Honor Bound (Wildcat Wizard Book 5)

by Al K. Line

  "BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!" boomed the wand, vibrating madly in my hand as white light fizzed from its tip.

  "Hell!" I screamed, falling backward onto my bony ass and nearly dropping it.

  "Haha, haha, so funny. You should see your face. Just messing with you, dude. What's life without laughter?"

  "You almost gave me a heart attack. Haha," I laughed nervously, "you're funny. But, um, you can't see, can you?"

  "Sure I can. I'm a magical wand brought to life through the power of your skill and your need, your will and determination. I can see plenty good. It's kinda confusing, as I can see in all directions, but I'm sure I'll get used to it. It's been what, five minutes? Plenty of time to get accustomed to things."

  "I guess. So you can think, see, all that stuff?" I moved the wand close to my eyes and stared at it, but it hadn't grown any eyes or got a mouth or anything. "Are you talking out loud?"

  "Of course I'm not talking out loud, are you mad? I'm a stick!"

  "Ah, right."

  "Hmm. So, we gonna do this?"

  "Do what?"

  "Go deal with Cerberus and those treacherous vampires. Dirty buggers, pardon my cursing, but they have to pay. Nobody messes with us. Don't they know who they're dealing with?"

  I smiled at my wand, then said, "I like you. A lot. Yeah, we'll deal with them. Me and you, buddy. The Hat and, um, what's your name?"

  "Name? Hadn't thought about that. Hang on a moment." The wand quieted, the sigils dulled, and it cooled a degree or two, then it vibrated, brightened, and I felt the power return. "Wand, call me Wand."

  "Took you a while to come up with that, did it?"

  "Don't be cheeky. You got a better name?"

  I thought for a moment, going though different options, thinking of something menacing and powerful, something to frighten my enemies, a name I could call out as I ran into battle and let rip with my... "Yeah, Wand sounds pretty good. Okay, Wand, what now?"

  "Now? Now we make a plan." Wand squirmed and turned to "face" toward the house. "Well, hello. Who's this foxy lady?"

  "That's my daughter, and don't talk about her like that. If you're some kind of pervert then you can go right back where you came from. Speak like that again and I'll snap you over my knee like the twig you were."

  "Oh, sorry, I apologize. How disrespectful. Don't know what came over me. It's the power of the fae. She's faery, right?"

  "Half."

  "They're special, they can do funny things to a guy."

  "Not this one, she's my daughter and you treat her with respect." What was I talking about? It was a piece of wood. He, it, wasn't going to treat her in any way at all.

  "Hey, George," I said as she came and stood next to me, quizzical look on her face.

  "So, you finished?"

  "Finished?"

  "The wand. Can I see?"

  "Oh, right. Um, sure," I said cautiously. I held up Wand and he spun in my palm. "Show off," I muttered.

  "What was that?" asked George.

  "Nothing, just talking to the new wand. Us wizards do that kind of thing, they're like one of the family.

  "Hey, I am family. Nice to meet you, George."

  George peered closely at Wand then smiled and said to me, "That's a cool trick. How'd you do it? Is it powerful? It looks it."

  "It wasn't me, it was him. Honest."

  George looked from me to Wand, and Wand bowed in my hand, bending my wrist until it cracked. "Pleased to meet you. Shake?"

  George met my eyes and I nodded my head. She reached out, took the tip of Wand, and shook. "Nice to meet you, er?"

  "Wand, the name's Wand. I came up with the name myself."

  "Nice to meet you, Wand." George released her grip, turned back to me, and said, "Breakfast's ready. Vicky's back, and we have a lot to do."

  "Um, okay. You don't seem very surprised. About Wand, I mean."

  George studied me for the longest time, and I stood there like a lemon, Wand held at arm's length, not sure what to make of it.

  "Oh, damn, you're serious? This isn't a trick, a joke?"

  "No."

  "Oh."

  "Breakfast?" I suggested.

  "And coffee," said George, watching Wand like it could attack. Hopefully, it wouldn't.

  So, we wandered up to the house, me still holding Wand out in front.

  I smiled. How cool is this? A sentient wand. Awesome.

