“I’m so sorry.” My sigh escaped with my words, and a sense of need pounded through my veins, my determination to find my grandfather now stronger than ever. Faced with the knowledge of where we’d sent him and who he was, I realized I wanted to know him. For my own peace of mind, I had to find out if he was more than the skeletal megalomaniac I’d seen. For the first time since arriving in this God-forsaken place, a deep-seated fear crawled through me, and I knew this particular feeling wasn’t mine.
Maaax.
Al’s whisper startled me. I hadn’t been here long, and already the quiet seemed to last forever. “I wish you talked more,” I murmured. “I could use the company right now.”
Learrning.
“Do you learn from my thoughts or people talking? Since you’re in my head, I wasn’t sure. You didn’t come with instructions.” I continued my fast pace along the path.
Bothhh.
“Hmmm. Handy. I wonder how long it’ll be until you start using more than one word?”
Sooonnn.
“Great.” Glad I’d always been able to do two things at once—although walking and talking were the hardest—I yanked my foot back and abruptly stopped. My toes rested millimeters from the path’s edge. I raised my head and gazed into the coldest pair of eyes I’d ever seen.
I’d found Max.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“How about a ‘hi’ or ‘nice to finally meet you, Johnna?’ After all, I’m risking quite a lot just being here.”
He met my gaze with a glare.
I pretzled my arms over my stomach and returned the look. “All right, I can play your game, probably better than you. I don’t think it’s what you really want, though. I think you want to get to know me. I am, after all, your only granddaughter. Believe it or not, I’m here to help you.”
Grimacing, I shifted from one foot to the other, twisting and stretching each one. “My feet are killing me. Had I planned on hiking, I would’ve worn better shoes.” I pretended to look around and wrinkled my nose. “This place smells funny too. Like stale socks.”
Sit down, Al commanded.
I started to ask where and realized a comfy-looking chair now rested next to me. It wasn’t a big chair, more for a kid, but I wasn’t a large person. My allergic reaction to exercise hit me full force, so complaining wasn’t on my agenda, and I fell into the chair. “Thanks, Al.”
Max, not me.
“You used three words—good boy.” Without missing a beat, I started in on Max. “Al tells me you provided the chair. Thanks.” I narrowed my gaze. “Why did you do that?”
His skeletal scowl turned to confusion. “Who is Al and why are you talking to yourself? Do you have a mental illness? As far as the chair goes, you were tired, weren’t you?” To my ears, his voice sounded strained, as if he was almost too weak to talk, and it bothered me.
“No, I do not have a mental illness.” I pointed to the tattoo on my neck. “This is Al and he mind speaks with me. Al, this is Max. So, why are you being nice?” I motioned to the surrounding scenery. “I’m one of the people who helped to send you here.”
His eyes dulled, and the skeletal face didn’t tell me anything about his thoughts. “What do you want?”
“I need some information.”
“What makes you think I have it? Or I want to give it to you?”
“Testy, aren’t we? I need to know about the diary.”
He didn’t move. Not even to blink. “Why?”
“Because there’s something going on other than your petty vendetta. Until you went nutso trying to get your bony hands on it, no one knew about the book.”
He wrapped his skinny arms across his chest and glared. “Not my problem anymore.”
“Beg to differ, old man. I might be young but don’t talk down to me. I’m not the one who dissed the family and turned against everyone.” I stood, facing him, and slapped my hands on my hips. Even the silver necklace I wore sang off-key as my anger filtered through the woven chain.
A smoky haze clouded my vision. Unfortunately, I hadn’t paid attention to where the tips of my shoes rested nor Al’s screaming voice in my mind. Max’s expression went from his impassive stare to a look of extreme pain as the light drained from his eyes.
Inhaling deeply, I relaxed; the simple act of breathing calmed and centered my anger. Redirecting my irritation from my grandfather, I focused and pushed it into my necklace. The moment the heated emotion diminished, I saw the Shadow.
The dark wraith stood beside Max, its face twisting in a macabre dance. My anger returned, but this time I focused on the creature now causing my grandfather’s pain. The agonized screeching from the metal on my grandfather’s robe ripped into my mind.
I didn’t stop to think. I couldn’t, not when my grandfather fell to his knees in front of me, a tiny line of spittle trailing from one side of his mouth. I wanted his pain to end, my only thought to stop the Shadow from killing him like it had all the others. A burst of energy flew from me—well, truthfully, it came from the charm on my necklace. I wasn’t going to be picky where the energy came from as long as it helped him.
The wraith turned to face me and, like before, I became the center of attention. Yippee. The black-cowled creature rammed the invisible wall, which thankfully, remained solid. I refocused, trying to aim all the anger I’d stored away since I’d been sucked into this whole ordeal.
Smallerrr. Al whispered.
I squinted and the stream narrowed. He was right. Whatever I’d just done, worked. Instead of towering over his intended victim, the wraith shrunk several inches. As I focused on all the things making me mad, the narrowing stream of anger increased in strength. The wraith now stood at mid-chest, and he was furious, hissing and popping around.
