Razor Dreams: The Seventh Jonathan Shade Novel

by Gary Jonas

  “We'd better get over there.”

  “Not so fast,” Monica said. “You owe me the truth about Mom and Dad.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  For as long as I could remember, my sister blamed me for the death of our parents. Our mother died when I was fourteen, my father when I was sixteen, my little sister when I was eighteen. I didn't hold it against Monica. After all, I blamed myself for all their deaths too. With Janey, it was suicide, and I wasn't there. In the case of my parents, they both died protecting me, and I was a witness. I saw the light go out in their eyes.

  There was no reason for them to have died. In both cases, it was pointless. I tried not to think about those horrible days. If I'd been a little older or a little smarter, I could have saved them.

  I've lived a couple of lifetimes now, and those moments are still etched into my memory as though they happened yesterday. There are defining moments in all our lives. People deal with them in different ways.

  My parents were wizards.

  They were powerful.

  And both were killed by magic.

  I'd long blocked out the memory of the faces of the men who killed them. In both cases, the same men were there. I remembered that. And in both cases, I focused on the fear in the eyes of my parents when they realized too late they were unable to save me.

  I didn't want to think about it. I tried to push it all away.

  “I want the truth,” Monica said, snapping me back to the present. “Don't you dare try to back out now.”

  “I need a minute,” I said.

  “I knew I shouldn't have trusted you.”

  I met Kelly's eyes. “And the Bitch of the Year Award goes to my sister,” I said. “Sorry, Kelly. You just can't compete with her.”

  For a split second, I thought I saw something in Kelly's eyes. Sympathy? I wasn't sure because it disappeared before it could register.

  “Give me the truth,” Monica said, her voice firm.

  I held up a hand. “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “If you throw that Jack Nicholson line at me again, so help me . . .”

  “Mom and Dad died because of me,” I said. “You've been right about that from the start.”

  She stared at me in stunned silence. I'd always tossed some smartass remark or another at her to avoid the subject. And yes, I once told her she couldn't handle the truth, though I didn't say it with that Jack Nicholson flair.

  “Mom took me to Elitch's on my fourteenth birthday,” I said. “Dad was in London with you and Janey. I remember being so happy to have some time to spend with Mom alone. She always thought I was her normal boy, and that weekend she didn't seem to mind. She and Dad were always so disappointed that I didn't have any magic. There I was, the only male child, and I didn't qualify for training at DGI. I was the one who didn't matter, the one who made them look bad to the Council.”

  Monica nodded because she knew this. It was what she and Janey always said to me when we were kids. That I was the boy with no magic and I ruined their lives. I was a pariah.

  “Cut to the chase, Jonathan. What happened?”

  “Three men showed up at the park. We were on a ride called the Zephyr. It was just a fast ride that went around in circles first forward; then it stopped and went in reverse. Around and around, faster and faster. I loved that ride. I loved the music. That particular time, the ride kicked into reverse and 'Immigrant Song' by Led Zeppelin cranked out over the stereo. I didn't notice the men but Mom did. I had my hands up to enjoy the ride, but Mom grabbed my hands and pulled them down. I was embarrassed because I was fourteen. I wasn't a little kid, and I didn't need my mother pulling my hands down, making me feel like a child. I was pissed.”

  I felt something in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow. I kept my gaze fixed to Monica's eyes so she'd know I was being honest.

  “When the ride was over, I jumped out of the car and raced toward the exit,” I said. “Mom screamed at me to stop. The three men stood by the exit, waiting for me. Their hands glowed. Mom leaped over to block them, and they blasted her. Time stood still. Nobody around us noticed what happened. It was like the men were invisible. The blast caught Mom in the chest, and she fell backward. The men threw another blast at me, and it washed over me. I thought it was just light, and I dropped to my knees, wondering why there was so much blood pouring out of Mom's chest. More light washed over me. One of the men grabbed me, and light shot out from his hands. That light reflected in Mom's irises before she drew her last breath; then her eyes glassed over, and she was gone. Her body was just an empty shell. The men said something in a language I couldn't understand, and two security guards rushed over. The men with the glowing hands disappeared, and I knew Mom was dead, and I knew she died trying to save me.”

