The Left-Hand Path: Mentor

by T. S. Barnett

  He pushed aside one of the low branches as he heard a soft scratching in the dirt, and he leaned in to try and find the source of the noise. It sounded almost like a wounded animal.

  “It’s okay, little buddy,” he called softly, straining his eyes in the deepening dusk. “You need some help?”

  He felt a chill breeze from the bush that gave him goosebumps, and when he shuddered, he froze at seeing the breath come out of him in a puff of steam. Something shifted in the dry grass, and as a car drove by on the nearby street, its headlights flashed into the darkness, momentarily illuminating the shuffling mass half-hidden in the leaves. It wasn’t an animal.

  The skeletal remains moved of their own accord with a whistling groan, and the shaky form scraped and pulled itself forward, lifting its bony face and staring into John’s frightened eyes with only empty sockets.

  John ran. He almost dropped his keys on his way, batting them in the air twice before regaining his grip on them, and he stumbled at the edge of the sidewalk but kept his balance. Halfway to the car, he stopped in his tracks, held tight by an unseen grip that chilled him to his bones. He could barely breathe, let alone scream, so tight was the hold around his neck, and he felt himself dragged backwards, shoes scraping across the asphalt. His limbs were locked in place painfully, as though every muscle in his body had tensed at once.

  He drew ever closer to the cluster of bushes until he felt a cold breath on the back of his neck, and he was able to turn his head just enough to see the chipped and yellowed skull staring back at him. The creature opened its mouth wide and moved nearer to him while he choked and tried in vain to scream. A blue mist fell heavily from its lipless teeth, and John’s head jerked back in agony as his lifeblood was pulled from his every pore, forming a cloud of red murk in the air just above his chest.

  The creature soaked in the blood with a shuddering moan. Tiny strips of tendons and muscle formed at its jaws and throat, stuck to the bones but still slick and bloody. John’s body collapsed in a stiff pile of limbs and loose clothing, his skin blackened and shrunken, and the skeleton took a breath, filling the soft pink lungs that had begun to take shape inside its rib cage.

  John’s body lay still and undisturbed long after the monster had gone. When his coworker arrived in the morning to open the museum, she screamed at the sight of his dry husk, fingers trembling as she called the local police. They arrived quickly and set up yellow tape around the scene, blocking the parking lot with cruisers and vans by midday. They allowed the frightened woman to give a preliminary identification—as much as could be done with remains like these—and they drew lots to decide who would carry out the unfortunate business of contacting the man’s wife.

  8

  Elton dropped the filled suitcase into the back of his rental car and turned to face Nathan as he approached. “I don’t trust you,” he pointed out, and Nathan laughed.

  “Of course you don’t. I can’t say I’ve ever known a Chaser willing to help his quarry, either. But then,” he added, leaning on the side of the car to look up into Elton’s face, “I am a very special sort of quarry, aren’t I? You don’t want someone else coming after me. Want me all to yourself, hm? Why else would you come looking for me after all this time?”

  “I’m doing this because you said this thing could be a threat to my family,” Elton answered without answering. “When it’s done, or if I see that you’ve lied, I’m going to bring you in as planned.”

  “You’re so ambitious,” Nathan chuckled. “I love it; I really do.”

  “Let’s not misunderstand the dynamic here,” Elton frowned, glancing at Cora as she moved to stand beside them. “I want to be clear—this little field trip is happening because I’m allowing it. We’ll do this my way or not at all.”

  “Ooh, listen to you. You’re a bossy thing. What makes you think I’ve any reason to be frightened, Mr. Chaser?”

  “Because you’ve shown your hand.” Elton looked over at Cora and mumbled a phrase that he had long ago told himself to forget, the silver ring on his finger growing almost blistering hot. She looked up at him with fear on her face, but he only brushed a hand across her eyes, and she fell to the ground in a heap.

  Nathan pushed Elton aside to crouch beside the girl and lift her head. Cora flinched at his touch and curled up into a ball with her head in his lap. A small mark, like a brand, had been burned into her collarbone just above her heart. It wasn’t a symbol Nathan recognized. He touched her forehead and murmured a few words, but she only shivered and cried out.

