Time Weaver

by Jacinta Maree

  In a slurred voice, he pleaded. “Elizabeth, let me help you.”

  Her eyes widened, forming the connections. Details sharpened into the warmth of his eyes, his soft mouth, and the curve of his dimpled smile. Klaus? But…how? The impossibility of it was astounding, but there he was, holding her up. From the pit of her stomach, she managed to whisper in her last weakened breath, “Save me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven:

  Benjamin Kyneton. Brave fighter, caring and loving fiancé, treasured son and brother.

  Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. Her tears had gone dry, but her cheeks still glistened with their leftover streaks. The funeral was hard, it chiselled down their brave faces into twisted expressions of lost and grief. Benjamin was kind, his love for Leah was pure, and his kindness had no equal, yet it was him who was killed. Leah’s eyes darkened as they lowered Benjamin’s coffin into the ground. Part of her was buried with him. A large part of her died the moment he did.

  Catherine didn’t know the true risks of the Collector’s company. She allowed him in, covered up his identity and because of her, Benjamin was dead and Hudson has gone missing. Their group, as with their world, splintered and fell apart. Weeks passed in silence. Catherine found her way back home, but found no comfort with her family. Her heart pulled her back out into the world, to help rebuild the broken pieces she helped shatter.

  “No matter what happens Catherine, you’re one of us.” Dennis had confided in her. It was late the night when he came to collect her. Storms passed overhead, shaking the house. “Let’s do what Guardians do best.”

  He motioned over his shoulder to their hunting suits. Catherine approached and lifted the scattered suit up. She proceeded to attach the different parts to her body. Over her right shoulder, she clipped on a massive steel shoulder cap, reinforced with weights down her bicep where attached to the elbow bend was an automatic machine gun with a hand grip. Woven across her back was a slash of throwing knives attached to the smooth chrome chest guard. Perhaps the most impressive was the jet engine back pack curved along her back.

  Leah waited for them outside of a large Bact nest. Sleepless nights darkened the circles beneath her eyes, shallowing in her cheeks. She welcomed Catherine with a nod. The forgiveness wasn’t there, not entirely, but it’d be a long time before Leah could feel anything beyond betrayal. Bactes scurried out as Dennis, Leah and Catherine stormed inside, their weapons blasting. All of the Bactes were lower classes, nothing above a three in the chain. Dennis gunned them down, torching their nests and shoving them out into the streets. Catherine picked them off as they tried to run, landing her knives into the bend of their knees and shoulders. Leah’s suit was small to match her fluid movement, the spiked chains woven around her arm garnet clinked and crunched as she lashed them out like extendable whips.

  Even under torture, none of the Bactes spoke. “Where are the Elders?” Dennis demanded, working into the fifth hour of holding a chicken box Bact to his torture chair. She gargled and spat at his feet. He turned up the pressure, locking the creature’s shrivelled arm behind her back. She yelped, letting out a loud slurping cry. “Noisy water. Noisy water.”

  Dennis let go and took the information to the others. “Noisy water. What do you think that means?”

  “Water parks? Water mills?” Catherine started listing off.

  “No…” Leah said. “Something abandoned. More like the old industrial water pumps.”

  “Of course,” Dennis agreed. “Vacant. Easy to infest. Human contact close by, but not close enough to stumble upon them. It’s the perfect nest.”

  Leah corrected, “It’s the perfect killing ground.”

  #

  Turning up to the old industrial estates, the three of them stepped out of the car and made their way down the heat cracked roads. The buildings were blackened by overrunning decay and crumbled into stripped skeletons. They kicked in the warehouse doors and marched into the heart of the empty warehouse. Signs of Bactes infestations was strong in the leftover rot dripping off the walls.

  It didn’t take long until their intrusion caught the attention of the Elder Bact. There were three of them present, one they recognized back at the paper mill as the Elder Bact with Mural. Si staggered forward as the other two Elder Bactes circled the group. Catherine unhitched her knives, readying them. Leah’s grip tightened on her weapon. Blisters lined her palms.

  “Show yourself!” Dennis roared into the darkness. He shot a blast of flames forward, lighting up the dark warehouse. Ten pair of eyes scurried back from the waft of heat, terrified. Si did not falter in her approach.

