The Eighth Day

by Salerni, Dianne K.

Riley paused, and at first Jax thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he said, “Emrys is her family name.”

  Merlin Emrys. “Holy crap! You mean she’s—”

  “A direct descendant of Merlin, yes. She’s important, and a lot of people—Transitioners and Kin—would love to get their hands on her. And not for good reasons, either.”

  “But I thought we—Transitioners—were the good guys. You know, we made the Eighth Day Spell to capture the bad guys . . .” Wasn’t that what Mr. Crandall had said?

  “No,” Riley said forcefully. “I told you. These days, most Transitioners use the extra day for their own selfish purposes. It used to be that honor and chivalry mattered. But the world changed, Jax. Now it’s all about power and greed.” Riley crossed his arms over his chest. “Not to me, though. I’ve got a job to do, and I plan on doing it the way my father would have. It’s my business to make sure the Emrys girl stays hidden and safe—the business you were supposed to stay out of. Now, get your honor blade. I’m taking you to Melinda’s.”

  Jax didn’t budge. “How long have you lived in this house?”

  Riley frowned. “Since I was your age, maybe a little older. Why?”

  “Who did you live with?”

  “No one.”

  “A thirteen-year-old can’t live in a house with no adults.”

  “Come on, inquisitor. Figure it out. What d’you think happened to any teacher or neighbor who wanted to know where my parents were?”

  Jax clenched his jaw, remembering how Riley had compelled him to get a tattoo, to sleep, to sit down, and shut up. “The same thing that happened to anyone who questioned your right to be my guardian?”

  “You got it.”

  “Did you cause Naomi’s husband to lose his job?”

  Riley flinched. “No! What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “But you ordered her not to care what happened to me.”

  “I did not.” Riley dropped his eyes. “But I commanded her to let you come with me. I made her misremember how old I was and made the case worker believe you were happy and adjusting. I ordered a court clerk to delete that hearing from their schedule.” He glanced up at Jax again. “If it’s any consolation, Naomi was really stubborn about it. I had to keep calling her to renew my commands.” When Jax stared at him, aghast, Riley actually looked ashamed. “I’ll fix it. When it’s time for you to go back, I promise I’ll fix it.”

  Yeah, by making people do things they don’t want to do and think things they don’t want to think. “What happened to your family?” Jax tried to conjure the inquisition talent he was supposed to have.

  “Your newbie magic won’t work on me, squirt.”

  “Why not? It worked on A.J.”

  “Because I’m ready for you.” Riley took a huge breath. “But I’ll answer if you think you can stand to hear it. They were killed. My parents, my sister, my aunts and uncles and cousins. All of ’em.”

  Jax’s stomach turned over. “Like my dad?”

  “Yes, they were murdered, just like your dad.”

  There was a long silence in the kitchen. Riley stood there, pale, but as emotionless as a block of wood. Jax didn’t want to show his own weakness, but he had to grab the kitchen counter just to keep himself standing. “By the same people?” he asked finally. “Who? Why?”

  “Not the same people. And in either case, the less you know, the safer you are. You want to know who the good guys are? I am. Just assume all Transitioners and Kin are dangerous, unless I clear ’em for you.” Riley cleared his throat. “Now, go get your blade for the lesson.” Then he did something he’d never done before. He took Jax by the shoulder and gave him a solid, brotherly squeeze.

  Jax pulled away and ran upstairs, where he barfed up chips and soda in the toilet.

  It took ten minutes before he could stand up. He didn’t want to meet Melinda. He wanted to hide in his room from Grunsday and the bloodthirsty people who inhabited it. But he had a feeling that skipping this lesson would not be allowed, and the sooner he learned what they wanted him to learn, the sooner he could leave.

  When he went downstairs with his father’s dagger, Riley handed him a spare helmet without comment about the long delay.

  It was a short ride to the center of town. Riley parked in front of a duplex house and led Jax up the steps to the left-hand door. The porch was littered with toys—tricycles and dump trucks and a pretend stove with plastic food. A woman opened the screen door at their approach.

