The Painter Mage: Books 1-3

by D. K. Holmberg

  “Oliver…”

  “Listen, Taylor. You’ve already let a nightmare into my hometown once. Now if you know anything about this, we need to hear about it.”

  A pair of headlights made their way down the driveway, almost as if on cue. I stared at them, trying to tell if it was Jakes or Kacey, but I didn’t recognize the car. An older sedan, the lights dim and washed out and low to the ground.

  “You expecting someone?” I asked Taylor.

  She shook her head.

  “How ’bout you?” I asked Devan.

  “You’re an idiot,” she said.

  “You keep calling me that, and I might get a bit of a complex.” I turned to Taylor and nodded toward the house. “Maybe you better disappear for a little while. We don’t really know what to expect here, and if there’s any sort of crazy that’s related to Nik or someone he knows, I want you protected.”

  “They won’t do anything to me,” Taylor said.

  “Yeah, well we’ll just have to see about that. Besides, until I’m sure you’re telling me everything, maybe it’s best you stay hidden.”

  Taylor gave me a lingering stare before turning and hurrying into the house, disappearing just as the car slowed to a stop in front of the open garage. The driver-side door opened, and I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the kid we’d seen earlier at the diner get out, still dressed in the leather, but I was. He kept his door open, as if he wanted to be ready in case he had to jump in quickly. The girl sat in the front passenger seat and stayed in place, not willing to get out.

  “You Morris?” the kid asked.

  I glanced over to Devan before answering. “Oliver Morris. Yeah,” I said.

  The kid leaned toward the car and whispered something to the girl inside. I couldn’t hear what she said, but her voice got all high and agitated sounding.

  “Your father him?” the kid asked, looking back up from the open car door.

  Was that what this was going to be about? Now that we’d returned to Conlin, was I going to get idiots like this thinking to come find something about my father? I think I liked it better when I didn’t know about the Rooster, and I didn’t know about anyone else trying to make it through town, using the Rooster as some sort of way station to keep safe.

  “My father is the Elder, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said. I glanced over to the house, thankful that I’d sent Taylor inside. She didn’t need to be around when someone else came looking for my father. Already, her obsession with him had put others in danger.

  The kid nodded and then reached into his pocket.

  As he did, Devan took a few steps toward me. My hand immediately went to my pouch, grabbing a pinch of ink. Both of us were ready to throw down pretty quickly, mostly because we’d been through something like that before. This kid didn’t look like much of a threat, but then again, I’d seen some pretty terrifying monsters that didn’t look like much when I first came across them.

  The kid seemed oblivious to the fact that both Devan and I were ready to lay down the thunder. It was probably best. When he pulled his hand out of his pocket, he was holding a long, slender cylinder. The light from the garage reflected off the sides, and I recognized patterns worked into the metal of the cylinder.

  He held it out, pointing it toward me as if I should take it.

  I did so, but slowly. “What is it?” I asked.

  The kid glanced over to the car, lowering his head enough to see in the window. He said something softly and then pulled his head up and met my eyes. I noticed his were nearly black. Maybe it was shadows or the reflected light or something, but with everything that I’d seen during the day, I got a little jumpy and splashed a circle of ink around me.

  The kid took a step back, as if to jump back into the car. “I was hoping you could help with that,” he said.

  I began to feel like an idiot. This kid couldn’t be more than twenty, maybe a few years older, and here I was jumping as if he was someone I should fear. I could probably drop him with nothing more than a twist of a stunning charm.

  Devan began to relax, and I turned the long cylinder over in my hands. There was a solid weight to it, a comfort in the way it fit in my hand, almost like I’d been meant to hold it. Normally, I wouldn’t believe in superstitions, but when it came to magical devices, I was a little more open-minded.

