“You could have asked him to take you with him in exchange for the water.”
She frowned. “Don’t think I hadn’t thought about it… or tried it in the past. Only the custodian may grant my freedom.”
She began studying the nearby weathered sundial nervously. “How can I find the man or Demons responsible for my parents’ murder?” I asked, remembering her odd comment about limited time. She laughed, as if the question was too simple to waste her time on.
“That’s easy.” She immediately shimmered with power before casting a crimson haze of fog at a map of Eastern Europe on the wall beside us. “Seek.” She whispered. The fog condensed to several locations on the map, glowing faintly. “That shows the current locations of Demonic presence.”
The freaky part about it was that I knew I could replicate it, but it would cost me a ton of magic. “Um. With my curse, that spell would drain me really fast. I would have to use a lot of power, which would leave me useless to confront the Demons I oh so cleverly discovered.”
She nodded mumbling to herself as if reading a mental catalog of the items stored here, and then dove into a pile of items on the edge of a desk. After discarding several priceless artifacts, she held up a carved bone the size of a birds egg. “Here. Take this. It works the same way, only doesn’t require your own magic. It’s instilled with the power itself. Merely think about what you want to find, say Seek, and hold it near a map.” She handed me the bone egg and I grunted in surprise at its weight. It was so dense that it felt like a lump of pure lead. It was completely covered in continuous runes, not a single millimeter empty. I idly wondered what could have been sharp enough to carve it. It felt… ancient. Upon my touch, soothing whispers abruptly filled my ears, murmuring seductively, introducing themselves by the hundreds. The voices sounded seductive, and… grateful. Almost as if they were eager to partner with a new wizard after eons of silence. I quickly pocketed the totem and the whispers ceased. I managed not to flinch in fear, and the girl nodded in approval.
“Thanks.” I finally answered, glad for the silence, and not knowing quite what to make of the voices. I felt conflicted about borrowing anything from this place, but what choice did I really have?
She nodded matter of factly.
“I guess now I understand why it took you so long to answer my call. Your parents never told you about me. I thought you would have to develop insomnia before you realized I was reaching out to you.”
That got me right in the stomach. The night terrors. “That was you?” I hissed, seething with sudden rage.
She began to chuckle, but her brow creased in confused alarm, not understanding my threatening tone. “Yes. I try to give all my hosts pleasant dreams.” She finally answered, looking uncertain.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I bellowed, taking an aggressive step towards her. She squeaked, darting back a good dozen feet to the balcony. Then I took another step. Soon I was racing towards her, fury fueling my muscles.
She was as good as dead.
I knew this had sounded too good to be true, that she had looked too good to be true. She was the source of all my recent pain. Having visions of my loved ones being tortured and killed again and again and again. Some might say I was slightly unhinged.
“I think there might have been a misunderstanding.” She spoke softly, suddenly standing just before me. I was panting with unspent energy, my muscles quivering to reach her dainty throat, but I was no longer running. I couldn’t move a single muscle below my neck, so I snarled hungrily, ready to bite her throat if that was my only path. But I couldn’t even turn my head. Her delicate hands reached up to touch my face, her soft fingertips gently caressing my scar and temples in a very doctor-like evaluation. I was ready to burst with rage, but my body wouldn’t respond, and even my magic was tantalizingly out of reach. What was happening?
She flinched back with a gasp. “Oh. That makes much more sense. Someone has been tampering with your mind. Altering my sendings.” She scrunched her face in thought, poking her tongue out the side of her full lips, Michael Jordan style, and stepped back up to me, grasping my skull more forcefully this time. I still couldn’t move. I opened my mouth to threaten her to step back and stop, but even my voice wouldn’t work. She was using some kind of magic to overwhelm me. Then, what felt like a bucket of warm oil slowly poured over my head, coaxing my neck, shoulders, and back into the equivalent of jelly. It was as if I had just stepped out of a warm bath after an exhausting spa day.
