Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  “Do you think Sturtagaard can get Sarconis to talk? Providing we find him, I mean,” she asked.

  “He wants freedom. He’ll figure it out. Think he knows who his boss is yet?”

  “No, but I’m pretty sure it’s eating away at him.”

  They ate in silence, finishing their bowls. Zola started handwashing the only item in the sink, soaping it up and rinsing several times, slowly.

  “I have some ideas for our first date.”

  Zola dropped a glass behind her—shards covered the floor.

  “Sorry. Sorry, Annie, dear.” The fairy still grinned broadly as she swiped a palm; glass disappeared, landing in the garbage can.

  Annie grimaced. The phone rang, killing the mood.

  “Cham speaking.” A pause. “Say what?” He looked at Annie. “They have Sarconis at Tartarus.”

  *

  Gibbs sat across from Sarconis in the interrogation room, reading the latest copy of The American Sphinx and drinking a can of pop. Gibbs, with much patience, carried on like this for twenty minutes. Occasionally, he minded his manners, put down the paper, and asked the vampire if there was something he could get for him. That was only occasionally, though.

  “I don’t see why I’m here. I must be released immediately. I’m Sarconis!” the vampire said, and Gibbs turned back to the newspaper. “You’re a strange man,” Sarconis remarked after a moment.

  Gibbs ignored him and continued with the paper. When he finished the Wizard Council news, he folded the paper and laid it down on the table.

  “What do you do for Rathbone?” Gibbs asked.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The vampire wore a new, expensive suit and an ugly, black cloak draped across his shoulders to keep the sun from damaging him. The fabric—aged, torn at the hem, and dirty in spots—ruined his overall neat appearance. His hair, slicked back with gel, was sticky and wet and shone brightly in the artificial light radiating from the ceiling.

  “I can sit here all day,” Gibbs announced and produced a second paper.

  Sarconis ran his hand through his hair and rubbed it on his pants, creating a slick, sticky skid mark on his trousers.

  “Why were you at Rathbone’s mansion, then?” Gibbs asked, barely looking up from his paper.

  “I can wait all day as well.” Sarconis crossed his arms over his chest, resting them on his rotund belly.

  Gibbs laid down the paper, walked over to the vampire, and smacked his head into the table.

  “You don’t scare me, Guard,” Sarconis said. His eyes rolled to the side for a view of Gibbs behind him. The vampire wasn’t easily rattled—but of course he wouldn’t work with Rathbone if he was the jumpy sort.

  “You don’t leave this room until I have answers.” Gibbs left and entered the viewing room.

  Sarconis stared ahead, not moving a muscle, as vampires were apt to do. He continued to stare at nothing in particular and remained motionless when the door opened.

  “Sarconis, I wasn’t expecting to see you until tonight at my lair.”

  The vampire jumped, nearly falling off his chair.

  Chapter 28

  The two vampires glowered at one another. Sarconis’s eyes widened, his jaw dropped, then closed. Neither spoke.

  Behind the two-way mirror, Annie stood, anxious for one of them to speak.

  Sturtagaard better hold up his end of the bargain.

  “Rathbone didn’t tell him Sturtagaard was in prison,” she said aloud. Annie found the two vampires together fascinating.

  “How can you tell?” Spencer asked.

  Sarconis, less flustered now, sat against the chair back, his jaw unclenched. He crossed one fat little leg over the other, straining the seams of his expensive suit. Sturtagaard stared at him with contempt.

  “The surprised look when Sturtagaard arrived. Strange, older vampires retain control. That is, until they’re in Tartarus,” Annie said.

  “That one’s a little strange. A little full of himself too. We can’t determine how much he knows.” Spencer pointed at the window as the first vampire made his move..

  “How long have you been here?” Sarconis sneered. His eyes locked in silent battle with Sturtagaard’s. Both of their gazes morphed into deep pools of darkness, searing with evil, demonstrating their strength.

  “How long I’ve been here isn’t important.” Sturtagaard kept control, sitting still, tall, graceful, and poised. “They’re after your employer.”

