by Oxford, Rain
Vincent was prepared when he absorbed the defeated wizard’s power. He was not prepared for what came with it. Ghost was the saddest example of a familiar Vincent had ever seen. The cat was summoned when he was less than two days old and treated as a disobedient pet every minute of his life since. He was never taught the duties of a familiar, nor did he know of the respect he was owed.
Ghost was in a miserable, malnourished state, since he was expected to hunt for his own food while constantly defending his violent and foolish master. His master’s carelessness had also resulted in Ghost being completely blinded. By the time Vincent came along, the cat didn’t care if he and his master died.
He followed Vincent at a distance for weeks, sensing his old master’s power but not willing to approach the stranger he couldn’t see. Eventually, Vincent started feeding him, although he assumed the cat was too far gone and thus, it was more of a last meal sort of thing. But Ghost didn’t die. He learned even without sight that this wizard was worthy of at least gratitude.
A pack of wolf shifters that had come down from Alaska were trying to stake their claim over the eastern region of the United States. They might have succeeded had they not challenged the wizard council. They never faced the council themselves; instead, they infiltrated the council’s grocery supplier and poisoned the tea shipment. Unfortunately, Vincent had learned to like tea after all the time he spent being pressured to drink it with Logan.
In the middle of a meeting, Ghost appeared and swept Vincent’s teacup to the floor. Only then did it occur to anyone to check it. It was the absurd way they were brought together that convinced Vincent it was fate. Whether he liked it or not, they needed each other. Still, the one-eyed wizard and the blind cat did not make a terribly frightening force.
Logan then came up with the idea for an ancient, painful, and dangerous spell to create the bond between Vincent and Ghost. Logan warned him that it would never be as strong as the bond between him and Star. But for the wizard who lost his familiar and the familiar who lost his wizard, it was enough. One unexpected advantage was that Ghost got his vision back.
* * *
At the turn of the century, Logan’s schools and orphanage were doing very well. The paranormal community as a whole had made phenomenal improvement since Vincent joined the wizard council. There were still problems regarding the vampires, but Logan was making progress with a powerful coven that had just moved to the United States.
This was when Logan got an unwelcome visit by Keigan Langril, formerly known as Leara Kingling. The demon, however, was not interested in taking over. Instead, he had his own motives for keeping the tower out of the wrong hands, for his six-year-old daughter, Heather, already had a target on her back. As Logan suspected, Keigan had a key.
It turned out that Keigan wasn’t the only “demon” residing in Logan’s university. Keigan had saved Andrew Martin from someone in their home world by bringing him here. When Logan first started up the university, Andrew had signed on as the resident scientist with the secret objective of keep an eye out for news on the tower.
Logan allowed Keigan in without question, only to constantly challenge and accuse the foreign wizard. Keigan had no problem holding his own, often pushing Logan’s buttons to the point where Rosin had to intervene. Eventually, the rest of the staff just learned to duck when they were in the same room.
Chapter 12
I couldn’t breathe or see and I could only hear nonsensical sounds. I panicked when I felt someone trying to restrain me, but I realized I had been thrashing. All I could think about was getting free.
“Stop, Devon!” I felt her mind before I understood her words. It was Astrid’s face, not her name that came to mind. She had her arms wrapped around me from behind. I heard her calm heartbeat and focused on that as I tried to figure out where we were.
Astrid and I were on the floor and Darwin was across the room from us, looking worried out of his mind. We were in our dorm room. I was breathing heavily, shaking, and covered in sweat. Lying open on my desk was Vincent’s book, but when I reached for my ring, it was gone. “We had to take your ring off. You were unresponsive,” Darwin said.
“You were convulsing and barely breathing,” Astrid said. “We had to wake you. You were in it for over six hours. You need to rehydrate and eat something.”
I reached for my ring in her hand, but she tossed it to Darwin. “I’m fine now. I know what the keys do, what the tower is, and what Henry is! And how did you get out of the dungeon again?”
“I thought you were in trouble.”
“It’s daylight. How did you make it across the campus?”
“I walked.”
“Never mind that!” Darwin said. “What does Henry have to do with–”
“The tower is a portal to four other worlds, each of which is the origin of one of the paranormal groups. I also know why Henry has trouble controlling his cat. He’s not a jaguar. Flagstone isn’t really a wolf, either.”
“Slow down!” Astrid said. “How can this help us defeat Gale?”
“I don’t know.”
* * *
We put Astrid back in her cell, just in case, which made me more stressed. I was pacing in my room while Darwin flipped through more books. “Anything? Maybe we can use some kind of magic to trace the sickness back to him and kill him with it,” I suggested.
“Hunt would have already done it. Watson seemed to be the only one able to slow the burning. Dr. Martin is trying to keep them cold, but that can’t last for long. Why won’t Henry tell you where the amulet is?”
“My bet is that he doesn’t want Gale to get my power. If he can read minds, he’ll know who to go after to hurt Henry.”
“Scott. But Henry doesn’t know where he is.”
“Maybe he found out. It would explain what happened to him before the start of school.”
“Hey, maybe this will help! The last part of Langril’s book is all about fire.” He stood up and set the book on his desk.
