The Artifact Hunters

by Janet Fox

  It was almost too much. It zapped and zinged, but he was also strong, and he pulled himself straight to his full height. He concentrated on the good, bright magic, fighting the other, which surged against him like a wave pounding a cliff.

  “Ah!” Kat cried. He opened his eyes. Her face was contorted by pain. She held out her fist, glowing with a blue flame. “I can’t let go!”

  Leo pulled at Baines.

  “Really, now. Stop this nonsense,” Baines said. Colin, staring at the wolves, muttered under his breath. Amelie tugged at both Kat and Isaac.

  They reached the castle wall.

  Isaac turned and tripped and stumbled, and lost concentration, and then, lost control.

  The pain in his head became unbearable again. He froze, flattening his back against the hard, cold stone wall, pressing against it as if he could push himself through.

  Ahead of him, Baines, Leo, Colin, and Amelie tumbled inside the castle door.

  “Kat,” Isaac cried. The wolves all began to howl at once. Terror filled him. Blind terror. He had to disappear.

  She turned. “Isaac, where are you?” She looked right through him. As if he was invisible.

  He reached out his hand. “I’m here.”

  She squinted, searching.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated again. It must be the fear, he thought. I wanted to disappear, and I did.

  When he opened his eyes, Kat’s eyes widened. “Wow. For a moment there, you vanished.”

  They both heard the movement of the wolves, making through the brush straight for them.

  Kat reached for him. “Run!” she cried, and jerked his arm. He turned, slipped, stumbled again, nearly falling before he could get his gangly legs under him. Then he ran.

  Kat led him, yanking his arm, and he could almost feel the hot breath of a wolf, until suddenly they were inside the castle, shoving the door closed behind.

  Kat and Isaac leaned against the door, panting. Wolves thudded at the door with a shuddering jolt and then scratched at the wood. Kat threw a bolt, and when their eyes met, hers were wide with shock.

  CHAPTER 31

  The Wraith

  The wraith is rapturous. The wards around the castle are breaking. The ancient magic the wraith has called to the forest has become stronger. The dire wolves beat against the castle doors, the trees have moved right up against the aging stone walls, and the snaking vines are climbing, climbing the crumbling towers and seeking entry through the mullioned windows.

  The wraith looks up from what it is doing—a task so disturbing that all the little mechanicals have gone into hiding—and thinks, Hurry. Hurry. Now is the time. Now we will have what we’ve longed for. Now we can find what we’ve sought.

  Back before, two years ago (what feels like thousands of years ago) the wraith had found her. It loved her before she ever knew it did. Before the wraith itself knew. The wraith longed for her, and gave her what she wished for—all those mechanical replacements that gave her power—and then it realized. The wraith re-created her (yes, as a monster) but also loved her.

  It gave the Lady what she desired, but lost her in the end. Lost her and realized—too late! Oh, agony, too late!—that it loved her.

  But now . . . it will bring her back. It can do that. It has many of her parts. All it needs is what is locked inside Kat’s chatelaine.

  It will bring her back to life.

  The wraith bends to its current task, to the human captive that lies prone and helpless, the human captive that will steal the chatelaine, and the little mechanicals dare not peek.

  CHAPTER 32

  Moloch

  Moloch lifts his head and sniffs the air.

  When Isaac opens his heart and mind to his magical gift, and the wolves throw themselves against the doors, and the forest presses on the stones of Rookskill Castle, a shudder passes from the human world right through the thin places to the Realm of Faerie. Right through to Moloch.

  He stands. “It’s ready,” he whispers. He tilts his head, listening, feeling. He’s sure that he’s right, that his hunter is right. He’s found the Guardian at last.

  And at Rookskill. Perfect.

  Before the fae king discovers that his spy is gone, Moloch must seize this moment. With the Guardian and the magic, Moloch will make his own kingdom. He’ll become master of the sluagh. The Seelie fae will be forced to grovel at his feet. They’ll be forced to look at his scar, at his empty eye socket, at his leathery wings, at his red eye. Moloch will have the joy he’s wanted for too, too long.

