Lost Hope (Wildcat Wizard Book 6)

by Al K. Line

  Juice was sitting on the tiles rubbing his head, Vicky and George were at the table drinking coffee, Steve had helped himself to a beer, so I ignored Juice and sat down and sipped my drink.

  "So, who should we kill first?" I asked.

  We all turned and stared at Juice.

  Muppet in the House

  "Haha, you guys," said Juice nervously. He wiped at his head and scooted across the floor as we all stared at him. "You're joking, right? Why would you wanna kill me?"

  "Because you're a maniac," said Vicky, beating me to it.

  "You killed your mum, dude," I added, shaking my head.

  "So not cool," said Steve.

  "She was holding me back, treating me like a child. And besides, how am I supposed to be respected when she always had the guys running around after her? She acted like she was in charge. Me, I'm in charge. I'm the boss."

  "So why didn't you tell her that?" I asked. "Why stay at home and let her treat you like a kid?"

  "She's my mum. Um, was my mum."

  I stared hard at Juice but couldn't figure him out. He was like a kid in a man's body, not that the body was particularly manly. He seemed harmless enough when you looked at him, even when you spoke to him. He was nervy, chatty, a blabbermouth, and you wouldn't think he'd last five minutes without his mother there to run things for him. But after a few minutes in his company you understood there was something off about him, that something wasn't quite right.

  Sneaky, that's what he was. But it was more than that. You could tell he had zero empathy. He didn't relate to others, couldn't feel their pain, couldn't even imagine doing such a thing. He truly was like a child. That others had feelings, emotions, needs and wants, could get hurt, experience loss, all of it, it didn't compute in his mind. It went beyond what many autistic people struggled to manage, where they had to learn how to act with others, to try to consider that what they felt was how others felt too. It was something altogether deeper, more intense, and very worrying.

  He basically didn't give a shit about anyone else, would do whatever he thought best for him and him alone. He could not be trusted in any way whatsoever as he would screw you over in a heartbeat.

  "What's your game?" I asked, getting up and pulling out a chair at the far end of the table. I patted the seat and he got up slowly then sat. I kept my hands on the back of the chair and loomed forward, talking quietly. "If you don't explain yourself to our satisfaction, then I will hang you outside from a tree like the Hangman did to me."

  "Dad, speaking of that, you need to sort out your neck. You look like he finished the job. Your neck's raw."

  "I know, and it hurts like hell. But I need to deal with this twat first. So, what's it gonna be, Juice? You gonna talk or should I use that fucking rope around your neck to string you up? Actually, take the bloody thing off."

  I loosened my own noose and laid it on the table. The moment I did so it faded, then vanished, presumably back to the Hangman's home. Juice fumbled with his noose nervously, fingers all over the place. George sighed, got up, and yanked it over his head. She placed it on the table, but it remained where it was, a magical artifact that, unfortunately, was all too real.

  "Ow, that hurt," he whined, rubbing at his ears.

  "Hell, you are such a crybaby," I sighed as I drank my coffee. "Now, talk."

  "Can I have some coffee?"

  "Get it yourself, and freshen ours too."

  Juice got up and fixed everyone a drink, making an ungodly mess that I had to clean up immediately.

  Back at the table, I once again said, "Talk."

  He didn't bloody shut up.

  Seemed Juice was on the level about why he'd summoned the Hangman. He really was idiotic enough to think it would let him have an adventure. He wanted to be involved with something totally outside of his usual experience, and this sure fit the bill. He'd used the noose to fulfill the complicated ritual needed to bring the Hangman, and made his deal. Now that deal was done, and the Hangman had killed who he was supposed to, so was on the loose. Unfettered.

  "Mind if I pop out?" asked Steve, yawning. "Need some fresh air."

  "Sure, buddy. You know how this works." I winked at Steve.

  With a nod to us all, he was gone. Steve couldn't resist the call of the wild. He knew we could handle this, so wanted to shift and roam. Who could blame him? The countryside offered the perfect opportunity for him to allow the badger nature to take over. He often disappeared for days when he came to visit. Freedom, that's what he had out there in the open air. Something I could do with myself.

