Lost Souls: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Cardkeeper Chronicles Book 2)

by A. C. Nicholls

  “Does someone want to clue me in, here?” I said, stepping back to let both of them fall into view. It began to feel like a huge conspiracy against me, as if this were a book series and I was no longer the main character. As if I had never even been the main character.

  Jason closed the door and dumped the haversack onto the counter. “Your friend here gave me a call and said you were in trouble. We both know I can’t resist a damsel in distress.”

  “I hope you can forgive me,” said Dalton, avoiding eye contact. “I was familiar with Jason through hear-say. When I discovered that you two were… friends, I took the liberty of making a telephone call.”

  I didn’t know where to look. Were both of them here to help me? Or to help Link? It didn’t matter. Three were stronger than one, and I couldn’t refuse their help, no matter how awkward it would make things between Jason and me. “You did well,” I told Dalton, before turning back to Jason. “Thank you for coming.”

  Jason shrugged.

  Dalton, on the other hand, chuckled. “It took me thirty minutes to understand how to operate the telephone. Marvelous invention, that is. Like a vocal portal, only without the wonder of magic.”

  I suppressed a smile and eyed the haversack. “What’s in the bag?”

  Jason patted it proudly. “A plan.”

  “A plan for what?”

  “You’ll see. First, you need to decide what we’re doing. You’re probably not so keen on storming the place, if you’re worried about losing Link. So a heads-on approach is out of the question. But I’m guessing – and stop me if I’m wrong – that stealing those cards and handing them to the witches is a no-go?”

  I nodded.

  “So then, we’ll need you to make a decision, and work together to make it happen.”

  “If I may.” Dalton cleared his throat, stood, and interlaced his bony fingers. “A more tactical approach may suffice. There is still some magic left in me, and Jason is very much the brawn in this scenario.”

  “Hey,” Jason protested. “I have brains, too.”

  “Uh… Q-Quite,” Dalton stuttered.

  Mumbling under his breath, Jason unzipped the bag, flung back the flap and exposed the contents to us both. “See, this is how werewolves were hunted by humans over the centuries. They’re traps, and you could use them to stop most living creatures.”

  I leaned in and studied the contents, reaching out to touch the cold metal of a bear trap. “And by ‘living creatures’, you mean witches?”

  “Exactly. So, here’s my strategy. There are three of us and three of them. If we set a trap in the woods behind their house and lure them out, we can do more damage. Not only that, but they might be so caught up in the action that they leave Link in the house.”

  “Very good,” Dalton added. “And as soon as one of us has defeated a witch, we can secure the statuette until after the battle.”

  As much as I hated hearing Link referred to as ‘the statuette’, it was a pretty solid plan. It would be three adults with magic and traps, versus three witches – two of whom were barely teenagers. “The kids… they won’t be harmed?”

  Both men turned.

  “Why do you say this, Lady Keira?” Dalton frowned.

  “Well, they’re only kids. I know they’ve had an unusual upbringing, but there’s always room to change. I’m not saying… I mean, I would be more than happy to burn Joan to death and all, but the children are still children.”

  “You have too much of a conscience,” Jason said.

  I lifted my chin to a stubborn angle. “It’s what makes me human, so to speak.”

  Dalton finally stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Very well, Lady Keira. We will do our very best to ensure the survival of the children, however, some action must be taken against them.”

  “Good enough,” I said. “Besides, maybe they can dispel Link’s curse.”

  “I hope so. I miss that mouthy little bastard.” Jason grinned and shot me a look, which I ignored on account of my current mood.

  “Well then.” Dalton softly clapped and looked at us both, his eyes sparkling once again with the prospect of guarding his own guardian. “I suggest you both get some rest. We would do well to attack under the cover of night, no?”

  “Agreed,” I said, wondering if he was capable of holding his own in a magic battle. Dalton had helped me to defeat a mage before, and he had proven himself very useful. Only now the stakes were bigger, and there were multiple variables.

