“Cham.”
“Annie, here.” Someone placed a drenched rag on her parched lips. “Drink from this.”
Where am I?
“Cham…” He couldn’t hear her, not in the din that surrounded her.
Where am I?
Visions and pictures flipped through Annie’s head as she strained to remember. The basement, the pungent, dirty smoke that covered her—the images became more real.
The wall of the basement had fallen into the stairwell with Cham still inside.
“No,” she cried out, and the tears fell.
“Annie, it’s okay, sweetie. Cham’s okay.” Annie opened her eyes. The inside of the tent was brighter than it had been in the basement. She closed her eyes against the glare. She held her arm across her eyes, acclimating herself to the light.
“Here, sweetie,” a soft voice said, and Annie sucked on the wet cloth again.
When she adjusted to the light, Annie glanced around her. Her best friend, Janie Parker, sat on the edge of the cot wearing an anxious smile. A gentle hand grasped hers—her godmother, Kathy. She had been crying.
“Where’s Cham?” Annie’s mouth tasted like smoke.
“He’s being treated in another tent, sweetie,” Kathy whispered in her ear. “He’s going to be okay.”
“Your elf went in and saved him as the dormitory crashed in.” Janie was near tears.
To busy herself, Janie placed the cool cloth across Annie’s forehead and wiped away the soot. Annie held her wrist, glanced at her friend, and closed her eyes, just for a moment.
When Annie woke again, the tent was dark, except for small lamps placed at each bed.
It’s late.
Annie pulled herself up with weak and rubbery arms before falling back against the metal headboard, giving herself a first view of the large tent she was being treated in. It appeared to be currently half empty, but she judged that it could if needed accommodate several hundreds of victims.
I hope everyone got out of the market.
“Hey, you’re really awake this time,” Janie said to her, smiling with relief. She wrapped another blanket around Annie’s shoulders and added a pillow for support. “Here, have this.” Annie glanced inside the steaming mug and grimaced at the broth. “It’s not that bad. You need help?”
“Why are you here?” Annie’s voice was barely a whisper, rough and raw. Janie reached down and assisted her best friend since childhood with the mug.
Janie Parker’s specialty and career revolved around the law; she was a magical lawyer and very rarely ventured into the field. Annie didn’t care why Janie was here; she was just glad she was.
“When the market crashed, they asked for volunteers. I wanted to help. Help you.”
Janie’s hands cradled Annie’s as she took a sip of the warm broth. It soothed her mouth and throat. When she’d had enough, Janie took the mug and smoothed Annie’s dirty hair.
“Where’s Cham? I’d like to see him.”
Janie glanced away, her eyes meeting Dr. Christine Anderson’s gaze. She was Annie’s favorite doctor at the hospital, the doctor who saved Annie’s life when her Wizard Guard test as a new guard went severely off course. The doctor grimaced and shook her head.
“Not yet, Annie.”
“What’s wrong with him? I want to see him. Please Dr. Christine.” Annie’s bellow was nothing more than a rough whisper. She shrunk back against the cot with a glare for her longtime friend and colleague.
Dr. Christine sat beside her. The extra weight pulled the mattress to the floor. The doctor pulled Annie into her arms, and Annie shook against her. “I promise you’ll see him later. Right now Cham is unconscious. He took in a lot of smoke.”
“Now. Dr. Christine. Please,” Annie pleaded as the tears fell uncontrollably, rolling off of her face onto her thin hospital gown.
“You’re still weak, Annie.”
“Please. I just need to see him. Please?”
Dr. Christine took little time to make a decision, quickly summoning a wheelchair to Annie’s bed.
“Annie, I really wish you’d reconsider,” Dr. Christine warned as she helped Annie to her feet and then to the chair.
“Please. I need to see him.”
They wrapped Annie in extra blankets and wheeled her from the tent into the dark and cold. She shuddered in the night air, as wind blew from the mountain. Annie wrapped the blanket tighter across her body.
“We’re still in Patagonia?” Annie asked. Medics hustled between the tents, carrying equipment and transporting patients.
