The Candle (Haunted Series Book 23)

by Alexie Aaron

  “Okay, but is this why you’re so prickly when you speak about Angelo?”

  “Angelo presented himself to me as a fellow paranormal investigator, then a birdman when he saved my life. You see, all these powers and changes in my body that will happen aren’t natural. Because of this, my body sometimes times out. We were working on a haunt that involved ATzxes when an aneurism, caused by bilocation, burst in my head. He rescued me, and to be honest, there was a mild flirtation on my part but a rejection on his. Later, he bargained with my aunt to buy me so he could enslave me into the Brotherhood of the Wing.”

  “Well damn, that wasn’t nice. I assume you forgave him.”

  “For the good of all I did, and ever since, he’s insinuated himself into my life.”

  “But you don’t trust him.”

  “No, not really. I must work with him from time to time, but he irritates me. He’s all… nevermind.”

  “There’s more.”

  “Yes, the long game that the Council of Women played involved me being part of the Brotherhood of the Wing, being trained in combat by them. The torture they put me through in the first twenty-eight years of my life was supposed to embitter me to become a cold-hearted assassin.”

  “They could be trying to have another go at torturing you,” Wyatt said, rubbing his jaw. “But I wouldn’t put it past my side either. Lucifer plays the best game of chess there is.”

  “I’ve met him,” Mia said. “He scares the pants off me.”

  “He used to be very lighthearted.”

  “Before the fall?”

  “Before the fall,” Wyatt confirmed. “Mia, Heaven was so different then. I don’t have anything on earth to compare it to, except to say that there were many strong personalities but still a strong brotherhood of angels. When that ended, it hurt so many on both sides. I believe you mentioned Michael.”

  “I’ve become acquainted with him and Sariel,” Mia told him. She didn’t know why she withheld Raphael’s name. Instinct told her to play her cards closer to her chest.

  “Michael and Lucifer were on different sides, and I was caught in the middle. And here I am.”

  “I’m sorry for your pain, but you have saved my butt so many times.”

  “Including now, hopefully,” Wyatt said. “Mia, we’re going to visit an acquaintance of mine named Quazar. He’s a practitioner of magic. Some would label him an alchemist, others a wizard. He’s not a devotee of Lucifer.”

  “What about Abigor?” Mia asked.

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “He could snuff me out to curry favor with the duke of Hades.”

  “He could, but he’s not political. He’s more of a survivalist. Quazar has lived a long time under the radar.”

  “So have you.”

  “Yes, I have. It has made me fat and boring.”

  “And rich,” Mia said.

  “Time makes you rich, Mia. The longer you’re on this earth, the more you can spot trends and invest properly.”

  “Ah, wisdom,” Mia said.

  Wyatt stared at the girl beside him. Her prepubescent body was incongruent with her experience. He had seen the memory of her fight with the demon with no name. It was swift and deadly. The realization that she had become the very thing she fought against her adult life didn’t sit well with her. It was as if fate had played a cruel trick on her, yet she knew that she made the choices. She made it happen. “Mia, I know you wished for your friendship to be returned consciously, but what about deeper? Did you wish you could start again?”

  Mia’s eyes widened. “I can’t say either way. Wouldn’t I have the candle if I did?” she asked. “I didn’t search my room. It never occurred to me.”

  “Don’t panic. Quazar may be able to tell. Magic leaves a residue that he can see or smell - I don’t quite remember which. He talks a mile a minute, and sometimes my mind wanders.”

  “Ted talks like that. I’ve learned to listen. It can be irritating at times, but I know that I’m lucky to be there in that moment to listen to him.”

  “He’s a lucky guy,” Wyatt said.

  “Sir, we will be at Quazar’s shop in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Nordin. Mia, don’t let Quazar read you,” Wyatt warned.

  “I won’t. Why?”

  “He could gather information that could destroy a lot of beings.”

  “Like the demon with no name did.”

  “Yes. I’d rather not burden him with the temptation.”

  “I agree.”

