by Lee French
Anne returned with two flowery little cups of tea. She shoved one at Drew. “You should drink this. You’ll feel better.”
Drew stared up at her, his brow furrowed. “I don’t want any.”
“I insist.” Anne put the cup in his hand.
“Knock it off.” Claire smacked the cup away. It flew across the room and smashed on the hardwood floor.
“How dare you!” Anne threw the tea from the second cup into Claire’s face. While Claire sputtered and hissed from near-boiling water hitting her skin, Anne grabbed Drew by the front of his coat and hauled him off the couch.
Drew stammered in surprise and shock. Claire wiped her sleeve across her face. Anne shoved Drew out of the room and snatched a handful of the crystals hanging in the doorway. Snaking her dagger out from under her coat, Claire leaped off the couch and slipped on the spilled tea. She landed on one knee and heard a door slam shut at the end of the hallway.
Claire’s head spun. She wiped more tea off her face and shook her head. Iulia had drugged Caius with a drink. Had Anne tried to do the same to them? She stood and leaned against the wall, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
“What’s wrong with you, Kay?” Anne’s muffled voice came from the door at the end of the hall.
“Let go of me. Claire!”
Claire rubbed her face again and knew she needed to do something. Dropping her shoulder, she lurched down the hall and rammed the door. She smashed a hole in the thin wood, making Anne shriek. While wrestling with her dagger, Claire heard a sharp slap and Drew squawked in surprised pain.
“Hit him again and I’ll kill you,” Claire snarled. She slammed the blade into the door and ripped through it until she saw Anne’s eyes, magnified by her glasses and glowing the same bright green as the crystal in her hand.
Anne shouted something in a foreign language, her voice echoing inside Claire’s head. Green filled Claire’s vision, and she flew into the wall, hitting her head and dropping her dagger.
Chapter 24
Justin
Justin kicked over the third headstone. As with the second, he didn’t recognize the name, but had a suspicion about the connection he’d discover between them if he dug enough. Knighthood tended to run in families. Including his own, he knew of four Knight bloodlines in the area. Other graves near both brought those families to mind. That whorl symbol appeared on both of these stones too. Justin figured he’d probably seen it in the Palace at some point.
Kurt had been guarding power stored in the graves of long-dead Knights. At once, it seemed fitting and profane. The old man must have discovered them well before he met Justin or he would have mentioned them.
For the third time, Justin plunged his sword into the ground and experienced the surge of raw magic lifting him into the air. When it released him, he sat to catch his breath on the nearby flat headstone marking Claire’s family’s shared grave. Thankfully, all three graves he’d had to vandalize had standing stones or this would have taken much longer.
“Tariel, whenever you’re ready!”
Leaves rustled where she’d laid out of sight. “When this is over, I want a vacation. Get a slave to scrub me.”
He smirked. “When this is over, I’d like to have a beer and watch some football.” “You don’t drink.”
“This mission is making me rethink that.” He grunted as he stood, weariness making it an effort. His legs still hurt too. If he could punch someone to make that go away, he would. Any other possible solution would have to wait.
Tariel stepped through the trees. “Are you sure you’re up to more of this today? We could call it a night and get some rest. You’ve got dark circles forming under your eyes. It takes away some of your inherent charm.”
“I’m fine.” He sheathed his sword and climbed into the saddle with a groan.
“You’re actually fine, or you’re the kind of fine where you’re pretending to be fine because you have some half-cocked idea about your own invincibility?”
“The second one.” Grabbing the reins, he tried to figure out where they should go for an old map.
“Being a smartass is my job.”
“And you do it well. Take us to the Historical Society.”
Tariel turned her head to regard him with one big, blue eye. “Do you think that’s wise?”
“Probably not, but I can’t come up with a better place. We’ll hit the fountain later. Let’s go.”
The horse set off, galloping across the cemetery and leaping over the chain-link fence surrounding it. Returning to downtown Portland, she took him up the green belt between the two directions of Park Avenue. Bronze statues dotted the long strip of grass, trees, benches. Tariel stopped in front of Teddy Roosevelt on his horse.
