Wizard's Nocturne: The Sixth Jonathan Shade Novel

by Gary Jonas

  Ankhesenamun cried out and threw her head back as Henry touched her with the flail. Her body shook as if caught in an electric current, but then she levitated three feet off the ground, her toes pointing to the earth. Slowly she tilted her head forward, and when she spoke, it was with a voice not her own.

  “Who seeks the breath of the gods?” she asked. Her voice sounded like a blend of voices speaking through a cardboard tube.

  “My name is Henry Winslow, son of Mary and Elvin. I was born October 15th in the year 1877, and I died September 21st, 1926. I rose from the dead on September 24th, and now on this day, February 21st, 1927, I stand before the gods to be born to the world. I seek the approval of the Men of Anubis, and I ask for admission to the Eternal.”

  “Your heart beats,” Ankhesenamun said. “You breathe air but your body is animated by magic. You speak yet you are not truly alive.”

  “My spirit is strong,” Henry said.

  “Your spirits are separate,” Ankhesenamun said.

  Henry nodded. “In the crook, you feel the life energy of my mother and father.”

  “That is not true,” Ankhesenamun said. “The energy of your father is not present in its pure form. The female energy is of Mary Winslow, but the male energy is of Henry Winslow.”

  “The male energy includes the combination of Mary and Elvin to achieve Henry.”

  “That is not the same thing,” Ankhesenamun said.

  “The energy was pulled from me when I was an unborn baby,” Winslow said. “That energy is pure. It's a combination but it is pure and unsullied.”

  The light began to pulse around the triangle, starting slowly but growing faster after each wave.

  Ankhesenamun's body floated toward Winslow. She reached out with the crook and hooked it around Winslow's neck. He grabbed the crook as Ankhesenamun lifted him off the ground.

  “You have great magic,” Ankhesenamun said, “but we built the Halls of Amenti. We conquered death and we are eternal. We exist beyond time. Your magic is nothing to us.”

  “Judge me, then,” Winslow said.

  “Without the male energy from your paternal side, we deem you unworthy of eternal life.”

  Shade leaned toward me. “We might not be needed here,” he said.

  “Don't jump the gun,” I said.

  “They found him unworthy.”

  “Of eternal life,” I said. “The energy is still coursing between the obelisks.” I turned to Kelly. “Take Rayna and Esther; then get as far away from here as you can.”

  “What about you?” Kelly asked.

  I pointed to Shade and myself. “We're safe from the magic. You three aren't. Go. We'll meet up with you at my place when this is over.

  The pulses shot around the triangle so fast, they looked like a moving picket fence.

  Kelly hesitated but Shade gave her a nod. “He's right,” Shade said. “There's too much power flying around this area. If anything goes south, you'll all be killed.” He looked at Naomi, his fists clenching and unclenching, helpless. That’s probably when he knew.

  Kelly stared at us for a moment but relented without another word. She moved to get Rayna and Esther to safety. I felt much better about things when I returned my focus to the conversation between Winslow and whatever was using Ankhesenamun as a speaker.

  “I was able to translate the Emerald Tablets,” Winslow said. “I managed to get the crook and flail of Osiris. I got the maternal energy and even my own pure energy from the womb, and most important, I found the strength to resurrect myself from the dead and defy time itself. You judge me unworthy when I'm missing a mere fraction of the energy you claim to require, but those are surely not set in stone.”

  “We can take everything away from you, Henry Winslow,” Ankhesenamun said.

  “No, you can't,” Winslow said, and he motioned upward with his hands as though he were underwater. He gently lowered himself to the ground. “I'm missing a sliver of the energy you insist upon, but no one in history has ever managed to do what I did. You found a way to defy death, but you did so without the paternal energy.”

  The light raced around the triangle at such a blur now that it looked like a camera doing a fast pan across a white wall with intermittent flashes of blue being the only indicator of movement.