  “Let me talk. The less you say, the less he learns.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sir, we have arrived.”

  Mia looked out the window and recognized one of the shops next to Quazar’s. It was a bookstore she had visited with Cid and Dieter. “I assumed Quazar was a fallen, but was he a gargoyle?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “This is Gargoyle Row, or it will be. That bookshop is familiar to me.”

  “Mia, you never cease to amaze me. Where do you think gargoyles came from?”

  “I never really thought about it. I was under the assumption they were on the side of good. That they originally were carved of stone and were placed on buildings to protect the people inside from evil.”

  “That is an excellent example of good PR. Gargoyles are specialists in balancing, Mia. They are fence-sitters just like you.”

  “And Quazar?”

  “I’ll let you decide what he is for yourself,” Wyatt said. “But please remember, Quazar is a wheeler-dealer…”

  “Does he trade in favors?” Mia asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry, Wyatt, I’ve dealt with his kind before. You see, I knew a guy who knew a guy…”

  Chapter Five

  Mia walked beside Wyatt, offering her shoulder for him to steady himself with. “Think of me as an elaborate walking stick,” she said.

  “I curse this old body, but it has served me well,” he said, placing his hand on the offered shoulder.

  They moved across the busy sidewalk to the front of the building. Wyatt opened the door and walked in, drawing Mia behind him for her protection before he entered.

  “Welcome!” boomed a happy voice. “Welcome to Quazar’s Magic Shop. The proprietor will be with you in a moment.”

  Wyatt and Mia looked around for the owner of the voice. The front of the shop contained several small display tables, deep high shelves, and glass-topped counters, but nothing else.

  Ventriloquist dummies sat slumped in chairs waiting for someone to animate them. Mia didn’t like their creepy smiles. Anything that contained a fixed smile unnerved her. It was as if a lie was frozen and kept displayed on the wooden faces. A lie that said, “I love having an arm shoved up my back and words put in my mouth.”

  Mia felt someone try to slide into her mind house. She rejected entry and hissed at Wyatt, “There’s a mind reader here.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I can’t be mind-read unless I open the channel,” Wyatt said. “Can you read the reader?”

  “No, he or she is too strong. The only way I was able to sense the invasion is that the reader has been in my mind before.”

  “Someone has left a calling card, eh?” Wyatt said.

  “I don’t know who yet,” Mia admitted. “I just know it wasn’t the first time.”

  There was a disturbance of two men arguing before the curtain at the back of the shop was pulled back and a wingless gargoyle, wearing the façade of a striking man of indeterminate age, strode into the room.

  He was followed by a young Gerald Shem.

  “He’s my mind reader,” Mia said barely above a whisper.

  Gerald stared at Mia, his dark Haitian eyes trying to place her. Mia stared back. He was a beautiful man. Why her aunt hadn’t fallen in love with him was a crime. Here was a powerful man who loved without question. Mia sent a message to him silently, “I’m Beverly’s niece.”

  “Have you been brought here against your will?” h
e asked back.

  “No. I came for your help.”

  Quazar had reached Wyatt and stopped. He gave the demon a slight bow. “Wyatt, it’s good to see you.”

  “I see that you’re well. The child can see through your façade if you want to save energy,” Wyatt informed him.

  Quazar dropped the glamour, and Mia smiled at the cat-faced gargoyle. He stood a good six feet tall. He was garbed in a voluminous navy-blue caftan, his waist cinched in by a gold rope. “Gerald, this is an old friend of mine Wyatt Wayne. Wyatt, Gerald is my protégé.”

  “Gerald,” Wyatt acknowledged. “Gentlemen, this is Mia, a friend of mine who has need of your counsel.”

  “Intriguing,” Quazar said. “Come into the back room where we can be more comfortable.”

  Gerald lifted and held the curtain back while his mentor, Wyatt, and Mia passed through the doorway. He followed them in, shutting the curtain behind them.