  “Tongue of death. Devil none. Devil!” she hissed at Dennis. “Blood fed weeds. Noise carries, sisters in soil. Break you, break you!”

  Leah stepped up beside Dennis. “Shut it. We need to kill the Collectors, and you are going to help us.”

  Si chuckled in quick, short chirps. “Snow bites. Snow cuts. Weave your path back, only destruction at the touch of blade tips.”

  “Enough of your riddles, creature. You are going to summon the gargoyle for us.” Dennis spoke again. “If you don’t, we will continue to burn all your nests, killing every cockroach we trap inside.”

  Si screeched. Panicked noises drummed up behind her.

  “We’ve already hunted down fifteen nests in the past few weeks.” Leah announced. “We will kill them all. Us, and every remaining Guardian.”

  “Harm be done to those monsters reek.” Si gurgled in her sudden laughter. “Mortalem?”

  Catherine shifted uncomfortably whereas Leah stepped forward, determined. “Summon it. Summon it, and we promise not to harm anymore Bactes. We hunt Collectors now.”

  Si thought on it, listening to the chirps and hisses from the Bactes prowling behind her, before slicing a long gash through the centre of her palm. She waved Leah closer. Leah cautiously approached, but as she did, Si shoved her weeping wound onto Leah’s mouth. Leah leapt back and swung her weapon around. She spat the putrid blood out as it sizzled against her tongue and lips.

  “Wear your words,” Si jabbed, before cracking her neck back and releasing an unnatural croak from the base of her throat. The air thickened. A foreign, shifting smoke rose beneath the concrete with a faint whistle. It slithered into Leah’s mouth, nose, and covered eyes. Leah dropped her weapon. Dennis rushed to her as she fell to her knees.

  “What have you done?”

  “Chaos,” Si pointed out. “Stone to flesh.” The other two elder Bactes leapt forward onto Catherine’s turned back, pinning her down. She hit the floor with a heavy thump, hearing her metal suit crack under their weight. In the next moment, Si sliced her own throat and slowly sank into death.

  #

  Juliet stepped back from peeking into the Guardian’s parked car, her gaze turning toward the empty warehouse. The stench of Bact deaths followed the group in thick fumes, making it easier for her to track them. They were determined. Ruthless, but she had to remain patient. Wait for them to slow down, to sleep, and separate. To exhaust themselves, or hopefully, clash with a Bact nest they couldn’t take down.

  Juliet waited outside the warehouse, but the smell of burning caught her attention. It wasn’t burning as in flames. It was the melting of spirit. The breaking of cosmic chains. Alarm bells went off inside her head and Juliet pushed off from the car. It can’t be. She sprinted into the warehouse to find herself standing in the middle of a barbaric ritual. Bactes circled the Guardians. One girl was pinned beneath two Elders. The single male was stunned. An Elder Bact’s body wept with blood pooling out of her throat, self-inflicted. The remaining female’s spirit had been vacuumed out, and replaced with the growing stench of destruction.

  “No!” Juliet ran in and speared Leah in the heart. The remaining Bactes bolted into the shadows, scrambling off Catherine and fleeing the warehouse into the streets outside. Dennis turned his weapon on Juliet.

  “You can’t stop us, Collector!” But her attention didn’t shift off Leah.

  Julie
t’s face paled. White sparks flared out of her Collector’s blade, electricity splintering through the glass handle, crackling from the intense pressure. She was too late. It had been summoned. She only managed to whisper, “You’ve trapped the devil here,” before an enormous bang exploded across the room. A surge of raw heat penetrated Juliet’s body, firing up her spine and bursting through the top of her skull. Almost immediately, Juliet was thrown backwards and slammed into the back wall. She dropped as her entire body hardened into crystalized rock.

  Leah tipped over onto her back as though she was too sleepy to remain upright.

  “Leah? Leah?” Catherine rushed to her and dropped to her knees. Leah remained unresponsive with Juliet’s Collector dagger protruding out of her chest cavity. Catherine touched her neck and felt a faint pulse. She didn’t dare touch the handle. “She’s alive, just unconscious. Oh my God, oh my God what have we done?”

  Dennis paced behind her, panicked and breathless. “I don’t know.”

