Reality Falling (The Book Wielder Saga 2)

by Davies, Sean

  “I want to go into the Gloom,” Alice had informed her handler. “I need to put my hammer in something’s face.”

  “You sure?” He was shocked. “I mean you can if you want, we definitely need the supplies.”

  “Definitely sure. If you watch the news coming from Imperia and Industria you’ll understand why,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “I saw,” he said sadly. “There was nothing that could have been done. I bet you there were a ton of Freaks on those boats ready to cause more trouble for your people.”

  “There was,” Alice replied. “Can you get me together some collecting kit, like before?”

  “Sure,” Jonathan nodded, giving her a longing look before guiding her through some portals to a supply room.

  After getting Alice another handled duffle bag filled with alchemist’s harvesting gear and storage compartments, and some guards to accompany them, they made their way through the network of underground portals to another secluded safe house. This one was in a large house on the outskirts of a tiny village in eastern Rura, in-between a seemingly endless forest, and a vast plain of crops and farmland.

  “Not too long this time,” Jonathan said chidingly, preventing Alice from taking the duffle bag until she agreed.

  “Not too long,” she agreed with a smile, “I promise.”

  Jonathan had smiled back and handed her the bag. Alice wondered if he was the real reason for her impromptu journey into the Catacombs and Gloom.

  She had kept her promise and only stayed for a short while. Jonathan had packed another ‘alchemy for beginners’ book for her that focused on energy and stamina enhancing potions, so she spent her time in the Gloom trying to grab a few ingredients off the list. It was definitely the distraction she’d needed. Instead of fretting over things she was powerless to change, she fretted over how to shoot down a Skull Crow without burning its valuable jet black feathers, killing and plucking the stingers out of Sleeper Wasps without waking up the rest of the hive, and gunning down with fiery plasma fury and smashing the crap out of dozens of killer scarecrows when she was busy picking Blackcorn seeds in the fields. She returned to reality feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and extremely messy and ruffled.

  Jonathan had offered her use of a residence, but Alice had other plans. She wasn’t ready to return just yet.

  “Can you teach me how to make potions?” she asked after Jonathan took the heavy bag from her hands.

  “Sure,” he grunted. “Why do you want to know? I didn’t think it was your kind of thing.”

  Alice hesitated. She considered telling some sort of lie, but decided to confide in the Mage. “I don’t sleep well. Just want something to keep me busy until I’m ready to pass out, something other than worrying about the war for reality. That, and I can stick it to Cherriesa the next time she makes a dig about how I can’t make them.”

  Jonathan laughed. “Okay, sure. You should definitely have a wash though. No offense, but you smell a bit... chargrilled.”

  “Oh, that’s probably the smoke from burning all those scarecrow Freaks,” Alice said dismissively.

  Jonathan raised his eyebrows, shocked at the blasé manner in which she approached the threats of the Gloom. “You’re one tough lady, Alice,” he complimented.

  She shrugged modestly. “It’s nothing really. Just my power armour, plasma lasers and magical hammer that give me an edge in there.”

  Jonathan chuckled. “I bet you never thought you’d be saying a sentence like that so casually a few months back.”

  Alice shook her head as Jonathan continued to lead her to his permanent residence. “No, definitely not. It’s mad to think how fast this stuff becomes normal, but then under the circumstances I could either man-up and deal with it or have a nervous breakdown. I think I made the right choice, even if the old me would riddle me with holes in a heartbeat for being a heretical unholy traitor.”

  Jonathan put his free arm around her shoulder, a gesture that was slightly dampened by her thick armour. “Everybody changes when they’re exposed to the truth behind the normal world. For what it’s worth I think you’re doing great, especially considering the amount of things you’re responsible for.”

  “Thanks Jonathan,” she replied kindly.

  Alice thought about getting free from under his arm as they walked through the clean stone tunnels to his place, but she couldn’t be bothered. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep making her weak, but she was tired of fighting away whatever it was that the two of them had together. She had no intentions of reacting the way a ‘normal’ Supernatural girl would to the situation, however.

