Enchanter's Embrace

by A R DeClerck

  He hugged her back briefly. “Recovering.” She felt him shiver against her. “So many demons.”

  “We’ve retrieved the items we needed to create an electric field around the house. It should help drive them off.” She took his hand and led him to sit next to her on the steps. “How is Mrs. Wicket?”

  “Sleeping, mercifully. She was sobbing uncontrollably, but wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

  Lucia thought about sparing the young man’s feelings, but truth was better than fiction. “She tried to kiss Archie, and he put her off. I think she was a bit embarrassed by it all.”

  “That doesn’t sound like her at all.” Grayson was frowning. “She was very dedicated to Delbert’s memory.”

  Lucia’s curiosity was peaked, and she thought it the best time to bring up the deceased younger Wicket. “Tell me about Delbert Wicket. What was he like?”

  “A melancholy boy with a love of books and learning, from what I recall. He rarely played outside with us, but we would find him in the pecan grove, high in a tree, reading some book or another.”

  “Was he a magical man?”

  Grayson laughed. From the sound of it, Del Wicket was far from magical.

  “The Wickets hated magic. Even before Atticus Dooley came to Kensington and turned it all upside down, they were scientists and thinkers. Old man Wicket never let a mage on his property if he could avoid it.”

  “Were they radicals, then?” There had been times in the past when the non-magicals had risen up against magic only to be put down quickly and unmercifully by the Grand Coven. Unlike the revolution brewing now, the non-magicals back then had little in the way of science with which to protect themselves.

  “Maybe. However, Del was different. We were friends as much as we could be. I was shocked when they told me he went off to war. Del hated violence and bloodshed.”

  “He married your true love. Wasn’t there some sort of animosity there?”

  “I knew long ago that Elizabeth and I would likely never marry. My grandmother’s magic was strong in me even at a young age. The only way we could ever be together is if I hid it and stayed here as a farmer.”

  Lucia smiled and squeezed the young man’s hand. “It is difficult to choose between one’s gifts and one’s heart. But now that you are a man of means in Desmond House it would be possible to marry.”

  Grayson looked away. “Elizabeth’s heart is with Del. As much as we once loved each other, I am not sure that love can be rekindled.”

  “And I am not sure it cannot,” Lucia whispered. She stood when Archie came around the corner.

  “Within moments we shall see if our first scientific endeavor has been successful,” he said, taking her hand. “Are you well, young Trimble?”

  Grayson nodded and stood. “I’ll go check on Elizabeth,” he said, and was gone without another word.

  “What’s eating him?” Archie wondered, his eyes fastened on the door that slammed shut.

  “I told him Elizabeth tried to kiss you.” She grinned when Archie groaned. “He would have heard it sooner or later. But he agrees, that doesn’t sound like typical behavior for her.”

  “I fear she is being manipulated by our dark opponent,” Archie agreed.

  “I also learned something interesting about the Wickets. It seems that they had a reputable dislike for magic and wizards. Only young Del was tolerant of it.”

  “So that room upstairs was some Wicket ancestor’s place. A place to experiment and attempt to discover how to destroy wizards?”

  “The question remains, who opened it now? And why? Was Justice or Mrs. Burch attempting to find a way to stop the dark mage by employing the devices we found there?”

  “Or striving to help him?” Archie murmured.

  Suddenly a great sizzle was heard, and the wires surrounding the house began to glow with electricity. The demons screamed and moved back en masse, and Archie grinned.

  “For now it seems we have succeeded in creating an electrified fence.”

  “Let’s go inside,” Lucia said with a barely contained shiver. The air was growing colder and the sky had clouded over. “Hopefully Atraxas and Corrigan will return soon.”

  “Wherever they are, I hope they are safe.”

  Lucia stared at the wriggling mass of demons, now held back beyond the wards by the fence. “As do I,” she said, “As do I.”

  The Door to Hell

  “This is heavier than I thought.” Corrigan panted under the exertion of carrying the wine barrel over the rough terrain.

