by M. E. Eadie
***
Colin had been dragged through the fireplace, and was now being pulled down into the bowels of the house. It was musty and dank and smelled of something foul. The walls around them seemed to be contracting and expanding as if they were a living thing, and when he reached out to touch one of the walls, he quickly withdrew his hand at the feel of something wet and viscous. He had given up protesting, the closeness of the tunnel permeating his senses, forcing a type of paralyses on him. The control of the Nix over his aunt was complete.
When the surface they were walking on dried out, he remembered where they were. The darkness denied recognition, but the sounds revealed it. They were passing the crypt. He heard the small snakes slithering in anticipation of their passing. Instinctively Colin wanted to reach up and cover his nose, but he didn’t want to lose his grip on the Marcus doll.
As they passed by the crypt, he expected the sound of the slithering snakes in the lock to fade, but it didn’t. Not only did they continue to slither behind them, but also the sound got louder, filling the entire passage with dread. Colin’s heart was racing. He found it odd that his aunt seemed to be oblivious to the threat; even Jaeger, who was in partial control of his body, seemed totally unaware.
Grizzelda suddenly screeched. One of the snakes, now impossibly large, wrapped its body around her legs and tripped her.
Colin found himself freed. In his subconscious, he knocked the surprised Jaeger out of the way and took back control of most of his body. He was about to run in the opposite direction, but was felled by a constricting snake. He hit the floor of the stone passage with force, and felt the copper taste of a bloody lip. Then the snake was gone as it slithered over top of him. He scrambled to his feet and dashed down the passage away from the snake, his nose itching terribly remembering his first encounter with the little snakes at Zuhayer’s Crypt. Up ahead, Grizzelda screamed several times; these blood-curdling sounds were borne of both concern and of rage. His aunt was still divided in purpose, and Colin took courage from this. Colin patted his pocket to make sure the Marcus doll was there, but it was gone.
He skidded to a stop in front of three gaping passageways. He hesitated, unsure. Taking a step into the passage on the right, he thought better of it and stopped. Out of the middle passage came the drone and skirl of bagpipes. Without thought he took that one and was immediately rewarded with a flight of ascending stairs. Up he ran, following the music, up and away from the wailing and weeping of his confused aunt and the susurrations of the snakes that sounded around him like laughter. He raced toward the broken tower, all the while, knowing he wasn’t running from trouble, but running into the very heart of it. In his head Jaeger gave a cackling laugh.
“Shut up!” yelled Colin, and surprisingly, Jaeger took heed.
All the locks guarding the broken tower were wide open. Colin knew exactly what to do, and so did the swirling Wind that was fully sentient and waiting inside him, waiting to be released. Colin realized that it was this, and not his voice that had sent Jaeger cowering to the far corner of his mind.
Not halting at the base of the spiraling stairs, nor caring whether he trod directly up the middle of the red carpet, Colin took them two at a time. He knew instinctively that the music wouldn’t lead him wrong, that it would lead him directly to where he needed to go. Even though his legs ached with the effort, he didn’t falter. He surged by many of the runic symbols that marked the entrances to the rooms that populated the tower, not stopping until he reached the one from where the music was issuing. Behind him, the alternating sounds of sobbing and hysterical wailing pursued him. His aunt had somehow escaped the snakes and was on his trail. Colin burst into the room from where the music was coming, his destination, and his fate.
It was the same type of room as all the others, with the large upright oval mirror in the center, except here the circular room had thirteen arched windows giving many views into different places, different lands. But all this was only a backdrop to what stood next to the mirror: the full-sized Marcus Tiberius Dundas, his bald head shining with the sheen of effort, his bagpipes cradled in the crook of his arm, the pipes leaning up against his large girth.
“Marcus?” asked Colin unsure. The figure didn’t move. The doll had only gotten bigger. How could the frozen form have played the pipes, or how had it gotten here on its own?
“Yes, he’s Marcus,” said a familiar voice. Stepping out from behind the unmoving man was Hugh Dundas. “I was wondering when you were going to make it, lad. Welcome!”
