Chalice and Blade

by Alexes Razevich

  Dee had set the book down and stepped out onto the second-floor landing to take a call. It didn’t take more than hearing his muffled voice to know that something was up. I slid out of bed and dressed in street clothes, ready for whatever Dee was going to come back into my bedroom and say.

  “The Gate would like us to come by,” Dee said, striding back into the room. He eyed my clothes. “Now would be good, since it seems you’ve miraculously recovered and you’re dressed.”

  “Only recovered some, to be honest,” I said. “But enough to get out of the house and go hear what he has to say.” I paused. “Did he tell you what he wants?”

  Dee shook his head. “But he did say he’s the third Keeper.”

  “I knew it!” I said, irrationally proud of myself for having figured it out. “When Modis first came to my house I slipped into my dad’s head and saw vague images of all three sacred items. One was pretty clearly The Gate’s silver star.”

  Dee huffed under his breath. “You could have told me.”

  I pushed a hand through my hair. “You were still up north, and later, I guess it slipped my mind.”

  “Slipped your mind?”

  I shrugged. “There was a lot going on.”

  Dee lifted his eyebrows but didn’t say what he was thinking. “He knows we have the other two and would like us to bring them to him.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll be glad to be rid of them. They’ve brought nothing but heartache.” I paused. “Did he say how Bridget is doing?”

  “He said she’s better. She’s still staying with him in between dips in the ocean.”

  I took the small wooden chest with the chalice and blade inside from the back of my closet and we headed downstairs.

  The Gate’s apartment was fairly spacious, but the living room seemed crowded when we walked in. Dee stiffened as his gaze flickered across the faces. The vibe in the room immediately turned spiky.

  The Gate was sitting on the couch with Bridget, who looked much better than the last time I’d seen her. Jack Schneider sat in a brown leather club chair that looked straight out of a 1950s lounge bar.

  Elgrin, the fairy warrior who’d very likely tortured and killed Dee’s brother, stood against a wall, her arms crossed over her chest.

  I touch Dee’s arm in support. He didn’t flinch away, which I’d thought he might, given that I’d been the one who promised the dark sorcerer to Elgrin, never thinking it could possibly be Dee’s brother. I was the one, ultimately, who’d brought Gil to his death. I knew Dee didn’t blame me, but that didn’t lessen my regret.

  The two locked eyes—the grieving wizard and the angry fairy. I felt Dee’s fists clench and anger erupt through him. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breaths—except The Gate who leaned forward, curious to see where this would lead.

  Dee nodded slightly to the fairy. “Elgrin.”

  The fairy nodded in return. “Wizard Adair.”

  The air crackled with magic, Dee and Elgrin each ramping up in case the other started something.

  Bridget rose stiffly from where she sat next to The Gate on the yellow couch. “Oona. Diego. So good to see you. Come. Sit.”

  She sat again, scooting over closer to The Gate, inviting us with a nod to sit with them. Dee exhaled deeply, walked to the couch, and sat next to her, though I knew he’d rather be sitting across from them—in the chair Jack had taken. I took a spot on Dee’s other side.

  The Gate focused on me and the box in my arms. “I see you brought them.”

  “We did,” I said and paused. “Can I ask why Jack and Elgrin are here?”

  The Gate chuckled. “Jack has been appointed by The Council as the new Keeper of the blade.”

  Dee smiled warily, as if worried for Jack and this new responsibility. “Congratulations.”

  “Ah,” I said, a new realization flitting through my mind, an understanding of Jack’s recent odd behavior.

  Jack nodded slightly. “It’s an honor I probably don’t deserve.”

  The Gate grinned. “And Elgrin has been named as the new Keeper of the chalice.”

  Dee turned to face her, then nodded his acknowledgment.

  “Congratulations,” I said though I wondered if fairies saw the role of Keeper with the same high regard we did. Maybe the fairies thought of it as an annoyance, one more thing to be looked after.

  “I’m sure,” The Gate said, “that the new Keepers would be honored to receive their item from two of the people responsible for saving them when they were stolen.”

  I assumed that was my cue to open the box and hand the chalice to Elgrin. I slid the cup out and began to stand.

  “No,” The Gate said. “I’d like Diego to hand that one over.”

  Dee shot a cool look at his former mentor. “Of course.”

