Enchanter's Embrace

by A R DeClerck

  “Hurry, once we’re inside the shop we can switch on the electric, and the light should keep them away.”

  Corrigan caught up to the man as they ran toward the building, the smoke converging again into a lumbering creature with sick red eyes and a gaping maw of a mouth. “You’ve wired this place to electricity?”

  “Better.” Trimble pushed open the door and slammed it closed as Corrigan followed him inside. He flipped a switch on the wall and the dark interior buzzed to light. Corrigan blinked against the sudden glare of what seemed to be full noon on a summer’s day. “I have a steam turbine turning the generator, and it powers the whole estate. We’ll be safe in here until Machiavelli comes for us.”

  Corrigan slumped onto one of the tall stools that surrounded a long wooden workbench covered in tools. “Did I ever tell you how much I love science?”

  Atraxas moved around the room, picking up tools and rolls of copper wire from his workbench. He stuffed them into a canvas bag and grinned. “Science saved me from a life too much like my father’s.”

  “He seems a happy fellow.”

  “He never wanted more than what he has. I could not imagine spending my life in service to the dirt and the sun and the rain.”

  “So he allowed you to study science.” Corrigan picked up a miniature bird, made of cogs and springs that danced in his hand when he pushed its head.

  “I make toys for the children of the estate sometimes,” Atraxas said as he held up another delicate mechanical creature; a fox this time, with sharp features and naughty smile. “When I’m not tinkering with my father’s plows.”

  “Your brother, is he the only child who manifested magical abilities?”

  “No, we had a sister; Valeria. She died at twenty and two in childbirth.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Corrigan stood when the flurrying of feathers sounded outside the workspace. “That’s either Machiavelli or a flock of demons.”

  “The raven, I hope.” Atraxas pushed aside a heavy tarp and Corrigan’s eyes widened when he saw what lay beneath it.

  “I’ve never seen a contraption like that before.”

  “Elizabeth asked me to build it for her. Delbert drew up the plans before he went off to the war.”

  “What is it?” Corrigan knelt by the strange object and ran his hand over the smooth metal plating that covered it.

  “It’s called a wine tank. It’s used in the fermentation of wine. This is a bit more complicated than I’d imagined, but Del’s plans were very specific.”

  Corrigan looked up when there was a tapping at the window. Atraxas opened it up to allow a normal-sized Machiavelli to hop inside.

  “Glad to see you’re well, Captain.” Machiavelli preened and flapped his wings.

  “We made it, thanks to you. Are my men okay?”

  “A few claw marks and some bruises, but they’ll survive. The demons are moving back toward Summer Ridge now, so our way will be clear until we reach the western edge of the property.”

  “That’s where the hell-gate is,” Corrigan said. “I wish there was a way to close it.”

  “Any significant energy output would disrupt the gate and close it from the inside. They’re not designed to stay open this long.”

  Atraxas looked at Corrigan and a smile stretched over his face.

  “You have an idea?” the Captain guessed.

  “I do, but it will require some time. With the right combination of chemicals and materials, I believe I can build a bomb. We could detonate it directly in the hell-mouth and close it off for good.”

  “What are you going to need?”

  Atraxas hefted the wine cask up to its feet and tapped the stainless steel with a clang. “This, for starters. I have fertilizer from my father’s fields and heavy fuel oil for his plow and reaper. If we combine these things together inside the wine barrel, we should be able to ignite it close to the mouth of the hell-gate and roll it right in.”

  “It’s another six hours until dawn, and the demons outside Summer Ridge won’t be put off by Archimedes’ wards for much longer. We have to return with the magnets as soon as we can.” Corrigan picked up his bag and held it. He wanted so badly to close the gate that allowed more demons to pass through, but he also knew that his friends needed help. He sighed. “Machiavelli, can you carry the magnets back to Summer Ridge? I’ll write up specific instructions for how to assemble them and create the electric fence around the house.”