There was something about the man--his too warm smile, the plastic sheen on his craggy face, his feral, sharp nose--that made Colin cautious.
“I knew what Grizzelda was going to try to do, so I made it here in advance-–to see if I could provide any aid. I know what you’re up against, but it is your destiny,” he said with false compassion.
How it happened he didn’t know, but the floor of the room began to move, one block at a time, shifting like a complex puzzle, and when it was finished moving, he had been moved from the door and positioned in front of the mirror. The scuttling sound and gasping breath of his aunt reached the door. He willed himself to move, but still remained frozen, in place.
“Good,” she said, desperately trying to groom her hair with the palm of her hand. She let out a large breath of air and became composed. The indecisive madness had left her face, which was now cold, reptilian. The Nix inside her had won, “Good, Tellings, you have the boy.”
Colin stared at the two standing together. “You’re not Hugh?” asked Colin bewildered.
“I look like him, indeed.” He took his free hand and passed it in front of his face, replacing Hugh’s features for those of the more sinister, yet just as old, Tellings. Colin remembered the picture at the funeral home, of Zuhayer clasping hands with Bevise, Bunk and Tellings. “But no, I am Tellings.”
“What about Hugh, what about Marcus?” asked Colin trying to stall them.
“Hugh, is somewhere,” and here he motioned to one of the thirteen windows, “around here.” He gave a crazy laugh revealing even white teeth. “And Marcus, the poor, smitten Marcus,” he nodded at the frozen form beside the mirror, “A necessary sacrifice. Don’t you agree Millicent?”
Colin noticed a nervous twitch at the corner of Grizzelda’s mouth. The Nix inside her didn’t have total control. Tellings was right; things aren’t always the way they seem. He focused on Grizzelda. “I thought you liked Marcus. I thought you cared for him,” prompted Colin, hoping care and compassion would give his aunt strength.
She refused to answer, but moved towards him in a jerky, unnatural movement.
“Marcus does have good taste in women. Horwood blood is powerful blood. Unfortunately, he was getting too close to Millicent, and there was the possibility that he would’ve found out what we were planning to do to you. Besides love would’ve made it more difficult getting complete control over her.”
Another twitch, and Grizzelda jerked to a stop.
Colin turned to Grizzelda a bit more desperate. He still couldn’t move. “You liked him, you liked Marcus because he accepted you without any conditions, right? He loved you because of who you really are inside. He was able to see that! You’ve got to fight, Grizzelda, you’ve got to fight, for him!” he implored.
A confused looked swept her face, roiling just beneath the surface.
“Oh, very good. Very good. I told you how love could interfere and here you’ve gone and ignited a spark. How brilliant. It’s no wonder Zuhayer wants you. Well, even so, you’re still doomed.”
Colin shifted from his aunt to Tellings. “So, what was the deal? Zuhayer must have made some twisted deal with you, for you to remain alive this long. So, what did you sell? What did it cost you?”
Anger flashed over Tellings face, but he controlled it and smiled darkly. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt while we wait. I supported Zuhayer and he showed me how to exten
d life. Of course I had to sleep, and yes I still aged, but in the end it will all be worth it. Life, immortal, nice ring isn’t it, is at hand.”
“So, how is this going to happen? Why do you need me if Zuhayer is so powerful.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” said Telling, taking a menacing step closer, “We’re going to use you to get Zuhayer back! With him he will bring all the lost souls, and we will rule here. Eventually we will extend our rule beyond Inbetween. But the Master needs a body for that, specifically--yours.”
“Why me? Why not someone else?”
“Yours is the closest, genetically. The closer the match, the less the chance of rejection,” he explained.
Tellings was close enough to make a lunge for him. Grizzelda still remained frozen, in a silent battle between love and hatred. But Colin wasn’t about to wait to be grabbed. He reached back feeling the carved wooden frame of the mirror with his hand, as he did so, he was able to move his feet again.
Jaeger, now aware of what Colin was about to do, came surging madly up into Colin’s consciousness, trying to regain control of his host’s body, but it was too late. With a great deal of satisfaction Colin saw the eyes of Tellings dilate in unexpected dread. Their intent was to hold him until Zuhayer Horwood could step out of the mirror and into Colin’s body. They had not expected Colin to step into the mirror. In one swift movement, Colin was gone absorbed by the mirror.