“We first met Claire here.”
Justin nodded as he dismounted. “I’m glad she’s not here. She’d ask fifty questions I don’t know the answer to and call me stupid for it, then suggest we run to Rondy for the information.”
“You’re cranky. Hurry up so we can get you home for a nap and a bottle.”
He grunted and left Tariel behind, too tired to deal with her barbs. The Oregon Historical Society, a grand stone building with bright blue awnings, awaited him. He crossed the street and used the wheelchair ramp. Even three brickwork steps looked daunting, a sure sign he needed rest.
Going home would mean facing Marie, a challenge he thought might break him right now. She was already upset when he left. Dropping off Drew without a word probably hadn’t helped. Now he’d be dragging himself in half-dead after dinner. If he stopped to pick something up for her, like those wool socks he knew she wanted, he’d be even later.
As he gripped the handle of the door, he decided he’d hit up Kurt for a nap. Maybe the old man could explain why his legs wouldn’t heal all the way. He stepped inside the building onto regal blue carpet edged with brick flooring. Off to the side, a familiar man stood behind a counter with a cash register and pamphlets about the current featured exhibit.
“Oh, no. Wait.” The tall, skinny man hurried out from behind the counter to accost Justin.
Justin ignored him, heading for the back of the building, until the man jumped into his way. He glared at the employee, setting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You can’t stop me.”
The man held up his hands. “I’m not trying to. The trustees decided that if you ever returned, the staff should see if we can come to some sort of arrangement about whatever you’re here to liberate.”
“Oh.” For once, things seemed to go his way. Justin smiled. “That’ll make things simpler. I need a map of Goose Hollow from 1920.”
“Do you need an original map, or will a reproduction work?”
“Huh. A copy should be fine.”
“Okay. We actually have those in the gift shop? Do you need to take it, or just look it over?”
Ideally, Justin would take the map to Kurt and they’d pore over it. Then he’d know where to go for this stone. If it happened to be something of significance, though, he should be able to figure it out on his own. “Looking it over might be fine. Do you have a current map I can compare it to?”
“Sure. Have a seat. I’ll help you out with that.”
The employee ushered Justin to a table where he could wait. Justin stared out the window, watching dead leaves swirl across concrete. Marie wanted him to bring something home, and he couldn’t remember what it was. She needed silly things, though, so it probably didn’t matter. It’d be something for the girls they couldn’t really afford, or another luxury like that wine he wouldn’t drink.
Come to think of it, his reasons for not drinking seemed silly too. Just because his father had been an alcoholic didn’t mean he’d be one. He should be able to handle a drink with dinner. He’d never hit his girls before and didn’t intend to start. They didn’t even spank Missy and Lisa. Marie felt strongly that violence couldn’t solve discipline problems, and he never had a reason to argue.
Sometimes, though, they pushed him. Wh
en Missy wrapped herself around his leg this morning, demanding he play with her, he should’ve smacked the little brat. Maybe a good swat on her behind would help her learn the world didn’t revolve around her.
“Here we go,” the cashier said as he returned. He laid a paper map on the table and held out his cellphone with another map of the same location already loaded. “What can I help you find?”
Half an hour later, the sun had set and Justin strode out of the museum, pleased with himself. Goose Hollow had one park and no cemeteries. Figuring that park must be the place, he chose to head straight there and take care of it.
Chapter 25
Claire
Anne yanked the broken door open while Claire shook her head to clear it. Before she gathered her scrambled wits, Anne kicked her dagger across the floor. Claire rose to her hands and knees, feeling dizzy for no reason. Anne kicked her in the gut. Bile rose in Claire’s throat. She tried to swallow it down and failed.
“Are you kay?”
“No,” Claire said. She threw up.
“Yes,” Drew said. “I’m here. Watch out. This girl is dangerous.”
“I’ll take care of her. The third seal is broken, so Justin should be heading for Skidmore Fountain soon. Go there and make sure he thinks he’s in real danger.”
“Don’t kill the girl. Kurt might find her useful.”
