The Painter Mage: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “You’ve done what you can, Morris. Now you must leave. The Guardians will take care of the rest.”

  Jakes shifted back to wolf form. One leg didn’t work quite right.

  “What if it didn’t work?” I asked.

  He swung his massive head toward me. “There is nothing more you can do here but die.”

  Then he started toward the sounds of the fight.

  I shivered.

  Devan held my arm as she stared after Jakes. “The door remains open,” she said.

  “How do you know?” Taylor asked.

  Devan turned to her and fixed her with a hard expression. “There’s power coming through it. It’s drawn here.”

  Taylor stared blankly. “I didn’t know. Had I not come… had I not tried opening the gate… none of this would have happened.”

  “Yes,” Devan said.

  I shook off the women holding me up and started after Jakes. Devan raced after me and jumped in front of me to stop me. I veered around her.

  My head throbbed where I had hit the Claw and my body ached from running through the park. The effort of painting as much as I had over the last few days threatened to drop me into a sleep whether I wanted to or not. But I couldn’t leave Jakes battling this on his own. He was injured.

  “Ollie. You can’t do this,” she said, pulling on my arm.

  “What choice do I have?” I asked. “Need to close the door. How many more of those creatures are coming through if I don’t?”

  “Let the shifters take care of it. That’s their task.”

  “Like the task your father assigned you?”

  Devan slowed.

  I heard her whisper something but couldn’t make out the words. Taylor walked next to me, keeping pace. I glanced over at her. “You don’t need to be here,” I said.

  “Don’t I? This is my fault.”

  “Go back to Arcanus. Warn the others. I’ll do what I can,” I said.

  I didn’t think the odds were in my favor here, but all I needed was a chance. There was one pattern I knew that might help.

  Taylor ignored me.

  We reached the center of the park. Lights glowed softly. Agony pulled on me from the center of the plaza, whatever magical energy my father had infused in it trying to draw me closer. The gate was nearby, barely more than a shadow sticking up out of the ground.

  Neither of those drew my eye.

  Chaos moved behind me. Three massive shifters jumped and tore at patches of darkness. Howls and snarls alternated. A long form lay unmoving near the gate and I realized it was the body of a shifter, sacrificed to keep back the hunters.

  Taylor gasped.

  I stared at the gate. It was there, fixed in place. Power held it in place.

  “They’re forcing it open,” I realized.

  “How? What do you think we can do to stop them?”

  I didn’t know. There didn’t seem any way I could even reach it. Shifters fought with hunters and moved too fast for me to see anything. If I risked running toward it, I had no doubt I would be torn apart before I had a chance to do anything.

  It was so tantalizingly close and left me with no other options.

  “I’m going to create a diversion,” I said to Taylor.

  “No—”

  “You’re going to reach the gate and see what they did to prop it open. You’re the artist. Use whatever you need to do to seal it closed. Whatever you do, make certain it’s buried before you run. As soon as it recedes—as soon as it’s buried—run. Get back to the house.”

  “Escher—what you’re talking about is a suicide run.”

  I smiled. After everything I’d been through, why should my last act be one that protected Arcanus and those who lived there?

  But it wasn’t. There were others like me, others who could never reach the skill of artist but who had their own unique talents. Taggers, but taggers with flair. If the hunters escaped, anyone with any painting ability would be in danger. If there was something I could do to stop that, shouldn’t I?

  “Oliver,” I corrected.

  She took my hand, wrapping her fingers around mine.

  I met her eyes. Damn, she was beautiful.

  Then I ran toward the shifters.

  I grabbed for the satchel of black ink. If I was going down, I was going down with as much fight as I could dish out. At this point, it might not be much, but I would throw a few jabs.

  Nightmare Hell creatures tore away from the shifters. Check that: invisible nightmare Hell creatures tore away from the shifters, the only sign a slight shimmering of the black of night. Without the lanterns, I might not be able to see even that, but I’d prepped this park. Maybe not for this, but for something.

  I splashed black ink onto the ground. One foot dragged in a quick circle around me. I infused will and power through it.

  Start with whatever protection I could muster. Then I could work from there.

  With a flick of my wrist, I trailed black ink around the circle, creating what would have to work as a star. Through this, I surged another blast of power and will.

  Black augmented my power better than most colors. With painters, there was always a preference, one color that worked better based on their specific temperament. I suspected Taylor’s was blue. I usually used red, but only because I hated the way black made me feel.

  Nightmare Hell creatures slammed against the shimmering wall of my circle but were held back. With a twist of my foot, I inverted the star pattern, dragging the hunters with it. Power fought against my pattern, but this was an arcane pattern made in black ink.

  They fought, but in this moment, I was stronger.

  Then Jakes attacked.

  I recognized his shape, the way his front leg limped. He jumped into my pattern, throwing himself against the hunters.

  Damn him. Now he’d gone and fucked up a perfectly terrible plan.

  “No!” I screamed.

  Jakes howled.

  The other shifters started toward me.