He was Inbetween, standing on the grass-carpeted ledge overlooking the expansive ocean below.
Pivoting, he was grateful to find the cross-legged form of Grandfather Thunder sitting meditatively, looking composed, at peace. He opened his eyes and smiled.
“I’ve been expecting you.” He used his serpent-head staff to pull himself up to his feet and motioned Colin closer. He bent forward in confidence. “I have someone I think you would be interested in meeting.”
Out from behind a large boulder glided Silverberry, his mother. She looked more radiant, more wonderful than anything Colin had ever seen, and indeed she seemed the most beautiful thing in the world. Her arms extended out to him, the diaphanous sheer of her dress fluttering from them. She was no longer wet and seemingly cold, but dry and warm. His reserve crumbled and he ran into the comforting arms of his dead mother. He looked up at her and she brushed the hair out of his water-laden eyes.
“You look so much like your father, my beautiful, beautiful, son,” she said, but her voice was thin as though carried from a great distance by a distant wind that was now, somehow failing. She was becoming somewhat translucent and Colin tried to grip her tighter, but it was no use, she was fading.
“It was difficult to get permission for her to see you again,” explained Grandfather Thunder. “Her time will be fleeting, but...”
“...well spent,” finished Sergeant Peary, suddenly ‘POPPING’ out of the air in front of them. His fatigues were ripped and torn, tainted with fresh blood, as though he had been in a battle. He staggered slightly then summoned the strength to stabilize himself, and took the perpetual smoldering stub of a cigar from between his lips and flicked it off the edge of the cliff. “Won’t be needing this anymore.” He gave Silverberry a warm grin, nodding to her and saying, “Every time I see you, I’m reminded of my sister, Emily. She was a good girl. And to Grandfather Thunder, “G.T., I suppose this is it? Three dead and one very much alive young man against the Old Man and his minions.”
“It is enough,” said Grandfather Thunder resolutely. He turned his focus to Colin with a concerned-but-hard look. “I hope you are ready for this. Maestro has prepared you?”
Colin realized, for the first time, that Jaeger was no longer present in his mind, or anywhere in his thoughts. By stepping into the looking glass, it had purged him of the Nix.
“What do you mean?” asked Colin suddenly remembering why he had stepped into the mirror, and in so remembering, ignited The Wind within.
A perplexed frown unfurled on Grandfather Thunder, his face like the dark cloud that was forming far out over the ocean. “I feared something like this might happen,” said Grandfather Thunder.
He came closer to Colin. The limpid clarity of his eyes slid into him and into his mind, searching. Colin tightened the hold on his mother’s ghostly hand. Even though her hand was somewhere between spirit and corporeal, it was still substantial enough to feel its softness, to feel comforted by it.
“Be strong, Colin,” said his mother, her voice whispering musically into his soul.
“You are strong,” said Grandfather Thunder nodding in agreement. “What Maestro was going to instruct you about, before the attack on his circus, was that none of us can face Zuhayer Horwood. It has to be you, because your great strength is requisite.”
Colin was surprised that his first reaction wasn’t to look behind him for the person G.T. was addressing this to. Rather, he nodded to him in somber, but full agreement. He had always known this about himself, and it seemed, at this moment, that everything had led to this showdown with the force that threatened the harmony which Grandfather Thunder had always lived by and taught, the same harmony that Maestro and his circus performers, including Ofelia, adhered to, and Grandma Li had passed down so successfully to her children and grandchildren.
Grandfather Thunder continued: “You see, we--even though we resent being called this–-are dead, or almost. And the dead cannot affect the living without using special rules of engagement.”
“But Horwood is dead too!”
“No, he’s not…just banished. His fear of death forced him to tie a portion of his spirit to the Inbetween, in the hope he could live again, specifically, through you. He needs your body to affect this transfer.”
Colin knew this intrinsically, but hearing it from G.T. caused a shock of adrenalin to course through him.