  Awkward Introductions

  "Who's the kid?" asked Wand as we entered through the French doors into the living room.

  "Quiet, that's Vicky. I know it's hard to believe, but she's an adult."

  "Haha, very funny. She's tiny, like a munchkin. Where does she get her jumpers, Tiny Moms R Us?"

  "Dad, stop being silly, she'll hear you," warned George, giving me the terrifying look all the women in my life had perfected long ago.

  "It's not me, it's him," I protested.

  George dragged on my arm and pulled me to a halt as we watched a distracted Vicky tidying away toys from the rug by the sofas. "Are you on the level about this? I don't know whether you're making this up or not."

  "George, I am not making this up. The wand, er, Wand, came to life I guess, once I finished making him. It can happen, there are stories about it. About them becoming true artifacts. Now I've got one." I couldn't help grinning, this was just so damn cool. A sentient wand, what wizard could ask for more? I wondered what he knew, what he could teach me. Some of the tales were pretty wild.

  "This is ridiculous. Wands can't talk."

  "I can," said Wand.

  "But you haven't got any lips."

  "That's what I said."

  "What can I tell you guys? I'm magic, pure magic."

  "But... Um, ugh, this is nuts."

  "Nuttier than you being a faery and able to open Paths into Faery and do all your other sparkly magic?" asked Wand.

  "Fair point. How'd you know about that?" she asked, peering closely at Wand.

  "Because I'm a magical wand brought to life by the power of Arthur's will and awesomeness."

  "Oh, okay."

  "Cool, eh? And I am pretty awesome."

  "Very," agreed George, not looking completely honest about it. "How come we can hear you? Are you actually talking?"

  "It's complicated. You guys can hear me because you're linked. I don't think anyone else can. Shall we try?"

  And with that I felt an insistent tugging and Wand shot off toward Vicky, my hand wrapped tight around him.

  "Hey, tiny, I'm Wand, wanna party?"

  George sniggered and I yanked hard on Wand until he eased up on the pulling. Vicky ignored us and carried on tidying. Guess she couldn't hear.

  "She's got a nice bum," said Wand, as we all watched her crawling around collecting dolls and putting them in a basket.

  "Now I know he's real. You'd never say that about Vicky," said George.

  "See, told you."

  "Oh, hey," said Vicky, putting the last doll away then standing.

  "Hey."

  "Is it ready?" she asked, glancing at Wand. "Looks nice."

  "Let her hold me, Arthur. Maybe suggest I get put in her back pocket."

  "Shut up." I warned.

  "Arthur, I was only asking." Vicky's lip trembled, and I knew what was coming. No, anything but the tears.

  "Sorry, I wasn't talking to you. Um, there's been a development. My, er, my wand, well, it, he, er, he's become, er, alive."

  "Oh, is that right? You were talking to your wand?" Vicky rested her hands on her hips and glared. She was good at glaring, she practiced on the kids all the time.

  "Yes. Only you can't hear him, because he's magical, but he can talk and he can see." It sounded lame, but I figured best to be truthful or I'd end up in all kinds of trouble, getting all kinds of grief.

  "There's no need to be mean. I just wanted to have a look."

  "Honest, it's true. But you can't hear him."

  "Fine, be like that. I was going to say it looked lovely, but if you're goin
g to be silly."

  "Let her hold me, trust me on this," said Wand.

  "Okay, if you're sure?" I said.

  "Sure about what?" asked Vicky.

  "I was talking to Wand. Here, take hold, and don't say I didn't warn you." I passed Wand to Vicky, who took him with a frown, annoyed at me.

  The moment she took hold and I released Wand, she froze, and I don't mean just went still and stopped talking for a bit, which was always good. I mean froze solid, not a flicker of movement.

  After two minutes George and I were seriously worried, but she was still stuck in place. After five minutes I wondered if I should risk taking Wand back, but George and I discussed it and agreed to wait. What the hell was this all about?

  After another five minutes I was ready to do whatever it took, but she snapped out of it with a jolt, gasped for breath, crumpled to the floor, and dropped Wand.

  "A little help here"? asked Wand from the rug.

