by M. Pax
In all the dictionaries. Daelin groped for the library keys in her pocket. The brass with the elaborate scrolls had to be for the storage closet. Wald should have mentioned it was a magic storage closet. Her fingers quaked, and she struggled to slide the key into its slot. She paused. Should she listen to a ghost?
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Greg’s blood covered Earl in gruesome stains. He hadn’t been able to wash, and he didn’t dare leave the closet, a safe zone Dante had shown him five years ago when it became evident the rift hated Earl. Earl had activated the seal by pressing points on the doorframe in a precise pattern, like a combination to a safe. Dialing the pattern the first time brought the closet back into reality, the second time took it out of the notice of the world and beyond the senses of those who came from the rift.
He had sat on the pine boards with his knees pulled to his chest, waiting. Hawley had made enough noise to rival a booming mine. As long as Earl didn’t touch the door, the closet remained hidden.
The Rifters, the people in town who protected the world against the horrors of the rift, had battled Haw Shot to exhaustion. Earl had heard it, had heard the discussion about what to do about the mess and Wald’s solution. The gossip and wild stories during the clean up made Earl snicker. Perception had more power than truth when it came to the rumors about himself, Charming, and Cerin.
None of them knew Cerin was Dante’s brother, arriving here to combat the same evil Dante had stumbled upon. In the process, Cerin had bewitched Charming with his elegant speeches. He didn’t have his brother’s skills at concealment, and the guardians of this world had discovered him. Exposed, he and Charming carried on a very public romance to cover his real reasons for being here. If the Rifters knew the truth about Charming and Cerin, the remaining guardians would be branded as enemies too. Then the threat Dante had come here to mount an offensive against, would come hard and swift.
To protect his girl, the town, and its people, Earl couldn’t reveal Charming’s romance with Cerin as a sham. He worried the Governors knew she had information she shouldn’t and traveled the rift to thwart them. Hawley’s presence proved they at least suspected.
The library grew quiet except for singing. Daelin had a fair voice, but Earl didn’t need a serenade. He needed her to find him. The library wouldn’t betray its keeper, wouldn’t let him out until she allowed it. She had to see the door and unlock it. Dante had called it the librarian’s hex.
Earl placed his palm on the doorknob, making the storage space visible. The edges of the closet became less fuzzy. He pounded on the door until she yanked it open.
“I’m here to help you not harm you.” His tongue had always held magic, weaving lies into the truth. It was how he had lived a double life in the 1870s: one as a gentleman, the second as a notorious stagecoach robber. This time he’d used his gift to tell the truth. Daelin had to listen to him, but by the squint of her eyes and the set of her jaw, she’d beat him to a pulp first.
He raised his hands, showing them bare and empty. “I didn’t kill Susan and Greg. I swear it on your sister’s life.” Daelin had to believe him. She had to trust him, yet his faith in himself slipped. The feel of Greg’s tendons popping against his palms wouldn’t let him be. Earl swallowed past the lumps in his throat, vowing for the three thousandth time to make Haw Shot pay.
A heavy book in her hands, Daelin smacked it over Earl’s head. She did so two more times before he could get a grip on the book and wrestle it out of her hands.
She growled. “What did you do to my sister?” Her voice rattled with a fury to match George Hawley’s. “Did you kill her? Starphish and Culver told me the two of you were together, that you were upset she left you for some intern last summer.”
Pins and needles popped in his legs and feet, making it a struggle for Earl to stand. “I swear to all I hold dear, I would never harm her. Never. I’d die for your sister.”
Daelin crossed her arms. Her height made her formidable. Once the Rifters trained her, she’d be a fierce opponent, which had to be Dante and Charming’s plans for Daelin. If they planned to wage war, they’d need as many allies as they could get. Earl had to make sure Daelin joined the Rifters without a hitch. It was how he could help his girl.
“Don’t tell me something stupid like the ghost did it,” Daelin said. “Nonsense belongs in novels.” Her jaw stiffened. Irrefutable proof would be all she’d accept.
Earl would have to give up some secrets. “Settler has nonsense at its foundation. The phantom and its vendetta are very real. It’s after your sister.”
