by Megan Linski
Peasants were even lower on the list of things she found important. Commoners might as well be cockroaches to her.
And she knew I’d put my people first, before myself. Which scared her.
“There’s no need to talk of this right now,” I said. “Steward Solomon will take care of things while—”
“Steward Solomon is a fool. We both know it.” Mother put down her tea with a snap. “He couldn’t rule over a molehill. Look at what’s happened since your father’s been gone.”
She was right. The Arcanea were more than uneasy. There’d been near panic after my father’s death was announced. Monsters were getting braver. Hunters were having to go out every night to hunt them down to prevent them from entering the city. Sorceresses were working full-time to cast spells to protect themselves and their houses. The only place that seemed safe anymore was Arcanea University, and that was because it was protected by the strongest Marked and Companions in the world. The Circle was barely keeping control. Worse still, Solomon had made it obvious he couldn’t handle the job. He’d locked himself up in his quarters of the palace and refused to come out more days than not. Without a strong leader, the Arcanea wouldn’t listen. They’d look after themselves and their own, and to hell with everyone else.
“Whoever takes over after Solomon steps down is going to have his hands full,” Mother said. “It’s going to be madness regaining the trust of the people. The Factions will be fighting for power, and these are desperate times.”
I knew she was right. The four Factions usually got along, as patriotism and our country came before any individual race. We weren’t like the Houses of the Elementai in America, who couldn’t unify if you forced them to. But every twenty years when the King’s Contest came around, the allure of power took over, and each Faction would work their hardest to make sure one of their own kind was put on the throne.
The division never usually lasted more than a year or so. Arcanea were undyingly loyal.
Once the new king proved himself, each of the Factions would die for him. But before then? There would be assassination attempts, undercover plots, espionage. Only once the new king survived all of that would he be deemed worthy to become a true ruler.
Yes. Becoming the new king would be dangerous. But allow someone to do that in my place? Never. I knew what I was getting into.
“To back down now would look cowardly. I won’t do it,” I told my mother.
“Would you rather look like a coward or lose your life? No, I know the answer. You don’t have to say it, you stubborn boy.” Mother took another sip of her tea, looking cross.
I drummed my fingers against the armrest. “If you really think I’m about to quit and let Elijah have a shot at the crown that is mine, you don’t know me that well.”
“Elijah is another one. Pasty-faced fool. And stop that,” she added, glaring at my drumming fingers. “It’s painfully annoying.”
I stopped. She sighed and said, “I shouldn’t have to tell you that the Factions aren’t our only worries. The Black Claw is rumored to be regaining power.”
I sat back in surprise. “The Black Claw?”
“Yes,” Mother hissed. “Listen more closely the first time.”
The Black Claw was a fanatic cult, one that believed in dark magic. They’d caused quite a few problems in past years, including starting an uprising that had nearly led to a war. But my father had practically wiped them out during his reign. There were so few of the Black Claw left that I didn’t even think they were still around. I didn’t consider them a real threat.
I mulled in thought. “You really think the Black Claw stand a chance of coming into power?”
“They’re already coming into power. You’re not paying attention.”
“You’re just being paranoid.” I barely listened. The Black Claw was nothing to worry about. Sure, some Arcanea still feared them, but I wasn’t one of them.
Mother shook her head. “There’s been talk of human sacrifices increasing in the highlands. Deep in the woods, where no one can find the bodies. The Black Claw is attempting to please the Dark Stag of Wrath, and gain his favor. With your father gone, they stand a chance of gaining more followers. Weak-minded people who are too afraid to stand on their own, or those who seek power.”
“People are disappearing?”
Mother nodded. “In the villages. And it isn’t due to monsters.”
That was concerning. “Are you certain it’s the Black Claw?”
“Who else could it be?” she insisted. “Your father was concerned about them before he died. He was working on a plan to draw them out and eliminate the rest of them. Unfortunately, his time drew too short to carry out this plan. Don’t inform anyone of this. He was to keep it between us.”