  Wyvern beats his wings and Moloch turns to face the dragon. He places his hand on the scaly green snout, and the dragon snorts. Moloch whispers, “It’s time, at last. You will take me to Rookskill.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Isaac

  1942

  Leo shepherded Baines away as the other four children remained just inside the door, leaning on the walls and stairs.

  Willow popped in overhead. “Heard a noise, we did. Sounded grim outside.”

  Isaac rubbed his forehead as the painful hum subsided. For a moment, when he was in control, it had felt wonderful. But when he stumbled . . .

  “You vanished,” Kat said, staring at him. “You completely vanished. What was that?”

  Willow snorted. “We tried to tell you. Saw it when you arrived.”

  Isaac shook his head. “I thought you said I am an . . . what did you call it? Amplifier.”

  “I think you are. I think that’s one of your magical gifts. But only one because you seem to have other skills, too, like disappearing on the spot.” She folded her arms. “Not to mention you have a time-travel machine and you’ve seen monsters. You’re obviously quite magical. You’ve never known?”

  Isaac shook his head, then looked away, thinking for a minute, and said, “Well, that’s not really true. I have always known I was—different from anyone else. And, when I think about it, I’ve had the feeling before of being—I do not know—not-seen. Like when I get really scared. When I wish to disappear.”

  Willow said, “Ha! And there you go. Saw it when we met. Disappears like . . .” And Willow seemed to snap their fingers.

  Colin, Amelie, and Kat watched Isaac in silence.

  “But I have no idea how to control any of it. Like I have no idea how to control that amplifier stuff.” Isaac looked from one to the other. “I can scarcely control what happens in the time travel and that has all been set for me.” He paused. “But I want to learn. I need to.”

  “We can help,” said Amelie. “We can help you manage your magic. You can do amazing things, Isaac.”

  He smiled at Amelie. He could do amazing things. Well, he could also do terrible things, as the scratching on the door made clear.

  Anyone powerful enough to do great good can also do great evil. Like Victor Frankenstein.

  We may all be monsters under the skin.

  “Come on,” said Kat. “It seems you’ve amplified the dark magic that’s working against my wards. We need to sort this out.”

  As they made their way through the castle, Isaac saw that vines and branches trembling in the wind pressed against the windows of the castle, blocking the light. Dire wolves howled all around the outside.

  Kat led them into the small library.

  “I’m going to go check on the dogs,” Colin said.

  “Look in on Leo and Baines, too, would you?” Kat asked. “Make sure Baines hasn’t done anything else foolish?”

  Colin nodded.

  Willow said with a snicker, “Baines, foolish?”

  “Right. Let’s get started,” Kat said.

  * * *

  * * *

  She and Amelie took turns. Kat would make a spell or Amelie would conjure the ghost cat out of thin air, and Isaac would respond and try to control the magic. After a short time, he found that if he pressed
his hand to his chest, pressing the pendant against his skin, he had a stronger response.

  It was a bit like trying to control lightning. Electric shocks zoomed from his feet to his head and back. But, little by little, he could grab it more easily, direct it, focus it.

  He was able to make the ghost cat flicker or look more solid or freeze in place. He was able to undo one of Kat’s spells, when she made a book float and he made it crash to the floor.

  “Does the kitty feel like a good ghost or a bad ghost?” Kat asked. “I’m trying to see how you can affect one or the other. Good or bad.”

  “Neither,” Isaac said. “It feels like a kitty.”

  Kat put her hands on her hips. “So, what does a kitty feel like?”

  Isaac tried to remember the cat his neighbor had in Prague. The tabby would move along the window balconies until she came to sit at his window, taking in the sun. When she turned her green eyes on Isaac, he always felt she was watching him narrowly, with disapproval. “Like a kitty,” he said.

