Henry Milton Park glowed under the lights in front of City Hall as we reached the 500 block of Milton. Most of the stores and offices zipping by in a blur had a few lights on in their recesses but the Hellburn Municipal Library loomed like a mausoleum up ahead, its windows dark and its columns casting gray shadows across its marbled facade. It had been closed for repairs ever since a freak storm – otherwise known as the demon lord Bellaxragor Stormreaper – appeared in the alleyway behind the building and I was beginning to wonder if it would ever reopen.
I assumed Cruz would whip into the parking lot like a cinematic action hero but she surprised me by taking her foot off the accelerator and letting the patrol car coast to a stop just short of the entrance. She peered up at the front doors, still strung with yellow Caution tape, and then scanned the street.
“I don’t see any cars,” she said quietly, as if she was afraid the burglars would overhear her. Milton Street was deserted as far as the eye could see.
“Maybe they parked around back,” I suggested, although I doubted it. The battle with Bellaxragor had turned the alley into a disaster area. Anyone without a four-wheel drive would have a hard time getting in and out.
“Maybe.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and then slowly pulled forward into the lot, positioning the patrol car crossways to make it difficult for anyone to get past. She shut off the car and opened her door. I followed suit. “What are you doing?”
“Getting out?” I thought it was pretty obvious.
“I don’t think so. Stay here and keep watch.” She got out and made to close her door.
“Aren’t I supposed to be your backup?” I protested. “What if something happens to you?”
“I think the real question is, what if something happens to you? I’m not going to be the one to tell the Chief that his son was hurt or killed on my watch.”
“Then what’s the point of me wearing this uniform?” I asked her, more sharply than I intended. “I’m not riding around with you in the middle of the night for the travel miles.”
Cruz blinked at me in surprise and then she snorted. “All right, fine, have it your way. Just don’t come crying to me if you get yourself killed.”
The odds of me dying at the hands of a regular human being were basically nil, thanks to the Philosopher’s Stone, but I couldn’t tell her that. Instead, I climbed out and surveyed the library. “How did they get in?” I wondered aloud.
“Through a door or window, just like everyone else,” she snarked, “unless you think they can walk through walls. Let’s check the front.” She started up the steps and I trailed after her, sorely tempted to Teleportal us inside just to wipe the dismissive expression off her face.
The only light came from the park across the way but it was enough to illuminate the landing at the top of the stairs and the four tall doors. Cruz kept her right hand on her holster as she reached out and pulled on the first door, but it didn’t budge. She tried the other three, with identical results. She stepped back and frowned up at the narrow stained-glass windows overhead but they were way out of reach and didn’t open besides.
“They didn’t get in this way,” she said unnecessarily. “Did you see another way in?”
“There’s a door around the back that doesn’t always close properly,” I told her, indicating the alley behind the building.
She eyed me skeptically. “How could you possibly know that?”
I used it to rescue Dara after Dr. Bellowes trapped her inside an enchanted geode. “My sister used to be in the library club, before the, um, storm.” I cleared my throat. “Do you want to check it out?” Cruz grunted her agreement and we retraced our steps to the parking lot.
It was quite a bit darker in the alley and Cruz swept her flashlight back and forth over the cracked and shattered pavement. It looked like someone had smashed it with a giant hammer, which wasn’t too far from the truth. She let the beam rest on the crumpled remains of the dumpster near the loading dock before turning away with the shake of her head. “What sort of storm does this kind of damage?” she muttered. I refrained from enlightening her.
The side door was just a plain gray rectangle set in the wall. There was no handle on the outside but it wasn’t quite flush with its frame. Cruz tested it with her free hand and then stepped back, silently motioning me to open it, resting her hand on the butt of her service pistol. My fingers didn’t have much purchase on the edge of the door but I’d done this once before, so I carefully teased it open until I could slip my hand in the gap and pull it wide.
