The Left-Hand Path: Mentor

by T. S. Barnett

  The Chaser cleared his throat and folded over the page of his newspaper. He didn’t like the guilt that had settled in the pit of his stomach somewhere between Albuquerque and here. He should be satisfied, even with everything that went wrong. Nathaniel Moore was a myth, and now he was sitting across from the urban legend and watching him try to tear a piece off of an oversized cinnamon roll with one good hand. He had found him. Not the Magistrate, not a dedicated team—just Elton, in his spare time. He had found him, and now he was bringing him in, without even any great injury to himself. All the rest should have been secondary in his thoughts.

  Yet the fact remained that Nathan had done all of this for the sake of the young woman beside him. He could claim all he liked that he was in it for the adventure, but Elton knew that if Nathan hadn’t had Cora to look out for, he might have killed Elton on the spot, just as he had every Chaser before him. He would have at least tried, and after the things he’d seen over the last few days, Elton didn’t like his chances one on one. But Nathan hadn’t tried to kill him. Nathan had, in fact, saved his life twice. He’d even saved the life of a mundane, and he’d treated Cora like his own blood. He’d treated his daughter with tenderness. There was no question that he was dangerous, but Elton was having greater and greater difficulty denying the doubt he felt.

  He couldn’t let it get personal. His pride had led him to do all manner of questionable things over the past week—he couldn’t allow sentiment to cause him to waver now that it was finally finished.

  Cora got up to throw away the sticky remnants of their snack when the loudspeaker announced that it was time to board, and Elton pointedly ignored Nathan when he asked if the Chaser wanted to help lick the icing from his fingers.

  “Spoilsport,” Nathan muttered with a grin as Elton tucked his newspaper under his arm.

  They boarded the plane without incident, though Elton remained wary of Nathan’s good-natured cooperation. It was a five and a half hour flight during which his two charges dozed, Nathan leaning his head back to shut his eyes and Cora curled up against his side. Elton frowned to see her fingers curled tightly into Nathan’s shirt, his arm draped over her shoulders to allow her to lean her head on his chest. This man was a murderer. He killed without remorse and without hesitation. He also laughed, and teased, and he had shown that he could be kind. The dichotomy didn’t sit well with Elton. The whole ordeal would have been much easier if Nathan had been the villain he expected.

  Elton lifted the shade on his window as the captain announced their approach, and he craned his neck to get a look at the North Shore Mountains as they drew close to the city. He hadn’t realized how homesick he’d been. That feeling would fade as soon as he set foot in his empty apartment, he was sure—assuming the Magistrate let him go home at all. He certainly didn’t expect a celebrated welcome after what he’d done.

  After the plane landed, Nathan and Cora slowly stirred as the people around them bustled to get their bags from the overhead bins, all of them in a hurry to stand in the aisle and wait for the doors to open. Since the three of them had no baggage to collect and no connection to catch, they waited, and they left the plane as the crowd thinned.

  The walk to the customs line seemed endless. Cora held tightly to Nathan’s hand as they navigated corridors and rode down escalators, and Elton did his best to avoid looking down at their intertwined fingers while they waited in the long line.

  “You’re going to turn yourself in, aren’t you?” Nathan said with a sidelong glance at the Chaser. “I can see it on your face.”

  “It’s only right,” Elton answered softly.

  “Sucker.”

  “I got a lot of people killed,” he offered as defense.

  “Wrong. The lich got a lot of people killed. They’re going to sweep you under the rug, you know that, right? Somebody else is going to get the credit for catching me.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re okay with that.”

  “It isn’t up to me.”

  “Oh, I don’t like this moping, darling. You know exactly how this is going to go. They’re going to be waiting for us as soon as we get outside. They’ll shake your hand, and they’ll bind me, and then they’ll cart me off and keep me under the cuimne until it’s time for my trial.”

  “That’s the second time I’ve heard that word,” Cora spoke up. “It’s a punishment? What is it exactly?”

