by Jamie Davis
“Let them want,” Cleaver said. “It’s good for the soul. Like you said before, they’re all gonna want a piece, and she doesn’t take kindly to that approach. We’ll lay back, maybe give her a little cover or protection should anyone want to play rough. We play the long game, wait until she sees us as her best solution.”
“Frankly, boss, I’m surprised you have the patience to pull this off. You’re usually more direct.”
“Well that ain’t working for me this time. Durham is apparently destined to save us. I know it as sure as I’m standing here. It only works if she and I are side by side and at just the right moment. That much I know for sure. Knowing what I do, I can be as patient as the next man. Garraldi, bring my car around. Cricket, you’re going to stay here. Let yourself be seen, but never chasing after Miss Durham. Be nice. Friendly. Get her to see us as the sane option in the war for her talents.”
The New Amsterdam Sable boss waved to his crew and headed out after Garraldi, leaving Cricket and two others behind to start rolling the ball in a different direction.
Winnie would never see it coming.
CHAPTER 27
Waves of anger splashed on Artos like the rocks of a harbor breakwater.
Winnie unleashed a tirade of anger that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to; she vented the energy that he could see trapped inside her. He could sense it festering, fueling the fires of her anger the second she sat in the back of his limo. It was as he feared, seeing the extent of her growing power. Like nothing he’d seen since leaving Merlin’s tower all those years before.
He’d arrived in the modern world to find that man had used his machines to tame and control the world’s wild magic. No chanter possessed even a hundredth of the power ancient mages had been able to wield easily. That had been his most shocking discovery. Magic was finite in a way he could never have imagined. And it was fading away, as proved by Europe’s destruction.
Winnie had unlocked the wild magic again. She’d somehow opened the floodgates, at least for herself, and she could do things no one in this present could even conceive of. No one told her that she couldn’t send the fire and dust asunder, so she had drawn in enough power until she could.
A stunning display of power. It told Artos that she was at a dangerous place in her life. She could let the Sable claim her and destroy all that she’d worked for. Artos had to make sure that didn’t happen.
So, he let her anger spill and roll away, waiting for his opening to talk her down from a ledge she didn’t even know she was about to step off. She paused after a particularly long tirade about how he controlled everything in the world because he had no one close in his life. He winced at the truth.
“Winnie, I don’t disagree with a word that you’ve said. I’m a wretched old manipulator of a man, just as you say, because of my mission in this time and place. You know what I’m talking about, because you’ve seen the other side, haven’t you, Winnie?”
“I don’t know anything about any other side, Artos, and shifting the blame to me isn’t going to work.”
Winnie stopped talking, waiting with crossed arms for his answer. Fine by him. She’d stopped escalating for a while and that was important. He chose his next words carefully. Trust meant everything.
“Winnie, what you did today with the fire and dust should have been impossible.”
“Shows how much you know. I’m not sure it was even hard.”
“You opened up something long closed to chanters. That could either be the end to us all, or a gift like you wouldn’t believe. It depends on whether the person in control is someone with the proper training and restraint.”
“So now I don’t have restraint. You’ve a lot of nerve, Artos.”
He was balanced on the tightrope. One wrong move would send him tumbling over the edge. If Winnie went off again, Artos might not be able to contain her anger in time.
“I need to tell you something, but first you must promise to hear me. You don’t have to believe what I say, but promise me you’ll at least listen. Can you do that?”
Artos studied Winnie’s face, searching for any sign that she was actively listening rather than surrendering to her anger again. He remembered a moment he’d had with Merlin — similar to this, but it had happened in a remote castle on the kingdom’s eastern marches. Artos didn’t have the resources to surround Winnie with stone to keep her magic from hurting anyone else, so he’d had Gunderson drive them to the city’s outskirts and the wasteland beyond. All was lost if he failed. The prophecy would never come to pass. The world was depending on him.
“There is a dark side to all things. The sun sets and the darkness comes. Then it fades and the sun returns with the light. Magic is no different.”
“I get it, Artos. Sable magic is bad. It’s addictive, and abuse can destroy you. My cousin Joey was an addict, remember?”
“That was when magic was limited, and addiction was the worst that Sable could do. But you’ve unlocked the world’s true magic. That means both light and dark; the real Sable, from long ago.”
“So, what, is this where you tell me to ‘just say no’ and make me promise I’ll never use the bad, bad magic?”
Artos ignored her mocking tone, refusing to take the bait.
“No, because there will probably come a day when you will need to use the ‘bad, bad magic,’ but just know that you cannot control it. When you cast magic for the right reasons, such as to help others or save a life, that magic is light. Today’s actions were a demonstration of light magic. But being able to do what you did means you can access the dark magic, too. Spells are typically cast on another person for selfish reasons. This egocentricity opens your soul — your very core — to the darkness at the heart of Sable magic. For most people here in the present, that would be a trickle of darkness. Just enough to make you crave more. It always took a strong-willed wizard to resist the urges once the way was open to them.”