  “What did you do?” Nathan scowled up at Elton, who stared placidly back at him.

  “Something you cannot undo, but I can. If you’re cooperative, then when we’re finished here and you’re safe with the Magistrate, I’ll consider releasing her.”

  “Now you really aren’t playing fair, Elton,” Nathan muttered. “I’m not sure I like it anymore.”

  “I’m helping you with your personal issue because it happens to affect me, but make no mistake—you are the prisoner here.”

  Nathan glanced back down at Cora’s pained face and nodded. “Fine. I’ll play along. When we’re done, let’s go see your Magister.”

  “I’m going to need one more thing from you.” Elton glanced pointedly at the bracelet around Nathan’s wrist. “You understand.”

  “Enjoy having helpless hostages, do you?” Nathan pulled the bracelet from his arm and tossed it to the Chaser. “You’re a bully.”

  Elton only hummed a vague agreement at him as he slid the bracelet into his pocket. “She’ll wake up in a minute. Put her in the car.”

  “Listen to you, ‘put her in the car.’ What do you think this is?” Despite his grumbling, Nathan hefted Cora in his arms and laid her gently in the back seat to let her rest. “What about my Jeep?”

  “You’re going to the Magistrate,” Elton said. “You aren’t going to need your Jeep.”

  “Now it’s theft, as well,” Nathan scoffed.

  “Just get in the car.” Elton waited for Nathan to hunch down in the passenger seat before he got in himself. He wasn’t comfortable at all having nothing but Moore’s word that he would cooperate, but his chances of subduing him by magical means were lower now that he was young and seemingly back in fighting shape. The sooner he got him back, the better. He heard the flick of a lighter beside him and turned his head to see Nathan lighting a cigarette.

  “This is a rental,” Elton hissed at him, but Nathan only lifted one eyebrow and exhaled a stream of smoke between them, causing the Chaser to give a forced cough.

  “Guess you’re losing your deposit,” Nathan drawled.

  “Ugh. At least roll the window down.”

  Cora stirred in the back seat, letting out a quiet whimper, and Nathan knelt backwards in his seat to tend to her.

  “What the hell happened?” she murmured, and Nathan checked the mark on her chest and looked into her eyes, searching for any sign that might give him a hint as to the countermeasure.

  “The Chaser put a curse on you,” Nathan chuckled. “Interesting turn of events.”

  “What?” Cora blinked sleepily at Elton over Nathan’s shoulder. “Why? What kind of curse? Am I going to die?”

  “Because he thinks you matter to me, and because he’s a vicious brute. We’ll sort it out, don’t worry. But we do need to get going, my love—do you feel all right?”

  “Sure, I guess,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face. She felt drowsy and sore, but she wasn’t hurt by Nathan’s suggestion that he didn’t actually care about her. That would be for the Chaser’s benefit.

  Nathan spared a glance at Elton as he settled back in his seat with a scowl. Elton didn’t know where they were going or what he’d agreed to help with, precisely, but something that could rattle Nathaniel Moore had to be worth looking into.

  “I’m going to need some answers,” he said, and Nathan looked over at him as he started the car. “Where we’re going, first of all, but also about this…lich. They aren’
t supposed to be real.”

  “There isn’t really all that much to tell,” Nathan shrugged. “They’re witches who were either taught or figured out for themselves the alchemical formula to make themselves immortal. The catch is that it doesn’t come with eternal youth, so eventually their bodies decay, and they waste away into nothing but bones. Oh, and also, their soul is locked in a phylactery instead of inside them, so they go completely mad, of course. It won’t much care who it kills on its way to me.”

  “Of course,” Elton sighed. His phone rang in his pocket, and he kept one eye on his companions while he answered it.

  “Mr. Willis?”

  “Ramos? What can I do for you?”

  “I think I have some news for you. I don’t know if Mr. Martin would want me sharing, but you did say you wanted to know if there were any bodies, and I don’t really care which one of you catches whatever did it. They found one this morning by the Indian museum.”