  "So what was your plan after this?" I asked Juice, intrigued despite myself.

  "Wing it," said Juice, smiling.

  I sighed. "Idiot."

  Juice's face creased in anger. "You shouldn't talk to me like that," he whined. "I'm a powerful man. I've got my people, you should watch your manners."

  I leaned forward over the table, stared him right in the eye, and said, "Juice, you are, without doubt, the sneakiest, most snakelike, despicable little man I have ever met. I don't care what you think you are, how tough you think you are, killing old ladies does not make you a real gangster. You think you're tough? You aren't. You're playing games and you're in for a serious wake-up call, buddy. Without your mum, the woman you killed so you could be in control, it's all going to come crashing down. Mark my words, your guys will be deserting you in droves. You're done."

  Juice kept a fake smile plastered on his face for a while, but the more I spoke the more the facade dropped. Realization suddenly hit, much as he tried to cover it up. He knew what he was, how he was seen, and without the matriarch to keep the tough guys in order he had no authority. He certainly had no respect.

  "Now, how do we stop the Hangman?" I asked.

  "I thought you'd know," he said, looking properly worried now.

  "Why the fuck would I know?"

  "You're The Hat."

  "But not an idiot. How would I know?"

  "It's what you do," he said lamely.

  "Maybe we should just kill him?" asked George, winking at me.

  "Yes, I think that's for the best all round," I replied.

  "Wait, wait, I know a way."

  Feeling like I was going around in circles, I nonetheless said, "Okay, but make it quick. I need to sleep. We have to help our friend."

  "Once he's fulfilled his bargain, which he has, the only way to get him gone, to eliminate him, and stop him coming for you, is..." Juice paused to scratch at a boil on his neck.

  "That's it, I'm just going to kill him and deal with whatever comes next," I said, reaching for Wand.

  "Okay, okay. To stop the Hangman all we..."

  Rude Awakening

  My eyes snapped open as my neck clicked, sending a familiar shooting pain into my skull. Talk about a bad time to fall asleep, but it wasn't surprising.

  What was surprising was the fact I was sitting in the dark, alone. I got up, confused as to why all the lights were out—we usually left one on to illuminate late night snacks or coffee. I switched on the light and turned to go back to the table to clean up.

  Vicky and George were gone. Juice was slumped forward. A large pool of blood had dried around him, sticking his face to the table. The back of his head was missing.

  "Guess I'll make my own coffee."

  I fired up the coffee machine. Rest was over.

  I turned back to survey the scene. "Goddammit, Juice, even when you're dead you're still annoying. Look at my table."

  A Mystery

  Being a wizard of the rather legally challenged kind means I'd become not only the best there was at stealing artifacts, I was also a good fighter, an excellent runner away from bad guys, a decent lover with less practice than he deserved, and an ace amateur sleuth. Or so I thought.

  As I sipped my coffee, the silence of the house weighing heavily. Oppressive, yet at the same time comforting because I was at home and everything was familiar. I took in the tableaux before me in more detail, weighing up
the evidence, checking angles, inspecting the wound, or gaping bloody hole more like, and piecing together the puzzle that was Juice's unexpected, not entirely unwelcome, but still shocking demise. Mostly it was annoying. Did I mention I liked the table?

  By the time I was draining the bitter dregs of my Americano, all I'd concluded was that I needed to change brand of coffee beans. The rest was a mystery.

  I thought back to the last time I'd been awake, about when we were all sitting around the table. What had happened? Why had I fallen asleep? That was simple. I was exhausted and couldn't keep my eyes open.

  Suddenly, I remembered, and frowned as I considered what had happened. Juice was about to say how to stop the Hangman. And I'd what, fallen asleep at that precise moment? Was that right? Would I do that?