  “Hey, Melinda,” Riley said, motioning Jax ahead of him. “This is Jax.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She was tall, perhaps in her early thirties, with dark caramel skin and smiling light-brown eyes. She lifted her left hand in what looked like a wave, but Jax knew she was showing him her mark. “My name’s Melinda Farrow, but that’s my married name. I’m a Llewelyn by birth and talent. Come in.”

  She led them through a living room, also cluttered with toys, and into her kitchen. The curtains were pulled back to let in the pink sunlight, and there was a strange cast to the hanging light above her kitchen table. Jax realized there was no electricity in the house, and the bulb was only giving off the afterimage of light.

  “I have lunch ready.” Melinda waved her hand at a platter of deli meat and cheese. “I figured you’d be hungry. Dig in. I’m not opening the refrigerator to put this back.”

  Riley didn’t hesitate. He took a paper plate and started making himself a sandwich. “Not that I’m complaining, but you know I could get you a generator.”

  Melinda shook her head. “You’d have to change the outside wiring, and I could never explain it to Scott. I have a hard enough time hiding the radio.” She turned to Jax. “My husband doesn’t know. Any of it.”

  “Your kids are getting older,” murmured Riley. “You’re going to have to tell him sometime.”

  “We’ve discussed this before, and it’s not your business,” Melinda replied in a matching murmur, then turned to Jax. “Speaking of the radio, you gave me a scare last week.”

  “Melinda is a sensitive,” Riley said. “My first line of defense. If anyone with talent comes within a five-mile radius of us, Melinda knows it. Last week, you took your bike out of town on Grunsday morning, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. I rode up to the highway and back.”

  “When you came back into town, Melinda sensed it. She didn’t know who you were, and she raised an alarm. I was just heading out to look for intruders when I bumped into you coming in.”

  “I picture it as a net over the town,” Melinda explained. “If talent comes in, I sense it.” She looked at Riley. “But I didn’t detect him going out. I’m sorry. That’s a flaw I’ve never managed to fix. I wish I were stronger for you . . .”

  Riley shook his head. “Melinda, stop that. You do good work.”

  Meanwhile, Jax frowned, remembering how he’d crashed into Riley in the doorway last week. “You were in the house the whole time?”

  “Sound asleep in bed. Didn’t you check?”

  No, he hadn’t checked. Riley hadn’t been in the house the week before. At that point, Jax still thought he was entirely alone on the day between Wednesday and Thursday.

  By this time, Riley had made three sandwiches and piled them on top of one another. Now he placed a second paper plate on top and picked up the whole bundle. “I’m gonna take these and go.”

  Melinda sighed. “On your motorcycle? Let me get you a bag.”

  Riley turned to Jax. “Melinda’ll take good care of you. She finished my training.”

  Because he lost his parents when he was no older than me.

  It suddenly dawned on Jax that he had more in common with Riley than he’d realized. And if Riley had been living on his own since he was orphaned, it explained why he hadn’t bothered to cook for Jax or do his laundry or take care of him at all, really. No one had taken care of Riley in a long time. Jax looked at his guardian with new eyes.

  “You okay?” Riley asked, scrutinizing him ri
ght back.

  Jax glanced around the cozy kitchen, at the lunch platter—not quite decimated by Riley’s assault—and Melinda. She was the least scary person Jax had met since this all started, up to and including Evangeline and her pepper spray. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

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  HarperCollins Publishers

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  16

  AFTER JAX HAD EATEN his fill, Melinda cleared the food from the table. “May I see your mark?” she asked, as if it were an honor, and he held out his hand.

  She took it in both of hers. “Your mark is placed on your left wrist over the pulse point leading to your heart.” Her index finger traced lightly up the inside of his arm. “It names what you are and enhances your potential for magic. This is a tradition so old, we’ve forgotten its origins.”

  “Older than Grunsday?” Jax asked.