  The patterns arranged on the cylinder were familiar. Not necessarily anything that I’d seen before, but certainly I’d seen something like them. I traced my fingers along the cylinder, running around the first pattern I touched, that of a triangle set inside an irregular hexagon. The hexagon had another series marked around it, this with a repeating spiral shape. This single pattern was incredibly complex. And I had no idea what it would do. There were at least a dozen more like it, each with the same level of complexity.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked.

  The kid shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, does it?” he asked.

  I looked up from studying the cylinder and frowned at him. “What do you mean? Either you know who made these patterns or you don’t. Seems to me that you at least know where you found it.”

  The kid looked into the car as if hoping that the girl there would give him permission. “Just know that I found it. I can’t make it work”—there was a hint of irritation as he said that—“but it needs to be protected.”

  Devan took the cylinder from me and held it up to the light. “Look at this, Ollie,” she said, pointing to one of the patterns. “Seen something like this before?”

  I whistled softly to myself. “Damn. You’re right.”

  It wasn’t exactly the same, but it resembled the pattern that Taylor had used on my father’s statue, a pattern that he had made, one that was somehow tied to the sculptures in the park.

  How had this kid gotten ahold of something of my father’s?

  “Where did you find it?” I asked.

  I thought of seeing him in the Rooster. The kid could be from anywhere, but the fact that he’d known about the Rooster—and that Jakes had gone to him—meant that he knew about the Rooster. If that was the case, why hadn’t Jakes sent him to me in the first place? Devan and I had been sitting right there when Jakes first saw him.

  “Like I said,” he told me, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, it kinda does,” I said. I considered all the places where the kid could have managed to snag something like this but couldn’t come up with all that many, at least none that would have made much sense. I’d not seen him around Conlin before, but that didn’t really mean anything. I’d been gone for too long to recognize many people in the town. But Jakes had recognized him, or at least had gone to him. And something of my father’s—at least, something with a pattern like my father’s—would be useful. And valuable.

  “Why bring it to me?” I asked.

  The kid glanced around, bending down to peer into the car and whisper something to the girl inside. He shook his head vigorously and then stood to face me again. He shrugged and waved a hand toward the cylinder. “They said you could keep it safe.”

  “They?” I asked.

  “The warden, and the other. The sheriff. They both suggested you.”

  I frowned and glanced at Devan, wondering who the warden might be. Not Jakes. The kid had mentioned him separately. Could he mean Tom? That seemed an awfully presumptuous title for him if so. I would have gone with something a little more unassuming, maybe something like the cook or the chef.

  And if they had suggested me, then why hadn’t he just come to me when we were in the diner?

  “Not Arcanus?” I asked, turning my attention back to the kid. I didn’t really know how much he knew about Arcanus, but it seemed reasonable to assume that he’d heard of it, especially if he came looking for the Elder.

  The kid glanced into the car again and shook his head. “Not there. Listen, if you’re not able to keep it safe—”

  I smiled, trying my best to look reassuring. “Yeah, I can keep it safe. I�
��ll put it with the other things he left for me.”

  The kid offered a relieved expression. “Thanks,” he said. Without saying anything else, he climbed into the car and closed the door. As I watched, he said something else to the girl, speaking animatedly, before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the drive.

  “That’s weird,” Devan said.

  “Yeah. Tell me, why wouldn’t Jakes have sent him our way while we were in the diner?”

  Devan shook her head. “Maybe he didn’t have it with him.”

  I wondered. The kid had been jumpy, so whatever he’d given me was valuable. If it really was something of the Elder’s, I understood why.

  Once the lights from the car disappeared from view, Taylor came back out of the house. I slipped the cylinder into my pocket. I’d need time to study it, and I didn’t want to do that with Taylor standing over my shoulder.

  She glanced from Devan and then back to me. “Who was that?”

  “Local kid. Wanted to bring me a house-warming present.” I smiled and took a deep breath. “I’m going to get a beer. Anyone else?”

  Devan gave a look that told me how stupid she thought I was for asking. She never drank anything with alcohol. I’m not sure how it would have interacted with her system. Taylor only shook her head, still studying Devan and me as if trying to understand what she might have missed.

