by N M Thorn
“Jamie, if you don’t want to go inside, you can wait for me in the car,” he offered, turning to him. “You got me in. I can handle the rest.”
A soft smile touched the young man’s lips, and his eyes fogged with sadness. “I’m not going to leave you here alone,” he said reproachfully, shaking his head. “It’s just...” He didn’t finish his statement, pressing his lips in a firm line. Then he threw another glance at the dark lobby and nudged Damian forward gently. “It’s just some bad memories I have. Nothing to worry about. We have a good reason to be here, so let’s do what we came here to do.”
The spacious lobby was empty, barely illuminated by the light of a few magical orbs lingering under its tall ceiling. A man, in his late forties by the looks of him, waited for them inside. He was dressed in a black uniform, his left hand resting on the pommel of a sword at his hip. He observed Damian with open suspicion but said nothing. As his gray eyes halted on Jamie, a warm smile lit up his features.
“Please follow me. Archmage Allerton will receive you in his office,” he said coldly without formally introducing himself, but judging by his southern accent, it was the same guard who had greeted them at the gates.
Damian walked through a chain of dark corridors, following Jack and Jamie. They spoke in hushed tones, but he didn’t try to listen to them. A big part of his long life he spent doing everything he could to stay away from any representatives of the Destiny Council, and now, for the first time in years, he willingly walked into the lion’s den. His nerves were on edge, and even with his limited abilities, he could detect the presence of the Guardians’ magic all around him.
Jack halted in front of a tall doorway leading into another lobby and gestured for them to move forward. As soon as Damian passed the threshold, both he and Jamie were surrounded by at least ten guards with their swords unsheathed.
“Whoa, guys, what’s going on?” Jamie raised his hands, looking around at the men who used to be his teammates. “We are unarmed, and I thought the Archmage agreed to see us.”
“He did, Jamie,” replied Jack icily, “but there is a problem, and I hope you understand since you used to be one of us.” He pointed at Damian. “Your friend is not registered either in the Guardians’ or in the Wardens’ books. Unless he’s human—which I sincerely doubt—we need to know who and what he is. Without identifying that, we’re not going to let him pass. So, you need to stay back and let us do our job.”
Jamie took a step forward, positioning himself between Jack and Damian, but Damian put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “It’s okay, Jamie. Let them do what they need to do.” He raised his arms, turning to Jack. “Please, go ahead and check me. I’m not going to resist.”
Jack approached him carefully and placed his hand on his chest. Damian closed his eyes and focused on shadowing his energy signature. Sensing a weak wave of magical energy originating under the guard’s hand, the corners of his lips quirked up in a barely noticeable smirk.
“I can’t sense any magic in him,” said Jack a moment later, confusion layering his voice.
Damian cocked his head, staring down at him. “Can we see the Archmage now?” he asked peacefully. “We drove almost thirty hours straight. We are exhausted, and after the talk with the Archmage, we have to drive back. So, please...” He sighed without finishing his statement and lowered his arms.
“Keep your arms up. No one said you’re free to go.” Another guard approached him. In his hands, he held a small box that looked like an ammeter but had five small lightbulbs at the top. He gestured for all the guards including Jamie to move behind him, and once they were out of his way, he pointed the box at Damian and turned it on.
Damian sighed but raised his arms again and let the guard check him. The arrow on the display of the strange device jerked limply and then fell back to the left, remaining there until the guard shut down the device.
“He’s clear,” announced the guard. “Not an ounce of magic—”
He didn’t finish his statement when a door at the far end of the lobby opened, and a tall man appeared in the doorway. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, observing Damian with curiosity. After a moment, he raked his fingers through the unruly mass of his salt-and-pepper hair and waved his hand, gesturing for the guards to stand down.
“He has magic,” said the man with a tired smirk. “He’s just so skilled at concealing it that even our magic detectors are unable to detect it. You can stand down. I believe if he wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t be able to stop him, anyway.”