  “You didn’t want to tell her?” Nathan snorted, and he looked down at his apprentice to answer. “It’s standard punishment for witches who aren’t naughty enough to be taken away for good. In my case, it’s a helpful way to keep me subdued while they get all their Magisterial ducks in a row. How severe it is depends on your crime. Basically it’s a nightmare. They have people who train for years to be able to do it properly. Ugly magic. They get inside your head and show you your worst fears. A bit like your curse, except it isn’t just while you’re sleeping. You don’t sleep under the cuimne. You don’t eat. Sometimes they even chain you standing up so that you can’t rest at all. And all the while, your darkest memories are played over and over in your head, twisted into terror after terror until you aren’t even sure which memories are the real ones.”

  Cora didn’t speak for a moment, looking at Elton as though expecting him to tell her that it wasn’t true. He didn’t give her a comforting answer, so she just said, “Holy shit. They do that to people for stuff not worth going to jail over?”

  “Well, it’s expensive to operate a prison, isn’t it? Much better to just screw them up, send them home, and hope they’re too scared to do it again.”

  “And they’re going to do that to you?” she asked in a softer voice.

  “Aren’t they, Elton?” Nathan echoed, but the Chaser moved his gaze back to the line ahead of them and kept silent.

  Nathan passed along their imaginary passports when it was their turn at the desk, but Elton stopped walking before they turned the corner to enter the baggage claim. He hesitated for an almost awkward length of time, glancing to Cora’s struggling face before looking Nathan in the eye.

  “You should go,” Elton said, hardly believing the words were coming out of his mouth. He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat once, tilting his chin toward the hall. “If we go out there, they’re going to take you. And it shouldn’t be like this.”

  “Why, Elton,” Nathan chuckled, threatening to dissolve any friendly feelings Elton may have developed for him. He stepped closer to the Chaser and looked up into his stern face. “You’re concerned for me?”

  “I won’t be in your debt, that’s all. You helped me destroy the lich, just as you said you would. You saved my life. If I cause you to lose yours now, it…wouldn’t be right.” Elton frowned down at him. “So, you should go. We owe each other a fair fight. So I’ll give you a head start.”

  Before Nathan had time to muster more than a smirk, Cora had released his hand and attached herself to Elton’s middle so tightly that he swayed on his feet.

  “You’re not bad, for a good guy,” she murmured into his shirt. Elton let his hand rest on her shoulder for a moment, not at all certain how to deal with the outburst of affection.

  Nathan stepped forward as Cora released her hold, and he offered the Chaser his hand. Elton hesitated, skepticism written on his face, but he took the extended hand and gave it one firm shake. When he tried to pull away, Nathan moved closer, keeping Elton’s hand held tight between them.

  “You’re sweet, Elton,” he said in a low voice, a sly smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “But I did make a promise. I should at least say hello to your friends.”

  “Nathan,” Elton growled out in warning, but the other man ignored him, strolling through the double doors into the expansive baggage claim with Cora on his heels.

  When Elton pushed through the doors behind him, he spotted Robert and the two men with him immediately. Robert caught his gaze and must have seen Nathan ahead of him, because the three Chasers moved toward him with a
tense sort of haste, not willing to draw too much attention to themselves in the middle of a crowd of mundanes. Then, just as the Chasers drew close, Elton lost sight of his charge. As he quickly scanned the room, he realized that it wasn’t because Nathan had gone anywhere, but because every single person milling about the baggage claim suddenly wore his face.

  The other men stopped in their tracks, and Robert snapped, “Find him!”

  Elton and Cora stood a few feet away while the others did their best to search the crowd of identical bodies without causing a scene. A hundred Nathans ambled by them, dragging wheeled suitcases or milling impatiently next to motionless carousels, none of them seeming to notice that they were no longer themselves. Cora edged closer to Elton’s side with a nervous frown.

