by E M Lacey
Julius gently moved Abigail from the door and pulled it open. Alex rushed from the room. The straps of her orange sundress hung off her shoulders. The color contrasted with her dark skin. Her gray, streaked, kinky hair was in an awkward braid that fell to the middle of her back. Alex was taller than Abigail but she was frailer. She grabbed Abigail in a hug and released her. Dark eyes shone with fresh tears and her chin trembled.
“You have to help her!” She twisted toward a corner of the room, pointing frantically.
Abigail gasped at the small, pale form lying in the corner of the room. “Alba?”
Alex nodded and began crying. “I don’t know what they did to her!” She shook her head then returned to her daughter. She fell to her knees, her hands fluttering about helplessly.
Julius stepped into the storage room just as Abigail sat next to Alex. McKellen remained in the doorway. His gaze traced the warding around the interior. He whistled his appreciation.
Abigail took Alex’s fluttering hands and squeezed. “What happened?”
“We were upstairs watching Netflix. Everything was quiet. We already had dinner and were sharing some ice cream as we watched the show. All of a sudden, boom! Things started crashing all over the place downstairs.”
Alex’s gaze dropped to her daughter, whose normally mocha skin was a sickly shade of gray. Alba looked dead, but her chest rose and fell in an easy rhythm.
Abigail’s gaze followed Alex’s. “Oh dear!” She looked up at McKellen. “Can you help her?”
McKellen nodded, joined them, then made both Abigail and Alex step away.
“Julius, I need you.”
Julius joined McKellen. He was holding a leather pouch similar to McKellen’s. He flipped it open and removed a vial of luminescent blue liquid.
McKellen pulled several necklaces from his shirt. He flipped through them, pausing on one that was silver-white. He removed it from his neck. Julius lifted Alba’s head and McKellen placed it on her. Julius lay her back down. Her color improved.
Alex reached for her, but McKellen stopped her. “You need to let her rest.”
“What is it?”
“Healing crystals: iron pyrite and hematite. They’ll draw away negative energy and balance her.”
Alex thanked him, clasping her hands together, knuckles white.
“Ms. Montes, please. Did anything else happen?” Julius urged, his gaze shifting to Abigail, who picked up on the cue.
“Yes, tell us more,” Abigail placed her hand on Alex’s shoulder, urging her to move further away.
Julius began helping McKellen with Alba again once Alex was properly distracted. Julius angled Alba’s head slightly toward McKellen, who reached down and opened her mouth. Julius had already uncapped the vial. McKellen poured its contents, which looked like glowing blue honey, into her mouth. Alba coughed and her limbs relaxed.
Alex took a deep breath. “Well, after the crashing started, I noticed that the alarm didn’t go off. At first, I thought it was that vampire, but then I remembered that he is dead, so I went down to see what was wrong.” She pointed at a baseball bat leaning in the corner near where she and Alba were in the storage room. “I took my bat and I told Alba to stay upstairs.” Alex’s worried expression darkened. “She didn’t listen to me! She has stopped listening to me since that vampire showed up here!”
Abigail pat Alex’s hand gently. “She’s a child. She loves you. All children feel the need to protect their parents.” Abigail shrugged, offering an apologetic smile. “Besides, what child is truly obedient, especially in times of crisis? It’s in their nature.”
Alex calmed. “I think she was worried about that box she brought home.”
“What box?” Abigail looked around the small storage room for a box Alex had yet to describe to her.
“Did it glow?” Julius was still working on Alba.
“Yes.” Alex leaned away.
Julius jerked his head toward the front of the gallery.
Abigail wanted to go back and inspect it, compare it to the one she’d found this morning, but she didn’t. She was certain the hunters would know what to do. Her job was to keep Alex focused.
“Who cares about a box? Alba could have died.” Alex thrust her finger in the direction of McKellen and Julius. “She might be dying now!”
“She’s not dying,” McKellen interjected and continued his work.
Abigail motioned for Alex to keep talking.
“Alex, what you tell us will help the hunters to better understand what’s wrong with Alba.”