…Not that I had ever had such a womanly day. I could just imagine what it would have been like if I had.
My body shivered at the sudden release of tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying, and the girl stepped back with a curious frown on her face. I collapsed to my knees, muscles useless to support my weight. The slip of a girl stumbled up to a heavy table and sat down, turning to face me, looking physically drained and… concerned.
“Someone has been in your head.” She spoke thoughtfully, lifting a shaky hand to tap her lips in thought.
“And you only just admitted to doing that very thing.” I snapped, slowly regaining the use of my limbs.
She nodded distractedly. “My dreams were sent to tap into your subconscious mind and remind you of my presence. Your parents named this Armory their Pandora Protocol. A quotidian name for a place, but it fits.” I frowned at her. Noticing this, she elaborated. “Your father was quite the one for elaborate names. He deemed the items in this location to be too dangerous for the Academy and other wizards to get their hands on. So they named it after Pandora’s Box — the legend that housed the world’s worst horrors.” She looked amused.
“But in the bottom of Pandora’s Box was Hope.” I said softly. She flinched, looking into my eyes with newfound respect. Her gaze was like a field of lavender on fire.
“That is true. Not many know that part of the story.” She spoke softly.
I shrugged, relaxing. “Learning of their name for this place, I did a lot of research into the topic.”
“My sending was to place a box into your dreams, reminding you of their pet name for the Armory. Opening it would cause you pleasure.”
“Yeah, sure. If pleasure feels like your skin is melting.”
Her eyes fairly smoldered. “That was not I. I wouldn’t, and couldn’t, do that to my host.” She growled. She sounded sincere. What the hell did that mean? Who else was in my head?
Instead of jumping down that rabbit hole, I looked around the room as my muscles slowly began to awaken, noticing a vast array of armor against one wall. One item in particular caught my attention. Between two shields was an aged section of sheepskin. Golden sheepskin. “Is that…?” I asked, my mouth wide open with disbelief.
She glanced behind her at the skin, but shook her head in reply. “No, but Jason’s Golden Fleece is here. That is merely a replica your father liked, not realizing the authentic one was already here.” She answered as if pointing out a can of tomato soup in a grocery store. I blinked in astonishment. The Golden Fleece! Able to repel any attack. What the hell? I had a brief daydream of me blazing into battle against a horde of Angels and Demons wearing the Fleece, stomping ass and taking names. She interrupted my reverie. “What I’m more concerned about is your dreams. Someone has been melding his or her will into my own projections. Locked away in this vault, it is very difficult for me to project dreams, but it is not impossible. The fact that someone was able to mutate my sending is alarming. It means someone is after you specifically, and trying to do you harm without letting you know who he or she is. Have your dreams been… particularly horrifying?” She asked in a very clinical way, not at all concerned with how much harm they had in fact caused me.
“Yes. The city burning, my friends tortured and murdered, me helpless, but through it all was a box. The only way to escape the carnage was to open a box.”
She nodded distractedly. “That part was mine. Just the box. It was agreed upon by your father and I that I would entice you wi
th these visions of opening a box. He said anything more forceful than that would cause you to ignore the call. He called you a bit stubborn, to tell you the truth. At least that part of the dream was pleasant.” She said softly.
I scowled back. “Opening the box caused me more pain than I have ever imagined. And each dream caused a new type of pain. Burning, freezing, skinned, and even buried alive.”
She looked crestfallen, and then… furious. “Opening the box was supposed to cause you pleasure, to lead you to me. Why would I cause you pain in order to lead you here? Like I said, your father mentioned you had an issue with authority, so these sendings were to encourage you to come to me, not scare you away.”
“True. But who could possibly know about your projections, and how the hell would they tap into them? Were they trying to discover something inside my head? Could it be a Demon?”
“That is a very good question.” She answered slowly. “Why do you repeatedly fixate on Demons?”
“Because I was paid a visit by some… people, and they had the distinct impression that I and that door smelled like a severe whiff of Brimstone.”
