by Lisa Shearin
“I’m not grinning.” Then I realized my face hurt from doing just that. Heck, I probably even had bugs between my teeth, because of course, I’d insisted on taking the top off.
It was loud, dusty, and wonderful.
Mud or dust on the driver and Jeep meant you were doing it right. A dust-covered or mud-spattered Jeep was a happy Jeep. Come to think of it, seeing either one of those brought a smile to my face, too.
I grinned even more broadly. “Yep, I’ve got it bad.”
Rake turned to face forward, studying the landscape through our now less-than-clean windshield. He glanced down at the GPS app. Any signal my phone might have scrounged had vanished thirty miles back. Rake and Ian’s phones had some kind of turbo-charged satellite link or something.
The wind was starting to pick up, giving me second thoughts about taking the Jeep’s top off.
According to what passed for a map of the area, Shiloh City was all that was in the middle of a whole lot of nothing. Based on the information we had, the not-so-distant ridge had been the site of a silver mine back in the mid-1870s. It’d been a big strike, enough to justify the small town that’d sprung up nearby. Calling it a city would be pushing it, but the miners in Shiloh City apparently had civic pride to spare and had named their town accordingly. Once the silver had played out, so had the only reason for the people to stay. They’d gradually gone, leaving the buildings behind.
Ian and I slowed our respective vehicles as the ghost town came into view. We drove slowly down the one street, and stopped in front of the big, empty space in the middle of town. There were buildings on either side, but where the hotel/saloon/restaurant had once stood was bare ground.
I could feel Rake scanning the area to make sure we didn’t have company.
“Clear?” I asked.
“Within fifty miles.”
“Sense any malicious mumbo-jumbo?”
Rake continued his stare off into the middle distance. He slowly shook his head.
“Any recent portal action?” he asked me.
“Nada.”
We got out of the Jeep. Ian and Tam met us in front of where the hotel had been. Ben made his way over, still a little wobbly after our dash across the desert, ring on one hand, Dr. Cheban’s metal detector clutched in the other. We all waited for Ben to get his bearings.
As if listening to something only he could hear, Ben walked right through where the hotel’s front door had been and proceeded to a spot that, according to the photos, had been about where the front desk had stood. He stopped and looked down.
We all stayed put, not wanting to interfere in any signals the gem mage might be getting.
“It was here,” Ben called back to us.
Tam crossed the empty lot to where Ben stood, and the rest of us followed.
Ben was booting up Dr. Cheban’s detector. “There’s no crystal now, but I can sense that it was here recently.”
“Do you have any sense of a direction?” Tam asked.
Ben thought for a few moments, his brow wrinkling with effort. “I know this sounds strange, but it’s like the air is too thick.”
“It doesn’t sound strange at all,” Tam told him. “Agata would get her best read once the sun had gone down and the air cooled.”
“So, what do we do now?” I asked.
Rake clapped his hands together. “We make camp and have dinner. Who’s hungry?”
Tam grinned. “And for our after-dinner entertainment, I’ll teach Dr. Sadler how to defeat multiple opponents with a single rock.”
16
Rake’s idea of roughing it was way different from what I was used to. Tam’s idea of self-defense with rocks was a twisted take on Yoda and Luke Skywalker.
The first “tent” Rake put up was a cloaking spell that covered our entire campsite, including our vehicles, and made us invisible and inaudible to anyone in or even above the area. We even had a nice fire going, but if you were standing outside the barrier, all you’d see was a whole lot of dark desert. And a repelling spell thrown in would signal any desert critters to go around and keep right on going. That went for snakes and the two-legged variety as well. In addition, Rake and Tam would know if anyone came within a thousand yards of our little oasis.
We’d come prepared to stay at least one night, and Rake had told us he’d take care of provisions.
As a result, our campsite and meal had five-star ratings.
The tents looked like something out of an REI photo shoot, and the food tasted like it’d come from Rake’s hotel restaurant—which it probably had.
We were full and happy, and ready to watch Tam teach Ben the way of the rock, though Ben wasn’t particularly thrilled about being watched.
Tam was setting up the targets while Ben casually tossed a roundish rock in a baseball glove. Ian had brought one of his gloves for Ben to use when Tam had told him what he had in mind.
“Agata Azul has a baseball glove?” Ben called to Tam. “Or whatever the equivalent is on your world.”
Tam was putting the finishing touches on his targets. He’d found some old bottles and cans lying around and had lined them up on two large rocks that were a good fifty yards from where Ben stood. Rake had extended the campsite’s shielding spell to cover Tam’s after-dinner fun and games.
“Agata doesn’t use a glove, because she can control the speed of a rock when she calls it back to her.”
Ben stopped tossing. “Calls it?”
“That’s what I said. Until you have that level of control—though I believe it will come quickly—it’s safer to protect your hand.”
Tam’s targets reminded me of my childhood shooting range. It was where a cow pasture ended and thick woods began. My cousins and I had used an old washing machine with cans lined up on top. Select aunts and uncles had been our instructors. That washing machine had ended up with more holes than the cans. Now I spend a lot of quality time at SPI’s shooting range to get better with both of my weapons.