  “A body? An actual body, you mean? Intact?” He glanced over at Nathan. He didn’t leave bodies.

  “As intact as can be when you’re a withered husk, sir,” Ramos answered. “It’s been taken to the Medical Examiner.”

  “Shit,” Elton swore, which conjured an unlikely giggle from the passenger’s seat.

  “He said a naughty,” Nathan hummed, smiling over his shoulder at Cora. She grinned back at him despite the ache in her chest.

  Elton held the phone against his shoulder a moment and scowled over at Nathan. “You burn your bodies. Did you burn your body? The person you killed to grow young.”

  “Old habits die hard, I’m afraid,” he shrugged. “Why, did they find one?”

  “You need to tell me right now what you’re hiding. No more fairy stories. No more lies. What did you have bound with that box?”

  “I already told you; it’s a lich.”

  “Have it your way.” Elton lifted the phone to his ear. “I’ll need to stop by the station,” he said. “I have a suspect with me. Can you put him in one of your holding cells?”

  “Not for more than twenty-four hours.”

  “I know the rules, Detective. I’ll be there shortly.” Elton hung up the phone and pulled the car onto the street.

  “I told you it wasn’t me. Are we taking a detour, Elton?” Nathan asked. “Am I going to the reg jail? I haven’t broken out of one of those in ages.”

  “Nobody’s breaking out of anything. You’re going to sit there and behave yourself until we get back.”

  “Who’s we?” Cora asked with a frown.

  “You’re coming with me. No arguing,” he added before she could object. She slumped back in her seat with a sigh and looked up at Nathan plaintively, but he only shrugged.

  “He’s the boss,” Nathan chuckled. “If he wants to waste time, he can. It won’t be me that suffers.”

  Elton kept his eyes on the road while Cora reluctantly directed him to the police station. He pulled past the short row of palm trees leading to the building, parked in front of the entrance, and waved Nathan out of the car. Elton retrieved his kit from the suitcase in the trunk, and before they entered the building, He wrapped Nathan’s hands in cloth soaked in angelica oil and bound his wrists with rope made with agrimony. Both herbs were powerful magic dampeners, and Nathan snorted away the smell of them until Elton covered his hands with a coat to keep the bindings hidden.

  Cora kept a tight hold on Nathan’s sleeve as she stepped out of the car, watching him with a worried frown as Elton tucked away his supplies.

  “Are you okay like that?” she murmured as though Elton wouldn’t be able to hear. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

  “It’s fine,” he assured her. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  She glanced down at his bound hands for a moment and whispered, “What will they do to you if he takes you in?”

  “Well, I’m afraid I’ve painted them into a corner, haven’t I, Elton?” He watched the Chaser zip up his suitcase without offering a reply. “It’ll be the ingnas, won’t it, or do you think they’ll just kill me outright?”

  Elton frowned and didn’t answer, but Cora asked, “What’s the ingnas? Is that a spell?”

  “It’s the Magistrate’s favorite,” Nathan chuckled. “They wipe your memory—or rather, they try to. It’s not an exact science. You’re just as likely to end up a vegetable. For someone like me, though, I don’t think they’d risk it. They’ll just hang me.”

  “Hang you? Are you serious?”

  “The Magisters aren’t exactly with the times. Bit Inquisition-y. Not to worry, though; it won’t get that far.”

  ”You’re very confident for someone who’s been bound and has no groundings,” Elton pointed out.

  “Am I?” Nathan mused, humming softly in a way that made Elton very uncomfortable.

  He put a hand on Nathan’s back to lead him into the building. The officer at the front desk peered up at them curiously as they approached, but he reacted as expected to the sight of Elton’s CSIS badge. It wasn’t real, of course, and technically it held very little weight in America, but it was suitably impressive to the small town desk cop.

  “What can I do for you, sir? Who’s this?”

  “Hello,” Nathan offered with a friendly smile, peeking out from around Elton’s shoulder.

  “Don’t talk to him,” Elton snapped. He turned his attention back to the officer. “He’s a murder suspect. I need him held for a couple of hours while I talk to the medical examiner. Just throw him in the drunk tank. But make sure he’s alone,” he clarified. “Gag him if you have to, and for God’s sake don’t undo his hands. He’s very dangerous.”