  “Only a bit farther, I believe. This copse of trees marks the edge of Summer Ridge.”

  “What of the Wickets?” Corrigan asked in a low voice. “What cause might a dark mage have to target them specifically?”

  “I suppose my brother told you that everything in Kensington was roses when left?”

  “He did.”

  “He always had a way of ignoring the darkness. Long before Atticus Dooley came to Kensington there were rumors of a coven of dark mages at work here. Some of the most powerful and prosperous families were suspected of taking part or, at the very least, supporting the coven.”

  “The Wickets?”

  Atraxas laughed. “No. The Wickets were believers in the hard work of a man’s hands, rather than getting his fortune off the back of magic. Old Man Wicket would have scorned the idea had any dark mage called upon him. His only softness was for his son.”

  “And Delbert? Would he have joined such a coven?”

  “When Icarus Kane came to London most of the open practice of dark magic ceased. It was said that the coven disbanded. When Atticus Dooley was put to death we all believed that it was over. A dark stain on our small village that could now be forgotten.”

  “It seems that someone doesn’t want to forget.” Corrigan crouched at the edge of the woods and they set the wine cask down carefully between them. The open field was illuminated by moonlight, except for a jagged tear in the ground that seemed to suck in the light around it. Crawling from the breach was all manner of unspeakable horrors, all heading directly toward the main house as soon as they were free.

  “There’s our hell gate,” Atraxas said thoughtfully.

  “How do we ignite the bomb without alerting every demon within a kilometer of our presence?”

  “You distract them and I’ll push it in.”

  Corrigan stared at the man, aghast. “Are you short of wits, man? That’s suicide.”

  “Not if I can get clear of the blast before it goes off.”

  “That’s quite the ‘if’.”

  “Any other ideas?”

  Corrigan had to admit that he was short of prospects at the moment. He sighed. “Very well. I can bring them to me with the steam torch. It will buy you a few minutes at most.”

  “It will take approximately one hundred thirteen seconds for the fuel to ignite and cause the appropriate combustion.”

  “Run like hell, then.”

  Atraxas nodded and hefted the barrel to his shoulder. Corrigan had to admit that he would not have been able to carry it that way himself. “Good day to you, Captain. If we do not meet again—“

  “Your brother will have my head. So that cannot happen.”

  Corrigan stepped from the trees and turned on his torch, extending his Bo with a snick as he did. He would be able to hold off the corporeal demons while the light kept away the others. He nodded once to Atraxas and let out a piercing whistle as he ran for the opposite side of the field.

  The demons emerging from the crevasse saw the light, heard the whistle, and turned toward him in a surge. He ran as far as he could and kept his back to the trees. He saw the flash of moonlight off the wine barrel as Atraxas ran toward the Hell Gate at full tilt.

  A demon dripping mud and wet, black sludge approached him first, but he swung the torch toward it and pressed the button on his Bo that sent an electric charge running over it. It crackled and hissed in the cold air. As the demon lunged at him he swiped at it with the B
o, the electric charge cutting through the sopping flesh and making the demon scream.

  Corrigan knew he was quite possibly insane, but he felt a thrill run through him as the throng of demons approached. The way was clear for Atraxas, and soon they would cut off the unending flow of demons from the pit. He raised the Bo and let out a yell he had learned from his days with the Rakshasa in India. He crouched and took up his protective stance as they swarmed him. A slice right, a duck and uppercut to the left. He kept his center of gravity low and his balance in check as he avoided their razor sharp claws and teeth and struck out at any weak underbelly he could see.

  He hissed in pain as a jet of hot acidic spittle rained down on his right arm and dripped over his fingers, charring his skin as it went. He pushed off the spitter with his Bo and shook off the acid, wiping his hand on his pants as it burned. The smell was horrible, but it was buried under the rot and stench of the demons pressing in around him.

  Suddenly the ground shook as a massive explosion rocked the field. He stumbled and whooped again, pushing the demons back with his light. He cursed as it flickered, and he knew that he wasn’t going to have much longer to get free of the horde.