This was news to me. “Why didn’t he tell me?”
“I don’t know, Ethan. Yet it makes sense. When was the last time a leshane was in Malovia? Long ago. What kind of dark magic was used to summon such a creature out of Droga’s underworld?”
Her lip trembled. “And now your father is gone.” She didn’t cry this time, but she looked like she might.
I got off the couch and leaned forward to embrace her. “I’m sorry, Mother.” I didn’t know what else to say. I still felt like all of this was my fault— that all of the Arcanea were left vulnerable due to the mistake I’d made. I was responsible for every one of my people, and I’d let them down.
Mother sniffed. “The Seven Gods help me. If you go through with this, Ethan, I’ll never forgive you.”
I stood up. “Then I guess I’ll have to beg for your mercy, because I don’t intend to withdraw my declaration.”
I walked away before she could say anything more. She knew where I stood, and I wouldn’t change my mind.
I thought about what she’d said as I packed the last of my things into my suitcase. If my father had been right, and the Black Claw was coming back into power, I’d hunt down every last one of them.
He’d died before his mission to end the Black Claw was realized. So I’d end them for him.
I waited until nightfall to embark on the streets of Dolinska, just past the hour of midnight. I donned a black cloak, throwing the hood over my eyes, along with black breeches and boots. I fitted a wooden wolf’s mask over my eyes, white in color, before I locked my bedroom door and fastened a hook to my window. I quickly rappelled down the side of the palace tower. It was a hundred feet down, a straight shot, but it didn’t bother me. I’d done this hundreds of times.
When I hit the ground, I yanked the hook so that it came off the window, then rolled the rope up and tucked it into my secret spot behind a barrel before taking the servant’s door into the city. It would be much more difficult to sneak out once I attended the university, but I’d make do. I wasn’t about to give this up.
The streets were mostly empty. A self-imposed curfew had fallen upon the city since my father had died. No one seemed much in the mood to celebrate the end of the warm summer days. Everyone was nervous.
The streets of Dolinska were cobblestone. Gothic buildings rose up five stories in height around me, enclosing in the area. Renaissance mansions and Baroque churches of massive structure were built here and there among the massive spread of food carts, coffee shops open to the air, and vendors selling potions and magical items. All were closed for the night. The streetlights were dim, and the elaborate fountains sculpted in shapes of Companions and Marked were turned off. There were only a few shops open— shady bars, strip clubs, and establishments of a magical nature no Arcanea frequented unless they were dabbling in things they shouldn’t be.
I had no fear of being spotted, so I shifted into a wolf and ran throughout the city streets, sure of where I was headed. There were regular humans in Malovia, and they were afraid of us. Even though this was the modern age, fairy tales and folklore still ruled the country. They spoke with hatred of sorceresses and their trained monster hunters. They didn’t know we truly existed, but rumor and myth had been p
assed down generation to generation of unfeeling Arcanea and their love for blood and coin.
Anyone Arcanea wasn’t permitted to live in Dolinska— the government found excuses to avoid allowing humans into the city, and the city was surrounded by such thick forest that nobody but the Arcanea bothered to come here, anyway. The nearest human settlement was a tiny farming town, and it was at least thirty miles away.
Many humans still didn’t go out at night. A good thing, too. Centuries past had done nothing to curb the amount of monsters still lurking in the country. They avoided humans now more than in the past, because technology scared them and was unfamiliar, but every now and then one got brave enough to step out of line and go hunting.
That’s when people started disappearing. More often than not, they went after tourists who didn’t know the area and didn’t respect the culture. Malovia was mostly Christian, but the local folks still participated in pagan ceremonies and followed traditions that had been carried out by their ancestors long ago.
Mother was sure those disappearances weren’t monsters, but the Black Claw. Monsters usually left traces. The Black Claw did not. They came and vanished like a thief in the night.