“I would never allow a Demon to enter this place. And you do not smell of Demons.” So my dip in the fountain of holy water had worked! “This is my sanctuary. My home.”
Her tone sent a shiver down my spine. Even as small and young as she looked, she was obviously very, very powerful. I had been helpless in her hands. “Who are you anyway?”
“I could answer that if you accepted my servitude. I could be of great help to you in the future, but you must allow me to serve you.”
That sounded eerily like an unbreakable bond of sorts. And she had expressed her interest at freedom. “How about just a name for now.” I could see the frustration in her eyes. I felt an uncomfortable twinge begin in my shoulders that was all the more noticeable after her therapeutic touch. Get out, get out, get out…
The girl continued, unaware of my predicament. “Fine. I was a wayward soul. One who wasted her life on earth, trying to help those who couldn’t help themselves. One you would refer to as a witch. I was killed by my own people for what I was, and cast here to serve as a Guardian of sorts. You may call me-”
“Well, this has been great and all, but I really must be leaving.” I interrupted. I was suddenly on my feet and striding purposefully back to the door. “See you soon, Hope.” I don’t know where the name came from, but it seemed to fit from the story I had shared with her about Pandora’s Box.
The door back to Temple Industries opened before me and I stepped out. Before it closed again I heard Hope’s voice. “Damn that spell!”
The door shut with a solid boom and the uncomfortable sensation evaporated. Why had I left? I turned on my heel, pounding on the door to be let back inside. Nothing happened. I reopened my wound and pressed it against the wood. Still nothing. What the hell? I have more questions! But it was useless. The room was closed again.
Then it hit me. I remembered the odd fact about the room. When my parents had entered — and then again when Peter had entered — they had been gone exactly 17 minutes. I looked down at my watch. Huh.
Right on time.
Hope had mentioned a spell. That must be it. Perhaps Peter had hit the spell’s time limit and simply grabbed whatever he could before leaving, since Hope had been unwilling to assist him. Then he had ‘sold’ it to Alaric Slate, sealing his fate. I sighed. What a waste. He had been my friend for years, but I didn’t tolerate betrayal. At all.
So, this spell limited time allowed inside the vault. I wondered if there was a way around it. My parents had also been limited to the same window of opportunity — 17 minutes.
Thinking of my parents made me recall the last time I had seen my father alive. On the video recording taken from directly outside this door. I looked down at my feet. Almost exactly where I currently stood. I might or might not have shivered at that thought. I remembered his last message to me, when he had mouthed his dying words to the security camera that was currently blinking at me. Luckily, I knew how to lip read. I had only been able to see the video a single time before it had been deleted, but my eidetic memory recalled his message perfectly. It made me angry, but some of it began to inch toward an inkling of sense after meeting Hope.
I let it go, thinking about the door. I heard footsteps coming down the hall, but they stopped, no doubt someone picking up papers from a printer before running back to their lab. I ignored the sound, pondering the Omega symbol over the door. Why that symbol? I could think of no real reason other than to scare someone. Then there was the door itself, and my blood was the Key. If anyone ever discovered that, I would become everyone’s best friend. I couldn’t ever let anyone figure that out or I would be locked in a cell forever to be used as a tool whenever necessary. “I am no one’s tool.” I promised myself.
A withered old voice responded from the hallway behind me. “You obviously didn’t read the pamphlets I left you, for we are all God’s tools.” I sighed in frustration. Greta.
“I thought you left already.” I grumbled. I heard no response, so turned around. No one was there. I instantly tensed. No footsteps. I cocked my head, listening. After a few moments I relaxed. I was alone. Then I began to wonder if it really had been Greta or if someone else had been lurking behind me, using her voice. Or had I imagined it? How tired was I?
That’s it. My paranoia was at an all-time high.