  “He’s your employer as well.” Sarconis straightened his tie and smoothed his pants. “Our employer still expects the job completed by August 30. That hasn’t changed, regardless of your current” —his mouth puckered in disgust while glancing around the room, noting spider webs and crumbling blocks—“predicament. Have you procured the orb as ordered?”

  “The plan’s still on? Our employer is… optimistic. As you can see, I’m here, and I don’t have the orb. The Wizard Guard procured it for themselves.”

  Sarconis never flinched or showed his feelings with the news. “Nevertheless, there’s other magic than Eridu, and three will do now since the Golden Athame is ours.” Sarconis snarled, showing his fangs and impressing upon Sturtagaard who was still in charge. “I’m sure our employer will be interested to know that you were caught and imprisoned. I shall be rewarded for finding you.”

  “So, your employer knows how to use the athame, then?”

  “Our employer does… of course,” Sarconis said.

  “Then he doesn’t need the fourth orb?” Sturtagaard pressed.

  Sarconis shifted in his chair.

  So he doesn’t know how to use the athame. Annie thought.

  Sturtagaard offered a smug smile for those behind the mirror and returned to Sarconis. “You know, the only difference between us is that you know who we work for. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet. And since they want him, you are the one they want to talk to, and they won’t be leaving until you give him up.”

  Sarconis must know this.

  The fat demon in the black suit and white stripes wrung his hands, so much so that they were red with stress. Sturtagaard smiled again.

  “They know I work for you, and they’re trying to connect me to your boss. You and I, we’ll both be here until that happens.”

  “That won’t happen. I’m Prince Sarconis. The Guard, they’re not sophisticated enough to hold me here. I’ll be released within minutes, as soon as someone realizes I’ve not returned. My underlings, they’ll be here,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “The only way to get out of here is to give up your employer.” Sturtagaard folded his arms against his chest.

  “They can’t hold a crowned prince. Surely they know who I am and that they can’t do this. Not without retribution. Call them and bring them to me!”

  To show strength, Sarconis pulled himself straighter, as if someone had pushed a steel rod into his backbone.

  “They’ll come when they’re ready. You know they can see us through that mirror behind me, by the way.” Sturtagaard pointed to the space behind Sarconis’s back.

  The ‘prince’ strolled to the mirror, touched the glass, and pounded roughly, rattling the window.

  “I demand to be let out of here!” He thumped the mirror again. “I’m a prince! Let me out this instant!”

  Annie jumped, not expecting the glass to rattle as violently as it did.

  “Prince of what?” Spencer asked under his breath.

  As a child, Annie had learned about vampires from her father, viewing the demons up close at Tartarus in this same interrogation room. Whether letting a fourteen-year-old view such things was a good parenting choice mattered not at all. The end result was that Annie had a good working knowledge of vampires, though she was unfamiliar with a royal family.

  “You hear stories about vampires joining ‘families,’ or gangs. There might be a powerful clan that claims to be in control. Maybe that’s his claim. What about you, Gibbs? Anything?”

  �
��Demon’s delusional,” he muttered.

  “Okay. So Sarconis is weak minded, and the prison’s affecting him a little sooner than normal. Since we picked him up at Rathbone’s, can we assume they’re connected?” Annie deferred to Cham on this decision. As lead, he could make that call.

  “Yeah, but it’s so much easier if one of them admits it.” Cham kept focused on the vampires. Neither demon liked the other; their eyes darkened to black, empty pools of hatred.

  “What is your escape plan?” Sarconis hissed.

  Sturtagaard held up his arm, exposing his missing hand.

  “Tried already. It’s next to impossible to escape from the vampire wing. Hope you like sunlight and cold blood.”

  Taken aback, Sarconis stepped away from the mirror. The stump clearly disgusted him. His eyes swept the room, looking for an escape. Once he noticed the door, he smoothed his slick hair and attempted the handle. Locked.

  “Just curious, but what will the employer do? I mean, once he finds out you’ve been caught?” Sturtagaard asked.