More, Al's whisper urged.
“I only have so many angry thoughts.” I let my thoughts drift back to what happened to my mom, and my anger grew again. It wasn’t enough. Thoughts of my dad and friends getting hurt didn’t help, but when I thought about Niki, my heart stuttered and kicked into triple-time. Adrenalin surged through every cell in my body. When I pictured him hurt and possibly dying, my ability to reason disappeared. My fingertips burned from the extra power pushing for release.
Now. Hit Shadow, Al urged.
I concentrated on the Shadow, focusing the compounding energy. This was so different from manipulating metal, harder and more mentally draining. I locked my gaze and pictured a flamethrower, blasting my anger and hitting the wraith in what I hoped was his chest.
A brilliant light exploded around us and I ducked, covering my eyes. As soon as the light behind my closed lids subsided, I looked at where the Shadow had been. Nothing remained except a dark scorch mark. Bile rose in my chest and I furiously swallowed, trying to get my emotions back under control. I never wanted to go through something like that again.
My grandfather remained hunched down on his knees, his hands pressed against the ground to support his frail body. He turned his head, maybe an inch, and saw the scorch mark. His eyes lifted to mine, wide and wary. I shuddered. Now he really looked like a cadaver.
“Are you okay?” I paused for him to answer, but he continued to stare. My fear morphed into annoyance as I took a long, controlled breath. What was it with the men in my family? Why couldn’t any of them tell me I’d done something good?
“Along with an answer, a thank you would be nice too. Better yet, a ‘well done, Johnna’ would go even further.” I eyeballed his rickety frame as he crawled upright, and followed his motions in awe as he used the air in front of him like a wall. The term ‘old and decrepit’ no longer seemed to apply. He might look frail, but inside he was, quite possibly, solid steel.
Maybe he’d teach me the air-walk trick if I asked nicely.
“Okay, we’re even
. Answer my questions so I can get out of here.”
My grandfather’s brow rose and he stretched, bending backward slightly as loud pops heralded the realignment of his spine. “Even?”
“You know, for putting you in here. I also got rid of the Shadow thing and saved your ass.”
He snorted. “Please. I let you send me here—and my ass was never in any danger.”
My expression must have been stupid. I could imagine it; glazed-over eyes, mouth hanging open, drool dribbling down the chin. At this point though, I didn’t care.
“Why? Why would you let us do that to you?” My voice couldn’t manage anything louder than a whisper, as the horror of his words finally penetrated.
He waved his hand nonchalantly. “My reason is of no concern. I’m here now and will pay the price for all the things I’ve done.”
I couldn’t think of a single retort as I stared at him. If nothing else, maybe he’d get a complex about how bad he looked.
“Do you like chess?”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Do you play chess?” He enunciated each word as one side of his mouth dipped lower than the other. “Was it a hard question?”
I snorted. My grandfather and I had the same sense of humor. Caustic with a side of snark. I didn’t want to admit it, but I liked him. “No, it wasn’t a hard question. I’m still processing my guilt about you being here, but since you don’t blame me . . .”
“Are you slow? That’s what I’ve been saying since you got here. Now answer the question.”
I swallowed my growl. No wonder everyone thought Max was irritating. I didn’t get any evil vibes off him, though, so there was something positive. “Yes, I play chess. Why?”
“Good. Sit.”
I found myself sitting on a small footstool. At first, I wondered where the cushy chair had gone when my thoughts turned to my current perch. Niki told me only demons could summon objects, so how had Max done it? I tucked the thought away to ponder over later with Niki, who I think owed me a better explanation . . . if he ever talked to me again. I’d disobeyed a direct order, so to speak.
My grandfather set up a floating chessboard, which straddled the barrier so I could move my pieces. I quirked an eyebrow at the offhand display of power, but he only shrugged. I let my gaze fall to the pieces. There were castles, shields, chalices, books, and the pawns were candles.
I nodded appreciatively. “This looks interesting.”
“Ladies first.”
Yeah, right. I’d played enough games with my father to know this particular strategy though I’d never understood it. Personally, I thought it a male thing.
I placed my hand over the candle to move it forward and quickly jerked back and glared at him. “Eewww. It’s slicky.”
Max frowned. “Slicky? Is that even a word?”
“It is now. Why does the candle feel slimy?”
“They’re souls. Substance, but not. They are the essence, or spirits, of those who have died.”
“That’s disturbing. They’re still slicky.”
“Get over it.”
~ ~ ~
I moaned for probably the hundredth time. Could he take any longer? “Would you move already. Gods, it’s only a pawn.” My grandfather finally scooted one of his floating candles forward one square. Two seconds later, I moved one of my pawns forward and slouched back on the stool. This went on move after move, both the chess pieces and me.
Have I ever mentioned I bore easily?
In my current sprawled position across the stool, I stared at the sky, weirdly enough spread out in a solid gray haze. No clouds, of course, but then it would have been almost pretty, like Pittsburgh on a clear day. The heavy air still smelled like stale socks, but while getting to know Max, my previous fear of the realm had disappeared.
