Elizabeth nodded. “Catherine did call the house asking about you.”
“She’s not planning on stabbing me again, is she?” Klaus asked.
“No, but she did seem rather panicked. She said they needed your help.”
“They?”
“The Guardians.”
“Inviting me over for round two?” Klaus snorted and turned away. “They really think I’m going to allow them the chance?”
Elizabeth gulped uneasily. “Klaus, listen, they summoned Mortalem.”
Klaus’ spine stiffened. His heart pulsed loudly against his ear. They had done it? Summoned the gargoyle? But how? He stepped back and gripped his hair, fighting the urge to fall into his panic.
“I don’t know much detail, but it’s trapped inside of Leah French.” Elizabeth watched him pace anxiously.
“Are you positive?”
“That’s what they said. They have her over in Gothsworth with Lady Rose.”
Klaus stepped back, his mind racing as fast as his heart. First Nikolas, then the bone shard poison and now Mortalem. Klaus turned away and started making his way toward the station. Elizabeth quickly put her cup down and chased after him. “Klaus? So, you do intend to go?”
“Of course, I’m going,” he snapped over his shoulder. “And once I throw that creature back into the spirit world, I’m going to beat them all into a pulp.”
#
Decay forked around the bricks of the Bell Front towers, sinking potholes along the roads and paths of the surrounding streets. The stench of witches was always easy to find. The birth place of witches stemmed from disease, more importantly, the crossover of Bact and human through long transitions. All witches are born human, and so share human qualities such as their appearance, logical thinking, problem solving, and emotions, but through ritual and many years of ingesting Bact blood they mutate with abilities to connect with cosmic energy, mainly belonging to nature. The more they practised, the heavier the toll took on their human form, deforming them and taking away their humanity. Many of the older witches ceased looking and acting like humans at all, making it possible to extend their life beyond the normal capacity. It also made it impossible for Collectors to take time from them. The lack of a human soul—the only energy Collectors were interested in.
Their human side limited their reach with the magical arts, but gave gives them powerful insight to the secrets of the world. A witch could read the lines of war through the broken stem of a flower. They could smell death in a breeze. Nikolas hoped they understood the powerful bond which enslaved him to Elizabeth. Many witches lived outside of society, taking to caves and the woods, except for one. Nikolas approached the Bell Front Towers and stopped outside of the witch’s hideout. He could smell her power all over the walls, cementing her presence in the very cogs of the clock tower.
An invisible blockage barged the entrance to the attic, blocking him from entering. Spells marked the doorway, freshly chiselled into the woodwork. A protection spell? Nice try. His gremlins sank into the frame and dissolved the wood until the marks warped. Nikolas stepped through.
His attention immediately went to the frozen body of a young soldier draped in a quilt. His horrified expression didn’t match the warm setting of the witch’s den. Gremlins bubbled around him. This is Klaus’ work.
The floorboard creaked behind him. He spun in time to catch the wild swing of a young witch trying to stab him with a wooden spike. He grabbed her wrist and kicked out her legs easily, sending her into the ground. “Hello witch.” He looked over her, quickly determining her age. She was too human, the smell of her witchcraft dulled with her inexperience. Not powerful enough, and not the scent he was chasing. An apprentice, of course. “Where’s the other one?”
A distinct smell filled the room seconds before a thick fog completely doused the room, blinding Nikolas’ sight behind a haze of white. He recognized the scent and blindingly pulled the young witch to his chest where he held the Collector’s knife to her throat. “Drop it!” he shouted. “Drop the spell, now!”
Seconds later, the smoke dispersed and the older witch stepped out from hiding. Nikolas didn’t lower his blade as gremlins bubbled and popped in their excitement.
“Careful, Collector.” The older witch, Ma, slowly stepped around him. “I can throw you out the window with one look.”
“You can try, but I’ll be taking this girl with me,” Nikolas said. The witch eased her hands up, showing her sign of cooperation. In his grip, Abigail’s body shook. “Obviously, you understand what I am and what I am capable of.” Nikolas said.
Ma nodded slowly.
Nikolas continued, “Collector bonds, what do you know of them?”
