The Magic Collector

by Clayton Wood

  Bella sighed.

  “Fine,” she muttered.

  “I can tell you one thing,” he offered. “I was married once before. Long before your mother and I met, of course. We had a child together, a boy. His name was Xander.”

  “I have a brother?”

  “Ah…let me tell the story,” Gideon answered. “Xander was a good boy. A sweet, gentle heart, much like you, Bella.” He smiled at the memory. “A very thoughtful boy, and maybe a bit too serious. I think he got that from me.”

  “Definitely.”

  “When Xander was eight, he had an…accident. It was his birthday, and he was with a few friends, taking turns running and jumping off a raft in the middle of a lake. When it was his turn, he slipped…and hit the back of his head on the edge of the raft. He got knocked out, and went right under the surface. They tried to save him, but…”

  He took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly.

  “I’d planned on being with him that day, but the Pentad had a job for me. And when the Pentad calls…well, I didn’t have the option of ignoring them. So I wasn’t there when my son needed me the most.”

  “Oh Gideon,” Bella murmured, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  “If I’d been there, I could have saved him, or put him in a painting and healed him, but…” He shook his head miserably. “My wife was devastated. She couldn’t face me. Every time she looked at me, she saw Xander. She blamed herself for his death, and the Pentad for pulling me away. And she blamed me for not being there. So she left me, and told me she never wanted to see me again.”

  He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

  “I spent a year alone, Bella. I was…in a bad place. I missed Xander terribly. I kept thinking that, if only I had been there, I could have saved him. If I had been there, he’d still be alive.”

  “Gideon…”

  “I never forgave myself for what happened,” Gideon continued. “After you were born, I became…well, overprotective would be an understatement. So when you and your mother went to Blackthorne, I insisted on coming. Your mother refused to let me. She said I needed to stay in Havenwood, so that I could trust that things would be okay even if I wasn’t there.”

  He shook his head, staring at his feet, his eyes glistening with moisture.

  “So I didn’t come,” he concluded. He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “And here we are.”

  Bella leaned in to embrace him again, and they stood there for a long while, neither of them saying anything. There was nothing to say. Bella closed her eyes, feeling Gideon’s warmth, and thought of Grandpa. How Grandpa had been the only constant in her world, her source of warmth and hope. She’d lost him, just as Gideon had lost his son and both of his wives. And now they only had each other.

  At length, Gideon separated from her, clearing his throat and smoothing the wrinkles in his uniform. He gazed at Bella, whose eyes were downcast.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I miss Grandpa,” she admitted.

  “Ah, right,” he replied. He cleared his throat again, looking profoundly guilty. “Bella, I told you I needed to tell you something, and I have,” he stated. “But I also promised to show you something.”

  “Huh?”

  “Let’s go back outside,” he prompted. “Then I’ll show you.”

  * * *

  They left the Conclave through the golden coffin, appearing in the black coffin in Mom’s mansion. Myko hopped back into his painting, and Gideon showed her to her old bedroom on the second floor before they headed outside.

  That done, Gideon led her downstairs, the mist she’d seen earlier following behind them. They went back to the room with the statue, the mist flowing back through its nose and mouth, vanishing within.

  “What is that?” she asked. “The mist I mean.”

  “Animus,” he replied. “Your mother’s Familiar.”

  “Her what?”

  “Every elite Painter has – or should have – a Familiar,” Gideon explained. “Something they’ve painted that is connected to them. I, for example, have Myko.”

  “What do you mean by ‘connected?’” Bella inquired.

  “Well, sort of a psychic connection, if you will,” Gideon answered. “I can sense Myko’s thoughts, and Myko can sense mine.” He arched an eyebrow at Bella. “How do you think I was able to find you two in the fog after you escaped Blackthorne?”

  “Oh,” Bella murmured. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” She frowned. “So you can sense Myko’s thoughts?”

  “In a way,” Gideon confirmed. “I can sense his emotions, what he’s feeling. And I can sense where he is. His thoughts aren’t like yours or mine…he doesn’t use our language to think. He thinks in smells, sounds, pictures and actions, mostly.”

