The Brothers Three: Book One of The Blackwood Saga

by Layton Green

  The bar got busy. The longer Will was left alone with his thoughts, the more agitated he became, until the agitation turned into full-on depression.

  He checked the time on his phone and noticed two missed calls from Charlie. Will was about to call him back when his older brother walked through the doorway.

  Will thought his state of mind was causing him to hallucinate, until Val spotted him and cocked his head with a mischievous grin. Will’s oldest brother looked the same as ever: just shy of six feet, trim but fit build, tired green eyes, and a diplomat’s poise. He wasn’t pretty like Caleb, but he had their father’s distinguished good looks. Women and men alike were drawn to Val’s confidence and force of will.

  Will rushed his brother and bear-hugged him, then lifted him up and plopped him down on a bar stool. “Why aren’t you fat yet, with all that big city lawyer food?”

  “Working eighteen hours a day will keep you lean,” Val said. “And trust me, as good as the food is in New York, it’s not New Orleans.”

  “Yeah, you right! I’ll take a crawfish boil over a white tablecloth any day. Not that I ever eat on white tablecloths. I didn’t expect to see you until Christmas—what’re you doing here? Why didn’t you call?”

  “Last minute client meeting in the morning,” Val said, “with one of the casino conglomerates. Since it’s down here, the firm sent me. I thought I’d surprise you.”

  Val ordered a burger and a glass of red wine from an equally shocked Caleb, who came around the bar to greet his brother. Val and Caleb had never seen eye to eye, but Will knew the love was there, buried beneath two opposite personalities. Caleb had always resented Val’s heavy hand, but Will knew Val just wanted to be a good influence. Their relationship had improved once Caleb turned twenty-one and left home, despite the fact that Caleb had used his portion of Dad’s paltry life insurance proceeds to move to a beach in Costa Rica. When the money ran out, he returned to New Orleans, started tending bar, and hadn’t moved an inch since.

  As the excitement of the reunion faded, Will’s stress returned. Unlike Val, who could keep a secret from God, Will had to tell someone about the Skull Collector. He was trying to figure out the right way to approach it when his cell vibrated.

  Charlie, yet again.

  “I’ll be back,” Will said to Val. “Charlie’s been blowing me up.”

  Will stepped outside and called Charlie back. “Is everything okay?”

  “I need to see you and Caleb. It’s urgent.”

  “Tonight? We’re at the bar, and Val just got in town.”

  “Even better,” Charlie said.

  “What’s going on? Should we come over?”

  “Better if I come to you. I need to do a few things first—is midnight too late?”

  “Not for us,” Will said, in a way that implied but it might be for a retired history professor.

  “Good. Can you meet me in the rear parking lot?”

  This was getting stranger and stranger. “You sure everything’s okay?”

  “I’ll explain when I see you. And Will? Best if you don’t leave the bar before I arrive.”

  Then he hung up. Will slowly pocketed his phone. Charles Zalinski was the gentlest man he’d ever known, and as far as Will knew, had never had a quarrel with anyone.

  So why shouldn’t Will leave the bar?

  -4-

  Will filed back inside, edgy. To add to the weirdness, on the way back to his seat he saw the same pin-headed grandpa with wiry eyebrows from the night before. He raised his glass as Will passed.

  Will stared back at him. “Do I know you?”

  “Not yet. Would you care for a drink?”

  His patience at the breaking point, Will stomped back to his stool and slammed his forearms on the bar.

  “What?” Val said.

  “Some weird codger in the corner keeps looking at me. And Charlie wants to meet us at midnight in the rear parking lot.”

  “Sorry?”

  Will put his hands up. “That’s what he said. He wants all three of us out there.”

  “Us and the weird old codger?”

  Will chuckled, despite his mood. “Us and Caleb.”

  Will spent the next few hours catching up with Val. Just before midnight they followed Caleb through the back door. “I can take a smoke break,” Caleb said. “What in the world does Charlie want?”

  Val turned to Will. “How’d he sound on the phone?”

  “Serious.”