  Winslow pointed at Ankhesenamun. “You are using the Egyptian queen as a mouthpiece, but you are not here in the flesh or even spirit.”

  “That matters not.”

  “Oh, but it does. You haven't taken Ankhesenamun as a vessel, so I can cast you out!”

  He slammed his palm against the obelisk, and the pulsing energy turned solid white. It raced around the triangle and poured into Winslow through his hand. His hair stood on end, and he took on an eerie glow. White light poured from his eyes like sunbeams, and when he opened his mouth, more light issued forth.

  “Release her!” he said and cast a focused blast of power at Ankhesenamun. She started to fall, but Winslow caught her in a magical web and eased her gently to the grass. She dropped to her knees for a moment then looked up at him.

  White light flared out of Henry Winslow in every direction. He looked like a Jack Kirby splash page from a comic book as he rose into the air again, this time of his own volition. The energy shot out of every pore in his body. Bright and white. He threw his head back and cried out in pain. The energy threatened to destroy him.

  “It's too much!” he said. “Can't hold it.”

  Waves of energy flowed from him, and he tried to pull it back, but it was beyond the capacity of any one wizard to hold. It spilled out in uncontrollable waves.

  “Carlton’s blood!” he said.

  He reached for Ankhesenamun, and when he touched her, she exploded in a flash of white light. There was no blood. She disintegrated at his touch, and the few motes of dust that remained of her body drifted to the grass like glitter in the wind.

  “Shit,” I said.

  “He's going to blow,” Shade said.

  “I know. We have to save him.”

  “Like hell. We can just kick back and watch the fireworks.”

  “That much energy will destroy everyone in the park for sure, including Naomi, and who knows how far out it will go?”

  I pulled Shade toward Winslow, and we stepped through the wall of magical light. While it couldn't affect me, it felt thick and strong as it pulsed through me. Winslow wasn't looking at us. He turned to Carlton, who bolted and tried to duck behind the obelisk, but he couldn't get far as the wall of light blocked his path, and when he got close to it, he winced and backed up.

  “Carlton!” Winslow said, his back to us now. “Nothing can escape the triangle. There's a vial in my coat pocket.”

  “You took too much power,” Carlton said. “We're all going to die!” If he saw us coming, he didn't give it away.

  Shade was younger and faster than I, so he reached Winslow first. He tackled Winslow, slamming him to the ground. Winslow struggled and energy flew all around him, but that magic had zero effect on Shade.

  “Let me go!” Winslow said.

  “I'd rather snap your neck,” Shade said, struggling to get a grip on Winslow's head.

  “No!” I shouted. “We have to stop the excess energy flow!”

  I moved as quickly as I could and reached Winslow's coat in front of the obelisk. I patted the pockets and found the vial of Carlton J. Penick's blood.

  Shade and Winslow struggled. Winslow had to be careful, though. If he threw things at Shade, he could end up hurting himself too.

  I popped the top off the vial, and before I could fling it, the blood whooshed out of the bottle and splattered onto the wall of light. The light flashed, dimmed for a moment, then resumed its strength.

  “Son of a bitch,” I said.

  The blood had no effect.

  Shade had a good grip on Winslow now.

  “Pull him up,” I said.

  Shade started to lift him, but as soon as he shifted his grip, Winslow smacked his head back into Sh
ade's face. Shade rolled to the side in pain.

  Winslow rose into the air, but I grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him close.

  “You can't hold that much energy,” I said. “It's going to rip you apart.”

  “I have no intention of holding it all,” Winslow said, and he threw his arms out to the sides and let the energy shoot from his hands into the white glowing triangle. The lights along the triangle exploded into blackness.

  Only it wasn't blackness.

  It looked black in the bright light, but when some of it splashed on me, I saw it was crimson. Between each bar of light stood a member of Alpha et Omega. One moment they were all there, frozen in the grip of the energy. The next moment, they shattered into bloody showers as the power overloaded their bodies and sought an escape.

