by Drew Hayes
“You had a trap for him.”
“Dozens, actually.” Neil pointed to the ground, and sure enough, there were identical circles chalked out all along the floor. “He could break through a holding circle with enough power, so we needed to drain him first. I assumed stabbing you would handle that, but when you showed up non-possessed, we had to think on our feet. Luckily, he took the bait and gave you another chance to weaken him.”
“And when he came flying out, Neil sealed him in the first circle he passed through,” Lillian added. She was still next to me, looking uncertain yet relieved. “Good thing you’re such a badass about silver.”
“Lillian, about that—”
“Not the time or the place, Fredrick. We’ve all got secrets. But let’s worry about finishing our business first.” She nodded to Josiah, who was still punching thin air, mouth opened in what I assumed was him cursing all of our names from here to hell. “What do we do about him?”
Neil walked around the chalk circle, eyeing it carefully. “This should hold for a while. If the agents don’t have a way to deal with him, I can reinforce the barrier with some extra magic, and then it will be enough to keep him contained indefinitely. He’ll just stay in there—forever, or until he decides to move on. So, probably forever.”
“That’s kind of sad, when you think about it. Stuck in a prison he could escape, but he refuses to use the only way out,” Lillian said. It was a more sentimental thought than I expected from her, at least back when we first met.
“It’s not just sad, it’s wrong.” Albert was walking back from the other end of the library. Judging from the smear of blood on his hands, it seemed a fair guess that he’d been the one to pull the dagger from my chest. He was probably moving it far away from Lillian, putting safety first. “We can’t leave someone trapped like that. It’s cruel and inhumane.”
“You do realize this guy was trying to flood the world with monsters and usher in an apocalypse, right?” Neil pointed out.
Albert nodded. “And he paid for it with his life. Isn’t that enough? Should he really have to be trapped like this forever as well?”
When he put it like that, Albert had a point. Stopping Josiah had been one thing, leaving him bound like this, with no end in sight, felt wrong. But, feelings aside, there was the practicality to consider. “He’s too dangerous to let go, Albert. And he has the power to escape anytime he wants.”
“I know we can’t let him run free, but I also know he’s never going to take that chance to get away. Look at him. He’s all knotted up in anger, regret, and loneliness. The same things that put him on this path in life are keeping him here after death.”
“So, what would you like me to do?” Neil could clearly see Albert was conflicted about this; however, that didn’t mean Neil had any answers to offer. “I can manipulate, empower, and utilize the dead, but I can’t force them to move on. No necromancer can. That’s not the way our magic works.”
The sound of metal ringing filled the air, and I knew before my eyes made the journey that Albert had drawn his sword. “I know you can’t, Neil. But maybe I can.”
Before anyone could react, Albert took a step toward the chalk circle. That was enough to kick Neil into gear, as he bolted forward and planted himself directly in front of Albert.
“Whoa there. What are you talking about? Yes, you’ve got a magic sword, but do you have any idea what you’re doing? You can’t just . . . cut through someone’s connection to our plane like the string on a balloon.”
“I cut the chimera without hurting it,” Albert reminded him. “I don’t see how this is any different.”
“Really? Because I can walk through the basic theorems of how amazingly different they are in a couple of hours, and you’ll see—” The words faltered as Albert raised his free hand and placed it on Neil’s shoulder.
“I can do this. I believe it with all my heart. This is the sort of thing my sword was made for. So please, trust me.”
They stood like that for several seconds, until finally, Neil moved wordlessly to the side. Albert smiled at him, then began walking forward once more. Part of me wanted to run over and do what Neil had given up on: talk some sense into my assistant before he got into trouble. For all he knew, Josiah would break free, or possess him, or pull some other trick out of his ghostly sleeves. But instead, I just sat there with Lillian and watched. Whether I thought it was smart, or even possible, was irrelevant. Albert said it could be done, and he was the one with the sword.
He was the Unlikely Champion.
Albert didn’t pause until he was at the edge of the circle, staring into the still silently screaming mouth of Josiah. Lifting his sword carefully, he met the ghost’s eyes with his own and pulled back to swing. Just before he let loose, Albert whispered a trio of words in the softest of voices, probably only audible to Lillian and me.
“We forgive you.”
Then he swung. The sword sliced past the unseen barrier, which was no surprise, and slid into Josiah’s form. There, however, it slowed as if it had hit something dense, yet never stopped. The blade kept inching along, and as it did, Josiah began to burn with a new light. This one wasn’t pale and green like the power he’d been carting around. It was a golden-white that seemed to flow from where the edge of the sword was moving through him. The deeper the sword went, the brighter the glow, until it didn’t seem like light at all. It was a searing fire, burning through Josiah’s soul. Whether it was because our spirits had so recently shared a body or the magic of Albert’s sword, I had no idea, but as I sat there, I could see it destroying the worst parts of him. His anger, his stubbornness, his fear, all the pieces that were keeping him bound to a place he longer belonged, each was burned away one by one in the power of the sword’s glow.