“Then why is it after you?”
If only all of this could be explained without him, but it couldn’t. He’d have to let a few things go and trust her with them. “Because it learned of our bond.”
“That you’re in love with each other?”
The need to atone made him act as foolishly as a devoted lover with Charming. He had to believe it would eventually erase his previous sins. “No. Charming and I are not romantically involved. Never were. Never will be.”
“Then why are you so committed to her?”
Half honesty wouldn’t satisfy Daelin. Earl sighed and gave her what she needed. “She’s the only family I have.”
“Family?”
“Distant relations.” He wasn’t entirely sure how many greats to put before their titles of grandfather and granddaughter. “On her father’s side. You and I aren’t related.”
“Damn the ain’ts, Earl Blacke. None of this makes sense. My sister never told me of you and you’re not telling me much.”
“I don’t know what else to do—”
“Pssst.” The whisper came from the stacks.
Daelin whirled. Earl jumped out of the closet in front of her. If Haw Shot had returned, he’d have to go through Earl to get to Daelin.
Daelin pointed at an empty portrait behind the librarian’s desk. “It’s Cordelia.”
If that didn’t beat all. He tiptoed to the painting, touching the frame. It tingled with energy much like the waking nerves in his feet. “She’s appeared to you before?”
“When I opened the library for the first time, and again just a few moments ago. She showed me the storage closet.” Daelin slipped into the stacks, reappearing with a book in her hands.
While standing in front of the empty painting, Earl blinked once and Cordelia was suddenly back in it, like she had never left. He had never seen such a thing.
“It’s a message for you.” Daelin held out the opened book.
A crystal, which resembled a bullet, sat in the hollowed out interior. It came with a folded note sealed with wax. Earl scrawled across it.
His fingers broke the seal and unfolded the sheet. A third pillar will open the gate on cue. It could only be from Dante and it meant it was time for Daelin to remember.
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Daelin plucked a crystal bullet wrapped in copper wire from Earl’s palm, holding it up to a fluorescent light flickering garishly. “I’m not sure I can trust you.” She crinkled her nose, staring at him until he fidgeted. He didn’t appear to be lying. He appeared more like a boy caught stealing a freshly baked pie.
She glanced at Cordelia’s portrait. The first librarian. Daelin had a feeling the dead woman was her real boss, the only one she had to please. If so and if Cordelia sanctioned Earl’s story, then Daelin had to do what he asked. Out the window, the day mellowed to hues of gold. She’d have to hurry. One, because she had to reach a place on his property before dark. Two, because harboring a fugitive was a felony. She’d give him until morning.
She frowned at the bullet then at him. “I’ll give you this one chance. One.”
“Find the truth then come straight back.” He swallowed hard. “Please.”
Without agreeing, she shut the door and locked him inside the closet. The door faded before her eyes, disappearing until she touched it again. How could a door do that? Weirder still, she embarked on an adventure to prove a ghost murdered people at the insistence of anot
her ghost.
“Keep an eye on things,” she said to Cordelia’s picture. Did the painting nod? Daelin couldn’t be sure. She grabbed her things, closed up the library, and hurried to Charming’s cottage. There she changed into worn jeans, heavy socks, and a sweater. In the garage, Daelin found a flashlight.
The dirt lane to Blackes Ranch Resort and Spa twisted through brush and dust. Ten yards past the long winding driveway to the resort, she found the trail leading through the lava fields. The lava crunched like glass under her feet until the path ducked into a thick pine forest. Pine needles and decaying foliage softened the trail. A forestry sign gave information about the volcano, stating the last eruption had happened thirteen hundred years ago resulting in the surrounding obsidian deposits.
“I hope the volcano is dead,” she said, venturing past the sign.
A little yellow songbird in the tree ahead answered. Hwee hwee.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She found the clearing with the obsidian pillars framing a twisted tree. “I hope you’re a juniper.” She didn’t know one tree from another.