“Like I would. Get going.”
Claire burped and spat a gob of yellow bile. She thought about trying to lunge at Anne and Drew. The smell of her own vomit made her do nothing more than shuffle back on her hands and knees. Enion needed to come back to her. Soon.
Drew’s shoes thumped away until the front door opened and shut. Anne set a shoe on Claire’s back.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“I guess you’re the witch.”
Anne laughed, no longer the harmless crystal lady. “You say that like there’s only ever one at a time. There are at least thirteen of us in Portland alone.”
“The Knights think all witches are a danger.” Given her experience so far, Claire agreed.
“The Knights are a bunch of whiny, idiot men. How much can you really expect them to understand?” Anne put her weight on Claire’s back, forcing her flat against the floor. “They don’t even realize they’re causing the problem, not solving it.”
Claire froze, suddenly aware of exactly what she faced. Drew had mentioned Kurt, which she remembered as the name of Justin’s mentor. That Knight had died recently, making him a Phasm. Anne hadn’t asked if Claire was “okay,” she’d referred to Drew as “Kay.” In her limited experience with ur-phasms and ne-phasms, she knew they tended to not have names of their own. Kay probably stood for Kurt, the master of the spirit possessing Drew.
None of that would be a problem, except Anne had just said the magic words. For reasons Claire didn’t understand, all corrupted Phasms wanted to destroy the Knights and the Palace. She didn’t know if corrupted Phasms could taint a witch the same way they could taint a Knight, but Anne made it seem likely. If not, she could be possessed like Drew had been.
Claire spat on the floor, trying to clear the stinging in her throat and nose. “Can I have a glass of water?”
“No. I’m not stupid.” Anne walked past her and picked up Claire’s dagger. Claire tried to get up and scurry away. She failed, the dizziness still too strong. “This is an interesting weapon,” Anne said as she examined the blade. “It looks like custom work. Where did you get it?”
“Was a gift.”
Anne held the dagger by the hilt, between her thumb and forefinger. “From a Knight to an adopted daughter? How sentimental.” She snorted. “Violence is the only currency he understands. Come on, up you get. Time to go see Kurt.”
Unseen force pushed against Claire’s belly. The dizziness receded as power enveloped her body and pushed her up to sit. It faded away, allowing her to brace herself on the wall and stand.
Anne’s eyes glowed again, and she clutched her bright green crystal.
When Claire lunged to attack, she staggered and hit the wall instead.
“Tsk.” Anne smirked. “Be good, or I’ll make you barf again.”
“Is this what witches do? Mess with teenagers?” Claire turned and stumbled to the front door, her limbs wooden and clumsy.
“Oh, most of us make our gardens greener or houses brighter. You know, boring stuff. If you’ve got the talent to manipulate people, though, why not do it?”
Claire had no illusions about how a meeting with Kurt would go, especially without her dagger. He’d either kill her or grind her under his heel. She suspected he could taint her without too much effort, though she didn’t know what that entailed. Anne wouldn’t let her go, so she’d have to find a way to make her own opportunity.
Testing the limits of her ability to move, she staggered into the wall. She lurched to the side and hit a tree, banging her shoulder, tripping over a root, and landing on her face.
“You’re pathetic,” Anne said with an annoyed sigh. “You think you can play in the big leagues with the adults, but you can’t. You’re just a little girl with a knife.”
“At least I’m not trying to destroy everything.” Claire wobbled to her hands and knees, feigning more weakness than she felt.
“Listen to yourself! Has Justin fed you the Knight baloney? About how they’re all here to protect the world from spirits? Honey, Knights are the spirits. Without Knights, there would be no spirits.”
“What if you’re wrong?” The force around Claire loosened. Distracting Anne with this conversation was working.
“Wrong?” Anne sighed, the sound sad and pitying. “Which is better? A bunch of arrogant, egotistical men riding around on spirits to save us from their own dead comrades, or the occasional true ghost story? Without them here to make powerful ghosts, there would be nothing but a random sprinkling of creatures mutated by ambient magic. Like dragons, for example.”
