by D. N. Leo
"No, this isn’t the underworld, and it’s not a fairy tale, either. This is called communication. We’re on a mission together. The more we communicate, the better chance we have of achieving what we want. I think we might have a problem with the magical world, the one you’re in charge of."
“There are many problems with the magical world, and I am not in charge of all of them. Regarding this particular mission, you want me to kill the angel couple. I will do just that. I haven’t encountered an issue.”
“I need you to make sure there's nothing wrong at your end.”
“I just told you everything is fine.”
“Umm…do you have someone who can handle the Amalgam world?”
“Maybe. What’s wrong with Asana?”
“I think he’s on to something.”
“You’re both always on to something. A coalition of bad guys. What do you expect?”
Arete looked at the jar of primer. “Asana is an expert in poison, isn’t he?”
“Yes, so what’s your point?”
“I think he’s trying to send a mutation potion to the underworld. Your area.”
“Why?”
“Well, do you remember a series of explosions in the underworld jails?”
“Yes, those packages were sent from Eudaiz. That’s one of the reasons I agreed to help you, because you take on Eudaiz.”
“You’re mistaken. The packages were sent by Asana. I will defeat Eudaiz and Ciaran LeBlanc. Let me assure you of that. But Asana will always want to take over all worlds. And the underworld is where he tests his mutation potions. He needs an army and slaves, resources he doesn’t have at hand.”
“Is that right?”
“It might be speculation on my part, but you can check the records of your jail explosions. If you find traces of poison, there is no more I’ll have to say. You might know that by reputation, Eudaizians don’t do poison.”
Silence.
“Why didn’t you mention this before? I thought you were allies.”
“We’re friends until I suspect he’s playing tricks on me.”
“All right, I’ll look into it and will send you someone I think is suitable to replace Asana.”
“Thank you.” Arete slid the talisman into his pocket and took a last look at the jar of potion. Then he crouched and poured the liquid onto a little tree at the side of the road. The tree shrank, faded in color, and crumbled to the ground, turning into a worm-filled liquid substance. He shook his head. “It isn’t mutating into anything, is it, Asana? You must think I’m an idiot.” He stood and walked away.
A moment later, the puddle formed into the shape of a long string, then turned into a snake and slithered away.
7
Charmine returned to her humble quarters, a small hut in the middle of the traveler’s land. The term traveler’s land might bring terror to many creatures, but for her, it was home.
Travelers of the multiverse had earned many bad names. She didn’t know much about the tribe because she had left them a long time ago and had never received a proper education from her mentor. Some called them drifters and some gypsies of the multiverse. They moved from one place to another, and nobody knew their origin. She didn’t even know what the term gypsy meant, but she could tell some senior members of the tribe got upset when the name was used to describe them. One thing she knew for sure—the origin of her tribe was elusive, as was their future.
She didn't have any hope that her husband, Jael, would be able to find her here. The traveler’s land was harder than Xiilok to find, and even more difficult to navigate through. She sat down at a small table, tracing her fingers over a small woven piece of fabric, one that was supposed to be wrapped around her daughter. Feeling that tears would come, she pushed the fabric away. She refused to believe this was the only reality she had now. There had to be a solution, and once more, she would fight her way out of here.
Then she sensed the familiar presence of her husband. There was nothing more in this universe she longed for at the moment. She rushed toward the door, scrambling over the furniture, some baskets with wildflowers near the door, and a pile of firewood.
This was not the first time she had done this. She’d repeated this action many times, and every single time, she had been disappointed. But without Jael and her daughter, her world didn’t make much sense. So she continued to dream and hope—and scramble toward the door whenever she heard a noise.
She yanked the door open, and he was in front of her. The magnificent angel of light stood before her at the door of her humble little hut in the middle of the traveler’s land.
She didn't know what to say, and neither did he. It had been days, and she thought this moment would never happen.
He pulled her into his arms. They held each other for a long time, listening to each other's heartbeats. This was the first time since they’d been married by the lake that she’d realized she had to treasure every moment they had together—because they never knew what would happen the next day.
She looked up into his face, twirling a long lock of his sandy hair around her finger. He smiled at her.
He was calm and steady. Always. She was born a traveler, and she traveled constantly. When she’d found him, she thought he would be her constant so that she could stop traveling. It was so ironic what had happened.
“You’re real," she said and smiled at him.
“More real than ever. I didn't think I would be able to find you here."
"I know you’d never give up.”
He held her hand. “Come with me,” he said. “Let's get out of here.”
“I promised the leader—”
“I spoke to him. He’ll let you leave.”
“What did you promise him?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“No, Jael. It’s been thousands of years, and they have never broken the tradition. What did you promise?”
He smiled and brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I promised him a home.”
“A home? You promised the travelers a home?”
He nodded. “It’s a very special home that I can provide. And most importantly, he agreed.”
She nodded.
Then he looked into her eyes. "What's wrong, Charmine?”
"I’ve lost our daughter."
