Stolen Chaos: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Cardkeeper Chronicles Book 1)

by A. C. Nicholls

  That son of a bitch.

  I knew him. In fact, I had known him for years, only by another name. Jack Hughes was a damn alias. A name he had used when dealing with mortals and trying to blend in. It worked, too – even I had let it slip my mind until now.

  Before I could be caught trespassing, I hurried back through the veil, returning to the cesspool of a room. The humid air suffocated me as I leaned into the wall for balance.

  “Whoa.” Link looked up at me, awed and amazed. “That was bloody amazing! You were here one moment, and gone the next. What happened?”

  I struggled to catch my breath, hit by the sudden shock of what I had found. My fingers loosened and the photograph fell to the floor, gliding from side to side like a falling feather. As it landed by my feet and Link gazed down at it, I found just enough wind inside me to say it aloud – if only to make myself believe it.

  “It’s Jasper,” I said, my legs giving way beneath my weight. “Jack Hughes is Jasper Jones, and he’s working with Victor.”

  Chapter 21

  Jasper Jones. If I’d had to bet that somebody I knew was working with Victor Kronin, never in a million years would I have suspected it was Jasper Goddamn Jones. I mean, the guy was a sleaze – there was no denying that – but a traitor? The shocking revelation hit me right between the eyes.

  Dalton and the Elders had even told me that they’d questioned him. The truth spell they’d cast on him was one hundred per cent effective, and they claimed to have asked the right questions. But knowing Jasper, he had given only the loosest answers possible, worming his way out of even having to lie. The only question that remained was how had he managed to steal the Chaos card so easily.

  I had to tell the Elders.

  When I returned to the VHS store, I had no idea what to expect. Did Jasper know that I was on to him? Was Victor Kronin standing beside him, just waiting for me to appear so he could destroy me in the blink of an eye? There was only one way to find these answers, and that was by heading inside… and I’d use my magicard to do it.

  A bell rang as I shoved open the door. Jasper’s back was to me as he worked from across the room, shifting boxes. I cleared my throat just loud enough for him to hear, and watched him turn quickly. It was like catching a dog eating from the trash; his head snapped around and his eyes widened as he pushed himself up off the floor.

  “Keira. I was, uh…”

  I looked down my nose at him. I couldn’t help it. He’d never been ‘my kind of person’ but to learn that he was a traitor – that he’d retrieved the Chaos card for Victor – I just couldn’t forgive him, no matter what. Not that I could voice it right now. I had to pretend I knew nothing if I were to get the messages to Dalton and the Elders.

  “I really don’t care what you were doing,” I said, and watched his glassy eyes glaze over. I helped Link crawl up and rest on my shoulder. “I need you to get me in there. Could you create a portal for me?”

  Jasper shook his head. “Not right now.”

  Not right now? “Why not?”

  “The Elders are all busy.” Jasper walked around the counter, picked his duffel bag off the dusty chair and slung it over his shoulder. “You actually caught me just as I was leaving. It’s bad timing, I know, but maybe come back tomorrow.”

  Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones like the bite of a winter wind. Before he could get past me, I reached out and clasped his arm with a tight grip. It stopped him short. “What are you up to?”

  Jasper pulled away, avoiding eye contact and heading toward the door with an increasing pace. Whatever he was up to, he was about to get away with it.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  “Link,” I snapped, letting him fall onto my hand. I threw him weightlessly toward the door. He overtook Jasper, leaning all of his petite body into the front door, his stubborn expression speaking volumes. Link weighed next to nothing, but had more strength than a regular-sized mortal. Satisfied, I turned my attention to Jasper. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  Jasper glanced back at me, dumping his bag onto the floor and attempting to scurry past me, but unlike other rodents, this one wasn’t so fast. I seized his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed his face into the counter, pinning him there. “I know what you’ve done, traitor. Tell me, what did Victor promise you? Loads of cash? A share of the power?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, whimpering.

  “You stole the Chaos card for Victor, didn’t you?”