The guards backed away and took one knee, bowing their heads before the Archmage. Jamie lowered to one knee, giving Damian a pointed stare.
“Sorry,” said Damian dryly, meeting the Archmage’s steady gaze. “I don’t bow. And I definitely don’t kneel.”
The Archmage chuckled, the sound of his soft laughter unexpectedly contagious. He walked among his guards, tapping on their shoulders to rise. Halting in front of Damian, he extended his hand.
“How about a simple handshake?” he asked, arching his brow. “Just a modern day greeting between two men who have no harmful intentions toward each other.”
Damian took his hand, but as soon as Allerton’s fingers touched his, a powerful wave of magical energy rushed through him, and he couldn’t help but hold his breath. Archmage Allerton’s smile grew wider.
“Please follow me, Mr. Blake,” he said, heading toward his office. Passing by Jamie, he tapped his arm. “Do you need a special invitation, too, Jamie?”
As soon as they crossed into the office, the Archmage closed the door and motioned for them to sit down. He walked around the desk and lowered himself on an office chair heavily. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on the top of the desk and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes.
“So, what are you, Mr. Blake?” he asked once Damian and Jamie sat down.
“I’m no one,” replied Damian, leaning back in his chair. “But at the moment, I’m a man who needs your help.”
“No one?” echoed the Archmage, the color draining from his face. “Perhaps, you are... This would explain why you’re not registered in our books...” His voice melted into a heavy silence. He picked up a pencil, tapping the desk with it nervously. “So, how long have you been no one?”
“With all due respect, Archmage Allerton,” said Damian, his voice void of emotions, “if you know what no one means, you should also know I can’t answer that question.”
“Right, sorry. I don’t meet people with this status often,” mumbled the Archmage. Leaning farther forward, he made a steeple out of his fingers and gave Damian an arched stare. “What can I do for you, Damian? May I call you Damian?”
“Yes, sir.” Damian averted his eyes, his hand raking through his hair of its own accord. “Recently, I moved to Blue Creek, Arizona and got a job working for Detective River Evans, widow of Nicolas Lee Evans. By marriage, she’s the last living descendant of the three founding families.”
Damian stopped talking and looked up at the Archmage to see if the name sparked any recognition in him. But the expression on the man’s face remained attentive yet emotionless, and he just twirled his wrist, encouraging him to proceed.
“Since I started to work as her personal bodyguard, Paradise Manor has been attacked by unknown supernatural forces a few times,” continued Damian. “I don’t know who attacked the house or what they wanted. While doing some research, I discovered a few unusual things about the building, including a heavily warded room in the left wing of the house. When I managed to pass the wards and get inside the room, among all the craziness there, I noticed a rune...” He leaned forward slightly, his hands clasping the armrests of the chair. “This rune was a signature rune of the Guardians Order. This is why I’m here.”
The Archmage’s eyes widened in unmistakable shock, and his mouth opened up as he stared at Damian.
“Are you sure it was a Guardians’ signature rune?” he asked after a moment.
“I have no doubt, sir,” confirmed Damian.
The Archmage’s eyes darted to Jamie, but he just shrugged, opening his arms. “Sorry, my lord. I can’t confirm it since I haven’t seen it myself, but I trust Damian.”
Archmage Allerton got up, unease visible in his every move. He whispered something, drawing some complicated design in the air with his fingers, and a chain of glowing white runes materialized before him. He moved his index finger over it, and it lit up brighter, forcing Damian to raise his arm to shield his eyes.