“Demons and fire go hand in hand, don’t they?”
He scowled at me. “Don’t you ever listen in class? Fire isn’t just death and destruction. Fire is used in purifying. This chapter is all about using fire before and after evoking demons.”
“I thought it was invoking,” I said.
He gave me a look that told me to shut up. “You would make a seriously miserable villain if you were so inclined. Have you ever picked up a single book we were assigned in class?”
I shrugged. “When it sounds interesting. I never really planned on summoning demons.”
“There is a huge difference between evocation and invocation. Evocation is summoning an entity to you, outside your body. You can protect yourself using triangles and circles and that lot, and there’s no bond or connection between you and the entity. Invocation is summoning something into you. The being actually enters your body. Now, there are plenty of people who would love to summon a demon into their body, but you should know the difference.”
“Okay, so how does this help us?”
“It talks about calling the forces of fire for help. It even talks about which personifications of fire help in different situations. It includes the dragon, salamander, phoenix, cherufe, ifrit, hellhound, lampad–”
“Wait, go back.”
“To the dragon? You think Nightshade can help?”
“No, I think Watson can.”
“But Watson died…” he said, looking very worried for my health.
“Yeah, but when does that ever stop anyone anymore?”
* * *
“I have taught you quite a few potions, as well as everything you could possibly know about the most common ingredients. Today, you’re going to pick a potion I have taught you so far and improve on it in some way.”
Apparently, despite the deaths, the quarantine, and the arrest of one of our teachers for being a mythical creature, classes must go on. Professor Langril didn’t seem to be worried at all about any of it.
&nb
sp; “What if we ruin it?” Becky asked.
“That is possible. Hopefully, that doesn’t happen, for Jackson’s sake.”
Jackson paled. “You don’t mean…”
“Of course. Someone has to test the potions and it would be irresponsible for me to make them do it on each other. Don’t worry; these are my best students.”
“You told your first class that they were your best students.”
“I lied, obviously.”
Jackson sat in Professor Langril’s chair heavily, sweating and sickly pale. “Why does this always happen to me?”
Professor Langril gave us five minutes to decide on our potions. I knew immediately what I wanted to make. By combining the ingredients and processes of the cheer potion and a sleeping potion, I hoped to create one that would give the drinker happy dreams. I got to work before Langril even told us to.
Thirty minutes later, Tali handed Jackson his potion bottle. “What does it do?” he asked worriedly.
“You’ll see.”
“Hang on,” I said, pushing the potion away. I put my hand on Jackson’s forehead. “You have a fever. How long have you been sick?”
He groaned and leaned back. “I was fine when I woke up. I thought I was going to puke up my breakfast as soon as class started.”
“Did you go anywhere between breakfast and here?” I asked. Instead of answering, he clutched his head in pain. “Andy, get him some water. Becky and Jessica, go get Dr. Martin. How did it start?”
“I was just nauseous and it got better. The migraine just came on.”
Andy handed Jackson a glass of water and then backed away like Jackson had the plague.
“Does he have what Mack has? Is he going to die or burn up like Professor Watson?”
“No one is going to die,” Langril said. “Class is dismissed. Take your potions and go.” They did, leaving Langril and me alone with Jackson. “This will help some.” He held a small, brown bottle to his mouth and tried to make him drink it, but he flailed his arms.
“Get away!” he shouted.
His face was flush. It was affecting him just as fast as it had the others. I reached out with my power and felt his mind. His thoughts were jumbled up and clouded with paranoia and panic. Of course, that was normal for Jackson.
“Calm down,” I told him, focusing on peace. I had done it so many times to calm animals I encountered that I was unprepared to be instantly pushed out of his mind, resulting in a sort of whiplash sensation. He reached for me, but Langril grabbed my arm and pulled me away from him. “He needs help.”
Professor Langril nodded. “Stand back.”
As the darkness reached for him from all corners of the room, I did. “Where are you taking him?”
“To Watson.” He vanished, along with Jackson.
I could only gape for a moment and wonder if he knew what was really going on with the professor. Once the initial shock faded, I ran to Watson’s class, found it empty, and then went to the infirmary. When I threw open the door to the infirmary, I froze.
Jackson was unconscious, sprawled out on one of the metal tables, and covered in small, glowing, red and yellow creatures. The soft glow illuminated the faces of Langril, Watson, and Dr. Martin, who were all surrounding him.
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
“Healing fire,” Dr. Martin explained.
I approached the table cautiously and saw that the tiny creatures were salamanders. Not regular salamanders, though. These were as magical as any creature I had encountered here; while only about half an inch long nose-to-tail, they were colored like lava. Each one would stop for a moment, grow brighter, and then start moving again. Jackson flinched a few times.
“These are fire elementals?” I asked. Watson nodded. “Why are they here?”
“I called them here.”
“But I thought water was healing.” I also thought it was a big deal to summon elementals.
“It is. If you heal the skin over an infection, you end up exacerbating the wound. For what is essentially a magical infection, you need a magical cure. The salamanders are drawing out the infection.”
“Will he make it?”
