Hazel took the lamp back from him. She regarded him silently, eyes bright, and she found herself holding her breath. She exhaled and shivered. Despite the strangeness of it all, she could not help but feel excitement. What was he going to do? Cast a spell? Pull a wand out and wave it around?
“It’s over here,” he said pointing to the bookcase to the right as he strode toward it.
“What?” Her shoulders sagged. “That’s it?”
Niko looked over to her, his features puzzled. “What were you expecting?”
She set the lamp down on the corner of the table, the only open space free of books. “Oh, I don’t know, something more.” She made a flourish with her hand. “You didn’t do anything!”
“Oh, you mean perhaps, a theatrical spell of some sort? ‘Eye of newt’ and such?”
“Yes!”
He smiled. “I am sorry, my dear Hazel, it does not work that way.” He turned back to the bookcase and quickly scanned the shelves. He knelt down, holding his left hand out, palm facing the book spines. “At least, not with me.”
Curious, Hazel bent down quietly next to him.
Breathing slowly, deliberately and starting from the leftmost book, Niko passed his hand slowly to the right.
The faintest of tingles blossomed along his fingertips.
There!
Niko swiveled his head to look at Hazel. He winked, and reached in, almost at the middle point of the shelf, and drew forth a slender, leather bound volume.
Silently, he held up the book, displaying for her the runic symbol on the cover.
With wide eyes, Hazel leaned into him, shivering. “You found it, just like that,” she said, with hushed voice and breath steaming in the cold air.
Wait. Cold air? Niko’s eyes widened as he pushed out a breath. They both watched it plume white in the suddenly frigid air of the rare book room. There was now a baleful silence in the room and the book-lined walls felt sinister.
Hazel looked at him, startled and with a hint of fear in her voice. “What’s wrong?” she asked in a low voice, her eyes darting around the room. “Why is it so cold all of a sudden?” she asked, rubbing her arms to warm them.
“Something is coming, if not already here.” He looked around the room then shrugged the pine box off his shoulder. It swung around onto the floor next to them. “Here, please hold this,” he said handing her the book.
Hazel reached for the slim book, her face an excited mask of curiosity. “What is in there?” she asked pointing at the box. “Hopefully something to warm us up?”
He flashed her a quick smile and thumbed the two latches, the click of their release loud in the cold air.
“Oh wow.”
Niko held the base stock by the rubber grip and began to assemble the Resonating Coil Gun pieces. “Hazel, I need you to remain calm, no matter what happens next.” Click. “Can I count on you to do that for me?” He swung the carousel coil housing and slammed it home, clicking it into place. “I won’t let anything harm you,” he added bringing the now assembled rifle up in front of a wide-eyed Hazel.
She looked at him. He looks so grim but focused. The pain in his eyes is gone. This is related somehow. She silently nodded - and almost too overwhelmed to speak - watched him attach a red wire from the heavy belt at his waist to the shoulder stock end of the gun.
Out in the main room, there was a flash of bright blue light and a sharp retort as if someone had snapped a piece of wood in half. The sound of it echoed in the smaller room. Hazel jumped, falling back onto her ass as Niko swiveled his feet toward the door.
There was a faint vibration in the air, a hum as if heard from a distance, far away but growing louder.
Niko stood in one fluid motion, flipping back his open coat like a gunslinger. With one hand he trained his weapon on the open doorway as he toggled the switch on his belt. A small answering hum filled the space around him as the power within the coil flared to life.
The little turbine within the round housing began to spin.
The vibrating hum from outside the door intensified. Blue light illuminated the darkness and filled the space outside. Energy crackled and shadows fled.
Just like that fateful night, twenty years ago. That same power. That same elemental energy.
To her credit, Hazel did not scream in terror, but she gasped as the disembodied Eye now stared at them around the door frame.
Niko grunted and lowered the gun. Just an Eye-ling. He felt movement at his side. He looked down to see Hazel hiding behind him and smiled reassuringly.