“We do not help your kind.”
“Oh, really? Something tells me you do.” Nikolas indicated to the soldier’s body. “A Time Collector’s handy work, is it not? Does the name Klaus ring any bells? I’m only going to ask you once more before I plunge this knife into this girl’s throat and add her to your statue collection.”
“Bonds are obedience spells, linking Collectors to their masters.”
“How do I break the bond?”
“I cannot help.”
“Am I not clear about your cooperation?” He pressed the tip into Abigail’s neck, lightly cutting her. Abigail tensed and craned her head away. From the puncture point crystals started to form.
“Ma!?”
“What I mean is there’s no spell I can offer,” Ma said. “The only creature powerful enough is no friend to Collectors.”
“Tell me!”
Ma took a steady breath, calming her tone. “The gargoyle Mortalem, of course.”
Mortalem? Nikolas bared his teeth. “You speak of the destroyer of the supernatural?”
“It has been summoned by a black stone Bact.”
“It’s here?”
“Trapped. Inside the body of a Guardian. Look for the old water plants surrounded by the dead nests of Bactes.”
“How do you know all of this?”
Ma motioned to the row of decaying plants along the balcony. “It’s written in the decay. Mortalem has crossed over. The Bactes grow in power. A Collector lies trapped.”
“Guardians, huh? I know exactly whom you speak of.” Nikolas dropped Abigail and shoved her away. Abigail pulled a knife from her ankle boot and swung around only to cut empty air.
Chapter Forty-One:
Klaus and Elizabeth boarded the large airship to make the long trip across country to Gothsworth. The airship glided across the skies. The large balloon housed rows of seats, cafes, an indoor garden, and open balconies for people to look over the railings. Clouds settled overhead, casting a long, grey blanket across the horizon. Klaus’ eyes trailed down his arm, his fingers lightly touching the taint of Nikolas’ corruption.
“What did you wish for?” he asked.
Elizabeth turned away from the window at his question. She glanced down at his arm and reached across to soothe the rash. “You have it too?”
“When it comes to magical wounds, we are connected.” Klaus pulled his sleeve down. “What did you wish for?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” she answered honestly. She wasn’t sure what she’d asked of Nikolas, or what exactly he’d done for her. He saved her life. That was one thing she knew for sure, but felt reluctant to tell Klaus about the betrayal of her sister and the comfort from Nikolas. It all felt private. Something to be hidden.
Klaus gently nodded and then turned away, showing disinterest in further conversation. He proceeded to act cold toward her for the rest of the trip, pretending to be interested in the inflight newspaper to avoid her questions. And as they walked, he intentionally walked too fast, making it difficult for Elizabeth to keep up. Every time she checked to see if everything was okay, he’d feign ignorance and brush it aside. He couldn’t explain exactly why he acted this way. It wasn’t his disinterest in her company, despite his body language saying that it was. Whenever they were alone together, he couldn’t help but
feel overwhelmed by her. As soon as they sat in the car Lady Rose sent to collect them at the port, he understood the feeling. Vulnerability.
Gothsworth consisted of large columns of houses stacked on top of each other like shelves and domed around a grand cathedral in the centre. Bridges connected the segregated community in criss-crossing channels, while automatic trolleys moved up and down each column in massive, cage elevators. The entire complex resembled a beehive, a city squashed into four quarter circles. The entire community had been jammed packed so tightly together that the only space remaining was on top of their neighbours’ roof. As earthquakes were the deathly fear of the city, they installed massive steam powered pegs that gripped the earth and stabilized the entire foundation.
Elizabeth craned her head back as the high-rise towers disappeared into the low hanging clouds. Even with the giant pegs, the buildings would wobble and shift. Lady Rose lived at the top of the tower, which must have been seen as a luxury. The driver escorted Klaus and Elizabeth to one of the pulleys and it clicked and clanked its way up the structure, passing by other houses so close Elizabeth could see through their front windows. She gripped the handle bar as the open cage swayed with the wind.
The trolley came to a shaky stop outside the top house, opening up to the rock garden and outwards to a massive earth colored two-storey manor. At the front door, they were greeted by an elegant woman waiting for them.