  I started out of the garage and headed toward the house. As I did, a subtle energy slid over my skin. I turned back to the garage, wondering what Taylor might have been painting and froze.

  Darkness shifted across the night, obscuring the garage. It was like a cloud of black ink hovered in front of the garage. Power radiated from it.

  Without thinking too much—had I taken any time to think, I would have run the other way in terror—I raced toward the garage, already reaching for charms tucked into my pockets. I pulled them free, a practiced finger already making certain they were the ones I needed, and plunged into the cloud.

  I pinched one of the charms and ink puffed out in a wide ring. If I was wrong, then I’d have nothing more than a mess to clean up when this was over. If I was right… Well, gods help me… I was wrong.

  With the ink hanging in the air, I infused power into it. It shimmered into place in a flash.

  The cloud dissipated.

  Devan crouched against the bench, hands outstretched before her, one of the figurines clutched in her hand like some sort of security blanket. Taylor had her paintbrush out and waved it in the air like some sort of magic wand. Blue ink flickered from it, creating a neat pattern on the floor.

  In the middle of the garage was a man about Devan’s height. He had a solid build and shaggy brown hair. He wore a forest green shirt and loose wool pants. From his dress alone, I knew he had come from the other side of the Threshold. A silver ring on his thumb caught the light from the garage.

  One of the Nizashi.

  He glanced at me as I entered the garage and waved a hand toward me. Something like a fist punched me in the stomach, lifting me off my feet and tossing me back and into the night. I landed on my side and smacked my head against the hard ground, all the wind knocked out of me. Stars swirled around me like in the comics. It took me a moment to gather myself.

  It was the shout that really mobilized me.

  Devan.

  I wouldn’t let someone take her, not again. Adazi getting past me still stung, but at least then, I hadn’t been here to do anything. No way would I let it happen to her while I was standing right here.

  Somehow, I managed to roll to the side and push to my feet. My stomach and ribs hurt, aching from the old injury I’d gotten when we faced the hunters. My back screamed. Pain pulsed in my temple from where it had been hit.

  I ran forward, reaching for a different charm.

  When I found it, I pulled it from my pocket and aimed it forward. I would have one shot. If it hit, it would be more than enough to at least stun the Nizashi. I don’t know that it would kill him; that really wasn’t the intent of Devan’s charms. But I could slow him down. Give us a chance to secure him. Then we could ask questions, because I had lots of them.

  Taylor stood with her feet set firmly, a circle of blue ink cast around her. The Nizashi stared at her, fixing her with a heated gaze. Devan stood frozen in place, as if turned into one of my father’s statues. Whatever the Nizashi had done had kept her from moving. One hand clutched the figurine outstretched like it was some sort of shield. I noticed that it was the troll-like creature.

  “Hey, handsome,” I said.

  “Oliver!” Taylor shouted.

  I didn’t look over. The charm fired with a soft click. As it did, I infused the ink with as much will as I could draw. Normally, I could pull quite a bit of power, but the attack had left me woozy, and my head swam. I might not have the same amount of strength I usually could summon. But that didn’t mean I had nothing.

  The ink struck the Nizashi with an explosion of light. I waited for the light to fade, already expecting him to be down, to have fallen in a heap, but he stood staring at Taylor, pretty much as if he hadn’t even felt my attack.

  Well, damn.

  I splashed down a circle of ink as quickly as I could, barely paying any attention to what color I chose. Black. Figures. Most painters have an affinity for certain colors. Taylor clearly was drawn to blue. It’s the color of spirit and thought, not surprising, considering that she’s an artist. I can use all different colors, but I’m drawn to black. The color of destruction, sorrow, death.

  The Nizashi made a single movement, stepping slightly toward me, putting himself in between Taylor and me. It was a strange thing, until I realized that he blocked me from reaching Devan.