  “Then let’s proceed.”

  As Dalton went through to the back of the store and created a portal, Jason and I each donned a cloak from the rail. It would be interesting to see how we all worked as a team, and I only hoped that it would go smoothly.

  For now, however, I had a list of things to do, starting with equipping a new magicard. I would need one more suitable for a fight against a family of witches. This time, I would make damn sure that my power could dominate the battlefield, and unleash its entirety on Joan Flowers.

  Chapter 24

  I missed Link, and I think my upset showed through my magic.

  We were concealed beneath the trees. The moon shone thin, pale rays between the leaves, lending us just enough light to see what we were doing. Flower Manor loomed in the distance, dim lights flickering from inside. I imagined Link in there on the mantelpiece, his shocked expression frozen behind stone.

  “Will you quit messing around and get involved?”

  I craned my neck to see the outline of Jason in the trees. He set up traps while I remained on the ground floor adjusting to my new magicard. “I am getting involved, thank you very much. You think this is easy?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well then, just give me a minute.”

  As per Dalton’s advice, I had chosen a magicard infused with the power of wind. Aerosius, the mage within the card, had been the master of air manipulation. For a time, his ability to move objects had been confused for telekinesis, but when his peers felt the draught of wind during a performance, they’d discovered the truth. Aerosius then began to hone in on his magic, his abilities growing to incredible lengths. Good thing, too – now I could use it.

  It was tough to get used to. I outstretched my hand for the twentieth time, focusing on a fallen branch by my feet. As easily as before, the branch came off the ground and swayed off balance. I felt the draught by my feet, chilling my toes as the branch began to spin.

  “Concentrate, Keira,” I said to myself, feeling the mage’s soul merge with my own. To my surprise, the soul was delicate and defined. Powerful but restrained. I was having trouble getting a handle on it – not because of how difficult it was to use, but how easily the wind could grow out of control.

  “I still think you’d be better off with fire,” Jason said, dropping to my side with a thud.

  “You would.”

  “What can I say? Witches burn.”

  “Only in folklore.”

  “You mean they don’t?”

  I shook my head. “Not as easily as you would think. Besides, this way Link won’t get caught in a blast or something. We need to be careful, which is why we’re going with wind. Dalton said this was the safest approach, and I’m inclined to agree with him.”

  “Right. Where is the old man, anyway?”

  “Back at the Vault, I think.”

  “Well, he’d better hurry up.”

  “Why, you nervous?”

  “Ha.”

  Jason took a running leap into the next tree, briefly transforming his legs into werewolf legs to strengthen his pounce. Meanwhile, I stayed on the ground and worked on my magic. I hoped this strategy would prove strong enough: the three of us with magic and traps. I only prayed that Link wouldn’t get caught in the crossfire. At least, if all else failed, the spirits would get their long-awaited justice.

  I wondered…

  “Last one,” Jason said.

  Distracted, I turned and looked up to see him tie a large rope around
a thick tree branch.

  “Do you think these traps will work?” I asked, studying his movements while following the long rope back to its counterweight. “I mean, have you used them before?”

  “Oh, yeah, they’re pretty popular among the wolves.”

  “How come?”

  “You know I said that we were hunted this way?”

  I nodded, intrigued.

  “Well, the more you know about your enemy, the safer you’ll be, right?”

  “I guess. So you figured out their ways and used it against them?”

  “Precisely.” Jason pulled the rope taut with a grunt, then hung from the tree and dropped to his feet, landing safely on the dirty ground. The way his muscles rippled underneath his clothing as he worked was nothing short of impressive. “There, all set. And in record time, I believe.”

  I rolled my eyes, playfully slapping him against his firm chest. I’d forgotten how hard and sculpted his body was, and as I stood there gawking at him, my reignited lust hit me again. It was a good thing that I didn’t have time for confessions, and could therefore save myself the embarrassment.