  Val frowned, told them to wait, then walked to his car. When he returned, Will noticed the grip of a handgun pressing against his shirt.

  “Whoa,” Caleb said. “Since when do you carry?”

  “Since our firm got anonymous death threats from the laid-off employee of a company we helped a client bankrupt as a tax write-off.”

  “Oh.”

  “Business is business. If it wasn’t us, it would’ve been someone else.”

  “You don’t have to convince us,” Will said. “Someone has to pay Mom’s bills.”

  Will felt nothing but gratitude towards Val. His oldest brother had always been intense, but Will remembered him as someone who had introduced Will to board games, coached his youth soccer teams, and always made time to take him to parades.

  Val had been a high school junior when their dad had perished in a climbing accident on an archaeological expedition in the cliff caves of Dordogne. Their mother had gone catatonic in response, a state from which she had barely recovered.

  Val, on the other hand, turned into a machine. He graduated Valedictorian of his high school class and then summa cum laude from Tulane undergrad and law school, all while working night jobs to see Caleb and Will through school.

  Will’s fear was that Val had flipped a switch he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, shut off.

  “I hope Charlie’s not in some kind of trouble,” Val said.

  “Me, too,” Will muttered.

  They fell into an uneasy silence while Caleb smoked. The rear parking lot was a deserted sliver of blacktop that merged into an alley. The whiff of soured milk emanated from a dumpster, and the pendulous stalks of banana trees dotted an empty lot across the alley.

  Two minutes later they heard the screech of tires. A dark sedan swept down the alley and into the parking lot. Out stepped an older man in jeans and a sport coat, his trim white beard covering a familiar, age-spotted face. He took a hockey bag from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder.

  “Boys,” Charlie said with a grim smile, “I’m sorry we had to meet like this.” He gave the alley a nervous glance, then set the duffel bag down. “We might not have much time.”

  “Charlie,” Val said. “Are you okay?”

  Caleb took a long drag. “I have to get back—”

  “It’s about your father,” Charlie said.

  Caleb stopped reaching for the door, Val cut off what he was about to say, and Will stood with his mouth hanging open.

  “I don’t really know how to say what I’ve come to tell you. Your father and I hoped it would never come to this.” Charlie took a deep breath. “I belong to an organization called the Myrddinus. It’s a society dedicated to the exploration and preservation of thaumaturgical phenomena.”

  “Thau-what?” Caleb said.

  “Thaumaturgy means magic,” Val said, his voice hardening. “This isn’t funny.”

  Charlie leaned down and opened the bag. “He left something for you that may help explain.”

  Despite the absurdity of the situation, Will stepped towards the bag.

  “If there are things in there from Dad,” Caleb said, “why’d you keep them from us?”

  “Because he prayed you’d never need them.” He turned to Will. “I didn’t really believe it was true, until I staked out the house and saw for myself. I’ve been watching in case someone like him came ever since . . . ever since your father died.”

  Will put his hands to his temples. “What’re you talking about? Someone like who?” He swallowed and took a stab. �
�The man with the skeletons?”

  Caleb barked a laugh, but Charlie’s expression was grim. “He’s called a necromancer.”

  Val’s jaw tightened. “If this is a Halloween gag, it’s in very poor taste.”

  Charlie turned towards Val. “You’ve done things with your mind, haven’t you? Moved small objects if you’ve concentrated hard enough, maybe seen things at an impossible distance?”

  To Will’s surprise, Val looked away and didn’t answer.

  “I thought so,” Charlie said. “Your father sensed it in you.”

  “Val?” Will said. “What’s he talking about?”

  “Nothing,” Val mumbled.

  Charlie reached into the bag, extracting a five-foot wooden staff with the end sticking out of the zipper. Embedded into the top of the staff was a wafer-thin, milky-colored crescent moon, with the curved ends facing upwards. Charlie handed it to Val, who took it like an automaton. “This is your birthright. It’s a wizard stone.”

  “I’m sorry,” Val said, his tone scathing, “did you say wizard?”