Well, maybe not disappeared, but eased significantly.
“Will you sit up. It’s your move.”
I turned toward my grandfather. Even upside down he didn’t look any better; still skeletal. I plucked at my jacket, holding it together at my stomach. My back had cramped from my very unladylike position, but I groaned in relief when several vertebrae in my back popped.
“Why did you want the diary?” I asked.
“It’s your turn.”
I flipped over, my back muscles complaining loudly as they contracted back into their normal position. I really needed to work out more. Sitting upright, I glanced at the board. Dang it, he’d taken one of my pawns. I thought about my next move, studying each previous play the old man had made.
The search took me longer than usual, but I normally played my dad. His moves were predictable. I had to give the man some credit; we’d been playing since I was seven. I smiled and chose my chalice, pushing the piece sideways and taking the black castle.
“Sneaky, but not sneaky enough, Grandpops.” I jumped when the castle made a high-pitched squealing noise and twisted into a globby shape. I didn’t realize black could get darker, but it could. The stygian blob vibrated in its battle, reminding me of the fart putty I’d played with in science class.
“Grandpops?” His indignant gaze moved from me to the castle piece. “You know the rules, Louis, now go.” Grandfather snapped his fingers. The blob made a sucking sound and popped out of the game.
“Oh, my gods.” I stared at my grandfather, wide-eyed. “What in the hell was that—and what rules? Naming your chess pieces is a bit weird, isn’t it?”
He stared at me for so long, I grew uncomfortable and squirmy. Along with the rebuilding oppressive air in this realm, I wanted to leave. First, though, I had to find something helpful.
“Each player won the chance to play in the game. As I stated before, they are souls. If they are captured, the souls have to return to the bottom of the tier of torture in the playground.”
“Oh, that’s so wrong.” I sadly stared at my players, momentarily forgetting these souls probably had not been the nicest beings when they’d lived. Determination welling in my chest, I made up my mind to be the winner of this game. My players were going to get their freedom. Or wherever they got to go.
“If they win, where do they go?”
“The Death Realm. There, the souls are able to rest in peace.”
“Damn. No pressure.” I sighed. “Okay, let’s finish, but you have to answer my questions. This goes above and beyond owing. I’m now in charge of souls, for gods’ sakes. I have a hard enough time taking care of my own.”
“I know.”
“Great nurturing there, Grandpops. You really know how to give a pick-me-up.”
“No, can’t say I do. However, if you are in need of one, I could try, I suppose.”
“Don’t knock yourself out. Just play.” I’d need to concentrate on the game, too scared I’d lose another soul if I didn’t. Glancing around, I wondered what time it was—more importantly, how long I’d been here. The meeting had to have ended hours ago, and Niki would’ve returned to my bedroom to find me gone. Would he be angry or worried? If I were a betting person—and I am—I’d bet on furious.
Pulling my mind away from Niki and my inevitable punishment from both him and my father, I thought of something else. “Do my players have names? And why didn’t I hear the screeching before Louis?”
“It’s not the most pleasant sound, so I used a mute spell on them before they could scream. Makes for a more soothing atmosphere.”
“Why did you stop?”
“The use of any magic in the Pits attracts the Shadows and drains the prisoner.”
I didn’t like the sound of that but kept my mouth shut.
We played silently for maybe about an hour, but I didn’t wear a watch, so I could only guess at the time. My chest had loosened a bit since I’d only lost several pawns. After the pawn’s
screeching died down, I reaffirmed my decision to not lose. I studied the board, my insides quivering with excitement.
Keeping my face as straight as I could, I picked up my shield and moved the slicky piece over Max’s chalice and set it on top of his black book. I raised my eyes to my grandfather’s. “Checkmate.”
His eyes sparkled with humor, but the agony from the writhing, undulating tome on the board overshadowed the euphoria of my win. I cringed, wanting to cover my ears so I wouldn’t have to listen to the soul’s pain-filled wails. Several minutes later, the wail ended when the book popped out of sight. “Damn. His scream was worse than a banshee’s.”
“Have you ever heard a banshee?”
“Unfortunately. I opened one of the jars in Dad’s workroom.” I shrugged. “I was seven and couldn’t hear anything for hours. Believe me, I never did it again.”
“Enclosed space worsens the effects. Happens every time.”
I leaned back, almost falling off the stool, and exhaled. “I can’t believe I won.”
“Amazingly, yes, you did.” He frowned, still staring at the board, which now only held my white souls. If he was anything like his son, he would sit there for at least another hour replaying the game in his head, trying to figure out where he’d made the wrong move.
“What do I do? How do I send my souls on to wherever it is . . . the death place?”
“Just tell them to ‘be at peace.’”
I smiled. “So cool.” I studied the players, still in position, patiently waiting. I leaned forward and whispered, “Be at peace.” In a startling blink of white light, they disappeared. I continued to stare at the now-empty chessboard, contentment filling my heart.
In Mage We Trust (Of Mystics and Mayhem Book 1) Page 13