Claire sprang with every ounce of strength she had. Anne gasped in surprise and dropped the dagger to raise her hands. Too fast for Anne, Claire punched her in the face. Anne’s head snapped to the side. Her glasses flew across the yard. Still fighting nausea, Claire kneed her in the gut and brought her elbows down on Anne’s back. Dropping with Anne as she fell, Claire slugged her across the jaw one more time for good measure. They landed in a heap.
The dizziness evaporated, as did the nausea. Claire’s stomach still churned, but she didn’t care. She had bigger problems. Anne lay unconscious in the nearby streetlight’s yellow glow and in plain sight of the road. Anyone passing by would see her. Claire grabbed the woman’s arms and dragged her inside. Thinking to use it in place of rope, she snared the giant doily on the back of the couch and dragged Anne deep into the house.
She paused at the smashed door and saw a strange sort of workshop. Plain work tables lined the walls with papers, books, jars, and crystals littering the surfaces. Black slate covered the floor with streaks of colored chalk all over, like it had been erased in a hurry. Whatever Anne had done in here, and Claire suspected it had been about binding the dragons, she’d removed the evidence well enough.
She hauled Anne to the kitchen and tied her wrists to the refrigerator doors. When Claire finished, her belly rumbled with hunger. Though she could still grab something from a cupboard, she didn’t trust anything in this house. Her stomach would have to wait.
She ran outside, scooped up her dagger, and sprinted through the dark for the nearest bus stop. With luck, she’d get there before Justin. He’d been lied to and needed to know it before he broke the Skidmore Fountain seal, no matter what that would do.
Chapter 26
Justin
Frank L. Knight Park turned out to be quite different from Justin’s expectations. He and Tariel gazed up at a nearly vertical tangle of trees and shrubs with no signage, fencing, or paths, illuminated only by the full moon and a single streetlight. The narrow strip of greenery had a condo complex on one side and individual house
s on the other. Both streets bordering it seemed to get a fair amount of traffic.
“I’m not going up there,” Tariel said. “I don’t care how fast I can heal. I’m not a mountain goat.”
“Neither am I. Maybe this is a mistake, and I should take the map to Kurt.”
“We’re here. You might as well check. If it turns out to be the right place, then you’ve saved a lot of time.”
Justin blew out a breath, not looking forward to climbing in his condition. They could turn around and leave to get some rest and come back later, but Tariel was right. “Move closer, let me use you to get a boost on this monster hill.” When she’d sidled to the hillside, he grabbed a branch and stepped off. The ground turned out to be several feet below where he thought, and he landed hard.
Grabbing thick branches, he hauled himself to his feet. His ankle felt tender, but it righted itself quickly. “I’m fine,” he called out.
“Is this ‘fine’ the first kind or the second kind?”
He rolled his eyes even though she couldn’t see him. “The first.”
“I’m going across the street. The grass looks tasty.”
“Stay close, please.” Thankfully, the enchantment on Justin’s cloak kept it from catching on all the branches in this wild thicket. He pushed through the undergrowth, using the tall trees for support and taking a zigzag approach to scaling the steep slope. In the near-dark, he saw little detail.
Crunching over vines and deadfall, he strained to see any large rock. It took him two switchbacks before he stumbled over a stone and had to catch himself on a nearby tree. “I could be doing this in daylight,” he growled. After heaving the rock up and over with a grunt, he stabbed the ground beneath it. Nothing happened.
Disappointed but not surprised, he forced himself to continue. Three rocks later, he finally released the power. It lifted him and dropped him. He tumbled down the slope until he slammed into a tree and passed out.
He woke to something small patting his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw flashing blue and red lights playing across silver. The thing on his face perched too close to focus on. With a groan, he reached up and grabbed it. Enion chirped at him. He blinked until his eyes focused on the dragon in his hand. The flashing lights caught the blade of his sword, lying nearby. Though his back hadn’t fully healed yet, he breathed in relief at the knowledge he didn’t have to scale this stupid slope again to retrieve his weapon.
