Shadows in the Mist

by Jeri Westerson

  “And with the poisoned tip…” she said.

  I thrust it toward Erasmus. “What do you think?”

  “I think I would rather not touch it.”

  “Oh, sorry. Here, Nick.” I handed it to him, then held up my hand for the crossbow. It whistled through the house before slapping into my palm. I grabbed the bolt that Erasmus had poisoned by jamming the tip into his eye. “Do you suppose the crossbow will know when I need this one?”

  “I suppose,” he drawled. “How do you propose to free the arrowhead from the shaft?”

  I thought about it for a moment, setting the crossbow down and examining the bolt’s shaft, the poison-tipped arrowhead. Then I broke off the tip.

  “What are you—!” sputtered Erasmus. “Are you insane? That is my crossbow!”

  “Nick, can you dig out the shaft from the arrowhead?”

  Nick edged away from it. “No can do, boss lady. That there is silver.”

  “Oh. George?”

  “My boy’s silver-shy now. And I’m not sure I can do it...”

  Seraphina took it from my hand. “I can handle it.”

  “Okay. Jolene, tell us what to do.”

  “Well…we’ll have to travel to the cave where the rift is. Using the rift, we can open the gate.”

  “Can we close the gate?”

  “Yes. The scryer will help us close it. And before anyone yells at me, I have no intention of touching it. Possession is not fun.”

  It had scared the bejeezus out of me when Jolene had been possessed by whatever being was in the rift. I didn’t want a repeat.

  George and Ed seemed puzzled. I realized that I hadn’t exactly told them everything that had happened in the last three weeks.

  “And what does Mr. Dark think of all this?” asked George.

  Erasmus frowned, knitting his hands together behind his back. “It seems sound. But I am concerned about using the rift.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said. “What about…using the Booke?”

  Silence.

  Okay, I didn’t expect that. But it suddenly made me realize that all my thoughts about the Booke—my ruminations and feelings—had all been in my head. I hadn’t really told anyone my conclusions.

  The Booke appeared as if I’d called it, hovering at my hip. I grabbed it, feeling a surge of power and confidence, then sat, placing it in my lap like an attentive dog.

  “The Booke is a gateway. It goes both ways. It has its own power and sentience. It can help us…if I ask it to.”

  Doc stood with his hand on his chin, staring at the Booke through squinted eyes. “And what is your opinion on that, Mr. Dark?”

  When Erasmus grabbed the Booke out of my lap, I was momentarily shocked. Why shouldn’t he be able to touch it? He was just as intimately connected. At first, I felt a rush of jealousy. But when the Booke soon recognized him, it almost seemed to be…purring. I relaxed somewhat too, feeling a strange mixture of loss and relief.

  “The book is not for meddling,” he growled.

  “But is it safer than the rift?” said Doc. “I have my misgivings about the rift—the vortex—and the use of the scryer.”

  “As do I,” he said.

  I thought I’d feel more anxious about someone else holding the Booke, but as I followed Erasmus while he wandered about the room, I got the same vibe from him and the Booke together. As if they were one and the same. Were they?

  Erasmus brooded. He was good at that. His hair fell into his eyes, casting shadows over his face. His jaw was set, and the muscles in the side of his neck twitched and tensed. “I would rather not use the book in this way. There might be untold consequences.”

  Ed had watched the proceedings, not really knowing the details. “What is this vortex/rift thing you keep talking about?”

  Doc cut in before I could. “Perhaps you recall the caves, Sheriff, when the bicyclist was found?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “He died at the hands of the succubus, because inside the cave there is a rift in space. It swirls with power, which was why we called it a vortex at first. But it’s more accurately described as a rift—a torn place between the worlds. There was another at Karl Waters’ museum. When we investigated, Jolene was temporarily possessed by the beings inside it. That’s why we don’t want her anywhere near it,” he said, adding a pointed look at her. She replied with a sigh, an eye roll, and the crossing of her arms. “But we closed that one,” he went on. “Which we think was opened by the Ordo.”