  “Huh.”

  “Animus was your mother’s Familiar,” Gideon continued. “She’s very special, actually.”

  “She?”

  “Animus is a she, yes,” he confirmed. “After your mother died, Animus was devastated. It’s a terrible thing to lose someone you were so connected to.” Bella lowered her gaze, thinking of Grandpa. And of Mom.

  “I know,” she mumbled.

  “Animus is very powerful,” Gideon stated. “She can inhabit inanimate objects and use them as her body, if you will. This entire house was designed with Animus in mind. Almost everything within it can be possessed by Animus, and has special properties when she does so.”

  “Like that thing in the coffin?” Bella inquired.

  “No, Death is…something else,” he corrected. “But everything else here was designed by your mother.”

  “I wish I remembered her,” Bella murmured.

  “This house will show you who she was,” Gideon promised. “It’s your house now, Bella. Your home.” He paused. “Our home.”

  They stepped through the open portcullis, the mist – Animus – staying inside the house. Gideon led Bella along the bloodstone path to the gate, stepping through and closing it behind them.

  “So,” Bella stated. “You wanted to show me something?”

  “Let’s get outside first.”

  They made their way up the spiraling tunnel, reaching the literal mouth of the cave, then walking alongside the stream to the very edge. The great waterfall fell to their right, Lake Fenestra and the White Dragon visible far, far below. From here, Bella could see the hill they’d climbed to get here, and a vast forest beyond.

  “All right then,” Gideon declared.

  He took off his top hat, turning it upside-down and handing it to Bella. “Hold this.” She did so, and he reached inside with his hand, retrieving a large, rolled-up painting. “Apertus,” he murmured. The painting unrolled itself, revealing a familiar scene. The very first painting of Gideon’s Bella had seen.

  A full moon gleaming down on a hill overlooking a starry night sky, heat lightning flashing within clouds to the upper left. A few paintbrushes of various sizes littered the ground, as well as a palette, an easel, and jars of paint set out in neat rows. A bronze fire pit to the right, a fire crackling merrily within. And to the left, a simple wooden casket.

  “Hold this up,” Gideon requested, gesturing at the painting with his stump. Bella got behind the big painting, holding it up, and Gideon stepped in front of it. He reached in then, drawing something out. It was the coffin; he slid it all the way out with more than a little difficulty, his face reddening with the effort. “Clausus,” he muttered, and the painting rolled itself back up. He put it back in his hat.

  “What’s this?” Bella asked, gesturing at the coffin. Gideon hesitated.

  “There’s no good way to explain this,” he replied. “You’ll have to open it and see for yourself.”

  Bella raised an eyebrow at him, then stepped up to the coffin. There were latches on one side; she started unlatching them one-by-one.

  “Might want to hurry,” Gideon advised.

  Bella glanced at him questioningly, but followed his advice, finishing up and curling her
fingers under the lid of the coffin. She pulled it open, peering within.

  And jerked away with a gasp, her eyes wide with horror.

  For there, lying in the coffin, was Grandpa’s corpse.

  Chapter 26

  Bella gasped in horror, recoiling from the open coffin, her hand going to her mouth.

  “Oh my god!” she cried, turning away from the gruesome scene. Her grandfather, lying dead in a casket. She closed her eyes, fighting back a wave of nausea.

  “Bella…” Gideon stated.

  “Close it,” she blurted out. “Put it away!”

  “Bella, just…”

  “Please,” she insisted. “I…”

  “Bella!” Gideon nearly shouted.

  Her mouth snapped shut, and she opened her eyes, glancing sidelong at Gideon. He gestured at the casket.

  “Look,” he prompted. She was about to reply when he held up his stump. “Trust me.”

  She reluctantly obeyed, returning her gaze to the casket.

  And froze.

  For Grandpa was no longer laying within it. He was sitting up, looking right at her.