  Amelie laughed and Kat gave her a scowl, and Isaac pointed at her expression and said, “Just like that.” Which made Amelie laugh harder.

  Kat rolled her eyes and said, “Let’s try this.” She stuck her hand into her pocket and pulled out the odd silvery object.

  Isaac felt the power from it at once. But this time he could focus his response and turn the pain aside. “What do you call that again?”

  “A chatelaine,” Kat said. She opened her palm. Chains holding three small silver objects—a pen, a thimble, and a pair of scissors—shone in the dim light.

  Isaac gritted his teeth. The chatelaine began to glow a brilliant blue, and Amelie gasped. Kat froze.

  He felt the shift as he absorbed its power. The thimble. There was an aura about that thimble.

  His mother had a thimble in her sewing box. But this was different. Dangerous. It held something. Something . . . sad. He concentrated all his energy there. Something lost. Something unfinished. It throbbed like the heartbeat of the castle itself. It throbbed with an ancient longing.

  The thimble became a ball of light, brilliant, painful. And needy, desperate, grasping, and then the wolves were howling, howling, and the trees banged as if in a high wind against the windows and doors of the castle, and Isaac knew he’d shifted from channeling good magic to bad. Evil magic was flowing from inside the thimble to Isaac.

  He pushed back and sent the evil magic reeling. The wolves and trees slowly went silent. The darkness lifted a little. Isaac’s head ached.

  Kat, trembling, pocketed the chatelaine. “Well,” she said, and leaned against a table. “Goodness.”

  “That . . . whatever it is,” Isaac said. “Whatever’s inside.” He rubbed his temples, trying to calm the ache. “Now, that’s definitely bad magic.”

  “It’s the soul of a witch,” Kat said, sounding exhausted.

  “The soul of a what?” Isaac said, shocked.

  “Remember what I said about what happened here a couple of years ago?” Amelie said. “About the monster who tried to steal our souls?”

  Isaac nodded.

  “That’s the monster. She was the Lady Eleanor. Kat was able to capture her soul instead, inside the thimble.”

  Isaac gave a low whistle. “No wonder it sends out so much . . . anger.”

  “She only wanted one thing, really. But she didn’t know how to get it without hurting others.” Kat took a deep breath. “I think we’re done for now.”

  He nodded. “I agree.” Then, “Kat?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. I mean it.” He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. “I still don’t know exactly why my parents sent me to Rookskill, but I am glad they did. Really glad. Glad to know all of you. Glad you’re here and willing to help me. Glad you’re my friends.” He paused. “So, um, thanks to you. Again.”

  Kat smiled, for the first time in Isaac’s memory. “You’re welcome.” She pushed away and walked unsteadily out of the library.

  Isaac turned to Amelie. “What do you think?”

  “I think you have quite a gift.”

  He shook his head. “I wish I knew more about this. About myself. About where this gift came from. And why.”

  “I don’t know about the why. But maybe you inherited it?”

  In his mind’s eye, Isaac pictured his mother standing protectively in the doorway of the hut, whispering.

  “Maybe,” he said, pacing away, staring out the vine-covered window at the gloomy forest beyond.

  His mother had been casting spells. She was magical. And his father—his father had given him a pendant that was also (Isaac was sure) magical. Isaac had inherited a magical gift from his mother. And been given a magical gift by his father. Which made the initial conclusion pretty clear, even if the why was still elusive.

  Not only did Isaac Wolf have magic, he had it from both his parents. They’d given him magic and he had a whole ton of it.

  Now he had to find out why.

  CHAPTER 34

  Ralph Baines

  1942

  Ralph Baines was thoroughly confused. Why were vines covering the windows? Why were trees pressing up against the walls of the castle? Why had he become so entangled with grasping thorns and sticky brambles? His fingers found rips in his jacket and he pursed his lips.

  This was his best jacket, a personal purchase, acquired at great expense.