  “No,” he said, the faintest hint of a smile creeping into the corners of his mouth.

  I let the heat feed through my skin, creating smoke in his wrist. I heard it sizzle, and I snaked his arm further up his back. A little extra pain always got them talking. “I’m not messing around. Tell me why you did it.”

  “Okay, okay!” Jasper said as he contorted, twisting into the least painful position he could manage. When I let him go, he sank to the floor with his back to the counter, nursing his singed wrist. “He said he would give me some of his power, all right?”

  “What power?”

  “The… you know, the power. From one of his magicards.”

  Link moved away from the door, hopped up to the counter, and sat above Jasper with his legs hanging over the edge. He looked at me with terror in his eyes. Words weren’t always necessary when it came to Link – I knew he feared for both our lives.

  “Victor has more than one magicard?” I asked, looking back down at Jasper.

  “Well, y-yes. But he learned the magic. These past few years, he’s been killing off mages, stealing spells from them. He said he wanted to grow stronger, to be able to handle more power so he could control the Chaos card.”

  It was a lot of power. The Chaos card wasn’t exactly renowned for offering the most pleasant soul to its host, either. Victor must have been using multiple sources of magic to help adjust to the weight of Chaos. No wonder his personality had been toyed with; too much magic was playing with his mind. “How did you get it to him?”

  “The card?”

  “Yes, the card.”

  “I’m not telling you that.” Jasper laughed, but it was cold and shaky.

  I didn’t use my words this time. My hand exploded into a ball of light, sizzling and burning away, sucking oxygen from the air. I increased the heat and pushed it toward Jasper’s face, watching sweat trickle around the whites of his eyes. “How?”

  “He taught me a spell!” Jasper screamed.

  I simmered the flame, withdrawing slightly, and listened.

  “I have an invisibility card. With that, I easily sneaked into the Dark Room.”

  It pissed me off to hear a man speak so easily of his sins. How could anyone do such a thing and not be too ashamed to admit it? I knew that people were different – that every mind had its own intricate workings – but I couldn’t imagine stabbing anyone in the back like that. “You do realize that you’ve put the world in danger?”

  Jasper looked up at me, eyebrows raised. “What? No, he just wants power.”

  “And what do you think he intends to do with that power, jackass?” Just as I said it, I recalled what Edgar George had said back at the nightclub. “What about the demon?”

  “Huh?”

  “I know he’s planning on summoning a demon. What do you know about it?”

  Jasper turned his head. “Nothing.

  “Jasper,” I said, shaking my palm in his face.

  “I don’t know, okay? Just something about bringing down the Temple of R’hen, and not being able to do it alone.”

  Link’s eyes were on me. I knew I had to act tough, that I was his role model right now. I kept my focus on Jasper. “So… what? He’s going to use a demon to help him fight the Keepers?”

  “Maybe.”

  “He’s insane, and you’re a moron for thinking you’ll live through it all.” I extinguished the fire in my hand, and looked to the back of the shop, where the red curtain hung. “I need that
portal, and I need it now. The Elders will decide what’s to be done with you.”

  I let go of Jasper’s arm, watching him grab his hands as he burst into a fit of hysteria.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I-I don’t think they will,” he said.

  My eyes went to Link, who listened with rapt attention. When I looked back down at Asshole of the Hour, I felt nothing but worry; cold, unbridled worry. “What the hell are you talking about? Why won’t they?”

  But Jasper just kept on laughing.

  I wanted to put him in a straight jacket. No. I wanted to punch him so hard NASA would see his body orbiting the moon. I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet, dragging him through the curtain before he could find his balance. I tossed him onto the ground and heard the most satisfying thud. The laughing had ceased, but the paranoia it had raised remained at its loudest. “Open the portal.”

  “No,” he said, curled up into a ball.

  “Open the portal. I won’t ask again.”

  Those dark, serious eyes narrowed on mine. “No.”