  For a moment my distrustful nature surfaced and I considered all kinds of nefarious things that could have been done to cause me to crash out like that, but then I shook the sleep from my head and laughed, which was a bit odd with a dead man in my kitchen and brains oozing all over the floor, but I was kind of used to such things. Plus, it was Juice.

  Of course I could have fallen asleep right at that moment. I fell asleep at lots of stupid times, like earlier the previous day when I'd zonked out and crashed the car. Not exactly great timing that one. There were many similar incidents in the past, hence my regular meetings with Death. Nope, I probably really had just passed out because I was tired.

  It was still the middle of the night, or early morning, anyway, and the coffee was having the desired effect. Whatever had happened here, Steve, George, and Vicky had obviously seen fit to deal with it, and leave me to sleep. A bit strange, but nonetheless I guess they'd felt we were in no danger. What had happened? Juice had probably done or said something stupid, not told them what they wanted to hear, things had got out of hand, and one of them had clearly clobbered him with something. What had they used?

  I checked the kitchen thoroughly but could find nothing obvious. It could have been one of many items, and knowing them, they'd just cleaned it up as they knew I hated my stuff being messy and then left me to sleep. If I hadn't woken up for any of that then I was obviously more tired than I'd imagined.

  With my head still muddled, maybe even befuddled, I clambered the stairs in a half-sleep and went to the room at the back of the house that I'd gone to great pains to make just right. I opened the door, slipped off my socks, and then closed it gently behind me with a quiet snick, not wanting to wake Vicky or George.

  I stripped naked, walked across polished floorboards, and stepped into the small wet room. I showered, cleaning myself until I shone pink, got dry with a towel so fluffy it felt like being cuddled by a cloud, then sat cross-legged in the middle of the room. I'd done a good job with it. It's surprising how hard it is to keep a space empty, totally devoid of anything at all and not have the smallest detail become very distracting, but I'd managed it.

  The walls and ceiling were perfectly smooth plaster, painted white with a subtle hint of blue, the floor was bleached hardwood, almost bone white. There were no skirting boards or door frames, everything was sleek and flush, no distractions. The lighting was recessed, the door was a single piece of wood, and the window was etched glass that darkened when the subtle lights came on. The perfect Quiet Room.

  Soon I was deep into the Quiet Place, letting magic flow through me, in and out like breathing, filling me from my feet up, until many hours later, with my mind clear, my senses shut off, everything still and perfect, the place that is no place consuming me, me never wanting to leave but a small part of me knowing I had to, I emerged with a gasp, brimming with magic.

  "Bollocks," I groaned, then hurriedly got dressed and went to check if I'd really been as stupid as I realized I'd been.

  I wasn't thinking straight, obviously. There was no way I would have slept through Juice being killed, and there was no way George and Vicky would have left me alone in a room with his corpse. And there was absolutely no way they would have cleaned up the murder weapon. They'd have panicked and shook me until I woke up, babbling and giving me grief for falling asleep.

  How could I have been so dense? Because, and I hated to admit it, sometimes I was a right idiot. Maybe not the great detective I imagined.

  I opened George's door quietly, part of me still hoping she'd be tucked up in bed. The room was dark so I switched on the light. The bed was made. The room was the same as always, although I hardly ever came in here. Everything was neat and tidy, arranged in drawers and cupboards. Books lined the walls, pictures hung straight, perfume bottles were arranged neatly on the desk where her laptop was aligned perfectly with the edge. George was not your average teenage girl.

  But she wasn't here.

  I checked the spare room. No Vicky.

  I checked the other spare room. There was no Steve. Not that it meant he hadn't been here, the sneak would be trying to climb into bed with Vicky if his leering was anything to go by. If he'd even returned after his roaming.

  I raced downstairs, panic rising. At the front door all I found were my boots, no other footwear. Had they gone out for a stroll? No, why would they? And I'd been in the Quiet Room for hours, had slept for ages before that, so even if they'd suddenly found some energy it would be spent and they'd be back.

  When faced with the obvious, even deluded wizard detectives get the hint eventually.

  Someone had come, killed Juice, and taken my daughter, my man-buddy, and my sidekick. And I'd slept through the whole thing.

