, her eyes going to the last paragraph.

  Remember that love is something you give, as I gave mine to you. Give it to your art and heal your heart.

  Bella smiled, folding the paper back up, then putting it away. There was a scratching at the door, and she got up, pulling it open. It was Myko, of course. He leapt onto her bed, and she laid down beside him, feeling him curl around her back. His giant paw draped over her side, pulling her close.

  She smiled, snuggling against him, and looked down at her amulet one more time, gazing at the steady pulsing of its heart for a moment longer. Then she tucked it under her shirt, closing her eyes.

  And then, her broken heart made whole once more, surrounded by the warmth and lo
ve of her best four-legged friend, she fell fast asleep.

  Epilogue

  The innumerable pale, blue and green lights that served as the only illumination in Arx Mortus shone through the window of the cramped, single-room apartment. There were hundreds of rooms just like it in the dark tower that rose high above the city streets, and many more towers. And in each of the tiny rooms, there was a narrow, hard cot. A single window. And nothing else.

  The denizens of the Lost Ones.

  These wretched souls had stayed too long in the land of the living after their deaths before crossing over to the Plane of Death. Their bodies had decomposed beyond any hope of continuing the existence they’d had in life. Those whose brains had badly rotted still remained retained some memory of who they’d been. But for those poor souls whose bones were all that was left, there was no “self” at all.

  No memories. Not even a name. Only a compulsion to act, to carrying out whatever mindless task had been assigned to them by their superiors. And a vague sense of personhood. Such that, had they not been afforded a small place to call their own, they would have been plagued by a profound depression, and not worked at all.

  There were tens of thousands of Lost Ones in Arx Mortus, and millions more in the Plane of Death. All servants of Petrusa, Queen of the Dead.

  Though the Plane of Death knew no sun, nor the endless cycle of day and night, the memory of these things remained even within the bones of the Lost Ones. They could not sleep, but still they laid in their cots, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.

  But one of the Lost Ones did not live in the towers of Arx Mortus.

  It stayed instead in the palace, the huge castle set upon a great stone platform midway between the floor of the Plane of Death and the great Ceiling of the World above. It existed at the whim of Petrusa herself, following at the Queen’s side.

  Normally such a thing was not allowed. And indeed, this particular Lost One had been with its brethren in the towers at first. Just another skeleton amongst thousands of others.

  It had only two qualities that set it apart from all the others. The first was a circle carved into its forehead, a ring into which molten gold had been carefully poured. Tiny symbols were etched into the ring’s surface; runes that few of the living – or the dead – could have deciphered.