  I sparked up my hands – both of them – for only a second, with every intention of burning a hole right through him. If he wasn’t going to help me now, he could damn well suffer the consequences of his actions.

  “Okay!” he yelled, hiding behind his outstretched hands. “Okay.”

  Jasper climbed to his knees, spinning his hands to weave a portal into the air. I watched intently, expecting the worst. But when I saw what was on the other side, I realized that even my imagination couldn’t have matched the intense anarchy unfolding before my eyes.

  “What have you done?” I asked, staring into the portal. The Vault was nothing but a tower of flames, burning like a scarecrow in a field of corn. The one and only door had been smashed open, splintered into chunks of flaking wood. And in the doorframe, a singular robed figure lay face-down in the dirt. “Link, keep Jasper here.”

  “Be careful,” Link said, diving in and pinning Jasper onto his side.

  I hoped he could handle it.

  I ran through the portal, regardless of my own safety and only vaguely understanding what had happened. My instincts took me up the rocky path at a full sprint toward the Vault, where I knelt to the robed man’s side. He was still breathing, but the iron bar lodged in his side told me that he wouldn’t be for much longer.

  It was considered a grievance at any other time, but I pulled back the hood to see a bald-headed man, his eyes barely open as he struggled to stay with it – to stay alive. I noticed his yellow sash; one of the messengers. “Can you talk?”

  ‘Just… a little,” he said, weak and gasping.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  A soft wheeze answered my question, the messenger’s eyes staring blankly up at the doorframe. Although I had never known this man, it distressed me incredibly to see him in such intense pain. The fire of the Vault built around me, stretching up the walls. Thanks to my magicard, the flames didn’t melt the skin from my body.

  “How did this happen?” I tried again, giving him a single shake. “I need to know, what danger waits for me up in the Vault?”

  The messenger shot upward, a spasm seizing him as he rattled toward his inevitable death. He sank into my arms, lowering slowly as if the life was flowing from him little by little. His eyes rolled back, showing nothing but white as he uttered a single, two-syllable word with his final breath.

  “Kronin.”

  The name struck fear into my heart. The messenger, who had given his all to warn me, became nothing but ashes in my arms, before the wind carried him into the sky. The process was called interference, and it always happened when an immortal died by the hand of another. I’d always had my suspicions that it was the Gods of R’hen taking pity on the soul, and giving it a delicate departure from this Earth.

  That was it. The man had been obliterated to dust, fluttering away into the soot-blackened sky, while I was left with a burning tower in the middle of a shitstorm. The thought of Victor Kronin scared the hell out of me. On trembling legs, I pushed myself off the ground and stared at the burning stairwell, knowing I might be going back to Chicago in a body bag.

  As fast as I could, I turned and took the stairs two at a time, barely prepared to face him – to stand against the one man who terrified me more than anything else in my sixty years of life.

  And I would do it alone.

  Chapter 22

  Destruction. Death. Everywhere.

  The fire chased me up the stairs, crawling across the support beam and licking the wood with its yellowish flare. Although it couldn’t burn me while I had this card equipped, the heat made things wildly uncomfortable. Due to Jasper’s douchebag behavior, I hadn’t donned a cloak and my jacket dripped with sweat. I tore it off and flung it behind me, now able to move more freely in a plain black shirt. I burst into the room at the top of the tower.

  “Thank God,” I mumbled, when I found the room empty. I knew that Victor Kronin was somewhere inside the Vault, but if I couldn’t put these fires out then we were all going to burn anyway.

  Buried in the far wall was a small collection of magicards. I closed my eyes and tried to think, which was easier said than done with the infrastructure of the room collapsing and crashing around me. If I could just remember which cards I’d put into the walls, I might have had an easier time. I knew that the teleportation card was kept inside the wall on the left, but getting there without my clothes burning off was a sure challenge. The cards of thunder and mind-control were also kept in here, but there was something else. Something that I knew would be of great use to me, but I couldn’t quite remember what…

  Ice.