“He wants to change places, and if he succeeds you’ll be trapped Inbetween forever.”
The dark clouds that had begun as a dot on the horizon were now flooding across the sea covering the entire expanse of the sky. “He’s coming for you, and you are the only one who can stop him. We had planned to stop him tomorrow night when he tried to take your body at the coronation, but your aunt, or the Nix inside your aunt, chose to act sooner. Her plan, which you foiled, was to hold you in front of one of the mirrors while Zuhayer slipped into you. Well,” said Grandfather Thunder bracing himself and planting his staff firmly into the ground, “are you ready for the fight of your life?”
Colin felt his mother’s tender kiss, like the flicker of a cool wind, on his cheek.
He saw Sergeant Peary, his arms now full of weapons, a nasty, almost gleeful expression, on his face. He gave him a wink.
His mother who had now joined the other two standing on the cusp of the cliff, her sheer dress fluttering about her, moved by the breeze that was turning to storm, motioned for him to come forward.
Colin stared down the cliff at the white pounding surf. The white foam had changed to black; on the crest of the waves swarmed a host of Nixes. They began to crawl up the face of the cliff.
Colin felt his spirit guardian building inside him, breezes combining in intensity, becoming a maelstrom. He didn’t know how long he could contain it before it emerged.
“How am I to handle The Wind when it comes out?” asked Colin apprehensively.
“That is a question I cannot answer. When the time comes, you will know. Now, if you don’t mind, I think a lesson is needed for these tormented souls, although I do fear learning is far past their ability.” A gust of wind pummeled violently into Grandfather Thunder with no effect and the dragon head on his staff opened its mouth. From it issued blue flames that surged down the cliff, fanning out and blasting a hole in the black mass of Nixes.
Sergeant Peary sent barrage after barrage of ghostly projectiles down into the Nixes, but every time a hole formed it was filled by the pushing mass behind. It was as though nothing could stop the Nixes from reaching their objective.
Silverberry, sitting reflectively on a flat rock overlooking the cliff, observed the exhausting effort of the majestic Jim Thunder and the manic fighting machine, Charlotte’s son, Sergeant Peary Horwood. There was something she could do yet she waited. Timing would indeed be everything.
Something caught Colin’s eye, drawing his attention from the battle, to a dark spot far out on the ocean. Slowly at first and then growing in rapidity, the black spot began to pulsate, and from each pulse a sickly, eerie, green light began to emanate. It grew in strength and size and gave Colin the impression that it was feeding, consuming, the dark cloud around it. Then it stopped, rose from the surface of the ocean, and began to glide their way. As it progressed, Colin began to make out the details of the object, and wished he couldn’t. Zuhayer Horwood was sitting on a throne, which was supported by an immense, floating chunk of blackened ice, and as it grew in size, so to did his victorious grin.
The Nixes were almost on them when Silverberry began to sing. Colin had heard the song before. It had come to him in dark nights when dreams turned horrible and his head felt as big and as heavy as the world. Then the sweet melody would pierce the air--a weightless, graceful light-filled refrain--and lift him above it all. Then as now, he felt his worries dissipate as the light of the song cut through the dark of the Nixes and surrounded them, rising up into the air to take on a tangible, sparkling mist.
Grandfather Thunder and Sergeant Peary had ceased their attempts to stop the Nixes and watched with awe as the mist floated down the cliff. It coated the rocks as it went, sliding closer and closer to the inky souls that were the Nixes. They were so close now that Colin could make out the features of the first line of fighters. As the Nixes came to the coated rocks, and touched them, they immediately withdrew their hands as though burned. They collectively hissed in fury, gnashing their teeth, and glared hatefully in Colin’s direction. All the way across the cliff the effect was similar. The advance of the Nixes had been halted. But it was not so with Zuhayer Horwood.
The floating ice reached the shore and shot up the cliff, unaffected by the sparkling mist that Silverberry had rained down on the rocks. It hovered above their heads and began to descend behind them.
The black armored figure--exactly like the statue at Horwood House--rose up from his throne. He surveyed them, an expression of contemptuous arrogance on his pallid face.