  When they got to his dwelling Jonathan left her and the duffle bag of reagents, so that she could get out of her armour and have a wash. She left her armour piled in the corner of his quaint living room. The underground house was a lot better furnished than the temporary dwellings she had seen, but it still felt like visiting a museum, and had a very quick bath to wash out the smell of damp burning cloth. When she got back in the living room she found that Jonathan had left her a long white and blue dress, some matching slip-on shoes and some lacy black underwear. She got changed into the fresh clothes gratefully and threw her plain old underclothes into a pile on top of her armour.

  A little time later he’d knocked on the door and Alice had let him in, although she thought it was amusing considering it was his place. In one hand he had a stack of large plates covered in tinfoil and in the other was a green sack. They had taken the tinfoil off of the plates and had a quick snack of freshly cooked sliced turkey, chicken, beef and pork with some buttered fresh bread. Afterwards Jonathan had pulled out a variety of plastic and wooden containers from the sack, and invited Alice into his alchemy lab.

  The lab was a medium-sized square room lined with worktables, sinks and an impressive array of scientific equipment both natural and magical. Shelves of books, vials and small drawers covered the wall space above, and there was a large hole in the ceiling that stretched upwards into pure darkness to let the fumes out.

  “If I show you how to make an energy potion first, I’ll let you and your book handle a Stoneskin potion after and interrupt if necessary,” Jonathan said placing the containers out on the worktable.

  “Okay, sure,” Alice agreed. She assumed Jonathan would be interrupting a lot during her attempt.

  Jonathan had guided her through a basic Energy Potion, giving a well explained narrative as he completed each step. He also explained how Energy Potions were usually sought out by human Book Wielders for their trips to the Gloom and people who didn’t like sleep or coffee, and how Stoneskin potions were a Mage’s best friend when it came to combat situations as they weren’t as durable as their Vampire and Werewolf brethren. As he was squeezing the venom out of several Sleeper Wasp stingers and sprinkling pinches of Ashroom dust into his bubbling mixture, he also explained how the Trinity had been forced to close the Shadow Market. It was the Catacomb’s magic equivalent of a shopping mall, and it had been shut down and had its seller’s regents seized at the beginning of the current world crisis, as crossing into the Gloom had become extremely difficult and dangerous following Winston’s interactions with its denizens. After a few minutes of boiling, the strange mix of Gloom-based ingredients and a few real-world mixers had turned into a clear yellow fluid with sparkling purple swirls. Jonathan explained that Alchemists usually put their own unique flourish on the Potions they brewed, like an artist’s signature. Most were cosmetic embellishments, but some upped the rarity and value by adding additional beneficial effects.

  He switched off his magefire stone, a flattened cone shaped rock engraved with runes and enchanted to emit a powerful blue flame on command which Alchemists used instead of gas fuelled Bunsen burners. He took his beaker of energy potion off its metal stand to cool.

  “Right, your turn,” Jonathan had said chirpily to Alice as he set up a fresh set of crystal-ware for her to use.

  “Okay... where do I start?”
Alice asked, sounding rather dumb.

  “Your book’s got the best info on potion making, on par with the best published materials or better. Where is it, anyway?” he asked curiously. Most Book Wielders were inseparable from their books.

  “Oh, whoops, one moment.” She neglected her book an awful lot.

  Alice quickly walked to the living room and rummaged around her pile of power armour until she found the catch that opened her thigh compartment. She pulled out the minute version of her book, upped its size until it was a large tome, and brought it into the lab.

  “Just think about how you want it to show you the recipe for a Stoneskin potion,” Jonathan said before she could even ask.

  Alice nodded, focused her thoughts and opened the book to a random page. Ink raced across the aged paper, illustrating detailed instructions on how to create the potion.