  “What will you be doing, if I may inquire?” the bird said with his unblinking eyes fixed on the captain.

  “Atraxas and I are going to close that gate by any means necessary.”

  “A dangerous mission.”

  Corrigan laughed, and Atraxas raised his eyebrows in confusion.

  “Machiavelli knows me well, you see,” Corrigan explained as he looped the rucksack around the familiar’s neck. Machiavelli grew three sizes to accommodate the weight and rolled his shoulders to settle the bag. “The only missions I undertake are the dangerous ones.”

  “Ah. Quite right.” Atraxas nodded and strode to the door, opening it for the familiar. After Machiavelli flew away he shut the door and pointed to heavy bags of fertilizer tucked neatly in the corner of the workshop. “We’ll take the fertilizer first, if you please. Once we pour the fuel oil in we’ll be carrying a very volatile substance that might blow us both to our next life.”

  “See,” Corrigan said as he hefted the heavy bag of mixed manure, “I told you I loved science.”

  “I’VE SETTLED ELIZABETH in her room and she appears to be resting comfortably after a sleeping draught. Grayson is watching over her, of course.” Bastion handed them each a cup of tea and stirred his own with a sigh.

  “How are the Romani children?” Lucia asked. The soothing honey in her tea caressed her throat and warmed her insides. The air outside was growing colder, and it spoke of snow in the coming days.

  “Stable, but nothing I have done seems to break the fever or soothe the rash. I’d like to try a tandem working later, if you can.”

  Lucia nodded. She and Bastion had worked in tandem many times before, feeding each other energy as they directed the aether to heal and repair.

  “Bastion, the elixir is ready,” Stella said from the doorway. The woman looked tired, dark circles hovering below her eyes. Bastion handed her a cup of tea and she sipped it with a grateful smile.

  “You look tired, Stella. Lie down with the others and Bastion and I will watch over the children for a bit.” Lucia gave the woman her shawl, and she wrapped it around her shoulders with a shiver.

  “No, I cannot rest. Not while Yasmin hovers between life and death. I will stay with her.”

  “Very well,” Archimedes said, taking Lucia’s hand. “I think it would be pertinent for us to search the rest of the house, in case Justice and Mrs. Burch have found another way in. Bastion will watch over you all while Lucia and I have a look around.”

  Bastion walked with Stella back toward the nursery and Lucia finished her tea with a last long gulp.

  “Do you really think Justice and Mrs. Burch have returned to the house?” she asked.

  Archie looked tired, his shirt collar undone and his sleeves rolled to his elbow. He tucked his hands into his pockets and paced the kitchen, his eyes narrowed as he tried to think it through. He never jumped to conclusions, Lucia thought with a smile, except when he tried to divine how she might be feeling. In that regard, he usually spoke first and thought later.

  “It makes little sense to me that Justice and Burch were involved in the poisonings or the dark fate of Old Wicket. Why allow the old man to linger in such a state for weeks only to assist in his gruesome fate later? And why wait to try to kill Elizabeth Wicket until we arrived?”

  “You think Justice and Mrs. Burch were victims or pawns, and not willing accomplices?”

  “I’m beginning to believe so, yes. And because we didn’t hear any ruckus or commotion in the house before they disappeared, I’m willing to bet that the
y, or their bodies, are still somewhere in this house.”

  “The kitchen door open was simply a ruse, then, to make us believe they’d gone running when the solicitor died.”

  “Yes.” Archie smiled at her, and Lucia felt a bubble of warmth in her chest at his admiring glance. “You are entirely too sharp-witted a woman to be dallying with a man like me, Lucia Conti.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head to his chest to listen to the beating of his heart through his shirt. He smelled of cinnamon and musk and she loved the sharp scent as it tickled her nose. “That may be true,” she teased, “but a man like you is exactly the kind of man for a woman like me.”