Slowly, she examined the clearing, studying the ground, rocks, and foliage. The dirt and tiny plants between the obsidian columns had been burned recently. She knelt, running her hand over the charred ground. It tingled, traveling into her wrist then up into her shoulder, zapping the spot square between her shoulder blades. A glint among the fallen pine needles caught her eye.
“What is it?” She brushed away the needles to discover a vehicle key—silver with a black plastic coating on the end, Jeep stamped on it. A piece of cracked clear plastic dangled from the bent key ring. It had an image embedded in it: Daelin and Cobb in Times Square. Charming had taken it two years ago. Dried blood stained Cobb’s smile and dark blotches marred the ground.
“No.” Had Charming been hurt? “Where are you?” Daelin rubbed the surface of the mangled key ring then slipped it into her coat pocket. Maybe the clearing had more clues. Daelin crawled around, finding only char, dirt, rocks, and decaying plant matter.
The sun lowered in the sky, deepening the shadows. Daelin zipped up her coat and took out the crystal bullet, holding it before her eyes. What would it tell her about her sister? Earl promised it would reveal much. Anywhere but Settler, Daelin would think he pulled an elaborate joke.
She placed the bullet precisely between the lava pillars. “This is so silly.” How could a rock between other rocks do anything? She sat on her heels, shaking her head. Having hiked all the way out here, though, she might as well see it through.
Earl had been adamant she not stay in the clearing once positioning the bullet. She backtracked down the trail to where it veered off up to the overhang, climbing slowly, careful not to twist her ankle. Behind a boulder set away from the edge, she hunched. She had a full view of the clearing and the pillars. Daelin waited.
“I should have brought a sandwich.” She glanced at the colors splashing the sky, noticing the purples shadowing the Cascades to the west. From up here, she could see Earl’s ranch and the town. Lights began to flicker, bright beacons on the shadowed hills.
That wasn’t what she had climbed up here to see, however. She focused on the clearing. The darkness deepened. Stars came out. More stars than Daelin had ever seen. “This place can’t be real. It’s some sort of alternate reality.” Right. What else could Settler be? “A freaking rabbit hole.”
To expect anything to happen bordered on ridiculous. She was about to give up when lightning erupted along the lava pillars, fingers of blue energy arcing up into the sky. They intertwined, lacing and weaving, until a sphere of blue light burst between the columns.
Cold iced her veins, twisting her thoughts. She stood outside Dante’s office listening to him and Earl talk. They spoke of Charming and danger. They mentioned this doorway. Earl had an object which would lead to Charming. Daelin remembered it all, including how she had been told to forget.
She shook her head. “Damn the ain’ts.” Her sister was in danger. Daelin glared in the direction of the library. “What else are you keeping from me Earl Blacke?”
The light between the pillars dissipated, dimming then disappearing like a skyrocket on the Fourth of July. Fishing the flashlight out of her pocket, Daelin switched it on and navigated the trail to the clearing. She pocketed the crystal bullet then returned to town.
Once on the knoll by her sister’s house, green light from the direction of the main street caught her attention. Purple and dimmer green flashes accompanied it.
In her gut, Daelin knew more answers would be found there. Her feet moved in that direction. She shut off the flashlight, hugging the shadows until she reached the unbelievable scene.
Culver, Trinidad, Wald, Francine, Moses, and Vance battled a ghost with three heads. Sabina stood in the dim recess of the car dealership with a case, whipping out gadgets, tossing them to the others, barking out orders. The others didn’t question her. Their fists and kicks flew as instructed, but didn’t connect with the ghost. Their arms and legs went right through it. The phantom radiated light like a moon, glowing a sickly green. Tall and burly, it epitomized what Daelin thought of when hearing, ‘wild west outlaw.’
The phantom lumbered, its heads teetering. Three of them. Its hands covered Culver’s, forcing the postman to twist his cousin Trinidad’s neck.
“Culver stop,” Tiny screamed.
The street lamp illuminated a device on Tiny’s wrist, one appearing very much like the watch Daelin had found in the cabinet in the library. In fact, all the people fighting the ghost wore them and their skin around the watches glowed purple. The forest ranger, Moses, held a modified tape recorder thing. Wald and Trinidad wore aviator goggles with coils wound around the rims. None of the items were props.