  The grass turned red.

  Right up to the edge of the triangle.

  “The obelisks contained the energy,” Winslow said.

  “You just killed thirty people, including Naomi,” I said.

  Shade pushed himself to his knees. “Naomi?” he said, his voice heavy with shock. “Naomi?” The realization that she was dead started to sink in. He stared at the spot where she'd taken her place, and all that remained was the bright light of the triangle and blood. Her flesh and bones were disintegrated, but her blood was infused with magic, so it didn't disappear. Instead it now coated the grass.

  “A small price to pay for my immortality,” Winslow said.

  “They denied you,” I said.

  “I have the power to keep this body alive for centuries.”

  Shade launched himself at Winslow.

  I didn't give it away. Winslow kept his attention on me until Shade slammed into him. Shade rode him to the slick grass, rubbing his face in the blood of the dead wizards. Then Shade pounded on Winslow's face once, twice, three times. He pushed back and delivered a throat punch and kept punching until I pulled him off. Now Shade punched at the air.

  I embraced him. “It's all right,” I said. “We're going to be all right.”

  “I'll never be all right!” Shade said. “He killed my wife!” The last was shouted, but then he repeated it as almost a whisper, “He killed my wife.”

  Shade went limp and I held him for a time.

  I patted his back and watched Winslow's body for movement.

  Winslow twitched.

  “I need you to sit down,” I said to Shade. I looked toward the obelisk, where Carlton cowered, carefully avoiding both the wall of the triangle and the granite of Cleopatra's Needle. Carlton looked like a basket case, chewing on his fingers, curled in a fetal position. But I didn't trust him, so I kept him in my admittedly diminished peripheral vision as I eased Shade to the ground and moved to Winslow.

  Henry Winslow rolled over and slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees. Blood dripped from his broken nose and split lips. He spit teeth into the grass and placed one hand on his neck. His hand glowed white, and I saw him draw a deep breath through his now-healed throat.

  I went down on one knee and placed a hand on Winslow's back. “Don't make me kill you,” I said.

  He reacted instinctively by trying to blast me with magic, but the energy flowed over and around me harmlessly. I pushed him over and straddled his chest, pinning his arms with my knees. Then I carefully pinched his carotid artery closed. His eyes went wide for a moment, but in a matter of seconds, he passed out.

  I pushed myself to my feet and spotted the crook of Osiris on the ground near Carlton.

  Carlton unfolded himself and saw the crook at the same time.

  He darted toward it and grabbed it, and as I stepped up, he tried to swing it at me. I caught it and punched him in the nose.

  He let go of the crook and clutched his nose. “Ow!”

  “Serves you right, you little prick,” I said. “Sit down and shut up.”

  He sat and whined quietly.

  I carried the crook back to Winslow. I turned him over and positioned the crook so the edge of the hook was lodged into his left eye socket.

  Shade turned away from where Naomi had died and watched me.

  Carlton watched too.

  I pulled my translation earrings from my pocket and clipped them to Winslow's earlobes. “Wake up, Henry,” I said.

  “Uhhhh,” he said and started to struggle until the crook bit deeper into his eye. “What the hell?”

  “Listen to me, Henry,” I said, hoping my words through the translation device would reach the Henry Winslow I had raised. I believed he instilled some of his essence into the earrings when he told me in several languages that he loved me. I knew some Spanish. I hoped that would be enough.

  I kept pressure on the crook, and I leaned close to his left ear. “Revivir mi Henry.” My Spanish sucked, but I trusted the translation to get the gist of it correctly. “Volver mi hijo a mi.”

  As I spoke, I heard the translator working. Revive my Henry. Return my son to me.

  “Your Henry is gone,” Winslow said.

  “Quiero que escuchen, Henry. Tú eres mi hijo y te amo.”

  I want you to listen, Henry. You are my son, and I love you.

  “Te amo más que la vida,” I said.