"No, you didn’t.”
"I don't understand. You haven’t even asked if we have a boy or a girl. You haven’t even asked where our baby is."
"It's a long story, but I met our daughter in the future. So I know we have a daughter, and she is supposed to be alive until her adulthood."
“In the future?"
“Yes, I used this.” He pointed to the bracelet he was wearing. She had an identical one, and she knew what it was. She had been planning to use it for her escape if Jael hadn’t found her.
She nodded. “Yes, I know we can travel across dimensions and the world with it.”
"The girl who was thrown into the rock when she tried to help you during the hilltop fight was our daughter.”
“She was?” She wiped a tear that rolled down her face. “I was pregnant, and she tried to touch me.”
“Yes, that’s exactly why it happened. You’re not supposed to come in contact with yourself when time traveling. I figured that out after you gave birth and your tribe took you away. I asked a lot of people before coming to that conclusion. Then I visited our daughter.”
“She…she was fine?” She wiped away more tears.
“Yes, she was fine, and she will be fine.”
“So you’re saying whoever has taken our daughter won’t harm her?"
"I don't know. I just know that we’re not supposed to change the events of the past that affect the future. So I assume if we don't influence anything now, and we let things happen in their natural order, then our daughter should be alive and well until her future happens.”
"Are you sure?"
Jael shook his head. “No, but that’s the best we can do right now. We
have to keep this information from Arete, Asana, and their people. I don't know if they have anything to do with our daughter, but if they want to harm us in any way, they might use her as leverage.”
“What’s her name?”
“Dinah Greenwoods.”
More tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them off. “That’s a nice name. She was nice, and so vicious the way she flies.” She chuckled. “Just like you.”
“That was when she flew with her weaponry wings. You should see her now. Magnificent with her real wings.”
“Is she going to be an angel?”
“I doubt she would want that. Let’s talk about that later. We should leave now.”
“Where to?”
"I’m taking you back to the house of Gods.”
"But you said you don’t trust everyone in the house of Gods.”
"I can protect everyone, all my subjects. But after what happened in the last few weeks, I know for sure that I cannot protect you. Until I put Asana and Arete into their places, I don't want you to be in danger. And the house of Gods is the safest place right now.”
“Can I visit our daughter?”
"I think we should minimize interaction until things settle."
She nodded.
They heard a squeaking sound coming from their bracelets. They looked at them and saw a red dot flashing on a shiny square surface. The dot flashed. Flashed again. Next to it were the letters REC. The lights flashed a few more times and then went out. Nothing else happened after that.
“What was that?” she asked.
“It’s quiet now. It should be okay. Let’s go,” said Jael.
Charmine frowned. She had seen those dots before but couldn’t recall when it was. So she let the thought go.
8
Madeline stepped down from the motorbike. She peeled off her helmet, giving it back to Ciaran. "I will never ever ride with you again, Ciaran.”
Ciaran grinned. “Only my little brother is afraid of speed."
“That wasn’t just speed—it was ridiculously insanely suicidal speed. I have no intention of dying today. We have children to take care of, Ciaran. And don’t try to be cute. Even that signature grin of yours won’t save you.”
“I’m sorry, First Councillor."
"No, you’re not. But I’ll deal with that later. It’s on the record.” She slapped his shoulder lightly.
“My bad,” he said and grinned again.
She tilted her chin at a charming white townhouse at the end of a street in a quiet suburban area just outside New York. "Nice place."
"Indeed. I’ve been here a couple of times. It's nicer inside," Ciaran said as he stepped down from the motorbike.
"You said Diane teaches aikido at home. This doesn’t look like a martial arts studio.”
Ciaran chuckled. “It’s larger inside.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her to the door.
Suddenly, a wave of buzzing noise hit her mind. This wasn’t one of her usual psychic episodes. In fact, it felt as if something was sucking her brain out. The pain was sharp and sudden, and it made her gasp out loud. For a brief second, she felt empty. She glanced around, unsettled.
“Are you okay?"
"Huh?”
"You seem disoriented."
"I’m just a bit dizzy.”
"Let's get you inside." Ciaran slid his arm around her waist to guide her toward the house. At the door, he pressed the doorbell. They waited. For a while, there was no movement inside.
“Are you sure she’s home?"
"My chip suggests that she is."
“Your chip? You tagged her? Is there anyone you don't tag, Ciaran?”
"I don't tag strangers, or those I don't care about." He frowned and looked at his wrist unit. "The data suggests she’s here right now." He tilted his head and looked inside the house via a gap in the window. "We've got to get in. Are you sensing anything unusual, Madeline?"
She shook her head.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. There was no response from Diana's phone. Ciaran tucked the phone away. Madeline knew he was agitated, and she wanted to help, so she opened her psychic mind and scanned around to see if she could get any signal at all. But nothing seemed to work. Her mind scanner bounced back empty.
She tried for a second time. The same results occurred.