  “You really are sweet, Elton,” he heard over his shoulder, and he turned to see one Nathan standing still among a throng of passing travelers. “But if you thought for a moment that I was going to let myself be manhandled by your comrades, I’m afraid you don’t know me half as well as you think you do.”

  A dark-skinned woman approached from behind Nathan, slipping her hand into his and letting her head rest on his good shoulder. She was young and slender, with long, thin braids brushing her shoulders. Elton’s heart went cold as he recognized the dark eyes smiling at him while she waved. Adelina—young. His mind raced. Somehow, she’d used the arcela airet. How had she learned how? When had Nathan had time to tell her?

  “Nathan—” he began, but the other man smiled brightly and cut him off.

  “I’ll see you again soon, I think. Make sure Cora gets where she wants to be, won’t you?”

  Cora called out to him, but in a moment he was gone, and with a sharp crack that drew a confused murmur from the echoing room, the people were themselves again, men and women and children instead of mirrors of the myth that had slipped through Elton’s fingers.

  Despite himself, he felt a slow smile pull at his lips. Cora looked up at him with desperate eyes, but he only folded his arms and covered his mouth to hold in the laughter that threatened to escape.

  22

  Explaining himself to his superiors went about as well as Elton expected. They did believe him, at least, when he said that Cora had been swept up in the whole affair and shouldn’t be blamed for anything that had happened. She accepted when he urged her to attend the school they contacted in Vancouver. Everyone had agreed behind closed doors that it was a good idea to keep a close eye on someone that Nathan felt attached to. Robert even did Elton the favor of allowing him to see her off before they took him to the Magistrate for his punishment. He gave her the phone number of a man who could teach her the Chinese magic he had promised. She hugged him, thanked him, and promised to keep in touch.

  The situation he and Nathan had created would take time and effort to repair. A new Chaser would be chosen in Arizona. Memories would be altered, stories would be told. Elton only hoped that a small number of the mundanes reacted poorly to the memory spells. They didn’t deserve to suffer the life a poorly executed spell would leave them with because he’d been too foolish to see what Nathan was.

  There was no trial for him. He had confessed, and it was an internal matter, besides. The Magister would decide when he had suffered enough. It wasn’t the most comforting thought, but Elton held on to the idea that the system was just, overall.

  The basement corridors underneath the Magistrate offices were as gloomy and dank as he remembered. He rarely had cause to visit them, except when escorting the rare criminal more dangerous than men and women who hadn’t done anything but fallen in love with mundanes. The lights were kept dim on purpose, and each cell was only large enough to fit two or three standing men. He didn’t fight when his guards opened the door to the cell chosen for him or when they fastened his wrists to the shackles dangling from the ceiling. He had known this was coming. It wouldn’t be forever.

  The cell door shut with a heavy, echoing creak, and for a brief moment, Elton was left alone. Then his vision went black, and he was at home, walking through his apartment to find the source of the voices he heard always just out of sight. There was Jocelyn, looking at him with pity and hatred from the arms of her new lover. He was handsome and broad, his arm around her waist protectively, as if Elton were the intruder. She turned her face away from him, burying it in the stranger’s shoulder, and he reached out for her, but the farther he reached, the farther away they were.

  She was in front of him, her hair matted to the floor with sticky, drying blood, her arm twisted unnaturally behind her. Elton felt himself fall to his knees, felt the tears on his face, heard his shouts, but none of it was real and all of it was.

  They were arguing; Jocelyn shouted at him with tears in her eyes and a wavering voice. She pulled off the ring on her left hand and threw it in his face; he tried to catch it but it rolled away under the sofa. She turned to yell something else at him as she snatched her coat from the rack by the door, but he couldn’t hear what it was. He tried to ask her, but he had no voice. She slammed the door behind her, and it seemed to make the entire apartment shake.

