Eleanor nodded. “We skipped lunch,” she mentioned as her stomach growled. “Should I order in?”
“If you can order a decent steak from somewhere. With steamed vegetables.”
“Picky eater.” Eleanor mocked.
“If you knew all the chemicals and poisons that went into your foods, you would be, too.” Jöanth countered.
“Such a Grinch,” she accused him. “I'm having a pizza.”
Jöanth rolled his eyes as Eleanor phoned Fabrizio's, an Italian Bistro she was familiar with.
“Food will be here in half an hour,” she said satisfied with herself. “Now, what do we do about Doc Black?”
“I am not sure,” Jöanth said. “Short of spying on him full-time, I'm not sure what else there is to do.”
“I was wondering if we could lure him out somehow,” Eleanor offered.
“How would we do that? We don't know what to use as bait.”
“I might,” she said. “I think he is interested in the girls next door. At first I thought he was interested in me, but the more I think about it, the more I think he is just toying with me. I'm not of any importance to him.”
“Why do you say this? Didn't he follow you here from the city?”
“What if he didn't?”
“I don't follow.”
“What if he followed me here because of someone else? What if he was interested in Charlene and not in me?”
Jöanth cocked his head to the side but did not comment.
“Think about it,” Eleanor said. “I haven't seen him spying on me once. The first time I came across him here in town, after the train ride, was by accident. I came across him. Not the other way around. And then he's been spotted outside the girls' house next door twice now, that we know of. I haven't seen him spy on me even once.” She repeated.
“I understand your logic,” Jöanth thought for a second. “You have a keen brain, Eleanor. I can see why you were a good reporter.”
Eleanor offered a shy smile. She wasn't used to getting a lot of praise these days. Her hubris as a big shot reporter had cost someone's life once.
“But what could he possibly want from the girls? Especially from Charlene?” Jöanth wondered. “Rosewater has a special glow about her and she also has your Gift of Sight, although limited,” he added. “She might have other dormant Gifts that we are not aware of. Charlene on the other hand, also has a strong glow, but it seems somehow muted. She does not shine nearly as strongly as Rosewater. And Charlene does not have any Gifts that I have been able to identify yet. All of them are still dormant. We cannot possibly know what they are until they have been activated. I cannot understand what the svartálvur would want with either of them.”
They both took a minute to think.
“What motivates a svartálvur?” Eleanor eventually asked.
“To bring about death, destruction, chaos. The complete opposite of what the álvur stand for.”
“So, if it's death, destruction, and chaos he's after, how would he bring it about here?”
“That is the question I cannot answer,” Jöanth admitted. “If we were in a big city, or a town near a research facility or a military base that had the means with which to create a disaster, then I could understand his reason for a specific location. But here, in a small town like this? It doesn't make any sense. A svartálvur's mission is always to create as much death and mayhem as possible. Preferably with a long-term domino effect that would still be felt years down the line. Why he would be here, I do not know.”
This heralded in another few minutes of silence as the two allies sat and tried to think of reasons for the svartálvur's continued stay in town. He was clearly here for a reason.
“What if it isn't a thing that he is after? I mean,” Eleanor said, “I can understand if he was spying on a four-star general who had access to the launch codes of nuclear warheads or something. In the end, he would want access to the nukes, right? A means to an end.”
Jöanth nodded.
“Could the svartálvur maybe see something that you can't? What if he’s after a person and not a specific thing, like launch codes?”
“Could be,” Jöanth acknowledged. “This is a first for me, remember.” It was a statement, not a question. “The things I usually hunt are easy to understand. Their motivation is purely to kill. They are not always very intelligent. A svartálvur is different. He is highly intelligent. As Trackers, we haven't hunted one in centuries, therefore I have no first-hand knowledge of how it might think or react.”
“What did the last one do?”
“Strangely enough, it also came to Earth. It was its second stop though, not its first. It came here and spread a plague, killing millions of people over the course of two centuries, before it moved on to the next world.”
“When was this?” Eleanor asked out of curiosity.
“On your calendar, it would have been around 541 AD. It started in Egypt and then spread to Europe.”
“Is it always a plague?” she asked.
“No. They have used wars, pestilence, power, greed. Anything that sets off a chain of events that leads to catastrophic loss of life. And before you ask,” he said, “not all disasters, natural or otherwise, are created by malevolent forces. Most often it is merely nature taking its course.”
Jöanth paused in thought for a few seconds.
“It is perplexing,” he finally said, shaking his head in defeat. “Their ultimate goal has always been to bring about the destruction of all life. I just cannot see how this town would fit into a master plan of extinction. I still have no idea why he escaped here.”
“What if he just escaped from your world and chose the first, most-convenient exit?”
“Possible, but again unlikely. There is always a plan. Why spend centuries in the Pit and then one day just randomly lift yourself out and come here? Because svartálvur used to be álvur, they can survive in the sun, they can even walk through the barrier created by the Sentinel Stones that keep all other creatures from the Void at bay. This means that he could have escaped at any time, at any place along the edge of the Void, and could have chosen any escape route out of Edínu. Yet, he came here.”