When the light dwindled down, Damian lowered his arm, blinking the dancing red spots away from his vision. The Archmage sat in his chair, a large book in a heavy leather cover lying in front of him on the desk. He opened the book at a random page and placed his hand over it without touching its surface. A soft glimmer of his magic surrounded his hand, and the pages of the books started to turn. Slow in the beginning, they moved faster and faster until they turned into a glowing blur. He let go a few minutes later and stared down at the blank page of the book in confusion.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, rubbing the thick stubble on his chin. Then he raised his eyes at Damian, and a chain of emotions exchanged on his face. “Damian, if you don’t mind... I understand your status of no one and the limitations that come with it, but as the Archmage of the Guardians Order, I also know you have magic even though it’s not detectible. Please channel some of your magic through the book while asking whatever you need to know about Paradise Manor.” He threw his hands up, a guilty look on his face almost comical. “I think this is the only way we can learn anything about it.”
If the Archmage of the Order can’t get me any information... Dammit... How am I supposed to protect River if I don’t even know who I’m protecting her from and why?
With his chest tightened with worry, Damian got up and held his hands over the book. He channeled his magic and directed it through the book, asking only one question in his mind—what’s hidden in Paradise Manor. To his surprise, the book responded to his magic, but not in the same way it did to Allerton’s magic. It snapped shut under his hands and then immediately reopened at a blank page. As he kept channeling his magic through it, asking the same question over and over, writing materialized on the page.
“Six—two hundred seventy-three,” read Damian, turning to the Archmage. “Does it mean anything to you?”
Allerton stared at the page, his lips moving as if he was repeating the numbers over and over. “Yes,” he murmured at length. “I know what this means, and I haven’t seen anything like this for quite some time.” He scratched the back of his head and then glanced at his wristwatch. “This is a number signifying a location in the Destiny Council general archives. I can access it from here, but it will take me a couple of hours.”
“Damn, more time,” Damian exhaled, rubbing the edge of his bracelet absentmindedly.
“It’s three in the morning,” said Allerton. “I heard you drove here from Arizona without stop. So, why don’t you two get some shut-eye while I try to retrieve the information you need from the archives.” He turned to Jamie and a smile, kind and slightly wistful, appeared on his face. “Jamie, your room is still free, and there’re two beds there. I hope you remember how to get there?”
“Yes, my lord,” Jamie replied with a light bow.
“Great.” The Archmage gestured at the door. “Off you go. Get some rest. I’ll wake you up myself as soon as I get the information you need.”
Following Jamie, Damian barely noticed where they were going, processing the conversation with Allerton in his mind. When Jamie stopped in front of a low door deeply embedded into the rough stonework of the wall, he almost ran into him.
Jamie opened the door, and Damian had to bend down to walk in. The room was a tiny stone-box, and he could almost feel his usual claustrophobia gripping at his chest and clouding his mind, but at least it was on the ground floor.
“Wow,” whispered Jamie, looking around. He sat down on one of the beds, brushing the plain cover with his hand. “Everything looks just the same as I left it.”
“Something tells me Archmage Allerton likes you and wants you back,” murmured Damian, lowering on the second bed. The springs moaned under his weight, and the mattress bent down. Carefully, he lay down and stretched his legs, his eyelids too heavy to keep them opened.
“Damian,” called Jamie.
“Huh?”
“No one. Is it actually a thing? What does it mean?” asked the young man. “All this time I thought you literally meant that you’re nobody.”
“I am nobody,” murmured Damian, turning his back toward Jamie. “But no one, as you probably figured out by now, is my magical status. Sometimes it does feel like a terminal condition though. And one of the parts of being no one is that I can’t tell you anything about it, or about my past for that matter.”
“Dang it,” murmured Jamie, sarcasm ringing in his voice. “And here I was going to ask you all these questions. Bummer.”
“I’m not much into pillow talk.” Damian sighed and pulled his pillow lower, hugging it. “Get some sleep while you can.”
He closed his eyes and a few seconds later was fast asleep.
Chapter 25
~ Damian Blake ~
As soon as Archmage Allerton touched the door handle, Damian was awake. Soundlessly, he slipped off the bed and turned toward the entrance ready to summon his daggers at the first sign of trouble. Jamie was fast asleep, oblivious to anything going on around him. The door cracked opened with a light squeak, but no one entered.