  Then there stood Nathan, smirking and cold, blood dripping from his hands onto the white tiled floor. Not Nathan’s hands. Elton felt the wet heat on his skin and looked down at the gore on his forearms, unable to wipe them clean no matter how he tried.

  The visions went on for an eternity. He lived a dozen lifetimes watching Jocelyn leave him, hate him, cry and shout at him. Watching Nathan kill and hearing the laugh that never sounded so cruel before now. Distantly, Elton could feel the bite of the metal shackles cutting into his wrists, taste the water that his captors tried to give him. When his eyes finally opened, he felt like his body weighed a thousand pounds. His hands were numb. His guards let him slide to the floor and rest for the first time in years. Sleep took him, and he was grateful for the emptiness.

  When he woke up, he was in a cell of a different kind, with a cot and a toilet hidden behind a curtain. The guard who looked in on him informed him that he had only been under the cuimne for a day—a long time for a single session, but still a thousand times shorter than it had felt. He could barely lift himself from his cot in the days following; he ran a fever and only stirred to vomit into the bucket his guard had left. His stomach ached, sweat kept his thin pillow damp, and every noise that made it into his cell brought a crushing pain to his temples. It wasn’t an unusual reaction to the cuimne, and it passed as expected within a few days, leaving him healthy but exhausted.

  He suspected that this more mundane punishment would go on much longer.

  A lawyer came to speak with him too soon after his recovery so that he could sign the separation papers Jocelyn had left for him. It was a painful reminder of his time in his cell, and he spent a while after the man left wondering which version of Jocelyn leaving him was the true memory.

  Days and weeks passed in quiet monotony, but he did receive one letter from Cora thanking him for encouraging her and assuring him that she was trying hard to be normal, at least for now. As promised, he never heard from Jocelyn. She must have known what had happened to him, but it seemed she didn’t care enough to make contact. Elton passed the time by reading, or exercising when he was allowed into the common area. He had nothing in common with his fellow prisoners except being willing to trade extra food for cigarettes. One of the men had been put in the cell by Elton himself and seemed to enjoy taunting him. He left the Chaser alone after the first fight left him with a black eye and a bloody lip.

  By the time Robert came to see him, a boredom like Elton had never known had settled into his bones, and he felt a tingle of excitement creep up his spine as he grasped the bars of his cell to speak to his former superior.

  “Have you found him?” Elton asked, surprised at the hoarse sound of his own voice. He had very little cause to speak in here.

  “Not curious about yourself? Your time is done, Elton.”

  “Done? You’re letting me out?”

  “With co
nditions,” Robert added. “You have an assignment, but you’ll be working with a handler. Not a partner, do you understand? You’re on probation.”

  Elton withheld his urge to scowl. It was only fair. He would need to earn the Magistrate’s trust back if he expected to return to his former station. “What’s the assignment?”

  His superior hesitated. “We have found Moore. Many times,” he answered. He glanced down at the floor with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. “We’ve coordinated with Magistrate offices all over the country, but every time we send an agent after him, they come straight back. At least, part of them does. He’s been mailing us their rings, as well as something more personal. Locks of hair, an ear, even an entire hand once. Even Chasers not out of our district—they all come here. Then, two days ago, we got something new.”

  Elton frowned. “Something new.”

  “Just a letter.” Robert held out the simple white envelope, and Elton took it, furrowing his brow as he felt the obvious weight of a Chaser’s ring inside. He took the bloodstained slip of paper from the envelope and unfolded it to see a simple note in slanted handwriting.

  No more games. Send Elton.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  T.S. likes to write about what makes people tick, whether that’s deeply-rooted emotional issues, childhood trauma, or just plain hedonism. Throw in a heaping helping of action and violence, a sprinkling of steamy bits, and a whisper of wit (with alliteration optional but preferred), and you have her idea of a perfect novel. She believes in telling stories about real people who live in less-real worlds full of werewolves, witches, demons, vampires, and the occasional alien.