“Yes. Less critical patients are sent home. The rest of you are still here.” Dr. Christine directed the wheelchair to the end of the hospital campus where there was less traffic. It was far quieter and more depressing. Annie’s stomach lurched as building doors slid open and she wheeled her stubborn patient into the silent building to Cham.
He lay in the cot, an oxygen mask covering his pale face. Distressed, Annie cried out.
Don and Marina Chamsky, Cham’s parents sat by his bed. Don, hearing the wheel of her chair squeak, took her hand and offered a tired smile. “I am so glad you’re awake,” he said. He stood, offering Annie his spot beside his son, and assisted her from the chair.
“Thanks,” she whispered and took up Cham’s cold hand, warming it in her own. She shuddered and sighed.
For a moment, Annie’s eyes met Marina’s. Her tearstained face looked away. As Marina hovered over her son, whispering in his ear, Annie rubbed Cham’s inner palm like he always did for her.
“Marina. We should leave them alone,” Don said.
“No. I’m not leaving him.” She glared at her husband and avoided Annie’s gaze.
“This isn’t Annie’s fault. He’s a big boy and chose this life. Leave her alone with him.”
Marina was short at five feet tall while Don stood over six feet, and yet in that single look Annie could see how that little woman could intimidate him. Annie herself wouldn’t want to mess with Marina. Don reached down, took her by the shoulders, and whispered in her ear, before she relented and stood.
Before leaving, Marina came to Annie’s side, placed her arms around Annie’s shoulders and squeezed. “I am so glad you are alive. I’m just so…” Overcome with emotion, she buried her head in Annie’s pungent hair as if it were nothing and kissed her.
Annie watched them leave, watched Marina’s now frail and frightened body walk through the tent designated for more severe cases. They stopped in the reception area near the door, where Marina sat and cried for her son.
Guilt invaded Annie as she turned back to Cham, back to his broken body lying in the bed. She reached over, her lips grazing his ear. “I love you. Please wake up.” She touched his cheek, his sparse winter freckles. She ran her hand through his curly hair, which was covered in smoke and soot. His fingers curled around hers, and his eyes fluttered open before shutting again.
Chapter 31
The older Mr. Jacobi sat across from Gibbs in Interrogation Room Two. His sundried face crinkled in disgust while waiting for Gibbs to speak. The wizard guard perused the file in front of him, leaving the man to sweat under the intense heat of the synthetic light. If the heat affected Gibbs, he didn’t let it show as he read through the history of the two men.
“So you work at the market?” Gibbs finally asked.
“What it’s to ya?”
Gibbs glared at him, placed his hands on the table, and stood. “You reported me and my colleague to the master. I don’t take well to that.”
The large merchant sweated profusely in his sweater and wool cap. The smell wafted to Gibbs. He grimaced.
“You shoulda minded yer own business. And look what happened. I don’t have my booth. All yer fault.” He fiddled with a callous on the palm of his hand.
“No one has a booth anymore, you asshole. Just answer the questions!” Gibbs shouted.
Winn Jacobi jumped and backed up in his chair.
“So you did report us then?” Gibbs
asked.
“Already said, that didn’t ya?”
Gibbs understood the motivation. Most merchants in the market, especially those afraid of the master, wouldn’t hesitate. The Wizard Guard weren’t welcome there.
Gibbs sat back in the chair. “Your brother’s the stable master at Windmere School?”
“Yeah. What’d he do now?”
“He called you and told you where the girl was. And that sent a deadly team after her. That’s obstruction, and there’s a penalty for that.”
The man smiled. “I didn’t do that.”
Gibbs produced a crystal and lay it on the table. With one wave of the hand, he revealed a moving picture of the younger Jacobi as well as the older Jacobi speaking.
“Winn, that girl. She’s here!”
“What you talking about?”
“That girl from the market. She’s come here to Windmere. The elf’s here too!”
“Really? You sure it’s the same one.”
“Yeah, Winn. It’s them.”