  “Yes, sir. If you could just sign here.”

  Nathan sighed and glanced around the room while Elton filled out paperwork and asked questions. His eyes landed on a gruff, hairy man handcuffed to a bench near the wall, and he tilted his head to inspect the faded tattoos covering his forearms. The man scowled at him and leaned forward in his seat, causing the wood to creak.

  “Hey, pretty boy,” he barked. Nathan paused and pointed to himself as best he could with his hands tied. “Yeah, you. You looking for a husband? Quit starin’.”

  Nathan smirked at him. “Well if I was, he’d have to be much prettier than you.”

  “The fuck you say to me?” The man jerked on his handcuffed arm while Nathan laughed.

  Elton turned to take him firmly by the arm, pulling him away from the desk and down the hall. “Behave yourself,” he growled. “We have an arrangement, remember.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Willis, sir,” Nathan grinned, and Elton sighed. The other witch’s absolute refusal to be intimidated was endlessly frustrating.

  “Just sit still and don’t set anything on fire,” he ordered as an officer shut the door to the cell.

  “You know me so well,” Nathan sighed. “Don’t let him give you any shit, Cora,” he added. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

  She nodded, not certain about the situation in the slightest, but she only looked back over her shoulder once as Elton led her away. She hesitated near the car, and Elton let out a small sigh.

  “You can sit up front if you like,” he said in what he hoped was a gentle way. He waited for her to get in before climbing in himself, and he started the car and pulled away in awkward silence. He waited so long to speak again that the tension was practically palpable. “How old are you?” he asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

  She fidgeted with the strap of her seat belt and didn’t look at him. “Nineteen.”

  “Do your parents know where you are? How did you get involved in all this?”

  “My parents don’t care where I am. They’re probably glad I’m gone.”

  Elton sighed faintly. “I don’t believe that’s true. Once Moore and I get on the plane, I can put you in contact with the Magistrate here; they would help you get back—”

  “I don’t want to go to jail. I’m unregistered.”

  He looked over
at her with a puzzled frown. “Why aren’t you registered?”

  “I was adopted. Without Nathan, I never would have known about any of this stuff.”

  It was odd to hear someone talk about him so casually. Elton had always thought of him as Nathaniel Moore, the killer, the unrepentant rebel. ‘Nathan’ sounded like such a normal person. “So that’s how you got involved. He was teaching you?” She nodded. “What has he taught you?”

  “Not how to do what he does, if that’s what you’re asking. I hardly know anything.”

  “That’s why you decided to hit me in the head? Because he was your teacher?”

  Cora looked out the window and chewed on her bottom lip a moment before she looked at him. “Yeah. He was just an old man. I didn’t know about...what he does. He was just my friend. So, sorry about knocking you out, I guess.”

  Elton chuckled softly. “I survived.” He glanced at her, his eyes moving guiltily to the mark just visible at the neckline of her frayed shirt. “Sorry I cursed you.”

  “What is it, anyway?” she asked, touching the raised mark on her skin. “It’s not going to kill me, right?”

  “Of course not,” he said immediately. “It’s…it’s a deterrent. All it’s going to do is keep you from sleeping. Bad enough that you wouldn’t want to live with it, so bad enough that Moore is willing to cooperate to get it off of you. It isn’t going to be pleasant, and I’m not happy that it came to this, but you certainly won’t die.”

  He kept his eyes on the road to avoid looking into her frowning face. When Elton was younger, he had picked up more than a few spells with nebulous ethical value, but he never used any of them before today. He had come upon this one in an old book he and a friend had stolen from the boy’s older brother. Given that the brother was the sort of man to show up at Chinatown restaurants with companions in dark suits and tell his brother and Elton that it was time to leave with no explanation, Elton didn’t spend much time wondering what use he had for dark magic. He just felt lucky that he actually knew a spell that Nathaniel Moore didn’t seem to have heard of. Perhaps he wasn’t familiar with East Asian magic.