“Yes,” Professor Langril said. “He may not be able to speak or open his eyes, but he will almost certainly survive.”
“I got to him in time, thanks to Keigan. The others were not so lucky,” Watson said.
“What are you all doing to stop whoever’s doing this?” I asked.
Watson and Dr. Martin both looked at Langril for an answer. The professor sighed. “In due course, of course. You don’t kill the monster by cutting off its toe. If we knew who they would go after next…” He pursed his lips in thought.
I turned to Watson. “Why did Hunt make you second in command instead of his daughter or one of the school board members?” I asked.
“He needed someone to defend the school if he had to suddenly leave, and for that, he needed the best at fire.”
“And that isn’t Professor Nightshade?”
He gave me a pointed stare. “She is much younger than me and liable to put the school at risk by striking too soon.”
“So which has a longer life span, a phoenix or a dragon?” I asked.
He smirked. “How did you figure it out?”
I pulled his ankh out of my pocket. “That you’re a mythical bird of fire that can burn to ashes and be reborn of those ashes? Nothing to it. Were you actually sick or did you fake your death?” More curious was that he didn’t seem to know where Hunt was going or that Langril was involved at all.
He held out his hand, so I gave him the ankh, which he put around his neck. “I never fake my death. Technically speaking, a dragon has a longer lifespan, but we have more lives. I was struck as the students were with the sickness. I knew the enemy’s intention was to possess me and use me to kill, but unlike everyone else, I wouldn’t die from the fever. Thus, I let myself burn to ash and dispel the dark magic rather than be used against Logan.”
“Then you can save the students?”
“I can stabilize them with fire, but to expel the dark magic completely would take their lives as well.”
“So, to keep them cool… you’re burning them?”
“To prevent the magic from spreading, yes. Andrew is cooling them so they don’t die of the fever.”
“Isn’t that counterproductive?”
“I am reborn of my ashes. You see fire as death and destruction. Destruction… that much is true. However, fire is also creation, purification, and cleansing. I must burn to be reborn. Fire can dispel illusions and eat at disease.”
“Poetic. What does it mean?”
“If you want to cleanse someone from evilness, you wouldn’t use water to heal them but fire to purify. Only afterwards can they be healed.” Watson waved his hand over Jackson and the salamanders dissolved. Before my eyes could adapt to the sudden darkness, the room grew lighter with no visible source of light.
“What happened?” We turned to see Hunt enter the room with his wizard cane. It still seemed weird not seeing Flagstone right behind him.
“Another student was attacked,” Professor Langril said. “Took you long enough to get down here, wizard. You must be getting old. We can get you a frame if it would help.”
Dr. Martin winced and groaned. In the blink of an eye, Hunt had crossed the room and had the sharp end of his staff just a hair’s breadth from Langril’s throat. And by sharp end, I mean that a damn blade had popped out of the pointed end. “Do you know what prevented me from sacrificing you for entertainment fifteen years ago?” Hunt asked in an uncharacteristically harsh tone.
Langril grinned. “Rosin. And I haven’t reclaimed my tower because you gave Heather a home. Are we going to stop playing nice now?” He held out his hands and red static cracked between his fingers.
Hunt glared for a moment before slowly retracting his cane. “When Krechea is defeated.”
Watson sighed. “Do I even want to know who Krechea is?”
Dr. Martin held up his hand and a vial levitated into it. “I’ve been able to keep Dan, Mack, Nathan, and Caleb from getting worse, but only killing the one who did this can stop it.”
* * *
I stepped out of the infirmary, closed the door behind me, and took a deep breath. I was running out of time and the only thing I knew was that I had to kill Gale. With what? No amulet, no attack panther, and no weapon. I had John’s power because I killed him, but Gale had the stolen powers of many wizards.
I stood alone in the dark passageway of the underground tunnel and felt the foreign sense of helplessness. Instead of letting it sink in, anger welled up inside me.
I have been described by many different words, not all of which were kind, but one thing I am not is helpless. I was thirty-one years old, a private investigator, and a wizard. So what if I don’t have a damn amulet? I never needed one before. “Fine,” I said aloud. “I’ll kill him with my fucking brain.”
I was about to return to the upper floor when something red caught my eye. This time, when I turned, I saw something skittering away into the darkness… further into the underground tunnels.
“Alright, Rabbit, I’m coming. Damn it.” There was a reason why I followed my instincts and not mystical creatures I could only see from the corner of my eye; I wasn’t a seven-year-old girl.
It was difficult to spot the creature, so when I reached the stairs to the lower floor, I hesitated. After a moment, my instincts kicked in, telling me that I needed to follow. I grabbed the nearest torch and took the steps carefully, mindful of rusty spikes that liked to shoot up out of the floor. Once I reached the bottom step, I froze for a different reason.
Every damn inch of the floor was covered in foot-long salamanders. Each of them was like the tiny ones Watson summoned to save Jackson and as they crawled across the floor, it looked like a river of lava. The visual was pretty amazing. The atmosphere, however, was suffocating me with dry heat. When I took a step backwards, the salamanders scattered like roaches when the light came on. I was actually worried I had scared them until I saw what they had actually run from.
