The Painter Mage: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I jumped out and went back into the Rooster. Tom would probably question why I’d come back for a third visit, but he was the one who told me to head out of town. He’d known about the patterns on the sign. He knew my father, as did Jakes’s dad. How many others in town were there like that?

  The diner was busier than it had been earlier. Now two booths had people sitting and eating, and a row of people were eating at the counter. Jakes still sat at the counter, working over a slab of meat. He swiveled toward me as I approached.

  “How many people knew about my father?” I asked.

  Jakes finished chewing and set down his fork. He wiped his large hands on a napkin that seemed too small for him and met my eyes. “Many people knew your father, Morris.”

  “No. How many knew my father.”

  Jakes took a breath and nodded, eyes scanning around the diner. “Many people.”

  “They know why he placed the sculptures in the park? Why he put the protections on the sign leading into Conlin?”

  Jakes tensed and flicked his eyes toward the kitchen. He lowered his voice before he spoke. “Your father left specific instructions that his work not be disturbed,” he said.

  “Yeah. About that. I don’t really have any idea about my father’s work. And since Devan is missing, I don’t really care about his work. I want to get my friend back before Adazi drags her across the Threshold and to the Druist Mage.”

  Damn, some of the things I got to say were odd.

  Jakes took a slow breath and stood. He towered over me. I wondered if that was a trick of the light or maybe something stemming from the magic he pulled, or whether he really did tower over me that much. I mean, he had to be something like six-foot-seven, solid muscles. He had those six inches on me, less if I wore my boots with the tall heels.

  “Morris. This is not the place for such discussions,” he said, his voice a low growl.

  He grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the door to the diner. I frowned and jerked my arm back, ripping it away from him. “No. We do this here.”

  Jakes leaned close to me. I’d never felt threatened by him before. Intimidated by his sheer size, yes, but never really threatened. When he leaned into me, I felt a surge of his power. “Not here.”

  He started toward the door, this time not waiting for me.

  I scanned the diner, this time really seeing it. A few of the faces focused on their food. There was a younger woman with jet-black hair and pale white skin sitting alone in her booth, resting back against the wall, one elbow propped in the window. She fixed me with a curious expression as she slowly took a bit from what looked like some sort of stew. I hadn’t seen her in town before, and she didn’t look like the sort of person you’d find in Conlin.

  Another booth had an older couple. Not old, but older. The man had hair shorn close. Thin scar lines weaved across his scalp. He had a sharp nose and cloudy eyes focused straight ahead of him. The woman sitting across from him had silver hair that hung almost too long down her back, reaching to her waist. Large librarian-style glasses framed her face. She didn’t look up, but I felt her eyes darting toward me.

  Then there was the line of people along the counter. The one guy who reminded me of Jakes sat at one of the stools speaking quietly to the girl next to him, a mousy-looking woman with rumpled brown hair. A trio of men sat along the end of the counter, all with their heads down.

  Suddenly, something struck me as off. Had Devan been with me, I might have picked up on it sooner. There was power here. Too much power, which meant more than one person could wield it.

  Was that why Jakes warned me to silence?

  What was the Rooster?

  I glanced at the door before hurrying after Jakes. The door opened with a soft tinkle of bells overhead, and I stepped back into the cool night air. Jakes leaned against his cruiser, waiting for me. He had his arms crossed over his chest, looking forward. All he needed was a cowboy hat and a long piece of straw to chew on, and he’d look like some sort of cowboy. His stance made the pistol holstered at his side more pronounced.

  “What’s going on here, Jakes?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you get into the car,” he suggested.

  I shook my head. The idea of sitting next to him—of giving him that power without quite knowing what was going on—made me nervous. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then your truck.”

  I glanced back at it. At least in the truck, I had protections. They were protections Devan had made certain I had, not knowing what else I might need or what I might need them for. And here I’d thought she had simply been bored. Maybe she knew something I didn’t.

  If that was the case, then why had she hidden it from me?

  “Fine. My truck.”

  I climbed in and quickly made a circle around me in the seat with a line of black ink. It was the only color I had handy. At least it would blend into the seat itself, disappear so that Jakes wouldn’t necessarily be aware of what I’d done.

  He climbed in and arched a brow at me. “Really think that’s necessary?”

  So maybe he was aware. “I don’t know. I didn’t think so, but now I’m not certain.”

  Jakes sniffed. “Go ahead, then.”

  I nodded and infused the circle with power, creating a protection around myself. Normally, my circles had plenty of power. It was a basic shape, and one that I’d been forced to practice so often over the years that I’d become something of an expert. Powered by the protections in the truck, it became something else entirely, more powerful than what I would have managed on my own. For that, I had Devan to thank.

  “Tell me,” I said to Jakes once the protections were in place. “What’s going on in there?”

  Jakes turned in his seat to face me. The whole truck moved as he did, groaning under his weight. I don’t think even Big Red was meant to hold someone like Jakes. I imagined that the cruiser needed extra reinforcement to hold him. His knees pressed against the dash, and if he pushed too hard, he ran the risk of buckling it.

  “This is a place created by the Elder.”