  “Much older. And Grunsday is a silly name Arnie Crandall made up for something we should respect. Making fun of the eighth day is dangerous; it encourages a sloppy disregard for powerful magic.”

  Jax raised his eyebrows in surprise.

  “You’re an inquisitor. Riley tells me you’ve already discovered this. Do you understand what you did?”

  He cringed. The term inquisitor summoned images of people being stretched to death on the rack. “I asked questions, and people answered. But I don’t know why, or how I did it.”

  Melinda released his arm. “Once you started transitioning to the eighth day, you picked up your potential for magic.”

  “Riley said I got it from my dad.”

  “You inherited the ability to cross into the other timeline and the nature of your talent from your dad. But if you never transitioned, you would never have picked up the magical potential to implement it. You would’ve been a Normal, like your mother. Even the children of two Transitioners occasionally fail to transition and develop any talent.”

  Jax nodded cautiously. “So, no eighth day, no talent.”

  “It’s a side effect of our ancestors casting the Eighth Day Spell and giving themselves the ability to transition in and out of it. Our magic is bound to the day, so to speak.”

  “Why did we need to go in and out of it?”

  “To monitor the Kin imprisoned there. Can I see your honor blade?”

  Jax frowned, unhappy to hear Evangeline called a prisoner again, but he opened the ornamental wooden box without comment.

  “May I?” He handed her the knife, and she ran her fingers down the length of the blade and over the engraved hilt. “This is not a very old blade,” she said. “And it hasn’t seen a lot of use.”

  “Does that make it no good?”

  “It’s easier than starting with a new one, because your father used it before you.” She reached for Jax’s arm again, turning his hand over to look at his wrist. “Your mark has a bald eagle, but your father’s blade has a falcon.”

  Jax leaned in to take a closer look at the bird on the hilt of the dagger. “I guess A.J. likes bald eagles better. Does it matter?”

  Melinda shook her head and clucked her tongue. “He’s been told before not to get creative with something as important as this. But they’re both birds of prey, and your talent doesn’t seem affected. Do you have a sheath for the dagger?” When Jax shook his head, Melinda returned it and said, “Get one. You can’t keep it in a box on a shelf and expect it to work for you. It has to be worn.”

  That was exactly where his father had kept it—in a box on a shelf. But Jax didn’t tell her that for fear she’d think his dad didn’t know what he was doing. “I can’t wear it to school,” he pointed out instead. “They’d expel me!”

  “Not to school. But everywhere else—and always on the eighth day. A long time ago, honor blades were used to draw blood to strengthen one’s magic, but there’s a dark element to that, and honorable people don’t do it anymore. The blade is mostly symbolic now.”

  “Well, that’s a relief!” Jax exclaimed.

  “Holding the blade while using your magic intensifies the effect because it bears the symbols of your bloodline. It’s not absolutely necessary to have your blade in your hand to perform magic, but if you want to be sure your talent is used precisely and effectively, the honor blade will help. Something else that enhances magic is strong emotion. You’ve heard stories of frightened mothers lifting a car off a child?”

  “Adrenaline,” said Jax.

  “Magic,” corrected Melinda. “Adrenaline makes your heart race. Magic lifts the car. Rage is also powerful. Ancient warriors consumed a drug that brought on uncontrollable rage, and in the berserker state their magic protected them. Even loyalty toward one’s liege can be powerful.”

  “Who gets to be a liege lord?”

  “Technically, you can swear your allegiance to anyone you’re willing to follow, but in practice it tends to be people with powerful talents.” Melinda smiled ruefully. “No one’s going to follow a sensitive. But as an inquisitor, you might build your own clan someday.”

  That didn’t sound appealing at all—being in charge of a bunch of people. “Why are you sworn to Riley?” Jax blurted out. “Is it rude to ask that?”

  “Not at all. My mother was sworn to Riley’s father, and I was sworn to him, too. When he died, I didn’t hesitate to swear to his son. Did it right at Riley’s hospital bed, in fact.”

