“Thanks, Mallory. Contact me the instant anything out of the ordinary happens, okay?”
“Of course. So, are you taking your lovely assistant Felicity to London with you?”
“Yeah, my dad wants her to go to headquarters with me. He probably wants to question her about me. He sent her to spy on me, after all, so he’s interested in me in some way, even if he doesn’t usually show it.”
“He’s interested, Alec. You’re his son.”
“He didn’t even send a rescue team when I was stuck in Faerie.”
“You weren’t stuck in Faerie.”
“He didn’t know that. Felicity called him and told him I’d been gone for five days. That should have been enough for him to be concerned. He should have sent that rescue team.”
“He didn’t have to,” Mallory said, looking into my eyes, “because he knew you’d be okay. He has total trust in you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. I drank the last of my coffee and put the empty mug in the sink. “If he trusted me, he wouldn’t have sent Felicity to spy on me.”
She frowned. “Hmm, you have a point.”
“Want to go down in the basement and train?” I asked her.
She looked at me with a mock-sultry look. “How can I refuse an offer like that?” she asked huskily.
I laughed. “Come on, we can spar with the swords. Have you been practicing?”
“Enough to beat your ass,” she said as we descended the steps to the basement. The entire basement area was dedicated to training. With a heavy bag, an assortment of training dummies, free weights, kettlebells, a rack of weapons, and a large padded area for sparring, it had everything I needed to stay fit and sharp. The only drawback to having a training area in the basement was the lack of ventilation, which meant the place smelled faintly of sweat all the time. I’d placed large fans in all corners of the room to keep the air circulating but the basement still smelled like a gym locker room.
I’d learned to use various weapons at the Academy of Shadows and most of those weapons had been archaic, like the sword and dagger. These were deemed by the Society to be the best way to kill monsters and every investigator had to be highly proficient in their use.
When I’d first met Mallory, she’d been conducting her own personal manhunt for Mister Scary, the killer responsible for an event dubbed by the media as the Bloody Summer Night Massacre. Mallory, using only her wits, improvised weapons, and a great deal of courage, had survived that event. In fact, she had been the only survivor, dubbed the Final Girl by TV stations, papers, radio stations, and news sites all over the world.
I had taught her everything I knew about fighting with edged weapons, as well as some blunt ones such as fighting sticks and shinai, the cane weapons used in Kendo. Mallory had been focused and diligent in her training and despite me asking her earlier if she had been practicing, I knew she spent as much time as she could with the weapons or just beating hell out of the training dummies and heavy bags. She was driven by a desire to find and kill Mister Scary and that drive motivated her to train hard.
We removed our footwear and stepped onto the mats that covered the floor in the sparring area. Mallory grabbed two bokken, wooden training swords shaped like katana, and tossed one over to me. I adjusted my weight so I was balanced on the balls of my feet and gripped the bokken lightly in both hands. Mallory did the same, facing me with a determined look in her eyes.
I attempted a swift, sneaky blow before we had even agreed to start, arcing my sword at Mallory’s midriff. She was ready for it. Stepping back slightly, she countered my strike with an expert block. The wooden blades made a loud thunk when they connected. The sound echoed around the basement.
“Good,” I said, stepping forward, resetting my position. “You were ready for that attack.”
“I was ready for you to cheat, if that’s what you mean,” she said, feinting to the right. I fell for it and lifted my sword to block the blow I thought was coming from that direction. Mallory reversed her movement and landed a blow on my left thigh. The impact of the solid wood against my muscle made me wince. These may have been training swords but they could still deliver a painful blow. My natural reaction was to step back but I forced myself to ignore that instinct and stepped forward, thrusting the tip of my sword at Mallory’s shoulder. It connected, spinning her around, throwing her off balance.
I moved forward to follow up the strike by sweeping my wooden blade against Mallory’s legs. She was already stumbling so I aimed to make her lose her balance completely and send her sprawling to the mat, but I hoped that she had remembered the counter move I’d taught her a while ago against such an attack.
I felt a sense of satisfaction when she thrust her sword down to block my attack and then planted her feet firmly on the mat, regaining her balance. I was so busy being pleased that I failed to notice the wooden blade of her sword swing up toward me. By the time I saw the move, I felt the impact of Mallory’s bokken against my ribs.
Mallory stepped backward, out of my reach, and grinned. “Trying to get me on the ground? You’ll have to do better than that, Alec.”
“Okay,” I said, “I’ll stop holding back.”
She laughed. “Oh, of course, you’re holding back. Why didn’t I notice that? Could it be because … you aren’t?” She lunged forward suddenly, swinging her sword at my shoulder.
I crouched and brought up my own sword to block the blow. The blade thunked together for a brief moment and then parted as Mallory began a second attack, this one aimed at my arm.
I threw myself back onto the mat, rolling out of the way of Mallory’s attack and springing to my feet as she jumped forward to attack me a third time. Mallory’s sword described a perfect arc as she struck at chest height. I parried the attack, the blades whacking together noisily. If that attack had connected, it would have hurt.
Mallory was sweating and panting, a determined expression fixed on her pretty face. She was giving it her all, desperate to land a strike.