  His arms were careful around her, but he held her close, his cheek on the top of her head. “Were it up to me I’d take you away from this place and you’d only ever see sunshine and roses again.”

  She chuckled. “I haven’t seen sunshine and roses since I was fifteen, Archie. I know the darkness of the world. I have swam in it. Created some of it. You cannot protect me from the world. You can only be my companion through it.”

  “As is my privilege and my honor.”

  She stepped back from him and took his hand. He frowned and tried to extricate the metal from her grip but she held tight. “Come, then. If Justice and Mrs. Burch are still inside Summer Ridge we’ll find them.”

  They began in the lower halls, going from room to room and checking every nook and cranny of the large, old house. They knocked on walls and listened for hollow spots, but found none. They looked under beds and ruffled curtains, checking for any sign that Justice or Mrs. Burch had come that way. At last they moved upstairs, beginning in the long corridor that separated the east and west wings of the house.

  “Archie, do you notice anything strange about this hallway?” Lucia said after a moment. Archie turned from the wainscoting to stare with her down the length of the hall.

  “I fear I do not.”

  “Look at the doors. One, two, three,” Lucia pointed as she counted, “four, five, six, seven, eight.”

  “Yes. I see eight doors.”

  “But there’s a ninth door, Archie.”

  He frowned. His eyes flickered from one door to the next as he counted again.

  “See it there? At the end of the hallway?” Lucia pointed to the wall and drew the outline of the door with her finger. “There is a ninth door behind the wallpaper.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Archie murmured. They hurried to the end of the hallway and Lucia touched the wall with her fingertips.

  “The wallpaper is cut, but only newly so. This door was covered a long time ago, but very recently opened.”

  “I don’t see a knob or a handle. I wonder how we open it.” Archie pressed along the frame, searching for a latch or spring that might activate the hidden doorway. Lucia moved toward the paintings hanging on the wall. Mostly Wickets, she figured from the aquiline noses and square, stubborn chins of the men and the dainty oval shaped faces of the women.

  “Have you found anything?” Archie asked.

  “There are fingerprints smudged in the dust on this frame.” She pointed to a particularly grim family portrait in which none of the Wickets were smiling or appeared at all happy. In the corner of the ornate gilded frame there were distinct smudges in the dust. “Maybe this is the way to open the door.”

  Archie placed his fingertips on the corner of the frame and pushed it left, and a distinct click echoed down the hallway. “Ingenious.”

  Lucia felt a sudden gust of cold wind lift the hair on her neck and the door was open.

  “We’re going to need light.” Archie removed his wand and illuminated the aether with a soft word. The glow was orange-ish but strong enough to light the dim hallway.

  At the doorway Lucia could smell the musty scent of a room long closed. “Someone’s been through here recently. The cobwebs have been cleared.”

  “Wand at ready,” Archie said softly. “We have no idea what we might find.”

  Lucia removed her own wand and lifted it as she followed Archie over the threshold. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.

  A faint buzzing sound was now clearer as they moved farther into the room. Archie increased the illumination and Lucia gasped as the interior of the mysterious ninth room was revealed.

  “What kind of place is this?” she wondered aloud.

  “A laboratory of some kind.” Archie moved his wand around to see the room. “Someone was doing unspeakable things in this room.”

  On the far wall shelves were lined with jars, and Lucia recognized the fetid smell of formaldehyde in the air. Without looking she knew that whatever they held would be worse than anything she could imagine.

  “Archie.” Lucia pointed to the opposite side of the room, where two mounds were covered in dingy white sheets. “I think we’ve found Justice and Mrs. Burch.”

  He knelt by the mounds and pulled back the sheets, turning his head away in disgust. “In the same state as old man Wicket.”

  “Then you were right, they weren’t involved in trying to poison us. But what have they been doing in here?”

  Lucia moved around the room, but she couldn’t make heads or tails of the equipment she found. There were boxes filled with wires and gears, and other axle-type machines with cogs and bladders for steam power.