  “Doug,” he said, scowling. “So…what’s a scryer?”

  “A tool,” Jolene cut in. “I made it. It detects magical people and objects. It can also control the rift…in theory.”

  Ed grunted. “Shouldn’t Dark be able to control the rift since he’s part of this whole book nonsense?”

  Affronted, Erasmus hitched the book in the cradle of his arm and raised his nose in disdain. “Nonsense, is it?”

  Ed shook his head. “I didn’t mean—”

  “No, of course not. You mortals are all alike. You disparage that which you don’t understand, and fear what you barely perceive.” His hands tightened on the Booke. “If we must choose, the lesser of two evils is the rift.”

  “Really?” I touched his arm, the one holding the Booke, and a sensation of…something…almost shocked my fingertips. “The rift is safer than the Booke?”

  “Yes.”

  Except I knew—by that touch or by my connection to the Booke—that he was lying.

  He avoided my gaze as if he knew that I knew. I was about to open my mouth when Doc interrupted. “Then once we’re ready, let’s get ourselves to the caves.”

  I tore my gaze away from the Booke and looked toward the windows. “It’s getting dark. We’ll be vulnerable to the Draugr.”

  “But Nick has that handy-dandy spell now.” Doc winked at Nick.

  Nick shrugged, but I could tell he was pleased with himself.

  “So wait a minute,” said George. Everyone slowed packing their things and donning their jackets. “We’re all just going to go to this rift thing and perform some sort of ritual that might make this hell gate open up wider? Shouldn’t we look for alternatives?”

  “We’ve got to get rid of Andras,” said Nick.

  “Then why don’t we just kill him?”

  Jolene sighed the loudest of teenaged-sighs. “Because, deputy, we don’t know where he is and where he’ll strike next. If we start the summoning ritual, he will automatically come to us. He’ll have no choice.”

  “And besides,” I said, “there are a few questions I’d like to ask him. He seems to know things about the Booke that I want to know too.” I glanced at Erasmus for confirmation, but he was too busy brooding under his hair. “I mean, as satisfying as it might be to kill him, I’m more interested in interrogating him. Once we’ve got him by the—” I glanced at Jolene. “Once we’ve got him, he’ll be in a perfect position to answer questions.”

  “Like what?” asked Doc.

  “Like what does he know about the Booke? How did he drag that ghoul out of it? What are the secrets I need to know?”

  He studied Erasmus. “Can’t Mr. Dark answer those questions?”

  “No. He doesn’t seem to know. So let’s concentrate on keeping Andras alive so he can answer my questions before we send him back.”

  Seraphina nodded. “It’s still a good idea to have the killing arrow as a back-up plan. We’ll have it ready for you, Kylie, just in case. Make sure you bring your crossbow.”

  I nodded. “I guess we should split up. I can drive my Jeep. Should we go in Doc’s Rambler or…”

  “We can take my Interceptor,” said Ed, still looking leery of it all.

  Jolene waved her hands. “Police car! Yeah, I want to do that.”

  Nick looked excited at the prospect, too, while Jeff hovered close by like a mother hen. I was actually relieved to see that Jeff was doing his alpha duty and keeping an eye on his charge.

  Ed seemed okay with extra p
assengers. “If anyone has flashlights, they’re preferable to using phones. Also, it’s quite a hike from the parking area to the cave.” He swept his gaze over Seraphina. “I recommend putting on some trousers and some good hiking shoes before we set out.”

  Seraphina looked like the only one in need of changing. Velvet and chiffon wouldn’t work for what we had ahead of us. Doc volunteered to take her home in the Rambler. It was decided that Jeff, Nick, George, and Jolene would go in the Interceptor, which left just Erasmus and me in my car. Which was fine. I had a few things to ask him.

  I missed the noisiness once they’d all left. Alone with Erasmus, I put on my L.L. Bean jacket with the hood. I tugged the crossbow out of Erasmus’ hand and looked it over, bothered by the empty sheath. I touched the bow, running my hand over the ebony wood and the inlaid silver metal of the weapon. It wasn’t really made of silver, of course, or Erasmus wouldn’t have been able to touch it. Tin maybe?