Salt was sprinkled across many doorsteps. On some doorways hung crosses. Others, antlers. On a few mantles was the smearing of dark blood— deer’s blood, an offering to the Seven Gods for protection.
Monsters usually couldn’t cross these paths, if the magic had been done right. Didn’t mean the Black Claw couldn’t. It usually took a powerful Marked to keep them out.
After fifteen minutes of running, I came to a stop at my destination. It was a narrow alleyway that led to a few apartment buildings that had a statue of two snarling wolves in the middle. Rumor had it that there was a group murder in this alleyway a few nights ago. Three Arcanea dead. I was determined to investigate. Black Claw, or monsters. Which was it?
Lord Lucien wouldn’t approve of what I was doing. But I didn’t care. Something had to be done, and I’d been at it for months.
I investigated. The scene had long been cleaned up, but I was a Companion, and I could use my magic to see what had been done in the past. I cast a spell to intensify my sight and senses. I saw a glowing on the ground where blood had once been— it’d been a massacre. I witnessed outlines of bodies lying on the ground, and deep scratches in the cobblestone. The spells that had been cast left dark residue on the ground, like gunpowder. Something had come at them from behind and prevented them from defending themselves properly.
From what I’d read in the paper, the people killed hadn’t been taken from the scene. I didn’t see any signs of a struggle. That ruled out the possibility of the Black Claw. They usually took people alive, to sacrifice in dark rituals later. That meant it was a monster.
I tried using my magical sight to judge what spells had been used, but no good. I didn’t see any signs. I recalled the article in the paper. One griffin and two Marked. Throats ripped out. The authorities hadn’t caught whoever… or whatever… was responsible yet.
If their throats were ripped out, that usually meant either wraiths or ghouls. Couldn’t be sure of which yet. Ghouls liked to eat their victims, but the paper didn’t specify if the victims had been consumed. I put my nose to the ground and tried to get a smell.
No scent. That definitely meant wraiths. They were vengeful spirits who wreaked havoc in the afterlife. Usually victims of horrific ceremonies, whose souls sought revenge.
Maybe Mother was right. Wraiths in the area could mean that the Black Claw was committing more vile ceremonies. I stomped my paw in frustration. Wraiths were difficult to catch. I was sure this was outside my skill level, and I was fighting alone.
But I reminded myself I was hunting the wraith. It wasn’t hunting me. I had the advantage. I wasn’t going to crawl back home with my tail between my legs when there was a possibility that the wraith could kill someone else.
I changed back into my human form. I needed to get a bird’s eye view, and since I didn’t have wings, I was going to have to do it the old-fashioned way. I started scaling buildings. I swiftly climbed the apartment complex I was standing next to, and once I got on the roof, began surveying my surroundings.
The wraith wasn’t up here. I perched on a gargoyle, scanning the streets below for the wraith. They were invisible to humans and Marked, but a Companion could see them clear as day.
Finally, I spotted it. A black shadow hovering over one of the buildings. The wraith looked like a skeletal figure in black cloth, a shroud covered in swaths of dark blood. I couldn’t see its face, or any other features. It was as large as a human male, but I remained cautious. I knew it could kill me.
And it had seen me. There went the element of surprise. Instead of attacking, the wraith let out a terrifying screech and made a run for it.
I wasn’t about to let it get away. My footsteps fell hard against the clay shingles of the rooftops as I gave chase. I had to jump from building to building in my pursuit of the wraith. It glided soundlessly above the ground. I made a lot of noise as I darted to keep up with it. I was forced to parkour off of buildings, ledges, and balconies while the wraith merely flew over them. Damn not having any wings.
I managed to catch up. I changed into a wolven mid-jump as I tackled the wraith. It squealed, and scratched at my eye as we tumbled off one of the buildings and to the ground. We fell into valances and canopies that ripped and slowed our descent as the cobblestone streets loomed closer and closer.