Finally, the swing finished, and Albert’s blade came out the other side. The light faded, and once more, we were staring at the intangible form of Josiah. He seemed different now, his face no longer clouded in madness and fury. Looking over each of us, he stopped at Albert, and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” With no more warning than that, his form began to unravel, turning to little more than smoke and drifting upward toward the ceiling.
Seconds later, no trace of Josiah remained, save for the chalk circle that could no longer contain him.
8.
With Josiah handled, the rest of our work went smoothly. Well, that’s not entirely true. Things calmed down for about two hours, after which June burst through the front door, gun in hand, looking like she’d come ready for war. Apparently my text to Krystal had gone through once I was aboveground, and she’d reached out to June since she was the closest agent in the vicinity. Once we’d assured her that the issues were indeed handled, she put the gun away long enough to hear what had happened. Neil turned over the sealed candle, as well as the totem he and Albert had recovered—a small bell with runes all over it—and June headed off to give it to whomever dealt with that sort of thing.
Other than that bit of business, we went back to handling our respective tasks. Bit by bit, items were catalogued and stored for pick-up. In a surprising stroke of luck, Albert even managed to find an old checkbook under a table. While not a lot to work from, it did allow me to hunt down Josiah’s accounts and get some semblance of his finances, not that there was a lot find. It seemed he had spent almost the entirety of the Fenmoore fortune on the equipment we’d seen downstairs, and in fact had a couple of creditors with debts to collect. I wasn’t sure how that would work with the Agency seizing the estate, and I didn’t need to figure it out. My job was just to compile the information; someone else would have to actually deal with it.
As we worked, I kept expecting Lillian to broach the subject of my unusual ability to walk off being stabbed by silver; however, that moment never came. She just kept plugging along with the rest of us, cheerful and attentive, doing her best to learn on the job. By the final day, I’d gotten so anxious over the seemingly inevitable discussion that
I’d turned jumpy, startling slightly every time someone drew near. So when a hand finally clapped on my shoulder, causing me to nearly drop the papers I was holding, my body flooded with relief. This wouldn’t be a fun conversation, but it would feel good to have it done with.
That relief faded as I turned around and found myself looking not at Lillian, but instead at Albert. He’d been quiet since the incident with Josiah, still smiling but without his usual air of joviality. I’d suspected that this was coming as well; I just thought it would happen once we were back in Winslow. One look at his eyes told me I was wrong, however. He was ready to tackle the issue here and now. I glanced around the room, noting that it was empty.
“Neil and Lillian are loading up the van,” Albert explained. “I asked for a few minutes to talk to you, just boss and assistant.”
“Then by all means, Albert. Let’s talk.” I set the pages I was holding down gently, and then made my way over to some of the few unbroken chairs we’d found in our exploration of the castle. They were mismatched and largely uncomfortable, but they held our weight, and that was all a chair really needed to do. I took my seat, and Albert did the same, although he had to pause to adjust his sword before finding a comfortable position. He kept adjusting, and I realized he was stalling, his nerve momentarily faltering. It was a dilemma I’d faced many times as well, so I didn’t force him to recover. Instead, I broached the subject myself.
“This is about our last discussion, I assume. Whether or not you should stay in my employ. Tell me what you’re thinking, Albert. It’s okay if you don’t have a fully formed response yet. You’re more than welcome to bounce thoughts and ideas off of me.”
He looked visibly relieved, finally ceasing the sword adjustment and sitting still. “I gave what you said a lot of thought. I really did. About what I should be doing with myself, and my sword. And I had decided that I was going to keep on working for you. This sword might have a destiny, but I don’t have to give up my free will for it. The blade chose me, not the other way around. We do good, you know? I mean, you do, and I get to be part of that. I see it when I drop stuff off with clients. You give them a sense of security where their money is concerned, and it takes a big weight off their shoulders. I like being a piece of that process, no matter small. You asked me if I was happy, if this was the path I wanted to be on, and my answer was yes to both. I loved this job not because it’s comfortable, but because I got to make the world a little better by doing it.”
Touching as the words were—and make no mistake, it took all I had not to look away or stammer—there was a detail within them that didn’t escape my notice. “You’re speaking about all of that in the past tense, as though it’s no longer true.”
“It’s all still true,” Albert protested, his words coming quickly. “All of it. I just . . . I realized something else while we were on this job. When I cut the ghost free and helped him move on. No one else could have done that, could they? Neil said necromancers didn’t have that ability. So none of the others, not even Arch or Krystal or Amy, could have set that man free. I don’t know a lot about this sword, even after all the training I’ve done, but Arch tells me that Weapons of Destiny have power outside the normal range of what’s possible. They can do amazing, incredible things. And for better or worse, this one did choose me.”
He paused, his eyes drifting over to the table where we’d sorted dozens of pages cataloguing the castle’s contents, most of which had been hauled up by him. “I love working for you, Fred. I love what you do, but the truth is that my part in it is a small one. With a little training, anyone could do it. Things like the ghost, sword-things . . . there might only be a handful of people in the world who can do those, and I’m one of them. I just keep thinking . . . how many other people like Josiah are out there? In need of help that nobody else can offer? That’s a really scary thought; I’ve never had responsibility on that level. Heck, I barely had any at all when I was alive. But I asked myself, if the sword had picked you, Fred—if you were the one wielding all this power—what would you do with it? And I know this is the choice you would make.”