“What if he wasn't escaping from Edínu, but rather from the Void? Maybe he's here on vacation,” Eleanor ventured, trying to ease the gloominess that pervaded her kitchen.
“Interesting,” Jöanth took her comment seriously. “Escaping from the Void. That would mean the svartálvur has no Master. That he is an Outcast, from both the Light and the Dark. Could that be possible?” He asked no one in particular. “The whole purpose of turning an álvur into a svartálvur is to have an incredible weapon at your disposal. The Dark One,” Jöanth made a quick motion with his hands, as if a sign to ward off evil, before he continued, “would not let a svartálvur escape from the Void. He would have control over it. But what if?” The question trailed off. “It's an interesting theory.”
He lapsed into silence and Eleanor had to interrupt his train of thought.
“What was that?” she tried emulating his hand movements. “You did it when you said...”
“Don't!” he stopped her. “Words have power. Even if you do not understand them. Saying his name without a ward would be like inviting him into your home. You do not want that. Thankfully, your ears cannot understand or interpret the true sound and meaning of his name, but just thinking it might be enough. It might have sounded like an innocent name to your ears, but if you casually talk about The Dark One, you could be opening yourself to all kinds of trouble you do not want.”
“Really?” Eleanor, ever the skeptic asked.
“You need to be careful Eleanor,” Jöanth warned. “I should be more careful as well. I have taken a chance by choosing you as an ally. There are many things that humans are not aware of. And with good reason.”
“Why?”
“The eternal human fall back.” Jöanth smiled. “Your species are like children, you know that? You always have to question every
thing.”
It didn't sound like an insult to her, but more like a playful jab to test her reaction.
“That's how we learn, isn't it?”
“Only if you ask the right questions,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.
“Are all álvur so full of themselves?”
“Only the ones worth knowing,” he winked.
Well, well, she thought. They might not be big on laughing, but they do have a sense of humor.
“Getting back to the problem at hand,” she said, trying to sound like a teacher admonishing a truant child who got caught sleeping in class, “you don't want to hazard a guess?”
“Álvur don't guess. We either make decisions based on facts, or in extreme circumstances, we follow our instincts.”
“We don't have a lot of facts, do we?” Eleanor said, the dejection evident in her voice.
Jöanth shook his head.
“So, what does your gut tell you?”
“I need to see the girls again, perhaps there is something about them that I missed before. Also,” he added, “I still need to inspect Charlene's whispering box.”
“Any idea what it could be?” Eleanor prodded.
“Perhaps,” Jöanth answered.
“I tell you what,” Eleanor offered, “whenever I need to find a solution to something and it just won't come, I often find the answer when my body and mind relax. The answers sometimes come when we don't think about the problem.”
“What do you suggest?” Jöanth asked.
“I'll run you a relaxing bath with bath salts and bubbles. While you're soaking in there, I'll go get the girls and the box. I'll order extra pizza for them and we can make a night of it, strategizing. I'll clear it with RW's mom. She won't mind, it's a Saturday. They probably have something going on and the girls would have been alone anyway.”
“And the svartálvur?” Jöanth asked. “It is still out there. I need to be vigilant.”
“Is it here now?”
Jöanth took a second. His internal senses could not give a definitive answer, but he had the feeling that the thing was not near. “No.” He answered.
“You also need to rest, Jöanth. When last did you catch some decent sleep?”
“Last night,” he smiled, “your couch was very comfortable. I slept for a full three hours, which, before you protest, is more than enough for me. I am well-rested, thank you.”
Eleanor rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air. “I'm running a bath!” she shouted in defiance and pretended to storm from the room.
Halfway down the short hallway she turned her head and shouted towards the library-study. “You better come and take it!”
She didn't wait for an answer, rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom, sat on the edge of the bath, put the plug in, and turned the warm water tap to its maximum. She reached for the bubble bath when she saw a reflection in the silver tap. Her heart gave a sudden lurch, but when she turned slightly, pretending not to be rattled, Jöanth was standing there with her. He was both super fast and super quiet. It reminded her of what they were up against.
The svartálvur would be equally quiet and fast. She hoped Jöanth was up to the task.
“Brought your sword?” she asked.
“It never leaves my side,” he answered reasonably, his deep voice carrying clearly in the small confines of the guest bathroom.
“Well,” Eleanor smiled. “There's a bathrobe for both of you if you need it.”
A few minutes later, Eleanor was in an exceptionally good mood. She had made the necessary calls to arrange for the girls to have a sleepover, paid online for the food, and spoke to the restaurant manager to have both orders delivered at the same time.
She looked at her watch, noting that the delivery would be arriving in ten minutes as she closed her front door and made her way down her driveway. She looked wistfully up at the first floor of her house and wondered how Jöanth was enjoying his steaming hot bath. He had insisted on only hot water and had complained about the bubbles. According to him, they were too loud and impaired his hearing.
Eleanor could only smile. To think how much her life had changed within a few days.
