Sanctuary: The Sorcerers' Scourge: Book Two

by Michael Arches

  My eyesight remained fuzzy, but I could see Gill leave the room. Seconds later, Laura rushed in. When she came close, I could see that her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were wet.

  She covered me with kisses. “I was so worried, and then you wouldn’t wake up despite both Holly and me trying. Then, the doctors here couldn’t bring you—”

  I raised my hand to stop her. “I feel fine. You guys did great.”

  She cupped my cheeks in her hands, and our magical cores blended together.

  After a moment, she laughed. “You seem okay, but not as strong as before. Because you were unconscious, you couldn’t claim the spoils of victory. He wasn’t that strong, so you’re not missing much.”

  A stout, whitehaired woman came in with Gill. “I’m Dr. Harmon,” she said. “You gave us all quite a scare. How do you feel?”

  I tried to sit up, but the doctor held me down. “Take it easy. No sudden movements. You might’ve suffered a stroke.”

  “I feel okay. Normal. Can I go?”

  She snorted. “Not a chance. We have to conduct a series of tests, now that you’re alert. You may have suffered some permanent brain damage. Hell, it’s a miracle that you survived the bomb. It destroyed the attacker’s car and blew him into a dozen pieces.”

  Diana, Holly, Katie, and Christina each saw me for a few minutes before I got whisked away for an afternoon of x-rays, MRIs, ultrasounds, blood tests, and a dozen other procedures. All of them came back negative. I was perfectly fine.

  The hospital still wanted to hold me for observation, but after I’d signed seven pages of disclosures and liability waivers, they let me go home.

  I briefly attended a celebration for my latest victory, but then I walked up to Laura’s apartment and headed straight to bed.

  -o-o-o-

  Tuesday, December 24th

  I SAT ON THE sofa in Laura’s apartment and played with Rascal before breakfast. The cat was chasing a ball of aluminum foil across the floor when Fred called me.

  “I have a wonderful Christmas present for you. Benoît’s amazing gift for languages is paying off. I’m spending hours teaching him the nuances of the Celtic language spoken in pre-Roman France. I also found a retired mathematician who used to work for the National Security Agency. Anshu’s hobby is solving puzzles and cracking codes. He’s playing with the text, too.”

  “That’s wonderful, because this is shaping up as the crappiest winter I can remember. I keep getting beat up. Any good news is welcome. Can he figure the code out?”

  “He thinks it’s is a simple letter transfer cipher. All the T’s, for example, would be changed to J’s instead. In every language, some letters are more common than others. In English, for example, the most common letter is E. If your coded document is long enough for decent statistical analysis, you can spot all the E’s by picking out the most common letter. Then you can proceed through to T, and so on. After you get a few letters figured out, you can begin to spot common words, like ‘the,’ and the puzzle reveals itself.”

  I smiled. “Fantastic. Is it working?”

  “Well, not completely. Words are appearing, but they’re not in any language we recognize. Either the document’s not in ancient Breton, or there are multiple codes.”

  “Oh, damn.” The delight I’d just felt disappeared.

  “Don’t despair. Both our helpers are scary-smart, and Anshu is ninety percent sure he can figure it out. It just takes time.”

  -o-o-o-

  AT BREAKFAST, GILL ATE with a large group of us in the dining room. I asked why he’d come.

  He grinned. “I wanted to surprise you for Christmas. I made it before the big snow.”

  A storm that promised two feet of white powder was just starting outside. “What a great surprise. I’ve been thinking about you all the time. Your mirror ward beat Hudson.”

  “Good to hear,” he replied. “I had to come and make sure you’re fighting right. I can’t have my disciple getting whipped. Makes me look bad.”

  God, it was great to see him again. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed arguing with him. “You just flew in for Christmas. That’s fantastic.”

  A moment later, Diana strode up with a copy of the local paper. After saying a warm hello to Gill, she tossed the paper at me.

  “From now on, no more house calls. We can’t take any more bad publicity.”