  Nobody spoke.

  The memory kept rolling in my head. The security guards reported that it looked to them like Mom just had a heart attack and collapsed. They didn't see any blood on her chest. They didn't see any blood on my hands. I spent hours washing my hands, trying to get the blood off, but my hands were never really clean again.

  “We came back from London the next day,” Monica said. “You were at the Millers' house. And I blamed you for killing Mom.”

  “You were right.”

  “She was wrong!” Esther said. “It wasn't your fault. You were a kid.”

  “It's all right, Esther,” I said. “I've got this.” I focused on Monica. “Mom died because of me. She thought I was a mundane. She thought they were going to kill me.”

  “Sounds like they tried to kill you,” Brenda said. “That's terrible.”

  “I knew I wasn't a mundane,” I said, staring at Monica. “But I never told Mom or Dad what you did. Maybe if I'd told them, they'd still be alive.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kelly asked. “Your parents knew you were immune to magic.”

  “They knew I was immune to healing magic. All wizards who have children use magic to heal up cuts and bruises and to eradicate illness. None of that worked on me, of course. But they never tested me for immunity against harmful magic.”

  Monica looked away.

  “I'm missing something,” Kelly said.

  “It's none of your business, Kelly,” Monica said. She focused on me. “What about Dad?”

  “He was following me home from a football game. My car engine exploded, and I crashed into a guardrail on I-25. Dad skidded to a stop behind me and pulled me out of the car. He was worried it would blow up. I wasn't hurt beyond a few cuts, but another car stopped ahead of us. The reverse lights came on and that car backed along the shoulder toward us. I thought it was a Good Samaritan, but it was the same three men who killed Mom. They piled out of the car with machine guns. They opened fire.”

  “Avoiding magic,” Kelly said.

  I nodded. “The sound of machine gun fire filled the air, and Dad threw himself on top of me to try and protect me. He had fast reactions, but it still took five seconds to pull up his magic, and that's an eternity in a gunfight. I didn't count the bullet holes. He waved his hands and threw a hail of bullets back at the men. They avoided them, returned to their car, and drove off. The gunshots caused a number of accidents, so they had clear sailing ahead. I had blood on me, but little of it was mine. Dad looked me in the eyes and apologized. Then he took two ragged breaths, and the life went out of his body.”

  “So they shot your Dad,” Kelly said.

  Esther approached me and placed her ghostly hands on my shoulder. “I'm so sorry,” she whispered.

  “The key takeaway is that they used conventional weapons,” Monica said. “They recognized that direct magic was useless.”

  “Why wait two years?” Kelly asked.

  “So he wouldn't expect them,” Monica said.

  I shook my head. “Because time meant nothing to them.”

  “Are you saying what I think you're saying?” Kelly asked.

  I nodded. “The Men of Anubis.”

  “We're going to
have to go after them.”

  I noticed she said we. If nothing else, at least telling what happened got Kelly to see things as an us-against-them thing. And now that I realized the Men of Anubis had been behind the most tragic events in my life, I wanted to go after them. “We will,” I said. “But they're a future problem. When we face them, we'll need a way to kill them.”

  “Understood.”

  I faced Monica. “Now you have the truth.”

  “You told Janey about Mom,” Monica said.

  I nodded. “I told her the truth. Janey was too young to fully understand it all, but she felt responsible because of what you two tried to do to me. I should have found a way to make her believe it wasn't her fault.”

  “It wasn't her fault,” Monica said.

  I held Monica's gaze. What I kept in the family—because Kelly might kill Monica if she knew—was that Monica and Janey tried to cripple me when I was a kid. Monica thought it would be better to have a cripple for a brother than a mundane. Plus, since I couldn't be healed by magic, they could claim a powerful dark sorcerer hurt me, and my parents would not have lost face because nobody else could heal me either. Alas, their magic didn't have any effect on me, but it did hurt my childhood friend Tommy. Monica healed him and I agreed not to tell our parents. If my parents had known I was completely immune to magic, and not just to healing, maybe my mother wouldn't have died that day at the amusement park. And maybe my father would have pulled up his magic as soon as my engine exploded on the highway. But what's done is done.

