Shadow Summoner: Choronzon Chronicles Book One

by Tess Adair

  “So impatient,” he said, almost wistfully. “Tell me, are you always this keen for a fight?”

  “I’m just keen to get the hell out of here,” said Logan without missing a beat. “It’s not like I like violence.”

  “Of course not,” he said, but his tone implied something else. “You don’t like violence. You like…action?”

  “You’re not saying that like it actually means something different.”

  “It does if you want it to.”

  Logan sighed and reached her arms up into a stretch. It hadn’t taken even a minute for them to get completely off-topic, and the topic they were veering toward made her uncomfortable. As if it meant to remind her of her task, the Choronzon Key sent a spike of heat up her spine.

  “This isn’t really why I called,” she said.

  “Right,” said Alexei. “I’m guessing it’s about the case?”

  “You are correct,” said Logan. She had finally crystalized the question she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t bring herself to blurt it out. “I did find the summoning site, and I found no direct evidence of an offering to the Viking god of death. Of course it had been a few days since our culprit had been there, so that’s a little inconclusive. I do, however, have a good idea about how it’s being controlled.”

  “And that is?”

  “Every time it runs away from me, somewhere in the distance, I can hear this—this cold, off-putting flute music.”

  “Flute music,” said Alexei, recognition in his voice. On the other end, she could hear the faint sound of keys clacking on a keyboard. “Yep. I’ve got at least one account of someone using a flute to control a rekal. It’s not all that difficult, actually, provided you have a very special flute. Any idiot with a basic grasp of summoning magic and a taste for the grotesque could do it. Getting your hands on the flute, however, might pose a challenge. I’d be curious to know how your culprit managed to get one.”

  A rekal. Logan had suspected as much, but she’d wanted to make sure everything fit.

  “If I ever find out how they did it, I’ll let you know,” she answered.

  “The good news is that you don’t need anything special to kill it.”

  “I was just about to ask.”

  “Yep. Just chop of its head, stab it in the heart. Any old axe or sword will do it. I recommend you choose something sharp.”

  “Good, I love sharp things.” Picturing the silhouette of the beast, she asked, “Where is its heart?”

  “Good question,” he said. More clicking sounds. “Hmm. Dead center, close to the spine. Hmm. Some of them have a kind of exoskeleton piece there, like a bit of bone armor. You might have an easier time beheading it.”

  “Beheading it. Sure.” She paused. “Was there bad news, too?”

  “Ah, just what I told you before—if the summoner loses control, that’s it. A rekal off leash can’t be caged again. They’ll wreak havoc on everything around them—and I do mean havoc. There’s an account of one being set loose on a small town in Romania back in the 1700s. By the time a demon hunter showed up, the town had already been decimated. No survivors. The hunter barely made it out alive himself.”

  She remembered something then—her father, telling a client that a rekal was out of the question. His words floated through an unmoored memory: No one in their right mind would summon such a beast, unless he was fully prepared to deal with the consequences.

  “So how does the summoner lose control?”

  “If you lose the instrument, or whatever else you’re using to control it. Whoever summons a rekal has to maintain contact with the instrument they used in their initial ritual at all times. Your summoner must have that flute strapped to their body every single minute of the day, even when they’re asleep.”

  “That sounds fairly precarious.”

  “Yes, it is. According to this, there was a rash of rekal summonings during the early days of the Order, and it wasn’t pretty. Most of the rekals ended up devouring their masters, as well as anyone else in the vicinity. They were one of the first beasts the Order ever outlawed.” He gave a short cough. “There are a few quotes in here from Order members tasked with taking them out. Apparently they were commonly referred to as ‘the pests of the night watch.’ So, there you go. Just think of it as pest control.”

  “Right, pest control.” Logan noticed a small lump of tightness developing in her abdomen. It accompanied the persistent press of her final thought. “One last thing. Have you got an inscription of the words used in the summoning ritual?”

  “I’ve got a version of it, though it might not be the only one.”

  “Does it include the words I worship the wolf?”

  For a moment, he was quiet, presumably reading through the files he had. “No, I don’t see that here.”

  “Does it come up anywhere else, in any of the stories or anything?”

  The faint clacking of keys floated up to her again. “Nope, sorry. Nothing.”

  She considered that a moment. “What about the image of a wolf? Like in a symbol or something?”

  “Mm. Not that either. Why are you asking about this? You mentioned a wolf last time, too, didn’t you?”

  Logan sighed. “Oh, it’s just a hunch I have. Apparently it’s nothing. Thought I remembered something from a book, but I guess I’m just…I don’t know, hallucinating, I guess. Thanks for humoring me, Alexei. I’ll let you get back to your life now.”

  “Happy to be of service, H. C. If you need anything else, I’m always within cell phone reach.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

  She heard the click on the other line and dropped her phone. As she let out a long breath, she could feel herself deflate. She felt empty, bereft. The rest of her answers remained just out of her reach. At least she knew for sure that she didn’t need some impossible exotic artifact to slay her demon. That’s something.