The hallway beyond was dark and empty. Cruz ducked her head inside briefly and then chewed her lower lip as she eyed me, obviously deciding whether I should go in with her or stay outside. Before I could put my vote in, she said, “Stay behind me,” and stepped inside.
I tried to prop the door open but the hydraulic arm refused to cooperate and I didn’t have anything to jam in the opening. Instead, I just closed it as softly as I could and took out my own flashlight. The air was uncomfortably warm and close. Obviously the air conditioning wasn’t working.
Cruz flicked her light ahead, briefly illuminating the stairs leading to the main floor, and then along the narrow corridor to the right. “Do you know the layout?” she asked softly.
“Not really, no,” I told her, equally quietly. “I’ve only been in here a couple of times.”
She nodded, looking up at the ceiling as she listened. I held my breath and did the same, but all I heard was the rapid thumping of my heart in my chest.
“All right, let’s make this fast,” she decided. “You check down that way and I’ll go this way. Try all the doors. If they’re locked, move on. If not, just take a quick look inside. If you spot anyone, do not try to stop them, understood? Just back off and squawk me.” She tapped her walkie-talkie.
“Yes, ma’am,” I gulped. Cruz rolled her eyes and stalked off as I took a deep breath and began my search.
The first door I came to was labeled Janitor but it was locked. The next one, Supplies, wasn’t and I carefully peeked inside. This was where Mrs. Kendricks and Susie performed the ritual to free Olivia’s soul from Daraxandriel and my flashlight picked out Susie’s book bag and her melted athame lying on the floor, left behind in our headlong rush to escape Lilixandriel’s trap. I almost picked them up to bring them home with me but I didn’t want Cruz to think I was looting the library. I’d have to come back for Susie’s stuff some other time when there were fewer witnesses.
More than half of the doors I tried as I circumnavigated the floor were locked and the rest led to offices and storerooms devoid of any intruders. The place was eerily quiet, the only sound the scuff of my shoes on the linoleum and my own breathing. I started peeking over my shoulder, half-expecting to find someone stalking me, but I was completely alone. That observation wasn’t nearly as reassuring as I hoped.
I reached the stairs before it finally dawned on me that I hadn’t seen or heard Cruz since we split up. She probably went upstairs, I told myself uneasily. That’s where the important stuff is, so that’s where a burglar would go. I swept my light around to make sure her lifeless body wasn’t lying crumpled in a corner and then carefully made my way upstairs.
The main floor wasn’t quite as dark – gray light trickled in through some of the windows – but it was equally quiet. I held my breath as I listened again, trying to discern where Cruz was, but the place was absolutely still. I tried not to think about all of those horror movies that started in situations just like this and crept down the hall trying the office doors on either side. The main stacks were upstairs, I knew, and I wondered if there was anything worth stealing on the shelves. The Hellburn Municipal Library didn’t seem like the sort of place that would own a collection of rare manuscripts and the like.
A dull thud from somewhere up ahead stopped me in my tracks. I clicked off my flashlight and listened, trying to determine where the sound had come from. It wasn’t repeated and I carefully advanced, searching for a
ny sign of movement and wondering if I should try to contact Cruz.
All of the offices on this floor had frosted glass panels with gold lettering on them but only one of them was ajar. A dim yellowish light leaked out through the opening, probably from the street lights outside, but it was briefly occluded when someone – or something – moved past the door. The room was definitely occupied and I doubted it was Cruz.
I reached for the mike of my walkie-talkie and then hesitated. Cruz’s squawk comment was accurate, the units made a distinctive sound when the mike was toggled on and I was instructed to keep the volume up so I could hear it even under noisy conditions. Whoever or whatever was inside that room couldn’t help but hear it and who knew how they’d react?
I lowered my hand and held it out ahead of me, bringing up the row of combat spell icons. Since I didn’t want to actually kill the intruder or set fire to the library, I flipped over to my control set and let my finger hover over Sleep. A quick tap would knock out any would-be burglar and I could tell Cruz that they just fainted when I surprised them.