  “I’ll explain soon,” Charlie said gently. “Time is of the essence.” He returned to the bag, this time lifting out a pair of eight-inch black leather vambraces and giving them to Caleb. “Along with the staff, these were his most treasured possessions.”

  Caleb took the gift with a puzzled but amused look, turning them over in his hands. “Bracers,” Will said faintly. “They protect your forearms.”

  “This has gone far enough,” Val said.

  Will felt disoriented, as if in a dream. “Was Mom . . . did she know about this?”

  “Your mother was born here,” Charlie said, “and she never knew.”

  “Did Dad leave anything for me?”

  Charlie worked his jaw back and forth as if debating what to do. “You boys deserve the truth.” He looked each of them in the eye. “I was with your father in France when he died.”

  “On his dig?” Will said, shocked. They had never been told that. “Why?”

  “He was searching for a lost sword. A sword known as—”

  “Durendal,” Val said. “Of course he was. He was a Charlemagne scholar.”

  Charlie gave a slow nod. “This sword, Durendal . . . it’s from another place. Another world.”

  Val snorted.

  “Your father was a wizard from an . . . alternate universe, I guess is the best way to describe it.” He reached into the bag, pulling out a full-length broadsword with a silver hilt as the insanity of his statement washed over Will.

  Will pinched himself, just to be sure.

  No dream.

  “Charlie, man,” Caleb said, flicking away his cigarette butt, “I gotta tell you, this is some kinda prank. What is this, one of those live action role playing games?” He turned to Will. “You’re in on it, aren’t you?”

  Charlie gave Caleb a commiserative look. “The sword was there all along. Accessible only to someone like him. Your father meant to take it back himself, but he sensed someone was waiting for him, a terrible adversary from this other world.”

  “The Skeleton Man?” Will asked.

  “I don’t know. But before your father died, he left me with instructions on what to do in the event something happened to him.” He held the sword out to Will. “The sword bears a great responsibility, but he saw a warrior’s spirit in you, despite your young age.”

  Caleb clapped. “Now that’s acting.”

  Charlie shook his head sadly. “He loved you all very much, you know. More than anything in either world.”

  Moving as if underwater, Will took the sword. Charlie handed him a leather scabbard and Will sheathed the weapon, shocked by its weight. Could this really be a lost piece of his father’s past?

  “Let’s go, Will,” Val said. “Charlie, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t contact my family anymore.”

  Will shook off Val’s arm. He didn’t know what was going on here, but he wanted to know every last detail about his father, even details that might be less than real.

  Though in light of the last few days, Will wasn’t convinced Charlie was speaking nonsense. “Talk to us, Charlie. Who’s the Skeleton Man? Why did our father come here?”

  Will’s brothers were staring at Will as if he were speaking Cantonese. He couldn’t blame them.

  “I know how hard this must be,” Charlie said, “so I’ll let him tell you himself.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vellum notebook. “The record of his youth, his trials as a wizard, his mission and journey here, his thoughts and advice for his sons. I’m sorry to have waited this long, but I was under strict instruction not to reveal any of this until—”

  The back door of the bar slammed open. Will spun to see the man from the cemetery house striding into the parking lot, a black cloak sweeping his ankles. The cloak was open, revealing another frilly white dress shirt and an egg-size opal pendant hanging from a spiked iron necklace. Rings made of black-colored gemstones adorned each of his fingers, and Will realized the spikes on the necklace were the miniature skulls of some bizarre creature, elongated jaws bristling with fangs.

  The necromancer was holding a burlap sack. Without a word, he turned the sack upside down and dumped a pile of bones onto the pavement.

  He grasped the pendant and flung his other hand at the ground, his face impassive as the discarded bones fused together.

  -5-

  The bones merged into an enormous, six-legged skeleton creature that shuddered to life. It had a human-shaped head with three-inch long incisors, a skeletal torso that reminded Will of an oversized lion, and a long tail comprised of smaller bones, forked at the end and whipping back and forth behind the beast.