  Mia moved in stunned silence. She didn’t know exactly what to expect as she walked out of the twentieth-century shop into a neo-Gothic style library. The richness of the furnishings paled in comparison to the gilded books sitting on the shelves. Everything in the room seemed to be framed with carved glossy woods. Quazar sat down in a large wingback chair built to accommodate the large body of the gargoyle. He waved his arm. “Find a chair to suit you.”

  “This is a beautiful room,” Mia said, spellbound. “I could spend all day just looking at all these books.”

  “It’s refreshing to meet a young person who would prefer a library to a mall,” Quazar said. “Don’t you agree, Gerald?”

  “Yes, sir. Mia, Mr. Wayne, can I make you a coffee?”

  “I think that gargoyle coffee may be too much for my charge,” Wyatt said.

  Mia was disappointed. She’d heard that gargoyle coffee was the best in the world. She didn’t say anything. She’d promised Wyatt that he’d be in charge.

  “How about a café latte? The frothy milk helps balance the bitterness?” Gerald asked.

  “No thank you, I’m fine,” Mia said.

  They waited until coffee was made and drunk before Quazar turned his full attention to Mia. “Now tell us how we can be of help?”

  Mia looked over at Wyatt first and he nodded.

  Mia opened her purse and pulled out the copied picture and handed it to Gerald. “I believe that the evening before last, a wish candle was used. I’m not sure if it was accidental or not. All I know is that I went to bed thirty-two years old and woke up a twelve-year-old.”

  “Did you wish to be twenty years younger?” Quazar asked.

  “No. I’m married and have a family. Why would I wish that away?”

  “I don’t know you, Mia. I know a few people for whom this would not be a problem.”

  “There are possibly other reasons why Mia being twenty years younger may be desirable to others,” Wyatt said.

  “Wait, do you still have the memories of the thirty-two-year-old?” Gerald asked.

  “Yes.”

  “She could be used to manipulate stocks,” Gerald offered.

  “But that would mean someone placed the candle on the cake for that reason,” Wyatt said. “Mia, tell them what you remember of the evening.”

  “It started with an associate and dear friend of mine wanting to mark all our missed birthdays with a birthday cake. She and her husband purchased a basket of interesting little candles from a vendor at a farmers’ market. We each chose a candle and put it on the cake. I lit all the candles, and we blew them out. Nothing unusual happened after that. We drank a lot, sang bawdy songs, and the Stavroses stayed over because their son was asleep upstairs with my son Varden. The other guests stayed in the aerie. Ted and I went to bed. I woke in the middle of the night into what I thought was a dream. In my dream, I was in my childhood room being tended to by a benevolent ghost I chose to call Misty Mom. I went back to sleep and awoke into this same nightmare.”

  “Why have you come to me, child?” Quazar asked.

  “I need confirmation of our theory. Information about the candle: who may have made it, what caveats I must watch out for, etcetera. In the book, it says I have until the next full moon to fix this. Is this true?”

  “I’d say, offhandedly, that it could have been a volo candle. What did the candle you chose from the basket look like?”

  “Mine looked like a taper from a minora. Everyone’s candle looked different. All shapes and sizes.”

  “You don’t remember who had what?”

  “No. There was one candle that kept relighting. I was accused of the prank, but it was my grand… Orion who was the prankster. This candle was on the other side of the cake, so I couldn’t tell you if it was the volo candle or not. If so, Mike blew it out five times.”

  “Volo candles can be made with white and black magic. The practitioner pours the wax into a mold and extracts it when it is still malleable. He or she then sculpts ancient symbols into the candle. This is where the magic comes from. Although, birthday cakes have been around since the ancient Romans, the volo candles haven’t. They started showing up here in North America in the nineteenth century. Gerald, bring me Irving’s Guide to Candle Making.”

  Gerald walked over, climbed the ladder, and moved it along until he had secured the volume. He climbed down and handed it to Quazar who thumbed through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “It says that the spell not only affects the person making the wish, but everyone in the room in which the wish was made. Because of this, Irving advises that it not be used for life-altering things. It can be reversed by simply snapping the candle in two.”