  As she rolled over onto her side, she accepted that she did, in fact, have to return to school tomorrow. All things considered, her best bet was to start over from the top until she found a new suspect. Unless she caught the beast on her rounds tonight, of course.

  It was still perfectly possible that the summoner was someone she hadn’t even encountered yet, in person or in file perusal. But she didn’t want to think about that too much—she had enough potential suspects lined up for herself already.

  She pushed herself to standing and made her way over to the shower, hoping to wash a little grime and disillusionment off herself. As she pulled off her sweaty workout clothes, she found her thoughts wandering to sullen, uncertain Judith Li. She couldn’t quite banish the girl from her mind.

  Under the hot water streaming down from the showerhead, she almost didn’t notice the ever present radiating heat of the Choronzon Key.

  Monday morning came far too quickly. She got up an hour earlier than she had been, in order to have some time to herself before her sessions started. She showered quickly and dressed simply, making sure her crisp collared shirt covered up all her markings. To be safe, she strapped a knife to each ankle, hidden safely under pant legs. She also grabbed a few bulkier weapons to store in her hideaway spot on the bike.

  When she stepped outside, the air was blissfully cooler than it had been for the past few days. She was sure it would heat up by the afternoon, but she decided to enjoy it in the meantime. With her weapons safely stored, she pulled on her jacket and got underway.

  She ended up stopping in at the diner that never closed for another breakfast burrito, then took the rest of her ride at a leisurely pace, enjoying the cool air as much as she could. When she arrived, the door was still locked, but she found that one of the keys Mrs. Wendell had given her solved that problem.

  She needed coffee before she got started, so she made a beeline for the empty staff room. As the coffee started percolating, she found herself drifting over to the row of windows set in the far wall. They provided her with a view of a small courtyard, and just a glimpse of the field bey
ond. She could see movement out there—maybe soccer practice. Maybe Judith Li’s soccer practice. She wondered if Amy Williams had come up with a convincing reason why Judith had to stay with them all weekend, or if they’d decided it was easier for Judith to hide out unannounced instead. Or maybe they’d been honest from the beginning, and her parents had understood.

  The coffeepot clicked behind her. She filled up her giant thermos and went on her way, back out into the hall and upstairs to her designated classroom office. Once inside, she decided to lock the door—better not to chance any interruptions at an inopportune moment.

  She pulled out a few pertinent files from the drawer and arranged them on the side of the desk. Drinking deeply from her thermos as she went, she took out a piece of paper and wrote down a list of names—every single student she’d interviewed so far. Then she went through and crossed them off, one by one.

  The first several she crossed off were kids who didn’t raise any kind of warning bells for her and didn’t seem to have a clear connection to Violet. She was left, primarily, with a list of Violet’s friends…though in truth, she wasn’t convinced “friends” was an accurate description.

  First on the list was Derek James, Violet’s boyfriend. Out of Violet’s social circle, he was the only one that Logan genuinely believed had more affection than resentment toward her. He seemed well aware of her imperfections, but he’d loved her anyway—as much as a teenage boy could. Logan hoped the summoner was anyone but him, but she knew she couldn’t rule him out just because she wanted to.

  Next on the list was Missy Vreeland. Logan couldn’t pinpoint any particular reason why Missy might have wanted Violet dead, apart from general jealousy and spite. But there was certainly enough of that to keep her on the list.

  Then there was Jason Reed. She almost scratched him off based on stupidity alone; she found it unlikely that he could have the wherewithal to pull of any kind of summoning magic. But she had to admit to some small possibility that he was smarter, and angrier, than he outwardly seemed. So he stayed.

  Fourth was Suzanne Grubb—she had replaced Judith’s name on the list. Logan had seen no evidence that Suzanne was even in the vicinity of town anymore, but it seemed foolish to ignore her as a possibility entirely.

  A few other names remained at the bottom of the list, but none of them had such a clear connection to Violet. She trailed her finger down each one, and while she didn’t cross them off, she didn’t have much to think about any of them, either. Slowly she folded up the paper and put it in her back pocket, making a note to herself to ask Wendell to schedule follow-up interviews with each of them. If anyone pressed her for a reason why, she’d make up some bullshit therapy reason.

  Once she’d finished contemplating her list, she still had just enough time to enjoy her breakfast before she had to open her door and let in the teenagers.

  She decided to take her time.

  At lunch, Logan spent some time poring over Violet’s file again, though she didn’t expect to encounter anything new in there. If anything, she hoped that maybe she could tempt the Key into transmitting another psychic spike of information…but it never did. So she ate her soggy square of pizza under a shroud of vague disappointment.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze of boredom. None of her appointments that day gave her any new information worth considering.

  After her last scheduled student walked out the door, she gathered up her jacket and readied herself to go find Wendell to set up her follow-ups. Then she turned toward the door.

  To her surprise, she found her way blocked by a now-familiar face. Judith Li stood in her doorway, fist frozen over the frame like she’d been about to knock.

  “Uh…hi,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course,” said Logan, dropping her jacket back down on the desk. “Come and sit down.”