  I retreated to the kitchen, picked up my mug to make more coffee. While I waited for the machine, I collected the other mugs from the table. I noticed a residue on one, just a few grains of something catching the light. Three in total were the same, one wasn't. So, Juice had drugged us, and something had gone wrong.

  But what? And where were my family? What about Steve? Had he been drugged too at some point? He had beer, from the bottle, not coffee.

  "Good bloody morning, Arthur," I sighed as I grabbed my coffee, sniffed it suspiciously, then drank it anyway. My magic was running high and fast, I could tell it was safe, and I drank it greedily as I waited for inspiration to hit.

  It never did. Never has.

  All Alone

  Life was definitely getting out of control. As the day dawned, I sat alone in the kitchen, utterly discombobulated. Normally there would be at least one woman in here with me, either making a mess, talking, or nagging. I missed it terribly.

  Everyone was gone, Juice was dead, the Hangman was presumably still out there, and I didn't know where anyone was.

  Why had Sasha been taken? Where was she? And now George and Vicky. Who'd done for Juice? Was Steve safe? And who was next?

  Panicked, I called Ivan. A woman answered.

  "Hello?" she said, managing to sound efficient with that one simple word.

  "Hi. Um, is Ivan there?"

  "Who's calling, please?" she asked, unperturbed by the hour. I guess vampires don't mind early morning calls.

  "It's Arthur, The Hat."

  "One moment." The line clicked then some torturous generic music blared, the quality awful. The kind that makes you want to reach down the phone and strangle someone. I tapped my foot impatiently, holding the phone away from my ear, until Ivan came on and said, "Arthur?"

  "Yeah, it's me. Listen, are the girls okay?"

  "If by okay you mean drawing all over my dining table, putting the TV on at full volume, and pouring milk and cereal all over my parquet floors, then yes, they are fine. Do young children always get up at such an hour?" Ivan sounded stressed, albeit in his own uniquely laconic way.

  "Yeah, that's normal," I said, hardly listening. "But they're okay? Nothing weird going on there?"

  "No. Why, should there be?"

  "I don't know. Look, I don't want you to worry, and I sure don't want you to tell the girls, but things have got freaky. Um, freakier."

  "Juice, or Sasha? Or the Hangman?"

  "All of that, and more. George
and Vicky have disappeared, Juice is dead." I filled Ivan in on the rest and hoped he'd come up with an explanation that would put my mind at ease. He didn't.

  "Shall I come over? Shall I send some men?"

  "No, there's no point. Whatever's happening, it's focused around everyone close to me, or it's just someone pissed off with Juice, which may well be the case now I come to think about it. The girls need to be kept safe, and you're the best person to do that, so get them to school and look out for them."

  "As you wish. I'll have someone keep an eye on them at school, just to be sure. Rest assured, they will come to no harm."

  "I know they won't. You're a great uncle."

  Ivan was silent and I wondered if the line was dead. He spoke a few moments later. "You've never said that before. Do you really think so? I'm not exactly a conventional uncle."

  "I mean it. You may be far from conventional, but none of us are regular citizens. What, you think anyone else does a better job? We love them, we look after our own, the rest is just background noise."

  "Arthur, sometimes you surprise me with your kindness. Thank you. I will guard them with my life."

  I hung up and felt reassured. Ivan may have been many things, but he loved his nieces, and his sister, and he would protect the terrible twosome. I also knew for a fact he'd have his people trying to figure out what was happening. He would move heaven and earth to protect Vicky, and if you think my way of doing things is violent, then Ivan's vampire goons make me look like a housebound kitty-cat.

  It was time to level up and go bash some heads.

  I just needed to figure out which ones.

  Priorities

  I loved Sasha, I loved Vicky, but I loved George more. That's in no way lessening the feelings I had for them, but George was my daughter and she came first.

  Feeling better by just thinking things through that far, I understood that I had to focus on George. But Vicky must be with George, and so that meant they both came before Sasha.