  “A manticore,” Will said numbly. “Straight out of Persian mythology.”

  “Straight out of Crazytown,” Caleb said, backing away.

  The skeleton manticore stood almost as tall as its creator, even on all fours, and it crouched and opened its jaws in a soundless roar.

  “What the hell?” Val said, stumbling backwards with Caleb and pulling Will along with him.

  Charlie reached into his car and took out a tire iron, brandishing it at the creature. “Run, boys!”

  The thing leapt forward and swatted Charlie with one of its paws, sending him flying across the alley and into the empty lot. Then its tail smashed into the side of Charlie’s car, taking out both windows in a spray of glass.

  As the monster stalked towards them, Will saw the necromancer observing the scene with a detached air. He pointed at Will. “Bring him.”

  Will shrank as the monster shifted towards him with a sinuous creaking of its bones. “Will and Caleb,” Val said, pointing the handgun at the manticore, “Get behind me.”

  “Jesus, Val,” Caleb said, but complied.

  Will pulled the sword out of the scabbard and stood beside Val. He could feel the tightness building in his chest and fought with every ounce of his willpower to stand firm beside his brother.

  The creature advanced. Val’s shot rang through the night. The bullet chipped off a piece of the monster’s shoulder but didn’t slow it. Val fired two more times as shouts came from inside the bar.

  The manticore turned towards Val and stalked forward. Val pointed the gun towards the necromancer. “Call it off,” he said. “Whatever it is, call it off.”

  “Don’t, Val,” Caleb said. It’s got to be some kind of trick.”

  “It’s no trick,” Charlie wheezed from behind them. Will risked a glance and saw him limping across the alley, face covered in blood and holding his left side with both hands. “He’ll kill us all.”

  The manticore took another step forward and lowered its stance, ready to spring. Panic rose like bile to constrict Will’s throat.

  Val screamed, “Call it off!”

  The creature leapt at the same time Val fired. With a burst of fear-laced adrenaline, Will managed to step in front of his brother and heave his sword at the manticore, though he knew it was a weak swing. Out of the c
orner of his eye he saw Val’s bullet stop in midair just before it reached the necromancer, hover for a split second, and then drop to the pavement.

  The manticore swung its head to avoid the sword, jaws cranked wide and whipping back towards Will. The blade barely grazed the side of the creature, and Will couldn’t raise it again in time. He stumbled backwards, knowing he was about to be torn to shreds. He almost dropped the sword in shock when the weapon made a snipping sound and sparked with a blue-white light.

  The manticore’s elongated mouth clamped down on Will’s face, white bone pressing against his flesh. But instead of cutting through Will’s cheek, the skeleton monster’s head toppled to the ground as the life force whooshed out of it, the rest of the bones crashing in a heap on the pavement.

  “The sword,” the necromancer breathed, his voice evincing an emotion—eagerness—for the first time. He didn’t seem bothered by the destruction of his monster.

  A man in a Saints cap burst through the back door. The necromancer gave a contemptuous flick of his wrist, and the patron was thrown back into the bar. As the door slammed shut behind him, the wizard pushed out his palm, and a six foot tall dumpster whisked across the parking lot to block the door. He raised his head towards the streetlight, and it burst in a shower of sparks, leaving the parking lot and the stunned brothers in moonlit silence.

  “Give me the sword,” he said.

  “No!” Charlie called out behind them. Will turned and saw him leaning against his car, grimacing as he held his side. “Your father said never to give it up! Not for anyone or anything. He’ll kill us even if we do.”

  The necromancer advanced on Will. Val fired two more times, and the bullets slowed and fell to the ground. The wizard’s lips curled in a slow, arrogant smile. Will thought it the most chilling thing he had ever witnessed.

  One of the necromancer’s hands grasped his opal pendant, face tightening in concentration. The darkness in front of him shimmered and began forming into a humanoid shape.

  “Will,” Val said, “give him the sword.”

  Will backed away, feeling the undulations in his chest as he started to hyperventilate. Through gritted teeth he said, “You heard what Charlie said.”