She had been lost adrift in an ocean of repetitiveness. Empty. Alone.
Having seen true evil, she now had a purpose. This was an evil she could fight. She could take it head on and at least try to fight the good fight and make a difference. They still didn't know what the Thing wanted or why it was here, but now at least, they had an ally. Someone with first hand experience at fighting monsters.
Monsters!
Who would have thought? she mused as she walked on the pedestrian pavement between her and the Prouza households.
She would never have guessed that monsters were more than just the twisted human variants she had come to know. Monsters! Other worlds? It still seemed a little unreal.
A car pulled up and parked a little in front of her. The driver's door opened. She was so lost in thought that she didn't see who it was until it was too late.
As a Tracker, Jöanth didn't enjoy many luxuries. Thus, when he was offered a respite from the daily drudgery, then he would take it and try to savor it. The problem was that unerring sense of duty. It made luxuries seem like a sin. He felt guilty whenever he spent time on himself. He always wondered whether his rest and relaxation had cost a life.
That was the reason that he didn't enjoy the bath for long. It was as warm and relaxing as the pools on Chrysianth, and he enjoyed it immensely, but the warrior in him was loathe to get too comfortable. That was why he was methodical in his approach. He washed himself, took a full minute to just lie and enjoy the bath, then he got out and washed his clothes in the same water.
He squeezed the excess water from the garments and put them on again, knowing from experience that his body heat would dry them completely within a few short minutes.
It was during the rinsing that he thought his instinct had kicked in, warning him of a danger that was close. But it almost instantly faded again. Nonetheless, he went to the nearest window and peered out into the suburban bliss beyond.
All was quiet on the street. Eleanor was nowhere to be seen, in fact, there was no one about except for a lone car which was a few houses away, traveling away from him, languidly moving along on its journey.
Washing of self, clothes, and boots done and feeling refreshed, Jöanth returned to the study and sat in what had become his favorite chair. He lamented the fact that it wasn't winter. A warm fire in the hearth would have gone down a treat.
That was the last little flight of fancy he allowed himself. It was down to business again and Jöanth thought about his quarry.
This creature was unlike any other he had encountered before. It was careful. Cunning. It didn't show its hand. Instead, it toyed with those around it, making a game of it.
Jöanth had hunted other creatures who had played with their prey before. Eventually though, his infallible internal radar would lead him to them. It hardly ever failed. It was only with shape-shifters that the gift seemed to be dimmed. He couldn't pinpoint them as easily, but then again, he could always rely on his intelligence to figure out what their goal was. Why they killed.
Sometimes, very rarely, as in this case, there didn't seem to be an ulterior motive. With a svartálvur, there was always a diabolical plan that had been set in motion and had to be seen through to fruition. In some cases, the killings were randomly done for no other reason than the love for the sport of killing.
These were the hardest creatures to track and find. But find them he did. Always. And he spared them no mercy. Jöanth gladly sent them on to the netherworld from where there was no return and they could no longer harm the living.
However, Jöanth reasoned with himself, for a creature to have been released from the Void, especially one this powerful and intelligent, there had to be a plan. The Dark One wouldn't let a creature with so much destructive promise loose without a plan.
&nbs
p; And that was what Jöanth couldn't figure out. What was the plan? Why was it here? Why on Earth? And more importantly: why in this sleepy town?
His thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell, immediately followed by apprehensive knocking.
He was halfway down the hallway when the door opened and Rosewater burst in.
“Is Eleanor here?” she asked, looking worried.
Jöanth uncloaked for Charlene's sake and rushed to them, his heart dropping into his boots.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We don't know,” Rosewater answered.
“I phoned her,” Charlene added, “cause I wanted to change my soft drink order and her phone just kept ringing. So we came over here and we found her phone lying on the sidewalk.”
“She's not with you.” It was a statement, not a question. “She can't be missing for more than five minutes, but how did she disappear between this house and yours next door?” Jöanth asked. “Something obviously happened, otherwise she would not have dropped her phone.”
“That's what we think,” Rosewater replied.
“Stay here,” Jöanth said and walked outside, making sure to cloak himself in the process.
There was a trail of Eleanor's scent and traces of her aura leading from her driveway to the public paving and then it suddenly stopped. And there was something else.
A trace of someone who had no aura.
Jöanth stormed back to Eleanor's home.
“I know where she is,” he said entering the foyer and closing the door behind him, decloaking. “You two stay here and I will go get her.”
“Jöanth wait!” Charlene shouted, holding out Eleanor's phone. “It's him,” she had put it on speaker so that they could all hear the conversation.
“Who?” Jöanth asked, taking the offered phone.
“The guy who took Eleanor. He says his name is Walther Black.”
“That's correct,” the phone spoke out loud and Jöanth nearly dropped it.
Jöanth had never used a mobile device before and it was evident in his panic stricken face. He didn't know what to do with it or how to hold it. He kept looking at it as if it was a coiled up snake, ready to strike.
Stirring Embers: An urban fantasy action adventure (The Light and the Void Book 1) Page 30