  “Before we meet up with the others,” I said, fiddling with the crossbow so I didn’t have to look at him, “why did you lie just then about the vortex being safer than the Booke?”

  “I did no such thing.”

  I met his gaze. “But you did. The…the Booke told me you did.”

  “Dammit,” he swore under his breath. “Kylie, you must understand, though the book might be inherently safer than the rift, there is danger in using it in this manner. You feel it now, don’t you? You know that it is capable of much more than what it seems to be on the surface. It wants to do more; this is why the Powers That Be insist that the Chosen Host be dispatched fairly quickly, so that the book cannot come into its full sentience.”

  “That’s what they’re really afraid of. That its power might overtake theirs.”

  “There may be some truth to that. I have no way of knowing.”

  “Are you telling me that most Chosen Hosts are…dispatched…sooner than…me?”

  “I’m saying that three weeks is an unusual timeline for a Chosen Host.”

  I touched my hand to my chest. Poor Constance Howland. The clock definitely started ticking once the cover was opened. How many days had she lasted? Two weeks? Ten days?

  I searched his guarded expression in a sudden panic. “Erasmus, are they calling you? The Powers That Be?”

  He hesitated, and finally said a quiet, “Yes.”

  “Oh my God. You can’t go.”

  “I know that!”

  “What will happen to you if you don’t?”

  His face suddenly fell. “I don’t know. All I know is, that the rift is safer for me than the book.”

  Poor Erasmus, only awake for an average of two weeks every several hundred years or so. My heart went out to him, and I found his hand and squeezed it. He looked at our joined hands in puzzlement.

  “What kind of life is this?” My voice broke. Tears pooled in my eyes.

  Erasmus slowly extricated his hand from mine. “We must be very careful. The Powers That Be must not be made aware of what we are doing.”

  “Okay.”

  “Baphomet and others are, no doubt, making the Netherworld aware of the goings-on here.”

  “The Netherworld network?”

  “If you like. Right now, there is confusion, and confusion is good. Andras was summoned by someone on this plane, but if the Powers That Be get wind of my…mutiny…then there might be more demons sent through the gateway.”

  “Oh, boy. I’ll do whatever you say to keep you safe.”

  He looked puzzled again. “To keep me safe?”

  “Of course. What did you think I meant all this time?”

  “Yourself.”

  I shook my head. “Sometimes you’re kind of an idiot.”

  “Why do you insist on insulting me? I’ve done nothing to provoke it.”

  The only way to take that look off his face was to lean in and kiss him, so I did. It was sort of quick but more than a peck. And it did the trick. A soppy, dreamy expression crossed his face.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked softly.

  I rested my hand on the side of his face, feeling his prickly stubble on my palm. “Because you looked like you needed it.”

  “I see.” He bent to kiss me back, so lingeringly that I still felt the heat of him on my lips as he drew away. “You needed it, too.”

  I swallowed. “We’d, uh, better go.”

  Baphomet had brought clouds with him when he arrived, but they had dissipated once he was gone. Still, it was late afternoon, and the sun was already at a low angle. It would be dark soon. That meant Draugr. Jeez, those guys were annoying.

  We didn’t speak as I drove out of town and onto the highway. I turned at the sign for Falcon’s Point.

  Falcon’s Point always reminded me of Constance Howland and her heroic suicide. Maybe if she’d only reasoned with Erasmus…but of course, she wouldn’t have. It was a different time back then.

  “Erasmus, is this ritual going to work?”

  “I have every expectation that it will.”

  “If it does, can we use it on Shabiri? Get her out of the way for good?”

  “Not while Doug possesses her amulet.”

  “Can’t you just snatch it like you did for Ruth’s locket?”

  “No. I cannot touch another’s amulet.”

  I shook my head. “This whole amulet thing… Seems counterproductive for demons to have them if they can be snatched so easily.”

  He scowled. “I did not invent amulets.”