  “No more,” I said. “Holly and I already agreed.”

  The headline said, Ian the Witch Gets into Another Fight. Paxil had somehow found out about the attack yesterday and had tied it to the tow truck sorcerer. She made it sound like I was an old-time gunslinger prowling the town with an itchy trigger finger—which was ridiculous, because I hadn’t started most of the fights I’d won.

  “I’ll do what I can to stay out of the news,” I said. “I didn’t call her up these last two times, you know?”

  Diana simply scowled at me, but she was soon laughing and chatting with Gill.

  After breakfast, he and I sat by ourselves, and I told him in detail what I’d been doing since I’d left France. I’d been emailing him almost every day, but it was so much easier to talk face to face.

  After I’d finished my summary, he said, “First off, the gendarmes aren’t hard workers, but they’re persistent little buggers. They’ll find more pictures of you eventually. Caen is watched carefully because it’s so close to the historic battlefields, but the cops in Brittany love surveillance cameras as much as anybody. You’d better prepare for the worst.”

  That wasn’t what I’d wanted to hear, but it was better to find out in advance.

  I asked him, “How has your mood been lately? Feeling any better since I spent all that time soothing you?”

  He nodded. “Been praying more, feeling like life is still worth living. Brigid’s been great to me. I’m glad y’all dedicated this ranch to her.”

  -o-o-o-

  DIANA THREW GILL A welcoming party at lunchtime, which brought a twinkle to his eye. Everybody loves to be appreciated, even century-old warrior heroes.

  I asked him why he really had come, but all he would say was, “You need me close.”

  When I got a chance for a private word with Diana, I asked her the same question. She only said, “Our troubles are growing, and Gill is a wonderful resource.”

  It seemed to be a day for secrets.

  After the party had ended, Laura, Christina, and I sat together. Laura said, “I’m so happy to meet Gill at last.”

  “This is great,” I replied. “He’s very funny. A fantastic guy to have around when trouble starts.”

  Her eyes opened wide.

  “Yeah, Diana’s convinced the worst is yet to come.”

  -o-o-o-

  BY LATE AFTERNOON, HERMAN had plowed the ranch’s roads and trails.

  I told Gill that Hercules and I were going out for a ride. He borrowed a horse, and we rode together in the lingering snow.

  He wanted to ask questions about my dealings with Oran, and I told him everything I could remember. Gill seemed particularly interested in the sorcerer’s motivation. “Is he working for Escobar?”

  I told him, “To be honest, I think Oran only works for himself.”

  After dinner, Laura, Christina, and I huddled around Gill in the lounge and talked about the old ways of worship.

  Finally, Gill said, “Let’s ask the Mórrígan what to do about Oran.”

  He bounced up and disappeared. A couple of minutes later, he returned wearing a white robe with a cowl and carrying a small suitcase. Before I could ask what he had in mind, he grabbed my hand and motioned for Laura and Christina to follow. We walked to a room with a Celtic altar.

  Gill took a rolled-up cloth and two candles out of his suitcase and placed them on top of the altar. He lit the candles, and the fragrance of balsam filled the room.

  He intoned, “Blessed be the Mórrígan. We beseech thee for thy divine guidance.”

  My hea
rt began to race, as it always did during religious ceremonies. Gill stood in front of the altar and rang a small bell. He waved his hands around and worked his way through a series of rites in Gaelic. At the end, he stood silently for five minutes facing the shrine, but his eyes were closed.

  Then he spoke. “The goddess gave me a couple of ideas, but I need to think about them more and do a little studying. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

  Late that evening, I brought in a small spruce tree and decorated it with red and white ribbons. Christina didn’t need me to tell her what a Christmas tree was or why I’d put presents underneath it.

  I found an Internet radio station with Christmas music, and Laura, Christina, and I sat around drinking eggnog and eating candy canes. I told them about my past Christmases with my family and how much I still missed them.