  He paced across his commandeered bivouac, rubbing his forehead. He was never fooled for long. There was always a logical explanation.

  The forest, when he’d arrived yesterday, had been a mass of thorns and brambles, but this overnight growth was ridiculous. He hadn’t been able to make a dent with the tools before that pack of wild dogs taken in by the youngest boy was at their heels. Well. It was obvious, wasn’t it? The groundskeeper had been negligent for so long that the ivy was running amok and that small rain shower had given a boost to new growth. As for the dogs—they would be dealt with.

  Ralph Baines did not like dogs.

  He didn’t like children either.

  And this lot had been able to pull the wool over some eyes, but they weren’t fooling Ralph Baines.

  He would recommend taking this castle, tearing it down, and putting up a practical fortification in its place. A modern facility with guns and barracks. Concrete. Ready to defend the coast against a Nazi incursion. Not a bit of it to do with magic.

  He marched to the door to make his way to the kitchen. He was hungry after dealing with all this nonsense, too hungry to rely on his rations alone. He’d have to chance the food of Rookskill. Leo had told him not to eat the bangers and mash. Some nonsense about it not being bangers and mash but slugs and glowworms in some kind of magical disguise. And that addlepated child who claimed to be the cook was no doubt being coached by an adult he hadn’t yet seen.

  Ralph Baines liked bangers and mash. He would eat them with gusto.

  CHAPTER 35

  Isaac

  1942

  “Are you ready?” Isaac asked.

  The watch sat open on the floor between him and Amelie. He was wearing the snake-bracelet—Amelie refused to touch it—around his right wrist.

  The skull grinned its hollow, chilling grin. The hands of the watch were fixed at eleven o’clock.

  Amelie asked, “Will it hurt?”

  He shook his head. “It feels a bit like being bounced around on a rough road, that’s all.”

  “And they won’t see us or hear us?”

  “As long as I am holding the watch,” Isaac said, uncomfortable as he thought about Hypatia. “We had better hold on to each other, too. You may need to be touching me to stay invisible. Remember the law of unintended consequences. We do not want to change anything in the past.”

  She nodded. “Do you know where and when we’re going?”

 
“No. But I trust my parents. So, are you ready?” Isaac asked again.

  She nodded again and smiled. “It might be fun. Maybe we’ll see an amazing place and time.”

  Maybe they would. In fact, Isaac thought, they almost certainly would, no matter where they went. After all, how many people were lucky enough to travel through time and space and come home again?

  He smiled back. “We just have to remember what we need to do. Find that next clue.”

  “Right.”

  “All right, then. Hold on tight.”

  Isaac wound the watch.

  CHAPTER 36

  Isaac and Amelie

  Pumapunku, Tiwanaku Valley

  Circa 1000

  As the kaleidoscopic whirl begins, Isaac can feel Amelie’s tight grip on his left arm. He clutches the watch in his right fist with the snake-bracelet wrapping his arm just above, and they tumble backward through space and time—the space-time continuum, Kat had called it—and Isaac is seeing places and events from his own life that he’d seen before.

  Then they’re high above a treeless, rocky plain, one side edged by snow-capped mountains, a long flat lake dotted with islands on another, and the far-off sea sparkling in the sunlight opposite the mountains. The plain and the lake draw closer and closer as if Isaac and Amelie are falling out of the sky, and he hears a small cry from Amelie as they plunge toward the earth, toward a green field in the middle of the plain, a field that is laced with narrow ribbons of water and they fall down, down, down.

  Isaac shuts his eyes, sure this is the last thing he’ll ever see.

  And then, a soft thump.

  Isaac is lying on his back. Amelie is lying by his side, still clutching his arm. He’s not sore, not even winded. When he opens his eyes, the sky above is deep blue. The air is cold and the earth beneath his back is soft and wet. He smells fish and rotting vegetation, and when he sits up, his head swims.