by Joshua Roots
“Have you thought about actually talking with some of the Elders?”
I chuckled. “They don’t like people knowing their birthday, much less their involvement in a cold case. I’d be lucky to make it through my first question before being kicked out of HQ.”
Dad shrugged. “You may be surprised.”
“If one of them was actually willing to let me behind the iron curtain, I’d be stunned.”
All humor aside, I had no real leads other than Devon and more questions than I knew what to do with. I closed my eyes, replaying the images of the attack and my interactions with the various Elders and Councilmembers in my head. Anyone—even good old Pell—might know something. The challenge was digging that information out of them.
Then again, maybe I was coming at this the wrong way. Rather than focus on the who of the case, I should be focusing on the what.
“What’s up?” Dad asked.
I opened my eyes. “I’m thinking about the Mimics that attacked HQ. Not only were they armed, but highly aggressive. And organized. Poorly, but organized nonetheless. They went straight for the guards, which tells me they planned ahead. Or someone did it for them. Either way, when they ran into Mick and me at the entrance, they tried to copy us as well.” I grimaced at the memory of staring up at my own face moments before Elsa blasted it. “They were adapting to the situation.”
“So I heard. It’s very disturbing.”
“What’s more disturbing is that they then copied my blogger friends before attacking me a second time. That can’t be a coincidence.”
I’d tasked Arbent with checking on the kids for me, silently praying they were alive and well. Deep down, however, I feared the worst. Mimics might be passive normally, but these versions were completely unpredictable.
Dad was quiet for a while, his brow furrowed in thought. “They were gunning for you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Wasn’t that the question of the hour?
“I don’t know, but I have a hunch it’s tied to either my involvement in the attack at HQ or my sudden rise to semi-stardom. Or both. Whatever the reason, I need answers. And the best place to start is at the beginning.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Come,” Dad said.
Cornelius, the butler, stepped into the room. He was a tall, thin man with receding white hair and a perpetually dour expression. I’d spent much of my youth either hiding from or tormenting the man and we’d never really seen eye-to-eye since. After the attack on the Homestead, however, the man’s attitude toward me had warmed from “barely tolerant” to “begrudging acceptance.”
“Sir,” he said formally, “your guest has arrived.”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Dad said in a voice mixed with surprise and caution.
Cornelius cleared his throat. “Apologies, sir. I meant Master Marcus.”
My heart jumped. I’d been worried she might not show.
“It’s Quinn.”
“Easier to meet here than in public?” Dad asked.
“Something like that.”
“I understand. And for the record, she’s welcome to visit anytime she likes.”
I smiled. “Tell her yourself. But hey, one last thing.” I pulled out Pastor Rado’s card. “Would you mind talking with this guy?”
Dad examined the card. “What’s this about?”
“Low man on the totem pole of a religious conglomerate that just wants to meet with the Council. According to Rado, they want to repair a thousand years of burnt bridges.”
My father darkened, ignoring my humor. “Marcus, there is a lot of bad blood between the Skilled and most organized religions. Not that I’m opposed to talking with them, but now may not be the best time.”
I frowned, surprised by my father’s tone. This was not the reaction I expected.
“Dad, what’s the harm in having a friendly chat? Besides, I’ve been bending over backward to help us find the traitor on the Council. Is it so much to ask for a little help with something of my own?”
The man started to speak, then shook his head. “No, you’re right. The Council keeps dodging this elephant in the room and it’s high time we addressed it. Besides, we at least owe them the decency of hearing them out. I’ll call Pastor Rado and see if I can set something up. I can’t promise this will go anywhere...”
“I’m not looking for the moon here, Dad. Just a little effort on our part.”
“Getting the Council to change, in any small way, makes obtaining the moon seem like a cakewalk. You, more than most, understand how steeped we are in our ways. Changing minds often takes generations because the new must inherent the position of the old. But, I may know how to force the issue.” He tucked the card into the folds of his robe, then waved me toward the door. “It’s rude to keep your guest waiting.”
We followed the aged butler out of the study and down the worn, marble floors of the South Wing to the main entrance. I beamed when I saw Quinn standing at the entrance, her black raincoat glistened in the light. Even wet and miserable, she was stunning.
“Hi,” I said, catching myself before I dove in for a kiss.
She grinned. “Hi, yourself. And you, Councilman Shifter,” she added, nodding at my father.
“Hello, Quinn. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you.”
Dad clapped our butler on the shoulder. “Cornelius, I’m feeling a little hungry. What say we adjourn to the kitchen?”
“Lead the way, sir.”
It may have been a trick of the light, but I could have sworn the butler winked at me before they disappeared.
I turned back to Quinn and was immediately consumed by a bone-crushing hug. “What in the world is wrong with you recently?”
I inhaled the scent of her shampoo. “What do you mean?”
She pulled away, her eyes filled with anger and concern. “It’s like you’ve become a magnet for destruction or something. First the attack at HQ and now this?”
“Let’s not forget the mishap at the rift. But no worries, Karma and I had a long talk and She agrees we are good now.”