  “This will work,” he said, staring across the proverbial minefield of traps.

  “You sound confident.”

  “I am.”

  “Thank you for doing this.”

  Jason turned then, his big, brown eyes meeting mine. “It’s no problem. Anything to help a close friend, not to mention Link.”

  “He’s growing on you, huh?”

  “Like a verruca.”

  I laughed but managed to hide it in the dark shadows of the night. The less emotion I showed now, the better. Jason presented a huge distraction, and I needed to keep my mind focused on the mission. Otherwise, I could see myself messing up. And Link’s life on the line left no margin for error.

  Jason stretched his arms far above his head, yawned, and then strolled to the tree that overlooked Flower Manor. He leaned against it, gazing at the house while an owl hooted somewhere behind us. “What are they like?”

  “The witches?”

  “Yeah.”

  I shrugged and stood by his side. “I guess they look perfectly normal. Joan – that’s the mom – looks like a slightly uglier version of Angela Lansbury, and has a kind of powerful aura. The kids are different. There’s something that makes them look… naive, I guess. Like they’re being led by their mother. But don’t let that fool you – they’re dangerous and malicious.”

  Jason considered that, staring blankly while he bit on his lower lip.

  That expression drove me wild.

  “When do we make a move?” he asked.

  “As soon as Dalton says so.”

  “You really admire him?”

  “I do.”

  Jason sighed. “As long as we can beat Lansbury and her psycho kids.”

  “Exactly.”

  A soft hiss of air whispered around us. I crooked my neck and listened for it, before I realized the source of the sound. In my moment of relaxation, I lost control of my magicard. A strong gust of wind blew from the palm of my hand, sending Jason flying in a whirlwind of leaves. I grabbed my wrist and turned aside, but as I did so, I accidentally targeted the traps. One pulley pulled tight, two bear traps snapped up at the air, and branches swung from ropes all in an instant.

  Struggling, I settled my magic and returned my palm into a soft whistling state, before finally stopping it. I looked out at the expanse of set-off traps, now rendered useless by me and my careless ways.

  Jason, groaning as he returned to my side, looked at the mess.

  “Uh… I’m sorry?” It was all I could think to say.

  “That’s… going to take some time to repair.”

  Impatience glinted in his eyes, but he gave a valiant effort to hide it.

  “I really am sorry.” I leaned toward him, reached up and pulled a leaf from his hair. I stared at it, twiddled it out of my fingers and let it float slowly to the floor. “Should I help you set it all back up?”

  “No, it’s… No.”

  I felt like a moron. How hard could it be to not destroy everything he’d toiled to prepare? The least I could have done was aim my hand at an open area, but I just didn’t have time to think about it in the sudden outburst.

  “You should go and practice some more.” Jason marched on, beginning his round of trap-setting, starting from the closest tree. He leapt up to it in less than two seconds, and immediately got to work at putting everything back to its previous Hurricane Keira state.

  I do need the practice, but…

  Something else sprang to mind. A new weapon could be obtained – one that we hadn’t thought of before. Magic and traps were one thing, and we were certainly well covered on the physical side of things, with a werewolf on our team. But perhaps there was something else we could have done.

  “Are you okay if I leave you here for a bit?”

  “Why, where are you going?”

  “I’ll explain later. But you’re good?”

  Jason looked at the branch he straddled, and shrugged. “This will take an hour or so. As long as you’re back by the time Dalton arrives, we should be fine.”

  “All right. Be safe.”

  I turned on my heel and made my way along the trees, working my way around to the side-exit of the woods. My next destination was a risky move, but if things turned out just the way I wanted, we would have everything we needed to win this fight.

  Stepping carefully along the uneven ground, I sighed at the thought, dread curling my stomach.

  When have I ever been that lucky?

  Chapter 25

  Within thirty minutes, I stood in front of the movie theater, staring up at it. As I climbed up the drainpipe, I used jutting bricks as footholds. I was eager to get inside, to talk to the spirits one last time before I confronted the witches. If I got attacked again then I would just have to accept it.