I scoured the hallways, searching for anyone, but found nothing. Not a soul. I gave it up as my imagination caused by sleep deprivation. After spending another hour at the door, trying everything in my power to open the Armory, I gave it up as fruitless and decided to leave. I was on borrowed time, with Demons hunting me down for the Key to the Armory, and the Academy’s deadline was only two days away now. After that I would be a magic-less wizard. I couldn’t stand still for too long.
I had things to kill and problems to solve.
Chapter 14
I stormed out of Temple Industries, too distracted to be concerned with the brisk winter weather. It was the first time I had felt entirely relaxed in months, thanks to whatever Hope had done to quell my daymares. I was marginally dry from my brief stint in the Armory, and was ecstatic that I no longer sported the Demon’s form of Eau de Toilette. I was also overjoyed that I would finally be able to go get some real, uninterrupted sleep. Sure, I knew I needed to stop the Demons, but I suddenly felt practically comatose. I required sleep or I was likely to make mistakes. Also, thanks to Hope, I wasn’t even sure I could make it home before falling asleep. I was that tired.
Indie was most likely already with her mom. Maybe I should call her when I got home. If I wasn’t drooling and stumbling by the time I made it there. I was on borrowed time and I needed to figure out a way to appease the Academy while finding my parents’ murderer before the curse ran it’s course, but come on… sleep. I deserved a quick nap before I faced any biblical threats, especially after months of practical insomnia.
I dug in my pockets, searching for the keys to the emergency car I left here in the parking lot. I had found out pretty quickly that I usually found myself here after a few too many drinks, or being dropped off here by Mallory or one of my other friends, and rather than constantly waiting for someone to pick me up, I had set up a car to be left in the parking lot. It wasn’t as flashy as my other cars, but it was really just a driver anyway.
I finally found the set of keys in my pocket and hit the remote start. The Xenon lights on the Vilner customized Mercedes G-Wagon pierced the night as the engine roared to life across the parking lot. I stood there for a few seconds, admiring her beauty.
As if the sound of her glorious purr had been a signal, a team of black SUV’s suddenly swarmed into the parking lot on screeching tires, flashing lights in red, white, and blue. I froze. Was this a joke? The police? Then I thought better of it. Was it a ruse? Maybe some of the Demons had managed to possess a posse of officers to catch me off guard. I waited as the cars skidde
d to a halt in a loose circle, closing off any chance of escape for the big, bad wizard. I smiled at the unintended compliment.
The men — all wearing identical blue coats — launched themselves out of the cars in near perfect synchronization. “I smell Kosage.” I sneered to the closest man, who was unashamedly pointing a gun at my face.
His was the only voice to answer, so I assumed he was in charge. “FBI! Freeze!”
I blinked. FBI? My concern began to escalate considerably. “I’m pretty sure my balls resemble two ice cubes at the moment, so I think we’re set.”
“Don’t move!” The leader clarified, his meathead swiveling on slabs of beef that casually resembled human shoulders. He had no neck. As I scanned the men before me, I thought I saw a few familiar faces from the St. Louis Police Department mixed in amongst the unknown agents. What the hell had I done to get these two departments to join forces against me?
“Despite it looking like I’m moving really fast, I’m actually standing still. I know. Trippy, right?” I scowled. My exhaustion was letting my tongue run wild.
He glared back threateningly. “Don’t be a smartass. On the ground!” A few of the other men chuckled, but they didn’t lower their weapons. I heard several murmuring about my face and the obvious black eyes. I scowled in their general direction until they grew silent.
“I’m actually quite content to stand until I hear a reason for this detainment, and I also require you to show me some identification.” The man blinked. “You know, those flippy leather wallets you carry with a driver’s license and your shield? The one with the agent number on it that I will memorize in order to ruin your career for eternity if you don’t provide a damn good reason for postponing my nap.” I smiled through my teeth. This was it. If they didn’t provide proof that they were in fact agents or police, I was Shadow Walking my happy ass out of here, consequences be damned.
Blood Debts (The Temple Chronicles Book 2) Page 13