“Okay. Okay.” Alex wrung her hands. “Alba followed me downstairs. As soon as her feet touched the floor, she screamed and started beating at the air.” Alex’s voice and breathing quickened. “She started bleeding.” Alex paused, unclasped her trembling hands, shoved them into the folds of her skirt, and rocked. Abigail’s warm hand rubbed her back. It helped. Her heart still kicked in her chest, but she could do it. She licked her lips, swallowed, then continued. “I didn’t know what to do, so I prayed and grabbed Alba. I tried to use my body to stop them, but something pulled me off her. I was thrown across the room. By the time I was able to get back to Alba, she fell. She was so still, then she started losing color.” Alex swallowed loudly.
Abigail shook her gently. “What happened next?”
“They stopped attacking her, then started destroying my gallery.” She waved her hands toward the doorway. They fell to her sides. Alex inched a little closer to the hunters. “Is she going to be okay?”
“She’s going to need a witch,” Julius said absently as he ran his hands along Alba’s arms. He tapped McKellen. He pointed at several bite marks. McKellen’s eyes narrowed.
“Bridgette is the only witch we know of.” Abigail pulled out her phone.
“How far away is she?” McKellen leaned in close, inspecting the bite marks.
“I don’t know.” Abigail double-tapped Bridgette’s number.
Julius carefully lifted Alba as Abigail connected with Bridgette. She began rattling off the chain of events. When she reached the particulars about what was wrong with Alba, McKellen held out his hand for the phone. Abigail passed it over. McKellen fished the Suburban’s keys from his pocket, as he updated Bridgette and led the group from the storage room. Alex hovered as close as possible to Alba, who Julius wouldn’t let her touch.
McKellen ended the call. He returned the phone to Abigail and left the storage room. McKellen paused in the middle of the gallery. He plucked the sun stones from the space where they levitated. The stones shrank to their normal size, but the glow remained. He returned all of them, except one, to his pouch.
They stepped out of the gallery. McKellen stopped, did an about-face, then set the stone he was holding in the middle of the doorway. Abigail felt rather than saw the warmth of the stone’s shielding. McKellen stepped back.
“This will keep curious folks away, and the bad stuff inside.” McKellen rubbed his hands on his jeans then examined the parking lot. It was empty, which was surprising. He was expecting either cops, angry citizens, or both. They had a clear path to the truck.
Julius was careful when he strapped Alba in the backseat. Alex was forced to sit on the opposite side and Abigail sat in the middle to help Alex curb her need to touch Alba. Once the ladies were situated, he took his place up front.
“Where are we going?” Alex asked.
McKellen’s cellphone chimed. “We’re going to Bridgette’s place.”
“Keeper’s Cove?” Alex offered.
McKellen stopped the truck, undid his seatbelt, and turned completely around. His gaze fixed on Alex. “How do you know that?”
Alex shrugged. “I heard her say it once.” She looked away, finding the clear streets fascinating. She would never tell them she’d eavesdropped on Bridgette’s sessions with Alba since the incident with the vampire.
McKellen relented. He settled back in the driver’s seat then launched the link Bridgette had forwarded to him. He put the truck in gear
, the Suburban kicking up dirt as it pulled onto the road.
Chapter Eleven
Aurora Dixon was grateful that her audience stepped out of the safe room. She was getting tired of the press of worried eyes whenever she looked down at a law book or at the computer screen. They were probably waiting for her to crack or drown them in a flood of questions. What person wouldn’t after walking into a real-life freak show?
She was 110 percent freaked, but being part of the Dixon clan had taught her how to function with fear. She was a pro at compartmentalizing the things she couldn’t process. There was always later, and if she didn’t make it to later, then she didn’t need to dwell on what she couldn’t stomach.
Her family had traced its lineage down to their tribe. Her roots were tied to oracles and witch doctors. Witch doctors healed and chased evil away from their people, while the oracles were spiritual guides for the living and tethers to the ancestors. Her people had no natural magic. They fought it. They were witch doctors trained in the art of defense. Keepers of sacred objects and masters at warding. Knowing what marks locked out the bad in and of itself was powerful, but not magic.