“Jim, it’s been a long time,” said Zuhayer to Grandfather Thunder as he stepped off his platform and onto the ground. His eyes found Colin and fastened on him. “How does it feel to be dead?”
“It does have its restrictions,” he said stepping in front of Colin.
“You think you can stop me from taking the boy?” said Zuhayer imperiously. “You know the rules as well as I.”
“Your rules, not mine.” The words grated from between Sergeant Peary’s clenched teeth. They were rough words carved throughout the years by the torment he had suffered at the hands of his father.
Zuhayer refused to look at Peary, at his son. Instead he looked over his shoulder where there was nothing. “I think I heard something insignificant, some precocious little wind trying to huff and puff its way back into existence. Enough of this!” he snarled turning back to the small group, his face contorting savagely, eyes burning red, and he lunged for Colin.
Grandfather Thunder, his staff flared to life, tried to protect Colin, but as Zuhayer touched him, his form became silvery, more transparent and dissipated entirely. Even though Grandfather Thunder had disappeared, his staff did not, but fell forward, its snakehead hissing onto the ground. Zuhayer brushed the staff away with his toe, avoiding the head with abhorrence.
“One down, three to go,” he said smugly advancing on Colin who had backed up to the cliff’s edge. He was caught between the Nixes and Zuhayer, until Sergeant Peary took Grandfather Thunder’s place.
Peary was now between his father and Colin. He was flickering oddly as if he was trying to become substantial, as if he was trying to come back from the dead.
Zuhayer noticed his son for the first time, and arched an eyebrow. “Impressive, boy, perhaps I misjudged you,” then he sighed as though a great opportunity had been missed, “but, of course, it’s too late, much too late.” He cast a glance over to the left. Materializing out of the air were the two Union Agents with the stovepipe hats. The grim looks on their faces said there would be no discussion. They summarily rushed Sergeant Peary, and tackled him. They fell off the cliff where the three of them disappeared into nothingness.
“Well, that was easy, two down, two to go. Even though you foiled my little plan, this is developing into quite an entertaining show. Now, if you don’t mind, would you come here so we can get on with it?”
Colin felt his legs jerk forward in response to Zuhayer’s crooked index finger. The Wind struggled to get out, but something inside Colin held it back, and he couldn’t understand why.
His Mother spoke. Her voice was calm, peaceful, resigned, and it stopped Zuhayer as though he had hit a wall. Many emotions passed across Zuhayer’s face--pain, ecstasy, hatred, love--all rolling over and over again. He staggered and placed a gloved hand to his face, feebly attempting to rub away the memories.
“Stop it,” he yelled, “stop talking! You don’t have any right to sound like her. You have no right!”
“I have all the right in the world,” she continued softly, “after all she is my Grandma. Her blood flows in my body, her spirit now is my spirit, and she wants to know, Zuhayer, why you are doing these terrible things.”
Colin watched as Zuhayer Horwood hardened his heart; the momentary pliability lost to descending sheet of steel that began to cover his face. His lips, two thin lines, pressed the emotion out of his face, and his chin jutted forward set in his resolve to take the boy. He looked at Silverberry knowingly, suspiciously, and gave a cold laugh. “Oh, you are good. You almost had me.”
Unperturbed, Silverberry shrugged. She gave Colin a knowing glance, and for a moment her eyes flickered to Grandfather Thunder’s fallen staff before returning to Zuhayer. “Before I’m dismissed, would you please tell me why you placed a curse on all the Horwood women?”
Zuhayer hesitated again, as though some almost insurmountable barrier had just been placed in front of him. “But I didn’t curse all Horwood women, just the ones who betrayed my will. You don’t see it do you? All this is for her, to bring her back, make things as they should be, to bring back who I was,” he said jabbing himself emphatically in his chest. “Why am I telling you this? It’s time for you to go!” He flicked his hand and although she fought it, Silverberry began to disappear.
“Colin, I love you,” said Silverberry fighting to remain.
“Three down, one to go.”
Colin’s mind was racing: the answer, the answer, the answer? What is the answer?