  Ignoring it, him, we rushed to Vicky and got her standing. Her eyes were rolled back in her head but they slowly came down and she focused on us, her chest heaving. A smile spread across her flushed face.

  "I like him," she said, then she bent, picked up Wand, and kissed the tip. Which was weird, and disturbingly arousing.

  "I like her too," said Wand.

  "Did you hear that?" I asked.

  "No, Wand said I can only hear him if I hold him, but we're friends now. Let's have breakfast." And with that Vicky began whistling and wandered off toward the kitchen.

  "What did you say to her?" I asked.

  "Haha, that's for us to know. Private, mind your own business. But she knows the deal, we got to know each other. And wow, she's a werewolf. I love werewolves."

  "I think I need that coffee now," I said with a sigh.

  "Me too," said George.

  And so it was that I had one of the weirder mornings of my life. Not the weirdest, but it came a close second.

  Out On My Own

  Wand had a gazillion questions about anything and everything. Seemed that although his knowledge was varied and vast, on certain topics he was clueless. He mostly knew everything I knew, which was disturbing and worrying, like a clone but without the good looks and body to die for. But there were gaps, and some things about me and my life he had no inkling of, so he asked, a lot.

  Guess it was an incomplete tapping into my mind and memories. What he did know a lot about, and this would be invaluable, was magic. Being forged from magic, from faery wood—and I'll have to tell you the true story of how I got this most rare of woods some time—gave him an encyclopaedic knowledge of magic. From the fae themselves to the Nolands, to the essence of magic, he said he knew a lot and would share.

  But boy did he like to talk.

  What became very annoying very rapidly was his incessant chatter and inability to shut up. It was like Vicky on speed. Eating breakfast was a laborious process as every time he said something and George or I answered, Vicky butted in wanting to know what Wand had said, so everything had to be repeated. Still, at least we all got to know each other.

  Part of me, a large part, still couldn't believe this was real, that I'd somehow, through my power of concentration and my advanced skill as a wizard, been able to create life itself of a very rare, and very sought after kind. Any wizard would give their right arm to own such an artifact. This went beyond books, even a Teleron, this was like having a personal assistant that could tap into an esoteric library at will and provide you with intel you could never hope to find out alone.

  Plus, life gets lonely, so company is always good.

  What bugged me was his accent. I couldn't quite place it, and it kept nagging at me, but I couldn't figure it out. How did a wand have an accent? It was all in my mind, a voice coming through the magical grapevine, so was this really how he sounded? Did he sound the same way to George?

  After breakfast, as we sat around avoiding discussing what we needed to discuss, like my house being bombed and being set up by the vampires and Cerberus, neither of whom had been in contact, I just had to ask.

  "What's the accent? I can't decide what it is."

  "Accent?" asked Wand.

  "Yeah, your voice. It's got a twang to it but I don't know where it's from."

  "What did he say?" asked Vicky, glancing from me to Wand who was now in my left hand, seemingly more comfortable being held than stuffed in my pocket, something he'd have to get used to anyway.

  "Just let me talk, then I'll tell you," I growled.

  "Fine." Vicky was in a huff, but it was tough.

  "Never thought about it. Although, I've only been alive for half an hour or so, maybe that's the reason. Anyway, what's your accent?"

  "Mine's just, ugh, um, dunno. A general British one I guess. I traveled a lot, it gets mixed up."

  "He sounds a bit Australian," said George.

  "No he doesn't. He's definitely British."

  "Not to me. Hey, Wand?"

  "Yes?"

  "Do you sound different to different people?"

  "Guess so. Depends on how it comes through the ether. I could sound like anything. To me, listening to my own voice, I sound like you and Arthur. Just normal sounding."

  "That's it!" I shouted. "You sound Welsh."

  "No I don't."

  "You do, just slightly, a little bit." I thought, but then decided I was wrong. "Or maybe west country. Or northern."

  "Arthur, you're getting confused," chastised Wand, like he was talking to a little kid. "I'm whatever makes you feel most comfortable. My accent is what you find easiest to listen to."

  "Oh, so definitely nothing like Vicky then." I sighed as Vicky opened her mouth to speak after hearing her name mentioned. "Later, okay?" I said, holding my hand up in front of her face.