  All of this silently passed between Monica and me.

  I told myself she felt guilty and took some responsibility in that moment, but in all honesty, I didn't see any change in the way she looked at me. And the truth is that even if my parents had known all of it, that doesn't mean anything would have gone down differently. In the split second you realize a loved one is in danger, you react, and with my mother, that meant putting herself between me and my attackers. And with my father, he would have no reason to suspect wizardry when mechanical failure could easily be to blame, so the night on I-25 would probably have been the same too.

  “There,” I said. “Payment in full. How do we stop Gustav Reinhardt?”

  “As it happens,” Monica said, “I have an idea.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  An hour later, we stood in front of Kings Park. By we, I mean me, Kelly, Esther, Brenda, and Monica. “People aren't supposed to go inside the building,” Monica said.

  “People aren't supposed to kill each other either,” I said.

  “This is part of your problem,” Monica said. “You ignore all the rules. Including the killing people part.”

  “Sometimes it's necessary. Come on.” I picked the lock and led everyone inside.

  As soon as we entered the building, Monica worked a spell to enhance Esther's presence, and the graffiti on the walls swirled and faded into the ugly yellowish-beige tint of the 1970s. The asbestos lifted into the ceiling, and light fixtures replaced the dangling strands. The floor cleared of detritus, and the tiles shifted into place and took on the appearance of being freshly waxed and mopped.

  The hallway was empty of people.

  “Martin?” I called.

  No answer.

  “He's probably part of this,” Kelly said, drawing a sword.

  I shook my head. “Pretty sure he's on our side.”

  “Says you,” Esther said. “I don't trust anybody.”

  “Good plan,” Kelly said.

  “We shouldn't be in here,” Monica said.

  “Back to the rules?”

  Monica hugged herself. “No,” she said. “This place feels wrong.”

  “I agree,” Brenda said.

  I suspected they got some of the bad dust on them. I didn't feel it, but I stood next to Kelly, and she filled me with confidence. Esther cruised down the hall ahead of us. “I'll see if I can find anyone,” she said.

  “Don't go too far,” I said. “I don't want us to fade back to our world.”

  Brenda pointed to the walls. “There were wards here . . . and there. I think this may be a pocket dimension designed to hold something in or keep something out.”

  “To keep something in,” I said.

  “They seem damaged, as if extra energy snapped into them like a broken rubber band.”

  The hall remained quiet. Our footsteps sounded like drum beats as we moved down the corridor.

  Up ahead, Esther poked her head through the door to Juanita's room. She pulled back, shuddered, then popped back to me.

  “They're all in that room,” she said and pointed. “We may want to scram now.”

  “Nonsense,” I said.

  “It makes a lot of sense to me,” she said and drifted back toward the entrance.

  “I'll check it,” Kelly said and strode ahead of us, sword ready.

  “Kelly, no!” Esther yelled.

  Kelly reached the door. She shook her head, took one step back, chambered her leg, and shot a strong snap kick right beside the handle. The jamb splintered and the door cracked. It flew inward, and before I could take another step, the shadow thing burst from the room, slashing its razor claws at Kelly.

  “Cute,” Kelly said as she parried with her sword. She drove the blade into the shadow, and a puff of smoke kissed the air as the sword punched through. Kelly spun and whipped the sword around, sending trails of smoke behind the blade.

  “Drive it toward us,” Brenda said.

  “It won't stay solid,” Kelly said, blocking attacks and countering moves so fast, her arms were a blur.

  “Jonathan, it's up to you,” Brenda said.

  “Wonderful.”

  I moved to join the fray, but Dr. Anderson, Stuart, and Martin raced out the door. They were covered in dust and blood. Martin held a broken mop handle, which he swung wildly. Dr. Anderson pushed past him, eyes wide as she screamed. Stuart held a look of insanity on his face.