“Well, goody. I tell the master; he’ll leave me alone. Can get my work done then. Finally, you good for nothing, got something right…”
Winn Jacobi shook his head. “That’s not what happened. You made that all up.” He sneered, revealing deep lines around his mouth. His jaw clenched.
“Sorry, man. We got you. And your brother confessed.” Gibbs collected the crystal and the folder, calling in the giant guards.
Two giants grabbed Winn’s arms and dragged him down the hallway to his new home, Cell One of Turret One. He skidded across the floor after the burly giants tossed him into the cell. The cell door slammed shut. Gibbs grinned when the man jerked backward before standing in the small enclosure.
“Whaddaya want now?” Jacobi asked.
“You can help yourself and your brother by telling me where the master is.”
The man, stared blankly as if he understood nothing of the question. After mulling it over, he blinked several times, and his eyes brightened as if he was now present. “Don’t know that, sir,” he finally said.
“Well, if you think where he could be, let me know.”
*
The Jacobis proved to be simple people who talked themselves into a stay at Tartarus Prison. Gibbs sighed as he entered Interrogation Room Three in Turret Two where Dr. Arden Blakely waited.
When he entered, she was sitting in the metal chair, her back ramrod straight, her hands perfectly placed on the table in front of her. She appeared serene and calm, focused on the two-way mirror across from her, far different than Cham’s initial conclusions on the archaeologist.
I wonder what set her off.
“Dr. Blakely. I’m John Gibbs. I have a few questions for you, if that’s okay.” Her eyebrows rose in surprise, then fell with disappointment. She gripped her hands together and held them tight enough to pull the skin across her whitened knuckles.
“Where’s Mr. Chamsky? He’s very lovely, and I’d rather talk to him right now.” Arden’s voice wavered.
“Yes, well, Mr. Chamsky would love to be here too, but there’s been an accident at the black market. So you have me. Is that okay, ma’am?”
“Who are you?”
“I said, ma’am, I’m John Gibbs. I work with Robert Chamsky as a wizard guard. I need to ask you a few questions.”
Her eye tracked him quickly as she examined every inch of his face, shoulders, hands. After observing him, Arden offered a wan smile. “Very well then. What do you want to know?”
“You’re nonmagical, is that correct?”
“Yes. I explained that to Mr. Chamsky already,” Arden said curtly.
A layer of her even demeanor cracked, thought Gibbs.
“Well. Help me here. You know so much about magic and the ring of Solomon. Fill in the gaps. Where did you learn all of this?”
Gibbs knew she had been kidnapped by her assistant and others. What he didn’t know, what none of them understood, was what they had really done to cause so much stress and anxiety in this woman. Whatever it was must have been brutal—so much so that her diary wasn’t specific. Gibbs could tell she was trying with some difficulty to keep her emotions in check. And as she did, her lip quivered, and her hands shook. She removed them from the table and bit her lip.
“Magic is everywhere if you know where to look,” she finally said. “You should know this…” She glanced down, and when she faced him again, a smile was plastered to her face. “Though you wouldn’t know. You’re magical.”
Gibbs cleared his throat and pulled open the case folder, hiding his frown behind the file, pretending that Arden Blakely wasn’t irritating him. Though he would admit to most of his coworkers that nonmagicals were useless, untrustworthy liars, he tried desperately to be what he wasn’t and not respond negatively. Putting down the folder he said, “That’s really not an answer, Dr. Blakely.”
Arden chuckled. For the first time, her facial expression softened as if she wasn’t trying to convey a message but was honestly showing what she felt. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Can I see the file?”
There wasn’t much in the file, just notes from Annie’s research into the diary, copies of the spells she had given them, a picture of the ring. Nothing Gibbs knew Arden hadn’t seen before. He slid the folder to her. She lovingly touched the beige cover as she opened it; the paper rustled in her hand. Realizing she was shaking, she closed the folder and placed her hands in her lap.