Artos could sense Winnie’s frail shell of feigned indifference finally starting to crack. Soon, he would be able to talk some sense into her, convince her to train with him, accept his help in overcoming the darkness she would eventually allow inside.
The bond between a master and apprentice were enough to ensure obedience … at least, that had been the way once upon a time. But those bonds no longer existed and children of Winnie’s age were known for their obstinance. They considered obstinance a virtue. He must convince her that his way would help her overcome the darkness, and resist the selfish urges waiting to claim her.
“I want to help you, Winnie. Take you into official training. Help you through this time. Come and stay in the Mender’s Hall. We can work on the proper meditation and exercises to help you retain control after you access the Sable pool now open to you.”
Winnie considered his offer in the limo’s silence, her eyes fixed on nothing, head tilted to the side in quiet contemplation. But she had listened. Artos had finally gotten through to her.
Minutes passed before she spoke, and when she did, it was barely a whisper. “I appreciate your concerns, Artos. And that you have your own agenda. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you have to stop moving me and my friends like pawns on a board as if we mean nothing to you. Insist on treating people this way and I’ll take my own chances.”
She leaned over and tapped the glass partition. It rolled down to reveal Gunderson staring back at Winnie in the rearview.
“Please drop me off at the nearest bus stop,” she said. “We’re finished.”
Gunderson found his boss in the rearview. After a brief pause, Artos nodded.
“As you wish, Miss Durham.”
Minutes later, the limo pulled up to a well-lit stop with a covered shelter. Artos was thankful for competent underlings who didn’t need to be told what to do. He would have to commend Mr. Gunderson on choosing a safe location to drop their precious passenger.
Winnie was key to the prophecy; Artos had never been more certain. She was the one capable of s
aving the world — if she could survive the magical transformation happening inside her. He couldn’t stop it, only help her through the process. All was lost if she surrendered to the darkness.
Artos had hoped that articulating the risks would be enough for Winnie to see the wisdom in accepting his help. But she’d refused so far, and there was little he could do but stand by and watch. It was one of the rare moments when he hated the modern world, along with all of its festered ethics. In his youth, no person Winnie’s age would have refused his offer, if only out of deference to his position. Today’s youth didn’t see things that way; Artos was just another boss she had to resist.
Winnie opened the door, got out, and stood there, staring into the limo at Artos. He was hopeful that she’d change her mind and accept his offer.
“I can’t accept your training, but I do thank you for letting me vent. You helped me work out some of my anger, and didn’t yell back. I’ll be careful and remember what you said.”
Winnie shut the door. Artos watched through the tinted windows as she walked to the bus stop with her hands shoved deep in her pockets. She stood alone in a pool of street light as Gunderson pulled away from curb.
He hoped she stayed in the light. The world depended on it.
CHAPTER 28
Victor arrived on the train back to Baltimore well after dark. He was afraid that young Miss Carr had called ahead to have one of her fellow reporters waiting at the station to continue their awkward questioning about that night at the steel mill. He had spent the entire ride from the capital considering the ways they might have stumbled upon some inkling of what had happened, but all he could think of was a possible leak within his own ranks. It made him wonder if there were others who doubted Kane’s direction.
Victor left the train, climbed into his cruiser, and started toward home. He missed Morgan. She’d stood by him throughout the ordeal. And while he hadn’t admitted to everything that had happened since that night, he had told her most of it. She didn’t know about his strange symptoms or the odd things he sometimes spied from the corner of his eyes. Victor told himself he was protecting her from worry. But that wasn’t true. He was afraid what it meant, and what she might think if his fears were real.
He approached his exit, but kept on driving. At first, Victor wasn’t sure why he was avoiding his home. Maybe he was tired of lying, constantly telling Morgan that everything would be alright. That might not be true, especially after what had happened to Boston. He suspected that Kane had sealed the city’s doom with his ill-fated plans much more than anything Winnie Durham had done.
Victor eventually pulled off the parkway, driving down random city streets while pondering what to do next. Kane had given him his marching orders. He was to blame everything on Winnie, make sure that people saw and felt threatened by her power. It wouldn’t be hard. People were already scared. Most would only need a nudge to see Winnie as the source of their fear. With a public face on the chanter problem, people would see every chanter as dangerous.
Victor realized that he was in the industrial district on the city’s eastern edge, near the mill for the first time since that night. Pins and needles returned to his hand with the thought. He was no longer surprised by the odd ribbons of colorful light drifting past the edges of his vision.
Victor turned down the same street where he and Morgan had driven that night, then swung into the lot. The place was abandoned, no guard in sight. He’d been told there was only an open crater amid the ruins of the large central mill.
Victor put the car in park, then leaned forward, reached under his seat, and pulled out his flashlight. He didn’t know what he expected to see but he had to get back to the ground zero. He had avoided it thus far, despite the pull he felt inside.
He switched on the flashlight and started towards the complex where he’d gone with Morgan all those weeks ago. He tried the handle and found it unlocked. He opened it with a gentle tug, shining his light into the dark interior hallway as hairs on his neck stood on end.