  Jonathan kept quiet as she followed the steps that her book was guiding her through. She filled her own beaker up with a carefully measured amount of water, placed it on a metal three legged stand, and put the magefire stone underneath. She then lit it and left the water to boil. Once it had, Alice mixed in some of the reagents that Jonathan had left out for her. The water instantly became white and cloudy when she poured them in, and she continued her book’s step-by-step guide until it came to the final stage of adding the Stonebark to the frothy white liquid.

  “What are you doing?” Jonathan asked as Alice began searching through his cupboards.

  “I need a large round bottom flask, and a mortar and pestle,” she replied, messing up his well-ordered equipment on her search.

  He went to the right cupboard and got them out for her before Alice could mess his things up any more. “Don’t you just need to dissolve the Stonebark in the mixture?”

  “I don’t know, I thought you were the expert. My book’s saying to heat it and then grind it up first.”

  Jonathan blushed. “Oh... well I suppose it might make a difference.”

  Alice smiled at his embarrassment. She fitted the round bottom flask diagonally onto the stand before reigniting the magefire stone beneath it. Taking a handful of Stonebark from a wooden container, she began breaking it into pieces and dropping them into the flask. Once it was full, Alice washed her hands and then watched with Jonathan, who was also highly engaged in seeing the results. The Stonebark pieces began throbbing fiery orange and cracking loudly into smaller pieces. Using some tongs, Alice poured the steaming glowing gravel into the mortar and ground it into a fine dust with the pestle, and she then tipped it into the white mixture and watched proudly as it curdled into a mysterious cloudy grey concoction.

  “That did go a lot smoother,” Jonathan admitted. “I’ve always just let the pieces float on top and they dissolve eventually, but what you’ve done is really great. You’re a natural.”

  Alice laughed. “I came here to get a lesson and I ended up teaching you something, how about that?”

  “Well, I’d say it was your book that taught the both of us,” Jonathan chuckled.

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll agree to that,” Alice conceded with a grin.

  She carried on stirring the grey liquid, thinking back to the recent events that led her to this moment whilst enjoying the company of Jonathan the Mage.

  Eventually the mixture started to become stiffer, which was what she was waiting for. “It’s done,” she said with a yawn.

  Jonathan looked over from his vials and funnels; he had been busy bottling his energy potion, “Well done. You can go and sit down on my bed if you need a rest? I’ll finish up in here.”

  “Yeah,” Alice said sleepily, “that sounds really good. I’ll have a little sit down and then head back to Central Isle after you’re done.”

  Jonathan led her to his bedroom, which like the rest of his dwelling looked a good couple of hundred years out of place. He sat Alice down on his impressive four poster bed that occupied a great deal of the room, and put her book down on the bedside table closest to her.

  “Are you okay?” Jonathan asked concerned.

  Alice dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine. I’m just going to rest up a little bit before I go back.”

  “Okay, I‘ll be back in a few minutes.” Jonathan gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back to the lab.

  He neatly poured all of their potion into bottles and small glass vials before having a thorough tidy up. Dirty equipment was a recipe for failure when it came to Alchemy, although he did wish longingly that there was some sort of spell that could do his cleaning for him.

  When he was done he went back to his bedroom. “All set…” he began.

  Alice had passed out on his bed. He lifted the covers and tried to carefully position her so that he could get them back over her without disturbing her much needed rest. Jonathan kissed her on the forehead, got a blanket out of his wardrobe, and got himself settled in a large comfortable armchair.

  “Goodnight Alice,” he whispered as the mage lights dimmed down.

  - - -

  Veronica fidgeted uncomfortably as she attempted to sleep. Occasionally she would drift off for a few minutes, maybe even half an hour if she was lucky, but she was always awoken by nightmares about Lewis and the Archmage. One time Veronica dreamt that Winston was still by her side, and when she awoke she reached out and almost cried when the realisation that he wasn’t there hit her.