Aurora pushed away from the cramped desk, got up, and stretched. She moved in a slow circle around it. The more she rolled her family’s talents around in her head, she pinned down the core: conduits. They were either mediums, holistic healers, or seers.
Their talents differed by degree. Her cousin, Edith, was a gifted seer. The belief was that seers literally peered into someone’s future. The talent didn’t really work like that. It wasn’t technically seeing someone’s actual future, but a seer followed a person’s lifeline. Based on the ever-shifting colors of the person’s lifeline, which was just a progression of one’s aura, Edith could determine a good or bad turn. It helped her clients, but failed her when death arrived. Edith delivered her readings straight with no chaser. A firm believer that her client had to choose their own way. One client didn’t like his reading and shot her in the head. He thought it was funny, said something about opening up her third eye when he was arrested.
Aurora shivered. The darkness in people shouldn’t surprise her but it did. Murder couldn’t be undone. It draws karma forth and there’s nothing like karma, when she’s dishing out just desserts. Aurora felt somewhat grateful for her unfortunate ancestral talent, sensitivity to the Nether, the space where wandering spirits and dead things lived. She could hear them. She caught their impressions sometimes. She was sure she could see them if she tried. They could see her. It took a while but she learned how to ghost the ghosts. Ordinary mortals were as invisible to occupants of the Nether as they were to humans. Only faith and blood made them real.
Her sensitivity was new to the Dixon line. Her grandma said she inherited it from her father. A man no one knew. Her mother couldn’t recall what he looked like, not even a nickname.
Aurora settled on the edge of the desk. She was in Covenant, Illinois, to find the one person who could answer her questions, her father. Her mother had a vision, which was rare, but always exact. Her vision revealed a way to save their line from extinction. She was twelve at the time. Her mom told her what to study, predicted the Reveal, and gave her the name of the law firm she was to work for.
Fate had a bad reputation but it was fair to the Dixon girls. Aurora did what she was told. She earned her paralegal certificate and finished a pre-law degree. Looked for the ad and applied. What her mother had not foretold was the freaky little box and the bad juju surrounding the firm.
A small bell rung three times. It was a slow melodic ding. Pretty. It drew Aurora’s gaze to the heavily warded entrance. Mr. Myer, Mr. Biggs, and their liaison, Sunni, were deep in conversation on the other side. Though she could see them, anyone on the other side couldn’t see her. Sunni had beefed up the wards after an unpleasant meeting with a strange warlock, Enoch. He wore a dark blue cloak with a single symbol on the front of the hood, which he wore down at all times. It cloaked his face in shadow. The only thing she was able to see was his deep red neck. Not Crayola red, but more of an I escaped a fire red.
Sunni had warned them earlier that some of the Others tasked with getting the office back up and running weren’t actually human-friendly. Some had to take an oath that, if broken, would kill him, her, or it. Problem with the oath was that the crime had to be committed, which was of no help to the potential victim.
Enoch seemed to hone in on her the moment he walked in. He was vulgar to her and rude to Mr. Myer. If it wasn’t for a petite little sorceress, Pyra, she wasn’t sure what he would have done. Pyra was little but fierce. She magically choked him out and told him off in a language that was not spoken by any human on the planet. After that incident, Aurora had been sentenced to research with a guard at the entrance. She wouldn’t be able to go to the washroom without an escort until Enoch left the premises. She’d asked if he could be sent away, which was a no-go. It seemed Enoch was the only person who could perform the cleansing ritual with Pyra. The ritual was a two-person job and was carried out by senior sorcerers and sorceresses, of which he was the only one in Illinois.
So far, Enoch passed the safe room three times, only to be shooed away by Sunni twice and promised death by Pyra. She hadn’t seen him since Pyra made her promise.