  "Dad, can we please talk about yesterday?"

  "Sure, honey. Sorry, we don't need this distraction. Look, both of you, this is serious and things are going to get dicey. Very dicey. The vamps double-crossed us, meaning Ivan might be involved, and Cerberus will be gunning for me once they discover I'm alive. We have to be careful, or I do."

  "Won't they come for me too?" asked Vicky, concerned not for herself but for her kids.

  "No, they won't. Carmichael wants me dead for trying to take the artifacts, even though they'd already moved them, and the vampires won't be interested in you. No, this is all on me."

  "You sure?" asked George.

  "I am. Look, let's get this day started. George, oh light of my life, I have an important task for you. I want you to scour the estate agents, and I want you to find us the perfect home. Something with a nice large farmhouse, at least five acres, preferably flat land for horses to be, um, whatever you do with horses. Run about a bit? Canter? Is that what you do?" George rolled her eyes so I continued. "Somewhere we can build the stables and whatnot, and if you can find something close enough so we don't have to move the portal from the barn then all the better. But really, pick wherever you want, as long as it's not too far from the coast."

  "You mean it? I can choose?" George's face lit up, already dreaming of her future business.

  "I do."

  "And it's equestrian."

  "What is?"

  "Things to do with horses. Not horse stuff. Equestrian. And you mean it, I can run an equestrian center. Training, stabling, whatever I want?"

  "I mean it from the bottom of my heart. You find it, I'll buy it."

  "How much can we spend?"

  I did some quick calculations, thinking of the money I had stashed, the money in banks, and artifacts I could sell. "Just find something you like, something you will feel comfortable in, meaning nothing like Vicky's place, and we'll see."

  "It is a bit big," admitted Vicky. "And I don't like having the staff around, gives me the creeps."

  "So move. Ivan wanted what was best for you, but he picked somewhere he could hide too, and he put people here to watch you."

  "I thought maybe he had. But the girls love the place, all the
space."

  "Buy something with the space outside but a smaller house."

  "That's what I'm going to look for," said George.

  "Good girl." I knew she'd find the perfect property, something that would suit us, feel like a home. "Well, what you waiting for?"

  "You mean now?" she asked, shocked. "That feels weird. Our house just got blown up. Shouldn't we, er, wait?"

  "For what? Go find something, we'll make them an offer they can't refuse, and kick some solicitor butt to get the paperwork through fast. We'll be in within a few weeks, maybe less."

  "If you're sure?"

  "I am."

  George smiled and dashed off to get ready. In ten minutes she was out the door, said she'd do some shopping for clothes for both of us, and look for property at the estate agents down in Cornwall then maybe online after that if she found nothing.

  Vicky and I were finally alone.

  "You're a good father," said Vicky, reaching out and taking my hand.

  "My daughter nearly got blown up last night," I said. "I'm a terrible father, the worst."

  "No, you aren't. You sent her out today so she'd be away from you, right?"

  "Of course! This is gonna be one hell of a day. And I want you to stay here, Vicky. No coming with me today, okay? I don't know what will happen, but it won't be good."

  "Okay, Arthur, I promise." Vicky was sincere, knew this was more serious than anything we'd ever been involved in before. She had to think of the girls.

  "Can I come?" asked Wand.

  "You, my sticky friend, go everywhere with me."

  "Nice!"

  As I placed Wand down on the table and took a sip of coffee, I heard a crack as the window smashed and Vicky's eyes went wide. A red dot leaked from the center of her forehead as she slumped forward, slamming her face on the table.

  I didn't need to look, but I had to. I sprang up, pulled her shoulders back, and stared at the bullet wound in her head. I laid her head gently on the table as my tears fell.

  Someone had just assassinated Vicky.

  This Will Hurt

  My world came crashing down in a spectacular way. Every job we went on I was amazed she didn't get herself killed. She was fearless, gung-ho, and always up for it, just like me I guess, and simply didn't have the skills to cope with the gangster life, but she'd always come through relatively unscathed. I expected her to die, but also somehow always believed she wouldn't. She had kids she adored, was always frisky like a puppy, and cute in her own annoying miniature way, and I couldn't truly picture her as being dead.