It was no use, he couldn’t think of anything. He was too panicked; his concentration wasn’t there. His eyes rolled from the ground up to the heavens and back down again. His mind was totally blank! Then, in a flash, the answer finally burst into Colin’s consciousness. He threw himself at the staff, grasped it in his hands and rolled up to his knees, pointing the head, now like a globe of glass, at Zuhayer.
“Leave her alone!” he shouted. “He saw the Wind swirling within the glass orb.
Zuhayer Bombast Horwood turned to him, eyebrow arched, an expression of mild interest on his face, but that altered to one of stunned surprise as the glass ball on the head of Grandfather Thunder’s staff exploded. Out of it surged a vast, tumultuous, hurricane-force wind. Using both his hands he swung the staff against Zuhayer Horwood’s armor, and he could feel his guardian latching onto Zuhayer in tenacious vengeance. A blue–white nimbus of light enveloped Zuhayer Horwood, and The Wind began to take his great grandfather literally apart, one piece at a time. The last things he remembered were the surprise on Zuhayer Horwood’s face … and the man’s screams.
When Colin woke up, it all seemed like a dream, a terrible dream, except for the fact that still clutched in his hand was Grandfather Thunder’s staff. His head throbbed and flashed with pain. As he slowly roused himself from his sleep, he realized that he was lying on a soft bed of ferns. In the distance he heard the sound of a peaceful waterfall.
“Where am I?” he said, more to himself than anyone, as he sat up.
He felt a hand on his chest restraining him, gently pushing him back down. Was everything that had just happened, indeed, just a dream? He saw a familiar face. It was Rhea, and behind her, Spike and Melissa. There was a translucent, angelic shine about Melissa’s face. There were other faces too, concerned faces. Holdfast, his bristly beard and gigantic head were there, along with Magenta’s face, and dear Ofelia, but of all the faces that mattered the most was the face of his worried father, Frederick. He had a wide bandage wrapped around his head. A shadow moved behind the faces and for a moment Colin tensed, but then he relaxed when he recognized it was Maestro. Much to the disapproval of Rhea, he sat up to get a better view of things. He was in Maestro’s caravan. Lifting a hand, Colin realized that it had the same luminescent sparkle that was still about Melissa and Ofelia.
“After we got you back,” said Frederick “the angels were able to fix you up.”
“Feels great, eh?” shot in Spike, his eyes vibrating. “You should’ve seen Rhea’s Phoenix taking on Tellings! He had this black spider thing that shot out green poison, but Rhea’s phoenix was too fast, and too hot. It burnt the spider to a crisp. Unfortunately, Tellings jumped out one of the windows and disappeared. Your dad said he was pretending to be Hugh.”
Rhea smiled. “We thought we had lost you.”
It all still felt like a dream to him, even this reunion. He rose off the bed of ferns and made his way to the door, in spite of the fact that his head was spinning. Swinging the door open, he glared out onto the front yard of Horwood House and found what he was looking for. The statue of Zuhayer Horwood was now nothing more than a pile of black rubble. In front of the rubble knelt his aunt, her form bowed and defeated, her body wracked with sobs. Marcus Tiberius Dundas attempted to comfort her by stroking and patting her back.
“He’s gone for good then?” said Colin returning to the interior of the caravan. “He’s finally dead?”
Maestro nodded, but he shuffled his feet. “He is gone, yes.”
“Along with Grandfather Thunder, Uncle Peary, and my Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Will I ever see them again?” he asked. “My Mom?” He couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes.
He felt his father by his side, a thick arm around his shoulders, buoying him up, supporting him. His warm voice comforted him. “I don’t know much, but death is a funny thing,” said Frederick, “but it definitely isn’t the end.”
###
About the author: M.E. Eadie lives on an island in the Ottawa River with his wife and six children. Much of the inspiration for the Colin series is based in a nearby town. A visual artist first, he has turned his focus to the printed word; because of all the arts he finds it the most challenging. (There is a correct here) He finds music the most challenging.
Book 2: Colin and The Little Black Box
Book 3 Colin and The Revenant
A Thousand Kisses Deep
Find out what I’m currently working on @:
My blog: https://adambookhouse.blogspot.com/