  “We have to help her.”

  “How? How do we help her? Who could possibly know about all this stuff?”

  “Don’t your parents know? Surely, Lady and Lord Moore—”

  “My parents? They’re halfway in the grave themselves, they can barely remember to put on pants let alone deal with…whatever this is.” Dennis waved toward Leah.

  “Dennis, we need serious help. We need to undo the spell. Mortalem is trapped of her, I…I don’t even know if Leah can survive something that like. We need a witch. A really, really powerful witch!”

  “Have you ever heard of any witch being able to cast Mortalem out? Only a God could help us.”

  Catherine sat back onto her heels. “Or something close to a God.” Dennis turned back to her, slowly understanding. Catherine said. “What we need is a wish.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight:

  Sam watched the mob form in front of two men in the middle of the busy market street. He stood on the sideline, hidden beneath his hat, turned up collar, and a basket of fruit tucked under his arm. The mob booed the two locked up men and threw rotten tomatoes at them, chanting derogatory comments at their bowed heads. The ground was soon covered in the smashed food, bleeding red over the roads.

  “Sam?” Abigail hailed him over, tearing his concentration away. “More political riots? What on earth is happening over in Divin Cadeau?”

  “I don’t think this is a political fight. Not this time.”

  Together they returned to the massive clock tower where they had been living for the past few weeks. The twenty-storey climb killed his calves, making excursions into town a gruelling exercise. The older witch, Ma lived secluded behind the face of the giant clock, turning the cogs, bells, and beams into clotheslines and racks for her many trinkets. Wind chimes tickled at every turn of the hour, shifting at the sudden drop of the hour hand. Rugs covered most of the wooden floorboards, turning the dusty attic into a warm, colorful home. Abigail’s coven of witches Abigail were made up majority of the homeless, refusing to partake in currency, society, or any mundane human lifestyle. It made sense that most of the coven elected to live inside caves beyond the reach of man. Ma, on the other hand, felt that living in the face of the largest clock tower gave her a better view, therefore understanding and predication, over the entire world.

  Sam kicked his shoes off at the entrance, now only noticing the red stain over his heels. Damn. These were my favorite pair too.

  “Doesn’t that boy ever stop talking?” Ma impatiently shushed Sam without looking up from her books. The grey in her long hair was covered in oil, changing the colors into blues and greens. The multiple layers she wore fattened out her tiny frame, convincing Sam she was larger and stronger than she appeared.

  “I haven’t said a word.” Sam glanced at Abigail, confused. “Plus, I’ve been out getting supplies for the past two hours, you couldn’t possible have heard me speak.”

  “I could hear you thinking the whole way there and back,” Ma snapped. She picked up a cooper cup and started grinding the red powder into paste. “It’s very annoying.”

  “Now I know where you get your charm,” Sam grumbled at Abigail.

  “Better her yelling at you than yelling at me.” Abigail knelt beside Klaus’ sleeping body stretched out across layers of blankets, the rock casting now spread across the majority of his torso, climbing up his neck and across his heart.

  “Out of the way, Billy.” Ma shoved past Sam again.

  “It’s Sam,” he quietly corrected. “You should know that by now. We’ve met at least a hundred times before.”

  Ma slowed. “Didn’t I shoot you?”

  “No, Ma. Not him.” Abigail said quickly.

  “You shot someone?” Sam said, terrified and amused.

  Ma turned and pulled on Abigail’s elbow for her to follow her out onto the balcony. “The nightingales are ready tonight. With the full moon, we can remove whatever has ailed this man.”

  “Yes, Ma.”

  “You must ensure the soil has been sweetened.”

  “I said yes, Ma, I’m not a child.”

  Sam settled down next to Klaus and continued to dab the sweat off his forehead. Sunlight caressed Klaus’ cheekbone and set shadows across his turned head. If it wasn’t for his thick brows furrowed inwards, he would’ve looked rather peaceful. He eyed his mouth and traced the taunt muscle down Klaus’ neck and onto his open shirt. He was a man built for battle. The vacant scent of gunpowder filled Sam’s nose, bringing him back to the grunt of war, his skin glistened with sweat and where the earth rattled beneath his feet, pumping his heart with adrenaline. He imagined Klaus would do quite well at war, huddled with him in the trenches. Sam’s attention shifted behind him as another argument broke out between Abigail and Ma, who were so identical in personality they could’ve been fighting with a mirror.