  I frowned. “Conlin?”

  Jakes tipped his head in a shrug. “Conlin partly. But this place,” he said, motioning toward the Rooster. “It’s why he asked Tom to serve. It’s a place of convening, a waystation of sorts, where people like me and you can meet.”

  I stared out the window of the truck, studying the front of the diner. There wasn’t anything particularly impressive about it. A sign with faded lettering hung over the door. Paint peeled in places. Wide windows with frosted glass. Inside had always been warm and welcoming, something I’d always attributed to Tom.

  “So Tom serves…magical people?” I asked.

  “And others who know of our world.”

  They were the familiars, those who understood there was magic in the world, but who couldn’t use it. The few I’d met all had that look in their eyes that told me how badly they wanted to use magic, though would never be able to. It was a dangerous expression, one I’d learned to fear.

  “And my father created the Rooster?”

  Jakes studied the dash, his arms now set on his tree-trunk legs. “Your father wanted a place of safety. There aren’t many of them in this world. Arcanus is one. It is warded so tightly, nothing can really get through without knowing the key. The Rooster is another. It’s a place for those who seek our kind. As I said, a place of safety.”

  “Was my father responsible for Arcanus, too?”

  Over the last week, I’d learned that my father had a greater hand in the magical protection of our world than I’d ever known. I knew he was a powerful artist, his abilities exceeding everyone’s in Arcanus to the point that they deferred all decisions to him, but I hadn’t known it extended outside of Arcanus. Then again, I hadn’t known about the shifters in Conlin, either.

  “That place precedes your father,” Jakes said. “But here? He wanted to be able to bring all sides together, a way for all to
be granted peace, however uneasy. Doing it this way avoided the need for the gateway.”

  “Why uneasy?”

  Jakes twisted to look at me again. “You’ve seen what happens when differing agendas meet. Had it not been for your intervention, that artist friend of yours would have unleashed the hunters into our world. We would have done anything to stop her.”

  His voice was cold, leaving no doubt what he meant. And after seeing Jakes and the other shifters attacking the hunters, how could Taylor have lasted against them? She was skilled—more skilled than any painter I’d seen in quite some time—but even painters had limitations. She couldn’t draw on the same source of power that the shifters did.

  “What kind of agendas?” I asked.

  “The kind that takes one of the Te’alan across the Threshold.”

  My hands tensed on the wheel. I steadied my breathing to keep from getting too angry. It wouldn’t do anything. Jakes could handle me as easily as I could handle a child. “You know what happened to Devan?”

  “No. Only what you have said. But, Morris, it doesn’t matter. Doing anything risks upending the peace the Elder forged. More than that, it upsets the balance of this place. You don’t understand—not yet—but if you remain in Conlin, you most certainly will. Then you’ll understand why the only thing that matters is that the balance is maintained.”

  “Devan,” I began through clenched teeth, “she matters to me.”

  Jakes took a breath and nodded. “Yes. She matters, but does one of the Te’alan matter more than what you saw come through the gateway? If the hunters are released, there is only so much we can do to stop them. They have numbers and feed on the power of this place. Balance will be lost.”

  “I don’t think you understand what will happen if the Druist Mage gets ahold of Devan.”

  “You’ve told me. She is bound to him, committed by the Trelking to marry. For what purpose, Morris?”

  “Yeah. The Trelking. Do you know him?” I looked up and forced Jakes to meet my eyes.

  “Only by reputation.”

  The way he said it told me that he knew more than he let on. Per usual. “His reputation does not do him justice. He’s powerful. That he would be willing to offer his daughter to the Druist Mage should worry you. Why should the Trelking need to make a bargain, unless he recognizes the threat the Druist Mage presents?”

  “He has seen what will happen?”

  “I don’t know. He never really told me his plan. I think the fact that Devan and I are friends made that a little difficult for him. But he’s prescient. I don’t know the limitations to his visions, but if he sees the need for the union, then there’s reason to fear the Druist Mage.”

  Had I stayed over the Threshold, I would have been forced to face the Druist Mage eventually. Even without the Trelking’s abilities, I saw how he steered me toward that confrontation. It was what the Trelking claimed was my destiny. First Adazi, and then the Druist Mage. Likely there were others I’d be expected to face along the way.

  Jakes sat silent for a moment. His hands squeezed together, as if trying to wring out what he needed to do. “Then it is even more important that she be returned. Anything you might do risks the safety of this place.”

  “And if it’s not me?”

  Jakes shot me a look.

  “Listen, I didn’t force Adazi to come here.”

  “You’ve seen him?” Jakes asked.

  “Yes, I’ve seen him. He tried to destroy Taylor and me. Had we not been prepared, I think he might have succeeded.”

  Only, that wasn’t quite right. I didn’t think Adazi really intended for us to be injured, otherwise, he could have surprised us with a different trap. From what I could tell, he only intended for the appearance of an attack. And it had worked.

  “He should not be here.” Jakes spoke softly to himself, and his brow knitted together while he leaned forward on his elbows, as if wrestling with some difficult question.

  “Yeah, well he’s here. And he wants me to find something for him.”