  Nervously, Sarconis murmured, “Find others to do the job, though he won’t be pleased, not pleased at all.” His hands ran through his hair. Straightening himself he towered over Sturtagaard who appeared bored and shrugged into the mirror with a smirk on his face.

  “Our employer will come for me,” Sarconis asserted. “I’m far too indispensable to him. He promised that this would repay the debt.”

  “Who exactly will come for you?”

  Sarconis smiled. “Only his second-in-command. No one else would secure my release.” He sank into his chair, wrapped his arms around his fat belly, and rocked back and forth.

  “He’s batshit crazy,” Cham said.

  “Exactly,” Gibbs said, smiling.

  Vampires such as Sturtagaard retained some control over themselves while in Tartarus because they possessed control outside the magical walls; others, the weak and already crazy, lost their minds quickly. Sarconis, who appeared to show strength early on, was merely delusional, and it wasn’t enough to keep him whole. The prison took his mind before he made it to the vampire wing.

  “Our employer is a revolutionary, a great man. He wants to propel the supernatural world back on top, where it belongs. No more hiding with spells and magic. It’s our time to rule the land. The Day of First Sun will be a new beginning. The land will become ours again!” He stopped, rearranged his posture, and refocused his gaze on Sturtagaard.

  “So how long has the employer owned your family?” Sturtagaard said, his voice low and smooth like audible glass.

  Annie’s eyebrows jumped at the implication. He’s a slave vampire!

  “We’re not owned. That’s insulting. I am a trusted advisor to such a great man as Rathbone. More than I can say for you—who got caught.”

  Sturtagaard raised his eyebrows at the admission and turned to the mirror with a smile.

  *

  Rathbone lost the orb, so I gave him the Golden Athame. I told him when the boy was being transferred, and he had the boy killed. And despite all that, I still don’t have the sphere! I’ve given everything to that incompetent man to make this plan succeed, and nothing went as planned.

  Stonewell sat in his dark office in Artifact Hall.

  His blood pressure rose, pulse pounding in his ears. In his anger, he swept the detritus from his desk—papers, the endless papers, and the artifacts that needed to be classified and filed.

  Ryan Connelly’s corner office should be mine by now. That imbecile!

  Cyril B. Stonewell paced behind his desk, unable to comprehend Rathbone’s incompetence or his inability to use the athame as promised. Time was running out; if the council wasn’t taken on the Day of First Sun, he’d never have the power to do it.

  The Council knew nothing of his plans, and yet it was a mistake visiting Rathbone’s mansion twice this week. Any additional trips might raise suspicion.

  Leaving the papers and artifacts still on the floor, Stonewell departed from his office for the main display room of Artifact Hall, where he paced toward the exit and back again.

  What will Rathbone do when the Golden Athame won’t work?

  On his second pass up the aisle, Stonewell noticed a single light inside the storage container that once housed the Golden Athame.

  I shut that off when I gave it to Rathbone. What’s it doing on?

  The wizard ran for the container and stumbled at the sight of the orb shining brightly underneath its lamp.

  How is that possible? The Council was stupid enough to lock the orb with me?

  He beamed—relief washed over him. Stonewall would advise Rathbone of the Guard’s mistake, but with too many blunders by the inept wizard, Rathbone would have to come to Wizard Hall and claim it himself.

  Chapter 29

  Two giants dragged Sarconis to his cell. The hallucinating wizard dug in his heels, scuffing up his expensive leather shoes.

  “I’m a prince. Let me go! There’ll be hell to pay. I’m a prince, let me go!” Thrashing about even with vampire strength, Sarconis was unable to loosen the giants’ grip. The prison guards held tighter to the vampire immobilizing him.

  “Oh, the princey don’t like his cell!” yelled a vampire.

  “Prince, my ass,” added another recent arrival.

  The Wizard Guard was busy tonight with many vampire attacks, so several creatures now resided in the vampire wing of Tartarus.

  Cold, pale arms stretched through the holy-water-infused bars, reaching for the newest inhabitant; Sarconis twisted and turned in his captors’ grip, keeping away from their vile touch.