  -o-o-o-

  Wednesday, December 25th

  LAURA AND I SAT with Christina early in the morning and watched her open presents. I’d saved a few gifts I’d bought in France, and I’d picked up others in Boulder. Her favorite present seemed to be a handmade doll in a classic Breton gown and headdress. When Christina pressed a hidden button on the doll’s chest, it spoke the native language of Brittany.

  Christina brought the doll to breakfast to show everyone, and Gill spoke to her in the language and explained what the doll was saying. Within minutes, Christina was speaking Breton with an excellent accent. The kid never ceased to amaze me.

  After breakfast, even though it was fifteen degrees outside, Gill wanted to walk through the ranch’s meadows. I bundled up and met him at the barn. We strolled along several paths, and the wolves wandered with us.

  A small cloud formed with every breath I took, and snot kept running from my nose. Heavy frost crunched under our feet with each step.

  “At least we know we’re alone,” Gill said with a cackle.

  “What should we do about Oran?”

  “Well, I’m not a big fan of fighting losing battles,” he said. “It doesn’t sound like you can overpower him in a straight-ahead fight. I might be strong enough, but my fighting days have passed.”

  “We don’t expect you to fight our battles,” I replied.

  He smiled at me. “You have a rare combination of abilities, namely as a warrior and a healer, a saver of life. The Mórrígan is like that, too. She’s a triple goddess, so she’s not just a warrior queen, like many Celts think. She also promotes fertility, healing, and the wise use of enchantments. It’s a pity the old ways are being forgotten.”

  I patted his arm, though I was barely able to feel it through the thick parka he must’ve borrowed from Herman.

  “You’d make an excellent priest for her,” he said.

  “Since I moved to Colorado, I’ve been more interested in developing the Osage powers I inherited from my mom. They seem to be particularly helpful with healing and fighting.”

  Gill got lost in that thought for a few moments, and I waited patiently for him to bring his mind back to the present.

  Finally, he said, “What can we do about Oran? That’s the question. Is he playing you, or does he really intend to leave soon?”

  “I’d guess he’s just keeping his options open,” I said. “Maybe he thinks he’s making too much money to walk away.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Gill said. “And let’s further hope he prefers to spend time in warmer climates. Otherwise, you’re probably sunk.”

  My throat tightened. “What do you mean?”

  “When he thinks he’s drained the clan dry, he’ll probably take your power before moving on.”

  I kicked some of the frost off the grass next to the path. “Tell me how to handle him.”

  Gill stared up into the deep blue sky and immediately noticed Lazarus. “So, he follows you? Devotion is a wonderful gift.” His gaze returned to the meadow, and he bent his head down as he walked.

  I didn’t interrupt his thoughts.

  “Because you can’t beat Oran in a straight fight, your only chance for long-term survival is to discourage him from attacking. Keep paying and remind him how long the winters are here. Once he realizes the clan is done paying, you’re doomed.”

  “Have you always been so optimistic?”

  He laughed. “Buy time, and you and I can begin a furious campaign to build up your powers.”

  “I’m already working hard on that front,” I said. “I’ll talk to my karate instructor, Don Blake, to see how much time I can get with him. I’m starting to learn his approach to fighting with the staff.”

  Gill nodded. “Also, I would love to meet this Oran fella. What are the odds that you could arrange an introduction?”

  “Diana can help with that more than me, but she might not like the idea of putting you at risk.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Gill chuckled. “I lived through the Great Depression and World War II. We Texans are made of sterner stuff. We don’t give up until our heads have been cut off and fed to the coyotes. I’ll handle Diana.”

  After we returned from our walk, I led Gill to her office. The three of us sat on the sofa, and I mostly listened as Gill and Diana threw around ideas for how to handle Oran. And I pondered how my life had become so complicated and confusing.

  Gill seemed to read my mind, because he patted my shoulder. “At the level of magic you practice now, there’s very little simplicity or certainty in life. People are always changing, and so is magic. If you’ve got to have complete certainty and security in your life, you’re livin’ in the wrong world.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “But I’m not crazy about exposing you to Oran’s tender mercies.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll wear my raven pendant. He won’t dare attack one of the Mórrígan’s high priests.”