I continued down the hall, focused on the office door, planning my move. I couldn’t actually see inside the room, so I’d have to throw open the door and hope to surprise them long enough to activate the spell. There was some risk but the Philosopher’s Stone hanging under my shirt had already brought me back from the dead once. I wasn’t looking forward to getting a bullet in my chest but the odds were good that I’d survive it without a scratch.
I reached the door and lifted my right hand, both to push it open and to target whoever was on the other side. My eyes strayed to the glass pane and I was surprised to read A. Kendricks – Head Curator stenciled in gold leaf there.
Did Mrs. Kendricks leave something valuable in her office, I wondered, or is the burglar just searching all the rooms? I’d find out in a moment. I drew in a breath, let it out quietly, and pushed the door open.
Her office was just like I remembered it, with a modern-looking desk and computer, a trio of leather chairs, and a row of filing cabinets set against the wall. The pile of bizarre objects scattered across the surface of the desk was new, though, as was the person hunched over them.
For a startled moment, I thought she was Mrs. Kendricks – the floral pattern of her dress reminded me of her other outfits – but this woman was far too old. She was thin and gray-haired and wore thick glasses and the hands searching through the detritus on the desk were crooked with arthritis. She wore a large gold signet ring on her left thumb, probably the only digit it would fit on.
She rooted through a collection of stubby white candles, long black feathers, sheets of yellowed parchment, and other oddments, her watery eyes intent on her task. A worn leather satchel lay on the floor beside a ball of clay the size of my fist, no doubt the source of the sound I heard. I had no idea what possible use the pile of junk would be to anyone but we could sort that out later. I raised my right hand, locking my targeting reticle on her, and a white glow surrounded her.
She paused at that moment and looked up, as if she somehow sensed what I was doing. Her eyes fastened on me, sending a shiver down my spine. I was about to put her to sleep when I realized who she was.
“Mrs. Phipps?” I asked incredulously. “What are you doing here?”
She slowly straightened, at least as much as her stiff spine would let her, scowling at me as if she was annoyed at the interruption. She studied my face, although she didn’t seem to recognize me, and a slow smile deepened the wrinkles webbing her features.
“You’ll do very nicely,” she murmured with satisfaction and I took a step back, suddenly wishing Cruz was with me.
“Don’t move,” I ordered shakily, bringing my hands back up. “You’re under –”
I didn’t stand a chance. Mrs. Phipps sprang at me with her arms outstretched, far faster than any geriatric librarian’s assistant should ever have been able to move. The last thing I remembered was a smothering darkness and a wrenching pain over my heart where the Philosopher’s Stone rested.
2
For most of recorded history, the average life span of a typical human being was around 30 years, just long enough for their children to have children and keep the species going. A couple of hundred years ago, though, that number started climbing, thanks to improvements in medicine, diet, and general living conditions. Nowadays, it’s not unusual for people to live well into their 80’s and 90’s and hitting 100 isn’t as noteworthy as it used to be.
The downside of this extended longevity is that humans haven’t changed all that much in the last 10,000 years, genetically speaking. Now that we’re not dying from starvation, plagues, and wars, we’re living long enough to die from cancer and Alzheimer’s. Medical science has come a very long way but it can’t halt the aging process. As someone once pointed out, being healthy is merely dying at the slowest possible rate.
This really takes the shine off immortality for me. Living forever has very little appeal if I’m going to spend eternity in a wheelchair drooling on my shirt. Of course, the way things have been going for me recently, I’ll be lucky to see another Christmas. Heck, I’ll be pleasantly surprised if I make it to the weekend.
My brain fought a valiant battle but consciousness eventually won out and forced my eyes open. I was lying on my back, feeling numb all over and trying to fathom where I was and what happened. I should have been in Mrs. Kendricks’ office or maybe in the hallway outside, but the pale blue expanse overhead looked a lot like open sky.
I turned my head cautiously. To my left, a low brick wall edged a stretch of broken pavement. To my right, the side of a large building loomed overhead. I was clearly outside but I had no memory of how I got there.