  “I recognize this.” Archie held up an orb the size of his palm, smooth and shiny silver.

  “What is that doing here?” The dielectric devices created by the mad scientist Robert Croft had supposedly been destroyed. They were dangerous in the wrong hands, as they could nullify a wizard’s ability to contact the aether.

  “I don’t know much about science, but I have begun to wonder if everything happening in Summer Ridge is somehow connected to the uprising in London.”

  “Put that thing down,” Lucia said with a shudder. She remembered the hollow way the orb made her feel when it was active. Archie placed the orb carefully on the table and moved to her side.

  “Kensington is a growing community of nuveau riche, flooding here from the heart of the city. More than a third of those moving here are young magical families.”

  “Are you suggesting that a faction of the rebels are planning to hurt the wizards living in Kensington? These are women and children, not armed combatants.”

  “What better way to test your plan than to call powerful wizards from London? Hurt us and prove that your plan will work on the others.”

  Lucia felt bile churning in her stomach. It was a smart plan; she couldn’t deny it. “But who?” she asked, looking around the room. “Who would know that this room was here? Was old man Wicket using this room? How could all this be going on at Summer Ridge and no one knew? What hater of magic would work so closely with a dark mage to accomplish this?”

  “My first thought was Elizabeth, but I am not sure she is capable of such vile acts.”

  “We know Justice and Mrs. Burch were not at fault, but who else could it be?”

  “I don’t know, but we cannot remain here pondering it now. We will close up the room and speak of this to no one else. We need to take care of the demons first, and then we’ll deal with our genocidal friend and our dark mage.”

  Lucia agreed with Archie. While the demons roamed free they were the most dangerous threat. Still, someone at Summer Ridge was playing them for fools, and she would make them pay when she finally discovered their identity. “Until then we trust no one but ourselves and our original companions.”

  He nodded and they left, closing the door gently behind them. In the hall Lucia was finally able to breath without the cloying scent of formaldehyde clogging her nose. Already she felt sluggish, her body and mind tired even as adrenaline rushed through her veins. Her friends, too, would be wearing thin after such a trying day. They would need to rest soon, or risk being weakened when the dark mage finally made himself known.

  “When this is over,” she said to Archie with a sigh, “I would adore a long vacation in a warmer, gentle
r clime.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Archie said with a grin. “I will take you anywhere you wish to go.”

  A knock sounded on the window behind them, and Archie bent to let a larger-than-normal Machiavelli inside. He removed the heavy rucksack from the bird-familiar’s neck and held it up. “But for now it appears the only place we are going is outside to face a horde of angry demons.”

  They moved as quickly as they could to place tall stakes at intervals around the house. As Archie hammered them in with a quick strike of his hammer, Lucia moved behind him, twisting the thick wire around the stakes and stringing it between them. Once they had encircled the entire house Archie placed the magnets at the four major corners.

  “How do we electrify it?” Lucia asked, staring at the writhing mass of demons that was pressing against Archie’s wards. He was tiring already, and if fully exhausted the wards would come down and demons would spill over Summer Ridge, devouring them all.

  “I’ll take the last bit of wire and tap into the junction box at the north side of the house.” Archie grinned. “Thank god Cora insisted we learn how electric lights worked the moment Icarus refused to allow them in our home.”

  “What happens then?”

  “The electric charge will go over the wire and encircle the house, creating an electromagnetic field, amplified by the magnets at each corner. That should repel the demons.”

  “Should?”

  He put his arm around her. “Yes. Should. If all we know of them is true, then they will be unable to cross the amplified field.”

  “Be careful,” she warned him, and he was gone, striding toward the north side of the house to jump-start their electrified fence.

  “Miss Lucia?”

  Lucia turned and Grayson was standing in the light of the door, his face pale but otherwise whole.

  “Grayson!” She hurried to him and hugged him, glad to see him up after his draining magical whirlwind only hours before. “Are you well?”