I used my paint pistol and rifle more than my real gun and had saved lives with them.
I could see through glamours and veils. Our commando teams could not. Put one rampaging monster that had been rendered invisible by a cloaking spell in a room with our commandos, and you had a recipe for disaster—not to mention death and dismemberment. If I could tag the beastie with glow-in-the-dark paint pellets, our commandos could take it down before it could take them out.
As a result, I took my target practice very seriously.
Ben Sadler didn’t have a gun. He had a pile of baseball-sized rocks on the ground next to him. There wasn’t anything special about the rocks. Tam had selected them based on what would be a comfortable size for Ben’s hands.
“Uh, Chancellor Nathrach—”
“Tam,” the goblin called back.
“Tam, I can’t throw that far.”
“That’s the point.” Tam finished and walked back to where Ben waited. “You don’t have to. You throw the rock toward the target to get it going. You tell the rock to go the rest of the way.”
“Tell the rock?”
“Yes, tell it. Just because you’ve never done a thing before doesn’t mean you can’t do it and do it very well. I know a young elf by the name of Piaras Rivalin. He’s only a few years younger than you and is one of the three most powerful spellsingers on our world.”
“Spellsinger?”
“It’s exactly what sounds like. With the power of their voices, spellsingers can influence thought with a hummed phrase, either sung or spoken, or control actions with simple speech or a tune. The number of people is irrelevant. I’ve seen a spellsinger turn the tide of a battle. They can project to make their voices heard, and anyone within hearing distance will be affected. Piaras once put an entire citadel of knights to sleep with a lullaby.”
Ben was quiet for a few moments. “And you think I have that level of talent?”
“I don’t think it, I believe and know i
t. Once you believe it yourself, a whole world of ability will open up to you. You have more talent than you know.”
Ben glanced down at the pile of rocks and out at the target, which was a goodly distance away. No problem for a bullet, but for a guy who didn’t have a major-league pitching arm? It’d be a bit much.
Tam didn’t see any of it as a problem.
“Whenever you’re ready, throw the rock in your hand at the target,” he told Ben. “Don’t think about it, just throw.”
“But I—”
“Just humor me.”
Ben did.
And the rock landed only halfway to the first target. Heck, I was impressed that it’d gone more or less straight. It was way more than I could have done. To say I threw like a girl was an insult to every girl who ever lived. I even threw Frisbees sideways.
Tam didn’t seem to be disappointed. In fact, Ben’s halfway point appeared to be what he expected.
“Again,” the goblin mage said. “Except this time, treat the rock as you would a stone of power.” Tam’s voice dropped into a lower register, soothing, hypnotic. I wondered if he didn’t have a smidge of that spellsinger talent. “Hold it, reach out to it with your gift, then visualize the target and tell the rock the path you want it to take. Relax and take your time.”
Ben closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Then another, and yet another. When he opened his eyes, they were focused on the most distant target.
He threw the rock.
It shot from his hand and flew straight to the target, shattering the old whisky bottle perched on the peak of the boulder.
Dang.
Now that was a talent worth having. Color me jealous.
Ben was standing there with his mouth hanging open. “I did it.”
Tam was smiling. “Of course, you did.”
“What just happened here?” I asked. “Aside from the obvious, which was way cool.”
“I suspected that Dr. Sadler’s skills extended beyond stones of power to any rock or mineral,” Tam said. “One of Agata’s abilities involves using any rock as a weapon. She sees a target, relays that to any random rock she finds, and throws it. I’ve never seen her miss. Not to mention, seeing a Khrynsani get knocked out with a rock between the eyes is immensely satisfying.” He glanced at Ben. “She can also call them back, so she only needs to carry a few.”
Ian nodded in approval. “Reusable ammo. Nice.”
“Would you care to call it back?” Tam asked Ben.
The gem mage had gone from dumbfounded to nearly giddy at the new trick he could so.
“Sure!”
“First you need to—”
Ben raised his mitt before Tam could finish.
If anything, the rock was moving faster on the return trip—and it was coming straight at us.
“Duck!” Ian shouted.
We all did.
Fortunately, the rock kept going. Unfortunately, it slammed into the Hummer’s front bumper. The rock exploded into a bazillion pieces. The bumper didn’t have a scratch.
Ben winced. “My bad.”
17
Ben threw rocks and called them back under Tam’s watchful eye until it was too dark to see the targets. After the first few, the rest of us went about our business, confident that Ben was past the whole “dangerous to himself and others” phase.
I took the opportunity to relax, or at least tried to.
Vacant buildings were popping out of existence all over the Southwest, each one larger than the building before. One, we barely knew who was responsible. Two, we had no clue what their evil masterplan was. However, we were fairly certain we were running out of time to stop number one from doing number two.
As far as we knew, Rake’s house was the only building to be brought here from somewhere else. That somewhere else was another world. Every time I’d tried to wrap my mind around that I’d gotten a headache. It was one of those mind-expanding visuals of something you never expected to see, something that shouldn’t be possible, but all too obviously was, rather like that deep space photo from the Hubble telescope. The one with the gazillon galaxies that was just a single, itty-bitty sliver of what was out there. The closer galaxies looked like galaxies. The ones farther away, like a single star. The mind-blowing part was that there were so many.