  I love you more than life.

  “Your Henry is gone, you moron,” Winslow said. “I devoured him, assimilated him, and no silly little 'I love yous' are going to bring him back even with the spell you tried to trigger. You've lost, you son of a--”

  I rose and stomped on the crook, driving the wood through Winslow's eye and into his brain.

  He died instantly. I was stunned. I hadn’t expected it to work. There must have been something about the crook.

  I let his body drop to the bloody grass.

  The magic inside him exploded outward in a blinding flash.

  Carlton tried to get up, but the flash ripped him into separate molecules, sending the motes flying into the triangle. The interior of the triangle exploded into blinding white light, but the edges held, and the magic could not penetrate the walls. Light whipped around that triangle faster and faster, sending small bits of energy out of the park and spreading it over the ocean to England, across to Paris, and back. The energy raced for a few more rotations then fizzled and faded to nothing as the magic burned itself out. Rain penetrated the top and splashed against me.

  I'd tried to save Henry but I couldn't. I'd tried to save Naomi but I failed.

  I wouldn't lose any sleep over Carlton, but losing people like Ralph would haunt me if I continued this life.

  I looked around. The night was dark, but I could still see a splash of darkness from the blood on the ground as the rain pounded into it. In a few minutes, the blood would all be washed away, and the next morning, nobody would ever know about the people who had died here.

  “You okay?” Shade asked.

  “No,” I said. “You?”

  “I just lost my wife, and I think I broke my hands, so you tell me how the fuck I am.”

  Something about that struck me as funny so I laughed. It wasn't amusing but it allowed me to release the emotions pent up inside me. The laughter turned to tears as I dropped to my knees.

  After a time, Shade walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Maybe they’re not broken after all,” I said.

  “That's not important,” Shade said, “but this is.” He pointed toward the museum where three men clad in Egyptian kilts walked toward us. They were bare-chested and muscular. One held a crook, one a flail, and one a spear. All three wore masks of the jackal god Anubis. “We're about to have company.”

  “I don't remember issuing invitations,” I said.

  “And I don't remember them sending RSVPs, but here they come.”

  I rose to my feet and stood by my younger self to face them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “You three are a bit late to the party,” Shade said. “We're out of chips, salsa, and guacamole, and we don't have any more beer, so--”

  “We are the Men of Anubis,�
� the man with the spear said in English. The rain fell on me and on Shade, but it dared not touch the Men of Anubis. They stood there in the rain, as dry as the Sahara.

  The first time I'd seen the Men of Anubis was back in ancient Egypt when they performed the mummification of King Tutankhamun. I doubted these were the same guys, though they had the same name.

  “Does that mean you won't make a beer run?” Shade asked.

  I nudged him. “You might want to show some respect,” I said.

  “Fuck that,” Shade said. “My wife is dead.”

  “And her spirit was destroyed,” the leader said. “Therefore she no longer exists in any form.”

  The man with the crook walked over to Winslow's body. He placed the crook on Winslow's head, and a shimmering ghost flowed from the corpse to the wood. He turned and tapped the crook against the obelisk. A white flash burst forth, swirled around the hieroglyphs and shot out of the capstone at the top. “And now the spirit of Henry Winslow no longer exists in any form,” the man with the crook said.

  “We thank you for your service,” the man with the spear said.

  “Our service?” I asked.

  “Every now and then, a spirit reaches the Underworld and finds a way back here. We needed you to fix that little problem for us. Only it turned out to be a much larger problem than we anticipated, and some of the ramifications are still unknown to us.”

  “What ramifications?” Shade asked.

  “This area of time is considerably more scarred than it should be. Too many lines stretch from here, and too many others don't because you called the Vanguard.”

  “Hey,” Shade said, “he called the Vanguard. Not me.”

  “You are both now artifacts of time,” the man with the spear said.

  “What does that mean?” Shade asked.

  “It means they're going to kill us,” I said.