Finally, we hit the ground. The wraith broke my fall, and I ended up uninjured as I rolled off the top of it. The wraith hissed and stood to its full height, unbothered by the rough landing. Ghosts couldn’t be injured in such a way.
Wraiths could only be killed once you freed the trapped spirit. But you had to make it weak enough to do that. I changed back and ripped my father’s jeweled dagger out of the hilt on my belt. It was ceremonially blessed by sorceresses, and so, could hurt ghostly forms.
I charged at the wraith. It glided out of the way, but not before I sank the dagger into its middle. It was like slicing through air. I met no resistance, but I knew I had harmed the beast when it howled in rage. Dark magic flickered off its form and flung at me, but I managed to roll out of the way and only caught the edges of the spell.
The magic stung, like accidentally putting your hand on a hot stove. If the spell had actually hit me, I would’ve been consumed with pain, and the wraith would’ve easily finished the job.
I barely got to my feet before the wraith lifted a hand and I was blasted back. It screamed, and the windows in the buildings around us shattered. I wanted to cover my ears and block out the sound, but instead I gritted my teeth and rolled out of the way of the falling glass.
The wraith came at me several times, each time extending bony fingers toward my throat from under its black covering. It intended to rip my jugular out. I jumped out of the way and pierced its cloak three more times before it finally backed off. It tried to get away, but I stepped on the edge of its cloak and pinned it down before sinking the dagger into where I presumed the heart would be, if it had one.
The wraith squealed in pain. I waved my hand over the wraith and purple magic exploded from my palm, passing through the wraith and releasing the trapped spirit.
The wraith let out one last squeal before it exploded into a cloud of dust. I coughed, then wiped off the dagger on my cloak.
I wasn’t sure if the wraith would be gone for good. Usually, to banish them completely, you had to undo whatever crime had been committed against them. Resolve unfinished business. But the protective spell would at least keep it out of the city for a few days.
I noticed something. Where the wraith had once been was a small doll— a child’s plaything.
I picked up the doll and observed it before tucking it into my pocket. The wraith had left it behind for me. I had to return it somewhere— it was important to the spirit. Otherwise, it would come back. I would have to do some investigating to see wh
ere it came from.
Lights came on above me, and I heard voices. I looked up to see Arcanea poking their heads out of their broken windows, wondering what the hell had happened and what was causing all the noise. Shit.
“The Phantom!” I heard a boy cry out from above. Then there were more voices joining it. The Phantom, the Phantom.
I hated that cursed name. I couldn’t change into my wolven form. They’d see three legs and know it was me. I kept my mask on and my hood up as I high-tailed it out of there. Cheers and applause followed me as I fled the scene.
Not everyone in Dolinska thought I was a hero. It wasn’t long before the authorities arrived to give chase. I could hear the cries of the authorities as they came after me. Griffins and dragons took flight, while wolvens and alicorns stayed on the ground in pursuit. I had to pin to the walls and avoid the lights Marked cast with their hands in their search. I stayed low to the ground and hid behind various objects as I outran the authorities. The Arcanea Alliance— the local police— didn’t like the Phantom coming in and doing their job for them. Made them look bad. I knew they’d love to catch me. But I’d be damned if I ever let them.
I needed to get to the palace, and back in bed before I was discovered. I took a risk and bolted. A few Marked saw me and cried out to their Companions that I was getting away, but I knew these city streets better than anyone else. I was able to zig-zag down a couple of unknown alleyways and lose them before they even knew what happened.
When I got back to the palace, the whole thing was lit up with the announcement that the Phantom had been seen again. Dammit. More complications.
The servant’s door was now locked. I’d have to scale the wall. I chose a lightly guarded part of the wall surrounding the palace to get back inside. Once I’d scaled it and landed in the palace courtyard, I planned to make my way back to my grappling hook, so I could pull myself up to my bedroom and inside without another thought.