She clutched at him. “What is that?” She hissed in a strained whisper. “I mean, it’s an eye, obviously, but -” She leaned in closer. “It’s just an eye, floating there.”
“Yes indeed, but so much more than that.” He pulled the rifle up and turned back to address the creature. “Is that not correct?” he said with his voice raised.
The Eye-ling nudged itself around the door jam, filling the doorway with blue-white light. Tiny arcs of static electricity continually fell from it. The pupil widened slightly as it rotated to take in the small room. Silently satisfied it fixed its gaze back upon Niko.
A voice, sounding tinny, hollow, and far away emanated from the creature. “I am curious how you managed to track me so quickly.” The voice grunted with annoyance. “You’re far beyond making me angry,” the voice stated matter-of-factly as the pupil became a slit. “Every damn time, interrupting my work, causing me delays.” The Eye pulsed and seemed to pull in a breath as it shrank then grew larger, filling the doorway more completely. “I can keep you here now until I am finished the ritual.” A soft chuckle filled the cold air. “The stars are right, once again, as you no doubt know already.” The eye bobbed as if nodding. “And that gun is quite useless. Bullets will not harm this construct. You forget yourself, boy.”
Niko said nothing.
Hazel squeezed his arm. “That thing likes to talk, doesn’t it?” she observed. “Where is the voice coming from?”
“The voice is a projection. The eye itself is a magical construct, typically conjured to run errands and serve as a second,” he said, waving his free hand at the Eye. Additionally, the conjurer can see what the Eye sees. Quite clever and convenient, really, despite the source.”
The Eye somehow managed to look indignant. “Humph! I am floating right here, you know,” the voice said. “No need to be insulting.”
Niko released a slow breath then, holding up a finger at the Eye, and checked the power meter on his belt. Satisfied, he lowered his dark goggles. “Hazel, please close your eyes,” he told her softly, keeping his darkened gaze on the Eye.
“You are quite correct,” he told the voice. Niko turned a small knob next to the grip. He made a quick mental calculation and swiftly dialed in the setting. “Bullets are no use. However,” he raised the rifle and placed his free hand on the rubber grip on the barrel. “This weapon does not utilize bullets,” he said as he gave the Eye a lopsided smirk. Looking back at Hazel, he winked, then pulled the trigger on the Coil Gun.
The miniature turbine housed in the round carousel had been patiently spinning and generating energy, waiting for release. Miniature bursts of lightning flared and hissed forth like an angry slew of snakes.
The stored energy was a tidal wave, a ripping tornado of pure elemental force. Mother Nature herself would be hard pressed to mimic this. Blue-white fire arced and streamed out from the rifle, ripping the air apart and slamming into the Eye like a hammer.
There was a staccato crackle as books took flight and were imprisoned within the whipping vortex of air. Loose papers flamed brilliantly then fluttered to ash.
Niko gritted his teeth and dug his feet in, hunkering low, his left leg rooted firm. I think I’ve miscalculated. Sweat began to run and sting his eyes but he dared not reach up to clear them. Blinking rapidly, he tightened his grip, knuckles standing out white against the blood red tinge of his shaking hands.
And gloves would be a good idea, too. His jaw
was aching and his taught muscles were flooding with pain. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold this nor how long the battery pack would last.
The voice from the Eye shrieked in agony, an echoing counterpoint to his own mad, primal bellow. The ground trembled and groaned in protest, books toppled off the shelves, and pyramid piles of old books spilled over onto the floor.
Hazel, her eyes clamped tightly shut, screamed and clapped her hands over her ears.
Denis was only half listening.
“‘Ere, now, captain.” The cabbie pointed with his free hand, the other hand expertly grasping the reins. “Look at this crowd.”
“What, where?” Lost in thought, Denis roused himself, swiveling his head as he sat up. He frowned. “What about them?” he said. He noticed nothing amiss. It was just a normal crowded New York street. Thankfully, he thought.
The cabbie clicked his tongue and maneuvered around a stalled ice truck. He made a rude gesture to the driver. “Right-o, then. You don’t see?” he asked over his shoulder, shaking his head. “There’s too many of them, of us,” he stated firmly, answering his own question. He spat over the side. “These ‘ere tenements and whatnot, we’re getting packed in like rats!”