  “Any ideas?” I asked Taylor.

  “Don’t get killed?” she suggested.

  I grunted. That might be easier said than done.

  The Nizashi attacked. It happened so fast that I wasn’t even certain what happened. He stood there, mostly facing Taylor, when power exploded around me. It struck the protective barrier I had in place, leaving it shimmering and my insides burning. When a magical attack struck a barrier like I’d erected, I could feel it. The harder the attack, the more I felt. When Adazi attacked, I’d been forced to hold up against pretty much the strongest painter I’d ever faced in battle. There were better painters—stronger painters—but I’d never needed to create protections from their magic. This attack made what Adazi slung around feel like a mosquito bite.

  I screamed. I wouldn’t be able to hold the protection much longer, and the Nizashi knew it. From what little I knew of them, he might be able to sustain the attack on me much longer than I could resist him.

  My options were limited. I had full satchels of ink strapped to my belt, but that meant lowering the protection long enough to use them. I had two charms remaining, but they were mostly defensive charms. Devan hadn’t taken the time to create too many offensive charms. She’d do it, but it sort of went against the way her people’s magic worked. I think the only reason she did it was because she wasn’t the one using them. That, and because I asked nicely.

  Power built again, pulling my skin tight. I managed to look over and see Taylor making a quick motion with her brush. She flickered it in between lowering her defenses for a moment, long enough to let the ink escape. Each flick of her wrist sent a splatter of ink across the floor. The pattern she attempted might be enough to slow the Nizashi.

  She needed me to distract him.

  I looked past him at Devan. Had she moved? I couldn’t tell. It looked like she was still frozen in the same place she’d been when he first came across her, but maybe she’d shifted slightly.

  The garage was small enough that anything I did would likely lead to more damage. My father had set protective patterns throughout the garage, as well as the house, so I knew it would hold up under the attack, but I didn’t know if the things in the garage would hold up quite as well.

  I dove to the side.

  I think the
suddenness of the movement surprised the Nizashi as much as anything. The power beating against my barrier suddenly ceased, the raging pain burning through me gone, and I rolled to a stop behind an old table saw that Devan had modified with some crazy jigs to help her work.

  The Nizashi shifted his attack to follow me. Power pressed toward me. I didn’t know what it was intended to do, but I could feel the pain starting to build again. Much longer, and I wouldn’t be able to hold out.

  I thumbed the trigger of one of the remaining charms and aimed it toward the Nizashi, encircling him with a splash of red ink. I pressed my will through the ink. The power cut off, suddenly stopped. If it held, we might be able to contain him more effectively, but I doubted it would hold. The angle had been wrong and the circle incomplete.

  All I needed was time enough for Taylor to finish her pattern. She lowered her barrier and quickly finished her pattern. As she did, the Nizashi broke free of my containment, faster than I’d expected. He turned on Taylor, now unprotected, and took a step toward her when she set off her pattern.

  The explosion struck the Nizashi in the chest, sending him flying back.

  I jumped at her, grabbing her around the waist and tackling her as we rolled away from him. I came to a stop and looked back, hoping her attack had destroyed him, but not really expecting it.

  The Nizashi was gone.

  “Where is he?” Taylor asked.

  I splashed a quick detection pattern, but didn’t sense anything. “I don’t think he’s here. Help me secure the garage so we can help Devan.”

  We made a quick pattern around the inside of the garage, both of us winding with our own circles. Mine was with bright red ink. Taylor used her usual indigo blue. When we finished, we infused them with power, two rings working together, and brought up the barrier. The Nizashi could attack, but it would be deflected and diffused, neither of us suffering quite the same as we had when our circles were separate.

  “Did you see what he did to her?” I asked Taylor.

  I touched Devan. Her skin was warm but stiff. She didn’t move.

  “No. He came through the garage door. I saw darkness and then he was here. Devan tried pushing him back, I think. Her skin glowed at least, so I know she did something.”