  As Judith took the seat in front of the desk, Logan shut the door behind her. She’d already put her own chair back behind the desk, so she opted to sit there instead of pulling it out again. When she looked across the plywood at Judith, she felt something slightly off in the configuration. This seating arrangement seemed to place her in a position of power; what was she supposed to do with that?

  “I know I don’t have an appointment,” Li said sheepishly, gazing at the floor. “If you want to go home soon, I understand.”

  “Home for me right now is a dingy motel room with cockroaches for roommates,” Logan answered easily. “I’m in no rush to get back. What’s on your mind?”

  Judith’s brow wrinkled, like she was screwing up her courage to talk.

  “It’s just…I wasn’t sure who else I could go to. I don’t…I don’t really have anyone I can…well, anyone I can talk to. I couldn’t even talk to my parents before they kicked me out, and now…I’m not sure what they would do if I showed up at their house again. Call the sheriff, maybe? My mom thinks I’m a bad influence on my siblings. You know, because I’m an abomination.”

  Logan clicked her tongue involuntarily and let out a slow breath. “Your mother is…entitled to her beliefs. I don’t share them. Honestly, I find them repugnant.”

  Li chuckled, finally raising her eyes enough to meet Logan’s. “I bet she’d love that. The American devil criticizing her parenting.”

  Logan felt her eyebrows shoot up of their own accord. “American devil?”

  “My mother likes colorful language.”

  “I see.” Logan shifted back in her seat, settling in. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”

  “It’s okay,” she shrugged. “Well, no, I guess it’s not. I thought about…I don’t know, like, talking to Amy’s parents, but…they probably wouldn’t be any better. They’re only letting me stay there because they think we’re just friends.” Inwardly, Logan checked an invisible box where that question had lingered. “I told them my parents are having the house fumigated. So…I think I’ve bought myself maybe, like, a week there. But after that, I don’t really know where I’ll go. I don’t have any teachers I’m close to. I don’t even have any family members that I’m close to.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the window, her face clouding over with fear and uncertainty. Then she looked back at Logan. “There isn’t anyone that I really trust. But I thought…I mean, I know I don’t know you very well, so you could be an axe murderer or something, but I just thought…if there’s anyone I can trust at all, maybe it’s someone who already saved my life. Plus you didn’t even tell on us when you totally could have.”

  Logan let a smile creep across her face. Looking at Judith now, she still saw herself at sixteen—so certain she couldn’t trust a single soul, so certain that life would never get any better than it was at that moment.

  “Axe murderer, huh? Well, I promise I’ve never killed a human being with an axe,” she said. “I can’t give you much more of an assurance than that.”

  “Good enough for me,” said Judith, cracking a small smile. Almost immediately, her smile faltered, and fear settled in once more. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do now, you know? Two weeks ago, I had my whole future planned out. I got into all these schools, and my parents picked out their favorite. I had a partial scholarship for soccer, and my parents were going to pay the rest. I was going to do pre-med like they wanted, and marry a nice Chinese guy.” She gave a humorless laugh. “I think they would have taken a white guy, too. Just not a black guy. And obviously not a girl.” She glanced out the window again, as if she could see any answers out there. “But then I fucked it all up. They caught me with Amy, and…everything just imploded. I couldn’t lie to them anymore.”

  She fell silent then, and Logan considered her a moment. Despite the uncertainty, she noticed a determined set to Judith’s jaw.

  “Do you wish you could?”

  Judith sighed and came back to the room, meeting Logan’s gaze once more.

  “No, I don’t. I never wanted any of the things they wanted. But…but I don’t know what I do
want, either. I mean, the whole world is—everything is different now. I always suspected, but…magic is real.” Her eyes, locked on Logan’s face, went wide. “How can magic be real?”

  Logan shrugged. “I can’t answer that.”

  “But you do know about it, right? I mean…you showed up that night with some kind of battle knife. You’re supposed to be a grief counselor. Why do you have a battle knife?”

  “Well. I’m not really a grief counselor,” said Logan.

  “And why were you even there that night? How did you know where to be? You saved us.”

  You saved yourself. Logan took in Judith’s eager expression, her expectant body language. Where is this leading?

  “You’re still selling yourself short,” said Logan. “Your spell scared the beast off before I could get to it.” She paused, tapping her forefinger on the desk as she considered how much she ought to divulge to this kid. Her intuition told her to trust her, but the thought of what Knatt might say made her hesitate.

  As if she could read her mind, Judith chose that moment to speak up.

  “I would never tell anyone about you, if you’re worried. As far as I’m concerned, I owe you for helping us, and not telling Amy’s parents. I wouldn’t repay you by blowing your cover.”

  Logan nodded, but remained silent a moment longer. Where should she begin?

  “Magic is real,” she said finally. “You’re right about that. But there wasn’t anything magical about how I found you on Friday night. I heard one of you scream, and I came running.”

  “Were you at the party?” Judith asked, surprise writ large on her features.

  “I wasn’t attending the party,” she clarified. “I thought the beast might attack that night, so I went where it was most likely to go. When I heard a few girls talking about a party in the woods, I figured that would be a prime target. So I went, and I spent the night patrolling the woods, waiting for it to show.”

  “What beast is it? Why is it here? How did you know?”