  My eyes shot open as it came to me. Of course it had been ice – it was the one I tended to use the least, as it really wasn’t as helpful as you might think. Still, at least the soul within was a calm one. After my recent rage-fueled outburst, a change of pace might suit me well. Not that it would aid me much in a combat situation. I would just have to hope that Victor hated the cold as much as I did.

  I rushed to the wall, pressing my hand against the magic barrier. A flash of light shone out and the fire magicard flew from my pocket as if self-propelled. The wall opened up like a gaping brick mouth, sucked it in, and then swallowed it. The fires were catching up to me now, and I could feel the scorching pain as my power drained away. My flesh felt hot against the air, the smoke making me choke and gag.

  Finally, a new card was produced. It hung suspended within the wall’s hole, like it was floating. I reached out and snatched it, holding it close to my chest while I tried to focus. I struggled to ignore the heat, but I needed to concentrate. Slowly, I could feel the mage tapping into my soul, merging with my own. I had always hated this process; it felt too personal, too perverse.

  A cold chill shot through my arm. The magic was coming through, slowly at first, until shards of ice slipped through my palms like butter. I took aim, holding my hand out toward the creeping fire, and blew a torrent of frost at it.

  I clamped my eyes shut in relief as the flames receded, engulfed by the cold before they turned to moisture and spilled to the floor like overflow from a cup. I ran through the hallway, arm extended, rushing to extinguish the fires as fast as my legs would carry me. When the stairwell was safe, I turned and continued through the corridors, killing the fires as I went.

  By the time I was done, I realized that I hadn’t encountered a single person. I’d been dreading the thought of dashing into a room and seeing a messenger or maid burned to a crisp inside their chambers, but I didn’t find any bodies – dead or alive. They must have gotten out before I had arrived, though where they’d run to remained a mystery.

  The Vault was mostly safe, but the Grand Hall remained. I stood in front of the door, pressing my ear against it, and listened to an altercation unfold. I couldn’t hear the words but Dalton’s voice was clear as day… and there was someone else. A voice riddled with anger. Not talking at all, in
fact, but bellowing.

  Victor Kronin.

  I remained outside the door, catching my breath. I’d feared for this moment for quite some time, but now that it had finally come, fear seized my body in a vice-like grip. I check my arm – my weapon – and ensured that I had full control over my new ice powers. It seemed like I did, but somehow, I knew it wasn’t enough.

  Taking a deep and unsteady breath, I opened the door and faced my enemy.

  Across the expanse of the hall, Victor stood with his back to me. I noticed immediately that his feet weren’t touching the floor. They were engulfed in a cloud, as if he stood on a floating ball of smoke only inches from the ground. Beside him, the robed bodies of two men lay on the floor. One lay in a crumpled heap, stomach clutched in an open hand. The other was drenched in blood, his moving fingers the only sign of life. When I saw their black sashes and realized they were the Elders, a deep rage tore through me.

  “Victor!” I yelled, anger lending confidence to my voice.

  Victor turned. His blazing purple eyes shot through me. There wasn’t an ounce of recognition within them, but there should have been. We’d been friends at some point, many years ago. Even after that, we’d had our share of commotion. Worst of all, I even struggled to recognize him; I hadn’t thought about it until now, but while I was immortal and stayed forever young, Victor Kronin had aged by almost thirty years. Now he looked like a pissed-off old man, with raw power emanating from his fiery glare. His hair had fallen out, but it suited his fine features and square jaw. His skin had turned pale; a likely result of his vampire bite. I didn’t dare stop to think how strong that would make him.

  “You’ve come to challenge me?” he said. His deep voice echoed through the hall, as if passing through concert-hall speakers. I wasn’t sure what frightened me the most: the demonic voice itself, or the actual words.

  As he turned, my eyes lowered to spot Dalton, who lay on the floor behind him. For the most part, he looked to be unharmed, but there was nothing to suggest that he would stay that way. If I was going to defend him, I would have to act fast, draw the attention to myself.