Ciaran spun around and swung a kick at the door handle. The handle broke, and he pushed his way in. "I'm sorry, Diana. There’s no gentle way to go about this. I don't know how to pick locks."
They walked into the wide corridor of a warm and welcoming home. Everything was quiet. Too quiet for Madeline’s liking. The sofa in the living room stared blankly at them. A vase with fresh flowers was positioned in the middle of the coffee table. On top of the marble fireplace, there was a small framed picture of Diana, Jenny, Arik, and a man in his sixties.
She pointed at the man in the picture. “Is it Arik’s father?"
Ciaran glanced at the picture. “Yes. But Diana hardly mentioned the man. Arik has never spoken about him. The only person warmed to him is Jenny.”
They searched around the house, but they found nothing. Ciaran looked at his wrist unit again. "The signal for my chip is totally off now. I can't call Diana’s phone anymore."
Madeline squinted her nose. “Perfume.”
“What?”
“I can smell perfume.”
“Yes, indeed. The scent is very subtle. Diana doesn’t wear perfume. It’s not her style.”
Madeline nodded. “It smells expensive. She must have had a rich visitor.”
"Let's go, Madeline.”
“Where to?”
“The explosion site. Diana was on the phone with Arik, and then his father came on. Then there was the explosion. When I called him, he said the explosion was at his studio, and that Diana was fine. I didn’t put two and two together because my chip on Diana’s phone didn’t flag a red code. Now I can’t call his number anymore.”
They had been on the highway for ten minutes when Ciaran made a sudden U-turn. “She has to be in the house,” he said and accelerated.
In no time, they were back in Diana’s house again.
Ciaran walked back and forth. Then his eyes landed on a faint mark on the hallway wall. “That wasn’t here before.”
It looked as if someone had carried a hard object down the hall and scratched the wall with it. He followed the mark and rushed down to the studio. The rectangular room was surrounded by white walls covered with Japanese artwork. The decor was so elegant it was hard to believe this was a martial arts studio.
“You sense anything yet, Madeline?”
She shook her head. But she knew Ciaran believed there was something here. He wasn’t psychic, but his natural instincts were strong. He traced his fingers along a wooden bar, and there, he found a lever. As soon as he pulled it, a panel in the wall slid open.
He rushed in.
Madeline felt death there, but not with her psychic mind. There was the tangible stench of blood.
They hurried down to a basement where they saw Diana lying face down in a pool of her own blood.
Ciaran threw himself to the floor, picking Diana’s lifeless body up and clutching her in his arms. Madeline could see the pain in his eyes, and his shoulders shook with rage.
She didn't know much about the relationship between Diane, Arik, and Ciaran. But she had heard once that Ciaran considered Diana his second mother.
“She’s still warm. It must have happened after we left.”
“You’re saying she was here the whole time, Ciaran?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I sense anything?”
He put Diana down and looked at her. “You were distracted.”
“By what?”
“I don’t know. But I hope you’ll tell me one day.”
“Are you blaming me for this?”
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ci
aran…” she approached him and held his shoulders. He shrugged out of her grip and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling LeBlanc security. We need people on this.”
His eyes were as cold as steel, and she could see the terrifying pain he suffered deep down when people he cared for were harmed.
A sharp signal flashed through her mind. She gasped. “I’ve got a signal, Ciaran.”
He turned, looked her in the eye, and waited.
“The last thing Diana thought before she died was Arik, forgive them, son.”
He nodded and turned away.
“Ciaran, did you hear me?”
“Yes, she wanted Arik to forgive whoever killed her.” He gazed into her eyes. “But she never asked me to forgive the cowards that shot at her back.” He turned and walked out the door.
9
Arete sauntered into the long, dark, and smoky corridor of the underworld dungeon to visit the minor god of the underworld he partnered with. He’d forgotten the god’s name. Again. He had reminded himself to memorize it, but he forgot it every single time.
He looked around and found a quiet corner. Before the minor god entered the hall, Arete pulled out the tablet he had with him and did a quick search through his notes. There it was. Xecheron was the name of the underworld deity he was dealing with.
Xecheron preferred to be called a god, but Arete knew he was nowhere near that caliber. He had no rank, and he was the disgrace of all those with rank in the underworld. He was always seeking to move up the ladder. Arete knew Xecheron would never get anywhere, but his motivation served Arete’s purpose well, so he went along on the ride with the power-hungry deity.
Xecheron. He muttered the name a couple of times in an attempt to memorize it.
The minor deity stepped into the hall, accompanied by an elaborate backdrop of smoke, light effects, and servants. Xecheron called it his “ceremonies.” Arete rolled his eyes inwardly. If one had to resort to such elaborate methods to impress and to prove one’s credentials, it definitely said something about one’s character.
Xecheron settled on a thronelike chair, positioned at the top of a raised platform. Arete swallowed hard to avoid rolling his eyes again because if he kept doing that, his eyes might accidentally do it for real. He shuddered when he visualized that.