I was totally on the defensive, trying to avoid being hit by her attacks as they rained down on me. I deflected two more strikes, then a third that had been aimed at my head. I moved out of Mallory’s reach, giving myself time to catch my breath. “Hey, that last one was a little too close for comfort.”
“Maybe you should stop holding back then,” she said, grinning.
“Oh, so you want to play rough, do you?”
She braced herself, sensing that I was about to attack.
But I didn’t move forward with my sword in hand. Instead, I threw the swords at her face, knowing she would bat it away with her own sword but hoping that would give me time to shoot under her defenses and take her down to the mat.
My sword spun through the air toward Mallory and I followed it, staying low, planning to grab her around the waist and overbalance her.
Mallory batted away my sword as I’d known she would but she also side-stepped out of my way. My momentum sent me sprawling to the mat, knocking the air out of my lungs. I rolled onto my back, ready to get up, but Mallory was on top of me, straddling my chest, trying to pin my hands with her own. Her sword was gone, tossed to the mat next to mine.
She looked down at me, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her T-shirt. Her long hair brushed my face. It smelled of peaches.
I was too strong to be pinned by Mallory but I had to admit I was enjoying being in this position, so I didn’t struggle too much.
“I win,” Mallory said, looking down at me, her pretty face framed by her tumbling auburn hair.
“Okay, okay, you win,” I said. Then I added, “Unless I planned for this to happen,”
“No way, Alec, you didn’t plan any of this.”
I grinned. “Still, I end up being straddled by a beautiful girl, so who’s the real winner here?”
Her expression softened slightly and she dropped her face to mine. Our lips met and we kissed long and hard. My hands slid out from beneath Mallory’s and wen
t to her waist. I held her there gently while we kissed.
After a couple of beats, she pulled away and got to her feet. “Alec, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
I sat up on the mat. “Hey, don’t blame yourself. It was my fault just as much as yours.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, pacing back and forth on the mat. She was anxious, on edge. Her hands balled into fists then released over and over while she moved like a caged animal.
“Mallory, don’t get upset over this,” I said. “We’ll just forget it ever happened.”
“Like the last time we kissed? And what about the next time? How many times will be trying to forget things that happen between us?”
“I’m only saying to forget it because….”
“I know why you’re saying it, Alec. When I asked you to help me get over my fear of sex, I told you it was a no-strings-attached arrangement. And that worked out just fine … for a while. But now, it’s becoming confusing. It’s becoming more than what it was supposed to be.”
I went to her and put my hands lightly on her shoulders. “Is that a bad thing? Who says we can’t just see where this leads?”
“I say.” She pulled away from me and stalked over to the area where the heavy bag hung from the ceiling. “I’m broken, Alec. Mister Scary ruined my life. He ruined me.” She lashed out at the bag with a right hook, followed by a left.
I wanted to go to her, to hold her and tell her that everything would be okay, but I had the feeling that would only make things worse. I let her take out her frustration on the heavy bag. Eventually, her punches weakened and she sank to the ground.
That’s when I went to her. I sat on the floor next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. She leaned against me and whispered, “Will I ever be okay, Alec?”
“You’re okay now,” I told her.
“Just okay?” she asked, a trace of humor returning to her voice.
“Well, I don’t want you to get too big-headed,” I said.
She looked at me and said, “Thanks, Alec,” before kissing me lightly on the cheek and getting to her feet. “I need to hit the shower.” As if all her concerns were suddenly forgotten, she hummed to herself as she walked to the shower room.
“I need to go pack,” I told her. “You want pizza tonight?”
“Sounds good to me,” she said before she closed the door to the shower room. A few seconds later, I heard the shower start up. Then Mallory began singing.
I went upstairs, feeling bad for her. She was trying her best to stay positive but I knew that the lack of leads regarding Mister Scary’s whereabouts was getting her down. I also knew that Mallory’s mental defense against feeling low was to tell herself that once Mister Scary was dead, her problems would vanish. I was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen, but I wasn’t going to shatter the only illusion that gave her hope of working past her issues.
Hell, for all I knew, maybe killing Mister Scary would cure her of her problems. I wasn’t a therapist, just a concerned friend who would be there to offer support if Mallory needed it.
In my bedroom, I chose the smallest piece of luggage I owned—a weekend bag—and placed it on the bed. I didn’t intend to spend much time in London; I needed to be back here as soon as possible to deal with whoever was after the Box of Midnight. Whatever my father wanted could probably be dealt with by email or a phone call but he had a penchant for face-to-face meetings, even if it meant I had to fly halfway across the world to be told some scrap of information that he deemed too important to trust to electronic communication.
I’d just finished throwing a few items of clothing into the bag, reminding myself that it would be colder in London than it was here, when the doorbell rang.
“I’ve got it,” Mallory shouted from downstairs.
Then, a minute later, she shouted, “Alec, Felicity’s here.”
Deciding I’d packed more than enough for a brief trip to London, I closed the weekend bag and put it outside the bedroom door on my way downstairs. I found Felicity in the living room, along with Mallory, who was dressed in gray sweats and drying her hair with a towel.