  “Ah!” he exclaimed, breaking out into a relieved smile. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep. Hello, sweetheart.” He turned to Gideon then. “I trust everything went smoothly?”

  And then the world began to spin around her, and Bella promptly fainted.

  * * *

  “Bella?” a deep voice called out.

  She felt a hand slap her cheek gently, and she opened her eyes, finding herself lying on the ground beside the gurgling stream near the top of Havenwood. Gideon was standing over her…and so was Grandpa. Grandpa, wearing his old, ratty brown sweater, his eyes twinkling from behind his golden-rimmed glasses.

  “There you are,” he declared, kneeling before her. He stood up, his knees popping. “She has returned to us at last!”

  Bella blinked. Gideon offered his stump, and she took it, sitting up. She stared at Gideon, then at Grandpa, hardly believing her eyes.

  “You’re dead!” she exclaimed. Grandpa raised his eyebrows, looking down at himself.

  “I am?”

  “I saw you,” she insisted. “They shot you. You didn’t have a pulse!”

  Grandpa turned to Gideon, giving him a look.

  “You didn’t tell her?” he blurted out incredulously. “Gideon!”

  “I couldn’t,” Gideon protested. “Not until we were safely in Havenwood.”

  “Which we are,” Grandpa pointed out. “You should have warned her first!”

  “I thought it’d be best to show her instead of telling her,” Gideon insisted. Grandpa gave him a withering glare.

  “Sometimes it’s better to tell than to show,” he retorted. Then he turned to Bella, his expression softening. He leaned in, embracing her gently.

  And she just stood there, dazed.

  “I’m sorry Bella,” he murmured in her ear. “I can only imagine how hard this was for you.” She hesitated, then pushed him away.

  “I saw you die,” she accused.

  “I assure you, I’m most certainly alive,” Grandpa replied. He gazed out over the edge of the waterfall, taking a deep breath in and smiling. “Perhaps more so now than I’ve been in years.”

  “But…”

  “The me you saw didn’t die,” Grandpa explained, facing her. “He was never alive in the first place.”

  Bella just stared blankly at him.

  “Tell me Bella,” Grandpa continued. “Do you recall a certain…morbid gift my friend gave me a few weeks before my, ah, passing?”

  Bella frowned.

  “You mean the painting?” she replied, making a face.

  “That’s the one,” Grandpa confirmed. “And that’s the face she made when she first saw it,” he added, winking at Gideon. Who chuckled.

  “A good likeness, wouldn’t you say?” Gideon piped in.

  “A dead ringer,” Grandpa agreed with a mischievous grin.

  “Wait a sec,” Bella blurted out, jumping to her feet. “You’re saying…”

  “Mmm hmm,” Grandpa replied.

  “Yep,” Gideon agreed.

  “The painting!” she exclaimed. “It was magic!”

  “It was a live painting, yes,” Gideon confirmed. “I painted it weeks ago, for the very purpose you witnessed.”

  “To fake Grandpa’s death,” Bella realized.

  “That’s right,” Gideon confirmed. “The day Stanwitz and Reynolds came for you, I overheard their plan to apprehend Thaddeus while working in the library at Blackthorne. I had a copy of the book, and got lost in it before they did. I drew your grandfather’s likeness out of that portrait, dressed it in his clothes, and we sat it in his chair.”

  Bella’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping.

  “I grabbed my copy of the book, returning to this world with your father,” Grandpa explained. “He’d already painted this coffin,” he added, gesturing at the open casket. “I laid in it, and he closed it, put it in the painting, and carried me all the way here.”

  “Without the Collector – or the Pentad – knowing any better,” Gideon concluded. “All part of our master plan.”

  “But…why?” Bella blurted out. Grandpa frowned.

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she pressed. “I thought you were dead, Grandpa!” Her vision blurred, and she wiped tears from her eyes, glaring at Grandpa. “How could you do that to me?”

  “It broke my heart, knowing what you’d go through,” Grandpa confessed, lowering his gaze. “I’m sorry, Bella.”