  Cham shook his head and chuckled when Sarconis was tossed into his cell. Not needing the vampire, he stopped at Sturtagaard’s enclosure.

  “Where’s the girl?” the vampire asked.

  “You come after Annie, and I will hunt you down and stake you, only after I’ve enjoyed myself first,” Cham said.

  “Why would I want anything to do with that little brat? I’m away from here as soon as you give the say-so.”

  “We expect there’ll be a raid on Wizard Hall to retrieve the orb because, as you pointed out, they still need the fourth one, no matter what Sarconis said. I’m under the impression that the prince isn’t as important as he thinks, so he’s probably safer here than with Rathbone. And as much as I hate to admit it, so are you.”

  The vampire twitched. “What will I be used for?”

  “We don’t trust you. You’ll be here until this is over. We made a deal and we’ll keep it,” Cham said. “It’s only a few more hours. Nothing to a vampire.”

  Sturtagaard’s face grew grim. “There’s a leak at the Council.”

  “Figured that out, did you?”

  “Someone with access to the athame. Something so powerful wouldn’t make it past the threshold and all otherwise.” Sturtagaard looked at Cham thoughtfully. “I’ve heard it’s got some powerful magic, at least enough to replace the fourth orb.” He stood in front of Cham, the metal doors all that separated them. The cold air radiated off of the creature; Cham shivered in the chill.

  “Way ahead of you, Sturtagaard. Unless you know how to get the athame to work, I have no interest in what you say.”

  “Nope, nothing to add.”

  *

  Rathbone’s massive warehouse was blanketed in darkness; not even the security lights were on. Annie and Cham teleported to the alley beside the warehouse, knowing that the bodies and everything else had been moved.

  After searching for nonmagical cameras and magical surveillance, they discovered the alley empty.

  “You came in through there?” Cham pointed to a high window above them.

  “The window was open and unprotected. I’m sure we won’t be so lucky tonight.”

  Holding the crystal at arm’s length, Annie walked the perimeter of the warehouse, searching for magic. By the time she reached the back door, it was clear that the warehouse contained no magical protection.

  “They’ve moved them,�
� Cham said and tried the handle; it didn’t budge. “It could be a trap.”

  Examining the door and the cracks between the door and the frame with her crystal, Annie said, “There’s nothing here.” She positioned herself several feet from the door, aimed her wrist, and twisted until the lock clicked open.

  Cham turned the handle and pulled the door open. Since nothing blew out at them, she tossed the crystal into doorway. It rolled twice and landed on its flat side—and didn’t glow. No booby trap exploded, sprung forward, or slashed at them.

  “I guess it’s safe.” Annie entered the warehouse into the back hallway. In front of her, she saw the rickety stairs her pursuer used to find her hiding spot. To the left, a hallway blanketed in darkness led into the warehouse. With their flashlights, Annie and Cham headed down the corridor that was cramped with gear and empty boxes. They sidestepped piles of junk, turned left, and headed into the main warehouse space.

  In the room where Annie had found 150 dead bodies, there now was nothing. No boxes, no inventory, nothing but a dusty floor with skid marks where zombies had stumbled across it.

  “Let’s just hope the orb does what it’s supposed to do,” Annie said.

  *

  A loud din reverberated off the naked walls in the enormous conference room. A muffle spell had been set around the perimeter so no one outside of the Wizard Guard would be privy to anything inside. The noise bounced up against the barrier and around the room, jolting each of them to their core as twenty-four Wizard Guards debated.

  “People. Enough!” Milo said, waving his hand in the air until the noise finally died down. “There’s no reason to think Rathbone won’t come for the fourth orb. We either take him down when he does or wait for the orb to do its thing,” he said. Annie and Cham strode through the crowd to the front of the room, taking seats next to him. “Well?”

  Annie shook her head. “The zombies are gone.”

  “So we follow the orb,” Milo said.

  She nodded.

  “Any thoughts, people?”

  “Have a small group lie in wait, follow the magical trace, and find the location of the zombies. Easy peasy,” Pete said, a large grin on his face.