  “I know but…someone must have. I think they wanted to make sure that demons could be controlled by those in the know.”

  He didn’t say anything to that, just sat back and brooded. He’d probably never thought about these finer points before. Maybe it pissed him off to know how little free will he had. I wanted to comfort him, but I also had no intention of giving back the amulet of his that I was wearing anytime soon so…

  I turned into the parking area. “I don’t suppose Andras has an amulet. I never saw one on him, as I recall.”

  “He is an older demon of a different class than Shabiri or I. He does not have an amulet.”

  The Interceptor and Rambler were already there. My ever-growing coven was standing around their cars as I pulled up.

  Ed and George had flashlights, as did Doc. I’d forgotten mine, but I was sure there was one in the trunk. Yup, under the tire cover. I got it and switched it on.

  The caves were up a trail through the woods. Not a difficult trail, but it wouldn’t be much fun in the dark, and the sun was on its way to setting.

  No one said anything as we turned toward the trailhead and began to walk. Erasmus didn’t need a flashlight, and apparently neither did Nick or Jeff. The two kept eyeing each other, and I knew what they were thinking. They wanted to wolf out and run ahead.

  Maybe that was a good idea.

  “Hey Jeff!” He turned his head sharply toward me. “Maybe…maybe you and Nick should, you know, scout ahead. Do the wolf thing?”

  I didn’t need to ask them twice. They both started disrobing. Jolene made a sound of surprise as Nick stripped down to nothing. He turned away from her squeak and handed George his clothes. “Watch this, George!” he said with glee before he morphed, black hair sprouting all over, tail shooting forth and fluffing out.

  Jeff had shifted in the blink of an eye. Seraphina gathered his clothes from the ground and stuffed them into a beaded bag hanging from a long strap across her chest.

  The wolves bounded into the forest with excited yips.

  George had turned white.

  Ed stood beside him and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, deputy. He’s in good hands. Uh, paws? They know what they’re doing, and they’re better equipped to take care of themselves now.”

  “Yeah. I…I guess so. It’s just…”

  He patted George on the shoulder and urged him on. George clutched Nick’s clothes to his chest, dipping his nose into them from time to time to take a whiff.

  We trudge
d on. I had the flashlight in one hand, the crossbow in the other. Seraphina dropped back to walk with me. She took the flashlight out of my hand and gave it to a perplexed Erasmus. “I have something for you.” She dug into her beaded bag and took out the arrow. “I did it. Doc and I managed to attach the head. Now the question is, will the crossbow accept it?”

  I stopped and lowered the crossbow. I stuck the bolt in its empty sheath and waited. I expected it to spit it out, reject it. But nothing happened. “It seems okay,” I told her, looking down again. Apparently, the crossbow had taken to it very well, because with the speed of an eye blink, it had armed itself with the new iron bolt and had even drawn back the string. “Wow.”

  “That is impressive. I never saw it happen.”

  “That is the essence of magic,” said Erasmus, shoving the flashlight back at me. “Magic works best peripherally, without being observed.”

  “Schrödinger's Crossbow?” I said.

  “But we perform magic and rituals all the time now,” said Seraphina. I think it was the first civil conversation she had ever had with Erasmus.

  “Rituals and casting spells are only manifestations of magic secretly present.”

  She tilted her head, thinking.

  “It sounds as if you’re calling magic sentient.”

  “Not at all,” he said. “It is a force, a power, present on different levels. When the book was opened, and thence a gateway created, that magic became more…available. Magic is always present in ways that are obvious and in many more ways that are nuanced.”

  “So that’s why we could perform small spells before, often with ambiguous results?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And if someone were a mage…”

  “They’d have an innate ability to tap into that which was always present.”

  She looked at me with a knowing nod. “Well! Thank you, Mr. Dark. That was most illuminating.” She flounced away, humming tunelessly to herself.

  When she was out of earshot, I asked, “Was all of that true?”

  “Of course.” And then he smiled.

  Demons lie. I kept forgetting. So was everything he said to me in the car a lie, or just some of it? And if so, which parts were which?