Her expression didn’t change. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
Finally a chuckle. “Okay, but only a little.” She gingerly held my jaw, and turned my head. “Apparently you’ve seen a Healer.”
“Jenkins patched me up, then admonished me for my clumsiness.”
“Speaking of which, the news is loving this.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, they were hanging outside the hospital when I was released. I don’t know how celebrities do this. I’ve been popular for a day or so and already I’m sick of the cameras. So many people caring about what I’m doing.”
“Better you than me,” she said, patting me affectionately on the arm. My skin tingled from the contact. “Anyway, what’s so important that you couldn’t tell me in your text message?”
“It’s not so much that it’s important as I don’t know who may or may not be monitoring me. Like you said, the media is loving all the drama I’m creating, so figured it was better to speak to you in person. And in private.”
“Thank you,” she sighed in relief. “That means a lot.”
“And to answer your question, I wanted to see if you were up for a date.”
* * *
“This is your idea of a date?” she demanded an hour later as we tromped through the woods of southern Maryland.
“Okay, so it’s not the most romantic one ever, but you have to admit it’s not boring. At least it stopped raining.”
She swore violently.
“If it helps,” Steve said, “I’m having a great time.”
Quinn glowered at him.
I stopped. “Listen, I know this isn’t what you expected, but I promise to make this up to you as soon as we’re done.”
She brushed a strand of soaking wet hair out of her eyes. “Yes you will. So, explain to me again why we’re out
here?”
“Basically, we’re searching for evidence of Mimics,” I said, stepping over a fallen log.
Steve snapped a branch, using one end to pick his teeth. “They don’t exactly have villages, you know. They’re hermits. You’re lucky to find more than a couple in one place.”
“Except during the mating season.”
“Which isn’t for another few months,” Quinn said.
I nodded. “Normally I’d agree with you, but if beekeeping has taught me anything it’s that external factors can drastically alter the natural patterns of a species. Considering how screwed up things have been with the Mimics recently, I figured it’s worth investigating.”
Quinn frowned. “So we’re slogging through the mud in order to find a local mating area?”
I tapped my finger to my nose. “A prize for the pretty lady.”
“How do you know where to look?” Steve asked, swatting at a hornet that was buzzing around his head.
I told them about my research at HQ.
Steve scowled when I finished. “We’re on this hike because of a hunch?”
I stopped. “Hey, it’s all I have, okay? I know the data is old, but this was the area where the crazy Mimics massacred the town, so I figure we might as well retrace the investigation team’s steps.”
“We won’t find anything,” Steve said.
“We don’t have to. I just need to follow this lead because it’s the only decent connection I have to what happened at HQ. Besides, either I stomp around out here with you two for a couple hours or I try and wade through the media vans and protesters outside my home. Which will be even harder now that Tessa and Mike are missing,” I added in a low voice.
Quinn grabbed my hand. “Marcus, don’t you dare begin blaming yourself.”
I started to argue with her, but stopped myself. The woman was good at reading people and I wasn’t exactly the best at hiding my feelings.
“They were so excited about the Skilled, Quinn,” I said, my heart aching. “Not in the pandering way we sometimes get, but honest to goodness joy. They always wanted to talk about the Council, Skilled life and what it was like for me to live among Normals.” I swallowed, fighting to control my voice. “What makes it worse is that I used them to take a cheap shot at the Council. But what if doing that interview was what put them in danger? After all, someone had to tie them to me and that was the most recent event. If I’d blown them off like I’ve done with the rest of the media, they might still be alive.”
“You don’t know they’re dead,” she countered.
“No, but I also don’t know they are alive. Arbent hasn’t called yet, so it’s anyone’s guess.”
Quinn’s eyes softened. “Let’s hope for the best, then, okay?”
I smiled weakly. “Okay.”
Steve grimaced at the two of us. “Listen, I don’t mind being the third wheel most times, but if you two are finally going to having The Talk, I’m gonna make myself scarce.”
I cleared my throat.
Quinn stared daggers at the Minotaur. “That is between me and Marcus.”
He held up his hands defensively. “Hey, don’t get huffy with me. Just because you two are dancing around the subject doesn’t mean those of us on the outside need to be targeted.”
Her gray eyes darkened like the clouds above. “The details of our relationship are none of your business.”
“I’m just saying you guys have got to hug this crap out or something.”
My shoulders tensed. “Quiet, you two.”
Steve turned to me. “Oh come on, Marcus. Don’t you think your non-relationship status it’s getting a little ridiculous at this point?”
“Quiet!” I hissed, holding my hand up. The Minotaur started to respond, then cocked his head.
Soft, mewling sounds like those of a wounded animal filtered through the trees. But the cries of pain weren’t what caught my attention. In between the whimpers was a low, humming noise that caused my skin to crawl.
“Oh hell,” I whispered as goosebumps erupted up and down my arms.
Quinn opened her mouth, but I held my finger to my lips, then motioned her and Steve forward. We crept through the woods, our footsteps muffled by the wet leaves and soggy ground. After fifty yards or so, we finally reached a small clearing.