A tight French braid kept her brown hair away from her face. “My word,” she gasped, “I don’t believe it.” Lady Rose leant closer to Elizabeth before grasping her hands. “You must be Miss Elizabeth. You’re a splitting image of William.”
“Lady Rose, thank you your hospitality.” Elizabeth curtsied.
Lady Rose touched the end of Elizabeth’s hair fondly, as if cherishing a memory. “Such beautiful manners, I wish such grace would rub off on my own daughter. You must call me Aunt Rose, I insist. You are family, it is only proper. My brother always did speak so fondly of you. I admit, we didn’t always see eye to eye, but I miss him like he was part of my own soul. I’m so happy to see a piece of him remains within you.” She looked over at Klaus and tightened her voice. Her kindness dropped just as fast as her smile. “You must be the Collector.”
Klaus noted the unwelcomed greeting and cleared his throat. “Klaus Dietrich. I understand if you feel uncomfortable around me.”
“Uncomfortable is an understatement.”
“Elizabeth? Klaus?” Catherine’s voice carried from the back of the hall. She rushed over to greet them. “I’m glad to see you are alright, thank you for coming.”
“Tsk, Catherine you must welcome your guests like a proper young noble woman,” Lady Rose corrected her, and then turned to Elizabeth with an exhausted smile. “Fifteen years of schooling and she still can’t get it right.”
Catherine rolled her eyes and quickly curtsied. “We don’t have time for pleasantries, mother.”
“Without social etiquette, we may as well grunt around like animals.”
Elizabeth curtsied back warmly. “I’m glad to see you’re okay, as well.”
Catherine’s attention moved to Klaus’s arm, and her eyebrow pinched in confusion at his perfect health. Klaus quickly spoke before she could ask any questions. “Where is she?”
Catherine indicated over her shoulder. “This way.”
Upstairs in one of the guest rooms, Leah French slept plugged to a heart monitor. She might’ve looked peaceful if it wasn’t for the blade protruding out of her ribcage. Dennis sat by her bedside. He stood up but didn’t hide his displeasure at Elizabeth’s and Klaus’ return.
“Creature,” he greeted Klaus coldly, before looking at Elizabeth. “And the traitor.”
“Dennis!” Catherine scolded, when Klaus stormed across the room and punched Dennis with such strength he fell off balance. Dennis’ head bounced off the wall before he slumped to the ground unconscious. Catherine and Elizabeth leapt forward to pull Klaus back. Klaus shook their hands off him.
Catherine checked Dennis’ pulse. “Elizabeth, do you mind fetching me some wet towels please?”
Elizabeth glanced between them and quickly left. Klaus paced around Leah, clearly irritated. Undetected to the common ear was a low pitch ring originating from the blade. He recognized the weapon. It belonged to an old Collector friend, Juliet Christ. The fact it had parted from her was is not a good sign.
“I think you’ve quite injured him.” Catherine heaved Dennis up and placed him on a chair. His head rolled downward, revealing the faint bruises starting to swell over his temple.
Klaus scoffed, uncaring. “How could I? There cannot be anything in there to worry about injuring.” He then leaned closer to inspect the heavy cracks throughout the blade’s glass handle. “What happened?”
Catherine stepped beside him. “An elder Bact did this. The same one you encountered at the paper mill. She slit her own throat to summon Mortalem, but a Collector jumped in and pierced Leah with her blade before the ritual was complete. The Collector turned to stone, just like what happened with your arm, but this time she was completely crystallised from head to toe.” Catherine’s eyes moved back to Klaus’ arm. “How did you fix your arm?”
“A witch,” he said, dismissively. “Back to the point, are you telling me the Bactes helped you summon it?”
“They weren’t really given a choice.”
Klaus growled and turned away. “Such brainless creatures.”
“Can you help?” Catherine followed after him. “I know we have acted out of hurt and pain, and I see now that summoning Mortalem was a terrible, idiotic mistake but—”
Klaus spun back. “A mistake? That’s putting it lightly. What do you expect me to do? No wish can rip Mortalem out of your friend’s body.”