  My feet hit the creaking old wood as I landed inside. Room by room, I called out to the spirits, hoping for at least one to return to me. If I could just get a few words out, I might be able to circle the wagons, to get them on our side.

  Giving up on the second floor, I made my way downstairs, fighting with the corridor of cobwebs and clouds of dust that came with the opening of each door. I hadn’t properly examined this end of the theater yet, but it smelled damp, and the weak, whining floorboards suggested I lead with extreme caution. I would have to mind my footing.

  Eventually I found myself back downstairs in the screen room, where the spirit had attacked me during my previous visit. This time I was utterly alone, and I didn’t even have telepathy to communicate with. I would have to rely on words, and words alone.

  “Hello?” I called out, and heard my voice echo through the large hall.

  Nothing.

  “I’ve come to speak with the spirit cursed by The New Witches of Belvoir.” I felt like a hack. I’d seen clairvoyants do this on TV before, and had always rolled my eyes to dismiss the idea that humans and ghosts could communicate.

  Shame on me.

  As time went on, so did the silence. With little or no hope of being spoken to, my faith started slipping away. I should have expected as much – luck like that didn’t often come to people like me. We simply had to make do with what we had, using anything we could to get by.

  Giving up, I began to make my way toward the stairs.

  A cold breeze kissed the nape of my neck. I spun around, with nothing to look at but thin air. Something hovered in the darkness, though – I could feel it. The air felt heavier, fuller. Just how you felt when someone else was in a room with you.

  “Is someone there?”

  Again, my question was met with silence. I looked around, studying the darkness of the theater, the dust on the grand red drapes. I noticed the large gap in the wall over the projection booth, and suddenly had an idea.

  “Wait right there,” I said, foolishly talking to nobody or nothing.

  I took to the stairs, found th
e projection booth and studied the machine. After a lot of trial and error, I finally got it working. It chugged and struggled with old age, rattling as it shone a bright light down into the theater.

  Perfect.

  Moments later, I returned to the giant screen and found exactly what I wanted.

  The light, beaming in from the upstairs booth, hit the spirit’s body. The image projected onto the burgundy velvet drapes, but around it, the outline of a tall man could be seen. It was as if he had solidified but become invisible, like he was there but not.

  “I know the truth,” I said, talking to the projected image. “My friends and I are preparing an assault on the witches. I’ve come… Hmm. I’ve come to ask for help from you and your friends. I don’t know if you have some kind of communication…” My memory rung back to Char’s Mall, where the two spirits had fought together.

  They must communicate.

  “Anyway,” I continued. “We’re attacking their home. Do you know where that is?”

  The dreadful silence went on, but the spirit leaned forward slowly. Its body stretched out as if to become looser, like a slinky hanging off a step, slowly threatening a fall. Its hand reached out next, images lighting up its arm – Danny DeVito in Batman Returns.

  And then it touched me.

  I could feel the cool caress on my cheek, only it felt different from before. Back when I had been attacked, there had been a harsh, violent rage and I’d felt every bit of it. But this was something else, something thinner. Was the spirit losing its energy?

  “I’m sorry I hurt your friends,” I said. “I was misled by the witches.”

  The spirit pulled away and leaned back, the image growing thinner and thinner, until it dissipated into nothingness. All that remained was me, alone in the theater, with Danny DeVito beside Michelle Pfeiffer, feeding a small bird into her mouth.

  Had the spirit finally departed? Had its energy become so low that it had sent itself into the afterlife? For the sake of all the spirits, I hoped that they could continue to see the job done, if not have a hand in finding their own justice.

  “I…” Uncomfortable as it was talking to air, I had a faint hope that the spirit was still around, could at least hear me one last time. “The witches will be stopped on your behalf. Justice will be served, so please rest well knowing that you will be avenged.”