  “No,” Bella retorted, taking a step back from him. “No, you can’t just say you’re sorry, not after that. Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

  “We had to, Bella,” Gideon interjected. “We didn’t have a choice.”

  “Bull,” she retorted, turning on him. “There’s always a choice.”

  “You’re right,” Grandpa interjected, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “There is. And I chose to deceive you Bella. I chose to break your heart…and mine.” He stood up taller, squaring his shoulders. “And I would do it again.”

  She stared at him incredulously. Part of her wanted to turn around and storm out of there. And another desperately yearned to leap into his arms and never let him go.

  “Do you know who I am?” Grandpa inquired.

  “Thaddeus Birch,” Bella replied. “A Writer.”

  Grandpa took a step closer to her, reaching out and gripping her shoulders. His expression turned grim, his voice powerful and commanding.

  “A dragon circle,

  White and good,

  Will one day rise

  For Havenwood.”

  Bella swallowed, a chill running through her.

  “The first sentence of the last book I wrote,” Grandpa declared, eyeing her sternly over his glasses. “Words create worlds, Bella. For most Writers, these worlds live within the minds of their readers, and their readers live for a time within these worlds. But in my hands,” he added, gesturing at the White Dragon far below, “…words become reality.”

  He leaned in, his nose inches from hers.

  “Imagine what I would do if the Collector took you,” he stated. “If he threatened to torture or kill you. Imagine what terrible things I would do for him just to save you.”

  The blood drained from Bella’s face, and Grandpa pulled away from her, letting go of her shoulders.

  “Sometimes the right thing to do feels like the wrong thing to do,” he declared. “And the converse is also true.”

  Bella lowered her gaze.

  “Okay Grandpa.” she mumbled.

  “Besides,” he continued with a sudden, wry smile, “…if I told you the truth, you’d have thought me mad. Well, madder than you already suspected I was.”

  Bella had to smile reluctantly at that. It was true, after all.

  “We couldn’t risk you becoming so concerned about my mental health that you’d try to get me some ‘help,’” Grandpa continued. “I susp
ect you were close to doing just that before my, ah, untimely death.”

  “True,” she admitted. “I thought you were losing it.”

  “Oh, but I was!” Grandpa replied. “Trapped in that dreadful book for all those years, in that dingy apartment!” He gave her a rueful smile, his eyes getting moist. “You were the only thing that made it worthwhile Bella. Every time I thought about ending it, I recoiled in horror at the thought of ending my time with you.”

  Bella smiled back, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him. Grandpa kissed her on the forehead, then pulled her close. She closed her eyes, hearing the steady lub-dub of his heart beating in his chest.

  Her lower lip quivered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Oh Grandpa,” she murmured, squeezing him tighter.

  “Every night, after tucking you in and telling you a story, I sat at my desk and stared up at that painting,” Grandpa murmured. “For weeks, it reminded me of what was coming.”

  He pushed her away gently, running a hand through her hair.

  “Every beginning has an end, Bella,” he stated. “And every end a new beginning.”

  Bella smiled despite herself.

  “There you go, being all mysterious again,” she accused. Grandpa winked.

  “I’m a Writer,” he replied matter-of-factly. “It’s what we do.”

  * * *

  The sun had swung all the way overhead, beginning its slow descent through the afternoon sky by the time Bella, Gideon, and Grandpa reached the great white castle at the very top of Dragon’s Peak. Grandpa had insisted on showing it to Bella, and, having never been to Havenwood himself, was eager to see it. There was no wall or gate blocking their access to the castle. Indeed, the winding cobblestone road led right up to the castle entrance.

  This, Bella quickly realized, was no ordinary castle.

  It had the typical trappings of a fairytale castle, with tall towers reaching high into the sky, a sparkling blue moat surrounding it, and a tall, arched entrance with an open golden portcullis. There was an arched bridge spanning the moat, complete with grand white statues of men and women in various dynamic-looking poses. And the castle itself was made of pure white stone that gleamed in the sunlight.