“If not you, then what creature can help us?”
Klaus snarled, his voice full of mocking spite. “Oh, I’m sure if you were clever enough to draw Mortalem out then you’ll have a plan to put it back inside. Didn’t you once say it was like a lion in a cage?”
Catherine asked, flustered. “And the blade?”
“Only the Collector who owns it can remove it and she’s been turned to stone. My, what a conundrum you’ve created here.”
Catherine grabbed his arm. “Enough of your mocking. I understand the situation. If you cannot help us with this, then perhaps you can help me with something else.” She chewed on her lip, her nervousness suddenly showing. “There are two reasons I called you here.”
Klaus straightened his posture. “A wish?”
She quickly nodded. “I cannot bear to think he is…” She stopped herself before she could utter the word. “Please, I need you to find him as fast as you can and bring Hudson back to me.”
#
The wretched smell could have knocked him over. Nikolas stepped out of the shadows at the curb of the water plantation and immediately covered his nose with his sleeve. The witch spoke the truth. There was a trail of Bact’s exterminations leading up to a large nest outside of Lovibond. The gremlins quickly dispersed over the empty lot, each propelling toward a different area of the massive planation. It didn’t take long before a small number of gremlins reported back with news of a corpse.
Nikolas traced the gremlins inside the infested warehouse where the touches of Bactes saturated the entire building. It was hard to ignore the witch’s words. The Bactes’ stench reflected their power and the touch of their decay reached beyond normal perimeters. Inside, he came across the rotten corpse of the elder Bact, a long, deep gash sliced across its neck. A week old, if he had to guess.
Yet, it was not the corpse that attracted his interest, but that of Juliet’s collapsed body not far from the creature. Nikolas knelt beside her and touched her freezing cheek. Her cocooned body was trapped beneath cold stone, her mouth open and her hair clumped together and fanned out behind her head. She had landed and frozen simultaneously. He lifted her trench coat to where her belt was, revealing the empty sheath for her Collec
tor’s blade.
Gently, Nikolas cupped his palm over Juliet’s forehead. She wasn’t dead. He could feel the warmth of her thoughts against his hand, but she wasn’t consciously thinking either, more like she was dreaming. He mastered up enough strength to dig into her mind, drawing up her last moments.
The Guardians. A ritual. Panic. A blonde female slumped against the ground. A nest of twenty Bactes watched behind the darkness. Catherine, she was there too, pinned beneath the bodies of two elder Bactes. Her armor uniform was crushed. The smell of Bact blood assaulted their nostrils. The whistling of Mortalem’s presence. Darkness swelled. He caught a glimpse of orange eyes. Juliet speared her blade into the woman’s chest. Suddenly, white fire burnt over her view. Everything snapped shut.
Pain threw his head back, causing him to drop the memory. The last few images continued to burn across his mind. His knees buckled. Blood trickled down his nose and he wiped it off. Mortalem. Gremlins scurried and buzzed. He threw them forward, anxiously.
“Find Catherine.”
They bolted, catching her scent before hitting a blockage. Klaus’s natural repellent. He is with them. “Find the blonde woman.”
The gremlins scurried ahead before rebounding off again. Something inside his head pinged, catching Elizabeth’s scent as though she were a vacuum pulling him toward her. It dragged his gremlins across the city and into Gothsworth. She was in the bathroom rinsing towels hurriedly under a tap. She turned and rushed down a hallway. The gremlins followed her into a bedroom where the blonde-haired woman rested.
“Catherine? Klaus?” Elizabeth called into the bedroom. Juliet’s missing blade stuck out of the woman’s chest cavity. Elizabeth stepped around the bed cautiously before tending to the unconscious redhead slumped across a chair. The gremlins scurried back into Nikolas’ shadow. He knew where they were.
Chapter Forty-Two:
Hudson collapsed back onto the mattress. His mind spun, dark shadows pressing into the peripherals of his vision, distorting the walls around him. Images clashed. Old touches of familiar faces. He had been asleep for so long. His last memory blurred behind the haze of her spell.
Time Weaver Page 27