  Jakes shifted his gaze to stare at me. His dark brown eyes weighed heavily on me. “What would Adazi need from you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe something of my father’s? Seems there’s quite a bit in this town that he did that I still don’t know about.”

  “There is nothing in Conlin that can help Adazi.”

  “Are you certain of that?”

  Jakes nodded. “Anything of the Elder’s would lose its power if it crosses the Threshold. It becomes nothing more than an object and would need the Elder’s power to be reborn.”

  “He could use the object and infuse it with power,” I suggested. I’d known the problem with painted items losing their power crossing over. My experience crossing over had taught me that lesson. But the patterns remained. Once on the other side, the painter only needed to infuse it with power again. Magic worked the same on either side, only the paintings changed.

  Jakes shook his head. “It will not work like that.”

  I started to argue, but then caught myself. Jakes was right. I should have recognized the problem on my own. What would a shifter know about paintings that I didn’t? “Not if it’s keyed to the painter,” I said. And with my father—with the Elder—that was likely. “So if it’s not something of my father’s, then what is it?”

  “Show me.”

  I glanced at the Rooster, debating whether I should even bother. Jakes had shown no interest in helping me rescue Devan. He feared the disruption of the peace my father had somehow secured more than helping Devan. I wasn’t so rigid. Whatever else happened, I would save her. If that meant showing Jakes what Adazi wanted, then whatever.

  I unfolded the paper and set it on the seat between us. I considered flipping on the dome light, but Jakes wouldn’t need it. His vision was probably better at night, anyway.

  He stared at the page, unable to drag his eyes away.

  “Um, Jakes?”

  “You cannot let him have this,” he said.

  I shook my head. “I don’t even know what it is, so telling me to keep it from him makes that a bit difficult.”

  Jakes looked up. His eyes seemed to swallow the darkness, leaving them hollowed and haunted. “This is what Adazi seeks?”

  “That’s what he told me. He said he couldn’t reach it, but that I could.”

  Jakes took a deep breath and swept the page into his hand, crumpling it in one smooth motion. “He was right on both accounts.”

  “Dammit, Jakes!”

  He turned toward me. I had the uneasy sense that he could shift at any moment, and that if he did, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him from tearing me apart if he wanted to. I’d seen how he handled the hunters. Anything that could tear apart a nightmare should terrify me. And it did.

  “This is not simply some painted item of your father’s.”

  “Then what is it?” I demanded.

  “An item of power. One a select few can use.”

  “And Adazi can?”

  Jakes shook his head. “I do not think that he could.”

  That meant the Druist Mage. That would explain why Adazi was sent to simply retrieve it. Otherwise, what would keep Adazi from using it himself? “So who can?” I asked.

  “You can, Morris,” Jakes said.

  I frowned. “If I could use it, then why would Adazi want me to take it?”

  Jakes stared at me until the answer came.

  Adazi intended to use me, as well.

  8

  I sat in my garage, the light burning softly overhead as I stared at the bench where Devan made all her charms. The two incomplete charms I’d found were in the pockets of my duster, nestled next to the tiny figurines she carved. As far as I knew, the figurines never served any purpose other than to soothe her. And now she wouldn’t have any with her.

  I didn’t want to go into the house. Doing so meant admitting failure, and I wasn’t ready to give up on Devan. But Jakes had convinced me. If Adazi wanted the orb, and
if he really couldn’t use it, then I didn’t really dare get it for him. Not if Jakes was right and I could use it. He hadn’t told me what it would do, but the nervous way he spoke of it was reason enough for caution. Was it even a creation of my father’s or was it something else?

  After closing the garage door, I started toward the house before changing my mind. Clouds covered the moon, leaving the night dark, but I wasn’t ready to go back inside. There wasn’t anything I could do there, anyway. Taylor might find some value in searching through the old journals, mostly because she seemed determined to understand anything about the Elder with an obsession that exceeded my own, but I doubted there was anything there that would help me. The one person who seemed to know what Adazi wanted refused to help.

  Instead of going back inside, I started toward the back of my yard. Trees stretched overhead, silhouetted against the dark sky, filling the air with the scent of pine and the earthy scent of fallen and decaying leaves. It hadn’t been all that long ago that Devan had gone with me into the woods, using her abilities to search for whatever Taylor had wanted. And without Devan, I wouldn’t still be here.

  The transition between my back yard and the park was gradual. I’m sure there was some demarcation, but here, along the yard, the low rock wall circling the rest of the park had been knocked down or never built, giving me free rein to wander. Energy sizzled over my skin as I entered the park. The source hadn’t been clear when I first returned to Conlin, but now, I recognized that the statues my father had placed here created the power I sensed.

  I wasn’t drawn to those statues. Rather, I found myself drawn toward the center of the park, toward the steady burbling of water spilling from Agony. When I reached it, I simply stood, staring at the strange stone sculpture.

  I had no idea how old it was; only that it had been in the park as long as I could remember. The light from the lamps circling the paver-stone plaza softly reflected off the sculpture. The blank copper plate in front of Agony shone slightly, brighter than anything else around here.