“I appreciate the kind sentiment, Albert, but I think you’re giving me a bit too much credit.”
Albert shook his head. “No, I’m not. You always step up when someone needs you, and that’s the kind of man I want to be. So I’m going to step up, for all the people out there who need the kind of help only this sword can offer them. I’m going to . . . I mean, I guess I am . . . Fred, I have to quit working for you.”
“I know.” Despite the fact that my emotions were reeling—an issue not at all helped by Albert looking like he was fighting back tears—I did my best to keep an even, comforting voice. This had to be hard enough on Albert as it was; he didn’t need me making things worse. No, what he needed was reassurance that everything would be okay. I wasn’t honestly sure if it would be, the path he was choosing was a dangerous one, but that was irrelevant. He just needed to believe things would turn out okay, if only for a little while, and as his friend, it was the least I could do. “You have been a wonderful employee, and it is with a heavy heart that I accept your resignation as such. But I hope you know that you will still be one of my dearest friends, no matter where your new role takes you.”
He smiled softly, the tears losing the battle to his willpower and retreating momentarily. “Thanks. But I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere for a while, at least not permanently. Winslow is my home, it’s where all the people I care about live. Besides, Neil is part of my team, and I couldn’t tear him away from Amy. Maybe I’ll get to do the occasional trip to Boarback for training, but we live at Charlotte Manor, and that’s how I want it to stay. For now, anyway.”
While Arch would probably protest, Albert’s eyes were locked in resolve. Even though I knew it was selfish, the news still lightened my heart. Saying goodbye to Albert in one capacity was bad enough; I loathed the idea of losing him from my daily life altogether. But even as he spoke, part of me knew I needed to start steeling myself for that inevitability. Whatever destiny that sword planned to drag him toward, it would no doubt take him beyond the boundaries of Colorado. When that day came, it would be our job to assure him that no matter how far he wandered, he could also come back to a home. He needed a safety net, not an anchor. However, I hoped that day wouldn’t arrive for a very long while.
We chatted a little more, and then I scooped up a closed box of files and headed off to the van, passing Neil in the entrance. Neither of us said anything, merely exchanging a brief look. I had no doubt he knew what Albert and I had been talking about, and was on his way to cheer his friend up. At least Albert wouldn’t have to face his destiny alone; of all the things I could say about Neil, he was loyal above all else. So long as he could move, he would take every step of that journey at Albert’s side.
The moon was high as I walked across the grass, making my way to the van. Lillian sat on the bumper, looking up at the sky. She tilted her head down slightly as I approached, eyes still trained upward.
“Did you two finish your little chat?”
“We did indeed.” I set the box down carefully in the van’s rear, nestling it in with a dozen other identical containers. “It seems I’m going to have to find myself a new assistant.”
“You had to know it was coming, Fredrick. That boy has been bound for greater things since the first day he pulled a Weapon of Destiny out of its sheath.”
“I disagree.” Shutting the rear door, I took a seat next to Lillian on the bumper. Albert and Neil would emerge when they were ready to deal with other people once more. Until then, I could give them space. Besides, Albert’s courage had inspired me. I had my own tasks to attend to. “Albert has been bound for greater things long before he set his hands on that blade.”
“Maybe so,” she replied.
“Lillian, I’m immune to silver.” The words burst forth, and I paused for a reaction of shock and surprise, but none came. Instead, she just kept
looking skyward, giving me the slightest of nods.
“I figured that out already, but thanks for finally coming clean. I don’t suppose you’d mind telling me how?”
“If I could, I would. The truth is, no one is entirely sure how such a thing is possible. But I’ll freely tell you what happened to me, along with anything else you want to know.” I hesitated, then pressed forward. “I owe you that. You left your clan, trusting in me to provide a home for you, and by keeping this secret, I haven’t reciprocated that trust. I’m sorry, Lillian. All of this is new to me, but that’s not an excuse. I need to do better, and I’m going to give my all to accomplish that. Just bear with me if I make some missteps along the way.”
Finally, her eyes left the stars, and her entire face pinched in laughter. It wasn’t uproarious, merely a soft, shaking chuckle that seemed to stretch on for a full minute. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to act like I don’t appreciate the sentiment. It’s just funny to me. I left a clan where they’d keep us from blood for weeks at a time for the slightest infraction, and came to one where the leader is feeling guilty for not immediately sharing a pretty huge secret with the newest member. Maybe funny is the wrong word. ‘Wonderfully absurd’ captures it better. I didn’t think there were clans like this one. You really love all these people who stood with you, don’t you?”
“With all that I have,” I told her.
“Good. Because I’ve seen the way most of them look at you, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.” Her eyes opened and turned to me as she jammed an elbow gently into my ribs. “Now, enough with the build-up. Tell me how the hell you got yourself immune to silver.”