  I handed him the chalice. His vibe was reserved but calm. Whatever had run through him at seeing Elgrin here, he seemed to have dealt with it—or at least tucked it away out of view for now.

  Elgrin took the chalice with a deeper bow of her head than she’d accorded Dee before. I thought she’d decided it was good the wizard had come to his senses. Not that I understand the fairy mind, but it was the way her vibe felt.

  “Oona,” The Gate said when Dee was seated again, “if you would hand the blade to Officer Schneider.”

  I lifted the knife in its sheath out of the box and took it to him. I leaned over to whispered in his ear. “You knew you would be the new Keeper, didn’t you? And that The Gate held the third artifact. That’s why you took us directly to see him at your station. And why you’ve been acting, uh, oddly.”

  Jack nodded an acknowledgment and took the blade.

  What a strange balancing act Jack had had to perform—he’d known The Gate hadn’t killed Hugo but still had to keep him prisoner to satisfy his boss. He’d known the blade would come to him, likely had known Elgrin, who was involved in the death of Diego’s brother, would be Keeper of the chalice, but couldn’t say anything to Dee or to me.

  He and The Gate, I saw now, had played at animosity while The Gate was being held by the magic police. To what purpose? To spur Dee and me toward finding the killer? The deception annoyed me. I was going to have to sit one or both of them down and get an explanation.

  “Excellent,” The Gate said cheerfully. He took off his silver star necklace and lay it on the coffee table in front of the couch. Jack laid the blade over the chain. Elgrin set the chalice next to the blade, on top of the chain.

  The Gate began to chant. Smoke rose from the pile. Smoke turned to fire. Red, blue, and yellow flames licked at the chalice, blade, and star. The flames grew higher, licking up several feet above the coffee table, then shrank down to nothing. Ash covered the table where the necklace, cup, and knife had been.

  I shook my head to myself. That was wrong. The wood in the handle of the blade might have burned, but The Gate’s necklace and the metal of the chalice and blade wouldn’t have turned to ash.

  The ash on the table began to move, pulling toward a center point and hilling to make a pile about the size of my two hands. The Gate’s chant changed, its cadence growing faster, its tone more urgent.

  The ash quivered at its base. The quiver spread up the pile but the ash hill didn’t lose its shape except the top sprayed out in all directions. A phoenix burst from the pile and flew toward the ceiling. The Gate’s chant changed again, slowing, dropping in tone. The phoenix flew languidly around the room while we all watched. Slowly the bird changed, the brilliant red of its feathers changing to white, its body growing smaller, its long streaming tail morphing to a smaller fan shape.

  When the transformation was complete, the dove circled the room once, flying low and close to each of us, encircling us in a white glow. The Gate stopped chanting. The dove turned and drove toward the ceiling. Just before it would hit, the dove disappeared.

  When I looked back on the coffee table the necklace, knife, and cup were where the Keepers had set them, whole and unburned.
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br />   The Gate lifted the artifacts and held out the blade to Jack with one hand and the chalice to Elgrin with the other. When they’d taken their items, The Gate picked up the silver star necklace and slipped it back over his head.

  Elgrin turned to face Diego. “Wizard Adair, on behalf of the fairies, I thank you for your work to keep the peace between us and the humans. I hope any future meetings between us will be a positive as this one has been.”

  Dee bit his lower lip a moment and then dipped his head to her. “I wish the same.”

  She turned to me. “Oona Goodlight, I know you to be a warrior, in your own way. I thank you as well for your part in keeping the peace between our species.”

  I smiled and said, “You’re welcome.”

  She turned to Jack. “Fellow Keeper, no one likes war, least of all those who have to fight it. I promise I will do my best to keep peace between our kinds.”

  “You have my promise that I’ll do the same,” he said.

  Elgrin nodded and vanished in a shower of green sparks.

  Jack swung his gaze over the four of us on the couch: The Gate, Bridget, Dee, and me. “Eh, I don’t do speeches. Take care.” He touched his hand to an invisible hat.

  I did the same back. Dee rose and the men embraced quickly—evidently they were bro-huggers when the occasion suited—and almost just as quickly Jack was out the door and gone.

  “You know,” The Gate said, “you three are the only non-Keepers to ever attend a changeover. Not that it’s a big deal, the ceremony isn’t all that spectacular, but it has always been secret and private. Jack and Elgrin asked for you to be here, so we bent the rules a little.”

  He chuckled. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, he found amusing.