The field contained several rows of tombstones covered with moss and dirt. They were white, or had been at one point, but time had not been kind to them. A few were still upright, but the majority were broken or leaning at odd angles.
Littered around the old cemetery were the remains of dozens of animals. Some had been gutted, as if eaten by a predator, while others were barely more than piles of meat and bone. The sound of flies and the stench of death normally would have kicked my gag reflex into high gear.
Instead, I stared in horror at the other end of the clearing where the small tear in the fabric of our reality pulsed with soft, blue light. Even from a distance I could feel the energy pumping from it, washing over me in huge waves.
“What is that?” Steve asked.
I swallowed my fear. “A rift to another realm.”
Quinn looked at me. “This is what you’ve been dealing with all these months?”
“Similar, but yes.” I tried to keep the terror out of my voice. I wasn’t sure I succeeded.
“Wow.”
I started to respond, but a painful yowl interrupted me. The three of us ducked behind a huge, fallen tree and watched as a large buck wobbled out of the woods. It glanced around the clearing, mewling once again, then stumbled as if it were drunk. It struggled to its feet, limping sideways. The tail shuddered slightly, then the creature released another painful wail and collapsed to the ground.
“We have to do something,” Quinn said.
“Wait!” I called, but she was already sprinting through the trees. I cursed as Steve and I jogged after her.
She knelt by the deer, murmuring comforting words to it, by the time we reached her. The animal’s breathing was labored. Small lumps covered its body.
I placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s in pain, babe. There’s only one way we can help it.”
“I know.” She wiped her eyes, then turned away. “Just be quick, okay?”
I drew my sword and held it to the deer’s throat, but Steve grabbed my wrist.
“Dude, check it out,” he said in low voice.
I followed his gaze. A bloody piece of white bone poked through the skin covering the deer’s ribcage.
No, not bone.
An antler.
“Mutation?” I asked.
Steve nodded. “That’d be my guess.”
I looked from the slowly mutating deer to the ripple shimmering before us. Holding my blade before me in case something tried to jump through the opening, I approached it. Thankfully, the other side seemed unoccupied. I lowered the sword slightly and re-examined the rift. It hummed musically, the beat of the pulses almost pleasant.
My stomach clenched with dread.
I motioned Quinn forward. “You’re more powerful than I am. Tell me what you feel.”
She frowned, but walked up next to me. Then she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “It’s pretty. Like a guitar perfectly in tune.”
“Exactly. This is by far the most stable rift I’ve encountered. Even more than the one the other day.”
She opened her eyes. “So?”
“This one isn’t broken,” I said softly.
Everyone stared at the window to another realm. What horrors lay on the other side? What creatures might cross onto our plane of existence to threaten all species, human and paranormal, if this was left open?
Quinn balked I drew my sword and dragged it across my forearm. “What are you doing?”
I winced, holding my bloody arm over the blade. “Closing this thing.”
“By yourself?” Steve asked.
“Normally I’d call this in to HQ, but considering what happened last time, that seems like a bad idea.”
The runes on my sword glowed brighter with every droplet of blood until the metal erupted with red light. I held the blade in front of me, examining my handiwork. The energy pulsing from the runes beat in tune with my heart. “Then let’s not tell them.”
Steve and Quinn watched in silence as I slowly inserted my sword into the rift. Like with the one at the farm, raw energy overwhelmed me. But unlike my previous attempt, this time I didn’t feel the sense of urgency.
Instead, I allowed myself to reach out with my senses and fully explore the phenomenon.
The feeling was intoxicating. It was like plugging my body into an electrical socket that was powered by sex and lightning. My Skill tingled and my body hummed in tune with the pulsing of blue light.
This was true power, not the weak parlor tricks the Skilled played with every day. The devastation or healing that someone could produce from this would be unparalleled.
If I could only harness a little more, I could truly reach my full potential as a Warlock.
Maybe even change the world.
A breath of cold air disrupted my concentration. Like a dream upon waking, the thought faded quickly. I searched inside my mind, desperate to recover it, but realized it wasn’t my own. Another presence was in the rift with me, hiding just outside my senses. It owned the thought and emotions tied to it, but it was vanishing. I reached for it, hoping for answers, only to have it slip farther away like an echo disappearing into the distance.
It’s okay, I thought. I won’t harm you.
It paused.
I held my breath. My sword flashed brightly as my heart thundered.
It backtracked slowly, moving closer, until it stopped just outside my grasp. A wisp of ethereal mist stretched tentatively toward me, brushing against my Skill like a feather on skin.
I gasped. Something about it was familiar.
It recoiled, emotions flaring like fireworks at night.
Fear, anger, shock. They crashed over me, swelling like a river during a storm. I fought against the deluge, desperate to touch the presence again. To know why I recognized it.
“Uh, Marcus?” Steve asked.
My mind faltered and with it, my connection with the rift. The presence escaped, disappearing for good in an instant.