Denis couldn’t argue with that. “That’s true,” he growled in agreement. “This island isn’t what it used to be,” he snorted. “Progress, my arse - hey watch out!”
Not missing a beat, the cabbie swerved deftly around the work gang. “Pfaa! Progress. Dirty word, that.” He grumbled to himself as he set them back on course.
They trundled onward for some time, the cabbie now silent as he gave himself over to driving, lost in his own thoughts of overpopulation and greener pastures.
The cabbie cleared his throat. “Almost there, captain.”
Denis opened his eyes and looked around. They were getting close to the neighborhood now. The large crowds and stench gave way to quiet, tree lined streets. The noise of the city was a faint buzz behind them. Denis’ stomach felt hollow. His palms began to sweat.
Shite, what now?
“What was that address there?” the cabbie asked as they turned onto the street.
Denis repeated the address again.
“Right. End of the block it seems, captain.” He gazed about and around. “This here street is nice enough, but - feels off,” he added softly. “Too quiet.”
Denis leaned forward and looked at him sharply. “You feel it too?” he hissed.
The cabbie shrugged. “Odd, right?” he shook the reins, urging his mare forward. “Hup, now.”
They rattled along the silent street.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Denis demanded. He pulled out his watch. “It’s almost one o’clock.”
They were halfway down the city block when the horse pulled back, neighing wildly. The cab jerked to a stop, sending both driver and passenger lurching forward.
Denis reached for his gun. The cabbie clutched the reins.
“‘Ere, now Mildred, what’s the problem with ya? There’s no one about for you to take on like this,” the driver called out, trying to soothe his frightened mare.
Mildred snorted and reared back slightly. She chuffed and shook her head, eyes rolling nervously.
Denis scanned the streets behind them. Clearly, something nearby was wrong. He could feel it and apparently so could Mildred.
“What is that?” The cabbie’s hat was tilted back as he was gazing up the street, his head raised, and quavering finger pointing.
Denis turned, following his gaze. His eyes widened and he muttered “Oh, shite” from his clenched jaw. The fingers of his right hand twitched to unleash the Dragoon from the confining hold of the leather holster. He grimaced. Not that it would do much good. He balled a fist and took in the scene before him.
The air was shimmering as if with heat above the last house on the corner, the castle-looking brownstone. The flame-like waves were like dark, oily smoke, tinged with red from within as if from hot coals. Tendrils of the flame leaped with force, almost as if angry. He squinted, not sure if he could trust his eyes. Was that? Yes. It seemed as if shapes, horribly grotesque and twisted figures, were writhing inside that smoke! The whole horrid mass gave him a sense of vertigo and he grasped the side of the carriage. It seemed to Denis’ eyes as if the black flames were one continuous birth and death of shadowy figures. One would rise, a half formed black skull leaping forth with a silent scream. It would stretch, reaching out with grasping talon-like claws but break apart as the next shadow emerged with intensity to take its place.
He watched, drawn to the chaos, fascinated and repulsed. He could feel his grip on reality slipping downward, spiraling away into madness.
He tore his eyes away, shuddering inwardly as he focused on his breathing. “So this is how it’s going to be,” he said to himself with a resigned voice. Something about this tugged him. The unsettled tension he’d felt in the morning had slowly and insistently grown as the day wore on. It was leading up to this, to here. He could not explain it. He only knew he was needed in some fashion.
“You said it, captain!” The cabbie, eyes now averted from the mess, jumped down from his perch to calm his horse. He whispered calming words to Mildred while keeping a firm grip on her reigns.
Denis one handed the release on his holster, freeing the Dragoon and shook his head. “I have no idea what in God’s name that is, it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He replied answering the cabbie’s earlier question.
“That’s not the half of it, captain.” He nodded up the street. “That there devil work is surroundin’ your house.” He pointed. “That be the house number there.” He patted his horse’s flank reassuringly. “Mildred and I’ll wait fer you here, I’m thinkin’.”