  “Women,” he said, careful to keep his voice down. “I wonder if you ever had trouble with women.” Sam checked his left hand, noting the lack of a ring. “Not married. A bachelor, just like me. Can’t be much older than I am. Are you also fleeing the chains of marriage, I wonder? Is that what cursed you? A scorned woman? There’s still unrest in the outside world, mostly political problems revolving around the Beaumont’s. I don’t tend to follow the qualms of the powerhouses. My voice alone can’t rise against religion and moral decency, so I stay where I can make a difference. War can be brutal, but it’s a place I can be …well, me. I almost envy you. No one there to pressure you. No hearts to be broken. The only thing you have to worry about is surviving.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re starting up again with your running monologues!” Abigail teased from behind him. “We won’t need this potion with you chatting into his ear constantly. Surely, he’ll wake up just to slap you quiet.”

  Sam laughed. “Well, I may as well enjoy it before he starts yelling at me, too.” Behind him, he heard Ma’s disgruntled mumblings. Sam bit back his smile. He glanced at Klaus, eager to see this mysterious man awaken.

  #

  A warm presence ran up and down through the darkness of his mind. It was bodiless, weightless, just a break of light through the shadows. No one there to pressure you. No hearts to be broken. The voice left quakes behind it and Klaus clung to it like a life raft against the storm. His only path back was through the echoing voice, this faceless stranger who carried far more importance than he perhaps understood.

  The only thing you have to worry about is surviving. Klaus took a long breath, trying to tighten his invisible grip on the invisible presence. In the long moments of its absence, the silence felt fatal. The voice spoke to him for weeks, but it felt like a lifetime of memorising the tickle of its tone. His name, Sam, became a root to return to. Elizabeth’s face appeared in flashes, but the more time passed, the less Klaus was able to see the details of her. Blue eyes, faded. White hair, blurred. Her voice deepened into the man’s voice above him. As she disappeared, Sam’s presence grew stronger. Well, I may as well enjoy it before he starts yel
ling at me too.

  Silence returned. Klaus’ grip fumbled, trying to hang onto an echo rolling further out of reach. Hours passed, but it felt like years trapped within his own crumbling conscience. Silence suffocated the air, until he heard the voice again. Klaus leapt for it, grabbing the edges desperately.

  For the last time it’s not Billy, it’s Sam. Klaus mentally closed his eyes, trying to picture a life where he had to cling to this man’s voice forever. It was madness and left him vulnerable, weak, yet despite his pain, his instinct couldn’t allow Klaus a moment of surrender. Over here? Yes, okay, no need to shout I’ll move it. A moment of not looking for the voice was an eternity in death. Careful, you’re going to set the whole place on fire.

  Do you need me for anything?

  Don’t leave. Klaus tried to beg. Please don’t leave.

  I won’t.

  Klaus’ mind buzzed, momentarily hopeful he had somehow communicated with Sam, thinking he had broken through to the other side. Behind the darkness, flashes of pain appeared. He felt tiny prickles along his arms. He was thinking, understanding, feeling again. He sensed a dangerous manifestation move over him. The smell of burnt hair and aromatic smoke lingered from a lifetime of practising witchcraft. A witch?

  “Time Collector,” a withered old voice accused. It smacked Klaus out of his daydreaming. It was real. Firm, loud, not an echo of a distant dream. It also wasn’t Sam’s voice. Someone else’s. Klaus strained to open his eyes. Danger pricked at the back of his neck. “Nothing but evil follows your poisoned promises.”

  “Wait, stop!” Sam’s voice rang clear. Klaus’s attention jumped to where it orientated from. His eyes fluttered madly, trying desperately to open. “What are you doing?”

  Klaus’ energy returned in pulses of heat. His eyes slowly opened and pain rippled into the back of his head. Darkness, but with flickers of orange. Warm light. A moon’s caress. Among the blurs only Sam’s face was clear. He had caught the swing of the witch’s attack, stopping her from piercing Klaus’s heart.