“I was kidnapped. I’m sure you know that. You have my things, my diary.” Arden sighed heavily as if the weight of the memories was too much to bear. Tears welled in her eyes. “It wasn’t all bad. I worked hard, I researched, gave them all the information they needed to make the ring work. And in return for my slavery, they showed me the magic. The beautiful ability to create things from nothing.”
Without thinking of the ironic timing, Gibbs raised a palm and summoned a box of tissue for Arden. It materialized quickly and she laughed lightly grabbing a sheet from inside. “Not quite so beautiful, but necessary. Thank you,” she said blowing her nose and wiping her eyes.
“No problem. Can I get you anything else?”
Arden shook her head. “I’d rather just finish up so I can go home.”
“Fair enough. Just a few more questions. First of all, do you know who kidnapped you? Names? Are they part of an organization? Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”
“Nicky, my assistant, was part of it. I don’t know. I don’t know much about any organization. I dealt with him mostly. There was Ari, too. But…” She played with the used tissue. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. They kept me in isolation.”
Gibbs knew the Fraternitatem had taken Arden to research the ring and had trained her as an assassin. It would help if she would just admit it.
“So you don’t know who the Fraternitatem of Solomon is, then?” he asked.
Arden jumped. Her lips quivered, and she could no longer look Gibbs in the eyes. “No. I don’t. I’m sorry.”
“Just a few more questions. I promise, you’ll go home. Why exactly did you go see Mr. Chamsky?”
Arden stared into the two-way mirror. “I already explained. I found the spell to make the magic of the ring work. I thought Robert should have it,” she answered tersely.
The spell she referred to had been handed to Mrs. Cuttlebrink in the library. She had spent several hours translating both spells and confirmed that the second spell—the one Arden brought to Cham—wasn’t the spell to control the djinn. It did something else altogether.
“The first spell you offered him at your condo is the correct spell. You are aware of that. Yes?” He didn’t wait for a response. “What does this spell do, Dr. Blakely?” He tapped the paper.
“I’m not magical. I don’t know what that spell does.”
“You just said this spell makes the Ring of Solomon work. What does this spell do, Dr. Blakely?” His voice was no longer soft and calm; rather, it was cold and bitter.
Arden rocked in
the chair, which creaked under the motion.
“Dr. Blakely, what does this spell do?”
She stopped and met Gibbs’s gaze, a smirk grew across her lips. “It blows everything up.”
Gibbs raised his eyebrows. “You gave us a spell that will blow up what, Dr. Blakely?”
They knew that it was a destructive spell. They needed the archaeologist to connect the dots. What would explode? They assumed the ring.
“Blows everything up.” Her hand went up in the air illustrating an explosion. She was giddy.
Gibbs ran through the scenario in his head. Arden Blakely desperately wanted to go to the market. They had assumed it was because she wanted the ring.
But is that it?
She had found Cham and given him the spell.
Were they supposed to blow something or someplace up?
“Did you want Robert to blow up the ring?” he asked.
Thoughtfully, she responded, “No one should have that ring. It’s dangerous. I’ve been searching for it for years, and finally that boy comes by and tells me he has it. It’s mine!”
“What were you going to do with the ring, Dr. Blakely?”
“Control the djinn, of course.” Her hands playfully tapped the table as she spoke. Her voice was no longer distant, just spacey.
“Of course. So you gave the spell to Mr. Chamsky, expecting that he’d blow up what, once he had the ring”
“The ring and the market. Robert should have taken me to the market and BOOM! Blown the market up. Sky high!” Dr. Arden Blakely could barely control her excitement.
“You wanted to blow up the market?”
“Yes.”
The market had been created a millennium ago. It was set on an alternate plane of existence, hidden from the nonmagical world. No one in a thousand years had been able to destroy the market; quite the opposite. It had grown in all that time to the bustling marketplace.
Why does she think she could destroy the market?
“Okay, Arden. Is it okay that I call you that?” When she nodded, he continued. “Arden, who gave you the spell? Was it the person who kidnapped you? And why did they want to blow up the market?”
Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Page 63