  The pain was piercing on his burned shoulder when a huge pair of talons gripped him tight and lifted him from the midst of the demons.

  “Pardon the intrusion, but you’re needed back at the house,” Machiavelli said from above him, and Corrigan grinned.

  “I’ll forgive the interruption this once.” He looked at the ground below them, where a huge blackened crater was all that remained of the Hell Gate. “Any sign of Atraxas?”

  “I’m well!” the man called from Machiavelli’s neck. He leaned over and his teeth gleamed white in the soot covering his face. His hair was a mess, but his grin was full of glee.

  “I’m glad.” Corrigan sighed in relief and relaxed in Machiavelli’s careful hold. “To the house, then. I’m in need of a moment’s rest.”

  “Only a moment?” the big bird teased.

  “Yes, I fear there’s more work to be done,” Corrigan said as they flew over the hundreds of demons still surrounding the house. “But there’ll be no more demons tonight.”

  “Aye. Not tonight,” Machiavelli said as he landed carefully on the roof, putting Corrigan down as Atraxas slid off his back.

  “You need a healer!” Atraxas looked over Corrigan’s puckered and melted flesh and his face went pale.

  “I know one or two,” Corrigan said with a shake of his head. His entire right hand was drawn and clawed where the acid had melted his skin and distorted his bones. “Bastion and Lucia will fix me up right.”

  “There’s news of that,” Machiavelli said, shrinking to the size of a normal size. “The reason I was dispatched to bring you back.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I am afraid Ms. Conti has disappeared, and so has Mrs. Wicket.”

  “What?” Corrigan held out his uninjured arm and Machiavelli hopped onto his shoulder.

  “Ms. Conti went to take tea to Mrs. Wicket, and the both of them are now gone. The Grand Adept is beside himself.”

  “I daresay he is!” Corrigan pulled open the door to the top floor and Atraxas followed him down the stairs. “Is there any evidence of where they may have gone, or who could have taken them?”

  “Someone very skilled and very strong. They left no trail.” Machiavelli danced on Corrigan’s shoulder. “This speaks of a highly skilled practitioner.”

  They clattered down the stairs and into the dining room where Archimedes was pacing, his hair on end. He shook off Bastion’s hand and cursed, sending a delicate teapot flying off the table with the sweep of his mechanical arm.

  “Ho there” Corrigan said, dropping tiredly into a chair at the end of the table as the pot crashed against the wall. “What is all this about, then?”

  Bastion hurried to his side and knelt beside his injured arm, his magic already crawling over Corrigan’s arm. Corrigan sighed as it covered the stinging flesh like a balm.

  “Lucia has been taken. Kidnapped! Right from under my nose.” Archie cursed again, but there were no more teapots for him to take out his anger on, so he settled for glaring at Corrigan instead.

  Machiavelli hopped onto the table. “I’ve contacted the Grand Master and Grand Adept Kane. Both will conference us when the sun rises.”

  “We can’t wait for them.”

  Archie’s eyes were full of so much fear and Corrigan had never seen the man so distraught. Even when he’d been kidnapped and tortured by Victor Kane’s thugs he’d come out with a smile and determination to see them done in. Perhaps, Corrigan thought grimly, he was imagining those same tortures heaped upon Lucia. A frightening thought, indeed.

  “We cannot,” Corrigan agreed. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Elizabeth had some kind of spell.” Archie blushed red. “She tried to kiss me, and when I put her off she became overly emotional. Bastion gave her a sleeping draught and put her to bed.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Elizabeth at all,” Atraxas said with a frown.

  “Grayson agreed,” Archie said. “He watched over her as Lucia and I set up the electrified fencing as you had instructed.”

  “It worked, I see.”

  “It did.” Archie crossed his arms. “We returned to the house and Grayson decided he needed a lie down after using his magic earlier. Lucia volunteered to take a tray of tea and biscuits up to Elizabeth. I stayed here with Bastion.”

  “When did you realize Elizabeth and Lucia were missing?”