“Damian?” The familiar voice sounded from outside the door. “This is Archmage Allerton. Please, relax. I’m unarmed and alone.”
“Come in,” said Damian, dropping his tense shoulders.
The Head of the Guardians Order walked in, and as his attentive eyes took in Damian’s appearance, he smiled. “I knew you’d be up as soon as I approached the door. Despite your no one status, you have pretty sharp senses. You’d make a wonderful guard.” He arched his eyebrows and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his feet. “What would you say if I offered you a job at the Guardians HQ?”
“I would say thank you, but no, thank you,” replied Damian. “I haven’t been suffering my status”—he applied some pressure on the word ‘status’, placing a hefty load of sarcasm into it—“just to willingly subjugate myself to the Destiny Council. I love my freedom.”
“As you wish. If you ask me, freedom is overrated.” The Archmage shrugged and approached Jamie, gently shaking him awake.
“What time is it?” Jamie sat up, rubbing his face with his hands.
“Five o’clock,” replied Allerton, heading toward the door. “Follow me to my office, please. I’m not sure I found all the information you need, but I do have something that may give you food for thought.”
They walked through the dark, silent hallways of the Guardians HQ. It was too early and except for a few guards on duty, everyone else—wizards and witches, mages and apprentices who were here to learn how to control and use their magic—were fast asleep.
Jack stood by the door into the office, leaning his back against the wall. As soon as he saw Allerton approaching, he pushed away from the wall and bowed, his eyes burning Damian with unconcealed threat. The loyalty of this man to the Head of the Guardians Order was beyond reproach. The Archmage opened the door, inviting Jamie and Damian to come in, and then turned to the guard.
“Jack, please ask someone to bring breakfast for Damian and Jamie, and coffee for me, and then stay outside,” he said, patting the man on his shoulder. “I don’t want to be bothered by anyone while I’m working.”
Jack bowed and left. He came back a few minutes later, sporting a tray with three cups of coffee, freshly toasted bagels and a few small packets of cream cheese.
“I hope this is enough, my lord,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t want to wake up the cook, so I made it myself.”
“It’s perfect. Th
ank you, Jack.” The Archmage waited until the guard left and closed the door. Then he lowered himself onto his chair and took one of the cups with steaming coffee. “Eat, don’t be shy.” He moved the tray toward Damian and Jamie. “You have a long drive back ahead of you.”
Damian took one of the cups and a bagel but didn’t bother with the cream cheese. He inhaled the bitter scent of the coffee and then took a careful gulp, feeling the hot liquid rushing down his throat, energizing him. They ate quickly, and once they were done, Allerton got up and snapped his fingers, the energy of his magic spiking around him.
A large rectangle of light materialized on the wall. He waved his hand and the rectangle was replaced by an image of an old photo that looked like it was taken some time in the eighteenth century. Six people—three men and three women—stood in the photo surrounded by the endless desert scenery. With bright smiles on their faces, they looked young and happy.
“These people,” said Allerton, pointing at the photo, “are the Blue Creek original founding families—Richard and Helen Evans, George and Edith Brown, and Ralph and Lillie Anderson.”
“I’ve seen this photo before in my father’s research folder,” muttered Jamie.
“I’m not surprised,” replied Allerton. “This photo is not a secret. It should be available in Blue Creek’s historical archives as well. However”—he raised his finger—“there is something about these three families no one knows. At least, no one in the realm of humans. To be honest, I had a hard time finding anything about them even in the Guardians’ and Wardens’ archives.” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Quite unusual, I must say.”
“What did you find out?” asked Damian.
“First of all, every single member of the three families and their descendants were active members of the Guardians Order.” The Archmage moved his finger as if he was swiping the screen of a digital tablet, and the photo was replaced by another one with different people on it. He kept swiping his hand, replacing the pictures until a photo of three people—a man, a woman and a teenage boy—showed up on the wall.