  If I didn’t release the pattern, Jakes would be destroyed along with the hunters. Worse, if I didn’t release it, the other shifters would likely get caught as well. I didn’t know any of them—or at least, I didn’t think that I knew them—but they had come to the fight when the hunters escaped through the gate. They had come, willing to die, but that didn’t mean I had to be the one who killed them.

  At least if I released it, the shifters would have a chance to end this. Problem was, I probably wouldn’t survive.

  Not much of a decision, was it?

  I kicked my foot over the protective circle, obliterating it and releasing the protection. With another kick, the star disappeared.

  Jakes’s howl cut off, changing to a throaty roar.

  I only heard part of it.

  Darkness enveloped me. Pain like nothing I’d ever experienced surrounded me, covering my mouth and eyes and squeezing, drawing everything that I was. I might have screamed, though I couldn’t be certain. The hunter or hunters tore at me. My sense of being, the sense of my power, was torn away from me. Worse, as it was, I felt a sick sense of satisfaction from the hunters.

  This was how I would die.

  I’d thought about it often enough. When you leave Arcanus as a painter without much of a plan, you start to think about mortality. And then joining with Devan and her father, learning about things that not even Arcanus cared to admit existed, I began to expect to die. Somehow, I had survived.

  Not this time. Nothing I could do would save me this time.

  I could end it on my terms, though.

  There was one pattern left. The death pattern, or Death Pattern, to call it by its formal name. With it, I would destroy myself, but I’d likely destroy everything else touching me as well.

  To take out the hunters, it might be worth it.

  Not all painters learned the pattern, but it was one my father had taught me, warning me that there would be no coming back from using it.

  Now would be that time.
/>
  I flicked my wrist quickly. Black ink dripped from my hand, coating me. With a quick stroke, my finger made the pattern, tracing it against my chest.

  This was one of the few patterns a painter did upon themselves. I infused the ink with power and felt it take hold, glowing against me, burning through my chest.

  Power bloomed outward, burning with a painful bright light. Hunters howled. I smiled.

  Someone screamed and I realized distantly that it was me. Hopefully it was one of those manly, guttural screams, not some high-pitched embarrassing scream. I didn’t want Devan to hear that out of me, not at the end. Not that it would matter. Once I was gone, there would be no more Escher Oliver Morris, embarrassment to the Elder.

  Light and power poured off me, drawing away my power, burning through it as it surged through the hunters. No longer did their inky darkness surround me. Now, light pulsed away from me.

  I saw Taylor near the gate. As I watched, it closed and sunk back into the ground. She had done it. Shifters circled me, one of them Jakes with his mangled leg. Hopefully it would heal. With the gate finally closed, he would have time to heal.

  And then Devan was streaking toward me. Her mouth opened in a scream as she shouted my name.

  “No! Ollie!”

  She crashed into me.

  My heart sunk. I couldn’t control this pattern. It would burn away everything within me, taking out anything in contact with me as it did.

  “Let me go, Devan,” I tried to say, but my mouth didn’t work as it should.

  She clung to me, arms wrapped around me. “You’re an idiot,” she whispered. Tears streamed from her eyes.

  And then she glowed.

  I’d seen Devan work her power before. Like the shifters, she was a creature of magic and power, one who didn’t need ink or patterns or numbers to augment her abilities. What she did now was unlike anything I’d ever seen from her.

  Warmth and power and energy surged. It pushed against me, pushed against the pattern now worked into my chest. Painful and powerful, I wondered if what Devan did was meant to finish me sooner.

  Another surge hit me, stronger than before.

  I hugged Devan. Fitting I should die next to her.

  In a flash of light, I saw no more.

  13

  I awoke in my house.

  I knew it was my house from the soft hum of the halogen lamps. The air had a musty odor I recognized, and the hardwood floor beneath me was familiar. Near my head sat a pair of small carved figurines. Devan’s work.

  My body ached. The area on my chest where I’d marked the pattern burned. Fatigue still washed over me, but I was awake. And alive.

  I wasn’t supposed to wake up. After using the Death Pattern, I shouldn’t have come back. Whatever Devan had done had overpowered what my father had once told me was the most powerful pattern a painter could use.

  I sat up. Renewed pain washed over me, shooting through my arms and back. I glanced down and saw that someone had removed my jacket and shirt, leaving me looking like Jakes in the park, only I didn’t have quite the level of definition he managed. At least I could console myself with the fact that mine wasn’t shifted into place.

  Devan sat cross-legged watching me. “Finally come around?”

  It hurt when I took a breath and I remembered Jakes kicking me away from one of the hunters. “What did you do?”

  “I kept you alive,” she answered. “Like I always seem to do.”

  “You shouldn’t have been able to stop that pattern.”

  “And you shouldn’t be as ignorant as you seem to remain.”

  “Did we do it?”

  “What?”

  “Did we stop the hunters?”

  Devan relaxed her legs and came to sit next to me. “The hunters are gone. Most were destroyed. The other shifters went after one that escaped.”

  “And the gate?”

  “Your girlfriend closed it. It took a pretty impressive piece of work to do it.”

  She sounded genuine, so I knew Taylor had done something truly spectacular. Devan didn’t impress easily. “How? How did you stop the pattern?”