There it was again. Three slow melodic resonances. The trio outside the safe room were oblivious to it. Aurora neared the entrance at a cautious pace. She wondered if the trio outside were so deep in their conversation that they couldn’t hear it. She wasn’t sure. Once at the doorway, she leaned close to the wall so she could see past Biggs, Myer, and Sunni. Witches, warlocks, and human detectives moved about, collecting evidence. Those possessing magic were either levitating piles of broken things in preparation for the ritual or examining things her human eyes couldn’t see.
A third resonance of the bell rose again. It was coming from outside. She angled her head so her ears could take the lead. She followed the sound to the north wall. She pressed her ear against it, listening intently. Pressure closed around her chest, shoulders, and back. Her head swam. A flash of darkness, then she heard it. A strong heartbeat beneath her ear. She opened her mouth, but a large hand covered it.
“Ah, ah, ah, my little bird. We can’t have you alerting the others.”
She looked up into the darkness of Enoch’s hood. She could only make out the whites of his eyes and the glowing yellow irises. His voice wasn’t extraordinary. It wasn’t even scary, but the situation was. Enoch was close to seven feet in height, and from the feel of him, he was all broad thick muscle.
His arms tightened around her. “I haven’t seen a bird as pretty as you in centuries.” He began moving away from the wall. “Even the ones I owned were not as pretty as you.”
Aurora scanned her surroundings quickly. She didn’t know the space, but was sure it was one of the partner offices. Everything was destroyed, including the pocket door that separated the office they were in from another. It was cracked but had not fallen.
Bitter herbs and smoke rose and a cold, clammy gel-like substance settled on the top of her head and began to work its way slowly down.
“I can’t have you running off.” Enoch pulled her flush with his body. He purred his contentment. “I’ll have to tuck you away until I can come back and retrieve you.”
Aurora scowled at him as the nasty gel covered her face. She twisted and kicked.
“Don’t worry, little bird. You will be able to breathe. All your senses will function.” He paced the area carefully, not making a sound.
The gel spread to her shoulders, moving in a steadier pace. She let herself hang loose, as the gel continued to travel and her captor continued his search. His grip loosened, not by much, but enough.
Aurora brought her knee up and prayed to God that the warlock’s junk was in the same place as a regular man’s.
Her knees connected and she dropped like a stone. Enoch fell to his knees, hands pressing his cloak to his genitals. She ran as fast as she could with the
gel still sliding down her body. She led with her shoulders as she met the pocket door. It cracked instantly, then shattered. Several splinters found their way into her skin. They hurt, but she was free for the moment.
A piercing cacophony of shrieks, growls, and screams beat against her head like a sledgehammer. The box! She was in the room with the box!
A scream trilled, sinking its teeth in her brain, drawing her to her knees in front of the glowing box. She wanted to look around to see if Enoch had recovered enough to follow her, but the pain kept her eyes sealed. The gel made it impossible for her to protect her ears, though she was sure that wasn’t how she was able to hear the box’s occupants.
A slow clap and approaching footsteps broke her heart. She hoped to fight standing up, not curled in the fetal position, which was all she could manage with all the noise.
“You thought you could run from me.”
Come on, Aurora, fight! Aurora’s arms shook as they struggled against the encapsulating gel. She managed to twist herself so she was on her stomach. She was able to see the spaces between the broken door of Mr. Myer’s office. Several shadows passed in front of it, but it was as if no one could hear what was going on.
Glowing sigils pulsed in time with Enoch’s words.
Crap! The room was warded!
Please! She felt her nose burn as her eyes filled with tears. Please someone help me! Aurora felt Enoch stop. The tips of his shoes pressed against her ribs.
Something clattered around on the floor near her head.
“What is this?” Enoch’s voice ticked up a few octaves, but he didn’t step away from her.
The clattering intensified, punctuated by a loud bang. It was then that Enoch did the strangest thing. He screamed.
Aurora felt tiny hands on her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of this.” A soft succession of cracks began at her shoulders. The tiny hands traveled down her arms and ended where the gel did. The tiny hands settled on her head. Small fissures formed.