  “What do you mean? Why was Riley in the hospital?”

  Melinda hesitated. “He was hurt pretty badly in the explosion,” she said finally. “The one that killed his family. Didn’t he tell you?”

  Jax shook his head, feeling his mouth go dry. Riley hadn’t mentioned he’d been present when his family was murdered—or that he’d almost been killed too.

  “It happened at an engagement party for his sister.” Melinda’s face was grim. “He lost his entire family and most of his family’s vassals.”

  An engagement party. That was . . . beyond sick.

  Seeing the expression on his face, Melinda rose from her chair and changed the subject. “Come into the living room and we’ll try out your talent.”

  Jax followed her and sat on the sofa while Melinda lit candles to brighten the room. Jax squirmed. Candles made the whole thing seem more witchy. “Calling on your talent is a matter of intention,” Melinda said. “You have to learn how to turn it on and off, otherwise people will spout answers every time you ask a question.”

  “Like I don’t have to obey Riley every time he tells me to do something,” Jax said. “Only sometimes.”

  “Riley’s talent is called the voice of command. With practice, you’ll be able to tell when he’s using it—even if it’s directed at someone else. For someone newly transitioned like you, it’s more common for your talent to fail than to use it accidentally. But Riley says you’re an exception, which suggests you’re pretty strong.” Melinda sat beside him on the couch. “We’ve got no one else to try this on, so you’re going to ask me a question, and I’ll see what it takes to fight you off.” She gave him a lop-sided smile. “Feel free to make it a personal question.”

  Like what? Jax’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. To avoid her eyes, he looked at his dagger and ran a thumb over the symbols on the crest: the eagle and the flames, the eye in the center of a scroll. He could ask her why she didn’t tell her husband about her magic and the eighth day. But he didn’t really want to know that. Instead his mind was connecting dots and groping for what was missing to complete the picture.

  The Pendare family had been killed off in a massacre, leaving Riley the sole survivor. His father’s remaining vassals had sworn their loyalty to Riley even though he was just a kid, and Jax’s father had turned to him for help. Riley deliberately camouflaged his family crest with other tattoos. It didn’t seem like he was smart enough to remember the date the gas bill was due, but he quoted stuff from Einstein’s theory of relativity and used words like chivalry. And when Jax told Evangeline Riley’s
name, she’d smiled as if he’d said something amusing.

  Is that what they’re calling themselves these days?

  “What’s the real name of Riley’s family?” Jax asked.

  Melinda lurched on the sofa. She clapped one hand over her mouth as if to prevent the answer from popping out, and her eyes widened.

  But Jax barely noticed. He stood up without meaning to, almost like he’d been pulled to his feet, and crossed the room to a built-in bookcase beside the fireplace. His hands plucked an old Encyclopedia Britannica off the shelves, selecting one specific volume without any conscious decision on his part. His head buzzed, and his fingers guided him to the page he wanted as if he’d known all along which one it was.

  He wasn’t as surprised as he thought he should be. He guessed, in some part of his brain, he’d noticed all along. All this talk about the Lady of the Lake and Merlin—and there was one person nobody had mentioned. It was a glaring omission, now that he thought about it—as if everyone had deliberately avoided saying the name.

  Jax looked down at the encyclopedia entry for King Arthur Pendragon.

  “Holy crap.”

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  17

  MELINDA CONFIRMED IT. Riley—the same Riley who left toothpaste all over the bathroom sink—was descended from King Arthur.

  “It’s been more than a hundred generations.” Melinda took the encyclopedia from Jax and looked at the illustration of Arthur accepting a sword from a beautiful woman. “But the Pendragon bloodline is well documented. As is that of the Dulacs. That would be du lac, Jax. French for ‘of the lake.’”

  “You mean Niviane?”

  “The Dulac family is very powerful, and very dangerous. We’re convinced they’re responsible for killing the Pendragons.” Melinda closed the encyclopedia and slipped it back on the shelf. “I’ve never seen an inquisitor get his answer from a book before.”