  I got up and moved to the chair Jack had vacated, putting me across from The Gate. I fixed my gaze on him.

  “We need to talk,” I said. “I have done everything you asked and more—recovered the chalice, unmasked Hugo’s killer and dealt with him. Now it’s time for you to keep your promise and uphold your part of the bargain.”

  The Gate nodded. “Fierce little lamb, there’s a reason I’ve dodged this from the moment you first asked me to teach you how to build a filter. It is, indeed, possible to do. As Diego told you, my niece who suffered much the same way you do from her talents, used magic to make the constant bombardment of other people’s thoughts and emotions stop. What Diego didn’t know is that my niece didn’t build a filter. A filter is impossible. She built a wall.”

  A tremble flew across my shoulders. “A wall?”

  “Yes. And now she might as well not be empathic or psychic. Nothing comes through. Nothing.”

  I stared at him, blinking a little, devastated by the implications.

  “You can’t pick and choose, Oona,” he said. “You can’t build a defense against only jealousies or block only people’s petty gripes. I’ll tell you how to make the wall, but you must understand that you’d be choosing to give away those abilities. Once the wall is built, it can’t be torn down. Decide what you truly want.”

  My throat was dry but my eyes were wet. I swiped at them, not wanting to cry in front of The Gate and Bridget. For the better part of a year I’ve looked forward to the day when I could screen out the emotions I didn’t want to feel from others, the thoughts I didn’t want to hear.

  But to feel and hear nothing from others? It would be like giving up my hands. I’d learn to work around the loss but my life would change. As hard as it was to feel keenly those around me—to know their desires, joys, and hatreds, their lusts and sorrows and every other emotion flitting through them as if they were my own—to not know seemed worse.

  “I could do a divination for you,” Bridget said. “Let you look at possible futures for each choice.”

  I shook my head. “Thank you, but I don’t need to peek into any future to know what I want. A wall isn’t it.”

  The Gate leaned back against the couch. “No, it wouldn’t be.”

  The End

  Untitled

  Thank you for reading this book. I hope you enjoyed it.

  Reviews help readers know if this might be a book they’d enjoy. I would be most grateful if you’d take a moment to leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads.

  Also By Alexes Razevich

  The Oona Goodlight series

  Magic, paranormal mystery, and a bit of romance.

  Ice-Cold Death

  Barbed Wire Heart

  Vulture Moon

  The Ahsenthe Cycle

  A science/fantasy series with strong female characters, set on an alien world.

  Khe

  Ashes and Rain

  Gama and Hest

  By the Shining Sea

  Stand-alone stories

  The Girl with Stars in her Hair

  Cassie Goodlight has one year to save her kidnapped brother. Magic is the only way.

  Shadowline Drift

  A psychological thriller with science fiction and fantasy elements, set in the Amazon jungle.

  Jumper

  A short story in which world-class shopper, Maddie Bresslin, accidently remakes the world. Magical realism and a little strange. A nice read during lunch break or while waiting at the doctor’s or dentist’s office

  Acknowledments

  The concept of the writer alone in a room pounding out their stories on the keyboard is a bit of a myth. Most of us, if we’re lucky, have trusted friends who read our books during the writing process and help make them better.

  Many thanks to Dan McNeil, Richard Casey, Randy Jackson, and Suzanne Van Atten for their help in shaping this story.

  Thanks, as always, to my wonderful editor, Christina Frey, whose suggestion to reorder the timeline made for a lot of extra work but a better story.

  Much love to my husband, Chris, who puts up with me disappearing into my studio to write for hours on end, and to the best children any mother could have, Colin and Larkin Razevich.

  A special thanks to Rebel for needing to be walked every day and tearing me away from my keyboard and into fresh air.

  Last but not least, thanks to all my hockey teammates just for being who you are. Mwah!

  Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design

  About the Author

  Alexes Razevich writes speculative fiction. She attended California State University San Francisco where she earned a degree in Creative Writing. After a successful career on the fringe of the electronics industry, including stints as Director of Marketing for a major trade show management company and as an editor for Electronic Engineering Times, she returned to her first love — fiction.

  Razevich lives in Southern California with her husband. When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found playing hockey or traveling somewhere she hasn’t been before.

  Email: LxsRaz@yahoo.com

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/lxsraz

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AlexesRazevichAuthor

  Website: http://www.alexesrazevich.com