I levered myself up on my elbows, trying to orient myself. Everything seemed washed out, like a watercolor painting left out in the sun. I blinked and rubbed my eyes but nothing changed. My ears seemed stuffed with cotton as well and shaking my head did nothing to clear them.
Am I hurt? I wondered muzzily. Nothing ached and a cautious survey of my skull with my fingertips didn’t reveal any suspicious bumps or wounds. I carefully got to my feet, feeling a bit light-headed, and turned in a complete circle. There was no one else in sight but I finally recognized the building. I was standing in the back alley of the library. The side door was closed tight.
How did I get out here? I must have staggered out and fainted after Mrs. Phipps attacked me, or maybe Cruz found me and carried me outside. And then she just left me lying here on the ground? I asked myself dubiously.
“Cruz?” I called. My voice was just a thin whisper in my ears. I tried again, louder. “Cruz? Where are you?” There was no answer. I pressed the talk button on my mike but the familiar squawk was alarmingly absent. “Cruz, can you hear me? This is Peter. Are you there?” No response. “Cruz, come in.” Nothing.
I checked my watch as I hurried towards the parking lot, trying to figure out how long I’d been out, but it was totally dead. The smartphone in my back pocket was the same. “What the hell?” I muttered. I’d charged them both before my shift started.
I rounded the corner of the library and stopped in dismay. The parking lot was empty and the patrol car was gone. Given how things were going so far, that didn’t surprise me all that much. What did was the traffic along Milton Street. Cars sped by in both directions, as if this was rush hour instead of two in the morning. Then it finally dawned on me that the sun was up, casting deep shadows against the library’s facade. I’d been lying unconscious in the alley for hours.
“What the hell?” I murmured again. I tried to fit the pieces together in my mind. Cruz wouldn’t just leave me here and drive off. She must be chasing Mrs. Phipps. No, that can’t be right, I told myself, she’d be able to catch her at a brisk walk. Besides, she would have called for backup. No, Cruz must have carried me outside and then gone back in to arrest her. I eyed the library worriedly. Mrs. Phipps must have got her too and taken her keys. Cruz is probably still inside, maybe hurt. I n
eed to get help.
The question was how. With my phone and walkie-talkie out of commission, I needed some way to contact the station. There were probably phones in the library but if Mrs. Phipps was still in there, I’d be walking into a trap. No, she took the patrol car, I reminded myself. Or did she? Maybe she has an accomplice. I dithered for a few seconds and then shook my head. Better safe than sorry. I’ll call Dad. He’ll know what to do. I hoped so, anyway. It seemed pretty clear that magic was involved in whatever was going on here and the Hellburn police just weren’t equipped to deal with problems like this. I better call Mrs. Kendricks too.
I ran to the street and looked both ways along the sidewalk. There weren’t very many pedestrians in sight but a pair of teenage girls was strolling towards me, sharing earbuds as they watched something playing on their phone. I smoothed my uniform, straightened my shoulders, and tried to look officious.
“Excuse me, miss,” I called as they got within earshot. My voice was still faint but I couldn’t tell if the problem was with my vocal cords or my ears. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Excuse me!”
Neither of them looked up and I huffed a sigh of exasperation at today’s youth and their addiction to electronic devices and social media. I stepped right in front of them and held up my hand. “Excuse me,” I insisted in my most authoritative voice, “I need to borrow your –”
They walked right through me and kept on going, leaving me looking down at myself in disbelief. I spun around just in time to see one of them shiver and rub her arm as if she felt a cold breeze from somewhere. “Holy shit,” I breathed. “I’m dead.”
I patted myself, trying to confirm my theory. I felt normal, but that didn’t mean much. I squinted at my hands to see if I was translucent but all the colors around me were still washed out so I couldn’t be sure. I searched around my feet and spotted a crumpled Coke can lying by the curb. I reached down to pick it up and my fingers passed through it as if it wasn’t there. “Oh, shit.”
Sudden Death Page 2