The ghost’s gaze swiveled to Daelin, so hollow and menacing. She gasped.
Haw Shot dropped Culver and lunged at her. Her hand flew to her throat, then her feet flew. She sprinted toward the library to join Earl in the safe room. She had to reach it. Before she went two feet, the gruesome Haw Shot blocked her path, skidding her to a stop. She stumbled backwards.
Wald jumped between her and the phantom, shooting a purple ray from a crystal gun. Its beam encased the phantom in violet light. The ghost roared. Daelin had never heard such a horrid sound, clapping her hands over her ears. The phantom knocked Wald onto his stomach. He fought for a breath, unable to stand.
Those monstrous hands came at Daelin, grabbing for her throat. Its grip languished, thrashing at air. Its hands went through her. A chill stabbed her where it touched. She pushed at it, shoving the ghost away.
“She affects it,” Wald shouted at the group. “Did you see her drive it back?” He struggled to his feet, clutching at Daelin’s sleeve. “Help us. Nothing we do works.”
Another rabbit hole. She had the skill to fight a ghost. She owed these people for their help with cleaning up the library. But fighting a ghost? The laugh caught on the back of Daelin’s tongue. What could she do? She stared at the heads attached to Haw Shot’s shoulders, the gaping mouths frozen in eternal anguish. Like on the worst day of her life on the subway platform with a gun pointed to her head, she couldn’t move.
“Haw, haw.” Those beastly hands glowing in green sliced through her neck. Hawley grimaced and spat. Its spit couldn’t hit her either.
She slapped George Hawley’s cheek. The phantom’s head rattled, threatening to topple. It wasn’t attached as securely as the heads of its recent victims.
“Maybe I can’t kill you, but I can use these human puppets to kill everybody else. Everybody. Haw, haw. That should flush your sister out.”
“You lie.” A poor retort, but the only one Daelin could think of. The ghost would kill the whole town to get to Charming? What had Charming done? It didn’t matter. Daelin couldn’t let a massacre happen.
She threw another punch then a kick. The fury for all she had put up with—her childhood, her mother, her former boss, the subway robber—p
oured out onto George Hawley’s ghost. Daelin pummeled, struck, and slammed.
The ghost backed up. She and her rage followed. “Where’s my sister you piece of turd? Where is she?” She swung blindly, connecting with Susan’s head. The thwack thunked in a sickly way releasing the rancid odor of decay. Daelin’s stomach roiled. Haw Shot’s green glow dimmed.
Culver limped to her side, firing purple rays from the crystal gun. “Hit the heads again. Attack Susan and Greg.”
Eww. She didn’t want to touch rotting body parts on purpose. Was any of this real? Had Earl slipped her a drug? “I can’t.” She dropped her fists. “I can’t do this.”
“If you don’t, others will die. You heard it. Haw Shot isn’t bluffing.”
“Haw, haw.” The ghost snatched Culver by the collar and spun him around, slipping its green hands into the postman’s, forcing Culver to set his hands on Daelin’s neck, twisting.
Choking had a personal note to it. Daelin scratched at Culver’s fingers. Light sparked behind her eyelids. The world stopped. Silent. Unmoving. Culver’s eyes widened. A plea pooled on his lips. His arms shook, straining, fighting Haw Shot. To no effect.
Damn the ain’ts. She shut her eyes and swung at Susan. The grip on Daelin’s neck loosened. Okay. Gross as smacking dead things was, it could save her life. Summoning her fury again, she let it go, wailing on the heads of Susan and Greg until Culver’s hands dropped from her throat. The phantom backed away. Daelin followed. Susan’s head hung by a grisly thread. Daelin grabbed it and pulled, gagging when it came loose. She dropped the head, wiping her palms over her jeans.
“Go for Greg’s.” Culver moved behind her, staying out of Haw Shot’s reach. “Finish this.”
She lunged at Hawley. The ghost wheeled and ran. Before it reached the end of the street, it vanished.
Daelin stared after it. “This can’t be real.”
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