  “We’re working on the assumption that someone wished to be twenty years younger,” Wyatt said.

  “That would explain Mia’s situation,” Quazar confirmed.

  “Why didn’t the wisher simply become twenty years younger?” Wyatt asked. “Why send them all into the past?”

  “Using magic, white or black, there is always a payment, a caveat if you will. Let’s say I wished to be a rich man. I become rich, but magic chose me to become rich because of a bank heist. I would be arrested and would not be able to enjoy my newfound riches. It’s sort of the universe’s way of keeping us magicians, wizards, witches, and so forth under control. Simple wishes like, ‘I’d like a vintage Barbie,’ may be granted without censure. But in my experience, there is always a price.”

  “I’m working under the assumption that the wisher didn’t know the candle was magic. Would the person wishing to be twenty years younger know what they had done?”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no,” Quazar said.

  “Would the others in the room know?” Mia asked.

  “No. They are but casualties of the wish.”

  “Why do I know this has happened?” Mia asked.

  “I trust since you can see through my façade that you’re a sensitive?”

  “Yes. I can see ghosts. In the future, I can do more but not now. I’ve tried.”

  “You’re twelve. Twelve is the calm before the storm. It’s not surprising. Because of your sensitivity, your mind is wired differently. It’s stronger, harder to fool. It’s not impossible that very powerful, magical people could also be pulled into the past and retain their memories.”

  Wyatt cleared his throat before he said, “Quazar, could the candle have been planted in hopes of this result?”

  “What result?”

  “Making Mia twelve again.”

  “I think it would take more than the candle. It would take an implanted suggestion. Yes, it could be done. If so, I’d look to the purchasers first.”

  “Could the suggestion be placed on the candle itself?” Wyatt asked. “You know, an absorption or permeation spell?”

  Quazar thought a moment and nodded his head.

  “But who would do this to you?” Gerald asked.

  “I can think of a few entities,” Mia said. “Without compromising you further, let’s just say, there probably is interest in having another chance to
influence me down the path I was genetically engineered to take. Since my birth, events were staged to develop my psyche for the task. Fortunately for me, I was more influenced by the last fourteen years than the first.”

  “So, they may want another try. But wouldn’t you face the same influences?” Gerald questioned.

  “Maybe not. For example, by my being in Chicago right now, I may have missed an interaction in Big Bear Lake that I should be having. It’s impossible to repeat the past. Also, to face the horrors I will have to face in order to keep things the same may be too much for me. It could damage me more than it did the first time,” Mia confessed.

  “Who were your engineers?” Quazar asked.

  “Quazar, I think this would be too dangerous for you and your protégé to know,” Wyatt cautioned. “Let’s just say, the creatures on both sides of this fight for Mia are willing to kill to remove obstacles.”

  “If so, you’re dealing with a very dangerous task,” Quazar said. “Who have you chosen to go with you?”

  “I’m going to escort her,” Wyatt said.

  “No, absolutely not!” Quazar said. “Anytime a fallen sneezes, a flag goes up.”

  “She’s a child without powers. She can’t go alone,” Wyatt said.

  “I’m going with her,” Murphy said from the door. He stood there looking like a living man. His clothes were still the same worn work clothes he died in. His hat was set low on his forehead. But it was the steely-gray eyes and set of his chin that spoke of the caliber of the man. The fingers of his right hand drummed on the handle of his axe while he waited to be acknowledged.

  “How did you get in here? I have protections!” Quazar exclaimed. “Gerald, escort this farmer from…”

  “No, let him stay,” Mia pleaded. “Quazar, this is Stephen Murphy. He’s always had my back in my timeline. He was there at the party.”

  “How’d you know to come here?” Wyatt asked.

  “I followed you from when you picked up Mia. It’s not that I don’t trust you, sir, but Mia is a handful at the best of times. You have to be extra watchful.”

  Mia opened her mouth to protest but thought the better of it. He was speaking the truth.