  She didn’t trust anybody, and rightfully so, it was impossible to tell who was on Omniosis’ puppet strings either out of loyalty to him or through ‘alteration’. Following the successful interrogation, Veronica had attempted to keep her head down and out of everybody’s way. She hoped that she came across as deeply sorrowful and in mourning for her latest dead friend. She was, of course, deeply saddened by Lucius’ passing, but her anger and thirst for vengeance far surpassed her sorrow. Lucius wouldn’t want her to mope over his death. He’d want whoever was responsible to meet an unpleasant end, and as soon as she was back by Winston’s side she’d make sure the Archmage and all his cronies suffered to the last for what they had done.

  Veronica had been packing a duffle bag full of supplies. She’d attempted to keep the process as stealthy as possible, but on a few occasions she’d had to pay some gang members with her spare gold and silver jewellery to keep quiet, especially as she had raided the hotel’s alchemy storage for Sunshield potions and the materials to make more. It was a necessity, as she planned on leaving on foot and sticking to the most rural regions as possible.

  In addition to the Sunshield potions that would allow her to expose herself to the sunlight without disintegrating, she had stuffed plenty of wads of Imperial Credits amongst some clothing that was far more practical than she was used to wearing, most of which she’d stolen from Winston’s wardrobes. She was even attempting to sleep in a pair of black combat trousers and one of Winston’s long sleeved dark grey t-shirts, just in case she had to leave in a hurry.

  Veronica was satisfied that she’d left no evidence of her little interrogation, and that the receptionist she’d let go would be too scared to open his mouth, out of fear of both the Archmage and Veronica’s wrath. She was sure that Frank’s absence would eventually be noticed, though. When that happened she assumed that Lewis would come knocking on her door with some bullshit story about how she needed to go somewhere and do something, to get her out of the way for an easy kill, or walk her straight into a rebel trap like he probably had done with poor Alexander and Brooke. Veronica would be ready for the traitorous little worm.

  All that she was missing was blood. She had some glass bottles of it in her refrigerator but it wouldn’t pack well in the duffle bag, and they would be thrown about all over the show if she needed to run for it. She’d been forced to transfer some into a few alchemy vials and pack them into a side pocket. She’d also filled an empty plastic bottle up with the stuff just as a last resort, but she was doubtful about how long it would stay good for over a potentially long journey. She did have a plan, but it was a
dangerous one. Veronica would wait until it was the morning, hoping that her enemies would assume she’d want to stick to the comforts of the night, and sneak into the Capital City hospital to steal one of their refrigerated metal suitcases that they used to transport blood packs around in emergencies. As soon as she had it, and was fully stocked up with her precious sustenance, she would leave the Capital calmly and collectively, keeping to a deliberately slow and purposeful pace until she was out of the walls. Then, and only then, would she risk breaking her composure and running as fast as possible away from Imperia City. Then it would be a case of sticking to the shadows, avoiding any pursuers, and finding some way to contact her husband and tell him the awful truth about Omniosis and his best friend, Lewis.

  Veronica drifted off again, but only for a mere few moments. She’d had a freaky nightmare about Lewis being at the foot of her bed, grinning at her like a demented idiot. She reached for her bedside lamp’s switch sleepily; there was no way she was getting to sleep and she was fed up of trying. The light came on and a shiver ran through her entire body. She hadn’t been dreaming at all.

  Lewis lunged across the bed, stabbing at her head with an evil looking slither of metal, an enchanted extending switchblade. Veronica deftly rolled to one side and her pillow burst into an explosion of feathers. She lashed out at him, but her fists hit into his face with little effect. The black-eyed Book Wielder was negating her powers.

  Lewis quickly crawled towards her across the bed on all fours like an animal, keeping the same unnaturally wide grin on his face that he’d had throughout the attack. Veronica slid herself off and smashed the bedside lamp into the side of his face so hard that it broke into pieces. A slither of ceramic cut across Lewis’ cheek and it leaked black blood. Veronica used the tiny window of time she’d bought for herself to move towards the wooden rack that Xavier’s sword was mounted upon. The spell-forged steel blade hung next to the picture that Winston had manifested during their honeymoon, and Veronica grabbed it and slashed frantically behind her, just as Lewis was advancing for the kill.