Of course, that would have to be the house now, wouldn’t it, And here I was, wondering what was in store for me next. Jesus, they don’t pay me enough for this.
Niko patted out the last of the flaming paper and heaved a sigh of relief. “That’s the last of it.” He sniffed and wrinkled his nose. He was reminded of the time one winter evening when his father had fallen asleep reading before the fireplace. A book had slipped from slack fingers to drop upon the hearth. The smell of the singed paper was sharp in his nose and the image of his father scrambling to extinguish the flame remained vivid even today.
“Are you sure you are all right?” he asked, walking toward her.
Hazel had picked herself up off the floor the moment the chaos ended, the sound of her own scream echoing in her head as she ran around the room putting out the resulting small fires. She was now kneeling by the door gathering rogue papers and being careful to avoid the clear ooze, all that was left of the floating Eye.
She looked over at him with wide eyes and slowly shook her head. “What was that thing?” she straightened, smoothing her skirt as she walked up to him.
He echoed her steady gaze but said nothing.
“Please, tell me, what’s going on, Niko?” She moved closer to him, and gently laid the back of her palm along his soot-stained cheek. “Who are you?” she asked softly. She wanted to know this strange, gentle man. She couldn’t explain it, yet it felt right to her. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Niko’s were both unfathomable and so telling, all at the same time. She was hooked, trapped albeit willingly, and if only she could catch just a small glimpse, a little piece, of what was raging inside him now. She stared, drawn into those deep wells and felt herself sinking. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to take her fingers away from his beautiful, pale face.
Niko held her eyes with a cool determination. He didn’t pull away from her touch, but her fingers were hot against his face and he felt a stirring in his blood. He felt his heart quicken and his lips formed a small, rueful smile.
Perhaps in another life. He could feel it on his face. An almost imperceptible anguish, a tightening around his eyes and clenching of his jaw. Inexplicably, he couldn’t hide his sadness from her. He felt grateful for the conc
ern he saw flickering in her large green eyes. His heart swelled and thawed just a bit then and for the first time in quite a while Niko felt a great regret and sorrow in his decision to walk this path.
We must all follow our own paths. Design our own lives. And mine?
Always alone. For now.
His fingers closed over hers for a moment squeezing softly before removing her hand. How could he let harm come to her, this amazing light that was called Hazel?
I cannot.
Red faced, she smoothed back a curtain of hair with one hand and lowered her head in embarrassment.
Placing a gentle hand upon each side of her face, Niko drew her forward and lightly pressed his lips to her forehead. He pulled in a breath, enjoying for a moment the fleeting ghost of her scent amidst the mix of burnt-paper and woodsmoke smells.
He straightened and steeled himself for the next move. “I must leave, Hazel. Time passes swiftly and the menace is still out there.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “I have no doubt we shall meet again.” He reached into his pocket. “And for now, I need to borrow this.” He held up the ancient tome, the carven metal rune glinting with inner light.
Hazel laughed and the book once again disappeared into his pocket.
Feeling the insistent pull of the clock, he turned quickly, and with few swift strides, lifted his weapon from the center table. He glanced about the room, then checked the energy levels. Satisfied, he hooked the butt onto the inside holster sewn cleverly into his long coat. The pine box would not do now. Speed was needed. He consulted his pocket watch. He had to move quickly now, the aura left by the passing of the Eye-ling could still be followed. He smiled grimly and turned back to Hazel.
Hazel returned his smile. “Now I know you’re returning.” She pointed to the book. “You have to bring that back to me and pick up your pine box too.” Somehow, she knew his intent was true. She would see him again, book or no book. Of that she was certain.
“Indeed.” He waved an arm at the disheveled room. “And this room needs some work. I confess, my weapon was a bit, ah, enthusiastic. You may need my assistance in setting back in order.” He chuckled and turned to go. “Until we meet again, Hazel.” He gave her a small bow and his lopsided smile.
Tesla & Malone - Lightning's Call - Book One Page 4