  Kelly spotted them and moved to intercept.

  “Don't kill them!” I shouted.

  “Speak for yourself,” Kelly said and hacked Stuart's head off.

  His head bounced on the floor, rolled against the wall, and rocked back and forth on his cheek. His body collapsed. Martin jumped back and managed to block the next swing with his handle.

  “No!” Dr. Anderson screamed and tried to get past Kelly, but Kelly grabbed her and threw her against the wall.

  Gustav coalesced in front of me, half smoke, half man.

  I leaped at the smoke, waving my arms as I went, and sent tendrils swirling off in all directions. Dr. Anderson kept screaming and waved her arms wildly as if she were being attacked by a swarm of bees. Kelly reared back with her sword. I launched myself up and over Kelly to take down both Dr. Anderson and Martin in one shot. We landed hard. Kelly darted in for the kill, but I got in her way.

  “They aren't part of this,” I said.

  “They're trying to kill us.”

  “They're trying to get away.”

  “I don't care,” she said and stabbed Dr. Anderson through the chest.

  “Get back,” I said to Martin as he pushed himself to his feet.

  “Stay away from me,” he said, eyes wide as he twirled that mop handle.

  I rushed him and before he could take a swing, I slammed him against the wall. A hard elbow to the face made his eyes cross. He dropped the handle and slid down to a seated position.

  Kelly moved to kill him, but I blocked her path.

  “It's stupid to leave an enemy alive,” she said.

  “He's not an enemy.”

  “He's attacking.”

  “He's scared out of his mind.”

  “Behind you!” Brenda yelled.

  Kelly spun and blocked another attack from Gustav.

  I dragged Martin down the hall, out of harm's way. “Stay here,” I said.

  I turned to go back to help Kelly, and Juanita stepped out of the room. Across the hall, Pedro pulled his door open too. How the hell did they
get out of their cages? Blood poured on the floor, and I knew it had to be a supernatural issue because as wide open as their chests were, there's no way in hell they should have been able to stand, let alone bleed the way they were. Their faces were gone, leaving crimson-stained tendons stretched across their skulls. Tubes dragged behind them, oozing viscera. Their eyes were blank, and their hands were skeletal, but the fingertips were sharpened like knives.

  Those fingers clacked against each other as they approached.

  I launched a solid roundhouse kick into Pedro's chest. He flew backward into his room. I moved to spin and kick again, but my foot slipped in the blood on the floor and I fell. I hit the ground hard.

  Kelly backed up as she blocked attacks from Gustav, who kept solidifying and turning to smoke.

  Down the hall, Monica stared, doing nothing.

  “Little help down here!” I called.

  Brenda shouldered past Monica. She passed right through the shadow and crashed into Juanita. Brenda still wore her gloves. Juanita slapped her aside. By then I managed to roll to my feet.

  “Gloves!” I yelled.

  Juanita attacked me, and I caught her arms, avoided her sharp fingers.

  Behind me, I heard a grunt. I released Juanita and rolled to the side, barely avoiding Pedro's charge. He crashed into his sister, but they separated with ease, sliding across each other, smearing blood everywhere.

  Brenda tugged off her gloves and let them fall where they may.

  I jumped to my feet, darted in, and used a foot sweep, kicking Juanita's battered ankles hard and knocking her off her feet. She hit the ground and kept trying to reach me.

  Brenda reached down and placed a palm on Juanita's leg.

  Juanita instantly turned to stone.

  Pedro tried to slash at Brenda, but I kicked his arm at the elbow, snapping the bone. Brenda rushed in and grabbed his hand and Pedro solidified. When she let go, he toppled backward, hit the floor hard, and broke into two pieces.

  Gustav, the shadow demon, whipped away from Kelly, and his dark eyes fastened on his fallen comrades. He charged Kelly one more time but shot toward the ceiling at the last moment, smashed through a light fixture, and disappeared into a ventilation shaft.