He pierced the gloom for a minute or two before finally managing to take a tentative step into the hallway. Victor wasn’t a child. He was a grown man. He knew there were no monsters waiting to attack. True darkness lay inside a man’s soul, and that had nothing whatsoever to do with a lack of light.
Victor started down the hallway, weaving through the building’s corridors until he found himself at the catwalk leading to the large central room where the Harvester’s remains would be located. He reached out with a foot and tested the metal grating. It seemed solid enough, at least for this section. Others had collapsed during the explosion. He’d have to be careful.
He shined his light on the catwalk and saw that it extended around the room’s perimeter. He looked up and saw the stars through a massive hole in the ceiling. A significant section of the roof seemed to have been blown open during the explosion, or had collapsed inward since. Exterior walls still stood, supporting most of the suspended catwalk. Victor walked the perimeter, working for a better look at the floor below.
Something illuminated the floor as though someone was shining a bright light from within a pool of water below. A soft, blue-green glow flickered as if refracted by ripples in the water. Part of the crater had probably filled with rainwater and some waterproof, battery-operated light was now submerged. The ribbons of light that Victor been seeing from the corner of his eyes were more prevalent here. He moved his hands from the railing, shined the flashlight at his palm, and saw nothing. No orange residue from the storms. That dust was everywhere, except here at ground zero.
Victor reached a ladder, tucked the flashlight into his back pocket, and climbed down. He swallowed a moment of panic when the ladder and catwalk both shifted and rattled when he was halfway to the floor. He considered going back up, but if the whole thing collapsed, he’d be better off closer to the floor, with a much shorter fall.
The point was moot. Victor reached the floor without further incident. He looked around, dragging his beam of light along the floor, surprised to see no evidence of the Harvester anywhere. A few of the giant, capsule-shaped holding tanks that had once been connected to the terrible machine still lined the wall. But there was nothing in the room’s center except a jagged, gaping hole.
The light emanating from the hole was brighter. Victor killed the flashlight; he no longer needed it to see where he was going. He kept the aluminum barrel tight in his grip anyway, its sturdy weight a comfort in his hands.
Victor stepped hesitantly to the crater’s edge and peered down into the chasm below. He didn’t know what he expected to see, but certainly not the impossible.
A cavern of sorts had formed below the crater, the floor covered in a deep green grass amid clusters of small bushes and trees. The amount of growth seemed unthinkable, given the scant weeks since the crater’s creation. There was a pool of deep blue water in the center of the cavern — the source of light he’d seen from above.
The pool’s light filled the cavern in blues and greens. Victor fell a step back, shocked to realize that something was moving down there.
Tiny creatures flew from plant to plant, blossom to blossom, landing here and there before moving on. They must be insects of some sort.
His pins and needles were screaming.
Victor started down the rubble-strewn ground until he reached the cavern’s edge. The ground turned from hard, uneven rubble to soft, pleasant turf. Victor crouched, running his hands through the thick, luxurious grass. It was cool to the touch, early morning dew dampening his fingers.
He looked towards the crater, longing to know what was causing the light.
A cool breeze shifted as he stood and approached the pool, sending the sweet scent of blooming flowers toward him. This place was practically perfect. It wasn’t too hot or cold; the air was clean and clear, with no sign of the dust that was like a blanket over the city. He felt at peace for the first time in weeks, perhaps the first time in his life.
Victor stared in
to the pool. The light was an invitation, not blinding at all. It was crystal clear and he could see to the bottom of the pool, where schools of small fish were swimming amid the rocks and gravel. He knelt at the water’s edge, reaching out with his right hand, the buzzing now stronger than ever.
He touched the water and his tingling stopped.
The cool — not cold but cool — water soothed his fingertips. He leaned forward to immerse his hand, cupping some water and bringing it to his lips.
“Don’t drink that, Victor,” whispered a soft voice in his ear, high-pitched like a child’s. “This pool is not for you. Drinking this water will send you from this life to the next.”
Victor turned to see who spoke, but wasn’t prepared for the sight of a tiny girl floating in the air a few feet away.
No … she wasn’t floating.
Tiny wings whirred in the air behind her, allowing the miniature girl to hover like a humming bird.
Again, Victor fell backwards in alarm, looking frantically around. The tiny insects weren’t insects at all. They were all tiny little people, just like this girl.
She waved and smiled. He shouted and crab-walked back. Scrambling to his feet, Victor ran to the crater’s edge, tripping and falling many times along the way. A gentle, rolling giggle came from the voice behind him as he ran.
Victor’s mind filled with terror at what he’d seen, and what he’d almost done. He felt certain that he would have become one of those creatures in the cavern if he’d followed his instincts and drunk from the pool.
He reached the concrete floor and raced towards the ladder.
He needed to leave this room as soon as possible. It had been a mistake to come.
Victor got in his car and raced towards the entrance, back towards his apartment and his bed. He couldn’t believe what he’d seen. He wasn’t even sure if he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing, some sort of waking hallucination.