It was an astoundingly cool photo. So much so that I’d once made it my laptop wallpaper.
It’d lasted less than a day.
Why?
It freaked me the hell out.
That was the best way I could describe how looking at it made me feel. Uneasy didn’t cover it, not by half. It made me feel small, insignificant, a speck of dust on a larger speck of dust, in a solar system in the middle of an average-sized galaxy spinning through what seemed like an endless universe. Did the universe end? If so, where? What did the end look like? Or was our universe a mere speck among a vast expanse of other universes, going on and on, never ending? Like that last shot in Men in Black that zoomed out from the galaxy-in-a-marble that Orion the cat had worn on his collar, to two gigantic aliens playing marbles with a whole bag full of them.
Like I said. Freaked. Out.
Tam said we needed to wait until it’d been full dark for at least an hour to give Ben the best chance for picking up a signal of the cabal’s lair. The Khrynsani had gifted Isidor Silvanus with the equivalent of a bushel basket’s worth of those crystals, and that was merely what Rake had managed to gather from his mind link. There could be more. It looked like we were going to catch a break and have a clear, cool night. Perfect for Ben’s newfound crystal radar to do its thing.
Once we’d finished dinner, Rake let the fire die down to lessen any distractions for Ben. Rake, Tam, and Gethen were goblins with preternatural night vision. Between the wards, shields, and the guys, nothing or no one was sneaking up on us, so we mere mortals were free to enjoy the night sky.
Ian was doing just that. My partner was kicked back with a cold beer, slouched in his camp chair, head laid back, stargazing. I think it was the most relaxed I’d ever seen him.
He needed this. We all did.
I went about thirty feet outside of camp and turned away from the remains of the fire, gazing up into the night sky.
Without any cities nearby, the Milky Way was clearly visible. I’d been able to see the stars from the top of the mountain closest to home, but even then, there was light pollution from Knoxville. Aside from the ridge to our west, it was flat here, and the sky seemed to go on forever. Surprisingly, it didn’t make me feel small. I felt as if I was part of something larger. There were advantages to getting away from civilization every now and then.
I sensed Rake coming up behind me.
“I can’t wait to take you home,” I told him. “October can’t get here fast enough.”
His arms went around my waist, pulling me back against him, his chin just above the top of my head.
“And I can’t wait to go home with you,” he murmured.
I smiled. “You might want to put your enthusiasm on hold until after you’ve met my family.”
“I don’t see that being a problem.” He softly kissed the top of my head. “Are the stars as visible there?”
“Yes and no. If you go to the top of Widow’s Peak, and the night is clear, you can see about…um, seventy percent of this. It just looks so much bigger here. I guess since you can see the horizon is why it looks like it goes on forever. I can definitely see why a sight like this is on a lot of peoples’ bucket list.”
“Bucket list?”
“Things people want to see before they kick the bucket, meaning die,” I added before he could ask. I’d never realized how many idioms our language had; and when you were Southern, it tripled. “I don’t plan on kicking any buckets anytime soon, but there’s a lot of stuff I want to see.”
Rake snuggled closer. “Anything you want.”
I wiggled and turned in his arms so I was looking up into
his eyes. I grinned. “Be careful how you throw those ‘anythings’ around. You might get more than you can handle.”
“I can handle anything you need, want, or desire,” he said in a husky whisper.
“This isn’t nearly that acrobatic.” I glanced back up at the sky. “Actually, it’s quite simple, at least for you, Mr. Moneybags. First, I want to see the northern lights.”
“That’s it?”
“I said ‘first.’ Machu Picchu would be cool, so would Angkor Wat. I think I’d like to explore my own world, before I go traveling anywhere else.” I tentatively pointed straight up. “You know, up there—where you’re from.”
Rake’s solemn gaze searched my face. “I said ‘anything’ and I meant it.”
“You’ve been wanting to spend money on me, so I might as well help you do it.” My lips twitched at the corners. “On the way to Angkor Wat, those over-the-water huts on Bora Bora would be nice. I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ve got vacation time I haven’t had time to take.”
“It’s about time you did.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You deserve it.”
“And need it.” I suddenly shivered—and not from cold.
Rake tightened his hold. “What is it?”
I unwrapped Rake’s arms from around me. “Stay put.” I instinctively kept my voice down. “And douse your magic for me.”
He did. I quickly put about a dozen yards between us.
When I’d first moved to New York, I’d had a shiny new degree in journalism. The only job I’d been able to get was at a seedy tabloid called the Informer that specialized in the weird and spooky. My editor was a real creep, but it was easy to avoid him because of the cologne he marinated in every morning. I could smell where he’d been and where he was. That talent made me popular among the rest of the staff, who wanted to avoid him, too.
What I was getting now was still a scent, but a psychic one.
I’d sensed it in New York, and I sensed it now.
Marek Reigory.
“It’s him,” I said.
Rake came up beside me like a ghost, his magic held perfectly still.