“Alec,” Felicity said, “I’ve found something I think you’ll be interested in.” She looked much happier than she had when I’d dropped her outside her house. In fact, she seemed to be excited about something. She had a folded piece of paper in her hand but I couldn’t make out what was printed on it.
“Okay, what is it?” I asked.
“You may want to sit down,” she said, indicating the sofa.
I sat, wondering what could get Felicity so excited. Mallory was perched on the arm of the easy chair and had stopped drying her hair for a moment, obviously as intrigued as I was by Felicity’s manner.
“I think I know how to get your memory back,” Felicity said. Her dark eyes flickered from me to Mallory and back again.
“How?” I asked.
“First I need to explain something. As well as researching the Box of Midnight, I’ve been looking into magical ways of restoring lost memories. Since you told me about Paris and the fact that you can’t remember what happened there, I thought it would be important for you to get those memories back. Especially because it was during that time that you sent the Box of Midnight to yourself.”
“Okay, so what did you find?”
“There was a statue in ancient Egypt of a god named Hapi. He was supposedly responsible for the flooding of the Nile every year, the flood that irrigates and nourishes the barren land. Well, it seems that in the city of Heracleion, on the banks of the Nile, there was an eighteen-foot-tall statue of Hapi that was said to have magical powers. Just as the god supposedly brought the flood to restore the land, so could the statue restore things to the mind of anyone who touched it and recited a magical formula. As you know, most Egyptian magic is based on sounds and words. I did a study into the theory of magical sonics a couple of years ago when I….”
“The statue, Felicity,” I said, bringing her back on track.
“Yes, of course, the statue. Where was I? Oh, yes, the statue had the power to restore things to the mind. People went to the temple and, under the guidance of the priests, touched the statue and recited the formula to remember things they’d forgotten. Some people did it to remember dreams. So I was thinking the statue could help you remember what happened in Paris. Maybe its power could unlock that magical door in your head.”
It sounded reasonable. I didn’t have any better ideas for getting my memories back. “Where was this statue?”
“In the temple at Heracleion.”
I cast my mind back to the lessons on ancient Egypt I’d taken at the Academy of Shadows. “Didn’t the city of Heracleion sink into the Nile?”
“Yes, it did,” Felicity said, nodding. “In the year 800 A.D.”
“So we’re going to have some trouble finding this ancient statue.”
“No, we’re not,” she said, unfolding the piece of paper she’d been holding. “Look at this.” She held it in front of my face so I could see what was printed on it.
It was a flyer for the British Museum in London. Felicity had printed it from the museum’s website. There was a photo of a diver swimming next to the head of a large statue on what looked like a riverbed. The flyer was advertising a special exhibition at the museum called Sunken Cities and promised that the treasures of the sunken cities Heracleion and Canopus were on display from May to November
“Is that the statue?” I asked Felicity, pointing to the statue in the photo.
“Yes, that’s the statue. And it’s on display right now at the British Museum in London.”
“So you’d researched the statue and tonight you found out that it was at the museum in London, where we’re going tomorrow?” It all sounded too coincidental. I became paranoid when pieces fit together so neatly, because that synchronicity might mean that magic was involved somehow.
Felicity shook her head. “No, I was looking at what shows and exhibitions were on in London at
the moment and I found this on the British Museum’s website. You know how much I love relics and antiquities. I’d come across the statue of Hapi in my research already but I didn’t put two and two together until I saw it on the website.”
“I see.” So she’d been looking for places to visit in London during our trip. Probably somewhere to take Jason. I wondered if he shared Felicity’s love of relics and antiquities.
“So is it worth a try?” she asked me. “I can find the magical formula from the old Egyptian texts that are scanned on the database.”
“Won’t the statue be behind glass or something?” Mallory asked.
“Probably not,” I said. “They keep some items behind glass there but most items, especially larger ones, just have a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign next to them.” I turned my attention to Felicity. “Okay, if you can get that formula tonight, I’ll give it a shot. There’s nothing to lose, except being kicked out of the museum.”
“I’ll go and find it right away,” Felicity said, heading for the door.
“We’re ordering pizza,” I told her. “You want to bring your laptop over and do the research here?”
Her dark eyes flickered to Mallory then back to me. “No, thanks. I’ve got a microwave meal waiting for me next door.”
“Okay, but if you change your mind, just come over when you see the pizza guy.”
She smiled, but it seemed forced. “Thanks, Alec. I’ll see you in the morning.” She left and I locked the front door after her.
When I returned to the living room, Mallory was shaking her head slowly at me.
“What?” I asked.
“There’s no way she was going to stay for pizza, Alec. You know she doesn’t like me.”
“What do you mean? Of course she does.”
Mallory pointed her finger at me than back at herself. “She’s confused about what’s going on here.”
“Between us?”
She nodded. “Look at it from her point of view. You’ve known me for years. We’ve been living together for the past two weeks. She sees how easy we are in each other’s company. It makes her feel uncomfortable. She’s confused.”
The Harbinger PI Box Set Page 20