  “I had requested Lucia to try a tandem healing on the Romani children. I went to Elizabeth’s room to find her and they were both gone.” Bastion frowned and concentrated harder on Corrigan’s arm. “What kind of demon did this?”

  “Something ugly and with very bad breath,” Corrigan joked. He lost his smile and looked at Archie. “Any signs of where they went or how?”

  “None. The aether says simply ‘they are nowhere’. You know how vague it can be. I tried a location spell, but it was blank.”

  “I tried one too,” Machiavelli said, “and I got the same result. Some kind of magic is blocking us from finding them.”

  “Sometimes it may be as simple as using science.” Corrigan stood and groaned. His flesh was healed after Bastion’s ministrations, but his hand was still stiff. “Let me gather some things. Meet me in Elizabeth’s room.”

  “I must continue to work with Stella to heal the children. Find me if you need me,” Bastion said, and he left with a nod of solidarity to Archie.

  “I need to tidy up and check on my brother,” Atraxas said. “Then I will keep watch on the fence and the Romani.”

  “Thank you.” Corrigan shook the man’s grimy hand. “I would have you at my side any day, Mr. Trimble.”

  “Be careful,” the man warned with a gleam in his eye, “I may take you up on that”.

  ARCHIE HAD KNOWN FEAR many times in his life. He had become so used to the feeling of it in his gut that he did not notice it most days. Icarus had once told him that fear was the impetus that kept his mind clear when there was danger. For Archie it was the opposite. It clouded his mind and weakened his resolve, tearing at all his strength. He had learned to overcome its effects in most cases, but the wellbeing of his loved ones seemed to be the one chink in his armor.

  He stood at the end of Elizabeth Wicket’s bed and stared blankly at the rumples of her covers. He could still smell the oranges in the air that told him Lucia had been here.

  “Okay now, move aside.” Corrigan hefted a large carpetbag onto the bed and clicked it open.

  “What is all this?” Archie asked as he began laying out strange items he’d never seen before.

  “These items are used in detecting.”

  “Detecting? As in police work?”

  “A bit like,” Corrigan said. He held up a large magnifying glass and blinked his already owlish eyes at Archie. “Detecting requires the ability to take what one learns and put th
e information together to get the real picture of what has happened.”

  “I see.” Archie blinked, his mind still fogged. “What can I do?”

  “No corporeal person can enter or exit a room without leaving behind evidence of having been there.” Corrigan handed him a magnifying glass and a large pair of tweezers. “Scour the room and pick up any item that doesn’t look like it belongs here. Place it on this handkerchief.” Corrigan spread a white kerchief on the bedside table.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “There are ways to determine if a person who did not belong in this house has been here. This cup was Elizabeth’s and so her fingerprints will be on its handle. This one is Lucia’s, I can tell by the amount of sugar in the bottom. Her fingerprints will be on its handle. We know that Justice and Mrs. Burch have not been here in at least twenty four hours.”

  “So if you discover fingerprints in this room that belong to someone else, we will know that a person physically took them away.”

  “Correct.” Corrigan held up a small tub of yellow powder. “Lycopodium powder. Usually used as flash powder. Dusted over surfaces, it can reveal fingerprints left behind.”

  “Brilliant. How did you learn these processes?”

  “Her Majesty has a fondness for works of fiction. She expressed an interest in learning about detection after reading Doyle, and so we learned together.”

  Archie set to work scouring the room, looking for any clue that might lead him to discover Lucia’s whereabouts. He began outside the room, using the magnifying glass to go over every inch of the hallway directly in front. He noticed a bit of mud on the doorstop, and he scraped some up and put it on the handkerchief. Just inside the entrance to the room he found a small round leaf, brittle from the recent outdoors. Mrs. Burch would not have let such debris linger, so he knew it had only been there within the last twenty-four hours. He placed it next to the dirt.

  “Do you smell that?” he asked, breathing deep. Where he had only smelled oranges before, he now smelled something altogether different.

  “Sweet. Heavy.” Corrigan sniffed again.