  “You’re not supposed to use it yet.”

  I wondered what she meant by that as I laughed. It hurt, but at least it was a good hurt. I was alive. For now, I was alive. “And when am I supposed to use it?”

  She shrugged.

  “Where are the others?”

  She tipped her head toward the kitchen. “Muscles is waiting for you there. The girlfriend is in the basement.”

  I smiled at her. “I’m surprised you’re with me rather than in the kitchen.”

  “I couldn’t leave until I knew,” she said. Her voice was more serious than usual.

  “Thanks. I don’t know what you did—or how you did it—but… thanks.”

  She nodded and I grabbed her and pulled her into a hug.

  Devan and I never really showed each other much in the way of emotion. She’d punch me or I’d tap her on the back of the head, things like that. Mostly we treated each other like siblings, because after all the time we’d spent together, it felt like we were. I’d never had a brother or sister and the family Devan had nearly killed her, so we both valued the relationship. But hugs were something else.

  It was a measure of what we’d been through that she didn’t fight. Instead, she sagged against me for a moment and sighed softly.

  “I’m sorry I put you through this,” I said.

  That ended the moment. Devan pushed away and punched me on the shoulder. It seemed to set off the broken rib and I yelped, grabbing at my side.

  “Serves you right.”

  “Help me up?” I asked.

  She did, and then had to help me into the kitchen. Jakes leaned against the counter, an actual shirt covering his chest. I knew this because it was one of mine. It stretched over his arms, leaving him bulging like a bodybuilder.

  When I entered, he started forward. A glare from Devan cut him short and he leaned back, watching.

  “Morris,” he said.

  “Officer Jakes.”

  What almost looked to be a smile parted his lips. “Sam. After what you did, you may call me Sam.”

  “And just what did I do?”

  He motioned to one of the folding chairs leaning against the wall. Devan pulled it out for me and hovered behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder. I’m not sure if she was trying to protect me or keep me from leaving. I chose to take it as reassurance.

  “You will have questions.”

  “That’s a bit of an understatement.”

  “I will answer what I can. Some is not mine to share.”

  “How many shifters are in Conlin? I saw at least three tonight.” I glanced over my shoulder at Devan. “It is still tonight, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “We are the Guardians,” Jakes answered.

  “I saw that. You were willing to tangle with nightmare Hell creatures. I’m not sure anyone else would have survived.”

  “Invisible nightmare Hell creatures,” Devan corrected.

  I smiled up at her. “That’s right. Invisible nightmare Hell creatures.”

  “You risked yourself to protect the gate. You would have made the Elder proud.”

  I grunted, surprised at how the comment made me feel. “Well, that’s what I aim to do each and every day.”

  Devan punched my shoulder.

  “There’s one thing that troubles me,” I said to Jakes. He looked at me with a blank expression on his face. “The doorway. Taylor triggered it that night in the park, starting it open, but what did I see coming through the plate near Agony when I first met her?”

  His expression didn’t change.

  “That was you, wasn’t it?”

  He looked like he didn’t want to answer. “Your father placed many protections around this place. That was one of them. It connects us to the statues, lets us know if they’re being used.”

  It made sense why the shifter had shown u
p outside my house so quickly after we’d left the park. We hadn’t done anything other than slow him.

  “What now?” I asked. “The gate is buried, so what now for you?”

  “The gate has been buried and we will keep it safe. The other painter claims they’ve found more.”

  “They said they sealed it closed again. That it wouldn’t be able to be opened.”

  Jakes frowned. “The gates are different than what you used to cross the Threshold. You know this, yes?”

  I nodded. I suspected that after seeing what came through the gate.

  “Crossings can be closed. Either side can seal them. But there are few other than the Elder who can actually seal one of the gates. The danger has returned. It’s why he asked us to stand watch. We’ll be vigilant.”

  That actually gave me comfort. If there were creatures like Jakes and the other shifters out there, creatures willing to fight the hunters, then others might actually have a chance.

  “He? My father?”

  Jakes tipped his head. “You intend to search for the missing.” It wasn’t a question.

  I took a deep breath, hoping this didn’t piss off Devan too much. “I intend to see her out of Conlin. If she does anything else that places me and Devan in danger…”

  “But you will help.”

  I shrugged. “I might see what I can do. You may not know what it’s like to lose a father, Jakes. I do.”

  “I know more than you realize, Morris,” he said.

  The fallen shifter. The pain in his voice was too fresh and raw to be anything else. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Sam.”

  He raised a hand, cutting me off. “No. He died fulfilling his promise.”

  I sat for a moment, unsure what to say. “Are you going to stop me?” I asked.

  He tipped his head. “I don’t think I could stop the son of the Elder.”

  I decided to let him believe that. “Will you help?” I looked over at Devan, thinking that if we had the shifter’s help, we might actually have a chance.

  “My place is here,” Jakes said. “I will do what I can to keep you safe while here, but that is all I can promise.”

  Well, it was better than nothing. We might have time for me to study and learn, to finally understand why my father had left what he had for me. Maybe it would be enough.