  Diana called Oran and asked him to meet me and a dear Celtic friend for lunch. The jerk wanted another check, so he agreed.

  Chapter 16

  Thursday, December 26th

  Mists of Venice Restaurant, Boulder, Colorado

  ORAN DECIDED WE SHOULD meet at a fancy Italian restaurant. Forsberg had owned a safe deposit box full of gold coins when I took him down. A third of that money had hit my bank account, so I promised Gill that I’d buy the most expensive bottle of wine in the place.

  After Oran shook my mentor’s hand, Gill said, “Greetings, and may the blessing of the Mórrígan be upon you.”

  Oran seemed to size the old man up, and he was no idiot. He acted like a polite Irish boy and smiled to his better.

  “So we might have a comfortable conversation,” Gill said, “will you promise not to attack us today?”

  “Of course,” Oran said. “As long as you do likewise.”

  I had my doubts about how binding such a promise would be without blood, but Gill said, “Absolutely.”

  We exchanged pleasantries about the weather for a few minutes and ordered drinks and appetizers.

  “Listen,” I said to Oran. “You’ve got to be getting tired of the cold. I hear California is wonderful this time year.”

  “Yes, indeed. Maybe I’ll go, but first, a toast to friendship.” Oran raised a glass of the white wine I’d ordered.

  “To friendship,” I replied.

  We all toasted and sipped, although I had no intention of ever being his friend.

  “This is an excellent choice,” Gill said. “Light and dry.”

  We engaged in small talk until Oran said, “I would like to thank you for getting rid of one of the most truly despicable human beings I’ve met, Albert Terrance Hudson.”

  He seemed to be sucking up, but Gill kicked me under the table before I could point that out.

  “I agree,” I said. “He was worse than pond scum. I still can’t believe he set up an elaborate trap to attack me in an empty field and then kill me if I beat him.”

  I was going to continue in that vein, but Gill put up his hand to stop me.

  “Yes,” Oran said. “He was a
s nasty as they come.”

  The waiter brought our lunches, and Gill kept directing the conversation to innocuous subjects.

  Oran played the man of the world with opinions on everything.

  I thought Gill had wanted to stay away from controversy, but out of the blue, he asked, “Who’s in charge of the Boulder sorcerers now?”

  “Hard for me to say,” Oran replied. “And dangerous, too. Raul Escobar will choose someone, but he doesn’t confide in me. Even more to the point, it’s one thing for you to insist that we not attack each other, but you can’t expect me to spy for you. I’m not willing to risk my life by telling you what I know. I bear no grudges against Ian or the clan, but I’m not going to be the witches’ mole within our world.”

  I peered at Gill, and he shrugged.

  So much for controversial subjects. We acted like business colleagues until the check came and then parted with mutual handshakes.

  In the car on the way to the ranch, I asked Gill for his impressions.

  “Well, that went better than I expected. I got the chance to judge his power, and he surely is one tough hombre. Much stronger than you, Farm Boy.”

  “I wondered why you were so nice to him,” I replied.

  “I read his mind, so no need to pry information out of him. I only asked about Hudson’s replacement because he expected us to pump him for information. Bottom line—he has no intention of leaving Boulder until the clan stops paying, and he wants your power most of all.”

  “Son of a bitch! I’m running out of options.”

  “Like I said before, we gotta stall for time.”

  -o-o-o-

  Brigid’s Community Ranch, Boulder County, Colorado

  GILL AND I MET our high priestess in her office, along with Tess, Crystal, and Katie. I told them as much about our conversation with Oran as I could recall, and, from time to time, Gill added his perspective.

  Diana asked Gill, “Well, what do you think of Oran?”

  The wise old man rubbed his chin. “He’s tough as they come. I’m sure he’s much stronger than any of us. At the pace Ian’s learning, I expect he could defeat Oran in a head-to-head fight within a few months, but not sooner.”